#i saw the movie when it was released and remembered i had this in the drafts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sematarygirls · 1 month ago

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EX-CONVICT!BABYDADDY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ unprotected p in v, breeding kink if you squint, heavyyyy angst, rafe being an asshole (as per usual), brief mentions of guns/police raid and drugs

NOTES .ᐟ guys, i need him so bad, like actually. based on this concept from my silly little brain. dad!rafe stays in my mind 24/7, but this is me we're talking about, so of course, i had to put a lil spin on it. also this turned out way longer than i meant it to, woah

After almost four years, you were finally starting to feel like you were getting your shit together. You were living in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where everyone knew everyone—the kind of place where people literally asked their neighbors for cups of sugar. You had a stable job that allowed you to live comfortably and provide for yourself and your daughter, and you had a big St. Bernard, lovingly named Moonshine after you'd watched one too many episodes of Moonshiners, that provided a sense of safety and security when the nights were cold and the paranoia started to creep into your mind.

Being a single mom was not easy, and it definitely hadn't been a part of your life plan, but then, you met Rafe Cameron—the ever charming, sweet talking man that he was. He swept you up and made you feel like the only girl in the world, like nothing else mattered as long as you were by his side, so when you found out you were pregnant, you were over the moon at the idea of starting a family with him.

But Rafe Cameron was a liar. He was selfish and manipulative, and he turned your life right on it's head.

You could still remember the day the police kicked in the door of your apartment, bursting in with guns drawn, pointed directly at you. You were eight months pregnant and having a gun pointed at you—at your baby—made you physically ill.

They had raided the apartment and found copious amounts of drugs. Your heart dropped, and you immediately felt like an idiot. How had you not known? You knew he made more money than he realistically should have, but the thought never even crossed your mind that this could be the reason. You were heartbroken and angry. Angry that he had lied. Angry that he put you in this position. And, angry that he was leaving you.

Rafe was arrested, and eventually charged with possession with intent to distribute due to the amount of drugs they found, which resulted in a five year sentence. You were sad and angry, not only because you were losing the man you always thought was the love of your life, but also because now, you were alone, and your daughter wouldn't know her father for the first five years of her life.

This anger and resentment festered, mixing with longing and a deep, aching sadness. You couldn't bring yourself to answer his calls or letters, let alone visit him. You didn't know who he was anymore. The man that you saw sporting handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit at his trial was not the same man you fell in love with, and you wouldn't pretend like he was.

You had known Rafe's release date was approaching, but you were under the impression that you still had a little over a year to plan on what you were going to do when it finally came. That's why you were so unsuspecting when you went to answer the harsh knock at your door.

It was a Thursday night, and you were cuddled up on the couch with Moonshine, who was practically the size of you. A horror movie was playing on the TV before you, one you'd seen practically a million times, and every few minutes, your gaze would flicker to the baby monitor on the coffee table that displayed the feedback from a camera in your daughter, Rhiannon's, room.

You jumped a little at the harsh sound of a knock on your front door, the horror movie already having you on edge. You could be paranoid sometimes, especially being a single mom, so realistically, you knew you shouldn't have been watching it so late at night, but they were your guilty pleasures that you couldn't indulge in the light of day because of your toddler.

Moonshine immediately jumped up, a low growl escaping his throat as his hair stood on end. Your brows furrowed at his odd behavior, pausing the movie and unfurling yourself from your comfortable position. Your steps were soft on the hardwood, your socks cushioning the sound as you padded over to the front door, patting the dog's head comfortingly as you unlocked the door, completely unaware with what would greet you on the other side.

As you opened the door, the cool night air hit you, carrying with it the faint scent of cigarette smoke. You blinked in surprise, expecting to see a neighbor, but instead, you found yourself face to face with Rafe Cameron.

Your eyes widened, the air knocked from your lungs as you took him in. He was changed, broader and more imposing, his muscles flexing under his tight black t-shirt as he crossed his arms. His hair was buzzed, his chiseled jawline sporting stubble that made him look older, more mature.

He looked so different, but still, somehow, the same. You were hit by a wave of emotions—longing, love, sadness, but most presently, anger. Who did he think he was showing up unannounced in the middle of the night after all these years, especially looking so unapologetic and devastatingly handsome.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, captivating and dangerous like a wave pulling you under when you least expected it. "Hey, baby," he greeted, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off his tongue. The term of endearment fell from his lips without any semblance of warmth as he stared at you with an intensity that made you want to shrink in on yourself.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your jaw clenching and grip on the door's edge tightening. You shivered a little as the cold air bit at your bare skin, barely registering the low growls of Moonshine behind you due to your tunnel vision on the man standing before you.

He smirked confidently, knowing the effect he had on you—the effect he always had on you. His eyebrow arched as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your bare thighs, courtesy of your pajama shorts. "Aren't you going to invite me in, sweetheart? It's been a long time." He took a step forward, his broad frame filling the doorway intimidatingly.

You swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step back and let him intimidate you into getting what he wanted. You craned your neck to look up at him, his close proximity looming over you, making him seem even taller and more imposing than he already was. "And whose fault is that?" You managed to say, despite the pit in your stomach—a mix of dread, anxiety, and strangely, desire.

Rafe's gaze sharpened, his eyes glinting dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and braced one hand on the doorframe beside your head, leaning in closer. It made your breath catch in your throat, but you held firm. You couldn't let him see that he was getting to you. "Let me in," he clenched his jaw. His anger at you for abandoning him in there had been bubbling up, and your defiance was bringing it to the surface.

A light flickering on in the house across the street caught your eye. Old lady Flanigan had a habit of making everyone else's business, her business, and she was a nasty gossip. Unless you wanted people talking, you either had to let him in or get him to leave, and one of those would be a nearly impossible feat. "Rafe, you can't be here. You can't just barge back into my life after all this time," you told him firmly, your own eyes blazing with a fiery intensity.

"And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His body was practically vibrating with pent-up anger, his muscles taut as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your face. "Did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about what you did to us?"

"What I did?" You scoffed, anger bubbling up inside you at his accusation, blaming you as if he wasn't the one that went to prison and left you alone. "Are you fucking kidding me?" The old woman across the street was now shamelessly watching through her window, and you knew you had no choice but to let him in before her nosey ass called the cops on the strange, clearly out of place man lurking in the neighborhood.

He followed your eyes, looking over his shoulder to the nosy neighbor, his expression darkening. Without another word, he pushed past you, entering the house and forcing you to step back.

Your jaw clenched at his blatant disregard or respect for your wishes as you gently closed the door behind you. Moonshine barked, baring his teeth at the intruder, clearly sensing the tension and jumping into action to protect his family. "Moonshine, stop," you told him firmly. You were proud of him, but you didn't want his barking to wake Rhiannon. The last thing you could deal with right now was Rafe and a crying toddler. You could only focus on one temper tantrum at a time.

Rafe's eyes narrowed as he watched you control your dog, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His gaze then swept the interior of your home, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. "Nice place," he commented flatly, turning back to face you. "Where's my kid?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze hard at him calling your daughter his kid, like he had any right. He didn't even know her name or that she was a girl. "She's asleep," you told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

His piercing eyes bore into yours, unyielding. "Her name." he demanded gruffly.

"Rhiannon," you informed him hesitantly, your gaze darting to the monitor on the coffee table, making sure she was still asleep.

His expression flickered briefly, a flash of something softer, almost vulnerable, in his eyes before it was quickly concealed. He nodded once. "I want to see her." It wasn't a request. His posture remained tense and coiled, ready to react to your response.

You huffed, running a hand through your hair and heading to the kitchen with him hot on your heels. Maybe you wanted to busy yourself. Maybe you wanted an excuse not to have to look at him. Maybe you just wanted to walk away from him, to assert some kind of power. Either way, your next words were spoken with your back to him. "I told you. She's asleep. It's the middle of the fucking night, Rafe, what did you expect?"

He followed you into the kitchen, his presence overwhelming in the small space. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. "I don't give a fuck what time it is," he growled, his voice low and intense. "I've missed four years of her life already."

You rounded the kitchen island, planting your hands on it as you turned to face him, feeling more comfortable with the counter between you. Not because you were scared of him but because, despite yourself and despite your anger, you longed to touch him and have him touch you. "And whose fucking fault is that, huh?" You asked angrily, echoing your earlier words that he had ignored.

Rafe's expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he stared back at you. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his anger. "Yours," he bit out. "You left me in there," he accused.

"You left me out here!" Your voice raised slightly before you caught yourself, letting out a hard breath. The only way you could keep yourself from getting sad, from crying over the loss of the only man you'd ever truly loved, was getting angry at him.

"You think I wanted to go to prison?" He hissed, rounding the island and backing you against the counter. "You think I had a fucking choice?"

"You did have a choice," you said sharply, bracing your hands on the counter behind you as you stared up at him. "You chose to deal drugs, and you chose to keep dealing even after you found out I was pregnant. Prison was just the consequence of all your shitty choices."

His hand came up, slamming on the cabinet beside your head, the sound making you jump slightly. "And what about you?" He seethed, his chest heaving as his breath came in short, angry bursts. "What about your choices, huh? You could've waited for me."

"I did what I had to do," you said, glaring at him. You weren't quite sure what else to say. You had to protect yourself, your own feelings, and your child. You couldn't have stayed in touch, sick with worry every night while you soothed a colicky baby all by yourself. You had to forget him; it was better that way, easier.

"What you had to do," he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the faintest hint of hurt. "You moved on pretty quick, didn't you? Found some new dick to warm your bed, is that it?"

"Fuck you," you spat, the words stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You hadn't been able to bring yourself to even look at another man since he went away. You told yourself it was just because of Rhiannon, that you were focusing on raising her and being the best mother you could be, but deep down, you knew it was because your heart would always belong to Rafe.

"Is that it?" he repeated, his face inches from yours. His voice was low, his eyes searching yours for something. "You found some other man to replace me?"

"Maybe I have," you said stubbornly. You knew you were being petty, wanting him to hurt like you hurt, but you also knew you were a shit liar, so there was no way in hell he would actually believe you. "Maybe I have moved on."

His other hand shot out, gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to look at him. "Bullshit," he growled, looking down at you, his blue eyes darkened. "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't moved on to shit."

You stared up at him defiantly, your chest heaving with anger, which only intensified when you felt the wetness between your thighs. Even after all this time, all it took was a look and a simple touch to get you so wet, and as much as you hated it, you couldn't deny that something about his post-prison appearance—how rugged and large he was—made your knees week.

