#maybe next he’ll get hit by a bus

[panakina]

At this point I’m watching Gotham war just to see what chaos happens next, but i kind of love that thirty seconds after batman’s Plan To Save Jason by making him incapable of self defence every single rogue in the city knows about it and Jason has back to back run ins with scarecrow and the joker while inside a burning building.

You could not have fucked this up more, bruce.

[eupheme]

Logan with a softie that he's trying to win over after the events of deadpool and wolverine pleaseee. Maybe she was someone really important to him back in his world but not in her world, thankyouuuu💖

oh 🥺💖 this is so sweet, I love this! this turned into a soft little thing about logan being your seat partner on your morning commute? (because wade made him get a job and there’s no way they can afford a car) - I hope you like it!

— right beside me

logan howlett x f!reader | 600 words | fluff

On the crowded bus, he meets your eyes. He knows you - met you at the apartment a couple days ago. A friend of Wade’s, a mutant like him. Works downtown, near the factory he picks up shifts at - just enough to cover some of the rent.

Knew you from before, too. The curve of your smile had hit him like a ton of bricks - a perfect, mirror image.

It still startles him now, even as his feet take him down the aisle. Folding himself in, when you pat the spot next to you.

Would prefer to walk, if he could.

But the city is too loud - too crowded. Sets his teeth on edge, and at least this early the bus is usually quiet. Easy enough to get on, slip off early and finish the last few blocks on foot.

“Work, huh?” You beam - rearranging your things, as he fills the seat next to you, “Guess some things are the same for all of us, aren’t they?”

Some things are.

And when you’re there again, two days later, it gives him something to look forward to. Likes the way your face changes - brightening - when you see him. The way you leave a spot for him each time.

And as the days pass, Logan starts getting off at right stop - instead of before. The extra fifteen minutes with you is worth it - your voice layers with the hum of the bus. Calming.

Gets restless on the days he doesn’t see you, though he pretends it doesn’t.

He tells you, some days after. Feels wrong not to. Something hushed and halted, in-between stops. A little gasp when you realize that Other-You knows him. Soaking in the stripped-down details like flowers in rain.

“I knew there was something.” You smile, your shoulder bumping his. It arcs through him like lightning, even through the worn flannel, “You just have a feeling when you meet someone, you know?”

He does.

You tell him things too, as the days pass. Filling the minutes as the city zips by around them and the sun fully rises.

Little things. Gossip from your job - catching him up on stories about people he’ll never meet. How you’re looking forward to autumn, all the frilly drinks you want to try. Vacations you’d like to take, someday.

He answers your questions his job. Others about Wade, when you pick up that he’s slow to answer ones about himself. Something bristling until he catches the way you listen - that soft focus, hanging on his every word.

The beast settles, then.

He gets you one of those drinks, the day that summer fades into fall. The spice prickles at his nose, sweet and cloying as it melds with the sugary foam.

It’s worth it, to see the way you light up. At him, and it sends something twisting in his chest. The gasp, when he passes the cup over - his name scrawled across the lid.

“You remembered!” You beam, taking it from him. A happy sigh, as you take a sip, “Thank you, Logan. You didn’t have to do that.”

He hums, brushing off your praise. Letting it settle beneath his skin, soft and glowing.

Something meaningful in the way your shoulder fully presses against his, now. The soft glances from under your eyelashes, when you think he’s not looking.

Maybe he’ll tell you someday. When he’s ready.

He remembers everything about you.

thanks for reading! 💖

[writingsofwesteros]

What if…. It was Rhaenyra who let the dragonseeds fill her?

What if she had the idea after her and Laenor just couldn’t try it that way anymore

At first she wanted to do it simply. But picking a man to bring felt too risky. So instead she disguised herself. Paid off some people. And pale haired men were either summoned to the brothel, or brought from their work in it. To a room. Rhaenyra lay behind a curtain with her legs and bare cunt the only thing visible. She wanted it to go simply. One man at a time. Finish inside. Then the next. She only needs one, maybe two children. Then it’s enough.

The first one does enter her simply. She feels him push in and start his moving. It’s very simple at first. But then he must’ve gotten an idea and thrusts a different angle, hitting a weak spot and suddenly making her almost moan. She hears the men talking behind there… they heard it.

And the man inside her starts teasing her clit while thrusting more. Rhaenyra needs to cover her mouth while her legs shiver a little. It’s fine… this only makes it easier. He’ll finish and then it’s the next. But she isn’t expecting the teasing to worsen. He’s rubbing her clit, hitting her weak spot and doing it all on purpose. This common man….

Rhaenyra can’t handle it. She cums. And let’s out a much louder moan. Before she knows it, she curtain is ripped away. And she sees all the pale haired men in the room… eyes wide in shock. They know who she is.

But she then sees some of them come to a realization…. The princess is naked. In a room full of them. And one man still remains inside her.

The man must’ve realized, because he pulls her up and sits down, holding her on his lap facing them. She fights him in embarrassment. Demanding he obey her, she’s the princess! But he laughs and starts fucking her again. This time, her body in full view of all these men. And they start stroking themselves….

They’re watching as Rhaenyra’s sensitive cunt is filled with semen for the first time that night. Their hungry eyes on her body make her squirm.

She can’t hardly react when another man plucks her off the first’s cock and aggressively impales her with his. Holding her up and fucking her suspended in the air. Rhaenyra can’t help but gasp and moan. Then she’s flipped. And suddenly another man’s cock is in her throat. As he thrusts, she’s pushed back onto the cock of the man in her cunt. And when he thrusts behind her, she’s gagging on the other man.

She feels hands start touching her body. Eagerly. Almost mystified. The body of a princess….

She knows they’re still touching too. She gets her answer when she feels something spill onto her back. The two men are thrusting harder. She’s moaning and gagging as she feels another load pour into her cunt. The man by her mouth grabs her hair unceremoniously and pushes deep, cumming down her throat.

“You just wasted your shot.” She hears one remark.

“Ah we got all night.” The one still in her mouth remarks. “I’ll give her another in the cunt before it’s done.”

The second she’s pulled off their cocks, she falls onto all fours, gasping and looking up at the men surrounding her. Her mistake. She doesn’t see one… until he thrusts in hard. Pressing her to the floor. This one truly treats her like an animal. Groaning in her ear about her wet princess cunt. How she’s filled with the semen of common men, and her proud ass has only herself to blame.

Rhaenyra blushes in embarrassment between the moans. Nearly begging him to be less rough. When he finally finishes, he gives her arse a hard smack. And slowly pulls out. She’s panting on the floor as she feels another man wrap his arms around her. This one gently kissing her neck and turning her over. She looks up at all the men as his cock slowly slides in. He moves steadily but gently. At first it’s a welcome change. Until she sees another man moving close. Lining his cock up with her cunt also….

She struggles, begging them not to, she can’t fit that too… she almost says please. But that doesn’t stop it. Rhaenyra gasps and groans. Her body shaking as her cunt is forced to accommodate a second cock.

The men above watch her. And Rhaenyra would hide her face if she could, as the two cocks stretch and move in her. Each movement eliciting a noise from her.

It picks up much more after that. In every position she can think of, even ones she’s never heard of, a man takes her. She doesn’t know how many are even in the room, and how many could’ve gone more than once. It’s beginning to blur together. She’s made to ride them, to suck them off, taken against a wall, over a table, on the ground, on the bed again, once more two are forced into her. This time they’re more aggressive. Her cunt aches and drips, with what Rhaenyra doesn’t know anymore.

She’s held still while another pounds into her. She doesn’t even know how much seed she’s full of now.

When he pulls out, she’s forced on her knees. Dazed, she can only close her eyes as several cum on her face. Onto her breasts.

By the time the sun is rising, Rhaenyra doesn’t notice. Nearly unrecognizable. Her cunt beginning to gape a little. Body stained in semen. Panting and gasping and unable to stand. So the men make her lie on the bed. Legs open. As for the last time, they touch themselves over her. She must keep her legs open. And when they get close, they press inside her to finish. Their sendoff to her. So she can’t doubt that every single man in here has been inside her at least once

Somehow after it all, Rhaenyra makes it back to the keep. She’s bedridden for days. Many wonder why, but she won’t tell them. When she finally rises to bathe, her body still aches. And the marks the men left, while less strong, remain.

It doesn’t take much for her first pregnancy to be confirmed

MOUTH WATERING

Rhaenyra being the whore of Dragonstone in another way and now she has stopped a civil war.

and now the dragonseeds know this..they feel as if they own her. Poor thing has just made so much trouble for herself.

Viserys stupidly believing she is adored by the small folk..

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part fourteen

Words: 565 | Rating: E | CW: mentions of blood

one || thirteen || fifteen

While they wait for Robin, Eddie does what he can to get Steve back to his apartment. It’s a struggle, between Steve being dead weight in Eddie’s arms and the constant zaps of pain shooting through Eddie’s arms, growing more intense the longer he stays in contact, but eventually they make it up the stairs. For a moment, Eddie’s worried he’ll have to break into the apartment, but his worry is unfounded when they finally reach the door and he sees that it’s broken at the latch.

The door being broken definitely makes it easier to drag Steve inside, it does little else to ease Eddie’s anxieties. Hauling Steve onto the couch, and grimacing as blood smears over the fabric, Eddie finally lets go. The absence of burning leaves his arms tingling as he collapses back onto the floor, staring at the ceiling.

For being a dead guy, he feels like he just ran a marathon from the strain of hauling Steve around. Or maybe it was just the contact pain that drained all of his energy. Eddie isn’t completely sure and the more he ponders it, the more questions he has if he ever gets another visit in to Joyce.

He hasn’t even gotten a chance to fully recover when the already broken door bangs heavily into the wall as Robin flings it open, her own chest heaving as if she’d run the whole way. Her eyes trail from Eddie on the floor up to Steve on the couch, still out cold and covered in blood. “What the fuck happened?” she demands as she — much more carefully than before — closes the door behind herself.

Eddie pushes himself up on his elbows, just so he isn’t laying in the floor like a total loser before answering, “He told me to get lost for a little while or he was gonna lose it, so I left him alone for an hour and came back to, uh, this.” He waves a lazy hand toward the couch.

“And you couldn’t do your weird magic shit to help him?” Robin demands as she crosses the room and crouches next to the couch, reaching up to touch Steve’s forehead with the back of her head.

Eddie snorts, even though he doesn’t mean to. “I don’t think I can right now, actually,” he admits. “Getting him back inside… fucked it all up or something. I feel like I got hit by a bus.”

“Helpful,” Robin scoffs back at him as she shakes Steve’s shoulder. Touching him doesn’t seem to be hurting her any, so it’s not whatever was going on with Steve that made his touch hurt Eddie. Interesting. It also doesn’t really seem to be doing a whole lot to wake Steve up.

Some part of Eddie knows that Robin doesn’t mean to snap at him, not after they worked things out to be mostly amicable. He knows that she’s probably just stressed about Steve being unconscious. But he’s tired and his whole body still hurts and a thank you for getting Steve inside wouldn’t kill her probably. He doesn’t say that, though, because he’s supposed to be working on being a good person or whatever.

Instead he just closes his eyes for a moment, trying to will his body to stop aching long enough for him to either sit back up or his weird angel magic to come back.

Tag list below the cut, if you want added (or removed since it's been two months) just let me know!

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[allthesmutl0vers]

Entirely Forbidden and Completely Fucked. Wincest fanfic- Chapter Two

MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Pairing: Sam x Dean, Sam x Reader x Dean, Reader x John

Trigger Warnings: Graphic Wincest sex scene, implied feelings for John by the reader (no sex...yet)

Thank you so much for every like🫶 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Chapter Two

Y/n

“Come on guys, up at ‘em,” John says, ripping open the curtains. I cover my eyes with my arm to block out the sudden intrusion of light. 

Was this guy raised in a fucking barn? Who wakes people up like that?

Sam groans in the next bed but gets up, and Dean gets up without a word. I sigh, rub the sleep from my eyes, and stretch my arms out in front of me. “I’m going to get coffee, and I expect everyone to be ready to go when I get back,” John says, grabbing his keys. “Don’t be a dick,” he says to Dean, pointing a finger at him before walking out the door. 

I stand up, pull my hair back into a messy ponytail, and put on my black, square-lens glasses. My eye contacts dried out, and I don’t have another pair, which reminds me that I need to get my prescription transferred to wherever John and them live. 

I grab the backpack that I grabbed from the car last night and pull out another pair of shorts, a T-shirt, socks and underwear. 

“Going somewhere?” Dean asks, finally acknowledging my existence. 

“Considering I’m holding clothes, I’m going to say ‘to shower,’” I quip. I’m not a morning person, and Dean doesn’t get to be a fucking asshole and expect me to be nice before I’ve had caffeine. 

Dean rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Sorry, princess. You’re going to have to wait. I always go first.” He says, walking past me to the bathroom. 

I clench my jaw and take a deep breath. I’m too tired for this shit right now.  “Whatever, go,” I wave my hand and set my clothes on the bed. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dean says with a mocking laugh and closes the door. 

I exhale deeply and rub my eyes under my glasses. I try to imagine what it must be like for him, going from not having or maybe even not knowing you have a half-sister to having her thrown at you. But at the same time, my Mom just fucking died. I don’t want to be here anymore than they don’t want me here. The only reason I am here is because I don’t turn eighteen for two months. But after that, I’m out of here.

“He’ll warm up. He just needs some time.” Sam says, putting a hand on my shoulder. 

I shrug. “It’s whatever. I’m going to smoke,” I respond, pulling my vape and dab pens from my bag and slipping on my Vans.

“Smoke like cigarettes?” Sam asks curiously. 

I stand up and face him, holding up my vape and dab pen. “No, smoke like a vape and some weed,” I flick them around in my finger and walk by him, opening the door. I turn around and look at him. “Wanna join?” I ask. 

Sam shakes his head, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a smile. “I’m good, maybe next time,” 

“Suit yourself,” I shrug and walk out of the hotel room and into the morning sun, closing the door behind me. I sit down on the steps and let out a sigh. 

Maybe I should just leave. I could say I’m going to the corner store for a vape and just take my shit with me. I have enough cash for a bus ticket wherever I want, and my inheritance will be mine once I turn eighteen. 

I think it over as I hit my vape and take a couple of hits off my dab pen. I have around two grand saved up from the job I had since mom never wanted me to spend my own money but to save it instead. I could definitely make it for two months if I stay in a cheap hotel and don’t go book or clothes shopping. I scoff to myself. 

Maybe just buy a couple of books to kill the time.

I sigh and decide that just leaving is my best option. Maybe I can’t go home, but I can stay in Washington, and that’s all I really want right now. I go to hit my vape again, and it’s dead. “Shit,” I mutter to myself and stand up. I groan in frustration.

I really don’t want to go back in there.

I weigh my options: either go to buy a new one or go back in to grab my backup. I don’t have my bags yet, so backup it is. I walk back to the hotel room and open the door, only to be staring right at an ass-naked Dean and a shirtless Sam. 

“Fuck!” Dean exclaims, covering himself up. “Would it kill you to fucking knock?” He asks me angrily. 

I look over at Sam, who is beet fucking red and throwing on a shirt. “Uh, I didn’t know I needed to,” I respond. 

“Well, get the fuck out,” Dean says as he marches over to me. He towers over me, not as much as Sam, but pretty damn close. 

“Last time I checked, I’m staying here too, asshole,” I push past him and grab my clothes and walk to the bathroom. I close the door and lean against it, the steam in the air warming up my skin. 

I thought Dean was showering. So why is Sam’s hair wet, too? What the actual fuck did I just walk into? Or, almost walk into? Were they…no. No, no fucking way. I’m just tired, that’s all. 

I’m not thinking straight. 

No fucking kidding. 

I hurry up and take my shower, being as quick as I can. Just as I turn the water off and step out I hear John’s voice. “Where’s y/n?” He asks. 

“Shower,” that’s Sam’s voice. 

I quickly get dressed so I don’t keep them waiting. I need enough time to give them my excuse and grab my bags before they realize I’m gone. I curse myself for spending precious seconds wondering why Dean and Sam’s hair was wet at the same time, which was fucking stupid. Men shower faster than women, and I was outside for at least fifteen minutes. They probably showered one after the other. They must have. 

A knock sounds on the door. “Chop, chop, kid. Time to get a move on,” John says from the other side. 

“Coming,” I respond, opening the door and putting my glasses back on. “I need to run to the corner store. What time were you planning on heading out?” I ask John as I grab my bag.

“Right now. We can stop on the way out of town,” he says, handing me a coffee and pulling his keys back out of his pocket. 

Goddamnit. There goes my shot to do it now.

“Oh, so you’ll stop for her but not us?” Dean remarks, slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

“Shut up and load the damn car, Dean,” John says, tossing Dean his keys. “We have a long drive back to Kansas, and there will be other opportunities to stop. So quit your bitching.”

Hold up, did he just say Kansas?

“Need me to carry your bag?” Sam asks me, pulling me from my thoughts on improvising another way away from them. 

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m good. Thank though,” I smile softly and walk past him and John and out the door. 

I throw my backpack in the back seat, pull out my dab pen, take another big hit, and bend over, coughing hard. I don’t know when we’ll be stopping next and I don’t think John would want me smoking in the car, so I want to make it count. 

“You good?” Dean asks, standing next to me by the passenger front door. 

“I,” I cough again. “I’m fine. What do you care?” I ask, blinking away the tears from coughing so hard. 

“I don’t,” Dean shrugs. “Just don’t feel like burying a body today.” He says cooly.

What the fuck?

“Very funny, Dean,” I roll my eyes and take another hit, my head already feeling lighter. 

“I wasn’t joking. I’m not in the mood for it today. What are you even smoking anyway?” He asks, pointing to my dab pen in my hand.

I blow the smoke in his face. “You tell me,” I quip with a smirk before coughing again, this time not as bad. 

“Smells like weed, but not?” Dean guesses. 

“Wow, really perspective,” I say sarcastically. “It’s a dab pen.”

“Dab pen?” Dean asks curiously, sipping his coffee. “What is that? Some kind of new weed or something?”

“It’s weed; it's just processed into an oil, which is what’s in here,” I explain, pointing to the oil in the tank. “It makes it more discrete, the smell isn’t as strong, and I don’t have to whip out a bong and spend twenty minutes finding a lighter. Plus, it’s more potent.” I explain. 

Dean pokes out his bottom lip and nods in interest. “Hm, alright then.”I nod, pull out my backup vape, and take a hit off of that as well. “And what’s that?” he asks.

“It’s a nicotine vape. I hate the smell and taste of cigarettes.” 

Dean actually laughs. “Same here,” he says, looking over his shoulder back at the hotel room. “Look,” he says, facing me again. “I’m sorry about yesterday, I shouldn’t have been such a dick.”

