#I still wish he had named the crab Gurgles

[metalandmagi]

Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight (in absentia) to the realm of Goodcastle. And Snippers.

Happy ace week to my favorite fancy boy. I like to imagine that Griffin describes him as being handsome, but in reality he just looks like a big nerd.

#I still wish he had named the crab Gurgles #wanted to draw the other boys cuz argo is my favorite #but i didn't have time #inktober #my art #the adventure zone #taz graduation #fitzroy maplecourt

[yandere-society]

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink. 

Admin: @tatertotthethot​

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

 So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume. 

  So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am. 

  So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him. 

  “Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“ 

  She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand. 

  “To the left!”

  “Take it back now, y’all.” 

  Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was  the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her. 

  She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her. 

  That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma. 

He growled and  swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

  “How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

  “Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

  “What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

 “Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

  Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

  Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

  “Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

  “Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side. 

  “Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.” 

  “The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.” 

  Baley neck rolled back in offense.

  “Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

  Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung. 

“She claps your cheeks?” 

  Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips. 

  “It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“ 

  “You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut. 

  He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat. 

  “What, fucker?” She scorned.

  “I can see you.” 

  “Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?” 

  She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk. 

  “Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

  ”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?” 

  Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which  only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle. 

  “I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious. 

  “This isn’t Taehyung.”

  “Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?” 

  “Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

  “Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

  He let out a chuckle, a dark one. 

  “Boo bear?”

  “What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

  “Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

  The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation. 

  “HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

  “W-What do you want me to do?” 

  See?

  “Be a good girl, and come here.” 

  “Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation. 

  The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely. 

  “Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

   Baley reluctantly— and stupidly—  did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked. 

  “I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time. 

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..” 

  Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...” 

  “GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching  Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging  at Baley. 

  She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

  This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town. 

  Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

  CHEATING PIG!!

  Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads. 

  And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

  “May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car. 

  Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

  —

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart. 

  It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit. 

  You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

  You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

  You still resent the police department  for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind. 

  It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day. 

  “Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug. 

  They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

  “Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it. 

  “Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand. 

  “That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

  That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

  He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim. 

  And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right... 

  He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

  But holy fucking hell, did it.  Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

  “NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news. 

  “Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

  “How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

  “Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.” 

  “Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

  “Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days. 

 But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

  “FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

  He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching. 

  You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

  “Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half,  making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard. 

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this. 

  “How’s it goin, guys?” 

  “Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

  “I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

  He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans. 

  “Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it. 

  “Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.” 

  He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand,  following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

  Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

  “Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place. 

   “I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine. 

  “Did you polish it?”

  “Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed. 

  “It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

  “Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils. 

“Where’s your plate?”

  “I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you. 

  So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

  It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot. 

  From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on.  Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call. 

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then. 

  Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you. 

 You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

  “Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

  “Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out. 

  He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

  You then continued to battle with basic communication.  

“So, uhm.. wh—..” 

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

  “I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you. 

  “What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part. 

  “All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone. 

  “That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued. 

  He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?” 

  “You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.” 

  “Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.” 

  Stop starring at his fingers.

  “Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

  “Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that. 

  “I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.” 

  “What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

  “The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.” 

  “Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though. 

  “You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.” 

  “I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?” 

  “19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

  “18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

    You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you. 

  “I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

  “Whatchu mean?”

  “Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.” 

  “I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you. 

  “Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?” 

  “Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

  “Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?” 

    It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it. 

  But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can. 

 It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side. 

  Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

  You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him. 

  “What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

  “Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?” 

  “Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.” 

  You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

  “There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

  Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?” 

  “Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.” 

  “She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

  “Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.” 

  “Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again. 

  “But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

  His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer. 

  “You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

  “Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?” 

  “Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

  “Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.” 

  “Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised. 

  “No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.” 

  “Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did. 

  Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

  “I have a special surprise for you.” 

  “Yeah?” 

  “Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

 You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds. 

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

  “WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

  “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

   That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might  discover you have a mask kink. 

  “What the fuck is up with the voice?” 

  “Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless. 

  Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent. 

  “You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

  “I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.” 

  “No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table. 

  And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

  “Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there. 

  But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

  “T-Take that damn mask off—“ 

  Wrong move.

  He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face. 

  “I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain. 

  He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

  He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it. 

 Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you. 

  If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

  It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back. 

  Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone. 

  “What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?” 

  “No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.” 

  A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him. 

  “I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.” 

  “I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.” 

  Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

  “I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.” 

  That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends.. 

  He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

  But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

  So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly. 

  You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor. 

  Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

  “Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door. 

  It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

  “Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly. 

  The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off. 

  “Sir..?” He repeated.

  “Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.” 

  He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.” 

  “Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

  Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

  “Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.” 

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now. 

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

#yandere society #bts #jeon jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts halloween #bts crack #jungkook smut #bts smut

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Money’s Worth - You’re Mine

soft husband!Ransom Drysdale x reader

Summary: Starting 2021 answering the question I got asked the most in 2020: “How will the reader react to learning that Ransom hooked up with someone when she was away for Christmas?”

A/N: When y’all filled out this poll, there was a 100% yes answer for a spinoff for The Highest Bidder. Well, here it is: Money’s Worth. In which Ransom is getting $50,000+ worth of experiences with his wife and child(ren). If you have more ideas, don’t be shy, drop ‘em in my ask box! I’ll update this series from time to time. 

If you were tagged in Highest Bidder, I automatically tagged you in this. If you’d like to be removed, let me know! My feelings won’t be hurt, I promise ❤️

Also, I’m sorry if your name is Amanda 🥴

Warnings: smut, swearing, jealousy, angst, daddy!kink

The Highest Bidder Masterlist

Money’s Worth Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Darling, can you go over to the next aisle and get a couple boxes of pasta?” 

Ransom nods, even though you’re too engrossed in looking at the differences between chickpea-based and gluten-based pasta. 

His son is awake, wide eyes looking around at brightly colored food packages and fluorescent lights with a pacifier in his mouth. From what Ransom recalls of tales from when he was a baby, Harlan Jr. is more like you. Quietly observing, not kicking up too much of a fuss. 

Pinching the baby’s nose gently and coaxing a small giggle out of him, Ransom ventures over to the next aisle to find the pasta you like. 

A sharp gasp and an obnoxious “oh my God,” draws his attention. When he looks up and finds the source of the voice, his stomach gurgles with dread and annoyance. 

“All the times I’ve been here, I’ve never seen you,” she says. “What are you up to? Disappointing more girls in bed?”

Ransom weighs his options in his head. He could dig low, reminding her of all the times she was actually begging for him, or he could take the high ground, grab the pasta, and ignore her. 

He does the latter, though makes the mistake of using his left hand to do so.

“Is that a wedding band?” she scoffs. 

“Yeah, it is--” 

“Oh, Ransom, don’t get that one, we want the bigger noodles.” 

Shutting his eyes, Ransom shouts all the swear words he can think of in his mind. This is such bad timing! 

“No fucking way,” Rebecca--or is it Veronica?--scoffs. 

“Hi,” Ransom sees you give a sickeningly sweet smile and he wants to disappear into the shelves. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall ever meeting you.” 

“I’m Amanda.” 

Wow. Completely different name than the ones his mind was supplying. 

“Your husband and I know each other pretty well.” 

He can see the gears turning in your head, analyzing the situation. 

“Quite frankly, I’m not surprised about the little one. I’m sure he did the same thing to you as he did to me, just finished and decided he was done without fully getting the job done!”

You’re visibly taken aback. “I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, we just hooked up casually like, two years ago? I can’t really remember, it was during Christmas though. Hadn’t heard from him in a while and he mentioned being lonely and I figured ‘Why not?’”

“Two years ago?” you echo, looking at her, then at Ransom. 

“It was casual, I left right after,” he points out, 

“Oh, were you two together then? I’m so sorry--”

“You know what, Veronica, just get your stupid pasta or rice or whatever the fuck you’re here for and leave me and my wife in peace! Don’t you have better shit to do?!”

