#should i tag any warnings for spooks

[plumadot]

the ocean's embrace

or: a goddess finds a cool bug

[hippiegoth97]

Love Bites: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by Me :)

Master List

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Description: You and Eddie are cuddling in bed, when you get the sudden urge to bite him. He's surprised, at first. But it turns out, he likes it...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Smut, female reader, biting, grinding, unprotected sex, jealousy, light crying

Word Count: 2.1k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Love Bites

You're laying in bed, cuddling with your beautiful boyfriend Eddie. He's got his arms around you, and your head rests on his bare chest. You hear his heart beating steadily, counting the beats in your head. You stroke his chest lightly, making him sigh. He's dressed only in pajama bottoms, while you're in a tank top and shorts. You both have the day off from work, and want to stay in bed as long as possible. You've got the TV turned on to reruns of cartoons, you both love them even if others find it childish. They're comforting to you both, as you've been through a lot until you met each other.

Eddie kisses the top of your head and plays with your hair. This moment is pure bliss for you, just being here with the man you love. And he loves you just as much. There are times where you find yourself feeling jealous, though. Eddie plays a lot of shows with his band, and all the girls that come to watch always drool over him. He never entertains their interest, but the thought of any woman going after what's yours makes your blood boil. You can't help it, you care about Eddie so much. He's your endgame, nobody else compares. This primal feeling of possessiveness overtakes you, you want to claim Eddie as yours. You lift your head slightly, and bite down into Eddie's chest.

"Ouch! What the fuck!?" He pushes you off of him for a moment, taken aback by what you just did. Your cheeks go bright red and you're embarrassed for acting so stupid. He cocks an eyebrow at you, concerned about where that came from. "What was that for, Y/N?" He questions.

"I-" You try to find the words, but it takes a bit longer than you'd like. "I just...couldn't help thinking about all those girls that lust over you at your shows. I know it's stupid, but you're mine. I don't like when people look at you that way, only I should be doing that." You look down at your hands, you're sure he'll think you're being ridiculous. He lifts your chin with his finger, making you meet his gaze again. He smiles kindly at you.

"Sweetheart, it's not stupid. But there's no reason to be jealous. I don't even think about those girls. If anything, I lead them in the direction of my bandmates, they can use all the help they can get." He laughs lightly. You giggle too. "I promise you have nothing to worry about." He grabs your hand to hold in his, he squeezes it lovingly. "On another note," he smirks. "I gotta say it's pretty hot that you're so concerned. It shows me that you really care. And that bite spooked me at first, but it also got me a little hard, love." Your eyes widen, of course he'd find you biting him to be sexy. Eddie thinks everything you do is sexy. "Come here, darling." He motions for you to straddle him as he sits up against the headboard. You do as he asks, positioning your core over his hardening cock. You feel yourself beginning to get wet just from feeling him between your thin layers of clothing. You moan quietly, and Eddie takes that as a sign to begin assaulting your neck.

"Eddie." You whimper. Your hands go into his hair, tugging roughly. He groans in response, and begins biting your neck. You start grinding your hips against him, your pussy getting wetter with each motion. Small moans and grunts fill the room, and Eddie leaves a treasure trove of hickies all over you. His mouth detaches from your neck so he can inspect his handiwork, nodding his head when he's satisfied.

"Fuckin' beautiful." He almost whispers, looking into your eyes again. His own blaze with lust, wide and wild. He grabs your face, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You return the kiss with equal desperation, and he bites your bottom lip. You gasp, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. You don't even bother fighting Eddie's tongue with your own, he always wins that battle. You just let him take you over, his hands drop to your hips as you continue kissing. He grips you roughly, digging his ringed fingers into your sides. You're bound to have bruises, but you couldn't care less. In fact, you look forward to seeing them in the mirror later, remembering how Eddie gave them to you.

You break the kiss, taking your turn and attacking Eddie's neck this time. "Mine." You lightly growl before you lick a stripe from his collarbone to his jaw. Eddie moans, gripping your hips harder, bucking up into you out of instinct. "Who do you belong to, baby?" You whisper in his ear.

"You, sweetheart." He moans in reply, finding your question unbelievably hot. 

“That’s right, Eds.” You begin sloppily kissing his neck, occasionally biting down to get more delicious noises out of him. You keep grinding against him, working both of you up as you continue to mark him. After a while, you decide Eddie's got enough hickies now, and you bring your face in front of his again. You lean forward, kissing him softly. His hands move off of your hips, groping your breasts through your shirt. You gasp at the contact, breaking away from his lips. Eddie helps you lift your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere across the room. As soon as your tits are bare to him, his mouth takes your right nipple into it. He begins swirling over the sensitive bud with his tongue, and eventually bites down on it.

"Fuck." You whine, fueling his fire. His right hand grabs your other tit, massaging it roughly. You throw your head back, still making friction between you with your hips. You're soaking now, your arousal seeping through your thin shorts. It leaves a small mark on his pajamas. If you keep up like this, you won't last long. Eddie senses that you're coming very close to losing it on him already, and he can't help but love the idea of making you cum when he's barely touched you.

"You gettin’ close already, Y/N? You wanna cum like this?" He asks, stopping his work on your chest. You're still moving on him, and you take a moment to look in his eyes.

"Yes, please. I'm so close, Eddie. Make me cum." You're so fucked for him, waves of pleasure crashing over you, building up into a tropical storm. Every move feels simultaneously like too much and not enough. He smirks at you, and returns to your chest. He makes sure to occasionally buck up into you, bringing you closer to the edge. You're starting to see stars, desperately moving yourself on his lap. Eddie starts biting all over your chest, your tits, your shoulders. And each time he makes contact with his teeth, the waves crash harder and harder. You can't stop moaning his name, and cursing loudly. Sweat coats your skin, making you slippery against him. Eddie grips you tightly to keep you from falling, helping your hips work against his. Whenever he catches your eye, you see that he's fervently waiting for you to cum, watching your every move. Every moan, gasp, and curse drives him wild. He wants to fuck you so badly, but he wants to make you come undone even more.

"You can do it, love. Let it all go for me." He says softly. You feel the hurricane finally wash over you, causing you to scream. Eddie holds you against his chest as your orgasm rocks through you. Your legs shake, hips jolting out of your control. Your shorts are soaked through now, leaving a larger spot on Eddie's pajamas. He continues to hold you, stroking your damp hair as your breathing slowly returns to normal. Your legs still twitch like you've had an electric shock, your cunt pulsating with it. "You were such a good girl for me, Y/N." He kisses your head again. "Do you want more, darling? Or have you had enough?" He asks. You sit up again, meeting his eyes. His own widen slightly when he sees the burning desire in yours.

"I want you, Eddie. Please, fuck me, I need you."

"Anything for you, princess. Take your shorts off for me." You stand up off the bed to rid yourself of your shorts. Eddie smiles wide when he notices you have nothing underneath them. He kicks off his own pants, also wearing nothing under them. You both take a moment to look each other over, drinking in how gorgeous the other one looks. Eddie breaks his stare, motioning for you again. "C’mere and ride me, sweetheart." You climb back onto the bed, placing your knees on either side of Eddie's hips. You take his length in your hand, pumping it slowly. He groans, placing his hands on your waist. You tease yourself by dragging the head of his dick between your folds, both of you moan simultaneously. But Eddie is too wired from all the grinding to put up with not being in you any longer. "Fuck. Stop teasing me, Y/N." He begs through gritted teeth. You happily oblige his request, sinking yourself down onto him.

"Jesus, fuck." The feeling of him filling you up takes your breath away. You throw your head back, taking a moment to adjust to his size. Eddie's hands caress your waist, patiently awaiting your next move. You lift yourself up, and sink back down again. You gasp when his dick hits your g spot perfectly. You begin to bounce up and down on him, hitting your spot every single time. The sound of slapping skin drowns out the TV. Eddie's nails dig into your sides, feeling your velvet walls clench on his cock.

"You're so fuckin’ tight, Y/N. And so wet for me." His mouth latches onto your neck again, overwhelming you with sensation. "And you're all mine." He bites down hard on your skin, making you cry out.

"All yours, Eddie. Only yours." You try your best to keep up your pace, with Eddie assisting you by thrusting upwards. Your breath hitches every time he does. Your arms are wrapped around him, scratching deep red marks down his back. He groans, releasing your neck from his teeth. "God, I fucking love you Eddie." You feel the waves washing over you again, engulfing your body over and over. You're getting close to losing control, and you can tell Eddie isn't far behind you. Your cunt starts to flutter around his dick.

"I love you too, Y/N. Keep going, I can tell you're close. I'm right there with you, babe." One of his hands reaches between your legs to rub your clit in rapid circles. You moan loudly, his touch setting you on fire. You're both sticky with sweat, whimpering and panting like wild animals. You'll never get tired of being with Eddie, especially like this. He stops rubbing your clit, and grabs your hips again. He starts hammering up into you, driving you over the edge.

"Oh, God. Eddie, I'm gonna-" You're cut off as your orgasm crashes into you, knocking the breath from your lungs. The stars swirl in your vision again, and juices leak out of your pussy and onto Eddie's lap. You're holding onto him tightly as your legs shake uncontrollably. He keeps thrusting, chasing his own high as your walls clamp onto him hungrily.

"Shit. Fuck." He manages to choke out, his own release rolling over him. He cums inside you, thick ropes of white coating your insides. Eddie holds you into his chest again as your highs subside, the sounds of your panting in sync. He strokes your back with his hand, calming you down. Tears are rolling down your cheeks, dripping onto Eddie's chest. He moves you back slightly to look at you, worried he's hurt you. "Darling, are you alright?" Your heart swells at the concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine, my love. You just fucked me too good, I guess." You giggle as you wipe the tears away. He's not sure he believes you, but he accepts your answer for now. He just nods, kissing you lovingly. You move yourself off of his cock, laying in your usual cuddling position again. Eddie pulls the covers back over you, holding you closer than before. You feel so warm and safe and loved when you're with him. If you could never leave this bed again you wouldn't complain, as long as Eddie is always here with you. You slowly drift off into a light sleep, holding onto your man. He follows close behind you, content to have you as his woman.

The end.

[leighsartworks216]

No Alarms and No Surprises, Please

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I had this idea and decided to write it "real quick" (it took like two hours). I meant to do just like a really short thing so I could eat lunch and then get back to work, but then my brain was like no we gotta set up context

Titled after the song "No Surprises" by Radiohead. It doesn't exactly fit, but it felt right in my mind

Warnings: mentions of murder, tense moments, injury, burning flesh, bruises, bones breaking, blood mention, nausea mention, angst, literal hurt/comfort, soft Astarion moments

Word Count: 1,863

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You peeked slowly around the corner, holding your breath. Astarion hovered just behind you, almost touching you as you both surveyed your surroundings.

It was a palace, that much you knew. You also knew the guards were exceptionally strong. You already wasted enough healing spells and potions on the two guarding the door - you were just lucky they didn’t call for reinforcements. You also knew there was an artifact deep within the heart of this place that could provide some insight into removing the tadpoles.

“We’ll have to go around,” you breathe out slowly to the spawn. He gives a slight nod. As much as he loved bloodshed, sneak-killing all of them would be too high a risk. You almost came face to face with him when you look over your shoulder. He gives you a knowing smirk as he backs off. You nod down a side-hall. “That way.”

You gesture to Gale and Shadowheart, making sure they knew the plan. They nodded, waiting. You turn back to the patrolling sentinels. Their movements are constant and predictable, each pace following the same amount of steps. They sync, facing away from your destination, and you wave a hand for a companion to go.

Gale, ever the gentleman, lets Shadowheart go first. She hides behind the wall, out of sight. You wait again and gesture for Gale to go. He bites back complaints about his knees that creak under the duress of sneaking. He arrives just as a guard turns. Astarion could hear your heart thumping wildly in your chest; it pounds so loud in your ears you can’t even hear the guards’ footsteps anymore.

He wraps a hand around your waist, carefully pulling you away from the corner. You stare at him, worried he’s noticed something wrong. He nods toward the hall where your companions wait. “You first,” he whispers.

You want to argue - he can see the wheels turning in your head as you frown at him. As the de facto leader, you always worked to ensure everyone else was safe before you. You rested a little easier knowing you’d be the one in harm's way should something go wrong. But Astarion was a rogue, and used to sneaking around to boot. He would be much better at timing his dash to the hall than you could.

After a moment, you nodded. He pushed you back to his prior spot as he takes your place, poking an eye around the corner and studying them. He thought you’d die of a heart attack if this went on any longer. When the guards turn, he taps your waist. You crouch as quickly as you can to Gale and Shadowheart. They greet you with a tense nod.

You wait in silence for Astarion.

He almost spooks you when he comes silently around the corner. But now, further from the immediate threat, you have a chance to breathe.

The hallway stretches on for what seems like forever. Closed doors and open arch-ways line each side, perfectly mirrored. At the end, there’s a very small statue - but you’re sure it’s life size up close. The prospect of a maze with the ever-looming fear of getting caught doesn’t exactly thrill you, nor any of your companions, but nothing can be done for it.

You sigh and lead them onward.

It’s too risky to peek inside the rooms - if there were patrols inside you’d all be jumped and killed within minutes. At each arch, you glance around the corner, down the other equally as endless corridors. It’s oddly quiet. Not a guard in sight, even on grander doors that seem like they should be protected. It leaves you on edge. Waiting for the boot to drop and leave you in mortal peril. At the very least, you feel safe enough to stand up. It saves you from Gale’s grumbling.

You peer around another corridor and try to imagine the layout of the palace. You’d found a map once, but it was too tattered to make anything useful out. The most information you gleaned from it was where the staircases were. If you could find your way to one of those, you’d be able to go down, deeper into the belly of the beast. You believe, if your slipping memory of the map was correct, you could turn down this way and go all the way to the end, and there would be stairwells on either side of the very-tiny-life-sized-statue.

Resolved to your plan, you step through the ornate marble arch. You feel the pain before you register where it’s coming from. You collapse to the floor, cushioned only by a strong arm and solid body. A hand clamps over your mouth, pressing down tight to keep any sound from slipping through.

Oh. That breathless tightness in your chest is not from the pain. It’s you screaming. Trying to, at least. Your eyes dart frantically around as your body writhes against the person holding you. Gale and Shadowheart appear in front of you, kneeling down and working as fast as they can to help.

One of your legs feels weighed down. You stare at the chunk of metal for too long before it finally registers the trap clamping down on your leg. It looks and acts like a bear trap, but it’s been improved to burn red-hot when activated.

Fear grips you like a vice. You become conscious of the fact the teeth of the trap are almost meeting. It’s bitten through your bone. Or nearly through, anyway. You didn’t process it, too busy being victimized by the sadistic mechanics of the device, but Astarion, Shadowheart and Gale all felt nauseous as the crack continues to echo in their mind.

“Shh,” comes a whisper by your ear. You whimper and gasp and struggle, but the arm around your waist only re-wraps around you to pin your arms down. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

Astarion looks away from your injury, peering down the halls. The sound of the bone snapping was loud enough to attract attention, he just didn’t know how much, or when they’d be coming. Not to mention where they’d come from. For all he knew, their luck had run out, and any second a swarm of golden-armored bastards would be charging down the hall they were in.

“We need to get out of the open,” he hissed to the cleric and wizard.

Gale cast an ice spell, focusing all his energy in freezing the hinge of the device. If he could get it cold enough, it would become brittle, and they could dismantle it and pull it from your leg like cracking open an oyster. Shadowheart focused on healing the burns being inflicted to your skin as they were happening. It smelled uncomfortably like meat roast. Your blood vessels were cauterized. Astarion could hardly take solace in the fact when the usually-delicious scent of your ichor was replaced with the smell of cooking flesh.

“We can’t move them yet,” Shadowheart whispered, barely biting back her panic. She couldn’t keep healing you forever.

Gale grunted, brow furrowing further as he willed the ice to freeze faster, freeze colder around the metal.

Astarion felt useless, watching and unable to help. Holding you while you thrashed in agony was all he could do. He hoped to the gods he wouldn’t reveal a bruise over your mouth when this was finished. “I’m here,” he whispered sweetly in your ear. It was all he could think to do. “You need to keep still, love. It’ll be over soon.”

The words didn’t reach. You knew he was speaking when his breath fanned over your ear, but the speech-centers of your brain were thoroughly turned off. As were any of the logic-centers. Anything that could have told you they were helping, to calm down and stop moving, was replaced instead with klaxons and sirens urging you to struggle and fight back against the pain.

Footsteps. Loud and clanging. Getting closer. Astarion cursed. “We have to hide,” he hissed again, panicked.

There was no time to argue. They all seemed to have the same idea as Astarion pushed himself across the floor with his legs, pulling you with him. Shadowheart and Gale stopped casting in favor of moving your legs, as carefully as they could possibly manage. Hot tears slipped over Astarion’s hand as you thrashed violently with the motion. But now, at least, you were tucked into a corner. Hidden behind a pillar that framed the arch of the hallway. Everyone held their breaths. You didn’t catch the memo, but the spell-casters held your legs down so you wouldn’t make as much noise.

The clanging of armor rose in volume until the echoes through the corridors nearly deafened everyone. You momentarily stopped fighting. Though, Astarion couldn’t tell if it was because the sound had reached past your pain, or if your body was giving out under the duress.

The steps - 3 guards, if Astarion had to guess by ear - slowed from a run to pacing the juncture of the halls. They circled around, stopping occasionally. One set of steps stopped mere feet away. If Astarion leaned forward slightly, he could make out the point of a nose. Shadowheart and Gale slowly pressed themselves back into the shadow of the pillar.

Something touching his hand startled him. He had to fight not to physically jump and draw attention. A hand, your hand, rested weakly over his. He let go of your arm and turned his hand to hold yours. He could feel you whimper in his hold, the shake of your breaths as they hit hot against his hand. You were scared. He was, too.

He squeezed your hand and looked back at the pillar. The steps hadn’t moved. The sentry was still there.

Seconds ticked away at a snail’s pace. They all worried for a moment the guards had chosen to stay there and patrol the intersection. Then the sentinel stepped back from the arch. More footsteps followed. A pause. He could only imagine they were silently saying they did not find anything. And then the cacophony of armor drowned out any last doubt as they retreated back down the hall.

They all let out sighs of relief, even Astarion who had no need for air. He turned his focus back down to you. Your eyes were shut, your breaths were evened out. You’d fallen unconscious. It was a small mercy.

“Hurry up so we can get the Hells out of here,” he huffed. Shadowheart and Gale nodded, equally as eager to get back to safety, and returned to work.

Astarion slowly removed his hand from your mouth. Light bruises where his fingertips had been began rising through the surface of your skin. He sighed, upset at the pain he caused even through necessity, and brushed a tender kiss over the darkest of the bunch. He was too overwhelmed with relief to care if the others saw him. “You’ll be alright,” he whispered again, even though they did not reach you. He was reassuring himself more than anything. It would have been pathetic, if he could think about anything other than your wellbeing. “I’m here, darling.”

