#brookonic

Sharing a Bed Sentence Starters.

the  digital  clock  at  their  bedside  had  read  12:32 ,  but  the  sun  hadn’t  arrived .  darkness  everywhere ,  permeated  with  screams  and  cackling .  hooded  figures  around  an  altar ,  where  a  body  lay  bleeding .  throat  slit  and  eyes  glassy .  a  rising  shroud ,  blocking  out  sunlight .  bodies  running ,  their  features  twisted  and  their  canines  pointed .  victorious ,  at  last .  able  to  come  and  go  at  will .  back  to  the  body  atop  the  altar .  focus  in  on  the  face .  dull  brown  eyes ,  strong  jawline  and  light  blonde  bangs  tinged  red .  brooke .

still  reeling  from  the  dream ,  sam  stands  at  their  window  and  watches  the  sun  begin  to  rise .  doesn’t  seem  to  pick  up  on  brooke’s  pleading  until  dark  clouds  start  tinging  pink .  that’s  when  the  slayer  closes  the  curtains  and  furiously  wipes  sweat  from  her  brow .  just  a  dream ,  right ? no .  as  much  as  sam  wants  to  pretend ?  she  knows  better .  no  doubt ,  she’ll  be  wide  awake  in  brooke’s  arms  until  the  clock  turns  12:33 .  until  then ,  though ,  sam  knows  better  than  to  freak  out  her  girlfriend  more  than  she  already  has .  “ sorry ,  babygirl .  slayer  stuff .  y’know  how  it  goes . “

distance  to  the  bed  is  covered .  sam  slides  under  the  blankets  then  pulls  her  lover  in  close  until  able  to  press  ear  to  chest  and  hear  the  steady  thump  of  brooke’s  heart .  eyes  wide  open  near  gently  rising  and  falling  breast ,  sam  sighs  through  her  nose  and  slips  a  hand  beneath  pj  top .  lets  the  heat  of  soft  skin  soothe  her .

        moving    to    lakewood    was    supposed    to   be   bettter    start   .   after   his    father    got    held    off    from    the    mines   ,   due   to   the   fact    they       -------   SPONTANEOUSLY     collapsed    .     without    pay   ,   and   with   any   source    of    income   being   used    to    barely   make   bills   ,    dear   old    dad     spent    most   of    his   grief   on    booze   and   cheap   women        /         something    harvey    could    barely    bring    himself    to    watch    without    feeling    SICK    to    his   stomach   .   he   thought   about   going   to   emma’s   house   ,    but   god          ---------     his   cousin   had   enough   to   worry   about   without   adding   his   trouble    to   the   mix    .          so   here   you   are    ,   WONDERBOY   .    he’s   standing    on   the   steps   to   a  palace   his   entire   house    ,    including   the   one   they   left   behind   in   greendale   ,   could   fit   inside   .   (   oh   ,   and   he  bets        /          it’s   big   and   empty   ,   and   LONELY   .   )   shoes   are   scuffed   against   marble   concrete   ,    lining    the   outside   steps   .   you’ll   count   to   three   ,   and   if   she    doesn’t   answer   !   (   he’ll   sleep   in   the   car   .   ) 

text sweet pea !

¢ for a late night text

send texts to sweet pea!

@brookonic

salty mun memes!

    𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙺𝙴   ━━ ✦  @brookonic​​

@brookonic​,

the       pounding     of       the       music       matches       the       pounding       of       freddie’s       heart.       every       gulp       of       his       drink       (       vodka       on       the       rocks       )       is       a       race       to       the       finish       —       to       run       to       a       place       where       all       he       can       feel       is       the       sounds       and       movement       around       his       body       —       a       place       where       all       thoughts       are       silenced.      

He felt the immediate urge to recoil, but didn’t just then. Brooke had never been particularly nice to him -- not that he’d given her a reason to be. They operated in different spheres of the world in their little town, operated in different social spheres too. They had little to tie them together, except maybe a shared history of something darker that they respectively carried with them. He knew what had brought her to the town with pep, and his agreement to help her solve the mystery that continued to plague her hadn’t been one he’d made lightly. Jughead didn’t make promises he couldn’t stand by -- help was the most he could offer her. Despite his keen eye for details and his strong gut instinct, he was far from a detective, and hunting a serial killer wasn’t going to be a walk in the park for either of them.

But he hadn’t said no. He couldn’t say no.

And now, pouring through the newspaper clippings, scrolling through the police blogger and articles online, flipping through the pages of photocopied reports that they were allowed to access, he didn’t feel like they were any closer to an answer. Or even to a possible answer. He leaned into the hard back of the chair, lulling his head back to stare up at the ceiling. His arms crossed over his forehead, green eyes peering up blankly. His thoughts washed over him in waves, the same order, the same knowledge, the same theories, the same reasons why it didn’t make sense. His shoulders dropped as he sighed but he straightened again when he saw her frame come into his periphery. A cup of coffee in her hand, offered to him, he set it down on the table in front of him, looking up at her with exhaustion in his features.

“Look, we’re not getting anywhere like this,” he said, a note of apology in his voice. He truly meant it. Another sigh through his nose, he wrinkled his brow in defeat, in consternation. And then the surprise as she leaned over him, pressing her warm lips to his cheek, lingering for just a moment before she pulled back again. The urge to pull back subsided immediately. “What was that for?”