#but there's a couple things a brewin' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strwbnnie · 2 years

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i am so upset. we’ve been moots for like a month now and i haven’t come to throw some filth in your ask box yet 😩 buT it’s not too late!

alsO hI miya it’s nice to officially greet you 👉🏾👈🏾 i’m glad you enjoyed reading warm bodies! how are ya?

clears throat this is so long and i’m sorry but i like to ramble when i have ideas

So, I was lowkey just scrolling through your blog (i need to read more of your tasty ass work fr fr) and I noticed you reblogged a short fic about villian Kiribaku… A concept that has been untouched by my brain and was probably for good reason because now all I can think about is Red Riot the hardening villain who uses unbreakable to strike fear into civilians, heroes, and villains who dare to threaten his authority. Red Riot the villain is fucking huge and bulky and still has a smile of sunshine but a heart darkened by a selfish society. He honestly gives me Pain vibes, and idk if you’ve ever watched The Boys but I think he’d fit in perfectly with them, he definitely wants to kill heroes who don’t deserve to be called heroes.

Red Riot is very meticulous about the crimes he commits but there is one thing for sure— he loves a good fight. Doesn’t matter where the fight is or when it is, if there’s a fight brewin’ he’ll be there to find it. Also, random fact, he likes rocks soooo… he robs a lot of jewelry stores when he wants to add to his collection or he goes “shopping” at museums.

For example, big boy Riot has left the headquarters in search of a way to get his knuckles bloody, cruising around, looking for a hero to pick a fight with. Listen, even he’s got standards. He’s murdered a couple of people but never innocent ones, only heroes that don’t deserve their titles. And for that, he’s wanted by the Japanese government… Why’s he still walkin’ around like he’s some regular civilian though? I don’t even know. But… oh! Look at that, a hero.

The name of this hero doesn’t matter, he’ll scrapbook it later. A grin spreads across the villains face, a set of razor sharp teeth reveal themselves as he begins to approach the unsuspecting hero, following them to a more secluded part of the city to minimize witnesses as well as collateral damage.

This particular hero has quite a destructive quirk, so it’s truly no surprise that as soon as Red Riot attacks him, the hero begins to lay in blows that aren’t held back in the least. Indiscriminate waves of the disastrous quirk, that Red Riot easily dodges or blocks, cause nearly irreversible damage to nearby buildings, which no-doubt is putting civilians in even more danger than Red Riot’s presence alone. This is exactly /why/ he does the things that he does. With just one stupid fucking test, anyone could become a hero, even psychopaths like this.

As the hero is attempting to knock Red Riot down, the redhead villian doesn’t halter in anyway, getting closer and closer to the hero that looks like their about to shit their pants right in the alley. He’s nearly a foot away from the hero when he hears a blood-curdling scream that appears to be coming from above. He takes a moment to glance up and sees a woman plummeting to her death from the destroyed building that was just beside the alley. Then he looked back at the hero to see if he would do anything.

No. He was far too busy trying to keep his own ass safe. And for some reason, that pissed him off beyond comparison. He’d been holding back since the fight began, giving the hero a chance to defend himself, but it appeared time was running out. Hardening his fist, he aimed a blow directly to the hero’s face, satisfied with the sickening sound of flesh and bone breaking from the heavy punch, and watched the hero fly back into a pile of garbage bags, deserved.

With the screaming come closer and closer to where he was, Red Riot used the debris of the crumbling building to propel himself upwards and easily captured the woman who’d been falling, only then taking note of the bundle of life that she had protectively curled over. As they approached the ground, he hardened his legs and landed with ease, causing quite an indent in the earth.

While she’d been falling, hero eyes remained shut the entire time, but when she stopped falling, suddenly becoming hyper aware of her surroundings and the big strong arms that were wrapped around her rather protectively, she slowly opened one eye to take a peek at her savior.

In all his glory stood the infamous new Hero Killer, staring down at her with an arched brow on his handsome yet rugged face. The childhood scar on his eyelid had somewhat faded but fresh scars had been added to his face, a few nicks on his chin, cheek, and forehead, but they didn’t take away from his handsome appearance. He’d been wearing a red sleeveless hoodie, that showed off his muscular arms and a sleeve of ink that started from his right wrist, up the entirety of his arm, and disappeared under the hoodie no-doubt covering his right pec with a decorative tattoo, along with some plain black cargo shorts. His hair was spiked in the front and the rest flowed down his back in a mullet of sorts. She hadn’t realized she bad been silently staring at him in awe until he cleared his throat, asking if she was alright. Weirdly enough, she felt comfortable enough to answer him honestly, along with thanking him for saving her life. Unexpectedly, a cocky grin spread across his face and an idea came to mind.

“I’ve got other ways you can thank me, lil’ diamond.”

Next thing she knows, Red Riot aka Hero Killer 2.0 is mumbling some name that starts with a ‘K’ and a portal of purple smoke suddenly forms beside them out of thin air. Poor girl is basically kidnapped right then and there, but who woulda thunk Red Riot wanted a reward for taking down another hero and that reward just happened to be the lil’ milf who’d just dropped from the sky (or destroyed apartment building more specifically).

Don’t worry though, he may be a villain but he’s sweet and kind when he wants to be. And that includes taking care of you and your kid. Just like any normal abductee you question this motives and why’s he suddenly taken you from your home. He easily corrects you, saying that your home no longer existed and it was the manly thing to do to offer his surface to provide for you until you were able to get back on your feet.

(insert that one Soulja Boy audio where he says ‘HUH?!’ hella loud)

Why in the flying fuck would this man offer to take care of you? He had to have some kind of objective. But… to your surprise, he didn’t. In fact, you were free to leave whenever you wanted, and he made that clear.

Much to your surprise, Red Riot didn’t live in the LoV headquarters, he lived by himself in his own lil’ cabin in the woods that could easily fit a family or two. It was strange. You were thankful that he saved you and your baby’s life, but he was still a villain. A really, really handsome one at that. After his oh-so-caring suggestion, he mentioned if you wanted him to he would drive you back to the city and drop you off wherever you wanted to go. You dunno how it happened exactly but he’d been holding your baby while he was speaking to you, rocking the sleeping infant in his arms like he was their biological father. How was this man so fucking charismatic and sweet to you? He HAD to have some kind of ulterior motive.

Spoiler alert: yes, yes he did, but not the one you would expect from him.

Y’see… he’s always wanted a family. And here you were, dropped right into arms for the taking, and you didn’t seem to want to leave anytime soon, so he was going to use this opportunity.

A day turned into a week, a week turned into a month. And just as he promised, he took you out the house whenever you wanted and asked you each and every time if you wanted to be left in the city after your daily adventures (shopping and shit y’know, yes this man goes grocery shopping). But you always went back to his cabin with him, each and every time. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? No… couldn’t be, he openly told you to leave if you wanted to, then did that mean you were falling for the rugged mass-murdering villian? Looks that way.

As expected, the developing relationship between the three of you was not normal in the least, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He’d even introduced you to some of his buddies from LoV, only the ones he trusted tbh, and after that— you now had some willing and ready babysitters on call whenever you two needed.

Who wouldn’t abuse this opportunity? After some time convincing you, Red Riot, who had disclosed to you his real name was Eijirou Kirishima, managed to get you to go on a real date with him with just the two of you. And soooooo, ya did.

Who knew a villain could be so romantic? Certainly not you. He’d wined and dined you like his life depended on it and you were now putty in his hands. Perfect. The real games could begin.

He’s called a driver to take you both home and before you know it, Eijirou’s carrying you over the threshold like the two of you had just said ‘I Do.’

cracks knuckles

Now, this is where the real fun begins.

Red Riot, the hero-killing, tall, muscular, BDE, long-haired, thick-thighed, scarred, tattooed, smiling, thieving, hardening villain… has a breeding kink. And not just that, he’s got a big fucking dick that’s usually impressively hidden behind his usual wardrobe of loose fitting pants. But, you’ve seen him adjust himself more than a few times when he thinks you’re not paying attention, but you’re sure he just does it subconsciously without even realizing.

So there’s no real surprise when he’s dropped you onto your shared bed after a date and you can see the imprint of it through the black slacks he chose to wear. You coulda swore you saw the fuckin’ thing throbbin’ through the fabric but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you.

He’s now staring you down, noticing how your eyes have stayed glued to his crotch, with a timid look with some worry hidden behind your eyes. He grins and decides to have a little show for you. You’re struck back into reality when he suddenly grabs it, giving it a lil’ squeeze and a tug, causing your thighs to rub together in anticipation.

“No need to be nervous. It ain’t gonna hurt ya, baby. Promise.”

He purred, stroking his cock a few for times for you through his pants before moving his hands to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“Think you could strip for me, mamas? I like that dress on ya… Think I’d rip it to shreds if I tried to take it off.”

Sweet fuck, when’d you become so obedient???

Before you know it, you’re both naked and on top of the bed, not even bothering to get under the comforter or the sheets. Seems you two were impatient.

Eijirou was splayed out on his back, cock on fully display as it rested against his stomach that wasn’t exactly chiseled with abs, it was a lil’ squishy but the muscles in his arms and chest were hard to ignore. And would ya look at that, you were right, he did have a nagasode and hikae style tattoo with a dragon, flowers, and other symbols. His monstrous cock was almost teasing you with its ridiculous width and length, how was that going to fit in you? With its thick tanned shaft, and its fat brink pink circumcised tip that was dribbling precum despite being only half erect. The happy trail that led to a trimmed bush of onyx hair made you think about the hyped mane of hair on his head.

He’d decided to leave the gel out of his hair this evening so the bright crimson locks flowed in waves under his head… what kinda conditioner did this man use? Them locks shiny as a muhh’fucka- No, no, no, don’t get distracted.

Where were you?

He’d had you sitting on his chest, beckoning you to straddle his face with your thighs, and when you hesitated he took matters into his own hands and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you right onto his face.

Maybe I should have mentioned earlier that he’d got a forked tongue…? Y’know, the kinda tongue a snake has… He kinda got into a bit of body modification after dropping out of U.A.

And the way he uses his forked tongue on you is heavenly. So heavenly, that you nearly hunch over and run away from his skilled tongue, whining and whimpering his name, pathetically asking him to calm down and give you some time to adjust. The iron grip on your hips forces you stay right where he wants you, thick digits easily sinking themselves into your plush hips like memory foam. He’s absolutely ravishing you with the rapid fire motions of his tongue, writing out every Hiragana symbol in the charts, observing how you react to every trace of ever symbol. And when he draws out that one symbol, his tongue acting as a brush drenched in ink and your pussy acting as the paper, he notices the way you shudder and let out a guttural moan, clenching at his hair hard enough to make his scalp burn just a fraction— he smirks, abusing this new power.

ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki.

Ironically, the symbol that makes you shudder and silently scream sounds a bit like laughter, and laughter you shall receive. It is the best medicine after all.

Abusing this particular symbol, it is no surprise that the hardening villian soon rips an orgasm right out of your body, the searing heat that builds up inside you releasing into his mouth as you squeeze his head between your thick thighs.

Easily, Eijirou laps up your sweet nectar while groaning about how sweet and delectable you are, and gives you a moment to collect yourself, hearing the sweet pants and huffs that escape you as he rubs comforting circles onto your hips. That won’t last long, however.

“Think ya can cum on my tongue a few more times, lovely? Gotta make sure you’re slippery enough to bounce on my cock a lil’ later after all, hm? Be a good girl f’me, ya know ya can.”

my bad, my bad… went a lil’ crazy on this one 🧍 do with this as you please, aLsO i had an urge to draW hIm but i haven’t colored the lineart yet 😩 ill show ya when im doNe

You’ve been reduced to nothing but a whining, whimpering mess on the redhead’s tongue. He’s flipped and twisted your aching body so many times to get you in the perfect position, but nothing beats that good ole spread eagle.

Your hero turned villainous lover has both of those big hands holding you wide open for him, fingertips sunk into your plush flesh.

One knee is flush against the bed, the other is up against your chest, leaving nothing hidden from his fiery gaze. Your pretty pussy is his to abuse, at the mercy of that dexterous tongue and those razor sharp teeth.

Your moans and sounds are so cute to him, so pretty he wants nothing more than to keep fucking you on that long tongue.

You peer down at the beast between your thighs and the sight has you immediately tossing your head back, a breathy sigh passing through your lips.

Eijirou looks so precious—crimson eyes hooded and low, the thin sheen of your slick spread around his mouth while he licked and sucked you to another release.

‘Cu-cumming.’ Is how you’ll warn him before your pussy is creaming around that tongue again. You’re so sensitive, clit so swollen and red even the waft of his breath hurts.

But Eiji loves seeing you squirm, so much that he’s lathering your poor clit in spit, sucking the nub into his mouth just to hear you squeal as you claw at the sheets.

“Ei, p-please baby.” You’re begging, pleading for just an ounce of mercy from your lover’s tongue.

He raises his head to look up at you, or what’s left of you, granting a brief intermission as he flips you onto your belly.

He’s palming the fat of your ass, spreading you until he’s face to face with your delicious cunt and puckered asshole, his moistened lips curling up into a devilish smirk.

He loves this. He loves you and your perfect fucking pussy so much that tonight he plans on making you a mommy again. As soon as you cum for him one more time he plans to split you open and breed you.

“Just one more pretty girl, I promise.”

It’s nice to meet youuu, I love your work 🥺❤️Villian Kiri makes my pussy brain melt 🥹 I hate that it’s so short but I’m writing like 4 other one shots and my brain is a can of baked beans right now 😭

Hey bae, care to join us? @darkmajesty-xo

#kirishima smut #villain kirishima #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you

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flywolfwriting · 4 months

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Throw Me in the Deep End Ch. 4

“Charlie, dollface, sit down,” Angel said.

“I can’t,” she said, pacing in front of her friend, who currently lounged on the grassy hillside like it was the world’s most opulent sofa. “Something’s changed and I don’t know what it is!”

“Lotsa things are changin’, toots, and none of ‘em for the better. It’s the great depression, and I hear a war’s brewin’. Maybe it’s finally catchin’ up to ya ol’ man.” Angel took a swig of the iced tea he’d splurged on.

“The radio show’s fine, I think. He would have said,” she waved a hand, “and Mimsey’s been by to pay Rosie so it’s not like we’re behind.” She chewed on her lip and finally dropped down next to her friend. “I don’t know, it feels like it all started on my birthday.”

Angel raised a brow. “Your birthday?”

“Yes!” Charlie exclaimed, frustration clear in her voice. “When that man chased us out of Husker’s club!”

“A man did what now?” Angel sat up, giving Charlie his full attention.

“There was this guy inside, sitting at the bar, when we went in. He was staring at me and I… well, he was familiar, so I pointed him out to Alastor, and Alastor freaked. Rushed us out, didn’t even let Husker get me my black cow - which was half the reason we went in! - and then the guy followed us out and he called me by name.”

Angel stared at her. “And Alastor didn’t clock him?”