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

[familyvideostevie]

living high until that fatal day

a/n: i never do this. literally, never. when i'm not here i'm writing stuff that's not x reader for ao3 and this is a fic i posted over there. it's a time loop story about joel and ellie. @bageldaddy told me i had to post it here. without her this fic would not exist. thank you so much, bea. so, here we go. if you read it, thank you. let me know what you think. joel miller & ellie williams gen fic. 7.5k words warnings: Time Loop, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of???, it resolves, Suicide, only in one of the loops!, Canon-Typical Violence, joel gets stuck and has to figure it out, Father-Daughter Relationship, thoughts about sacrifice and love, POV Joel, mostly, this one is kind of intense folks, major character death tag is cause well the loop ends one way or another, gonna diverge at the end, but it ends well!!! i promise, also this is pretty firmly game but hbo folks should be okay!

summary: joel finds himself stuck in a time loop of that day in salt lake city.

Joel lies to her. 

He's got dried blood under his fingernails and his shoulder aches from the kick of the rifle and he's so, so tired. 

But he lies to her. 

If he was a smarter man he'd have thought of something better. Told her that the hospital got raided or they had a FEDRA mole, how the whole thing was a sham from the start. He doesn't know if she was awake for any of it. If the last thing she remembers is him reaching for her and failing to save her. If she remembers what it feels like to drown. 

It's hard to look at her in the mirror but he manages. Just keep driving, hands tight on the wheel. Don't white knuckle, don't spook her. She's in the car. She's safe. He did it. 

"We found the Fireflies," he says. She doesn't look at him. "Turns out there's a...a whole lot more like you, Ellie. People that're immune. It's dozens, actually." 

There's a strange pull in his gut, a pull that he's felt a few times before in the moments before everything went south. When the soldier pointed his gun by the river, when Tess looked at him on her last day, when he fell off the ledge in Colorado. But he ignores it. 

"Ain't done a damn bit of good, either. They've actually st--" Ellie closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She doesn't look at him. "They've stopped looking for a cure. I'm takin' us home. I'm sorry."

She turns her back to him and the pull becomes a burn, becomes a black hole under his ribcage taking everything with him. He blinks once, twice, wonders if he got shot and didn't notice, if he cracked a rib and it punctured his lung, if --

The road in front of him disappears. 

He can't see a damn thing -- not like the lights went out, like there is nothing to see. There is nothing in front of him at all.

Then, Joel wakes up yesterday. 

___ 

He jolts awake with a strangled yell. Ellie kneels over him, the rifle he taught her to hold slung over her shoulder. It's just past dawn based on the color of the sky and how he can make out most of her face, her withdrawing hand and her unimpressed but slightly concerned frown. 

"You were talking again," Ellie says. "Nightmares?" 

Joel tears his eyes from her and thunks his head back down on his crumpled up jacket. The trees stretch high above him and he tries to get it together so he doesn't spook her. 

They’re camped within sight of the highway. Salt Lake City has been looming for days now and Joel doesn't want to take any chances. The ring-road is almost clear, dotted here and there with cars and a fair amount of supplies, enough that Joel suspects people haven't been here for some time. If this is another Colorado State situation, he's going to have to put Ellie in a car and take them back to Jackson before she does something stupid.

She's fine. Well, no, not quite. Things aren't the same and they never will be but he can tell she's doing her best and he won't ask more than that. Their pace has slowed this week and he's having a hard time figuring out if she's sliding back into some sort of post-Colorado haze or if she's nervous about actually arriving in Salt Lake. 

God knows he's nervous as hell.

But every day she'll walk as far as he tells her to and won't complain. He knows she wants to get there. They have to get there and it has to work -- because he doesn't know what they're going to do otherwise. 

She asked him a question. Nightmares. Joel sits up and drags his hand down his face.

"Somethin' like that."

Ellie shrugs and starts to clean up their camp now that he's awake. He still hates letting her take watch, but she needs to feel in control of things, so they split it most nights. She hums a little bit as she works and he has hopes that today might be a good day.

But that dream... It comes back in flashes: the giraffes, the tunnel. Ellie hanging from the side of the bus because she jumped to save him, her small frame sinking slowly, just out of reach. The crack of her ribs underneath his hands. The hospital. The Fireflies.

Joel gets up, rolls his shoulder at a phantom pain and looks down at his hands. Crusted with dirt and nothing more. 

Jesus Christ. He's losing it. 

They set off. 

The blue hospital sign seems to shine in the spring sun all too soon.

"This is where we get off. Let's go, kiddo."

Joel talks even though he knows she's not listening. He talks to take his mind off of the echo that sits at the base of his neck with every step. Has he told her he'll teach her guitar before? He's been thinking it for months. 

Ellie trails behind him, kicking rocks and half-heartedly searching cars when he asks her to. She heads for a faded blue sedan but he stops her. 

"Blue one won't open, don't bother." 

The look she gives him makes him think about what he just said. "How do you know that?"

He blinks. How does he know that? Before he can explain it, Ellie shrugs and keeps walking. 

The disinterest is new and it doesn't sit well with him. She's been through a lot, more than any kid deserves, and they're almost there. He figures it's worse today because of that. 

"I dreamt about flying the other night."

Joel's stomach twists. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go on, tell me about it."

She tells him about her dream, about how it felt to fly and then fall, and he is dizzy with deja vu. 

"I've never been on a plane." Ellie looks at him like he can tell her what it means. Like he has any damn answers at all. "Isn't that weird?"

Joel hums and swallows the lump in his throat. The bus terminal. Ellie, drowning. Firefly after Firefly in his path. His hands flex around a gun that isn't there. 

"Well, you know. Dreams are weird." It tastes like a lie in his mouth but he can't figure out why. 

It gets worse when they find the bus station, when she runs off in search of something that's got her smiling. Her small hand reaches for the giraffe, her eyes bright, but Joel feels like he's watching it through a fog. He knows what she's going to say before she says it. 

"So fucking cool."

Joel has seen a lot of weird shit in his life but whatever is happening here is leagues above the rest. It bumps up against something in his brain, like the answer is just out of reach but he can't fucking get there. Always a step behind when it counts. 

Ellie hands him a picture of his dead daughter and something in him comes dangerously close to snapping. Instead of gratitude or sorrow or anything that would make sense, he's terrified. 

He's fucking terrified because this happened. Which means he knows what comes next. 

But there's no time to worry about it. They pick their way through the tunnel, through the runners and the clickers and the fucking bloaters. The pressure on his neck gets heavier, gets almost unbearable. He's strung tighter than he's been in years, like the walls are closing in on him and there's a timer he can't see. 

When they get to the rapids, he waits for Ellie to get to the other side of the bus until he jumps on it but it dislodges. The dam in his head breaks and he yells, screams at her to run, to leave him, but she jumps on the bus anyway. 

She drowns.

Joel doesn't doubt that the Fireflies are coming -- he hears them --  but he doesn't take his eyes off of her, doesn't stop the chest compressions until he's knocked out.

The rest of it is a blur, his sense of reality already warped by his need to get to the operating room. To save her. 

Joel picks them off one by one, floor by floor, hardly taking note of how familiar it all feels. He doesn't even give the surgeon a chance to speak before he's dead, a bullet between the eyes. He knows they'll make it to the elevator. He kills Marlene. He drives them away.

He lies. 

He wakes up yesterday again.

___

It takes a few days before Joel purposely deviates from what he's thinking of as the script. His head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds when he wakes in the clearing, Ellie's eyes on him.

He thinks about it as they pack up camp. Can he get them out of here? Would that be allowed? The rules of this aren't clear to him but he figures it can't hurt to try. They could turn around right now and make it back to Jackson in a week or so. 

He watches Ellie carefully arrange her things in her bag, watches her stop to admire a butterfly in the branches above. He watches her and tries to see her alive and not pale on an operating table. 

"Ellie," he says. "I got a bad feelin' about this."

She loves to tell him he's overreacting but today she crosses her arms and sits back on her heels. "What do you mean?"

Her scream as she falls into the water. Her ribs cracking beneath his hands. The piercing alarm in the hospital, her body warm but limp in his arms.

"What if we waited?" She frowns but he keeps going. "Went back to Jackson, rested up. Took a break. Come back in a few months with a bit of a crew. Tommy'll give us some guys, hell, I bet he'll come with if you want --"

"No," Ellie says sharply. There's an edge to her voice he hasn't heard in a long time. "Joel, shut up."

"Ellie --"

She stands abruptly, takes a few steps back. "I said no."  The look on her face tells Joel he's already lost. "Are you -- are you fucking kidding me? You want to go back? Now?"

He sighs. "Just to rest up. We don't know what we're walking into --"

Ellie throws her hands around in disbelief. Her eyes look wet. Christ, he's made her cry again. He promised himself he wouldn't do that. 

"We don't know if they'll still be there."

"We don't know if they are there."

"And we won't find out if we fucking run away like cowards!"

Joel stands. "I don't want another Colorado State situation, Ellie --" Her face shutters. Mistake. 

"Don't bring up Colorado," she growls. "You don't know what that was like." 

Damn right he doesn't. He knows by now what happened but he'll never know how hard it was for her to survive when he was busy dying on that mattress. But he has to try something or they'll just end up here again tomorrow. Yesterday. Whatever. 

The idea of her suffering makes his hackles rise, makes his blood run cold

. 

"Can I finish a god damned sentence?" he snaps. Ellie is undeterred and snaps back.

"Not if it's going to be about leaving. We-- I -- we're not fucking leaving. Not after everything. We can't."

Joel sighs and drags a hand down his face. This girl. He's trying to save her and she can't see it. There's no way to make her see it and it's his fault. She should know by now that he'd do anything, anything, for her. He lost that battle a long time ago, probably longer ago than he'd like to admit. 

"I know," he tells her. "Just...if you want to give it all up, to go back, we can. We don't have to go through with this."

Ellie's eyes are blazing and her tone is disappointed. It cuts deep. "Yes we do. I thought you'd understand that, Joel."

He follows her this time as she stalks down the highway towards the hospital. No mention of six strings, no dreams about planes. They catch the giraffes but she doesn't stick around to watch them for as long. It's a different kind of loss to be without her smile, her laughter. Joel wishes he'd never opened his god damned mouth. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "For earlier." Ellie pauses on the stairs and half turns to look up at him. "I know it's important to you."

She sighs. "I know you mean well." Joel closes his eyes. He knows what comes next. "But there's no halfway with this. Once we're done, we'll go wherever you want, okay?"

He plays his part for the rest of the day, just to get it over with. 

___

Next time, Joel waits until they're watching the giraffes to try something different. 

"So," he says. "This everything you were hoping for?"

Ellie gives him her half-smile. "It's got its ups and downs, but...you can't deny that view, though."

He seizes his chance. "Wanna go down there?" 

She perks up. "Really? Do you think they'll let us get close?"

"They might. Let's try." 

They manage to backtrack a little bit and end up on the field. It smells like a zoo but Ellie is thrilled to be so close so they post up on the roof of a rusty FEDRA Jeep. Two of the giraffes end up eating out of the tree right above them. Ellie holds her breath. 

"They just...don't care, do they?" she whispers. "How long do you think they've been here?"

She leans into his side and cranes her neck to watch one of them use its tongue. 

"Don't know," he says. "Big ones could've been from before. But the tiny one s'probably younger than you."

"So cool," she says again. "They're from a zoo, right? I wonder if anything else lives in the city."

They've been sitting here long enough that the sun has started to set. Joel allows himself to hope. 

"Might be. What do you say we spend the night here and look on the way to the hospital tomorrow? Daylight'll do us better."

Ellie chews on his suggestion. "I guess," she says. "Are we safe here?"

"Should be." Joel has no idea, frankly. He sure as hell wants them to wake up here in the morning. He wants to make good on this idea, wants to show her something else that'll make her smile. He wants this to be a bizarre, unexplainable day that he'll forget about with time.

"I'll keep watch."

They set up camp crowded against the fence so Joel can see the whole field. The giraffes leave them alone and Ellie falls asleep quickly after they eat.

In the quiet open air the dread in his gut returns full-force and he knows he's wrong. Again.

A branch cracks and he whirls around, rifle in hand to find three men pointing their guns at him through the wire. They might be wearing Firefly jackets but he can't tell. He doesn't care. Joel dares to look at Ellie for a second and sees she's still asleep. 

It's a mistake.

One of them follows his gaze and his eyes widen.

"Holy shit," he whispers. "She looks like who Marlene said --"

"Shut up," the second one hisses. "On the ground, old man."

"How are you gonna get around that fence, hotshot?" he says. "Ellie. Ellie, wake up."

She blinks a few times and sees his stance. scrambling to her feet with her knife in hand.

"Holy shit. What the fuck?"

"Get behind me."

One of the soldiers points his gun at her. 

"Don't move."

It's chaos after that. The guys shout at each other. 

"Don't point it at her! Don't you remember the fucking briefing?"

"You hadn't even joined when we got here, you don't know. We've been looking for her for months --"

"If you shoot her we're all dead --"

Joel locks eyes with Ellie.

"When I say run, you run. Okay?" 

The fear in her eyes turns to determination. Brave girl, he thinks. I'm sorry. He waits for the idiot pointing at her to look away and takes a deep breath. What's one more day?

"Run!"

Joel doesn't check to see if she obeys before firing through the fence. The rifle is incredibly powerful at such a short range and where there was once a head there's only mist. Joel clears the chamber as fast as he can and gets the second one in the shoulder but he's not fast enough for a third and before he realizes it he's on his back in the grass. 

The Firefly's assault rifle litters Joel's chest with bullets but he doesn't feel it until he tries to take a breath and nothing comes. It's like he's underwater.

At least he didn't make her cry this time.

__

Joel isn't much of a believer in anything but he decides fairly quickly that he's in Hell or something close. God knows he deserves it. 

His sins are countless, his ledger dripping with red just like his hands. They will never be clean. What he can't figure out is how he got here. Did he die somewhere in St. Mary's? Is the real world somewhere else beyond his reach, now? If he died then what happened to Ellie?

He tries to make tallies in the bark of a tree on the edge of camp but they disappear every time he wakes up. He makes do with his own slowly unspooling brain. Two, five, ten.

Ellie is much the same every time but somewhere around day twenty she asks him about it. "How do you know where everything is?"

They're in the bus depot before the tunnel. He's taking them quickly around the tents, putting off Ellie handing him a photo of his dead daughter. It's muscle memory at this point. A pair of pliers here, some rags there. A half-empty but uncracked bottle of hooch behind that blood-stained bed, some bullets under that overturned partition. 

"Just payin' attention."

"I pay attention!"

Joel uses the excuse to grin at her. It's hard sometimes to remember that she has no idea what's coming, that he can and should be good to her every chance he gets. The violence has already started to blur together in his mind. Killing everyone in the hospital is by far the easiest part of this fucking loop. These parts are harder. 

"Didn't say you don't."

"I feel like that was a double negative."

She's still energized from the giraffes and he knows she's working up the courage to talk about Sarah, but right now he wants to spend time with her. He spots the Firefly medal tangled in the shattered floodlight and points it out. 

"Ellie," he says. She's at his side in seconds, looking up at him with eyes brighter than he's seen in weeks. "Wanna get that down?"

She gives him her classic why are you like this look. "Are you going to be weird and pick it up?"

Joel shrugs and leans on the rotting tank nearby. "Just want to check your aim."

"My aim is really fucking good and you know it!" Even so, she picks up a brick from her feet and palms it, eyeing the silver circle before winding her arm back and hurling the brick towards it. 

She misses. Maybe three hundred miles and a trail of dead bodies ago she'd have stormed off, embarrassed and pissed. But she just makes a face at the still-swinging medal and then looks at him. "How did I miss that?"

He pushes off the tank and scoops up a glass bottle. "Sun s'probably in your eyes." Joel stands next to her and eyes the target, trying to compensate in his mind for her height. "Stand here." Ellie moves over in front of him and he hovers his arm over her. "Can I?"

She nods. Joel presses the bottle into her hand and she takes it as he maneuvers her with a hand on her elbow until she's got the trajectory he thinks will work. 

"Now?" she asks. "Feels pretty fucking similar to what I was doing."

"Just trust me. Throw a little lighter than last time. And higher."

Ellie sighs, but once he steps back she does as he says and nails the medal hard enough that it drops to the ground. She whoops and turns around, hands high in the air and a wide smile on her face. Joel tries to breathe through how easily she puts her faith in him. 

"Fuck yeah! Did you see that?" She holds both hands out for a high five and he obliges. 

"Sure did. Nice job, kiddo."

When Ellie hands him the picture of Sarah, he pulls her in for a hug. He half expects her to shove him off but instead she allows it, twisting her hands in his shirt as he cups the back of her head. 

"Thank you," Joel says quietly, thickly. 

Later, when he finds her on the operating table, he presses his lips to her forehead for an extra moment before picking her up and heading for the elevator. 

__

He messes with the order of things a little bit. Tries to make their morning last longer, tries to stay watching the giraffes for an hour or so. 

Sometimes it works. 

Sometimes it doesn't. 

Watching Ellie drown over and over fucks with his head more than the hospital does because he can't stop it. At least while he's leaving behind corpse after corpse he knows that she's asleep upstairs, waiting for him. In the tunnel, he knows that the only way out is through, but she has to fucking drown first. 

He gets sloppy. 

He forgets about the runners in the side rooms when he ducks in to avoid a clicker and takes a step too close. Ellie is behind him as always and he shoves her back blindly as three runners slam him against the metal railing of the stairs before he can reach for his gun. He's too surprised to feel anything, but their breath smells like rotting meat and something worse, something that makes his eyes water. 

Joel searches the room for her and finds her -- pale-faced and terrified, already reaching for her knife. He tries to say her name but it comes out as a scream when one of the runners goes for his shoulder, jagged teeth ripping through his shirt in an instant. 

"Ellie -- run, Ellie -- GO --" He begs her to leave him but his voice stops working as his throat is ripped out. The last thing he sees is her horrified face as she raises her pistol.

And then he wakes up yesterday. 

___

It occurs to him on day 30 -- if he's keeping track accurately -- that he's got one of the smartest people he knows at his disposal. Kid's got an encyclopedic knowledge of space as well as science fiction stories. He asks her while they're still on the highway, stalling though he can see the blue H sign from here.

"Y'ever read stuff about time?" No reply. "Ellie?" She's staring at that deer again. "Ellie."

"What?" 

"You read any stories about time back in school?"

"Uh, sure," she says. She tugs her sleeves over her hands and catches up to him, eyes on the ground. "Why?"

"Saw a weird movie 'bout it once. Somethin' reminded me of it this mornin'. Guy gets stuck in a...shit, what did they call it?" Joel peeks inside an RV and smells rot so he leaves it be. "He lives the same day over and over."

"A time loop!" Ellie sounds more excited about this than anything they've talked about for days. "Those are so fucking cool. Scary, though. I feel like I'd go crazy."

Joel drags a hand down his face. "Yeah," he says. "How do you think you get outta one?"

"Well, how did the guy in the movie do it?"

"He stopped bein' an asshole," he says. Ellie laughs. 

"Well, we know that's not possible for you. Guess you're fucked."

"Guess so," he mutters. 

The H sign is close enough that she'll see it any minute. He wishes for the hundredth time that they could just stay out here all day, just talking. If he had a guitar he'd play for her. If he had a fucking car he'd put her in it and turn around, even though it wouldn't do any good. They'd just end up right back here because he can't fucking figure out how to get out of this. 

