#I'm pining harder than a pine tree

[pacifymebby]

Blackberries / Aberama Gold

Warnings: age gap relationship, also I don't know what Im doing with this one.

The bracken shivered as you moved through it, feet crunching through the undergrowth, the bramble snagging your shirt, caring not for the faint beaded scratches they left on your irritated skin.

The mist was beginning to disperse but it was thick enough still that it left fine glistening sheen on your lips and cheeks, water vapour catching your eyelashes as you crossed the heathlands.

"You're too early m'pretty, the brambles are bare as the day y'were born," Aberama had said to you that morning when you'd stopped to stare longingly out the window of a bedsit in shit stinking Birmingham. You were pining for the forest, for the autumn season you could feel just around the corner and when Aberama had held your cheeks between his two hands and looked down at you, he'd seen how desperate you were to be out of the city. How much you wanted to be back among the trees and the fields foraging for the seasons bounty.

"Another week sweet girl that's all you've to wait..." He'd said stroking your soft skin with his thumbs as he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "just another week..." but he'd seen that far away sorrow in your eyes, he had recognised that yearning which lingered despite the comforts he tried to offer you - it was his yearning too - yearning to feel the earth beneath your body, to lie down with your head resting against good, natural ground. So when you hovered there in his lap, your cheek held by his hand, your skin blessed by his fingers, he couldn't deny you a day amid the bramble, the bracken and the trees.

He had been right, the brambles were still bare, the summer had been warmer than usual and the berries which you were sure had been out this time last year, were all still hidden away. The few you found were green.

"They're too young," said Aberama standing over you, his hand on your shoulder as you crouched down looking into the bushes, your palm hovering beneath the berries you knew not to bother picking. "Just like you.." he was smiling when he said it, an old joke played over to lure you back to him, but instead of a smile his words only drew a frown from you.

"Too young for what Mr Gold?" You asked standing up, turning to face him with folded stubborn arms, a girlish frown he couldn't help but adore. He brought his fingers to your cheek so that you had to concentrate to ignore the way his caress warmed you, shivered you at the same time. All the little sparks his skin on your skin ignited in you.

"Me," he said with a fond smile, "you're still but a girl y/n m'dear and look at me, this is the autumn of my life," he said gesturing around at the reddish scene, the browning leaves, the orange hue of the heath and the forest you'd walked through to get to the brambles. "Shouldn't be me traipsing through the heaths with ye, should be Bonnie..."

Your frown etched deeper as you held his gaze. It was true you were much younger than him, as young as Bonnie and though some may have been inclined to gossip about that, you never really paid it much thought. You'd never been interested in his son like that, you'd only ever had eyes for one of the Gold men.

"I'm eighteen now, I'm not a girl."

And in truth you hadn't felt like a child for a long time.

Your mother had died when you were very young, leaving only you, your father and a baby brother. You'd spent your childhood playing mother and lost your youth entirely when your father had been killed working for the Peaky Blinders. Your fathers best friend, Aberama had felt it his duty to take you in, to care for you and offer you a sanctuary in a world that hadn't been so kind to you. It hadn't only been duty at play however and the longer you'd spent in his company the harder he had found it to ignore the way you made him feel.

You were the prettiest girl he'd seen since Bonnie's mother, a good, sweet and earthy girl. A kind heart, a nurturing soul. Just enough wilderness behind your eyes, just enough shadow to promise an autumnal, plum like sweetness when bitten into. His temptation however wasn't drawn out by your naivety or your youth, his temptation was drawn out by the way you looked at him. With longing, with dependence, with love. With a desire he was almost certain must have been misplaced. And yet every day you kissed him, every day you threw your arms around his waist, buried your face in his chest and clung to him the way a girl only does when she is in love. Every day you asked him the same question.

Aberama sighed, that stubborn frown was something he'd always been impressed by until he'd wound up on its receiving end. A place he was finding himself more and more often.

"A week over eighteen," he reminded you, "your birthday was only a week ago m'darlin,"

"Eighteen is eighteen, a week over or month over what difference does it make?" You asked feeling your temper tugging at your patience. Knowing that some of this frustration which was threatening little pin prick tears to your eyes, was only caused by your having been wrong about the blackberries, your having been kept away from the wild for too long.

You held yourself tight in your arms, looking up at Aberama with blind determination, but he was right. He was much older than you, that meant he was much wiser to human nature, meant he could read you much better than you realised.

So he smiled softly and shook his head.

"The difference m'pretty is that in a couple of months time you might meet someone much younger than me, a good lad that'll be around for you much longer than I will... and when you do you'll wish you'd waited insteada tying yourself to a tired old man..."

If you'd been a little older you might have seen the sense in what he said, but as it was you just shook your head. You didn't want to think about the future, you wanted to think about now. The present and the man who'd been there for you, the man who cared about you, who had shown you such gentleness, such tenderness. The man you were sure in your heart, was the only man for you. Old or not.

"You're not tired." You said looking up at him, a small smirk tugging at your lips, "you're not tired and you're not old and even if ten or a hundred pretty young lads come marchin into camp one day ready to sweep me off me feet, they never will!" You said back a little too quickly, a little too sharply. He'd upset you but he couldn't help the soft chuckle which escaped him as he listened to your rather bold proclamation.

"Oh won't they?" He asked.

"No," you said stepping into his embrace when he opened his arms and told you to come to him.

"Not a single one of them?" He was teasing you now, it was cruel of him to tease you like that when your cheeks were flushed with your frustration and your scorn. You hated that he thought he could tell you what you did and didn't or would and wouldn't want. You'd been making your own decisions for most of your life and you were certain he couldn't possibly know your heart better than you.

"No," you said, "not a single one of them," you said determined not to cry, determined not to shed a single tear because if you did you'd only confirm the older man's concerns. That you were still a girl, still too young. You weren't.

Aberama looked down at you, brought one of his hands up to hold your cheek. Looked down at your big watery eyes and smiled slight and soft. When he brushed his thumb over your cheek bone he caught a salty tear but for your sake he pretended not to feel the damp stain of sorrow. He could read you like a book, he could see how much you wanted him, how desperate you were to win this argument which had been going on all week.

He'd made a stupid promise to you you see. On your eighteenth birthday having made you wait for so long, (a matter of months which had felt like forever to you) he'd kissed you. He'd taken your face between his palms and held your gaze, his nose had knocked against your nose as your eyes had closed and he'd taken a moment to breath in your dewy musk. His lips had met yours and he'd felt you change beneath his touch, he'd felt you relax into his embrace, melt beneath him suddenly pliable and full of need for him. You'd looked so bright when he'd pulled away, your eyes so full of contentment.

Now that silly promise he had made to you had been to marry you. You'd told him you never wanted to leave his side, told him you wanted to stay like that with him forever - held by him, his forehead resting against yours, his lips brushing over yours - and he'd obliged. He'd said "I'll marry you then sweet girl, then we'll never be parted..."

You'd lit up, glowing with happiness as you'd gazed back up at him full of awe but the moment the words had left his lips been gripped by a fierce doubt. Once which had clouded over and left him a little gloomy ever since.

You were only eighteen, you were still so young. Perhaps you only loved him like this now because he'd taken your fathers place when you'd needed someone to show you care. Perhaps you were confused.

But you hadn't looked confused then and you didn't look confused now.

You looked certain and just then you looked mired with sorrow.

"Why would you tell me you would if you felt like this?" Your voice suddenly shook and despite your lips beneath his thumb, despite his hold still warming you, he felt suddenly as though you'd slipped. As though he'd dropped you and was watching you tumble away.

"Trust me m'girl the way I feel about you will never change..." he began but suddenly you were certain he was going to let you down. Suddenly you felt the peace ripped from your chest by a sinking disappointment. He was letting you down for the first time and it hurt too much. You didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to feel his hands on your cheeks, didn't want his sorry eyes looking down into your sorry eyes.

So you tore away from him, running without looking back. The bracken snapped beneath your boots, the brambles caught and tugged on your skirts but you ignored everything that reached out to you or tried to call you back. You couldn't stand waiting around for your heart to be broken by the only man you had left in the world to trust.

"Y/N!" You heard his voice carry after you across the heathland, heard him too tearing through the wild grass and the brambles, but you didn't look back.

You were crying now and you felt like a child so you had to keep running. Couldn't let him catch up to you and see you for what you were. Couldn't confirm all of those doubts he'd been harbouring. Even if it wouldn't make a difference.

You knew now that he'd never really meant those wonderful things he'd said to you on the night of your birthday. That he'd never really wanted or intended for your affections towards each other to grow beyond a timid kiss by the fire when everyone else had gone to bed.

You ran until your tears were too thick, until you couldn't see the floor beneath your feet or the ground ahead of you for the rivers streaming fron your eyes. You stumbled to a stop beneath a hawthorn tree and tugged your sleeve down over your fist impatiently. You weren't gentle when you tried to dry your eyes and as you stood there beneath the shade in that hazy afternoon, you realised that you'd not been running as fast as you would have liked.

He was out of breath when he reached you, too much out of breath to speak. When he stopped he bent over, hands flat to his thighs, looking up at you as he tried to calm his heavy breathing, tried to catch his breath at all.

You turned away you couldn't bare to let him see you like that with red rimmed eyes and a childish scorn staining your face, but he'd already seen the damage he'd done. He already knew how you were hurting.

"Y/N m'girl forgive me, I didn't mean for you to..."

"You don't love me Aber, just say it!" You snapped shocking yourself with the anger in your voice, your cheeks flushing red when he shot back just as quickly, his voice raised, his eyes full of a fleeting frustration.

"I won't!" He cried back, his voice loud enough to disturb the birds in the trees, to ricochet back to him and stun him. Leave him feel guilty when he saw your flushed cheeks begin to pale, those stubborn earthy eyes flicker with uncertainty. "I won't," he said softer, much softer. He'd never raised his voice at you before and he was already making vows never to raise his voice to you again.

You'd flinched when he'd shouted and you were watching him warily now, a little like a fox weighing up the risk of approaching a tender man's offering.

"I won't," he said gently as he stood up straight and approached cautiously, as though he'd recognised a delicate creature not a girl.

He took your hand in his, looking down into your eyes, watching the sorry curve of your lips. You were wounded, he'd hurt you. He couldn't stand himself for that. Perhaps you loved him as dearly as he did you after all. Perhaps he'd been stupid before. Perhaps after all his fretting it was he who was naive and not you.

He took your hand in his and laced his fingers between yours bought them up to his lips and kissed then one by one. All the while his eyes remained locked with yours, trying to read your mind. Trying to read the tremble of your bottom lip.

"I won't say that," he said again as he held your palm to his lips and whispered into the heart of your hand.

You looked up at him with wide wounded eyes, hesitant to fall for him again, to fall for this. These gently tender gestures, the way he held you so carefully and yet so certainly all at once.

"You don't want me..." you whispered, trying to tear your disappointed gaze from his but when you looked away he took your cheek in his palm and brought your gaze back up to his. The movement so subtle, so gentle. You could feel your breath meeting his hand and warming your cheek. You could hear your heart the way you hear the sea in a conch held to your ear.

"That isn't true," he said softly, "that isn't true," he spoke again softer still into your ear, placing a kiss to your hairline, his hand still cupping your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut. You heard your heart beating in your ear the way the wind shivers through the trees.

"Then keep your promise," you said, your voice shallow but certain, shaking but stubborn. You were determined you wouldn't back down.

"Wait a..." he started but you cut him off, no, tried to tear yourself away again but he caught your hand and held tight, tugged you back towards him, this look in his eyes reeling you back in.

"After the fair, one week m'pretty, that's all I ask..."

"Why?" You frowned, his thumb tracing slowly over the plump ridge of your pout. How could he look down at you like that, with such tender care in his eyes, and deny you the one thing you would ask of him.

"So that you can see everything I can't offer and decide to turn it down yourself..." he said, "you're young y/n, you've your whole life ahead of you and most of mines already behind me... you've lost enough of your youth and I won't take the last of it without letting you make the choice for yourself..."

"I already know what I want.." you tried once more, looking up at him desperately, wishing he could believe you, knowing that he wouldn't. Not unless you gave in now and tried your best to be patient.

"It's only one week m'pretty that's all you've to wait... then I'll keep my promise, if it's still what you want."

You kissed his thumb where it brushed over your lips, your eyes shadowed with determination, an unforgiving darkness glowering back at him, a darkness which glowed with love all the same.

"It will be."

A/N I feel like this could have a part two? If you'd like a part two let me know?

Taglist (add yourself here)

@elina-777

@zablife

@jomarch-wannabe

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

#peaky blinders imagines #aberama gold x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #aberama gold

[sansxfuckyou]

crawling up the skin of my spine

summary: it's the beginning of the end when Raph's egg absolutely fucking shatters after years small cracks, thank god Cassandra is there to hold her hand through it

warnings: swearing, cass accidentally outs raph to april, check ao3 port for full tags

authors note: inspired by all of the magnificent raphcass that @less-depresso-more-espresso drew, go check it out. it's all really good and makes me insane. title from Alrighty Aphrodite by Peach Pits. if ya'll enjoyed considering dropping a reblog or checkin the Ao3 port.

"I think I'm a girl." Raphael's words floated atop the otherwise rampant sound of rubber on rubble as his brothers shot down Kraang.

"That's great and all, but can we please wait until we're not on the run to discuss this!?" Cassandra practically screamed back, a thick tentacle slamming against the window and shattering it. She hacked it in twain with her hockey stick, the blades of her skates tied onto the bottom.

"Yeah, sure, Raph understands." He keeps driving their ramshackle truck because somewhere along the line they had to ditch the tank. Now they have to fight to keep their microscopic trailer with only bedding essentials and food intact as they try to survive. Survive and plan a way to win, they're already beelining it to a colder climate in hopes of deterring the Kraang.

Raphael really hopes that this sudden spike of 'girl thoughts' isn't the start of something bigger.

None of the others were.

-/-/-/-

Snow is sprinkling down on them when they finally take a rest, the last Kraang hundreds of miles back and past the border. They snuck through a small crack in border security when a guard was off taking a leak. The smell of pine and the sound of rushing water envelopes them from all sides as they set up camp.

Setting up camp consists of finding dry wood and popping the cover for the bed of the truck so some of them can sleep in it. But it's harder than expected to find dry wood, and Michelangelo took it upon himself to use this freshwater advantage for fishing.

He and April are out kneedeep in the river, trying to snag fish by hand while Donatello and Leonardo are out looking for dry wood that'll light. Raphael and Cassandra are setting up the bedding for the night, spreading few pillows and blankets across the hitch trailer, truckbed, and passenger seat.

"You want to be a girl," Cassandra begins as she steps down from the truck bed, and it takes Raphael a moment to process the words.

"Well, I think it'd be nice. We're all gonna die by the Kraang, so why not have some fun?" Raphael began with as he watched her slash at a tree with her hockey stick for burning wood. Midswing she turns to look at him, askew hair she hasn't trimmed in months just barely fluttering atop her eyes. He stammers to speak, "That's stupid, I'm stupid."

She drops her gear and walks over to Raphael, gripping the front of his plastron and yanking him down to eye level, her strength still amazes him. She holds his face, even with the rough scars, "You're not dumb. You're a dumb ass, big difference." Cassandra lets go and steps back, watching the red starting to rise to Raphael's face.

"Thanks, Cass," Raphael said quietly.

Cassandra grins and pats him on the shoulder, "Good. Now let's get chopping, I don't wanna freeze out here, Raph."

-/-/-/-

Cassandra can't sleep at night, stuck in the hitch trailer with April and window ajar for fresh, wintry air. She stares at the roof, those dumb glow in the dark stars dimly lit up, and her eyes focus and blur back and forth. April lays beside her, resting on her side and stealing most of the blanket with her torn jacket as a pillow.

"What's got your knickers in a knot?" April asked abruptly.

"What's got your knickers in a knot, O'Neil?" Cassandra answers with sharply, aware she shouldn't say what's on her mind despite how much it's stuck right on the tip of her tongue.

"Raphael's been off," April said bluntly.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Cassandra can only pray that April doesn't keep prattling on because if she does the ravenette knows something stupid and exposing will fall out of her mouth.

"He's so quiet, and awkward. He's always been a bit different, but this? Whole new level of Raph weirdness, all he does is drive us to the new spot these days. And chop the wood and bash some baddies if he gets a chance, but he's missing that Raphael Hamato spunk!"

Cassandra bites her tongue and tries not to speak.

April sighs, "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"Her."

"What?"

Shit.

April sits up to face Cassandra. She reaches for her glasses before staring down her teammate, "Cassandra Jones, care to explain yourself?"

She really doesn't, but her survival instincts also don't wanna be on the receiving end of April's cold shoulder. "I wasn't supposed to say shit about it, but Raphael's… different now, wants to be a girl different."

April goes dead silent.

"Tell her I told you this and you're dead." There's a snarl under Cassandra's tone.

"I figured as much, Cass," April said, "Raph's a girl now?"

Cassandra nodded, "He isn't one hundred percent yet due to circumstances and the apocalypse happening, but oh yeah, Raphael's a girl."

"Always thought it woulda been Mikey." April gives a hum of laughter.

Cassandra takes a deep breath before pressing both hands to her face, palms resting on her cheekbone. "Fuck. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Especially not her brothers, you better not squeal."

"I would never."

Cassandra nods.

"Anything else bugging ya?"

"Is it wrong that the first thing I thought when he told me was 'thank god I'm still a lesbian?'" Shame rests heavy on her usually aggressive and in your face voice. A vulnerability the Kraang invasion has only further shoved into hiding.

It takes a second for April to process the words, "I don't think I'm qualified to answer that question." She laughs nervously after she speaks.

"Can we go down to Hot Topic tomorrow? Buy some accessories for Raph?"

"You just said she isn't one hundred percent sure."

"Might help her solidify it."

-/-/-/-

"Look, Raph," Cassandra begins with quietly, words low and slow. It's night time, well, the evening at the least. Snow melts as it hits them, sprawled out in the back of the truck as the rest of their team tells tales around a roaring campfire.

"Yeah?" Raph said, trying to pitch his voice a bit higher.

"I'm not too good at this being a girl thing myself even though I had my entire life to be one properly," She confesses, a bit of shame on her voice. She wants to be there for Raph. Be a mentor. Know some helpful stuff. But she doesn't, only the bare minimum. "The one thing I do know is that my mom always made me wear dresses with lots of bows and frills, and grandma bought me accessories."

"I can't, I'm a giant turtle, Cass. I can't just go out there and buy some dresses."