“He probably would have, but the guy fell and hit his head. Didn’t get back up,” she said miserably. “Al wouldn’t let me go help him. I asked Husk later and he said the street was clear when the club closed so… he must be okay, right?”

“And Al has been weird since then?” Angel sipped his drink.

“Yes! Him and Rosie, and neither of them will tell me what’s wrong! Rosie at least usually keeps me in the loop.”

They were quiet for a moment, simply watching the other park-goers while Angel processed this. “What’s Smiles done that’s so weird?”

“Well he-” Charlie paused. “He got home from a hunting trip the day before my birthday, right? And he usually only goes every couple months. But he went again yesterday. He didn’t even need to.”

Angel snorted. “What, killin’ make him feel better?”

Beginning | Previous | Next

#throw me in the deep end #flywolfwriting #ao3 #fanfic #my fic #flywolf33 #please don't repost to another site #hazbin hotel #radioapple #the confrontation

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probssomethingorother · 7 months

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🚨NEW CHAPTER! 🚨

Derail the mind of me: a tlou fanfic

I made you all wait an incredibly long time for this update, so you get an incredibly long chapter. Hope you all enjoy :)

Winter after Silver Lake, Drug Abuse/Misuse, canon compliant-ish

Ellie, Joel, David (Mentioned)

Rating: Teen

“You feelin’ alright?” “-ffeelnnn,” she breathed, only to trail off. He was moving towards her in an instant, practically sliding into a crouch in front of her. Inches apart, he could now tell she was much paler than he realized, and a thin veil of sweat visibly coated her skin. His heart rate quickened as his eyes met her pinpoint pupils, before trailing down to her lips, edges just turning a hint of purple. Something was clearly not right. ----- Joel promised Ellie things would get better come spring. They haven't. Ellie goes looking for the solution at the bottom of a little orange bottle.

Chapter 2/5 --- Words: 14,322 -- UPDATED TODAY 2/15/23

Live laugh love, comment subscribe reblog - that's how it goes right??

Read chapter 2 on AO3 here or down below ⤵️

She thumps her feet heavy into the moist ground, shifting her weight from left to right, trying to match Joel’s big stride. She clunkily places her boots exactly where his were and it produces an audible squelch when her foot pushes further into the now puddly prints he leaves behind. The light of her flashlight hanging from her shoulder strap dances through the trees, bobbing around high and low as her body sways back and forth with each exaggerated step.

Months and months ago, he would have told her to knock it off - “this ain’t a disco, stop with the light show” - but he lets her get away with certain things more often now, corrects her less and less.

She knows it’s rooted in the same reason why he’s gotten more chatty when she goes quiet, scrounges around for cassette tapes and colored pencils when they should be looking for supplies, and hasn’t won a game of gin rummy in over a month - but, she doesn’t like to think too much about all that.

“How much longer?”

The words come crackly out her throat, dry from disuse, and it sounds much more sad then she actually feels - which surprisingly is tired but not bad - not like most of her other days.

Joel quickly glances over his shoulder at her, but doesn’t break his pace. “Don’t know exactly,” he mulls as he turns his head fully back around, “maybe forty? ‘nother two mile or so.”

She nods in acknowledgment with a low hum to match.

He’s having them walk well past dark which is a rare occurrence, but over dinner he said he could feel a storm “brewin’ in his bones” and wanted to reach the park cabins before they turned in for the night - if she could manage it.

The ask had been hesitant at best, apprehensive at worst.

That was two hours ago, or at least that’s what it feels based on the dull ache in her feet. She doesn’t want to complain - only asks the question to manage her expectations and stamina because she’s tired of always slowing them down.

So she does her best to keep her energy up, maintain pace with his alert yet increasingly weary gait. Dragging behind a couple of steps she can’t see his face, but she can still see his head moving just a hair from side to side, eyes scanning the shadowed underbrush with open ears to the rustle of leaves and distant animal cries that blend in with their footsteps. She occupies herself by counting the times he goes to crack his knuckles - sometimes against his thigh, sometimes folding his hands together and bending them back. She tries to mimic him once, but where he continuously gets big pops, she gets nothing.

They pause for a quick stop, Joel finding a sturdy looking tree and bracing one outstretched arm against it.

“What’s those things people used to use to find water?” she asks curiously, keenly watching him flex his knee back and forth like the stretching is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

“What things?” He counters, voice a little muffled as he bends and reaches his hand to wiggle around his knee cap through his jeans.

“It was like a stick or something?”

He straightens with a bemused huff and looks to her. “Divining rod,” he supplies with a small shake of his head and an eye roll, dropping his hand away from the tree.

“Yeah. That…,” she puffs out as she steps back and settles in next to him shoulder to shoulder, “...are you like a human one of those?”

With one final shake out of his leg, he starts walking again and simultaneously throws her a hard smirk, although unmistakably warm. “Those things ain’t real.”

“So -” “-It’s the air pressure..when you get -” he starts only to trail off.

Ellie’s face begins to light up, a smile slowly crawling up the sides of her face with anticipation. She knows she’s got him. “Say it,” she teases, her voice a mix of challenge and amusement as she bumps playfully into his shoulder.

“That’s not-” “- nope! finish your sentence!”

Joel drags in a long breath, his gaze momentarily lifting to the starry sky. With another small shake of his head, he relents, and Ellie’s smile grows even bigger, eyebrows raising up and down as she waits for the words to come out his mouth.

“When you get old…you can feel these things in your joints.” “Ha - see! You are an old hag.”

An honest giggle slips out of her mouth. It sounds foreign to even her own ears. Joel tries to hide his grin from her, ducking his head and smiling at the ground, but she sees it anyway. Pleasantly content and feeling suddenly more energized, she hustles a few paces past him.

She hasn’t caught him up in a good joke in a while - it wasn’t a pun or anything, but she used to be able to walk him into lame jokes like this all the time.

“Ole’ man Joel,” she continues to tease, turning around to face him as she walks backwards. Her flashlight hits his form, and his raised brows and goofy grin just adds more fuel to the sudden bubbliness in her chest. As she bumbles backwards with a pep in her step, she continues to push the joke amongst soft laughs:

“Or should I say elderly?” “Ellie -” “That’s like.. less offensive, right?” “Don’t be walkin’-” “- Oh come’on can’t tak- ”

She’s cut off by the sound of snapping wood and dirt shifting.

It’s a stupid misstep. Dumb, really.

He was trying to warn her.

She knows what’s happening right when her foot makes contact, heel hitting air when it should be hitting solid ground. The wet loose earth under the tip of her boot shifts, the edge of the obscured embankment breaking off from under her.

Her eyes go wide in disbelief and wth a hitched breath, she lurches backwards and falls down.

The world spins—a blur of dark tree tops and specks of starry sky peeking through the gaps in their branches. Her backpack digs into her spine as she collides with the sloping side hard, head quickly following suit and bouncing off the ground. Her feet are over her head before she can even try to stop it, and rolls and rolls like a ball down the incline.

Her arms flail about, trying to get ahold of something, but her hands come up empty - dirt just digging under her nails as she scratches at the ground. She fights to keep her eyes open - track which way is up - but it really matters little. It’s basically pitch black, moonlight obscured by the side of the hill and flashlight snuffed out as she and it gets beaten into the dirt. Her face scrapes against roots and rocks as she rolls and rolls.

A sharp crack against something solid halts her descent.

Her eyes shoot open, as the pain splinters through her. Her jaw goes slack as she struggles to blink the abrupt and agonizing sensation. She lies there, gasping, the forest spinning above, head still feeling as if it’s tumbling down. Her hand brushes against rough bark when she reaches out to see what she's nailed against.

Slowly, she peels herself away from the tree with a throaty rough groan, settling on her back, supine to the sky. She sinks into the cold wet ground, and it’s only then that she realizes she has lost her backpack sometime on the way down. When she looks up, little flecks of stars are filling her vision; she screws them shut for a long moment, hoping they will disappear, but of course they are painted on her inner eyelids just the same.

She tries to take a breath in, but it feels like someone has replaced the air with shards of glass.

Distantly, she hears her name, but it's muddled behind a much more prominent ringing in her ears. Her ponytail scrapes roughly against the ground as she moves her head in the direction it's coming from, and pries her eyes back open. The light of Joel’s flashlight catches her and she squints against its onslaught. It’s far away, dimmer than it could be, but it's still quite the contrast against the inky black where she landed.

"Talk to me, kiddo,” he calls, as he hastily makes his way the last few feet down from higher up on the hill. “Ellie?” Hitting a slick patch of dirt - her name comes out choppy from his mouth and she sees his feet slide, knees awkwardly bending, almost falling down on his butt with the misstep, but he recovers quickly.

She blinks - perhaps longer than normal - and when her eyes come open he’s at her side.

"I'm... okay," she lies, the words barely a whisper, more a strangled puff of air, laced with the effort it took to push them out.

For a quick moment, she catches his face passing through vision as he hovers above - a complex tapestry of concern, discontent, and relief - as he quickly sheds his rifle and backpack and sets aside the flashlight, before settling into a kneel at her side.

When she attempts to suck in another breath through her nose, and then her mouth, it doesn't get anywhere past her throat. Her chest rattles as she tries again, only slightly more successful this time. "Can’t... breathe..." she manages to hiccup, the words punctuated by her struggle for air.

“Okay..okay, don’t worry, got the wind knocked out of ya’ is all,” he tells her as one of his hands comes gently to the top of her head.

A weird sort of grunt takes the place of any words when she attempts to explain that she knows why, but was really more just thinking out loud. After Silver Lake he taught her about “ABC”s - airway, breathing, circulation. He muttered the letters to himself as he rushed through checking her when they finally had put a safe distance between them and the town. Days later, after a prolonged stint of quietness she sheepishly asked, “what was with the alphabet?” He explained and she cataloged it firmly in her brain. Minus the breathing she hadn’t done any of those checks after he was stabbed and wanted to be prepared for next time. She didn’t think this would be the next time, but “ABC” was still jingling through her head nonetheless. B - breathing, can’t breathe.

"Don't try to talk if it hurts," Joel instructs, his voice steadier than his hands - they betray a slight tremble as he reaches out to gently examine her. "Just... just nod or shake your head for me, alright?"

Her chest spasms with another failed breath. She nods and squishes her eyes closed. His dry fingers sneak behind her neck and then move down, anxiously giving little squeezes as he works from her shoulders to her hands. Ellie knew it was coming, yet still the primal part of her brain starts to take over; goosebumps wash over her skin while a voice in her head screams for her to get him off. Logically, she knows his hands can’t possibly stay on her forever, but her brain is intrusively telling her it's just the beginning.

She thought this was behind her - it hasn’t happened in a couple of weeks, and even longer because of him. The burgeoning panic mixes with a sharp twang of frustration. She clenches her jaw tight, focuses on the sound that fills her head when she scrapes her molars against each other and attempts to blink away the panic.

When his eyes flick to hers after coming to an end at her wrists, they dilate wide, and he immediately recalls his hands sharply, as if touching something hot. He whispers a series of soft “sorry”s as he shakes his head and snatches up his flashlight instead. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he resumes appraising her legs with the light - one bent up at the knee the other splayed out straight - relatively unscathed minus a small tear in her jeans.

The air that seemed to be sucked out of her is starting to return and Ellie wiggles in her spot, trying to get some sort of traction to sit up. She lifts her head weakly, but it’s all a lame effort.

Joel's voice cuts through the heavy silence, firm yet laced with an underlying concern that's become all too familiar - borderline patronizing. "Just stay put for a second, alright?"

His tone brooks no argument, but it's the worry etched in the lines of his face that makes her drop her head back into the ground, more than the command itself. She hates when he has that look - like he’s handling glass.

He leans in closer and points the flashlight just past her so it doesn’t burn directly into her eyes. It illuminates the mud and dirt smeared across her cheek, and highlights a fresh scrape that's begun to weep a little. "You hit your head?" The question feels more like a formality; they both know the answer - he can see it, she can feel it.

Yet, she also knows what he’s really asking - “concussion?”

Ellie would rather eat rocks for dinner than have another. The last one slowed them down for so long, wore both their patience thin, and made her absolutely fucking miserable.

She shakes her head no - maybe in denial, maybe in fear of living that reality again. His eyes narrow, and she doubles down, voice still rough around the edges, “no, no - just scraped it I think.” She lightly brings her hand to the spot on her cheek that stings and wipes at it, like somehow that would also brush away his worry.

His gaze shifts, and so does she, propping herself up onto her elbows with a wince.

"Same ribs as before?" The question hangs between them, loaded and heavy.

The same ribs that were cracked by a steel-toe boot to the stomach. Ribs that caused ample bouts of tears, sleepless nights, and so much trouble. At least one had been broken, several others deeply bruised down to the bone , and even when her concussion started fading the ache from her ribs remained strong. Joel worried they weren’t healing up because she wasn’t eating as much - calcium deficiency or something. When they spotted a mountain goat one day, he even barrelled after it - thought if he could catch it, he could milk it, and get her the nutrients she needed. For many reasons, that didn’t work; and it took longer than either of them wanted, but finally her ribs had started to feel truly back to normal two weeks ago.

Short lived now.

With a weak nod, she can't help the roll of her eyes, annoyance flickering through. Better one moment, broken the next. Same story of the last couple of months.

Guilt worms its way through her as Joel solemnly shakes his head and drags in another deep breath that he releases through hollowed out cheeks.

“ ‘m good though,” she pushes out as she braces her arm around her midsection and propels herself into a sitting position. Joel’s hands immediately fly to her back in support, but she nudges him off with a roll of her shoulders.

“Not in any rush,” he tells her gently as he leans back on his haunches.

A distant clap of thunder says otherwise. It echoes not a breath after his sentence leaves his lips and his heels hit his butt. Comically timed, perfect really.

They exchange glances with the sky and each other, and then Joel is back to all work and no play in an instant. His old man joints squeak as he gets up from the ground, retrieves his pack and rifle, and slugs them over his back.

“We’ll walk back to that entrance area with the parkin’ hut. Wasn’t no more than twenty minutes,” he tells her as he walks around to her back and gently slips his hands under her armpits to hoist her up.

It irks her how he already has a plan. The way he deploys it - quick without a second thought- feels like it's been in his back pocket, ready to be pulled out the minute she gave up walking, like he knew this was an inevitable outcome.

A little unsteady, her feet scrape across the ground as she tries to rise quicker than Joel’s help allows - beat him at his own game - prove she is more capable than he thinks.

“I can keep going,” she tells him sternly, anger brewing in her chest like how the temperature climbs in Boston in July - hot and thick as the sun peaks high and humidity rolls in.

"We ain’t goin’ to outrun that rain.” He swiftly tells her as if he already practiced this whole conversation in his head. It dawns on her quickly that he probably did.

His hand brushes dirt off her back, a scratchy sort of sound filling the space between them as his rough skin skids along the plasticky polyester of her jacket. He adds, “sounds like it’s comin from ahead," before she can even pull a sentence together in rebuttal.