“I get it,” I shrug. “John said you’re a little standoffish.”

“You say John a lot,” he says curiously. “He’s your dad too, isn’t he?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘dad,’” I tell him as I lean against the Impala. “Biologically, yeah, he is. But other than that, he’s just a guy who randomly came around once or twice a year when he had ‘business in town,’” I air quote with my fingers. 

Dean nods, and his jaw ticks again. “Do you know what that business was?” he asks. 

I shake my head. “Didn’t bother to ask, and he didn’t bother to explain.” 

Dean nods again. “Well, look,” he sighs and scratches his head. “I’ve never had a sister before. It’s only ever been me and Sammy, so…” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t be around that long,” I look over the car into the distance. 

“Oh, um, okay,” Dean says with a hint of surprise in his voice. 

“Alright, let's roll,” John says as he and Sam approach the car.

We all climb in, me and Sam in the back and Dean up front with John. 

I wonder if I can get a map of bus routes along the way.

Sam

This morning was too close a call. Me and Dean know how long Dad takes to get coffee, but I got so caught up in the heat of the moment, that I completely forgot she was there when I went to shower with Dean. It was worth every second of it, though, and I can’t bring myself to regret it. 

Having her here has brought up feelings that I wasn’t prepared for. When she walked through the door with Dad… Fuck, I haven’t looked at anyone like that besides Dean in so long. My dick was entirely confused. And I can’t help then whenever Dad mentions that she’s our sister, half or full, it doesn’t matter. My dick swells in my jeans. 

I shouldn’t want her this way. 

To be fair, I shouldn’t want Dean this way, either, but I do. I can still remember the day the dam finally broke between us. We were at Bobby’s two years ago, and Dad had dropped us up for a week. 

“Hey,” I greet Dean, opening the door to the garage. He’s pissed that Dad left us here. He said he had business to take of in Washington and that we had to stay here.

Dean looks up from the car he’s taking apart. “Hey, Sammy,” he says, leaning back over the open hood. His shirt is tucked into his back pocket, and sweat drips down his chiseled chest. I’ve never been so nervous in my life, but this is Dean. If I can tell anyone anything, it’s Dean.

It’s always been Dean.

I clear my throat and step closer, tucking my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “So, um, I want to talk to you about something,” I start to say, but when he looks up at me with that smoldering gaze, the words escape my mind. 

Dean looks me up and down, wiping his hands on the shirt in his back pocket, and stands up straight. “What?” he asks.

It shouldn’t be this hard, but my hands shake, and the cut on my abdomen stings. I bite the corner of my lower lip. Should I just come out and say it? 

Dean walks closer, noticing my nervousness. “How’s your cut?” he asks, reaching for the end of my shirt. 

“It’s,” I clear my throat. “It’s okay,” I lie. It hurts like a bitch, but I won’t admit it.

Dean lifts my shirt, revealing the cut that he mended last night. “I thought we agreed to never lie to each other Sammy,” he says without looking at me. His fingers graze the gauze taped over the wound.

My skin heats at his touch, taking my mind off of the sting. “We did,” I agree, watching as his gaze moves from my wound and up to my eyes and his eyebrows furrow. I take a deep breath, and Dean watches as my jaw ticks. “But we’ve both been lying for a long time,” I tell him, hoping he’ll know what I mean. 

Dean sucks in a breath, and I know he gets what I mean. Of course he does, he always knows what I’m thinking, as do I for him. Dean backs up and shakes his head slightly. “We can’t go there, Sammy. Once we do, there’s no going back.” He says with a disappointed sigh. 

“Who said anything about going back?” I ask. My heart races in my chest, and my hands shake when I pull them out of my pockets. 

“Sammy,” Dean says like a warning. I watch his chest rise and fall heavily. I know he wants this too, if only he’d just admit it. 

“I’m tired of denying it, Dean. I want you. Only you, all the time,” I admit. “In bed, in the shower, any and everywhere. Stop being so stubborn it’s-”

Dean cuts me off, grabbing my face with his hands and pressing his lips to mine. My lips melt into his, and everything we’ve never said aloud is poured into the kiss. My hands grip the waistband of Dean’s pants and pull him closer. 

Dean’s tongue dips out, licking between my lips and begging for access. I open my mouth and allow him inside, and his tongue licks the roof of my mouth and my tongue making my cock strain against the inside of my jeans. I suck on his tongue and bite it softly, dragging it between my teeth and making Dean groan. 

 Dean pulls back, and we each suck in a desperately needed breath. Our foreheads are pressed together as we share breaths back and forth. “We should stop,” Dean says softly. 

“We definitely should,” I respond, but neither of us steps back. 

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean mutters, his hands slide from my face to my neck, slide up the back and into my hair, gripping it in his fingers. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me,” I lean down and kiss his neck right behind the shell of his ear. 

Dean groans and tilts his head to give me more access. I bite the sensitive skin behind his ear before sucking. Dean’s fingers grip my hair, making me hiss in pleasure. “Fuck it,” he groans and pulls back out of my grasp. 

Dean rips down his pants and boxers, and my mouth waters at the sight, just like it always has. We’ve showered and slept in the bed together. I’ve seen his cock before, but knowing I get it this time makes pre-cum drip from my tip as I pull my pants down. 

Dean kicks his pants to the side and stalks toward me. He grabs my cock in his hand and kisses me in one fluid motion. I moan into the kiss and pump his cock in time as he pumps mine, rubbing his thumb over my tip, coating my cock with my pre-cum. 

Dean pulls back and spins me around, pushing my chest against the side of the car he was working on. “Pass me that jar, Sammy,” he demands gruffly. 

I pass him the jar of coconut oil and rub my cock as I feel Dean’s lubed fingers rub my ass, pushing in and scissoring his fingers to open me up. “Fuck, Dean,” I groan, my balls tightening and threatening to burst. 

“You like that?” He asks, biting my shoulder harshly and making me hiss as his teeth pierce the skin.

“Fuck, yes,” I moan, my eyes hooding. His fingers leave my ass, and I feel the head of his cock  press up against my tight ass. My fingers grasp for hold on the top of the car, and my head falls back as Dean pushes himself inside deeper. “God,” I moan.

Dean grips my hips and thrusts in fully. “Don’t pray to him, little brother. He’s nowhere near here,” Dean groans, pulling back and thrusting in hard with a moan. “Pray to me, I’m the one fucking you.”

I moan as Dean pulls back and thrusts in again faster. Dean grips my hair and pulls, making my eyes roll into the back of my head. “Fuck, yes, Dean,” I moan between heavy breaths. 

Dean continues to fuck me like a man possessed, his cock hitting a g-spot I didn’t know I had inside of my ass. “Damn, Sammy, Fuck… I’m gonna cum.” Dean moans as I feel his cock swell inside of my ass. 

“Fuck, me too, Dean,” I moan, my balls tightening impossibly tight. I wrap my hand around my cock and pump it with my hand, matching Dean’s harsh thrusts. After a few more thrusts, I feel Dean’s cum fill me as mine paints my hand and the side of the car, our breathing heavy and staggered as he pulls out and spins me around, kissing me again. This kiss isn’t heated. It’s soft and gentle. 

“No going back,” Dean says like a promise, holding my gaze with hooded eyes. 

“No going back,” I agree with a smile. 

I adjust myself and clear my throat. The memory makes my cock swell in my jeans. Y/n looks over at me, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. I smile at her with pursed lips, and she rolls her eyes and looks back out of the window. 

I take a moment to take her in. Her bare legs under her short ripped denim shorts, the black band T-shirt with ‘A Day To Remember’ written across the front. Fuck, she looks so good with glasses too. The black-rimmed ‘nerd glasses’ really do something to me, along with her long, almost black hair that reaches her waist. The perfect length to grab and hold tight as you plow into her. 

God, now I’m hard again. 

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out and see a text from Dean.

Dean: What are you looking at?

Me: Nothing.

Dean: Bullshit. Why are you staring at her?

Jealous much?

I chuckle silently and text back.

Me: Who do you think?

Dean: Not me, and that pisses me off. Stop it.

Me: Jealous?

Dean: Hardly. 

Me: Don’t act like she’s not hot. She’s exactly your type.

Dean: She’s our sister.

Me: Half-sister. And you’re my brother. That didn’t stop you this morning. 

Dean lets out an annoyed sigh in the seat in front of me. 

Dean: Point made. So, what? Do you wanna bring her into this? That’ll go over well. 

Me: I’m just saying it’s an option. 

Dean: She’s leaving soon anyway. Don’t bother.

I stare at my phone, confused. What does he mean? She’s ours now, that’s why Dad went to get her.

Me: What are you talking about? She just got here.

Dean: And she doesn’t want to stay. She told me this morning, so leave her out of it. 

Me: She can’t. She’s not even eighteen yet.

Dean: She will be in 2 months, that’s when she’s leaving. 

Me: That’ll go over well with Dad. 

Dean: What does? Stop texting me. Dad keeps looking at us. We’ll talk about it later.

I look up and see Dad looking at me in the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t know about me and Dean, obviously, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t suspect anything. Especially when Dean fought going with him to pick up y/n because he ‘needed to stay and protect me.’ I look away from the rearview mirror and look out the window. I don’t want y/n to leave, but I don’t know if I can trust her yet, either. 

What a fucking mess.

Y/n

We finally pull into another hotel somewhere on the boarder of Wyoming and Colorado. I get out and stretch while John goes to get a room. I grab my backpack from the backseat and close the door. 

“So,” Sam clears his throat, talking to me. “Long car ride,” he says awkwardly. 

I purse my lips into a smile and nod. “Yeah, he doesn’t like to stop, does he?” I ask jokingly. 

Sam laughs as Dean gets out of the car, too. “No, not really.”

“He would’ve just kept going if you weren’t here,” Dean says, stretching his arms over his head. 

“Oh,” I respond, trying to ignore the dig at my presence. “Sorry.”

Dean shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. He’s just trying to make sure you’re comfortable. I don’t mind stopping,” Dean smirks. 

I nod and pull out my vape, taking a drag off of it and blowing the vapor into the air above me. “Think he’ll be able to get one with three beds this time?” I ask Sam and Dean. 

They both laugh and shake their heads. “Not likely. But he’ll probably take the couch again,” Sam responds. 

John comes back with the key, and we all carry our bags to the room. I put my bags by the bed furthest from the door and sit down on the edge. Sam and Dean put their bags on either side of the other bed in the room. 

“I’m going to get burgers,” John announces as he sets his bag on the other side of my bed. “Do you want to come with me?” he asks me as he hands Sam and Dean a second copy of the hotel key. 

I’m not sure if I want to leave or not, and I don’t know how to tell him. 

“She can stay here,” Dean says flatly. “We should probably have the talk with her anyway,” Dean says to John with a serious and mysterious tone of voice. 

John narrows his eyes at Dean and nods before turning back to me. “Stay in the room unless one of them goes with you. I’ll be back,” is all he says before walking out of the hotel room and closing the door behind him. 

“What talk?” I ask, looking over at Sam and Dean. 

They look at each other and then back to me. “You said you don’t know what business Dad is in, right?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, no clue. Is he in like the mob or something?” I ask jokingly. 

“No, he’s a hunter,” Dean responds, clearing his throat. “All of those things you read about in fairy tales growing up are real,” Dean explains. 

I blink a few times, wondering if he’s fucking with me. He has to be. “Right,” I drawl out. “Next, you’re going to tell me you just live in a dragon-guarded castle,” I joke back with a small laugh.

“Not a castle, a bunker,” Sam corrects.

“And it’s not guarded by a dragon, but it is warded,” Dean adds. 

I can’t help but laugh at their serious faces. The first I’ve laughed since I lost Mom. Sam and Dean look at me like I’m crazy, and Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s just,” I chuckle, my laugh dying down. “You can’t be serious.”

Dean stands up and grabs something from John’s bag and sits down next to me. “See for yourself,” he says, handing me a leather-back journal. I look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he nods to the journal in my hands. “Open it, it’s dad’s, you can look at it,” he says seriously. 

I open the journal, and I can’t believe my eyes as I turn the pages. There are what look like entries with names, dates, places, and all different kinds of creatures. “All of this is real?” I ask as I skim the pages.

Sam sits down on my other side. “Yeah. This is what we do. We travel around the country and hunt these things,” Sam explains. 

I look up at Sam, the journal resting open on my lap. “How do you know where they are or what they are?” I ask curiously.

Dean takes the journal from my hands and flips through it before finding the page he wants and shows me. “This is the newspaper article,” he says, pointing to a clipping that’s paperclipped to the side of the page. “It talks about people going on a killing spree, in this case, killing their entire family. Only to disappear and never be seen again,” Dean explains the article to me. 

“But that happens sometimes, doesn’t it? I mean, there’s serial killers and family annihilators in prison for the same thing,” I mention as he flips the article to show the entry underneath.

Dean nods. “Yes, there are. But in this town, it happened to three separate families. That’s what makes it our kind of case,” Dean explains. 

“So, what kind of monster is that then? A vampire?” I ask.

“Shape-shifter,” Sam corrects on my other side. “Vampires can’t come out in the daytime; they’ll burn.”

I nod and look back at the journal. “And that’s a shape-shifter?” I ask, pointing to a still photo of a man, his eyes glowing. 

“Yes,” Dean answers. “See how his eyes glow in the picture? That’s how you can tell.”

“So, what does it look like? Like, not in a human?” I ask.

“Nobody knows. Nobody has seen one in its own skin and lived to talk about it,” Dean responds.

“This is freaky,” I murmur, shaking my head. “So you guys kill these things?” I ask them both.

“Sometimes, but they’re pretty rare, actually. Our biggest problems are usually vampires, werewolves, and demons. And a few ghosts,” Sam explains calmly. 

“Did you say…demons?” I ask, confused. “Like wings and shit like that?” 

Sam and Dean chuckle and shake their heads. “No, they look like regular people because they possess their bodies,” Sam explains. 

“I’m sorry, did you just say they possess people?” I ask, shocked. “Like, they just walk around and act like regular people?” 

“Not exactly. There are different kinds. Some are relatively harmless, just happy to be out of Hell. Some make deals with people, and those are called crossroads demons. Stay away from them,” Dean explains. 

I shake my head as I try to wrap my mind around what they’re telling me. “So you mean to tell me that vampires, werewolves, shape-shifters, demons, all of those are real?” I ask, looking down at the floor. 

“There’s more-”

I cut Dean off. “There’s MORE?!” I practically scream. 

“Calm down, you’re safe with us. Yes, there are more things out there, and you’ll learn about all of them and how to keep yourself safe. We’ll teach you, and Dad will too,” Sam assures me, placing a hand gently on my back and rubbing small circles. 

“This is crazy,” I shake my head. The room suddenly feels too small, and I need to get out. I stand up and grab my vape.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks, standing up too. 

“I need some air,” I shake my head. As I walk toward the door, it opens, and I jump nearly out of my skin. 

“Looks like someone took it well,” John says, walking in and placing the food down on the table. “Knew that  I should’ve done it myself,” he shakes his head and walks over to me. “You alright?” he asks, placing his hands on my shoulders. 

I nod once. “I’m fine. I just need some air,” I mutter. 

“I’ll come with you. It’s dark out,” John says, looking over my shoulder at Sam and Dean. “Food’s on the table; we’ll be back,” he says to them. He puts an arm over my shoulders and walks outside with me. We take a seat on the steps, looking out over the empty parking lot. “It’s a lot to take in when you first learn about it,” John says softly as I hit my vape. 

“How did you find out about it?” I ask, not looking at him. I can tell I struck a cord asking when he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out in a huff. 

“After my wife died,” he says softly. I turn to look up at him, feeling sorry for him. I can’t imagine what that’s like. “She died when Sammy was just a baby, and Dean was about four. A demon killed her,” John explains sadly. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t asked. 

John takes a breath and sighs. “Thank you, y/n. I loved your mom, too. Sheila was…” he looks out over the parking lot. “Special.”

“Yeah, she was,” I agree, fighting back the tears at the fact I’ll never get to talk to her again. I sniffle, and John wraps an arm around me and hugs me to his side. 

“Cry if you need to, honey, it’s okay,” he assures me, and that itself breaks the dam. The tears fall down my cheeks, and I lean into him for support. John hugs me and shushes me gently. He doesn’t tell me it’s going to be okay, and he doesn’t tell me it’s going to get better or easier; he’s just there. And for the first time in my life, I’m thankful he is. 

After I’m finished crying, John stands up and gives me a big bear hug. We go inside and eat dinner, and for the first time everyone is civil and even joking around. When it comes time to go to bed, I change into my pajamas and climb into the hotel bed. John offers to sleep on the couch, but I tell him that he can share the bed with me. He’s my dad, after all and I feel bad that he slept on a too-small couch last night. John gets under the covers with me, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out. Who knew crying could make a person so tired?

Chapter Three

[mobbu-min]

☆ Pretty Boy ☆

(ft. the first years + cater, floyd & silver)

requested by anon: I just read your headcanons of reader calling the housewardens pretty and was wondering if you could do it for the vice housewardens or maybe first years?

Ok I adore the pretty boy hcs!!!! Cld I request the same concept with the remaining students? @f4ngt4stic

a/n: idk what i was on while writing these, but these definitely came out...a little different??? just a psa, drink responsibly. floyds and jacks came out kinda poopy tbh :/ can't figure out how to write them

!tw! insecurities, grammar mistakes, once again my poor attempt at a southern accent, ummmm im forgetting something but idk

want more? check these out!

⋆ pretty boy: 1, 2

⋆ cat, kitty, cat! 1, 2, 3

Ace Trappola <3

⋆ Way too smug for a guy that passed out.

⋆ Brags about it to anyone that will listen, no scratch that, he’s screaming all across campus. Everyone knows No ones exempt.. This bitch wrote an entire essay on it and fills every box with ‘prefect this im pretty’ and ‘haha, fuck you deuce’.

⋆ This is a big win for him. So big that he makes a toast to it in the next unbirthday party, so big that you’re permanently embarrassed and quickly regretting ever saying anything and Ace is sitting all pretty with a collar around his neck. But hey, at least he gets to sit next to you.

⋆ Ace teases the hell out of you. Anytime you scold him, he’ll give you puppy dog eyes and pout and say ‘dont be mawd, pwefect, aren’t I your pwetty boi???’ and shit like that. It’s annoying, but great sevens does it work everytime.

⋆ Until the time it gets you in trouble during class and placed in detention, and you quickly find yourself and Cater looking up Ace’s old magicam posts as blackmail and it’s juicy, (probably posted stuff from musically(or would it be called magically?) and his name was probably like @/swaggyboi420)

⋆ Ace is so insufferable that he practically gives himself away. There’s been too many times where he unknowingly admits to how much he likes you. And with the luck of the Shroud brothers, you’ve managed to get it all on tape/recorded.