"I think you just have to change, right?" Ellie says. She's looking at the photo of an airplane on the bus. This time she doesn't tell him about her dream. Is he losing pieces of her, already? "I guess it doesn't have to be about yourself. Maybe something you do, or something you say. It's the universe telling you to make a different choice, right?"

That's the fucking thing. The choice isn't an option. It's not even a choice. 

The one thing he hasn't tried and will not try is leaving the hospital when Marlene tells him to. He'd rather die a thousand times, rather live this shit show over and over for the rest of eternity than let them cut her brain out. They will not touch her while there is still breath in his body. 

He'd do it all over again. He will.

__

Joel tries a hundred things and they don't work. 

After his conversation with Ellie he decides to really fuck with the day. Doesn't matter, right? So long as she's not put in any extra danger he considers it. He begs her to walk away, get on his knees and pleads with her throughout the day. Doesn't work. She just gets pissed at him like that first time and he doesn't push it because he can't bear to see her cry. He lengthens their morning in the clearing, fakes sick or says the rifle is jammed and needs cleaning. That goes south, too, when a pack of runners wanders through the woods and straight into them. They make it to the highway and have to miss the giraffes because they're running. 

One time Joel spends all day zig-zagging them around the city to avoid the tunnel. The Fireflies find them much the same way except they shoot him on sight and grab Ellie right out of his arms as he bleeds out on the cracked asphalt, her screams echoing in his ears. 

Another time, he ties them together in the tunnel with some fraying rope and they both drown. 

Killing Marlene early gets him a bullet in the head and not killing her at all gets him back where he started, no change. 

Joel even begs the doctor to run more tests first, to try blood, to try anything, but it takes too long and the alarm sounds and he's cornered in the operating room before he can grab Ellie and go. 

Nothing fucking works. 

But what is there left to change?

__

His mind starts to fray. He loses count of the loops and it becomes hard to detach himself from the slaughter. Not even the good moments -- Ellie's laughter, the awe in her face when she sees the giraffes, her jokes and her muted but still sharp sarcasm -- keep him afloat. He's lost, adrift in a sea of blood and bullets and it starts to eat away any humanity that was left in him. 

The blood of hundreds, thousands maybe, is on his hands and he feels nothing.

Once and only once does he get there too late. Everything else goes like it always does but maybe he took too long on the first floor, maybe he took too long picking the guys one by one instead of using the assault rifle, maybe maybe maybe. 

When Joel gets to the pediatric ward he knows something is different -- he can hear a buzzing sound, something loud and unnatural. The stale air is thick with something metallic, tinged with death. The buzzing stops and he finds his feet glued to the floor outside the operating room. Voices on the other side of it, murmuring and the clink of metal on a tray. Joel's hand shakes when he reaches for the knob because he knows whatever he finds on the other side is going to kill him. 

But he opens it because he has to. The doctor is at the sink this time, the nurses nowhere to be found. Ellie's body is covered in a sheet, blood seeping through the fabric. Joel looks away. He just stands there, his heartbeat loud in his ears as the world ends. 

The first time his daughter died, Joel thought he could will it not to be so. He held her as long as he could, whispered her name with her blood drying on his hands until Tommy begged him to get moving. 

This time, he knows it's true and he knows there's only one ending. 

He raises his gun at the doctor who is now leaning on the edge of the sink. The door swings open and the nurses return, eyes wide and vibrating with the energy of a job well done. He swings over to them and kills them both with quick headshots. The doctor has barely turned around when he's dead, too.

Joel breathes, ears ringing. He manages one step closer to the operating table but his knees buckle and he goes down hard on the cool tile. His vision is blurry. Is he crying?

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby." He angles himself so he won't get any blood on her and then presses the barrel of his gun to his temple and pulls the trigger. 

__

If Joel was on the edge of losing his mind before, now he's laser focused. He doesn't pull any more shit. He settles back into the loop, savoring Ellie's laughter with the giraffe and gunning down every sorry motherfucker in his way at the hospital. He will not get there late ever again. 

So when Marlene says something different the next time around and he almost misses it.

Ellie is dead weight in his arms but she's warm and he can see the rise and fall of her chest. The hospital was messier than usual because he rushed this time, cutting down the Fireflies like it was his last stand. There's blood in his hair and crusted under his fingernails and his shirt is beyond ruined. 

"Are you going to tell her what happened here?" Marlene presses her hand into her side, blood leaking from around her crimson palm. "Are you going to tell her what you did?"

He lies to her.

Every time.

It's never occurred to him to try something else. Even though he's changed almost everything about this damn day except that. 

Because Joel knows what happens if he tells the truth. He knows what that will cost him.

And he doesn't know if he'll survive it.

He's afraid. Joel doesn't want to lose her and if that makes him selfish then so be it. He wants to take her back to Jackson and give her a bedroom of her own and as many stupid comics as she wants and three meals a day for the rest of her long, peaceful life. He wants her to grow up and grow old. 

He'd kill a thousand more Fireflies to make it happen.

He'd damn the whole world. 

Because he loves her and it fucking hurts. 

This girl and her puns and her comics and her god damned bravery and her bleeding heart. He doesn't want to lose her. 

But is this, whatever this endless hell is, is it fair to her? 

If it's breakable, if he has the ability to get them to tomorrow, to get them to Jackson, to get them home, shouldn't he? If he loves her shouldn't he give her a life even if he's not in it?

Joel gently arranges Ellie in the backseat and shoots Marlene in the head. 

__

For a few seconds Ellie thinks she's in the car on the way into Pittsburgh. The hum of the old engine, the rocking motion of the truck. But -- wait. She's lying down. The car smells...musty. And she's cold like she's wearing a dress and --

"What the hell am I wearing?"

She flutters her eyes open. Different truck. Backseat. Is she in a...hospital gown? What the fuck? Where is she?

"Just take it easy," Joel says. Okay, so she's with Joel. Something in her chest settles. She must be safe. "Drugs are still wearin' off."

Drugs? Ellie pushes back into her memory and tries to find something, anything that'll give her a clue as to what's going on here. They were in the bus tunnel. The water was rushing, Joel jumped on the bus and it started moving and she...fell into the water? 

It's a blur after that. More of a blank, really. Did they get to the hospital? Did they find the Fireflies? Based on her weird fucking outfit it sure seems like it.

"What happened?"

Joel's eyes flick up in the rearview mirror to look at her. "Let's get you into some clothes, first. Then we'll take a break and I'll tell you everythin'."

He sounds tired. More tired than he's ever sounded, frankly, but she can't imagine why. And he can't seem to stop looking at her like she's going to disappear. Like he hasn't seen her in ages. 

"Okay," she says slowly. "Where the hell are we going to get those?" 

"Your bag is on the floor by your feet." Joel veers off the highway down an exit ramp and Ellie sits up. Her head feels light for a second and then really heavy so she braces her hands on the seat in front of her and takes a few deep breaths. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah. Fucking...drugs, I guess. What'd they do that for?"

"They ran some tests. We'll talk about it."

Normally she'd push him but something feels off. Ellie tries to get a good look at his face but she can't, not from this angle, and not with her head fucking pounding like it is. She's missing so much time. It makes her skin crawl, makes her heart race. Joel is here, she tells herself. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. 

He parks them at the edge of a cemetery and gets out of the car to stand guard while she changes out of the gown. Her last pair of jeans, apparently, and a grey t-shirt with a few holes in the collar. She wishes she had a sweatshirt or something to wrap around herself, to pull over her hands and feel covered. But beggars can't be choosers. At least someone put her shoes in her backpack. 

Joel doesn't turn around when she opens the door but she sees him stiffen. 

"I'm done." He looks back at her and she finally sees his face. "Jesus Christ, Joel, what happened to you?"

It's not just the blood. Sure, he's got dried streaks of it on his neck and in his hair. Ellie glances at his hands and sees it crusted under his fingernails, too. But he looks wrecked. Older, somehow. He looks like something terrible happened, the way she remembers his face when he fell from the balcony in Colorado, when he found her in the burning restaurant. But somehow it's worse. 

He's looking at her like he can't believe she's real. 

"Alright." Joel lowers the rifle and ignores her question, clearly. "Didn't see anythin'. Should be fine to sit here for a bit."

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened?"

He moves like he's going to drag a hand down his face but thinks better of it. "Yeah," he says. "I am." 

Ellie swings her legs so they're hanging out the door. Joel leans the rifle against the truck and crosses his arms. "You're making me kind of nervous, man."

"Just...promise me you'll hear me out to the end."

Yeah, something is going on. She doesn't like it. 

"Uh, sure."

"What do you remember?" 

Good fucking question. "The tunnel. The bus and -- water. I fell in, right?"

Joel nods, clears his throat. "Jumpin' on the bus was dumb. Don't do that again." 

She snorts. "Yeah, okay. Point taken. But I was afraid you were going to drown!"

"You did." He delivers the news in a flat tone she doesn't like. She drowned?

"Are you serious?"

"I got us out of the water and tried to get you breathin' again." Ellie realizes her chest is sore. She imagines Joel doing compressions like they showered her in school, imagines his panicked face, his hoarse voice calling her name. Fuck.

"Did it work?"

"No," he says. "Fireflies found us first and knocked me out." 

"That doesn't make sense." She frowns. "They knocked you out?"

Joel shrugs. "Just tellin' you what happened."

This isn't how she imagined it would go. She never told Joel, but for weeks she's been thinking about waltzing up to the hospital and telling them who she is. She pictured Joel telling her jokes while she got her blood drawn, pictured him staring down nurses and doctors while they made the cure. She figured it would take a few days, maybe a week, and then they'd be on their way back to Jackson. She had hoped Marlene might be there, too. She has so many questions about her mom. 

"What did they do with me?"

Joel looks troubled. "I...don't exactly know. It was a while before I saw you again."

It makes her skin crawl. He must be able to tell because he keeps talking. "I'm sure they just ran some tests while you were out. They brought you back, made sure you were breathin' okay."

"Tests?"

"I'm gettin' there." She feels like he's having a hard time looking at her. Something close to but not quiet dread sits heavy in her stomach. What happened?

"Joel..."

"I woke up inside the hospital. Marlene was there. Told me they didn't know it was us, that they'd been waiting." He pauses, drags a hand down his face. "You didn't wake up or nothin'? You sure?"

Ellie shakes her head. She doesn't remember anything after the tunnel. 

"Well, she told me they could do it. They had a doctor who could make the cure."

The air rushes out of Ellie all at once. "Are you fucking serious?"

"And then she said..." Joel chews on his words and looks away from her. He looks angry. 

"What did she say?"

"Makin' a vaccine...would've killed you."

The bottom drops out of Ellie's world. It's like a hundred doors in her brain open at once. 

It would have killed her? Are they sure? Did they do enough tests? Were they going to? Why didn't they wake her up? Were they going to ask her? How did they get out?

She swallows them all and manages just one in a broken whisper. "What did you do?"

Joel looks right at her. "I stopped them."

If Ellie wasn’t already sitting down she thinks her legs would give out. She knows that Joel meant what he said to her in Silver Lake. Knows that he'd do anything for her.

But this?

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head. "Joel. What do you mean, you stopped them?"

His shoulders slump. "They told me to leave and I refused. And I made sure no one can follow us to try again."

Static builds in her ears. She can read between the lines. She speaks Joel now. He killed them all, that much is clear to her. He killed them all, Marlene, too, probably, because she was supposed to die to save the world. Hot tears sting her nose and gather at the corner of her eyes. 

"But I -- but we -- I was supposed to...I'm the cure!"

"You're a person. You're a kid. Don't matter what's in your brain, you ain't dyin' for --"

Ellie pushes out of the truck and to her feet. Joel steps back to give her room but she knows he probably wants to touch her, to reassure her. The anger fills her, makes her face hot and her heart race. 

"Who said you get to make that choice? If they said I had to die maybe I should have? Then it would mean something --"

"Your immunity ain't the thing that matters most. You are. So I picked you," Joel yells.

She's really crying now, huge heaving sobs that make it hard to talk, make it hard to convey how angry she is. "Well, you picked wrong, asshole."

"I ain't gonna apologize for it. I'd do it all over again, the exact same way. Every time." Joel's expression is as serious as it gets. He used to look this way all the time. No nonsense, no room for argument. 

She tries to find the words anyway but they don't come.

"Now, you've got some options here," he says. "I think the best one is for us to go back to Jackson. I know Tommy'll take you in, and --

She laughs, or tries to. 

It sounds like something bitter and awful to her own ears. First he tells her she was supposed to die today and now he wants to leave her?

"Are you fucking serious, Joel? You want to leave me again?" 

Joel's brows pinch together. He looks pained. Good. It feels like her chest is caving in, like her lungs aren't working right anymore. This must be what it felt like to drown in the bus terminal, to sink slowly, to fade away entirely. She read once that drowning was supposed to be peaceful. This hurts. 

"I want you to be safe," he says. "Jackson is the best place for that. I don't have to be there if you don't want me there --"

"I didn't fucking say that!" she yells. "I -- Jesus, give me a fucking second, okay?"

He stands by the door as she paces back and forth, tugging her hands through her hair. 

She was supposed to die. But she didn't. There's no cure. And it sure fucking sounds like Joel didn't leave any option to try again. 

He traded saving the world for her. 

It's too much.

"What do you want, Ellie?" Joel sounds like he's been awake for days. Like he's in pain, like he's being hollowed out. He sounds like how she feels. 

She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

"I want none of this to have happened! I want us to go back to this morning and I want us to not have gone into the bus tunnel and I want you to have asked for tests first, I want them to try something else. I want Marlene to tell me why they didn't wake me up. I want to do it again but differently, I want things to be different, I --"

Her words break off into a sob. "Ellie..." She opens her eyes and finds him reaching for her. His shirt is stained with dried blood but she steps into his hold and his arm wraps around her. 

"I don't know what to do, now," she whispers.

Joel exhales a shaky breath. "I know you wish things were different. I wish things were different. But they ain't."

They stand there, his hand dragging up and down her back. She listens to his heartbeat and remembers those nights in the basement when she thought it would stop any minute. 

"Fuck," she whispers, then pulls away. He lets her go. "Fuck, Joel."

He sighs. "Yeah, kiddo. Fuck."

He told her the truth and that means something. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and it doesn't absolve him of anything, but that matters. 

"I'm so angry with you," she says. "I don't know how to forgive you for...for...saving me." 

It sounds stupid as she says it but Joel nods solemnly. 

"That's alright." 

"But I..." She wants to get this part right. "Let's go back. To Jackson. We'll figure it out there. But you...you have to swear to tell me the truth. Just like this. We have to be honest with each other."

Joel meets her gaze without blinking. "I swear."

Ellie takes a deep breath. The anger, the horror, the disbelief at what he's done settle a little bit. She has no clue what comes next, but this is a start. 

"Okay."

__

Joel wakes up. 

His back hurts and his shoulder aches. It's dark, darker than it should be, darker than it's been for hundreds of days.

Ellie is asleep in the backseat of the truck. 

It's tomorrow. 

thank you for reading. let me know what you thought!

[madarasgirl]

A Night for Hunting

On AO3

To me, Alucard is a yandere no matter how you cut it. He's sweeter after the relationship is more established. This short piece was inspired by EwNasty (BogDing)’s “Monster in the Basement” on AO3. The fanfic was such a hot masterpiece I couldn't help but fantasize more about Alu, even when I hadn’t started Hellsing yet and only read some headcanons. Just finished watching Hellsing Ultimate. Hopefully my characterization of Alucard, who is still new to me, is adequate.

You were only a regular woman trying to make ends meet. Never would you have dreamed you would catch a king's attention. Or unwillingly become part of his hunt.

(Alucard is an eldritch terror having a good time).

The story of a vampire's seduction of a woman, and a king turning from unwanted stalker to lover.

Tags/warnings: Alucard (Ultimate) x Fem!Reader, predator/prey, hunting, fear play, dacryphilia, slight mind reading and control, bondage (?), noncon but no smut. Alucard is an eldritch terror having a good time. He doesn’t really hurt her.

Words: 1891

It was happening again. How? Tonight you chose an alternate path, one with more life. But as you walked, the night streets that were lively not long ago seemed to quiet into nothingness. The remaining strangers who littered the area slowly scattered. It must be your imagination, but the shadows appeared to lengthen around you as well.

The screech of a colony of bats broke the peace, the sudden flurry of wings startling you as the small creatures fluttered across the starry sky from up high. Then all was quiet once more. You pulled your sweater closer to yourself and sped up, unnerved by the sudden eeriness of your path that was familiar and welcome by day. It wasn't the autumn chill that made your hairs stand on end. No, this cold was something else.

As you passed storefront after storefront, each of them now closed, you cursed your boss for coercing you into staying late for your shift again. Your eyes shot around anxiously, trying to find any other phenomena that were out of place. The chairs to several restaurant patios were neatly stacked on their tables. Several locked garbage containers were set out for collection tomorrow morning. Everything looked as it should. A gentle breeze rustled your sweater and carried the lingering smells of street foods. It prickled your skin and blew strands of your bangs across your eyes as you tucked them back. Maybe the strange atmosphere was only your mind playing tricks? You have been exhausted lately.

The streetlamps flickered. Branches snapped.

It was almost imperceptible and at first you didn’t see it, but as you walked briskly onwards, you noticed a light fog spreading lazily across the area. The hazy whiteness grew thicker and misted your vision, making distance hard to differentiate. Even the breeze stilled. The tranquil silence was deafening. You could feel the steady thuds of your blood rushing in your temples as your strides lengthened further to carry you home sooner.

Your unease carried your flight. You sped through the winding path home, making a left, then a right after the stop sign. J-walked to bypass the next set of traffic lights ahead. A laugh sounded from behind and you spun. A stalker? Leading a suspicious stranger home was too dangerous, but there were no public spaces available at this hour to take refuge. You wished you had your pepper spray! Your eyes focused on the fog. Visibility wasn’t nil. There was no one else but you.

Heart pounding in your chest, your quick walk became jogging. The laugh came again, but this time it echoed around you. Something grabbed your side and you screamed as you whirled with your hands slapping, only to be greeted by emptiness. Spooked, your instinct was to flee. You started running.

You weren't sure how far you got, but your breaths left you in heaving pants when you finally stopped. Uncertain of where you were because you missed your usual turns to get home, you glanced around for clues. Something large rubbed heavily against your backside, like it was nuzzling its entire body against you to mark you. But nothing was present this time either when you whizzed your head around. Then you saw it.

In the murky darkness, there was an off-tone blackness darker than its surroundings forming mere feet behind you. A huge inky shadow solidified and rose from the ground, stirring the white fog. You didn’t look closely enough to elucidate the details, but you'd seen enough. It looked like some sort of canine, a head rearing from a pool of shadow lined with red. Rows of teeth gleamed through a sinister smirk. You turned and bolted with a breathless shout.

Quiet, little one. A rich, amused voice whispered into your head.

A weight hit you and knocked you to the ground, ripping your delicate skin against the rugged pavement. Ignoring the pain, you yelped and scrambled to get up before dashing blindly away again. The laughter this time was more akin to a cackle, ravenous and touched by madness.

Yes, RUN! The gleeful voice sounded again.

The ground turned black. Eyes opened along your path, thousands of them, red irises tracking you as you ran desperately until your lungs burned. This, this was new. This never happened before!