Her hair is tugged gently as he plucks a twig out from the back of her head. She wishes it was more of a rough sensation, then it would at least fulfill the want in her gut to pry out her own hair from his genuine kindness.

He should be frustrated - like she is. It’s always two steps forward, one step back. He should be mad about that, but he’s not.

He persists in holding the one sided conversation as he breaks away to locate her backpack. She unfurls her arm from around her side and squeezes her irritation into tightly clenched fists, anger mounting.

“You know… I think… you’ve been doin’ better lately,” he calls over his shoulder while casting his light around the hill.

She wants to scream back at him, but her head is torn between yelling that “she hasn’t been” and “of course she has been.”

Her heart skips a beat, a sudden worry superseding all irritation.

Her hand launches into her coat pocket, hoping her secret is still safe and not laying in the path of his flashlight somewhere on the hill. As his light lands on her backpack, her fingers enclose around the small plastic bottle.

The sigh she heaves pulls at her ribs, but the relief washing through her body basically makes up for it, and also bandaids over the festering anger cutting up her insides.

Still, it’s not lost on her the catastrophe that could have just been. She’s good at lying, but she knows in her gut that Joel would have seen right through anything she came up with. He would pluck it from the ground, inspect it with the light, and shake his head with disappointment as she tried to talk her way out of it. Or worse - he could have found it in her pocket when she was stuck on the ground, gasping for air, unable to move his prying eyes and hands away. Had her coat been zipped up, he certainly would have seen the bulge of it in her pocket, fabric tight against her body. That would have been the end.

A long temperamental zipper really is the only thing that has her listening to Joel’s encouraging affirmations rather than an endless lecture would have made her ears bleed.

“Just don’t want you to feel like you gotta prove yourself…” he says sweetly as he plucks her bag from its wedged spot under a bush at the base of the embankment, like this is something he does all the time.

He sort of does.

Thunder booms in the distance again as he crosses back over with it - already opening the straps for her to slip her arms through.

She squeezes the bottle firmly before reluctantly letting it go and withdrawing her hands from her pockets.

The corners of her mouth twitch in pain and a tight whimper scratches her throat as she carefully tries to slip her arms through.

He holds the straps open even wider for her.

“It’s tactical…it’s not ab- it’s good this way, ain’t a big deal - okay?”

The words come out more clumsily than the last several and it's such a stark contrast that she knows he was going off some self-composed script before. And, to only make things worse, the words are said now with the same tone that carried “better by spring” and “it just takes time.”

So she knows he’s lying. Yet, she nods anyway.

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

“Hut” is perhaps a generous description of it before.

It’s small - an eight by eight booth at max - with a large L-shaped desk that lines two of the walls accompanied by a set of rolling chairs that really no longer roll, and a tall rusty filing cabinet. The metal yells with a long coarse screech when Joel drags it across the tile, displacing it from the only spot it's known in probably two decades. He braces it tightly against the door to keep the old door from slamming back open under the onslaught of rain- hinges almost torn clean by a rather rough donkey-kick.

They've certainly had better accommodations, but at least it boasts a stable roof that shields them from the now torrential downpour outside, and a raised floor that keeps them from bedding down on sloshy wet ground.

“Coat n’ boots,” Joel gruffs, propping up the rifle carefully on a wall and slipping off his pack with equal care.

She’s shivering, teeth clacking against each other from the force, and she knows her coat has to come off - “wet is dead” he reminds her everytime it rains - but she can’t think of anything she would rather do less in the moment. Despite its damp exterior, the inside is still keeping her warm - or at least that’s what she tells herself- certainly has nothing to do with the almost brutal ache in her ribs after their short and wet backtrack.

In one fluid motion, Joel’s hand comes to her hood and pushes it back while moving past to drape his coat over one of the chairs. The metal creaks back to life with the sudden addition of weight. “Off and in,” he tells her as he leans over the desk with a soft groan, jiggling the window latches to make sure they are tightly closed. He says his stab wound doesn’t bother him anymore, but Ellie catches his hand snake to his side when he straightens – maybe it’s more of his blind optimism or maybe just straight denial, or some combo of the two.

“Don’t need eyes in the back of my head to see you ain’t moving.” His words are interspersed by rough smacking sounds, the heel of his hand driving hard into the frame of one of the windows open just a fraction of an inch.

With a glare Joel can’t see she gets moving.

Her body is stiff as she slips off her backpack - dipping one shoulder and wiggling the strap down with the help of gravity before doing the same with the other, albeit much more slowly and awkwardly. She lets it plop to the ground with a thump, not even trying to catch it; and Joel sweeps it up not a second later, and then promptly unhooks her sleeping bag from the outside and holds it out to her.

She is much more preoccupied with squirming out of her coat, then reaching out for her pack, so she dismisses his gesture with a fleeting glance before returning her focus to her struggle. When she tries to move the layer away, pushing at the fabric on her shoulders, it sends a jarring ache through her ribs. A grimace paints her features despite her best efforts to conceal it and although she hoped the scant light would be on her side, Joel of course sees it anyway.

“Here, let me -” he interjects, tossing the rolled sleeping bag on top of the desktop and moving back around her. His hands laces behind her collar, pulls the fabric up and away, and then holds it open and steady so she can slip out of it without twisting and turning.

She lets him do it, but she also doesn’t want his help. Stillness overtakes her for a moment as a weird feeling sinks into her gut, body unsure how to proceed with the conflicting signals.

She shakes away the confusion and slips out of it much easier than she was managing on her own - his help bringing a relief that is undeniable. Yet, still, her pride bristles at the assistance and kneads that weird feeling in her gut into something more concrete - embarrassment.

Joel takes the coat from her and plops it over the back of the other chair, retrieves the discarded sleeping bag, and holds it out to her again with a wiggle. “In.”

Or maybe that feeling in her stomach is annoyance - hard to tell.

She bites back a “You get in,” - a lame quip her brain supplies immediately. She knows there is no reason for her to be mad at him right now, she’s just cold and wet and tired and in fucking pain. She wonders if he can sense that too because he doesn’t bat an eye when she roughly takes the sleeping bag from his hand.

It’s not like he hasn’t experienced this with her before. She has some semblance of self awareness to know that her fuse is much shorter than it used to be.

Now, she is always angry. It’s a quiet sort of thing that lingers just below the surface, but it’s there. It’s not just about what happened with him, but she can’t help but wonder if a small piece of the rage she unleashed then is still stuck inside her, festering. She’s always angry at herself, and when she's tired of that self depreciation, she gets angry at Joel. And when she gets tired of being angry at Joel - well, now there is something to help with that.

Her hand drifts to her hip, slipping down into a coat pocket no longer there. It's autonomic, and only recognizes she’s done it when her fingers graze the fabric of her jeans rather than the plastic of the bottle - not finding the sensation her body was craving. She pauses, her eyes flicker wide and then dart to her coat- the coat Joel had in his grasp just minutes ago.

That’s almost twice in the last hour.

She whips the sleeping bag out of its tight bundle with a snap.

Need to be more careful.

Water droplets and earthy debris speckle the air before sprinkling to the ground.

It’s a big old sac, winter rated even though they are at the start of spring and an adult size when she really probably could fit into a child’s. She doesn’t have the height to properly do that airy turnout Joel always manages, so when she tries again with another whip the fabric just bunches up on the ground instead of lying flat.

A whimper, soft and involuntary, escapes as she bends forward to adjust its placement. Clearing her throat, she tries to cover it with a cough, but Joel’s ears are tuned to those sounds, and immediately, it draws his attention towards her again- flashlight slicing through the darkness and spotlighting her. She tries to ignore it, but the longer the beam lingers on her the more accusatory it feels - pins her under an unspoken interrogation as she continues to smooth out the sleeping bag and wedge it into a good spot under the overhang of the desk.

Joel's light doesn't falter, and his stare becomes more like a warm breath down her neck then some concerned glance - that anger and irritation just below the surface begins to roil more acutely. Just as she's about to snap a retort, "Dude -” Joel’s voice cuts through the tense air, "Let's see 'em."

The sleeping bag is now fully lying flat, but she continues to pat it into place. Joel presses gently again: "Come'on."

She goes on all fours to reach for the zipper and she can’t help her face from twitching up. The unconcealable grimace has him crossing the foot or so over to her, stepping over his sleeping bag in one long stride. His flashlight hits her dead in the eyes and she squints and pulls back, resting on her heels.

Dick move.

He drags the light down toward her stomach and motions with it up and down, "Lemme see what we're workin’ with."

"I can handle it," she asserts, though exhaustion tinges her defiance. They are feeling just as bad as they were after Silver Lake and they looked like shit then. If he sees them he’ll worry, and she doesn't want to give him another reason to worry over her.

"Fine. Can I see how much you're 'handlin' then?" His tone softens, a blend of jest and concern.

Ellie shakes her head, and rises up and out of the harsh beam of light. When she turns to retrieve her backpack, Joel gently pokes her side with the tip of the flashlight.

It truly is gentle, but jesus fuck did it hurt.

“Ass,” she snaps as her arm shoots protectively over her ribs and head spins to glare at Joel. When her eyes meet his, they are pushed wide by raised bushy brows. His forehead is crinkling into several rolls, and he’s giving her that look - like he is silently screaming “don’t lie to me.”

The glare turns into a stare - off - neither blinking for a solid moment, until Joel ends the war with a shake of his head. He reaches for the desk chair and tries to swivel it around for her, but it's far less smooth than he probably anticipated - grody wheels clogged in place and metal rusted together. A high pitch metallic screech echoes loud in the room reminiscent of when they used to have to drag the FEDRA lunch tables off to the side to clean the floors on chore day.

“Sit, will ya’? Take no more than half a minute.”

She relents with a roll of her eyes and lowers herself into the chair, hand still protectively braced over the tender spot. He motions again with a flashlight, urging her to lift her shirt as he crouches down in front of her. Her arm slides from her ribs to the base of her shirt and lifts the hem.

Deep bruises are already starting to form across her left side, red skin turning a blotchy maroon. The light lingers there as both of them take in the sight. It doesn’t look great, but Ellie is glad it doesn’t look any worse.

“Can I?” he asks, jutting his chin forward in time with the question.

He almost got a switchblade to the face the second after Silver Lake. She wasn’t quite with it - exhaustion and the adrenaline dump he said - and he had gone to check her injuries, raising her shirt without thinking. Neither of them even realized she had been holding her blade until it was almost too late. Now he usually always asks.

Ellie agrees with a nod.

The flashlight casts strange shadows up on the ceiling as he precariously keeps hold of it while cupping both his hands together and puffing warm into them in one long breathy blow. He transfers the right to his left, and then gently reaches out to inspect her side with the right.

His fingers aren’t cold, but Ellie flinches at the contact all the same - skin against skin still a strange sensation.

“Deep breath in.” They’ve done this before. The air tickles the inside of her nose. Joel’s fingers gently dance across her ribs. She wonders if he will say anything about how her bones are more pronounced since the last time they did this - he’s always trying to get her to eat more. “And out.” She releases in one long huff as Joel’s hand goes still. "Think this one might be cracked,” he murmurs, "- pretty sure it's one of those ones from before, probably wasn’t quite done healin’ up.” Before - he always is dancing around Silver Lake - not that he has all the details to go back to - she never told him the whole story. Ellie bites at her lip, almost pouting as she pulls her shirt back down.

“No more walking into holes, okay?” leveraging himself up with help from the desk and a groan deep in the back of his throat. “We’ll take it easy tomorrow so they can settle.” His hand trails through the top of her head as he turns back to his own sleeping bag. "I can keep up," she finds herself instantly retorting.

"It's gonna be mush out there, couldn't hustle through the mud even if we wanted to,” he explains, tossing the flashlight on his sleeping bag. “No need to push yourself,” he adds, cracking his knuckles, “ourselves,” he amends - quickly- joints not even done popping. His attempt to soften the blow is clumsy but well-intentioned. Ellie sighs - she is tired of taking things slow - she wants to just get to Utah and be done with it all.

He shakes out his leg again, repeatedly bending it at the knee before dropping down to the floor. "Try to sleep on your back," his voice mirrors in action, dropping low. "If you can," he clarifies, glancing back toward her as he unzips his sleeping bag.

She hates sleeping on her back.

She picks her thumb into the edge of the desk counter as she watches him slide into bed before begrudgingly sliding herself off the chair and into her own sleeping bag. He throws a soft “ g’night,” as he flicks off his flashlight the moment she finishes zipping herself in.

But sleep doesn’t come easy - nothing seems comfortable and everything hurts - the pain becomes even less tolerable as she tries to relax. And for some reason her fucking sleeping bag makes every little twitch sound like she is fully wrestling against the fabric. She tries to restrain her movements, but then her discomfort just gets broadcasted by groans and sighs that she's trying to stifle, but can’t. The minutes wear on and on and she truly begins to wonder if somehow putting her sleeping bag partly under the desk was like placing into an echo chamber.

The flashlight flicks back on with a sharp and loud click.

He doesn’t say a word, but the slow way he unzips his sleeping bag is more communication than necessary.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he reaches out to his backpack and drags it close. He rummages inside one of the smaller pockets and withdraws a small crinkled plastic sandwich bag, four big pills floating inside. They had found them a month or so ago in an overturned FEDRA supply truck that had basically been picked dry sans these few pills loose in the corner. Then, he had made a joke saying there must be a God cause he had been praying for days to find some Advil. She had figured he had used them already - apparently he hadn’t even touched them.

When he takes a pill from the bag and brings it up to his mouth, she thinks she misread the situation - his joints were hurting - but then he sticks the pill between his two front teeth and bites down, breaking it in half at the middle crease. He catches one piece in his hand and then promptly spits out the other end to match. He unconsciously rattles it in the palm of his hand as he leans toward the sleeping bag, offering it out to her: “Take it.” Ellie's nose wrinkles, her mouth barely suppressing a smirk. It’s sometimes jarring how comfortable they have gotten with each other. "Seriously? That was just in your mouth." He sighs, a mix of impatience and concern in his voice. “Your rustlin around like a rattler in a sack.” She hasn’t the faintest idea what that actually is, but she gets the message loud and clear- too noisy, too restless, you need to go to sleep. She props herself up and leans toward his hand. “It'll help." “Half?” She questions. The pill was big, and divided is now about the size of what she has been sneaking, but she’s also been knocking back two at a time. She’s not an expert on these sorta things by any stretch of the imagination, but two her smalls theoretically should equal one of his. So she has doubts that half of whatever this is, will do anything - she just can’t actually tell him that. "You're all ten pounds wet," Joel retorts. "Trust me, you don't need more." “I’m not that small.” “This ain’t some expired salvaged shit, it’s FEDRA - has a punch. Hydro.” Ellie’s eyes dart between the halved pill in Joel’s outstretched hand and his expectant gaze.

Part of her wonders how he knows exactly what is - didn’t come in a bottle- she was there, but a bigger part couldn't care less. Has a punch. If that’s true, it could be ‘smydro frydro’ for all she’s concerned.