⋆ He may be an ass, but he’s a pure dumbass, remember that.

"I don’t know why you said my name so confidently, Prefect. It’s like you haven’t looked in the mirror, pssh~ …why are you smiling like that? …Huh?...I-i didn’t mean it like that! No way! Hey! Stop looking at me that way!"

Deuce Spade <3

⋆ A complete spluttering mess. 

⋆ No amount of consoling will allow Deuce to calm the red that has now made its home on his face. Trey is incredibly worried, instantly taking out a thermometer and making soup. Cater is magicamming it, obvi, Ace is a pain in the ass and already knows what’s going on (will not admit that he’s jealous as hell) and Riddle is regretting ever becoming the housewarden. 

⋆ Deuce is so shy about it, so flustered and embarrassed that he literally squeaks the next time you make eye contact with him. The last person to call him pretty was his mom. His mom. 

⋆ So it's safe to say, Deuce isn’t being called pretty very often (up until he meets me and that’s all he ever hears coming out of my big ass mouth)

⋆ It’s different. The meanings behind when his mom called him pretty and you is like water and oil, fire and ice, Riddle and Leona. Completely opposite. 

⋆ On one hand, he’s bashfully annoyed when his mom coos at how pretty he is, littering his soft cheeks with a flurry of kisses. A type of love only able to be felt by a mother such as his. He’s content, satisfied that his mom loves him so much despite his shortcomings, incredibly grateful. 

⋆ And on the other hand, he’s a nervous mess. Sweat accumulating at his brows and pretty pink lips pursed into a taunt frown to stop his lips from melting into a sweet, lovesick smile. The feeling he feels isn’t familiar, it’s different. It feels like he’s been hit by a bus and instead of feeling pure and utter pain, he feels himself exploding into a billion butterflies. 

⋆ At least that’s what he feels like on the inside, on the outside he’s a blushing stuttering mess holding a shaky bouquet of red and pink roses up in your face. 

⋆ Please, be easy on him. 

“Umm….I know I’m not the best with words and I really can’t afford to mess this up, but I need you to know that I think you're pretty too!!! Almost as pretty as these flow-wait! No! I-i mean even more pretty! Yeah! Like 1000000000000000x prettier!...sorry, I wanted this to smoo-huh? You’re laughing? Hehehe, I guess it was pretty funny!”

Cater Diamond <3

⋆ No longer is he @/caycay anymore but he’s upgraded! Everyone add him @/prettycaycay instead!

⋆ So happy, sososo very happy. Instantly glops you in a hug and exclaims it's all in the skincare. Cater wants to twirl you around and give you a big ol’ kiss on your lips. But alas, he needs to have more class!

⋆ Cater’s used to being called pretty, but from you, it’s a totally different thing. To him it means more, there's so much more meaning behind your words and hits him totally different. It builds up his confidence. 

⋆ I like to think, Cater’s secretly self conscious when it comes to his relationship with you. You’re surrounded by great and powerful mages every single day, not to mention down right attractive. That he feels a little insignificant in the great schemes of things. He want to be the person that sweeps you off your feet, he wants to be the person that instantly catches your eyes, he want to be the last person you think about the moment you close your eyes and first when you awake. 

⋆ Cater wants to be your person. 

⋆ And he is. 

⋆ And Cater’s never been so happy.

"Heya, Prefect! Wanna go slay another photoshoot with me?...(sigh) I can’t say that, that’s tots lame! Oh, (name), the things you do poor little me."

Jack Howl <3

⋆ He wants to be offended, but the stupid wagging of his tail betrays him. For once, he’s annoyed at being a beastman. 

⋆ Jack is a little weird about it. Never in his entire existence (ooo 16 years, wooowww soo looong) has he been called pretty. PReTTY?! No way in hell. 

⋆ Does he prefer if you called him something else, like idk, handsome? Ruggedly attractive? A total beefcake? (not really, but really) yes, of course.

⋆ But yet again, this is you that we’re talking about and everything applies differently to you. 

⋆ Jack finds himself taking extra care in his appearance, as in hair and skin routine. Making sure he doesn’t smell bad or clothes looks stanky. Jack even went to Vil for tips and tricks. You found him pretty, so Jack went to the prettiest person he knows (besides you ofc) to make sure he stays that way. 

⋆ Everytime, he sees you, his tail is wagging so fast that you’re afraid he might start flying away. 

⋆ He’s clueless about everything romance, so please, everyone, send your thoughts and money to Jack’s ‘Help him find love’ gofundme page. 

"Ah, I didn’t expect to see you so soon. But I’m glad you're here, I was hoping you’d help me? I need help watering- excuse me, I can’t really control my tail right now."

Floyd Leech <3

⋆ Run and never look back!

⋆ Jk, but really you should really look into some health insurance. 

⋆ Over the moon about, might go super tuna on you, shrimpy. 

⋆ Loves to know that he’s your pretty boy. When he’s having a bad day, he hears your voice in his head and instantly calms down and gets to squishing people with a warm smile. (how cute)

⋆ Does use it against you and doesn’t care if you get embarrassed, if anything that fuels him to up the teasing. Floyd doesn’t mind calling you pretty back, if anything, your little compliment gives him the boost to make sure you know that he’s yours and your his. 

⋆ He’s lowkey possessive, so he does bite you. Like your hand, fyi, to show others that he called dibs. Encourages you to bite him back, and will proudly display his mark. 

⋆ Writes ‘Pretty Shrimpy’ on your bite and ‘Pretty boy’ on his. 

⋆ It’s so romantic, isn’t it???

"Why are you swatting me away??? I just wanna be held by my Pretty Shrimpy~ Don’t deny your loving Pretty boy~ I just wanna squeeze all my love into you!”

Epel Felmier <3

⋆ HOW DARES SOMEONE CALL THEE EPEL FELIMER, THE ROUGHEST, TOUGHEST COUNTRY BOY TO EVER EXIST A ‘PRETTY BOY’!?!!?!?!??!?!?!?

⋆ (bingbing bingbing) excuse me, as I take this call…yeah, it’s me…uh-huh…mhmm…i see…okay, i’ll tell him, thank you…yup, see you soon, love ya..(cling-clack) ahem, EPEL!!!!! YOU BETTER OPEN YOUR DAMN EYES!!! YOUR NOT GONNA BELIEVE WHO JUST SAID IT! Um, why do you have a pitchfork?

⋆ Instantly falls down and cries. Anyone that passes by is incredibly confused and concerned. He too is incredibly confused.

⋆ Should he be sad? Mad? Incredibly grateful? Should he call his meemaw next? What should he do!?!??!?!?!??!?

⋆ The person he likes just called him pretty. Again, you just called him pretty. 

⋆ Vil told him that is one of the highest compliments he can get, but that’s coming from Vil’s mouth, so it holds little value to him. Epel wants to be handsome in your eyes! Not pretty!

⋆ Epel, actually, talks about it to Leona, surprisingly enough. Who, for once in his life, gives some really good advice. Leona doesn't really know what to say, but Vil’s protege came to him and Leonas not about to miss this once and a lifetime opportunity. 

⋆ Now is the advice useful? Ya, but is it good? …it’s questionable at best.

⋆ You're basically shoved against the wall and a good ol’ classic kadobon is used! Basically securing your attention. 

⋆ Now again, it’s useful, but also not good. Surprisingly, Epel is pretty strong, afterall helping around the farm isn’t easy work (this is coming from someone forced to help around the farm, yes I am from the country, but not the country you're thinking of…probably) and this is where the problem arises. 

⋆ Epel may have shoved and I mean shoved, like running from a distance and just body slamming you into the wall and now half of your allowance is now going to patch up the dent in the wall. 

⋆ Epel thought he killed you. You thought you died and Grim’s worried about who’s gonna feed him! See the problems that arise when taking advice from Leona! 

⋆ Either way, Epel does get a date with you, if you count a date being an injured prefect and a sad farmer boy eating pb&j sandwiches in the infirmary room. (and yes, grim’s there and won’t shut up about it)

“(munch munch munch) Ya know, these ain’t too bad. (munch munch munch) Ermmm, ahem, I hope this ain’t too soon, but ya real pretty too….um, I’ll get some fancy ointment from Vil for ya-er..bump? Bruise? (awkward munching) Do you want some juice?”

Silver <3

⋆ Takes a moment to process what exactly you just said. He blinks, lets out a little yawn, rubs his eyes and then….BAM!!!!

⋆ His pretty auroral eyes are wide with shock. Pretty snow white lashes flutter as softly as a butterfly flutters its wings. A gradient of pinks and red dusts his ears, checks and nose  Pretty rose pink lips agape in shock letting the softest of gasps leave his lips.

⋆ Ugh, pretty pretty boy who's somehow shocked he's considered pretty???? Like, hunny, you're literally considered the prettiest boy in the whole school???? Like make it makes sense.

⋆ Silver is so bashful about it. Shyly meeting your gaze the next time you meet. It’s adorable, that you're the one blushing. 

⋆ It reminds of the romance stories Lilia used to tell him. The girl overheard the boy confessing his feelings for him and growing flustered and falling deeper in love. But instead, he’s the girl, who’s falling deeper and deeper in love with you and a flustered mess, and instead of a confession, you just said that you found him to be the prettiest boy in the whole world. 

⋆ It’s a little different, but Silver’s a mess either way. 

“I know I’m not the best company. I know I fall asleep constantly or am always attending to Malleus, however, I hope you understand that your company is the highlight of my day. Is it selfish, if I ask for more?”

Sebek Zigvolt <3

⋆ HUMAN!? HOW DARE YOU NOT SAY WAKA-SAMA!!! ARE YOU BLIND?!?!?!?!?!?!?

⋆ Literally takes him a whole ass day to realize that you said him. He’s so caught up that you didn’t say ‘Oh Great Lord Malleus Draconia’. He is truly the biggest simp you’ve ever known.

⋆ But when his mind finally catches up, man’s a whole ass tomato. Steams coming from his ears and he lets out the loudest, most inhumane, scream known to man, (if you’ve read pt 1, it’s more terrifying than idia’s because it sounds straight from some horror movie and if you haven’t read it, what are you doing here! Go read it bestie!)

⋆ Oh, Sebek, poor little Sebek. You are truly the densest person ever. He’s in full denial. Because one, how could you say him instead of Waka-sama, two, why did you say him!? And three, why does his heart feel like it's about to burst?\

⋆ He goes to Lilia, because Sebek does not know how to deal with it himself. And Lilia, being the great mentor he is, says you’ve cursed him and the best way to break the curse is to spend the week following after you and treating you like royalty!

⋆ And while Sebek really doesn’t (and I mean really doesn’t) want to leave his duties, it must be done! If he dies early, then who will protect Malleus and who will make sure you’re not surrounded by morons all the time?!

⋆ So for the next week, you're followed by a red-faced Sebek like a little puppy. You're confused, but eventually forget about it because it’s not the weirdest thing that has happened. And as for Sebek, this boy is going through it!

⋆ His poor heart can’t handle another hit from your sweet laughter or soft smiles. His face feels like it’s permanently been hit by the sun. He really doesn’t understand what’s wrong and by the end of the week, when the curse was supposed to be ‘broken’ Sebek explodes. He literally feeling vomited all over you. Saying how could you off all people make his heart swoon and face red. How you keep him up at night, how he looks forward to seeing you. And omg, how he misses you! He’s a mess, this is a mess, and the poor baby really just doesn’t understand.

⋆ Be gentle, Sebek does care for you, he’s just too much of an idiot to admit and realize it.

“PREFECT! I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS FEELING THAT ARISES WHENEVER YOU ARE NEAR! IT’S AS IF MY HEART DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO BEHAVE! I LOSE ALL FOCUS WHEN YOU’RE NEAR! TELL ME, HAVE YOU BEWITCHED ME!”

[hannahmanderr]

DannyMay Day 19 - No Backspace Challenge

Yup, this fic was completed without using the backspace key! So there will be mistakes, but I'm hoping I was able to incorporate the mistakes into the story ;)

Words: 3,858

Summary: Jack has finally caught Phantom! Except Maddie's out of town, and he's not that great with a scalpel. So how about studying him with the next best thing: an interview?

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FENTONWORKS LOGS - Phantom, D.

ABILITIES: (click to expand)

OTHER DESCRIPTORS: (click to expand)

THREAT LEVEL: (click to expand)

THEORIES: (click to expand)

FIELD NOTES: (click to expand)

LAB NOTES:

Showing: Most Recent

DATE: Sept. 12 15:49 pm

PREPARED BY: Jack Fenton

LOGS:

Today I finally did it! I, Jack Fenton, captured the menace known as Phantom! I might’ve accidentally spilled my drink over the backspace key on this keyboard and glitched it out in the process, but it’s a small price to pay to get a chance to examine the ghost boy! If I mess up, I’ll just strike it through. But I’m sure it won’t be to too much! Other than that mistake, at least.

So! How’d I capture him!? Turns out it was real simple! I just walked into the basement and he was there, standing in front of the portal! That’s one of the spots we have pop-up containment units installed, so all I had to do was jump on over to the computer and hit the button, and presto! One protoplasmic punk sealed up tight in a Fenton Containment and Observation Unit!

I might’ve gotten a little excited when I got to the button though. That’s how I spilled my drink. But like a I said, a small price to pay for this breakthrough!

The only problem was that Maddie and I have really wanted to dissent disect dissect Phantom, but I’m no good at actually going through ghost bodies and stuff (ha! Ghost pun!). That’s more Maddie’s stint. I’m the engineer! Bu But yeah, Maddie’s taken Jazz to visit a college this weekend, so it’s been a Fenton’s man weekend for the Fenton men! Without Maddie though, I can’t try and start peeking into Phantom. Especially because I think Maddie wants to try and keep him “alive” for further study (she has a theory about how he gets his ectoplasm apparently, a genius idea!).

But I’m Jack Fenton! I’m not gonna going to let an opportunity like this pass me buy by! There’s still plenty of ways I can get more info on him! Only question is what.

Maybe I’ll ask Danny. I know he doesn’t want anything to do with the family business, but he just doesn’t know he really is meant for it yet! And he’s a clever kid, even if his grades aren’t great. Maybe he can help me brainstorm some ideas - ooo, or maybe he’ll even be okay with helping me! It’s always great to have a lab partner, and I don’t want to take away from the girls’ special bonding time.

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FENTONWORKS LOGS - Phantom, D.

ABILITIES: (click to expand)

OTHER DESCRIPTORS: (click to expand)

THREAT LEVEL: (click to expand)

THEORIES: (click to expand)

FIELD NOTES: (click to expand)

LAB NOTES:

Showing: Most Recent

DATE: Sept. 12 20:12 pm

PREPARED BY: Jack Fenton

LOGS:

Well, I couldn’t get a hold of Danny, but Tucker called over and said the two of them were going to have a sleepover to work on a history project together. Believe me, I’m glad Danny-boy is taking the opportunity to improve his grades, but I’ll be honest, I’m kind of dissapo disappointed. I was hoping to get to bring him into the wonderful world of ghost hunting, have a little man-to-man bonding! Maybe next time.

I thought about what to do with Phantom over dinner. I’ve been trying to ignore him, because he keeps asking me when I’m going to let him go and stuff, so I just keep telling him I’ll let him go when I let him go. Weirdly enough, he got all quiet while I ate my dinner (I made sure to eat it in the lab to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t try anything slippery).

I’m not sure why I did, if I’m being honest, but I asked him what was up. One thing everyone knows about Phantom is that he’s not a quiet person at all - kid’s got a mouth that was born to run sass - so maybe I found his lack of talking uncharacteristic. It kind of made the whole lab feel eerie. We’d been bantering forth back and forth all afternoon, so the silence made me uncomfortable.

He looked surprised when I wasked asked him what was wrong. He definitely didn’t seem to want to answer me at first, but , but I guess his curiosity or something got the better of him, because he wanted to know what I was eating. I didn’t mind showing him, it was just leftover pasta from the other night, but the weird part was that he asked if he could have a little of it.

That one definitely threw me off a little. Everything Maddie andd and I have stuf studied has indicated that ghosts don’t eat; if anything, they “eat” ectoplams ectoplasm, which is why they have to live in the Ghost Zone. Our world doesn’t have enough ectoplasm in it to keep them sustained. Even if it’s a ghost who can “eta eat “eat” emotions from humans, they still have to go back to the Ghost Zone at some point to replenish on ectoplasm, since it’s the stuff that keeps them alive. Er, as alive as a ghost can get anyway.

So then why was Phantom asking to eat human fodo food? Maddie and I have theorized that H he’s one of the ghosts who can consume emoit emotions (see THEORIES), which is why he’s around so often and involves himself in ghost fights with high emotional energy environments. Maybe my emotions alone aren’t enough fo rhim for him? Or maybe they aren’t strong enough? Of course, that’s all assuming he’s the type who can “eat” emotions in the first place.

And even then, why ask to eat human food? Surely he knows that ghost bodies can’t process human food properly, otherwise we’d probably be seeing them eat it all the time. Could it be a leftover behavior from his time alive or something? Maybe he’s used to eating ectoplasmic constructs of human food.

I’ll admit that curis curiosity got the better of me, and I didn did end up giving him some of the pasta. Surprisingly enough, he did’ didn’t wolf it down, but he didn’t take his sweet time either. The way he ate was just very… normal. It struck me as very strange.

So I asked him why. Maybe I was being too blunt - people have told me that I am t too blunt before - but I can’t help it! I wasn want to learn as much as possible out about ghosts, especially if it helps me figure out better ways to keep them from r wreaking havoc in the human world.

It was weirder because he just kind of shrugged and told me he really likes chicken fettuccine. Didna’ Didn’t really offer up any other reason why he was eating food - human food that is. And when he ate it, it didn’t just come falling out of his stomach, like Maddie and I have figured is what happens when a ghost tries to eat human food.

The whole thing got me thinking. Phantom is the one ghost that we can’t pin down. He si seems to violate nearly every rule we’ve established when it g comes to ghosts and their behavior. The fact that he was happily slurping down my pasta was proof enough of that. And Maddie and I have a lot of questions about him and why and how he does the things he does. Questions that might not be answered by dissectiona dissection alone.

So why not just ask him? An interview would be the perfect way to study him!

Maddie n might not be the biggest fan of the idea - she’s definitely more the logical, observable facts kind of gal - but I don’t see the hamr harm done. She won’t be back for another two days, and like I said, I can’t take him apart without her. Might as well do something useful with the time, right? 

Maybe I should look into building a Fenton Lie Detector. There’s no way I’ll let some slippery ghost pull the wool over my eyes!

(Also note to self: look into ordering a new keyboard tomorrow. I’m starting to get tired of having to strike through all my mistakes.)

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FENTONWORKS LOGS - Phantom, D.