“WHAT WAS THIS?!” You thought in panic.

Your wide eyes couldn’t avert themselves from the morbid sight as your legs carried you frantically, your lips fell open to scream, but you couldn’t. No voice came.

You were no longer aware of where you were as the surroundings blazed by in a blur. You could only run and run and run until your legs gave out and exhaustion took you, even if the shadows still followed. The eyes moved with you, mocking your futile attempts to escape.

Sprawled on the ground, your body was wracked with shaking as you heaved greedily to fill your aching chest with air. Your legs felt like lead. Warm blood trickled from your wounds which you weren’t cognizant of earlier.

The shadows surrounded you. It crawled up your body, those wretched unblinking eyes that spectated this chase finally catching up to you. The thousands of eyes curled up in mirth at your anguish. You stared back helplessly, beyond terror and screaming, and tried to scoot back, to push the shadows off, to do anything to get whatever it was away from you.

The darkness had mass. It settled on top of you, pushing your back to the cold ground, flowing over your form until you were completely immobile despite your hopeless struggles to free yourself. It rippled as if it enjoyed your fight.

“I am going to die,” you thought feebly. The weight of the shadows was overwhelming. You whined in pain piteously and immediately, the pressure diminished. The shadow shifted again, its shape transforming. Humans, such fragile and weak creatures. The voice tsk’ed?

Locking eyes with the now-humanoid figure above you, time froze. You found in the thing's eyes timelessness, an age-old elegance that only grew wiser with the passage of eras. This was an ancient and crafty creature, its eyes glowing with an unworldly orangey-red that was enchantingly beautiful, you recognized distantly. It was making sounds that could only be described as contented exhalations.

“It was you. All this time, it was you haunting me." You couldn’t look away from that face. It was much too gorgeous to be human, even if it took the skin of a man. 

It purred. "Yes it was me."

Your eyes widened, not expecting such sounds to come from this creature that caged you against the ground. The sensual voice was liquid sin to your ears when you heard it out loud at last, and the deep purrs rumbled heavily against your chest.

“You can't be real. THIS can't be real." You whispered, closing your eyes, childishly willing everything away, to be nothing more than a horrifying dream that couldn't harm you. Have you lost your mind at last? Gone senile with paranoid hallucinations? Surely you've been stressed, but you didn't think you were so far gone for your mind to create this scene. Perhaps you needed to be on medications.

The creature chuckled again, a terrible noise that reveled in your misery. Unknown to you, it heard your thoughts. "You truly don’t think this is real?"

Cool fingers brushed up your thighs and stroked your core, making you recoil from the unwanted touch. Your breasts and buttocks were fondled through your clothes. What?  You braved looking down and your heart stopped. The darkness that blanketed your body retreated, but your wrists and ankles were held down by hands. There were too many hands. Shadowy limbs covered in the same glowing crimson outline roved over your body, pinching and grabbing at whatever piece of you they could find.

A form covered in eyes rose from the muddled shadow over the ground. A hound, it was what chased you. It licked your face.

But he was still there, with all those horrific limbs that glowed with a dark light tethered to his body in impossible ways. The nightmare was reality.

"What are you?" The gritty pavement dug into your back. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes.

His bewitching gaze stared back, thoroughly enjoying your distress and powerlessness beneath him. “Your kind write many stories for me.”

"Incubus?" You sobbed, tears finally breaking free now that there was no longer anywhere to run.

He threw his head back and laughed in a psychotic manner. The mania was such a contradiction compared to his aristocratic appearance. Your eyes peeled back wide and you shuddered. "Do you still think you're dreaming, foolish child?" He hovered close to you, eyes shining with amusement while his mouth opened, revealing two rows of jagged teeth, but that wasn't what caught your attention. Your stare focused on two long, dagger-like fangs.

"NO. You can't be." You shook your head, body quaking as dread filled your very marrow. Tears slipped past your cheeks and the stench of your fear permeated the air. He nuzzled against your throat and scented you, delighting in your terror, a predator toying with his meal.

A wet muscle that was too long lapped at your tears as this creature sniffed at your throat and ran that abominable appendage up your neck. He was savoring each moment of your fear and getting off on it. You could feel a hard length digging into your abdomen as it rocked against you and the purring continued.

In a moment of sheer panic, your hands were free. You raked your nails against his face as your eyes met his, your fear made more potent as you realized you once again lost your voice. No screams fell from your lips, no matter how much you wanted to call for help. You yanked at his hair and pulled his ears, struggling desperately to get free. He smirked at you as your hands mauled him.

“Yes, that’s it. I like it when you fight,” he growled.

Your fingers came back from their assault bloodied, but you still couldn't break free. The creature didn't even notice the damage to his features. The sound of him breathing you in met your ears once more. “You smell divine.” When nothing happened beyond him trapping you and licking, you found your words again.

“Are you going to hurt me?" You whimpered, your expression clenched in fright.

Something changed in his demeanor, like he was displeased with the question. Your eyes opened hesitantly and you couldn’t help but gasp. He was completely uninjured, though the cocky smirk was less pronounced. After a pregnant pause, the arcane, toothy smile returned. His gaze slide back to yours with an unsettling glint in his eyes.

"One day, you will willingly give yourself to me." He announced with confidence and tucked away the extra extremities. His tongue licked down your legs to lave at the cuts to your knees as he purred loudly at you.

You knew a moment of vertigo when it felt like you were picked up and the scenery blurred. When you found your bearings again, you were dizzy outside your condo doors. You were left to yourself, nauseous, your pulse still racing. The vampire was gone. Your skin was unmarred, as if nothing had happened at all.

~To Be Continued~

[letmesleep8]

even if I die screaming // elliexreader

CHAPTER 3: Cassiopeia

AO3 | chapter 2 | chapter 4

content warnings/tags: cheating (not on/by ellie); mentions and use of drugs; subtle homophobia; slight discomfort.

notes: hello loves! i'm back with chapter three and it's a bit longer than usual, hope you like it. also, there is a minor OC mention in this one. nothing too much, it's actually such a quick role that i didn't want to waste a character in it, not going to happen often.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"With my back to the shoreline, I dreamt that he drowned"

 — Georgia, Phoebe Bridgers

January 22, 2039 Winter

Dear diary, 

I've been avoiding Ellie for the last couple weeks since Christmas. The last time I saw her was during New Year's Eve, tried to come talk to me but my mom was there and she had had a couple drinks. I realized it was better for me to not cause any type of scene.

After what she saw on Christmas mama said it'd be better for me if I got closer to Dina since we "have much more in common", of course what she really means is that I should not go anywhere near Ellie. She's also been really trying to set me up with one of Seth's boys, Mike. The older one, I think he's like 18 or 19. I really don't give a shit, I've only been seeing him so she would stop coming to my door late at night to pray for me while I'm asleep. 

Tonight there's gonna be a community get-together at Tipsy and I know for a fact Ellie is gonna be there. And so will Mike, I guess. God, he's so fucking annoying. I mean, he doesn't actually do anything bad, he's just boring and... shallow.

Anyways, I'm going right now 'cause Cat promised to give me bangs. I bet it's going to look awful and mama's gonna kill me. If it does happen I'll make sure Dina burns this journal. 

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The sun had just set, the sky was not too dark. I grabbed the cake I baked for the community party and filled up Stevie's water bowl before leaving out of the door. As I turned to lock the door behind me, I got scared by a voice.

"What are you doing? Were you leaving?" Mike said, making me jump and almost drop the cake. "I said I was going to pick you up, why were you going by yourself?" He smirked, realizing I got spooked. 

"I completely forgot, I'm so sorry", I smiled while trying to hide the fact that I wanted to throw the vanilla cake into his face, I absolutely hate getting spooked.  I could see his smirk getting wider, he probably realized how distressed I was. And I think he liked it.

"Where 'ma hug at?", Mike tilted his head. I could feel my face twitch as I walked down the steps to my front porch. I looked up and put one arm on his shoulder, hugging him. He was quick to put both his arms around my waist, making me furrow my brows. I'm usually really not a fan of physical touch and Mike was always really touchy. After about two  seconds, I pulled away and started walking. 

The walk to the bar was quick and sorta quiet. He asked to hold hands, saying my hands must feel cold. I said I'm fine and stuffed them in my pocket. The lights on the street were beautiful, taking away my attention from him completely. We then got to my mom, sitting beside Seth. He got up, with a smile. 

I smiled back, wide and polite, as always. "I baked a vanilla cake, I hope people like it", I uncovered the cake and handed it to Seth, who seemed impressed. "Well, at least I know ma' boy won't be starving anytime in the future", he said with a grin. I could feel my smile getting smaller by the minute. The boy laughed with his dad.

On the other side of the room I could see my friends, all sitting together on the same table. Ellie included. I think Jesse saw me staring because he waved at us, calling us over. I thought if I should wave back but before I could even come to a decision Mike was headed towards them, dragging me along. 

"Look who's here! I thought you got kidnapped by Santa or something." Dina laughed, elbowing me. 

"Nah, was just doing an internship as a reindeer, but I'm back in town", I scoffed. Ellie was quiet, sitting on the corner chair. "Hi", I waved to her, reluctant. 

"Hey", she replied, her voice low. With the slightest of smiles, she points at my fresh bangs and says: "I like the new cut, suits ya' good." 

I smile and I can see her cheeks get fairly flushed. I open my mouth to respond to the compliment, but get rudely interrupted by Mike: "no shit, you cut your hair?", he's surprised. 

"You didn't notice the whole walk here?" I knew Mike wasn't exactly the brightest but I never took him for being blind too. He shrugs his shoulders and opens his mouth, trying to find an excuse for his lack of attention. Luckily, Seth calls him over to the kitchen for help, sparring us both with this useless talk. "I'll see ya' ", he says as he walks to his dad. I sat with my friends.

"Not noticing a haircut is a man's worst flaw", Jesse jokes. I roll my eyes and reply: "I really don't give a fuck. Anyone got a beer? Any alcohol? Anything?"

Dina whistles and laughs. "For you?! I'm impressed, look who decided she likes beer now!" Dina always liked to mess with me, especially about the fact that I don't usually drink with them. 

"Well, I can't always babysit you all", I mock Dina. "Time to return the favor." Dina lifts her hands in the air, so does Jesse. I turn to look at Ellie.

The auburn haired girl sighed and got closer, whispering: "s'okay, I do have something on me but y'all can't tell anyone otherwise we'll all be in trouble!" She gets up and all three of us follow after her. 

We sneaked out to go Ellie's house, she unlocked her door. "It's a mess, I wasn't expecting to have guests. You wait outside." I leaned against the front door, Dina leaned against Jesse, whispering something in his ear that made him chuckle. Soon after, there she was with a 6 pack of beer. We all walked together, deciding to stop by a creek, as usual. 

Ellie sat on a rock and I sat by her side, she handed me a beer. Jesse and Dina got a beer each and went to sit further, guess they needed some privacy. I took a sip, trying my best not to make a face. I'm really not used to alcohol. I try to break the cold silence. 

"So..." I looked up to the sky. "Do you really just keep a 6 pack hidden in your room?"

She chuckled, not saying anything else. Maybe she is mad at me. I would be. But her being mad would mean that it actually meant something, I don't think it did for her. Did it? Do I? Do I mean something for Ellie? Well, maybe now she sees me as a heartless bitch. I take another sip of the beer, thinking about how Ellie completely despises me. 

"Are you sure you wanna drink it? I know you hate beer." I looked to the side to see Ellie looking at me, smiling sweetly. "I could give ya' something else, if you want, of course." She laughs. 

"What? Oh, sure" I try to brush it off, as she reaches for something inside her jacket. I watch as she takes a joint and a lighter off her pocket and try to play it cool, even though I've never smoked a cigarette before. She lights it up, gives it a puff and passes it to me. I try to mimic her and end up coughing really hard while she laughs at me. 

"You've never smoked weed?", she laughs. "I've never smoked anything!", I reply, still coughing like an old man. "Aw shit, if I knew I wouldn't have done this, you should have told me!". She took it off my hand and smoked it again. 

Ellie blows out the smoke into the sky as I recover. "I can help you if you want", she says with a smirk. I raise an eyebrow, pretending to be innocent. I think I know what she's gonna do, I've seen guys do it in movies. I nod my head yes, "go ahead".

She puts the cigarette between her lips and takes another drag, but holds the smoke this time. She gently cups my face with her hand and slowly gets closer, I open my lips, not sure if I'm just going on with the bit or actually trying to say something. Lightly brushing her lips against mine, she blows out the smoke in my mouth. I closed my eyes and took it, breathing it in, and for a moment I could feel her smile against my lips. She backs away. I can see her rosy cheeks, they match the state of her eyes. She takes another drag to herself, looking the other way. As she turns around I can see the freckles on the back of her shoulder. I look to the sky and back to her, until she notices.

"All good?" Ellie smiles, looking a bit embarrassed. I shake my head.

"Toss your hair to the side", I say. She does so without asking a single question. "Now turn back around."

I take my index finger to meet her back, making her skin shiver. Move it to one side then another, tracing patterns, connecting dots. Constellations. 

"Cassiopeia." I moved my finger again. "Big Dipper." I moved it once more. "Cepheus". I whispered under my breath, by her neck.

Ellie chuckled. "Are you tracing stars on my back?" She got the weed back to her lips, dragging on it once more. Afterwards, Ellie looked into my eyes, close to her neck. She got close and brushed her freckled nose against mine, shamelessly touching lips and blew out the smoke into my mouth again. Our gazes intertwined and our faces closer than ever when I heard Dina approaching. We both backed away.

"Sorry for bothering you two. Mike's looking for ya'." Dina grinned, shaking her head and walking away. I quickly got up, adjusted my hair and walked away too, without looking back.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Freak and The Princess (II)

Summary: Eddie lets you walk by during his rant in the cafeteria, stumped by your quietness and manners toward the town freak. He then decides to be the perfect gentlemen. [Part 2/5] 1.7k+ Words

Warnings: blood and stitches, flirty best friend Steve Harrington?, but other than that none that I know of!

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love y'all showed Part 1! I feel like I should call this Part 1.5 because Eddie isn't in much of it but it is setup for an eventful Part 3. (Apologies for any inconsistencies in the formatting, I’m uploading from the mobile app and I'm planning to review it later.) I edited this and proofread it, but please point out any errors or things that you like! And please send requests; all the characters I write for are under my tag #characters! Hope you enjoy! :) Part I

The Freak and The Princess

Part Two: More of a Prince

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Eddie said, opening the door of his van for me.

“Eddie, you really don’t have to drive me to school every day. It’s a 10-minute walk, I can manage.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’d prefer knowing you’re safe,” he said, more serious than I’d heard before.

“Thanks. For chauffeuring me everywhere and for the milkshakes.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

He waited until I was safe inside to pull out, waving as he drove away. I put my things away and collapsed on my bed, groaning as my phone rang.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, babe. We have a slight problem. Are you busy?” Steve asked, slightly out of breath.

“Russian soldiers slight or Dustin fell off his bike slight?” I questioned, sitting up.

“The second one. There was an accident and there is a lot of blood, and I don’t really know what to do.”

“Where are you?”

“Hawkins High. Back parking lot. Thank you,” he said before hanging up.

“What did you get into, Steve Harrington?” I whispered as I grabbed my purse and started running toward the school. I turned the corner into the back lot, seeing Dustin and Lucas lying on the blacktop, laughing weakly.

“Steve?” I called as I approached.

“Oh, thank you,” he mumbled, jogging toward me. “They were playing some game and got spooked by something, I think? They won’t really tell me what happened, and they won’t let me take them to the hospital.”

I nodded, handing him my bag and kneeling by them. I noticed that most of Dustin's blood was from a gash below his hairline.

“Steve, I need something to stop the bleeding. Is there any cloth in my purse?” I heard him open it before handing me a white shirt. “Sorry, Eddie,” I thought before pushing it against Dustin’s head. “Hold this here, keep firm pressure,” I instructed Dustin before turning to Lucas. “Where are you hurt?”

He held up his arm, a deep cut spanning his forearm.

“Steve?” I asked, looking up at him. “He needs stitches.”

“No hospitals!” Dustin and Lucas yelled.

“Fine, fine,” I said, thinking. “Can you get us into the school, Steve?”

“Let me go check the doors. If they’re locked, I can’t, not without breaking in anyway,” he said before running toward the building.

“What happened?” I asked Dustin.

“You can’t tell Steve,” he said. I nodded, and he started talking again, “We were playing a new game that Eddie showed us, I don't remember the name of it. Neither one of us realized Jason and his goons were here until they came out and started hitting us.”

“Jason Carver did this?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Lucas said slowly, watching me from the corner of his eye.

I clenched my jaw, looking back to the building to see Steve running back, shaking his head.

“I have the stuff to do it at my place, can you drive them?” I asked.

Steve nodded, helping Dustin up and into the car as I did the same with Lucas. I had one side of my shirt pressed against his arm to stop the bleeding.

“Dustin gets shotgun,” I said, climbing into the back with Lucas to keep pressure on his cut. His blinks were getting heavy. “Stay awake, Lucas, talk to me about your D&D Campaign, basketball, anything.”

He launched into a speech about the current campaign, not stopping until we got to my house and climbed out of the car. We got them into the house and sat them down at the dining table.

“Steve, get towels and the first aid kit. Both are in the closet in the hallway,” I instructed.

He returned quickly with the first aid kit and a handful of towels. He pressed one of the towels against Dustin’s head, tossing the Hellfire shirt into the kitchen sink. I laid a towel under Lucas’s arm, pulling the alcohol and stitching supplies from the first aid kit.

“This is going to hurt, Lucas,” I said gently, kneeling beside him, “if you feel like you’re going to pass out, don’t fight it, ok?”

He nodded, and I poured the alcohol on his arm, grimacing as he yelled in pain. I started the stitches, noticing that he lost consciousness after the fourth one.

“Dustin, stay awake, man,” Steve said to Dustin. “What does he need? The bleeding stopped.”

“I don’t think he has a concussion, but we need to be careful. Just put a bandage on his head and we’ll keep an eye on him. If he falls asleep, just make sure to check on him and wake him every hour or so.”

Steve placed a bandage on Dustin’s head, tossing two bloody towels into the sink. He helped Dustin to the couch before filling the sink with cold water and hydrogen peroxide. I put the last stitch in Lucas’s arm, the twelfth one. I replaced the towel under his arm with a clean one before wiping off the excess blood and wrapping it. Steve carried him to the couch before coming back to the dining room.

“Thank you,” he said, picking up the loose first aid kit supplies and placing them back in the box.

“Of course. Glad they’re ok.”

“Mind if we crash here tonight? I’ll take them home first thing in the morning.”

“That’s fine. You can take the guest room if you want.”

Steve nodded, thanking me again. The doorbell rang, and I looked at Steve, who shrugged and followed me to the door. I looked through the peephole, relaxing before pulling the door open.

“Whoa! What happened?” Eddie asked as he saw me, stepping across the threshold and gently grabbing my face.

“Dustin and Lucas got hurt,” I whispered, tilting my head toward the couch. He looked over, saw the bandages littering their bodies, then saw Steve standing behind me.

“You ok, man?” Eddie asked him, pulling away from me and closing the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wish I’d been there when they got hurt. They won’t tell me what happened. I’m gonna head to bed though, we’ll be out of here first thing.” He walked down the hall, and Eddie turned his attention to me again.