“It’s Amanda.”

“I don’t care.” 

Rolling her eyes, she leaves, turning on her heel and exiting the aisle. 

Ransom turns back to you and doesn’t like the thoughtful look on your face. You don’t look at him or Harlan, just at the contents in your cart. 

“Hey, don’t let whatever she said get to you. You know I love you,” he reaches for you, fingertip just grazing your cheek and you cringe away from him. 

“Just put the pasta in the cart and let’s go.” 

You’ve snapped at him before to remind him to stop completely at intersections or double check the temperature of Harlan’s bottle. You’ve never snapped at him that way, in irritation as if you can’t stand him. 

He recoils, drawing his touch away from you. “Well, just...let me get the right one.” 

“Ransom,” you deadpan, “I wanna go home. Just put the pasta in the cart and let’s. go.” 

He does as you say, carefully placing the boxes atop the other items. 

You don’t speak to him as you check out and sit in the backseat with Harlan to make sure he’s okay as he drives the three of you home. His little eyelids drop closed, completely calm despite the palpable tension between the two of you. 

Once at home, Ransom takes care of the groceries while you bring Harlan upstairs to his crib so he can continue to sleep. Just as you get him settled, you hear your husband pipe up. 

“So, can we talk about what happened at the grocery store?”

You sigh, straightening up. You cross your arms as you turn to face him. “When was the last time you saw her?” 

“When you were on winter break a few months after you had just moved in.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, a whirlpool of emotions spinning around in your chest. 

You’re angry and hurt, but you don’t know why. The two of you were just starting your sugar arrangement and it wasn’t anything deeper than that. There weren’t any feelings on your end until the following spring. 

“It wasn’t anything, it was just some hook up. She was just being a bitch because I left--”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” you interrupt him. 

You had long reconciled Ransom’s past and never held it against him. But you just cannot pin the exact reason why this revelation bothers you. 

“Look, I’m still figuring out things going on in my head. And I don’t really...I don’t really want to see you right now.” 

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” he argues, “We weren’t anything. We only became a thing in July.” 

“Really?” you wonder. You weren’t going to bring this up, but it feels fair in order to get him to understand your perspective. “I had a crush on someone from my cohort.” You watch his expression shift from annoyed to surprised. “I kissed him once. In November, after I moved in with you. But it didn’t work out because I was living with you, so we decided to not do anything about it.” 

You can see the visible tinge of red on his neck. “Are you saying that just to get at me?”

“It’s the truth,” you say. “Does it bother you?” 

You can see him setting his jaw as he takes in the information. 

“But we weren’t anything, right?” you remind him of the words he spoke just minutes before. 

Ransom doesn’t say anything. He turns away and walks down the hall. You hear him going down the stairs and then the door to his office slams. 

You check on Harlan, he’s still sound asleep. Slightly relieved, you move into your bedroom and sit on the mattress. 

Ransom lets out a long-winded groan when he deletes the sentence he’s been working on for the fifty-second time in twenty minutes. 

He feels odd knowing you liked someone when you were living with him, just as the seeds of his feelings were being planted. He’s taken pride in the fact that he was the only one to have you, but turns out your heart was a better prize and that wasn’t his completely. 

He doesn’t doubt you love him and he’s certain he never has to worry about sharing you ever again, but it still bothers him. 

He scrubs his hands over his face and rubs the back of his neck. 

He remembers fights between his parents never being resolved, which resulted in their marriage slowly disintegrating into a financial arrangement than a romantic relationship. 

He knows you late at night when you’re both hungry; knows you pregnant and crying over hermit crabs while watching nature documentaries; knows you between his arms and keeping him warm, making him feel safe and loved when he felt he didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t want this to turn into anything close to the example of marriage he saw growing up. 

Shutting his laptop, he gets up and marches to the door. When he yanks it open, you’re standing there. 

“What are you doing?” 

You look caught, as if you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. “I...I wanted to talk. Unless you don’t want to.”

You begin to leave and he grabs your arm. “No, let’s talk.” 

Stepping into the room feels reminiscent of walking into his office at the publishing house for the first time. You’re not comfortable entering this territory. 

Hugging your arms around your middle, making yourself look as small as you feel, you decide to just be forward. Your words come out sheepishly, “I just...I didn’t like knowing the moment I was gone, you went out and replaced me. Even if we didn’t have an exclusive label. And, I just thought, like, I realize it doesn’t matter because we’re married. And like you said, I know you love me. But, I don’t know. Just didn’t sit right with me.” 

Ransom sighs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t replacing you or anything like that. I...I saw a change in myself from just having you with me for a few months. But I thought you’d leave as soon as you got the opportunity,” he uses a large sweeping gesture as if he’s picturing you leaving all over again. “And I’d…” he hesitates, hand up by his head before his arm goes slack, “be back to my shitty normal self.” 

It’s different now with the explanation, and you wish you had been in the mindset to listen to him earlier instead of hurt him.

“And I get it. Knowing you had a crush on some guy doesn’t sit right with me either. I just,” he looks up and distantly, “I wonder what he had. What made you like him but then you were fine with nothing happening and then you started liking me?” 

“Neither of us were ready for a relationship at the time. We had just started and our first semester was crazy.” You take your turn to explain. “And feelings just come and go sometimes. I saw him again in February and it just...wasn’t there.” 

He takes in your strikingly simpler explanation, understanding your reference to fleeting feelings that are gone almost as quickly as they appear. 

“I’m sorry, Ransom. I shouldn’t have said anything about that. It was so stupid and it really didn’t mean anything--”

“Neither did Amanda.” 

“I…” you trail off, not knowing what to say. 

“I wasn’t being very understanding earlier when you first said it bothered you. You were just trying to get me to know your side of things.” 

“Doesn’t make it right,” you counter. “I really am so sorry.” 

Ransom smiles and laughs to himself. He still doesn’t know how to accept an apology. He sighs, reaching for you. “How long do you think junior will be asleep?” 

“Could be an hour, maybe two,” you answer as he draws you closer with a hand around your waist. 

“Think that’s plenty of time for us to make it up to each other.”

“Technically I need to make it up to you,” you correct him as you take his hand. “And I know how I want to.” 

You lead him back around his desk, ushering him to sit in his chair. It’s large with dark blue velvet, providing enough room for you too and straddle his lap. 

You dive for his mouth, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. 

His left hand comes to cradle your jaw, keeping your lips locked onto his, while his right hand drifts down your back to cup your bottom. 

You grind your core against his, smiling when you feel his hips jut up to yours. Tilting your head you give a tentative lick into his mouth. He opens up, bringing his tongue in to play with yours. 

It reminds you of how it was when it started; being shy  and letting him take the lead. You haven’t fallen into this cloudy headspace in a long time, but it feels so good that when you pull back and gasp the word “daddy,” it feels so natural. 

Ransom, on the other hand, is taken aback. He’s gotten used to you calling him “darling” or other terms of endearment. Hearing you call him that awakens something that had long gone into hibernation; and he wasn’t sure if it would ever see the light of day again. 

But like you, he slips into the space, creating a firm grip on your ass as a smirk appears on his face. 

“Wanna call me ‘daddy,’ baby? Hm?” he taunts. Your eyes are wide and doey, feigning innocence when he knows you’re far from it now. “Well, guess we can do that. We’ll make up for that night I wasted on someone else.” 

He watches your brows furrow and eyes squint in anger. Your hands slide into his hair, fingers tightening in the tresses. It creates a pull on his scalp, something he enjoys. “You’re mine, daddy,” you whisper just before your lips are on his again, kissing him harder than before, certain to bruise. 

You pull away and lean down to nip at his neck, hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You pop the button and undo the zipper unceremoniously. 

You remove yourself from his lap only to kneel between his legs on the carpet, pulling his jeans down to his knees. His boxers are quick to follow, revealing his hardening member. You grasp it, giving it a few squeezes and tugs the way you know he likes, watching his head loll back against the back of his chair. 