ABILITIES: (click to expand)

OTHER DESCRIPTORS: (click to expand)

THREAT LEVEL: (click to expand)

THEORIES: (click to expand)

FIELD NOTES: (click to expand)

LAB NOTES:

Showing: Most Recent

DATE: Sept. 13 09:23 am

PREPARED BY: Jack Fenton

LOGS:

It took all night, but I did it! The Fenton Lie Detector is a go!

Phantom was real curious about what I was up to for awhile, but around midnight or so, he fell asleep. Another thing to follow up on during our interview actually. Just like eating, ghosts js shouldn’t need to sleep, since they recharge their energy through ectoplasm and absorbing it. Plus, as far as we know, most ghosts can’t regenerate lost ectoplasm or body parts, not like a human can. Sleep is important to that regeneration process, so there’s no reason for a ghost to need sleep. I guess it just drives home the fact that Phantom is weirder than any other ghost we’ve studied.

Either way, it gave me some good peace and queit quiet to work on the Fenton Lie Detector. It wasn’t too difficult actually - I ended up repurposing the Fenton Ghost Gabber, since we found out it’s kind of redundant what with ghosts speaking human languages and such. So thankfully, a lot of the voice recording and storing as well as the processing work was already done, I just had to -

Oops, sorry! These are Phantom’s logs, right. I’ll make sure I write all this down in our invention logs though! I hope Maddie’s impressed with it!

Anyway, when Phantom woke up and started wondering what I was doing again, I finally told him. It was surprising because he actually seemed really interested in it. Said he even wanted to help me test it! Honestly I didn’t turn up my nose to that. Why would I give up on the chance to have a willing test subject? Even if they are just a piece of post-human consciousness embedded onto an ectoplasmic form.

I made sure to ask him simple questions that would be able to be obvious if he was lying about the answer or not, like his name and his hair color. The first one was a bit shaky, but the next one, when I asked if his hair was blue, went much smoother, thanks to a couple of little twew tweaks I made. All in all, the test was a smashing success! 

I need to go eat breakfast before doing the actual interview, but there was something else that’s probably important to note. After Phantom helped me test it, I kind of set it to the side, but I didn’t turn it off. I started to write this log, and then it kind of hit me that I should ask why he was so willing to help me test it the Lid Lie Detector.

When I asked him, he told me that he was hoping it would give him a chance to prove to me once and for all that he’s been telling the truth this whole time. I’m not sure exactly what he meant or what he was reffer refi referring to in terms of telling the truth, but the important part is that I happened to look over to the Lie Detector, and it didn’t return with any red flags. Meaning Phantom was telling the truth about wanting to prove he’s been telling us the truth. 

Whew! Kind of makes my head spin just writing it out.

That being said, I told him we’d do the interview after breakfast. 

You know, now that I’m thinking about it, I wonder if Phantom would like my huevos rancheros?

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FENTONWORKS LOGS - Phantom, D.

ABILITIES: (click to expand)

OTHER DESCRIPTORS: (click to expand)

THREAT LEVEL: (click to expand)

THEORIES: (click to expand)

FIELD NOTES: (click to expand)

LAB NOTES:

Showing: Most Recent

DATE: Sept. 13 14:46 pm

PREPARED BY: Jack Fenton

LOGS:

I know the time is not going to read particularly accurate, since it’ll be the time I submit the log and not when I started writing it, but this is the official log of my interview with the ghost that goes by Danny Phantom. I admittedly didn’t write out my questions beforehand (I kind of got distracted with building the Fenton Lie Detector), so for future reference, these questions were all made up during the interview itself.

Question 1: Earlier, when you talked about proving you were telling the truth, why what did you mean by that?

Answer: (paraphrased) He talked about wanting to show me that he’s been telling the truth about wanting to protect the town and not being an evil ghost this whole time. He said he’s been trying to tell us for ages, ever since that first ghost invasion when he kidnapped the mayor. (Lie Detector results: no red flags)

Question 2: So you’re claiming you didn’t kidnap the mayor back then - what really happened?

Answer: (paraphrased) The way he told it was that the mayor was overshadowed by another ghost named Walker, who eh he’d gotten into trouble with some time before then. Supposedly, this Walker was looking to get revenge on Phantom by making him out to be the bad guy and turning the town against him. Thus he framed Phantom to make it look like he kidnapped the mayor. (Lie Detector results: no red flags)

Question 3: What about the crimes committed a couple months after that? The camera footage from then shows you explicitly stealing and destroying public property of your own free will.

Answer: (quoted) “Funny that you think it was of my own free will.” (paraphrased) He asked if I remembered the circus ringleader that had been caught masterminding all of the thefts in the first place. I did remember, though I didn’t tell him it was actually Danny and his friends who helped get the guy arrested. According to Phantom, the ringleader had some sort of ghostly artifact that allowed the person who controlled it to put ghosts under a state of mind control. In other words, he’d been forced to steal those things against his true will (Lie Detector results: no red flags)

Question 4: So why try to be the “good guy” in the first place? Why try to fight against your own kind for a town of humans?

Answer: (paraphrased) He claims to have some sort of innate need to protect the defenseless and offer his help to those in need. He also said it’s not something he limits to humans; if there are ghosts in danger, he’ll do his best to protect them too. When pressed further about this “innate need,” he explained that most ghosts have something like that that drives them and forms a big part of their identity. Apparently, these “obsessions” (his word) can even stem from something the they’d held high value in before they died. When asked where his need to protect came from, he claimed he didn’t know. (Lie Detector results: some red flags marked during the last answer; otherwise no red flags)

Question 5: Do you remember how you died?

Answer: (quoted) “Yes.” (no clarification offered) (Lie Detector results: no red flags)

Question 6: How did you t die then?

Answer: (parahp paraphrased) He did not answer this right away. I’m not sure why. He seemed to kind of be thinking about this answer more. Eventually, he said he died from electrocution, but he refused to give up any more details (Lie Detector results: significant red flags indicated)

Question 7: How old of a ghost are you?

Answer: (paraphrased) He told me he’d basically become a ghost right after he died, which was three or four months before he was framed for kidnapping the mayor (Lie Detector results: no red flas flags; NOTE TO SELF: re-evaluate this answer because of discrepancies between age and power level)

Question 8: So because you’re a fairly young ghost, is that why you eat human food still?

Answer: (paraphrased) He answered yes to this and said it helps remind him of what it was like to be alive. He also said it helps fill the “pa phantom phantom” of his stomach, and he laughed at his own joke. I might’ve laughed a little bit too, I do appreciate a good play on words! (Lie Detector results: significant red flags indicated)

Question 9: Is that why you sleep too?

Answer: (paraphrased) He explained that ghosts can sleep, despite popular belief. It might not serve the same purposes as it does for a human, but it can still be beneficial for regulating the purity of bodily ex ectoplasm and allowing the mind to process things. He even told me that there’s a ghost of dreams who will travel around and “harvest” dreams from both ghosts and humans. (Lie Detector results: minor red flags indicated)

Question 10: How often do you sleep then?

Answer: (quoted) “Not as much as I’d like to, especially when some jef jerk of a ghost decides to wake him up in the mi me up in the middle of the night.” (Lie Detector results: no red fal flags)

Question 11: How do you even know where the ghosts are? You always seem to show up before anyone else, like even before our detectors can pick stuff up.

Question Answer: (paraphrased) He told me he has something he calls a “ghost sense” that basically alerts him to a ghost’s presence if it’s within a certain range, though he doesn’t know how far that range reaches. He also said that sometimes he can feel or pick out the ectosignatures of powerful ghosts and use them to help pinpoint their location (Lie Detector results: no red flags)

Question 12: Do you know why so many ghosts seem to show up at the high school?

Answer: (paraphrased) He claimed he didn’t know, though he wondered if it had something to do with the teenagers being easy targets for ghosts or easy sources of emotional energy. He admitted sometimes he hangs around the high school since he knows it’s such a hotspot for ghost activity. (Lie Detector results: moderate red flags indicated towards the beginning of the answer; minor red flags indicated throughout)

Question 13: Is that why so many of the teenagers seem to think you’re the hero? Because you hang around the high school?

Answer: (quoted) “I’m not mind-controlling them, if that’s what you think. Teenagers think superheroes are g cool, sue me.” (Lie Detector results: no red flags)

Question 14: Do you see yourself as a superhero then?

Answer: (paraphrased) He hesitated on this one again. I almost gave up on getting an answer out of him for this one when he finally said he’s not exactly sure how he sees himself. He went on and on about how he’s been called a lot of different things by a lot of different people but he wouldn’t go into detail about them. (quoted) “All I’m trying to do is the right thing. I don’t know what that makes me, but I promise I’m just trying to help.” (Lie Detector results: minor red flags during first part of answer: ; no red flags during second part)

Question 15: If all you’re trying to do is the right thing, then why act so elusive and secretive and mysterious? No one can seem to pin you down or get a true read on you, since you usually come into and out of ghost fights so quickly.

Answer: (quoted) “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice. I’m getting tired of keeping secrets. Especially from…” [answer cut off before he finished] (Lie Detector results: no red flags)

**NOTE TO SELF: What does he mean be by that? What choice is he talking about? And why is the Lie Detector saying he is telling the truth when he seems so nervouc nervous? He waited so long before saying that, is it really the truth?

I’m not done with the interview yet, I still have a tone ton of questions, but I’m going ahead and saving and submitting this while I go answer the door. Wouln Wouldn’t want to lose all this valuable work!

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FENTONWORKS LOGS - Phantom, D.

ABILITIES: (click to expand)

OTHER DESCRIPTORS: (click to expand)

THREAT LEVEL: (click to expand)

THEORIES: (click to expand)

FIELD NOTES: (click to expand)

LAB NOTES:

Showing: Most Recent

DATE: Sept. 13 15:03 pm

PREPARED BY: Jack Fenton

LOGS:

Alright, starting today, I’m making a new rule: no non-Fenton personnel in the lab unless they’re previously authorized!

Sorry, I’m just upset. I know Sam didn’t mean to, but this is a huge loss for us. I should’ve had her come with me when she asked me if I could help find one of Danny’s textbooks, but she offered to look in the lab while I looked in his room and it seemed like an okay arrangement at the time!

The long and short of it is Phantom is gone. She accidentally hit the release when she was looking around, and of course that punk took the first chance he had to run - er. Fly, anyway.

I wasn’t even done with the interview! That last question I asked, I wasn’t expecting his answer at all. It brought up at least five other questions! And now my mind is racing, I can’t get it off of what he said. It just has me so confused.

I won’t lie - what with the Lie Detector, he acut actually had me believing him. For the first time, I was starting to believe that he was telling us the truth about being the hero - that he’s been playing the part of the hero this whole time. Not even playing the part, like actually trying to save people!

So if his goal is to get me and Maddie to see him that way, why would he run? He seemed so eager to try and help me understand his side of things before.

I just heard Danny come in the door. I should probably go check in on him; it’s not like I have anything else down here I need to worry about.

Wait, that probably sounded really rude. I’m sorry Danny! You’re way more important than any ghost, I promise son.

Before I submit this, I’m just saying this for futuer future me: maybe don’t show this to Maddie. She’ll see it eventually of course, since we both have access to these logs, but I don’t think I’m going to tell her right away. I need time to go through the responses that I did get and re-evaluate the Fenton Lie Detector logs. Not that I don’t trust her, of o course! Maddie is my everything.

But this whole Phantom mystery, I think it’s something I need to figure out for myself first.

[halfmoondaze]

hiiiii i have quite a few suggestions for dad!jack and aitana hope you like them!

aitana has a nightmare and jack helps calm her down and fall back asleep. aitana meeting his family and/or his friends and being all shy and jack just helping her be comfortable enough to start talking to everyone. maybe aitana and reader touring with jack for a little and everyone is sleeping in their bunks on the tour bus and aitana wakes up crying and tries to look for reader and jacks bunk but instead finding urban or someone else bunk and them taking her and helping her sleep and when everyone wakes up jack and reader can’t find aitana but urban or whoever opens their bunk and they are in there sleeping and they just go back to sleep (saw something similar for a different artist and it was too cute). jack and reader get into an argument and wake up aitana and she gets all sad and thinks they are breaking up and jack is gonna leave so he calms her down and tells her he’ll never leave her or her mom. maybe aitana and reader watching jack from the side of the stage and reader gets distracted and runs onto the stage and helps jack with the next song (also saw something kinda similar for a different artist and loved it.

hope you like some of the suggestions! love your writing!! ❤️

Sad Dream

It was around midnight when Jack was walking across the hallway on his way to your shared bedroom when he heard faint cries coming from Aitana’s bedroom.

Without a second thought, he stopped in his tracks and slowly entered Aitana’s bedroom so as not to startle her.

“Daddy?” she sobbed as she looked up as sat on his bed.

Jack walked over to her bed and turned on the light from her bedside table.

“Hey baby. What’s the matter?” he softly said as he sat on the edge of her bed.

“I had a bad dream” she mumbled.

He picked her up and pulled her onto his lap and hugged her.

“It’s ok, I’m here now”

At that moment you walked into the bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” you softly asked as you walked over to Aitana’s bed.

“Bad dream” Jack said.

“Oh sweetie” you said as you pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry I woke you up” she mumbled.

You kissed the top of her head.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Aitana looked down as she recalled her nightmare.

“Daddy left and didn’t come back for me” she said through tears.

Jack could feel his heart break at the sight of Aitana crying.

Aitana always took it the hardest when Jack had to leave for tour, and the first time he left it was far from easy. You couldn’t really blame her.

You and Jack managed to comfort her and calm her down, and eventually, she fell back to sleep. Once you were sure she was sound asleep, you exited her bedroom.

As Jack made his way back to your shared bedroom with you, he couldn’t help but feel a gut wrenching sense of guilt for being away so often. He did feel sad whenever he was away from Y/N and Aitana, but he didn’t know how bad that was affecting her until now.

“You, ok?” Y/N asked him as he was unusually quiet.

He turned to you.

“I think it's time to hit the pause button. I feel like I’m missing a lot for being away touring….and…..she doesn’t need someone else in her life walking away from her” he said.

“And you won’t,” you said cupping his face. “She loves you I’m sure of that”

“I know, but it's still not fair for her” he sighed. “I think I’m done touring for good. I would still record music and release stuff, but my family should be my number priority right now”

You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re an amazing father, you know that right?”

He smiled to himself.

“Let’s go to bed, ok?” she said looking up at him.

“Yeah”

He kissed the top of your head, and you went back to bed.

[silli-lil-rat-dude]

! REPOST FROM MY A03 (@attagirljessy) ¡

Vox needs sleep

“Hello, VoxTek enterprises - this is Shanda.”

“GET VOX ON THE FUCKING PHONE! TELL HIM ITS VAL!”

Shanda sighed. She was not getting paid enough.

The amount of sexting she had to do for them…

Fuck.

“Okay, Valentino.”

“By the way, Shanda - if you need a jo-“

She put him on hold.

“Sir?”

Vox slammed his head against his desk, before chugging some coffee.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Val needs you. I put him on hold”

“Tell that walking std to go and fuck himself.”

“He said it was importa-“

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Shanda scurried away.

Fuck.

That wasn’t the first time someone ran away from him.

Oh well.

He turned his attention back to his work.

Ew.

He was tired.

Maybe if he went home, Val or Vel could set up a movie, grab Vark-

No.

He had to do work!

He looked around for a pen.

Where are they?

He could feel tears of frustration fill his eyes.

He wanted to scream.

He had been working for three days straight, ever since Alastor disappeared.

Without Alastor distracting him he could do more Big kid stuff!

Wait what?

No! Work!

He had to work.

That was his job.

He stumbled back to his desk.

His clothes felt too tight and the cheap fabric rubbed against his skin.

He was so tired.

“SHANDA!”

“Yes, Val?”

“I’M GOING INTO VOX’S FUCKING OFFICE.”

Shanda rubbed her eyes.

“Okay.”

“Voxxy~”

Vox could hear someone’s footsteps approaching.

Fuckkkk.

He was lying on the ground.

He tried to sit up.

He bashed his head on his desk.

“…Tino”

He whispered.

“Hm? Funny, I can’t hear a single thing! I wonder why…”

Vox sighed.

“Tino.”

Valentino clapped his hands.

“Good job, Voxxy!”

Vox grumbled.

“I just fell. ‘M big!”

Val laughed.

“Okay. Then I guess I should carry yo-“

Vox jumped up, clinging onto Val.

“I’m sowwy! I got sleepy, an’ - an’”

Vox started to cry, sobs racking his body.

“Andmyclothesareickyandidontwanttobehere…”

Vox could feel his face burning up.

He’s not little!

He’s big!

He’s…big

He’s…

Val picked him up.

“Come here, bebé.”

Vox nuzzled into his chest.

They walked out.

Shanda sighed.

How many times was Vox going to snort coke in his office!

Vox woke up.

He couldn’t remember how he got there, but his was wrapped in a fluffy blue blanket, his 7 shark stuffed animals on him, and he wore some shark themed pjs.

He yawned.

Vel glanced at him.

“Ay, little V.”

Vox smiled.

“Velly, ‘m hungry…”

Velvette put her phone down and searched the kitchen and found some Froot Loops.

She poured them into a bowl, careful not to spill any.

Some milk splashed on the counter, sure! But whatever!

She grabbed the bowl and put it next to him.

“Where’s papa?”

Velvette crossed her legs, fighting with her shirt.

“He’ll be home soon.”

Vox huffed.

“I wan’ ‘Tino, Velly!”

Velvette tried to keep him calm.

“Hey, bud. Let’s try and calm down oka-“

Vox screamed.

“Vox! I’ll put you in timeout!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh!”

Valentino could hear his ringtone - the one for Velvette specifically.

“Whores! I’ll be back!”

He walked into his office, grabbing his phone.

“Vel? What do you want I’m bus-“

“Valllll. Vox is being meannn.”

Val pause.

“Vel. How old are you?”

“…”

“…”

“9?”

“What about Vox.”

“Like, um, 2.”

“YOU DIDNT BOTHER CHANGING HIM!”

“I DIDNT WANT TO! YOUR BEING MEAN!”

Oh shit.

“Vel don’t cry, mi dulce chica-“

“WAHHH”

Ohshitohshitohshit.

Val walked into the vees tower.

“Vox! Vel!”

Velvette came running over.

“He hit meeee”

Vox screamed.

Val sighed.

He picked up Vox, and grabbed Vel.

“Vel, he’s younger than you!”

Velvette pouted.

“Timeout for two minutes.”

Velvette stomped over.

Val grabbed some supplies and changed Vox into a onesie (with sharks), and a diaper.

Usually, Vox didn’t regress this young, but all the stress must have triggered it.

Val kissed his forehead.

