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tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

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common tongue of your loving me

A/N: so, I first just wanted to say that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to engage with. This is a very dark fic with triggering themes that may be disturbing for some readers. This is dead dove do not eat. Please heed the warnings with caution. I understand that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but for my first truly dark fic, I feel pretty good about it. It’s taken months of personal healing for me to become comfortable with writing/engaging with these kinds of fics. That being said, it is important to remember that SA survivors often use dark fic to cope from their own traumatic experiences, but also, dark fics can be enjoyed by anyone and no explanation for enjoying them is needed! Reading and writing dark fic does not mean that you condone this type of behavior. Please be kind.

~word count: 9.1k~

Summary: Joel finds you wandering through his territory and decides that he’ll take you in to be his little lamb. You don’t go with him so willingly.

pairing | raider!Joel x f!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!

Dubcon/noncon, the lines are blurred regarding to what the reader consents too, Joel is sick in the head, coercion, manipulation from both Joel and the reader, Stockholm syndrome vibes, he can kill easily you if he wanted to but he won’t, dom/sub, dark! Joel, feral! Joel, raider! Joel, rough unprotected sex, possession, degradation, age gap: Joel is 40 the reader is early 30’s, power imbalance, fear tactics, mind games, praise kink, pet names: little lamb and sir, rough unprotected piv, choking/breath play, knife kink, blood kink, voyeurism, hand job, mutual masturbation, cock warming, oral (male and female receiving) cum play, mutilation of a body part (not done to the reader) misogyny from Joel’s men, implied rape as threat/coercion, Joel is not a morally good person, touch deprivation, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence, submission on the means of survival, foul language, +18 minors dni!

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The Cordyceps Outbreak changed you in a plethora of ways. Survivor turned cold-blooded murderer; not of your own doing. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. Your saving grace happened to be a man. Brooding in strength, a quick tongue, and an even quicker aim. Calculated movements built up over years of tireless days and nights enduring whatever hell-scape the world had to offer. Grit, stubbornness, chapped lips, aliquine nose, paired with a wicked grin.

“Y’lost?” Gruff, gravelly, never ending pit of deepness. Joel Miller was crouched down between what you believed was an inconspicuous hiding space. You caught wind days out that a group of raiders had been silently stalking you. You were alone, with a limited supply of weapons in your reach.

“No.” Your voice trembled as you clutched your precious pocket knife to your chest.

“That so? What’re you doin’ hidin’ back there?” His head cocked curiously as his boot scraped along the tattered floor of the long since abandoned gas station.

“None of your goddamn business.” You hissed, teeth gritted as your eyes squeezed shut.

“Cute.” He mused. “Take it that you’re alone then? Y’got anythin’ on ya?”

“Are you going to kill me, or not? Cause if so, just get on with us for both our sakes.” You nearly pleaded.

He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Ain’t gonna do that. Woulda dragged you outta there myself if that was the case. Besides, I enjoy it more when they run.” He spoke so casually you could feel your blood quickly turn to ice from his tone alone.

“What the hell do you want then? I have nothing to offer. Just some measly scraps, and a dull pocket knife.”

I’m gonna die. That’s it. It’s all over. All that fighting for fucking nothing.

“Ain’t that a shame.” You could feel the smirk rise on his face as bile tried to force its way up your throat. “You’re in luck, my dear. Feelin’ a bit generous. Been lookin’ for a pet. Someone to keep my bed warm at night. Clean my gun. Be at my side. The offer stands, but expires in approximately..” He looked around as if there was a working clock in sight, “one minute.”

“Wait, wait! Are you saying you want me to be your slave?! Fuck no! I’d–”

“Temper, I see. My slave? Not at all, darlin.’ You’ve got it all wrong. Ain’t gonna force ya, although, you were the one to stupidly go waltzing into raider territory. More specifically, my territory. So, you either swallow that fuckin’ tongue of yours and accept your fate, or i’ll let my men have their way with ya. N’trust me, doll. They’ll tear you apart the second they get their hands on you.”

“You sick fuck! I’m not going anywhere with you!” You pushed your body further between the two aisle shelves that had collapsed over.

“Ten.”

“You’re insane!”

“Nine.”

“Eight.” He droned with mock enthusiasm.

“C’mon, you ain’t got anywhere else to go. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Don’t make this fuckin’ harder for yourself than it needs to be. My patience is runnin’ thin, and the clock is tickin’ away, little lamb.”

“I am not your little lamb, you fuckin’ monster!”

His eyes rolled in pure annoyance as you listened intently to the unmistakable clicking sound of his gun cocking.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

What other choice did you really have? Allow yourself to be violated, and god knows what else by this man’s men, or accept your fate and become his ‘pet.’ Just the thought alone sent a wave of nausea knocking through your system.

“Wait, wait! Please!” You nearly begged as you pulled yourself free from your hiding spot. You dropped your pocket knife to the floor with a clink as you held your hands above your head.

His smirk was nothing short of menacing as he took immediate notice to the terrified glassy look in your eyes.

“Don’t be frightened, little lamb.” He crooned

“You’re safe, and no harm will be done to you. However, my men will be deeply disappointed to hear that I have decided to take you as my own.”

God, this man was sick, but there was no turning back now. No escape route. No plan. No hope. Maybe he was just bluffing. Maybe his plan was to kill you when you’d least expect it. Maybe this was all just a game of cat and mouse for him; you being the helpless little mouse.

“You swear that you’re not going to touch me?” You eyed his outstretched hand warily.

“My darlin’ little lamb, you have my word. Although, I will have to pat you down. Y’know, to make sure you ain’t have anythin’ on ya. Oh, and don’t think I'm playin’ stupid either. Cus’ if you try’n kill me? I’ll make you wish that you had never been born. You have no idea what I am capable of, and my token of kindness only can stretch so far. Jus’ be good, and I won’t have to send a pretty thing like you six feet under. Got it?” His tone was sharp and straight to the point as his brow raised in your direction. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what this man was capable of.

You reluctantly took his hand as he hoisted you up from the grime infested floor. Not a second later did he have your back pinned securely against his broad chest as he held the sharp tip of your knife expertly against your jugular. All he would have to do was apply a tad bit of pressure in order to make a fatal incision. You could feel his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. His voice dropped an octave as he whispered, “Oh, and if you even think about tryn’ to run from me? I will hunt you down. Do I make myself crystal fuckin’ clear, little lamb?”

You struggled considerably in his constricting grip. A hiss slipped past your lips when the tip of the blade pricked your skin, blood beaded along the surface before slowly trickling down the column of your throat. “Fuck you, asshole.” You nearly whimpered when the blunt ends of his fingernails dug fiercely into your hips. He was unmoving like a mountain, or a slab of concrete. (whichever you prefer)

“That ain’t my name, little lamb.” He tuts before dipping his head down along the clavicle of your neck. His curls gently tickle your chin before you feel his hot tongue poke out and lick up the droplets of blood from your skin. You involuntarily inhaled a harsh breath as his lips harshly sucked on the entry wound. You heard a tiny grunt rumble up his chest before he uttered, tone thick and raspy, “It’s Joel.”

Joel fucking Miller.

His teeth nipped and scraped at your torn skin as his grip around you tightened. “Silly, silly, little lamb. You’ve gone and nicked yourself. Be good, and I’ll let you breathe.”

“Please, please let go of me, Joel. Please. You’re hurting me.” Your voice came out strained as you ultimately gave up on struggling in his steel-like grasp.

“There ya go. That’s a good little lamb.” He cooed as he loosened his grip around you. He had forgotten all about needing to pat you down as he slowly lowered your knife from its present position on your neck. He tucked it away in his own backpack for safe keeping. You were dumb to think that he’d let you have it back.

“Now that we’ve gotten the painfully hard stuff outta the way, y’can relax. So stiff.” He tsked as he nudged you forward. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m not a complete barbarian. Got a cabin with workin’ plumbing! Imagine that.” He chuckled amusedly.

You were far from amused as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively as he nudged you forward. Your feet worked on autopilot as his domineering presence was close behind you. “That’s nice, Joel. I could frankly fucking care less where you live.” You snapped in a sharp quick tone.

“Oh? Well, perhaps you’d rather fuckin’ sleep outside, chained to a tree like a goddamn dog.” he snapped back, quicker than you had expected.

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “Well, maybe I would much rather be chained to a fucking tree than breathe the same disgusting air as you.” So much for not pushing this man's buttons.

He laughed, and you could feel his hot breath tickling the hair along the back of your neck.

“As tempting as that sounds, how am I supposed to protect you if you’re chained to a tree?” He was smirking rather sadistically. You couldn’t see his face, but you just knew he was grinning through his teeth. “Besides, wouldn’t you much rather sleep in a warm, cozy bed, little lamb? I bet it’s been awhile since you’ve experienced that kinda comfort, hmm?” He knew he was toying with you and it was becoming increasingly difficult to not stand your ground.

“I don’t need your protection. I don’t want anything to do with it, and for the love of God, would you stop fucking calling me little lamb?”

“Y’know, the more you fight this, the worse it’s going to be. You oughta be thankin’ me. Y’know why? I could fuckin’ take you right here, right now. I can shove you to the ground and have my way with you, little lamb. You can scream and cry all you want, but there’s not a goddamn thing you could do to stop me. You’re defenseless, and apparently missing quite a few marbles in that brain of yours. I suggest you shut the fuck up, and keep movin.’” In the midst of your quarrel, he had silently removed his gun from the holster around his hips, and you could feel the cool metal of the barrel pressing into the back of your neck.

You froze purely out of fear as your mouth went dry. No words fell from your once confident tongue as he nudged you forward once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He hissed.

You were in fact shocked to see that Joel and his men didn’t live in filth and grime like you expected. Even moreso, it didn’t appear that they had stowed away any prisoners in their camp. This newfound knowledge was both comforting, and unsettling. Joel’s cabin was the furthest from the rest of the group. Tucked away in a grouping of evergreens. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was just some lone survivor too. You surveyed the surrounding area silently as he unlocked the front door. You could run..but how far would you manage to get? He’d hunt you down no doubt. Your body was already running off pure adrenaline. It had been weeks since you had a proper meal.

“Home sweet home.” He chimed as he gave you a rough jolt forward. Your legs nearly buckled from the surprised movement as you stumbled inside. The heavy wooden door swung shut as he locked it behind him.

“I imagine you must be starvin’ huh?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes as he slung his backpack along one of the hooks on the wall. “Uh-huh. You ain’t all that of a liar, little lamb. Look, if I were in your situation, i’d suck it the fuck up and be grateful for my generous hospitality. Y’wanna starve? Be my fuckin’ guest, but don’t say I didn’t try to feed ya.” He huffed as he strode past you, shoulder brushing yours roughly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

You stood there dumbly in the middle of the entryway as you subconsciously scratched at your arm. “Hey..uh, Joel?” You sounded timid and unsure of yourself but given the present circumstances, that was to be expected.

His head peeked around the corner as he made eye contact with you. “Yes, little lamb?”

Can he fucking quit it with that nickname already?

“So, I was wondering if it was possible for me to uh–shower? I’ve been traveling for weeks and I just figured you probably wouldn’t want me stinking up your bed? Just want to make sure I'm being a good pet for you.” You nearly gagged from your compliant words, but if you played your cards right, maybe you’d make it out of this alive.

His slow growing smirk was a tell-tale sign that he was buying your faux submission. Ruthless or not, he was still a man at the end of the day.

“Sure. S’not a problem at all. Y’need help findin’ your way? Jus’ down the hall n’to the left. I’ll leave some clothes out for ya as well. Think you’ve worn those things to ruin.” He casually gestured to your tattered clothing.

“Yeah, well..beggars can’t be choosers now can they?”

“No, they can’t.” He agreed.

You stared at one another a moment longer before you padded off down the hall. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you turned the corner. You paused momentarily to listen for his footsteps. Only when you were convinced he didn’t follow you, did you finally release a shaky breath. Just be good, and you’ll get out of this one way or another.

Joel’s bathroom was insipid in decor, but that came as to no surprise. It’s not like he had any reason to embellish the space with flowers or any other domestic shit. At least the towels looked fairly clean, and the shower head looked durable. You could have shed tears of joy when you turned the faucet handle and a steady stream flowed through the shower head. The water had a slightly oxidized odor from the well, but it wasn’t ice cold; more like room temperature. You wasted no time to shred your thin layers of clothing and discard them to the cool tile beneath your feet. Your nipples pebbled and grew taught under the cooling stream of water along your skin. You feel the filth and grime slowly wash away and stain the water a murky brown color from the debris. You were pleasantly surprised to find a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that was undoubtedly expired, but it would suffice.

The towel you wrapped around your body was a bit coarse and itchy from being utilized so many times. You kept your hand firmly wrapped around the front of the towel to prevent it from slipping down your still damp body. As you reached for the door handle you found shortly after that there was something blocking your ability to open it all the way. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the inevitable..clothes? There just outside of the door, folded nicely in a pile, was a shirt and pants waiting for you.

Joel was busy putzing around the kitchen as he prepared a well-deserved meal for the two of you. He was already convinced that you were warming up to him (finally). Or, perhaps you were just too exhausted to put up a solid fight. Either way, he was going to continue to use his generous hospitality to his advantage. Match point.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice.” He mused from where he was standing as you appeared from down the hall.

“Shower was pretty decent.” You mumbled in response.

“Go on and make yourself at home.” He gestured to the small kitchen table with two handcrafted wooden chairs. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“I already told you, I'm not hungry.”

“Still playin’ the stubborn game, are we? What happened to the whole ‘I want to be a good pet for you, Joel?’” he dropped the kitchen knife he was presently holding onto the countertop as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you think for a second that I'm going to trust you all of a sudden? I don’t want shit to do with your food.”

“Mmm. I see. S’you jus’ thought oh, i’ll just use his shower and shit will be all peachy keen? Sit your fuckin’ ass down at that table right now.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Oh, gee. You’re too kind! Giving me somewhere to finally rest my fucking feet.” You muttered sarcastically under your breath as you plopped down onto the chair finally.

Seconds later a plate was placed down in front of you. The smell was absolutely mouthwatering. Seared venison, potatoes, gravy and bread. This was a real hearty meal that you could only dream of having. It reminded you of Sunday dinner’s back at your parents when you were struggling to pay your rent off every month. You’d have leftovers for days thanks to them.

You suspiciously eyed your captor as he took the seat across from you and began to indulge in the meal he had prepared. You remained skeptical as your arms crossed over your chest defiantly.

“It ain’t poisoned if that’s what you’re thinkin.’ Why the hell would I be eating poisoned food? Besides, how are you supposed to keep my bed warm if you’re fuckin’ dead, little lamb?” He grumbled as he pointed his fork in your direction.

“I don’t know. Maybe a sick fuck like you is into that sorta thing. You don’t actually expect me to believe that you have a moral compass, do you?”

“Oh, you’re right on the head with that one. Just below your feet I have bodies stashed for safekeeping. Oh, and some are buried out back in the woods. You’ll find bones scattered about the property.” he stated nonchalantly as he leaned over the table with his eyes locked on yours. “Y’know what I love most? I love it when they scream and beg for their pathetic little lives to be spared. They all try to escape, but they never get very far. I give them all a fair head start jus’ to give them that false hope that they’re going to make it out of this alive.” He stabbed a piece of venison with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

Your blood curdled like rotten milk as you went to push your chair back. You were startled from the sound of his knife being embedded into the wood with a harsh thud. “Don’t you even fuckin’ think about it.” He hissed.

“Are you fucking serious?! You have dead bodies under the fucking floorboards?! So, this was your plan all along?! Make me play house with you till you get bored and decide to butcher me?!”

“No.” he deadpanned. “I was not bein’ serious. But, since you think i’m some sick fuckin’ monster that stashes women away to murder them, I decided to play into your little scenario. Now, fuckin’ eat your goddamn food. Or by God I will fucking pin you down and shove it down your throat.”