“This is mine, too,” you say. 

“Yeah?” he pants, looking down at you. A hand grazes through your hair, stopping at the back of your head. “My cock only belongs to you?” 

You nod, working him with more determination. 

“Then take it, baby.” 

You practically lunge for it, leaning forward to take him into your mouth, lips spreading to accommodate his girth. 

You’re satisfied with the sound Ransom makes, something between pained and blissful. He eggs you on, gathering your hair into a ponytail secured with his hand as he guides you to take more and withdraw in rhythm. 

You want him to finish in your mouth, but he pulls you off him and makes to lift you back onto his lap. You stand, already shimmying out of your bottoms. 

Straddling him again, you focus your attention down to poise yourself just above the head of him. 

He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and makes you look at him before crashing his lips on yours once more. 

“Take what’s yours, baby. It’ll always be yours,” he whispers. 

You sink down, crying out at the feeling of him within you. The doctor had just given you the green light to resume sex as normal after Harlan’s birth weeks ago, but you haven’t been able to find a lot of time to tangle with each other without your baby or Ransom’s book needing attention. 

Ransom appears to have an equally hazy feeling, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. You straighten up slightly until just the tip of him is in and lower yourself again. 

It’s so much for the both of you that his hands come to your waist and he guides your pace. “Slow,” he instructs you. 

You obey, finding a steady pattern as you build a climax for the both of you. Coaxing your hips the slightest bit forward, Ransom sinks all the way to reach that spot within you that makes you see stars. 

“Like that, baby?” he taunts you again, moving your hips up and down his length. “Tell daddy.” 

“Yes,” you gasp, “Just like that, daddy.” 

He works you until you’re nearing your end, tightening and pulsing around him to bring on his orgasm as well. Just as you’re about to fall over the edge, he taps below your eyes, a silent request for you to look at him. 

Your eyes meet his and he verbalizes exactly what he’s thinking. “I’m yours,” he pants, “I’m yours, my baby, my sunshine.” You fall forward and kiss him, letting him swallow your moans and whines. “Come for me, let me show you.” 

Your body weakens in his grasp, leaning onto him for support. Your movements falter and he makes up for them, jutting his hips up until he’s finishing within you. 

You gasp at the warmth that blooms in your stomach, feeling like gravity is failing but it’s okay; Ransom’s holding onto you, keeping you grounded. 

He holds you tightly as you breathe heavily, trying to recover your strength. You sigh and your arms wrap around his shoulders. You hear him chuckle and lean back. 

“We should’ve thought this through better,” he smiles, “We gotta get upstairs and clean up.” 

You moan your disappointment. “M’tired. Can’t we just stay here a bit?” 

Moving your hair out of your face, he kisses your exposed forehead. “Okay, sunshine,” he agrees. “Just a few minutes.” 

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale smut #Money's Worth #The Highest Bidder #ficsofpagesoflauren

[b1ksh88p]

Be Mine Chapter 3

Plot: A storm is brewing in Valentine, and you’re in the middle of it. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Harry and there’s already been a horrendous murder. With tensions high and everyone finger pointing your ex, Edmund, makes everything worse by spreading gossip. With the sting of rejection still weighing heavy on your heart you attempt to clear everything up only to make things worse.

Describing your mood as sour would be a understatement. You were numb. A grey cloud loomed over your usual cheery exterior as you went through day to day activities. Whenever someone asked if you were alright you’d chalk it up to trivial excuses. When in actuality you were torn that you’d been stupid enough to try and have a picnic with a killer. If you were sane maybe you’d tell the Sheriff and get some of his boys in uniform to smoke Harry out somehow but you had no taste for revenge. All you wanted was to move on.

But it seemed your ex had other plans. You worked in the diner, usually taking up the night shifts to rid yourself of boredom. As you were cleaning a table you overheard a couple chatting away about you of all topics. Why your name was in their mouths you didn’t know but from what you got out of it made you want to raise hellfire.

“I heard she goes down there every night to see that killer.”

“Edmund said that the sherif saw her go in with food and came out empty handed.”

“No way, maybe she’s a killer.”

There’s no way you could allow these two peons spread such outlandish babble. You’ve never killed anyone nor would you ever. The thought of murdering another made you sick to your stomach. “Edmund is a long-nosed good for nothing asshole who spends his time making up calumniations and dumping his girlfriend on Valentine’s Day for a dumb blonde with a baby voice. You two and the rest of your bubble headed friends would be fools to believe anything that comes out his mouth.” You finish with a astute turn into the back for a extensive smoke break.

If you saw Edmund or that sleazy sheriff you’d be sure to give them a piece of your mind. And speak of the devil, there he was. Your blood was replaced with boiling water as you stomped your way towards him. He was with the sherif and some other random cop you didn’t know. Both of them saw you coming and started to drift apart before you whistle and jogged towards the two snakes.

“Where we going boys? Running away from the new killer of the town?”

“Now listen Y/N I didn’t mean to start anything.” The sheriff assured.

You weren’t impressed. “You’re just the last one seen in the mines so...it makes sense.” Edmund shrugged.

“And you were the last one fucking the blonde bimbo you cheated on me with and she has crabs....so it makes sense right?” You snap back garnering a chortle from the other cop.

“It’s not my fault you’re a boring bitch who can’t get anyone to date you except for some psycho?!” He growled.

“I’m not dating anyone and I’m not a killer. Instead of gossiping like little girls how about you three go investigate and find the real killer.” You throw down the cigarette and stomp it out beneath your heel.

“We apologize if we’ve caused you any trouble Miss, we’re doing the best we can.” The Sheriff whispered.

“Keep my name out your ass licking mouths and out the fucking paper.” You demand before walking back inside the diner.

After your shift you began to walk home. The ominous glow of streetlights did little to scare you. On your way to you lovely home you stopped by the liquor store. A bit tipsy you ventured the winding fucked up roads. The quiet sounds of the night were ruined by the sounds of sirens. It had been what? 72 hours and some change since the last murder what the hell could the coppers be speeding for? Even in your mildly drunken stupor you noticed where they were heading. The mines. Sober you would’ve kept walking like any sane person but you were running on anger, worry, and rum. A mix that didn’t bode well when making good decisions.

You knew a shortcut through the trees and made haste. By the time you fought through flora and fauna two cars were already there. The sheriff and Edmund were there holding lanterns and guns. You step out from behind the trees, face bathed in red and blue lights. Softly stepping towards the shit show. “What the fuck are you two asswipes doing?!” You call out as you make your way to the entrance of the mine. Before they can stop you you’re in front of the cold entrance.

“You protecting your boyfriend again?” Edmund spat as he loaded his gun.

“You don’t have a gotdamn clue who killed those two. It takes you dumb mother fuckers months to even get close to closing a case!”

“We know he’s down there Y/N and he’s gonna fucking burn for what he did. And if you gotta burn with him so fucking be it!” He aimed the gun at you which almost made you piss yourself. You stumble back as he aims it at you. The thumping of your heart beat in your ears.

“I’m not you enemy! And neither is he!” Your words were bold but hoarse.

“That son of a bitch killed family. I don’t care what you think he’s going to die, and if I have to shoot you to get to him I fucking will!” The sheriffs attempts to calm down Edmund were futile. He had his eyes on you. They were large and red and full of rage. He looked like a rabid animal and you his prey.

“...You’re angry I get that but this is a mob attack not a lawful pick up. You have no evidence-“

“DONT GIVE ME A FUCKING LESSON IN LAW BITCH I AM THE FUCKING LAW!” He shot at the ground beneath your feet sending dirt into your eyes. The muffled scolding from the sheriff did nothing to stop your beating heart. In fact there were bigger problems.