“My bébe..”

[taylor-tut-fics]

i uploaded this fic the other day but the formatting was off so rather than fixing it, i panicked and deleted it. so here it is again! another camp camp fic. enjoy and also if you have more requests i Desperately Need Them(TM) or i'll be left alone with my thoughts 😰

It’s one of the hottest days of the year, and they’ve been out of electricity for three days. The campers are cranky. Gwen is cranky. Cracks are even beginning to show in David’s patience. They were meant to watch a movie indoors to combat the heat, but they’ve been forced to find a last minute activity that doesn’t involve running around outside, so they’d settled on painting. So far, it’s been a wildly unpopular choice, pleasing only Dolph. Everyone else is antsy and bored to tears. Ordinarily, he’d go to any lengths to ensure they were having the best time possible, but he’s lost the energy. 

It comes on suddenly in the middle of painting. At first, it’s just a headache. A minor inconvenience, really. He probably hasn’t drank enough water today for how hot it is. Understandable. His main focus has been keeping the campers hydrated, after all, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he’s neglected himself. 

Next, he starts to feel shaky and weak. He’s willing to chalk that up to dehydration, too, so he grabs a water bottle from the cooler and downs half of it, ignoring how it makes his stomach churn. 

When he feels achy, he blames yesterday’s hike. Lightheadedness, he blames on the heat. It’s only when he starts shivering with chills that he finally accepts it. Something is wrong. He’s gone from normal to feeling like he’s been hit by the bus (again) in the span of half an hour. This isn’t just a little overexertion. And with the way his head is starting to spin, if he doesn’t go lie down in bed now, he’s going to end up lying down against his will somewhere much less desirable. 

“Hey, Gwen,” David calls, dragging his aching body across the mess hall to her. At the mention of her name, she looks up. “Hey. I’m not feeling so well all of a sudden.” She scans him up and down with a grimace. He’s pale and sweaty, with a distinct red flush to his cheeks. 

“Yeah, you don’t look so good, either. What’s wrong?” 

“Not so sure. I’m just really tired and everything hurts.” The shivering is obviously concerning without even having to mention it. She reaches out to place her hand to his forehead. 

“Hm. A little warm maybe, but nothing crazy. Sounds like you’re getting sick.” 

“Maybe. I think I want to go lie down for a while. Can you handle the kids?” 

She seems a little stunned that he’d ask, and she doesn’t react the way he’d hoped she would. Rather than appreciating that he’s never asked for a day off in the entire time they’ve known each other, even working through colds and injuries, her eyes turn pleading. 

“You can’t leave me alone with them,” she begs. “They’re monsters.” David glances around the horrible room and if he were only a tad more cynical, he’d have to agree. 

“But Gwen, I—”

“Please, David. I’ll owe you so hard.” He sighs. There’s no way he can ignore a genuine plea for help from his CBFL, so he forces a smile. 

“Sure. I’ll stick around.” 

“You’re sure?” she asks, hoping that her tone doesn’t portray the fact that she hopes he’ll say yes. It’s courtesy, not concern.

“Positive. I’ll just head to bed a little early tonight.” He massages a temple with his thumb. “Preston is painting a backdrop on the wall. I’ll be right back.” 

He dashes off to deal with that while Gwen tries her very best just to ensure no one kills each other. Tensions are high, but she doubts that will be a suitable plea in a murder trial. 

Another two hours finds the craft supplies put away, the paintings left to dry outside in the sun, and David feeling more miserable than he thinks he has in his entire life. Rather than helping with lunch, he plops down at his usual table without grabbing anything to eat. The thought of food makes his stomach churn. He’s still shivering despite that the cabin must be 85 degrees or more. 

As soon as Gwen notices David sitting at the table, trembling with his eyes shut, something in her softens. She makes her way to him as soon as the campers have her food, foregoing her own tray. 

“David,” she calls, nudging him by the shoulder. “You alive?” He nods, but doesn’t force any pep into it. “How are you feeling?” 

His only reply is a groan, not even bothering to open his eyes. 

“Damn it.” The hand that rests upon his forehead is cool. “You’re burning up. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay.” 

“I wanted to,” he reassures, even if it’s a mumbled lie. 

“You need to go to bed. I’ll handle them for the night.”

“Are you sure? What about the kids?” 

“They’ll be fine. Mostly. Probably.” He doesn’t find the joke funny and she can tell immediately. “We’ll be fine. You can’t possibly take much more of this.” 

Despite his reservations, he has to admit that she’s right. He’s already had a few near-faints today, and he’s not looking forward to another. All he needs is an evening to sleep this off and he’ll be fine. He tries to keep that in mind and ignore the guilt that arises as he exits the mess hall and heads back toward the cabin. 

He sleeps until Gwen comes to check on him before dinner bearing flu medicine and a thermometer. The opening of the door startles him from sleep. He doesn’t remember drifting off. 

“How’re you feeling?” she asks before handing him the thermometer. He makes a noncommittal “so-so” gesture with his hand. Can’t be good. That combined with the reading of 102℉ tell them both that they’re in for a rough next few days.

“It’s so hot in here. Will you be okay?” 

“Sure,” he replies. “Honestly, I haven’t even noticed.” 

“Still having chills?” 

He nods. His temperature is too high already, and he’s still shivering. The worst is yet to come. 

“I’ll come check on you in a little while. Stay in bed. Text me if you start dying.” He agrees to do so even knowing that it would take a whole lot to pull her away from the kids when she’s the only one on duty.

She’s dreading this. The idea of telling the campers that she’s running the camp alone for the next day or so is like strapping a steak to her chest and entering a lion’s den. Assured destruction. However, they’re going to notice some time or another, so she might as well get it over with. 

“Alright, campers, listen up,” she announces as soon as everyone is sitting down with their lunch, “David went to bed early. He’s not feeling so good. We’re going to have a free play evening, if you all promise to leave me alone. David does like three people’s worth of work around here and now I have to do it all by myself. If we can keep from killing anyone or burning the camp down until he gets back, we can have an ice cream party. Capiche?” 

There’s a general murmur while the children weigh the merits of arson versus ice cream, but ultimately decide in favor of the party. Fewer cops, more chocolate. 

Max is the only one who thinks that it might not be worth it. His own reward assessment comes up in favor of torturing Gwen. He can always dip into the dregs of the candy supply that wasn’t confiscated, but messing with the counselors? Irreplaceable.  

Gwen needs a list to tell her everything David does in a day, one that was given to him by Campbell and which he memorized years ago. She watches him go through it every day, but by now he speeds through it so fast that she barely even registers most of the tasks on it. They make sense, she supposes, but she’s not used to them. Not to mention the fact that she doesn’t care.

After she’s already put away the painting supplies and cleaned up the mess hall, she begins to work on washing dishes from lunch. Periodically, she checks on the children just to ensure they all have roughly the same number of digits this morning. She’s got one earbud in and is listening to a smutty audiobook. Honestly, it’s a little soothing. Normally, these are her least favorite activities because she hates touching wet food, but now, it’s giving her a welcome reprieve from the squealing and hollering outside as the campers play Humans vs. Zombies with water guns. She hasn’t even realized that a few hours have passed when David bursts into the mess hall, his eyes frantic and feverish, while she’s setting up for dinner. Gwen immediately rushes to his side. 

“David? I told you to stay in bed.”

“But the fire,” he argues. 

“Fire?” 

She practically runs out the door with the extinguisher in hand only to find the camp very much as it’s always been. When she walks back inside, he’s pacing, wringing his hands together anxiously. He walks in large, lazy, dizzy circles around the mess hall. He looks up when she returns, a desperate plea clear across his face. 

“Did you put it out?” 

“David, there’s nothing there. I think you had a fever dream.” 

He shakes his head. “Max,” he argues. “Max isn’t here.” 

“He’s getting ready for bed with the other campers.” She reaches out and places her palm across his forehead, then frowns. “Woah. You're really burning up. You need to take something and go back to bed.” 

“We need to find him.” She argues again that he’s fine, but David is having none of it. “He’s all alone.” His eyes are filled with tears that don’t spill over. 

“David, don’t—”

“Please. We have to find him. It’s not safe.” 

Though reluctant to leave him alone, it seems as though the only thing that’s going to alleviate his panic enough to get him to take another dose of fever reducers  is to show him that everything is okay. “Fine. I’ll go get him if it means you’ll calm down.” 

She tells him not to move while she tracks Max down. He’s about to head into his cabin when she stops him. 

“I need to borrow you,” she says. Max rolls his eyes, 

“No. Anything else?” 

“I mean it. David’s freaking out in the mess hall and isn’t going to stop until he sees you.” Max frowns. 

“What do you mean, ‘freaking out?’ I thought you said he was sick in bed.”

“Come see for yourself.” Citing the fact that it’ll be fun to see him in a state, he follows. When she opens the door for him, David comes rushing to his side. 

“Max,” he breathes, dropping to his knees. His eyes are glassy, either from illness or from tears. “I’m so glad to see you.” 

“Woah,” he manages, caught off guard by how markedly less fun this is than he’d anticipated. He looks awful. Likely feels awful. And he’s outright distressed. Max has never wanted this no matter how much he says he does. David’s hands are worryingly hot as he lays them on his shoulders, and this close, he can feel heat pouring off of him. “Well, I’m alive, so is this over? Can I leave?” 

“What happened? Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not,” he snaps. “You just had a nightmare. Everything’s fine.” 

“But I—I saw you.” A tear spills over onto his cheek and he wipes it away swiftly before replacing his hands on Max’s shoulders. He swats him away and wiggles out of his grip.

“Jesus, he’s acting crazy. How sick is he?” 

“I need to take his temperature but he’s too worked up. He’s going to make it worse.” 

“I’m so sorry, I let you—I didn’t—and you could have been hurt and I—” He trails off in a shuddering breath. 

“David,” Max says slowly. “You’ve gotta calm the fuck down. Nothing happened. You’re out of your mind.” 

It appears as though he doesn’t even hear him. None of his reassurances are registering judging by the quickening of his breath, but he’s losing steam quickly. His head droops forward but he catches himself. Max inches back toward him. He’s not even trying to maintain an image of nonchalance anymore. This is scaring him. 

“David?” 

That’s all he has time for before David slumps forward. Max has to push against his shoulders to keep him from hitting the ground face first.

“Holy shit,” Gwen exclaims as she drags him under his arms to get him to lie flat on his back. It seems as though he’d only lost consciousness for a second or two. “David, hey. Look at me.” 

“The kids,” he says, his tone thin and watery. He’s still near tears. He’s still breathing in shallow, stuttering breaths that don’t quite reach the bottoms of his lungs. If he keeps this up, he’s going to faint again. 

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” she says, her tone soft and gentle. “You need to breathe slowly.” 

“I’m fine, I just—” a quick breath, “need to,” another breath, “find them,” a breath and a breath and a breath, loud and frantic and fast. 

“Should I go get the other campers? Or, like, an ambulance?” 

“He’s a little delirious. He’s not going to come out of it until I get the fever down.” She places his hand on her chest so he can feel her breathing as well as hear it while she tries to soothe him. It helps marginally. He’s no longer hyperventilating, but he certainly doesn’t calm down. 

“Thanks for helping, Max. You don’t have to stay.”  Instead of immediately turning tail and running, Max shifts from foot to foot.

“Is he, like… okay? Because he seems like he’s not okay.” 

“I’m going to see if I can get him to take some flu medicine.” It’s not a definitive answer and that’s by careful design. She doesn’t want to break his fragile trust by promising things are going to be fine and then carting David off to the hospital in an hour if she can’t get his temperature down. Even Gwen knows better than to do that to Max. 

“Do you need help?”

The offer is tentative and awkward, but earnest. Max is worried and trying. 

“Actually, could you sit with him for a minute and make sure he doesn’t try to run off while I go get some things?” 

Max nods. 

“Great.Thanks.  I’ll be right back.” His attention switches back to David as soon as the door slams behind her. He can’t believe things have gotten so bad so fast. He seemed totally normal when they’d started painting after breakfast. Sure, he looked bad when he’d gone to lie down, pale and sweaty, but it was nothing like this. He’s not sure what this is, but it doesn’t seem safe. Max has been sick before. He’s even seen David sick before. Only once over the years, but he hadn’t detached from reality about it. Whatever this is, it’s not normal. 

David tries to push himself to his feet only to be kicked in the shin hard enough to stop him. “Owie!” he exclaims. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” 

“But the campers.” 

“How many times do we have to tell you everyone is fine? It was a bad dream. Stop being a freak.” Max has a feeling that if he could stand up right now, that he would run off looking for the others. It’s almost worse to see him so still, given how worked up he is. A single tear streams down David’s cheek and while Max is pretty sure he won’t remember any of this tomorrow, it still makes him feel like shit. “Hey, stop doing that. Gwen’s gonna be back any second with medicine. You’ll feel better after you take it.” 

“Everything feels so fuzzy. And hot.” Max shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. He’s normally so confident, so decisive. But he’s way out of his league with this, and it’s scaring him.  

“It’s gonna be fine. You’re just really sick. Relax.” Just as he’s running out of things to say in response to David’s feverish ramblings, she reappears in the doorway with the first aid kit. Max never thought there would be a day when he was glad to see her. 

“How is he?” she asks rhetorically. She can clearly see he’s a wreck. She removes a thermometer from the bag and hands it to him. Apparently he’s at least a little lucid, because he places it in his mouth without complaint. In two minutes, it beeps, and Gwen grimaces at the 104 degree reading. This is bad. It’s so, so bad. She needs an adult to handle this, preferably one with an MD and a lot of patience. 

“Take these,” she commands as she sets two small pills in his hand. He does as she says, chasing them with an offered water bottle. “Good. Drink as much as you can.”

“You put out the fire?” 

“There’s no fire,” she says reassuringly, her hand stroking his in an attempt to ground him. “Breathe.” David does, for the first time since he’s sprinted out of his tent, breathe deeply and slowly. She offers words of encouragement and never steals her hand away. 

“Are you sure he shouldn’t be in the hospital?” Max asks. She sighs. 

“Maybe, but this place doesn’t give us health insurance. I want to try to fix it here before I ruin his life with medical bills.” 

God, that’s so unfair, Max thinks. Just another reason to hate this stupid place.

“What if he doesn’t get better?” 

“David,” she dodges, “do you think you could do me a favor?”

His eyes snap open and he nods desperately. “Anything.” 

“I need to get you in a cool shower. It’s not gonna be pleasant, but you’ll feel a lot better after. Do you think you can walk that far?” 

This time, his affirmative is hesitant, more like he’s agreeing for her sake than that he’s actually considering the question. Whether that’s true or not, it’s good enough for Gwen. She sends Max off to start the water running and meets him, supporting David and guiding him where he needs to go because while he’s got his feet firmly beneath him, he’s still loopy as fuck. She doesn’t even let him try to shower by himself, instead opting to guide him into the stream and sitting him down on the floor, fully clothed. The only thing she bothers with is taking his phone out of hit pocket. 

“You don’t have to stay, Max,” she reminds him. “You should go to bed.” He knows she’s right, but he can’t bring himself to leave, not with the severity of what’s happening here. There’s no way that she can handle this on her own. She’s going to get him killed, and then she’ll be in charge. God help them, then.  

She shields David’s eyes with a cupped hand, feeling the heat radiating there. She hopes that this will help. He stays under the stream for what feels like a lifetime, but is really probably about 15 minutes or so. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, staring down at his drenched clothes and running a hang through sopping hair. Gwen reaches for a towel and hands it to him, and he’s at least coherent enough to know what to do with it. He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair. “Why am I in the shower?” He looks down. “In my clothes?” 

“What do you remember?” 

He thinks for a long moment. “Woah. It’s all a bit hazy. I think I had a bad dream?” 

She nods, relieved that he’s finally able to call it that. “You ran out of the cabin raving that the camp was on fire. Your fever spiked and you got a little out of your mind.” He looks devastated, embarrassed. 

“I’m so sorry.” It’s then that he notices Max standing a little ways away, watching the scene without being a part of it. “Max? What are you doing up?”

Of course he noticed before he could quietly slip away without being seen. 

“You were freaked out that I was dead. Gwen made me prove I’m not.” She smirks. 

“That was over an hour ago.” 

He kicks his foot against the dirt and David doesn’t make him say he’s worried, admit that he cares. Instead, he groans as he hauls himself to his feet, wavering for a moment before Gwen can steady him. 

“I think I’m going to go change into something dry.” His teeth are chattering from the tepid water. 

“Nuh-uh. Not until your temperature comes back below 103.” She hands the thermometer over and they wait a long two minutes before it beeps. She takes it before he can even look. “103.2,” she says unhappily. “I can live with that. It’s still really high, though.” 

“I’m really fine to just go to bed. I don’t want to keep anyone up.” 

“I’m not taking my eyes off you,” she says. She plans on sleeping on the couch so that if he wants to leave the counselor’s cabin, he’ll have to go through her first. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

“Max—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interjects, “I’ll go to bed, too.” 

“Thanks for helping,” Gwen says. “I owe you one.” Before he can open his mouth, she glares. “Within reason.” 

“Fine. Goodnight.” 

“Max,” David calls. He doesn’t turn around. “Thanks.” He acts like he doesn’t hear it even though they all know he did. 

Gwen turns her attention to getting David standing once more. With the fever down, he seems steadier on his feet, but still a little wobbly. She makes a mental note to make him drink a bottle of water before he goes to sleep. 

“How are you feeling?” 

He forces a smile. “Not great,” he admits, “but better.” She doubts he really remembers those delirious moments, but better is something. The walk back to the cabin is much easier than the walk to the showers. She sits right outside the door as he changes into dry sweatpants and a t-shirt. Funny, she thinks. He’s always slept in his uniform, if he sleeps at all. She’s not sure she’s ever even seen him out of uniform. He looks sick: flushed but no longer worryingly so and pale but no longer toeing death’s door. 

“Here,” she says, handing over a Gatorade and a banana. “Drink half of it and eat what you can.” He doesn’t even open the granola bar, but he does sip the Gatorade while they watch Bob Ross, though his eyes haven’t been open in a while.

“You’re going to be so tired tomorrow. I’m sorry.” 

“Eh, I’m always tired. I’ll just let the kids free play. I told them if they’re good, they can have an ice cream party.” 

“Good idea.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry about—”

“Don’t do that.”

“--about all the trouble—”

“David,” she curtails. “Don’t start. It’s not like it was your fault.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” He places his hand atop hers, and she doesn’t pull away. “And thanks for taking care of me.” 

“Of course.” She leans in and places her head on his hot shoulder. She really is exhausted, and the next few days are only going to be worse. “I think it’s time for bed.” 

“Yeah.” But instead, they just fall asleep like together like that on the couch. 

