#But you know what she’s saying if you get over discomfort over a dog that does not exist

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter eleven: The Hunt Begins

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13

The atmosphere in the VIP room had shifted into something far heavier, something that felt like it could suffocate you if you didn’t breathe carefully. The VIPs were scattered around the room, lounging on the lavish couches with glasses of expensive drinks in hand, their eyes on the large screen mounted on the wall. The air was thick with anticipation, the same kind of energy you’d feel just before a storm hit.

You could feel their gazes on you, even though you weren’t looking directly at them. You were hyper-aware of their presence, as if they were all leaning just a little closer, just a little more eager to see what would happen next. You knew they were watching you—after all, you were the spectacle of the night, just like every other game participant. The only difference was, you didn’t want to be the prize they were fighting over.

In-ho had positioned himself near the back of the room, standing close to you but not too close. His presence was both protective and commanding, as though he was a constant reminder that the games—no matter how much fun the VIPs were having—would never be something you could truly escape. Even here, with all the plush luxury and the apparent peace, you were never really safe.

You shifted your gaze to the screen, trying to focus on the events unfolding there instead of the discomfort you felt.

The game was about to start.

On the screen, the city appeared—ruins. Buildings half-collapsed, streets littered with rubble. It was like a bomb had hit it, and what was left was a desolate wasteland. You couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in your stomach as the camera zoomed in on the players.

Each of them wore a bright orange headband, the color a stark contrast against the grey backdrop of the destroyed city. It was the perfect game—Hide and Seek, but with a twisted, deadly twist.

The players had to evade a pack of trained dogs. If the dogs found them, they were mauled. If they managed to stay hidden, they moved on to the next round. It was brutal. Violent. And the VIPs loved it.

The camera cut to the dogs. They were large, terrifying creatures, their eyes hungry, waiting for the signal to hunt. You felt a tightness in your throat, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t look away. The images on the screen were becoming more vivid, more real. The dogs—trained specifically for this kind of hunt—were restless, pacing behind a metal gate, snarling, their teeth sharp and glinting in the dim light of the arena.

A man’s voice broke through the tension in the room. “This is my favorite part of the games,” a VIP called out, slurring slightly, clearly a few drinks in. His voice carried a note of excitement, like a child about to see his favorite movie.

Another VIP laughed darkly. “You say that every time, but you never get tired of it, do you?” He looked at you, his gaze lingering longer than it should. It made your skin crawl, but you fought the urge to shrink back. You weren’t allowed to show weakness. Not here. Not in front of them.

The horn blared.

It was a sharp, loud sound that sent the dogs into a frenzy. They barked, their bodies tense, their noses twitching as they began to pick up the scent of their prey. You could see the players—still in hiding, trying to remain as quiet as possible—knowing that the moment they were discovered, they’d be torn apart. The camera panned across the arena, showing glimpses of broken buildings, the wreckage of cars, shattered glass that glittered like dangerous confetti in the dust.

One player, a man with a thick beard, tried to hide behind a crumbling wall. His breath was shallow, his body pressed flat against the rubble. The camera zoomed in on him, following every movement, every flinch. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to make it. The dogs were too close. You could hear their growls, their teeth snapping in the air as they closed in on their target.

A single dog, a massive black creature with piercing yellow eyes, sprang forward. The bearded man didn’t even have time to scream before the dog leapt at him, its jaws clamping down on his arm with a sickening crunch.

The VIPs in the room reacted—some of them leaned forward, watching intently as the man struggled. His arm was pulled out of its socket, his body jerking in spasms of pain. The dog didn’t let go. It was almost clinical in its violence.

Your stomach turned, but you forced yourself to look away. You couldn’t afford to show any sign of weakness, even though everything inside you screamed to leave, to run far away from this nightmare. You couldn’t. Not while you were here.

In-ho must have sensed the change in you. Without turning, he moved closer, his presence a shield. His hand brushed lightly against your shoulder, a subtle touch that no one would notice but you. It was a small thing, but to you, it was everything. It was the reminder that, even though you were surrounded by these monsters, he was here.

“You don’t have to watch this,” he murmured softly, his voice so low that it was just for you.

But you shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” he said, his voice firm, but his hand on your shoulder tightened ever so slightly, as if to say that you weren’t alone in this. It’s funny because this is what you had said to him in the first week of your marriage and now he’s giving you your own advice.

The game continued, and you had to watch—had to endure every violent moment. The players were slowly eliminated, each one either killed by the dogs or injured enough to be eliminated from the game. The tension in the room built, and the VIPs, unable to hide their excitement, began to lean closer to the screen.

It was as if you were all watching something… sacred. The chaos was intoxicating, even for you. But you knew it wasn’t real. These men didn’t care about the players. They were nothing more than objects to be discarded when they were no longer useful. And yet, they stared, completely enthralled.

Your eyes flickered to your father again. He hadn’t moved. He never moved. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his face a mask of impassivity. But when his gaze briefly flicked toward you, it was like a flash of lightning—a quick, cold look before it was gone. He hadn’t acknowledged you, not really. But in that fleeting moment, you saw the briefest flash of something in his eyes. Regret? Disappointment? You didn’t know, but you didn’t want to care either.

As the horn signaling the end of the game the remaining players slowly made their way out of their hiding places as the dogs retreated back to their cages.

The game ended in a bloodbath, as it always did. But that didn’t matter to the VIPs, they didn't care that people died, they only cared if they were entertained.

They began talking among themselves. Their eyes, however, soon shifted back to you. They were bored now, looking for something new to entertain them. The focus of their gazes was relentless.

You could feel them closing in, their words directed at you now, one by one, subtle compliments, veiled insults, thinly disguised advances. They were trying to reel you in, to see if you’d bite, to see if they could take something from you that they hadn’t earned.

In-ho’s protective stance didn’t falter. He stood between you and the crowd, blocking their advances with his quiet strength. His presence was like a wall, keeping you safe, even if only for a while.

You wanted to look away from it all, to pretend you weren’t part of this game, but the truth was, you were. You had been from the moment you stepped into this world.

And you weren’t sure how long you could keep pretending.

———————

Chapter 11!!! Woo! I’m prolly going to have 1-2 more chapters posted tonight… as always let me know what you think about the chapter! Thank you! :)

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[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

JoJo Siwa doesn’t deserve all the hate (and homophobia) she’s getting for her style and music; but she does deserve scrutiny for defending Colleen Ballinger and being both active and complicit in abuse that happened on her TV show. Like the girl has been under the public eye in unhealthy environments all her life; cut her some slack — not too much; she’s still a responsible adult — but if you’re going to dogpile her, then at least dogpile her for the right reasons. Jesus Fucking Christ.

[breadedsinner]

Ashley and Blackwall two of my most beloved characters have a little speech regarding a dog, and people are just like “this makes me uncomfortable I would have saved the dog” as if that was remotely the point.

[bunnyywritings]

i’m leaving the gym and all i can think about is supportive gym boyfriend!nanami 😩 (trying a new form of hc’s 🙇🏽‍♀️ hope you like it !!)

gets smutty at the end…warning for curse words and nanami with a breeding kink and a fem!reader

gym boyfriend!nanami definitely encourages you to push yourself to do one more set

gym boyfriend!nanami mutters praises in a husky, breathless tone as he spots your seated shoulder press

gym boyfriend!nanami who just knows what he’s doing when he stops you mid-set on the leg press to gently grip your chin and place a chaste kiss to your lips despite the whine that leaves your throat as your thighs burn and quiver

gym boyfriend!nanami blatantly stares at your ass when you’re doing RDLs and giving it a firm pat as a ‘good job’ when you’re finished

gym boyfriend!nanami who gives you scary dog privileges when the creeps at the gym have lingering stares

gym boyfriend!nanami who purposely grunts your name softly when no one’s around, feigning innocence when he claims to only be getting your attention so you can get his water bottle open

gym boyfriend!nanami who never makes you feel incapable or less than for not being able to keep up with a workout

gym boyfriend!nanami celebrates your feats, big and small

gym boyfriend!nanami who, when your shirt rides up or if the bottom of your shorts roll up and he sees you squirm in discomfort, drops everything to fix it for you so you don’t have to interrupt your concentration

gym boyfriend!nanami who takes pride in seeing your eyes roam over his body through the mirror

gym boyfriend!nanami who purposefully flexes to see you drool and your cheeks flush a deeper hue than they already are

gym boyfriend!nanami who always tells you what a great job you did and how proud of you he is with a kiss to your sweaty forehead

gym boyfriend!nanami who always buys you a post workout protein shake/smoothie/juice and who always insists on treating you to breakfast

nsfw under the cut !!

gym boyfriend!nanami barely waits until the door to your shared home closes to gently shove you against it and kiss you breathless

gym boyfriend!nanami who tosses you onto your shared bed and peels your leggings and underwear off you

gym boyfriend!nanami who waves you off when you try to squeeze your thighs closed, needlessly embarrassed about smelling like sweat

gym boyfriend!nanami who says that it’s only healthy to get a good stretch and cardio in after a workout

gym boyfriend!nanami who grips the back of your thighs and pushes your knees to your chest to hear you moan at the pleasure-fully painful stretch of your sore muscles

gym boyfriend!nanami who teases you about how sopping wet you already are

gym boyfriend!nanami who gladly shoves his face into your cunt to devour you whole, gently kneading your hamstrings and glutes

gym boyfriend!nanami who gives you two orgasms before shoving his sweats off and effortlessly flipping you onto your hands and knees

gym boyfriend!nanami who guides your back into a nice, deep arch to stretch out your lower back muscles, the tip of his hard cock warm and wet as it presses against your sticky cunt, clit puffy and overstimulated

gym boyfriend!nanami could slide in easily with how wet you are but decides to tease and slip in, inch by delicious inch

gym boyfriend!nanami buries himself to the hilt with a low moan, grinding his hips and hitting that spongy spot deep inside you that has your lips falling open with pathetic mewls and whimpers

gym boyfriend!nanami shushes you condescendingly when you whine out “s’too big…k-kento”

gym boyfriend!nanami keeps his strokes deep and slow “it’s okay, honey…you can take it. my good girl can take it, can’t she?”

gym boyfriend!nanami who smirks and bares his weight down on you when you responded with a tearful “can take it…f-fuck! just wanna-wanna be good for you!”

gym boyfriend!nanami doesn’t pull out, he mutters messy promises of “m’gonna fill you up…make you swollen with my kids- fuck! m’gonna make you a mama-“ with equally messy thrusts before stilling behind you, cock twitching as he empties himself inside you

gym boyfriend!nanami who eases out of you and helps position you comfortably on the bed before leaving you with a gentle kiss and going to run a bath

gym boyfriend!nanami who massages your aching muscles as you rest against his chest, bodies enveloped in the warm water, smattering kisses all over your neck and shoulders with whispered and delicate “i love you”s

[fancyfeathers]

Mother!Reader and Bruce are relaxing on a couch. (Much to her discomfort.) Daughter!Reader comes running in carrying a raccoon calling it her "Son". Mother!Reader: Sweetheart where did you get that? Bruce: ... The rest of the batfamily comes running in because what does she mean "son"?! Only for them to see Daughter!Reader holding a raccoon that is eating the bacon she didn't eat that morning at breakfast. Even worse for them, she doesn't let Damian pet her "son", and she makes Dick buy baby diapers for her "son" because her "son" can't be having accidents around the house. The paparazzi catches Daughter!Reader at a gala and soon the news crew come running over too. Gotham Daily Times: Ms. Wayne what is this new exotic pet of yours? Daughter!Reader: Ah, Wayne is not my last name, (whatever last name of theirs) is my last name. But, um, this is Wally. He likes to run really fast around me, say hi Wally. (Cut to her holding her son, Wally, up to the microphone of the reporter only for him to sniff it.) Gotham Daily Times: Well, Ms. (last name) has just confirmed a raccoon, her "son", named Wally is officially her pet. Can she out beat Bruce Wayne's son Damian Wayne in hoarding exotic animals? We shall see next time on Gotham Daily Times news channel nine. The speedsters watching from central city: Wally? Because he likes to run fast? ... Someone call Batman how does she know our identities.

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

I LOVE FERAL DAUGHTER!DARLING!!!!

Love the idea of her being an absolute menace when it was just her mother raising her and Bruce having no idea what he is getting himself into with this.

Like it was when she was playing out in the garden in the morning, perhaps even the morning right after the wedding, there is no real honeymoon besides on paper at Wayne Enterprises since Bruce is still the Batman. The two of them are just getting up, after the kids have had had breakfast together and Mother!Darling is literally about to tell Bruce about her daughter’s rather… playful behavior-

“Mama! Mama! Look what I found!”

She already feels like laughing when she hears her daughter’s overeager voice and the bedroom door opens with her daughter running in with her holding something in her skirt and-

“This is my baby! I found him in the yard, I think his mama is dead…”

Her daughter holds up a baby raccoon while Bruce is half way through tying his tie.

“Can we keep him?”

“Of course, little love.”

“Dear-“

“You have something to say, Bruce?”

Well played, if Bruce was to say no now it would break her heart and set everything off on the wrong foot. When she runs out of the room she looks over at him with a knowing glance, she may have been fired into a marriage, but he will feel the consequences of his actions…

“I suppose I forgot to tell you about her… mischievous habits, you will get used to it eventually, and no, there is no taming her, do not try.”

Jason does not understand why she wants it around, it’s a raccoon in Gotham, a baby but still, but hey if it makes her happy and even slightly annoys Bruce, he is fine with it.

Dick is fine with it? He is just confused as of why, I mean if his little sister wants a pet she gets a pet, but why no a cat, dog, or even something like a ferret, but a raccoon? Alright, he’ll ask Babs if she can find any books on exotic animal care and he will take her to the pet store with Damian to pick up supplies-

What does she mean Damian can’t come? When they are little, she is terrified of him, honestly she is always terrified of him. Why would she let him anywhere near her pet when his stare makes her feel daggers. She is holding her baby raccoon away from Damian, and his pets, Alfred the Cat, Titus. Damian is pissed and very well could go whining to Bruce about it.

Then Tim is just freaked out by it, but when he is sitting the furtherest from his new sister and her new pet in the living room and everyone is suggesting names…

“How about Wally? Dick what do think?”

“Ya, he definitely reminds me of Wally.”

“Who’s Wally?”

“Don’t worry about it, lovebug.”

But then this naming choice certainly backfires when Wally West comes running (literally) to Tim about it, at first he is panicked about it but then he sees her playing with the raccoon and-

“Fuck… I hate that you’re not wrong about that.”

Though this situation only escalates over the years when she finds other animals, a husky puppy her father suggests to name Clark, a baby owl named Diana, a hummingbird named Roy, and cats named Barry and Connor.

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 12 - Next

"So we just have to wait a little longer... Here you go"

You were finishing explaining the situation to Curly while giving him his medicine, Anya was standing behind you grimacing in pain at the sounds the man made while swallowing.

Anya: "How is it that... Can you tolerate that?"

"What thing? The sounds? The burnt meat? The smell? The blood?"

You were mentioning while slowly and carefully removing the bandages from his body, the man trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to further discomfort the other woman present, but the bandages were almost stuck to his skin.

You were applying water little by little to be able to peel them off better, you had managed to get more drinkable water from the station, grateful for it since they had been without bathing or cleaning themselves to avoid wasting it for weeks now.

Anya: "Everything..."

"Well, I've been to many places, doing different jobs... I've gotten used to it."

When you saw the woman's horrified face, you realized how bad that sounded.

"I worked in morgues and crematoriums! Heavens... I didn't kill anyone."

Anya: "Seriously?"