She reaches out, hesitating for a fraction of a second feigning nerves, before her fingers brush against his palm, taking the pill. "Thanks," she mutters, not quite meeting his eyes as he leans back, grabs his water bottle, and then extends it out to her. She brings her palm to her mouth and throws the minuscule pill back, swallowing it with practiced ease. Joel's eyebrows meet his hairline, a mixture of astonishment and a hint of begrudging respect coloring his expression, as he awkwardly continues to extend his water bottle towards her, now redundant in its offering. “FEDRA,” she explains softly with a shrug - not wholly untrue. “Alright then,” he replies with a click of tongue, retracting the now awkwardly hanging water bottle. He puts the other half of the pill in the bag, tosses it into his backpack, and slides it away before settling back into bed.

He clicks off the flashlight again and turns on his side.

As she worried, it doesn’t do all that much for the pain - certainly isn’t putting her to sleep.

She attempts to convince herself that it just needs time to work, so she anxiously puts her focus on the rhythm of the rain pounding relentlessly against the brittle windows, hoping it will just suddenly kick in.

Her eyes constantly wander over to where her own pills hide - tucked safely in the pocket of her coat draped over the chair.

At the hour or so mark - she doesn’t have a watch, but Joel is snoring now - she really begins to contemplate giving herself a second dose.

Just one would probably do it. And it’s right there. A couple feet away. And it really would just be one. But it is only a couple feet away.

She would have probably dove into a while ago if it all wasn’t such a gamble with their close proximity. Her sleeping bag gives her away every move, and although she had stuffed some cloth into the bottle the other week to muffle the rattle of the pills as they walk, she’s not totally convinced that will make the endeavor completely silent.

But then again, maybe he wouldn't be able to catch the rattle of the bottle and the swish of the fabric amongst the echo of the rain and his own light sleepy snores.

She just has to be careful. Make it just a foot over. That’s it.

Cautiously, she shifts, attempting to sit up in the sleeping bag, not wanting to chance the opening of the zipper. She has to bite down hard to keep the pain away, abs tensing and pulling at her torso as she moves slowly and silently to a sitting position.

But Joel, even in his state of half-sleep, seems attuned to her every movement. His hand unconsciously stretches out toward her. His sleepy hum, halts her in her tracks, heart thumping wildly against her chest. She waits a moment, eyes him intensely, and then holding her gaze on him, scoots an inch forward in her sleeping bag toward the chair.

He mutters something indistinguishable and her heart truly skips a beat when his eyelashes flutter.

shit.

He sucks in a long breath and lets it out with a gargled snort.

With a resigned huff, Ellie flops back down onto her back, forgetting all about her ribs for a moment. The movement instantly stings and she sucks in a hitched breath through her teeth.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Joel’s hand twitch, petting the ground.

For someone half deaf he sure does catch a lot.

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

She wakes to the sound of birds chirping, the sun in her eyes, and the smell of something sweet in the air. Blinking to focus, she finds Joel, silhouetted against the morning light, scraping a metal spoon against a pot, the sound oddly harmonious amongst everything else.

She’s buried deep in the sleeping bag, the edge of it ending at the middle of her nose so just the top of her head is poking out from the cushy material. No matter where she starts the night before, she always wiggles down deeper in her sleep, sometimes sliding down so much that her head fully goes under and her eyes still meet darkness when they open to the plaid inner lining of the bag.

This morning, she wasn’t cocooned deep inside, but she surprisingly is still laying on her back. It doesn’t take her long to figure out why. Unsurprisingly, at some point in the night, Joel rolled and wedged his coat up next to her side so she wouldn’t turn over in her sleep.

“Really?” she murmurs, unearthing her left arm, and pushing the makeshift bumper away with a stretch that pulls at her sore muscles. The coat unravels as she lifts it, a hint of a smile touching her lips despite the discomfort. She gently tosses it away onto his empty sleeping bag - which is closer than she remembered it being last night.

“You were gonna roll,” he says pointedly, turning in the desk chair at the sound of her voice. He gives her a curt nod before turning back around and continuing to mix up whatever he had going on in their janky camp pot. “You always roll,” he reiterates - this time a touch lighter.

He’s not wrong, but it’s too early for him to already be in the right. “Cause I’m not some fricken mummy,” she mumbles back.

She rubs the remainder of sleep out of her eyes with the heel of her hands and then takes down her ponytail - already partly loose - and reties it. Raising her arms highlights just how much her ribs still hurt, but she also can tell it's not just her ribs. She’s sore everywhere, limber muscles feeling more like rigid bone, heavy and stiff.

“How ya’ feelin’?” he asks. “Fine,” she lies.

Tussling with the sleeping bag, she unzips it, rises slowly, and takes the seat next to Joel, sliding her hands across the dusty desk counter as she does, leaving a visible handprint on the surface.

“Stopped rain’.” She hums in agreement. Through grimey windows speckled with rain droplets, the forest looks dewy. The sun peeks through the trees, golden beams coming through not all that high over the horizon -not early dawn, but not late morning either.

She knows he likes to watch the rain - wonders how long he has been awake without her. He lets her sleep in more now, but sometimes it makes her uneasy. She used to beg him for ten more minutes, but now it just feels better to be up when he’s up. Dishing up breakfast, he seems to catch her thoughts - "woke up as it was endin’, half hour ago or so. Figured I'd wake you when everythin’ was ready."

It’s almost startling how quick the mental image appears in her head: Joel waking, watching the rain, and then doing all the normal morning chores. He pats at her coat, checking the dampness and finds the bottle in her pocket.

A low hum escapes her again, more timid this time. It could have happened so easily. Still could happen, really. Her heart beats quicker in her chest - maybe it did happen, and he’s choosing to ignore it.

She eyes him apprehensively as he slides breakfast her way. His lips twitch with a smile, but it does nothing to abate the nerves gradually developing in her core.

The breakfast is a simple affair: two packs of decades old Quaker instant oats - a concoction of “peaches & cream” and “cinnamon spice.”

Ellie's spoon scrapes against the bottom of her bowl, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she pushes out her worries in favor of getting every last bit of mushy rehydrated fruit - he’s a sucker for anything sweet. Joel leaves a few heaping spoonfuls in his own bowl and slides it over to her, hand ruffling the back of her head as he gets up. Her spoon moves from her bowl to his in one fluid motion.

“You rushin’ through that for a reason?” he jokes in her periphery. Her front teeth loudly scrape against the metal spoon as she shovels a bite of oatmeal in. She slows at the call out - reeling in the ravenous - nervous- energy. She doesn’t have to see him to know he’s doing that little Joel headshake. “Got nowhere to be,” he drawls softly.

Her palm tightens around the spoon as she withdraws it from the bowl, digesting his last remark. Nowhere to be. The end the spoon knocks into the table top as she fists it like a pitchfork. Fuck that.

She’s not going to stay in a tiny space like this all day where one wrong brush of her jacket means the end of weeks of hard work - secret out.

Ellie speaks around her last bite, feigned curiosity lacing her muffled words. "How far were those cabins?" “Hm?” She swallows and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand while spinning in her chair to face him. “Like what, three miles or something?” “Yeah ‘bout, but -” “ - but wouldn’t you rather be there than stuck in here?” “I would rather we be in a whole host of places but -” “Bbuuttt,” she whines, even longer. “Bbuuttt,” he counters, equally as exaggerated, “ you walkin’ with those ribs is trouble.” Her shoulders drop, as she pushes out a deflated, “Dude.” “Ellie.” “They're fine, and I’m going to have to walk with them eventually.” Joel rakes his hand down his face and scratches at his beard. Ellie doubles down - “It’s nice out.” His hands travel to his hips as his eyes trail the scenery out the window. She twists the seat of the chair as much as its old joints will allow - his body language is saying he’s still mulling it over, but his face says otherwise.

She’s got him.

With a long inhale, and little shake of his head - again - his gaze does a final sweep over the small booth, then to her, and then to outside and back.

“Fine. But you ain’t carrying your backpack.”

No gripes there - she throws a smile with a brisk nod.

He can take whatever he wants as long as it’s not her coat.

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

“You’re shitting me.”

The cabins are a bust.

A heap of splintered and decaying wood under a massive uprooted pine. It fell directly atop their roofs, slicing them clean up in a line.

There is one cabin that the tree spared, but it's also not in great condition – wood charred black and burned to a crisp by a wanton fire that clearly originated in the front corner of the cabin - a massive gaping hole staring them in the face, mocking their hope for any good shelter.

Ellie knows God doesn’t exist, but it’s things like this that make her question if there is something bigger at play out there, some malevolent force delighting in their constant misery.

Between the sharp ache in her ribs and the mud sucking at their ankles, the walk had been a grueling sort of slow - a torturous tortoise pace. It was a short, sure, but every step had her wishing she was already here. And now here fucking sucks. She hadn’t complained one bit, held her tongue because this is what she asked for - and certainly didn’t need Joel knowing that he was maybe just a little right - but now disgruntled yell is sitting on the top of her tongue.

He- she- whatever is out there - is fucking with them. Has to be.

She hadn't even realized how deeply she had been hoping for this to pan out until the pain of the shattered promise settles heavy in her gut as Joel drops their stuff with a resigned thud. He marches away to pick at the remnants of the shelters, appraising their seemingly limited options with a pragmatism that she finds infuriating.

Nothing can ever just go as planned for them.

A pressure builds behind in her sinuses, water surging toward her eyes, heavy and ready to leak out. It’s just some fucking cabins - it shouldn’t feel like this - whatever this is. The reaction is unwarranted - her brain knows that, but for some reason her body isn’t quite getting the message.

The tips of her fingers dig into her eyes, trying to push away one type of pressure with another more in her control. With a shaky exhaled breath, she drags her hands from her lids down her face, tugging at her skin. Her hands slap down at her sides and then she moves them to steal a glance at her ribs, pushing the side of her coat behind her back and gently lifting her shirt up.

For all his efforts last night keeping her off her side, a massive purple patch has bloomed across her torso, blood pooling deep under her otherwise pale skin. It looks about as gnarly as feels- and it really does hurt like motherfucker.

“They bad?” Joel calls out, crossing back over to her, his voice laced with a concern that he tries to mask with a veneer of nonchalance. He closes the distance between them just as she finishes trailing her fingers lightly across the one that’s probably broken. “No. Just checking,” she tells him, pulling down her shirt, a lie so transparent she wonders if it's more for her benefit than his. “Can I check?” He asks gently, hand already extending toward her with anticipation, but not going further.

She’s not sure why she says yes, but she does.

It’s a quick glance, but the sight clearly bothers him. He lowers her shirt with a dejected shake of his head, his expression a mix of concern and frustration - like always. His head doesn’t stop wagging as he crouches down to their bags at their feet.

It's a fleeting thought, but she makes a mental note to one day craft a joke about his neck hurting from all his little head shakes.

He delves into the depths of his rugged backpack and quickly emerges with the crinkled plastic bag, standing back up right to face her. He fishes out the remaining half pill from last night and holds it out to her in an open palm.

As she plucks the white little drug from his hand it’s immediate déjà vu, but she can’t help herself - “Half?” Ellie questions,, voice laced with skepticism, eyebrows arching in disbelief. She leans into it, hoping that maybe this will end with a different outcome this time.

“Half,” he responds, his voice terse, leaving no room for negotiation as he squats back down and tucks the baggie away.

The eye roll is involuntary, the sigh she heaves is not.

"Half," he states firmly once more, the sound of the leather flap of his pack snapping shut punctuating his decision. "Half now, half later."

Her lips purse together as she taps her two front teeth to the pair on her bottom, trying to think of a retort that would secure her the remainder. It did basically nothing last night, she knows she can handle more, she just can’t make that overly obvious.

But, nothing comes to mind quick enough, and he’s already off the topic entirely.

Joel motions with his head towards their only real option now, “burnt one,” he murmurs.

Resignedly, she slips the pill in her mouth and swallows.

“Nature’s callin', but start checkin’ it out.”

She takes a glance at the cabin, as the pill works its way down. It leaves a bitter taste lingering on her tongue as it skids down her throat, dry and scratchy. It feels much bigger there than it did in her hand. She gulps down again and moves to retrieve their stuff.

“I’ll grab ‘em after, you just head in,” he interjects, his hand gently connecting with her elbow. Her brow furrows. “Ribs.” He supplies - explanation simple. He’s trying to be nice, but it comes across more patronizing than anything. Amidst all the other icky feelings dancing around in her at the moment, resentment steps forward into the spotlight - settling high and hot in her chest.

She clenches her jaw tight to not put it on full display, but the way she marches off toward the cabin doesn’t exactly conceal her emotions either. His hands shoot into her coat pockets and press down; her feet stomp heavily into the soggy ground.

“Ribs,” she mockingly parrots in her head as she pushes the door open with her shoulder. Inside carries the heavy scent of ash that also mixes with a musty dampness, walls singed and wet. Minus the rather large hole in the corner, and the char marks branching out from it, the majority of the structure has been spared from the burn of the fire.

With a half-hearted kick, she brushes at the dirt on the floor, moving more out of habit than hope, as she gives the place a once over. Her actions are automatic, mind preoccupied.

At this rate she’s never going to get back to normal, never going to be his equal, never be just some kid that he has to look out for all the time.

Her right hand fingers the plastic bottle residing in the safety of her pocket as she approaches a small kitchenette. When she stretches out her left arm to open an upper cabinet, a sharp pain shoots through her side and she winces - underscoring what she already knows.

It’s spring and she’s basically back to square one - damaged goods.

Half now and half later….

Or…

On the outside, she goes still as the thought forms fully in her head, but on the inside, her heart speeds up, bumping feverishly into her sore ribs.

She knows she’s alone, but she finds herself glancing over her shoulder nonetheless. Slowly, she pulls the bottle from the confines of her pocket. She keeps it close to her body - concealed between her stomach and the edge of the counter - as she takes a moment to listen, to make sure she really is alone.

The silence confirms Joel's absence and she breaks it - thumbing open the white lid with a pop.

She doesn’t have to wait until later, if she doesn’t want to.

With a swift motion, she plucks out the cloth that’s been keeping the rattle at bay and liberates one pill.

Half now, one now, half later.

She knocks it back.

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diescm · 7 months

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IN OTHER NEWS....

Things r brewin...

Would any of you have any specific requests for who to see first in an ask blog ? I've already got a couple folks in mind but I'd love to get some fan favorites in first.

#homestuck #art #digital art #fantroll #homestuck fantroll #my art #oc #troll #dorian

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maysoulrose · 1 year

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The Thief and The Moon chapter 12

skyrim Brynjolf x my dark elf oc fanfic

Things are getting DEEP.

———————-chapter 12————————-

Morning came, and Brynjolf woke up on the floor, where he had made his bed. His body ached from the hard surface. Looking over at Allustria, she was in the exact same position he had left her in.

He got up, groaned, and stretched. Rubbing his neck muscles and popping his back. He smiled at the woman in front of him. Remembering her beauty and silliness of the night before. Wondering what she would remember. Deciding to let her sleep off the hangover she’d most likely have, he headed to the market. Thinking he could snoop around town and see what this place has to offer.