[irondadidontfeelsogood]

Post-Decathlon Misery

cw: vomit

—————

Nausea creeps up on Peter halfway through the bus ride home from their latest decathlon. It begins slowly, just as a vaguely uncomfortable sensation at the back of his throat, but it’s gradually evolved into a churning, gurgling ache in the pit of his stomach.

He has the window seat, so he’s spent the last fifteen minutes faithfully watching the horizon. It hasn’t helped in the slightest. What little hope he held that it was only motion sickness has all but diminished, leaving him anxious and full of dread.

To make matters worse, Ned has been trying to get him to watch The Empire Strikes Back since they boarded the bus. He can’t afford to spare more than a few seconds of his attention at a time. When he tries to watch any more, he swears he can feel the sack lunch they fed him hours ago sitting at the back of his tongue.

He’s attempting to swallow down another rush of saliva when Ned tugs at his jacket, insisting that he can’t miss the next scene. Of course he’s already seen it upwards of thirty times, but Ned can’t seem to grasp that. Peter’s at his limit.

“M’not gonna watch.”

“What?” Ned all but exclaims. “Why not?”

Peter swallows again, feeling his insides protest against it. “M’like…carsick or something, okay? I need to just chill out for a second.”

Ned is silent for a moment. “Oh. Are you okay? Like—do I need to tell Mr. Harrington?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll be alright.” It doesn’t come out too convincing, but it was the best he could do.

“…Okay,” Ned replies, and Peter doesn’t miss the way he scoots toward the aisle a few seconds later. Peter doesn’t blame him. He’s sure he probably looks actually green at this point.

Saying he’s okay was a stretch, especially now that the feeling in his throat won’t go away. The urge to gag is getting harder and harder to ignore. Maybe if he can distract himself, he’ll make it the extra twenty or so minutes back to school.

It only takes five minutes for him to scratch that plan. His jaw goes limp, and his stomach is really hurting now. He wishes that the school would’ve splurged and gotten them a bus with a bathroom. At least then he’d have some privacy if his body betrayed him.

As it is, he’s having to improvise. The only places to puke are the floor and his backpack. Poor May just bought him a new one, too. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten sick on the bus, and he really doesn’t want Mr. Monroe to have to clean up his puke again.

Now, there’s sweat beading on his forehead and down his back. Every movement the bus makes is amplified by the fact that they’re sitting in the back. He hates himself for fleeing from Flash when they boarded.

They hit another pothole, and Peter feels his stomach turn horribly. The urge to gag returns with a vengeance. He feels like he might not make it through this one.

In a last-ditch effort, he tries to burp and save his stomach from some of the pressure, but it only serves to increase the nausea. He suddenly wishes he had told Ned that it was okay to alert Mr. Harrington, although he doubts that would do any good—especially now.

All of a sudden, he flashes hot and realizes he’s not going to be able to make it for eleven more minutes. Just the idea makes him feel worse. He starts to taste the sandwich he had for lunch, and another attempt to burp sends warmth bursting up into his chest.

Trembling, he yanks his backpack from between his feet, bringing it to his lap. The zipper gets stuck for a moment, and he actually wants to cry. He breathes out a string of curses.

“Peter…,” he hears Ned say, but a reply is already impossible.

By the time he manages to open his book bag more than two inches, the vomit is in his mouth. He immediately hunches over in his seat and throws up a gushing stream all over his notebooks.

“Oh my God, Peter!” Ned exclaims in a hushed shout.

Peter pukes again, unable to stop himself. He’s trying his best to be quiet, but he really is sick to his stomach worse than he can remember being. He can’t help but retch violently.

It’s too late, anyway—he’s caught the attention of the classmates around him, and a growing roar of disgusted chatter starts to erupt. His cheeks and ears flame red-hot.

He feels the eyes on him as he’s overcome with illness again, bringing up—hopefully—the last of his lunch. The way it burns his throat gives him hope that he’s made it to mostly stomach acid. The nausea is starting to ebb away.

The damage is done, though, and now that his stomach finally isn’t trying to self-destruct, he’s altogether mortified. Ned has slinked to the very edge of the seat, and the bus is littered with sounds of disgust and laughter. The only bright side of this whole thing is that Mj stayed home sick and isn’t here to witness his stunt. He thinks for the first time that she probably gave whatever it is to him when they practiced in the library together yesterday. He makes a mental note to make sure she’s alright once his hands aren’t occupied with a backpack full of puke.

“Dude…are you okay?” Ned finally asks, sounding entirely traumatized.

Peter lowers the bag from his lap and runs the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth. With the way he feels now, he’s certain he has a raging fever. Perfect.

“Um. I think so,” he answers, throat raw. “I’m sorry.”

He spots Mr. Harrington struggling to make his way to the back of the bus through the bumps and turns. Bless him, he’s trying to get everyone to quiet down, but they just aren’t going to listen. Peter wonders if he’ll ever be able to go to school ever again.

“Who got sick?” Mr. Harrington asks, gripping tightly onto the seats beside him.

“Uh, Peter, sir,” Ned answers, still nearly in the aisle.

“Barfed all over his backpack! It was like the Exorcist!” Michael announces from behind him. A burst of laughter follows. Peter suddenly wishes he could just drop unconscious in his seat and not have to remember any of this.

Mr. Harrington looks uncomfortable and awkward to say the least. He leans over and glances at the damage.

“Oh boy. Are you alright?”

Peter does his best to nod without triggering another heave. “M’okay.”

“Did you get carsick?”

“Yeah,” he lies, hoping that’ll just make him go away.

“Do you want me to tell the driver to pull over so you can take a breather?”

“No. I just really wanna go home,” he replies, truthful this time. “I’ll be okay.”

“Alright, well. We’re only ten minutes out. Hang in there, Peter.”

“Thanks,” he says, even though he feels awkward. Funnily enough, he’s starting to go numb to the embarrassment. Exhaustion has taken its place, settling deep into his bones.

Mr. Harrington starts his wobbly trip back to the front of the bus, and Peter tries to pretend like there’s not a mess of puke between his legs. His stomach still hurts.

“I’m so sorry, Ned. I know this stuff freaks you out.”

“Oh…it’s okay. I’m sorry you’re sick.”

“S’okay,” he says, and then they’re silent.

They don’t say another word for the rest of the ride, and Peter does his best to tune out the remarks from everyone around him. He rests his head against the window and closes his eyes.

As soon as they’re back at the school, everyone books it off of the bus, and Peter doesn’t blame them. He would do the same if his legs didn’t feel like liquid. It’s a miracle he makes it off of the bus without collapsing.

He trashes his whole backpack in a dumpster by the school and sits down on the grass. He says goodbye to Ned when his mom picks him up. It’s sort of nice to finally be alone in his misery for a moment.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and selects Mj’s contact. His fingers hover over the keyboard for as he tries to figure out what to say. Eventually, he just settles on the fact that he’s going to tell her the truth.

hey, we just got back from the meet. sorry you couldn’t be there. how are you feeling?

He hits send before he can change his mind and heaves out a sigh, setting his phone down on the grass. He wraps an arm around his stomach where it’s starting to stir up again. Maybe it’s partially nerves. A couple of minutes pass where he wonders if he’s bothering her, but then his phone vibrates twice beside him. He picks it up.

didn’t know anyone could puke this many times, but i’m better than i was this morning.

i know it had to be hard to miss out on my genius. how did it go?

Peter’s lips tick up in a weak smile. At least she’s feeling good enough to act like herself.

it’s funny, we won actually. maybe next time we have a meet you should plan to get super sick.

see now that’s just luck

Peter actually breathes out a laugh at that one.

i wouldn’t exactly say i was included in any of that luck. keep your germs to yourself, m

Her reply is almost immediate.

wait, you’re sick?

He realizes then that the texting has been a pretty great distraction until now. It’s like seeing the words typed out in front of him brings back all his misery at once. He’s suddenly much more aware of the turning in his stomach, and he actually braces himself to lean to the side so he won’t get puke on his slacks.

Thankfully, the feeling settles after a minute or so, but now it’s much harder to ignore how he feels. He wonders if he’ll even be able to type out what happened without triggering round two. Another message urges him to reply.

did i actually get you sick? are you okay

That would almost be funny if he didn’t feel so terrible.

if by okay you mean having to barf all over my homework on the ride back, then yes

no fucking way

yep

peter i am actually so sorry

It’s always really nice when Mj is sincere. Those are some of his favorite moments. He just wishes this time didn’t have to be about him so gracefully throwing up in front of all his peers.

you know i’m not actually saying it’s your fault, right?

i mean yeah but i feel terrible enough just laying in bed

i literally can’t imagine enduring an hour bus ride that reeks of flash

That thought certainly does nothing to help his nausea, but he’s not going to make her feel bad about that too. Oddly enough though, it makes him feel a little better to know he’s not alone in his misery. That might be selfish, but he feels it all the same.

wasn’t exactly comfortable

i’m sure. you’re off the bus though?

yeah

feel better?

eh

yeah, i get it. i’m still sorry

don’t be, i was playing around. i mainly just wanted to make sure you were okay

He hesitates a little bit before he sends that one, because he doesn’t want to sound weird or clingy. It’s been hard not to show how much he’s grown to like her. Scaring her off is literally the last thing he wants to go through right now. He’s almost scared to look at the reply.

you’re the only one who’s asked me, so. thank you.

i’ll be alright

He feels his heart dip into his stomach. She deserves better than that. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret sharing his embarrassment at all.

well it won’t be the last time i ask. i can call later tonight if you want to talk

yeah for sure

cool, i’ll do that then

feel better

you too

He looks down at the messages and scrolls back though them a little. His face grows warm, but he tries to tell himself it’s just the fever.

Then he realizes again that he’s sick and alone out here. The longer he sits there, the worse he’s starting to feel. Just the thought of trying to stand is making his stomach churn.

His original plan was to walk home after the competition, but now the nausea is getting to be a little too much to deal with. May won’t be home from work until nearly 1:00 AM. After a few minutes, he bites the bullet and calls Tony.

It rings a few times before he picks up. Tears of exhaustion suddenly well up in Peter’s eyes when he hears Tony’s greeting.

“Hey, um. I’m really sorry to have to ask, but is there any chance you can pick me up from school?”

“School? It’s like eight pm, kid.”

“Yeah, we had a decathlon meetup. I was gonna walk home, but I…I just threw up all over my backpack, and now I feel too sick to walk that far.”

“Oh, Peter…why didn’t you just say that, kiddo? I can definitely come pick you up.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Do you want me to stay on the phone until I get there?”

“I…that would be really nice, actually. I don’t feel that great, though, so…I might hang up if I get sick.”

“Won’t bother me, kid. I’m already on my way, okay?”

“Okay, thank you. Really.”

“You don’t have to thank me, buddy,” he says, and Peter hears a car rev up in the background. “Where will you be when I get there?”

“M’just sitting on the grass by the bus lot.”

“Okay. Do you have water?”

“No. Don’ want any though…m’gonna be sick I think.”

“Oh, Pete, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.”

There’s a bit of silence after that, broken up only by the muffled sound of Tony’s car running. Peter swipes at his cheek with the clean sleeve he has left when the first tear escapes. He’s not trying to be dramatic or anything, he’s just so exhausted and uncomfortable all of a sudden.

His mouth is starting to water again, and he really doesn’t wanna throw up any more. It’s not like he has much say in that, but he prays it’ll pass anyway. He brushes away a fresh set of tears.

“Still there, kid?”

He tries to swallow the lump in his throat so it won’t be too obvious he’s upset.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, the single word grating at his sore throat.

“How’re you holding up?”

He wants to lie and say he’s alright, but he’s just over the edge of too tired, and there would be no point in saying he’s okay if Tony’s about to see him in this state.

“Uh, not…not so great,” he admits.

“Do you want me to swing by the gas station and get you some Sprite or anything for the road?”

The thought of trying to keep anything down right now sounds pretty impossible, but he does wish he could get the taste out of his mouth. On the other hand, saying yes would mean a longer wait, and Peter is all out of patience. He just wants to go home.

“No, thanks,” he murmurs. Nausea begins to stir more intensely in his stomach, and he doesn’t try to wipe away the new streak of tears rolling toward his chin. “Are you close?”

“Five minutes tops, kiddo,” he answers. The relief helps Peter feel a little better. If Tony has noticed he’s crying, at least he’s been nice enough to pretend he hasn’t. “So, how was it getting to work with Bruce last week? S’he nerdy enough for you?”

Peter cracks a tiny smile despite himself. Dr. Banner showing him some of his new genetics work makes him feel really grateful to be in the position he is. Peter even got to see his research on the spider that bit him.

“S’really exciting, Mr. Stark. Has he shown you the way he’s gotten sarcoma cells to self-destruct before?”

“Oh, wow. No. Gonna have to annoy him about that one. When was that?”

Peter’s stomach twists into a cramp, and it ticks the nausea back up a couple notches. He brings his knees to his chest.

“Um…about a year ago, but…the new trials haven’t, uh,” he begins, but then it feels like all the blood is draining from his face. “They haven’t worked the same.”

“Gotcha. Did he get around to showing you the new lab on the eighth floor?”

Peter swallows carefully and takes a measured breath. “Not, uh, not yet.”

“Well maybe I can take you up there on Thursday. It’s not totally finished, but it will be in a week or two. Actually, I was gonna ask you if you wanted me to set up a workspace for you in there.”

Any other day, that news would make Peter freak out. It’s something he’s always wanted but never felt he had the position to ask. Right now, though, he has to be completely and totally focused on keeping his stomach where it belongs.

“Pete?”

“Sorry…m’trying not to puke.”

“Oh. No need to apologize, I get it. I’m almost there, kiddo.”

Peter tries to take comfort in that, but the inevitability of his situation is making it difficult. His stomach feels like it’s at the base of his throat. He‘s quickly losing the ability to swallow.

He spends the next couple of minutes manually breathing. The nausea retreats just slightly, enough so that he can close his eyes without feeling dizzy. That in itself is a miracle.

“I see you, Pete.”

He opens his eyes to see Tony’s car pull around the median. The tears start welling up again without his permission, and maybe it’s the fever, but there’s nothing he can do to stop them. He lets out a shaky breath and hangs up the phone when Tony stops along the curb.

It’s hard to stand up when his legs feel like liquid, but he manages to do it on his own. Unfortunately, the motion undoes every effort he’s made to settle his stomach. As soon as he closes the few feet of distance between himself and the car, the nausea comes back to life worse than ever.

He turns back toward the grass and doubles over, letting out a wash of watery spit. His arms are trembling where he’s braced himself against his knees. Just as he hears Tony’s car door pop open, he starts to throw up.

“Oh, Pete…,” he hears Tony say, and then a steady hand comes to rest at the middle of his back.

He retches again, somehow still bringing up his lunch. Maybe his stomach was trying to save him some misery earlier and cut it short before he was finished. Either way, he quickly starts to throw up straight acid and bile, which he firmly decides is so much worse.

When he finally does nothing but dry heave a few times in a row, he supposes he’s done. It’s hard to tell when there’s so little relief this time. He’d probably cry now if he weren’t already.

“Think you might be finished?” Tony asks, offering him a fast food napkin. He takes it gratefully, glad to avoid ruining his last good sleeve.

He straightens up and nods.“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, kid. Come here,” he says, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter wilts into his weight a little.

When he pulls back, he presses his palms against his tired eyes and pulls in a trembling breath. Tony starts to lead him toward the car.

It isn’t until he’s buckled in that he remembers that he’ll be coming home to an empty house. The thought makes a chasm in his belly. He wonders if he’ll even make it up the stairs to the apartment.

“Mr. Stark…,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against the chilled window.

“Yeah, y’okay? I brought some bags with me if you need one.”

“No, m’good. It’s just…,” he starts, then it’s not so sure anymore. “Never mind.”

“What is it?”

Peter sighs quietly. His breath chokes like he’s going to cry again, so he takes a second for it to pass. His stomach clenches emptily.

“May‘s working second shift tonight, and she won’t be home for a while. I don’t….you can say no, but I was gonna ask if I can, like…crash on your couch for a little?”

“Of course you can, kid. You know, I’m not as terrible as the Bugle likes to say I am.”

Peter’s face grows warm. “Oh, I wasn’t…”

“I know, Pete, I’m messing with you.”

“Oh.”

“But you’re okay?”

Peter considers it for a moment, feeling where the nausea is slowly pooling back into the pit of his stomach. He’s just not sure he has anything left to throw up. He ultimately decides he’d rather not chance it in the Ferrari.

“I think m’okay for now, but can I hang onto a bag until we’re home?”

His ears burn hot at the way he called it home. He blames the stupidity on the fever to make himself feel better, but Tony doesn’t skip a beat.

“Sure. They’re in the console.”

Peter fishes one out and holds it in his lap, melting back to his position against the window. His eyes fall shut, and he tries to just focus the roar of the tires against the asphalt. He feels a little better with the security of knowing he has a bag if he needs it.

Thankfully, they reach the tower before too long. It takes all of his remaining energy to pull himself from the car and let Tony lead him into the common room. He’s never been happier to see a couch in his life.

“I’m gonna grab you a blanket and some water, crackers, all that jazz. You want anything else?”

The mention of food has his empty stomach churning. He sheds his jacket and lays down, breathing out a low groan.

“Maybe a trash can…”

“Alright, kiddo. Sorry you’re still feeling that bad.”

“Not your fault,” he replies, turning on his side and loosely wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Just sorry we can’t trade places, Pete, ‘cause I’d do it,” he says, and Peter wonders hazily what he could’ve done to deserve the offer. “I’ll be right back.”

Next thing he knows, he’s being gently shaken back into consciousness. He has no concept of how much time has passed.

“Hey, Pete. How do you feel?”

Once his brain deciphers the words, he starts to take mental inventory. His head hurts, his muscles are aching, and it feels like he’s been on one rollercoaster too many. All he can muster is a hoarse groan.

“That good, huh? Well, I know you probably won’t like me for this, but you gotta drink some water before you go back to sleep.”

“Mm…no,” he manages to reply. The thought sounds nice for his throat but dangerous otherwise.

“You’re dehydrated, kiddo. You need to drink something. Just a little, c’mon.”

It takes some more coaxing and a lot of help sitting up, but Peter finally takes a few sips of water. He was right, it feels really great on his raw throat. Fortunately, he doesn’t have the immediate urge to retch it all back up.

“See? Not so bad,” Tony says, reaching up to guide the cup back up toward his lips. Peter turns away. “Try a little more and you can knock out.”

Peter squints at the glass with distaste, but for the promise of sleep, he takes another couple sips. and even eats half a saltine. Tony takes the glass from him after that, setting it down on the coffee table. Peter tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone now. You did good.”

“Don’ leave,” Peter mumbles, laying back against he cushions again. Tony readjusts the blanket on top of him.