Cassandra pauses, and when she speaks her voice is quiet, "You can tie your mask tails in a bow, or change how you wear it."

Silence.

"I don't know how to tie bows."

Cassandra jolts up before gripping Raph's hand, he'd started to file down his nails with the sharp edges of his sai. He sits up and then she's crawling overtop of him to get at his mask, "I'll do it for ya then."

And Raph would shove her off, but it's nice. Being close to someone, having her calloused hands undo his mask and just hold it for a moment. Proximity too close, flames from afar casting a golden glow on her face and Cassandra's never taken a moment to look at Raph so closely before. The golden sclera, the scars, the way the scales darken around her eyes like eyeliner-

Woah.

Where did that come from?

Her. Cassandra hasn't really thought of Raph as 'her' inside of her own monologue so casually before. It's nice. It feels comfortable.

And Raph just stares unblinking at Cassandra until finally the silence is broken with a bit of a laugh, deep, hearty, "You gonna do up my mask, or?"

"Right. Yeah. The mask." Cassandra is quick to lay it around Raph's neck and tie it into a loose bow. Almost a bandana-esque look.

Then she rears back from Raph to sit a few feet away, watching as the snapper plays with the bandana on his neck. He smiles a bit. Then that smile falls. "What if the guys ask questions?"

"You don't have to tell them shit."

"But they're my brothers."

"You'll get there, I promise. Took me years to tell anyone I liked kissing girls, a couple more to explain I only liked kissing girls."

Raph feels his stomach turns at that. A good kind of stomach turn perhaps, maybe it's butterflies, but he can't tell. He just nods, "Raph gets it, it's hard to be vulnerable."

"Thanks for being vulnerable with me."

"What?"

"Nothing."

-/-/-/-

Cassandra looks out of place inside of the kind of clothing stores April fits in at, and even though eyes bore holes into her she persists in shopping.

No one says anything and she knows that in NYC she'd already be kicked out for looking so different, but she's in Canada now. The land of mild mannered people and snow, so far both of those notions are holding true.

April holds the bag and Cassandra grabs everything that she thinks would compliment Raph, it's hard to tell though because the girl she's buying for is a massive turtle. She buys arm warmers that are three sizes too big for her so they'll be loose on Raph. She grabs necklaces and bracelets even though she doubts that Raph will wear them, they look nice. She buys skirts and the cashier gives her odd looks at the sizing but rings them through anyways.

For Raph.

A million sharp glances and judging glares.

For her Cassandra thinks that she'd do anything and she hasn't felt that in years upon years.

It's euphoria.

-/-/-/-

"Me and April went out shopping for ya."

They're laying in the hitch trailer when Cassandra said it.

"You and April?" Raph answered with.

Cassandra gives a nervous laugh, "It was a mistake when she learned, she was suspecting anyways."

Raph huffs and turns away from her and it stings but yeah, Cassandra deserved that.

"We got you skirts. And arm warmers. And necklaces. And other accessories." Cassandra tries to recover with as she stands up and looks for the bag in the moonlit camper.

That piques Raph's interest. She turns back around and sits up before Cassandra unceremoniously dumps the items on the floor. Raph is hesitant to sift through them, but once she starts, it's hard to stop.

"Like 'em?" She asked with a bit of a grin on her face.

"Love 'em." Raph slid on the arm warmers over her spiked arms and they tore through a bit but that was fine. They were deep reds and blacks and complimented her mask that she wore as a bandana sometimes. Even less times tied around her tail.

Cassandra thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her but she's pretty sure that Raph is glowing in the pale moonlight. She can't help but lean her head on her palm, knees crossed and elbow propped. She tries not to look too lovesick, but hey, whose to blame if it's obvious?

Raph is too wrapped up in her brand new outfits to take note of Cassandra's disposition.

-/-/-/-

"I think I like you!" Cassandra shouted as her and Raph sparred.

In that same split second the snapper drops her guard and a fist lands square in her maw. She doesn't go stumbling but she does lurch back shock on her face as she rubs her jaw.

She opens her mouth to speak, but not much else comes out aside from a few sounds that could become words. They don't become words. Instead she gestures as she tries to process those five words shot at her with more force than any attack.

Red steadily rises to Cassandra's face as she waits for a response.

When no response comes she does the opposite of what Raph expects.

She turns tail and fucking runs.

Raph is too shell-shocked at the suddenness of Cass's confession to even try to run after her, tail swishing back and forth like a dogs.

-/-/-/-

"Cass!"

The woods echo back at Raph mockingly.

Bugs chitter.

Birds croon.

Water rushes.

Cass does not respond.

Raph just clenches her fist and gives a small aggravated exclamation before trudging deeper into the woods. She's gotta find Cass. She needs to, April's gonna freak if she doesn't, Leo's gonna blow his lid, Mikey's gonna explode, and Donnie, Raph isn't so sure how Donnie will react but it'll be bad.

Her tail thrashes along trees and claws mark them as she goes deeper into the underbrush so she doesn't get lost. Just follow the water, the camp is downstream from here. Her skirt gets torn up a bit as she goes, sap and pitch stain her shirt, she's a mess.

"Cass!"

"What?!"

That's a good sign even if there is annoyance on the voice, Raph follows it.

She's panting a bit when she finally finds Cass next to a tree, half squatting and nudging a stick around in fallen pine needles and dirt. Tears definitely aren't streaking down her face, palm raised to smudge them and some eyeliner across her face.

Raph sits down next to her but before she can speak Cass is already opening her mouth.

"Sorry."

"What?"

"For falling in love with you, it's dumb. I'm dumb. I should know better than that. Love is for sissies," Cass rambled before heaving a long sigh, "I'm just, I'm sorry okay!"

Raph doesn't know how to answer to that, "What if, what if I loved you too? What then?"

"It'll kill you too."

"No it won't."

"Everyone I've loved gets hurt. I'm not safe. I don't want to hurt you."

Raph grabs Cass's face and wipes aside the tears and the smudged makeup, "I'm stronger than them."

And Cass fucking laughs as she relaxes into Raph's hands, her own coming up to grip the now sticky and pine littered arm warmers. She laughs and she cries and she hiccups and it's ugly and a far cry from pretty but Raph doesn't care.

"You won't hurt me, hell, all you've done is help me, Cass." Raph presses her forehead head to Cass's and the human butts her head against the snappers like a cat. Raph pulls back but doesn't let go of Cass's face, "Thanks for being vulnerable with me, Raph gets it."

Cass has the boldness to press a kiss to Raph's inner wrist and a muted red rose to her face. Cass just smirks, "So, Raph," She pauses as her voice cracks and a hiccup hits her as she comes down from crying, "What's your name?"

"Renetta, but, you can call me Raph."

It's an offer more than a statement, but Cass holds onto that offer as tight as she learns to hold onto Renetta's hand.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphcass #tmnt raphael #tmnt cassandra jones #tmnt april o'neil #transfem raph #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

First!!! Ofc you don’t have to write this if it makes you uncomfortable!

Johnny Knoxville x gn!reader where reader is actually in a relationship with bam for a while and they sorta stay on set while they film something for jackass. The relationship is good at first but the rest of the crew starts to see it go down hill (doesn’t have to turn abusive or anything intense unless you want to I don’t mind either way). Reader is good friends with everyone but it’s kind of obvious that R and Johnny are pretty close. Johnny sees how reader is struggling and comes to comfort them when something shitty happens with Bam, and they end up getting together. (Maybe it’s when Bam gets fired or for the early era/story sake just leaves set)

Heat

An end to a friendship and the beginning of a new romance. As Y/N’s love for Bam smolders, the fire in their heart burns hot for Johnny.

Johnny Knoxville X Gn!Reader, Bam Margera X Gn!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

2.8k Words

Warnings: Very suggestive content, very crude language, flirting, jealousy, wound care, fights, drinking, kissing

An: Thank you so much for this request!!! Honestly I think this is maybe one of the best things I’ve ever written! XD Troubled relationships are a very interesting topic to delve into and I had a total blast with this one! I am on a writing kick so keep the requests coming! :D

Bam pulled you closer on his lap as you sat under the shade of a tree in between filming stunts. His skin was sticky with sweat, but so was yours, so you didn’t mind, adhering together in the thick Louisiana humidity. The guys all sat around, shooting the shit. Sweat ran down Steve’s head and into his eyebrows as he patted Johnny on the back like how you pet a big dog, “Dude! You took that like a champ!” Rubbing the back of his neck, the sun reflected off of Johnny’s glasses as he leaned his head to the side, his pretty bone structure highlighted by the sun’s golden glow, “Yeah- i'm still kind rattled from that one if I’m bein’ honest…” You chuckled as your boyfriend put the edge of the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of his beer.

Swallowing, he reached a hand around to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and roughly pulling you into a kiss. His lips were soft, but his tongue tasted like stale beer and cigarettes as he shoved it into your mouth, your teeth almost touching. Bam bit your lip just a little harder than comfortable, licking at the raw skin he exposed as he held you there. It was rough but lazy and painfully slow, making your brain buzz in the humidity. Pulling away, he grinned, pressing his forehead against yours.

He kissed you like this all the time, and you loved it. But this time, you found your eyes were still on Knoxville, and even though you couldn’t see his, you knew he was looking back at you. Johnny was your friend- when you were on set, all the guys were- but there was something about the way he looked at you that made you want to stare back at him for a little longer.

Of course, it would take Bam a while, given how self absorbed he was, but he would start to notice the little things. Like how Johnny would always show up on set with his little Starbucks coffee, and how he’d always buy you a cup too, or how you started to stand just a little too close to Johnny every now and then. The jovial laughs, the silly banter- the pining.

You lobstered in the sun, while pretty much everyone else tanned like Greek gods who were too good for SPF. Jeff, who had a similar dermatological predicament as you, came up to you on set one day, about an hour in the sun away from looking like he should be fed to a python. “Y/N- Think you could grab some sunscreen from the trailer fr’me?” Squinting in the sun, you nodded. It wasn’t even a week into filming and you had already started peeling, so it wasn't an awful idea. Leaning over your shoulder, Johnny grinned, his broad torso pressed against your back. His low voice had a smirking, suggestive tone to it, “Yeah. Why don’t I come with you?”

“I think Y/N’s fine.” Bam sighed, stepping in front of you out of nowhere. You said nothing while Johnny made it out to be a big joke like he always did, “Aww, c’mon Bam. I mean, I could even get you some for you…” The teasing tone in his voice made Bam even redder, but he tried to play it cool in front of you, “No way. You’d probably jizz in it anyway.” Bam put an arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer with enough force to make you stumble a little. Johnny's eyebrow twitched before he cracked a grin, “You know, that’s not too bad an idea. I think I'll keep that in mind!”

As you two walked away, Johnny went back to sit with the other guys in the grass. He grabbed a beer from Chris, staring out at the tree line. You and Bam had been together for almost half a year, and from what anyone could see, everything had been just fine so far- just peachy. Sure, he got a little too into the PDA stuff sometimes, which the guys would always childishly gag and roll their eyes at, but that was it. As of the past few weeks however, it really seemed to be going downhill- anyone with eyes could see that. Answering nobody but hearing everything, Steve piped up to Johnny, “I dunno, man.” He took a drawl, “S’got some kinda stick up his ass about you- Bam ‘gettin all territorial.”

“Yeah, no shit. But, I mean- it’s not like we’re fucking in the porta potties. Y/N and I are friends!” Johnny knew how you felt about him, and he especially knew how he felt about you since this whole ordeal started, but it really didn’t sound good to say it out loud like that . “Oh Cmon, they’re totally into you!” Chris, always positive, mentioned, “I mean, who wouldn’t be? I’d fuck you in the porta potty!” Chucking, Johnny sheepishly nodded, “Well, thank you, Pontius- that’s real sweet.” Ashing his cig into a dented, empty beer can, Steve sighed, “You know, if it was me, and Y/N told me they were sick of Bam’s gherkin pickle dick…I mean, I’d hit that.”

Whenever you were on set, you were usually designated as the in house nurse because you were the only one trusted to not try to get drunk from rubbing alcohol. It wasn’t like you really minded it either, but it could get a little awkward whenever any pants needed to be dropped. This was one of those situations.

Grimacing, you stared at Bam’s ass, unsure about how to approach it. The raised lines of dick shaped burn stood out from the angry pink skin of his butt, heat still radiating off of it onto the back of your hand. He groaned, bent over a folding table as you examined him, almost scared to touch it. “I- I don’t even know what to do with this…”

“Just disinfect the thi- agh! Bitch!” He groaned as you poured alcohol on the wound. His head hit the table as you wound up a pad of gauze, pressing it against his burn. Bam’s belt buckle clinked as he stood up, pulling up his black boxers and turning to face you, his pants still undone. There was an air of tension as he leaned back against the table.

“I’ve seen you eyeing Knoxville.” Annunciating every word nice and slow, he stared up at you with a look you only see in Kubrick films. “…What?” You were thrown off, especially after what you had just done for him. I mean, who confronts you after you just bandaged their ass? He grinned mockingly, “Don’t think I don’t see you. I’m not blind, Y/N.” He leaned toward you, his lips almost touching yours as he made eye contact that could kill, “Knock it off.”

Of course, Johnny would hear about this. You’d stopped talking to Bam about how you felt a while ago. Johnny seemed to listen to you better than Bam ever did, and that kinda made you feel sick. Sure, you weren’t screwing, but what you were doing was arguably worse. Of course, it wasn't like he was your therapist- he’d recommend you Johnny Cash songs and you’d tell him ideas you had for cool stunts, but whatever it was you had, it was definitely genuine.

So Johnny came up to him on set like he would any other time he had something to ask him, “Hey, Bam. You gotta sec?” He said nothing. Johnny continued, “I heard about that thing with Y/N earlier.” This got his attention. Bam turned around to him swiftly, “What?” In comparison to him, Johnny seemed totally collected, taking a step back as Bam jutted a finger in his direction, “Did they say anything to you?”

“I just mean-“ He wasn’t having any of this, “You know what? You need to stay the fuck away from them.” He squared off, like a wolf defending his territory, “If you care so damn much, why don’t you just date’em already? Clearly you don’t give a shit they’re mine.” And just like that, he stormed off. Of course, Bam was usually pissy, but he wasn’t usually this pissy- but who could blame him?

The bar top was sticky as you leaned your forearms against it, sighing. Your boyfriend invited you to come out with him, and since the moment you stepped through the door, he hadn’t said a word to you. He’d spent the whole night laughing and chatting with his buddies like you weren’t even there. A fire burnt in your stomach, nauseating you as you chased it with your beer. You seethed quietly, staring daggers into the back of his head.

“Bam.” Trying your best to sound polite, you vied for his attention. He paid you no mind, so you spoke up a little louder to be heard over the commotion of the bar, “Bam!” Oh, now he was ignoring you. The rage inside you bubbled, the kind that made your head buzz. Getting even louder, you nearly yelled, “Bam!!”

“What?!” He whipped his head around like he had any right to be mad. “Are you serious? You are such an asshole!” As you stood up from your stool, Bam shot you a look like you were crazy, “Me, an asshole? What the fuck!” The yellowing lights of the bar made his eyes even greener as he glared at you, standing over him. “You know what? I- I can't believe you! Three hours- three fucking hours and I don’t hear a word from you!” At this point, all of his buddies had gone silent, as did a good chunk of the bar. Bam pinched the space between his eyebrows, sighing, “God- do you ever stop complaining?” Fuming, you threw your hands up exhausted, shaking your head. Standing up, Bam got about an inch from your face with a snarl.

He was so close you could feel his breath hot on your face as he spat his words, “If I wanted you’t mouth off at me, I would’ve just jiggled my zipper.” Staring into his irate gaze, you couldn’t see what you ever saw in him. He was a manchild.

And that’s what led you to lean against the rough brick in the alley next to the bar, your face burning in the cold night air. Sticking a cigarette between your teeth, the flame of your lighter shivered violently, making any attempts to light it futile. You felt the heat from inside caress your skin as the door opened, a tall figure standing next to you. He spoke in a familiar, sweet accent as he held out his hand to you, “Lemme get that.”

Cupping his hand around the flame, Johnny leaned down close to you as he flicked it, amber light cascading onto his wide palms. Your eyes flitted up to him as you took a drag, pulling away. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here, Knoxville.” He chuckled, leaning back against the wall next to you, “What? Is it cause I’m asthmatic?” You took a drawl. “Yeah. Sure.”

He sighed, looking away from you as he pulled out a napkin from his pocket and passed it to you. It was crumpled, but as you unfolded it, you noticed that the blue ink scrawled on it was still wet and half smeary. “What is this- your number?” You squinted, trying to read it under the dim light of a half burnt out street lamp.

Glancing up at him, you saw Johnny with a genuine expression of concern, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He noticed your wide eyes and covered up his worry with a wry, infectious grin. “I- I mean, he’s an asshole but that’s excessive- even for him.” Smiling at him, you shoved it in your pocket. “Thanks.”

Johnny was so charismatic that his personality walked in the room half a second before he did, or in this case, up to the craft services table. He stuffed the last half of a granola bar in his face, finishing his story about his trip to the bar a few nights ago, “So, after I changed my pants, I go back to the bar, and Jeff does it again- pisses down the other leg! At that point, I just kinda gave up.” You raised an eyebrow, eyeing his dickies, “So that’s why you smell like that?” Snickering, he rationalized, “I mean- if I change ‘em again, I figure he’s just gonna do it on set!”

Fanning yourself with your hand, you felt a bead of sweat roll between your shoulder blades as you laughed, the heat of filming in Louisiana all too familiar. Johnny tossed his jacket over his shoulder, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “If it ain’t 90 in the shade..” Your eyes wandered over to him. The sun shone off of his tan, glistening skin like a tall boy can with condensation, his muscles flexing. You never noticed before, but the shirt he was wearing really showed off how defined his arms were. God, you really had to like him to find him hot with another man’s piss on his pants.

About a hundred feet away, Bam leaned against a trailer with a bitter look on his face. “Dude! They’re totally eye-fucking him.” Ryan rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his beer while he continued ranting, “Like, seriously? Can you be any less obvious?” He looked at you with bile on his tongue, watching. Watching how you giggled when he made a joke, how Johnny smiled when he noticed you staring- god, he was probably saying something like, “y’see somethin’ nice, doll?” That hick asshole. “Dude. You have got to chill out.” Breaking the silence, Ryan almost sounded earnest, “They’re just friends. You are being paranoid.” Bam sputtered, “Dude! Back me up here!” He earned a shrug.