"My dad owned a morgue and a crematorium, when I turned 18, he made me work, you have no idea how many times I had to clean my own vomit off the floor... or the corpses."

Immediately, she covered her mouth, almost vomiting at the thought of it, but you laughed at her reaction.

"That was exactly my reaction! I grew up with a strong stomach."

Anya: "How did you get here?"

You finished removing the bandages from the man, looking at his skin, you sighed knowing full well that you would have to clean it, pus was already forming in certain areas.

Anya, upon seeing that, had to turn around and hold her stomach, trying to think of something else.

"If you want to get into medical school, you have to watch this, no professor will have pity on you for having a sensitive stomach."

Anya: "I've already seen it without the bandages... But... Today they look extremely bad... I'm sorry..."

Upon saying that, she took a deep breath and turned back again, ready to help you clean her wounds.

"...I was in charge of the morgue in just a few years, and one day, while preparing bodies... I saw him, my father on the table in front of me, ready to be open and empty like any other corpse.. Three shots to the chest, some guys had robbed a store while he was in, he tried to be a hero defending the cashier, and they shot him. The thieves fled with nothing in their hands... I got depressed..."

You looked at Curly, who was watching you attentively while you told that story he already knew.

"I ran away from home... I started with drugs... and all kinds of things to get money... I went to my mother's house just to ask her for money or to eat something, I didn't care how much she begged me to stay... I just... I couldn't feel good again, and I was destroying myself to know that I was still alive."

Anya: "...How did you get out of that?"

"Because of this stubborn one"

You smiled at Curly, who soon looked away as if he weren't paying attention to what you were saying.

"He found me shoplifting in a store, and instead of turning me in, he bought the things I was taking and invited me for a coffee" you laughed, recalling that moment.

Anya: "Seriously?"

"Then he was looking for me all over the city."

Anya: "Did he want to see you again?"

"I stole his wallet."

You paused to laugh at the memory as well, before continuing with the story.

"But he insisted on keep meeting with me, on helping me, and I ended up falling for his kindness... I started living in his house, he was never around because of work, I got a job as a dog walker to have my own money while I was recovering, and he was always making sure I was okay... After years... Finally, I had the strength to see my mother again... And she felt relieved to see me well... Ugh, you have no idea the scene she made when she met Curly, so happy that i found a good man, I wanted the ground to swallow me up."

Anya: "That still doesn't tell me how you ended up as co-captain."

"...Five years ago... Curly recommended me, I did the physical and psychological exams, the training, and since I passed everything flawlessly, well... That's how I ended up here!"

You scratched your neck, smiling somewhat embarrassed that it wasn't a great story of how you became captain on your own; that was the plain truth of how you had ended up there.

You finished putting the upper bandage on Curly, ready to continue with the lower part.

Anya: "We're going to have to be careful with the catheter for this part."

Immediately, they heard Curly's complaints when they were about to remove the bandages from that part.

"Don't be like that, Curly! Anya was the one who has been changing your bandages, washing them, and put the catheter in for you; there's nothing wrong with her seeing you again."

Anya: "I think he doesn't want you to see him..."

She said a little embarrassed, you turned to look at Curly, speechless, not knowing what to say to him.

"Okay, no problem, I'm leaving."

You raised your hands to get up from your seat and leave that room. 

Anya: "You shouldn't feel ashamed, she'ss your wife after all, she'll see you again someday."

Curly shook his head slowly, he preferred that you see him again when he was recovered.

[wonuuism]

puppy love - 심재윤

in which jake makes the most if his (expensive) visit to the vet.

tags: fluff, vet!reader, layla’s not overweight irl but for the sake of the plot let’s say she’s been eating a little too well;;

author’s note: idk i wrote this in like an hour bc of a sudden burst of motivation. no proofreading bc it’s 3am LOL. first fic woo!! enjoy!!!

—

jake’s worried. panicking, even.

layla’s laying down next to him in the back of the taxi, her eyes shifting around nervously. jake’s leg is bouncing up and down as anxiety courses through his veins. layla had slipped and fallen down the stairs while he was home and her sharp whining whenever she walked afterwards made him uneasy. so, he was quick to call up the nearest vet clinic and book the soonest appointment for a consultation.

he’s really, really worried though. layla’s never had any bad scares like this one, so he’s not sure what to expect. what if it’s worse than he thinks? what if they tell him layla’s broken a bone? what if layla has to go through surgery? oh god - jake thinks he might throw up.

he’s interrupted from his thoughts as the taxi driver stops the car and announces they’ve arrived. thanking the driver, jake exits the car and gulps nervously as he surveys the exterior of the clinic. it feels ominous.

a bell rings as he pushes open the door, and the girl at the front desk looks up from the computer screen. “welcome in! how may i help you?”

“uh… i have an appointment at 11:30. for layla.��� jake responds.

“awesome, i see you in our calendar. please hold tight while i let the vet know you’re here.” she smiles kindly, but it does little to ease jake’s nerves. still, he manages a tight-lipped smile and curt nod in response.

—

jake watches as someone emerge from the back, looking at a clipboard in their hands. “layla?”

he stands up right away, prompting layla who had been laying by his feet to do the same. “yes, that’s us.”

you look up at the source of the voice and send him a pleasant smile. walking towards him, you reach out your hand and he shakes it, but not before quickly swiping his palm on his jeans. “nice to meet you. i’m dr. l/n, and i’ll be taking a look at layla today. how about we head inside so i can take a better look at her?”

jake nods earnestly and gently tugs on layla’s leash to have her follow him into the consultation room in the back. once inside, you ask if he could kindly place layla on the table - a request he readily complies to. you’re impressed at how little he struggled given the fact that layla is a fairly big dog. clearly, he was strong. and maybe kind of cute, too.

“so,” you begin, “what seems to be the issue?”

“she had a bit of a bad fall and she’s been limping and whining a lot since then… i’m worried she might’ve broken a bone or something like that?” jake explains as he runs his hand comfortingly through layla’s fur.

you nod as he speaks, reaching over to assess any damage. after checking her heartbeat with your stethoscope, you flex her hips, gently press on her legs, and check on her paws.

as you do so, layla’s continuously making noises of discontent. initially, you had believed that her right front leg was causing her discomfort since she’d barked sharply when you touched it. however, she’d done the same thing for every other limb you’d touched as well. smiling, you turn your attention to her owner.

“i don’t see anything wrong with layla. her legs are fine, i’d say the shock of the fall is probably what made her respond like that. us people tend to coddle our pets a lot when they get injured, and dogs especially like that attention so they exaggerate it to make it seem worse than it is.”

jake is dumbfounded. “so you’re saying layla was just being dramatic?”

you smile apologetically. “yes… i know it’s not the news you were expecting, but that’s a good thing! means she’s not injured.”

you’re right, jake supposes. but that means i brought her all the way here because she’s a drama queen?!

you note the way jake sighs heavily, and it makes you want to try and console him by making his trip to the clinic seem somewhat worthwhile with basic medical advice.

“however, i would recommend putting her on a bit of a diet. she seems to be just a little bit over the ideal weight, and that can cause unnecessary strain on her joints.” you explain and jake nods, hanging on to every word coming out of your mouth. “after all, we want layla to live a long and healthy life, don’t we?” you coo, reaching out to ruffle her neck.

jake smiles. cute.

wait, what?

he takes this chance to finally look at you. he’d been too occupied previously with worry that he hadn’t been able to actually register what you looked like. now, he can see that you are, in fact, cute. you look around his age, and he’s impressed that you’re a vet this young. you suit the scrubs, but he wonders what you’d wear outside of work.

you pull away from layla and jake snaps back to reality. he’s glad layla’s okay. still, he sternly faces her and points his index finger toward her snout. “alright missy, you’re going on a diet starting today. consider it punishment for scaring me like that.”

chuckling, you turn to face him and he mirrors your action. there’s not much left to say, so he thanks you quickly and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. you stay since you have to log layla’s information in your computer. as you’re wrapping up, you add one more thing in layla’s “additional information” section.

additional information: super cute, looks exactly like owner

—

jake silently mourns on his way back home. again, he’s glad layla’s okay. he really is. but he had to pay an extraordinarily large amount of money just to be told that she’s fine. and a little fat.

he glares at layla, who looks back at him with sparkling eyes. his heart melts at the sight, and he sighs as he pets her. jake thinks of you and the fondness in your eyes as you petted the same fur moments prior. maybe something good did come out of his visit to the vet.

suddenly, he gets an idea. he paid a lot of money for this consultation, so he could be a little greedy. as a client, he could ask for your number, right? after all, what if something truly serious happened next time? he’d rather skip the formality of booking an appointment through the website and speak directly with you instead.

so, he pulls up the clinic’s information and calls the number on their website. a girl — likely the same one who welcomed him in — answers and asks what she could do for him.

“hey, i was just at the clinic for an appointment with my dog layla. i hope this doesn’t sound weird, but do you think it would be possible to get the number of the vet who saw layla today? just in case anything happens to layla again. you know?”

jake physically cringes as he speaks. way to not sound weird.

“uhm… one moment please.” the girl responds. jake hears whispering on the other side of the call.

what he didn’t know was that you were right next to the girl on call, sorting through some paperwork before you saw your next patient.

“doctor! layla’s owner is calling and asking if he can get your number..?” your secretary whispers.

you whip your head towards her, not believing what you heard. layla’s owner? the cute, fluffy hair guy?

she looks as giddy as you feel, giggling as she raises her eyebrows suggestively. laughing at her, you give her a thumbs up and she’s quick to bring the phone to her ear again.

“hello? yes, the doctor said there’s no problem. do you have something to write with? okay. her number is…”

you smile to yourself as she recites your personal number. a bell rings throughout the clinic, notifying you of your next patient’s arrival. you greet them and lead them to your consultation room and as you close the door your phone buzzes.

unknown number: hi, this is jake. layla’s dad. thanks again for the help today. if you don’t mind, i’d like to take you out sometime?

you bite your lip to suppress your grin. quickly, you reply.

you: i’d love that. date and time?

[thehighladywrites]

— “He clearly doesn’t want you!”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy/popular reader

☀︎ — summary: after yoga class you and your friends run into a sweaty, hot, big armed Azriel.

☀︎ — warnings: fluff, azriel get’s hit on by creepy friend, reader punches someone, possessiveness, protective reader, secret relationships come to light, kisses and hugs

☀︎ — amara’s note: thank u guys for the patience, the next one will be smutty👀👀💗

series masterlist

“Oh my god, who is that?” Letty, your sorta friend, exclaims, eyeing the figure behind you from head to toe.

You blink, tilting your head and squinting as if trying to figure out a puzzle. "Who?"

As heads turn to see, anticipation fills the air. The man stands with his back to you, but there's something unmistakable about his shoulders, the way he carries himself. It's Azriel, unmistakably, his muscular frame reminding you of the intimate moments you've shared.

It was yoga day, so you headed to your weekly session at the gym. Never did you imagine you’d see Azriel using some fancy machine. You didn’t even know your boyfriend worked out here; sure, you knew he did, but not here. He looked incredibly good, although you were aware that your so-called friends only looked at his body. If they knew who said body belonged to, they would totally roll their eyes.

It seriously irked you because they never even glanced at campus, but now they were drooling over him. Like, hello? He's totally yours, and it's so annoying to see them fawning over him. Ugh, seriously, can they not see he's off-limits?

"Okay, let’s—let’s just go, I wanna get some food. I'm sooo hungry," you say with a dramatic flair, clutching your stomach and fluttering your eyelashes.

Letty shakes her head, still gazing at your boyfriend. "Hmm, no, I think I’ll go say hi," she says determined, twirling a strand of her hair.

She walks over, putting a hand on his back, making him jump. The move makes you feel murderous as you observe how Azriel is so very obviously uncomfortable. How dare she?

"Hi, I haven’t seen you around. Are you new?" she asks, her hand still lingering on his back.

"Get your hand off of me, you are making me quite uncomfortable," Azriel responds firmly.

"Yeah? We could,like, leave and get comfortable in other ways," she suggests with a suggestive smile.

"Um, I’m good. I really don’t want to leave with you. I’m not available." Azriel replies, his discomfort palpable.

"Oh, come on—"

"Um, hello??? What part of 'no' are you not getting? He clearly doesn't want you," you say with a cute furrow between your perfectly shaped brows, your glossy lips pursing as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping closer to Azriel.

Letty and the rest of your soon-to-be ex-friends look between the three of you with comically large brows.

“Azriel is my boyfriend, and he loves me a lot, and I love him even more, there’s no way he’s going with you. He's mine and mine only, so if any of that clicked for you, i’m going to need you to get your Dollar Tree nails off of him, like right now.” you declare, narrowing your eyes at them, your possessive tone leaving no room for doubt about your feelings for him.

They had never seen you like this before. Usually, you were bubbly, ditzy, a little stupid, but never possessive, cold, and jealous.

Letty lets out a demeaning laugh, looking back at the group who soon start to laugh at demand like dogs.

“Did you say Azriel? That teachers pet guy in your math class? Y/n, do you think I’m stupid? This man is hot, that disgusting loser from your math class is a social reject who’s probably a closeted perv—“

Her words grate on your nerves, and you're fed up with her bitchy attitude. Without another thought, you ball up your fist and punch her straight in the face, of course, very careful of your nails.

Azriel startles a little, pulling you in by the waist before Letty tries something.

“You bitch, you broke my nose!” she yells, clutching her bleeding nose.

You shrug, attempting to wriggle out of Azriel's iron grip to no avail. “You should be thanking me, I mean, your botched nose job needed an upgrade anyway. I’d suggest Dr. Heartman for the fix-up!” you yell the last bit as Azriel drags you away to a secluded corner.

Azriel doesn’t let you go until your erratic breathing has calmed down, and you look up at him with those familiar loved out eyes he loves.

“You okay?” he asks carefully, his brow furrowing with worry.

“Yeah, I’m good. M’sorry you had to see me like that,” you say with a pouty expression, your voice a bit airy. You flash him those adorable doe eyes, your shoulders sagging as you twist your lips.

He nods, still looking concerned. “It’s all good, sweetheart. But are you sure? You didn’t have to do that for me,” he says, his worry evident in his endearing, caring demeanor.

You melted. Even though he was getting uncomfortable and hit on, he was still checking on you. As sweet as it was, you wanted to be the one caring for him in this moment.

“Oh, babe, I would like totally do anything for you! I am so freaking in love with you, I’d totally give up my entire closet for you. And trust me, that’s like, a big deal,” you say with a girly giggle, knowing just how much your clothes meant to you.

But your love for clothes would never ever come close to the love you felt for Azriel.

“But what now? Your friends know about me.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “So? You're not some dirty secret. I want people to know about you.”

“Yeah?”

You got closer, dropped your water bottle and bag before standing on your tippy toes, pressing a sweet, tender kiss on his lips, your heart fluttering with affection.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he returned the kiss. “Thank you, sweet girl.”

“Mhm, never worry about her again, Azzie. I will so punch her if she even dares to look at you,” you declared with fierce determination.

Azriel looked down at you, a tender smile gracing his lips as he kissed the tip of your nose. “I feel safer already. How about we go get some ice cream? Maybe make out in the car?”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and a wide grin spread across your face. He had really gotten more comfortable with expressing his wants and it made you so proud and happy

“I’m so in!”

He changed quickly, holding your hand as you walked out of the gym. As you strolled down the street, he finally voiced the question that had been on his mind.

“So, uh, Dr. Heartman any good?”

You couldn't help but smirk mischievously, lifting your chin. “The absolute worst.”