“I’m not actually leaving, kiddo. I’m gonna be right across the hall. Get some rest, okay?”

Peter doesn’t need to be told twice. He drifts off quickly to the sound of the TV playing on low beside him.

Some time later, Peter wakes abruptly, his heart hammering in his chest and thumping in his head. He’s drenched in sweat, soaked all the way through his shirt. It isn’t until he gags for the third time that he realizes it’s not just sweat—he’s thrown up water and bits of poorly-digested cracker all down his shirt.

He fights to sit up, sloppily pressing a hand to his mouth. The movement makes him feel sick all over again, and he heaves a gush of watery vomit between his fingers. He has to pull his hand away to keep from drowning when it happens again.

After a couple of dry heaves, the bout mercifully seems to be over. He works hard to catch his breath, and then he’s finally awake enough to realize what he’s done.

The blanket is pooled at his feet, and the puke on his lap is soaking through to his skin. Goosebumps break out across his skin. He’s alone. At first, all he can do is choke out a quiet, broken noise of distress. The tower is silent apart from Parks and Rec still running nearly on mute to his left.

“M’ser—,” he starts, but then a gag catches in his throat. He hangs over the trash can he remembers is on the floor, but ironically, his stomach is empty now. He swallows laboriously. “Mis‘er Stark?”

He feels a wash of fear and sadness at being alone, amplified by the extra heat coursing through his veins. He feels himself start to cry, but he must really be dehydrated, because no tears come. The awful feeling just sits ugly and heavy in his throat.

“FRI?”

“Hello, Mr. Parker.”

“Where’s,” he coughs. “Mister Stark?”

“Boss is in the restroom adjacent to the common hall. Would you like me to contact him for you?”

The tension in his chest fades just slightly, but he’s not sure anything could make him feel better right now. He trembles harder as the sick on his shirt starts to go cold.

“Please.”

“He has been alerted of your request.”

Peter suddenly feels dizzy from holding himself up and lowers back to lie against the armrest. Aftershock nausea echoes dull in his throat. His head thrums with his heightened pulse.

He hears a toilet flush and water running, and then the faint click of the door opening. Footsteps trail closer, and Peter wills his burning eyes to stay open.

“You okay, Pete? FRI said you—oh. Oh, kiddo, you threw up?”

Peter crumbles. “I woke up getting sick, m’so so sorry,” he rasps. The tears still don’t come, but a sob unfurls in his throat.

Tony is at his side quickly. “Woah, hey, it’s okay. Don’t be upset, I know you couldn’t help it,” he reassures, his hand brushing across the top of Peter’s head and resting there. “You all done?”

Peter is still so disoriented that he just can’t tell. “I don’know,” he weeps dryly.

“That’s alright. I’m gonna help you get cleaned up, alright? I’ll be right back.”

Peter doesn’t even have the energy to protest his departure. He feels disgusting and weak lying there in his own sick, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Another dry heave clenches his sore stomach.

Tony returns a minute later carrying a wet towel and a grocery bag. As humiliating as it is, he silently lets Tony help him discard the dirty clothes and wipe himself relatively clean. He stays silent as Tony manages to get him up and lead him down the hall to the bathroom.

He lowers himself down to lie on the cool tiles as Tony starts him a shower. This time, despite the nausea, he gratefully takes the water that Tony tells him he has to drink before he gets in. He leaves, and Peter sits on the shower floor for nearly twenty minutes before he starts to feel remotely human again. Enough to get out, at least.

Tony has placed clean clothes of his own on the edge of the countertop, and Peter gets dressed with all the speed and grace of an elderly psych ward patient. When he emerges, his eyes are darkly sunken in, and he has nothing but sleep on his mind.

Tony supports some of his weight as he’s lead to a sort of guest bedroom, and there’s similar supplies from the couch surrounding the bed. Tony makes him drink more water, but he’s finally feeling good enough to drink more than a few mouthfuls. He knows he needs it.

“I called your aunt,” Tony says, taking the water from him when he announces that he thinks he’s done. It makes his chest feel hollow. He’s so grateful for Tony, but he misses home now more than ever.

“You did?”

“Yeah. She’s really sorry you’re feeling so bad, and she says she’ll be home pretty soon. You’re more than welcome to stay here, but I’m ready to take you back whenever you say the word.”

The tears that wouldn’t come before start to blur his vision. He’s so tired he might die. “Thank you…will you, um…will you wake me up when she gets home?”

“Sure, Pete. Get some more rest, I’ll still be right across the hall, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you. Not just for the waking me up thing, but for…you know. All of it.”

“I’ve got you, kiddo.”

With that, he gives Peter’s shoulder a squeeze, dims the lights, and leaves with the door cracked. Peter figures he should talk to Mj. He grabs his phone and opens their messages.

hey, sorry it’s been so long

it’s okay, how are you holding up?

i’ve upgraded to puking in my sleep. you?

oh, peter. i’m sorry. i’m doing okay.

it’s fine, just embarrassing. i’m at stark’s.

yikes. was he mad?

no, he’s being really nice. i just wish he didn’t have to clean up after me.

i understand that. are you still feeling up for that call tonight?

not really. i’m sorry.

it’s fine, i get it.

i just feel like shit or i would

trust me, i understand. that was me at 3 am. feel better, peter.

you too. goodnight

goodnight.

As soon as Peter lays his phone down, his eyes fall shut. He’s so exhausted that it takes him all of two minutes to knock out. He doesn’t dream. He’s not sure what time it is when he wakes again.

“Hey, Pete? You with me?” He hums again. “May’s home.”

That pulls him a little further from sleep, and he’s able to open his eyes to slits. He sees Tony’s silhouette in the darkness of the room.

“‘kay,” he manages, his mouth dry.

Tony helps him sit up again, and it takes a moment for the room to stop spinning. Thankfully his stomach doesn’t feel so sensitive right now. Maybe he’s on the other side of this thing.

“You alright?” Tony asks, dragging Peter’s shoes closer to where he can slip them on.

“Mhm.”

“That’s good. Feel up to heading home?”

“Yeah,” he answers, and nothing has ever been truer. He loves the tower, but he really misses May and his own bed.

“Alright, let’s get going.”

Tony helps him gather his things and get to the car, handing him a water bottle and reminding him that there’s bags if he needs them. Peter just nods, sort of floating in his body with exhaustion.

Being in the car doesn’t feel great, but thankfully the ride is short. He manages to make it all the way there without needing to reach for a barf bag. He even finishes half the water, and he feels his body thanking him for it. Maybe his immune system is finally kicking in, but even if it’s not, he feels he’s through the worst of it. Thank God it’s the weekend. He’ll be okay.

——————

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know this one’s a long one. Take care!

[sparkbeast20]

Monster within: Dine-in (Satan X MC)

This is part of this year’s Halloween theme event: Monster Within with Demonic/monstrous Boyfriends (Here's the Headcanon of this AU).

Warning: Killing, Transformation, Guns, Violence and Blood

You were tired and almost out of money once you reached the next town. As you hop out of the bus, you take a moment to look around to your new surroundings to see if you weren’t followed.

You sigh in relief before starting walking. This small town is not too populated though there are enough people to at least one of them see if someone corners you- Before you can finish your thought, at the corner of your eye you see a glimpse of something yellow, like a blonde hair. You quicken your pace and head to the nearest establishment which has a small diner.

You quickly enter and lean on the door while you pant, all the customers look at you with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and dirty looks on their expression. You are anxious and laugh it out while rubbing the back of your neck before looking around to see an empty table and quickly take a seat then grab the menu on the table and use it to hide your face from the people. After a minute, as soon as people stop looking at you and proceed to do their own thing, giving you a chance to look at the menu for something cheap.

“What you'll be having?” The kind waitress asked.

“Uh… maybe some Burgers with a side of Fries? And for dessert a milkshake and an apple pie?”

“Right away” She wrote it down before leaving you. 

You took the moment to look around the diner as you wait for your food. There was an old couple seated at the table right in front of yours, and three men by the counter.

Then you heard the bell of the door ding and glanced up to see a blonde haired man enter, which you quickly reacted with pulling back the menu up and hid your face.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath before weighing your options. If you leave now then he’ll notice you. But if you stay longer than he’ll bound to notice you eventually. You glance over the menu enough to see the man seated at the counter looking at the menu.

Seeing your chance to leave, you slowly slide out of your table ready to walk out only to be stopped by the waitress carrying your food.

You smile and accept the food. She smiles back and sets your food on the table before leaving but not before she notices the mark on the back of your hand. Seeing that you were hungry you started eating and kept your sights on the blonde man at the counter. And didn’t the waitress quickly walk into the kitchen and whisper something to the chef and he told her to get to the phone.

Once you finish your burger, you move on finishing your milkshake when the sound of cars stopping right in front of the diner, and a bunch of people with guns jump out of the car. You look out the window and choke at the sight of people standing right in front of the diner.

Confused, you stood up when someone pointed a gun right at your head. You glup before raising both of your hands in the air. “This ain’t no place for devil worshippers”

Fuck, you thought. Of course they’ll see your pact-

Before you can continue your thought, the man who was sitting next to the other two hit your head with the back of his gun, knocking you over, falling onto your seat. You quickly turn with a grunt but he immediately points the gun right at your face. As you hear the bell of the door rang and heavy footsteps enter the diner.

The other man escot the couple out of the diner before walking over to the blonde man. “Sir you better leave before we serve justice to this devil fucker” but the blonde man didn’t stand up and even look at the man with the gun. Before the man can ask again. The blonde man starts chuckling.

You internally rolled your eyes to the fact that you lost this game.

“You chose the wrong person to call a devil fucker.” the blonde man spoke before slowly standing up not facing the man with the gun. “Why threaten a human who has a pact with a demon, when you should be threatening the demon himself.” He turns to face the man, his eyes glow green with his sclera is pitch black. The man gasped and quickly drew out his gun, but the blonde man was quicker and grabbed the gun and the man’s hand. He smiled before dropping it and quickly crushes the gun and the man’s hand before pull him him close to him, the blonde man quickly grab the man by the neck with his free hand while still holding him before with one swift move he forcefully shoves the man’s arm right into his torso spilling blood everywhere.

He uses the man’s body and throws it into the group of people surrounding you. He stood up straight before letting out a powerful roar which shuttered the lights, plates, glasses and windows. The roar made you quickly cover your ears and move under the table knowing fully well that this ain’t going to be pretty.

As the blonde man roars, suddenly green flames ignite and surround the diner basically trapping everyone in the diner.

As soon as the blonde man stopped roaring, the people quickly acted and started to open fire on the blonde man. Shooting him with all they got until they all ran out of bullets. They all start to reload but stop when they hear the sound of bullet shells hitting the floor and bones cracking.

The blonde man starts to tremble as bullet shells pop out from the holes in his body. He let out an eerie and disturbing groan before reaching up to his face and quickly ripped the flesh of his face and his skull started to shift and change from a human to something that is close to a horse. Then horns start to pierce through his skull and spikes start piecing out from his back and a spike tail. Then his legs bend and crack as his pants rip morphing into the horse's leg.

Some of the people scream in fear and panic then try to leave but quickly notice all the doors are closed and if they try to go out of the window, they immediately get burned but the green flames. Then they all stop moving when the sound of bones cracking stops. They all slowly turn back to see the blonde man is nowhere to be seen, only a Monstrous demon covered in black with yellow mane with green flames, a skull for a face, ribs showing, a spike tail swiping back and forth. He stared at the humans with an eerie groan before screeching and lunging at them tearing them to shreds. 

All you can hear from under the table was the screams, flesh tearing, and bones breaking with occasional sounds of gunshots. Before everything went quiet with only the sound of the flames burning outside of the diner.

You quietly crawl out from under the table and look around to see the whole place is covered in blood, flesh, entrails and broken furniture. Then you spot the demon staring down a decapitated head before insteadly leaning forward biting down into the head crushing it in his jaws, it pops like a water balloon pieces for brain splattered everywhere.

You quickly walk over to him, avoiding stepping on the pieces of flesh and bones.

As soon as you were next to him, you reached out and touched his shoulder which made him flinch before relaxing and even letting out a quiet purr. Then he turned his head towards you “Did they hurt you?” He asks with a more deep voice. You shook your head.

“Nah, it's only a bump. Nothing fetal.”

He snarls before fulling facing you and leaning closer where you got hit with the gun. And he quickly growled. “Those fuckers shouldn’t have even touch you-” He stop mid sentence when you place a hand on the side of his skull, he leans into your touch and start purring.

“Possessive much?”

He quickly stops purring, within his skull his glowing green eyes glare at you. “Of course! You're my Mate!”

You giggle before you bring your face close to his skull and nuzzle your cheek into it. “I know… I know Satan” you mutter it with such affection, this is the first time in a while you two got to be this close.

He let out a satisfied sigh, before slowly wrapping his arms around you, bringing you close to him. You quickly wrap your arms around his neck even if you can fully wrap around his neck when he is in this form. You can’t imagine if didn’t hold himself back and turn into his feral form. And luckily his flames don't hurt you in fact they felt warm like a comfy blanket. You lay your head on his shoulder as the two of you stayed like that for a while. But your quiet moment was ruined by the sound of sirens and flashes of red and blue.

Satan grunts in annoyance. “Let’s get out of here” You nod and let him carry you bridal style before he leaps out of the window of the diner and manages to avoid being seen by the police and head straight into the woods nearby. As he runs through the woods and he couldn’t even let you have a moment to enjoy each other's company, he had to ruin it with his smugness and pride. “Technically I won” You rolled your eyes and patted his chest.

“Yes Satan, you won.”

Note:

I was supposed to keep Satan near end as the last brother to make it because of his Birthday, but inspiration hits and this specific fic fits him better.

If there’s grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don’t be shy to leave a comment or reblogging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3

[tboybuck]

WIP Wednesday Thursday Friday!

It’s WIP Wednesday Thursday Friday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

I was tagged by the wonderful & stupendous @helixferrano (thank youuuu)

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

full disclosure, most of my file names are actual titles, and there's one that i can't publicly post snippets of (yes it's killing me)

WIPs:

greatest hits

bu!

steddie song series pt1

for the bit

glimpse of us

Snippet (from greatest hits, chapter dropping tomorrow):

And then there’s Steve, who’s somehow always the last to show up and the last to take his place at the table, but the first to traipse across the forefront of Eddie’s mind.

Eddie pinches him when he sits down beside him.

“Ow. Dickhead. That was my nipple.”

“Language,” chastises Hopper around a mouthful of meatball, and Eddie tells him to take the balls out of his mouth before he tries to father them, pleased when Jonathan chokes on his drink.

Eddie wads up a piece of napkin and flicks it across the table at El, who grins at him and uses her powers to push one of Eddie’s meatballs from one side of his plate to the other. To his right Steve is discussing plans with Will for the day Dustin comes home. Eddie mentions the one-shot he’s been working on for next Sunday, intentionally vague, and Will latches on to the conversation, tries to pry out of Eddie what he’s got planned. Eddie changes the subject, asks what Mike’s been up to. Will’s cheeks go a little pink. 

Halfway through the massive pot of spaghetti, Steve gets up to grab more napkins and Eddie can’t resist the urge to slap him on the ass and say, “Grab me a beer while you’re up, wouldja sweetheart?”

Steve tilts his head and looks at him a little funny, but does as he’s asked. Eddie tips his chair back to balance on the back legs as he watches Steve go.

“Who are you?” Steve asks when he sits back down, glancing around the table to see if anyone else caught it. 

Eddie shrugs and twirls a pile of spaghetti noodles around his fork before slurping them noisily into his mouth.

“Couldn’t resist, had to see if it was just as bouncy as those jeans make it look,” he says quietly, hoping this part of the conversation is just for Steve. Hopper’s looking at them a little suspiciously, though, so that’s never a good sign. “Bouncier, even.”

Steve lets his voice drop into a sultry whisper. “Couldn’t wait till later?”

“Mmm, tempting,” Eddie says, leaning over to whisper it right in Steve’s ear. He watches goosebumps rise across the back of Steve’s neck, “but uh. No. No fuckin’ funny business tonight, Harrington.”

He means it, the no funny business thing, but with Steve this close to him he’s not sure he’ll be able to stick to his guns later, once they're alone.

“Says the guy who just slapped my ass at the dinner table.” 

“We’ll talk about it later, big boy,” Eddie says, patting him on the back and nodding his head in Hopper’s direction, making sure to lock eyes with him across the table. “We’ve got an eavesdropper over here.”

“Well maybe you should share with the class, sweetheart,” Hopper says.

Tagging...... no one, but if you want to join, please feel free and say I tagged you

[sixpossumsinatrenchcoat]

stillness is the move

One year after the true end, Sunny returns to Faraway Town.  A late addition to #anotherSTweek! ~11k words of wholesome sunkel silliness. (i’ve had this series drafted for a while, but everything feels bad & i just. didn’t have it in me to post. but i do think there’s value in taking respite in escapism, so... sunkels, come get ur serotonin! i'll be dropping an update every day for the next week.)

Day 1: Waiting

There’s only four days until Sunny comes home. To Kel, it feels more like four years. 

It’s been a whole month since Kel last made the trek out to Sunny’s new place in the Glittering Harbor. (Of course he’d like to visit more! But it’s kind of a haul. You have to take a bus to a train and then transfer to a different train, and then walk three-quarters of a mile just to get on another bus. Unless you’re Aubrey, in which case you bike the whole way from the station while acting like everyone else is a total sucker for dropping a buck fifty in bus fare.) 

Unfortunately, Kel was never very good at waiting. He used up a whole life’s worth of patience in the four years he spent moping around Sunny’s porch, talking to a door like a total loser. 

Fortunately, Sunny’s getting better at texting. 

Kel whips out his phone and checks the forecast for the millionth time today. It still looks good. Clear skies and temps in the high 80s, with humidity that’ll make it feel like the low 90s. Which sounds good to Kel! But Sunny never liked the heat. 

…It’ll probably be fine? They’ll just have to spend his whole visit splashing around in the lake. 

Kel taps out a few quick texts.

[dont forget 2 pack ur bathing suit!!!!!! gna b HOTTT!!!!!!! ☀️🔥🌶🍳🥵🥵🥵]

[but if u do forget its cool u can just borrow one of mine!!!!! hehe]

[....or basils lol. i think 4 u my swim shorts might be swim Pants]

Not even a minute later, his phone buzzes. It’s Sunny. 

[🐳]

Warmth builds in Kel’s chest. Every time Sunny takes the time to look his way, it makes Kel feel ten feet tall. He stifles a whoop and picks up his pace, loping down the sidewalk in long, bounding strides before hooking a right toward home. 

A year ago, if you tried to tell Kel that Sunny was gonna start answering his texts—not just eventually, but promptly!—Kel would’ve laughed in your face. Even six months ago, it would’ve been hard to believe. To be totally honest, for a few weeks after Sunny moved away, it looked like he was just gonna disappear again. 