You truly could not tell if he was bluffing or not, but by the darkened appearance of his pupils, your brain was literally screaming at you to just pick the fucking fork up and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Fuck, this was the best thing you tasted in a long time.

When the sun began to set and cast a soft orange glow through the cabin windows, your nerves were on high alert when you faced the realization that you’d have to sleep in the same bed as this man. Your plate was nearly licked clean as he removed it from in front of you. He could sense your unease from a mile away. It was as if he could smell the fear leaking from your pores.

“Go on and get some rest, little lamb. I’ll be there in a few. Oh, and by the way, I prefer to sleep naked. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem for you.” He shot a flirty wink in your direction before you were immediately pushing your chair back.

Fucking peachy.

It wasn’t difficult to find his bedroom as it was the only other room in the mid size cabin. You would have much rather have slept on the uncomfortable hardwood floor than to share a bed with him. However, based on how he acted at the dinner table..you really didn’t want to stretch your luck, if you’d even call it that, any further.

The semi-comfortable mattress brought instant relief to your aching back and shoulders. A comfort short lived as you listened attentively to the faint footsteps approaching the door. Joel was surprisingly quiet as he slipped into the room like a shadow in the night. He barely acknowledged your presence as he shuffled to the unoccupied side of the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he sank down along it.

You laid there unmoving, quiet like a mouse as your eyes squeezed shut from the familiar shrill sound of the metal clasp of his belt clinking. His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud as a silent tear slowly rolled down your cheek. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift movement before he kicked his boxers down his ankles. You heard him let out a faint sigh as he scrubbed his hand down his patchy beard. You waited for the moment that he would pounce..but it never came as he slowly swung his legs onto the mattress with a soft grunt as he settled back into the pillows. His cock hung heavy between his thighs as he shifted positions ever so slightly. “G’night, little lamb. Sleep tight.” He crooned softly.

Wait..that’s it? No no. What the hell was going on? Didn’t he say he would–

“Goodnight, Joel.” You whispered as you rolled over so your back was facing him. You were on the very edge of the mattress, as far away as you possibly could be from him.

Joel was more than willing to play the long game with you. He was in no rush, and toying with your already fragile mind was part of the fun. He did swear that he wouldn’t touch you without your consent, but he never said anything about not touching himself. He was, after all, a lonely man in some capacity. Perhaps that’s why he had no shame to slowly wrap his fist around the base of his cock while you were laying just a few feet away. He trapped his lower lip between his teeth as he dragged his thumb across the ruddy head, collecting a bead of precum that had weeped from the narrow slit. He twisted his hand slowly as a grunt bubbled up his throat. He pulled his hand back only to filthily spit on it in order to create some lubrication. His head tilted back against the pillows as his mind ran rampant through his filthy desires. “Fuck, that’s it little, lamb.” He hissed between his teeth, digging his heels into the mattress as his cock grew hard and swollen in his grasp.

You could vaguely hear the rustling of the sheets through your light slumber. You thought maybe you were experiencing some vivid dream when you detected Joel’s soft grunt and the unmistakable sound of him spitting into his hand. It felt like your body was betraying you and riding off into the deep end as your thighs subconsciously clenched together. His sounds of gratification only seemed to spur your now awake body to relieve itself in some capacity as your hand slowly snaked down between your thighs. It had been longer than you could remember since you last shared a bed with someone. Perhaps this was all based purely on animalistic instincts as your fingers dipped beneath your panties. Your clit was throbbing for attention as your fingertips skated across it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek hard to suppress a whimper from slipping out, but it was audible enough for Joel to hear it. Once you started, there was no going back as your fingers worked your clit in slow circular motions.

Joel was shocked to say the least. So much so, that his hand had stilled around his cock as he listened to your pathetic little whimpers that you were desperately trying to suppress. You being so unpredictable to him was an absolute turn on. He couldn’t believe that his dirty little lamb was shamelessly playing with herself. Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all. His cock twitched against his stomach as he imagined just how tight your little pussy would hug him, and that’s all it took for him to shred his remaining morale. “What’re you doin’ over there, little lamb?” He whispered through the pale moonlight that casted shadows across the bed frame.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You scrambled to remove your hand from between your thighs as a sense of embarrassment and dread washed over you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the excitement and adrenaline rush of being caught.

“Don’t stop on my account, dirty little lamb. You sounded so desperate to come. Why deprive yourself of that pleasure?” He hummed through his teeth as he gave the base of his cock a firm relieving squeeze. “Or are you seekin’ some assistance? I’d be happy to help..can’t leave your pussy hanging on the edge for that long, little lamb. She deserves better treatment than that.” He tsked disapprovingly.

it was as if a lightbulb had suddenly flashed in your brain. Yes, use this to your advantage. This is what he wants, right? Give it to him. Make him think that you’re submissive. Fuck him stupid and leave when he’s sleeping. Play his game better than he is.

“It hurts.” You pouted as tears of frustration began to slowly drip down the corners of your eyes. You did have to sell the part after all.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. I know it hurts..bet it’s been so long since your cunt has been properly taken care of, hmm? When’s the last time she’s been stretched out by a cock?” He asked softly as you felt the mattress dip down from him slowly roll over onto his elbow so he was facing you.

“It’s been too long, sir. I can’t even remember the last time I was properly filled up by a cock. I miss that feeling so much. Will you help me, please? I want you to take care of me, Joel.” You nearly moaned out a plea as your thighs rubbed together beneath the sheets.

Joel’s rough exterior had seemingly melted into a puddle of liquid as you nearly begged him. Who was he to say no to a person in need? Here you were, so willing, so compliant, so submissive, and right where he wanted you to be. “Oh, my poor little lamb. It’s been that long for you? Perhaps I’ll just have to remind your cunt just how good it feels to be properly filled up by a cock, hmm? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, Joel. Please remind me how good it feels to be filled up by a cock. I want you to stretch me out..I want to feel you everywhere..think you can handle that, sir?” You were already reaching for his hand as he scooted closer to where your body was laying. You guided his hand between your thighs so he could feel just how wet you were for him. “Please, can’t you feel how wet I am? Please make me feel good, sir.”

His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull from your desperation and neediness as his fingers lightly traced the seam of your panties where he could feel the wetness pooling through the fabric. “I’ll take real good care of you, little lamb. You’re in good hands. We’ll have to take these off so I can get a good look at ya. Bet she’s so fuckin’ pretty. Dyin’ to have a peek.”

He’s a goner.

She’s a goner.

“Take them off, please.” You whimpered as his hands grasped the hem of your panties and slowly pulled them down your thighs. His pupils dilated from the sight of the fabric sticking to your puffy wet pussy. His mouth watered from the sight alone as he discarded your ruined panties to the floor. You felt the warm embrace of his hand wrap around the inside of your thigh as he coaxed it across his lap so he could spread you nice and wide. “Oh, fuck. Look at how swollen she is. Must hurt so much.” He pouted with furrowed brows. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy. I cannot wait to ruin her, my little lamb.” At this angle you were entirely exposed to his greedy eyes as you watched his hand travel southward once more. He used his middle and forefinger to spread your folds open so he could get a better view of your swollen little clit. He appeared to be mesmerized as your tight wet little hole involuntary clenched inwards.

Your moans were anything but fake as his thumb slowly worked your clit into tight circles. He wasn’t lying about the fact that you certainly were in good hands. You were wet enough as it is, but he felt that extra lubrication couldn’t hurt as he spat a glob of saliva between his fingers and rubbed it in. He soon had two fingers knuckle deep inside of you as he slowly curled them inwards. “Gotta get you nice and relaxed for me, baby. I don’t wanna hurt ya, and you’re being such a good little lamb for me. I think I’ll just have to reward you for that. How does that sound?” His eyes drifted upwards so he could see your face twist with pleasure as your toes curled inwards.

“Oh, sir.” You moaned wantonly. “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop. I promise I’ll keep being your good little lamb. Can you show me your cock, Joel? I want to see it. I bet it’s so big..what if it doesn’t fit?”

He shifted his hips upwards so you could get a good look at his dick. He watched your eyes widen the slightest at the sight of him. Heavy set balls, dark coarse hair, and by far the thickest cock you had ever feasted your eyes upon. “Shh, we’ll make it fit. It’ll feel so fuckin’ good once I’m stretching you out, little lamb. You just gotta trust me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you trust me?”

“Mhmm. I can trust you, sir. I know you’ll take extra good care of me. Please don’t make me wait much longer..please be good to me.”

He pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple as he felt the walls of your pussy clench down around his thick digits. The squelching sound sent blood quickly flowing southwards as his cock twitched against his thigh. As soon as he slipped his fingers out of you, he knelt between your thighs with one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock as he twisted his wrist a couple times. His freehand was wrapped around the underside of your thigh as he brought it around his shoulder with your heel resting along his firm shoulder blade. “Good little lamb. I’m goin’ fill this pretty little pussy up just the way that she deserves, okay? See, I told you that bein’ my pet wasn’t gonna be so bad. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.” He mumbled under his breath as he slowly dragged his tip between your folds, rutting his hips forward slowly. The tip of his cock bumped against your already sensitive clit with each gentle thrust.

Your brain felt like a scrambled egg that was being mentally toyed and fucked with. This sick man could have easily fucked you like a rag doll into his mattress, and instead he was choosing to take things slow. Why? You couldn’t wrap your head around his reasoning, or if this was truly just another piece to his game, but Jesus fuck, there was no denying that it felt fucking incredible.

Your words came out like slurred jarble as your mouth slowly felt open when you felt him slowly start to sink inside of you, stretching you open, filling you up just like his promise. It felt like his cock was splitting you in two the further he pressed into you. He coaxed you gently when you clawed at his forearms. Shushing you with featherlight kisses to your cheekbones when he had bottomed out. Your leg fell limp around his shoulder when he had slowly pulled his hips back before jutting them forward.

He was fucking you deliciously deep as the matress squeaked from the movement. He was watching your face for any signs of discomfort as you struggled to figure out where he started, and where he ended. Your pussy hugged him tight as it drew him in deeper with each thrust. His hand nearly engulfed your hip as his thumb lightly pressed down along your lower abdomen where he could feel the tip of his cock just barely kissing your cervix. “Can you feel me right there, little lamb? You’re doing so good for me. So fuckin’ good. Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. She’s huggin’ me so good.” His grunts mixed with your sharp moans as you struggled to not completely throw your plan out the window. In this position it was hard to gain any sense of control; it was time to switch things up.

“Joel, baby.” You mewled softly as your hips rolled forward to meet his thrusts. “I wanna try something that I think you’ll really like..I wanna be on top. You must be so exhausted from dealing with me all day..why don’t you lay back and I’ll do all the work?” You suggested with a harsh breath as he leaned down over you. You could feel the broad weight of his chest pressing down against you as his lips brushed across the shell of your ear, “that’s the best idea you’ve had all goddamn day, little lamb.”

Even after your handsome offering, he wasn’t quite ready to slip out of your warmth just yet. Now that he had a taste, there was no way in hell that he was about to let you go from his grasp. He had consumed you completely to the point where it felt like you were being suffocated by his sheer mass and the way he managed to hit that spongy spot inside of you with every profound intense induced thrust. His wiry patchy beard scraped at the soft skin of your cheek as he drove himself further. “Jus’ gimme a little more time with ya like this. You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Jus’ a little longer.” He stuttered between harsh jagged breaths that fluttered across the shell of your ear. His teeth nipped, scraped at the skin as the musty scent of his sweat melded into yours. Skin on skin: with no point of relief.

When he finally began to slowly slip out of your tight wet walls, it appeared that your body was reluctant to let go of him based on the way your pussy clenched around him tightly like a fist. He chuckled low and deep as he watched a mixture of your release and his own leak out of your tight fucked out hole. It glistened along the apex of your thighs, trailing down your skin, dripping along the once unsoiled comforter.

“My my, little lamb. You’ve gone and made quite the mess of yourself hmm?” He teased as he slowly dragged his pointer finger through the mixture of fluids as if he was creating an erotic painting, and his finger was the steady brush.

Focus. Focus. Focus. Your brain chanted at you relentlessly.

“Hnngh..mhm..i’ve made such a mess of myself, sir. Will you please clean me up?”

He smirked cruelly through the pale moonlight that danced across your skin as he scooted himself back on his knees, his cock brushing against the comforter and creating just enough stimulation for him to be satisfied for the time being. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you an itty-bitty reward.” He mused as his eyes locked in on your glistening pussy just begging to be kissed. Your lashes fluttered when you felt his hot breath fan your core. Might as well get all the use out of him that you could get.

He pressed open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Sucking, licking, kissing around where you craved him most. The second those sinful lips latched onto your swollen clit, a carnal need washed over both of you as he devoured you whole. His tongue worked you in languid strokes as he made sure to lick up every last drop. Your orgasm was steadfast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened. Your thighs clamped firmly around his head like a stubborn shell. If it were any other situation, you’d let him eat you for hours, days even, but you had to stick to your plan.

He wasn’t letting up easily as you used all your strength to push his head from between your thighs. His beard and lips were coated in your slick as he finally released you from his death grip. There was no time to catch your breath as his strong arms were already hosting you into his lap as he lazily rolled over onto his back with a soft grunt.

“Keep bein’ my good little lamb, and you’ll wake up every mornin’ with my head between your thighs.” He nearly purred as his hands anchored themselves around your hips. You could feel the head of his cock notching at your entrance as you slowly sank down against his bulky strong thighs. It took a mere moment for you to snap back into character and keep up with your charades as you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. “I’m going to take care of you now okay, Joel? You’ve been so good to me. I’m so grateful for your generous hospitality and your cock. I just want you to sit back and relax..can you do that for me, baby?” You held all the control in the palm of your hand as you slowly slid his tip between your slit. Your little noises of appreciation had his head spinning in circles as he squeezed your hips firmly.

“M’gonna keep you forever, just like this. Stuffed full of my cock. Filled to the fuckin’ brim.” He hissed between his teeth as you slowly inched yourself around him till he had filled you to the hilt. “M’so lucky to have a good little lamb like you, baby. My good little cockslut. It ain’t so bad, is it? Mmm..maybe you and I are more alike than you think.” He murmured with a lazy grin etched on his face as he gazed up at you through thick lashes.

“Of course i’ll be your good little lamb forever and ever, sir.” You played along as you slowly rolled your hips forward. “I’ll be so good to you just like you have been to me.” Now you had him right where you wanted him and it was only a matter of time. You affectionately played with his sweat stained curls, licked the musk from his neck as you inhaled his masculine aroma that seeped from his pores. You nipped at his flesh and left little love bites speckled across his skin. You fucked him the best way that you could, spending what was left of your dwindling energy to convince this man that you were submitting to him entirely. Each roll of your hips, and smack of your skin transported him to a new state of pure ecstasy. He didn’t last very long considering he was fairly spent himself. He let out a deep guttural animalistic grunt that ruptured from deep within his chest as he spilled his seed into you. He could feel both yours and his release drip down between where your bodies were connected. He praised in a soft tone, mumbling about how he was going to fall asleep just like this. “Y’stay right there, little lamb. Gonna keep you stuffed full of my cock all night.” He rasped as his lashes fluttered shut.

By all means, sir. Keep me stuffed full of your cock, because come morning, you’ll be waking up to an empty, cold, miserable bed. You fucking idiot.

He dozed off, still buried deep inside of your cunt as you sat there obediently. You listened to the sound of his breathing return to a normal rate as soft snores slipped past his parted lips. Only when you were certain that he wouldn’t awake from his sex induced slumber, did you finally slip off of his lap. You could feel the sticky residue of his come latching onto your thighs as his cock went soft. You gathered up the clothes he had given you as you rushed to dress and get the hell out of there. You were as quiet as a mouse as you crept out of his room. Your eyes zoned in on the rifle hanging along the hook next to the door.