His hand tightened on your chin as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. It was clear he was angry, punishing you for the words you'd spoken, and you knew you should've pushed him away—yelled at him and told him to get the fuck out of your house—but you didn't.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him with an intensity that matched the war going on within you—the jumbled mess of love and hate that he had brought up within you.

He groaned into the kiss, his hands gripping your face roughly as he devoured your mouth. He pushed you further back against the counter that was now digging into your lower back, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his anger, his frustration, his desperation, and it only fueled your own emotions.

The kiss was raw and charged with a passionate mix of need, longing, and pure, unbridled anger, both of you trying to show the other that this wasn't a surrender of power or giving into the other and accepting blame. The kiss itself was an argument, a fight all of its own that didn't require words.

He hands went to your hips, lifting you onto the counter and stepping between your parted legs. Tearing his mouth from yours, he began kissing along your jawline and down the column of your throat. His lips were hot and insistent, his teeth nipping at your skin as he continued to mark you.

You panted, your chest heaving for an entirely different reason now as you let out soft gasps and breathy sounds of approval, your head falling back against the cabinet behind your head. You had forgotten how good he was with his mouth, always knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

He took advantage of the exposed column of your throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the counter. You let out a low moan, your nails raking against his buzzed scalp. As sexy as he looked with a buzzcut, you wished you could run your fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly everytime he touched you just right.

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, his voice a low vibration that seemed to go straight to your core. He kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hips pushing forward to press his hardness against your core. "Did you forget how good I am, baby?"

You internally rolled your eyes at his cocky tone, like he had won. "God, do you ever shut up?" You asked, sounding less annoyed and effective since you were still breathless from his kisses.

His hips thrust forward again, making an involuntary whine fall from your lips at the feeling. "Not when I'm right." He smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His smirk was as frustratingly handsome as it had always been, and it made you want to smack him and kiss him all at once. "And I am."

"Don't be a dickhead," you glared at him, his arrogance and your own unyielding need for him only heightening your frustration. You were desperate and aching for him, but you refused to give in and beg him like you wanted to.

"Then quit acting like you're not soaking wet for me." His grip on your thighs tightened, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh. "I bet if I slipped my hand into your shorts, I'd find you drenched and ready for me, wouldn't I?"

His smug tone infuriated you and turned you on all at once. "Shut up, Rafe," you demanded, balling your fist into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer, so you could press your lips to his, forcing him to shut up and quit pissing you off.

Your grip on his shirt loosened, hand sliding down his hard, muscular chest to his waistband. You had always seen the trope of guys working out their frustrations in prison movies, but you didn't know that was actually a thing. Your fingers fumbled with his belt as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, sliding it along yours in a way that had you moaning against his lips

He groaned low in his throat as you finally worked the belt buckle open, sliding the leather through the loops and dropping it to the floor with a clank. His hands immediately slid up your thighs, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down your legs—with the help of you awkwardly shifting to lift your ass enough to do so.

He discarded the garments to the floor with his belt, his palms running along your bare thighs as he parted your legs wider, opening you to him. His calloused fingertips brushed against your center, feeling your slick folds, making you gasp into his mouth. "Told you," he grinned against your lips, finding it in himself to be a complete dick, even when he was about to be inside you.

"Asshole," you mumbled, fingers deftly popping open the button of his jeans and unzipping them. You hooked your fingers in his waistband, shoving his pants and underwear down as he had done to you.

He kicked his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, stepping between your thighs again. His hard cock was flushed, the tip glistening with precum. He gripped himself at the base, rubbing the head through your slick folds teasingly. "What was that, baby?"

Your breath caught in your throat. "Just put your dick inside me before I kill you," you threatened him, though you both knew you wouldn't do anything, not really.

He chuckled lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You want it so bad, don't you?" He teased, his tip nudging against your entrance but not pushing inside. "Beg for it, baby. Let me hear how much you need my cock." He didn't need to be angry when he could punish you like this. He knew begging was the last thing you wanted to do, but he also knew that you'd do it.

"Don't piss me off right now, Rafe," you gritted your teeth, the feeling of him against your entrance making you dizzy with desire.

"Or what, baby? You'll what?" He pressed against you again, the tip of his cock pushing inside just slightly before pulling back out. "Tell me what you'll do if I don't give you what you want." He was pushing your buttons, knowing exactly how to make you snap.

You practically whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out. "Fuck- fine, please, Rafe," you panted, furious with yourself and him that you were giving into him. "Please just fuck me already."

The confident, victorious smirk that instantly appeared on his face had you wanting to slap him. "Now was that so hard?" He condescend. Your annoyed retort died in your throat as he finally pushed into you, making you moan, your head falling back against the cupboard at the feeling of him inside you after so long.

He groaned as your tight heat enveloped him, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise as he started to move. His body tensed, using every ounce of his self control not to cum on the spot. Four years of fucking himself in his hand was nothing compared to the way you were squeezing him right now.

One hand moved up to your mouth, muffling your growing moans and whines. "Shh," he cooed. You were thankful for it. You knew you had to be quiet, but the way he was pounding into you made it nearly impossible.

"Did you miss me, baby?" He leaned down, breathing hotly against your neck as he nipped at your throat. "Did you lay awake at night thinking about me stretching you like this?" He flexed his hips, driving deep inside you.

You nodded, letting out a muffled "mhm" against his palm as your back arched into him. He felt so good, better than you'd remembered, and you hadn't had sex in four years, so you were so worked up.

"Good," he purred, his teeth scraping against your skin as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. "Because I missed you too, baby. Missed this tight little cunt wrapped around my dick." The hand on your thigh dipped down between your legs, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

You gasped against his palm, your eyes rolling back at the mix of sensations. You were already so pathetically close, feeling that familiar aching deep within you.

He could feel your weepy cunt starting to flutter around him, and he was more than glad that you were so close so quickly because he didn't know how much longer he could hold back. "Gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, baby. Gonna get you pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna miss a damn thing"

His words turned you on more than they should have, snapping that coil inside you and sending you over the edge. You tensed around his dick, feeling your orgasm wash over you as you cried out his name.

"Shit, baby," he groaned, burying his face into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin as he pushed himself deep inside you, painting your insides white with his release. His breath was hot against your already heated skin, a thin layer of sweat coating both your bodies as he slowly softened inside you.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, his hand falling from your mouth to brace himself on the counter. You couldn't believe that after all these years of promising yourself you wouldn't let him back into your life, you had so easily opened your legs and even let him cum inside you—because clearly that worked out so well for you last time.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of finally being home where he belonged. He eventually pulled out, his softening dick slipping from your tender cunt.

You had to tell him that he couldn't stay, that it would confuse Rhiannon to wake up to a strange man in the house, but you didn't know how, not after what just happened.

He stepped back, allowing you to get down from the counter. A silence fell over both of you as you got dressed, neither one knowing what happens now. He finished buttoning up his jeans, his eyes flicking up to you as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. "So... what now?" He asked gruffly, breaking the silence.

"You can't- you have to go," you told him, pulling your shorts back up and crossing your arms. It seemed unfair to say such a thing after sharing such an intimate moment, but you needed to think of your daughter. She didn't even know who Rafe was.

"You're kicking me out?" He echoed, as if he couldn't believe it. "After... that?" He gestured vaguely, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, both of you finding yourselves right back where you started. "You cant just... be here. Rhiannon doesn't even know who you are." The words seemed cruel as soon as they left your lips, but they were true. You wished they weren't, but they were.

"I know. Fuck, I know that. Don't you think I know that?" He was frustrated, your words like a slap to the face. "But goddamn it, I want to know her. I want to be a part of her life."

"I'm not saying you can't be, but... she's four, Rafe. She's old enough that you can't just walk in and call yourself her father," you told him firmly. "It's going to take time. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Time?" He asked incredulously. Deep down, he knew you were right, that you were doing what was best, but he was so angry at himself, and instead of facing that anger and acknowledging that this was his own doing, he was taking it out on you. "I've already missed four fucking years. First steps, first words, first everythings."

"I can't keep going in circles with you, Rafe," you ran your hand through your hair, utterly exhausted. "You do this my way, or you don't do this at all." It hurt you to be so cold. You wanted Rhiannon to know her father, but she was just a kid. She wouldn't understand why her dad just showed up out of the blue, and you didn't know how to explain it to her.

He stared at you, his face unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. Then, he spoke, his voice low. "Alright. Fine. Your way. But you better not shut me out again. I'm not gonna miss anymore. Understand?"

You nodded, thankful that he was going to stop fighting you on this. "Do you have a-a number or something?" You asked, unsure how long he'd been out, if he got his phone back and was able to pay the bill or if he bought a burner. You didn't even know where he was staying.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's the same as my old one," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed by your previous ultimatum.

"Right, okay," you nodded, your fingers drumming against your upper arm. You two stood in silence for a long moment. Rafe didn't want to leave, and you didn't want to tell him to.

Rafe's gaze fell to the floor, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. "Can I see her before I go?" He asked softly. "Just... just to see her."

There was a shift in his demeanor, a vulnerability about him that told you he really did care about Rhiannon, even if he'd never met her. "Yeah," you found yourself nodding, turning to lead him to her room. As you entered the living room, you could've sworn Moonshine was giving a disapproving side eye. "Don't judge me," you mumbled.

He followed you down the hallway, his heavy boots thudding on the floor. He paused in the doorway of Rhiannon's room, looking in on her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side in a princess toddler bed, her little arms wrapped around a stuffed cat. Rafe's expression softened as he took her in.

His eyes swept over the room, the nightlight plugged into the wall illuminating the space. The walls were painted a light shade of pink, toys strewn about. A small bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, various children's books inside, some sitting on the floor in front of it.

He stepped into the room, moving closer to the bed. He crouched down, his eyes fixed on Rhiannon's sleeping face as he reached out, his large hand gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "She's so little," he murmured softly, almost reverently.

You leaned on the doorway, a small, sad smile pulling at your lips as you watched the exchange. You found yourself wondering what life would have been like if Rafe never got locked up, your heart aching as you thought about sharing all of Rhiannon's firsts with someone, bickering over whether she would've said mommy or daddy first. The wobbly first steps, the soothing and band-aid applications after she scraped her knees. What would it have been like to share those moments with him?

Rafe's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She's beautiful." He turned his head to look at you, and you saw the sheen of moisture in his eyes. He blinked it away quickly, clearing his throat as he stood, masking his emotions as he always had. "I should go."