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl l @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwyniii @scoobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks

[pedros-mustache]

good thing

word count: ~4k

warnings: smut (18+ only). also: established relationship, angst, non-planned pregnancy, implied sex-for-pay, age gap, language, x fem!reader

a/n: idk you guys. he is—as my middle schoolers would say—Him. it was bound to happen that i would write a pregnancy fic about this man. i will admit that i am weirdly nervous about sharing this fic so please be kind, friends✨🤗

“How long have you known?”

“Long enough.”

“Whose?”

“Not yours.”

The room falls quiet, swollen with the ugly reality of your revelation. Your heart hangs in your chest. A clock on the shelf ticks each miserable second he does not respond.

Joel drums his fingers on the faded arm of the couch, his face blanketed by an unreadable shroud. He stares out the window, and you know he is thinking—wondering—calculating—when this happened. You cannot tell if he is hurt or angry or merely confused, but you can tell he is running the numbers. Running the myriad of possibilities of how you got knocked up under his watch. You could tell him—spill your slimy secrets on the creaking apartment floor like a parishioner at confession—but what good would that do? What would that change? Truth revealed or not, the fact remains:

You are pregnant, and whatever is blossoming between you and Joel, whatever tender flower has broken through cracked soil to find the light of day, the baby is not his. More than that, this development, this situation, marks the end of your budding connection. That glittering future you once saw with him, the future of safety and security at his side? Snipped at the bud, crushed beneath the heel of practicality. You can go no further. Not with him. 

Across the apartment, the girl—Ellie—shuffles side to side. You glance at her over your shoulder and watch a wave of discomfort twist her smooth features. You sigh, dropping your arms from their position crossed over your chest.

“Come on, Joel. Now isn’t the time to ask questions. When Tess gets back with the guns, you and her have got to get Ellie out of here.”

Maybe it is something in your resolute tone of voice, or maybe it is reality crashing landing at his feet, but your comment breaks Joel’s attention from the window. He stands, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. He faces you, and that unreadable shroud falls from his face. He is angry, that much is clear.

He points to the apartment door. “Out.”

The blood in your veins slows, turned sluggish with the weight of your sudden anxiety. “What?” you breathe.

Shaking his head, his free hand comes to rest on his hip. You know the stance: he does it every time you insist on sharing tea in the morning or rubbing the tension from his sore muscles. He’s irritated, but not outraged. That alone is a reassuring sign. 

“Not you. Her.” He gestures to Ellie. “Go wait in the hall.”

You start to protest. FEDRA on the move, Fireflies dispersed, night coming quickly—time is wasting. There’s no time for you and him and figuring this out, if that is what he wants. That ship has sailed and sunk beneath a bitter ocean of what-could-have-beens. There is only time for here and now and getting the fuck out of Dodge. 

“Joel, I don’t—”

But his face softens as it so rarely ever does. He pulls his stare from the girl and turns his brown eyes—those damn puppy dog eyes—on you, and you are helpless. “Please,” he whispers.

The clock on the shelf ticks louder. Maybe you can steal a few minutes...

Without turning to face Ellie, you cock your head at the door in a silent dismissal. She releases an annoyed huff, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath about fucking adults before slamming the door behind her. 

“Delightful child,” you murmur.

“She could save us all.”

Scoffing, you press your palms to the chipped table in the center of the apartment. The wood veneer is smooth, cool to the touch. It soothes your racing heart, even if only for a moment. “You’re starting to sound like Tess.”

Joel remains quiet—perhaps thoughtful, maybe biding his time—but his fixed stare carves gaping holes in the side of your head. You can feel him rooting through your mind like a scavenger. He is wondering when you slipped away long enough, when you found the time. He is replaying the moments in the market when you spoke to any other man and held his gaze for too long. He sifts through your shared memories with frantic fingers, and you can feel him—you know him well enough—to sense the panic swirling in his chest. 

But for the first time in the three years you have known him, you do not have it in you to quiet the storm in his mind. You have your own tempest to battle.

Finally, he speaks. “You gonna look at me?”

The slow, deep timbre of Joel’s voice catches you off guard. You expected anger, shouting, frustration that boils over into rage. But Joel has always been gentle with you. Beneath the brusk of necessity, he is a true Southern gentleman. Just like his mama raised him. And even now, standing on the edge of the crumbling cliff where you have placed yourself, he treats you with nothing but respect.

God, you could love him. You really could. If only things were different.

You look away from the table and find him a step closer. Not close enough to touch. He is too angry for that; it is written in the shadow on his brow. But he is close enough that you can see the concern etched in the lines on his face. His frown is not at you, it is for you, and that makes looking at him all the harder. 

“When did this happen?” 

You shrug, eyes skittering to the floor. “I told you. It doesn’t matter. The details don’t matter.”

“Don’t they?” He has both hands on his hips now, his head tilted as he tries to catch your wandering gaze. “Come on, girl. Answer me. You owe me that.”

He’s right: you do owe him. You owe him so many times over it is impossible to count. Still, if he knew—if he truly knew... There would be no hope of repairing the damage you would cause. You would only split the torn earth on which you stand wider. The crumbling cliff would give way, and you would fall to your doom.

He reaches out. His fingers skim the rough hem of your flannel, his flannel. “Tell me, baby.” Those three words, choked out and brittle with desperation, snap your resolve in two. 

You will lay your cards on the table, spread yourself across the sacrificial altar, bear your soul. For him—always for him.

Inhaling, you stand straight, bracing your socked-feet on the floor. You meet his eyes. If you’re going to go down for the decisions of your past, you’ll do it with your chin held high. Your father didn’t raise a quitter.

“Remember that battery, the one for the radio? The boots, the jacket?”

Joel nods. “For my birthday.”

You nod. “For your birthday.”

He holds your unwavering stare. The clock ticks: tick, tick, tick. Understanding rises like a slow tide over his face. You can’t bear to watch it. You look away. Shame gnaws at your stomach like a hungry wolf, and you press a hand to your belly.

“You didn’t—” He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth curling. “You didn’t have to...”

“I wanted to. For you.” Something catches in your throat. You circle the table, placing the furniture between his growing emotion and your growing regret. Fuck, you should have just stayed quiet. “So you could have one good thing.” 

“But now you’re—”

“Pregnant.”

Tearing a hand through his hair, Joel twists. He faces the door, and you wonder if he is dreaming of escape just like you. You wonder if he is dreaming of a world where doves still fly and babies live past six months and men and women can afford to build a life together.

He presses a closed fist to his mouth. Light bounces off the cracked face of his wrist watch. “What are you going to do?”

You answer without hesitation. “Keep it.”

His neck turns so fast you swear you hear it crack. You would joke about his age if the situation weren’t so dire. Two nights ago you joked that he is old enough to be your uncle, maybe even your dad; he fucked you good when you said that, just to prove you wrong. That levity feels far away now, impossible to grasp should you even dare try.

“The likelihood of survival—”

“Is slim. For me and the baby, I know. But I’ve thought about it. Hell, I’ve even prayed about it. And I—” You blink away the warm tears rising to blur your vision. “I want this.”

“Why?”

Why? What a simple question. What a loaded answer. You don’t know where to begin. But he looks at you with such earnestness, such a craving to understand, that you have to at least try.

“I want a husband,” you say. When he frowns in confusion, you push onward, the words rising to your tongue like a sermon. “I want a child and a home. A life I can build and call my own. I may never have a husband or a true home, but with this child, no matter how it came to be…” You give a pitiful shrug of your shoulders. “I need something more, Joel. Something more than simply living to die.”

After a moment, when your words have settled like dust on a crowded roadway, Joel motions to your stomach. He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can—can I?” 

“Yes.” You release the word on a stolen breath.

Rounding the table, Joel keeps his focus glued to your abdomen. His chest rises and falls, deep inhale after shallow exhale. He stands before you, a giant amongst men, his fingers shaking as he unbuttons the three lower buttons of his flannel. He brushes the fabric aside, and when your stomach is bare before him, he swallows. His Adam’s apple bobs as though he, too, feels a lump lodged in his throat. He smooths the palm of his hand over the slight bump at your womb. Barely there, blink and you miss it, but unmistakable once noticed.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see,” he murmurs. His thumb massages your ever-stretching skin, back and forth, back and forth. His warm breath fans your face as his forehead comes to rest against yours.

“Because you didn’t want to.”

You pass your fingers through the graying hair at his temples and study the way his eyelashes fan his cheekbones. Little moments, you think, to be tucked away in your heart once this is all over and he is gone. 

“When Kate was pregnant, I knew. Sarah... I could feel her...”

Your chin trembles, your fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I know... I know...”

“A baby. In this world. I can’t remember the last time I—”

Without warning, he cuts his own thought short and slowly lowers himself to his knees. He presses one hand to the small of your back, the other still massaging the bump of your stomach. You hold your breath as he leans forward and touches your bump with his forehead. He whispers something, something you cannot hear and you suspect is not for you, and then he is standing. He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and when you meet his eyes, you see the world. 

“Sugar, you are my good thing.”

I wanted to. For you. So you could have one good thing.

His words—your words—ring loud in your ear, and you choke on a sob as he lowers his mouth to yours. He kisses you like the rain kisses dry land. You are parched, cracked and withered from the fear of this moment, but with his touch, he waters your aching heart. He is eager, holding you close, cradling your jaw with the wide expanse of his hand. Never before, not in the year of sharing his bed, has he kissed you with such devotion coating his lips. You could drown in it.

You tear your mouth away long enough to look over your shoulder. The door to the apartment remains shut, a measly separation between you and the outside world. “The girl—”

Joel shakes his head, already working on the remaining buttons of your flannel. “She doesn’t matter.” He kisses your neck, once, twice, creating a wet trail to your earlobe. “Not right now.”

“Okay.” You turn back to him, your face softening as you catch his dark eyes. 

He nudges your nose with the end of his own. “Okay.”

Words dissipate. Like fresh dew beneath the morning sun, the need for talking disappears under the weight of all that is and was and could be. There is nothing more to say—not aloud, not right now—but there is much, oh so much, your body can say for you. 

You kiss Joel with a fierceness you have not felt since the first time he laid his hands upon you. You are desperate for him, desperate to tell him just why you did what you did, and how much you need him, want him, fuck—maybe even love him. You part your lips to allow him access, and you cling to his arms, your nails biting the flesh beneath his denim shirt. He hisses when you bite his lower lip, the hand still resting in the small of your back pushing you closer to his warmth. You tangle your arms around his shoulders, holding him closer, closer, as close as he can get without forcing him to merge into your own skin. 

With a quiet grunt, he fists his hand in the hair at the back of your head and wrenches to the side. You gasp, eyes widening as he flattens his tongue against your pulse point. He sucks your skin, biting gently, before releasing your neck with a wet pop. You whimper—even as he takes your chin in his fingers again and seals his mouth to yours. 

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink fully into the kiss. You do not know what the future holds or what will become of you and the child within. All you know is that here, in the now, in the present, Joel kisses you, and sweeps his tongue across your tongue, and runs his hand down the inside of your jeans to cup your ass. And for right now, in the here and the present, you are okay and you are safe and the risk of being with him is worth the reward.

He squeezes the flesh of your ass again, and you shake yourself free of any wayward thinking. Just him—just you—just now.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers against your lips. “Mine.”

You nod, and through laboring breaths, you confirm what has always been the truth. “Yours.”

It is a backwards, lopsided dance to the only bed in the apartment. He collapses to the edge, and you straddle his thigh as you kiss him. His broad hands run the course of your body, up and down, front and back. He massages your breasts through the paltry fabric you call a bra, pausing long enough to tweak a nipple hard enough you whine. He chuckles, leans forward, sucks the offended nub through the covering. You go to shrug off his flannel, but Joel stops you with a hand to your arm. 

“No.” His eyes roam from your face to your shoulders to your peaked nipples and finally, the swollen womb above your center. “Keep it on.” 

He leans back on his palms as you unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. The zipper of his jeans strains against his growing erection. You peel your underwear off and face him with a smirk. 

“You’re overdressed.”

He tilts his head in acknowledgment. “Maybe.”

“We should fix that.”

He waves his hand in invitation. “Be my guest.”

Biting your lower lip to conceal a grin, you pounce, zealous for him as much as he is for you. His clothes come off in quick succession until you are both naked save for his flannel hanging loose around your shoulders. He pauses then, a second, maybe two, his hand poised against the side of your neck. His eyes dart between yours, his lips parted, words he dare not say resting on the tip of his tongue.

“I know, baby.” You put one hand on his shoulder, his warm, tan skin a comfort against the chill in the room. You reach out and grip his hard cock with your opposite hand, and when he winces in pleasure, you brush your knuckles over the hair on his jaw. “I know.”

Joel allows you to stroke him, a rare occurrence in your repertoire of fucks. What is normally a frenzied connection in the dark, moments stolen before the light of day brings reality crashing back, is turned slow by the knowledge that things are different now. Things cannot be as they once were, no matter what the future may bring. So you stroke his cock, spit in your hand, and stroke it faster. Up and down, until he is pulsing in your hand and weeping from the tip. He drops to his back on the bed, his face buried in his hands as you touch him.

But then you pull away.

Joel removes his hands from his face. He stares at you, a flash of annoyance brightening his eyes. “What—” 

“Shh.” You plant both hands on his sturdy chest as you swing your leg over his hips. “Walls are thin.”

Gripping the base of his cock, you run your dripping warmth over his tip. You hover above him, eyes rolling back in your head as you tease yourself. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body, and you grit your teeth to keep from moaning. Joel grabs your hips, but he does not force you down. No, he waits until you are ready. He waits until you position his cock at your entrance and begin the slow descent to heavenly madness. 

You suck in a deep breath as his cock stretches you open. He fits snug in your core, like he was crafted just for you. When you have adjusted to his girth, you move your hands to grip his arms. You shift your knees, lifting your hips up before descending again. Over and over, a smooth, unchanging rhythm. 

You are in no hurry to find release. For once this fuck is more than finding a shot of pleasure amidst the cruel darkness of the world. You want this to last and you want this to feel good. You need this imprinted upon your mind, locked in the secret place of your heart. 

But you and he both can only take the slowness for so long.

Joel soon resumes his position of dominance, as is custom when his need builds. You allow it because you crave it. His breadth and strength and command shields you from danger in the outside world, but you crave it in bed too, when you can allow that breadth and strength and command to slam the fear from your mind. 

He slides an arm around your waist and flips you to your back, keeping you snug beneath him. He gives a few experimental thrusts before he kisses you—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. He leans back and exposes your body to the yellow light of the room. He trails his hand down your sweaty chest. His fingers dance over your bump, hovering there as if in prayer, before finding your swollen clit. You gasp, hips lifting upward, as he rubs you in circle after circle. He brings you to the edge before pulling away and gripping your shins with his hands. He pushes forward, and you are bent in half, completely at his mercy.

Holding your knees to your chest, he picks up the pace. He plows into you, teeth gritted, lips pulled back in a snarl. He watches his rigid length split you apart, thrust after thrust. On some level, you know he is staking his claim. He drives into you with such force, with such feral carnality, you know there is some part of him that just wants to mark his territory. Reclaim what is rightfully his. You let him because it is true. You belong to him, Joel Miller, not the man who planted his seed in you and walked away. Always and forever—his—your purpose.

You slap your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out in delicious agony. You feel stretched and full and electric all at once. 

“That’s it.” Joel releases your shins but presses his chest to your legs. Your hips lift, swallowing him to the hilt. “Take me—fuckin’—good.” 

The pressure in your core builds. Light dances at the fringes of your touch. You close your eyes, latching on to the feeling.