You were so close to freedom you could almost taste it as you unlatched the door and began to slowly push the handle down–

“Where are you runnin’ off to, little lamb?” His tone was low and menacing as you felt the hardness of his chest press against your back. In one swift movement he had pulled the door shut with a heavy slam that rattled your bones to the core. You went to reach for his rifle but he was on you in a flash as he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. He knocked you forward against the wooden door with your cheek pressed firmly into the rough texture of the wood. When you didn’t respond to his original question, he asked again, but a lot less nicer.

“I said, where the fuck do you think you’re runnin’ off to, little lamb? Y’think you can play me for a goddamn fool?!” He bellowed. His harsh words bounced off the walls of the cabin as you struggled in his painful grip. “After I fed you, put clothes on your back and fucked you dumb, you think you can jus’ fuckin’ leave?!”

“Sir, I'm so sorry! You have it all wrong! I—just wanted to get some fresh air! I was going to come right back, I swear!” You took the pleading route in hopes that maybe he’d show you just a smidge of mercy. “I’d never leave you!”

He laughed darkly as he shoved you further into the door, creating little to no space for you to breathe. “Fuckin’ save it. You’re a goddamn filthy liar, little lamb! You were leavin’ me! What a fuckin’ shame too because you were being so so good. Pity, because I was actually thinking of letting you go myself.” He lied straight through his teeth as he forced his knee between your thighs and spread them apart. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrists painfully together wrapped around your middle as he yanked you roughly against his chest. His lips were right at your ear now. “You were being such a good little lamb for me, that I was beginning to feel sorry for taking you away..I was going to let you go first thing in the morning, but you just had to go and fuckin’ ruin it for yourself, huh?” He tsked

Fresh tears began to cascade down your face as you continued to try and break free. Your hope was quickly diminishing like a candle being blown out as he twisted your wrists at an unnatural angle. “PLEASE!” You begged, “I’m so sorry, sir! Please don’t kill me! I–I–can make it up to you, I swear!”

“Kill you? Oh, my dear sweet little lamb, you really haven’t been payin’ attention, have you? I’m not going to kill you. You’re far too pretty to be feasted on by some critters. That simply won’t do.” His hand that was securely wrapped around your middle snaked upwards as he roughly groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. “Quit your fuckin’ squirming. You ain’t gettin’ yourself outta this one, little lamb.”

“Please, please let me go! I’m–I'm sorry for not being a good pet! I can do better! Please, Joel! You’re hurting me!” You cried out for mercy.

“Now, you’re gonna sit still and be a good little lamb, or I'll feed you to the wolves just outside my door.” He whispered harshly as he dropped his hand from around your breast only to then find the button on your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. Your pussy was sore and overstimulated when he pressed the ruddy head of his cock between your thighs. “Can’t you hear ‘em howlin?’ Bet they’re fistin’ their cocks right now thinkin’ about how your pretty little cunt would hug them so tight. S’only for me, right? This cunt belongs to me. Don’t fuckn’ gimme a reason to share.” He hissed as he harshly thrusted up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Your words came out as strangled cries as he continued to ram into you. “Can’tcha hear ‘em now? Beggin’ for this cunt. C’mon, little lamb. Scream for me. Let them know just how good daddy is treatin’ ya. Don’t you fuckin’ hold back.” His thumb and forefinger pressed firmly against your trachea making it harder for oxygen to reach your brain as your body went into distress mode. The more you fought, the tighter he held you. When you could begin to see stars dancing behind your eyelids, and your breath came out in a weak wheezing sound, he finally released you from his death grip.

You buckled over, gasping for air as your knees hit the floor with a sickening thud.

“Don’t you ever try to outsmart me again, little lamb.” He was standing over you like an ominous shadow as choked sobs raked through your body.

“Now, get the fuck back to bed, or i’ll drag you there myself.”

You took his threat seriously as you scrambled to your feet and scurried back to his room.

You never crossed him again, and for good reason. He apologized for his actions the next morning over breakfast. You weren’t very hungry, but forced yourself to eat for your own sake. Now you were his broken and submissive little lamb.

He did keep his promise of keeping you safe from all harm. Once enough trust was instilled, he allowed you to accompany him outside. He taught you all that he knew during those months. You found it hard to not begin to fall for him when he showed you his gentler side. It felt wrong, but right at the same time to love a man who was so cruel. He stripped you of your autonomy, and then stitched it right back together with his own needle and thread. You adapted to his lifestyle as if it was the back of your hand. Accompanying him on raids, torturing helpless individuals for the sheer thrill it felt to hold another person’s life in the palm of your hands.

Maybe you were sicker than he was.

This winter was proving to be unforgiving. Supplies and rations were low, and Joel’s men were growing antsy. Their leader was spending too much time tucked away in his cabin with you, and it was only a matter of time before someone would lash out. You were still fast asleep tucked away cozily in Joel’s warm bed while he called a meeting with the rest of the group.

“I say we head west. There ain’t nothin’ left here for us.” One of his men stated, and heads began to slowly nod in agreement.

“West? Why the hell would we go and do that? We got a decent territory here, and I'm this close to gettin’ us into the QZ. Jus’ have to twist a few more fingers to get us there. This ain’t the worst winter we’ve had. Don’t go and act like a bunch of fuckin’ pussies just because you’re afraid that your dicks are gonna freeze off.” He snapped.

“Easy enough for you to say, Miller. You’re the one who’s got a cockslut keepin’ you warm on the cold nights. What about the rest of us, huh? Can’t be bothered to share your prize?”

Joel could feel his blood begin to simmer as he slowly turned his head to the side. His eyes were narrowed into slits as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What the fuck did you jus’ call her?” His tone was eerily calm as he did his best to keep his temper at bay. You were off limits; end of story.

“You heard me. Bet that cockslut of yours was the one who suggested we stay here. That’s why it ain’t good to keep women around for long. They talk and talk and think that they have the answer for everything! Well, you know what I gotta say to that? Keep ‘em around to keep your cock warm and toss ‘em when they grow smart. That’s all they’re good for anyway. Jus’ a tight wet hole to fuck.”

The prominent veins in Joel’s neck bulged to the surface of his neck. His skin was so hot that the swirling flurries that landed on him immediately melted. His face grew red with rage. You were far more than just a hole to fuck. You were his little lamb, and god help any motherfuckers that dare disrespect his little lamb.

“I should fuckin’ carve your tongue out for that. She is not my cockslut.” If Joel’s men were smart, they’d back off while they still had the chance, but men will be men after all.

“Oh, please! Is her pussy really all that? Look at how soft you’ve gone, Miller! I say you dispose of her while you still have the chance. Oh, but before you do that, bring her out for a spin. We’ve been dyin’ to see what her cunt is all about.”

It was as if something inside of Joel had suddenly snapped and he found his hands constricted around the man’s neck. Joel had him pinned to the snow covered ground as the man thrashed around violently. No one dared to try and stop their leader until they heard the crunching of snow beneath boots as your voice drifted through the brewing blizzard like a rumbling echo

Joel’s head snapped in the direction of your voice as he loosened his grip around the man’s neck slightly. “Baby, what the fuck are you doin’ out here? It’s freezing! Get back inside–”

You were quick to cut him off as you approached the scene that was laid out in front of you. You ignored his present concern for your wellbeing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is going on here, Joel?”

“Seth said some shit that he really oughta have kept to himself. S’alright. I got this one handled. Why don’t you go on back home where it’s warm.”

“No. I want you to tell me what he said.” You stood firm

Joel eyed the rest of his men who were all looking much like sheep themselves. “He called you a cockslut, and that all a woman is good for is a tight wet hole to fuck.” He deadpanned.

You appeared unfazed sans the slight arch of your brow. “Really?” You scoffed. “How original. Don’t you think that strangling him is a bit too merciful?”

“Well, before you came out here, I threatened to carve his tongue out.”

“Oh?” You asked with a lopsided grin. “Now that is more your style, baby. Wanna use my knife? I just sharpened it the other day.”

Seth was nervously looking between yours and Joel’s sadistic grins as he struggled to escape. All Joel had to do was snap his fingers once for two of his men to then force Seth down by his shoulders, and physically pry his jaw open as he thrashed wildly on the ground.

“My little lamb, you’re so sick..y’know that?” He was already reaching for your outstretched knife before his hand encased around your wrist and gently tugged you down into the snow. “Front row seat jus’ for you, baby. Don’t worry, he’ll never say another word about you again.” he sealed his promise to you against your lips before he was pulling away to finish off the job.

“S’matter, Seth? Cat got your tongue?” Joel crooned as grabbed the back of his head and yanked it forward. “This oughta teach ya to respect women.”

“Joel–wait! Please don’t do this! I’m sorry! I’m–” Seth’s pleas were violently cut off when Joel sliced right through his tongue. Blood spattered and squirted from the gushing wound as his once attached muscle now laid limp in the snow.

“Oh, what was that? You’re sorry? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.” Joel spat before he picked up the chunk of Seth’s mutilated tongue and tossed it right into the nearby fire pit.

“Get him outta my sight before I decide to rip his throat out too. Tie him up to a tree a few miles from here. Leave him to the wolves. They’ll finish him off.” He demanded his men as he wiped the blood from your knife along Seth’s shirt.

His hand reached for yours to help you up from the ground. You held no shame to admit that watching Joel mutilate someone in front of you so willingly sent a wave of arousal gushing between your clenched thighs, and you probably would have fucked him right then and there and let his men watch because none of that really mattered anymore. You opted to pull him behind a cluster of trees instead as you dropped to your knees ceremoniously in the bitter cold snow that instantly bit at your exposed bare skin. Your hands clawed for his belt as you desperately unlatched it and shoved his jeans down his thighs swiftly. Your cheeks felt cold to the touch as Joel’s hand affectionately held your face in his warm palm as you pulled his stiff cock free. His heart swelled with pure pride for his good little lamb.

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star-girl69 · 10 months ago

Text

Fade Into You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you fell first, but clarisse fell harder. requested by anonymous!

a/n: decided to feed y’all today….. two fics i’m a monster that just creates and creates. this was so funny bc i kept accidentally writing angst and i had to stop myself. they’re allowed to have crushes on each other. it’s ok. this was hard anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

Fade Into You - Mazzy Star

warnings: just so cutesy, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of blood and injury, soft clarisse i looooovvvvveeeeee you, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your chest heaves. You’ve never ran that fast or that far before in your life. Your satyr protector runs ahead to get the healers, and you crash against some random building- a tool shed, maybe?

You groan, crouching down to clutch at your lower leg sporting a large gash running blood. You don’t remember how it happened. Maybe it was when you fell? You could have sliced it open on an unfortunately sharp stick.

You don’t even want to think about the fact that the stupid monster thing chasing you could have gotten close enough to claw at you.

“Hey, hey,” someone says, crouching down next to you. She’s wearing an orange shirt. Her hair is curly, her eyes are pretty and brown, and oxygen isn’t getting to your brain so she kind of seems like an angel. “Oh, wow,” she mutters, looking at your leg. “One second, ‘kay?”

“Wait,” you say, grabbing onto her forearm. She looks up at you.

“I’m going two steps away, dummy.” She laughs, and you’ll remember that sound for the rest of your life.

She leaves you, and you almost want to cry because you feel so alone. You’ve just been told you’re a demigod, then you were forced to run through the woods, your heart is still hammering and your leg fucking burns.

But she was right. It was only two steps, and she comes back, the door of what must be some sort of storage shutting behind her.

She leans back down and presses a towel against your gash.

You hiss.

“Sorry,”

“You’re not.” She laughs again. More beautiful music in your ears.

“I’m not,” she agrees.

You fall into silence, it’s so dark out, but you can see everything about her so clearly.

“You can stop breathing so heavily,” she whispers, the shouting of your satyr protector getting closer, along with what must be the healers. “Camp Half-Blood is surrounded by a magical barrier. You’re safe here. Well, at least, no monsters are gonna get you.

“O-okay,” you mumble. You aren’t sure if you believe her. You don’t think you believe anything anymore.

The healers push her away, you’re so so tired, and she stands up, dusting off her hands.

“Thank you, Clarisse,” one of the healers says. “We’ll take it from here.”

Clarisse.

—-

The purpose of Clarisse La Rue’s entire existence seems to be to drive you insane.

The way her arms flex when she wields her spear, the way she lifts her shirt up to dab at sweat on her brow; and the way you can see her toned stomach and the faintest hint of abs you would actually kill to touch. The way she smiles, even though it’s never really genuine, and the way she laughs when she’s making fun of someone.

She was the first person you met at camp, and you’re pretty sure she doesn’t even remember it, yet alone know your name.

It was ironic, as the daughter of Aphrodite, to be quietly pining over someone from the distance. And it sucked, but maybe you would just always have this quiet crush on Clarisse, and you learned to take it like you took your breakfast.

Until the start of this summer, when everyone came back to camp, it was alive again, and it all changed. And now you’re fucked.

—-

You smile, watching a few of the younger campers scream about how amazing the lake is. Summer’s just started. It’s so beautiful this time of year. They didn’t have as traumatic experiences as you, no monsters chased them right up to the barrier of camp. The lake is huge and so blue it seems otherworldly- probably because it is.

You slam into something.

It’s an awkward flare of limbs and muttered obscenities, but you manage to keep yourself upright by falling back into a very convenient tree.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up and expecting to make eye contact with anyone but her.

You haven’t been face to face with Clarisse in four years. You mouth snaps shut, and you’re sure you look like a terrified deer in headlights.

She’s frozen just like you.

“W-watch where you’re going,” she hisses, pushing you farther into the tree as she walks past you.

Did Clarisse just stutter?

—-

Clarisse stares at you.

You blush like you’re about to turn into a flamingo.

The cycle repeats.

—-

This year, the Ares and Aphrodite cabins were paired together to share the field for sword practice just before dinner. The sun is hidden by the trees, providing some nice shade as you frown at all the Ares kids sparring like their lives depend on it.

While Aphrodite kids are not the most naturally skilled in fighting, you’re still demigods, and you still have to know how to protect yourselves.

Matty, a Ares child and your sister Tyla’s boyfriend, already sparred three times, winning against his siblings, then sparred with Tyla once; which just ended with her getting bored after a minute and dropping her sword before jumping into his arms.

You watch random people spar. Everyone moves around you, Tyla and Matty are on top of each other next to you on the bench, everyone walks around you to collect their water bottles from the table behind you.

“Aren’t you gonna spar, Y/N?” Tyla asks, fiddling with Matty’s hands.

“No,” you laugh.

“That’s against the rules.”

You know that voice, you hear that annoyingly angelic voice in your dreams.

Clarisse sits down next to you. You can hear Tyla smiling. Only a few of your siblings who can be trusted to keep a secret know about your wretched crush. You’re probably blushing.

“Uh, what?” you say, looking in her direction but not risking actually looking at her.

“You have to spar,” she says, like it’s painfully obvious, kicking out her legs.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you shrug.

“Sounds like you’re scared, Y/N,” Matty muses.

You shoot him a bored look. “Sounds like you’re whipped, Matty.”

Tyla is currently in Matty’s lap, her hands in his hair.

“Oh, definitely,” he says, turning towards Tyla with a sweet smile on his face and she coos and immediately attaches her face to his.

“Oh, Gods,” you mutter, turning away from the two of them having borderline sex on the bench.

Clarisse laughs.

You clench your fist, you feel like you’re gonna explode being so close to her and not able to climb up into her lap and kiss her like a woman starved.

“You still have to spar, you know.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Hm, no. I won’t have to.”

You finally look towards her, if only because you’re confused, but she’s looking straight out at the the distance, where a certain centaur is making his way to the fields-

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss, immediately jumping up and scrambling for a sword from the pile behind you.

You turn around, hoping one of your siblings is free so you can spar with them-

The sword is ripped out of your hands.

“That one sucks,” Clarisse says, simply, while you stand there with your mouth open. She rifles through the swords. “Use this one instead.”