Another shot cracked through the night sending you to the ground covering your head. The grotesque sound of choking made you gag. The Sheriff was on the ground, clambering hands grabbing at the gaping hole in his chest as he bled out. Edmund was in shock. He held the man’s dead hand with wide eyes. Perfect time to get away. You book it into the mines. It was dark and cold, even chillier with a fresh murderer on your heels. At first you didn’t hear him but a shot echoed through the caves followed by some demands for you and Harry to reveal yourselves. That wasn’t happening so you keep running, ducking into random corridors to try and throw him off your trail.

Apart of you was afraid of running into Harry. What if he was angry at you? Running into one killer to escape the other was a chance you really didn’t want to take. You’d rather wait it out and hide. Hopefully Harry would take care of Edmund and you could run away without interacting with either of them. You stop running to hide in a old mining cart that was turned over. Covering your mouth with shaking hands you listen. A heavy set of footsteps past you, Edmund more than likely. It wasn’t like Harry to be so loud. He taunted what you assumed were the shadows to face him like a real man. He didn’t really see him right? You wish you could peek but you were far to afraid you’d get your head blown off.

“So that’s what you look like. Y’know it’s crazy. You don’t look like a monster.” He cocked the gun. “Tell me how you did it. How you killed my dad you fucking monster.” He demanded.

There was no response on Harry’s end. You hear something fall to the ground and then Edmund’s smug laughter. What the hell was going on? You quietly peak from out your hiding space. The minimal lighting made the scene hard to make out but by the looks of it Harry had...given up. He had thrown his pick axe ahead of him, taken off the mask, and dropped to his knees. A gloved hand on the barrel of the gun pointing it to his head. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Was he insane? Edmund goes into a end game spill about how long he’s waited to do this. How he’d pin the Sheriff’s and I’s murder on Harry and walk out the mines a hero. During this you start to crawl towards them, ready to rush him or throw a rock, anything to buy Harry time. Your chest is tight as you hold your breath. Nearing the both of them as quietly as you possibly can. Edmund cocks the gun and says something to the effect of “everyone dies, somebody should’ve take your sorry ass out long ago.” Before you hear a shot.

It hits the ceiling once you use all your might to swing Harry’s pickaxe into Edmund’s head, through his cheek. The blast was so close to Harry he fell back in pain. Edmund leans on the wall holding the left side of his face, still turned away from you. When he does look at you all the blood drains from your body. His tongue hung from the broken jaw like a salivating dog, torn flesh dangled around missing teeth, with so much flesh exposed blood spritzed out every time he moved closer to you. He couldn’t move his jaw so when he spoke it was a gurgled cacophony of rage and disbelief. You lift the pick axe once more but see him lift the shotgun and take aim. This makes you freeze like a deer in headlights. You close your eyes, bracing for impact. But to your surprise it never comes. Instead Harry had gotten up and tackled him, only problem was that he got shot.

The two men fell to the ground. Edmund kicking him off and frantically reaching into his pocket for two more shells. Without thinking you kick the gun from his hands. He tried to get up but you stomp on his chest with all the rage bottled up inside. He looks up at you with that mangled face and large eyes but mercy was the last thing on your mind. You look over him, raise the crude weapon, and allow the cold metal to pierce through his chest. You let out a exasperated scream as you continue your onslaught. Hammering down years of neglect, wasted time, slander, and abuse into what’s left of his broken body. When you’re done he’s left torn apart. Rib cage broken and organs exposed. In all the madness you vomit from the stress and overall exertion of energy you used up. The groans from Harry snap you back to reality and you go to aid him.

“Oh god oh shit hold on hold on.” You ramble. Your hands try their best to cover the wound. He was shot in the side. Luckily it wasn’t a direct hit but without medical attention it was gonna get nasty. You use Edmund’s jacket to help stop the bleeding. He was just staring at you. “What? What the hell are you gonna yell at me for now???” You yell trying not to cry. He lifts a bloody hand to your face.

FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DRAGON BALL Z

#harry warden #slasher #slashers #fanfic

[kumeko]

A/N: For the KH Trios zine! I got the pint-sized trio and wanted to play with  my favourite Disney movie (Lion King!) and homesickness.

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Sora burped as he lay down on the soft, dewy grass. The long blades tickled the fur on his back and his burp sounded more like a wheezy roar than it ought to. Rubbing his belly with a paw, he sighed happily from the feeling he only got after overfilling himself on a good meal. It was a slightly uncomfortable feeling, like he wanted to burst through his pants, but luckily he wasn’t wearing any for once.

 “Sora!” Donald quacked as he slowly landed on the ground. Despite transforming into a different bird, he still sounded oddly duck-like, as though that was the one characteristic that magic couldn’t change. Then again, he was still a bird; maybe they could all make that sound.

 With a satisfied grunt, Goofy lay down on the grass next to him. It was a probably a mistake for a turtle to lie on his back. Sora would just have to roll him over later. “That was soooo good, gosh darn it.” He burped softly. “Oh grawsh, I’m stuffed.”

 “Goofy!” Indignant, Donald stomped a foot. Smaller than ever, it didn’t have the desired effect, the noise hardly louder than a cricket’s chirp. He flapped his wings, fuming. “That’s disgusting!”

 “How?” Goofy burped again and covered his mouth with a foot. Or well, he tried too anyways. As a turtle, his limbs were far too small for him make any of his usual movements. His slow reactions only made Donald angrier as time went by. “Oops, sorry.”

“You two…” Giving up, an irate Donald sank down in the grass too. He grimaced. “I can’t believe we ate that.”

 “I know!” Sora closed his eyes, remembering the nest of slimy, slithering insects that they’d just feasted on. Insects! He could just picture Riku’s and Kairi’s reaction to it. If he was still human, he’d probably have reacted the same too. But he wasn’t, so when he had stared at that treasure trove of bugs earlier, he salivated instead of running away. By now he was used to changing as he travelled through worlds, used to the new laws of every universe twisting and contorting his body to belong. Mermaid, Halloween monster, undead pirate—he’d experienced a lot of things while travelling yet this was the strangest so far: he was a lion.

 A lion cub, to be exact. As if to make it even odder, Goofy and Donald had transformed into a turtle and bird respectively. From one set of talking animals to another. If he tried to thinking about it too hard, he was going to get a headache. Rubbing his belly once more, he focused on dinner instead. “They tasted so much better than I thought, though.”

 “Yeah.” Goofy nodded his head in agreement, stretching his spindly legs above him. “They taste just like chicken.”

 Donald looked at them, giving them a flat stare. “Chicken?”

 “Oh.” Sora opened his eyes and looked back at Donald. Chicken. Duck. Strange bird. Maybe that hit a little too close to home. Grinning sheepishly, he tried again, “Fish?”

 “I don’t think it tastes like fish—” Goofy disagreed, cutting off only when Sora elbowed him in the side. “Ouch! Sora, that…” He trailed off as he noticed Donald’s death glare. Slow to catch up, he whispered, “Why’s he angry?”

 “Chicken?” Sora whispered back. “Think it’s a relative?”

 “I don’t remember any chickens,” Goofy muttered, scrunching up his face as he thought about it. “His uncle, his nephews…” Holding up his feet, he tried counting on them, but he could only get so far with only three toes per leg. “Nope, no chickens.”

 Well, that dashed that theory. Sora shrugged carelessly. “Maybe it’s a bird thing?”

 “I can hear you two, you know!” Donald growled angrily, and that was a new sound. Maybe that came with the new body. “I ought ta—” He groaned, rubbing his belly. “I’m too full to get angry.”

 “Like that’d stop you,” Sora countered, chuckling. Goofy started laughing too and after a moment’s hesitation, Donald joined in. Their laughs echoed in the cool night air. A nearby river gurgled cheerfully, as though wanting to take part too.