“Let’s get you cleaned up?” He phrased it as a question, giving me an out.

I nodded as I grabbed his hand and led him to my bedroom and attached bathroom.

“Swanky digs,” he said as I grabbed some clothes and set them on the vanity top. He grabbed a washcloth and a bar of soap from my shower, setting them by the sink. “You change, and wash any blood off your skin, then let me know when you’re done.”

I stepped into the bathroom, pulling the bloody clothes off and washing with the washcloth as I went. I opened the door, carrying my bloody clothes to the kitchen and adding them to the sink. Returning to my room, Eddie was sitting on my bed, his boots and jacket discarded by my window.

“C’mere,” he said, holding his arms out. I climbed onto the bed and fell into his arms. “You alright, princess?”

“Not really,” I whispered. “It could’ve been so much worse.”

“But it wasn’t, because you and Steve were there,” he said, hugging me and rubbing my back.

“Why’d you come back?” I asked, voice muffled by Eddie’s shirt where I had my face buried in his chest.

“You left your history binder in my van. I’m assuming you’re not going to do your homework though?”

I laughed, shaking my head and cuddling closer to Eddie.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked. I nodded against him, and he moved to lie down, pulling me to lie beside him, tucked into his side.

“Are you ok? You seem- I don’t know,” I shrugged at the end, failing to find the right word.

“Post-terrified? ‘Cause that’s exactly how I feel. When you opened that door covered in blood, I swear my heart stopped.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, princess. I didn’t know what was happening and I was scared, that’s not your fault.”

We lay in silence for a few minutes until Eddie asked, “Wanna skip school tomorrow? Get a long weekend?” I shook my head, already planning what I was going to do to Carver tomorrow. “It’s really late, I don’t think you should go. We all could use a day,” he said, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. I finally nodded, wrapping my arms around him and trusting he was right. “Get some sleep, princess,” he said, kissing my temple before I drifted off.

I woke up to someone knocking on my door. I wiggled out of Eddie’s arms, opened the door, and saw Dustin standing there.

“Thanks for your help. We’ll see you at Hellfire, right?”

I nodded as Steve came up behind him.

“Go get in the car, Dustin. Thanks again for last night. I called Keith and got us both the night off,” Steve said as he pushed Dustin towards the door.

I smiled my thanks and hugged him before he walked out at the sound of his horn honking. “I’m coming, you little buttheads!”

I turned around to return to bed and saw Eddie smiling at me.

“Have I ever told you you’re a really pretty princess?” he asked, morning voice in full effect.

I fought a losing battle against my ever-growing smile and shook my head as I sat back down.

“Well, you are. Pretty, gorgeous, breathtaking, the list continues.” I turned and hid my face in his shoulder. I felt his shoulder move as he laughed, his hand rubbing circles on my back. I spoke quietly into his shoulder, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

“What was that, princess?” he asked, gently lifting my chin with his ring-clad fingers.

“I said, you’re more of a prince than you realize,” I repeated quietly.

A huge grin broke out across Eddie’s face. He pulled me into a hug, collapsing on top of me. “You are something special, princess.”

We spent the day together reading, watching movies, listening to music, and eating most of the snacks I had in the top cabinet, hidden from Dustin. When he went home at the end of the day, my focus shifted entirely to Jason Carver and how I would make him pay.

Taglist: @loonalockley @paleidiot @kimmi-kat

[forgetminot]

hii!! just wanted to say its so cool to see a writer with pots and cfs, I have both too! I totally understand those and im sending u lots of spoons 🫶 if ur up for it could u please do something fluffy with rick or daryl taking care of an injured reader? thanks so much!!

My Hero.

♡ Daryl Dixon x !gn reader ♡

[ Warnings : Injury, angst, killing of a deer, profanities, established relationship, very sweet Daryl, fluffff, slightly proof read ]

Author's Note : awwe, sending you lots of spoons right back!! SOO, i might have gotten carried away with this... The start is how the reader gets injured, so it's slightly angsty and the end is full of fluff; like the most fluffy stuff I have written.

Summary : You get injured while out hunting with Daryl, he fixes you right up and makes sure you are okay.

You liked to think you were getting better at hunting, you started off in the beginning by watching Daryl from afar, trying not to spook him or the animal he was tracking. The further into the apocalypse you got, you crept your way into Daryl's walls and he'd let you tag along once or twice. Now? He refused to go anywhere without you.

"It looks like deer markings, right?" You question as you study the footprints in the mud.

"Mm, yer' right." Daryl nods, continuing to follow the trail. You follow closely behind as you both make your way through the forest, pushing branches out of the way as you go. Daryl stops suddenly, placing his hand in front of you to slow you. "Over there, see it?"

You smile as the deer steps into view and you take your bow from your back, drawing up a shot. Deep breath in. You release the string and the arrow flies through the air with force, hitting the deer square in the neck and it falls to the ground with a thud.

"Nice shot, you're getting better at tha'" You thank Daryl before heading towards the deer, the leaves rustling beneath you.

"Do you think we can get-" You let out a harsh scream as you step straight onto the plate of a bear trap, the sharp jaws digging into your ankle; your bow dropping to the ground and you fall to your knees in pain, hands clawing at the metal around your leg.

"Shit, Don't move!" Daryl is by your side in seconds, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head up to look at him. "Deep breaths." You breathe in deeply, holding your breath and then releasing, tears streaming down your cheeks which Daryl is quick to wipe away. "Ya' need to stay calm for me, ok?"

You nod as Daryl bends down to examine the trap. He sighs deeply, looking up at you. "Think I can pry it open." You close your eyes, shaking your head back and forth in panic. "Need yer' to pull your ankle out as soon as I get it open."

Opening your eyes you look down at Daryl, he's staring up at you with panic written all over his face. "Okay" you whisper.

He places both his hands at either side of the jaws and pulls on them harshly. You cry out as the traps jaws leave your wound and you tug your ankle from the trap as it closes with a loud clang. You fall backwards onto the ground, groaning from the pain.

Daryl is already searching through his bag, pulling out any medical supplies you brought with you. You reach for your bag, taking it from your shoulders and handing it to Daryl.

"There should be some vodka in there." Daryl laughs, raising his eyebrows at you in question. "Not like that, it's for medical purposes." You hiss.

"M' sure it is." He places the vodka on the ground beside him as he helps you remove your now destroyed boot and sock; you wince as the fabric peels away from the wound. Daryl picks the bottle back up, removing the cap and throwing it to the side. "It's goin' to sting."

"Just do it." Daryl pours the alcohol over your wound and you scream out in agony as it burns your skin; you grab onto Daryl's shoulder, squeezing tightly as he continues to pour vodka around your ankle. "Fuck, that hurts more than I thought it would."

"Here, drink this." You laugh as Daryl hands you the bottle of remaining vodka and chug it down in one go. "Knew that's why you brought that." You glare at him, pushing him back by the shoulder.

He takes a bandage from the first aid box and carefully applies it around your wound.

"All I can do, ya' definitely going to need stitches though."

"Thank you." You lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, smiling as you lean away. "My hero." You giggle.

"M' no hero." He states.

"I don't see anyone else around here." You turn your head, looking around the forest. "Except for the dead deer..."

"You're a loud screamer."

"What?" You laugh. "Anyone would scream that loud after stepping on one of those things." You motion to the metal contraption.

"Don't think I would." He replies. You roll your eyes at his response, reaching your hand out towards him.

"Help me up?" He takes your hand, placing his other around your waist as he pulls you up and you groan at the sharp shooting pain coming from your ankle. "Please get me back to Hershel."

"Ain't going to abandon you." Daryl scoops you up in his arms, smiling down at you.

"What about the deer?" You question. "Don't forget my bow."

"I'll get em' later." He answers. "Only worry I have is getting you back home safe."

--------

You wake up in your shared cell, cuddled beneath multiple blankets on your floor mattress; Daryl is beside you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist with his chest firmly against your back. You turn, placing a small kiss against his lips; smiling as his eyes meet yours.

"Hi."

"Hi." He chuckles, pulling you close to him. "How you feelin'?"

"Okay, I'm okay." You say.

"Good." He whispers, kissing your temple lovingly. "You passed out when Hershel was stitching you up."

"That's not a surprise." You grin. "Never have been good with needles."

"I know, told Hershel you would faint. He didn't believe me- Maybe I shoulda' bet on it." He teased.

"Wow!" You giggle. "At least Hershel believed in me."

"Never said I didn't believe in you, I just know you too well." Daryl pulls away from you, sitting up from his position. "Which reminds me, he told me to get him when you woke up." You groan, reaching out and grabbing Daryl's hand.

"Hershel can wait." You say, playing with Daryl's fingers. "Please?" He rolls his eyes, laying back down next to you.

"Fine, five minutes."

"Thank you." You place your hands in Daryl's hair, combing through the knots. "When was the last time you brushed this mess?" You question. He scoffs, looking down at you. "I'm joking!" You smirk.

"Mhm." He hums softly.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah, angel?"

"You're my hero." You tease, staring up at him.

"Told you-"

"M' no hero" You mimic his words from before. "Seriously, Thank you."

"Wasn't going to just leave you there." He states, taking your hand in his.

"I know." You laugh.. "Just take my thank you."

"Fine, You' welcome." He rolls his eyes as you smile up at him, placing your spare hand on the back of his neck and pulling his lips down against yours. "Love you." He whispers into the kiss.

"I love you too."

[tangerinesgf]

Happy Birth- Father's Day??

Clint Barton x Fem!reader

Summary: reader tells Clint that she's pregnant on his birthday. (Not MCU Canon at all)

Tags/warnings: mentions of pregnancy, hints at an asshole dad, fluff, cute stuff, bit of bickering, hints at smut but nothing happens

A/n: this was suposed to be for Clint's Birthday yesterday which also happened to be fathers day. But I got busy and only finished it today, oops. Anywaaayy hope ya'll like it.

“You know what day it is today?”

You can see the surprise on Clint’s face while he turns around to face you as you practically burst into the room he was just working in. “The 18th?”

“Well yeah, Captain Obvious I got that.” You say, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Then why did you ask me?”

“It’s not about the date, it’s about what we’re celebrating today.” There is this teasing look in your eyes that he can’t quite place, you’re definitely up to something.

“My birthday?” He sounded unsure, as if he might have confused his birthday with another date.

“Yeah that too, but there’s something else happening today.”

“Celebrating my amazing existance isn’t enough for you?” He chuckles.

“Ofcours it is, baby,-” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek “-but this is the rare occasion where these two things are happening on the same day and I gotta take advantage of that.”

“Alright so.. what’s today then?”

“It’s father’s day!” You say with a little more excitement than probably necessary.

“Honey, you know I don’t celebrate that.” Clint’s face falls a little at the mention of it. “My dad was.. well my dad and as far as I can tell there’s no kid running around here.”

“Well.. what if there was?”

Clint looks confused at first, but when it finally hits him his eyes move from you stomach to your face over and over again as if asking the question with his eyes. There’s a bright smile on your face as he starts to realize what the reason for your weird behavior is.

When his eyes finally stick to your face he looks at you with wide eyes that are almost puppy-like. You’ve never really talked about when you would like children, hell the two of you hadn’t even discussed if it was a thing you should do in the first place. But Clint couldn’t deny that there had been moments where he’d imagined a little boy or girl running around in the garden with a toy bow and arrow.

“You.. uh.. you’re pregnant?” You spotted a little gleam of hope in his eyes, as if he wasn’t exactly sure this was happening, but really wanted it to.

“Mhm” You nod. Your face is practically glowing with excitement as you wait for him to react. Sure a part of you was also nervous, what if he didn’t want to be a dad? What if he was scared to end up like his own dad? Were you even ready to be a mom? All these questions had spooked through your mind before, debating on how to tell him this news.

But as you were standing here and you slowly watched your man’s face light up at the confirmation that you were indeed expecting a little kid, all those worries fell off your shoulders.

Clint Barton had never been a man of many words. So he didn’t need any to tell you how happy he was when he basically ran up to you and embraced you in a hug, spinning the both of you around the room.

When he finally let you go, it took you a while to find your footing again and Clint had to steady you to prevent you from falling over. Before you could fully find your balance again, he pulled you in for a kiss. Not the usual quick kiss that you’d give each other before going to bed or when you woke up in the morning. No, this one was long, deep and passionate and told you more than all the words in the world could have.

After the need for air became too strong he finally pulled away, only to look into your eyes with that same sense of affection for you, a bright smile on his face. “So this is really happening? I’m gonna be a dad?”

You nod again. “And an amazing one at that.”

“You really think so?” He asks with a hopeful gleam in his eyes and you can tell he’s not so sure about that.

“I do. You are a good man, Clint Barton, and any kid would be lucky to have you as a father.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me, darling.” He places his hands carefully on your stomach and looks deep into your eyes. “And you.. are gonna be the most wonderful mother, you know that? We’d be lucky if the little one is even half as amazing as you are.“

A slight blush spreads across your cheeks at the compliment and you give him another kiss on the lips. “We’re gonna do great, baby. I mean look at all the other kids. Kate, Wanda and Pietro turned out pretty good.”

“They are not my kids.” He insists.

“You keep saying they’re not, but they kinda are.” You remember not even a few weeks ago when Clint had taken Kate to the dentist because she had to have her wisdom teeth removed and took care of her every need afterwards.

“They’re a pain is my ass, that’s what they are.”

“Maybe.. but you love them anyway.” You point out.

“Yeah, but don’t tell them that.”

Clint may act tough, but you know that underneath there is one of the kindest men you’ve ever met. He’d never actually tell them he loves them, but they know he does, his actions show that more than enough.

You raise your hands up in defeat. “Fine, but you better give them a ‘thank you’.”

“For what?” He looks at you with puzzled eyes.

“They made you a cake.”

“And they didn’t burn the kitchen down?” He exclaims.

You give him a slight nudge on the shoulder. “Be nice, they put a lot of effort into this.”

“Fine.. but you’re tasting it first.”

“No way! I’m pregnant, it’s your birthday, you eat it.” As much as you loved those kids, you didn’t entirely trust their baking skills not to kill you yet, especially with that mentality of ‘who needs a recipe’.

He chuckles and then takes a deep breath as if preparing himself for whatever the three of them cooked up. “I’m gonna have to endure 9 months of this now, am I?”

You hum in acknowledgement. “Yep, but you love me anyway.”

“Hmm.. that I do.” He pulls you in for another kiss before the two of you start walking towards the kitchen where the cake is waiting for you.

“You know, I can’t wait to see you all fat and bloated.” He says, a cheeky grin on his face as he looks at your still mostly flat stomach.

“See.. you claim you love me, but then you say stuff like that and it makes me wonder if you really do.” You chuckle.

You let out a yelp as Clint suddenly lifts you up from the ground and into his arms, bridal style. He turns around and starts walking into the opposite direction of the kitchen.

“I’ll show you how much I love you.” There’s a grin on his face and you know exactly what he’s planning as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

“What about the cake?”

“Cake can wait, wanna taste you first.”

A/n: would love to know if you liked it, so don't hesitate to leave me a comment. They really motivate me. I don't have a taglist for Clint yet, but if you wanna be tagged in any Clint fics I write, lemme know!! Love ya'll <3

[kunekojo]

NSFW Urahara Kisuke x Fem!Reader~Bubbles

Warning: NSFW

Tags: masturbation, oral (giving), praising, soft dom, bath sex

WC: 2,5 k

•••

Enjoying the poppings of bubbles, the suddenness of the door’s loud creak causes you to jerk your body, throwing water splashes all around the bathtub. A little startled, you cuss under your breath but once you see strands of blonde hair coming from behind the door, you swear you'll kill him.

Kisuke’s head pops timidly, an expression of pure confusion drawn all over his face once he notices the water mess. He watches everything carefully, acting as if he did not just scare the living shit out of you with his not-so-secret peeping. Of course, he was observing you, this isn't even his first time “accidentally” spooking you like this.

“Ohhh, Y/N. You made such a mess, but it's fine I'll take care of that later.” the broadness of his innocent smile annoys you a little. If it's one thing you hate, it's surprises like this, especially when you least expect it in the quietness of the bathroom.

Brows furrowed, your teeth clench. “What did I tell you about this?? You can at least just… I don't know, watch in silence.” you scold him, trying to compose yourself but it's a little hard. “You know I don't like it.” You've told him a thousand times but the only progress he made was decreasing the level of nervousness he inflicts.

“Ohhh I'm sooo sorry I didn't want to frighten you.” he coos, approaching you with a slow pace. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing, check if something is wrong with you..” With each inch closing, you can feel his gaze subtly wander around your bubbled-covered body.

He always does this, appears out of nowhere, apologizes, eats you just with his eyes, and then leaves joyously. At this point, you're sure he does it because he likes looking at your soft naked body, covered in bubbles and nothing more. Still, every time you just give him a mean look and resume the enjoyment of your bath, but this time you feel a little different, a little intrigued by his hungry gaze.

As he's getting closer, your eyes dart to the opening of his cleavage, tracing down to his pecs where the gap of the shirt ends. The smugness on his face and the soap lingering down your body doesn't help you at all, especially since you've accidentally touched your nipples when you jumped. You sense a fuzzy feeling buzzing your lower, sending odd signals to your stomach. If this was his plan all along to make you horny, it's finally working. You know where this leads, and God now you just want it a lot.

It's been a long day and you've had so much work to do, a time in which your cravings overwhelmed your mind, but now there’s finally an opportunity to take care of your needs. Impatient, you can hardly restrain yourself from doing something with the way he nonchalantly comes forward. You have to do something, anything to ease up the desire boiling in your blood.

A little too excited, you place your finger on your lower, drawing slow-pressed circles around your clit. Isn’t it a little weird to just do this so plainly, while he walks towards you?? But god, fuck, you can’t resist touching yourself with the way he eyes you, making it seem like he’s up to something himself.

Fuck it, you know how much he likes it when you’re like that so why not just keep at it, and play along. You try your best not to make any faces yet, but enjoy the tension of his unawareness. Thank goodness there are so many bubbles, you just want to keep this game for a little longer.

He takes notice of your silence and can't help but wonder what's wrong with you, but the answer rightfully comes once he sees your heavy-lidded eyes and the red hue flushing your cheeks. You’re both on the same level, wanting the exact same thing.

“Silence is an answer too, doll. Should I take it you're not?” he questions, kneeling next to the bathtub so he can watch your face better.

“I'm alright, love. I believe.” Your short unsure reply confirms his conclusion and he’s ready to begin.

He places one of his hands on the surface of the tub, inches away from yours downwards. “Are you sure? Isn’t something troubling you?” The smile on his face falters momentarily, but you know his game far too well.

You gulp, swallowing the tiny squeak you almost make. “There may be one thing.” you lean in, lifting your free arm to let it loose against the exterior of the tub.

“My, my, what could that be? Maybe I can help.” his offering sends shivers down your body. You rub your thighs, searching for a little more friction but it's nearly not enough, you need him.

“You might in fact have what I need,” you whisper against his ear, reaching for his chest to rub it with your wet fingers.