He made his way to the Gildergreen and spotted the Companion’s hall. Not quite his kind of crowd. His eyes trail up the mountainous stairway, leading to the jarls castle. He thought it better to keep out of there as well. Instead he decided to wander through the living quarters.

Scanning the area, Brynjolf smiled upon finding the Hall of the Dead.

“Found you~” he kneels next to a patch of deep purple flowers with thin, triangular petals, and a yellow stamen.

Brynjolf spent his time alone prepping for the journey back. He gathered food and a set of camping supplies. Soon, he returned to their room to pack up their things, so it would all be ready once Allustria was awake. Filling a tankard of water, he dropped the flower stems inside, and set it on the nightstand next to the bed, along with a cup of water for her to drink. His ears perked when he overheard someone talking through the balcony doorway.

“Yeah, a cold wind is blowing in from the east. Seems like they’re getting a snowstorm out there. Gotta dress warm!” The farmer says.

Brynjolf sighs. He didn’t want to have to stay another night. Thinking of Allustria, who always seems to be underdressed, he heads out once again, in hopes of finding a couple of cloaks to wear.

—————————————

Allustria wakes and bolts up, looking for Brynjolf.

“Oh, bad idea—“ She found a bucket next to the bed and hurled last night’s contents into it. After spitting out the taste, she attempted to look around again, squinting her eyes from the light. Her expression softens when she spots the nightshade flowers next to her. She smiled to herself, knowing Brynjolf had picked them for her. She brought them closer so she could inspect them.

Last night’s events were pretty foggy, but she did remember entering the tavern with her new dress and having the intent of putting on a show. Looking around the room, she was able to put together that they at least slept separately, so perhaps her attempts at wooing the man hadn’t worked. It’s for the best though, what’s the point of having fun with someone and not being able to remember it the next morning? Although… she did notice that her corset had been loosened. But everything else was as it was, so perhaps he just wanted her to be able to breathe while she slept. Very considerate of him.

Everything was packed up, so she pocketed the flowers, slung her pack onto her back, and carried his bag down to the bar.

“Did you happen to see where my friend went?” She asked Hulda, who offered her a fresh cup of tea and breakfast.

“Who, that handsome fella? Heard him talkin’ to one of the farmers about the storm that’s a brewin’, then he headed to the market.”

"He is handsome, isn't he?" Allustria giggled.

Once Allustria was finished eating, she headed out to look for him. It was noticeably colder today, and she hated herself for selling her fur armor to get this sexy little dress. But still, it covered more than her leather armor would, so the dress she wore.

“Ah! You’re awake. Here, put this on.” Brynjolf appeared behind her and swirled a cloak over her shoulders. “We better get going if we want to beat this storm. I have everything we need, so let’s go!” He took his pack from her, dressed in a cloak himself, and headed for the city gates.

Allustria’s heart was beating noticeably faster as soon as she saw the man. She felt embarrassed for some reason. She tried to remember if she did anything worthy of feeling like that, but couldn’t seem to remember anything past arriving mid party, and sitting on his lap. Her blush deepened… oh yeah.

There was a hefty wind blowing in from the mountains. The empty fields made it more apparent. With no trees to break it, the wind just about knocked them over! They hurried to Shadowmere, who seemed happy to see them. Capes billowing this way and that, Allustria tucked her head down, pinning her hair to her chest to avoid a horrible tangled mess.

“Maybe…. You should drive…” Allustria suggested, still feeling a little dizzy from last night. Brynjolf nodded and took the front half of the saddle. He helped her up onto the back and gave Shadowmere a light kick to begin their journey.

Allustria seemed to just keep finding things to feel more and more flustered about. The saddle was on the bigger side, but still not made for two. The way her groin was sliding towards Brynjolf's hips was quite the thing to stir up her imagination. Also, the fact that he was in this seat last time made her head spin. What he must've been thinking…

An icy wind blows Allustria back to reality and she wraps her arms around him for stability. Burrowing her hooded face in his back.

The three of them cross the bridge and follow the road that hugs the river. As soon as they reach the mountain range, it begins to snow. Lightly at first, then falling down hard in large white clumps.

“If this keeps up, we’ll need to find shelter!” Brynjolf yells so Allustria can hear him over the wind and river. They kept going until the path was barely visible.

“There’s a cave up ahead I think. I remember seeing it before the tower.” Allustria points in the direction.

They pass the bandit tower that they cleared out the day before, and follow the sloping path. Shadowmere hesitated and slowed his pace to prevent slipping. They passed the raging waterfall and Allustria pointed out the cave she remembered.

They found a clearing in the terrain to cross the river. The water was surprisingly shallow and a small bank with trees growing from it sat in the center. Crossing it, and back into the water, Brynjolf and Allustria dismounted once they reached the other side.

Allustria tried to pull Shadowmere into the cave with them, but he wouldn’t have it. So instead she told him to hide in the shadows, and wait for them until the storm passed.

In the cave and out of the cold, they head through the tight tunnel and make it to an opening. There are bedrolls splattered with bones and blood. They glance at each other, and continue onward, weapons at the ready. Smashed tables and wooden structures decorate the cave floor. They continue through another tunnel and emerge into an even bigger opening, full of pines, a small pond, and a beautiful waterfall at the far end of the cave. Skulls and assorted bones scattered across the cave floor, and finally the stench hit them.

“Trolls.” Brynjolf concluded. “I hate trolls.” Allustria nodded in agreement.

“I need to start carrying a bow. I don’t know how many I could take with just a couple of daggers.”

“I don’t want to find out.” He said, lightly placing his fingers on her shoulder, turning her around to head back instead of fight.

They found a spot near the entrance, deciding to stay by the bed rolls they passed earlier. That way they can make a quick escape if they’re ever spotted.

Avoiding the bloodied beds, Allustria sat, wrapping herself up in her dark gray cloak. She leaned against the damp wall, thumping the back of her head against it.

“How long do you think this storm will last?” She asked. Brynjolf sat a foot or so away from her.

“I don’t know. Hopefully not long.”

It was quiet. They tried to ignore the smell of dried blood and foul odors that oozed from the cave.

“Thank you for the flowers.” Allustria said, remembering them just now. Brynjolf smiled.

“Don’t mention it.”

Allustria started to shiver from the cold rock pressing against her back. She scooted forward, trying to find a comfortable spot, but failing.

“Here,” Brynjolf opened up his matching cloak and she eagerly crawled inside. She lay between his knees, wrapped up in the fabric, hood up, and leaned against his chest. He closed his arms around her and she felt an immediate relief from his heat radiating off of him. Both happy to be sharing each other's warmth. Sitting in comfortable silence, keeping an ear out for danger, they both rest and save their energy while not quite falling asleep.

While they waited, Allustria tried her best to remember last night. Flashes of moments from her dancing and falling into the lap of a man flickered through her mind like a fading dream. She remembered checking to see Brynjolf’s reaction from his seat at the bar. His eyes glued to her, but not of jealousy. More like he was enjoying the show. When someone had caressed her thigh, she honestly thought about cutting off those little fingers, but then saw Brynjolf lick his lips, setting her loins aflame, So she let it slide as part of the performance. That seemed to be as far as her memory would let her traverse.

She let the sounds of his breathing distract her. A mindless finger traced the stitching in his leather armor. Wondering what he might be thinking about now.

——————————————————————

An hour or so passed. Brynjolf decided to go out and check the weather’s progress. Allustria reluctantly left her spot on his chest and let him go. He was only gone a moment before returning to her to give her an update.

“It’s letting up a little. I bet the snow will stop in another hour or so.”

“Good. I want to get out of here.”

Brynjolf sat across from her. Thinking of what to talk about to pass the time.

“Do you… remember last night?” He asked.

“Not really,” She sighed. “Why? Did I do something embarrassing?”

“No, not at all,” Brynjolf laughed. “You were the center of attention, alright, with your beautiful dancing.” Taking note that she didn’t remember asking him to kiss her.

“Oh~ I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She smiled.

“I did… Quite a bit actually…” Allustria blushed at his sincere remark.

She looked around the cave, getting bored, and decided to wander around. Peeking around boulders and things to see if the previous campers left anything interesting.

“Uuughh, I just wish we were home already. I hate being cold.”

“Don’t forget the hot springs on the way!” Brynjolf reminded her. She jumped back into his view, a fresh look of excitement on her face

“Oh yeah!” The cloak still tightly wrapped around her, she eagerly waddled back to him. He laughed at her silly nature.

“Let’s go check the weather again!” She grabbed her stuff and headed down the tunnel.

“Already?!” Brynjolf had to hurry and catch up to her.

It was still lightly snowing, but the visibility was clear.

“Come on! It looks clear enough now, let’s go!” She waited for Brynjolf’s approval before calling for Shadowmere. He nodded, so she whistled and waited for the horse to emerge from his shadowy sleep.

The two of them get on and cross the river once again. Following the road, until coming to a fork and checking the sign. They decide to take the high road, passing a Stormcloak fort. Arriving at a bridge, they break off the path and cross the river. It was still snowing lightly, but they felt a slight warmth in the breeze from the hot springs ahead. Finally they had arrived! Heading past a few pools, they found a nice spot with large flat rocks to set up a small camp.

They unloaded their packs. Brynjolf had enough supplies to set two tents, as well as some firewood. Once the tents were up, they made a small campfire between them. Allustria happily dropped to her knees in front of it, holding her hands above the flames.

By the time they had gotten the camp up, the snow had stopped and the sun was lowering into the horizon. Brynjolf took both of their cloaks and hung them up to dry. Along with his armor, he sat with Allustria at the fire in his white cotton shirt and brown pants.

Once the sun had set, and they properly warmed up, Allustria looked to the steaming pools around her.

“Ready for a swim?” She gives him a raised eyebrow.

“Of course. But First, I gotta take a piss.” He jumps to his feet, “Go on ahead.” And trudges into the forest to find a bush to relieve himself on.

She watches him disappear and slips out of her clothing, keeping it by the fire to stay toasty. Allustria dips her toes in to check the temperature, and steps in. Sighing at the perfect temperature, She wades further out to a deeper area and enjoys the warmth, fully submerging herself.

——————————————-

Brynjolf hears rustling a few paces away. He leans to look. A small fox wanders by, and high tails it in the opposite direction when it sees him standing there. He tucks himself back in his pants and buttons up. Shoving branches away as he makes his way back through the forestry. He emerges and sees their tents a little bit further than he was expecting. He must've gotten a bit turned around. He spots Allustria’s clothes hanging with her cloak, but no Allustria.

While scanning the area, a shadow under the water catches his eye, at the far end of the pool. Allustria's moonlit hair emerges from the water. She's facing away from him, scrubbing her scalp and squeezing water out of her hair.

By the Gods, she was naked. He takes cover behind a bush to assess the situation. The clouds had parted and moonlight reflected off of her wet hair. It lit her curves in just the right way. He leans forward to get a better look and his foot presses down on a stick, snapping it. He ducks just before Allustria turns toward his direction. He holds his breath and shuts his eyes, trying to decide if it was okay to spy on her like this… she knew he'd be back soon, right? He waits a moment, before taking his chances at looking up again. He sets his eyes back to where he last saw her, but she’s gone.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, to sneak up on me~” Allustria’s lips brush against the tip of his ear. Her breath on his cheek sends a chill down his spine.

Brynjolf’s heart jumps up into his throat. “You, Lass… are terrifying.” He says once again, deciding that he liked it. He turns toward her to see her sly smile.

“You have no idea~” she almost purrs

That remark causes him to turn a bit red. Her hair is slicked back, but draped over her shoulders and down her chest, censoring her from his view.

“Now… do me a favor… take off your clothes..” She leans in, his heart is pounding now, cheeks flushed. He’s captured in the glow of her eyes. Her soft lashes flutter as she blinks slowly. Enticing him in with her slightly parted lips. She places a hand on his shoulder, tracing her fingers on the soft cotton. “And take.. “ she pressed her palm firmly against him “A bath!”

With one giant shove, Allustria uses an arm and her bare toes against his back to push him into the spring water!

She’s cackling over his surprise. Brynjolf splashes and gasps for air. Once he gets his footing on the slippery mineral coated floor, he swipes his ginger hair out of his eyes, leans forward to catch his breath, and looks at the devil who almost drowned him.

“Oh you’re going to get it now, Lass.” he’s bearing his teeth, with a slight smirk. She’s standing at the edge of the small ledge she sent him flying over, laughing to the stars. She has a fur blanket clutched to her chest, covering about half her body, while her long moonlit hair covers the rest.

Brynjolf jumps forward, water splashes everywhere, and yanks at the pelt. She about chokes on her own fit of giggles when realizing she’s going to plummet into the water as well. She spreads her arms out, wildly, to try and catch herself, but just lands chest first right into the man.

They both struggle to break the water surface. Allustria’s hair is plastered over her eyes. She peels it away, revealing a scowl, but then snorts and a smile goes with it. Brynjolf is letting himself float back now and splashes her.

“Fine, I’ll take a bath. Now that we’re even…”

Allustria raises an eyebrow “um, you’re the one who tried to catch a sneaky perv” She lifts her chin, catching the moonlight on her face. “I get a freebie since you pulled me in~”

He narrows his eyes at her. She’s still somehow totally covered by her damnable hair.

“Fine. I’ll take a bath. “ he repeats himself, ignoring her threat. Brynjolf wades over to their camp site. Sloshing out like a waterlogged sack of potatoes.

Allustria swims through the shallow water, following him. She peeks over the edge of the pool to watch him undress.

The spring water reflects the moons and stars beautifully, making it just bright enough to see. Brynjolf kicks off his waterlogged boots, and peels off the soaked white shirt that was clinging to him, showing off his strong back. Allustria twists her toes together in anticipation. He loosens the ties around his waist. She can see the curves of his lower back disappear into his leather pants. He pauses for a moment, holding his hands on the top hem of his trousers, but stops.

Fully aware he’s being meticulously watched, he decides to leave his pants on for his bath, just to frustrate her. He smiles to himself, hearing Allustria’s quiet huff of disappointment. She silently slips away into the depths, like a snake.

Brynjolf wades into the water and finds a nice place to relax in before beginning to bathe.

The two of them finish cleaning themselves as best they can. They leave a larger than necessary gap between the two of them. Maybe taking a few glances to check if the other is still there. Brynjolf splashes his face one more time and wipes down his arms. He looks back and sees that Allustria has already made her way into the tents.The fur blanket in hand and her long hair covering her backside.

She hangs the fur blanket over by the fire to dry overnight then ducks into her tent. Brynjolf floats in the warm water for a while, letting it soak to his bones.

Deciding he's finished as well, Brynjolf wades over to the camp. He peels off his pants, regretting his decision to bathe with them on, and sets them by the rest of his armor, which was already almost dry from the flames. He wraps himself up in his wool cloak and finds a seat by the fire pit.