Bam had trouble keeping his clothes on, especially when you were around. This was no different. Discarding his shirt in the grass, his pants sat dangerously low on his pale hips, showing off your favorite tattoo of his as he walked over to you. He stood an inch closer to you than Johnny did, which was already pretty close, feigning coolness. “Hey, what’s up?” There was some underlying anger in the way his torso was held tensed, the way his jaw was clenched hard enough to crack geodes- it unnerved you. You shrank a little, “Nothin.”

Leaning past you, Johnny looked down at him, “What’s got’cha so hot, Bam?” It was a subtle gesture, but powerful. Bam scoffed, “Whaddya’ mean? Its hot as fuckin shit out here.” Johnny put a wide palm on your shoulder as he took a step towards Bam, standing in front of you. “I mean,” His dark, emotionless eyes looked over the silver rims of his glasses as he spoke softly, “What’s gotcha’ so pissy?” Your boyfriend stared up at him, his gaze beady and full of rage.

And in a flash, he was on him. A flurry of white, limp wristed punches and broad fisted thwacks as the two men clashed. Starting on their feet, they ended up on the ground after Johnny got Bam under the arms in a mock wrestling hold. “LA pussy!” “Philly-trash bitch!” It was like a dogfight- gnashing wet teeth, choked out obscenities- you could’ve sworn you saw Bam with raised hackles. You just stared at the action in front of you, jaw on the floor.

And as soon as it started, Jeff swooped in, grabbing Bam by the hair as he straddled Johnny and yanking him to his feet. Blinded by rage, he swung at nobody in particular as he was getting hauled off set, held a good arm’s length away like a rabid animal. You would’ve thought he was one too, with the foamy mixture of spit, blood, and sweat that dripped down his chest and the crazed look in his wide eyes as he stared back at you. The emotion behind them was indiscernible- anger, desperation, desire- just a slurry of hormones.

Glancing down at Johnny, you watched him as he wiped the cut on his lip with his thumb, blinking hard. His hair was tousled, slick with sweat that dripped down his face, making the little cuts where Bam’s tattooed knuckles hit him sting. Sitting up, he gingerly removed his glasses that were shattered against his face. “Holy shit…” You almost shook a little as he stared at you, unphased by it.

His breath was heavy as he got to his feet, looking down at you. Everything was kinda still for a moment before he snickered, “Dude. He totally got a hard on.”

#jackass #bam margera #johnny knoxville #ryan dunn #chris pontius #steve o #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #angst #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader #johnny knoxville x reader #I’m sorry I bring it up so much I just love Bam’s ass wound #*slaps side of fanfction* you can fit SO many metaphors in this baby

[adelheidvonschicksal]

sorry about that ask, i'm so incredibly excited i'm shaking and i had to turn off my video i was listening to because i couldn't concentrate! anyway, i'd like to request JJK with megumi!/older-half sister who he only meets because she's getting engaged forcibly to naoya, i want him lusting at first sight and angstily pining a bit and them fucking in the her marital bed before the wedding while naoya off at his bachelor party or w/e. with creampie and the reader initiating the sex! is this okay?

Title: My Empire of Dirt

Pairing: Bro! Megumi x Sis! Reader; ft. Naoya x Niece(?)Reader; the family tree is a wreathe.

Content Warning: Graphic Incest (Half-sibling); angst; maladaptive coping; manipulation; smut; dubious consent; physical abuse; mentions of arranged marriage, breeding mentions; mentions of forced impregnation (no pregnancy);

Summary: In which, the Zen'in princess finds herself wanting to get even with not only the man forcing her into a marriage she doesn't want but also the family that abandoned her. It doesn't feel as good as she expected.

Notes: BTW! I loved the enthusiasm of this request xD I tried to fit as much in as possible. I had to re-write so often that I'm sure I missed something during editing.

It’s beginning to dawn on you that you may not be as good of a person as you’ve always thought of yourself. You try your best not to be a burden and to help where you can; you’ve left more bowls of milk out for the strays than you can count. When you compare that to the other members of your hedonistic bastard family then it’s easy to see how you managed to fool yourself into believing that you weren’t that bad.

Certainly, you aren’t as bad as your father, who left you behind at a young age. He knew. He knew how this clan functions. He knew that there would be no future for you here. Your only saving grace in this clan is only because of the potential of your womb. Surely, the chances of you bearing the next ten shadows user are exceptionally high, courtesy of the blood of the very same bastard flowing through your veins. You’re sure he knew that’s the only use the clan could have for a girl, barely a woman, like you. Still, Toji left you here to rot. And you’re certain you’re rotten all the way down to the core, just like everyone else that carries your last name.

That’s why it comes as no surprise to you that your uncle Naoya sought the quickest opportunity to snatch you up the minute the clan elder talked about marrying you off, or that he managed to orchestrate a wedding in less than a month; with a lovely venue provided at the school for your great clan with shared accommodations for you and your…husband.

It gives him the opportunity to shove you to the bed, one knee crumpled against your crotch as he pins you down, but you can’t find enough emotion to care. You accepted this a long time ago. “I hate that you and Maki always have that same condescending look. Can’t you at least show a little feeling?” he taunts. You’re sure he’s truly upset, unable to get a rise out of you as you thrust your hands against his chest in a desperate attempt to shove him away. “I absolutely can’t wait to make you cry.”

His tongue snakes along your bruised cheeks, and you strain your neck to get away from the perverse action, which only makes him laugh harder. “Get off of me, damned pig!”

Naoya smiles, absolutely amused by your frustration. “Fine, but don’t think you can keep up this defiant attitude forever,” he warns but you refuse to take his bait and focus on fixing your wrinkled clothes.

Huffing, you wrap your arm around the bedpost to keep yourself steady all the while controlling your breathing to allow your frustration to wash away. Naoya busies himself, speedily pacing around the room and collecting his things.

“Where are you going?” Your question isn’t out of concern for him. Simply, you question to figure out exactly how much peace you’d have for the night and how much hope to build up that he might never return from where he’s going.

“The men in the clan are throwing me a little party,” he explains. “Call it a last night of freedom.”

“Typical.” You don’t know why you thought he’d at least have the decency to pretend to be a good husband in public. “Don’t know why I expected any better.”

“Isn’t it normal to want to celebrate our impending marriage?” He turns to you and a slither of a hand crisscrossing over your thigh makes you want to hurl. “Unless you want me to stay. We can work on making our very own Megumi tonight.”

You cringe and jerk your body away from him, your filter breaking in the process. “You’re disgusting. A pathetic excuse for a man jealous of a boy half—” you didn’t get to finish your complaint as he shoved you to the floor and the sting of a kick makes you yelp like a dog.

“I see I still got to teach you some respect come tomorrow.”

Despite the burning in your ribs, you count yourself lucky that he only kicked you twice this time, and you slowly stand to your feet when you hear the angelic sound of your room door closing.

You throw on your jacket and a pair of jeans before following his example and leaving the room. You’re not sure how long you aimlessly wander the streets of Tokyo with no particular destination in mind. If you had somewhere to call home, then you probably would never return. Alas, the closest thing you can achieve to peace is being far away from your family.

“What are you doing out by yourself?” You guess you couldn’t escape all of them as you come face to face with your brother. “It isn’t safe to be out by yourself.”

And you notice how he shifts his gaze to a low-level curse blended into the surroundings of the city. It hides and chitters behind the light post. It’s nothing you consider more than the fireflies of cursed spirits, fluttering around human metro areas, and they’re about as equally as threatening as said bugs. But you guess in his eyes, you’re someone who needs protection, which you think you would have liked having someone to protect you at some point in your life but it’s about ten years too late and now unnecessary. 

“I don’t get to go out to the city much, and I guess I got a little lost,” you explain.

“I’m heading back now if you want to follow,” he offers to your surprise.

You didn’t expect him to offer since he hasn’t been able to build up the courage to talk to you very often. The day he first saw you even, you could see the shock spreading across his feature. You thought it was from seeing his estranged sister after all this time until you realize he had absolutely no idea who you were other than the Zen’in princess staying at the school for the next few days along with the other great clans attending the wedding. Figures for Toji not to mention you. You wonder if your father even remembers your name.

Then, you find that he’s often watching you, which garners the familiar sinking sensation inside you of being hunted. Luckily, he never attempted to do anything other than catch the little flickers of your image or to embarrassedly avoid your gaze when it met his. When you managed to talk to him, it was friendly, if not a little awkward. It didn’t take you long to figure out he’s attracted to you, at least sexually. If there was something more, you didn’t know since you weren’t versed in the world of genuine emotion aside from anger and deceit rampant in the Zen’in clan.

You wonder if his attraction is another reason Naoya is wary of you being alone with him. There’s no doubt the clan would much rather you try to produce an heir with Megumi, the potential rewards outweighing the risks of such a union. You almost laugh imagining how pissed off Naoya would look if your engagement switched over. He’d probably explode if he even knew you were talking to your brother. So, who can fault you for wanting to tease the situation a little bit? Maybe if you get lucky, Naoya will catch the two of you together as you walk past the neon lights of the bars and clubs, and you could gaslight him about it later.

It's like magic how easy it is to make the waterworks start, a sniffle then two swiped away by the long arm of your jacket. Megumi’s knuckles beat at the back of your hand, his fingertips nervously curling under yours before fluttering back to the safety of his side, too afraid to take the plunge to hold an engaged woman’s hand even if she’s crying. Even if the tiny pitter patters in his chest when he looked at her told him she deserved better than the obviously swollen cheek on your face. Megumi curses under his breath. He wants to tell you that you should run away from that family, don’t look back, burn the bridge so they can’t follow, but that’s easier said than done.

“It’ll be okay,” he says, knowing that it would never be enough, but the words are all he can offer right now. He hopes it is enough so you can at least find comfort when he finally breaks the resistance in his mind to hold your hand. You accept the action readily, making a shiver goes down his spine when you smile back and intertwine your fingers with his.

When you reach your room back at the school, he sits with you on your bed and places a gauze over your cheek to help with the swelling. Can’t let the Zen’in princess walk around with a wound on her face. You almost feel guilty for playing with him like this. He’s kinder than most people you’ve met. Then you remember, if he had grown up in the clan, he probably would’ve treated you the same as everyone else. He’d probably scrambled to marry you, just like Naoya.

You’re unashamedly jealous that he had the good fortune to be born a blessing, with a dad that chose him, leaving a part of you that wanted to spite Megumi as well. It’s a selfish desire but you deserve to have something. Megumi owes you that ever since your father married his mother and left the clan.

“I’ll get some ice.”

You grip his arm, drawing his attention back to you before he has a chance to get up. “What would I have to offer for you to take me away from this place,” you ask him. It’s always something you wanted to ask Toji; how many letters would it take for him to choose to rescue you, too. But now it’s too late as the only thing remaining for you is to scrape up as much fairness as you can from this world, even if it means doing it until your hands bleed.

“You know I can’t do that,” Megumi answers after what seems like an eternity, knowing now more than ever he shouldn’t be here, alone, with you. Weeping, you crane towards him, gripping the front of his shirt with both fists and dropping your head against his chest. You can sense him physically tensing at your touch, his heavy breathing echoing above you, and he’s a step awkward when he finally makes the decision to cup the back of your head in a short hug.

When you pull away, he’s searching for something you can’t quite understand, with an emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of knowing as you catch a highlight of sorrow flashing in his eyes. His thumb brushes away a fresh tear leaking from you. It invites the opportunity for you to give him what he’s probably been thinking about for a while now in the form of parted glossed covered skin and soft sighs. There’s a split moment of uncertainty before he gives in and kisses you back. You take the time to savor the moment, drawing it out to reel him further in with the taste of your lips and the flex of your tongues bumping together.

His hands tread around you, squeezing you into his strong hold. The tightness and desperateness at which he hangs onto you reveals that you might have had more influence over him than you originally realized, and you also find that you like his build much better than your fiancé’s, strong and muscular but not overbearing. Sweetly, you paint his neck with gentle kisses, and you test the waters of desire with a needy squeeze of his crotch.

The groan from his lips along with the arching of his hips up into your touch jolts your heart even if it’s the result you wanted. It’s almost perfect. You take the extra step to settle yourself onto his lap and lower your arms around his shoulders to play with the hair at his nape. “Naoya is never gentle, but you would be gentle with me, wouldn’t you, Fushiguro?”

Megumi swallows thickly to where you can see his Adam’s apple bob, and you can hear his throat is dry as he tries to collect and voice his thoughts with a harsh rasp. “…We shouldn’t,” he chokes out, which makes you want to scream. “It’ll only make things worse.”

“No one has to know,” you try to pedal back, letting the line out a little bit to give him enough room to relax before reeling him back in. “I thought maybe…you liked me.”

“You’re getting the wrong idea. I want to but,” he admits, not that you needed to hear it when you can feel the imprint of his dick against your ass, “you’re not in your head right now.”

“I am thinking clearly, Fushiguro,” you correct. You’re probably thinking more clearly than you ever had before. You only needed this one thing. “I just…need to know what it feels like, to have someone care about me, please just this once.”

And maybe he really does think he’s your knight as you look to him pleadingly to solve all your problems in the world with something he can only give you. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Probably not until morning,” you answer. Though, you really hope he comes home sooner. You’d trade your very soul to have him walk in on this scene, with your legs spread over Megumi’s lap and his large hands climbing up your backside.

“More than enough time then,” he mumbles, tenderly drawing circles into your hips before flipping you over and closing you onto the bed. He watches your face, taking a few deep breaths as his mind keeps repeating that he’s really doing this with you, that you’re much more gorgeous underneath him than he’d imagined.

If this is a dream, he hopes he doesn’t wake up. You’re so, so beautiful, and his heart swells when he thinks you’ll look even more dreamy in your wedding dress.

Megumi kisses your cheek then your jaw as he begins to push up your jacket and shirt, exposing your stomach to his series of kisses and nips. It’s like he’ll never be able to get enough of you fast enough. Hopefully, you wouldn’t see him as desperate from the way he cautiously squeezes your waist and nuzzle into the warmth of your chest.

You hold in a hiss as he too accurately drags over your wounded side. The pain only makes you more excited as it reminds you of your fiancé, of the fact that you’re about to fuck the man who irritates him the most in the very spot he sleeps in, and you can’t wait to rub the fact in his face that he isn’t going to be the one to rid you of your virtue like he so bragged. Instead, your little brother would have the honor since he so clambered for the chance to fuck his own sister without so much as even questioning your position on the family tree, a circle at this rate surely. You wonder if you should ask if that turned him on as he pushes your top above your head.

A smile slivers on your face. “That isn’t fair, you need to undress too,” you tell him. He folds and listens to you without argument; and you can’t deny that it was making you excited to have him under your commands the same way everything about you made him excited from your lips teasing at his neck, the way your hands glide over his bare skin, the squeeze of your thighs cushioning around his hips.

You weren’t expecting him to get hard so fast, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. You have plenty of time, and the more he can give the better for you.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, and it makes your lungs burn from the sharp gasp you take in as he sucks on your nipple. You’d have to remember to tell Naoya that Megumi thought—you squash the thought. It was too painful to think about, and you wanted to focus on other things as he begins to pull off your pants.

This is something Megumi thinks Naoya wouldn’t probably do for you, and he almost asks if your fiancé has ever thought about more than his own pleasure but the glossy look in your eyes tells him to not bring up something that would undoubtedly cause you more heartache, not when you’re crooning into the air and your hands are tangling into his hair in desperate grips to match the feeling washing over you.

He starts, gently at first, but harder as your moans escalate with the shifting of his tongue over your clit. You tense as you feel something cold entering you but quickly start arching when he adds a second finger, pressing and tickling at your sensitive nerves.

“Fushiguro,” you whisper in strangled breaths, stomach convulsing with each knotted clench of your lower body. And he hopes, at least this much, will make him someone you think about in the future when your hands release his hair to grip the sheets under you.

Though, you’re too busy thinking it might be worth having your engagement switched over if he can use his tongue like that, in a way that has your vision skipping.

He’s definitely self-satisfied by the time he’s finished and gazing up at you. But it isn’t enough to satisfy you, not until you seal the deal, go all the way until there’s absolutely no ignoring what’s happened between the two of you.

You sit up to kiss him hard, catching him by surprise again. You don’t break away from him until you have him underneath you, your legs splayed around him, hands working fast to work down his slacks enough to uncover his cock.

He pulls onto your hips, encouraging you to stroke him along your wet cunt. He continues until he’s lined up with you, and there’s a split hesitation as he asks, “Are you sure?”

“More than sure,” is your answer, and you take the lead to slide yourself over his cock and begin to roll your hips to push further downward, which causes you to sigh. “Fushi-Fushiguro.”

He heaves, deep and heavy, his expression short of being taken over by lust as he ruts into you. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” you whimper.

“Good,” he states, sitting up to hug his arms around your back and kiss and bite your neck as you grind and bounce on top of him. You whimper into his skin, hiding your stuttering whimpers against his shoulder.

You grind your hips down against his, his face scrunching shut as he chokes down a moan. You can feel it, feel him pulsing harder inside you as his breathing speeds up and his chest rises and falls against the rhythm of your own.

“Close,” he spits out, hiding his head in your shoulder, and you suppose that this is much quicker than he wants by the little whimpers that escape him as he tries to hold out from the clenching of your walls around him.

You’re so close to his ear that you’re sure you can whisper to him anything as he shudders and falls into his high. “How does it feel to cum inside your older sister?” Is what you want to say if only to see the look on his face and to feel his jerking hips skip, but you needed him for just a bit longer. So, you bite your tongue and hold onto your thoughts as you feel his warmth filling you.

If having kids for the Zen’in is your destiny then you’d much prefer sneaking a Fushiguro in; and if not, you at least hope the wet spot the two of you make together will last until morning as it leaks out from under you, spreading to the sheets between your legs.

“Sorry, that was fast,” he puffs.

“No, no, it was more than enough,” you answer thankfully. You couldn’t wait to tell Naoya that your brother got to you before he had the chance.

He pulls you down and places a kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I mean, if I could…I’d take you away from them,” he whispers along the crest of your forehead. “Let you stay with me.”

Your pitifully jealous heart skips a beat. You guess there is some ripe flesh still remaining between the rot and your core. It makes you want to cry genuine tears for the first time in a long time, so long that you can’t remember the last time. Probably because he looks so much like the one person you wanted to hear those words from. Despite being aware of these feelings, you still wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact time the tears began to fall. It only makes it worse when he holds onto you like he actually loves you. Something you still couldn't believe is possible.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi smut #jjk smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #tw:darkcontent #tw:incest #Tw:dubcon

[galaxysharks]

Last time I read the Madlyn Office AU uhm Maddox and Ashlyn are in a rocky situation that ended up Maddox telling Ashlyn that she was offered another job and Ashlyn remember what EJ had told her. I was just wondering what happened to them after that?