 Sora lazily scanned his surroundings once more. Around them was paradise, a series of hills covered in leafy trees and sprawling plains. The blazing heat of the day had died down by now. A soft breeze stirred through his fur. All sorts of wild animals roamed about, though maybe it was wrong to think of them as just animals. They might not wear clothes like Goofy or Donald, but they talked all the same. Travelling had really changed his perception on things and he’d be forever staring at books, listening to stray cats, wondering if there was a secret world hidden in a forgotten corner.

 Sora ran a tongue over his sharp canines. Even now he could feel the keyblade as he bit onto the hilt, swiping at his enemies with the flick of his head. “Guys, it’s really weird fighting like this.”

 “No kidding!” Donald scoffed and if he could, Sora knew he would have crossed his arms by now. “I can’t even use my staff properly.”

 “Aiming is hard,” Sora agreed, his tail twitching back and forth slowly as he remembered fighting heartless two times his size. And those were just the grunts—what’d happen when he faced something big?

 “Gwarsh, I don’t know.” Goofy rocked back and forth on his shell as he thought about it. “It’s not that bad.”

 “You just have to spin your whole body!” Donald grumpily shot back. “And your entire body is a shield!”

 “Well, if you put it that way…” Goofy hummed before nodding. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s pretty easy!”

 Donald let out an enraged squawk. “For you!”

 Sora tried not to laugh again. If only so that Donald’s rage wouldn’t be directed at him. He raised a scrawny paw to the sky. It didn’t quite feel the same as raising a hand, even if the limb was the same. Would there be another world like this? Where they changed bodies entirely? Part of him hoped so. It was just too much fun, finding entire worlds that made his head spin. There wasn’t much rhyme or reason to the rules of the worlds he’d been to and it’d take a greater mind than his to figure it out.

 Riku probably could have.

 Sora lowered his paw, feeling guilty. Like every world before this, Riku and the king were nowhere to be found. Part of him was thrumming, ready to abscond, to find that gate that would bring his friend home and stop all of this trouble. It’d probably be faster, quicker, to just keep bouncing from world to world until they found the one thing that could stop it all.

 There was only so much travelling one could do before they wanted to see the journey end.

 Looking up, Sora stared at the night sky. Countless stars glimmered in the sky above, looking nothing at all like the paopu fruit at home. Actually, now that he was looking, nothing above him looked the same. Sora studied the heavens, at the stars that numbered almost as much as the sand at home. There were no familiar constellations above him. There weren’t the real ones that Riku tried to teach him: Vega, Cyrus, Ursa. Nor were there any of the ones Kairi made up: the shark, the pinching crab, the raft. Staring up at the sky, Sora felt adrift, untethered, like he was on that raft Riku insisted they’d make and was floating through the sea alone.

 There was nothing he’d recognized up there. “Hey,” Sora asked, still searching for a star from home. “I’ve never seen this sky before.”

 “Of course you haven’t!” Donald snapped, snorting scornfully. “You’ve never been here before!”

 “No, I mean…” Sora wanted to rub his neck but his limbs didn’t work like that anymore. He settled for flicking his tail. “I don’t recognize any of the constellations.”

 “You know constellations, Sora?” Goofy asked curiously.

 “Kinda. Riku taught us.” His ears flattened as he remembered the long-ago nights on the island, when he and Kairi would lie on the sand exhausted. Riku, ever at work, would sit in between them, forcing them to stay awake while he pointed out constellation after constellation.

 Why Kairi had asked, worn out.

 In the sea, we have no landmarks but that. Riku had tapped them both on the arms, making sure they didn’t doze off. It’s so you can find your way home.

 All that hard work was for naught. Sora stared at the sky hopelessly. There wasn’t even a single star that reminded him of home. He could never find his way back.

 “Oh.” Goofy looked up now to, cocking his head left and right before gasping. “Gosh, I can’t recognize any of them either!”

 “What do you know about constellations?” Donald asked derisively, rolling his eyes. “You can’t even read a map.”

 “Hey, that’s—” Goofy cut himself off, unable to argue. “Max likes the stars.”

 “Max?” Sora asked, raising a brow. That name was new.

 “Max!” Brightening up considerably, Goofy grinned. “He’s my son. Gosh, I can’t really show you now, but I have some pictures in my pockets. You’ll love him, he’s the sweetest, bestest, greatest.”

 Sora stared at Goofy. If he had fingers, he’d have pinched himself. For now, he settled for, “You have a son?” His incredulous outburst was echoed by a secondary one behind him and Sora turned around to stare at Donald. Raising a brow, he asked, “Wait, you don’t know?”

 Donald flushed a beet red. “I…no, I do know it’s just…” He gestured at Goofy with a wing. “What part of that looks like he has a son?”

 “You didn’t meet him yet?” Goofy looked surprised. “But I brought him to the castle and everything.”

 “I know that! I just…” Donald stayed a bright red, stumbling over his words. “I just keep…you know, he’s your son. I forget that.”

 If Goofy was insulted, he didn’t let on. Instead, he clapped his feet eagerly. “When we get back, you guys should meet him!”

 “Yeah,” Sora agreed readily. “Definitely.”

 “Gwarsh, I wish I could show you his picture now…” Trailing off, Goofy stared at the stars. “Oh!” Excited, he started pointing his foot at the sky. “He looks like that!”

 Sora looked up at the stars, raising a brow. “Like stars?” Did Max have freckles or something?

 “Uhh, how do I—okay, if you look at that really bright red one, and then at the blue one next to it.” Goofy moved his foot, connecting the stars in the sky with imaginary lines. Sora squinted, trying to find the ones he mentioned. “The green one there, that other one, and that’s Max!”

 “I…” Sora frowned, biting his lip. Maybe if he cocked his head or squinted, he’d be able to see it. Rocking side to side, he tilted his head but the stars remained the same.

 “I don’t see it,” Donald declared. “I see a teacup.”

 “Really? Max doesn’t look like a teacup, I think,” Goofy replied uncertainly. “Maybe the witch cursed him too?”

 “No, dummy!” Donald chided him and pointed a wing above him. “The stars over here look like a teacup.”

 Sora really couldn’t see that either. However, if he connected the three stars in a row with a few other more scattered ones, he could almost make out a familiar shape. “I see a paopu fruit,” Sora announced.

 “What?” Goofy’s moved his head back and forth, trying to find the shapes. “Gwarsh, there are a lot more stars here than I thought. There’s one that’s shaped like a cake. Maybe we could have a tea party with your teacup!”

 “Stars don’t work like that,” Donald rebutted, but his usually harsh tone had softened considerably. “I see an ice-cream cone. My nephews love ice-cream.” There was a wistful edge to his voice, a rare softness that was uncharacteristic of him. “And Daisy’s bow’s there too.”

 “They must be with Scrooge then.” Sora pointed above him at the oval-ish set of stars he found. “That looks like one of his coins.” He could already hear the clink of gold, see the brim of the older duck’s top hat. The triplets must be hard at work with him.

 “And maybe Queen Minnie’s with Daisy,” Goofy suggested cheerfully, caught up in it now. “They could go to the tea-party.”

 “With Aerith and Tifa!” Sora agreed. He stretched out on the grass, craning his head back further to see even more stars. Even more familiar faces. “They could take a break and maybe Kairi could join them.”

 “And we could have ice-cream,” Donald chimed in, enraptured as he stared up at the sprawling tapestry above. “With Pluto and the King!”

 “And Riku,” Sora added, not wanting to leave either of his best friends out of this. It wasn’t hard to find a set of stars that looked like his best friends. As usual, Riku had the grumpiest expression and Kairi was smiling. “It’s going to be a big party.”

 “Yeah.” Goofy chuckled, beaming brightly as he turned to Sora. “You know, after we’ve found the King and Riku and stopped the heartless, we should throw a welcome back party. It’d be really fun!”

 “We could have it at the castle,” Donald suggested, sounding enthusiastic for once. “It’s really big and we have the fair outside anyways. Then we could invite everyone.”