The one she hands you does seem a lot easier to hold. Not too heavy, not too light.

How the hell could she tell which one is best for you just by looking at you?

“Matty,” Clarisse says. “Chiron’s coming.”

Tyla and Matty both hop up, giggling at they make their way towards one of the marked circles.

As you’re left there with Clarisse, it suddenly hits you that after four years of simple indifference, she’s talking to you like she knows you. Or like she wants to know you.

You like her too much to question it. You want her too much to be bothered as to why she’s giving you five minutes of her time.

Clarisse walks away. You thought it was going to happen, so your heart feels this sort of heavy that is indescribable, but she turns around.

“Are you coming?” she asks, deadpan.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you say, sticking your sword under your arm and cracking your knuckles. With Chiron showing up, she leads you to the marked circle all the way at the edge of the field, the start of the woods, the very last one.

She stops and turns around, this sort of nonchalant but smug look on her face. She reaches forward and bats your hands away from each other with a single swat that leaves you so shocked from the feeling of her skin on hers that your hands fall to your sides.

“Stop that. You’ll hurt ‘em.”

Here, right in front of the trees, the sun shining through the gaps shines off of Clarisse’s tan skin and her bronze armor in a way that makes her look otherworldly.

Clarisse’s that kind of pretty where you just never want to stop staring at her. The kind of pretty where you just want to fade into her and be next to her; the kind of pretty where nothing compares to her but it just watches her too.

Like the sun behind her, it isn’t jealous, it just admires her and shines off her skin.

She’s smirking at you, her knees bending into an offensive position, her spear pointing at you.

“He’s watching,” she taunts, and you’re really not in the mood for a lecture and the loss of dessert privileges, so you copy her.

“I’m not the best-”

She spins forward, spear arcing toward you. You yelp, raising your sword up to block her spear. They slam together.

“You’ll do fine,” she smiles, so smug in a way that makes you want to slap her and kiss her all at once.

“Whatever,” you mumble as she pulls back.

But you feel a little more confident with her praise, launching a surprise attack. She seems a little shocked, but she blocks it, probably a bit closer than normal.

“Feisty,” she murmurs.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

She launches her own attack, more force behind it this time, and it’s harder to stop her, but you do, you push her back.

“It means you’re exactly like I thought you were.”

You frown, because what is she even saying, but she launches another attack, smiling brightly as you block it, her eyes never leaving your form.

It’s a blurry of your heartbeat in your ears, her smile, the clash of her spear and your sword, the rest of the field coming to life with the sound of metal on metal, wins and losses.

Your arm is growing heavy.

But you keep your eyes open, blocking her attacks and waiting for an opening you’re not sure will ever come.

Finally, she reveals her side, and you swing, your sword clanging as it hits her metal armor.

She looks down at your sword and then you.

When she looks up again, it’s never the same.

—-

“Did you let me win that first day?”

You’re in the woods with her, so many months after that first day, and it all still feels like it was yesterday. You’re laying on a blanket on the soft grass, facing each other, limbs tangled together and her arm around you.

“Hm?” she says, slightly sleepy.

“When we sparred?”

“Oh,” she smiles, yawns. “Yeah, I let you win.”

You gasp and hit her arm.

“Clar, that’s, like, horrible. Our relationship was built on lies.”

You’re the only person allowed to call her that.

She frowns. “It wasn’t. What are you talking about?”

“I was gloating over you for months, and you let me-”

“Okay, but, you still won. I just helped you a bit. That’s what a good girlfriend should do.”

“You were not my girlfriend then.”

“Yeah, but you wanted me to be. For how long? Four years?”

You roll yours eyes. “You bumped into me once and then became obsessed with me.”

She smiles against you as she kisses your forehead.

“Who wouldn’t?” she snorts. “Not my fault you bumped into me in a way no one else ever has, angel.”

“My love language is just bumping into people, I think.”

“Then you can’t bump into anybody but me. Or else I’d kill them, probably.”

“A true romantic.”

She wraps her arms around you, muscles flexing as she pulls you on top of her.

“Only for you, angel,” she says, eyes falling closed again. “‘M cold, be my blanket.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all rough and tough?”

“Can’t be with you,” she yawns. “Love you too much. Now shush. I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“You big baby,” you mumble. “Big bad Clarisse needs to fall asleep with her girlfriend and get her full eight hours or else she’ll go on a rampage.”

“Damn right.”

Clarisse is the type of pretty that just makes you wanna fade into her. And you do, in the light of the rising moon, the light of the fading sun. You fade into her.

—-

y/n when clarisse helps her on her first day: wow, an angel 😍😍

clarisse when y/n bumps into her: wow, an angel 😍😍

ALSO CLARISSE CALLING Y/N ANGEL???? I THINK I’VE FOUND MY NEW OBSESSION Y’ALL

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #pjo tv show #pjo x reader

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tikosblogg · 3 months ago

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The Scars We Bare….❤️

Summary: After a traumatic accident leaving your body scarred for life, Noah makes it his mission to remind you of your worth.

Warning: piv sex, unprotected sex(don’t do that), slight choking. Body worship?, mentions of blood, fighting. Let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: This is a little heavier than I usually write about, but I thought it was so sweet. I’m sorry if it’s trash, I wrote this while watching Summer slam🤪

The energy inside our house was insane, the house pulsing with the music and the laughter of friends. the ambiance was alive—a perfect backdrop to celebrate the end of their successful tour. I had always been the glue that held this ragtag bunch together. Growing up alongside Noah, and the guys meant our lives were intertwined in a way that made this party feel like a reunion of sorts, no matter how long we’ve lived together or how often we saw each other while they are on the road.

As I mingled among partygoers, I felt an undeniable sense of pride for these guys who had worked so hard, now basking in the glow of their accomplishments. But tonight wasn’t just about them; it was about me too. I had hopes of taking my relationship with Brent to the next level.

Brent is the first relationship I’ve had since my accident 4 years ago. We have been seeing one another for about a month, and in my gut, I felt tonight could be the night we solidified what we both wanted. Nobody has seen my body since that traumatic day, except for Noah. My family lives out of state, so as soon as I was released from the hospital Noah moved me in here.

He was my rock during the whole ordeal and helped me heal. Our friendship is a special one, that I hold dearly in my heart. He bathed me, cooked for me, cleaned the cuts and incisions on my body everyday. He was the shoulder I cried on, about my insecurities of my forever changed body. Always reminding me that I was beautiful. He has helped more than I think he realizes.

Excusing myself from a lively conversation with Noah and Jolly, I slipped outside to check on Brent. The cool air hit my skin, refreshing yet a little uneasy. I dialed his number, only to be met with an annoyance I couldn’t quite place. "I've been here for the past 45 minutes," he huffed, the edge in his voice making me flinch.

My stomach twisted as he gave me his location. I ended the call, worry gnawing at the edges of my mind. What had gone wrong? He’s never sounded so annoyed with me. I shook it off and decided to find him, determined not to let it ruin our night.

When I finally spotted him, leaning against the wall of the house with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face, my heart sank. Why did he look so displeased? I swept in for a hug, wrapping my arms around his body, hoping to draw out a little warmth. He hesitated for just a moment before returning the embrace, but the spark I had anticipated was absent.

"Hey! Glad you made it," I chirped, forcing a smile even as a twinge of frustration bubbled within me. He didn't reply, only allowed me to grab his hand and lead him inside.

As we entered, I could feel the vibrant energy shift slightly. The laughter and chatter continued, but the warmth of the party felt overshadowed by the tension emanating from Brent. I introduced him to the guys Noah, Jolly, Folio, and Nick—all of whom were mingling and laughing, filling the air with their unique energy. However, I noticed something peculiar: the way the guys eyed Brent, especially Noah. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, the kind that screamed, I’m onto you.

Ignoring the unspoken judgment from my friends, I pulled Brent closer, trying to ignite that spark between us. We stood there, surrounded by music and laughter, yet he seemed distant, his smile faltering as the guys began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Everything alright?” I whispered, leaning closer to him. I wanted an opening, a doorway into whatever was bothering him. But he merely shrugged, his gaze wandering, refusing to engage. I softly grasped Brent’s hand, politely excusing us from the group. I led him through the crowd of party goers, and up the stairs to my room.

As I closed the door behind us, the thumping bass of the party dwindled into a distant murmur, the laughter of friends fading away as I turned to Brent. The vibrant energy of the gathering felt worlds away, and the four walls of my bedroom suddenly wrapped around us like a protective barrier.

“Brent,” I started, my voice wavering slightly. “I’m really sorry if I overwhelmed you back there. I just wanted you to meet my friends. They’re like family to me.” I stepped closer, finding comfort in the small space between us. “I like how you’re different from everyone else,” I reassured him, reaching to cup his face. “I want you with me, Brent. I really like you, and I was hoping tonight could be something more.”

At last, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips as he wasted no more time, and leaned in and captured my mouth with his. The kiss ignited something deep inside me; I melted into him, the world beyond my bedroom eclipsed in a frenzy of sensation. But then, as he pushed me down onto the bed, his body pressing into mine, I felt a rush of vulnerability sweep over me.

His lips were a warm trail, moving from my mouth and down the length of my neck. Nervousness coiled in my stomach, mingling with the thrill of it all. What if he hates the scars? But I shushed that voice; if Brent liked me, he would accept all of me, flaws and histories included.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he removed his shirt, revealing his toned body. I felt my pulse quicken. The intimacy of the moment escalated as he reached for mine. But then, as the fabric glided off my skin, a sudden silence enveloped us. Brent froze, his expression shifting from desire to something unreadable as his eyes traced the long scar running down my chest, then mapping the smaller scars scattered along my ribs and stomach.

“Are you okay?” I paused, my heart pounding painfully against my rib cage as I reached up, uncertain and vulnerable.

The moment hung heavy in the air; he shook his head vehemently, climbing off me so quickly that the sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill racing down my spine. I sat up, confusion flooding my senses. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Brent stood there, the remnants of our intimacy dissolving between us. He tugged his shirt back on, the fabric crumpling around his torso, and ran a hand through his hair, the gesture laced with frustration. “Why do you have scars all over you?” His voice was low, a mix of concern and discomfort.

As the words spilled from my lips, the weight of the memory resurfaced. “I was in a bad car crash four years ago. I had to have open heart surgery,” I explained, trying to keep my tone steady. I watched the color drain from his face, his brows knitting together in discomfort.

A long sigh escaped him, heavy and laden with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that’s...bad. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head again as if trying to clear it.

“It makes me feel… kind of squeamish to touch them” he admitted, his eyes glancing away, avoiding the testament of my past etched upon my skin.

My heart plummeted, the weight of rejection crashing down upon me like a tidal wave. I had let the hope and excitement build, only for it to crumble in an instant under the realization that my trauma had repelled him.

“I think we should just end it here. sorry,” he added, almost mechanically, before turning to leave the room. The sound of the party resumed its vibrancy, a stark reminder of the dissonance between our worlds.

I watched him walk out, feeling an emptiness settle into my chest. The door slammed behind him, and I sank back into the bed, wrapping my arms around myself as if trying to shield those scars from the world. Noah, My friends, my family—they had embraced me, scars and all. Why couldn’t Brent?

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me. My thoughts spiraled, wondering if my scars were always going to be a barrier, a reminder of a past I couldn’t erase. The party continued downstairs, but all I felt was the silence of my room enveloping me, a somber echo of what had just transpired.

I finally stood from my bed, my body shaking with each sob leaving my mouth. I walked straight into my bathroom, insistent on washing his touch, and this night from my tattered body.

Noah stood with Jolly and Nick, their voices a distant murmur, but his attention had drifted. His eyes were locked on the staircase that you’d just walked up with Brent. There was something about Brent—a way he carried himself, a cocky swagger that made his skin crawl. He didn’t like the guy, not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Noah’s unease was proven justified. Brent stomped down the stairs, his expression unfazed and arrogant. He brushed past Noah and the others, heading straight for the kitchen. Noah tilted his head, a knot tightening in his stomach. Where were you? He silently decided to confront Brent.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Noah maneuvered himself silently, standing a few steps behind Brent’s shorter stature. He was leaning against the counter, deep in conversation with some random dude whose name Noah didn’t care to know. Eavesdropping came naturally to him; he would justify anything if it meant looking out for you.

His heart raced when Brent’s laughter cut through the air. “Yeah, I was about to get laid,” he sneered, “until I saw her mangled scars. who the fuck would want to touch that?”

The breath in Noah’s lungs turned hot and escaped his body, choking him as Brent's words sank in. His fists clenched tightly, and he felt the world around him shatter. He could almost hear your voice, the way you’d always brushed off your past with a smile, how brave you were in the face of your demons. But Brent—he had the audacity to belittle you. That was it. Brent had fucked up.

Suddenly, the current conversation shifted; the guy noticed Noah standing there, confusion flickering across his face. It alerted Brent, and he turned around, the mocking grin fading as he saw the fury etched on Noah’s features.

“What’s your problem, man?” Brent started, but Noah didn’t give him a chance to finish. With swift motion, Noah reared back and swung, his fist connecting hard with Brent’s face. The impact sent Brent flying backward, crashing against the counter, glass bottles tumbling to the ground in a cacophony of shattering chaos.

Loud gasps erupted from the partygoers outside the kitchen, a wave of shock sweeping through the crowd. Brent scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his lip, rage igniting his eyes. But it was too late to back down. Noah launched himself at Brent, tackling him to the ground, a flurry of punches raining down on him, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for you.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Brent shouted, trying to push Noah away. The struggle was chaotic, a whirlwind of flailing limbs and outrage. Just as Noah readied another blow, Jolly charged in, pulling Noah back with surprising strength.

“Noah, stop!” Jolly shouted, his grip firm as he held Noah at bay. “What happened!”

Noah was seething, panting heavily as he glared down at Brent, who was trying to push himself back up, shaking with anger and disbelief. “Get the fuck out of my house,” Noah growled, his voice low and menacing.

Brent’s eyes widened, the cockiness draining from his face. He looked around, seeing the eyes of the few witnesses, the trepidation in Jolly’s grip, and the fire behind Noah’s glare.

With a rage still shimmering in his veins, Brent muttered something under his breath, stumbling out of the kitchen and pushing past a few confused guests. As the tension dissipated, the music seemed to swell once again, an unsettling backdrop to the upheaval that had just occurred.

Noah, freed from Jolly’s hold, took a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline of the fight slowly beginning to wane, replaced by a deep concern for you. He didn’t care what anyone else thought of the scene he just created; all he could think of was you and how he could protect you from people like Brent. The real battle would be making sure you knew how much you were worth, scars and all.

The steam curled and twisted upwards like tendrils of a ghost, enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and moisture, yet I felt anything but comforted. My sobs echoed against the bathroom tiles, reverberating with the music of the party that throbbed beneath me. Laughter and music pulsed through the floorboards, but they were alien sounds in this moment, distant and muffled, a reminder of a world I felt unfit to join.

With trembling hands, I wiped my tears away, attempting to compose myself. “Y/n?” A soft voice echoed through the bathroom, as my breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I called out weakly, trying to sound more convincing than I felt, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. Just as I braced for another wave of tears, the shower door opened and Noah stepped in.

his clothes still on, clinging to him like a second skin. His arms wrapped around me, and I melted against him, the warmth radiating from his body bringing some semblance of solace. I could feel the steady beat of his heart through the fabric of his shirt. The gentle thump soothed me as I softly cried into his chest, his hand combing through my damp hair, as if he could weave away my pain with each passing stroke.

It took a moment to gather my composure, but when I finally pulled back to look at him, I noticed the water swirling around our feet, tinted a soft pink. Panic flared within me as I glanced down at his hands, noticing the cuts marring his knuckles. “Noah, what happened?” My heart raced at the thought of him getting hurt.

His response was almost too casual, a hint of bravado underneath the weight of his words. “I beat Brent’s fucking ass.” The smile that flickered onto my face was unexpected, born from a blend of relief and admiration. I laid my forehead against him, the warmth of his body a protective barrier against the world below.