With the way you move your body, some of the bubbles are cleared away, gracefully revealing the little gestures you're doing to yourself as you two talk. He eyes your working hand so quickly and grins widely, quite delighted with the sight. What a kinky girl you are, doing yourself as if this is merely a normal conversation. His member pulses against the tightening of his pants, wanting nothing else but you at this moment.

Kisuke can hardly decide what he should do first. Tend to your tender breasts? Help you by inserting one or two fingers in you? Join you just to hold you good and shove you down his cock while you're still masturbating? Do all of them? There are so many more options he can think of but when he sees the way you glimpse at his groin with those parted fleshy lips, he can't deny your wish. After all, you've got plenty of time on your hands.

A kind hum leaves his mouth as he gets up, making you curious. You watch him as his hands reach to drag down his pants, followed by his tight boxers. Kisuke chuckles at your widened eyes and he's quick to grip his member, aligning it with your face. The twitching snatches your attention, leaving you with an immediate urge to coat the whole tip with a thick layer of saliva, but where’s the fun if he doesn’t tell you to?

“Open that pretty mouth of yours.” he gently holds your face, lifting it a little so he can imagine your lips wrapped around his tip before he sees it.

The corners of your lips curl, your sex itching for a steadier pace. You open your mouth and gently arrange your lips around the head of his cock, slowly taking as much as you can inside. The warmth of your mouth makes a groan escape from him, pushing you to brush your slick tongue against his shaft. With the tip, you press against the skin as you bob your head in rhythm with your fingers and he simply can’t take his eyes off you.

You feel so good around his cock, so good that he wants to just hold your hair and thrust deeper inside your mouth which he does when you lift your eyes to stare at him, smiling as you take him so well. Hand going behind your back, Kisuke holds you tight so he can shove more of his dick in your mouth. If it’s one thing that gets him excited, it’s when you look at him with those hungry eyes of yours, asking him to just fuck your mouth.

“Take it all now, take it like the sweet girl you are.” He thrusts a little deeper, causing you to let out a muffled moan and it delights him so much that he buckles in.

You can’t be the only one doing something for him, he has to make up for it by helping you.

Leaning in, his other hand reaches for your breasts so he can play with them, rubbing more soap on your nipples. The sensation sends you to moan loudly and toss your head back but his grip pushes you back to his shaft, motioning you in and out. He knows where to touch and how hard to pinch your nipples between his digits, but with how slippery they are it’s a little hard to seize them for longer, causing more moans to come out of you. His gaze bounces to your body, trembling with stimulation.

“That’s it. Go faster, move your fingers faster.” His demand makes you squirm in the tub, splashing a little more water but you take his orders.

You can hardly focus on moving your head with the messy pace you’re doing to yourself but that’s fine, his hand has you covered.

“Faster.” The guttural voice forces you to moan but when you feel his hand pressing against your nipples, the build-up of your incoming orgasm makes you say his name repeatedly.

He can barely make up for anything you’re saying, soon realizing just by the noises that you’re calling for him.

“Do it. Come.” His quickened thrusts send you over the edge, but your noises and your jerking body make him feel like getting closer too. You hear him moan too, as he messes up his pushes.

Muffled moans fill the bathroom, echoing louder and louder with how much you’re screaming for him. Your whole body trembles once you finish, crying once the wave of deep pleasure hits youwell. The piercing wail you give is all he needs to take one more push and cum in your mouth, seed fluids flowing down your throat as you swallow every single drop. You gasp from all the exhaustion, and your body collapses on the tub, trying to gather as much energy as possible.

Kisuke watches you lay down comfortably, a little cum lingering down to your chin as you take the remaining of his fluid.

“Good girl, swallow it to the last drop.” He pants, rubbing the small amount of cum with his finger and placing it back inside your mouth.

There’s a brief moment of silence where he just gazes at you, holding your face in his palm and leaning down to place his lips on yours. When he halts the kiss, you notice the sweat dripping down his face and laugh.

“I think you should take a bath too.” You offer, moving yours to the emptiness of the tub where he can fit perfectly. It surprises him that you’re already up for the next round but his already twitching member can’t refuse, not with how much he wants to do to you.

Grinning, he takes his shirt off, revealing his muscles, glistering with slight sweat from all the effort and you hum in anticipation, already refreshed.

“Mind If I join in?”

“Not at all.” you lift your body to sit on your ass and part your legs to make more space. “Come here.”

Kisuke nods his head and carefully enters the tub, taking a seat on the opposite side of you. The both of you look at each other and in a matter of seconds you reach to come closer to him but he instead embraces you, pulling you to sit on his lap.

It's been so long since you've taken a bath like this, you have to pick up all the things you've missed.

Hardly holding yourself from moving frantically, you need to kiss him, you need to feel the taste inside his mouth. You rush your lips against his and melt a sloppy kiss inside, giving him some of your taste while his hand wanders around your ass, gripping bits of your flesh. The water makes his stiff cock tingle your slick holds but neither of you can play anymore. You straight up place your hand underwater, seizing his tip so you can sit on it.

He groans in surprise at your sudden move, but the way you grab his cock makes him so weak. When he feels your insides clenching him, you hear him moan rather loudly, and his lips purse. He instinctively buckles his hips, shoving himself deeper into your cunt.

You moan in his mouth from the sensation and his gripping tightens. “Already this needy.” he teases through the kiss, placing his other palm on your soft breast and squeezing it good. “You’re my little needy doll, mine.”

“I'm yours.” you gasp in his mouth as his head brushes your core, pacing in and out steadily.

Kisuke lowers your body into his touch, moving his hand from your breast to your entrance. He then proceeds to rub your clit, building up more heat for you. Panting from the overstimulation, you raise your eyes to watch his gaze wandering around your body. The look he gives you when he hits the right spot makes you mewl his name and he’s pleased. He’s so proud he can make you lose yourself like this.

“Why don't you cum again then?” he presses his touch harder. “Cum once more.”

“Make me.” you urge him and he's quick to thrust faster.

Your moan delights him so much that he shoves you deeper, placing kisses on your jawline, unable to take his hands off you.

“I'll make you cum so much that you won't walk for days.”

“Then fuck me for those days so I can stay even longer with you.”

You can’t comprehend the weight of your words, but you’ll see, for now, you have to enjoy your intense lovemaking to the fullest. Still, the way you worded it out stays in his head and he can’t get it out. You gave your word, tempted him to so he shall provide. He’s already imagining just what he’ll do next, how else he’ll please your cravings.

“You’ll see” is all he can let out as your walls stretch him and make him grunt.

You feel the closing of your second orgasm and so does he, thanks to the continuous moans you let him listen to. Kisuke’s thrusts turn sloppier once you brush your lower to gain more but god you’re so close, you’re both so close to finishing simultaneously that the thought of not doing is unbearable.

“Cum on me, cum on me while I cum in you, doll.” He urges you, pulling your frame against his chest as you cry louder for him. You clench his broad shoulders tightly and use his body as weight to move along with him.

“Kisuke-“ his loud shout makes him toss his head back and bind his hands around your back.

A few more jerks later, you dig your nails into his back and bury your head in his ear as you both moan loudly. You ride the new wave of pleasure, hot semen flowing inside your body.

Your body collapses in his arms, resting after your fun. Kisuke lowers his head to look at you but the way you look so peaceful fills him with satisfaction.

[choicesmonthlychallenge]

Welcome to Picktober II: Choices October Challenge

There are so many wonderful things about October, so why pick just one? I decided to bring back "Pick"-tober, to explore all the wonders of this time of year.

Additional themes/prompts below the cut including Kinktober.

Aside from the Kinktober prompts (which you must be 18+ to utilize), all prompts can be used by anyone in any creative form they wish for any Choices/Pixelberry story.

You can use any prompt on any day or mix and match! Any works that relate to the headings/themes (fluff, kink, fall, spook, etc) are also welcome to be submitted even if they do not include a specific prompt.

Guidelines

Submitted works will be featured on a weekly masterlist

Every form of creative work can be submitted: fanfiction, drabbles, moodboards, edits, drawings, poems, songs, sketches, and more—all are welcomed.

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Clearly list the prompt your work is based on

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Can be combined with any other prompts and events

Please tag @choicesmonthlychallenge​​ and if you’d like to add me you can do so as well~ @lovealexhunt​​​ (feel free to DM me your work too since Tumblr tags are fickle)

[fizzyxcustard]

Broken

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x Original Female Character (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Torture mention, flashbacks, PTSD, nightmares

Word count: 3767

Summary: Amy Holland is Lucas' colleague, working for MI5 as an analyst. She sees Lucas experiencing intense flashbacks out in the rain, and takes him back to her flat to comfort him.

Comments/Notes: This fic is partially based on an episode of Spooks (season 7, I believe) where we see Lucas having flashbacks when in the rain.

Special thanks to all my mutuals who participate in writing sessions with me over on our Discord server. And, as always, @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady who is the biggest Lucas and Amy fan I know. 

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Flashes of the place Lucas had been confined to for eight years. Grimy tiles, pain, despair. Oleg Darshavin’s face. 

Lucas closed his eyes hard, and the flashes became more intense. He stumbled back, almost falling over his own feet. His heartbeat was thundering, and his adrenaline was coursing fast through his veins. 

Amy walked quickly, crossing over a main road, and then slipped up a quiet backstreet. The rain had become a heavy drizzle, thick in the air. From head to foot and she felt sodden with water. But she continued on, splashing through the odd puddle.

She heard a groan. Her eyes darted to her right quickly and she saw her colleague standing slumped against the wall. “Lucas?” she asked. “Are you alright? Has someone hurt you?” 

Lucas couldn’t help but smile weakly as Amy showed nothing but concern for him. “I’ll be alright,” he replied. 

Another drop fell from a balcony above and splashed down Lucas’ face. He tensed, gasped, and fell back again. 

“You’re far from alright,” Amy said, and grabbed his arm, holding him against her. “Come on, my flat is only a street away. Are you okay to walk a bit further?” 

Lucas smiled again. “I haven’t lost my ability to walk, love. I’m fine.” 

The two of them walked to the end of the small backstreet, and then turned right, out onto another main strip. Amy kept Lucas’ arm tight in hers. She knew full well the reasons that he had reacted the way he had. No one on Earth would be able to withstand a literal hell like Lushanka without coming home with mental scars. 

Amy’s flat was a ground floor maisonette, which was situated next door to a small supermarket and a pub, which was extremely convenient. She let herself and Lucas in. 

Warmth immediately wrapped around Lucas, a huge contrast from the chilled atmosphere outside. 

Amy was a couple of steps behind him. She switched on the light, which illuminated a small kitchen. “I’ll pop the kettle on for a drink. Do you want anything to eat?” 

That smile again. He couldn’t help it. “If you’re eating, then I’ll have something, but don’t put yourself out.” 

“Give me your coat and I’ll put it up in the airing cupboard to dry off.” 

Amy disappeared out of the room for a minute or so, and when she returned, she was holding a bath towel. “Here, if you want to dry your hair off. You can have a bath, too, if you like.”

“Love, I’m fine. You don’t need to fuss.” 

“Lucas, I know what happened outside. So stop trying to shrug everything off and act like you’re fine.”

Lucas pursed his lips and then averted his gaze to the carpet. Her words seemed to hit a nerve inside him, which would normally beckon a defence mechanism. But he bit his tongue, holding on to the realisation that she was being kind when she needn’t be. Amy could have quite easily walked on past him, or just said goodnight and not bothered to try and help. 

The kettle boiled and Amy prepared two mugs of tea, and then began sorting through her freezer for a large pizza. “This should take about twenty minutes or so to cook. Do you want to come into the living room?” 

Lucas followed Amy through into her living room, which wasn’t much bigger than the tiny kitchen. There was a television in the corner and then one small sofa. Against the wall next to a window was a book case filled with ornaments and trinkets. Amy began to speak. “My roommate moved out a week ago, so I’m looking for someone to move in with me, otherwise it’ll be me moving. You know how high rent is in London. No way can I live here on my own. My mum and dad, who live up in Coventry, live in a house that they paid half the price that this would go for, and it’s got three bedrooms.” 

“How come you moved down to London then?” Lucas asked, taking a sip of his tea. 

“To be with my ex. But when we split up, I’d already got a job here and didn’t want to move back and be a burden on my parents, so I stayed.” 

Lucas realised that even though he’d worked with Amy for almost a year now, since she started at Section D as an analyst, he didn’t know that much about her. They spoke most days in passing, and had even sat together at lunch in the canteen once or twice, but their conversation had never been below surface level chit chat. 

Amy could feel her nerves taking over; her mind analysed everything that was coming out of her mouth, making sure that it passed the test to be spoken. That overanalytical mind came in handy for her job, but when in social situations, it held her back. She’d always had a crush on Lucas, but knew he was very much out of her league. Everyone in the office knew that he had been involved with a CIA agent, Sarah Caulfield, who was pretty, petite, blonde. The typical woman most men would want. Amy was far from that. Short, curvy stature, a dark, shaggy pixie-type cut and not a lot of confidence. Amy was very aware that Lucas North would never go for the likes of her. 

“I’ll go and check on the pizza,” Amy said, and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Lucas surveyed the room, seeing all the Disney ornaments opposite on the bookcase. They made him think of her fancy Dumbo mug that she had on her desk at work, and the Lilo and Stitch notebook she kept handy. 

The warmth had him suspended now and he felt calm, having forgotten all the memories of turmoil from earlier that evening. 

“Not long to go, I don’t think,” Amy said, offering a smile. 

Lucas returned the smile, noticing how pretty her eyes were. They were green. And when she smiled, it made a twinkle shine in her eyes. And as she sat down, he caught a faint whiff of her perfume; sweet and feminine. Why was he suddenly noticing all of these things now? 

“Are you sure you don’t want a bath? I can start one for you.” Amy asked again. 

“Maybe once we’ve eaten. So what made you join MI5?”

Amy tucked her leg up under herself on the sofa and looked at Lucas who was only a foot or so away. “I saw the advert when looking for another job. I used to work at the JobCentre as a work coach, but it become too stressful.” 

“So you came to work for us?” Lucas chuckled. 

“It can be stressful, but not in the same way. My old manager was always breathing down our necks for targets as we had to try and get as many people into jobs as we could, and if we didn’t manage a certain quota then we were put on performance reviews. If I wanted any time off, I had to book about a month in advance. I just couldn’t keep putting up with it, and somehow I got through the selection process for MI5. You can talk to me, you know? I know we don’t know each other that well, but you can talk to me. I know what you went through in Russia. So you don’t have to try and make the conversation all about me to avoid talking about it.” 

Lucas sighed, gripping the mug tighter in his hands. “It’s not really something I want to re-live, Amy. And I appreciate your kindness more than you know, but I want to take my mind away from it. I have enough dreams and sometimes, like earlier, I’m taken back completely out of my control. I’d rather talk about you.” 

She smiled sadly, knowing that Lucas would talk to her when he felt the time was right for him. “There isn’t much to tell about me really. I’m boring.” 

“Come on, you’re far from boring. Tariq is always saying how great you are, and I suppose I’ve just not had chance to get to see any of that yet. And, maybe you already know, as it’s public knowledge on the grid, but Tariq does have a crush on you.” 

Amy choked on her tea. “Oh, no. I feel sorry for him. If that’s true, I honestly had no idea.” 

“You’re telling me that you never noticed?” Lucas laughed. “Amy, come on! He’s always getting you things, whether drinks or food from the vending machine. He watches you sometimes from across the room. He is so obvious.” 

“I’m going to check the pizza,” Amy replied. 

Lucas noticed that her face was straight, void of any kind of emotion. It made him feel ashamed for bringing the topic up. Had he embarrassed her? 

In the kitchen and Amy opened the oven and took out the pizza which was on a metal tray. 

“Amy? I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Lucas said softly. 

“No, no, it’s okay.” 

Lucas stepped closer, and apologised again. 

Amy looked up. “Please, can we just leave it?” 

Suddenly, the tray that the pizza was on slipped from Amy’s hand, which was covered in an oven mitt, and hit her opposite forearm. The pain was immediate and Amy dropped the tray onto the table and cried out. 

“Aim!” Lucas exclaimed. He rushed to her and ushered her to the sink, turning on the cold tap. He held her arm under the tap. 

Amy sighed as the cold water hit the burn, but couldn’t help look up at Lucas. He was so handsome; so much so that it made her sadness rise again. 

Lucas locked his gaze with Amy’s for a couple of seconds, with him still holding her arm under the cold water. Her skin was smooth, and she had plump cheeks. Her lips looked moist, and for a brief second, he wanted to kiss them. 

“I’m sorry,” Amy said. 

“What are you apologising for? It was my fault that you got distracted and this happened. Come and sit down, and I’ll finish plating up. Here, take a cloth and wrap it around your arm.” Lucas grabbed a tea towel from the counter and wet it under the tap, and then wrapped it around Amy’s arm. “I’ll get the food.” 

Amy sat down in the living room, waiting for Lucas. She kept the tea towel on her arm, but now her mind was racing with other thoughts, which dulled the pain. 

Act natural, Aim. Act fucking natural. 

Lucas brought the pizza in and placed the two plates down on the coffee table which was in front of the sofa. He’d sliced the pizza into quarters, giving them both two large slices each. “Can I still have that bath?” 

“Of course you can.” 

After they had eaten, Amy started a bath for Lucas and poured in some lavender bubble bath. Since they had eaten, the rain had started coming down heavy once more. 

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Amy asked. “It’s tipping it down again, and I couldn’t see you walk home in it, especially after what happened earlier. Please stay over. There’s still a bed in the spare room. You can have some of my blankets.” 

“On one condition.” 

“Okay.” 

“You let me take you out for breakfast in the morning. It’s the least I can do,” Lucas said. He was lingering in the doorway as Amy kept an eye on the rising bath water. Slowly and he began removing his blue shirt, leaving him in his black vest. 

Amy could see his tattoos and felt a blush rise in her cheeks. This man was just too bloody attractive, and no doubt he knew it, too. She turned off the water and quickly slipped past Lucas out of the door. 

“Hey,” Lucas said, catching her hand. 

Amy looked up at him and felt her breath catch in her chest as he smiled...yet again. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.  

While Lucas was in the bath, relaxing, Amy remained in the living room with another mug of tea. She was watching an episode of Doctor Who with David Tennant and Billie Piper. Most of the words coming from the television set seemed to shoot in one ear and then slip out the other, without any comprehension taking place in between. 

A vivid red line was now present on Amy’s left forearm, and the sharp edge was still present in the pain. The dull thumping, however, had stopped. 

Thoughts of Lucas swirled around her mind, and she tried not to imagine him naked underneath all the bubbles in the bath. The harder she tried and the more intense the daydream became, until she was imaging herself undressing slowly in the bathroom doorway, with him watching eagerly in delight. 

“I haven’t watched Doctor Who in years.” 

“Shit!” Amy cursed, almost dropping her mug of tea across her lap. 

Lucas stepped into the room, wearing only his jeans and black vest. “Haven’t you burned yourself enough tonight, Aim?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t sneak in and actually try to make me jump,” Amy hissed back. 

“I wasn’t trying to make you jump at all,” Lucas continued, sitting down beside Amy. There was a defensiveness in her words and actions that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as though she was trying to keep him at arm’s length, somehow scared of him getting too close. “You just seem on edge and jumpy with me. I’ll go if you’re uncomfortable.” 