 A party. Sora lit up. He could see Riku, Kairi, Tidus and everyone there. It had been ages since he’d seen them—what did they even look like anymore? What did he talk to them about before? By now, that was impossible to remember. They could spend the whole party catching up, until they were as close as they were before the heartless were released. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

 It was strange. His homesickness washed over him, pushed aside by promises of the future. Sora glanced at his two companions, unable to stop smiling. It was almost impossible to get sad with these two around. Even now, he couldn’t stop thinking about the party, food and balloons pushing away fears and worry.

 Not that there was anything to fear. With Donald and Goofy, he could do almost anything. They’d save the world and have the best party ever. Sora looked up at the stars again and this time, he didn’t feel as lost in the endless balls of light above him.

 It’s so you can find your way home.

 Riku had been right. Sora could always find his way home, no matter how unfamiliar the stars were. All he had to do was squint a little and his friends were there, watching him.

#kingdom hearts #sora #goofy #donald duck #riku #kairi #fanfic

[en-lil-sin]

A Night Out

By

Mikayla MacPherson

She slowly opened her eyes and sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a dainty hand. She sat there for a minute as life flowed back into her. She began stretching and yawned before getting out of bed. As she passed her dresser on the way to the bathroom she paused just long enough to turn the television on.

In the bathroom she took off her pajamas and got into the shower, luxuriating under the flow of hot water. Wrapping herself in a bunny towel she finished her routine while listening to the news. As she was brushing her teeth, she heard a news report about a highly charged criminal case about a local university boy who had brutally raped a girl outside of a bar.

“The jury has ruled “not guilty” in the case of Charles Lewiston, the local Branson University quarterback and son of assistant district attorney, Geoffrey Lewiston. Lewiston, 21, is being scouted by the NFL as a potential first round draft pick for the 2019 NFL season led the Branson Knights to a champion season for two years running. Back to you in the studio.”

She stood there listening to the news report, rage building inside of her like a fire building to a flashpoint. She shook as she thought about the new report. She had been following this case and two criminal cases for weeks now. She burned with anger as she thought about the fact that women were rarely believed in these cases. They were mocked. Called liars, their lives ruined. All while the men who committed these acts got off with usually little more than a slap on the wrist.

She finished in the bathroom and back into her sleeping area, where she pulled on a matching pair of black satin panties and bra. She thought about what to wear tonight, she was going out for the first time in a while. Perhaps to get a drink. She could use one. No, she needed one. She pulled out her makeup and thought about what colors and style she would go with for the night. She went through the routine without thought, thinking about where she should go to get a drink.

Her clothing was a large assortment of goth attire. Looking through them she decided on a little black miniskirt, crop top, and black satin opera gloves. She quietly got dressed, looking to make sure that her clothes were flawless, then pulled on her knee-high boots that were shined to a mirror polish. When she was finished, she looked at herself in a large full-length mirror in the corner.

Her skin, nearly alabaster in color clashed with ruby red lipstick and red nails. Her hair was a silky black cut into a pixie cut and framed a thin waifish face with large dark eyes. She was thin and stood at just barely five foot. She looked more like a 14-year-old than her actual age, which she didn’t really mind. Her mother and sisters also looked young as well. She smiled and then turned away from the mirror.

She grabbed her purse, a little backpack affair in the shape of a black bunny and grabbed her keys off the dresser by the tv. Throwing on a black leather midriff jacket, she walked out the door to her studio and locked it. She smiled sweetly and waved at her elderly neighbor, who was just coming home from her social group. Her neighbor smiled back and wished her a good evening and, like always to be careful. She just smiled and nodded.

She skipped down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor and paused just long enough to drop an envelope containing money for her rent into the office drop slot. Then she happily left her building and went out into the early evening chill. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She loved this time of year, when the air was chilly, but before it turned cold and the snow came. She looked right then left and crossed the street.

She did not have a destination in mind. She would just let her feet carry her along. She paused at the doorway where she saw a cat sitting and held out her hand. The cat looked at her for a second then came over, sniffed her outstretched hand and began purring as she petted it. She knew this cat and stopped nearly every night to pet it and it had grown fond of her. A soft smile came to her face as she remembered her own cat that she had for many years. She wanted another one, but the apartment where she lived did not allow pets. She took off her back pack and pulled out a small tin of sardines that she got just for this occasion. There was no better way to make friends with a cat she thought.

Once her visit was completed and she tossed the tin into a recycle bin left out on the sidewalk, she continued her nights outing. Soon she could smell the overlapping smells of the little food stalls, restaurants, bars and microbreweries that signaled her approach to “the strip,” as the locals called it. The strip was about three blocks of funky little shops, bars, eateries and other such businesses that supported the local university kids’ need for fun and diversion from the pressing academic studies. It was often boisterous, even during the week and only seemed to ever slow down during midterms and finals, though it did slow quite a bit during the summer break.

She entered the first bar and looked around. No, she thought, not where she wanted to be, then moved on. She poked her head into several bars before she found one that was what she was looking for. The name on the window s “The Red Light”, heavy bass beats thumped her ears and she could smell the bar food, booze and even the people. She went inside into an interior that was illuminated by black lights and moved towards the bar and ordered a drink. She looked at the list of drink on the chalkboard over the liquor shelves, and finally let the bartender pick for her. It was something fruity and sticky sweet, but it was tasty she thought moving toward a table in the far back of the place. She drank her drink while looking around at the guys in the bar. It was crowded for that time of the week. She was sure that she would get lucky tonight.

Then she saw him, when he walked in the door, accompanied by a small entourage. One could be forgiven for thinking him a celebrity the way others acted as he walked by. She smiled as he looked in her direction. Acting shy, she looked away and then cut her eyes back to him before smiling and acting like he caught her in the act.

He got his drink and began walking towards her. She noticed that not only did he have a beer, but he also had the same drink she just finishing. He came over and offered her the drink. She thought to herself that he probably spiked it but took it anyway. Taking that as his queue, he sat down and began talking to her.

She took a long sip of the drink and he watched her with interest as she did. Maybe a little too much interest she thought. They continued to talk, and she would sip on the drink and he would watch her closely as she did. She began to feel warm and she indicated she wanted to go outside for a walk. She got up and headed in the direction of the door. A glance in the mirror showed that he began to follow her. She was going to get lucky tonight.

She walked slowly but steadily, past the bars and late-night eateries until she came across a path that led to the university campus through a wooded park area. She turned right and onto the path. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed he was still following her. She looked backed and waved at him then pretended to ignore him. His pace increased and closed the distance between the two.

“Hey,” he said.

She continued to ignore him.

“Hello?”

She looked back at him and made an irritated face, and slowly increased her pace.

“HEY! I’m trying to talk to you.” Again, she ignored him and started walking faster. She looked back with a look of fear on her face.

That was enough to anger him. He jogged forward and snatched her arm and snatched her around to face him. He smiled at the look of terror in her face.

“HEY BITCH. I SAID I’M TALKING TO YOU,” he screamed.

Slowly she looked up at his face and into his eyes. She began to smile, causing the hair on the back of his head to stand up. The first fingers of cold fear began to course through his veins. He let go and stepped back from her. Her smile continued to spread becoming very shark like. Very… hungry.

Slowly her ruby red lips parted to reveal sharp serrated teeth. He noticed that her eyes had grown black, her nails had lengthened into talons and her ear was not pointed and jutting through her hair. Icy fear slammed into him and he started back peddling away from her.

“What the fuck are you? Get away from me,” he shouted. Fear cracking in his voice.

Silently she continued walking towards him.

“GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING FREAK!” He stumbled over a root and fell backwards onto his back side. As he began to attempt to crab walk backwards, a wet spot began spreading in the crotch of his pants. His screams changed into sobs as she continued advancing.

Then, in a blur she leapt onto him, driving him to the ground. Her head dove at his neck and tore a chunk out. Blood began gushing from the wound as his sobs turned to a gurgling noise. She slowly chewed and then swallowed as the life ebbed away out of his eyes. She bent down and drank deeply of the blood flowing like a faucet, the fear she had instilled sweetening it with an intoxicating flavor. Her kill. Her right to drink. Her right to his life essence.