Noah was gentle, taking the shampoo from the rack and lathering it into my hair, his fingertips pressing against my scalp in a way that felt simultaneously tender and powerful. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, letting him wash away not just the remnants of the night, but the anguish that had been clawing at my heart.

He grabbed my loofah, and bodywash, bathing me next. Sending me back 4 years ago, when he did this for me everyday. Once the water turned off, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric covering me in warmth as he stripped off his wet clothes, every inch of my cheeks heating more at the sight. He returned, focused, practical, and somehow that made my heart swell. Lifting me effortlessly onto the counter, he took the cotton pad and my makeup remover, carefully cleaning away the smudged remnants of the night while stealing glances at me, gauging my reactions.

The simplicity of his gestures, the kindness radiating from each one, made my insides flutter. He was mending not just the mess on my face but the turmoil inside me too. When he disappeared momentarily and returned with one of his old t-shirts and a pair of my underwear, I felt a warmth. He pressed the towel into my skin, drying me off with an intense focus that made me feel seen, cherished.

He pulled the tshirt over my head, before slipping my underwear up my legs. I carefully lifted my hips from the counter, so he could pull them up over my hips. The deep scary feelings I’ve tried to bury for the past few years, slowly making their appearance.

Once I was dressed, he took my hairbrush and began to detangle my hair with the ease, each stroke a reminder of how he understood me, how he always knew how to take care of me when the world felt too heavy. I watched him in the mirror—his brow furrowed with concentration, his lips pressed together in determination.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice softer than the droplets of water still clinging to the tiles. He met my gaze, kindness dancing in his eyes.

“No need,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “I’ll always be here for you.” The thudding of my heart, beat wildly against my chest. Our eyes stuck in a heated stare down, waiting to see which of caved first. His hand slowly lifted to cup my cheek. His thumb softly rubbed against my cheek, as he leaned in the tiniest bit closer.

“Noah..” I breathed, my voice just above a whisper. The uncertainty that once filled his brown eyes, were now gone. Filled with a darkness, that I was more than ready to fall into. His lips finally connected to mine in a simple kiss. Almost as if testing the waters.

He pulled away for only a moment, before his other hand slob into my hair, pulling me in for another kiss. He didn’t hold back, as he squeezed himself between my thighs, attacking my lips with so much force. His tongue entered my mouth, as he groaned at the taste of me.

I whimpered against his lips, wanting, needing more of him. He pulled away again, resting his forehead against mine as we both panted. “I love you so fucking much y/n, and I’m tired of fighting it.” He shook his head, before pecking my lips again.

I smiled, wrapping my arms around his naked waist pulling him flush against me. “I love you too Noah.” I smiled softly up at him. He grabbed my thighs, wrapping them around him, before lifting me off the counter, and walking us over the threshold back into my room.

He softly dropped me onto the bed, as grabbed him hand pulling him on top of me. I grabbed the towel still wrapped around him, and pulled it loose. He smirked down at me, before reaching up and pushing my hair off my face. “Are you sure about this?”

My eyes flew back up to his before I nodded my head. “I’m positive Noah….please.” Without another word, he leaned down catching my lips into another kiss. As he kissed me, his hand trailed up my thigh, pushing it back and spreading me open.

His tongue slid in my mouth, as his fingers carefully moved my panties over before sinking two of them into me. I moaned against his mouth, as he pulled away smiling. “You sound so pretty baby.” His voice was low, and rough. I whimpered, as I softly bucked my hips into it.

After a few more thrusts he pulled his fingers out, sticking them in his mouth pulling them out with a groan. “And you taste even better.” He lifted himself off of me, grabbing the hem of my shirt.

He slowly pulled it off as I laid underneath him, a rush of warmth and trepidation surging through me. The lamp light in my room, casted a golden hue on everything in the room. It felt as if the world outside had ceased to exist—a serene bubble where only the two of us resided.

Even though Noah had seen my scars a million times before, an insidious wave of insecurity washed over me. As his gaze drifted over the pink lines that traced my skin, I couldn’t help but hold my breath.

A shaky exhale escaped my lips, a reflection of my nerves. Noah, always attuned to my feelings, noticed immediately. His eyes softened, filled with a understanding that spoke volumes. He leaned down, and before I could fully process what was happening, I felt the warmth of his tongue glide along the long scar that ran down my chest between my breasts. An unexpected jolt of pleasure coursed through me, mingled with vulnerability.

He continued his descent, his lips softly placing tender kisses upon each of my scars. With every touch, he seemed to dissolve the doubts that gnawed at the edges of my mind. I could feel each light brush of his lips, each gentle kiss, healing parts of me I thought were beyond repair.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my skin, his voice barely above a breath. The words lingered in the air, wrapping around my heart like a soothing balm. It surprised me how true they felt, even after what happened tonight. He looked up, deep into my eyes, his sincerity gleaming like a beacon in the dim lighting.

My pulse raced, and from deep within me, the knots of self-doubt began to unravel. Noah had a way of making me feel seen, as if he could peer into my soul and appreciate every scar etched into it. Each imperfection, every faint line was an emblem of survival, milestones of resilience—but in that moment, they felt less like burdens and more like beautiful parts of my story.

He returned to my lips, kissing me softly, allowing the heat and intimacy of our connection to wash over us. I melted into him, giving in to the moment, and for the first time, I felt as if I could shed my insecurities, if only for a while.

He grabbed the sides of my underwear, pulling them off. He laid back onto me before kissing me hotly, and taking no time to slowly push into me. I gasped, digging my nails into his back at the burning stretch. He grabbed my jaw softly bringing my eyes to his. “Are you okay baby?”

I nodded, lifting my head to kiss his lips. I softly bit on his bottom lip, pulling on it softly. He grunted, as his hips roughly snapped against mine. “Please Noah…” I whined, pulling him into me. He lifted up, caging my head in between his arms. He stared down at me, as he pounded into me mercilessly.

“Fuck baby you feel so good” he groaned, above me. The pleasure on his face made me feral. I dug my heel into the mattress, using all my force to flip our bodies over. His eyes widened in shock, as huge grin formed on his lips. “Fuck baby, you gonna ride me?” He almost whimpered.

My pussy throbbed at his words. Having my big tatted mainly best friend whimpering underneath was not something I ever imagined, but am so fucking lucky to experience. I leaned down, trailing kisses down his throat while he groaned. I leaned back up, grabbing his dick, and hovering back over it.

We both let out low groans, as I sank back down. “Fuck Noah you’re so big.” I whined, slowly rocking my hips back forth. “Yeah?” He breathed, gripping my hips tightly. I nodded my head, placing my hands against his chest.

He groaned at my sluggish pace, as I smirked down at him, enjoying my teasing game. After a few minutes, he was done with my teasing. His hand shot up, wrapping around my throat. He pulled me down until our noses were touching, as a cocky smile made its way to his face.

“You really thought I was gonna let you take control?” He growled, brushing his lips against mine. “I-..” my sentence was cut short, as his hips fucked up into me hard and fast. My nails dug into his chest, gripping on for dear life.

His fingers tightened around my throat as he finally connected our lips into a sloppy kiss. Lips, tongues, and teeth clashing. He pushed me back, making me sit up straight on top of him. He reached up, shoving two fingers in my mouth, as I moaned around them, sucking on them hard.

He slowly slid them out, running them down my throat, down my chest and stopping to squeeze my tit. “C’mon baby. You gonna cum for me?” He panted, continuing his decent until his fingers reached my swollen clit.

I threw my head back with a moan, in love with how he was making me feel. I leaned back, placing my hands right above his knees behind me, as I continued riding him. “Fuuuuck…” I groaned as his fingers sped up.

I felt my orgasm rising with each thrust of his hips, and stroke of his fingers. “I’m gonna cum.” I whined, looking down at him. The sight was beautiful. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were parted, as he released ragged breaths.

“C’mon baby give it to me. Cum on my dick.” He groaned finally looking up at me. As soon as we made eye contact, my orgasm shook my body. “Good fucking girl.” He grunted, as he fucked me through it. I huffed, falling onto his chest as thrusted a few more times finally releasing into me with a groan.

We laid there for what felt like hours, catching our breaths just holding each other. He placed a kiss on top of my head, before gently pushing me off onto the bed beside him. He reached down grabbing the towel he wore earlier, and cleaned us off.

Once we were clean he grabbed my comforter, pulling it over us. He pulled me into his arms, as I snuggled deep into his chest. “I love you so much y/n. You’re the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on. I will spend every minute proving that to you from now on. Please don’t let some dick head make you think differently.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears again, as I placed a gentle kiss to the middle of his chest. “I love you.”

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sabastian smut #badomensimagines #noahsebastiancult #bad omens cult #imagines #bad omens band #bad omens smut #nick folio #joakim jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo

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vesora · 2 years ago

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all you got to do is sit there and look pretty: loa edition

DISCLAIMER: this was written before a series of realisations, the main point still stands but the subconscious mind does not exist. it is simply awareness. let go and let god.

one thing i have noticed, even in myself, is that we have this need to keep doing something. i need to keep affirming, i need to keep forcing myself into a state, i need to keep focusing on my thoughts or else it won’t manifest. all these thoughts have a common link, a fear of not manifesting, or rather, the 3D not conforming.

it’s not our fault. we have been primed to think this way. work this hard and you’ll get (x). this is not the way it’s supposed to be. with the law, we break free.

i need you to know that it’s okay if you’re consciously not thinking from your desire all the time. it’s okay that you don’t feel okay with entering another state if this one is too traumatic for you. relax and know the you on the outside, does not manifest.

who manifests then?

our inner self; our subconscious mind. our subconscious mind is us, but unlike our conscious selves, it is also the Universal Mind, meaning it knows all, it has all knowledge and power stored inside it. our job is to give the subconscious mind a job. as the conscious mind, we hold the key to decide to let what the subcon should manifest and not. we are the guard, we don’t manifest.

all we really have to do is be still and let God, and by God i do not mean some external being, i mean our subconscious mind; our true self. letting go and detaching doesn’t mean you will stop caring about what you’re manifesting, it simply means that you know that the subconscious will handle it for you. because the subconscious IS you, it’s a robot that only listens to YOUR command. it cannot be influenced by any other force.

experience

for the past few days, when i made the unfavourable circumstances post, i was feeling so incredibly awful. i felt i had no reason to live, because i thought me as the conscious sora, was responsible for changing my life. while that is true to an extent, all i have to do is give an order. i told my subconscious mind that night to fix everything for me because i was tired and the next day, all the things that were causing me distress got solved. the next day i had an even better day, because the subconscious really fixed the things causing me stress. life was peaceful again.

it was then i realised that i have been too attached with doing things right, when all i had to do was sit there and look pretty while my subconscious does the work.

another success happened just now! my browser froze and i didnt save this post. i panicked for a second then i was like “sora you just wrote a post about your subcon fixing things”; so i told my subcon “hey man fix this pls” and it did! lol browser is back to normal which is how ur seeing this post rn

what if my subconscious doesn’t listen?

anything that happens regarding these things is a direct reflection of you. inner creates outer, not the other way around. so, any failure is not because the technique failed, it’s because you haven’t changed self yet. and what changes self? persistence. you must keep persisting because the subconcious HAS NO CHOICE but to listen to you. if it ‘doesn’t’, DON’T ACCEPT IT.

persistence

And He said unto them, Which of you shall have a friend, and shall go unto him at midnight, and say unto him, Friend, lend me three loaves; for a friend of mine in his journey is come to me, and I have nothing to set before him? And he from within shall answer and say, Trouble me not; the door is now shut, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot rise and give thee. I say unto you, Though he will not rise and give him, because he is his friend, yet because of his importunity he will rise and give him as many as he needeth. And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. Luke 11:5-9

in this verse that neville also referenced, we can see that the man did not give up. in fact, importunity means: the act of making intrusions, being unrelenting, consistent. unrelenting, he never took no for an answer. he kept going and going and going until the man decided to give him bread. do not take no for an answer. do not settle. even if the door seems shut, you will ALWAYS be the key to open it; there is no other choice. keep telling your subconscious mind that you are rich, you are beautiful, you are everything and your subconscious mind will have no choice but to reflect that onto the 3D because that is its job.

excerpt from power of awareness:

“THERE ARE three principal characters in this quotation, you and the two friends mentioned.

The first friend is a desired state of consciousness .

The second friend is a desire seeking fulfillment.

Three is the symbol of wholeness, completion.

Loaves symbolize substance.

The shut door symbolizes the senses which separate the seen from the unseen.

Children in bed means ideas that are dormant.

Inability to rise means a desired state of consciousness cannot rise to you, you must rise to it.

Importunity means demanding persistency, a kind of brazen impudence.

Ask, seek, and knock mean assuming the consciousness of already having what you desire.

Thus the scriptures tell you that you must persist in rising to (assuming) the consciousness of your wish already being fulfilled. The promise is definite that if you are shameless in your impudence in assuming that you already have that which your senses deny, it shall be given unto you – your desire shall be attained.”

#loa #law of assumption #Law of Attraction #law of abundance #law of belief #neville #neville goddard #consciousness #awareness #self concept #subconscious #subconciousmind #3d #4d #void state #manifestation #manifest #manifesting

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flagellant · 2 years ago

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Why can't you people be normal about slurs for 2 seconds

Just because YOU reclaimed and identify with something doesn't mean everyone else does. No one cares about you IDing as a queer or dyke or fag or whatever, people just don't want strangers to randomly assign them words that have historically been used as slurs.

Like, do you understand that people have had this word used against them by bigots? Do you understand that maybe, it's tasteless to get upset at people for having trauma regarding a word? Are you able to comprehend that maybe insisting people be okay with being called a word that means odd, spoiled, ruined or weird is not a good look?

I'm autistic and have a severe learning disability. I'm totally fine when people use the word retard, I call myself a retard, I don't care. But I'm sure as fuck not going to walk up to a bunch of other autistic people I barely know and go "lmao what is up my fellow tards!!!"

I'm not trying to start shit, I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word.

"I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word."

Gay is a slur. Lesbian is a slur. Homosexual is a slur. Every single word we have ever had has always either had its roots in cruelty and oppression or has been used against us by our oppressors. There is no term that is pure and clean and innocent and has never hurt anyone's feelings.

Let's disregard fag for now. That one's still in the process of reclamation, I'll admit. Let's just talk about queer. Queer has been the academic term for non-cisgender and non-heterosexual history for half a century now. Queer theory has been around for thirty years. Queer was the word which we shouted as a radical inditement of our treatment by our oppressors: "We're here, we're queer, get over it" and "Not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you" should both sound familiar to you.

And now it's 2012 or so and queer is known as the most inclusive term we have. It's less unwieldy than LGBTQIAAP+. It's not based in a necessity of defining yourself through your oppression like MOGAI. It's, important, a deeply private word. Not in the sense that it is used privately, but rather than it grants its user privacy. If you're queer, everyone instantly knows you're a part of the community, but you aren't being forced to out yourself or give more details about your personal life and identity than you want. It was always a word about identity.

TERFs hate this. TERFs hate this so much, because it's inclusive of people they hate, like asexual people, trans women, and other freaks of nature who society needs to put down like dogs. Queer means TERFs can't as easily define you as the Bad Other. Queer means TERFs will be recognized more easily as bigoted towards the larger queer communities. So, obviously, they do what anyone would, and decide to take advantage of the language of social justice warriors of the time and attack impressionable young kids from 13-16.

The average 13-16 year old doesn't exactly have much experience in real-life queer spaces. They don't get to go to rallies or protests, they don't stay at community centers, their lives are insular and based entirely online. Their understanding of social politics is inherently rooted in the importance of posting in the right language. Their activism is one which tweets correctly. So TERFs slid into their inboxes and went "Hey, just so you know, queer is actually a slur used to oppress people and it's problematic to use since some people have been called it".