Allsutria comes out of her tent and is braiding her long hair. Her torso wrapped in a thin white fabric with a heart shaped chestline. It's twisted around and tied at the side, making an asymmetric shape. The bottom of the material swoops along her right thigh, then comes up the side of her left leg. Just begging to be touched.

He can feel himself begin to throb below the blanket. He shifts in his seat to adjust his growing member into a more comfortable spot. Something he’s gotten quite used to, these past few days…

Allustria joins him by the fire, sitting across from him. She finishes her hair into two long braids, then spins a couple of fish that she had stuck by the fire to cook, making sure they get evenly toasted. Her arm presses against her chest as she leans to one side, causing her breasts to be pushed together.

'She must know what she's doing to me..' Brynjolf drinks in her beautiful body. The light from the fire reflected onto her, showing every curve.

“Looks like the food is done.” She says, grabbing one of the pierced fish and handing it to him. He accepts. She sits rather close to him. He can see a clear view of her cleavage now. The light from the fire washed over her beautiful skin. They eat in silence. Brynjolf keeps his eyes on every move she makes.

"Do you like what you see?" Her voice was low and smooth. It pierces the silence between them. A blush burning in her cheeks, feeling his eyes on her.

“Yes I do, as a matter of fact… That sweet roll looks rather appetizing.”

She gives him a mischievous look. Setting her meal down, she gets on her hands and knees and crawls to the dessert. Brynjolf freezes, he can’t look away. The curve of her hips, barely covered in the white fabric, was almost too much for him. He licked his lips. They’re little game of teasing each other was making him ache for her. He felt himself throbbing beneath the cloak. Wanting so badly to feel her body against his. To kiss every inch over and over again. To hear her moan with the pleasure he brought her.

Allustria grabs the sweet roll but refrains from bringing it back to him. She jumps up and runs to the other side of the fire.

“If you want it, Come and get it~”

Brynjolf felt like she was using the sweetroll as a metaphor for herself.

“Gladly…” He jumps up and chases after her. She spins and dodges, always just nearly out of reach. She hides behind the tent, and baits him into one way, then scampers off into the opposite direction. He was only able to catch her when she nearly lost her balance, swinging her arms to avoid falling back into the spring water. He ensnares her within his cloak, but she slips between his fingers, and crawls out before he can trap her.

“How are you so fast?!” He laughs and runs after her again.

Finally, he lunges and knocks her over onto her back. He pins her arms above her head, and grabs the sweetroll, taking a large bite out of it. Smiling at his win. His cloak dropped to his sides, showing his bare chest. His legs on either side of her, successfully trapping her beneath him

Allustria’s heartbeat quickens. He was just gorgeous. Not to mention learning that being pinned down by him was quite the turn on. She breathed heavily from their little game of tag, and scanned her eyes all around him. The flickering light of the firepit, illuminating his alluring body. She felt her heart crawling into her throat, face flushing with heat.

The way he looked at her made her arms weak, not allowing her to even attempt an escape. He smiled down at her. Placing the sweetroll back on its plate. He puts his hand against the ground next to her head, scanning her beautiful face. He lowers his body, inching closer to hers. Half lidded eyes full of lust.

"Careful, or I might bite you~" She whispers.

"I'm fully aware of the risks…" he replies, in a more serious tone than she was expecting. Her cheeks deepen in color. Brynjolf’s eyes make it obvious how serious he is about the situation.

He slowly inches closer, both hearts pounding, he pauses nearly centimeters from her lips. She hesitates, but then tilts her chin up ever so slightly and meets him into a kiss. He exhales and melts into her, relieved of her acceptance. A soft moan escaped her lips, exciting him more. He takes in her bottom lip, sucking on it and gently pulling with his teeth. He feels her smile. His heart pounds faster and his arms start to shake slightly. Allustria lifts her head, pushing more aggressively. She delicately touches his upper lip with her tongue, wanting to go further. He accepts and parts his lips, letting her in. His breath hitched and moaned. Their tongues meet and softly trace each other. She drags her tongue against his upper lip.

Brynjolf squeezes her arms, still pinning them above her head. He lowers his hips and barely touches his hardened member against her abdomen. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, and she pushes her pelvis into him, showing her approval of his arousal. They break for air and stare into each other’s eyes, making sure they were both okay with where this was heading. She smiles at him, almost out of breath. Brynjolf returns the smile and lightly brushes a loose hair away from her cheek.

Releasing her arms, he places his hands on either side of her face, and pulls her into another waterfall of kisses. Sucking and licking her sweet lips, tasting her, feeling her in a way he’s dreamt for so long.

Allustria uses her now free arms, and traces her fingernails down his chest. He pushes against her, letting her fingertips explore his abs and down to the waistband of his undergarments. His body shudders to her touch, feeling incredibly sensitive and a bit ticklish. She giggles, and kisses him more. He moans and presses his engorged cock against her with more force than before. She nips at his lip in return. Her warm hands feeling his body, brushing her palms against his back muscles, feeling the slight change in texture where his few scars are. She lowers her hands down to his hips, digging her fingers underneath his underwear, sliding down and grabbing his cheeks.

Brynjolf pulls back to look into her eyes once again.

“Do you want me?” He asks. Her face was full of pleasure.

She nodded, sheepishly.

“Say it.” He demanded. She blushes.

“…I want you…” She whispers.

“Louder” Brynjolf pushes the tip of his cock against her, between her legs. She squeaks and bites her lip, eyebrows knitted together.

“I want you.” She obeys. “I want you to make me scream with pleasure.” She persuades.

Brynjolf hungrily crashes his lips to hers once again. She loops her fingers around his waistband and pushes the fabric off of him, sliding it down his strong thighs. One leg out, then the other. The cloak slipped off his backside, exposing him to the elements.

His kisses trail across her cheek, down her neck, nipping at her collar bone, and down her swelled chest, finding the thin fabric that covered her. She slips her fingers between his teeth and the covering. He looks up, wondering why she stopped him.

“Shall we take this to the tent?”

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #dark elf #dunmer #brynjolf #brynjolf x dragonborn #fanfic #fanfiction #skyrim fan fiction #adult fanfiction #fantasy #dragons #bath house #hot springs #my oc #my skyrim oc #skyrim oc

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musesbykai · 2 years

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@unforgettable-garbage1997 answered x

A hearty chuckle came from the other end of the line. At least this thing had caller ID and knew how to use it. While using his Holo, the Australian was hard at work designing Spamton’s new look.

“Haha, G’day Spamton. Hope you are well.” Oron didn’t wait for a response. “You’re right actually. Got a couple of ideas brewin’ already, if you wanna come around to the workshop to see what I got so far, that’ll be great. See what needs changin’ and if I’m headed in the right direction.”

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wispwhispers · 1 year

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Landscapes with Attitude: A Guide to Game Biome Design in Yoniversia

Gather 'Round, Folks! So, me and my kiddos, not to forget my better half, have been cookin' up somethin' real special for over a year now. Yep, you guessed it - we're in the game makin' business! Picture this: a multiplayer, wide-open world game mixin' survival with a dash of good ol' farming. And hey, don't you worry, it's all kid-friendly, spreadin' the gospel of livin' in harmony with nature and keepin' the rough stuff at bay.

Now, here's the kicker: we're all about makin' things look real pretty. Think eye-poppin' visuals, explorin' like it's a grand adventure, and puttin' together the coolest crafts since kindergarten. So, what's the scoop? We're spillin' some beans on what's cookin' in the game pot, and we're all ears for your two cents. Bring on the wisdom, the tips, and if you got any constructive criticism, don't be shy! Let's make this game as awesome as a double rainbow after a summer storm!

Listen up, folks, 'cause we've got a world split into these here biomes, each packin' their own set of fancy game tricks, a bunch of goodies, critters big and small, landscapes that'll make your jaw drop, and a whole heap of gameplay twists. But hold on to your hats 'cause that's not all - these spots are all woven into one big tale with levels of tricky that'll keep you guessing.

Blossom Hollow

First off, let's take a stroll through Blossom Hollow. Yep, you heard me right, it's like a crater from a volcano that had its heyday. But guess what? It's turned into a flower-packed paradise. Now, ain't that somethin'? These ain't just your regular old flowers, mind you. These babies are giant, like 'bout-to-take-over-the-world giant. And they've got this nifty trick up their petals - they give life and, believe it or not, immortality. And guess where our hero pops up? Right smack dab in the middle of one of those massive blooms. Ain't life a bloomin' surprise?

Now, let me tell y'all 'bout Blossom Hollow's guardian angel, a little chit-chattin' raccoon named Eric. This critter's got a bigger ego than a rooster at sunrise, callin' himself the grand poobah, the head honcho, the numero uno of the Scout Squad. Yep, he's the proud founder, the heart and soul, the one and only member of the Guardians of the Garden Club. This guy, he's got a heart as big as his bravado, takin' care of this flowery haven like it's his own.

But hold onto your hats 'cause there's trouble brewin'. Lately, some giant thorny bad boys decided to crash the party. They're like the rude neighbors that move in next door and trash the place. Yep, you guessed it, these prickly fellas are takin' over the joint, givin' the local flora a run for their money.

Heartlands

Alright, now let's mosey on over to the Heartlands, also known as the Central Plains. Picture this: it's like the world's biggest backyard, smack dab in the middle. These open, flat lands are the safest spot in the entire world - we're talkin' secure like a bank vault. Now ain't that a cozy thought?

Here, you'll find all sorts of peace-lovin' critters, just chillin' out and waitin' to be your new best friend. Yep, you heard me, they're all ready for a little taming action.

Now, pay attention, 'cause if you've got dreams of runnin' your own farm, this here's your ticket to paradise. It's like a starter pack for all you future farmers. Easy access to anywhere, thanks to its prime location, and ain't it just perfect for gettin' your hands dirty and plantin' those seeds? Trees are like rare gems, grass taller than your uncle's stories, and hills? Well, they're just scattered around like small talk at a family reunion. Not to mention, a couple of big rivers flowin' through these parts. So saddle up, partner, 'cause the Heartlands are callin' your name!

Bramblewood

Now, gather 'round, 'cause I've got a tale to spin about a forest that's been around since Merlin was a schoolboy. We're talkin' ancient, folks, with magic drippin' off its branches like honey from a comb. Imagine this: thickets so dense they make a haystack look like a lace doily. And hey, there's no shortage of babbling brooks with their fancy fringes, addin' a touch of class to the place.

But here's where it gets juicy - inside this fantastical forest, the secret trails are like a riddle wrapped in a mystery, smothered in thorns. Those prickly bushes hide critters meaner than a rattlesnake with a toothache, just waitin' to pounce on unsuspecting wanderers. You might be strolling, hummin' a tune, and bam! Nature's surprise party comes callin' with teeth and claws.

But hold on tight, 'cause there's a twist in this twist. Hidden deep within these thorny thickets, treasures glint brighter than your Aunt Mabel's prized crystal and artifacts as magical as Uncle Joe's tall tales after a couple of whiskeys. Now, before you waltz into this mystical maze, better pack a mean axe 'cause this place ain't for the faint-hearted. So gear up, sharpen your wits, and let's see if you've got what it takes to face the enchantment of Bramblewood!

"Stonevault Plateau - Where Even the Rocks Are Feeling Airborne

Hold on to your broomsticks, 'cause we're talking about a place where walking just won't cut it. You'll need a dash of flight magic, a sprinkle of water-walking, or a good ol' fashioned aquatic pal to get around this joint.

Now picture this: a plateau that's as stony as your grandpa's one-liners, peppered with all sorts of natural karst bathtubs. It's like Mother Nature decided to treat herself to a spa day and left the tubs behind. But that's not all - the land's like a patchwork quilt of stone, blending seamlessly with nooks, crannies, and secret hidey-holes. And in this one-of-a-kind spot, you'll find creatures that pack a punch, meaner than a bull in a china shop.

Now, let's get practical, 'cause to navigate this wonderland, you'll need some real finesse in the jumping department, or maybe even a smidge of high-level magic to boot. Yeah, you heard me right - all those hours spent leaping over mushroom platforms in your younger days might finally pay off. But here's the kicker, amidst all the danger, this place is like a treasure chest. Rich in resources, and hiding some of the mightiest magic artifacts you've ever seen. So strap on your flight goggles, grab your water wings, or hitch a ride on a trusty swim buddy, 'cause Stonevault Plateau ain't for the faint-hearted, but it sure ain't no dry spell either!"

Coral Shores - Where Sand Meets Secrets

Let me spin you a tale of a sprawling sandy shore, my friends. Once upon a time, this very spot was the ocean's floor, but as time danced on, the waves pulled back their curtain, revealing massive caves sculpted by coral and polyps.

Now, let's talk monsters, and no, I ain't talkin' 'bout your nosy neighbor. Every now and then, colossal creatures come ashore, and trust me, takin' 'em on solo is like tryin' to outdance a tornado. If you're aiming for victory, it's time to call in the reinforcements - that's right, rally your buddies, 'cause teamwork makes the dream work.

But hold onto your controllers, folks, 'cause there's more magic brewin'. These are just a sneak peek of the stops on our game's world tour, and let me tell ya, there's a whole buffet of excitement waitin' ahead. We're ready for your wisdom, your feedback, and if you got any advice to sling our way, bring it on!

P.S. Keep your eyes peeled for the next post, where I'm slicing off the promo bits and diving straight into that "first view" of gameplay. Get ready, 'cause it's gonna be a ride through the basics of game design and balancing that's gonna make your joystick jiggle!

#game #gaming #pc games #indie games #video game #survival #rpg #video games #game development #for girls #xbox #epic games #videogame #indie #indiegamedev

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company-and-co · 10 months

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This was a bit ago, but…

Writer Asks

Tagged by @yallemagne

I’ve never done this kind of thing before (mostly because I’m almost never on tumblr) but I love being asked about what little writing I do.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

8 right now. I just can’t seem to sit down and finish all the fics I want to write.

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

22,572 words (for now).

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I have things brewin’ for pretty much any fandom I find myself in. But as for what’s on ao3, it’s really just Nobodies (video game) right now. I’ve been working on some Dimension 20 and Star Wars fics though.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Take All the Courage You Have Left — Dimension 20 (the most popular fandom I’ve written for)

2. Meet Us in the Movie Pit — Sanders Sides (first fic that I’ve posted still on ao3)

(This is where the amount drops quite a bit vvv)

3. You’re in Too Deep to Go Back Again — Nobodies

4. The Apostles — The Bible (mate I don’t even know)

5. Retirement Just Wasn’t Meant To Be — Nobodies (first Nobodies fic I wrote)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, even if it takes me a little while. Not on all my fics, mostly because they weren’t the labors of love some of the others were (ie: any of my Nobodies fics).

6. What's the fic you wrote that has the angstiest ending?

Oof I haven’t really written any angst yet. Probably…Expedition Survived? It’s a GTFO fic and that game has quite the angst potential. Other than that, probably You’re In Too Deep, though it ends on a humorous note.