You hesitated, for a moment wanting to throw everything you'd said out the window and tell him to stay, but you knew you couldn't. You just nodded, letting him push past you. You didn't move from your spot, even after you heard the front door open and shut. You simply closed your eyes, leaning your head against the doorframe as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

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hereforthehitsbaby · 20 days ago

Note

prompt 16 with Logan on the fluff list! thinking that their messing around and reader accidentally confesses and it’s a toooootal love bomb after that

Confession | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.7k…did I get carried away? Yes.

Author’s Note: Okay but why am I sobbing at my own writing? This request was so cute, thank you for this nonie!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Wade when I said we should watch The Wizard of Oz, I didn’t mean that you need to dress up as Dorothy and act out the entire movie!” You exclaimed in the living room, trying your hardest to suppress a laugh as Wade twirls in front of the couch. The blue and white checkered dress swirled in the air as he spun, arms wide out as he threw his head back. In the background, droning on was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” to which Wade decided it was the perfect time to lip sync. Days like this are what you cherished most, especially when things were a bit shit all around. The world wasn’t as safe as it used to be, but in this little apartment – it was comfort. Solace, everything you all needed to wait out the storm down below.

“You may not have wanted that, but they did.” Wade lets out nonchalantly, whispering the last part at the brick wall, causing you to look around him. Every so often he would stare off into a hidden camera, like it was The Office, speaking to the “audience” about what was going on. At first it was funny, charming even – but when it got to be quips about you, it was almost instinctive how you needed to roll your eyes. Now? It was just another thing about Wade you admired, how he could keep himself entertained like this and forget how things were outside, there was no judgement but pure love and laughter. Shaking your head with a smile, you sigh out as you stand from the couch, stretching your back. “Whatever you say, Wade.” As you felt your tailbone crack, you smiled softly at the release. It felt nice to get up and walk, to stretch out a bit before engaging more with Wade’s antics of today. It was endearing to see him doing this – you knew everything was getting to him as well, and you both needed a good laugh. What you silently hoped for though, was for Logan to join the two of you.

It was obvious your feelings for him, Wade called that out the second you both first met. The way your eyes went from thin slits of weariness to full blown hearts was enough to make his head spin – Logan on the other hand seemed to have no effect. But that’s what he wanted you to think. It had been months since your apartment flooded, causing you to move two floors up with Wade, Logan, Laura and Al. But it had been the best months of your life, creating new friendships and hoping to blossom out of the awkward phase with Logan. A stoic, quiet man who truly needed this – needed a friend – needed to know he was loved. You wanted to help him with that, if only you could get over this little hump of self-doubt. It was a silent battle you faced internally; Rejection scared you and hurt more than anything else – but you’d respect the decision if it happened. The struggle was the worst part of it, how it ate you alive. Wade would always try to help quell it but alas, your mind could be very fickle.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you rounded the counter, back facing towards the living room as you hummed along with the song. Lost in your own little world, you didn’t notice when the bedroom door to the left started to slowly open, your head down to face the coffee maker as you stuck your mug underneath, using the hot water for your tea. It wasn’t until you saw something sparkling out of the corner of your eye that it caught your attention. You knew Mary Puppins had a flashy little get up, since Wade spent four days bedazzling her suit, but then you remembered Laura had taken her out for a walk a few minutes prior. Cocking your brow, you turn slowly to see what that shine is – not expecting to see what you did. “Holy shit,” you mumble out, your eyes shooting wide open. There was no proper way to react except shocked, your body freezing at the sight.

Logan was home after all, hiding away in his room. But what you didn’t realize was that Wade had gotten him to dress up for the movie. Standing there in his gray and black flannel, gray sweatpants, and white socks was your Logan – face covered in silver face paint, sparkling against the orange hued lighting of the kitchen. You stopped to stare at him, admiration making your heart grow as Wade let out a dramatic gasp, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. “Robocop has arrived!” Wade cheered, hoping over the back of the couch and standing on the opposite side of the kitchen. At the comment, Logan growled in Wade’s direction, sending him straight daggers. “Don’t give me that look, Pookie. You know what you signed up for.”

Logan could help but groan as his gaze shifted back towards you; The silvery color making his eyes glow brighter than usual. A soft green, like a meadow on a cloudy day always stared back at you. But today, it was Emerald City. The glints of golden flecks and little silvery tendrils drifted through his irises, causing your heart to race. You didn’t mean to gaze so deeply into his eyes, finding your own eyes losing focus the further you delved in. You couldn’t tell but Logan’s heart was racing a mile a minute under his shirt, his claws quivering inside his hand. “You’re taking shine bright like a diamond to a whole new level, Lo.” You let a bright smile cascade over your lips as you looked up at him, tilting your head to the side to admire his application skills. Under all the silver you could see a gentle pink blush creeping up his neck, fanning over the little exposed patch of skin beneath his flannel. It wasn’t everyday that Logan blushed – but with you, he couldn’t stop. Even at your teasing, he was a mess.

“His idea.” Logan snickered as he pointed to Wade. “Dipshit told me we were all dressing up as characters.” Of course he did, because that is just how Wade is. He always says one thing, then never tells anyone else. In a way you knew he said it for you, knowing this was your favorite movie and all. To have Logan dress up like the tinman was all for you. A simple admission you made not too long ago about how he was your childhood crush; Convincing Logan to dress up as him only seemed right. Wade could tell you both were mutually pining over one another, and he was tired of the will they won’t they. All he knew was that he wanted his two best friends to be together, to be happy; He knew you’d be good for one another. Wade blew Logan a kiss as he spun in his dress, twirling his way through the kitchen and living room.

“Wade you dirty dog.” You laugh as you roll your eyes, shifting your focus back to your now freshly brewed tea. Taking the mug away from the coffee machine, you bit your bottom lip as you giggled, nudging Logan with your shoulder. “When we need a disco ball for Al’s 70th birthday, we will just strap you to the ceiling and spin you.” You winked in his direction as you slightly raised a brow, indicating that you were joking, but also being a tease. Logan liked when you did that, finding it invigorating how his heart would pound out of his chest. A hearty, sincere laugh slipped from his silvery lips as he narrowed his gaze. Leaning against the countertop, Logan crossed his arms over his eyes, his lips turning up into a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah? You think so, beautiful?” He let out without question, tilting his head to the side as he eyed you up and down. He could hear, smell, how hard your heart was racing as he leaned closer, how your palms grew clammy, how your body shivered under his gaze. There was something so primal clawing its way beneath his skin; He wanted all of you, to be the only one to make you feel this way. “I know so!” You shot back without hesitation, trying to keep your cool.

Logan thought it was cute, how hard you were trying to fight yourself off. Trying so hard not to spill the beans or say what was on your mind. It was a game of hardball, and Logan was going to come out on top like always. Huffing with amusement, he placed his hand softly on your shoulder, letting his wade palm graze down your arm, fingers drifting over the expanse of your wrist. Leaning closer to you, only a hairsbreadth away, Logan whispered as he held your hand lovingly. “Well what if I…” You were so entranced with how he was coming onto you, months of tension finally reaching its peak as the knife cut through it, releasing that hold on you. Closing your eyes as you prepped yourself for what he was about to do next, you pursed your lips instinctively, waiting to feel him on you. Alas, that never came.

In a singular second, Logan roughly pulled you close to him as he rubbed his face all over yours. The burn of his beard across your cheeks made you yelp out, the slippery feel of the face paint flowing over your skin made you laugh. A fit of giggles and playful pushing ignited the room, filtering out the sound of Mary Puppins and Laura coming back from their walk. You couldn’t breathe from how hard you were laughing, trying to muster up the energy to speak as Logan held you close to him. Though you felt his touch burning through your clothes, not one of a friendly nature but one of pure passion. The way he gripped your hip with one hand, and the side of your neck with the other. The way his face slid over yours, it was pure love. Your mind was reeling with endless thoughts of what it would be like to be in love with Logan, never realizing how you spoke aloud. “Ohmygod, I’m in love with an adult man-child.” The words fell out before you had anytime to think about it, not realizing what you had said as you fought yourself through the giggle fit. You didn’t realize what had come out, until Logan stopped.

The tension in the air was palpable, your heart pounding in your ears as you caught your breath. Logan stopped the ministrations on your face, his grip to your neck and hip growing harder, steadier as his breathing picked up. “In love!?” Wade and Laura yelled out from the living room, Mary Puppins gave a little bark as well. In that moment you stopped, your eyes growing wide as you panned upwards. “In love?” Logan asks, his eyes turning from a vibrant green shade to mocha, his pupils blackened. Meeting his gaze, you swallowed back the words I’m kidding, because in reality you were not. It was out there now, there was no taking it back even if you had tried. There wasn’t anything that would make this moment easier to digest, it was all or nothing. “Shit.” That was your only response. The movie in the background grew quiet. Laura, Wade, and Mary Puppins stared at you with wide eyes, trying to process it themselves. Al on the other hand sat by the open window and laughed, keeping his head towards the street below.

All you wanted to do was run; Fight or flight kicking in made you want to scream. It wasn’t the way you announced it that made you scared, nor nervous – but how Logan was staring at you. His once playful demeanor was now clouded with something unreadable, enough to make tears well in your eyes. At the end of the day, if he didn’t feel the same there were no hard feelings, and you both could live with that. But right now, you wanted to be alone, to calm down from the panic rising in your chest. “No, no running away.” Logan whispered for you, and you only. His hardened grip on your neck moved to gently hold your face, his thumb sweeping against your cheek. He could see the fear in your eyes, the unknowing – he wanted to settle that for you. Logan leaned forth to press his forehead against yours. The switch of Logan gave you whiplash; Usually he wasn’t this affectionate with his actions, always keeping to himself, not thinking himself worthy of love. But today, that all changed. “Sweetheart…do you mean that?” Logan’s voice broke slightly as he asked, his own eyes welling with tears.

“Of course she does! She’s in lov-“ Wade began, not even giving you a second to explain yourself. Logan grew tense at hearing him speak. He never pushed his face away from yours as he growled out into the room. “Shut the fuck up!” A shiver ran down your spine at the dominance in his voice, your hands instinctively going out to hold onto his hip as you steadied your breathing. “Ohhh my god,” was all Wade could respond with as he sunk back into the couch, Laura holding her hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything more. It was now or never; Forever hold your peace or tell Logan how you really felt and see where it led from there. Taking a deep breath, you nodded against Logan’s forehead, a shaky breath exhaling from your parted lips. “I do.” The words felt right coming out, there was no line of awkwardness or reluctance to them. It was the truth, and now it was known.