“No, it’s not that you make me uncomfortable. Please don’t think that at all. I’m just…” she shrugged, trying to think of her next words. “Ummm. I’m crap getting to know people, that’s all. I never know how to make small talk. It doesn’t come natural to me. I prefer to have big philosophical conversations, rather than talk about the weather or the latest episodes of reality television.” 

Lucas smirked. “So talk about something deep then. Whatever you like.”

“I’m going to have a shower now.” Amy got up from the sofa, taking her mug of tea with her. “I’ll grab some blankets from my room while I get my pyjamas ready.” 

As Amy disappeared out of the room, Lucas sighed. Why was she closed down? Had he offended her? It felt as if the longer he spent with her, the higher her walls became. For a couple of minutes, he let his gaze lock on the television and follow the Doctor and Rose on the screen. 

Once Amy was showered and dried, she made her way back to the living room, where she saw Lucas still sat on the sofa. He looked up at her and smiled. “I’ve put some blankets and pillows out for you on the bed, so you don’t have to stay out here with me if you want to go to bed,” Amy told him. 

“I’m fine for a bit longer, love,” Lucas said, stretching his arms up behind his head. “I don’t normally sleep until late anyway.” 

“I really fancy some chocolate. Do you want some?” 

“Sure, if you’ve got enough.” 

A minute later and Amy came back with a large block of Dairy Milk. “Here, help yourself. I could quite easily eat a whole block sometimes, but I have to control myself.” 

Lucas broke a few squares off the block and began to eat, enjoying the sweet taste. “I don’t think you can get much better than Cadbury’s.” As he spoke, Lucas had a mouthful of chocolate. 

Amy giggled at his lack of airs and graces. For once he was showing himself to be less than perfect, as Amy had always imagined him to be. 

“What?” he asked, mouth still full. 

“Just you. I never thought you’d be the kind of man to talk with your mouth full. You’ve always come across to me as though you’re very proper.” 

“Me? Proper? You must be joking,” Lucas laughed. 

For the next couple of hours, Amy and Lucas continued to share the block of Dairy Milk, while old episodes of Doctor Who played in the background. Their conversation began with work, discussing an ongoing operation. But then Amy mentioned her ex again, which gave Lucas the perfect way in. 

“How come you split up?” 

“He just said he didn’t love me anymore,” Amy said sadly, her gaze dropping to the carpet again. “I don’t really think he ever did, to be honest.”

“Why do you think that?” 

“I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s embarrassing and quite shameful, so I don’t particularly want to share it.” 

“Why would he make you feel ashamed?” 

Amy looked up at Lucas, her eyes wide. “Please, can we just not? You have a past you’d rather not talk about, and so do I.” 

The air between them turned quiet, until Amy got up. “I’m going to head to bed now. If you want to stay out here and watch the telly, then by all means do. You know where everything is in the kitchen.” 

Lucas looked up at her, feeling his heart sink in sadness at her response to him. “O…okay, love. Remember, breakfast in the morning. If I shouldn’t be awake when you get up, just wake me.” 

“Alright. Have a good night,” Amy said, and left the room. 

For a good hour, Amy lay in bed, her mind twisting and turning with the conversations of the evening. She was not prepared to lay out her deepest insecurity to Lucas. A gorgeous man who could easily have any woman – surely Amy would just be something he could mock if he really knew her. 

Why do I constantly put myself out for other people? And it’s always for people who wouldn’t do the same for me. Lucas would happily turn his back on me and forget tonight, and walk off into the sunset with a beautiful woman. All of it just shows how weak and stupid I am. 

Suddenly, Amy was pulled out of her sleep by shouting. For a split second she forgot that Lucas was in the flat with her, and terror gripped her tight. But then the realisation that it was Lucas filtered through, and she jumped out of her bed, fumbling through the dark. 

In the living room, she flicked on the lamp which was beside the television. Light erupted and filled the small room. Lucas was still shouting; his words were incomprehensible, being a mixture of half screams and words. 

Amy looked to see him trashing on the sofa, his hands in tight fists. “Lucas?” she called. She got on her knees next to the sofa and put her hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him. “Lucas?” she said louder. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Come on, wake up.” She then shook him. 

Lucas’ eyes shot open and he gasped, staring at Amy for a second, no recognition present on his face. 

“It’s Amy. You’re safe in my flat. It’s okay.” 

Amy’s voice beckoned Lucas back to reality and he began to focus, recognising her. The light from the lamp created a halo around her head. He couldn’t help but sigh and drop back onto the sofa. “Oh, Aim, I’m sorry,” he groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. “I’m a fucking mess.” 

“No, you’re not,” she said, giving a smile. “Do you want a drink?” 

“Please. Anything will do.” 

Lucas followed Amy through into the kitchen where she picked up a bottle of Dr Pepper and poured two glasses full. He couldn’t help but smile at her mismatched pyjamas; a Dumbo T-shirt and a pair of red and black plaid bottoms. 

Both of them took a huge gulp from their glasses and remained silent for a few seconds, before Lucas spoke. 

“The dreams never stop,” he said. 

Amy looked at him and thought he looked beaten down in those moments, as though the weight of the world were upon his shoulders. 

“Lushanka was…”

“Shh, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to. I want you to understand, Amy. I want you to understand me and know why I reacted the way I did in that backstreet. The torture would come when I least expected it; night or day. Beatings and water. Somehow the water was worse. I couldn’t breathe; every second felt like it was my last. And even now…I…I feel water on my face or head and it brings everything back. I can’t stop it.” 

Amy saw Lucas’ hands shake as he spoke. She grabbed them and held them, warming them in her own. 

She wanted love and comfort. He felt that so deeply with him. It was as though she built up these walls, but her actions would contradict that as she grappled for some hint of warmth and affection. 

“My…um…ex-boyfriend, he…” Tears welled in Amy’s eyes. She looked up at the ceiling and then back down at Lucas’ hands. “I know he didn’t love me because he never made time for me. I’ve never had someone make time for me because they want me; it’s only ever what I can give them. I know my place now, so I stay there.” 

“One man doesn’t speak for everyone, Aim.”

“Maybe what I’m trying to say is, if he couldn’t love me, then who else could? I’m sorry. I’m making this about me now, and you’re the one…”

“No, I want to listen,” Lucas said. 

“Maybe we should just leave it and go to bed.” Amy dropped Lucas’ hands and began to turn, but was shocked when she felt him grab her hand. 

His steel blue eyes were locked on her. “You were there for me tonight when I needed someone. Twice, I might add. When it was raining and just now when I woke. You were like an angel, calling me to safety. And I want to be that safety for you.” 

Amy took a large exhale and found that she couldn’t unlock her gaze from his. It was mesmerising. 

Slowly, Lucas moved forward and placed a gentle kiss against her lips. His hand curled around her cheek, and his fingers brushed up into her hair. The kiss began to grow more heated, their tongues seeking each other. 

Amy pulled from the kiss, her breath hitched and she looked up at him. “I…I can’t do this, Lucas. You want something casual, and I’m not like that.” 

“Where did you get the idea from that I wanted something casual?” 

***

(I may write a sequel to this, depending on how this is received)

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[some-of-us-watch-the-sunset-too]

if the color prompts are open still, could i get green 2 with twobit :)

Prompt list: Green #2.

“you’re safe here, i promise”

A/N: AAAH two my boy! ugh i love him so this was so fun to write. also two does call the reader “cowboy” but i feel like he calls everyone that, no matter their gender.

Tags: you could say angsty but not full on angst, same as nearly everything i write.

Warnings: there’s a line that when i wrote it was supposed to allude to SA but it’s not that obvious, y/n gets into a big fight so violence ig? maybe a bit of blood.

Two-bit woke up with a start to someone banging on his door and yelling his name. He realised within a few seconds that it was Y/N, and that they sounded annoyed, or was it scared? he couldn’t really tell if he was being honest. either way he got to the door as soon as possible. he opened it and Y/N fell inside. The grey-eyed greaser caught them and helped steady them. They were shaking and their eyes darted around the room. “woah cowboy, calm down. You’re safe here with me. i promise.” He paused and took a deep breath with Y/N to try calm them. “What happened to spook you so bad?” Before he could properly finish his sentence Y/N replied no louder than a whisper “Shepard. Tim. Got into a fight.” Two sighed, he realised that Y/N was too panicked to tell him the story. Instead of asking any further questions he sat them down at the kitchen table and made some tea for them both. After about 5 minutes he saw Y/N relax a little. They took a deep breath and started to talk.

“I got into a fight with shepard. He tried to get me to do somethin and i told him no so he got angry. yknow how tim is. i don’t know what it was, but i realised i didn’t have my blade. after a few minutes of fighting tim had me on the ground and it occurred to me that he could kill me, and he nearly did, ‘pulled his blade and well..” Y/N paused and moved their jacket to show their white t-shirt was stained a crimson colour. “oh my god Y/N! why didn’t you say anything??” Two-bit jumped up and grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet. he instructed Y/N to lift their shirt just high enough that he could put a few stitches into the stab wound and then put a bandage on it. “his blade was pretty dull, i should be fine.” Y/N sighed. “can i..stay with you? i don’t really think i’m able to face leavin right now. tim won’t be happy he didn’t do worse to me. he’ll have his whole gang out for my blood now.” Two smiled warmly. “sure thing, are you comfortable sharin the bed or d’you want me to sleep on the sofa? you ain’t takin the sofa in that state.” Y/N returned a soft smile. “i don’t mind sharin.”

The two went to Two-Bits room and climbed into bed, Two gave Y/N a spare t-shirt and shorts. they were a little big but it was better than a bloody shirt and jeans, the jeans were probably bloody too. Y/N curled up close to two, they were understandably still pretty shaken up by what happened. the greaser put an arm around them and held them close. “you’ll be ok, you’re safe here.” he held Y/N close until they both fell asleep.

[thebo3bingo]

Hello, welcome to the Bingo of Our Own Halloween Event! This is going to be a limited time bingo event, separate from the main one. So, yes, you can still participate even if you have already received a card.

RULES

1. You can find the card on our Tumblr page.

2. Everyone can participate! It doesn't matter if you previously asked for a card or not.

3. The deadline is 13th of November.

4. You can post NSFW fics, but you must tag it accordingly. Anything explicit should be kept under ‘keep reading’.

5. For potentially triggering content, you have to add TWs above.

6. To make a bingo, you must complete all of the squares in a single row (vertical, horizontal, or diagonal). To make a blackout, you must complete all the squares.

7. Getting a bingo or a blackout gives you special titles in the Bingo of Our Own Discord server (you need a link to join the server, and to get it, you can message us). The titles are purely decorational and will not give you special perks, but they serve as a fun little badge that shows you've completed the card.

The titles are:

Pumpkin Carver: Participated in the Bingo of Our Own Halloween Event by submitting at least one prompt fill.

Halloween Enthusiast: Got at least one bingo vertically, horizontally, or vertically.

Spook Master: Completed the Bingo of Our Own Halloween Event by filling all the prompts.

Only those who post their works on the Ao3 collection/tag us on Tumblr will get the titles, but you can also just write for yourself.

8. You can use multiple prompts in a single work, but it will only count as one square.

9. Multi-chaptered works are accepted as multiple square fills, given that every chapter is a self-contained story for a single prompt.

10. There is no minimum or maximum word count.

11. You are allowed to crosspost your works. If you want, you can submit them to our official Archive of Our Own Collection.

12. If you want your work to be reblogged, you have to tag @thebo3bingo along with #bingoofourownhalloween and/or #bo3halloween

13. No harassment towards any of the creators is allowed. Don’t like something? Don’t read it.

14. All fandoms and pairings need to be appropriately tagged.15. There is just a single card for all the participants, and the prompts cannot be changed.

The official card:

FAQ

When can I start posting?

As soon as you’re done writing There is no starting date.

Does the event have a deadline?

Yes. The last day to post is 13th of November, if you want to get the special Discord titles, want your works to be reblogged and/or added to the Halloween Event Ao3 Collection. But you can still post later than that, without getting the perks.

What fandoms are included?

Any fandom you want!

Can I submit any other types of artwork?

This is mainly a fanfiction event, but you can make fanart or edits for your prompts if you want to. Just don’t forget that they need to be SFW if you’re going to post them on Tumblr.

What is the official Ao3 collection?

You can access it here:

For your post to be reblogged, make sure to add the following:

Title

Summary

Which square it fills

Fandom

Warnings

Rating (using Ao3's ratings system)

Pairing

The Bingo of Our Own Halloween Event prompts are (from left to right):

Midnight

Scary Movies

Ghosts

Halloween Costumes

Witches

Werewolves

Owl

Pumpkin Carving

Monsters

Trick or Treat

Skeletons

Halloween Party

Full Moon

Spooky Stories

Bats

Halloween Recipes

Zombies

Graveyard

Black Cat

Haunted House

Candles

Vampires

Spiders

Cauldron

Decorations

If you have any other questions, feel free to ask!

[ofstoriesandstardust]

cause if i say i miss you, i know that you won’t (lt. bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: we’ve now officially covered all three different perspectives. yeehaw. this is not my most favorite thing i’ve ever written but i like it enough to publish it apparently. 

summary: For years, he’s told himself that he’s at peace with the state of his relationship with his sister. Now that he’s here, face-to-face with her, he’s not so sure that’s the truth.

title comes from zach bryan’s “something in the orange”

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | storm warning masterlist | story description | she’s a heart full of rain (red lips like a flame) | dry lightin’ cracks across the sky (those storm clouds gather in her eyes)

folks who wanted to be tagged: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​

warnings: swearing, injuries, concussions, medical inaccuracies, arguing

word count: 1,809

He watches his sister fall from her horse with a sinking heart. She was a skilled rider, but skilled or not, falls from horses could be fatal. 

She wasn’t sitting up. 

Jake swallows, screwing his eyes shut as he felt Dahlia’s reigns fall from his grip. Heart hammering against his chest, he fights to breathe. 

She wasn’t getting up. 

He takes a deep breath, reaching for the walkie-talkie on his hip as he easily slips off Dahlia. “Hey Ty, we got a problem. Athena spooked real bad. Can you tell Emma and Lucas to go check for her? Tell Riley to be on the lookout for my friends. And send Madison to the house, we’re gonna need medical assistance.” 

There’s a crackle and then a pause. “She okay Jake?” 

We’re gonna find out. 

He couches down next to his sister. “Hey, hey can you hear me?” Nothing. He steels himself, willing himself to take another deep breath. 

Prepare for anything. 

His jaw tightens, blinking the thought away. She’d be fine. 

She had to be. 

“Hey, I need you to wake up.” He reached out to touch your shoulder, to reach up for a pulse, when your groan. You try to sit up and his hand makes contact with your shoulder, keeping you pushed back. “Hey, be careful, don’t want you to make anything worse.” 

You brush his hand off, continuing to sit up. “’M fine, just think I hit my head.” You say, reaching up to touch it. “And crushed the walkie apparently.” You groan, pulling it out from underneath you. “Gonna have a sweet bruise from where I landed on it.” 

He sighs, letting the tension in his chest fizzle out. “Hey Ty, do we still have that golf cart? Don’t think she should be walking back to the house.”

“Yeah, I think it’s in one of the sheds. I’ll go pull it out. How is she?”

“Hit her head. I’m thinking mild concussion but Madison should probably look it over.” 

“Got it. Be there soon Jake.” 

“’M right here. I’m fine.” He huffs. 

“Like hell you are. That was a bad tumble and you and I both know that when a horse spooks, what happens to the rider can be fatal.” 

You pull your legs up, resting your forearms on your knees, pointedly not looking at him. “Why do you care now?” He sighs, eyeing you. 

“I’m not arguing about this with you right now. You most likely have a concussion, so speaking of, do you know where you are?” 

You shoot him a look. “On the ranch. We just got back from a ride.”

“Who’s President?” 

“Biden.” 

“What year is it?”

“The year of our lord 2022. Are we done?”

“Didn’t know you’re religious.”

“’M not but I’m tired of the stupid questions. I’m fine Jake.” He sighs and looks around the ranch. The wind’s reaching its peak and he knows that the two of you are gonna be subject to the rain any second now. 

“Look, you and I? We’re gonna have to address this at some point kid.” 

“Don’t you dare call me that.” 

He swallows. It’d been a long time since he’d used the nickname and he didn’t like the ease with which it had slipped out. He wouldn’t deny the way your anger stung at his soul either. The sound of tires on the dirt catches his attention and looks up to see Tyler in the golf cart. 

You’d been the one to convince your parents that had been a necessity. 

“Well, howdy there cowboy and cowgirl. Looks like the two of you could use some help.” 

Jake gives a shaky laugh, standing up to greet Tyler. “Yeah, we definitely could.” 

“I’m gonna get her back to the house. Come on in when you’re back?” He nods, sticking his hands into his pockets as he watches Tyler offer you a hand and help you into the golf cart, heading towards the house in the distance. He grabs your hat from the ground and then walks back to Dahlia, who'd been pacing around, waiting for him, and grabs her reigns, lifting himself back on and beginning to move towards the stable. It’s a slow movement, not pushing Dahlia to go any faster. 

He needs to compose himself before he gets back in that house, faces all his friends. 

Whatever was going on between him and his sister-

It needed to change. They needed to talk. 

He was just grateful he had the chance. 

Reaching the stables, he sighs, slipping off Dahlia as he moves to her stall, unlocking the door. He takes his sweet time getting the saddle off, feeding Dahlia, and brushing her down. 

What is he so afraid of? 

Dahlia nuzzles up into her hand and he pauses leaning his head against her mane. “What am I gonna do Dahlia?” She simply nudges him and he lifts his head moving to brush her mane. “I have got to admit that I missed you Dahlia.” She snorts and he huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah I know. All my fault.” He swallows and sighs, letting go of his horse. Picking up his sister’s hat from the haystack he set it on, he moves towards the house, easily slipping through the front door. The screen door creaks shut behind him as he moves through the house, boots sounding against the wooden floor. 

Even after all this time, that door still never got fixed. 

He sets his sister’s hat down on the entryway table, the one his mother’s Dad had hand carved for her when she moved into this house all those years ago. 

The thought of his Mom makes his heart ache.

The conversation in the living room is lackluster, the voices of his friends a quiet murmur, and it tapers off when he appears in the doorway. They all look to him and he finds himself struggling to meet Rooster’s eye. He’s not even really looking at him in the first place, eyes fixated on the wall across from him. They’re trained on a picture of his sister at homecoming her freshman year of high school. It was the last year he was around, the last year his Mom was healthy. 

He’s been home long enough to know that any pictures of him are long gone. His Dad made sure of that.

The kitchen door swings open as Madison walks out, Tyler trailing not too far behind her. 

“She okay?” He asks, voice rough. 

Madison nods. “Minor concussion. Few days rest, she’ll be right as rain. Pretty proud of that bruise the walkie gave her too.” 

“Mind if I go talk to her?” 

Madison shakes her head. “Not at all.” 

He makes the short walk to the kitchen, slipping through the door. The lights in the kitchen are on a dim setting and she glances at him from where she’s holding her head with her eyes shut. He takes his hat off, setting it on the kitchen counter as he settles in the dining chair across from her. He crosses his arms as she mirrors him, the look on her face unreadable. 

“Gave us a real scare. You feeling okay?” 