Leaning back, Joel swats your hip. “Open your eyes.” He withdraws his cock far enough to slam into you with more force, his tip angled against your most sensitive spot. “Look at me.” He swats your ass again.

Dutifully, you peel your eyes open. You look at him—into his eyes, his soul—as he fucks you. 

You burst like the skin of a ripe grape. It is violent, sudden, earth-shattering. You convulse beneath him, and the tremors wracking your frame are enough to send him over the edge. He grabs the curve of your waist with one hand, lurching forward to catch himself on his forearm above your head. He swallows his groan of pleasure, managing to barely release a muffled whimper. His warmth oozes from your core and stains the bed sheets beneath. 

He remains tucked inside of you until you are forced to push him away. A cramp in your leg demands attention, and you rub the blasted muscle until the pain has subsided. You return to his side, to his sweaty body, to his arm that slips beneath his flannel and lays beneath your back. He rolls to his side to face you.

The truth of your situation looms like a storm cloud at the edge of the room. He can see it; you can see it. You must acknowledge it before the here and now is upon you and you have no plan with which to fight it.

“What are we gonna do?” You hold his forearm, thumb brushing the bone of his wrist. His hand is warm and heavy on your cheek, his eyes married to yours.

He does not hesitate. “I’ll keep you safe. Both of you. All of you.” He smooths the sweat-plastered hair away from your face. “I promise.”

You nod because Joel Miller always keeps his promises. Whatever he says is true.

He relaxes his hold on your face as he shifts onto his back. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing even. You glance at him and the evening light that cuts his face in angular shadows. 

“Hey, Joel?”

He opens one eye, peers at you in expectation.

You smile—softly, a tender hello before the war that is sure to come. “You’re my good thing, too.”

[authorred]

Frostbitten | Li Shen/Zayne x reader | Love and Deepspace

➺ Preface: Taking a trip with Zayne up to the snowy mountains was something you were looking forward to. Spending time with him and taking a break from your busy schedules are what you both need. But halfway through your trip, the aether core in your heart acts up, and your weakened heart begins to give.

➺ I was inspired by the one scene in Zayne's branched route trailer where he runs up to MC and carries her when she collapses TEEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE IT'S SO HOT SEEING MEN WORRY LIKE THAT HOOOYYY MMMMYYYYY GAAAWWWOOUUURRRDDDDDD

➺ Part 2

Warning(s): As angsty as I can make it. You almost die, good luck

As you step off of the train and onto the slightly snowy platform, you stretch your limbs and take in a deep breath. “Ah, finally,” you sigh in relief. “It’s no fun being cramped in a booth seat for three hours with nothing to do.”

Zayne comes up behind you wordlessly, carrying the few bags you brought with you on the trip. “Impatient as always,” he says. “Like a child.”

“I should’ve brought my laptop but I decided not to in the moment,” you sigh again. “I should’ve brought it for the actual travel time. Now I feel restless.”

“There’s plenty of things to do while we’re here,” Zayne assures. “It’s a small village, but I’m confident that you’ll find something that piques your interest. It’s rather easy to do.”

You roll your eyes and grab a bag from Zayne’s arm to help him. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I get it. I have the attention span of a goldfish.”

“Not quite a goldfish. Perhaps a small dog or a bird.”

You playfully shove him and his body follows through, stumbling a step or two away. You know he could’ve resisted a bit more, easily, but where’s the fun in that? “Shut up and let’s go already. We got a cabin waiting for us.” With that, you begin to stalk off in the direction of the station exit. Zayne doesn’t say anything and trails behind you like a shadow.

~

The cabin is much nicer than you originally thought. A cozy lounge, a small kitchen and dining area, and a loft upstairs with only one bed ;). There’s a nice fireplace in front of the small sofa with firewood already sat inside of it. It smells slightly of the outside trees, wood, and some hints of smoke.

“Oh, this is nice,” you say, placing your bags on the floor in the foyer. “Cozy and warm. I wonder if the kitchen is filled.”

“Just like you to be thinking of food.”

“It’s getting close to lunch—can you blame me?” You throw him a look over your shoulder before bouncing into the small, but homey kitchen. After inspecting all the cabinets and the small refrigerator you can see some left over nonperishables, bottles of water, pots and pans, and other miscellaneous items. “Mm, seems we’ll have to go into town if we want to actually eat food,” you say. “I’m glad it’s not that far from here.”

Zayne joins you in the kitchen and glances around. “It certainly is quaint,” he says. “Not bad.”

~

After an hour you and Zayne manage to make a small lunch just enough to tide you over. Afterwards you were planning to walk to the town store to buy more groceries for a proper dinner.

Halfway through your small lunch, you pause your eating. You take a moment, shifting and adjusting your body, rolling your shoulders out. You feel an uncomfortable feeling in your chest—as if the muscles are contracting. It’s a small point of discomfort but one you can’t ignore.

Zayne eyes you curiously, giving you a moment to assess whatever it is that’s wrong. After a few seconds of slight discomfort on your face he asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Just a weird feeling is all. Maybe I haven’t stretched enough. It feels like a cramp.”

“Where?”

“My chest.” You subconsciously rub where there’s pain, your fingers gently massaging into the skin above your heart. Immediately, Zayne’s face drops in concern.

“Do you have pain in your jaw or left arm? Do you feel tired? Nauseous?”

“What?” You blink at him. “No. It feels like a cramp. I probably didn’t stretch enough after my shift yesterday.”

Zayne doesn’t relax, though he takes your word for it. “I see,” he replies quietly. “Stretching after strenuous exercise is important in keeping muscles from straining or tearing. And to reduce soreness. Please make sure to do it whenever you can.”

You nod, the pain fading, but never disappearing. “I know. I will. After this I’ll do a few stretches and see if it helps.”

~

Despite your earlier complaint of having chest pain, you still insisted on taking a walk to the town store. Zayne was hesitant, preferring to do it himself or to make sure you’re okay. But your insistence won out, and now you two are traipsing down a beautiful snowy trail to the town.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you say. “Cold, but beautiful. Snowy mountains and terrain are always so picturesque.”

Zayne hums in agreement and looks around at the surrounding area before turning his head to look at you, who’s admiring the distant mountains. His gaze is uncharacteristically soft. “Some things truly are beautiful no matter what.”

You let out a chuckle and nod, still unaware of his eyes on you. “Yeah, it is.”

Halfway through your walk, you start to slow. You pause, taking a moment to breathe. It’s hard to breathe. Like you can’t catch your breath. Every time you attempt to take a deep inhale it’s like your body is stopping you. Dread wells up inside of you but youl try to calm yourself down. The pain in your chest that never fully stopped blooms again, and your face scrunches up in slight discomfort. You take a step back, attemping to collect yourself from the sudden slap of lightheadedness that just hit you.

Zayne stops a few feet away from you and turns, his face scrunching up in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Zayne, I don’t feel good. . .” You start to stumble, and Zayne immediately strides over to you. You reach your hand out to which he grasps tightly. He cradles your cheek in his other hand and looks down at you. His eyes flit over your face, taking in your expression and current physical condition. Your complexion is completely off, and you’re on the verge of losing consciousness. Your vision is blurry and you can make out his face through the lightheaded haze. Your chest hurts a lot.

Without a word, Zayne picks you up bridal style and begins to march back to the cabin. His brows are furrowed in determination and worry, lips pressed in a thin line. He’s not dumb. He knows what it is—it’s your heart. Most likely cardiac arrest from all the issues you have regarding it. He needs to get you medical attention—immediately. If he doesn’t, then—

Zayne shakes his head, clearing it of any unnecessary thought. His focus is making sure you’re okay. His steps are driven forward with the single thought of keeping you alive; heavy and steady. The nearest hospital to the cabin is close to 40 minutes away. He prays to whatever god there is to keep you from death in that time.

“Zayne,” you rasp out, your vision beginning to grow bright and contrasting. “My heart hurts.”

“I know,” Zayne replies softly, walking up the wooden porch of the cabin. “Hang on. Everything will be okay.”

You don’t realize you fall unconscious until the sense of impending doom vanishes.

~

Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. The aether core in your heart destabilized and that caused your heart to give. Fluctuations of your evol forced your body to become unstable, and therefore unpredictable. Zayne managed to contact help but by the time it arrived your body was under so much stress from your heart growing weak, that it became borderline dangerous to perform any intervention on you.

Zayne is but a cardiologist. As brilliant as he is, this is not something within his realm. He knows about Protocore Syndrome and how it can affect the body and the cardiovascular system, but never before has it evolved in turning you into an unstable core yourself.

They had no choice but to intubate and isolate you. Specialists who had an idea of what’s going on said you very well could be a ticking time bomb (you can imagine how that went over with Zayne). Your body pulses and glows, following the veins in your flesh and circling around your heart like koi fish. It would be beautiful, if not for the fact you could possibly explode in a flux of evol so strong you could level the area.

Zayne watches from the observation mezzanine, his brows tightly knit together. He can feel his ice begin to spread across his neck and shoulders, the feeling a burning cold that forces him to look away from you. Taking a few deep breaths, he forces the ice to recede. It hurts. It always does. But he can’t help it. He can’t stop.

His eyes slowly slide back over to you. He knew he should’ve pushed you to take care of yourself more—or done it himself. Why didn’t he do it? Why do you never listen? He knew your heart wasn’t strong to begin with and yet you became a Hunter, go on dangerous missions, ignore instructions. . . something has to be wrong. There has to be a disconnect.

Is it him? Is he too cold? Too detached? If you die—

If you die. . . what then?

Zayne stands there for a moment before turning his head and walking from the observation window. He has a meeting to attend to; one that will decide on how to proceed with this issue. On how to care for you.

His Hunter will not die. Not under his care. Not while he’s alive.

[scr11bles]

don't boo me but i like the hybrid au's for cod, maybe even a little a/b/o in the midst (though that's not what this one is about)

so now i'm just thinking about a hybrid! reader who's all sorts of fucked and gets picked up by ghost for the 141

cw: kinda angsty with descriptions of abuse, dog(hybrid?) fighting, and scars

heres part 2!!

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It isn't like Ghost hates hybrids; he's worked with them on missions before and dismissed them as any other soldier, everyone was just doing their job after all. As long as the objective was complete, that's what mattered. Though when Price told him he was being sent to a location to 'pick out" a hybrid from a facility (Laswell thought it'd be good for their team, a new set of hands and efficiency to the group and all that), he couldn't help the disagreeing grumbles that escaped past his mouth as he begrudgingly went on his way to the helipad, cursing to himself the whole way and glaring at his boots.

After the nearly agonizing chopper ride, the wheels touch down on the tarmac of the facility, a worker immediately stumbling towards Ghost as he steps out of the chopper. He didn't catch the guy's name, didn't care either. He was here for some furball soldier that could help his team, that's all that matters. The worker guides the Lieutenant through the stone walls of the facility, the smell of mold and mildew making him wrinkle his nose beneath his mask.

In the distance of the long hallways, he can hear the yells and barks of hybrids, cringing internally as the worker turns a corner and leads him to a large room of kennels and cells. Each step Ghost takes causes a hybrid to look up, many starting to growl or hide within their cells while others lay against the cold cell floor, bodies barely moving with the only sign of life being a rising and falling chest.

He's seen a lot over his years as a soldier, and he's not so easily rattled, but this was a whole new experience of discomfort and pity for him. The conditions were bad, worse than any kind of kennel he remembers when he was young, and that was for full bred animals. Ghost eyes each hybrid slowly, taking in the diverse appearances of breeds and species of hybrid. Though each is a pathetic sort, the one true hybrid that caught Ghosts eye was one that was in the corner, the cell seemingly reinforced with different metal. In the middle of the cage there you sit, back facing the door and simply staring at the wall as multiple chains hand from your ankles and wrists, a prong collar tightly pressing against your throat. Ghost wonders why you were needed to be so heavily contained, your crooked tail wrapped around your leg as your torn and notched ears that press flat against your head making you seem like a harmless broken ittle thing.

"I wouldn't recommend that one, Lieutenant."

The worker speakers quickly, warily eyeing you behind the bars of your cell. Ghost's eyes stay on you, catching onto the small twitch of your ear. You know they're talking about you.

"Why, she broken?"

Ghost says roughly, keeping his dark unblinking stare on your battered form noticing the small twitch of your tail, probably annoyance, he clues, due to his words.

"Not exactly but.."

The worker pauses, causing Ghost to maneuver his unblinking gaze to him, making the worker freeze and fumble over his words.

"But-But she has a history of recklessness, a lack of respect for authority and horrible at responding to orders. Not something you need on a team like yours."

At the workers words you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder, revealing the dullness in your eyes and prominent scars across your face. Scratches, bites, lacerations; Ghost can identify easily each one. The worker grimaces beneath your steely gaze and takes a step back from the cell, practically shaking in his boots. To say that Ghost was intrigued would be an understatement. He knows that look in your eyes; the coldness of someone who's killed and has started to become numb, with emotions raging within just waiting to be unleashed and ruin your very being. He's seen it before, he's seen it in him.

Goddamnit, he want to know more about you.

"How long's she been here?"

The lieutenant questions, maintaining eye contact with you and frowning beneath his mask when you look away, the tiny spark in your eye at his question not being lost to him before you turn your head away.

"Couple of months maybe? She was handed over to us after being used for cage fighting and served for a couple of PMC's- so I suppose she does have some experience in the field if you were really inclined.."

The Lieutenant couldn't help the small frown that is invisible beneath his mask, the words 'handed over' causing a foul taste to coat his tongue. He knew many hybrids were considered lesser than humans, and it never bothered him before, but when in relation to you it ground his gears just that little bit. Ghost clicks his tongue and sends the worker a small glare before returning his flat gaze back to you, narrowing his eyes and watching as you scratch at the stone floor, the movement revealing the numerous scars and burns along your arms. Sure, Ghost had known you (not even really known yet) for a couple of minutes, but he was sold. And when he speaks, he stares straight into the workers eyes and speaks in the flattest most straight forward tone possible, there was no mistaking it-

"I'll take her."

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hey guys!!

uhh tell me if you see this becoming a little story or just want a few parts to it, i love the feedback and it makes me happy seeing everyone like my little works of fleeting words

thank you so much!

-emile :3

[penny00dreadful]

STWG Prompt: Falling Star💫

Continuation from this post

Steve felt discomfort squirming in his belly.

Though he no longer had the star–Eddie, he reminded himself–chained to him like a mule or a dog, he still felt like there was a power dynamic, a weight of responsibility sitting on him.

Eddie trudged along behind him through the woods, looking downright miserable, exhausted and covered in dirt and debris from where he had landed in the forest and the crater his body had created.

He was faintly glowing in the light of dawn, but it was much dimmer than it had been in the dark of the night, like his brightness was waning. 

Steve tried to think of how he would feel, dropping into a strange foreign world with the hope of finding love, only to be chained up by some guy from Hawkins of all places and told he was to be taken back as a… as a prize for who Steve hoped would become his finacé.

It wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

Glancing back over his shoulder at Eddie’s tangled dark curls, ripped and muddy silvery cloak and robes, his pale skin spattered with a dark contrast of dirt, almost as stark as the tattoos adorning his arms and the dark bags under his eyes, he made a decision.

“We’re going to take a detour.” He announced as Eddie stumbled over another root in the ground.

“Why? The sooner I go meet your Nancy, the sooner I can start on my own journey. I’d prefer if we got it over with.”

“You’re exhausted—” 

“Well it’s past my bedtime already—” Eddie snarked back, waving at the rising sun.

“And you’re filthy.”

“You’re not looking so hot yourself, sunshine.”