You refused to open your eyes as stare at Logan, hearing the deep inhalation he made at your comment. You knew if you opened your eyes tears would fall, and you were not about to have that. Nothing came to mind on what you could say, nor could you move from where you were planted. Internally you begged someone to say something, to break the silence. Logan must’ve heard your internal thoughts. “Finally, didn’t know how long we were going to play that game, sweetheart.” Logan let out, causing you to open your eyes. He extended himself to his full height as he held your face, peering down into your soul with a genuine, loving smile. It was in that moment his words fully clicked inside of your brain, the mutual pining was over. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. I could tell you were too, but I didn’t want to come on too strong, if you weren’t ready. I wanted it to be on your terms, when you felt it was right.” Logan’s word held you tightly, holding you close to show you just how loved you are, how cherished you are, how appreciated you are. You could tell Logan had more he wanted to say but, actions speak louder than words.

Surging forth, you pressed your lips lovingly against Logan, feeling how the world faded around you. The dull, orange lighting of the kitchen burnt out around you. The hum of the coffee maker, fridge, and lights became silent. The only thing that could be heart was your heartbeats, merging into one. Around you swirled endless love and possibilities, flecks of the brightest yellows and blues flowing out like clockwork, binding you two together. This feels so right. Everything felt so right. Logan felt so right. Nothing in life ever felt like this, nothing ever felt meant to be. Only now did you realize, the love you have been waiting your entire life for, finally arrived. In the form of Logan Howlett, The Wolverine. Your hero.

-----

Hugh Jackman Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo

Logan Howlett Taglist: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444

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neil-gaiman · 10 months ago

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Hello Neil, my name is Zalean. If you have a few minutes, I wanted to tell you a little story. Not really a question and I’m not sure how to use tumblr but I wanted to say thanks so much for coming to Florida a few months back and talking with Art Spiegelman. It was my first time ever figuring out how to buy tickets for something. I lived in, middle of nowhere, Vermont for most my life and had no idea what I was doing, I had never been to anything before, nothing had made me excited enough to do the 5 hour drive. And then you just appeared 20 minutes away from where I am living now.

See, I was just starting to get to know your books and work because I fell in love with Good Omens so deeply when I discovered it during season twos release. Funny thing is, I knew of you all along without even realizing it, Stardust has been my favorite book and movie since I was a kid because it was my dad’s favorite story. Finding out my two favorite things were actually connected, I started trying to get hands on as many of your books as I could. I hadn’t read in years before finding your books. It was eye opening.

The talk event at the Dr.Phillips Center was sold out by the time I knew about it, someone had asked me if I knew of the event when they saw my Good Omens keychains my mom had made me. I called the box office because there is no harm in asking. I explained how I’m an art student at UCF and desperately wanted to be inspired and learn from you both. The customer service people were amazing and ended up calling me back to get me a seat in the orchestra pit before they were released to the public. I drove alone, I walked there alone, I sat alone, and it was worth it. I was so thankful to get a seat and grateful to my professor who was a bit jealous he didn’t know about it but let me leave class early to go because of course the art professor would be understanding for any learning opportunities in the arts. And it was truly wonderful, it seemed real and that’s what I wanted. I didn’t want a show. I just wanted to hear, in some sense, that you were like everybody else. I brought a notebook and pen for any information or story’s that I thought made a difference to my little life. The other people around were wonderful, you inspire kind people.

Like I said, I had never been to anything like this and I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know you would have signed books and I only found out because the people next to me came in late. I asked them why they brought the books after it was over and the lights turned on. They did look at me like I had three heads for a moment until they realized I didn’t know there were books to buy, they looked kinda sorry for me but they were so nice. I had never really thought about the importance of someone’s scribble before this but it’s something that proves you were there. It says “Remember when this person made you happy? Remember when they changed your life? Remember when they gave you hope? Look at this and remember.” I hope to see David Tennant and Michael Sheen to get an autograph now that I understand the meaning behind it a bit more but honestly I just love diving into everyone’s projects, the wonder you all create. Oh what fun it is to live a life full of stories!

The people that were sitting next to me let me look at their signed books and hold them. I flipped through some of the big ones, handed them back and expressed my gratitude just to be in the theater. I showed them all my little quotes I wrote down, I never want to forget why I create things and you say so much about never stopping, always creating. Then the women handed me a different book, a smaller book, but when I tried to hand it back, a bit confused, she softly placed it back in my open hands and said “I want you to have it, we have plenty and I want you to love these stories just as much as we do. It’s just starting for you, I want you to remember who started it”. The book she handed me being“The Ocean at the End of the Lane”. The first book I decided to read by you and had just finished a week before. The women had no idea she given me a signed copy of the book that made me want to read again. Your books make the world better. For such a big theater and such a big stage, I just wanted to tell you my little point of view.

The story you told about wishing you enjoyed the past more than you did, I hope you get to enjoy it now, and I hope you want to. And thank you, to you and to Terry Pratchett for creating something special. I convinced my dad to watch Good Omens with me over December break, he loved it.

I forget sometimes that everything is someone's first time, and then I read something like this and feel like I need to remember that better. I'm glad the people beside you were kind.

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kfaem · 4 months ago

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Indulge || Sylus Qin L&DS

pairing: Sylus x MC genre: 16+, domestic cw: newly established relationship (MC is shy and clingy), bratty MC, sexual tension, morning after, marking (biting, scratching) note: i just know Sylus is WILD in bed

"Do you really think this is the proper way to get my attention?" Sylus hummed in his deep baritone, sending shivers down her spine. Still, she didn't let up, wiggling on his lap. A red and black wave surrounded her, freezing her mid-wiggle. "I already told you that I would indulge you when I was done with my reading. Stop acting like such a brat."

"Can you really blame me, Sy? You've barely spoken to me today." He sighed at her pouting, releasing her from the hold of his Evol and instead, placing his hands on her waist. "That's better." She snuggled into his chest, appreciating his hands around her body.

"Sweetheart, you know I can't continuously drop my work for you. We've talked about this far more times than I can count." MC raised her head from the comfort of his chest, eyes downturned at the seriousness in his voice. Though his eyes said something different. He didn't want her to move. "However...taking a quick break wouldn't halt any progress of mine."

Internally cheering with her victory, she planted a chaste kiss on his plump lips. "Should we watch a movie?" Sylus's red eyes had a mischievous glow to them, a glow she knew all too well. "Or... did you have something else in mind?" Her fingers trailed up his torso, stopping just before she reached the bare skin where his robe was unbuttoned.

"You're playing a dangerous game, dearest." His hands around her waist grew possessive, needy, urgent. "Are you sure you would like to continue?"

MC let her fingers run over his bare skin, causing his breath to hitch. She looked up, peering into his deep eyes. Suddenly lost for words, she breathed out one word. "Please."

7:24 AM

She woke up, rolling over to hide from the lights beaming in from outside the window. "Sylus?" Her hand felt around the bed, feeling his absence in the cold bedsheets and neatly tucked in blanket.

Her body ached and her throat was sore, hair tousled. The clothes she was wearing the night before now sit in the laundry bin, and now she was covered in a familiar black button up. The bathroom door then opened, a warm fog flowing out into the bedroom. Sylus emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, still leaving very little to the imagination. Her face flushed deeply when she saw the markings that littered his body.

"Oh, you're awake," Sylus's mouth curved, eyes doing a quick once over seeing how she looked in his shirt. "I didn't want to wake you but it seems I failed, how do you feel?" He spoke so casually as he picked out a simple, stay-in kind of outfit for the day.

She cleared her throat to the best of her ability, flicking a stray piece of hair away from her face. She decided to answer honestly, "Sore." His eyebrow quirked, a knowing glint in his eyes. One could say it was confidence. "I-... I'm sorry for leaving so many..."

"What? Oh, these? Hm, no need to apologize sweetie." The towel dropped and he began to dress himself. "You should see yourself, you truly look ravishing."

Realizing she was still between the sheets, she quickly made her way to the mirror. A sharp gasp escaped her mouth as her eyes made their way head to toe.

Her body was covered in markings, from bite marks to bruises and the odd scratch. Sylus smirked, feeling pride in his work. "Sylus! I have to go to work today!"

"You didn't seem to care last night, don't you remember?"

She scrunched her nose, whacking his arm. "I swear, you're going to get me in trouble one day."

Sylus kissed the crown of her messy bedhead, "I love you too, sweetie."

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #lds sylus #sylus x mc

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hazelfoureyes · 6 months ago

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The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (epilogue)

Mom gets fitted for dentures next week 🎊 🎉 🦷 💝

Epilogue (Promises)

You had meant it when you said it so long ago. A promise. One you intended to keep

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader, Valentino x Fem reader (just TRUST ME), nipple chain, Val exists too much, Kaiju cock, pussy wet??, aphrodisiac, Alastor shade, fanatic sinners, misleading porno covers, Angel Dust is perfect as always, blood, stabbing, filming sexy things, Val in a thong, licking, hair pulling, why bad man have big dick, Alastor isn’t horny but he is possessive, pussy in the ether」

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual

***Spoiler for people that need Val warnings*** Val dick touches reader pussy. Val explicit scenes are purple. if you skip the purple parts you will still understand the story and still be in the scene, interacting with him. Reminder, reader is there intentionally and consenting.

minors omg look over there! (🏃‍♀️💨Dni)

“I will admit, I was surprised to get your message.” Val exhaled, one hip out as he rest his weight on his right foot. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, but as you became comfortable in hell you found yourself remembering the promise to yourself. One you made that day you met Alastor. On the floor of that studio. Your eyes scanned the room. The space was different, the set no longer your cursed cabin scene. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You took a deep breath, you’d practiced this, “Well I’ve been in hell for a while now… and I see you everywhere. I’ve been thinking,” your eyes caught on the door you were confident led to the room that held you. To the bed. Another shaky exhale, you never were much of an actress. “I really missed my chance with you. A powerful overlord… a celebrity.”

A dark chuckle from the moth, his ego fluttering, “Ooh, you’re a little celebrity in your own right. My best seller in ages.”

Oh, right. The tape. You hadn’t watched it yet. Alastor set the VHS copy on the bookshelf, an agreement made you could revisit that memory together if you ever wanted to. Not that you hadn’t heard it before. Nearly two years after its release and still people played it in public. Your first visit to Rosie started with you red faced and sputtering, having had someone on the way there thrust a DVD in front of you.

The stranger asked for an autograph, but as soon as you saw the cover photo the entire thing had been knocked into the street by Alastor’s microphone. He had been trying to shelter you from interacting too much with the movie.

“Was that—is the cover—?” You were frozen as the sinner ran off, mind trying to process the image.