7. What's the fic you wrote that has the happiest ending?

Hmm…Movie Pit I think.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, nothing I’ve noticed. Please don’t try to change that.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope. Not sure I ever will, just don’t see the need to.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven’t, but I’d be willing to if I got a good idea.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don’t think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I’d be honored if anyone wanted—hope they like under appreciated mobile games!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Just The Apostles. A frenzied research project that my friend added fun to. Not sure why I had suddenly become obsessed with knowing everything about the 12 Apostles, but luckily I had a pretty cool friend that enjoyed the process too.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Ooo…I don’t know that I have one. I flip fandoms sporadically, but ones I come back to a lot is The Witcher and Assassin’s Creed. Eskel/Geralt probably. Or maybe Ezio/Leonardo. It’s a tie really. Don’t make me choose. Please.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

Here’s the thing. I try not to have wips, because it’s very hard for me to just sit down and write. And if I don’t just to sit and write, then I don’t finish a fic. This is why I currently only have one multi-chapter fic, one-shots are just easier for me (plus, the one-shots are often a couple thousand words). So, none?

16. What are your writing strengths?

Oh man. Uhh…

Writing what I want, I guess? I don’t write much because I prefer to read other people’s works.

Really, I’d say dialogue. My current fic is a lot of dialogue, so I’m getting a lot of practice.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Fuckin’ tenses, mate. I try so hard to keep my fics in the same tense, but then somewhere I suddenly slip without realizing! I’m trying! And characterizing—it’s why I go for the characters with little to none, I’m just too worried about being OoC.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I would do it, if I had someone double-triple check it’s correct. And if I could figure out how to do that thing on ao3 where you can hover over a word and it shows the translation (even on mobile sometimes!!).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ever in my life? Probably Warrior Cats or Harry Potter, that was about the age I was in when I got into fanfiction. First posted on ao3? Skyrim. First posted on ao3 that is still there? Sanders Sides.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

You’re in Too Deep! I went into a fugue state when I was writing it and I’m very proud of it. I’m really liking Beyond My Remote Concern, but I have one more chapter, so we’ll see how it ends up.

I have no idea how to make friends here, so this ends with me! 🤙

#ask game #answered

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inquixotic · 1 year

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EVELYN & ANGEL, DAY 36.

lounge area, morning of the recoupling

with @dobits !

angel reid

“hey, can i join?” angel doesn’t wait for an invite before he’s spilling himself into the other end of the lounge couch, clad with a wide, boyish grin that actually feels genuine. he wants to keep a light vibe for as long as possible despite the distinct feeling that there are eyes boring into the side of his face. not evie’s of course, who seems as chilled as ever. “had your first full day yesterday, huh?” he notes airily, fingers distracted with messily peeling off the skin of an orange. brows are knit as he tries to peel it in that cool, spirally way some people can do. “i’m here to shake you down for gossip. and, no, i’m totally not telling you who sent me.”

evelyn mendoza.

evie's been internally freaking out basically all morning after the text eden received. picking first is too much pressure for her. angel's voice shakes her from her fixations, though, and her face lights up with a smile. "'course not," she says, and in direct contrast, immediately pats the couch in welcoming. "what kinda gossip do y'all think i have after twenty four hours?" her eyebrows raise, the very thought of being trusted enough for that yet bringing a giggle out of her, head rolling to the side to watch angel as he struggles with his orange. "give me more specifics and i'll see what i can do for ya and your mystery sources."

angel reid

“girl, you better start brewin’ something up ‘cause you’re running outta time,” angel teases with a wry smile, tongue pressed against his front teeth. the orange skin is flaking off in unsatisfying little pieces and he hums a thoughtful sigh. “well, who’s sticking out to you? i mean, i know char’s a leading contender…” then he pointedly glances at her in his peripheral, playfully makes like he’s gonna catch her revealing some gossip.

evelyn mendoza.

"don't remind me," she groans, her hands covering her face with a small laugh. there simply wasn't enough time for her to be sure of any of these people. "shes fuckin' adorable, yeah," she agrees, leading contender indeed. she feels weird talking about it with angel, though, a bit. "charlene, you," she answers honestly, her smile fading a little, as she thinks. "marcus, some, but i think eden likes him so i'm not plannin' on anything there. and you and miles have your girls, so charlene would be a smart choice, if i don't wanna step on eden's toes." her tone implies she wouldn't, too. "who wants to know, for real? no way are these people freaked, no one's goin' home."

angel reid

“oh, char’s the best,” he agrees with a nod, only vaguely trying not to lay it on too thick. eyes flicker up at the mention of himself. girl’s bold, for real. “i mean, she’s only the smart choice if you really like her,” angel advises, finally freeing the orange and splitting it’s pieces, offers one out to her. lips purse into a smile. “i dunno, you’re gonna have a lot of power tonight. like, you could potentially split some people up which… y’know, you gotta do what’s right for you.” it’s the advice he’d give anyone, would say the same thing to eden, too, but angel’s aware that the sentiment needs to come with a clause and he sighs as a preamble to it. “but, listen, i wanted to talk to you about, like… our date and everything.”

evelyn mendoza.

her eyebrows go up, her head canted to the side as she takes the orange slice he offers, his words just driving more confusion into her. she had been expecting encouragement to pick charlene, since he seemed not sold yesterday anyways, despite agreeing to get to know her better, but that kinda sounds like he wants her to pick him? "i could, if i thought i should be picking someone who's in a couple like that," she allows, a gentle smile peeking through her uncertainty. maybe she really doesn't know what to do. "sure, shoot. i kinda figured that'd come up, since you probably spun yarn with callie 'bout it, yeah?" it's not really a question — she specifically hadn't mentioned it to the other girl so angel could, though. "she take you gettin' to know me okay?"

angel reid

“spun yarn.” brows tick up wryly, he laughs. “you could say that. nah, it’s honestly, like… it’s not even about what she thinks or whatever. i think i just need to kinda clarify myself.” he props one bent elbow on the back of the couch, turning to face her more directly. “evie, i gave you, like, the totally wrong impression. i want us to talk and hang and all that, but… like, i know you were sayin’ that stuff about frankie and callie and, i mean, i don’t really believe any of that, but to be honest even if i were her second choice then i’d take it.” he shrugs, eyes blinking down to the stark white couch fabric stretching between them. “i’m just crazy about the girl, y’know? and i’m realizing now i wasn’t giving you that vibe yesterday. i want you to know i’m sorry if i gave you a different kinda idea, ‘cause you deserve to be somebody’s first choice.”

evelyn mendoza.

"wait, i don't understand." but she thinks she does, though, and what it sounds like was he just lied, which doesn't sound exactly like something what she'd expect from him. "you said you wanted to get to know me, angel...i thought i made my interest clear?" she's trying to put the pieces together on what she missed, where she had misunderstood, but he had said that. she knows she didn't misunderstand that...right? she feels tears well up in the back of her eyes and tries desperately to blink them away, determining then she would not cry over someone she's only known for a day, at least not in front of him. "so, what, you just lied to me?" if he had told her he wasn't interested, it wasn't like she'd be mad. she would've gotten over it, but now she feels incredibly stupid to even have had her hopes raised a second ago.

angel reid

“no, you did, for sure. i kinda assumed, like, you were gonna chat everybody, but obviously we were on a date and i shoulda…” he should’ve put his undying impulse to be liked by everybody in the backseat for a minute, even despite the fact that it was a date, she was new, and he’s too-nice by nature. “i should’ve understood that you had, like, real interest. it’s on me.” the idea of lying though has him shaking his head. “nah, evie, i wasn’t trying to play games with you or anything. i meant it when i said you could come to me with whatever, y’know? i want us to be friends.” there’s a pause and he lets his head slack slightly to the side, a feeble smile trying to insert some levity. “i hope i didn’t totally kill your opinion of me, ‘cause i dunno who else i’ll be able to talk about classic kawasaki’s with.”

evelyn mendoza.

"but that's exactly what you did." the mention of playing games brings that concept to tip of tongue, staring at him like he's grown a second head. "i said i wanted to get to know you, and you said you liked me, i'm not —" she's not crazy, she wants to say, but she probably looks it to the audience. she knew it'd be a long shot for him to be interested, but he had said he was, as far as she understood it. "you got my hopes up and didn't say anything all day yesterday to the contrary, and you think we can be friends?" her voice does break there, feeling so past stupid it's not even remotely funny anymore and she pushes herself up from the sofa, trying to get herself out of there and to eden before she starts crying for real. "you should probably take honesty off your list of needs in a relationship, y'know."

angel reid

“i didn’t — evie, i really didn’t think i got your hopes up this much,” he defends albeit haltingly. he didn’t even realize it until this exact moment, her tone fracturing around the words. it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that her and charlene probably would be perfect for each other, their distinct overreactions adorably matching. “wait, c’mon,” angel also sits up a bit, reaching a hand out in a last ditch gesture that he doesn’t want her to go, to walk off angry. it feels like such a far cry from yesterday, when they were compiling a long list of similarities, volleying teasing convo back and forth. “can we just talk about it for a sec?” because they’d also talked about communication, right? the importance of talking difficult things out.

evelyn mendoza.

"what, you didn't think it would fuckin' hurt for you to immediately turn around and say you have no interest in getting to know me like that?" she snaps, pulling her hand out of his reach as the angry tears well up and threaten to spill over. "you should've just said you weren't interested, angel. what the fuck was i supposed to think?" she backs up another step, not even remotely interested in whatever sorry if apology is probably in his repertoire, proving once again, liking men is a mistake. "if you're going to go on about how you didn't just lead me on some more? no, we can't."

angel reid

the bare skin of his back falls against the couch, altogether defeated and at a total loss. he’s not sure how to fix this when evie’s set on flaming him. “okay,” he concedes, nodding. it seems like time away from him is the thing she wants and he imagines it’s the only thing that might actually help him in the long run. “i’m just — y’know, i’m sorry. i fucked up. i’ll just, uh… give you some space today.”

evelyn mendoza.

the acknowledgement finally that there was something wrong makes her pause and give a small nod, her anger still bubbling underneath the surface. "thank you," she snaps out, far angrier than she intends it to sound, her thoughts racing with how utterly stupid she feels to have thought she had a chance. "that was really messed up. i'm not...i don't not want friends, but that's not why i'm here and i thought that was clear. so just...be honest with me next time, please."

angel reid

“i hear you,” he nods his agreement. for angel, it’s always been more of the opposite, optimistic to the point of legal blindness. if he walked out of here with just a couple lifelong friends, he’d be happy. after today it seems way less likely that evie will be one of them, he’d be surprised if she even wanted to sit next to him at dinner and, considering the way callie looked at him sideways yesterday, that’s probably for the best. so he bobs his head at her, fingers making a little x over his heart. “yeah, ev. promise.”

#evelyn & angel.#thread: discord.#melly u specifically are gonna get one more @ and i am sorry

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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Hi if its ok to ask with steve x dark goddess reader

What if she would make him submit more even mess around with his head if he gets bratty . The only person to notice whats going on is bucky or thor. Well on thors defence he knows a thing or two if a deity is messing with a mortal with his experience with loki . As for bucky he sees steve as a friend and brother so there might be something up

As for reader do you think she would make him behave like a good puppy or more denial punishment that leads her to make steve pleasure himself with reader fingering his back entrance while not allowed to touch his cock and she would praise/mock him?

Thanks :3 and i didnt mean to bother . The dark goddes reader is so Good!!

I'm gonna...I'm gonna...go have a think in corner on these thots because...ya got me there.

I need a minute.

I don't even know what's going on in my brain right now 😵😵😵

#ro answers #but not right now #'cause she ded #but there's a couple things a brewin'#like she talks so dirty to him while standing on his arms so he can't touch himself he can only LOOK right up at her**#and maybe some magical idk string of hair she wraps around his dick so when he thinks of a woman or dirty thots it tightens #and maybe it does that in public with Thor and Bucky so that's how they notice???#OMG WHAT IF SHE MAKES HIM HAUNTED BY HIS DEEPEST DARKEST FANTASY AND HE WON'T STOP *FEELING* THE FANTASY UNTIL HE CONVINCES HER TO ACTUALLY #DO IT FOR HIM SO NOT ONLY DOES HE HAVE TO BEG AND TALK DIRTY BUT HE HAS TO MAKE HER WANT IT TOO #oh god i'm broken #well and truly #completely fucked #😉😉😉#nope she ded

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homoose · 3 years

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hi lovelies!!!! as promised, below the cut you’ll find the (ROUGH) outline of the tmsidk threequel. posting it here because I’m not in a space where I feel capable of writing them with the love nd care that they deserve!!!!!! this doesn’t mean that I will never write it, just that I don’t see it happening in the near future. ♥️ I want to also say that if I ever ended up writing it, it would most definitely be with Maggie. she’s the only way I can picture it/make it work anymore!

it should go without saying: spoilers ahead!

the threequel has a “theme” for each chapter. the are some big time skips in between ♥️

part i - begin

miss honey and the bfg get married! and then go on a road trip honeymoon from DC -> Oregon, with stops in lots of fun places along the way.

highlights include: lots of family fun at the backyard wedding; stopping in Vegas and getting the Spencer tour; some national parks and hiking (much to his chagrin 😅); and a whole lotta love

part ii - nurture

the year of the babies: the trials and tribulations of being pregnant with twins. miss honey is going Thru It™ and her bfg is at her beck and call.

highlights include: Spencer stress sewing stuffed animals; lots of reassurance that her body is doing incredible things; and a cameo from Mama Rose 💞

part iii - submerge

y’all thought pregnancy was rough??? post partum wanted to make sure u didnt forget that they’re a bitch, too!

highlights include: listening to the same songs on repeat bc it’s the only thing that will soothe the screaming twins; miss honey experiencing post-partum depression and imposter syndrome (especially when her husband is such a natural); a gentle nudge to seek out a new therapist who can better help in tackling the PPD

part iv - ambivalence

our first time jump! the twins are two! mom is feeling a lot better (and back at work)! Penelope Garcia is an excellent nanny! Spencer is feeling the pull of family and ruminating on the Big Move (a la Gideon, Hotch, and Derek).

highlights: an emotional phone call when away on a case; a lil argument; and a cameo from Mama Reid

part v - change…

another time jump, folks! the babies are four and starting Pre-K! life rolls on, but a close call has Spencer sprinting toward the decision he’s been toying with.

highlights: sending their babies off to school 😭😭😭; Spencer gets hurt on a case; a teary hospital room conversation

part vi - … is good

Spencer transitions away from the BAU, and it’s really, really good.

highlights: stay-at-home dad and professor!Spencer; lots of quality time with the family

part vii - panic

a family crisis has miss honey reeling.

highlights: the twins are about to start kindergarten; Papa Hank has a health scare; the family has to make a choice

part viii - calm

after moving south (and bringing Diana with them), the family navigates their new life away from DC.

highlights: a move to NC to be closer to Hank; new jobs for both of them and new school for the kids; plenty of Extended Family Dinners; somethin is a brewin

part ix - enough

here’s your angst, folks! the twins are about to be fifth graders! Spencer has a half-life crisis (a la True Genius). Maggie fears that she and the kids will never be enough.

highlights: argument about Spencer feeling unfulfilled; some sleeping on the couch; crying; misunderstandings abound

part x - everything

Hank’s final words before he goes under are enough to shake some sense into our sparring couple.

highlights: NO major character death (I’m keeping Maggie’s dad alive, unlike my own); Hank’s health problems mean a new role for Spencer

epilogue - try

Spencer learns lesson number one in being a “cowboy”: try, try, and try again.

highlights: Maggie, Spencer, and the twins move into the farm house; Hank scales back the farm and gives it over to his kids; Spencer finally gets his dream (all of his dream)

#homoose writes #tmsidk #tmsidk spoilers #do NOT read this if you don’t wanna know how the whole thing ends #look at me with two original posts that aren’t shit posts #in ONE DAY!