Ashlyn Bursts through the door to the office building. Ignoring the elevator, she sprints up the stairs, using the end of the railing to swing around and dart down the hallway.

Careful not to drop the wrapped package under her arm, she had to get there.

This has to work.

After she failed to respond to Maddox pouring her heart out, she'd tried to catch-up to her, but the Techie had already managed to make herself scarce.

She did run into Jet though. He was......less than receptive to her, at least at first. Apparently he wasn't about to let 'another rich white girl drag Maddie through hell before breaking her heart in the middle of an office event' ......which opened more questions, and made Ash feel even worse.

After an hour or so of frankly humiliating pleading, Jet did decide he believed her and offered to help. His help was a phone number for her to get something made for Maddox.

Specifically it was the number of their adoptive father Dewey. Which again added questions, she didn't even know they were adopted. Jet did warn her that she'd have a much harder time convincing Dewey, or Janine if she picked up, Maddox was their favorite.

Ash awkwardly tried to assure him that he was loved just the same, but he interrupted her and said it was obvious and he was fine with it. "A LOT of people in our lives have blatantly preferred me over her, and they weren't as nice about it, I can live with Dewey and Janine loving me just okay"

So, armed with a chance, Ashlyn went home. Later the next day, she called the number, and started a video chat with Maddox's adoptive parents. And clearly Maddie had called before, because they were initially less than thrilled to see her. After a long, long conversation that felt like taking a test she hadn't studied for, Janine finally agreed that they would help, Dewey grunting beside her.

And so here she was. Hoping she isn't too late. Quinn and Uncle Cash were in the office today to ask Maddox for her final verdict and in theory drive her to the main office, if she accepted.

Ashlyn ran into the Tech Support office, shamelessly shoving past her uncle and clumsily stopping herself with Maddie's corner desk.

"Wait!.....huff.....wait......oh my god, the stairs....."

Her sudden appearance has clearly startled the room, with loud exclamations of alarm. Maddox had a guarded look to her, but patiently waited for Ashlyn to catch her breath. Taking a final deep breath in, Ashlyn started her speech:

"Maddie I like you! I like you so so much! And I don't know why I couldn't say it before, but I can say it now, and I need you to know. I'm so sorry I ever made you think this wasn't serious for me, I've never felt this way about anyone before! I can't ask you not to go, because this is a great opportunity, but I have to ask that you at least take this with you." Ashlyn pushed the package into Maddie's hands.

Maddox stared at her for a moment before carefully peeling away the brown paper. Within the wrapping was a thin cross section to a pine tree, sanded and polished. Carved into the wood, "Ashlyn 🧡 Maddox" stood out.

A little cringe, maybe but Ashlyn is far past the point of pride in this endeavor anyway. Recognizing the handwriting and carving skills, Maddox's eyes snapped back up.

"Ash, this is..."

"You're parents scare the shit out of me. Also that's from your backyard, or theirs? The video call said it was coming from California."

The little grin that had started to form at the tree plate split as Maddie began to laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Ashlyn had ever heard. What she wouldn't give for a recording of that laugh, so that she might spend the rest of her life waking up to that sound.

"Ahem, as touching as this is, we kind of need an answer Maddox." And God, there have been dozens of times throughout her life that she wished Cash Caswell would just go mute, but maybe none with so much ferver as now.

Quinn for her part just looked thrilled with the amount of drama she's gotten to witness.

"I.....I'm so sorry sir, I really appreciate the opportunity, but I think I need to stay at the outlet office." Maddox said, never taking her eyes off of Ashlyn.

"Very well, it's a shame that a highschool relationship has taken precedence over your career, but--"

"actually Cash, we take pride in having the most state of the art system in the country, correct? I don't see any reason why Maddox could not perform her duties from the outlet office. If that is amenable to you?" Quinn spoke up finally, an amused and playful glare directed at Maddox, noticing that the teen had curled up under Ashlyn's arm, leaning into her side.

Ruffled, but too smart to pass up the opportunity, Cash agreed, but stated there would be a two month probationary period, after which Maddox would be transferred to the main office if her work showed any dip in quality.

And if Ashlyn got teased for the next two weeks about being extra with everything.....she could live with that.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts maddox #high school musical the musical the series #hsm the series #hsmtmts season 4 #ashlyn caswell #madlyn #hsmtmts jet #Office Au

[lightningboltreader]

Char, you know I love you, which is why I'm coming to you with this slightly cursed yet topical ask: rank the Twilight movies from favourite to least favourite and justify your answers 💜

Ok, let's rumble (affectionate) -

Twilight

I am a fool for pining and the first book delivers. There's a delicious build-up of snarling, huffing and angst before the will they/won't they collides with lust, infatuation and then danger. I was FED. My paperback barely survived the rereads before I clung to the movie. Then I quickly replaced my hc's with each actor as they were announced and loved nearly everyone. The Cullens are a dream vampire family, their house and cars a shiny bonus. Plus baseball outfits. Iykyk. And yes, the soundtrack still fucking slaps. Supermassive 10/10. We'll always agree there.

Breaking Dawn

I wish I could break this in two. Wait, it's my review. I shall! The first: Breaking, the steamy slayyyy! The literal bed-breaking passionate destruction and oceanfront honeymoon bliss were a satisfying payoff for the build-up in Twilight. This is the fantastical, happily ever after shit my teenage brain craved. The pregnancy experience was about as much as I knew about pregnancy, so perfect level of detail. Bella has to become a vampire to save her family? So relatable. And Dawn: The dawning of a new era, where mother and child learn to love, where mother makes the noble sacrifice, where racing through the woods and hopping off tall trees is suburban bliss, where your friend and former love interest falls in fucking love with your kid. I stg, this was a true testament to my own new relationship. The man who stayed, who listened, who loved me and poured wine for me while I literally SCREAMED and SHOUTED at my teen rated book proved a level of devotion that neither Edward nor Jacob will ever be capable of. Still, I place the whole book at #2 because it conjured far more emotions than "UGH," unlike three and four.

But first, an interlude.

Midnight Sun

Edwards POV, my beloved. While Twilight + Breaking Dawn holds all my teenage dreams, this origin story companion is a fanfic indulgence I imagine Stefanie wrote simply to clear her comment box. "Could a dead, frozen heart beat again? It felt as though mine were about to." It's satisfying because Edward made me swoon but not particularly insightful, unless you're in the market for a little Volvo coupe. The car and driver edition of the series, if you will.

New Moon

My boy drives away, sob! Edward peels out of snowy Forks in a cloud of angst, flinching jaw muscles and puppy-dog eyes in the best interest of his clumsy DANGER MAGNET. He's so dreamy! She's so dumb! I'm so sad! Sweet, furry Jacob lights up our world with his bronzed glow and motorcycle tricks, but the infatuation is short-lived (sweet, attractive boy who only wants your happiness? ew.) because hallucinations of a cute, fanged control freak are better. Until he's slapped around by the Volturi. Love the Volturi though - the name, the aesthetic, the evil popeness vibe - good stuff. If only there were more Volturi and less woe.

Eclipse

Danger, Danger! Victoria wants to kill Bella and destroy the Cullens. But worse than that, Bella has to decide between Jacob and Edward. Is she IN LOVE or does she just like-like supernatural dudes who want to make her their property? Who loves her more? Is it like, too embarrassing to get married at graduation? Do I like have any friends? Like, oh my god, what should I do????? Is there anyone on earth with harder decisions to make? CRINGE. She's insufferable and I lost centimeters on my molars in the repeated gnash. The worst.

The End!

#asks #nice ask day #twilight saga #that was supermassive

[jittersbitters]

Splintered Hearts (1)- "First Impressions"

Story summary: Two people of differing backgrounds; Both religiously traumatized (in different ways), both college friends of Foggy, and both not having the most stable of lives- romantic or otherwise. One looking to become a lawyer (and a savior) for the people of Hell's Kitchen, while the other chooses to be a doctor for those entering an early grave. Two vastly separate lives finally starting to collide- for better or for worse? Secrets and lies always did make kisses far more sweet.

Chapter summary: Foggy has a friend at the hospital that Matt has been dying to meet. Through circumstance and luck, he finally gets the chance to meet them one-on-one. Hopefully, the chicken and dumplings he brought are enough to smooth things over.

Word count: 7k

Chapter Mood board

Tropes: Strangers to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, daddy issues, might be some friends to unknown enemies to lovers (We'll see how I feel when we cross that bridge), friendship to love to hate to love again, Food is the easiest way to anyone heart (Trope or just facts?). Catholic x Pagan (guilty pleasure), lawyer x doctor, vigilant x reformed criminal (pending...), sex first love later, Oops we fell in love type story, slow burn, mutual pining, both fell first and then fell harder

Content Warning (Strap in folks; bolded is what appears in this chapter): FMC is named (I can't do that Y/N shit or constantly typing just she/her and vague gender descriptions, I have war flashbacks from my Wattpad days. Sorry fam oc is being slapped in here- I don't care it feels better), Possible Inaccuracies (I'm reading the script sue me), The subtlest hint of daddy issues, Vaguely mentioned age gap between Matt and Amilia (FMC), Religious trauma, Matt went one-way and Amilia went the other, mentions of drug use, Descriptions of drug use, Mentions of addiction recover, Falling off and going on a bender, Mentions of past criminal active, Descriptions of murder scenes, Descriptions of violence, FILTH, SMUT IS TO COME I promise, Just got to sit through the slowest slow burn ever, Detailed descriptions of dead bodies, She's not like other girls she likes to play with the dead, I'll add more when we get farther into this- editing has transformed this from the original plot- its BETTER

part one

A/N: If you would have told me 3 years ago I would be posting this, I would have laughed in your face- but here we are. Special thanks to @knightofthieves and a couple Matt Murdock pages for giving me the confidence to edit and post this. It turned out better than expected, I hope you like it. I'm hoping to post this on the same schedule as my therapy visits. We will see.

"It isn't the red ribbon that binds us together.

The root that unifies us, does not derive from a tree on the wall.

This bond knows no genetics.

Friendship is a peculiar seed.

No matter the season, the weather,

nor the time of the day.

When planted on a nourishing soul,

it will always bear fruit." -Clairel Estevez

~-~

‘240 N. Pleasant Ave. Bronx, NY 10462’

This had been the place her nurse had mentioned. Taking people in, like her, with nowhere else to go. Wayward kids and adults with habits that made them undesirable to society. 

That's what she was at this moment, unwanted and pathetically useless. 

With no skills to manage a normal life, this was the last choice she had - rehabilitation with nothing more than a voucher and a bag of belongings. She had been lucky an attending had been nice enough, kind enough, to her to shove a piece of paper in her hand before ushering her out the door. Three simple lines containing the information and resources to get somewhere safe.

 Now, the letter with the address card was held, crumpled, in her hand. Thinning for days spent reading the smudged words, a reminder of a fresh start. A start that had the slouched woman, draped in the shadows left by the broken lamp post, looking up at the old Georgian-styled house in front of her. Sticking out like a sore thumb, presenting as some sort of illusion made from the smog and grey drizzle. Potted plants and windchimes hung from the porch rafters, the sound of the crystals sitting almost eerily in the air. The glow of the interior lights giving a warm backwash that set shadows across the front lawn, reached the tips of her shoes.

It made her anxious. Being out, prancing up to a random stranger's house. It was almost uncanny. A normal house, a normal neighborhood. Complete with the green yard and a slowly aging white picket fence. Flowers were even planted to perfectly line the bottom... It was an oasis in the New York chill, made to allure those passing by. It was only a thousand miles from home and the complete opposite of everything she had grown to know. It made her feel insignificant and self-conscious, small. Worried that her clothes would have the lady of the house turning up her nose in disgust. Button up wrinkled and disheveled from the bus ride, obviously heavily slept in and smelling of humid sweat. She had done her best to freshen up at the bus stop, nervous about making the right impression for the first time face to face. She just worried that the effort hadn’t been enough.

She’d think it was excitement, butterflies fluttering in her gut like a teenage girl going to prom if it wasn’t for the acid that was climbing up her throat. Burning bile that had her stomach in knots, turning over and over till she felt like she was about to lose her lunch. A clammy, cold sweat dripped between her fingers. She cringed at the salty texture; hastily patting her palms dry on the sides of her legs and shoving the paper into her coat pocket. Finally looking around at something other than the house, she peered around the dead residential street becoming acutely aware of just how long she had been standing out front. Tsking crudely at her absurd behavior, calling herself a child as she picked at the fraying seam of her pants.

“Fuck, FUCK,” she said bitterly through her teeth. Hearing the grind of them in her ears as she fixed her sack. The strap dug into her shoulder, loaded with all her earthly possessions, as she finally stepped into the light of the driveway. Making the agonizing journey to the front door, stalling on the steps of the porch as she saw all the trinkets and planters. Not being able to help herself, tutting at the stereotypical rocking chair by the front door - fit with the dog bed sitting beside it. The rattling of the bench swing creaked next to it as a breeze swept through, chimes ringing behind her. 

Guess she really was a Grandma…

When she came to the front door, she remembered to breathe, steeling her overzealous nerves, and taking one last look around before knocking on the door. Making it quick with false vibrato before she lost her edge. Instantly, she regretted it as someone seemed to bounce up and shuffle toward the door, obviously expecting her arrival. It had her inching side to side, smoothing down the wrinkles in her button-up, tightening her ponytail to hide tangled hair. Still fussing over her appearance like a schoolgirl, when the door opened- stomach sinking to her feet. The light from the entrance basking her pale face, the smell of some type of cookie wafting through the air. Her stomach growled as she felt drawn inside forgetting she hadn’t eaten since she stepped foot on her bus here. Mouth watering at the same time her lips felt parched, her throat begging for a glass of water.

“Ah, Darling! You must be Ms. Boteo! Rachael told me to be expecting you tonight.” An elderly woman opened the door, tanned skin wrinkled with age and blotted with freckles. A smile that could rival the sun brightened her face as she took in the young woman's tired appearance. A small frown twitched at the sides of her lips as her eyes scanned the bags under the lady’s even darker eyes. Growing the tiniest bit unsettled, disappointed, by the dead look behind them. Not even the light from her house was managing to brighten them. Somehow just made the amber look hauntingly soulless, fading into the black ring of her iris. It had the woman pushing down a shiver, rubbing her hands together like the chill of mid-October was getting to her. Hiding a frown in a brightened smile.

“Why- Why don’t we get you out of this cold? I’ll introduce you to everyone…” She led the newly arrived women inside with a hand on her shoulder, shocked when she felt nothing but ice. Even with the leather jacket, she shouldn’t have been that cold. “And maybe a nice cup of tea, hmm?”

~-~

Seven years later…

“Nelson,” The sharp voice of his boss cut through the air like a knife. It made both men freeze in the middle of their work. Both turned to answer her, Foggy feeling like a deer in headlights as his pen slipped from his hand and the office phone pressed into his shoulder dangled precariously. The air felt thick in their closet of an office as she looked between the two interns with a passive gaze. “I need you to sit in on my meeting with the Agnelli accounts.”

The panic that went through Foggy was palpable. “Yes ma’am.” He gave an awkward nod of his head, enough to satisfy his boss. He looked between her departing back and his notepad, finishing his call- obviously disgruntled. “Yes, Yes, thank you, Bobby.” 

*Click* 

Foggy fell back into his chair, tense as he pushed the phone away from him in a huff. “Shit! I was supposed to go to the hospital for lunch…”

“You still haven’t got the list?” Matt turned his head toward Foggy’s voice, hands grazing over the documents before him. “I thought you went to see them on Monday?”

“No,” He pulled the word out, turning inward to their shard desks. “They were called to a scene as soon as I arrived. Walked out the door with a pat on the back and a ‘I’m sorry, I'll see you whenever Franklin’ before whipping out the door and leaving me with TWO servings of Taiwanese noodles. With all our overtime, today is the only time we both have available for a while. I won’t be seeing them till after the trial at this rate.”

Matt’s fingers stopped mid-page. 

Foggy was desperate. The case was going to court in 3 days, and while they had a case without paperwork from the hospital, it wasn’t perfect. It had holes, and their boss didn’t like holes. The records would be the cherry on top. Impress the boss and make the trial MUCH easier to breeze through. Two birds, one stone. Besides... Matt had never been allowed to know so much as the name of whoever this friend was at the hospital. This could be his chance, as selfish as it was- he was far too curious to care anymore.

“I…Could go?” Matt tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. Leaning in his chair as he swiveled to the side. Without paying attention to anything else, Matt could still feel the disdain at the idea, heavy in the air like smoke. The way Foggy fidgeted and gave him a shrewd once over to discern Matt’s intentions. However, before Foggy could shoot him down like usual, Matt raised a hand to interrupt him. Let him try and convince him. “Think about it. I don’t have that much work and you have this meeting now. When’s the next chance you’re realistically going to have to go to the hospital?”

“...”

Silence was good. Silence wasn’t a no. As long as he held it long enough, he was bound to break eventually…

“... You’ll need to pick up the order from MeiMei’s.” That was NOT entirely too far from the hospital. “It's Friday so she will be counting on the usual from there, she’s particular about these things.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Matt gave a little shrug of the mouth but got nothing but silence again in return. He sensed Foggy becoming more anxious about the idea, having to contemplate if he was actually going through with this. Was the report really worth exposing his ‘mystery man’? Years of excuses going down the drain, opening a door he wouldn’t be able to close.

“You’ll behave yourself?” Even without context, Matt got the subtext in that accusation. It was the first domino tipping, sewing the downfall of all the rest.

“So they’re a woman, then? Interesting” The upward twitch in his lips gave Foggy all the proof he needed not to trust his friend. Resigning with a sharp glare and an exaggerated sigh that Matt couldn’t help but laugh at. It didn’t help his case, only ended in another sharp look shooting his way.

“No. No! The answer is no.” Foggy turned away, starting to pack up papers for the new meeting. Surrending himself to the absence of that report, not like they needed it. It would be fine. There was always the next case, another opportunity to impress the boss would always arise

“Okay, Okay,” Matt put his hands up, showing his capulation. Though, still smiling at his friend's obvious discomfort and exasperation. “I promise it will be nothing, but my best behavior.”

Foggy rolled his head toward Matt. Even though he knew Matt couldn’t see him, it didn’t stop Foggy from giving his office mate a ‘do I look stupid to you’ stare. Looking the most unamused he had ever been with Matt, it was almost a shame Matt didn’t get to witness it. “See, that?” he thrusted an open hand toward his partner. “That is the problem.”