Alastor hummed, “Not what I’d choose, but I signed away all rights when I made the deal. A little misleading of a photo if you ask me.” He watched with glee as a car pulverized the disc and case.

A blood red demonic seal splattered with a white liquid and a slender hand scraping into the wood.

“But that’s the Vees for you!”

Indeed, that was the Vees. Val gestured at you with his cigarette and its dramatic holder, “Aren’t you still with the radio demon? Not that I care.” He took a few steps towards you, getting you into arm’s reach before grabbing you by the back of the head and pulling you into him, “Just cuz there's a goalie doesn’t mean I can’t score.”

With how your head was angled back as he had your hair tightly wound in his fist you could see the TV. Always Vox News, you assumed. The time was displayed in the corner. “I am but— he doesn’t, ya know… he doesn’t know I’m here. But he’ll be looking for me soon.”

He stared down at you, pupil-less eyes without emotion. Your scalp began to burn and after a few seconds you had to shift your weight to relieve some of the pull. It made your upper stomach rub against his crotch. Not at all your intention. But you knew you’d have to touch him eventually.

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t do shit at anyone else’s speed.” His hand released your hair, “Could be fun though…,” Valentino traced along your jaw with his tongue before squeezing your cheeks in his hand, “fucking Alastor’s woman.”

He was off you as quickly as he had pounced, makeshift jacket swirling behind him as he spun around and walked to the door you’d seen before.

Another glance at the television. You had 10 minutes before Alastor would be calling. A small panic that you didn’t have enough time.

Alastor rarely called on you, because rarely were you very far away. He didn’t have you on a leash, you just enjoyed his company. You’d scroll on your phone while he worked in his radio station or read a book while he enjoyed his breakfast in the morning.

Also, well, going out alone could be intimidating. People swung from two extremes when they saw you— excited fan or terrified sinner.

The fans knew you were with Alastor.

The other sinners knew you were with Alastor.

The DVD incident had spooked you, not helped by the fact it had been your first outing. Alastor had been eager, even if he didn’t say it, to introduce you to the cannibal overlord.

Having you back in his presence brought a deep seated sense of calm to him, one best compared to the feeling he had when gossiping with Rosie over coffee. Naturally he wanted his closest friend to meet the soul who’d stolen his attention. And Rosie was delighted to meet you, evident with the extravagant tea (and a singular coffee) she set up and her litany of questions.

But every time she asked something she also seemed to answer it herself.

“Are you happy to be together again in your body?! I’m sure you are.” She offered you a finger you had to decline.

“I bet you two have been busy.” A wink, “Though you must have been for it to take so long to get down here.”

Alastor shrunk a little as she smacked at his shoulder. You hadn’t seen him allow others to touch him before. Had that been Angel, the second one of his many arms cocked back Alastor would have stepped away or disappeared. Just a hit and you could see how close they were.

You made a point of befriending her, coming often after that initial meeting to her shop for gossip and advice. As time went on, you began to learn about Alastor’s normal. It was nice to have a mutual friend to discuss your worries and ideas with.

“And oh! That video. Talk about hot under the collar!”, a petite laugh, “Did you see it?” Rosie waited for you to answer this time. When you shook your head no, she waved her hand, “For the best. The climax was totally unwatchable!”

You turned to Alastor, not sure what that meant, but he didn’t meet your gaze and instead slowly blinked out of sync at the bookshelves behind Rosie’s shoulder.

“Did you know he’s not into all that?” She took a sip, “You better be patient with him ya got it?”

That question caught you off guard. Apparently for him too, Alastor coming back to life at the change of tone, “This isn’t really a tea topic, dear friend.”

Rosie hummed, “Where are my manners! I was just so relieved he didn’t up and leave for another seven years.”

What’s a scowl shared between friends?

But shared between whatever you and Val were…?

Valentino’s wings unfurled revealing long fishnet covered legs. You watched as he swayed his hips side to side on his way to the bed. The same bed as before. You remembered the shape and purple comforter that you could see down your blindfold.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to already be undressed.” Where were his pants and button up? This was moving faster than you’d anticipated.

He turned back to you as he plopped down onto the bed, “What I wear isn’t any of your business. Though, speaking of business.” He pointed to the corner, a part of the room you’d never seen before. A camera on a tripod stood there. “Turn it on.”

Your grimace was immediate. “You sure you wanna film this one?”

Impatient, he crossed his legs and leaned back on two hands, “Did you think you could just come in here, ask to fuck me and … what? It’d be all on your terms?”

Yes.

You’d worn a dress expressly for ease, and slipped off your panties before going to the camera. For some reason you didn’t want that recorded. It seemed embarrassing. More so than what you were about to do.

Val’s turn to gawk, “You’re seriously not planning on staying dressed.”

“What I wear isn’t any of your business.” You opened the view screen and hit record.

His laugh was dark and deep, “Ooh, I forgot how feisty you were. Maybe this can be a recurring thing.”

Ignoring the comment, you tried to take in the details of the room, checking the walls and small bits of furniture. But you were immensely distracted by the moth demon, who had taken to spreading his legs open and running a hand down his barely contained bulge. Tiny, little, itty black thong, fishnets, nipple chain and… well, the hat.

Two arms pulled you by the waist, hands gripping the flesh of your ass through the dress.

“Why are you dressed like you’re off to teach Sunday school?” His hands slipped under the fabric and dug into your bare skin. He glanced at the camera and its small monitor to make sure he was in frame.

Your knees were brought to either side of his legs before he began to open his stance wider and wider. The action lowered your center more and more until your naked heat was resting on his package. Things were speeding up, he was moving you around so effortlessly. A problem, an absolute problem.

“Ya know I haven’t had a believable good girl to break in awhile.” His hips rose of the bed suddenly and made you bounce on his growing erection. Val groaned, a sound that made your skin crawl.

In the reflection of his glasses you saw the white face of a marble clock on the wall behind you.

“Could we—- can we do this lying down? Missionary? It’s been awhile and I’m feeling insecure.” The thought of the overpowering demon towering on top of you and pinning you down was… a tad terrifying. But you needed to see the clock, you couldn’t keep turning around.

A brief thought, maybe just turning around on his lap and staying facing away from him would work, but then you remembered the camera. Didn’t need your now-rising dress to give the Vees anything exploitative to keep.

Not that everyone in all nine rings hadn’t already seen you spread open and screaming on camera.

“Actually maybe it’s okay, I can,” turn around? Your suggestion was cut short.

Val lifted you like a toy and flipped around. Your head hit the bed hard, brain jostling in your skull. One hand instinctively came to his chest to keep some distance. “No, I like this better.” A wide grin as he settled between your legs.

You leaned to the right to see the clock past his shoulder. Five minutes.

Why didn’t you wear a watch? Fuck.

He dropped his lower half onto you until his full weight was pressing his half hard cock into your stomach. Your breath tightened, running out of moveable space to expand your lungs and diaphragm.

“I wanna see you squirm.” Pink smoke was blown directly into your face, catching you off guard. But, where was the cigarette? You didn’t see it…

Your muscles went loose, the stress of the moment washing away. Both of your hands came to the center of your chest and pressed down. Security. Readiness.

Four minutes.

Alastor didn’t like you having a phone but he didn’t stop you from owning one. You had assumed you’d be on the set where you knew there would be some way to keep track of the time. Or else you’d have just worn a dress with pockets to carry a cellphone. Maybe set a timer.

You weren’t sure about Alastor’s disdain for tech until you witnessed it yourself. That square headed stalker flitting from screen to screen, riding the wires and the radio waves. He had warned you about the Vees, about Vox in particular. He didn’t have much to say about Velvette, and somehow that was better than the nothing he had to say about Valentino.

As Val’s tongue slid up your neck, you thought about Angel. A confidant. You wished he had asked Alastor to kill Val, as a thank you for his efforts in reuniting you two. And, now that you remembered, uniting you at all.

Instead he asked for a bigger room. Large enough for two to comfortably cohabitate.

Alastor maybe couldn’t kill Val, but he could try. When you brought it up with him he was upset. He didn’t like his name being spoken at all unless absolutely necessary

An inadvertent moan you didn’t realize came from you until Valentino chuckled at the sound.

“Feeling it?” He cooed. You weren’t sure which it he meant. This wasn’t going quite to plan.

Three minutes.

So much could happen in three minutes. Too much. He slid down his underwear, sitting up and letting you see him in his full glory.

Why did he have to be such a bad man?

Many men who carried big sticks were unkind. Between their legs or between their fingers.

Alastor was an exception to the rule.

Things did calm down for Alastor after you returned, eventually. Alastor’s desperate need was soothed with you in hell again. His appetite dying. But he hungered in new ways. Ways you hadn’t anticipated to fill your cup so full. Long and intense kisses where his hands dragged down your body and he sighed into your cheeks. You were often pulled into his side and under his arm when sharing the sofa. Soft pets to your hair as you fell asleep.

And when you felt the need, and if he wasn’t feeling up to it, he’d lie beside you and whisper into your ear. Talking soft and low about all the ways you stole his heart and mind while his hand pumped those long fingers in and out of your own needy pussy. He’d grin into the nape of your neck when you were incapable of keeping your voice down any longer. A feeling you’d come to need.

You didn’t need a cock to be full. And by the look of Val’s twitching monster, you’d be broken before he bottomed out.

His thumbs pulled apart your bottom lips, “Ready to spread you open so wide you won’t even feel that lanky fuck in you.”

His third and fourth hands pushed your thighs open and back, hands you could swear felt familiar. Alastor? Or before him?

You struggled to regain focus, your fingers feeling at your bra.

Two minutes.

Legs suddenly too weak to resist, or perhaps Val too strong. Or, a third option, you weren’t trying so hard. Behind his fingers was left a burn on your skin.

“Closer.” Your lips were tingling, it felt good.

“I need you closer.”

His wide chest grew prideful, “Oh? If you’re looking for love you’re in the wrong bed, princesa.”

“No love. Chest. I can’t reach your chest.” You struggled to sit up, but managed to grab the chain connecting his pierced nipples before falling back into the bed.

A screech, a squeak, “Fuck! Watch how you handle that.” His voice rose several octaves. God, you hated him.

You gripped the chain tightly, the feeling keeping you a little grounded. “Oops.” A whirlpool was behind your eyes, all five senses mingling and amplifying. This was dangerous. He hadn’t used this aphrodisiac on you before…maybe he had liked how much you thrashed when he tied you up and mocked you.

His length ran up your core and you jumped. He was so hot. So…. Firm.

No. Too close.

One minute.