And this works, because of course it does, and now I have people like you in my inbox bitching and whining about how queer is a slur and how you've been called queer once or twice in your life. To this I say: My apologies, but fucking suck it up and reclaim it. I don't care about traumatic events you have with queer. It has been reclaimed by the greater community and was done so long before you were born if you aren't literally 50, and more importantly, by giving queer validation as a slur, you actively give our oppressors that power over you. I'm not going to let my oppressors know that if they say an identifier for us meanly enough then we'll stop identifying as that word. I'm not giving the power to silence and repress who we are to people who would use it.

Anon, I respect you enough to say that people who consider my identity as a slur should get punched in the face, because alt-right fash cunts, pig cops, evangelical christians, TERFs, and hyperconservative political lobbyists all consider my identity as a slur. Why should I treat you any different to them? What about your specific treatment of queer as a slur ends up with a meaningfully different result? The neonazis on kiwifarms won't care why you're telling me to shut the fuck up about queer. They don't give a shit about why you're saying this. What they give a shit about is if it works and if calling people queer will get them to shut up and curl up in a little ball and admit defeat and hand them slurs on a silver platter. And I'm not about to live that sort of life, so either get with the program or fuck off.

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dearanakin · 6 months ago

Text

trust you | anakin skywalker: episode IV

Warning: mentions of grieving, injury, cursing

Word count: 3k

Previous chapter | Read on Wattpad

Anakin:

4 years earlier

I was standing right in front of his lifeless body. His head right next to it. My trembling hands were both holding crossed lightsabers; his and mine. I've been wanting to kill him since the day that he almost left me to die after Padmé gave birth to Luke.

Holding back the warm tears that were threatening to fall, I felt my breathing become shallow and the air felt condensed. Now I was facing Palpatine dead, but the feeling of relief didn't hit me. That feeling I was longing for, for almost three years, wasn't there.

All I sensed was a heaviness in my chest. For all I know, this is what I wanted. I didn't have a plan to escape his ship, so I had to be quick before the imperial army came after me. I was on a mission all by myself, it was something I wanted to do alone.

No one else would be there for me anyway, not even Obi-Wan. But I haven’t been in contact with him ever since Padmé died. That was when he decided he didn't want to go along with my idea, the one that was supposed to make me feel better.

It was two losses at once. Obviously, losing her was the most traumatic event in my life. But then right after that, what happened between me and Obi-Wan after spending years on his side left a hole in my heart.

And it was never healed. For a while, after that, I would sense his grief even from a long distance. But then he shut that down for me. I haven't felt his presence or sensed his emotions in a long time, and it was probably for the best.

I let go of Palpatine's lightsaber and kept a tight grip on mine. I took a few steps back, calculating what route I should take to exit the ship. By now, the army is most likely aware of what happened. The loud sirens went on and I could hear a lot of shuffling from afar.

My boots walked heavily across the room, and for the first time I noticed how my knees were wobbling. "Damn it", I mutter under my breath.

The adrenaline kept my mind balanced, but for some reason my body didn't want to collaborate. I forced myself out of the door, facing the fresh air that roamed through the corridor. There were soldiers in formation already, waiting for something to happen.

I was quick to deviate the blasts from the pistols with my lightsaber, using my metal hand for leverage as well. There were many doors around me, but I didn't risk my chances getting in.

They trapped me when I was getting closer to the hangar. I guess my anger was at its highest level, because I felt myself shoving all of them back with my Force and knocking them down.

I hurried to the first ship I laid my eyes on and hopped on it, turning on the gears. I flew out of there in a matter of seconds.

When all the adrenaline wore out, I started to feel numb and it felt like I was going to pass out. I took deep breaths and tried to stretch my body in order to keep myself awake.

Bringing my hands to my eyes, I noticed how hard they were shaking. Usually I don't feel the sensitivity on the robotic limb, but my flesh fingertips were tingling and then it hit me.

"Shit", I breathed in dread. I pulled the engine on autopilot and hoped for the best.

I was having a panic attack.

I also didn't have R2-D2 to help me fly back to Coruscant. Much to my dislike, I was inside a small ship with the smallest airflow.

I woke up disoriented, my mouth was dry and my head throbbing in pain. I had no idea how I was still roaming around outer space. I looked at my hands, noticing they were steady, as well as my fingertips that weren't numb anymore.

I took a deep breath and managed the engine to finally go back home. I lost track of time there.

I landed on the hangar and rushed to finally see Luke. He was starting to walk and could speak a few words completely already. I couldn't handle the thought of leaving him for more than I intended to.

Arriving at the Jedi Temple, I walked in my dormitory expectantly looking for him. He was sitting on the floor with one of the nursery Droids playing with him, while C-3PO watched out the window.

The three of them noticed my presence and glanced at me. I walked toward the child and pulled him in a tight hug.

"No need to worry anymore, son. Dad is here".

It's been a long way since then. Now I have to be more careful around Luke, and I need to reassure him a lot of things. When I go on missions, he gets worried a lot even though he doesn't feel the anxiety of what could happen.

I stand my ground each time, promising myself I always get back safe and alive. One of these days, I swear I'm going to go into cardiac arrest because of that feeling.

When I got back to my loft after training, I found him nuzzled into my pillow on my bed. R2-D2 scanning the room for further threats. Having a kid these days isn't easy anymore. After what happened four years ago, they kept running after me, looking everywhere.

It took them a while to give up on it, but I always had this feeling in the back of my head that they were always one step ahead, ready to attack. And I never feared for my life, I feared for Luke's. Cal insisted I should recruit him to become a Jedi.

It didn't cross my mind, because I didn't want him to become something I didn't expect him to. I didn't want him to become someone like me. I know how it is inside my head. I want to kill people all the time, the vengeful feeling that doesn't ease. My body is always on alert, I can't trust people anymore.

My conscience never let me step into the dark side, thinking of Luke. If it wasn't for him, I might as well have done that right after I lost Padmé. Wouldn't even have second guessed it for the matter.

In the shower, I pondered about that; like I used to do every night before sleep. Was it really worth it? Was it going to make me feel at peace? It was a hard decision. I leaned my forehead against the tile and inhaled sharply. If only I could see the future, I would've made a decision by now.

The next day I was feeling better, even though the painkillers were masking most of the pain. I dropped my boy off to his classes and headed to the tech room, still in need of having a conversation with (Y/N).

3PO asked me to forget it and let that go, telling me I should be more patient. See, I had an issue with letting things go, and I know it's my biggest flaw. But I just couldn't. I had a few conversations with Cal before and he told me doing therapy would help me a lot. Or even, meet Yoda a few times to help me get through those issues.

But I never did, never thought I should anyway. My stubborn ass wins over my conscience all the time.

I entered the room looking for her and saw her standing in front of an opened drawer. She looked distracted while holding what seemed like a lightsaber grip. My eyes scanned the piece slowly, and then I realized something.

It was Obi-Wan's. My stomach dropped and my throat tightened immediately. It was triggering to think about it, to think about him. To remember him even from the slightest piece of an object. I didn't notice when she turned to face me, her face becoming pale. She still had the piece between her small fingers.

I looked between the grip and her hesitant eyes for a few seconds and cleared my throat. "That's- It is Obi-Wan's?", I heard myself asking in a whisper.

She glanced at it and stared back at me. It was hard to describe her emotions, but it felt like she was probably just as confused. "Y-yes. They found it lying around after he left Coruscant".

I nodded. It couldn't have been long after our last encounter. He left Coruscant right after that, but I wonder whatever happened to the entire lightsaber. I couldn't breathe but didn't want to make it seem evident, so I took a long inhale and murmured "ok".

It took me a few seconds to snap back to reality, watching as she put the grip back in the drawer and closed it. I almost forgot why I was there in the first place.

When I noticed Luke's skyhopper on her table, I rolled my eyes and grimaced. Now there were two things I wanted to talk about with her. I huffed behind her, making her snap her eyes at me.

"What is my son's toy doing on your table? How many times do I have to make myself clear?", I try to be civil and not scare her right off.

(Y/N) glanced between the toy and me, her mouth agape while trying to find words. "They had to leave and asked me to fix it. But I know how you strictly made sure you didn't want me to".

She let her guard up the entire time, making sure she was standing a few feet away from me. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and raised my chin in superiority.

"Good thing, because I don't want you to get a finger near anything related to me or my boy anymore". My voice came out as a snarl, her body language shifted.

I took a step forward and she took a step back. "And while we're at it. Let me tell you something about another thing. This shit that happened to me was your fault".

(Y/N) shook her head and hit her back on the counter behind her. "I'm sorry, I- We did everything we could. The wires were almost molten".

I look down and chuckle in disbelief. You could tell she was beginning to feel scared of me. "No, you see - that's plain bullshit. Because I know how you are all very skilled and when we ask for a deadline, we expect it on time".

I closed the small gap between us, towering over her while my eyes intimidated her. She was reluctant to look back at me, so I made sure she did. I gripped her jawline forcefully and pulled her head up. "Look at me when I talk to you", I rasped.

"You know what happened because of your fucking incompetence. I could've died there, and then what? My son doesn't have a mother, you want him to become an orphan?".

My robotic fingers dug into her cheekbones, she was flinching really hard under my touch.

(Y/N) started to cry and I thought it was pathetic. She has been working around for ages, she should've known I don't have an easy temper at all.

She shut her eyes tightly and whimpered, my fingertips leaving marks on her skin. "I'm really sorry, Master Skywalker. I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to".

I was still towering over her, my forehead barely touching hers when I felt both of her hands grip around my metal wrist. "But you did anyway!".

My breathing was uneven, I felt a sudden headrush.

It was the trigger. Just the thought of Obi-Wan made me feel uneasy.

"Look at me!", It took her by surprise how loud my voice came out and it startled her. She immediately looked me in the eye and I pointed a flesh finger at her. "This is the last time I warn you. Stay the fuck away from me and my son".

Suddenly I heard the door burst and felt Cal's presence. "Hey, Skywalker! What the hell, man?", He sprinted to where we were standing and gripped my arms, pulling me away from her.

I was still staring at her dead. My bloodshot eyes were burning her skin from the eye contact as I watched her move her feet away from me. (Y/N) left the room within seconds.

I looked over Cal and closed my hands into fists. This always feels like someone is testing me. I could just lift my hand and punch him in the face, but I held back the urging.

"What was that?", His scowling tone echoed through the room. He pointed his finger at me, his nose was flaring in anger as well. "Don't ever touch her again or I'll take it to the Council".

Fuck the Council, for God's sake. I'm a fucking Master, not an apprentice anymore. If anything, I could own them if I wanted to.

I watched as he turned on his back and marched out the door, leaving me in a raging state. Next thing I knew, I was flipping a table across the place watching it break into several pieces.

Dude comes in thinking he was a knight in shining armor, what a lame character. I'm pretty sure this close friendship of theirs means something else for him but that didn't interest me anyway.

I let myself out and took my time to simmer down until the meeting happens. This time we were going to see General Grievous and I wasn't very pleased with the idea, but I carried on with it anyway.

When we all sat down on the desk, I shared the news with the others. They still had no idea what the new mission was about.

"General Grievous? That scumbag?", The man from across the table asks in surprise.

Did I stutter?

"Yes. We need to do some agreements that became pending", I nod. This wasn't exactly fun, I have a very strong desire to kill him as well.

Cal was always one giving ideas and usually plans escaping routes. This time he was just sitting in his chair with his arms crossed. His forehead was wrinkly and he had a pissed look.

He wouldn't dare to look at me and I hated him at this moment as well. So I cleared my throat and spoke up again.

"We're gonna need a few people back outside his trade federation cruiser and watch out. I was thinking of bringing Artoo as well" They all seemed to agree with the idea. The red head shuffled in his seat, not saying a word.

I try to disguise the disappointment but I expected this reaction after what happened earlier. I had to push him to the limit, because one way or another I needed him.

"Anything in mind, General Kestis?" I ask loud enough for him to shoot his head up and look at me. Still waiting for a response, I raise an eyebrow.

"No, you're leading the assignment, General Skywalker" He says in a snide tone. "I'm sure you're going to nail it".

Maybe the other men noticed his different demeanor, because I could sense they were looking at each other in complete confusion.

He would never not speak up. He liked to give advice and think through the whole situation, usually we would always have a plan B if needed.

I still wasn't satisfied, so I went through with it anyway. "Are you sure? You always have advice for us".

The others stared at him, watching as Cal stood still in the same position. He shook his head and twitched his lips in denial. I'm gonna fucking choke him.

"Not this time. I guess you boys have brilliant ideas though" He looked back at them and gave them the most fake smile I've ever seen.

Cal is all smiles and hugs, but I know when he's being sarcastic.

I didn't have anything else in mind. I didn't want to push it harder, I know I was losing my temper and it was a waste of time in all honesty.

I decided to ask someone else about strategies and we ended up spending the entire afternoon discussing them. My blood boiling every time I looked at the knight in shining armor watching as he stared blankly at all of us.

My wish this moment was to dismiss him and ask him to take his ass out of his face.

This is going to be a difficult mission and I was dreading the worst already.

I call out to Cal while looking through the papers, the pen still wrapped around my fingers. I feel him interrupting his tracks and freezing on his spot turning on his heels. He doesn’t say a word, waiting for me to speak again.

"Do you have anything to say now they're all gone?" I ask, eyes still focused on the desk.

I hear him sigh and hold his hips with both hands. "No, Skywalker. I already made that sure".

For the first time after a few minutes, I raise my head and give him a sarcastic smile without showing my teeth. He didn't seem fazed at all. I get up from my chair and walk toward him, still holding my pen, my hands behind my back.

"Look, we both know you're a very dedicated man and we also both know you don't wanna fuck this job up" I tilt my head to the side and lower my eyebrows.

He still didn't feel intimidated. That was a good thing, after all. I showed how he could stand up for himself, even though I'm the most insufferable person hanging around.

He gives me a smirk and closes his arms against his chest, raising his chin up. "Ah, when have I ever fucked something up, Master?".

Cal almost never fires back like this, but we weren't on good terms.

He reaches his hand upon my shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze, gripping my shoulder blade. "I can't tell you how much I'm willing to help on this mission. But not because of you. Right now, I wish I could just punch your annoying face".

He doesn't give me time to respond, as he shoves me back in a light push and leaves the room.

I heard the pen between my fingers crack.

@jackie-on-the-loose @adorbzliz @himesuedi @kingdomhate @himesuedi @cl0esblogg

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfic #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin imagine #star wars fanfic #hayden christensen imagine #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker #usersavana #clonecaptains #userlace

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nightcolorz · 4 months ago

Note

The parallels between Marius forcing all the boys to call him Master and changing Armand's name to Amadeo (literally the beloved one) and Daniel deciding to call Armand Boss sometimes and Armand calling Daniel Beloved but also calling him by his name

THE PARALLELS

THEY ARE KILLING ME

(all it's needed to complete the circle is Armand using Molloy as a last name)

I LOVE ARMAND AND HIS CONNECTION WITH BEING NAMED!!! I think it’s so significant that Daniels pet name for Armand is “boss”, like it’s both an admission of a power dynamic Armand isn’t often granted and it’s also affectionate and playful. Both “armand ur in charge and u have the power here but it’s not that serious and it’s playful and I’m teasing u lovingly while still offering u this validation of agency and respect” like woooow that’s big for him I feel.

I’ve seen the take before that it’s unfortunate that in the book series Armand never changes his name or goes back to Andrei from Armand bcus Armand is like a name given to him in a traumatic way and to go along with his pattern he should complete the cycle positively by naming himself. And on one hand yes I like that, but on the other, I think it’s more impactful that Armand keeps his name as Armand bcus Armand doesn’t need to change himself again to fit a new role. Armand can just be what people call him, he doesn’t need to bend himself backwards to mold into smth new whenever the era changes. And with that, taking the last name molloy is so perfect. I’m Armand, I’ve been Armand for centuries, I don’t need someone to give me a new name to tell me what I am now, I don’t need to change myself, but I’m Armand molloy, bcus I love Daniel molloy and hes my family and I’m choosing that. He’s not my identity and he’s not naming me to make me into smth new, he’s my family and I’m choosing him. It’s soooo goood.