When she drank her fill, she tore at a thigh until she ripped nearly the entire muscle out. Satisfied with her prize, she turned and made a loud barking sound that struck a primeval fear in anyone who might have heard it. From the west, what sounded like a flock of large birds approached, all echoing the barking, as if answering. Six dark shadows dropped to the ground in a blur almost to fast for a human eye to see.

The largest of them stepped forward out of the shadow enveloping it. She looked at the newcomer and lowered herself in submission. The larger looked very similar to her, not surprising since this was the matriarch, while the other smaller ones, where her younger siblings. The matriarch crept forward and examined the body, then began devouring it. After a minute she too made a barking sound and the smaller siblings rushed in mass.

When they had eaten their fill, they stepped back from the remains and cleaned off all traces of their meal. Then they began to disperse into the shadows. Back to their own homes, and their own hunting territories. Next time, one of them would make the kill.

She sat back quite contentedly and full, her features slowly returning to their normal visage. When she was ready she stood up, stepped over the remains and walked back to the strip. She continued until she came to her favorite club. She was happy. She had gotten lucky, made the kill, eaten some of the choicest part, and now she could have fun dancing until the club closed for the night. As she danced, she decided that since it had been such a good night, she should get laid as well.

“A grisly discovery in Daltrey Park this morning. The remains of local Branson University quarterback Charles Lewiston were discovered. According to one on-scene officer, the body looked as if it had quote, been torn to pieces by a pack of wild animals who ate their share and left the remains, unquote. The body was identified by Lewiston’s father and assistant DA Geoffrey Lewiston. Lewiston, who was led the Branson Knight’s football team to two separate championship victories, had been found ‘not guilty’ of the rape a former Branson University freshman just yesterday morning. Police, however have stated that Lewiston’s death is not related. Back to you in the studio.”

She sat on her bed watching the news story. Her beautiful and delicate face lit up like a beacon and her lips pulled back into a frightening smile. Perhaps that would be some justice for the poor girl, she thought to herself, after all… it was for her.

She finished getting ready for the evening. She waved a friendly hello to her neighbor and then left her building on a mission of feeding a certain cat.

Behind her, another elderly resident watched her go. Age had creased her face, and bent her spine, but her eyes were sharp. As the door closed behind the young girl, the lady crossed herself, and said a prayer in Russian. Then turned around and whispered to herself as she shuddered.

“Chertova nechestivaya demonicheskaya suka” - Fucking unholy demonic bitch.

#short story #spooky

[magmasliveblogs]

1.18

the first of the 6 post day! this is the 20th chapter! to recap: last chapter erin continued to deal with the trauma of the goblin chiefs attack and subsequent murder of him using a pot of boiling oil. klb came to check up on her, found that relc caused this, punched him, and went off to get erin some sort of bounty reward for the chiefs death 

Erin sat in a chair and stared outside. It was a lovely day. A warm breeze floated through the window, warming all it touched.

Except for her. She felt cold. Cold and empty.

Shadows passed before her. They had names. Klbkch, Relc, even Pisces. But they weren’t important. The dead were far worse.

Erin held a Goblin’s head in her hands. She stared into its blank eyes and felt her hands burning. She sat next to a dying Goblin and listened to him breathing.

The sun was bright. At some point the night had turned to day. But Erin still felt as if it were night. In the inn the shadows were long and kept her in darkness. It was only fitting.

The world felt hollow. Everything echoed and the world blurred gently around Erin as she sat. She wasn’t doing anything in particular. She was just existing. Existing, and not fitting in.

A little ghost in a little inn in a little world. That’s what she felt like.

It was cold.

see, trauma! 

Erin looked up. Relc was in the inn. Was it the first time she’d seen him today? Probably. He was yelling about Goblins and apologizing. Klbkch was there. Silent. His brown carapace blended in with the chairs. Maybe he’d been here all day. Erin couldn’t remember.

“—kill all of the little bastards!”

Relc was shouting. He grabbed his spear. Erin’s hand moved.

“Whoa!”

Relc’s head jerked back as a kitchen knife flashed past his face. The blade thudded into a wall and lodged in the wood.

Klbkch and Relc stared at Erin. She stared at her hand silently. Oh. Right. A skill. [Unerring Throw]. Had she talked to Klbkch about it yesterday? Or was she going to talk to him in the future about it?

She looked up at Relc.

“Leave them alone.”

Then Erin went back to staring at her hands. After a while, Relc left. Klbkch left too, or maybe Erin just stopped seeing him.

“This is my inn. I make the rules here. And if you don’t like my rules, get out.”

Did she say that to Relc, or the empty inn? Maybe she screamed it. Erin couldn’t remember. Time wasn’t the same anymore. She just stared at her hands and felt her flesh burning. She saw the dead Goblin lying on the floor, screaming quietly.

It was all she saw.

bad idea relc 

Pisces came later. He ran in with sparks shooting from his fingertips. He was like Relc. But he cared. He wanted to kill Goblins too, or maybe just scare them away. Place a curse on them. It didn’t matter.

Erin stared at him until he flinched and looked away. She gave him one of the dried sausages. She told him if he killed a Goblin then she’d kill him.

He took the sausage and turned white when she told him she’d kill him. Then he left.

Erin sat in the inn and felt the walls closing in. She couldn’t breathe in there. So she went outside.

The sun was too beautiful and the sky was too bright. Erin went back inside and felt the darkness crawling up her spine. The shadows were moving. The wind sounded like whispers.

She heard breathing. It was hers.

It was dark. At some point the sun went down. That was the worst time. Erin saw dead things lying in the shadows. The bodies of Goblins lay underneath tables; their heads sat in the moonlight filtering in from the windows.

Erin shut her eyes. But they followed her inside her head. They dug around her mind and pulled out memories. Then they tore apart her heart. Piece by piece, until morning came.

hey, at least pisces cares 

Klbkch came the next day. Relc was missing. He sat with her a while and asked her more questions. Was she well? Did she want anything? Was she hungry?

Erin answered until it was too much work. Then she just sat and waited for him to leave. Eventually, he did.

The sunlight grew brighter until the shadows retreated. Erin sat in her chair and rocked back and forth occasionally. She got up when she heard the thumping.

Someone was at the door. Erin opened it.

A giant rock stood in front of her inn. A long claw reached for her. The rock crab clickedand swiped at her, snapping at her waist.

Erin opened her mouth and screamed. The rock crab tried to grab her head with one claw. She smashed it with a chair and kept screaming. The rock crab jerked back its claw and retreated. She howled at it. She screamed and screamed until her breath was gone. Then she screamed some more.

The crab retreated in agony, trying to shield its earholes with its claws. It scuttled away as fast as it could. Miles away the pterodactyl birds took flight in panic.

Erin screamed and screamed until her voice was gone. She wiped the tears off her face and walked back into the inn and slept in her chair.

well it seems erin has quite the set of lungs! i dont know if i could scream loud enough to scare away a giant crab 

She felt hungry when she woke. Erin ignored the feeling and kept sitting where she was. But the pain started biting at her insides. She ignored it.

It went away. But a few hours later it came back and tore at her. Erin wondered when she’d last eaten. Two days ago?

Her stomach gurgled and begged. Erin felt the starving pain gnawing at her mind. Eventually it became too hard to ignore. So Erin decided to eat.

It was too much work to cook. And she couldn’t eat meat. So Erin got up.

The effort of standing up left her light-headed and dizzy. Erin swayed and fell on the table. She lay there and stared at the ground. After about ten minutes she pushed herself up and walked out the door.

The sun was shining. Erin shaded her eyes. It was noon. Of tomorrow. That was probably why she felt hungry.