Matt snorted, raising his eyebrows. “What now? How is that the problem?”

“With you it is. You’ll talk nice and butter her up, then next thing I know I’m being canceled on for lunch because you wooed her, or whatever it is you do,” he was waving his hands around, becoming more eccentric as he continued to shove papers and files he needed into his case.

“Wooed her? Foggy-”

“No, I’m not losing my only client before I’ve even started.” He clipped his briefcase shut, doubling down. “Took me way too long to convince her lawyers aren’t the devil, I’m not letting you take that away.”

“Hey, now. I’m just trying to help,” Matt leaned farther back in his chair, a convincing smile never leaving his lips. “I will keep my distance, I swear it.” The uptick in his tone told Foggy not to trust him, track record not being taken into consideration… but he did trust Matt, even if now it might have been misguided. If he made it clear she was off limits then, he was more than sure that Matt would stick to it… Right?

It was a beat before Matt heard the victorious spleen sigh of Foggy relenting. Leaning over his desk to write a note, scribbling it quickly before stuffing it in Matt’s shirt pocket. “Give that to her boss, he asked me to look into the legality of something for him.”

“Oh?” His satisfaction was quickly replaced with confusion. What could that mean?

“You’ll... Find out soon enough…” Foggy gave a shrug, nodding his head side to side. “Probably.” He stole his briefcase from his desk, reaching for the door. “Go to the hospital and head to the morgue, she’s a resident there.”

“The morgue?” Matt gave him a befuddled look. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that.

“Yeah,” Foggy laughed, finding his own amusement. His turn to smile now. “The morgue.”

Matt was left with nothing else as Foggy left quickly after, not fully closing the door to their office in his rush. He didn’t know what he felt more, surprise Foggy gave in and let him go in his stead or that uncomfortable feeling that has your skin crawling when you look down your basement stairs. Matt chose to focus on the surprise, for his sake.

~-~

Upon entering the Morgue, Matt is hit with a strong wave of chemicals and burnt coffee. It was thick enough in the air to make his temples burn with an unpleasant ache. The strong smell of the hospital had hit him a floor up and two blocks away, down here he could taste it on the back of his tongue. It made his throat clog with a metallic taste, it was nasty. How anyone could stomach even the lightest waft of this smell was beyond him. He could hear the whirling of a centrifuge buzzing off to the side, someone sitting next to it was tapping their pen against the table. He hears the click of the top before the scratch of it gliding against a piece of paper. No doubt jotting down some sort of note, the person too absorbed in work to take notice of his presence.

Stepping farther in, his cane hit the edge of the doorway, leading into a sunken room with a couple of stairs going down to it. The woman in front of him had a steady heartbeat but her breathing was shallow.  She's exhausted, he can hear it in the slight cracking of her back and joints when she shifts in place. He almost feels bad for disturbing her while she is in such a state, it barely being passed 1 p.m. no less. The burnt coffee smell stong in her direction, she practically reeks of it. No creamer, maybe a spoon full of stale sugar. The mild soap and linens smell a mild undertone compared to the caffeine aroma staining her white coat… and… Pomegranates.

Matt doesn't get the time to reconsider, not that he would. Not when his chance to find out more was being served to him on a silver platter. He is barely a step down into the main room when the woman suddenly becomes aware of his presence. A sudden, hungry, chirp cuts through the space between them, like a knife through a crisp fruit. 

“Chicken and rice dumplings?" She sounded as tired as she felt, a dry mirthy tone accompanied an even drier laughter. A meer chuckle as she lifted her head at the smell of the food in the bag hanging in Matt's hand, though not turning her head to see who was behind her. "I’d say you spoil me Percy, but we both know that's not the case.” 

The heavy sarcasm is obvious like a slap in the face. The technician half turned in her chair, still writing down her final notes as she expected Foggy’s usual quip back. Something about how much he needs her, he wouldn’t be able to do half his job without her, voice laced with some sort of exaggerated desperation and false adoration. Something to butter up her ego even more. And Matt being, well, who he was- the gentlemen he is, couldn’t help but feel obliged. In his own way, of course. 

So, with a wide smug smile spreading on his face, showing teeth while replying all too smoothly.

“I’m not this, Percy,” Matt tried not to laugh at the fact that this girl called Froggy by his middle name. “But, I have no problem spoiling you, if that's what he does.”

He expected to scare her a bit, maybe jump in her seat. That he expected. What he didn’t expect was her to shriek like a dying seagull before devolving into a coughing fit as she choked on her spit. Terror shot through her as she was rendered vulnerable in a moment of fear.

That was definitely not her usual lunch buddy.

Horror evolved into shock and embarrassment when she looked over to the door. Finding an older, than her, man with a heavy 5’oclock shadow and a cheeky smile that had her heart skipping a beat in both their ears. Struck silent for a moment as she twiddled the pen in her hand, chewing herself out for her twitterpation. Over nothing but a stranger who had found his way into her lab. Instantly drawn to his striking red glasses that glinted in the fluorescent light, giving him a devilish expression. It caused her a moment of pause before she pointed her pen at him, an eyebrow raising as she tried to figure out who the hell this random man at her job holding her lunch was. “You’re not him…”

She dragged out her words a bit as she attempted to settle her fluttering heart, eyes flicking all over his face. Abashly noting to herself that he had dimples, seeing them very clearly even part-way across the room from her. Etched deep into his scruffy face, accentuating his smile lines.

Pushing out air through her nose, she had to remind herself that staring wasn’t nice. Remebering her manners enough to throw a nervous, flirty smile his direction (aware he couldn’t see it)- setting down her pen to give Matt her full attention. Notes could wait, this was far more interesting.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what happened to him? Finally, bribed the wrong police officers?” She laughed at her joke, standing from her seat and using her foot to push in her stool. Stepping around the room, venturing closer with a drag in her step. Giving Matt time to answer before she got too close, too comfortable.

“No, nothing, like that.” He laughed, shaking his head. Walking farther into the room, taking her movement as an invitation. Careful, after scaring her, not to go too far into her personal space without another enticement. “Our boss called him to sit in on a meeting with a client.”

Matt received another bemused chuckle, listening to her rub her hands in sanitizer before stuffing them into her pockets. "So he sent you?" She was walking around the exam table between her and Matt, both lucky he hadn’t come in while she was in the middle of an active case. "That's… New.” Underneath all her bravo and charm, she was put off. Anxious. The masked stims and raising pulse; rubbing her thrumb over the seams of her pockets, the swinging of her elbows, biting her lip. She wasn’t as happy about his presence as she portrayed.

Matt chose to tread lightly, considering her reaction carefully. Leaning against his cane at his side, using it to balance as he put all his weight on one foot. Mimicking her chuckles, smiling boyishly again to try and soothe her over. Becoming as none threateningly as possible. “No,” His voice was a bit softer, the word coming out as only a breath while shaking his head. “I just happened to volunteer at the right time to bring you your food instead.” Shifting on his feet, he lifted her food, dangling it in front of her. If memory served, Foggy did say that food was the quickest way into her good graces. “I didn’t think it fair for Foggy to keep our best source of information to himself… Plus” He shrugged his mouth, not being able to stop himself from teasing her a little. “Someone needed to pick up your very, specific and particular order.”

He can hear her heart rate jump unexpectedly again as color rushes to her cheeks. Knowing, beyond a doubt that Foggy had said something of her tastes. He always did find her compulsion for routine amusing, if not a little worrying at times. If it was coming from anyone else she might have felt hurt, offended even. Scoffed in their face and told them to scram, she’d rather go hungry. But she couldn’t, not to Franklin and by extension his friend. Not when she knew there was no malice, just humor. Like old friends picking at each other- trying to lighten her mood and her more than obvious discomfort at the sudden change in her lunch plans. If there was anything she was, she liked to at least consider herself decent at social awareness. Even if she tended to be a little dramatic at times. So instead, she took the teasing with an open heart and grinned, laughing even. Stepping closer to him as a moment passed and her inner monologue seemed to cause an epiphany. Curiosity sank in its claws; realizing who exactly she was conversing with.

“Ah!” She snorted, finally close enough to take her food from his raised fist. The crinkling of the bag as her hand brushed against his. Making him jump a little at how cold she was, hands of ice with what he could only assume was connected to a very warm heart. “So you're his partner-in-law, I was wondering when you’d wiggle your way here." She gives him a look over before moving past him to a small office kitchen attached to the morgue, far enough away it wasn’t a health hazard. The smell of pomegranates and that old coffee made him take a deep breath, turning to follow her. 

She set down her food unceremoniously on the rickety discount table, the blue resin top scuffed and stained from years of occupants. Humming at the smell of spices and chicken, she threw a glance over her shoulder to catch his slow creeping approach. Seeing nothing but a confused puppy trying to navigate a new house. The warmer fluorescent lights of the breakroom seemed to cast softened shadows down his face, bouncing through his finger-brushed hair. The first words in her head spilling out before she could stop them. Coming out with all the confidence in the world before they had the chance to go through that liiiittle mental filter everyone was supposed to use.  "He was right, you are pretty." 

It was Matt’s turn to blush, taken aback for a moment; for several reasons. One, the compliment, for him, came out of nowhere. Not entirely unappreciated, is smugly accepted even. Inflating his ego a bit. Two, this made his promise to Foggy a little harder. Foggy hadn’t been exaggerating the fact that this friend had a brass, awkward but charming personality it seemed. Turbulent in regulation, like a kitten falling out of bed kind of way, flipping between overly skeptical and anxious to loose-lipped with unfiltered compliments. She was awkward, and out of her element, but her approach was endearing. Sweet in its own clumsy way. 

And three, the most rather obvious one; Foggy had called him pretty? That ol’ dog. He’d have to remind himself later to bring it up when they had a moment. Real answers could wait, right now this was all far too intriguing not to ride on the coat tales of. Grinning, he laughed at the proclamation, blowing air out his nose as he raised an eyebrow in amusement. “He called me pretty? If I had only known, I would have proposed sooner.” Matt grasped his cane firmly with both hands, planting in front and center of him. Receiving what could only be described as a chortle from the tech.

“Well, you two deserve each other. Bribing a state worker, who taught you two such questionable morals," She tutted in faux disappointment. Practically calling him a kettle, as the documents he would be expecting sat in her purse in the office next to them. If anyone had questionable morals it was the women sneaking confidential information for their boss’s trust fund, business clients. All her ‘big corporations must die’ beliefs going down the drain as soon as her college buddy pops up with tacos from some obscure restaurant she loved. Pushing passed the self-critization, she started to rip open the plastic bag and look through the boxes of steaming food. 

“I don’t think my morals are that questionable,” Her pursed his lips mockingly, causing her to roll her eyes and blow air out through her nose again.

“If I had questionable mortals, I wouldn’t acknowledge it either,” She admired the golden dumplings before shoving one whole into her mouth and looking through the rest of the food. Finding the juices and meat inside better than anything else at this moment. It had been a couple of days, maybe a week, since she had had good and proper food; so maybe it was her neglected pallet talking. “(Mmmm, So good.)”

Catching himself, admiring her sounds a little too much, Matt switches thoughts. Remembering the paper Foggy shoved into his shirt. Fishing it out while drawing her attention again with a cough, clearing his throat. He dares to step closer, edging into the kitchen little by little. She heard her mumble something to acknowledge him as she chewed her big mouth of food. “Mmnnhh?” 

“Foggy said he was asked to look into the legality? of a few things for your boss?” He handed her the paper, taking the opportunity to get closer. Stopping when he was in the area of the table, the strong scent of her perfume and the food hitting him where it hurt. Reminding him he hadn’t eaten lunch, his stomach happy to voice its abuse to him and his surroundings. The sweet smell of pomegranates and cherries, and what he could mistake as mint, not helping the saliva accumulating on the back of his throat.

It was sweet and musky.

Hearing his stomach,  she scrunched her nose. Holding in a laugh she looked up from the quickly jotted legal jarb to give him the once over. Looking at him through the curtaining of her fringe, a gaiety squint of her eyes as she saw him shift slightly. He was aware she had noticed his stomach’s dramatized famine. “Well… “She started awkwardly, swallowing her bite before she had fully finished it. “...This food isn't going to eat itself.”

“Smooth,” He huffed at her, switching his cane from hand to hand.

“I am anything if not smooth,” she waved her hands like she was showing off a painting, bowing her head. She made herself laugh again as she pulled out her chair, pulling the other out for him by leg with her foot. “Sit, you may not be my usual company but you’ll do.”

Matt gave a light-hearted gasp, sending an all-to-chipper smirk her way. Folding up his cane and stowing it in his jacket, he reached for the back of the chair- guiding himself to sit. She wasted no time in planting herself on her own, rubbing her hands like a fly eager for its feast. Rummaging through the remains of the shredded bag for the chopsticks. Tapping them on the table to open them, made it easier for Matt when she handed them over.

His fingers brushed hers again, this time intentionally. Making her heart flutter and bounce against her rib cage. She was swift, pulling her hand away and grabbing for her own utensil to eat. Tapping it on the table again to rip away the plastic. Cheeks burning as Matt took in her reaction, cracking his sticks apart. He smoothed his hand across the table till he found an unopened box of dumplings and noodles, pulling it towards himself.

Now that he was sitting down with her, in a moment of silence, he thought back on his momentary conversations about her with Foggy. He had talked about how proper she was to people, overly so. Awkward and put off by normal social interactions, so much so that she puts up a vague and distant front. Living a very private life, with a very tight schedule. One of a hundred excuses made by Foggy as to why Matt was never introduced. Why Foggy kept his friendship with her so secluded. 

Sitting here with her now, listening to her talk. He didn’t see any of that. Figuratively speaking of course.

She stuffed her face with food in an attempt to distract herself from him, slurping her noodles and shoving a whole dumpling in her mouth with no shame. She didn’t seem to care about manners as she all but demolished her mountain of food. The stereotype of an overworked student resident is all but perpetuated. Too tired to care about her anxiety, too nice to turn him away. Going far enough as to invite him to eat, given it was Foggy’s portion it would have become leftovers or gone to waste anyway. 

He was only left with his questions as he ate his food, a silence settling between them. Only the crunch of food being shared.

Matt had been kept blatantly in the dark about this woman since he caught Foggy on the phone with her back during their first year at L&M. One of their first cases and they were collecting information, simply helping facilitate a deal between two companies. Foggy claimed to know someone vaguely connected to business, apparently, they took courses in college and knew the son of the owner through them. Asked her to talk to the son and convince his dad to ease up on his conditions, and take the next deal that was proposed. Two days and a meeting later, a deal was signed. The man had mentioned that his son was the one to persuade him as he was shaking his new partner's hands.

When he asked Foggy about it later that day, he kept it vague. When pressed even more as Matt followed him through the halls, pestering him with theories and ridiculous questions, Foggy just said they wouldn’t like him. With such a response Matt was, understandably, caught off guard, but relented when he sensed how serious his friend was. However, he would be lying if he said that Foggy’s comment wasn’t the start of a perpetual cycle of agonizing curiosity. His brain itched with questions that started to pile higher and higher the longer Foggy disappeared during lunch or after work for his secret rendezvous, ones that always ended in Foggy having some sort of new edge. Any time Matt tried questioning it, no matter how innocent the question was, he was met with the same answers. ‘They wouldn’t like you’, ‘They’re too busy to entertain both of us’, “They’re very private’, or simply ‘They’re not a people person’. 

It wasn’t till a couple of months ago, did Foggy started to become a bit more lenient about what he said. Letting it slip they worked at the hospital nearby. Sometimes it was just a tossed-in comment that his friend insisted on having authentic Italian pasta with a mountain of parmesan cheese to rival Everest- for just a missing patient record for the case they were building. Sometimes it was more personal, letting it slip that they crashed at his place after Foggy had joined them in attending a fundraiser party for said friend's hospital- in exchange for sneaking him into a person’s room to serve them or get papers signed.

 For months, he lived off small tidbits of information. Slowly forming a picture in his mind of who might have been helping Foggy. Someone who had known him for almost as long as Matt had. He was never able to pry out specifics, Foggy kept all that good stuff to himself. Where in the hospital they worked, how they met even remained a mystery. The simplest of stuff like did they go to the same college as them or if they were a man or woman was impossible.

He was given no clues on how to find them because Foggy, or as he constantly blamed- they, never wanted it…but today had been Matt's lucky day. After so long, Franklin had finally relented. Matt had left L&M’s with a pep in his step. Going over a list of questions he had accumulated over this whole period. However, now with his opportunity to have every one of them answered, he drew a blank on what to start with. 

Indecisive. Matt had so many questions ricocheting through his head, all jumbled up like scrabble. 

‘How did she meet Foggy?

Why did they never meet in college?

Why did she first start taking bribes? Why continue?

Had she been from New York her whole life like them?’

And of course, the newest as of this afternoon: ‘Why work in the morgue of all places?’

A healthy curiosity. 

He had a long time to prepare his questions, with as much as he bugged Foggy some days he should have had them ready to go, but all of them died on the tip of his tongue. So, he was lucky when his new lunch buddy was the one to break their silence. Matt was so lost in his own head he hadn’t noticed how tense it had gotten in the moments passed. 

“I am very aware Franklin made excuses on my behalf," She said through a half mouth of food, speaking through her cheek. "He asked on many occasions to introduce us. I always, adamantly, said no.”

That made Matt pause, lowering his chopsticks back into the box. “So he wasn’t lying when he said you weren’t a people person?” He smiled at her, turning his head slightly in her direction. “Or is it you just wouldn’t like me?” He teased, sensing her coil when he called her out and trying to lighten the mood. 

It seemed to work.

“No,” She rushed to breathe out, after swallowing her bite, with a shake of her head. “Well, I mean, Uh-” She blushed as she started to stumble over her words. Tripping up over her own tongue. “I mean, yes to not being a people person. No to not liking you.”

“So you like me?” The way he said it, the suggestive undertone coating the bottom of his words. It had her shifting in her seat and clearing her throat, hiding for a second in the bottom of a cold coffee cup she had taken the liberty to sip off of during their meal.

“Well, that is... That is to be determined.” She shot back after a moment. Setting down her cup in favor of twirling her chopsticks in her noodles.

“Oh?” He didn’t mean to lean closer, but he found himself doing so. Still staying aware of her obvious personal bubble. “Almost sounds like a challenge,” He braced his arms on the table slightly, chair scooting against the ceramic floors.