You had told Alastor you wouldn’t let it go too far. He said he’d not stop you, because you had said you needed to do it. But you could see the conflict behind his own gaze. What would he do if you returned smelling of Val? Dripping of him?

Almost. Just a few more seconds. His body rolled into you, rocking you with the motion. Every passing had his cock from slit to balls sliding between your wildly wet folds.

Timing was key for your safety. Though Alastor had made it clear you could always just bail and wait for his call.

The more Val rubbed and pressed against you you felt your mind melt a little more. Surely it would slip down your spine at this rate.

A brief worry in the pleasurable fog, what if later on you remembered the pleasure and felt guilty? Guilty to Alastor but most importantly to yourself, for gasping and sighing under the abusive trash that dragged you to hell to begin with.

And what if you didn’t?

Which was worse?

Which would be easier to live with?

He prodded your inner thigh. He was getting closer and closer to actually entering you.

30 seconds.

“Do you remember my promise?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His head was hung as he stared between your bodies. He didn’t see you reach between your breasts into your bra and pull out the Carmine angelic dagger Husk had recommended to Alastor. You hadn’t been quiet about your plans.

“Odd, it’s on recording. Maybe you didn’t realize I was talking to you.” As you moved the dagger from your right side to bury it into Valentino’s chest you remembered the man in the woods. The young man at work. Angel. Here you were again. But if this ended the same as the woods, where would you go? Would Alastor be able to reach you?

“My promise to fucking kill you.”

Valentino keeled back, hand raised to slash your throat out when a green light momentarily blinded him. The sound of chains filled the room as you disappeared into nothingness underneath him. He was left slashing at his own duvet while he tried to slow the bleeding.

Alastor caught you as you fell from the portal he summoned you with. Two feet barely touching the floor as he set you in the reading chair in front of his fireplace.

He nodded at the drops of blood staining your cornflower yellow dress, “Was it a success?”

Your body slipped down the chair, dress getting caught in the friction and riding up. He leaned over and tugged it back down to hide your exposed sex. You were too far gone to feel deja vu.

“No, I think he’s alive. He drugged me with that smoke.” Your legs were spread wide, trying to keep your weight from slipping off the chair. “I was too weak.”

Alastor sat in the chair opposite and took in the scene. Hair messy, legs open, face flush. Bloodied and breathless.

Pride ran a shiver up his spine. His doe’s second murder attempt. While he has despised the idea he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love the initiative.

“Hey, I know you said you wouldn’t ask.” You crossed your legs at the ankle, which did nothing to stop the way the air that was rising up your dress and cooling your core. “But I didn’t fuck him.”

Alastor shrugged, “As they say, all is fair in love and war. I would understand if you did for the sake of killing him. What’s a little sex if it helps murder?”

Your hand slipped down your chest, a ghostly trail in its wake like your touch had an echo. “What a terrible way to confess you love me.”

A choked cough from the radio demon.

Your eyes slipped close. Relaxed. “I feel good.”

He hummed.

“Not from the stabbing, from the stuff in his smoke. My body is thrumming. Is my heart pounding?” You tried to stand but ended up on your knees, cheek coming to rest on his inner leg. As he leaned forward to let his hand enter your dress and rest above your heart, his face got close to yours.

“It’s frantic.” A low whisper into the shell of your ear. Pulling back he paused at your face to lick an errant drop of blood. “You reek of him.”

“He did lick me a couple times.” You watched Alastor sneer, “And he was naked, like, immediately. Oh! Oh fuck,” your head popped up with a renewed clarity, “He recorded it.”

Alastor stilled, he wasn’t thinking about the recording aspect. He was thinking on your heart, on how flushed your skin was, the sweat dripping down your neck. On the thought of Val’s tongue over your skin. “The medicine— or drug you were exposed to,” a deep breath in, “What does it feel like?”

A topic change you hadn’t expected, your body slouched into his leg, arm over his thigh for support. His eyes on your face as they always were when you were in the room.

“Like my body is… illuminescent. Every time my clothes or something touches me, my skin lights up and my brain gets so quiet.” His palm stayed on your heart.

“Hmm,” His hands slipped under your arm, lifting you up. Your feet were entirely off the ground now as he carried you like a dirty cat on its way to the bath. Gently, you were set onto the bed. A lovely juxtaposition.

“Every time I touch where he did, tell me.” Alastor kneeled beside you, deft fingers unbuttoning your dress. A sharp claw popped under the center of your bra and sliced through the fabric.

Your body was humming again, Val’s powerful aphrodisiac lifting up from your senses like dust under heavy footsteps.

Goosebumps formed up your arms as the back of his fingers traced along the outside of your forearm. As he curved up your shoulder and reached your neck you breathed out a low, “There.”

You watched him lean down, warm lips kissing at your skin. A series of kisses as soft and needy as the ones he often placed on your own mouth. A shudder turned nearly violent as his hot tongue ran up your neck to your jaw.

His nose slid up your cheek, “There.” Kisses to your face, across your nose and to the other side.

He pulled back, eyes lusty and heavy lidded. He didn’t say anything, but his grim smile asked you something. You nodded, running your hands down your chest and to your thighs.

A growl you hadn’t heard in so long rumbled in his chest. He rolled you onto your stomach and pulled the dress off entirely, nails raking along your spine until they dimpled the soft fat of your ass.

“There.”

Alastor straddled you at the back of your knees. You wanted to squirm but your muscles had gone weak again. He nipped at the mounds of flesh, massaging and squeezing after every particularly sharp bite. What little part of your brain could form coherent thoughts was trying to piece together an alarm— his face was so close to your still soaking wet entrance.

Images bubbled up where words were failing. Val’s large cock head smearing precum up your slit.

His hands roamed down your legs and feet before turning you back to face him. When you could finally see his expression again, you were surprised to see a look he hadn’t given in so long.

Needy. Desperation screamed through knitted brows, hazy eyes, and a weak smile threatening to fall flat.

As his hands slid down your stomach and reached the junction of your thighs, you started to register the little moans you were making.

But it was getting harder to hear past the radio static and pounding heartbeat in your ears.

Soft fingers traveled between your closed thighs, you hesitated before offering what you thought was a quiet, “There.”

You couldn’t hear yourself think let alone speak as the sounds both in and outside your body grew louder with every signal he’d found a new spot to cover up.

His knees pushed open your left thigh, then your right. Lowering himself, he hitched your knees and lied flat on his stomach. A bite to your inner thigh, nearly the back. A suck, sharp and strong, that ended with a pop as he released.

Nose inching closer and closer to your core, Alastor could see your hole clenching. A dribble of the evidence of your arousal being forced out and down the cleft of your ass.

You heard and felt his breathing quicken, when a finger slid down your folds you couldn’t stop the raise of your hips.

“There.”

The lights went out with a pop. Shaky breaths as his tongue swiped from entrance to clit. Lick after lick to your center like he was trying to make you clean again. Another moan you were only sure was yours cut through the now biting static that filled the air around you.

Your mind tried to piece together a sentence, “Crazy stuff… it had me so horny”, your hands ran up your chest without thinking, “I was almost hoping Val would put it in before time was gone.”

The static cut. Not even the sound of the fireplace or the crickets in the swamp portaled into his room were present anymore.

“Isn’t that insane? Have you ever heard of such a drug?” Your eyes had closed, feeling his breath wafting down your saliva coated lips. “Alastor?”

He was being honest when he said he’d not hold it against you. But he hadn’t even considered a situation where you wanted more to happen. Than had been discussed. The very idea of Valentino mixing with you brought bile to his throat.

The drug was to blame and he could understand that, as a man. But as an overlord, as something more akin to animal in some aspects, he had the clawing urge to reclaim you. To write over even the thought of wanting to feel Valentino.

“My darling little doe, I think you need a reminder of just how much of you I possess. And the parts of me you own in turn.”

You looked down to see glowing eyes from between your legs, his fingers snapped and while you couldn’t see what was happening past the light of his eyes, you could hear the VHS player click and then a small, “Aunt Sara….” whispered in a familiar voice.

“I don’t understand what’s happened….”

It took a moment to register it was your own voice you were hearing from the darkness.

“Aunt Sara isn’t here.”

Alastor’s acting debut crowing from the old TV beside his bayou door. His eyes shifted with a blink from glowing red to black, just sharp dials visible in the shadow of his face.

“She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.”

The prongs of a buck ready to clash over his territory creaked past your open thighs.

“But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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#Alastor #hazbin hotel #Alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor smut #Hazbin hotel smut #Valentino x reader

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liyahsim · 2 months ago

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Vampires vs Witches Collection - Formal Outfit

This is the second part of the Halloween collaboration with my friend @luxysims! (you can check the first part here) And I saw what she had to say about my beloved vampires so here I come with a reply!

Dear witches, do you really think you could win this battle with just magic and brooms? 🧛‍♂️🖤 Come on!

Let's talk about those potions you're all hyping up. Seriously? Witches and their love remedies 💖 are like those 3 a.m. infomercial ads: they never work and make you wonder why you lost faith in humanity. Instead, us vampires just look at someone and bam! One bite and we have a new "friend" for eternity. 💔 And what if witches try to do something really shocking? Oh, sorry, it's hard when you spend hours in the cauldron trying to find a recipe for "true love."

Let's talk about elegance: sure, witches' aesthetics are... unique. But come on, they look like they came out of a bad casting for a low-budget horror movie. 🎃👻 While we vampires take elegance to a new level; while the only "trend" for witches is not dying of embarrassment when a spell goes wrong. And don't even get us started on your hats, they might just give someone the evil eye. 😈

As for going out during the day, of course, we may be a little lazy, but who needs a ray of sunshine when the night is where we truly shine? ☀️💔 Also, while you girls are enjoying your coffee meetings in the daylight, we are at a party, enjoying the company of the living... or those who are a little less alive. At the end of the day, we prefer to have a nice dinner, with a special "touch", of course. 🍷��

So, friends, make a smart choice: join the vampires. We promise you an eternity full of mystery, elegance, and a touch of dark humor that will make the witches jealous. After all, life is short... but eternity with us is infinitely more fun.