#armand #tvc #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #interview with the vampire #vampire chronicles #amc iwtv #the vampire armand #Iwtv amc #daniel molloy #armand x Daniel #daniel x armand

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adustoflove · 11 months ago

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Little things in your childhood and teen years really do leave a lasting impression, for better or for worse. Like being picked last for a team in gym class, or being the last one for just about anything in gym class and having everyone stare at you. Kids picking on you because you're no good at the game the teachers are forcing you to play, peers yelling at you because you couldn't catch the ball or hit it over the net as well as they could. Feeling left out whenever field trips are mentioned because even though you have people you occasionally talk to at school, you have no one you actually feel comfortable hanging out with for the day, so you decide not to go and to stay home, even if you really did wanna go...

Not going to ANY school events either, like dances or proms because you have no one to hang out with for the day and you'd feel uninvited or like it was a lost cause to show up and sit there like a wallflower. And the pain of feeling even more left out when all your classmates are getting excited in the upcoming days for the event or talking about it after it's taken place. Having to sit alone in the auditorium or bleachers for any sort of assembly. Other students frowning or sighing when the teachers pick partners, and you get paired with someone who obviously doesn't wanna be paired with you. And so you pick up extra work just to feel less shame and guilt about it. Working alone all the time because you can't socialize like the rest of the students who've already found their clique. Teachers who make snide or snarky remarks even when you've done nothing in particular wrong. The horror of having to raise your hand and get an answer wrong then watch one of your more competent classmates get the answer right.

I've spent a better half of my life feeling alienated from my peers and constantly feeling left out. It is so deeply traumatic, and it gets to be so hard to find friends and keep them as an adult because of all the experiences you've had in your past surrounding other people. I never feel worth anyones time, and it prevents me from putting myself out there anymore. I can't be myself around many people because being myself feels punishable.

#bpd vent #actually bpd #bpd #actually borderline #actually traumatized #trauma #bpd thoughts #neurodivergent #abandoment issues #abandonment trauma #social isolation #rsd #rejection sensitive dysphoria

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lakesbian · 4 months ago

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btw another little thing i really liked in this chapter was this part

“So I fail, maybe,” I said, and I felt a weight lift, admitting it out loud. There would be options. I’d picked up enough that maybe I could still pressure the faculty to let me skip a grade. I would be old enough to take online classes like Brian was.

“You don’t have to give up.” “I’m not giving up!” I raised my voice, angry, surprised at myself for being angry. I took a breath, forced myself to return to a normal volume, “I’m saying there’s probably no fucking way I’ll understand why she did what she did. So why waste my time and energy dwelling on it? Fuck her, she doesn’t deserve the amount of attention I’ve been paying her. I’m… reprioritizing.” He folded his arms, but his forehead was creased in concern. “And these new priorities of yours are?” I had to search for a response. “Living my life, making up for lost time.”

like. there is so so much societal judgement towards highschool dropouts as the ultimate failures in life, and so much pressure for kids to finish highschool even if it's literally killing them. i just really appreciate that taylor is portrayed as feeling a weight lift from accepting the possibility of just walking away, that someone can have to drop out of highschool for any reason--like experiencing such horrendous peer abuse and administrative neglect that attending literally got her sent to the hospital--and have other options. i like that she gets to decide that it's not giving up and she's allowed to be angry at someone saying she's "giving up" for refusing to subject herself to continued abuse. i like that she gets to believe that dropping out doesn't automatically make her life over, but is an opportunity for her to actually live her life instead of spending five days a week just trying to survive abuse. it's not that her life is automatically going to be easy afterwards, or that this will fix everything, but she is at the very least claiming her time back for herself. and she's not portrayed narratively as giving up, or as immature or selfish or stupid in any way for choosing to do that. worm wins again at being understanding of and sympathetic towards traumatized teenagers without infantilizing them, minimizing their decisions, or demeaning what they feel they have to do to survive

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 6 #wormblr #parahumans

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another-goblin · 6 months ago

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Meeting the family

Just some Raturine ideas (it could have been a fic if I could write) Part 1. Aventurine takes Ratio with him to Sigonia-IV (a bit sad). Part 2. Ratio retaliates (less sad).

Part 1. On Penacony, Aventurine was forced to confront his tragic past in a rather abrupt and traumatic way. He now feels that, to make some semblance of peace with it, he has to revisit Sigonia-IV after all these years and face it on his terms. The problem is, he's not sure he'll ever be strong enough to do it alone.

Luckily, there is Ratio. Probably. They have been in a weird sort of relationship for months now. They clearly enjoy spending time together, but they'd rather die than talk about their true feelings. Both are stumped by overanalyzing this situation. For Ratio it's "Yes, he's being playful and charming with me, but I saw him act the same way with other people, he's probably just toying with me, I shouldn't embarrass myself by showing my true feelings." And for Aventurine: "Does he care for me in a special way, or is it just a part of his "I'll keep the damn gambler safe and emotionally stable because I'm a decent person" routine, am I a burden to him, is he deliberately being emotianally distant with me or is it just how he normally is?, I know that I'll never be able to tell him how I actually feel because he won't believe me, he'll think that I mock him, it'll just drive him away."

So, as a last resort gamble, he tells Ratio, in the most nonchalant way possible, that he's going to visit Sigonia, and Ratio can go with him if he wants. He fully expects to hear an indifferent "Why are you telling me this, why would you expect me to go with you?". Instead, Ratio is in shock.

He did do some research on Aventurine's past. So he realizes immediately how important this trip should be for Aventurine, and how real and vulnerable he's being right now, and what that offer means for their relationship. It's much more revealing than any confession Aventurine might have made. He realizes that it's also Aventurine's subtle, desperate test for Ratio's true feelings. So he doesn't even bother to say yes, he goes directly to planning.

They finally end up going to Sigonia. Imagine the most tragic road trip ever. "In this valley, most of my people were brutally massacred." "Behind that rock my mother died in my arms," "And that's where I said goodbye to my sister forever," "This is where I've been cought", "Over there are the ruins of the town where they sold me into slavery." Meanwhile, Ratio is quietly panicking: ("Veritas, you stupidest person ever, say something reassuring. Hold his hand. Do something")

At the end of the day, he would end up awkwardly putting his hand around Aventurine's shoulders. They'd just silently sit like this looking at the sunset.

(at first it ended here but then I decided to lighten the mood, so…)

Part 2. After that, Ratio would realize that it's time for Aventurine to meet his parents. He would introduce Aventurine as a "collegue", to his amusement. As far as I know, there is no info on Ratio's family, so the following is pure HC. I like to think that his parents are alive and well. They are weird and quirky, and they love their son in their way, and they are beyond happy that their son has finally found a "colleague".

Cue all the most cheesy and stereotypical "meeting the parents" tropes. Them immediately referring to Aven as Ratio's boyfriend (you are not fooling anybody, doc). Them being a bit skeptical of Aven first ("Our little Veri deserves only the best"). Followed by the obligatory nine circles of humiliation hell for poor Ratio, with all the child photos and embarassing stories ("Here he's 5, he's dressed up as Nuos for the Autumn Spirit Festival", "And here is him getting his first quantum nanoscope for his 9th birthday (a photograph of an awkward lanky child with thick glasses and brackets)", "Veritas, dear, remember that time when you got accepted into all these prestigious schools you applied to and cried all night because you couldn't decide which one to choose"). Them besieging poor Aventurine with all kinds of questions about himself (he'd end up sharing much more about himself than he intended to). The parents getting absolutely charmed by Aven and immediately taking him under their wing ("Feel free to call us whenever Veritas decides to be difficult", "Visit us anytime, you can come alone, we know that our son apparently has more important things to do than visiting his poor old parents")

("Oh and here are socks Grandma knitted for you both when she heard that you were about to visit")

Meanwhile, aventurine.exe has stopped working 5 minutes after meeting them, not fully able to comprehend what's going on (these weird people are so unlike his own parents, yet being with them feels so painfully familiar, and this long forgotten feeling of being a part of something big, safe, and accomodating, is it what having a family feels like?, why are they so warm and welcoming to somebody they just met, and why is Ratio so comically embarassed, shouldn't he be the happiest person ever with parents like that?)

#my stuff #raturine #ratiorine #aventio #written during 2.1

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storm-angel989 · 7 months ago

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Outside The Office Part Thirty

“Hey, princess. You have to wake up now.”

The sound of Vox’s voice and the feeling of his hand startled me awake. I sat up quickly, the blanket falling from where my head had been tucked in. Gone was the warm, protective darkness of Valentino’s wings. Instead, the blankets were wrapped tightly- mimicking his hold on me. My head ached, and I wondered how he had managed to get me into bed without waking me up.

“Where’s Val?” I asked as I looked around the room.

“Valentino went to go handle something, and he left me in charge of making sure you, my dear, eat dinner and don’t sleep for too long. We’re going out tonight! Drugs should be well out of your system by now, so up you go!” He said in a sing-song voice. “Com’on now!”

I groaned and flopped back down under the covers. “My head hurts.”

“Shocking,” he said sarcastically. “Here, drink this,” he untwisted the cap and handed me a bottle of sweet sixteen. “All of it, in your tummy. Then I’m checking your vitals, and then you can get up.”

I scowled at him. “I would say you act like my Dad, but that would be an insult to you.”

“Aw, love you too princess. Now drink up.” He replied as he pressed the back of his hand to my head. “All of it.”

I took a sip. And then another. Instantly, the headache began to fade.

“You will actually make a great Dad one day, you know.” I said between sips.

He rolled his eyes. “No. Vel and I don’t want kids, but I’ll make a hell of an Uncle whenever you and Val decide the time is right.”

I paused and lowered the bottle. Kids? I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Can that even happen? Can I get pregnant?” I asked.

Vox shrugged and pulled his hand away. “Do you still get your period in hell?”

I felt myself flush. “I mean, yeah. On time, every month. Just like in heaven.”

“Then there you have it- yes. You and Valentino can have kids. It’s just a matter of trying, I would think.” He paused. “Not that I’m rushing or encouraging it, but you brought it up.”

I felt a shiver run down me. Valentino had to have had sex with thousands of demons in his line of work. Was Vox implying something?

“Wait, does Valentino already have…”

Vox let out a laugh and cut me off. “Fuck no. God, that would be awful. No, princess, he would have to want them in order to have them. That’s why you two can fuck all you want and not have a single worry. Part of the perk of being the Overlord of Lust. Until he decides, really decides he wants to procreate, he won’t physically be able to.”

I took another sip of my drink as I considered his words. “I would need a big diamond on my finger before kids are even a thought. And a wedding. Do people, demons, get married in hell?”

“Sure do,” Vox said. He sat down next to me and took my wrist in his hand. “Demon weddings are a good time, might I add.”

I squirmed ever so slightly as he took my pulse, but tried to exhale and stay calm. “Don’t you have my vitals synched from my watch to your phone?”

“Sure do. I like to check the accuracy though. Make sure the data is correct,” he replied as he clipped a pulse oximeter to my finger. “Why are you so fidgety?”

“I don’t particularly like medical stuff being done to me,” I replied honestly. “I mean, it's one thing to play around with it, or like, when Valentino and I are in bed, but it's another thing when it's serious.”

“And why is that? Did something happen when you were with the angels? Cause I don’t have any record of any major surgeries or traumatic events or things like that?” Vox asked as he leaned back, waiting for my answer.

I shrugged. “I got held down alot when I was little. I didn’t like shots, and it didn’t take much for me to be pushed down and forced to stay still. I mean, it was for my own benefit of course, but…”

“There are better ways,” Vox finished for me. He shook his head, looking absolutely disgusted. “Fuckin angels.”

I let his comment go. “It’s weird though, because, I mean, when my head is on Valentino’s body, I feel the opposite. Safe. Secure. And I don’t mind him taking my pulse when he’s not looking to…do something medical with the information, if that makes sense?”

“It does- and I appreciate you sharing that with me. I’ll bear it in mind.” He squeezed my shoulder gently with his other hand. “Our goal is to keep you safe, so you’ll never fully escape getting checked over, but at least we’ll make sure you consent. Can you agree to that?”

I nodded.

“And on your other note, I think listening to the heartbeat of someone you love is much, much different than being held down and medicine painfully forced into your body.” He released my wrist and reached into his bag. “But speaking of heartbeats, I do need to listen to yours. You good with that?” Vox asked as he pulled a stethoscope out of his backpack.

I nodded and sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Thanks for asking. I am. I trust you. You didn’t tattle on me.”

“No, you tattled on yourself. And I’m glad you did. Stop talking for a second, let me listen.” Vox said as he pressed the disk to my chest. “Good, now deep breath in. And out.

I stayed still and tried to relax. His touch was light. Gentle. Finally, he pulled back and draped the scope around his neck.

“Heart sounds good. Lungs do too. Let me check your blood pressure and you’ll be all good. You need to keep drinking.” His voice softened ever so slightly. “Which arm did Val put the IV in? I’ll use the other arm.”

I offered him the opposite arm and he wrapped the cuff around. I felt the nerves begin to settle.

“So, why do you know how to take vitals? I mean, I sort of get Valentino but, why you?” I asked.

He paused and looked at me. “Data accuracy. If something I create reads a number, I want to make sure it's right. And I don’t trust anyone other than myself, so I learned basic skills. Vitals I mean. I technically could take blood or put an IV in but if given the choice between a nurse or me, pick the nurse. For your own benefit. Now shush for like one minute.”

I waited patiently until he deflated the cuff. He seemed satisfied and tucked everything back into his bag. I took the last drink from the bottle of sweet sixteen and set the empty bottle on the nightstand. Silence from Vox as he typed furiously on his phone.

“Am I okay?” I asked after a few moments of quiet.

He looked unconcerned. “Mhm, yep. You’re fine. Vel’s going to be late, which means it's you and me, kid.” He stood up and swung his bag over his shoulder. “Look, why don’t you go shower and get yourself comfortable for the night? I’ll get to work on dinner. Vel will join us eventually, but I think eating here before we go out will be a nice change of pace. And fits with what you’re trying to do a bit better. Agreed?”

He saw me hesitate.

“Oh no. You don’t get to tell me you’re not a fan of my cooking after all this. Come on, you can help.” He took me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. “Go shower, get yourself comfortable and meet me in the kitchen in twenty minutes. I’ll get the prepwork all done.”

I watched as he strolled out of the room and closed the door behind him. Vox really did mean what he said- eating at home, supporting my choices. I took a quick shower and wrapped myself in my comfiest pajamas before walking into the kitchen to join him.

“You’re brave, cooking with Vox isn’t my idea of a good time.” Velvette said as I walked into the living room. “And come see me once he gets everything in the oven. I’ll do your hair while we wait.”

“Hey! Come on over kid!” Vox said cheerfully as I stepped into the kitchen.

I popped myself up into the usual place on the counter. “Whatcha making?”

“Something yummy. Here, try this.” He stirred something in a pot and offered me the spoon.

Again I hesitated but let him put the spoon in my mouth. Warmness, an spicy and sweet. It was delicious.

“Damn, Vox- what is that?” I asked.

He beamed. “You like? It’s the sauce for the pasta. We’re having one of my personal favorites for dinner tonight, along with chicken and spinach meatballs and a big tossed salad. A few carbs, good protein, all the things your body is going to need to get back on track.” He stuck the spoon back in the pot and stirred.

“What can I do to help?” I asked as he moved fluidly around the kitchen.

“You can sit there and talk to me. Information, kid. I want to know more about what they fed you, I want to know about how your day to day routine went. And I really want to know if you’ve ever heard the name Alastor.” His voice caught on the name. “And any information you have on him.”