She laughed, it was joyful and bemused. It had her setting down her chopsticks fully, leaning back in her chair to look at him. Arm over the back as she held on to her wrist with her other hand. “I suppose it would, to you.”

“To me?” 

“Oh yes- you might not know me, but I do know of Foggy’s college roommate turned office colleague,” She shrugged her shoulders, licking her lips nervously as she glanced around the room, squinting at the incessantly flickering buzz of the fluorescent lights that seemed to fill her head with cotton “Though maybe not as much as I thought, now that we're sitting face to face.”

“We are? Jeez, I thought we were face to back,” His joke earned him a heavy scowl, one he could feel across his face. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the heavy, cardboard takeout box, he listened to her puff out air at him. Suppressing a laugh, not knowing if she was allowed to or not.”Really shows a guy, huh?”

“Wow, blind jokes already. Have to say, I’m honored our friendship is moving so fast,” She huffed at him again, tone dry but not humorless as she turned back to the food. Deeming it far more worthy of her attention.

“Friendship, you’ll make Foggy jealous.” Matt jabbed lightly.

“He’ll live,” She stuffed her face again, chewing a bit faster this time. Something obviously catching her train of thought. “However…”

Matt raised a brow, stabbing a dumpling in favor of actually picking up the food properly this time.

“Friends usually know each other's names,” She pushed around the scraps in her box, sneaking a glance at him. “A tidbit I assume Percy failed to mention on either of our parts.”

“Well,” Matt turned his chair with a scrap. “That’s easily fixed,” He raised his hand, offering it for her to shake. Finally able to introduce himself. “Matthew Murdock.”

He felt her smile before anything else. Oddly warming his skin like he had just stepped out into the morning sun after a shady night. Then came her hand. Softer than he thought it would be, just as cold as before, slightly dried out from the hand sanitizer. Small compared to his but still shaking his firmly, experienced one would say. Her voice was last. Smooth and ivory.

“Amilia Boteo, just call me Lia.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter one is done baby. The next chapter is to come in the next two weeks. My editor (love you bestie) refuses to beta for Matt Murdock so it's gonna take a minute.

Tag list of cringe: @xxjuviajawbreakerxx

#matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #fanfic #oc x canon #fanfiction #foggy nelson #slowburns #slow burn #chapter 1 #oc #strap in folks this shits gonna get DARK

[spacecatbowtie]

Say it, Darlin

AO3 link

Explicit

Joel (The Last of Us)/Reader

Joel (The Last of Us)/OC

Summary:

The plan did not go the way it was intended. He was faster than me and caught me before I knew it.

It excites me, but I won't admit that to myself, let alone to him. I don't want to boost this old man's stupid ego.

MINORS DON'T INTERACT, DO NOT READ IF BELOW 18

Notes:

So I just wrote this.

Irl this is not ok, I would call the police on this. Even though she actually wants this, this is not consensual. Especially at the beginning.

So for the peeps new to sexual stuff irl. This is not ok, maybe only for roleplay if you set up boundaries before hand.

Anyhow, enjoy if ur into reading this shit. :)

Tags below:

Tags:

Dark Joel (The Last of Us), Rough Sex, Pining, Bondage, Knifeplay, Spit Kink, Forced Submission, This is not healthy, Unsafe Sex, this is NOT okay, minor description of blood, Hair Pulling, POV First Person, no description of oc other than being female, no mention of oc name, joel is alone, Touch-Starved Joel, Degradation, dyslexia so tell me if i misspelled something, cum, p in v, Kinda cute ending, joel does not know how to show emotions, joel actually wants to be loved, Porn, porn with little plot, Dom Joel

I'd been waiting for the man to fall asleep. For hours he sat by the fire, cleaning his weapons, eating the meat he grilled and just staring in to space.

As the sun sets, the chirping of crickets grows louder and the temperature drops. The bush I decided to hide in offers no protection from the wind. Thank god it's spring, otherwise I would have frozen to death from sitting still on the moist forest floor. Still my body feels stiff from the chilly evening air.

At some point I must have dosed off, because when I startle awake and look at the small fire, the man is gone.

Shit!

I search through the darkness in the trees. He is probably just going for a wee.

Something hard pokes my back. By body freezes, I know what it is without turning around.

"What the hell you spying on me for?"

I did not expect his voice to be this low. The threating tone sends cold shivers down my spine.

"Say somethin, dammit." He snarls.

"I'm sorry!" Is the only thing I can think of to say. I try to turn around, but that only causes him to jab the barrel of his gun harder in my spine.

After a while the pressure disappears.

"Turn 'round."

Slowly I obey and face him. He keeps the gun aimed at me, but he has taken a step back. The light of the campfire barely reaches him at this distance, just an orange glow sparkles in his eyes. Up close he looks even more rough and wild.

"Please, I am just looking for some food," I mutter, keeping my hands up as a sign of surrender. "I saw the fire, and wanted to ask you if you perhaps had some food to spare."

He just looks at me for a few seconds until he finally speaks again. "Spread your arms and put your feet wider."

When I just look at him in confusion he sighs. "I'm gonna search you for weapons."

I take in a quick breath, but do as he says and take a wider stands, spreading my arms.

He keeps the gun in one hand as he comes closer. "If you move, you're dead."

I give a curd nod.

Starting at my arms, he makes his way over my clothes. I close my eyes and hold my breath as his free hand feels down my body for any hidden weapons.

With a grunt he steps back and I try to hide my sigh of relief.

He holsters his gun. "I can give you something to eat." With his head he motions for me to go to the fire.

Even though it's a relatively warm night, the flames feel nice as I take a seat across from him, the fire between us. The dead tree trunk is slightly damp and moisture soaks through the fabric of my pants the longer I sit down.

He digs through his bag, retrieving something wrapped in beige paper and throws it at me to catch.

Salted meat! Immediately after opening the crinkled wrapping, I stuff my face. Savoring the taste, I look up at the sky and let the salt devolve on my tongue. We usually don't have this kind of food.

When I open my eyes, he is looking at me with an expression I can't decipher. "Thank you, sir!" I smile at him.

His gaze softens slightly. "It's alright. Don't gotta call me 'sir'. Just Joel's fine."

We both eat in silence, as the adrenaline from our encounter before slowly seeps away. Gazing into the dancing flames of the campfire, I refrain from engaging in further contact with him.

When we've finished the delicious but small meal, I look at him again. "Would it be alright if I stay a little longer and sleep by the fire?"

There is some hesitation on his face, his thick brows furrowing.

Giving him my saddest puppy eyes, I continue. "Please, its lonely and kinda cold out there."

"That's fine." He sighs and tosses me something from his bag. A flannel shirt. The fabric is rough in my hands, but I'll do the job as a makeshift blanket.

I fake a yawn and stretch, before covering myself with the large flannel and curling up next to the fire, facing away from him.

"G'night." His back pops as he stretches.

I don't respond, pretending to have dozed off already.

He settles in himself. And after what feels like a little more than an hour, soft snores fill the air. I wait another two hours to make sure he is in deep sleep. The crickets have become silent, only the occasional mysterious forest sound can be heard every so often. A few times I'd jumped at the sound of his voice, thinking he was awake, but it turns out he talks in his sleep. What exactly he is saying is unclear, but I can make out the name 'Sarah' a few times.

My body aches when I silently get up. I retrieve the small pocket knife hidden in the hem of my jeans. Thankfully he'd missed it when searching me.

The sleeping man lays on his side, head on his arm as I approach. He looks so peaceful, it's almost cute. Sadly that ends right here. I place the knife on his neck and am about to cut his throat when a large hand forcefully grabs my wrist.

I yelp when he jumps on me, pinning me to the ground. The knife flies from my hand some ware along the way.

His dark eyes are so cold and so dangerous that regret accepting this job in the first place. Not that I had a lot of choice in the matter.

"Yea, knew you were not gonna let me sleep peacefully." He straightens up and kicks the knife out of my reach.

I try to get up, but he presses his foot painfully in the middle of my chest, pinning me to the ground. I feel like I'm unable to move, unable to breathe.

"Now, what the hell did you think you were doing?" He lightens the pressure on my chest a little so I can talk.

But I stay silent and try to shove his foot off me. When that does not work I just look up at him with the angriest face I can muster.

"C'mon, don't act all tough now." He leans closer, putting more weight on my chest, causing me to cough and wheeze. "From the goodness of my heart I let you sit by the warmth of the fire, I shared my food with you, and this is how you thank me?"

The look in his eyes sparks fear in me. Kicking my legs I try to get away from him, even though I know it is futile.

"Stop it!" He digs the toe of his foot harder in my body. "Least you could do is tell me why you tried to kill me."

Fine

"I needed the supplies. Dont act like you haven't done things like this to survive."

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't but that does not change the fact that it makes no sense for a lonely little girl like you to kill a generous man like me."

He knows.

Panic surges through me. I try to reach for the knife he'd kicked away. I need to try. I have to try.

"Stop fighting me!" He crouches down and pins my hands down. Straddling me, he immobilizes the rest of my body on the ground. "Explain to me why you thought it was necessary to kill me."

I close my eyes, and try to keep my breathing steady.

"Look at me."

I do. His face is so close.

"Answer me. I know you're hiding sometin."

Thrashing and pulling my arms, but his grip only tightens. I give up with a frustrated sigh. "I am just trying to survive in this shit world."

That was the truth.

"Yeah well, you could have just asked to join me. We could have struck a deal, worked together to survive in this shit world." He pins both my wrists in one hand, with his other he reaches for the knife on the ground. Brining it to his face, he inspects it. "Like I said, you are a girl all alone in the woods. It doesn't make sense for you ta' kill me."

His dark eyes pierce mine and he leans closer again. "Or you're not alone at all."

"Let me go." With all my strength I try to fight against his grip. Now he has my wrists in one hand, I should be able to pull free. For a moment I think it works, because his grip loosens, but quickly he unbuckles his belt and pulls it from the loops of his pants. With rough hands he binds my wrists above my head and attaches the end of the binds to the large log, leaving me unable to move my arms.

I press my lips tightly together. The fact that he is tying me up seeps ice-cold fear from my chest to the rest of my body. Simultaneously, my body is starting to react to his vicinity. It has been months since I've had any release, and the need for some intimate action burns low in my stomach.

"Look hun, i don't want to hurt you, but you were gonna take me out of the game, so i can't let you go either." He must have put the knife down at some point, because the rough but warm hand slides feather-light down my neck.

I try to suppress the whimper that forms in my throat as a reaction to his touch, but it is too late, it sounds desperate and needy. Curse my body for being weak. Wurming and pulling, I try to escape his grip. But he keeps me in place with his weight.

It feels so good.

NO! stop. I need to get away.

The stare in which he looks at me warms my whole body with a tingly heat. He leans even closer, almost burying his face in my hair. "Shhhhh. Don't struggle." His warm breath tickles my neck.

I tremble underneath him. "Fuck." I curse as my body betrays me. Trying not to give in to my desires, I turn my face away from him.

"C'mon, it's okay." His thumb strokes the soft part of my throat. "Just let it happen." He whispers. "I'll be good to you, you can trust me." His hand slides lower, running his thumb over one of my breasts.

Another whimper escapes me and my cheeks burn. I hate how responsive I am, but from the state of him, I guess that he is just as touch starved as I am.

But I don't want to give in. I need the supplies. I need to kill him for it. Without further hesitation, I lift my knee, kicking him between his legs.

He groans in pain and he falls forward over me, but catches himself. "Son of a-" Before I can execute my second step of my 'plan', he reaches for the knife again. For a quick second the blade flashes as it reflects the light of the campfire, but then it's on my throat.

"You should have slit my throat when you had the chance." He begins to press the knife down, breaking the skin, but not deep enough to do any major damage.

My eyes widen, my body trembles. I try to keep still, not daring to move in fear of the blade cutting deeper. Something swirls inside me, something that I haven't felt before, something I don't understand.

He stares down at me, his eyes just as cold as his voice when he speaks. "You're a viper. You know what happens to vipers in this shit world?" He lowers his voice to a whisper. "They get stepped on."

The reality of the situation starts to kick in. This man that is way stronger than I am, has complete control over me. He has a knife pressed against my throat, threatening to kill me.

I feel tears forming, but I try hard to keep them from spilling over my face. I dont want him to see how scared and desperate I am.

A small wicked smile forms on his lips. "Now, you're gonna tell me why you found the need to try and cut my throat."

"I told you, I needed the supplies and I did not want to share." My voice is weak. As I talk the knife cuts more in my skin, making me wince.

The pressure of the blade dissapears and finally, I dare to breath again. He grabs on the front of my shirt and pulls me towards him, lifting my upper body a little from the ground. "Do NOT feed me that bullshit story again."

"It's not bullshit!"

"Then what else." He releases again, making my head hit the ground. The pressure of the knife is back again, the blade digging in my skin. Something warm and liquid seeps down my neck.

I am not telling him I'm not alone, that I am with a group of people and that they send me here to pretend to be a weak, helpless girl.

But I see in his eyes that he is starting to realize that. The knife pushes a little deeper, I fear it almost hits a vital spot.

"Fine." I sigh and My body freezes when the sting in my neck gets worse. "I am part of a group. They send me to kill you and steal your supplies."

"Is that everything?"

I nod and close my eyes. He is surely going to kill me now.

He is right next to my face again, so his next words are whispered directly in my ear. "Tell me one more thing."

Desire floods through me as his breath tickles my neck. "What else do you want to know?" I manage to say in a voice that sounds angry and not totally deprived.

Softly he smiles at my tone. "Do they treat you right?"

His tone is so seductive now, almost purring. "And don't think about lyin again."

I am debating on not telling him. But the sting of the knife in my throat takes away every bit of bravery I have left. I want to shake my head, but the sting of the blade makes that impossible. "No..." I breath softly, It's almost a sob.

"Hmm." He hums in my ear and breaths in, the tip of his nose against my throat. "Now, give me a good reason not to kill ya."

The way he overpowers me, makes me feel a thousand things at the same time. "I..." I try to come up with a good reason for him not to end my life right here and now. But I can't think of a good reason. It would be the logical decision. I had tried to kill him, I know his current location. If he lets me go, I'd just run of to my group and tell them about him. I know all the details of him, his weapons, some of his belongings, his strength.

"Well? Give me one good reason, or I'll kill you with your own knife." He slides the blade down over my collarbone, leaving behind a trail of stinging pain. "Any reason, give me any reason."

I close my eyes tightly. "I.. I can point you to the location of my group, you can steal their supplies."

To my surprise he lets out a slight chuckle. "Oh, I already know where your little group is." He grabs my jaw roughly, and the flat blade of the knife is pressed to my cheek. "I mean, tell me a personal reason. Because now it sounds like you're tellin me that there's no good reason to keep you alive."

"What do you want me to do? Just name it. Tell me what I can do." I feel my cheeks burn from shame at my begging.

"That's just the thing, sweetheart. I want you to offer me something." He leans back, and the knife is back on my collarbone, dragging even further down but now not deep enough to cut the skin. "Aint gonna give you any hints." He moves his hips, rolling them into mine once.

I dont care about the world anymore. It does not feel real to me anymore. The only thing that feels real is this man on top of me, pressing his body into mine. There are so many things I want him to do to me, but I remain silent and just look him in his eyes. Does he notice the desire in mine?

Keeping his gaze on mine, he suddenly stabs the knife in the soft forest floor next to my head. With one hand he digs in my hair and pulls my head back, exposing my throat for him.

"I want you to say it, darlin." His nose runs up the unwounded side of my neck. "I can't read minds now, can I?" His lips are dangerously close to mine. "C'mon, it can't be hard. Can't think of one thing?"

His hips buck into mine once more, making me groan involuntarily. Hot breath tickles my face. "You want it, don't you?" He whispers as his lips trail down my jaw without kissing. "You want me."

My body shudders underneath him as his lips touch my skin. A strangled moan escapes me. My heart pounds in my chest and my breathing speeds up even more than before.

"I.. no.. i dont.." Even I hear how pathetic my voice sounds.  "Get off me!"

A low chuckle. "You don't need to lie. I already know the truth." His fingers pull harder at my hair, holding me in place. "Don't struggle." He hisses. "Now, say it!"

"Fuck off -" i get cut off when he bites softly in my neck, and then licks from my collarbone up to the sweet spot under my ear.

I feel him smile against my skin at the sounds I make when he bites softly. He nibbles a path down my throat, probably leaving indents. "Just relax." Now that he has had a taste of me, he dives in for more, biting harder at my skin.

"Oh my god" I moan when his hand slides over my heated body. I arch, so my chest presses in to him.

He pulls back enough to look at me. "We are both human. We have needs, desires. Sometimes you just need to let go."

My struggling ceases. I stop trying to kick him, I stop trying to rip my arm from his iron like hold. Wide-eyed I look up at him, waiting for what he will do next.

He slowly releases my wrist. "Thats a good girl."

His eyes are so dark when he stares in to mine, they look like black holes, sucking me in, hypnotizing me. "Are you afraid of me?"

My brows furrow at the question. I shake my head no, causing a painful pull on my hair where he has his fingers tangled in.

"I can see it your eyes, darlin." His gaze is on my lips now. "It turns you on, doesn't it?" This is less of a question and more of a statement.

A warm hand travels down my chest, feeling my waist and thighs. The hand wraps around my waist, pulling me even closer to him.

The burning hot frustration turns into fiery desire that sends a thrill through my body. I realize that the fear is part of what turns me on this bad. I want him to ruin me, but at the same time I want to get away, run away, flee from this animalistic man.

At my silence he laughs condescendingly, the soft snicker rumbling through his chest. He makes me feel like a freak for letting this situation effect me like this.

Fuck him.

"You are just an old man. I am not afraid of you, and I am most definitely not into this." I try to keep my voice steady and strong. "You are the one that is turned on by pinning down a defenseless girl."

"You are a terrible liar, darlin." He releases my hair to push himself back, distancing himself from me. His full weight is heavy on my hips. "And you are most definitely not defenseless. remember trying to kill me?"

This brings a triumphant smile to my face. I had almost had him, if he had reacted one second later, he had bled out by now, a deep cut in his throat.

"I'll make you submit to me."  His tone is low and gruff.

After a few seconds of staring down at me, he speaks again. "Take of your shirt." His voice is low and calculated. There is something to it. Is this his way of asking for consent? Will he stop if I say no?

I realize that I am almost disappointed at the thought of him getting off me, not having his hands touch me, not having his body caging me in.

"Make me, old man."  

Something sparks in his eyes, something dark as I am not plainly refusing him. He leans back in, hands on the ground on either side of my head. "Don't challenge me, girl." His thumb caresses my jaw. "Now, take of that shirt."