And at the end of the day, there's always room for one more vampire at the party… especially if they bring human snacks. See you in the evening. And remember, we're on the dark side for a reason. 🌑🦇

AND UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES READ HER NEW POST, YOU RISK GETTING WARTS!!😈😈

My part of the collection:

DOWNLOAD [ EARLY ACCESS ]

DOWNLOAD [ FREE ACCESS ] Public release october 26th

@luxysims part of the collection:

DOWNLOAD [ EARLY ACCESS ]

DOWNLOAD [ FREE ACCESS ] Public release october 26th

@maxismatchccworld @sssvitlanz @coffee-cc-finds @sims4finds @lanaccfind @cchunters @c12ccfinds @mmoutfitters @mmfinds @emilyccfinds @redheadsims-cc @cccorner @wysidiacc @ccsimsfindss4 @cccorner @lotusplumbob @toastyccfinds @cookiesccfinds @strangecowplantfinds @shaenaeccfinds @eanyroseccfinds @kairasimsccfinds @anikasims @blueishccfinds @petiteluneccfind @alt-lanaccfinds

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wilwheaton · 1 year ago

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When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

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the-marshals-wife · 7 months ago

Text

Refuge (Sierra Six x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: It's official: I'm obsessed with The Gray Man. I've watched it 3 times so far in under 2 months, and I really wanted to write something sweet for my current favorite Goose character.

Description: Sierra Six/Courtland Gentry x Fem!Reader, established (secret) relationship; flirty, steamy fluff + angst if you squint | Warnings: suggestive themes, kissing, alcohol | Setting: post-movie | Word count: 1,746

Gif credit: user magnusedom

Imagine Six returning to you, his best kept secret, and asking you to come away with him

There was only one thing in the world that could make you open the front door of your apartment after midnight. The instant you recognize the familiar, distinct sequence of knocking, you shoot upright from your slumber and scramble off of the sofa, the book on your chest flying across the floor from where you had dozed off. Having almost tripped on the rug, you release the dead bolt and frantically fumble with the chain lock. Heart pounding, you slide it loose and jerk open the door.

Waiting on the other side like an apparition was a smiling face you weren't sure you'd ever lay eyes on again.

"Sorry for the late hour, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cup of sugar?"

"Court!"

You couldn't help it. His name, the name only you could use, escapes your lips like a cry.

"May I come in?" he gestures.

You grab his arm and usher him inside.

"Where have you been?" you asked in a hushed voice, looking over him.

"Here, there, everywhere," he answers, leaning back against the closed door. "Spent a little time in nowhere too."

"I've been so worried about you! I haven't heard from you in months. I know that's the job, but it's been so long without a sign or anything. I was afraid something happened to you. I didn't know what to think," you say all at once.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll explain everything, I promise. Just, let me look at you first," he says, gazing on you softly, "Wow. How is that possible?"

"What?"

"How are you more beautiful than the last time I saw you?"

You feel your cheeks turn red, but it doesn't keep you from pointing a finger to his chest.

"If you think being a smoothie is going to get you out an explanation, think again, buster."

He wraps his arms around your waist.

"Fair enough," he nods, "It's still true though. You're even prettier when you're angry."

"I must be stunning then," you smirk.

He brings his hand up to lift your chin, leaning in close, "Incredibly."

The waning space between you vanishes as he captures your lips. You lean into his touch, savoring every sensation you'd missed so much. From the warm, smokiness of his scent to the gentle scratch of his beard on your skin. When he finally pulls away, you're nearly breathless.

"Why don't you make yourself at home, stranger?" you propose, composing yourself, "You want a drink?"

"I wouldn't say no to a beer," he replies.

"Coming right up," you say, turning towards the kitchen, "They feed you in 'nowhere'? I got half of a leftover sub here, and some really leftover pizza I can nuke in the microwave."

"Tempting, but I'm good for now, thanks. Just the beer," you hear him say as you grab two bottles from the fridge.

"Good call, honestly. We can just order take out or something."

He doesn't respond, and it immediately catches your attention. You grab the bottle opener from the drawer and make quick work of the caps. With a faraway look in his eye, he stands on the other side of the modest island that separates the kitchen area from the living area. You extend the bottle towards him, and even when he takes it from your grasp, he's barely shaken from his silent reverie.

Too worried to imbibe, you set your own drink down on the counter. "Court, what's wrong? I can tell something is bothering you."

He takes a drink, which is followed by a long pause.

"Do you remember Fitzroy's niece, Claire?"

You nod. "Of course. Is she alright?"

"She is now," he sighs, setting his jaw, "Fitzroy is gone."

"What?" you say, rounding the island to be at his side.

"It's a long story, but some bad people got ahold of Claire to get to him, because of something that I did. We took care of it in the end, but...he didn't make it."

He takes another hefty drink and puts down the bottle.

"Court, I'm so sorry," you say, touching his arm, "I know how much he meant to you."

He turns to face you. "He did. Now Claire has no one, except me. And that's what I came here to talk to you about."

Your pulse quickens at the seriousness in his voice.

"Her and I have been on the run the past couple weeks. Staying ahead of Carmichael and his goon squad."

"Wait, you escaped the agency?" you ask, shocked.

"Didn't have a choice after they tried to use her as leverage to get me to keep doing their dirty work. I got her out, which means I'm out too, for good," he confirms solemnly, "I've found a place for us where we might actually have a shot at a normal-ish life."

You stare at him wide-eyed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I'm all she has left. She needs me. And I need you," he says, gently rubbing your upper arms, "Before, I couldn't give you the life you deserved. But this could be my second chance. I think I might have finally gotten to the top of the hill, and I want you there with me."

"Oh Court, I don't know..." you hesitate, mind reeling, "I don't know anything about raising a kid."

He grins. "Neither do I. We can figure it out together. I mean there's gotta be a manual or something, right?"

You can't help but snort at the idea. Just as more protests are forming on your tongue, he gives you a look so disarming that you forget the words entirely.

"Come away with me, Y/N."

He takes your hand in his.

"It won't be easy, and it definitely won't be perfect. I know I've got no right to ask you to leave everything behind. But I've loved you from the very beginning, and I will protect you with everything I have."

His vow brings tears to your eyes. He laid his heart bare, and in doing so, he'd banished the last of your meager doubts.

"Well, when you put it that way," you say.

You grab the collar of his jacket in your fists and pull him into a kiss. He hums in pleasant surprise and laces his fingers through your hair. After another heated moment of rediscovery, you at last loosen your grip and surface from the embrace.

"Is that a yes?" he chuckles.

"It is," you answer, your smile becoming nervous as your thoughts turn to the future, "Do you think Claire will like me?"

"Oh, don't worry, she's going to love you," he smirks, letting you go and walking over to the window. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'm going to survive you two. This was probably a bad idea."

"Now I really I can't wait to meet her," you tease.

Your amusement fades, however, as you watch him part the curtain and cautiously peer up at the surrounding rooftops.

Dread stirs in the pit of your stomach.

"How much time do we have?" you ask.

"We should probably get you packed up," he says over his shoulder.

"Really? I thought we'd at least have tonight. Are you being followed right now?"

"Not yet. No one knows about this place. But the longer I'm here, the greater the possibility that changes," he frowns, "I need to get back to Claire. I took a risk coming here. She can't be alone for long."

You mind begins to race as your gaze darts around your apartment and belongings. The framed pictures scattered across the walls of old friends and family you hardly see suddenly meant more than anything tucked away in the safe beneath your bed. But could you even take them? Would having any ties to your old life be too dangerous?

Old life. The thought makes your head spin.

"This is happening so fast," you say as you rub your temples, "I never thought I'd just leave everything. I don't even know what to take with me."

"Hey," he says, stepping back over to you, "It's alright. Listen, I know I got caught up in pouring out my dumb old heart a minute ago, but you don't have to do this, Y/N. If you want to stay, I understand."

"No, I'm coming with you," you deny, "I want to be with you, no matter where we have to go. I've never wanted anything more. You have made it to the top, Court, and I wouldn't miss the view for anything."

All this time, you had been the only refuge in the world for "Sierra Six". Now, more than ever, he was becoming yours.

He kisses your forehead softly and smiles down on you.

"How about we just start small, and go from there. Baby steps. Like, maybe a suitcase?" he suggests.

"Sounds good," you agree, "Guess I don't need to pack the kitchen sink for wherever we're going?"

He snickers, "No, we have one of those. Got one in the bathroom too. We even have a toilet."

"I wasn't expecting such luxury," you smirk.

"I mean you have to hold the handle down a little to get it to flush, but other than that," he quips.

"Well, I suppose I'll survive," you say in mock exasperation.

"We do have a TV, so that kinda makes up for it. Plus, I got queen bed all to myself. I might could be persuaded into sharing, though."

You cross your arms, eyeing his suggestive look.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to sleep on top of the covers. I don't wanna get your girl germs on my sheets."

"Courtland Gentry," you grunt, smacking his arm.

You take off down the hall to your room, and he follows after you laughing.

"What? What'd I say?" he asks, knowing full well.

"Why don't I just sleep on the floor?" you pose.

You bolt over to your dresser and start rummaging through your clothes, keeping your back to him.

"Okay, you're right. That was unfair of me," he concedes.

Biting your lip, you spin around with your eyebrows raised.

He stands in the doorway, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapping it, "You can get under the comforter."

You throw a shirt at him, shaking your head.

"Shut up and help me pack."

He pops the gum in his mouth and smiles.

"Yes ma'am."

#sierra six x reader #courtland gentry x reader #court gentry x reader #the gray man #six x reader #sierra six x y/n #courtland gentry x y/n #court gentry x y/n #sierra six x you #courtland gentry x you #sierra six imagine #courtland gentry imagine #the gray man imagine #the gray man fanfiction #ryan gosling #sierra six #courtland gentry #court gentry #my writing

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yurinaa-world · 3 months ago

Note

Could you do Gallagher, Argenti, and Boothill with an actress reader who’s considered the silver screen queen of Penacony, the Robin of film, inspo of Judy Garland and Audrey Hepburn.

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇”

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Gallagher, Argenti, & Boothill x Female reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who’s considered the silver screen queen of Penacony

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒟𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃: Silver screen queen = "silver screen" refers to the appearance of the movie screen in the early days of cinema. It often had a slightly reflective, silver-like look. So, a "silver screen queen" is a star who shines brightly on this "silver screen."

💫𝒢𝒶𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝒽𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

He remembers you from the start to the glory days, and still to this day you remain glorious since then. There is never anyone in Penacony who doesn’t know your name or face unless they have literally been under a rock their entire life, your face is plastered on every poster in Penacony (Usually it’s always to upcoming movies that all release on the same week).

The rookies at the security office love raving about how good you looked in your new blockbuster movie, even making popularity polls on the bulletin board about which one of your movies you look the most attractive in (spoiler: he rips it off completely and gives those rooks a nice hit).

You always make sure to come and visit him in the after-hours, he usually gets annoyed that anyone shows up or stays past the closing time but he’ll make an exception for you, any drink you like, on the house. Just stay a bit longer, it’s been a while since you last saw each other.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Should star like you really be drinking this late.”