Steve looked down at himself, also covered in mud and scratches from where he’d had to crawl through brambles and hedges just to get to Eddie’s crater site. 

“Exactly so… so we’re gonna head to the nearest town. It’s not that far from here, I think. We can wash this dirt off and we can get you some new clothes and a nap or something.”

Eddie frowned at him.

“Why do I need new clothes? We can just get these washed. That’s something you do down here, right?”

Steve blinked at him.

“Yes. We wash our clothes but…”

Well… it was now or never. Time to voice the other worry that he had sitting in the back of his head.

“I highly doubt I’m the only one out here looking for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s… you…” He shook his head, not able to think of a way to make this sound not terrible. “Stars are valuable. You’re valuable. There’ll be some people like me, who will probably be looking for a big lump of rock, but I suspect in a land like this one, there’ll be plenty who know exactly what they’re looking for. Someone like…” Steve gestured over all of Eddie.

“If they’re looking for a star, I doubt they’ll be looking for someone like me, Steve.”

Eddie crossed his arms, leaning against a tree, his whole body drooping with some kind of bone deep exhaustion that wasn’t just coming from the daylight.

“They’ll be looking for someone pretty and perfect and bright. Shiny hair and unmarked skin and someone who isn’t so fucking weird.”

But you are pretty and perfect and bright, something in Steve’s head said and okay maybe that was a little too far for right now.

He’d only met the guy a few hours ago and he still had… Nancy was waiting for him.

“Your clothes are very star-like?” Steve hedged, unsure of what else to say.

“Only because I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.” Eddie mumbled back.

“Okay, well… then I’ll get you something that feels more… you.”

Steve was forced to swallow as those dark and intense eyes looked up at him from their slumped position. Almost being pulled in by gravity.

“Why?” Eddie asked again.

Because I want you to be happy. I want you to be comfortable. I want to see what you look like when you feel more like yourself. 

Steve only shrugged.

“And your Nancy isn’t going to mind the delay?”

“She’s not my Nancy.” Steve huffed. “Not yet anyway.” 

Maybe not ever, if the hesitation on her face had been anything to go by, when he’d proclaimed he’d go and bring her back the star for her hand in marriage.

Eddie sighed and it seemed to take a lot of effort for him to push himself back to standing again. 

“Fine. Whatever.”

Sneaking Eddie into a village and then into a room at the inn was much easier than Steve had anticipated.

He’d heard whispers of the villagers about the fallen star but Eddie was correct in assuming people wouldn’t glance at someone who looked like him.

It also helped that his brightness was nonexistent under the midday sun.

So while Eddie bathed and slept off his exhaustion in their room, the only room available at the inn, one bed between them–what were the chances– Steve ventured back out to the local market to get him something to wear that was less star-like. 

Steve had noticed Eddie’s eyes catching on the shiny jewellery and dark leathers as they had passed, so he took a risk and picked a few of those pieces up for him, feeling a little fluttery about it.

Like he was buying gifts for courting or something, which was a ridiculous idea.

He couldn’t court a star.

But when he got back to the room, arms laden down with whatever he could carry, he was forced to reevaluate when Eddie was just lying there, face relaxed in sleep, beautiful and placid, breathing slowly and easily, clean and combed and glowing.

And probably naked as all hell under those sheets. They only came up to his hips and Steve had to tear his eyes away from the lean muscle and sharp bones sitting under delicate pale flesh marked through with a shock of black tattoos.

How anyone could think he wasn’t pretty and perfect and bright was beyond him.

Steve set the clothes and jewellery down on the desk and snuck his way around the bed, to the window with the heavy curtains drawn closed.

The room should have been dark, but Eddie was giving off enough light on his own for Steve to easily find his way around. 

He managed to sneak behind the curtains, sitting himself down on the little cushioned alcove seat beyond, and curled himself up into a little ball.

He stared out the window to the small village below and tried to remind himself of why he was here in the first place.

Eddie was ignoring him. 

Eddie had been ignoring him for the entire day. 

Steve didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Everything had been going great. They’d been talking about… well, nothing really.

It was one of the things he really liked about Eddie. That they could talk about anything for hours and every time they did, Steve inevitably kinda forgot what he was doing here.

He was supposed to be bringing Eddie back to meet Nancy. The girl he hoped to… to marry.

And… and then he was going to help Eddie find love.

And that was… that was fine.

That had always been the plan.

And okay, maybe he had mentioned that he wasn’t totally sure about the Nancy of it all anymore, so that might have been it? 

Maybe Eddie thought Steve was going to back out on his side of the deal now.

But he didn’t know because Eddie wouldn’t even look at him.

Whenever Steve tried to strike up a conversation, Eddie just hummed, turning his head away and staring ahead of them and Steve could practically hear him begging him to stop talking.

So Steve did.

But he couldn’t anymore.

“Did I do something?” He asked, hands shoved in his pockets as he looked out over the green fields and mountains, over the landscape while they walked the road leading them back to Hawkins.

Eddie didn’t open his mouth to answer, just made a questioning noise at him, still kicking rocks down the road. Still not looking at him.

Steve sighed and stopped. Waited for Eddie to stop too, which he did. He turned and looked with a furrow in his brow, silently asking why they had stopped moving.

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve asked again. “If I said something to piss you off, I’m sorry for whatever it was but… can you just tell me so I don’t do it again?”

“No. It’s not-” Eddie shook his head, turning his back again. “It’s not you, you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve took a few steps forward.

“There’s no problem, Steve.”

Not Stevie. Or sunshine. Or sweetheart. Just Steve.

“Clearly something is wrong, Eds, you’re not even glowing anymore. Just tell me so I can fix it-”

“It’s nothing you can fix.” Eddie snapped back, so suddenly loud and angry, Steve was struck dumb.

He reached forward, catching Eddie’s wrist up in his hand. Eddie didn’t try to pull away, but instead froze, face turned away and whole body tense.

“Eds, please.” Steve brought them face to face, a hand on his cheek.

Eddie looked somehow both angry and heartbroken at the same time.

“I can’t drag you down with me.” He muttered.

Steve could only shake his head in bewilderment.

“What?”

“I can’t drag you down with me, Stevie. We just need to get you back to Nancy and everything will be fine.”

“But… but I don’t even know if that’s what I want anymore.” He let go of Eddie’s wrist, brushing his fingers along Eddie’s, trying to take his hand. “I think… I thought… maybe—”

Eddie ripped his hand away.

“I’m a fallen star, Steve!” He shouted, his face crumpling. “I’m not just a star, I’m a fallen star. I can’t take you back to the skies with me, I can’t give you everlasting life, or magic or wealth or whatever else you humans might want me for. I can’t give you anything like that!”

“Eddie- what? I don’t care about any of that-!”

“It’s fine.” Eddie shook his head and started to stomp his way back up the road. “We’ll get you back to Nancy and you don’t even have to worry about helping me out on my side of things, I can… I’ve got it covered. We’ll get you back to Nancy and everything will be fine.”

“Wait- Wait!” Steve shouted after him, jogging to keep up and planting himself in Eddie’s path again. “I don’t want any of that stuff from you. I just want… I don’t want Nancy anymore. I want you.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Eddie. You know what my life has been like. Let me make this decision for myself. I don’t care that you’re fallen. I don’t care that you can’t give me all of that. Why would I want an everlasting life when I could grow old with you?”

“You would want that… with me?”

“Eddie.” Steve almost whispered, their faces so close together, Eddie’s big wet eyes staring at him, the faintest glow of hope coming off of his skin. “I want everything with you.”

Eddie closed his eyes with a little laugh, letting his head tilt forward until their foreheads were pressed together.

“God damn it, Stevie.”

Eddie pressed his face in that little bit closer, finally sealing their lips together.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter two)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2.7k

Playlist Song: the great war by taylor swift

prologue / one / two / three

I try with all I have to not feel any sort of pain over the look of hurt on the woman - Kate’s - face. That look of betrayal, like someone had killed her dog. Like a lover had kept a deep dark secret. I try to shake it off and hold on to the anger that my sad excuse of a husband had decided to show his face at my office. “So, I’ll ask again,” I turn back to the man in question. 

His smile has fallen and he looks at Kate almost apologetically before he drags his gaze slowly back to me. I ignore the sweet swirl of emeralds and sapphires in his eyes, I let the embers in my chest simmer. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Tyler opens his mouth but all that comes out is an awkward gurgle of uhs. He clears his throat and glances down. I follow his gaze to see the thick clay mud speckling his good boots. The boots that I bought him on our first anniversary to wear to the rodeo. “I, uh…” 

I look up into his face with a hard gaze. I watch him close his eyes, collect himself. “I don’t have all day Tyler,” I say. My hands start to shake a little, the overwhelming buzz from the embers starting to billow into a subtle flame. The heat of anxiety starts to warm me from the inside out. I cross my arms tight over my mesh vest to stop the tremble. 

“The truck’s in rough shape,” he says, eyes opening to stare down at me. 

The loud cackle isn’t my intended reaction. It rips through my throat before I know to keep it in. I look over at Kate, gagging the slight discomfort in her features turning a little disturbed as she watches the two of us. I raise a brow at her and laugh again, turning back to the man. “Oh, the truck is in rough shape.” I nod once, then twice. I turn around to my team, watching with apprehension in the bay. “The truck’s in rough shape,” I call out, waving as if to say ‘false alarm guys’.

I can see Tyler wince again in my peripheral vision and when I turn back to him, the light nature of my tone is wiped from my face. “Go fuck yourself.” 

I only make it to the gate when I hear the music peeling down the dirt road. It’s loud, guitar riffs coming from the speaker on what I can only imagine is their RV. I watch as the other wranglers park and come staggering out of their doors. “Sorry we’re late, I had to stop t’ get some gas and,” Boone’s loud voice travels across the space as he comes up to Tyler’s side. He must miss the hard lines of Tyler’s face because he catches my eye and comes running. 

“There she is,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around in a tight embrace before I can say anything. “I missed you, Ms. Fix It.” Boone’s voice is soft as his scruffy chin digs into my collarbone. 

The southern drawl of his nickname for me is a soothing cup of water, nearly extinguishing the burning in my chest. Boone was like a golden retriever. Boone had done his due diligence to send me postcards through the time since I’d last seen everyone. They’d always been blank, just pictures of different southern county spectaculars across the states but catching a livestream of the wranglers’ channel discretely playing on Carter’s desktop when he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom one day, I’d realized it had been the sweet man checking in. I missed his enthusiasm deeply, frustrated that Tyler not only took my heart with him when he disappeared one night but also that he took his whole crew of friendly faces with him. 

“Hey there Boone,” I breathe into his neck, my arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “Couldn’t have sent a warning postcard?” 

The tall man pulls back, “You got my postcards? Oh gosh, that makes me so glad,” he says, placing a hand over his chest. My words register in his mind and his smile stretches wide with guilt. “I’m real sorry ‘bout that. It took all my convincin’ to get the guy to even drive here. Did he mention the truck?” 

“He sure did,” I nod, acutely aware of everyone watching Boone and I. Boone seems in his own world, blissfully oblivious to the two crews watching us. I glance back at the truck where Tyler, hands on his hips, speaks in hushed tones to Kate, another man I don’t recognize and Lily. She catches my eye and waves. 

“Can ya help? Ya know there’s no one else who can fix her up the right way,” Boone says, fixing his dirty cap on his head.  

“Boone, ya’ll can’t just show up here after all this time and just ask me to fix up the truck,” I say. There’s pressure starting to build behind my eyes and I have to shake my head to rid the feeling. I step backwards out of his grasp. 

“I know it’s a real shit thing to do. We wouldn’t have come if we weren’t desperate,” Boone says. He takes a peak over at Tyler, looking back at me with puppy dog eyes. “He would not have come if we weren’t desperate.” 

The comment tugs at my heart strings and I can’t help but look out at the fields around us. The tall grass sways lazy in the breeze, the sun starting to rise higher in the sky. My stomach growls a little. I sigh, starting to shake my head again. 

“Please El,” he asks again, my real name not something I’m used to hearing from Boone.

“Goddamnit Boone,” I say. I wipe a hand over my forehead and lick my lower lip. “What’s wrong with the damn truck?” 

Boone’s face brightens immediately, a wide grin back on his face. He hoots in glee, rushing the few feet across the path to hug me tightly. “Thank you, thank you,” he kisses my cheek a few times, his scratchy mustache rubbing against my skin. I try to push him off with a small laugh, noticing Tyler turning to look at the commotion. 

“Boone, Boone,” I say, laughing a little more at his excitement. “Show me what’s wrong before I change my mind, you bastard.”

He backs away, arms raised in surrender as he leads me back over to the truck. “Alright so, Ms. Fix It has offered to take a look at the sucker to get Betty back into tip top condition,” Boone announces to the group. Back in front of them, the lighthearted feeling of the moment with Boone fades though I catch Lily winking at me as I round the truck to look it over.

I can see the mangled iron of the drill blades under flakes of dried mud and grass. “What did you do to my base drills?” My tone is sharp as I turn to look at Tyler. 

“That was actually me,” a small voice quips from my right. I turn, identifying it as Kate. Hand raised, sunglasses tucked on top of her shiny caramel hair and guilty expression. My brows pinch together. “I took the truck through an EF5, got dragged through the ground. We’ve been going into more storms and Tyler hit a rock,” she continues. 

I only look at her, nodding slowly. “They weren’t built to survive EF5s but I guess that’s one way to test them…is that it?” 

“The rocket rig button isn’t workin’,” Boone adds. “We really need somethin’ with some more power.”

“Boone,” Tyler says, shaking his head at the man. He turns to me. “I can fix that, if you can just help with the drills.” 

I scoff, walking toward the driver’s side to pull the door open and examine the console but Tyler beats me to the door, sidestepping in my path to prevent me from tugging the door open. “I said, I can fix it.” 

“You came all the way here for a mechanic, didn’t you? Let me inspect the work,” I say, tilting my head and narrowing my gaze at him. 

“She’s been running mostly fine, just needs the drills,” he says again, squaring his chest. He looks calm for the first time since stepping out of the truck.  

I poke a stern finger into the soft material of his flannel as I say “Do you want my help or not?” 

He doesn’t flinch, only staring down at my hand hovering near his chest again. He must notice the lack of wedding band and the dainty engagement ring adorning my ring finger because when he looks back up at me, there’s a far away look in his eye.

“Move so I can see what other damage you’ve caused,” I say. 

It’s a low blow. I know it. He knows it. But too much time has passed for me to be kind in my compromising. The hard, stubborn look in Tyler’s eyes fades and softens at my retort. He looks away with a shake of his head, stepping aside while tugging the door open at the same time. My arm brushes against his shoulder as I slide past him. I lift myself into the driver’s seat and glance down at the panel of buttons I’d cleverly designed years ago when he started going out more seriously into the field. 

Crumbs are scattered all in between all the buttons, sticky residue from duct tape collecting dust. “God, would it kill you to take care of this and clean it every now and then?” I ask, cautiously brushing some of it away. 

Tyler ignores me, watching as I look over everything. I glance forward to see if my team is still watching and inhale sharply. The visor is flipped down to block out the sunshine. Gone is the old, tattered photo of Tyler and I on our first date. In its place sits a fresh, glossy photo of who I can only assume to be Kate staring at a storm. It catches me by surprise and the burning embers in my chest return. I make a mental note to dig out those papers from my junk drawer in the kitchen.

I look over at Tyler and we stare at each other for a moment. He’s watching me apprehensively, searching my face for a reaction, maybe an outburst. “Are there flares or rockets in the fittings?” I mumble, turning back to the buttons without waiting for his response. 