"No." A smirk creeps up my face, despite the fact that I try to keep the frown .

He has had enough.  

"You are not making this easy." He pushes my shirt up to expose my bra. Eyes ravage the skin that gets exposed, his fingers slipping over my stomach and over my covered breasts.

Leaning over me, he reaches for the knife and pulls it from the ground. He wipes the sand on his pants before he hooks the blade underneath the bra in the middle of my chest.

I struggle and try to get from under him. But with my hands tied and his weight on me. "Dont you dare rip my bra" I threaten, trying to sound convincing.

In a swift motion he cuts through the fabric, my breasts spill out as the broken bra falls to my sides.

"fuck you asshole!" I try to kick him but he keeps but his weight keeps me down. I feel my desire grow in my stomach and i feel my body becoming sensitive to his touch. As the air touches my nipples, I automatically arch in to him, basically presenting my chest to him. The tension for what is about to happen stretches every second, it'll have to burst sometime soon.

"That's right, you're not gonna do anything." The knife is discarded again.

I am about to give him a witty remark, but he presses his palm to my mouth. It muffles the moan that escapes when his fingers lightly trail over the swell of my breasts.

"Nothing to say now?" His thumb brushes over my nipple, making me buck my hips against him.

"There we go, that's more like it." He leans in, his lips against my neck. "I know exactly what you want." A low whisper tickles the shell of my ear.

I bite his hand.

He pulls away, a smirk on his face. "Ouch."

"Is that what you're into? biting? you could just have told me, hun." Leaning in, he traces my throat with his nose, breathing me in. "You want me to bite you?"

I moan softly. But quickly I press my lips on each other, stopping myself from making more noises. His hand slides lower over my stomach, traveling a path to where I need his touch the most.

Then he sinks his teeth in my neck, deep. Not like nibbles from before, but full on biting down. The pain is blinding, white stars spread across my vision.

"Stop! You fucking monster!" I wiggle under him, but it only causes more strain at the place where he sunk his teeth in. I let out a sob. The biting hurts a lot. But at the same time it turns me on, more than I would like to admit. The way he dominates me makes me tremble in pleasure. I let out a whine as his fingers trail the inside of my thigh.

"God, daring. You like it rough don't ya?"

"No it fucking hurts. Let me go!" Tears of fear and frustration roll down my face. "I hate you." I turn my head away from him, his breath now warms my neck.

"No, you want it." His fingers travel further, gently rubbing the fabric of my jeans over my clit. "You just don't want to admit it. You hate me because you want me, don't you?" He gives small bites up my neck, and then bites down again, above the place he bit before.

I let out a scream, and he quickly covers my mouth with his hand. "Can't find your words?"

More tears drip down my face as I shake my head. My body burns from humiliation and desire. I want him so bad, he feels so good as he touches me, but I dont want him to know that.

"You can lie to me, but you can't lie to yourself, darlin." His hand dips under the waistband of my jeans, digging in to my wetness. The groan he lets out as he feels how wet I am is utterly primal, a low rumble in the back of his throat.

With his hand he squeezes my jaw hard. He forces my mouth open with the tight grip of his hand. He leans over me, keeping eye-contact, he spits in my mouth. My eyes roll back on how filthy it is. Never have I been more turned on than right now.

No.

I refuse to fuel his ego. Giving him a death stare, I spit everything out on the ground.

"You can't fool me. Your body is telling me everything I need to know." The fingers between my legs start a slow pace of rubbing and circling the sensitive spot there. Every now and then he goes to tease my entrance, before returning to my clit again.

I close my eyes and remain silent, not able to handle this amount of lust or the way he turns me on.

"You know what you are.. you just wont admit it. You are just a filthy whore." He says to me with a low, his face frustrated at my silence.

I wince from the insult, but makes something hot swirl in my lower at the same time. He must see it in my features, because he grins at my reaction.

"Oh, you like that too? being degraded? You really are a dirty girl." With his hand he brushes surprisingly softly over my cheek, eyes serious as they pierce mine. "I want to hear you say it, tell me you want me, admit it."

"Make me," I say again. "Old man." I hope to provoke him. I kinda want him to be harsh with me, I want him to get frustrated, I want him to take his anger out on me, use me.

"You wanna play rough?" His head tilts slightly. "We can be as rough as you want, sweetheart." Finally he plunges inside me, two thick fingers at the same time. They reach further than my own fingers ever could reach in the last few years. I gasp at the intrusion and tense around him, sucking him in deeper.

He keeps them inside as he curls his fingers, causing me to throw my head back in a strangled moan.

"There we go, that's what I like to hear." Slowly he moves his fingers in and out again, setting a teasing pace.

He keeps moving his hand in a delicious way. I cant talk anymore, I can't even think anymore. The only thing i can do is moan and mewl at what his fingers do to me.

I tense when he dives in the crook of my neck again, but instead of biting, he gives small, soft kisses along my neck and jaw. Already I can feel the burning knot grow tighter in my lower belly. Never have I reached this point so quickly by myself.

"That feel good?"

The 'no' from my mouth is a lie through my teeth as I try not to make too many pleasure noises. I don't want to admit how incredibly good he makes me feel.

I make a desperate sound of protest when he pulls his hand away, having almost reached my peak.

Straightening up, he quickly pulls off my boots, and rips off my pants. I lift my hips a little to make it easier for him. He moves his hands to the fly of his own pants, but then changes his mind and unties my hands. Not knowing what to do with them, I just place them on his legs on either side of my hips.

"Comon darlin, say it." Now he undoes the zipper and reaches in. He pulls himself from his pants and the only thing I can do is stare. He looks so hot. I want him so bad. Settling between my legs, he kneels over me, his hands on my thighs.

"I am not going to say it. Never." I say.

He chuckles darkly at that. Then he moves closer, angling his hips to press the head of his cock against my wetness. Slowly he settles himself inside me. I cant keep down the moan that escapes me from the stretch he is giving me. God he feels good. This is what I have needed for so long.

His pace is fast right of the bet, seemingly unable to withhold himself any longer. the feeling that has almost become unfamiliar to me spreads through my body again. I had forgotten how good sex felt. I'm in heaven.

He grabs my jaw and forces his fingers inside my mouth. Moaning, I lick at them. He seems to like that for he leans over me while still snapping his hips against mine, thrusting himself inside of me again and again. His pupils are blown as he keeps my mouth open with his wet fingers and spits. The warm liquid drips on my tongue.

He pushes my mouth closed again. "Swallow." While looking in his eyes I obey. This causes him to make a noise in the back of his throat and his pace stutters a little.  "You're such a whore for me." Then he kisses me. Hard, sloppy and wet. I kiss him back, my hands digging at his shoulders and in his hair.

When his thumb rubs between my legs my whole body tenses in pleasure. The pleasure rushes at me and hits unexpectedly, almost like a punch in the stomach. I can't breathe for a few seconds. And then I moan loudly and my body shudders and shocks. I just had the best orgasm of my life.

He grabs my legs and pushes them against my chest, so he has an even deeper angle. It kinda hurts, but in a good way. I cant stop the loud, high-pitched sounds from escaping at the overstimulation. My fingers grabs and claw at his arms, as if it could provide me with some support.

"Knew you liked it rough, filthy girl. so disobedient, and likes to be punished for it." His fingers trail through my hair, down my cheeks and to my throat. They leave a wet trail behind, his hand still glistening from my desire.

"It's been a while, tell me you want it." He breaths in my ear. "Say it. please." The last word is so soft, I'd almost missed it.

It sounds almost desperate. All this time he had asked me, ordered me to admit that I wanted him. I thought he just wanted to dominate me, show me who was in charge, but maybe it had always been me that had the upper hand. Maybe he wanted to be wanted, maybe he longed to make someone feel good. He doesn't know how good he makes me feel, how much I want him, how close to my fantasy this scenario is.

I pull at his hair, forcing him to look at me. His eyes are half lidded, just like mine, but there is something of desperation in them. The warm brown irises engulfing me, my soul. "I want you to use me to get off. From the moment you pinned me down I have wanted you." Whispering the words, through my gasps at every one of his thrusts, I finally let him know how much I crave him. "I need you to cum because of me."

His eyes roll back as he closes them. After a few more thrusts he swiftly pulls out and he cums all over my stomach and chest. The warm liquid quickly cools in the evening air. With a few strangled wheezes he catches his breath.

Getting up, he puts himself away and fixes his clothes. The connection I had just felt before is completely gone now. In contrast with him opening himself up to me and begging me, he is cold and stoic like before.

"Get dressed." He hands me my pants as I pull down my shirt and try to fix my cut-up bra. After a while, I give up and just hope the cups will stay put underneath my tight shirt.

Joel is sitting by the fire again, throwing pieces of wood in that he must have collected before. The wet branches have trouble catching fire in the almost dying fire, but after sputtering, some of them get engulfed in the bright orange flame as well.

What is he thinking? Does he regret it? There are undoubtedly some issues underneath the surface. But who hasn't in this shit world.

When I come closer, he immediately turns to me, tension in his shoulders, as if he had been watching me from his peripheral vision. "Put on you shoes, you'll catch a cold."

This sudden act of seemingly concern surprises me. There had to be a soft side of him, hidden beneath the years of terror. I guess the same can be said for me.

I take a seat across from him like before, on my own dead tree trunk and put on my shoes.

"This... does not change anything about our situation." He throws a last branch in the growing fire. "I should keep you tied up."

"What?!"

"I don't want you killing me or going back to your little club so you can attack me." He drags his hand through his hair, the messy curls springing back in place. "Maybe I should offer them a trade. You in exchange of supplies. I bet you have loads of medicine and food there."

As I tie my last shoe I scoff. "They won't even give you one can of food in exchange for me." I pick up his flannel that he gave me a few hours before and wrap it around myself. "They sent me on this 'assignment' knowing full well that you could just have killed me at first sight."

He is silent for a while as he stares in the flames. "If they don't value you, then leave, go alone or with me. Without this group you don't have a reason to try and kill me anymore."

was that an attempt at a joke?

"They will come after me, after us. Not to get me back, but for revenge. They dont take well on deserters." I shiver on the thought of what happened to the last person to try and leave this cult.

"Then we'll have to be quicker than them."

#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller spicy #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #heavy smut

[the-whumpening]

The Caged Tiger | Part 6

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CW: captivity, referenced torture (sleep deprivation, starvation, forced to fight), dehumanization

-

Nightmares plague Ash for . . . days? Weeks? Time has truly become meaningless to him. A cycle of sick images swim through his mind each night—if it can even be called that—which wake him in a cold sweat. He is run ragged most days, sparring uselessly against Owen; every time he seems to have an upper hand, Owen outsmarts him, outpaces him, outmaneuvers him. With his friends, taking Owen down was almost easy, but alone, even with the benefit of his hybrid form . . . it gets more difficult each time.

Ozmund tries every cruelty at his disposal to elicit the results he wants. Some nights, Ash isn’t allowed to sleep at all; instead, he’s forced to push his body to its limits, exercising until his muscles give way beneath him. On other weeks, he’s given only pale vegetable broth to sustain himself—a punishment, he assumes, perhaps to make him angry enough to fight harder. Even his contact with Faye, the only kind face he’s seen in months, is lessened. Though after she’d bristled with disgust at his tiger form, it almost hurts worse to see her than not. Most days, he sits alone in the dark until Ozmund or Owen drag him to the sparring arena once again. Hsa, too, seems to have disappeared, leaving him utterly alone.

After one particularly rough day of fighting, Ash readily collapses into fitful sleep. But when he awakes, something feels off. The dank, stale air of the dungeon is replaced with a gentle breeze, the crisp scent of pine and earth carried along on the wind. Ash blinks against the bright light. Why’s it so bright? What’s going on? As his senses tune back in to the world around him, he realizes he’s not in his cell anymore.

The heavy weight of the collar around his neck is gone; cool air tickles his throat and soothes the tender skin. Beneath him, the dewy grass caresses his sore, naked body. He scrambles to his feet—no chains, no manacles, no binding magic—and digs his toes into the soft, damp soil. For the first time in what feels like months, he breathes in deeply, his chest expanding to its full limit without restraint. Although his eyes struggle to adjust to the intense sunlight, he glances around himself: lush green trees surround him in every direction, and by his feet, he finds his beloved spear. He snatches it from the ground, clutching it to his chest for a moment like a treasured friend. Am I . . . free? Is this real? Looking at his hands, the burn scars around his wrists are still there. If this was a dream, then surely . . .

“So you’re finally awake, huh?”

His stomach drops low in his gut. Ash spins to face the voice, positioning the spear to protect himself. Owen approaches through the trees, hands held aloft as if calming a wild animal.

"Easy there, big fella. No need to get . . . stabby. I'm here to make a deal."

Suspicious, Ash lowers his spear only partly.

"Close enough, I guess," Owen shrugs. "Listen, this is what you wanted, right? Freedom? One last go with me, and you can have it—"

At the word—freedom—Ash's heart leaps up into his throat. It's too good to be true . . . Why would Owen help me? Why would they let me go?

"—As long as you can catch me. If you do, tear me to shreds, burn my body; do whatever it takes. This whole 'living forever' thing is getting pretty old. Destroy me beyond repair, and maybe I won't come back this time. Then you can go home, or back to your friends, whatever floats your boat. Ozmund will never be the wiser—and we both get what we want."

Of course there would be a catch. Nothing is ever straightforward with Owen. Try as he might, though, Ash can't find a loophole Owen could exploit. And after seeing how little Ozmund values Owen beyond his incredibly hearty constitution, Ash is inclined to believe him. Or perhaps his desperation has simply reached its peak.

Ash clears his throat, his voice raspy from disuse. "And what if I fail?"

"Then we both go back to our miserable lives being lab rats. Look, take it or leave it; it's up to you. And before you think of running off without keeping your end of the bargain, you should know that you can't get out of here without this." He holds up a small silver ring. "Think of it like a magic key—without this ring, you'll be locked in this forest forever."

As much as Ash is distrustful of Owen, he can't deny the appeal of the offer. All he has to do is rely on his instincts—be the hunter he was born to be—and he can finally be free. All his suffering wouldn't be in vain: he's stayed alive long enough to find a way out! Even if the tiny skeptical voice in his head screams in protest . . . he has to try.

"Deal."

After giving Owen a brief headstart, Ash pulls in a deep, cleansing breath. His scent is faint, but easily identifiable—Ash quickly picks up the trail and begins his pursuit. Never has a hunt held such high stakes for him; even living off the land and hunting to survive, he's never felt such intense desperation. I can’t let him get away. I can’t fail this time. Come on, Ash, you can do this.

He stalks the path of boot prints Owen left in the damp earth. Memories ripple through his skin, a searing nostalgic ache; every hunt with Kane, every playful chase with Evius, he can feel it all like the sunlight dappling through the trees. Although the forest is unfamiliar to him, the elements themselves feel like old friends—the towering trees and the prickling grass beneath his feet are companions he’s always known. With that confidence, emboldened by that comfort, he lets his fear roll off of him.

The stretch of his muscles is satisfying and liberating as he leaps into the branches above. Like his tiger ancestors, he prowls the canopy, noting every rustling leaf and snapping twig on the forest floor below. He is calm, collected; his rage has no place here. Not yet, anyway. Not until I find him . . .

As the sun rises higher in the sky, Owen’s scent begins to fade. Just as Ash thinks he’s lost the trail, a voice calls out from deeper in the woods.

“Help! Ash!”

Is that . . . Mouse?!

#whump #whump writing #dnd whump #male whumpee #male whumper #the caged tiger #whumpblr #rublewriting

[leftdestiny-posts]

you and your f/o(s) are decorating a tree this holiday season! what kind of decorations are you putting on the tree? 🎄

no pressure in answering, and please take your time! <3

(I got swept up in the moment and wrote some self indulgent Dottiro content TuT I wanted to include Shiirina (shiro/furina) and maybe Shiiao/Xiiro (shiro/xiao) but,,, *eyes the post length* another time? XDD ANYWAYS!!! Thank you SO much for stopping by and sending me an ask ;; I think I needed this)

Somewhere in the early days of December when Snezhnayan streets are flooded with Christmas decorations and Christmas spirit, Dottore would notice my steps slowing as I stop to gaze at the lights. He isn't one to decorate, especially not his lab, so the first few weeks he'd stay silent--only ever observing my reactions and actions. He'd be content with my longing stares until it turns into one of despair. Then, he'd take action and intercept any possible declines in health (as a good doctor would /getsho-)

Of course, if I do ask for a tree before that, a few segments (the ones on break) would be lucky enough to build the faux Christmas tree in the corner of the lab (or get a really small real one, but ever since Omega brought back a tree twice his size, we got stuck with the fake one [Zandik was fuming because the tree kept shedding pine needles]). If I have enough energy though, I'll help set everything up. If not, I'll untangle the lights as much as possible in the meantime (buuuuuuuut,,, Dottore probably made an invention that made it easier to store without tangle hazards).

When the tree is set, the lights will be placed. From top to bottom (I claim bottom side from where I can comfortably reach the lights), around the tree--spiraling down. Once the lights are in, I'll take the navy Christmas garland and stubbornly try to get it in by myself, but I won't reach the top without going on a ladder and they really don't want to risk that with my wonky balance so a responsible segment will jump in and take it from me TuT (booooo)

Then, at last, Zandik shows up for the fun part. Right after the Christmas garland is in the tree, the segments dissappear and he magically shows up. He will appear all smug and nonchalant, saying he had free time and was merely "checking up on the segements" (but they're all gone...?). While he wouldn't take part in hanging the decorations (he prefers to observe and psycho analyse every little choice I make), he is aware of how much his presence is valued (ego boost). He might not like the holiday itself, but he knows how to take care of his favorite patient. (If anyone were to ask him why a blue-silver decorated Christmas tree stood in the middle of his horror filled lab, he'd tell it improved his patient's morale and wellbeing--which technically wasn't a lie)

When I was a teenager, I was hospitalised for a few years. In that time period I lost a loved one and a friend. For me, the holidays are always a bit harder to endure. I sit with guilt, wondering why I would be the one to sit here while they're gone. I'm not sure if I feel guilt for surviving or for them leaving me, but it's hard each year. Last year I was indirectly kicked out (bullied away) by my less-than-good stepdad and I had to celebrate Christmas in an empty home (which destroyed me). I don't find joy in a lot of things, but Christmas was the one time of the year where I'd feel loved because you aren't supposed to be alone. I guess,, over the years this too was taken from me. This year I haven't had the physical energy to set up anything (tree, decoration), so thank you for giving me the chance to do so. Even if it's imaginary and temporary, for a moment I felt like someone could see and be with me. For a moment I felt like I too deserved Christmas and a day of solidarity.