I tried to think back. Vox had mentioned his name before and at the time, it hadn’t meant much to me. I was more wrapped up in the moment to pay much attention to the cause of his rage baking. But now that he mentioned it, the name was familiar.

“Alastor. I know the name, I just don’t remember why.” I said finally.

“So walk me through your day, maybe it will trigger something,” he answered eagerly. “Start with waking up. What did you day look like?”

My day? Depended on the age.

As soon as I was old enough to talk, my day started at four. Memories of my father in the kitchen, making sure I ate what he cooked. Days spent either in his office, or in the arms of one of his many “brothers”- my Uncles. If I wasn’t being taught a skill or concept, I was by their side. I was on base constantly, a shadow to the soldiers. I learned how to eat, speak, breath, control, be controlled, clean, and act like one by process of diffusion. I knew nothing else.

It wasn’t until I was old enough to dress myself that things began to change. Dad became stricter, and my focus shifted from tagging along to participating. Memories of one of my most favorite “Uncles” running alongside me, slowing his pace to mine. My father yelling at me to speed up. Training drills with my wings out, falling to the ground after a hard hit. Whining wasn’t tolerated. I learned how to take the beating and get back up as if nothing happened.

That wasn’t to say I wasn’t taken care of in a sense. Nor was it all bad. My father wasn’t always completely harsh. But when we were on base, which was most of the time, his job was to train and lead. And that was his focus. Making strong soldiers.

Vox was quiet as I talked him through the details.

“Did he ever offer you comfort? Was he ever kind?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

I shrugged. “I mean, sure. When I was little I would climb into his bed and cry out nightmares. Or he would put bandaids on boo boos. But it wasn’t exactly his strong point- some of the others had daughters and he was more than happy to let them handle the softer points.”

Vox shook his head in disgust as he put a pan into the oven. “Kids deserve love. No wonder you have such a…”

“Fucked up idea of things? And Dad loved me, Vox. It was just a different kind of love.”

“I don’t know if I would call that love, kid,” he answered.

“Vox has a point, mi amore.” Valentino’s voice entered the room.

I turned my head and looked as Valentino walked into the kitchen. He kissed the top of my head. “Sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up love.”

I shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Can we get back to the whole kid who grew up without love thing, because that’s fucked up,” Velvette said as she joined us. She pulled herself up next to me.

I frowned. This conversation was quickly becoming incredibly uncomfortable. “It was love,” I protested. “Just a different kind of love.”

“Mmm, no, it wasn’t. But you’ll learn the difference, one way or another, eventually,” Valentino replied.

He seemed to sense my unease because he immediately turned to Vox and changed the subject.

“What are you making, anyway? It smells good.” He gave Velvette a meaningful look and she jumped down from the counter.

“Hey, reader, let’s get you dressed for the night, its going to be a blast! Come on, I have the perfect outfit in mind!”

Grateful for the escape, I followed her down to her room.

#the vees #valentino x reader #valentino x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin fluff #the vees x reader #vox x reader #valentino x wife #valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin vox #voxval #vees #vox the tv demon #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette

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multifandom--mess · 2 months ago

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Hannigram Fic Recs! pt.3

part 1 | part 2

here's some fic recs for youuu (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ definitely took me way too long to add a part 3 to this but whatever, enjoy a variety of fics in no particular order that i've read the last few months that deserve to be shared and enjoyed ♡

old-fashioned divinity candy [series, ongoing]

Explicit, 115k+ | the relationship between old money, med student hannibal lecter and his newly rich sugar daddy, will graham

Like a Lucid Dream

Explicit, 75k | In the days following Will's fateful fall from the bluff, Molly Graham begins to understand the extent of her ignorance regarding Hannibal and Will's relationship. The discovery of her husband's deceit leads her to seek refuge and escape in their cottage in the mountains. There's only one problem: she's not the only one who is looking for a place to hide.

you swallow my heart and flee (but i want it back now)

Explicit, 65k | After they killed Francis Dolarhyde, Will was certain he pulled Hannibal off the cliff with him, but when he wakes up, he’s still on the edge of the bluff, surrounded by FBI agents and paramedics. It’s apparent Hannibal got away safely, and Will is put on the job to help find him. When Will finds Hannibal’s journal in his old cell, filled with entries about, and drawings of, himself, he sneaks it into the waistband of his pants and takes it home. It forces Will into dealing with his own feelings, and figuring out what he wants. Will can only hope the journal gives him the answers he seeks.

And the Winter Sheds His Grief in Snow

Mature, 4.5k | On a car ride, Will spots something... abnormal. And it somehow breaks the normality of their relationship, in ways neither of them expected.

According to Winston

Mature, 7.9k | Winston this, Winston that — everyone in Will Graham’s life is now privy to his new stray, the lucky seven of his pack of dogs. It comes as a surprise when Winston isn’t what anyone expected, and this new light sets a backdrop to Hannibal’s carefully manipulated plans to make Will into his full and whole self.

Mundane Madness

Explicit, 104k | After a traumatizing experience, Will decides that maybe he deserves a shot at a normal, healthy life. It just might be nice to have Hannibal at his side too.

Leviathan

Mature, 24k | Three years after they fell into the Atlantic, Hannibal and Will have made a new life for themselves in the sun-soaked Douro Valley. But old hurts and unaddressed fears lurk beneath the idyllic pretense, threatening to consume all semblance of peace.

Between Black and White: Crimson

Explicit, 9.6k | After surviving the fall and undergoing a proper treatment, Will and Hannibal moved to a place from the past to start their future together. Till death knocked at their door...again.

Suffer A Sea Change

Mature, 29k | Hannibal meets Will, a fisherman with something oceanic lingering behind his eyes, one stormy summer in coastal France.

Omnipotence Paradox

General Audiences, 14k | The trap springs too quickly in Florence. Will and Hannibal adapt.

There's Something So Lonesome About You

Explicit, 90k | When will Graham is released from the BSHCI, he realizes that there is little left for him with the FBI. He packs up the essentials (and Winston, of course), and leaves. Hannibal has to deal with the sudden loss of Will, and he is not very happy about it.

Leila Isabella

Mature, 11k | Will has been utterly miserable in the long months since Hannibal turned himself in, but he gave Hannibal an unexpected gift in the last hours before everything fell apart.

Hidden Place

Not Rated, 5.5k | Two years after the fall, Will and Hannibal share a heated evening in Cuba.

More Myself Than I Am

Explicit, 9k | Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to. It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

In the Darkest Recess

Mature, 12.7k | As a child, Hannibal has problems making friends. A therapist gives him a doll to practice social skills on. Hannibal calls him Will, and quickly becomes obsessed with his new best friend. He never leaves it, even when he begins to hear Will's voice in his head, promising that he will never leave Hannibal, as long as Hannibal is willing to give him 'life to live'. Great love, after all, requires great sacrifice.

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #fanfic #fic rec #ao3

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tyrantisterror · 11 days ago

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At Sea Without a Map pt. 20

Perhaps unsurprisingly, you feel overwhelmingly concerned with Calibani's well-being. Even as you're pulled in three other directions, the drive to go to check on her is stronger than all of them combined. A good 38% or so of your mind asks you whether you might be getting too attached to this woman-who's-actually-a-monster that you've only known for, what, two days or so? It adds that you should be careful since you've been alone for a while. You're vulnerable, you need to take care of yourself.

You tell that part of your mind to fuck off. Well over half of you thinks it's full of shit anyway.

You find your sea-monster predator-turned-friend? leaning against the side of your boat and resting her face on her hand, her eyes scanning the horizon with a troubled expression on her face. Immediately you feel your concern is justified, and you don't even hide the haste in your step as you close the distance between the two of you. "Calibani, what's wrong?"

Her eyes go wide when she hears your voice, and she hastily puts on a big smile as she turns to face you, though you notice it doesn't reach her eyes. "Oh, nothing, Sailor!" she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just tired, is all! Fighting that gloppy monster took a lot out of me!" She smiles again, bigger and more visibly forced this time, and says. "What about you? It's can't be fun for you dealing with all these..." Her smile falters for a fraction of a second. "These monsters trying to eat you..."

It's a deflection, and not even a very good one, but you worry if you call her on that it'll scare her into withdrawing further. "It's been harrowing," you say as you keep your gaze locked on her face. "But I imagine it's worse for you, since you're a lot more vulnerable now than you used to be."

Calibani frowns briefly, her eyes big and just a little watery, but she quickly plasters a smile back on. "Oh, I've never been the biggest fish in the pond," she laughs. "It's not the first time something's hunted me, and it won't be the last. At least I have a new weapon to defend myself with." She looks at her stork-headed spear, and her smile finally becomes genuine again. "Thank you for making it, by the way."

Now you get to wave dismissively. "Please, you're the one who made it useful. I think you did as much damage to that thing as the boat."

Calibani's smile grows wider as her eyes flicker with worry again. "Yeah, I hurt it pretty bad," she says with clearly feigned enthusiasm, and again tries to change the topic. "It was so clever of you to hit it with your boat. What a finishing move!"

"Well, it worked for me bef..." you stop mid-sentence as you realize that Calibani knows exactly when you last hit a monster with your boat, and that it's likely a bit of a traumatic memory for her. But there's really no way to end that sentence differently, and so you just whisper out, "...fore..." as an awkward silence falls between you. As both of you stand there quietly not making eye contact, your eyes fall upon her tail, which once again hangs over the side of the ship.

"You're tail's hanging off the side of the ship," you say, stating the obvious.

Calibani looks at it. "Yeah, it is," she says quietly.

"Aren't you worried something will grab it again?"

She shakes her head, and her big mane oh hair attached to it wiggles with the motion. "The water feels so good on my scales and fin," she explains. "I think the time spent enjoying that will outweigh any time spent getting grabbed or bitten, so it's worth the risk. Besides, if something grabs my tail, I can warn you that trouble is coming, so we'll be better off in the end anyway."

You decide not to argue with her logic. "Well, let me know if you need anything," you suggest, unsure of what else to say at the moment.

"Will do, sweetness!" she replies with a bright, fake smile.

With a nod, you leave her to her thoughts, deciding to wait and see if maybe she'll open up later. It's time to focus on the second task at hand, anyway, the whole reason you came here: you need to search these boats.

It's slow, methodical work, and at first it doesn't yield much for all the labor involved. All the wrecked and capsized ships are a bust, their contents either lost to the sea or so water-damaged they're basically useless. The boats that are right-side up provide a bit more - some non-perishable or at least not rotten food here (and, to Calibani's assured delight, some salt, pepper, garlic, and paprika), a few useful tools there, even some clothes that you decide to pocket in hopes of adding to your wardrobe (and, notably, a few more sweaters that seem like they might fit Calibani, though a couple might need to be stretched out a bit first).

In one boat, however, you find something truly interesting. It seems rather bland at first - a briefcase, kind of fancy but not something that seems promising at a glance, with a logo on its side that seems vaguely familiar to you: Spindle Inc.

The name sounds familiar, and you wrack your brain about where you heard it before. Isn't Spindle one of those big tech companies, the ones that make a shitload of money but no one's quite sure what the hell they actually do or sell? You realize this is one of the few specific memories of your life before the Sea that you can recall, and try to see if you can remember more details, but nothing comes to mind.

There's a lock on the briefcase, but luckily for you the former owner didn't remember to lock it. You decide to open it up, just to see if anything inside might further jog your spotty and unreliable memory.

Inside, you spot several documents, with the one on top reading, "Field Agent's Guide to the Sea of Monsters." Most of it uses jargon you can't begin to comprehend, but as you pour over it you come across some notes jotted in the margins.

"It's no use, the only way home is under." "Need a deep sea vessel." "North, South, East, West. Where did it come from?" "Can't risk going back to the lab, they won't let me go." "FIND DR. NEPTUNE." - underlined "Where is Neptune's base? Clues scant." "Captain Peter = only person who knows where Neptune is. Find him beyond the boat graveyard. We're close. I'm close. We're going home."

It's scattered and strange, but you think you get a sense of what this person was looking for. Someone named Dr. Neptune, who you can only find by meeting someone named Captain Peter, who is "beyond the boat graveyard," which you can guess from context is where you are right now. Seems your next destination is... well, ok, not really set, but you know where to go looking next, and that's something, dammit!

Of course, looking requires sailing, and that reminds you that you should probably check on your boat. It's been running well enough, but you've had collisions with two large creatures in about as many days, more or less, so it's good to give things a looksee.

Most things seem in order - no leaks, no dents, no strange noises from your engine (because you're not even sure this boat has an engine, much less where it is or what noises it should make, since the damn thing has always been eerily quiet). Only one thing seems out of place.

There's a... stain? you think? on the front of your boat, a jagged red stain that looks eerily like a mouth. It must be the globster's blood, you tell yourself, except wasn't the globster's blood more of a, like, melonoma black sort of color, that putrescent shade of black that's got other colors mixed in like a mess of spilled paint? And it was chunky when it came out, so how is it smeared so neat and smoothly.

Unless... maybe it's paint? Yeah, that's it, it's paint! How could you forget the cute little shark smile that was painted on your boat, that sharp-toothed painted on grin it's always had as long as you've known it? Of course that smile's always been there, it's probably the reason you picked this boat in the first place whenever... whenever you found it, or bought it, probably? Who wouldn't want the goofy grinning shark boat?

Regardless, nothing is wrong with your boat, as it's in perfectly ship shape. You've got a heading, you've got a working ship, and you've defeated a hideous monster that wanted to eat you and, perhaps worst of all, seemed to be British. If anything calls for celebration, this is it. Going below deck, you break out one of your rarest treasures: a bottle of red wine you found, unopened and of, well, a vintage you hope is good (you don't know shit about wine, you're not Donald Pleasance). It's time to break out the salted meat, cook some of those potatoes you found among the ships, and make a night of it!

You go below deck and make as decent a meal as your conditions with allow, then invite Calibani to eat with you. The two of you share the best meal you've cooked yet, and while the little "ooo's" and "mmm's" Calibani makes while eating show she enjoys the food, you can't help noticing she still looks awfully troubled.

"Did you notice?" you say as you finish your meal. "That it tastes different, I mean."

She nods. "It's good," she says quietly.

"That's cause I found some spices," you say proudly, hoping for a big reaction. But while Calibani smiles, it once again fails to reach her eyes. "Did I oversell how good spices are?" you ask.

"No, no, I'm sorry," she says. "It's really good, best I've had, honest, but..." She looks down at the floor and sighs. "Do you... hate me?"

You stare blankly at her, completely dumbstruck by that question. "What?"

Panic flares behind Calibani's eyes as she throws up her hands and animatedly explains, "It's just that you've been attacked by monsters that want to kill you three days in a row and one of them was me! And the other two are dead - I killed one, we killed the other together, and - and I just don't get it, because you didn't kill me when you could have, and I'm just worried..." She stops her ranting to catch her breath. "I'm worried that you don't like killing and that I've forced you to do it and you hate me for it, or that you hate those creatures for trying to kill you and that means you hate me because I tried to kill you, and I never thought of killing as a personal thing before but now that you put the thought in my mind it's all I'm thinking about and I feel terrible about everything and just - just - do you hate me?"

"Uh... wow," is all you manage to say.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she says quickly, "I didn't mean - oh no, you do hate me, don't you?"

"No, no!" you say just as quickly, your hand instinctively touching your compass. "In fact, I'd go so far to say that my mind keeps being pulled in a direction that likes you quite a lot."

She cocks her head at you and squints, confused by your phrasing despite understanding the jist of it. "Um... well, I mean... why though? I tried to kill you, just like that bird and the... the globster thing we just killed." She looks thoughtfully at the floor. "What makes me different? Why did you spare me?"

That's... actually hard to answer. So, as you do with all hard choices, you consult your compass.

#At Sea Without a Map #ASWaM Chapter 3: The Seaship Graveyard

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