I barely hear him call to everyone to back up and instead try to shake off my unease. I hit the bright red button to shoot off the rockets and wait for anything to happen. I push it a few times, clearing out some of the crumbs that I can feel grinding up on the sides but still get nothing. There’s a piece of tap beneath the hitch button, Kate’s Barrels scribbled in Sharpie. I purse my lips and grab the joystick, pushing the button to deploy the drills. They shutter a little, digging into the ground and rattling to a halt with one digging further down than the other. I push the button to retract them and sigh, starting to climb out of the truck. 

“Well?” Tyler’s voice is thick as he steps closer. 

“You’re fucked,” I say, not bothering to look at him and instead motioning for Charlie to open the gate. 

“Can you fix it?” the curly haired man next to Kate asks. 

I look in his direction, then Boone is smiling like an idiot. “Course I can. Boone, can you get the truck inside for me?” 

Boone moves to jump into the truck at my request but Tyler grabs him, tugging him out of the seat to climb in instead. He starts the engine and Boone races to catch up to me instead. He’s joined by the others, walking behind me to the warehouse. 

“TempestEdge,” the curly haired one reads our sign and we get to the bay door. 

“Carter, can you grab my tablet please,” I ask and he nods, running back to my desk. 

“Wait, you guys are those government contractors building and updating infrastructures to withstand storms,” he says, sounding in awe. “You guys are like, state of the art.” 

“We try,” Charlie crosses her arms, tight smile on her lips as she and Birdie watch Tyler drive into the warehouse. Charlie nods in my direction. “El’s the mastermind of the operation, I just crunch numbers.” 

“The team is the mastermind of the operation,” I say, rolling my eyes. I put my hand out to shake his and Kate’s reluctantly. “I don’t normally come off this harsh. I go by my maiden name, Eleanor Harding.” 

“Javi Rivera,” he says slowly, trailing off. 

“Kate Carter,” she introduces herself, shaking my hand. “Sorry for the awkward introduction.” 

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod, turning to walk further into the warehouse. Carter meets me halfway with the tablet, while the others head back to their desks. “Thank you,” I say, starting to swipe through our inventory for possible scraps and parts I can use to fix the truck. Carter stops me though, placing my phone on top of the screen. 

“Before you do that,” he says, his voice quiet with the surrounding guests. “I think you should call your mom.” “Carter, my mom can wait for a call back. She probably wants to hear about how the test went. You know how she gets on days like today,” I say, pocketing my phone and going back to the tablet. 

“Wait,” Javi exclaims. I turn around in surprise, noticing he’s looking at some of the photos on the siding of the warehouse. “That’s where I know that name from. Your parents created Dorothy, they’re legends.” He turns back to me, eyes wide. My phone starts to vibrate again in my pocket. 

I dig my phone back out from my pocket to see the 14th missed call from my mom. “They’re something alright,” I say. A text pops up then. I read it quickly, passing the tablet back into Carter’s chest. 

“I was trying to tell you,” Carter says, holding my bag and keys out  to me. “I’ll catch a ride home with Charlie.” 

I glance up at him, the pressure behind my eyes building again. Can anything go right today? “Thank you.” I turn to head out to the truck without another word. Heavy footsteps stomp behind me, chasing me out the door. It’s not even 10 AM yet as I unlock the truck. 

“El, Eleanor, where the hell are you going?” Tyler bellows as he catches up to me. 

“It’s gunna take a few days to get parts, alright? I’ll call Boone when the truck is ready,” I say, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and starting the engine. It takes a few turns before the engine roars to life. Tyler’s hand catches the door, preventing me from taking off. 

“Hey, talk to me,” he murmurs, leaning into the cab. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t pretend to care all of a sudden, Tyler. You’ve got what you came for, I’ll fix your damn truck so that you can go head first into the next monster of a storm with your girlfriend, alright? I need to go,” I say, my eyes glossy when I look away from his hand to his face. 

He steps closer, pushing with force through my tight grasp on the door. He’s silent as he reaches up to grab the seatbelt, stretching over my hips and torso. I squeeze my eyes shut, distraught as my hands only find comfort on the steering wheel. The click of the buckle is so loud in my ear and I have to remind myself to take slow breaths until Tyler is no longer invading my space.

“Leave the reckless driving to me,” is all he says before closing the door and stepping back. I do my best not to look in the rearview mirror and I peel off down the road to St. Mary’s Medical.

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[innocent-cat]

THIS IS #PART TWOO AND ITS SO LONG SO IM SORRY BUT I HOPE ALL 17 OF YOU LOVE IT SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG

Vax x Reader x Percy

Warnings - swearing, descriptions of blood and wounds, the works, etc

"Vox Machina's (least) favorite Sorcerer.", Vax x Reader x Percy

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

[F/N] - Family Name

Lady Mystra - Goddess of magic/The weave

The weave - How raw magic is tapped into by spellcasters

Uriel - The guy who runs Emon

Envonium - The name of the city you are a noble to (Sorry, couldn’t avoid it)

The walk to the small ‘town’ ahead was a quick one, and the smell of the burnt wood and cloth was strong. It contrasted the smell of the wet wood and the muddy ground. Percy splits off from you and joins Vex in an ‘investigation’ into what happened to the town.

A little awkward with everyone else, you follow Vax around like a lost dog, like you had done numerous times in school when you were a child. You don’t know what to think of the memories of following around whoever smiled at you, assuming they wanted to be friends, when, in reality, they only felt bad for your awkwardness. Which was rare, considering you didn’t understand any norms with them.

You shake the memory away as Pike is asked to bless a house for protection against whatever evil is against them. She awkwardly agrees, walking up and muttering something quickly under her breath. She backs away and quickly says that the house will be in ‘tip-top shape’, and the mother of the family Percy and Vex are currently questioning thanks her for her effort in a motherly kind of way, understanding her awkwardness despite not having any context. 

The son of the family walks up to Vax as he does an impressive trick with a coin. The small boy asks him if he’s a wizard, and you let out a snort by accident, quickly covering it up with a cough as Vax kicks you lightly in the shin, assuming you were laughing at the boy; you were laughing at him. You smile as he continues to do the trick, explaining it's all in the fingers. He pulls it out from behind the boy’s ear, handing him the coin after. He tells him that it is now in his, encouraging him to learn coin tricks. The boy awes, and his sister walks up to him to see what is going on.

A smile creeps onto your face as you watch the sweet gesture Vax makes towards the young boy, admiring his gentleness with children, which contradicts the bar fight you had met him through. It was a funny thought, in which you let out a small laugh too.

“That's real silver. Keep it safe. There's a monster roaming about.” He warns them, but the girl promptly corrects him.

“..You mean flying.” She comes closer.

“What's that?” He replies quickly, urging her to explain what she means.

“Something flew over us. It knocked down the big tree on the hill..” She points towards the tall hill. “We heard wings beating, but we couldn’t see it in the storm.”

Her brother chimes in; “It was big. Really big.” She agrees with a soft ‘Yeah.’

Vax looked over to the hill in which she pointed, and the party promptly went there.

It was a grueling uphill walk led by Trinket, as he sniffed out tracks of the monster we were searching for. What tracks Trinket did find, Vex explained, were too muddy to discern, so we continued south.

The tracks were hard to follow- even for Trinket. They were erratic and went in several directions until they finally stopped. When they did finally stop, they were human tracks. 

Vex cups her ear in discomfort, wincing before she warns us- “It’s close. Everyone get ready!”

You draw your quarterstaff out, as does Keyleth. Percy draws his gun, Vax readies his dagger, and Scanlan.. readies his.. guitar.. Grog pulls out his axe, and Pike summons a shield. The bush shuffles violently, and Vex rises to her feet and draws an arrow against her bow.

Anxiety kneads itself in your stomach as you prepare for the worst- until a lamb pops out of the bush. Grog laughs.

“Get the fuck out- you’re telling me a wittle lamb caused all this mayhem?” He giggles through his sentence, but the anxiety in your stomach only kneads stronger than before. Vex falls to her knees and grovels in pain as she covers her ears, groaning.

Loud footsteps boom in front of you, and out from the fog, a giant, scaly foot steps onto the miniature lamb, the lamb splattering all over the foot and the ground. Stepping forward, the sight of a massive blue dragon reveals itself to your party, and Scanlan nervously curses, but none of you run.

It breathes a massive hurl of lightning out of it’s mouth, and you quickly drag Vex to her feet and run with her out of the way of the bright beam. Keyleth, Trinket, Vex, and you all run behind a tree for cover, watching as Grog and Pike are flung into a tree from the force.

Scanlan is yanked behind a tree by Vax as the dragon cuts down the forest with it’s strong jaws. Bright electric blue runs up it’s tall neck as it breathes in, releasing a spew of pure lightning out of it’s mouth. The trees are lasered down, and the branches catch fire. Several birds are seen flying away from their now-destroyed homes. Crawling out of the burning forest, the party regroups hurriedly.

“I suggest we run. Right now!” Percy logically commands us, not suggests to us, only to be quickly told no by Grog.

“Fuck that. We fight!” He screams, charging in towards the dragon as everyone follows. You stay behind with Keyleth, frantically casting low-level spells that merely bounce off the dragon’s electric skin.

As quickly as Grog makes it to the dragon, he is flung away with only one leg before he is able to strike. Scanlan makes a complaint about Grog already being down, but you can’t hear it beyond the chaos and panic currently affecting the entire party.

Everyone seemingly unloads every useful item they can think of, several magic arrows flying toward the dragon, followed by many bullets, all of which bounced right off.

“Keyleth! A little magic might help?” Vex yells at Keyleth from on the floor after being blown away by another blast from the dragon. You glance between Keyleth and the dragon, giving her a quick nudge and a ‘We’re all gonna die’ look. Keyleth glances around nervously as Percy shouts as he fights beside Pike and Vax. Vex grabs Keyleth once she recognizes you are too busy casting a spell to snap Keyleth out of it. She quickly apologizes, and begins to cast.

Your last spell flies towards the dragon as Keyleth’s spell affects the clouds in the sky. The clouds swirl in a strange pattern that covers the moon as you all gather by Keyleth for what you hope is protection. A strike comes down from seemingly the moon and directly hits the dragon, but it only makes the dragon stronger.

“Did I just make it worse?” Keyleth shouts, panicked.

Pike jumps in front of the group and enlarges her shield. She lowers it when she realizes the dragon is aiming to cut down the mountain above you. Rocks collapse above you, piling onto the entire party painfully.

The dragon sniffs the boulders and rocks to see if everyone is dead, and sniffs closely to Grog’s bloody hand that sticks out of the pile, it flies away, seemingly deciding Grog’s hand was enough evidence of your death. It flew away with a strong push of it’s wings that shook the earth beneath you, and Scanlan began to complain about being stuck under Grog.

Everyone slowly climbs out, hurt from the battle, but unscathed from the vines Keyleth quickly commanded to protect the party. Once untangled from the rest of the party, Vax gives you a helping hand and pulls you off of Percy as you mutter an apology to him.

“At least we’re still alive. Thank the Everlight.”

“And thank Keyleth for the giant shrub.” Vax responded to Pike as he cleaned off his dirtied clothes. “But did you have to make it so thorny?” He pulls a thorn out of his side.

“We almost died.” Keyleth sputters out nervously and Pike returns to her side, holding her hands and reassuring her in some way.

As you talk to the rest of the party, Keyleth acknowledges Grog’s wounds.

“Nah just a flesh wound, no big. Question- is this normal?” Grog waves away Keyleth’s concerns but uncovers a very much rapidly gushing wound that nearly splashes onto Vax. Everyone takes a large step away from Grog as his wound spews blood. A wave of ‘Oh no-’ and ‘Holy shit.’s are followed.

“I’m gonna throw up.” Scanlan airly speaks, discomfort in his voice prominent.

Pike quickly heals him with a bright, beautiful light that emits from her hands. “That.. took a lot out of me.” She falls over, and Scanlan catches her.

“I got you.”

“Uh, thanks. You can.. put me down now.” Pike awkwardly asks Scanlan and he does, awkwardly agreeing.

“Alright. Fuck Uriel and fuck all of this.” Vax says, aggressively giving up.

“Must I remind you we gave our word to the council? That should probably mean something.” Percy angrily retorts.

“Oh who gives a soggy anus about the council? The only word I care about is Scanlan Shorthalt. And yes- I know thats two words but you know what I’m saying!” 

“Yeah! What have those fuckity fucks ever done for us? Except give us a job and a bunch of gold and treasure and stuff.” Grog argues but seems a little lost.

“It’s not about the dragon- or the council. It’s about the people. They need us. We can’t just run away.” Pike encourages the party.

“This is why I hate traveling with holy people; they're too goddamned good.” Percy complains half heartedly.

“That’s rude, Percy.” You give him a soft shove as you speak under your breath to him.

“Pike. This creature is beyond us. When Vax and I were young, one of those monsters killed my mother. I studied them my entire life to find who did it- I can feel when they're close. A horrid pain in my head.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll return to the palace and get out of the contract.”

“You don’t understand, Percy. I felt it there too. At the palace.”

“Y-you’re just telling us now?” Scanlan asks Vex angrily.

“I’m sorry.. I wasn’t certain until the dragon.. it's been years since mother..” Vex trails off, her sentence jumbled up in a confusing spew of reasons.

Vax comes closer to comfort Vex, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure, Vex’ahlia?”

“I am sure. Someone on the council must have been in contact with the dragon or.. I don’t know but I’m sure that it was real.”

“Then it’s not worth it, you’ve all heard her. One of those monsters could be working with the council. Lets just get the hell out of here and never step foot in Emon again.” Vax backs up Vex.

Vax walks away, and the entire party follows him back to the small town in the rain, only to find it charred and burnt down to a crisp. The wood supports of nearly every house had broken under the pressure as they burned, crackling in the rain.

Vax runs to the house of the family, and everyone follows him slowly, still slowly looking at the houses in shock.

“They wiped them out.. all of them..” Pike speaks softly and mournfully, as if she had known the people her entire life.

Vax runs through the curtained doors to find the family burnt and bloody. The mother held her daughter protectively in their last moments. A tapping can be heard from a wooden box, and Vax quickly runs to open it alongside Grog.

“Pike! Get over here!” Vax pulls out a bloodied boy- the son of the family that he had given the coin to. He groans weakly in pain, as Pike’s light flickers, her spell fading and failing to heal the boy.

“We could have stopped this. We should have.” Vax’s voice is emotional, unlike any way you’ve heard him speak before. Even when he was comforting Vex it wasn’t like this.

Scanlan tunes his guitar while leaning against the door frame.

“Scanlan- what the fuck are you doing?” You look at him angrily for disrupting what felt like a moment of mourning for the party.

“Thinking of a rhyme for ‘dead dragon’ ‘cause I guess we’re killing one.”

“I’m in. I mean, I’m terrified out of my mind, but I’m in.” Keyleth explains, as the rest of the party changes their mind and chimes in with several ways to say they’re going to kill the dragons alongside everyone else.

They all turn to you, waiting for your confirmation, which you had forgotten to say.

“Of course I’m in.” You come closer to the group as they all begin to surround one another.

“You all realize we’re going to die a truly gruesome death, right?” Vex scoffs at the party’s ambitions.

Before standing to join the group, Vax pockets the coin he gave the boy. “Perhaps, sister. But we will die truly glorious deaths- and we’ll kill a fucking dragon.”

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

“Seems your band of fools have gone missing. Safe to say you’ve sent Vox Machina to their doom?” The council’s adviser, a drow, was currently speaking about the concern of Vox Machina’s untimely deaths that were bound to happen.