If he were out on a mission during Christmas, he'd send a box with a new (blue) decoration. It wouldn't have a letter attached to it, long letters and love declarations aren't his style in this form, but his signature and the fact that he spent time to get it at all is enough to realize that he cares. And that's more than enough.

> the decorations itself would be blue, silver, or white, with a few made out of glass. Delicate but pretty things, though, unfortunately they tend to get broken more often then not.

[luckyshotwrites]

9 for drake?

Howdy howdy, Anon! Thank you for asking from the game!

9. How does Drake feel about Fearplay?

When other people do it, like Lev for example, he thinks it's a little unusually cruel. He won't go telling anyone anything though. Except Alexander, because Alexander never engaged in fearplay or anything more than, "I'm hungry." Then eating someone.

Regarding Drake doing it, he was in a similar boat to Alexander with the "I'm thirsty," then drinks. But, I can imagine if he's trying to scare someone for information, or (mild spoiler) Drake had a human who found out he was a vampire (beast) and they offered- you know what let me write it for you... ....

Drake could hear the thrill of the male's heart. Normally they'd pump with fear, terrified once they saw him drink from someone, especially if they saw that person fall to the floor. But in their case, Drake could tell they had more excitement than fear.

Drake approached him, already at his limit, after drinking from the three.

"You're a vampire-holy shit! Are they still alive?" The male asked; he backed up casually from Drake. His eyes filled with a lustful intrigue. 

I drank from that many, so I didn't take too much from one. Drake thought to himself. He wanted to erase the guy's memory and be done. But still responded out of courtesy, "I don't kill people."

The guy bumped back into the tree, "h-hey, wait, can't we-" his bandana got pressed up as his ponytail smushed to the bark. "I don't mind you drinking from me. I won't even tell anyone what I saw, I swear." 

Drake stopped ten feet from the male. A cord was plucked. "You shouldn't say that to a vampire." His voice left sternly and held a slight annoyance.

The guy lifted his hand, "I mean, you clearly need it." He gestured to his friends who lay on the ground. Drake assumed they were friends. The guy was a little further away from the group when he arrived. It was the reason Drake didn't grab him right away.

"So, I really wouldn't mind." 

Drake flinched like those words hurt him, and he gulped shallowly. The thin, lengthy dude pulled down the part of his tye-dye tank top to better expose the left side of his neck. 

"And you know, if you need a donor, I'd be more than happy...I mean, if-" There was a shift, he offered so casually, but Drake could hear the nervous admiration.

His ruby hue touched the male's neck, tracing it before coming back to his face. The temptation remained whether he was full or not. It was another flavor he had yet to have. Though, once his mind reeled the words through, comprehensively analyzing their tone and willingness, his slight annoyance festered. 

Drake clenched his fangs, opening them enough to speak. "You want to offer yourself to me?" A boil from his anger bubbled up a laugh. Plain, irritated, and done. "And remain a donor?" 

The male struck back with defensiveness, "you don't have to laugh at me! I was being..." He trailed off with wide eyes.

Drake's arms slacked down, filling with bones and pressing on the ground. He hunched, his plates cracking apart and spreading with the growth of wings that tore his hoodie. His legs, along with his face, started to bend and twist their shape. 

The male back pressed harder on the pine, terrified at the ever-growing monster until the signal to run triggered in his brain. He went off the side and sprinted out through the trees. They were close to the main campsite, so he thought he'd make it. He hoped he would, but there were no narrow spaces between these trees to help him escape the giant beast. 

He was yanked back by his tank top and released, then grabbed once more by its clawed hands around his head. Its fingers curled tight, going around his whole face and upper neck. The claw tips played with his skin. 

The male whimpered, "you said you-you-you don't kill people."

Drake lowered himself down, his other hand crashed into the dirt floor, and he made sure his curled fur smile could be seen by the human. 

"You offered yourself to me, didn't you?" The softer tone Drake once held fled, replaced by the fierce struggle from his different cords, "this is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted me to take that offer and bite into you as if I won't overindulge." His mouth hissed open, splitting at the jaw to show the large fangs about the size of one of his hands. Venom dripped from them onto the dirt as he neared. 

The male's heart throbbed, trying to break from his chest. The mouth itself was big enough to take his head clean off. There's no way it would simply prick his neck. 

He felt that if he twisted, the firm hand would crush his skull, and then the beast would grab his corpse and drink from it like a yogurt tube, organs and all. 

He couldn't take the encroaching doom once its pointed tongue crept forward, ready to sample his face through its clawed fingers. He went limp before Drake reached him.

Drake knew the male's racing heart would make him faint. All it needed was a push. 

He let the male go. He knew he wouldn't stay out for long. Drake went to turn back. But, a sudden sharp urge fluttered in him like a flap of his wings. For a second, he reached again for the male, thinking of taking a bite. 

He forced the thought away and shifted back. 

He took him back to the camp, erasing his memory of the event but carefully leaving the part where he scared him there. It would be like a dream. He dropped the male in the spot he was before he attacked his friends.

They always assume I'm so innocent. Drake grumbled in his head. It was inevitable to be looked down upon for his weaker, flawless appearance. He hated to be looked down upon, especially by those far more helpless than himself.  

...

End scene. It's mild fearplay, but that's the only instance I could see him really doing it. He doesn't play with his "food" much.

Anyway, I HOPE THIS ANSWERED YOUR QUESTION AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!

#widfali ask #vore story #slight blood #vore writing #monster oc #slight fearplay #implied vore #vampire oc #vampire beast

[orlaite]

favourite boutique bluray you own? favourite 4K you own? what movie deserves a 4K the most? most overrated 4K? physical media pet-peeve?

My favourite, favourite boutique is the Criterion The New World bluray. I mean just look at it. The Tree of Life Criterion is in very similiar packaging but it's slightly thinner and is decorated by stills from the movie and not original artwork. The Tree of Life Criterion is also amongst my faves but this one is just the Top Dog.

My favourite 4K is the Lawrence of Arabia limited edition steelbook. It was my White Wale for so long as I got into the movie right after the steelbook went out of sale and I even remember seeing it being launched and thinking "oh wow that steelbook looks great and this is supposed to be one of those classic GOATs. Should I blind-buy it?" but then I was too money-sensible... But it is mine now! And even with the amount of hype and expectations I built up from a year of pining for it it didn't disappoint. It's the most beautiful 4K scan of one of the most beautiful movies ever made and I'm so glad I own it and get to watch it in quality that good!❤️

And the movie that most desperately needs a 4K release is a contemporary of LoA: Ben-Hur (1959). I don't understand why WB won't release a 4K when the film was scanned in 8K for the bluray release! They're sitting on a HQ scan of one of the most beautiful, epic, critically and commercially acclaimed movies of all time and they're satisfied with it not having a 4K?? Seeing how marvelous the LoA 4K looks made me thirst all the harder for a Ben-Hur 4K and more classic 70MM films on 4K in general. @ Warner Brothers get your house in order and give the people what they want!

I don't have any one specific 4K I'd call overrated but most modern movies I've watched on 4K have been very underwhelming... I think classic movies, shot on film and with different conventions and attitudes wrt: lighting, production design, effects, colour, etc etc show up much better on 4K than modern digital photography and all that entails do. They look better than their bluray counterparts, no doubt, but the only modern movie I've seen in 4K that really wow'ed me was Interstellar with it's full-screen IMAX scenes - whereas almost all classic movies I've seen of 4K has really blown my socks off.

As for physical media pet-peeves: double-stacking the 4K discs so they get scratched super easily, the slipcover lottery, 4K's that don't come with a standard bluray (like my Arrow Robocop 4K), how difficult and expensive it can be to find the movies I want when my taste is older and more niche cinema... And I was really pissed by the way the Avatar 4K's were sold. When Avatar: TWOW came out on physical they released the original Avatar on 4K as well, and I bought the TWOW 4K steelbook. Then a year later both Avatar and Avatar: TWOW get new collectors editition 4K steels with Dolby Vision and lots of extra special features?? That was low.

#asks #ty for the ask taylor❤️❤️❤️

[ms-keysha]

TUA as Taylor Swift lyrics

Luther

"Sometimes, I feel like everybody is a sexy baby And I'm a monster on the hill Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city Pierced through the heart, but never killed"

"You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out"

"Did you think we'd be fine? Still got scars on my back from your knife So don't think it's in the past, these kinda wounds they last and they last"

Diego

"My knuckles were bruised like violets Sucker punching walls Cursed you as I sleep talked Spineless in my tomb of silence Tore your banners down Took the battle underground And maybe it was egos swinging"

"They say I did something bad Then why's it feel so good? They say I did something bad But why's it feel so good? Most fun I ever had And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could It just felt so good, good"

Allison

"Don't blame me Love made me crazy If it doesn't, you ain't doing it right Lord, save me My drug is my baby I'll be using for the rest of my life"

"What's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine

Best believe I'm still bejeweled When I walk in the room I can still make the whole place shimmer"

"And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry And there's nothing like a mad woman What a shame she went mad No one likes a mad woman"

"I'd be a fearless leader I'd be an alpha type When everyone believes ya What's that like?

I'm so sick of running as fast as I can Wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man And I'm so sick of them coming at me again 'Cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man"

Klaus

"But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time"

"I stay out too late Got nothing in my brain That's what people say, mmm-mmm That's what people say, mmm-mmm

I go on too many dates But I can't make them stay At least that's what people say, mmm-mmm That's what people say, mmm-mmm"

"My heart, my hips, my body, my love Tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch Gave up on me like I was a bad drug Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club"

Five

"You're on your own, kid You always have been"

"Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it"

"Cursing my name Wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want Just not home"

"You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart You knew the password, so I let you in the door You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart But what you did was just as dark"

Ben

"Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye You were bigger than the whole sky You were more than just a short time And I've got a lot to pine about I've got a lot to live without I'm never gonna meet What could've been, would've been What should've been you"

"And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head"

Viktor

"I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me I'm still a believer but I don't know why I've never been a natural All I do is try, try, try I'm still on that trapeze I'm still trying everything To keep you looking at me"

"Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven Feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in, but I, I was high In the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?"

"I bet you think about me when you say "Oh my god, she's insane, she wrote a song about me"

Lila

"Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them"

"I wake up screaming from dreaming One day I'll watch as you're leaving 'Cause you got tired of my scheming For the last time"

"We were jet-set Bonnie and Clyde Until I switched to the other side To the other side It's no surprise, I turned you in 'Cause us traitors never win"

Bonus:

Reggie and The Handler:

"It's me Hi I'm the problem, it's me"

#the umbrella academy #tua #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #lila pitts

[deusvervewrites]

In the tags for Apex Predator it says minor TodoDeku. How minor would you say it is? I'm really not a TodoDeku fan but if it's really a minor thing then I'd like to give it a try. I also saw minor Shinso/Monoma and that is fairly appealing so that adds to my curiosity.

It's been a bit since I last read Apex Predator, I'm planning on rereading it soon. So that in mind, I don't remember much of the TodoDeku but I do remember the Shinsou/Monoma. I don't think they're a thing yet but Shinsou is pining harder than a christmas tree farm

#asks

[superstarmarvelous]

Supernatural hot takes, from someone who just finished Season 8, and is also from Kansas.

- Charlie, it is pronounced Sa-line-A not sa-Lean or sa-Lean-a, for Christ sake.

-At the same time, Salina is not in Shawnee county. Topeka is, however.

- There are cons in Wichita people. Give it some love.

- Going back to previous seasons, Wichita is not small. It's metro population is like 400k or something. They have a AA baseball team and a minor league hockey team! They do not have a Freddy Fasbear wanna be on the edge of town off a gravel road or some shit. Please, there's an Urban Air out there and an inflatable water park off the highway.

-Also, Lawrence is a college town. It's not only gonna be much bigger and more modern than the podunk they show in Seasons 1 and 5, but it's also gonna be fairly 🌈🌟liberal🌟🌈.

-Even back in the seventies if John Winchester was originally from Lawrence, he'd be fairly liberal. Which is why, based on his characterization, I'd say he's never been in Lawrence, aside from to spend time with Mary (I'm only on Season 9 episode 2, if I'm missing things, don't kill me).

-This feeds into my head canon that Sam and Dean are very different politically. Like Dean's pretty red neck gun ho and so is Sam, but deep down those two years at Stanford really got the blue blood flowing (further evidenced by the Native American vs Indian exchange in S8E21 or whatever).

- (But to be fair, in history teachers refer to Native Americans as Native Americans unless we're talking Columbus or quoting historical documenst)

-I'd imagine the first few years back with Dean would've been very fun with discussing politics.

-They both, in my opinion, would be against gun restrictions simply because they are hunters. And those restrictions would make it harder to find weapons.

-Back to horrible portrayals of Kansas, we don't have naturally occurring pine trees. If you're gonna act like you're in Kansas, those pines better be on a Christmas tree farm in Novermber or December.

-And you also couldn't have even bothered to google some shit about Kansas like "what county is x city in" or whatever?

-Also, in the last episode of season 5, I don't buy that BS about driving two days to see a KU game. Neither Sam or Dean had mentioned ever being college ball fans, then suddenly that gets brought up, like 🤨?? Personal opinion, that was smashed in there to make it seem more Kansas-ey.

-Also that Kansas City episode... just...gaah...!!!

-Also, the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon? First, Lebanon is super tiny, so I guess good job there. Second, everyone's just gonna assume that's a fricking tornado shelter because it's a concrete door in the side of a hill, and in Kansas, there are tornados. But if you're going for hiding in plain sight, I do applaud you on that one.

-Quick diversion to Missouri: where in the hell do they think -other than the Missouri River, which doesn't appear to be the case- someone's gonna keep a boat chained up at the dock? Why was Kevin's boat desert in Missouri? Was it just for proximity to Lebanon?

-Also there is literally a haunted house in Atchison, KS called the Sally/Scratch House and the story sounds like an episode of Supernatural why did we not do this people😠? Why?!?!

-In conclusion: I love you Sam and Dean, but you're writers coulda done a better job on Kansa-fying you.

-PS neither of them spent significant amounts of time in Kansas so I don't even buy the "everyman from Kansas" BS for a second.

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk y'all.

#supernatural #sam winchester #supernatural dean #dean winchester #sam supernatural #supernatural kansas #supernatural au #supernatural headcanon #critisism #sprinkle of politics

[steampunkenglish]

Craft, Crafting, and the Merge of Multiple Lines of Artistic Pursuit

What I've Done on My Spring Break

This week I've been at home enjoying Spring Break like every other person who is attached in some way to the academic community. Some of my friends and colleagues have taken lovely trips, visiting friends or finding beaches. I stayed home with my cats.

I also crafted and went outside as much as the somewhat cranky weather here in Georgia would allow me to do.

Handcrafts are as important to me as my writing in a lot of ways. They sustain me. They challenge me. They allow me to explore and learn new things and develop new skills.

So I crocheted baskets and got out my sewing machine to try my hand at making something that I may wear if it turns out nice. f

One of the things I have noticed about a lot of my writer friends is that they often are like me. They do more than just write. Some play and sing in bands, others sew and create complete cosplay outfits from scratch, still others 3D print dragons and sell them, and still others are like me and do fiber crafting of all types.

How Does Crafting Connect with Writing Craft?

The silver thread through all of this is the drive to create, make, and build. That drive doesn't stop with telling stories though. I'm pretty much a tiny bundle of "Oh hai, let's build something cool!" If you provide me with materials and some instructions, I'm probably going to make an attempt to do something with those resources, even if it ends up looking like something a 3rd grader put together during art hour.

I'm not saying that every writer is like this. There are probably plenty of writers who don't have side crafting going on. Hollywood would have us believe that all writers do is sit in our houses or coffeeshops and get neurotic about not meeting deadlines (okay, I am neurotic about that, but when I get too neurotic, I usually go pick up my crochet needle and crank out about 15 bookmarks or make baskets or something) or plot the murder of our agents. I'm also not looking down on those writers who don't craft. Every person has a different thing and a different approach to creativity.

What I am saying is that often, at least in my experience, crafting has opened my own creativity and taught me techniques I apply to my writing.

Techniques I Have Gained from Hand-Crafting

Breaking things down into smaller pieces: Every project starts off seeming HUGE! You look at the picture on a pattern or the photograph of that cake on the cookbook page and it seems impossible. That's the finished product. What we forget is that those products come from a series of small steps taken in order that lead to that final product. Our culture doesn't allow us to understand this. We are a final product people. Everything is a series of smaller steps. Crafting allows us to learn this fact over and over again.

Allowing for mistakes: I am a perfectionist. I want things to be perfect the first time. This is a problem for a novelist. It means there is little room for accepting that the story might not work well during the first draft or even the tenth draft. It also makes it hard to hear when someone else says, "You know, this story is happening in a white room..." (This really happened to me with a story I wrote and LOVE with my whole heart. It was made harder by the fact that the person who said this is someone I respect and also love with my whole heart AND was completely right). Handcrafting forces you to be honest and accept that you are not going to be a master right away--and that's okay. I started knitting eleven years ago. It was a huge learning curve, but it taught me that those mistakes I made were not a big deal. I could tear them out and try again. Writing is the same. I can tear those mistakes out and try again. That white room got torn out and filled with pine trees, a lake that smelled funny, a small brick church, and a rotting, green dock. Substitute perfection for a polishing rag.

Being open to instruction and guidance: Crafting has taught me that there are others who know more than me. When I need and want to know more, I have to go ask. This is another thing I struggle with. Ask the questions. Go find the experts. Don't assume to know the answers. One of the things I love, love, love about crochet and knitting is that there is always one more thing to know. During the pandemic, I decided that I wanted to learn a new crochet technique. I settled on mosaic crochet. I couldn't go take classes, so I used ye old YouTube and found an expert from Iceland, Tinna Thorudottir Thorvaldar(https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCCLETbuS9Y_v1o2BpSjj-oA). I also found she had a Facebook group. I learned, asked questions, and started working mosaic pretty regularly. Now it's my favorite style of crochet. I often am reminded as I do this work that asking questions and taking the advice of others is important.

Expand Your Creativity

My message this week is this: expand your creativity. Don't be afraid to spread yourself out a bit and find other creative things to do. Crafting can be a great way to feed yourself creatively and open yourself and your writing. You don't have to master the craft or sell anything. You just have to find joy and maybe gain some insights along the way. Or maybe just make a few fun things along the way.

Y'all have a great week!

#creativity #writingcraft #writing #writerslife