But Sunny’s trying. He’s trying really hard!! He’s careful with other people’s feelings in a way he never used to be. He looks at the people around him and actually tries to figure out what they want, even if he is still kinda bad at it. Probably ‘cause he used to be such a brat. 

…Okay, so maybe he’s still kind of a brat. But that’s part of his charm! And it definitely feels different than it used to. It’s like Sunny’s… a little less careless, or something. More thoughtful. Less selfish. And every so often, he’ll open his mouth and say something so incisive—so unnervingly emotionally attuned—that he almost sounds like Mari.

Aw, man. Kel misses him so bad.

He can’t help himself. As soon as he’s scrambled upstairs and into his room, he pulls up AIM and hits Video Call. 

###

Sunny picks up on the third ring. That’s new, too. Sunny never used to pick up when anyone called. He looks a little flushed, like the call took him by surprise. 

Kel beams at him. Sunny parries with a disapproving glare. 

“I know!!!” Kel laughs. It’s true. They both know that Sunny hates phone calls. “I’ll just be a minute, I swear. I’m just too hyped to type, y’know? And I guess I kinda wanted to hear your voice.”

Sunny quirks an eyebrow. 

“Pfff. Okay, but you know what I mean, though.” 

Sunny tilts his head, conceding the point. 

“And it’s been, like, a million years!!!!”

The obvious lie finally pries Sunny’s mouth open. “...Four weeks.”

“Since we came to see you, sure. But since you came here? C’mon, dude! That’s way bigger!!!”

Sunny’s mouth tugs down. Oh, Kel realizes. He’s nervous. 

“Not in, like, a scary way!” he rushes to explain. “Just, like… you know. I know the Harbor is home now, too. But this is, like, home home. This is where it all happened!!”

Sunny’s face darkens. 

Shit. “Not like— I just mean!! All the times we swam in the lake, or… snuck out to go to Hobbeez, or got our butts kicked for taking the last slice of watermelon. The good times, dude! This is where the magic happened!! We’re, like, getting the band back together!!”

Sunny takes a moment to consider that. “Basil said they’re closing Hobbeez.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” When Kel saw the notice, he was ready to set up a lemonade stand, or a petition or whatever. But Pedro said the sale had already gone through. It was up to the new owners to decide what to do with it. “Anyway, that’s all the more reason to get psyched! We gotta give it a proper goodbye!!”

“A viking funeral,” Sunny says sagely.

“Yeah!! Wait—no. We can’t set it on fire. Were you gonna set it on fire?”

Sunny shrugs one shoulder. 

“Pffww— Sunny!!! You can’t set the strip mall on fire!!! That’s where I get my groceries!!!”

“It’s not like it’s hard.”

“I don’t mean literally!! I just mean—” But that’s when he notices a familiar gleam in Sunny’s eye. That’s the one that means he’s laughing at you, not with you. “Sunnyyyyy!!!” Kel flops back on his bed. “You’re messing with me!!!”

Sunny grins wickedly. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

(i tend to get squirrelly about 'self-promotion' etc so I can't promise to do the social media thing for every update, but u can always find the latest on ao3!)

[ahegato]

[NSFW] Obey Me - fem!MC first time with Satan

m.list

TW: nsfw, first time sex, loss of virginity, swearing Characters: Satana Writer: ahegato

Context:  The MC would probably be pretty nervous since it’s the first time and stuff like that. Idk I lost my virginity when I was like 17 and now I’m really old, so I barely remember it. I just recall worrying about the pain while also knowing it was common, that’s about it lol

You/your pronouns, so basically gender neutral, bUT MC will have female bits.

lucifer (cumming soon) | mammon | leviathan | satan (ur here) | asmodeus | beelzebub (cumming soon) | belphegor (cumming soon) | diavolo (cumming soon) | barbatos (cumming soon) | simeon (cumming soon) | solomon

SATAN:

he may seem put together, but he’s actually super nervous

but he’ll keep himself calm for you

you’re the one getting boinked, so it’s the least he could do

he does a lot of research to be sure that he’s ready and can properly lead you through it

“a-are you sure about this?”

ragey boy is so cute when he’s nervous I can’t-

his cheeks are red, his hands are sweaty, and good demon lord he’s actually struggling to speak

different from leviathan, however, he’ll still initiate stuff

just maybe not as confidently as say, lucifer, would

satan is a hopeless romantic, so he wants to be as close to you as possible

yet he also really wants to go rough with you

but he’s terrified he’ll get too into it and hurt you, so you’ll have to initiate it

scratch. his. back. 

treat him like a scratching post, that’s how you get him going

r o u g h  a s f

he’s not that big, but it’s still possible that you’ll be sore from how hard and deep he goes once you release the beast inside of him

cums so much

it took out so much energy that he’ll sleep for like 12 hours the next night

“I will admit that I’m a little worried that I’ll be too rough on you. Please promise me that you will speak up if you don’t like something.” Satan says, holding your hands in between his as he keeps his worried gaze on you.

“I promise, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, which continues down his jaw, neck and finally stopping at his shoulder, making the avatar of wrath let out a light groan. Despite it being your first time, it was like you knew exactly how to get him going.

-

Satan curses under his breath as he enters you, trying to keep himself together for your sake, ignoring the way your insides hug him.

“Are you alright?” he gently asks when you hiss from the pain, and he tries not to show how concerned he actually is.

“Yeah, I think I just need a moment to adjust.” you respond, your eyes tightly squeezed shut.

“Of course, love,” he whispers in your ear, his hands on your shoulders and thumbs rubbing against the skin, hoping to give you some comfort while also giving you space in case you need it.

Once you give him the OK, he slowly begins to move, making sure to be gentle. Except it quickly becomes painfully slow, and you beg him to go faster and deeper, to which he hesitantly obliges.

He can’t deny that he loves the increase in speed and force, groaning and humming as your cavern envelops him. Although what he doesn’t want to show is that his rough side is threatening to come out. He’s afraid of bringing that into your very first time together, worried it might scare you or even hurt you, so he puts a lot of effort into trying to control himself. Try as he might, you can tell that he’s holding back, and you try to get him to give in.

“I... ngh... I don’t think I can...control myself...if I do,” his voice is shaky, barely able to get the words out.

Trying to take the matter into your own hands, you change the position slightly by wrapping your legs around him to pull him towards you. It causes him to hit you in a different spot, one that makes you see stars, and you press your nails into the skin on his back. He released a drawn out groan, and he thrusted into you even deeper.

Bingo!

You pretend to not notice, but when he starts moving again, you scrape your nails against his back, and hoo boy he loses control. He’s roughly rutting into you, releasing curses in between his quick breaths. He’s going absolutely wild and it’s so fucking good, which you of course let him know with moans of your own.

“You’re so-... ah, fuck... I’m getting close...” he growls into your ear.

He’ll cum with a low snarl and pull you closer so your bodies are pressed flush against each other. Once he recovers, he’ll be a mix between embarrassed and surprised. Embarrassed that he lost control, surprised that you took him like a champ and begged for more.

✦ 30/11/2023 (Im so sorry lmao) - 14/05/2024 ✦ ahegato ✦

[abominationvault]

Session 10: Sat 9 Sep 2023

Some of us have levelled up! Some of us are doing our homework on the bus again… It’s getting dark. We are told the haunt will reset every night. We don’t want to rest here overnight. We could stay with Tangletop? Joto doesn’t want to, because he looks like a pervert. And Mick Hucknall. But he is closer, so… We crash at his place. And wake up with (level x CON mod) more hit points! Hartvig does a Heal before we sleep as well.

Rested and with spell slots back, and one less level of drained, it is late afternoon so we decide to head back into town. We set off, in no particular hurry, but it is starting to get dark as we approach the town. Out of the corner of our eyes, we notice a horrible, sickly pale light suddenly blazing out of the tower. It shines on the graveyard next to the town rather than the town itself… It looks like we haven’t stopped the haunting altogether.

Joto: “Are we the Ghostbusters now?”

We decide to go and see Wrin to see what we should do, and turn in our quest. We did our bit, after all. Whatever this is won't be our problem, surely. As we pass the stone circle outside of town, we see that everyone has come out of their houses and are staring in horror at the graveyard. There are guards standing outside it looking panicky. It looks like it might be our problem after all. We head in that direction.

Hartvig asks one of the guards what is happening. They don’t know, but they’ve sealed off the graveyard. Skabb wants to scale the wall and have a peek. Joto boosts her up to the top.

The soil is churning with corpses rising from their graves. They all rush to the south, and down a cliff? To a library I think?

What’s special about the library, Joto wants to know. Well, we went there for healing, it’s also a temple. (Oh, that library.) Not all of them have jumped, Skabb sees. The ones that have jumped are dashed to bits.

Joto: “Ah, problem over.”

He wants to know how big the undead are likely to get, but the guard he is questioning is distracted. Joto shakes him for an Intimidation check with help from Nadia’s new feat, Intimidating Glare. The guard shakes himself. Just regular size corpses!

Skabb wants to do a Disrupt Undead. What’s the range on that? 30 feet; there are no undead within range.

Are there points where we (our long range fighters) could stand on the wall, Nadia wants to know? Only on the gate posts, we gather.

Joto wants to sneak in and have a look through the gate first. He’ll have to get a key from the guard. He shakes him a bit more. “Dammit man, give me the key!” The man buckles under the pressure and unlocks the gate. Joto meows at it pathetically until someone actually opens it.

He sees a building but not much else; it’s dark. Hartvig joins him, as he has Darkvision and is okay at sneaking. He sees a skeleton walking around. “That ought to be lying down.”

The DM reconsiders the light situation; there is a ghastly beam shining right into the graveyard, so we should be able to see a bit better. He adjusts the light level accordingly.

There are regular skeletons, and some zombies… Hartvig sees 6 skeletons and 3 zombies.

Joto: “Sounds like a party.” He sees some coffins as well.

How many can fit on the gate posts? Luna quite likes the idea of being out of the range of attacks.

Skabb wants to sit on Nadia’s shoulders atop the gate post, and Luna shimmies up to the other one. The DM rolls secret stealth checks for us all, and Skabb is distracted by a daddy longlegs who has invited itself into hers and Joto’s house. Joto catches it, and removes it. We continue…

The guards say they will lock the doors behind us; Nadia and Luna want to know if they, you know, want to do their fucking jobs and help us maybe? Luna makes a Society check, but it’s too low; zombies are above his pay grade. Luna curtsies and scuttles away.

We do a surprise round, with Joto going first. Joto sneaks up and tumbles behind one, hoping to make it flat footed. He trips it, and stabs it. How de do dis! He does a Mortal Kombat sweep, draws his sword, and cuts it in half. He then makes a reflex save - huh? an 8. The skeleton explodes in his face. All the bones shatter, flying in all directions, and Joto takes 1d6 slashing damage. 1! Phew.

Skabb recalls information to see if she knows if it’s the light that’s making them explode; she doesn’t know. Sprocket does, though! At four days old, he’s MADE of knowledge. He tells us that some skellybums explode after we kill them, some collapse and reform, the bloody ones can heal themselves, and some can remove their skulls and fling them at us. Woof. He shrugs, unsure where this information has come from.

Skabb: “He’s like an olde worlde Alexa.”

Nadia screws on a silencer, and we roll initiative…

Can Joto tell by looking which ones explode, and which ones fling heads?

DM: “Nope!”

… Okay. He tumbles at another one, and does some stabbies. He misses, goes again, misses again.

Skabb blasts an Icy Ray against the flat footed one. She hits it squarely - but it reduces her 8 damage to 3. She whips a sling bullet at it - it goes through the head, but doesn’t explode. It does die though!

Luna is too far to shoot anything with her bow, so she is unsure what to do. She can sneak and move at half speed, if she wants to climb down from the gate post. She does so, but misses. She rerolls and kills it! How de do dis! It does explode but there is no-one in range. She uses her next action to shoot at another one, but ties herself into her bow with a natural one.

Nadia is over encumbered, so she drops her artisan’s tools on the other side of the wall, hops down from the gate with Skabb on her shoulders and moves closer, next to the mausoleum behind which Luna and Hartvig are sheltering. They crouch down.

Sprocket does some measuring, and he and Augustus move forward. He casts Shield on himself. Oooo!

Hartvig Produces a Flame, with appropriate sound effects. 12 misses. “Ohhhh.” That was all his actions.

Joto spots some more wet undead in the distance. It’s their turn… One shambles at Joto; he admires how juicy it is. It punches him. “Ow!” 7 bludgeoning damage. “… That was a good punch.”

The zombies and skeletons all shuffle closer, but still a little way away yet. Joto starts his turn within the zombie’s Rotting Aura; his open wound starts to fester.

He begins his turn… Scimitar strike - 21 hits. It takes 2 of the 7 damage he deals.

The DM: “… Well that doesn’t trigger that, so that’s good.”

Joto: “Oh, good.”

(There is something about pustules; I missed it and I’m not sad about it.)

Is it two actions to take out a torch and light it? It’s one, as he’s wearing it. He uses his last action to try to set fire to the zombie in front of him. 6 misses. Wait - scimitar does slashing damage, yes? The zombie doesn’t reduce the damage from Joto’s first attack, as it turns out. In fact, it takes ten! Joto is allowed to retcon his last two actions in light of this new information.

“Slashies, slashies!” 12 hits. “Slashies!” 3 damage, and it takes all 8. It is not dead, though. 14 to hit. “How about now?” How de do dis! “Legs, then, arms, then head.”

Skabb, is up. She can add 2 to her AC as well as she’s pressed against the wall with Nadia. She whips her slingshot around her head again. Is she going for wet or dry undead? She wants to do wet, because hopefully it’s still far enough away that it might not disease anyone if it dies. She does dry instead, as Hartvig has softened that one up. How de do dis!

She takes aim at the wet one as well, but misses. She can attack again or move - she scuttles up onto the crypt and sits on the roof, swinging her feet over the edge.

Luna shoots at a wet undead but misses. She moseys up next to Augustus, and performs her new trick - Electric Arc!

Her target crit-fails, yeah! It takes all 8 of her 4 damage, and she earns herself a Hero Point. In fact, her target is close enough to another one that the spell arcs - that one takes half damage as well.

Nadia jumps out from behind her wall and shoots a wet undead, bursting some of its pustules. She is sick in her mouth a bit and retreats back behind her wall.

Sprocket directs Augustus to pull out another new trick - he manga-style electric arcs another wet one. It fails, taking 5 damage, and Augustus can choose which target the spell arcs to - wet or dry? The wet one is closer. It fails as well and takes another 5. Electricity crackles off Augustus’ nail hands, and Sprocket gives him a thumbs up. He toddles away a bit for some cover.

Hartvig has two targets to choose from, and shoots the further one with fire. 13 hits! It takes all 3 fire, but no more. He moves back a bit so the nearer one can’t reach him on its turn.

Zombies are slow, on account of being zombies. One scoots up to Nadia, but it’s run out of actions by the time it gets there. Another shambles up to Sprocket and has a go at him. 13 hits, as it bites him. Some of its teeth and gums fall out. A third shuffles over to Augustus and does this to Sprocket:

22 hits.

“It… woah… okay.” It has attempted to demoralise both Sprocket and Luna, who have to make Will saves. Sprocket is four days old, so when he aces his save it’s because he has no idea how unforgivably rude it is to take your head off and fling it at people. Luna also makes her save, but I imagine it’s more disdain than ignorance of etiquette in her case.

Joto moves up to Sprocket and does a tumble where Luna can see him so she knows he’s the fancy one, and proceeds to roll a ten Acrobatics. He doesn’t fumble it entirely, but no-one’s impressed. He vaults over a zombie and lands behind it. Fancy cat gets a 22 for this one! He does a scimitar attack and gets the how de do dis, cutting it in half. “I’m the cool one!”

Skabb shoots another Electric arc - it makes the save and only takes half damage. The spell arcs to a skeleton which also makes its save - but curiously, takes no damage. She uses her sling again, at the skeleton, and hits for 1 damage. She feels proud.

Luna stabs the skeleton in front of her with her rapier and hits for 7 damage. It only takes two, however. She punches it in the ribs. No wait, the head! It’s flanked, so 14 hits - how de do dis! She knocks its block off. She can heroically run away for her third action - she does that.

Nadia has a new friend but she doesn’t like the look, so she runs away and shoots a different wet one instead. She crits for 12 damage and gets the how de do dis! She also gets a hero point for, by complete chance, killing the last rotting aura zombie, which might have killed her friends if it had been allowed another turn! The pustules explode going quite a distance, landing at Joto’s feet.

Sprocket will keep the head that was flung at him, and will visit an “aggressive bideting” on its previous owner. How de do dis! The water sprays out from between its bones. Augustus does a two handed bop on another one.

DM: “Rude. How de do dis?”

Augustus tears it in half, and it explodes. They get a hero point as both of them got a kill on the same turn.

Hartvig shoots more fire at the last (?) remaining skeleton but misses. “I am bad at fire.”

Joto closes in on it and swings his scimitar, but misses. “I am angered by this.” He busts out the claws, and gets the how de do dis, punching its head off. Luckily, it doesn’t explode.

Skabb has a zombie right next to her, though she is a little bit above it. It isn’t appearing on her map...? It turns out she couldn’t see it because she was above it - “I was doing pirouettes on its noggin!”

She jumps on its head with her sickle in hand - 18 hits and she rolls 1 slashing damage. She does a Disrupt Undead and it fails its save. She rolls 5 damage and it takes 14 - it explodes, showering her grinning face in goo. She gets a hero point because that was badass. Also, if she’d used piercing damage, it would have exploded its pustules on her, potentially diseasing her. Phew!

We won! Joto wants to loot the corpses. Not the graves. The light is still shining from the lighthouse. Skabb wants to send Grabby Cat over the edge to have a look at the library at the bottom of the cliff. She sees splattered zombies, and a bunch of clerics of Sarenrae including our friend Vandy Banderdash. They are cleaning up the mess. The villagers look absolutely horrified at what’s happened to the remains of their loved ones.

What do we want to do next? Luna wants to look at the gravestones to see if the risen undead have anything in common; she can’t see any patterns. Joto wants to gather the jewellery from the undead and return it to their families.

Hartvig, ever practical, wants us to heal ourselves before we do anything else, and earns himself a Hero Point for his pragmatism. He does a Mass Heal, if we will all gather around.

The light from the lighthouse gives us goosebumps as it hits our skin; we think something might be about to happen. (We also think that the dead might keep on rising until we find a way to turn that light off for good...)

Is there about to be a second wave? The gooseflesh on our arms intensifies, and the beam shrinks down to a single spot among all of us - and this appears:

We hate it as a free action.