“DOOM? We don’t know the meaning of the word.” Scanlan loudly spoke in what you thought was his attempt to sound fancy to mock the drow, and you cringed at his attempt.

“Uh. I certainly don’t.” Grog replied to Scanlan, being genuinely confused on what it meant.

“Sovereign! Hold onto your goddamned crown- We’ve discovered that the dragon is none other than a blue dragon!”

“We know.” They all spoke in unison, shooting down what Scanlan thought to be a revelation.

“Did you kill it?”

“I wouldn’t say kill really.” “We’re still kinda working on that part.” Pike and Keyleth awkwardly explain to the council

“I can’t believe you made it out alive! How did you survive?”

“Trade secrets! Can’t share ‘em.” Scanlan lied.

“We hid and it flew away.” You and Percy both retort to Scanlan’s lie very quickly.

“Wait, how did we survive that?” Grog had begun giggling, but paused to question your party’s survival.

Vex holds a hand over her ear as the drow continues to speak.

“Fools are useless, sire. Perhaps if we made an offering to the dragon, gold in exchange for peace?” The drow persuaded.

“Why don’t we shake it’s hand and offer it a fucking pint while we’re at it?”

“A Dragon cannot be bartered with- If it desires Emon’s destruction, it will not relent.” Vex and Vax both rebuttal the drow’s illogical thinking.

“You heard her, sire. You know what must be done.” 

“But what if it attacks the city? We’d be sitting ducks!” Kima argues.

“What would you have me do? Let it burn more farmland, slaughter more innocents?” The sovereign slams his fists on his chair, and stands.

“No. We will bring the fight to it- on our terms. General, you may move our soldiers at dawn.” He addresses General Krieg firmly.

“But sire, you know as-” “I have made my decision Lady Kima,” The sovereign cuts her off aggressively. “This council is adjourned.”

“All right, you heard him. Clear out.” A group of guards begin pushing your party out of the room and through the doors, the drow watching distastefully, not turning his body to fully view.

“Don’t kill it before we do! Y-your offer’s still on the table, right?” Scanlan shouts out, but his asks falls on empty ears as you shove the guards off yourself, and pat their imaginary ‘dirt’ off your clothes. Guards like them are nursed and spoiled- never going to the battlefield and only residing by rulers inside of their tall castles or mansions. You knew their type- rude and demeaning, generally abusive of what little power they had.

Cooing is heard just beyond the doors, and when it opens, it abruptly stops. Trinket looks between the two guards who now stand stiffly, confused.

“I felt it again. That same feeling I had around the dragon. There must be a connection,” Trinket leaves the guards and moves through the group, and pushes his head into Vex’s hand, begging to be pet and he does so. “One of them is working with that fucker.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. I knew it. I bet it’s Allura. I never trust anyone prettier than me.” Scanlan stands next to Grog proudly with his revelation, as Grog nods and pretends to understand.

“You must not trust a lot of people, Scanlan.” You snarkily reply to Scanlan with a short laugh before Vex and Percy cut into the conversation.

“No, you dipshits. Fince.” 

“The creepy one. Looked like a withered piece of scrap leather?”

You raise an eyebrow at Percy. “..Or maybe he's just a drow?” You speak, half offended for Fince, but half knowing the description was true.

“Ohh! I didn’t catch anybody’s name.” Grog laughs and nods.

“So, what do we do next?” Keyleth asks, unsure.

“Vax and [name] go to Gilmore’s, buy us a weapon that can kill a dragon.”

“Uh, with what? We’re flat fucking broke.” Vax asks Vex, his elbow resting on her shoulder.

“Please. With the way that man dotes on you, I’m sure you can work something out.” Vex mocks Vax for even asking as Pike silently giggles behind you.

The two of you group together and begin walking down the stairs.

“The rest of us will split up and search for Fince. If you find him, don’t let him out of your sight.” Vex orders the group.

“That sounds like a plan, but you’re not the only one with ideas, Vex.” Scanlan tilts his head.

“Is that so? Please, Scanlan tell me your’s.” She leans on Trinket and he silently growls at Scanlan.

Letting out a yelp, he walks away. “I’ll tell you.. When I have one.”

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

Vax points out Gilmore’s to you and drags you along. He pushes the draped cloth door out of the way for you, his arm slightly above your head to avoid messing with your hair by sweeping over you. You duck under his arms and enter the shop- met with distinct aromas, a warm and soft lighting of lanterns scattered about, and the sound of beads clinking together.

“You have entered a realm of mystery, of magic, of marvel. Welcome to Gilmore’s Glorious goods! Enchanted curials and magical artifacts at discounted prices. I take gold, silver, platinum,-” He gasps when he turns to meet Vax’s eyes. “Why if it isn’t the mysterious Vax’ildan?” He chuckles. “I was hoping you’d swing back through again” He feign kisses Vax on both sides of his face as Vax laughs, what you can only assume is a normal greeting between the two. You decide to let Vax do the talking and explore the shop yourself to find whatever items may be needed to make use of what little time you have.

You try to ignore their flirting, and for a while you succeed, until it becomes too much, and eventually clear your throat as Gilmore playfully pushes Vax. They both look at you.

“..HI.” You speak awkwardly, trying to make your presence known as you slowly flip through a book.

The shop looks unorganized to the untrained eye(your’s), but Vax seemed to have no problem navigating through the junk and magical items scattered about when walking towards Gilmore. Several books catch your eye as you stop to read them, recognizing their magical origin. Opening the book you cough and wave dust particles out of your face, now realizing this book hadn’t been touched since it was brought here. A shame, considering it’s fruitful information.

However, as you walk on, it becomes apparent not every book here is magical. A book left wide open by Gilmore is very clearly smut. You double take and look at it again in confusion as the two of them speak.

Gilmore offers a rather expensive lance that looks more for show than for dragon slaying, and Vax explains the party can’t afford it.

“Maybe a smaller price for a bit of advice?” Vax offers.

“Hopefully what you’re offering isn’t too tiny.”

You offer up two silver coins, being stingy on your money knowing Vax could charm his way into the tiny advice anyway.

“I… suppose size isn’t everything..?” Gilmore awkwardly speaks, staring at the tiny sum.

Vax leans in. “We need to know if blue dragons have any weaknesses.”

“Weaknesses, eh? Well- to start they’re ego maniacs. They hate being insulted and have tremendous vanity,” He chuckles. “Not that I can relate.” Vax and Gilmore both laugh with each other.

“Hi! Still here. Is there any way to stop them?” you ask, pushing Vax slightly out of the way to get Gilmore back on track.

“Honestly, there’s no simple way to kill a dragon. Even in tomes of old, legends of their destruction are largely poetic drivel.” He pulls out a book and blows the dust off of it, the particles waving in your face as you cough and wave it away. “Ah- The Wyrm shall only find defeat in the gorge where the twin rivers meet. See? Cute but..”

“Useless.” Vax cuts in.

“Gods, did a dragon write this?” You trace the words of the pages with your finger complaining, trying to make sense of the old pages, but nothing comes to you.

“While dragon anatomy is a topic for many scholar, anyone close enough to find out seems to get themselves… snapped up.” A purple magic hue brushes into Vax’s face and he grunts in response.

“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful, but you get what you pay for.” He plays with a silver coin in between his fingers.

“Gilmore, this is all very useful, even the bullshit. If we survive this, I owe you dinner.” Vax’s voice is low.

You raise an eyebrow to this speech, now very doubtful and confused of their relationship. Were they a fling? Are They a fling? Your thinking is cut short when Gilmore cuts back in.

“You owe me more than that, my handsome half-elf.”

Definitely were a thing.

“All right you two, foreplay’s over, let's go. We should probably go find our friends.” You walk out and Vax follows, leaving to find where everyone has gone. The interaction had turned your mood sour, just about done with talking to anyone for the day.

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

Grog eats a sandwich as the rest of the party attempts to unlock the door that the drow, Fince, was seen walking into.

“..Sturdy lock. Nothing a magical song can’t handle.” Scanlan sings an obviously dirty song in an attempt to unlock the door. It fails. “Damn, that usually works.” He looks to you. 

“What? Why are you looking at me?” You raise an eyebrow in confusion as he motions for you to take a try at the door.

“I’m not yet powerful enough to cast knock- you should know that. Try someone else.” You deny helping and cross your arms, watching as Keyleth takes a turn at it.

“What if I heat the metal and melt the lock?” She heats the metal, but only lights Scanlan on fire.

“What the hell, Keyleth? This is imported silk!” Scanlan complains as he pats out the smokey fire on his shoulder. 

“The lock doesn’t seem to be magical.. I’m not sensing anything.” Pike strains as she casts detect magic.

“Can you people do nothing right? It’s just a damn door!” Vex complains

“I’d like to see you try.” You quickly snap back at her expectantly, mostly defending the others, but deep down you know you’re trying to defend yourself too.

Vax takes the toothpick out of Grog’s sandwich and quickly picks the lock.

“All it takes is a little finesse. Amateurs.” You roll your eyes as Vax opens the door, and tosses the toothpick to the floor.

You turn when you hear Grog complain.

“That was my toothpick.” A squelch follows as about three-fourths of his sandwich falls out. You feel a little sorry, but there isn’t much to be said.

“This must be Governor Krieg’s place..” You speak, eyeing the rather large portrait of the man.

“Oh, shit. I bet Fince is here to assassinate his ass.” Scanlan quickly replies, looking around.

“Oh, you think? Lets split up. Keyleth and Percy will search up stairs, Scanlan and Pike take the attic. The rest of us-”

Vex is interrupted by a creak.

“Or.. maybe we could all start here.” Vax motions towards the wooden latch on the floor, and the party promptly crawls in.

The party is met with Fince with his back turned, scavenging through the library held in the hidden basement. It was dark, and admittedly a little damp. Fince likely didn’t mind, though. 120 feet of darkvision must be rather useful. Thank living in the underdark for that.

“Aha! We caught you blue handed chicken humper!” Scanlan yells out and you kick him in his shin slightly, an annoyed face he likely could not read in the dim light.

“What is with you lot and prejudice against drow, gods above! Manners!” You complain, not breaking your focus on the spell you’ve prepared, still aiming it at Fince.

“Drop your blade, Fince!” You yell at him after scolding Scanlan.

“What? No! No, You don’t understand! I’m not stealing anything.” Fince defends himself quickly, his words spilling out of his mouth, the same way a river is occasionally stopped by rocks in it’s flowing path.

“Of course you’re not! Just like how that sword isn’t to murder General Krieg with, either right?” Pike shouts back, adding her few cents into the mix.

Grog squats down to whisper.

“Pike.. I think it is.”

“You must listen to me. These documents are evidence. General Krieg is planning-” Fince’s voice is panicked, but his voice is quickly cut short as blood suddenly gurgles in his throat and a sword slices from his abdomen to his chest. He falls, and the blade falls out of his body, a shadow stepping forward.

General Krieg.

“Krieg!” Vex and Vax both shout out, in shock.

“Nice bloody technique,” Vax praises, showing he obviously ignored what the drow had to say. “How do you stay so quiet in that armor?”

Vex gasps in pain and falls backwards, Vax catching her.

“He’s the one! In league with the..”

“Of course it was me. I championed you because you’re a bunch of witless oafs who no one gives two shites about. You’ve been lucky so far, but you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.” Krieg’s thick irish accent spills out as he mocks your party, and you can’t help but have an angry face- not on account he called your party witless and unnamed, but on account he called you witless and unnamed.

“I’ve got him.” Vax quickly lunges forward, throwing knives at him. Krieg deflects them and runs back into the hall.

“Finesse, huh?” You question Vax mockingly before chasing after Krieg.

“He’s.. gone.” Scanlan speaks, shocked.

“Quite the keen observation, Scanlan.” Percy mocks Scanlan. You let out a small laugh to Percy’s quick response.

“There must be a hidden exit or trap door. Fan out. Look for some kind of Fulcrum.”

“Wait- a fuck room?” Grog asks, confused.

“I mean, that’s what I heard.” Vax plays along.

“Fulcrum- the pivot around which a lever turns. A lever or a button.” You correct and explain to them snappily, not meaning to do so in such a manner.

“Just.. stand over there, Grog. And don’t touch anything!” Percy instructs Grog to move towards the nearly nude portrait.

You listen to Percy’s instructions but seem to stick to him as he searches, not knowing who else to be beside. It’s not like you wanted to walk around aimlessly by yourself- you’d rather look lost than look awkward. Just Percy’s presence is enough to feel normal and at home again.

“Whoaa.. You guys, everything in this room is magical. Where do we even start?” Pike exclaims.

“This guy really has a thing for dragons..” Keyleth comments, awkwardly looking around. She peers down at the dragon spiral- five dragon heads on a carpet. Well- not heads? Dragon necks and heads? Whatever.

“Grog.. it’s rude to stare” Keyleth corrects Grog, disregarding the fact it’s a painting he’s goggling at. “Grog, you’re being gross!” Keyleth tosses a book at Grog and hits his head, the book bouncing off and going straight through the portrait.

“Oh! Keyleth you found it! It’s a portal!” Pike’s excitement is evident as she points at the portrait/portal happily, practically bouncing.

“Nice work,” Vax praises Keyleth with a shocked breath. “Brilliant really.”

Keyleth blushes in response, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Oh.. It was nothing.”

“She threw a book at a head, it was nothing.” Vex cuts into the conversation aggressively correcting the two of them. Thanks Vex. Does Vax just flirt like that with anyone??

You question yourself, but listen to Vex’s speech.

“Listen- if we’re gonna fight Krieg, we have to do this as a team, all right? Organized. As one.”

“Please, we… we don’t do organized. Look at us! We’re Vox Machina We fuck shit up.”

You butt into the conversation. “You don’t get it. We’re potentially fighting a General and a blue fucking dragon. If you want to die, have at it, but don’t expect me to go down with you.” You stand beside Vex, who stands in the middle of you and Vax as you look at the rest of the party ready to jump through the painting.

Vex nods her head in agreement and quietly thanks you under her breath for backing her up. “Can we at least try?”

“Can we atleast go already?” Vax complains, walking toward the portal with disregard for what Vex and you were practically begging the party to listen to.

You two follow suit as Vax pushes Grog through the portal. Vex lets out an annoyed groan and walks through the portal with the rest of the party.

“You know what guys? Goodluck. I’m just gonna keep a lookout from here.” You hear Scanlan’s voice timidly speak through the portal, and you quickly yank him through.

Keyleth shivers. “It’s so cold.. Where is this place?”

“High in the mountains, I’d say.” Vex responds, shivering too.

“Wherever we are.. we’re far from Emon.” Vax comments as you walk through the cold, blue cave, overlooking the shiny gold scattered throughout that gives a small gleam from the small amount of sun peaking through.

The gold glitters gorgeously as the sun hits it just right, and Scanlan lets out a pleased gasp. “No way.”

“Gold.” Vex breathes out in shock, taking in the mass amount of gold.

Grog, Pike, Scanlan, and Vex all run ahead to grab it.

“Seems excessive for a council member.” Percy remarks.

“Seems excessive for anyone.” Vax replies, and follows the rest of the party as they run for the gold like eager children.

You stand by Percy anxiously as the rest of the party shovels gold into bags, daydreaming of the alcohol they can buy with all the gold they’ve ‘found’. 

“This is weird. Why are we so eager to take the gold? Aren’t we still trying to kill the General?” You question quietly to Percy as he hums, about to speak but stops when Vex realizes too.

“Wait! Wait wait wait- this gold didn’t fall out of the fucking sky. This is a horde! We’re in the dragon’s lair!” The party promptly drops their gold in shock as Vex yells.