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auroras-bones · 4 years

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Quick home cleansing/protection spray!

I just moved in with my smoke sensitive boyfriend, so I had to store my eucalyptus smoke stick for now and come up with another way to cleanse and protect our new place. A spray doesn’t effect anyone, it’s quicker than a smoke stick is, and bonus points for smelling like cinnamon :) Lets get started !!

1) Gather your ingredients

I personally used:

-1 cinnamon stick

-3 bay leaves

-a couple pinches of rosemary

-some sea salt

-sage(homegrown and harvested in personal garden, not used for smoke cleansing)

-a couple lemon slices

-sea water

-rain water

All these ingredients have correlations with both cleansing and protecting, so I choose these, but you can pick which herbs you want to toss in there to modify the spray to your own liking! But no matter what herbs you choose, you will need these items:

-a small pot

-a pot cover

-stirring spoon

-something to strain out the herbs

-a cleansed spray bottle

-paint or marker

2)choose your sigil!

I chose this simple and lovely sigil to cleanse and protect made by @kore-amore ! You can choose any sigil you like to modify the spray how you want.

3) Get brewin

We have everything picked and laid out, now it’s time to grab your pot, pour the water and herbs into it, and set it to medium heat

Once it gets to a boil, I like to stir it counter clockwise and think about the negative things the spray will cleanse, and then stir clockwise thinking about the positive protection the spray will bring. After a few minutes of stirring, cover the top with your lid, set it to low heat, and let it simmer for about 10 minutes, or however long it takes till the water is potent in smell(most of the time, depending on which herbs you use, the water will also turn a different color, mine turned yellow, as seen below)

Here we have a finished brew!

4) Strain and pour

Once your brew has cooled down a bit, strain out the herbs and pour into your spray bottle!

5) Paint your sigil

I used the sigil I chose earlier and painted it on with black paint(once again, credit to @kore-amore for this lovely sigil), but you can choose any sigil or paint color you like! Just be sure to think hard about the intent of the sigil you are painting, as the sigil itself only does half the work, and the other is your own magik :)

6) Start sprayin!

Spray wherever you need some cleansing or protecting! My recipe smells like cinnamon with hints of the other herbs so it leaves quite the lovely smell for a short time afterwards! I love this spray, as someone who’s very busy, has a smoke sensitive boyfriend, and needed something very in tune witchy to do :) I hope you enjoy!!

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Somethin’ Brewin’

Pale x Reader (Blue Moon ‘Verse)

2.5k; NSFW (uniform kink, PIV, fingering, spanking, derogatory names, rough sex, begging, finger-sucking)

Kinktober 2020 Masterlist || Available on AO3

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It’s late, real late. The kind of late where there ain’t even any taxis speedin’ past. An empty diner late at night sure was somethin’, wasn’t it? Sunday nights weren’t too busy, not when everyone had to get up early and head out to their 9-to-5s the next morning. So there you were, all by your lonesome, a couple dimes in the jukebox to keep you company.

Rain slicks up the pavement of the driveway outside, and through the windows you can see the reflection of all the neon out there in the cold and wet. In many ways, you love the diner like this; some soft jazz playing on that jukebox that’s gotta be older than you are, no one to disturb your thoughts as you rinse the last of the dishes and put them in the sinks for the third shift bus-boys.

The bus-boys have all gone, and so has the cook. The diner only serves coffee and whatever you’re willin’ to whip up, when it gets this late. It don’t matter, not one bit, ain’t nobody around to want you to whip anything up anyway.

Oh well, you think as you wipe down the milkshake bar, soon that little hand will hit one and then you’ll get to go home.

“Shit.” You tsk the roof of your mouth, you forgot your damn umbrella.

Fish ain’t here to let you take his this time, he went home an hour ago when it was dry. Maybe you’ll call for a ride, you mull the thought over. You’ve got the pocket cash for it, could just pull a bill or two from the tip jar and call it an evening, but the thought annoys you. That tip jar money’s been goin’ right into a special box that you’ve been working on, hopin’ to surprise your man for somethin’ nice for the holidays.

A bell at the front door dings, and any thoughts about loneliness in an empty diner are cast right outta your head, because as if he was summoned by your very thought, standin’ in front of you is your very own Pale.

Poor guy looks angry, but then again he always does. First thing in the morning after a long night of dead-to-the-world sleep and he looks angry, that was your Pale. He’s got a good reason to be annoyed tonight, just on account of the rain and all, his big leather jacket protected him from most of it, the rest he shakes off right at the door. He hangs up the jacket and reveals one of those silk shirts he loves to wear, gold chain glinting in the soft neon light.

“Wasn’t thinkin’ I’d be seein’ you tonight.” You greet him warmly, setting down the last of the thick glass cups that you’ve been rinsing out.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He frowns, makes his way over to you where you’re waiting for him with your eyes closed and lips pursed.

You sigh against his mouth when his lips meet yours in a deep kiss, Pale leaning and reaching over the counter to grab at you. His hands don’t ever keep to themselves, and you grin against the corner of his mouth when he gives your ass a firm squeeze.

“Past couple of Sundays you’ve been real busy, that’s all.” You give him a casual shrug. You’re thrilled that he’s here, thrilled that your shift is almost over and that he’s come to pick you up, come to spend a little time with you before you go back to his place and spend the whole night together.

You don’t often spend nights together, just with how hard he works.

“I’m never too busy for you sweetheart you know that – why don’t you go pour me a cup of somethin’ hot, hm?” Pale scrubs the hair out of his face, shakes it back a little so it falls nice and even. It’s wet, but that’s no issue, you like how he looks like this, and the diner is warm enough so he won’t go catching any colds.

“You’re in luck, I’ve got just enough coffee left in this pot for one VSOP.” You give a glance to the coffee pot on the warmer that has been pitifully neglected, save for a swirl every now and again.

Pale nods, and you don’t think you’ll ever stop being smug about that, about converting him to being a coffee drinker. He used to say it sours his stomach, but that’s just because he’s never had a good cup, he never had any of yours. Now he can’t get enough of the shit, and you take that as a win.

Bending over to reach for his favorite mug – you keep it someplace special so that none of the other waitresses send it out to customers during the day – you don’t even think about the fact that your skirt must be ridin’ up until you hear Pale’s very measured and even voice ask, “Hey sweetheart?”

You stand upright and look over your shoulder, that mug of his in hand and a sly smile creeping across your face.

“Yeah Pale?” You bat your lashes at him, acting oh so innocent – even though you’re anything but.

“Do that again.” His eyes have darkened, that cigarette of his clenched between his teeth, the red tip glowing as he takes a forceful drag.

Instead of bending over, you simply hike your skirt up, giving him exactly what he wants. You’re wearing underwear, but it’s the kind he likes, the soft cotton kind that rips easily, that hugs your hips and ass nicely. It’s white, and you just know Pale is already thinking about how soaked that fabric is gonna get, because he’s pouncin’ out of his seat in an instant.

“Like what you see?” You laugh brightly, playfully, dropping your skirt and turning to face him as he pushes his way through the little swinging door of the milkshake bar, is crowdin’ you up against the counter.

“Damn right I do – hold on.” Pale grunts, flicks his ash and yanks open his belt buckle.

You lick your lips while you watch him, casting a cursory glance to the rest of the diner. Anyone could come in, anyone could walk right in and you’d have nowhere to go or hide. The thought thrills you, especially as Pale manhandles you and turns you around, bends you over the counter. He keeps a hold of your wrists, bound behind your back, as he kicks your feet open.

“I love this fuckin’ uniform.” Pale licks his teeth, the hand that ain’t holdin’ your wrists shoves between your legs, rubs at the folds of your pussy and coaxes all kinds of wetness out of you, making you breathe hard from the pleasure that friction brings, “Don’t go workin’ nowhere else – or if you do, steal one of these and bring it back home to me whydontcha.”

“It’s the uniform that does it for you, hm?” You tease him, wriggling your ass against his hand as he slips a couple fingers under your panties and into your pussy, scissoring roughly just to get you stretched enough to take the tip of him. You moan out loud, “Ohhhhh, is that it? You like me in this short skirt?”

“The little hat,” Pale corrects you, and something about that catches you off guard and makes you push back against his hand, his hips, and he groans, “Fuck you’re sexy.”

“How do you want me, sir?” You gasp, “Well done…or over easy?”

That seems to be enough for him, because he pulls his hand out of your underwear and spanks you hard, making you yelp. It stings in the best way, and you can’t help but clench around nothing, wanting to be filled.

Drool pools out of your mouth and drips onto the counter when you get your wish, when Pale shoves down your underwear and you feel the head of his cock push its way roughly into your cunt, using your own slick and some of his spit to lube the way. Your legs spread even wider for him, as wide as the panties around your thighs will let you.

“Atta girl, there it is, right there. All this, this wet for me?” Pale grunts, one hand holding your wrists steady and the other now moving to pin your hip in place as he wastes no time thrusting.

“Shit, yes, Pale – your cock’s so big!” You moan, loud and high because there ain’t nobody around to hear you, no one’s coming, you can be loud loud loud as he thrusts his big dick into your wet cunt.

Stuff on the counter clamors and rattles as he speeds his pace up, not in the mood for anything gentle tonight. You loved it, loved what he gave you and took it eagerly. Pale hadn’t fucked you since last night, and you were starting to miss the feeling of his thick cock rammed up inside you.

“Been dreamin’ about this pussy all day, you know that? Couldn’t fuckin’ wait to get home only to find the place empty, figured you’d be here and damn I’m glad I was right, damn this pussy’s good.” Pale smokes while he fucks you, cigarette clenched between his teeth as you clench around his cock.

“Where – oh! – where the hell else am I gonna go this late?” You gasp and bite your lip, eyes struggling to stay open, the world shaking around you. If you weren’t bent over and pressed against the counter, your tits would probably be sore from how much they’d bounce.

“Off to one of your other boyfriends maybe, I don’t know I ain’t your keeper or nothin’.” Pale pretends he doesn’t give a fuck but you manage to smack his hand even pinned down like you are.

“Shut up with that shit, I’m your girl Pale, always your girl.” You huff out, before shifting your weight so you can meet every one of Pale’s thrusts, your pussy tight and hot around that aching pleasure, “Does this feel like anybody’s fucked me but you?”

“Say it again.” Pale’s quick to say, ignoring your question, and if your body weren’t on fire you’d roll your eyes, because he only riled you up enough so that he’d hear you say his favorite thing in the world,

“I-I’m yours. Your whore, your needy whore, oh fuck, harder Pale please, please!” You beg, beg because it’s all you can manage, his balls slapping your ass fast fast fast, your pussy drooling and dripping onto your panties, soaking into the fabric as his cock spears in and out of you, rough and dirty as he smokes his cigarette.

“I was just teasin’ you know, you’re good to me, my good girl. I like when you make that face you make at me, gorgeous.” Pale sounds like he’s smiling, even as he’s breathing hard, as he’s grunting and groaning and squeezing your hip, your wrists. You shoot a dirty look over his face and Pale thrusts sharply into you from it, “Yeah that’s it, be mad at me baby.”

“You’re – ah, right there right there – you’re awful to me, so mean, god you feel so good!” Your voice climbs higher and higher until you’re gasping loud, body jerking as Pale brushes against your gspot, the head of his cock knocking up against your cervix on every thrust.

“Keep your hat on sweetheart.” Pale grunts and groans, pulls his hand off your hip to smack at your ass again, another hit right on the flesh of your thigh, before that hand of his comes forward to stick his fingers into your mouth. You immediately suck on them, kissing and licking and biting them, hollowing your cheeks around them as he fucks you, “Big boss could come walkin’ in any minute and then you’d be in some real trouble, wouldn’t you? Real big trouble, gettin’ dicked down like this right out in the open.”

“Don’t care,” You moan around his fingers, they’re so thick, so wide, he can barely fit three of them against your tongue.

“’Course you don’t, slut.” Pale scoffs, and you chuckle warm in your chest, because you really are – but only for him. “You close?”

“Yes – yesyesyes, please, just a little more, touch me please.” Your voice is muffled against his hand, his fingers, but he can hear you just fine. Pale’s jeans chafe against your ass, your knees shake and body tenses, the pit of fire in your stomach rolling through your body. Your nipples are stiff, so stiff against your bra and the friction there makes your cunt clench, tears starting to well up in your eyes, if you don’t come soon you’ll be in pain from how good it all is.

“Only because you ask so pretty.” He groans, coating his fingers with your spit for a moment or two longer, before lowering them to quickly rub harsh circles on your clit while he fucks you to completion.

“Oh!” Your knees turn in and your body goes limp with pleasure as your nerves tingle and sing up and down your spine, soaking his cock with your come.

He relishes the feeling and soon after you feel the hot splash of his come filling you up, pumping into you. Pale always did have such a big load, you’re almost disappointed that you won’t get to keep it safe for him all day – that dirty secret leaking out of your pussy while you served coffee was one of your favorite thrills.

This was good though, just this, just Pale, the two of you in the empty and quiet diner. Neon spots dance in front of your eyes, as Pale slows to a lazy languid pace, milking your orgasms for all they’re worth.

“Mmmm, thank you.” You sigh dreamily, pleasure like pepsi-cola bubbling and fizzing your brain, your nerve endings when his hips finally come to a stop.

“Don’t go thankin’ me for nothin’, we’re only getting started.” Pale stubs his cigarette out in one of the little ashtrays on the counter, and eases his cock out of you. You stretch and pop your joints, pulling your panties up and feeling thoroughly used in the best way, especially when he pinches your chin and kisses you with, “Now howsabout that coffee?”

“’Fraid we’re all out.” You lie, seeing that the clock struck one, your shift officially over.

Pale grins, kisses you once more and takes your hand, guiding you from out of the milkshake bar on wobbly legs.

“You’ll just have to come home with me then pretty girl,” Pale grabs that leather jacket of his and slings it around your shoulders when you make it to the front door, “We’ll get somethin’ brewin’ real quick.”

And if the third shift girls notice anything funny about you when you pass them in the parking lot, well, you’ve got the whole day off tomorrow to avoid their questions, spendin’ it with your man, your VSOP, instead.

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