“Shut the fuck up Jake.” 

“So that’s how it is, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah this is how it is.” Her tone is bitter, a frown placed on her face.

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “You really still mad?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Are you serious?” 

He shrugs. “Kind of, yeah. Ten years is a long time to hold a grudge, don’t you think?” She scoffs and shakes her head. 

“Ten years is a long time to not speak to your sister, don’t you think?” 

Her words are dripping with venom and he wills himself not to flinch back. 

He has two goddamn air-to-air kills, he can look his little sister in the eye for God’s sake. 

“Kid, I really think-”

“Stop fucking calling me that. That name is reserved for my brother, who I don’t know anymore. Going by the callsign Hangman, leaving people behind and out to dry. Guess you’ve really lived up to it.” 

“Now, wait a minute, that’s not fair-”

“Not fair? No, I think you’ve more than earned it-”

“Okay, that’s enough of that from the two of you.” Lucas interrupts, the back door slamming shut behind him. Jake turns his head, spotting Emma behind him. “If you’ve got a concussion, the last thing you need to do is be arguing.”

“I’m fine.” Emma rolls her eyes, moving to take a seat next to his sister. Emma had been one of his sister’s best friends in high school, figures she’s still just as close. Lucas walks up behind him, clearing his throat, and he looks away from the girls to his friend. 

“Jake, no offense, but get lost.” 

He scoffs. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Yeah, I am.” 

“Lucas-”

The kitchen door creaks open, and the group turns to see Rooster poking his head in. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting anything at all.” His sister says, shooting him a bright smile. He rolls his eyes at the movement, which earns him a glare from Emma. 

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” He says, moving into the kitchen, shoving his hands into his pockets as his eyes travel around the group. He’s rocking on his heels nervously, meeting Jake’s eyes and then quickly looking away to his sister. 

“Doing okay. How’s Athena?” She asks, looking to Emma. 

“Bit shaken up, but she’ll be fine.” Emma stands up, moving to the other side of the table, hand resting on the back of Jake’s shirt. He stiffens at the touch as his sister and Rooster watch them. “I’ll let the two of you have some space. Jake, join me in the stables?” 

He doesn’t miss the way her grip tightens on the back of his shirt. 

“I’m not getting a choice, am I?”

“Not a chance in hell.” 

He sighs, standing up. He grabs his hat off the table, putting it back on his head as he follows Emma and Lucas out the back door. It’s not quite shut before Emma starts laying in to him. 

“You’ve been gone long enough, don’t fuck this up for her.”

“The hell you talking about Em?”

“This. That. The thing she’s got going with your friend. You’ve been gone so many years, don’t fucking do this to her.” 

“Ever protective of her aren’t you?” 

“Okay, the two of you can have this conversation literally anywhere else, but not so goddamn close to the house please. I know they can hear you.” Lucas intervenes, pulling Emma back a few paces. Emma rolls her eyes, shrugging Lucas from her. 

“Whatever Seresin. Do or don’t make this worse. Just remember who has to pick up the pieces when you take off again.” 

[nine-of-words]

Out in the Cold (Part Two)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3473

Content Warnings: Emetophobia (Brief Mention of Vomiting)

I’ve been snowed in today, so it seems very fitting to post more of this story now :)

You’re not afraid to admit it; self control has never been your strong suit.

And in a way much reflective of your nature, you’ve completely lost steam. Relaxing as much as you can on the uncomfortable rock you’re sitting on, you fondly think back on the day you came here last winter, while chewing on more of your meager rations than you should. It’s hard not to feel nostalgic, even with the frankly pathetic way you ended up on the settlement’s doorstep.

They still took you in, even when they didn’t have to- and now you have a full year’s worth of memories of the orcs you’ve lived amongst.

…You suppose those memories will always be twinged with a more bittersweet quality, from now on. 

You’ll have to learn to live with it…

It’s not like you need them, anyway, you try to convince yourself. It’s gotten harder to do that now- after everything that’s happened- than when you first arrived, that’s for sure.

You're knocked from your thoughts by the reverberating sound of a hunting horn in the distance, carried even over all the ground you've covered because of the thick blanket of snow.

"Dammit-" You curse and scramble from your seat at once, then haphazardly shove your remaining travel provisions back into your pack.

Your daydreaming got out of hand, and now your headstart is spent. The orc hunting party will be on your tail any moment now, with strides much bigger than yours. You take off once again, footsteps nearly silent as you dash through the snowy woods.

Over the next few hours, your inescapable streak of bad luck rears its inevitable head. 

That tree looks familiar. And you’re pretty sure you've seen that configuration of rocks recently…

You brush it off as nerves, at first. You’re just getting into your own head. You know where you’re going- after all, you did have the brilliant foresight to pack a map and a compass, to combat your unfortunately lacking sense of direction.

…Until you come across a set of tracks in the snow.

There's no way they caught up already, let alone lapped me!

Taking a closer look, they're definitely from boots. Petite ones.

Not an orc’s, for sure. Who else would be out here? This isn’t good hunting weather… Out of curiosity, you line up your own boot next to one of the tracks.

…It’s a perfect match.

You… have managed to come across your own tracks in the snow.

Oh no. No, no, no- Not again-

You dig in your pack, looking for your compass and map.

…Which are not there.

A pit of despair knots in your stomach. You must’ve left it behind on the rock you were resting on earlier, after the sound of the horn spooked you.

Then it dawns on you - not only are you lost, you haven't even attempted to cover your tracks.

Your palm meets your forehead in irritation with yourself. You let out a long sigh, your fluffy tail swishing violently. 

This was supposed to be simple. You planned your exit strategy for weeks.

And yet you’ve already managed to screw it up this bad.

Why is it always like this?

Why are you always so unlucky?

The Spirits must really have it out for you…

LAST WINTER

“Here’s your package, granny.” You say in the most charming voice you can muster as you approach. “You look absolutely radiant today, I might add.”

Since you’re a newcomer to the tribe without skill in an applicable trade, for the last few weeks you’ve been here, you’ve been doing general odd-jobs. Some other orcs do this sort of work as well for various reasons, but it seems to be where everybody starts, outsiders included. You tend to favor the delivery jobs; you’ve always been quick, and they’re hard to mess up too badly.

“Oh stop, you’re such a sweetheart.” The elderly orc stops her work at the loom and stretches her leathery green hands out to take the bundle. She pauses when she sees the label, though, and immediately bursts out in raucous laughter.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, your soft, pointed ears flattening back against your head in dread.

“Hahah- Oh no, little one, that package is for the other Ghorza. Ghorza Gog-Burzog. The one that lives by the mill? It says right here…” She taps the text with her fingertip.

You swear internally as you make your way back across the entire settlement. Though the orcs here speak the universal tongue for the most part, all of their writing is in the Orcish alphabet, and while you’ve started to recognize some of it, you haven’t fully gotten the hang of reading it yet.

At least granny gave you a jar of her winter berry preserves to take home with you for your trouble.

This is not the first time this has happened today. What should’ve been a morning chore has taken you into the late afternoon. By the time the other Ghorza gets her package and you head back to the middle of the settlement, the sun is starting to paint the horizon with streaks of red, mocking you.

Maybe he’ll not be here and I can just… pick a quick, easy task from the board to finish before sundown. That way, I'll still make the job quota for today…

You cringe as you walk into the vestibule leading to the great hall, and are unable to miss Torg’s looming presence sitting in his attached office, the door propped wide open. You attempt to pass unnoticed by the open door, towards the job board posted right beside it, utilizing all of your skill in stealth trained over years of being an accomplished thief, to try to save yourself the misery.

Then he says your name, and you cringe, cursing internally before slinking back into view of the doorway.

It’s not that he’s rude or cruel to you, but he’s just so damn observant. You can barely do a task, it seems like, without him showing up to check on you. Half the time you’re surprised he’s not still watching you like a hawk while you sleep at night in your singles’ dormitory bunk- criticizing your method and ready to give terse advice on how to get better rest.

It’s like he’s just waiting for you to screw up. And when you do, because it is a question of when and not if- he’s right there to witness your incompetence and correct you.

“Where have you been?” Torg says gruffly, not looking up from the papers laid out in front of him. “It’s nearly evening.”

“There were… some complications.” You rub your neck.

“Got lost again, then?” If you didn’t know any better from his weary, disappointed tone, you could swear you see the edge of his lip twitch in amusement around his tusk.

“No!” You let out an exasperated sigh. "Simply a minor mix up. Don't you worry, I came back to take another job before the day's out. I’m not trying to slack."

"No need." He rises out of his chair, tidying up the papers a bit as he does. "I have a job you can help me with instead."

“What would that be?”

“Wort and I had kitchen duty for dinner tonight, but Wort sprained his ankle on a tree root earlier and can’t put weight on it for now. You will be joining me instead, so Cook doesn’t have to work on one of his nights off.”

“Er… I can’t say I have much experience cooking, but I’ll do my best.”

“Great. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

It doesn’t take long before you’ve arrived in the kitchen, washed up and donned aprons. 

Yours, of course, hangs halfway down your stomach, because this apron is designed for Orcish proportions. 

“Here.” Torg shakes his head with a sigh, motioning for you to come to him. “Turn around. I’ll shorten it.”

You comply and turn your back to him, and you feel his hands start tying the neck strap into a knot at the midpoint.

You barely manage to keep from audibly gulping in fear. This man could squash you like a bug with minimal effort, and you’re showing him the bare nape of your neck, completely defenseless. You would be shuddering in fear, but his fingers are surprisingly gentle against your skin as they work the fabric into a knot.

It’s sickeningly anxiety-inducing and oddly intimate- and then it’s over just like that.

“There you go.” He nods, then ducks into the pantry. He returns in a few moments, coming over with a huge basket of various tubers and leafy greens under his arm.

“Since you said you don’t have much experience, we’re going to keep things simple: Winter Root Stew.” He places the basket down with a soft thump. “How comfortable are you with using a knife?”

“I know my way around one.” Sure, you’re more used to cutting purse strings with them and not vegetables… But he doesn’t need to know that, right?

“Good. You’re going to peel and cut these, and then put them in the cauldron. Greens get washed and then go in later. Easy. I’ll be cooking the game that the hunters brought in earlier, if you need help.”

Work goes surprisingly fast, and your deft hands are soon slinging cut root vegetables into the bubbling bone stock at a snappy pace. In fact, things go so smoothly that you are surprised you've managed to complete the task without any unlucky hiccups. 

When you've finished, you're drawn to the other side of the kitchen by the sound of sizzling fat and the scent and browning meat. Torg is there, tending to a large, open oven. 

"That smell is heavenly."

Torg grunts in agreement, strong arms working to stoke the burning logs underneath.

The food here has been surprisingly good, especially after having it conditioned into you growing up in a more civilized town that Orcish cuisine surely must all be grey slop. It's definitely heavier than standard faire, but you've found that it has its own rustic charm- with its rich flavors, game meat, and tendency towards rib-sticking density- that's begun to grow on you.

“Venison. A few late winter fowl as well."

"Damn, who doesn't love a man who can cook…?" You sigh. 

Torg is oddly silent for a moment before letting out a small chuff of a laugh, then promptly changing the subject.

"Did you season the stew yet?" He brushes off your flattery with a wry smile.

"Ah, no I have not. What should I use?"

"Mostly salt. But some basic herbs and spices will be good enough." He points out the jars on the shelf to use and dictates what quantities, slowly and deliberately, since you can't fully read their labels yet.

"Okay, got it."

You confidently return to the prep area, mentally repeating a mantra of the ingredients and their amounts. You manage to collect most of the bottles just based on your sharp memory, until you come across the last needed ingredient. Two apparently identical versions of the same bottle sit side by side, even the labels looking nearly identical.

Urgh, which one is the ground mustard seed? They look the same…

Maybe there’s two bottles of it?

You chew your lip in thought, looking at the script on the bottle labels. The squiggles might as well be chicken scratch to you.

You peek back at Torg. He’s completely engrossed in basting the meat, with his back turned to you. 

You don’t want to bother him. You want to stay on his good side to keep your cover and not get kicked out before you’ve finished your job. But strangely, you also are beginning to harbor a strong desire to prove that you’re competent.

…Wait, it’s definitely this one. I recognize that letter!

You take the cap off and take a whiff. The familiar, pungent, biting scent fills you with confidence.

Yep! That’s mustard alright!

Now, how much did he say again…?

You can’t recall. So, you unceremoniously dump an enormous amount of each seasoning into the cauldron.

The more flavor the better, right? Plus, this is a huge pot…!

When you’re done, you help Torg with a few other easy tasks while everything finishes cooking. By the time the stew has had enough time to boil and meld together for a while, Torg is pulling the meat out to rest before slicing. 

He walks over to the cauldron to taste a small spoonful of the liquid.

Why are you suddenly filled with anxiety? It’s just vegetable stew, and you’re not even a real cook… But you find yourself dangling on a ledge waiting for his reaction.

“Hmgh-” He winces slightly, one bottom eyelid twitching, but quickly covers it with a small, tusky smile. “A little over seasoned- but not bad at all.”

“Really?” Your voice perks up.

“Yes. You did a good job.”

“...Thanks.” You can’t stop yourself from beaming.

Why is a bit of simple praise over such a menial task making you feel so happy…? Sure, you don’t exactly get praised that often, but still… You don’t need it…

You’re just here to do a job, you remind yourself. Once you figure out where the artifact you’ve been sent here for is, it’s the simple matter of getting your hands on it and getting out cleanly.

You don’t need to care about approval from any of these brutes in the least…

“Well then, let’s get this stuff out to be served.” Torg grabs the handle of the cauldron with both hands, lifting the heavy wrought iron vessel with barely any exertion besides a rough grunt. You’re nearly caught up contemplating the easy show of raw physical strength, before Torg’s instruction snaps you back to attention. “Grab some of the bread baskets and follow me.”

You comply, and soon you’re set up methodically ladling hot stew out of the cauldron and into the waiting wooden bowls of hungry orcs queued in the grub line.

This is… almost kind of nice?

No one is looking at you with pitying looks as you make another mistake or struggle to complete a task. Just a nod, maybe an appreciative grunt or mono-syllabic expression of approval, before they move on.

You can’t help but feel a pleasant, calm focus, and a boost to your self-esteem as you work through the line, working to the sounds of the lively dining hall.

Unfortunately, the peaceful sense of accomplishment is tragically short lived.

Suddenly, the good cheer of mealtime is disrupted as a loud tremor of havoc winds through the dining hall. Wooden chairs and benches and tables scrape loudly, some overturning and falling to the floor, though that’s barely audible over all of the booming voices yelling.

You’ve not really witnessed any brawling yet, despite being told to expect it; that orcs are violent and dole out black eyes and rip off earlobes with their teeth like it’s nothing, over the smallest of disputes.

This doesn’t seem like a brawl, though.

Torg swiftly leaves the serving line, immediately parting the crowd to get to the heart of the issue. You watch as a few different orcs are dragged outside by others, into the snow.

“Nothing else served!” One of the other orcs on the serving line barks after convening with someone that’s run over to them from closer to the commotion. You let the ladle rest on the edge of the cauldron, a sinking feeling from your throat to the pit of your stomach.

That’s how you find yourself sitting on a stool in the kitchen hours later, your hands bound with scratchy cord and two gruff, irritated looking orc guards watching you closely. 

Not long after, the huge, seething Chieftain returns to interrogate you. 

“What kind of poison was it?!” He roars as he storms into the room with a bang, the door threatening to explode off the hinges behind him.

“P-Poison?!” You barely squeak out. You shield your face with your hands, if only to dampen the larger man’s thunderous volume. 

“Don’t play dumb! Everyone who had a serving of the stew you made fell violently ill within minutes!” He gestures widely towards the door to the dining hall.

“I didn’t poison anyone! I wouldn't- !”

Poison has never been your style…

“Then explain! ” He snarls, nostrils flaring and teeth fully bared in anger. “What did you put in that stew?!”

Despite the yelling, you feel strangely safe. You don’t think this is going to get physical. You’ve never seen Torg get violent with anyone, and if anything, he seems to be struggling to keep his loud, expressive rage reeled back.

Moreover, during the interrogations you’ve endured at the hands of other authority figures in the past… the beating usually would’ve already started a while ago, if it was going to happen.

“N-Nothing, except what you told me to!” You whimper, quickly rattling off the list of spices you memorized like an incantation. “Salt, Pepper, Paprika, Dill, Mustard Seed-“

Torg turns, and his eyes scour the shelves of spices as you list off items. His hand hovers above the bottle of mustard seed, and after a moment of thought, he grabs both it, and the bottle beside it.

He brings them over, presenting both of the bottles to you. You lower your hands slightly to look at them.

“Tell me,” He says your name grimly, and takes a deep breath before asking his next question, voice still dripping with barely restrained rage. “Which of these is mustard seed?”

“That one.” You point to the bottle you used with your bound hands.

His shoulder jerks as if he’s about to fling the bottle to smash against the wall, but he apparently resists the urge, setting the bottle on the counter instead and releasing his white-knuckled grip on the lid.

“This is not mustard seed. It is bellow-seed.” He says through gritted teeth.

“Bellow-seed?”

“A spice made from a plant in the mustard family. Not a poison.” A bit of relief is clear in his voice and body language despite the clear vestiges of rage still burning inside.  “But in large quantities, it is a powerful emetic.”

You look at him blankly.

“It makes you empty your stomach.” He speaks slowly, forcefully annunciating each word. “Violently.”

“Oh, I’m… I’m so sorry.” You say weakly. “I- They were just right next to each other and I couldn’t read the label, but it smelled like mustard, so-”

“If you were unsure, you should have asked! I was right there!” He growls, his large palm finds the side of his head in disdain. “I told you to ask for help.”

You don’t have an answer for that, besides your inflated sense of ego and wanting to avoid your own embarrassment. You simply sit there pitifully, soft feline ears swiveled back in shame.

After a few moments of you failing to come up with an answer or excuse, Torg pinches his glabella and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“...Did you do this on purpose?” He finally asks.

“No.” You look him directly in the eye and say with conviction.

Torg nods, then undoes the ropes holding your wrists together himself in tense silence.

“Is… everyone going to be okay?” You ask tentatively and rub the indentation on your wrist, the guilt of your mistake already eating at your conscience.

“You- go to tell Shaman-” He ignores your question and gives one of the guards orders, then the other. “And you, take him home. He stays there until morning, until his story is confirmed.”

You’re pulled to your feet, then lead back towards the dormitory. As you trudge through the snow, you can’t shake the feeling of guilt. It follows you all the way back to your dormitory, and weighs on your chest as you’re finally in bed for the night, tossing and turning.

What’s your punishment going to be? Surely, nothing good. And sure, your cover didn’t get blown yet, but they still might exile you for putting people in danger, and you wouldn’t be able to finish the job- 

What’s your guildmaster going to do when word gets back that you ruined the one chance to do the job? Fritz has never been the most understanding when it comes to failure.

You suppose you could just go on the run if you fail, but… you have a feeling that messing up such a big job will earn you a grudge, and he has a well-earned reputation for not letting those go. You doubt you’d get very far without the past coming back to haunt you.

You heave a sigh.

More importantly… What if you really hurt someone with your seasoning mishap? Usually the only one paying for your mistakes is you…

 You don’t sleep well that night.

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