You turn quickly when you hear Keyleth gasp suddenly.

“Intruders.” A loud, dark, ominous voice echoes through the cave. The rock Keyleth was looking at crumbles apart in seconds

“I didn’t do that! Did I do that? I don’t think I did that.” Keyleth questions herself, but the attention quickly turns to Vex as she folds over with hands over her ears, groaning in pain.

“I must say, I’m impressed. To tell you the truth I was certain you would die the moment you met the mighty Brimscythe- But it seems some vermin are harder to kill than others.” A recognizable irish accent shouts from above at your party with disdain.

“You-you wanted Uriel to send the entire army out of Emon.. So your dragon friend could wipe them out!” Vex shouts angrily up at Krieg.

“The Age of Man is coming to an end. There was a time when dragons ruled all of Tal’dorei! When we ruled the entire world.” 

“Did he just say we?” Percy asks, reiterating what he heard to the party.

“I’m pretty sure he just fucking did.” You quickly reply to Percy, but in an instant, Krieg shapeshifts into a mighty blue dragon.

“Didn’t see this one coming, did you Vex?” Scanlan shouts at Vex.

“I fucking told you! What are we standing for? Run!” You counter Scanlan, recounting your argument for going in unplanned before. Krieg flies to the top of the cave, hanging onto spikes, and blows lightning at the party. The party quickly scatters about, and Vax takes your hand as you retreat for cover, dragging you along to safety.

The two of you watch from behind a rock as Grog is shocked, and falls to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Percy shouts.

“Uhmm.. no.” Grog replies with a groan.

Krieg blows lightning again, scattering the party more than they already were. Rocks topple on Vax, which you disintegrate with a quick chromatic orb. You hear the sharp whistle of an arrow flying towards Krieg- to which it quickly stops.

“A tickle,” He laughs out. “Let me return the favor.” 

“..Shit.” Vex curses as Percy jumps out and quickly drags her away from the oncoming danger as the dragon blows another powerful burst of electricity onto the battlefield. He chases them down, Krieg’s tail smacking into Pike and knocking her into a rock, the air effectively knocked out of her lungs.

“Fools! I’ll devour you all!” Krieg roars out in anger.

Scanlan runs from yet another beam of energy that follows him closely, shouting for help from Pike. She jumps in front of him with her shield, blocking the energy effectively for mere moments before they’re blown away into more rubble.

Krieg flies up and looks for targets, and he quickly aims for Keyleth as she emerges from her vined dome. She lets out a swear and jumps out of the way.

Percy begins shooting the dragon and missing as it flies around. “Vax! Did Gilmore give you any insight on how to kill this thing or did you two flirt the whole time?” Percy shouts angrily across the battlefield, a hail mary in hopes Vax could hear him among the commotion. Truly brave to say such a thing in the near death situation at hand.

“Shit. Right, right. Uh- Dragons are vain, arrogant and hate being insulted!” Vax shouts out in a panic.

“No you fucking idiot! To kill them! The river thing!” You shout back, shaking his shoulders slightly, as if trying to shake the answer out of him like a gumball out of a gumball machine.

Krieg dives in between us, quickly splitting the two of you apart as we jump away from one another to avoid being hit. Grog lets out a scream as he jumps up and slashes in an attempt to hit Krieg, but misses.

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t do shit if it’s in the air!” Pike shouts out.

“Wheres the twin rivers meet.. The neck! You see that? We have to get it on the ground! Vex, do you hear me?” Vax shouts out to his sister.

“Yes! This way. I’ve got a plan.” The party follows Vex and Vax, frantically jumping over rocks to listen to her plan.

“Aw, another one?” Scanlan complains.

“Shut up!” Vex shouts angrily at him.

The dragon breathes out more lightning, and Vex tells the party her plan as they run away from it.

“Look, okay, for once, you were right. Maybe we don’t fight as one. Maybe we do what we do best.”

“What? We have no best!” Keyleth shouts in shock.

Krieg cackles and the party hides behind the temporary safety of a rock.

“So, what do you want us to do? Run out and yell ‘Hey, dragon man, we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing’?”

Vex nods.

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” You groan out distastefully for the plan, realizing what it was.

The party positions themselves around the cave, you hiding behind a rock, focusing on an illusion spell.

“Ha! You think you can hide in my lair?” Krieg laughs out, his steps pounding on the floor as he walks closer to your illusion.

The fog clears atop the rock and reveals Vox Machina- minus you.

The illusion of Grog pushes past Percy. “Hey, taint smear!”

“You’re in my way again, you ape!” The illusion of Percy spits out at Grog.

You imitate Vox Machina’s banter atop the rock, bluffing as the illusioned party breaks into shambles as they argue. You giggle to yourself as you imitate Percy, your giggles heard through the voices of the illusions, very quickly.

“If the two of you would shut up already and let me kill this inflated windbag!” Your illusion of Vex spits out, aiming her bow at Krieg.

“Kill me? I am the iron storm. You are nothing but insects!” He growls, and lets out another massive and powerful ray of thunder through his mouth, directly hitting your illusions, and they remain standing- but are shrouded in the smoke of the blast. You hold your head in pain, but stay silent to avoid revealing the illusions.

He laughs out. “Pathetic.”

As the mist finally clears, the illusions reveal themselves unharmed.

“What? Impossible!” Krieg shouts in anger as a purple mist surrounds the illusions, finally dissipating them.

Scanlan clears his throat. “Gotcha.”

“Now!” Vex shouts desperately as the party begins running out- Keyleth holding down Krieg with vines, Percy shooting down the cave’s ceiling spikes which fall into Krieg’s wings, Vax runs through the rubble as rocks follow around him, and Scanlan’s magic hand punches one that would have fell and crushed him. He quickly picks him up and throws him at the dragon.

“Scanlan’s hand!”

Vax jumps onto the dragon and runs his dagger down it’s neck and all the way to it’s throat, slicing it in one swipe. It splashes and sputters blood out, letting out a groan of pain.

Pike casts guidance on Vex, “Light him up Vex!” She shouts, as Vex promptly shoots several arrows at the now exposed throat.

Krieg falls to the ground in a fit of pain. “I will sunder your bones!”

“Look who’s nice and low?” Vex tells Grog, to which he sneers and runs towards Krieg.

“I would like to rage!” Grog shouts, now entering a state of absolute enraged blindness, moves closer and closer to Krieg.

Grog slams Krieg’s head into the cave floor and a large shock of electricity runs through the cave- in the death of the dragon.

The party looks towards Grog- who stands in front of Krieg’s sliced in half dragon head.

Grog groans with one eye closed, which probably got blood in it. “Uh. Is he dead?”

Keyleth laughs in relief. “We did that! We did that right?”

“It seems being a bunch of assholes has it’s merits.” Percy replies, just as relieved as Keyleth.

Still leaning against the rock you summoned the illusions on, you don’t notice when Vax sticks out a hand for you, as your eyes were closed and you were resting your head in pain.

“Come on. We did it, mostly thanks to you.” Vax speaks wholeheartedly to you, and you grab his hand with a weak smile, stumbling as you stand. He lets out a worried ‘oh’ and puts his hand around your waist as you put your arm around his shoulder- the same way Percy had caught you at your first encounter with Krieg. The two of you stumble back towards the party.

Grog pulls out the dragon’s tooth.

“Souvenir?” Scanlan asks.

Grog laughs. “Proof we killed the scaley turd.”

“Huh. You know, you’re a lot smarter than we give you credit for Grog.”

“Yep. I’m a genius.”

The cave suddenly starts falling apart from around you, obviously shaken from the battle fought. A portal opens, and Vax quickly changes the way he holds you- sweeping you off your feet and running with you, an arm under your leg and an arm supporting your back as your arms wrap around his neck tightly.

“Exit strategy?” Pike shouts.

“Run!” Vex responds.

“Wait! The loot!” Scanlan runs, carrying several spell scrolls and piles of gold. He trips, and Keyleth quickly grabs him with her vines, throwing him through the portal.

Vax quickly flicks a coin into the cave. “We got him, kid.”

“Vax! Please, lets go!” You pull on him, trying to persuade him through the portal, sorry for interrupting the sweet gesture, but not keen on losing your life over a coin.

Walking through the portal, the party arrives back at the portrait. 

“Vax. You can put me down now.” You tell him, his grip on you still tight.

“Oh- Right. Sorry.” He responds awkwardly, realizing what he was doing as he delicately sets you down.

“You know it was just my head that hurt right? You didn’t need to pick me up- I’m sure I could have stumbled over.” You question him.

His face is powdered with only a faint blush. “Well.. there was no need to run that risk.”

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

“Vox Machina,” Uriel’s voice booms through the room. “For your selfless heroism, I proclaim you all protectors of the realm.. And honorary members of the council of Tal’Dorei.”

The entire party widens their eyes in shock, but you smile. You could only hope this tale would be heard back to Envonium, and your parents would be proud of your journey thus far.. Of course, you would have to hope that you were considered part of Vox Machina first, but that will come with time.

“I know. I can hardly believe it myself.” The council laughs among themselves.

“Oh how I’ve missed respectability.” Percy sighs out.

“Oh how I’ve missed it!” You respond giddily, shaking him in the same way you did Vax, but this time with a huge smile on your face. It was nice to have something in common with someone in the party- and always nicer for it to be a childhood friend. You go from shaking him to a tight hug with a small squeal of excitement. You let go quickly once Vex starts talking, still smiling.

“Yes, yes, yes, that's all fine and good but where is the-” Vex is interrupted as they place the thick, heavy, golden box in front of the party. “Ah. There we are.”

She opens it happily as Scanlan chuckles. “Payday.”

Their smiles disappear when they’re met with parchment and keys. “Keys? Parchment?” Scanlan questions. “Where's our reward?”

“You’re holding it,” Uriel responds. “They deed to your new keep- here in Emon. We need our protectors close at hand to, you know, protect.”

“Uh-huh. Uh, hypothetical question- if we sold it, how much do you think that.. Okay.” Scanlan stops talking when he’s met with the disgruntled faces of the council.

Vex takes the paper from Scanlan.

“Sister.. We have a home.” Vax says somberly.

“Wait till I tell my father! Oh, the Ashari will never believe this. I bet.. I’m ruining a moment right now aren’t I. Yep. I’m just gonna go over.. here.” Keyleth awkwardly walks away from Vax and Vex, and walks to you, where the two of you are practically(and literally) jumping for joy over your accomplishments, and how your people would react.

“As protectors, you must understand that the threat is far from over.” Uriel begins again. “We suspect Krieg may have been part of a larger plot. As such, I have arranged an important banquet to discuss the security of our realm. It’ll be quite delightful, really. We have a wonderful cook.”

“We trust you will all attend. In fact, several dignitaries should be on their way as we speak.” The blonde human council member beside Uriel explains.

I turn to Percy happily. “Do you think Envonium got invited? Ugh, it’s been forever since I’ve seen my auntie, father, and mother!” You list your family members happily, holding Percy’s hands in your hands thinking about it happily. He seemed to be uneasy from the conversation, so you quickly dropped it with a smile, and followed your party back to the dusty keep.

[haleswallows]

I’ve Been the Forest and the Fire (and the Witness Watching It) DC x DP Dead on Main (Jason Todd/Danny Fenton) Teen Soulmates AU

Chapter 2!

Teaser:

"This is bullshit."

His soulmate turns around at the sound of his voice. Freezes. He looks tired and scrungly and of course. Because the universe hates Jason, so of course the asshole is also in the class he's taking for his Maths Gen-Ed credit.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jason stands over him. "Aren't you supposed to be really good at math, or something? Why are you in an intro level class?"

His eyes are huge. "I don't test well and did bad on the placement exam."

"Great," Jason seethes. A twisting in his gut makes him feel like he's about to throw up. The soul bond demands proximity with his 'other half'. Chronically contrarian, Jason fights the instinct and the rising nausea before giving in. He slides into the desk next to his soulmate. The discomfort immediately eases. "Fucking fantastic."

There's attempts at a conversation. Jason ignores it in favor of getting himself settled. Pulls a copy of the list of accommodations he'll need that the Student Affairs Office helped him put together. Subtly scopes the room - for exits, and the best desk for when he brings Ace.

Ignores the put-out expression, the longing looks coming from his right.

Thankfully, the professor focuses on reviewing the syllabus only. And assigns a set of problems. What sort of jerk assigns homework on the first day?

Students scramble for the exit as soon as the dismissal comes. Asshole looks like he has something to say, but Jason just… he can't. Refuses. Before he gets subjected to what the fuck ever the asshole thinks he needs to say, Jason snags the professor.

He's vaguely aware of his soulmate lingering, and then eventually leaving. His gut clenches and his hands shake.

•○●○•

Jason stops in his tracks. The asshole looks at him. Jason glares back.

He's in Jason's literature course too.

"Whoa, 'scuse me," another student mumbles, side-stepping around Jason and his cane where he's standing stock-still in the doorway. Fuck.

OK. Fine. He has two classes with the piece of shit. Jason's dealt with worse.

He doesn't sit next to him, finding a seat in the second row and near the door. It's strategic. Less walking, a better view of the board. There'll be more room in the aisle for Ace when he starts bringing him. Jason stakes his claim - this'll be his desk for the semester.

The asshole can sit in the back like a delinquent. Jason doesn't care. He can't see him from here anyway.

The professor - mid-30s, bearded, Southern accent - makes them do an ice-breaker game. Jason wants to die.

Professor 'Just call me Justin' holds up a bag of Jolly Ranchers, directs them to take one and pass the bag down the line. Jason fiddles with the wrapper of his 'cherry' (it doesn't taste like cherry, he can't be convinced otherwise) while the bag makes its journey, and Justin makes an odd list on the board.

Grape for a favorite poem, Blue Raspberry for a pet's name, Lime for best vacation, Watermelon for 'what you wanted to be when you grew up', and Cherry for favorite food.

"Alright, everyone got a candy?" Justin claps the chalk dust from his hands. "Great, I'll start. I'm Justin," the class titters. Yes, they know. "Lime! So, I taught English in Japan for four years. My favorite vacation was to some traditional hot springs in Osaka. Next…. you!"

The random student pointed to blushes. "Oh! Uh, Karmine. Blue, my family's dog is named Cesar."

"Hi, Karmine! Pick your victim."

She shrinks a little, points randomly. It goes on like that - name, flavor, stupid random fact. It's dumb. There's cringing and some laughs at the stupid pet names. Then someone - Samir, Jason now knows - points to him.

As if he isn't a local celebrity that's had his photo in every newspaper multiple times since he was 12. And that tabloids theorize about his relationship with Bruce, or why Bruce is 'ashamed of him' as a cripple.

"Jason, chili dogs from Dave's stand." In between the pitying looks, a few nod knowingly. Locals, then. He ignores the smattering of whispers, no doubt picking up on theory crafting about him where Vicki Vale left off.

He taps the desk of the guy next to him. And away it goes, another name, flavor, and answer.

Jason's tapped out, vaguely listening but mostly only keeping track of who hasn't gone. It's background noise, all he wants is to talk to the professor and go the fuck home. When —.

"Danny. Uh, watermelon. I wanted to be an astronaut." The asshole smiles shyly, then ducks his head and rubs the back of his head.

Gross. Jason knows his name now. He frowns and the asshole — Danny — sees it, the smile dropping off his face.

Gross. He turns forward, Danny pointing to one of the few remaining people. It's hard to breathe and the wrapper of the Jolly Rancher is sticky when he unwraps it. Pops it in it his mouth.

Gross. Fake cherry.