She began walking. It was hard. Her legs didn’t want to keep her upright. Twice, Erin tripped and fell over. But she got up and walked on. Walking was hard, but it wasn’t nearly as hard as other things.

where is erin going? the orchard? the city? to go take over the goblins tribe and use them as staff? to take over liscor with her new army of goblin waiters? 

The orchard was just as she’d left it. The unnaturally straight, stiff trees still bore the bright blue fruits. Erin kicked one tree and caught the fruit as it fell towards her face.

For a while, she sat on the ground and stared at the fruit. The trees provided her with shade; the wind blew her hair back into her face. Eventually, Erin bit into the fruit and ate.

It was sweet and delicious. The juice was cool and refreshing. Erin tasted ash and dust. Mechanically, she finished the fruit and ate five more. Then she threw up.

Once she was done Erin ate another fruit. It helped with the taste. Then she stared at the mess of fruit and the stained seed core in her hands.

She cracked open the seed core and stared at the pulpy mess inside. Poison. It was probably a really painful way to die. The smell was terrible. It would probably taste terrible.

Poison was a terrible way to die. Almost as bad as melting your face off.

Thump. Thump.

Erin smacked her head against the tree. It was nice and hard. The blue fruits showered down around her.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She stopped when she saw the Goblins. They were standing at the edge of the orchard, four of them. They fled the instant her eyes fell on them.

One of the Goblins dropped something in its panic. Erin walked over and picked up the small basket made of twigs. It wasn’t very good.

She turned and looked at the orchard. Fruit trees. Of course. They were probably hungry too. She couldn’t see them eating the rock crabs, and the dino birds would probably eat them if they tried to steal their eggs. Aside from the occasional traveler, what else could Goblins eat?

Erin left the orchard. She walked back to the inn slowly, feeling her body slowly collapsing on itself. She probably needed to eat more. But it was too much work.

to the orchard it seems 

She sensed them following her. When she looked around they fled. But they were slow and she caught glimpses of them. Ragged clothes. Thin bodies. They looked like starving children, refugees from a war. Not like monsters. Except for the teeth and red eyes.

That gave Erin an idea. She stared at her hands for a moment, and then picked up the pace. Suddenly she was walking faster. When she got to the inn she looked for the shopping bag and found Klbkch had stored all the ingredients away on the counter. It was very hard to start the fire. But when she’d started it was easier than stopping.

Erin smelled smoke and burning. But only burning wood and not so much smoke. Mainly she just heard breathing. And her stomach rumbling.

erin has depression 

Evening fell upon the plains, upon the lone inn on the small hilltop, and upon the four Goblins skulking in the tall grass. They watched the inn. They watched the smoke rising from the chimney. They watched, and heard their stomachs rumbling.

All of them had weapons. Not good ones; rusty blades, and crude clubs. But they’re dangerous.

Even so, they feared the inn. They feared the one that lives inside it. A trickster. A deceiver. A destroyer. She looks weak, but she is death.

They knew that. But still, they smelled something wonderful coming from the inn. Food. And they were so very hungry.

The inn has closed shutters, but they could still smell something wafting from the inside. It didn’t smell like rotted meat or the foulness inside the blue death fruits. It didn’t even smell like the dead rock creatures they sometimes found. It smells good.

They salivated. But they fear the inn. And they must eat tonight or starve. So, reluctantly they tore themselves away. They had hoped the human female would drop some food or fall down dead. Since she did neither they must find other food.

Still, they hesitated. They lingered outside the door and wished they had the numbers or strength to steal the food. But the monster inside is death. She killed the Strongest, and so she could not be fought. It is death.

Still, they hungered.

How long did they stand outside the front door, drooling? Too long. The door slammed open.

The Goblins cried out in fear and turned to run. But the Deceiver didn’t chase them. She stood in the doorway of the inn, hands on her hips. She raised one eyebrow.

“Well? Come on in.”

The Deceiver turned and walked back inside. The Goblins exchanged a glance and stared at the open door. A good smell came from inside. They hesitated. But the smell was so delicious.

So, so delicious.

it seems erin is going to feed the goblins 

Erin turned as the first Goblin finally crept into the inn. He froze in place, but she pointed to a table.

“There. Sit.”

He hesitated, and then scampered over to the chair.

The Goblin awkwardly perched on the oversized chairs as Erin placed a plate on the table. He flinched with her every move. When she pulled out the forks he nearly bolted. But he sat up and stared as she brought the pot into the room.

The metal was still burning-hot. But Erin used her t-shirt to protect her hands and carried the pot to the table. She picked up a pair of tongs and began dropping buttered pasta mixed with sausage and onions onto each plate.

The Goblin salivated. He stared at the golden pasta and up at Erin with wide-eyed wonder. He reached for the pasta with dirty fingers and hesitated. He stared up at Erin.

She stared back. Her eyes traveled to the Goblin’s fingers which were scooting beneath the plate.

“Run and I’ll hit you with a chair. Sit. Eat.”

The Goblin snatched its fingers back instantly. He stared at the pasta and then up at Erin. She wondered why he wasn’t not eating. Oh. Of course.

“The first meal is on the house.”

The Goblin looked up at the ceiling. Erin sighed, but her lips twitched.

“That means it’s free.”

Again, the Goblin stared at her. This time in wide-eyed wonder.

“Eat.”

He reached for the pasta.

“Not like that.”

The Goblin snatched his hand back and nearly tumbled out of his chair. Erin sighed again. This time she was smiling a bit.

“Eat with a fork. See this? Fork.”

She pointed to a fork. The Goblin stared at it. Slowly, he picked it up. He speared one buttered noodle and slowly transferred it to his mouth. It hung over his open mouth full of yellowed teeth as he stared at her. Asking for permission.

Erin nodded. The noodle fell. The Goblin gulped, and went very still. Deathly still.

Then he smiled. It was a terrible smile, full of sharp crooked teeth and hesitation. But it was a smile.

Erin smiles back. She laughed, for the first time in ages. It was a laugh that came straight out of her feet and through her heart. It exploded out of her chest. It was a good laugh, and it made the world right again.

The Goblin looked at the laughing human. He put down his fork and ran out the door screaming. It only made her laugh harder.

well then 

Erin put away the last plate and watched the last Goblin groan as it lay slumped on the table. Four Goblins. Six plates. She was surprised they’d managed to eat that much.

They were very small creatures. Still, they ate like starving wolves, which they were. At least, in that they had been starving.

But they lay now in a blissful food coma, on the border between pain and oblivion with their bloated stomachs. But as she approached they sat up and stared at her.

Erin pulled up a chair and sat. The Goblins drew back, but they didn’t run screaming this time. They stared at her. She stared back.

this may well have been their best meal so far in life 

After a long time, it was night. One of the Goblins glanced towards the door and they all stood up as one. Erin made no move to stop them.

Awkwardly, they wandered towards the door, still staring at her. Then one stopped and nudged the others. They clustered together, backs towards her. Erin saw something flash in their palms. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, but she remained seated.

One of the Goblins came back. It was holding something in its hands. It held it out to her

Erin stared down at the three small tarnished silver coins in the Goblin’s cupped hands. She blinked. Once. Twice. Then she let go of the chair and stood up.

The Goblin flinched, but Erin moved very slowly. She reached out and touched the Goblin’s hands. They were rough, dirty, and warm. She closed them over the coins.

“The first meal is free.”

The Goblin stared at her. She stared back. It turned, and fled. But it stopped at the door and said something. It sounded like ‘sqwsmsch’. Then it was gone.

Erin sat back down and stared at the door. She blinked a few times, and then smiled. She stared around at the inn, and wiped at her eyes. Then she pulled the chair in to the table and put her arms down for a pillow.

She was asleep the instant her head touched the table.

it seems these goblins dont speak common

thats the end of the chapter! will erin continue to feed the goblins? is this all some elaborate scheme to take over the goblin tribe? liscor? the world? 

see you next post 

#chrono