He worries quite a bit about you, every time you show up, you always drink pretty heavy drinks as if you don’t have a stomach. How do you deal with headaches in the morning? “People drink all the time in Penacony, I’m just the only one in a bar.” Pushing your cup forward motion for another drink from him, which he takes with a huff.

“And who’s the one staying open for you.”

“I could just drink somewhere else if it bothers you.” he could’ve just closed down for the rest of the day, but of course, you know he’s worried, just what might happen if people see Penacony’s ‘sliver queen’ walking around drunk.

“And who would take care of you, who knows what creeps are around if you went somewhere else,” he groans while gently handing your 4th, or 5th drink? Who knows, it’s not like anyone’s counting. “If you’re going to drink at least do it at your ‘luxurious’ beach house.”

“It's not fun, I would rather spend all my free time with you.” He just froze at your words, staring down at the little smile you give him, lucky you said that while you were drunk—at least he has something to tease with now—yet he wished for you to say that while you were sober.

“Does anyone even know you’re here?”

“Not at all.” Seriously, your managers sound more like strict parents, with how you're running out in a blue moon to come and drink. “I should get going before they find out,” groaning loudly while you just chug down your last drink in a single breath, getting off your bar stool before going into your pocket to retrieve your wallet. “It’s on the house…They haven’t started calling yet so you should stay a bit longer,”

“It’s been a while, who knows when I might see you again.”

💫𝒜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓎"

Have mercy on him, this knight of beauty, he sees the shining stars in the night sky but they can't even come close to the epitome of beauty you are. The way you’re beloved by so many in Penacony, it’s truly a beautiful sight to see (even though he doesn’t understand the dazzling entertainment you provide but it’s a beautiful sight to be able to gaze at.)

He can’t help himself but love every part of you and more, you grace him with your love for him and he shall repay it tenfold like the nimble knight of yours he is.

Small things he may do, a hard day for you, feet sore and slightly injured from the heels you wear (no matter how much padding you wear it still doesn’t help). May he be your assistant, allow him to do everything for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Imagen him not wearing his armour

“Is your foot alright, my dear?”

Your day felt like one of those days where everything was just slow, along with the counter of your heel just eating away at you with how much pain it was causing your heel bone throughout the day.

You just grit your teeth under your smile while the counter of the heel wedges into the back of your foot, leaving a nasty red mark that you didn’t have the chance to take care of, just wincing at the feeling whenever you move your foot.

It’s gotten so bad to the point that even Argenti noticed the discomfort expression while looking at the foot, he couldn’t help but get on one of his knees to take a closer look at your foot—medkit beside him just in case you needed it, groaning in pain when he gently takes your foot, touching your burning bruise—he seemed pretty fixed on the bruise that looked at it for quite a while.

“Quite a gruesome bruise caused on your perfect skin,” He mutters, before quickly getting to work with a bandage to wrap around to put some compression onto it.

Just hearing you wincing and hiss in the slight pain when the bandages were pulled tight, he can’t help but want to comfort that horrendous pain. “My dear, may your pain be taken away quickly.” he smiles up at you while his hand gently squeezes your leg to comfort you.

“I’m grateful, but how will I move around my foot feels so numb?” you smile back down at him, not like you were serious just joking a little, but you should have known better since this Argenti.

He straight up picks you up with such ease and quickness leaving you in awe, while his arms under your legs, pushing you above him as you wrap your arms around his neck to be secure.

“I shall carry you, wherever you need to go.”

💫𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝒶𝓍𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈"

Well, he’ll be damned, a total heartthrob lady like yourself, as his lady. If only he wasn’t a galaxy hunter, he’d have more time to spend with you and treat you better. Along with the fact your relationship is a complete secret from everyone in Penacony and those from the outside who come to turn to watch, which just makes things a bit difficult on both sides.

It’s hard for you to even meet up since everyone always seems to recognize either of you, Forget any type of date in a slightly populated area because it’s not going to work for the both of you, it just ends up with you wearing a full disguise, from clothes to makeup, the whole nine yards.

Sometimes he can’t even recognize himself whenever you show up at midnight for your small date to walk, scared him to death when you looked like that. Doesn’t matter at all though, he just wants to hold hands while you walk together taking in the view of everything when no one’s around.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I ain't interested.”

Boothill just brushes you off as if you were dirty, not even bothering to turn to look at you. Yet it shows: you did well with disguise if he can’t even recognize you.

“Only eyes set on me?” You laugh at him, just to turn around and look at you so confused, your voice matches but not your face.“It’s me, Boothill.” Gently smacking his shoulder while he looked relieved. You’ve gotten your disguise down to tea this time. Who knows what else those pretty hands could do?

“Fudge, I couldn’t even tell it was you.”

“I can’t let anyone recognize me,”

His hand interwoven itself with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips, and kissing it gently. “What can’t these pretty hands do?” He just starts gushing out compliments, he just feels a bit guilty for leaving you for so long without any contract with him while he was gone.

“Come on, got you somethin’.” Quickly taking you away as if you were both children running to a secret spot in the woods, when he said he had something to show he wasn't joking. It was a beautiful sight, rows of flower bushes, all different colours of roses; all Illuminated by lamps. You usually never have time to visit with it a popular sight to see.

“The roses look like you. I saw them an’ thought you liked them.”

“I’m surprised you paid attention to your surroundings.” you can’t help but tease a little, he cares you tell under all that steel he’s made out of, even his heart is made out of steel but at least beating (it’s gotta count for something right?).

“I ain’t dumbaxe, I can remember my lover's favourite things.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 7 months ago

Text

into you

Summary: After almost giving up the hope to become a big actor you get offered the leading role in a period drama, leaving you to spend three months in Scotland with your male co star Dieter Bravo and maybe falling in love with him.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.247

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, falling in love, implied smut, kissing, really cheesy movie lines I made up, confessions of feelings, reader is in her late thirties, Dieter playing the piano

A/N: Another one for @undercoverpena April showers challenge! What's better than a Pedro character in period clothing in the rain? Making out with him hehe

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You couldn’t sleep.

The moon was shining hrough the window of your hotel room, an old castle in the middle of nowhere somewhere in Scotland.

You had come here almost three months ago, having gotten the first big job of your career, the lead role in a period drama. The first lead role you ever got. The first big job you ever got.

For years you dreamed of being a big movie star.

Much like every young person who came to LA.

Which had been almost twenty years ago. You had been about to quit trying for that one big role that would finally grant your your big success last year.

By now well in your thirties (the forties getting closer and closer), not having any major success apart from some multi episode secondary character on some netflix shows in the latest years, you gave up hope that you would make it.

Sometimes the residuals you got from playing Chandler Bing’s awkward girlfriend for two episodes almost twenty years ago on friends had been the only way to pay your rent.

You were looking into going back to school when your agent called you, talking you into going to this last audition. It had been as a favour to them that you agreed, the contracts between you and the agency already canceled towards the end of the month.

They had always believed in you and you hated saying no to them because of that reason.

Maybe it was you having nothing to lose that left you going into the audition and blowing them all away. Not that you thought you did until your agent called you not even twenty minutes after you went out of the audition, asking you to come back to read opposite the male lead.

Still you didn’t let yourself getting your hopes up, walking back into the office building, back into the room you had been in before, now with an additional face smiling warmly at you.

You didn’t know that in the next two hours your whole life would change.

Not just because they offered you the job.

No, It was the day you met Dieter Bravo.

Of course you knew who Dieter Bravo was.

You had admired him since he starred in the high school drama series you definitely did not tape every episode from when you were in your teens.

And there had been no posters of him in your room growing up, nope.

But like almost every teen crush, it faded over the years.

You grew up, and he did too. You knew he had won an Oscar some years back, you saw the movie in the cinema back then.

He had made headlines after that, naming him the next big thing.

But lately the only headlines you remembered of him had been of his drug escapades and dating life.

So you had been a little reserved when you first met, hoping he would be professional enough throughout the audition.

Hope you shouldn’t have had, because Dieter had turned out to be professional in every single way.

Now, after spending almost two months with him, playing opposite of him, acting that you were in love with him, you found yourself wishing he would be a little less professional.

Groaning you sat yourself up in your bed, clicking the lamp on the bedside table on, reaching for your phone.

2:43 am.

Taking a deep breath and releasing a long sigh as you exhaled you let your head fall back.

In twenty four hours you would be on a plane back to the states, already on your way to shoot your next movie, your career seemingly finally starting off now that you were starring in a movie with Dieter Bravo.

You should be beyond happy.

Everything you dreamed off finally seemed to come true. You had three jobs lined up that would pay more than you had made in the last ten years combined.

Yet the thought of waking up every morning and not getting to spend the day with Dieter made it all bittersweet.

You had spent a lot of time together since getting to Scotland to shoot this movie. Not only on set, but apart from it too. He had been here before, shooting another movie and invited you out some times, showing you around. You had dinner together almost every night be it in an restaurant he wanted to show you or in the hotel. You got to know the man behind the persona you learned he put on for the public for and over the last weeks you had found yourself falling for him.

Your fingers cam up to brush over your lips, the lips he had kissed.

More than once.

In front of the camera.

But before you went to bed tonight, he walked you to your room and he had kissed you good night. Without cameras rolling. Without people around. Just you and him. His warm hand on your cheek, your back pushed against your hotel room door as he towered over you, his other hand resting on the door behind you.

You were out of breath when he parted from your lips, wishing you a good night, leaving you watching after him with your lips parted, your brain still trying to process that he had just kissed you, as he went down the hallway until he disappeared into his room.

You were too giddy to sleep, getting an old sweatshirt on before you grabbed your hotel key and walked out of your room, hoping he was as sleepless as you were and downstairs where you had found him often during your stay.

You could hear the faint sound of a piano as you entered the lobby, the night manager giving you a small smile as you walked past, following the sound.

In the far back corner of the lobby was a piano where you found Dieter playing a melody you did not recognise.

You had found him here before, in the beginning when you could not sleep because you were too nervous to fuck this big chance you got up.

He told you that his art supplies hadn’t been shipped yet, and that he usually painted when he couldn’t sleep.

And so instead he played.

And you listened, sitting next to him until you both almost fell asleep, before he walked you to your room, only to be up some hours later to shoot a movie where his character denied to be in love with your character, pushing your character away until a big dramatic scene where you would finally admit your feelings to each other.

Sitting down on the seat next to him as he played now, you let your head fall against his shoulder, hearing him inhale as he continued to play.

His lips brushed against your temple and you closed your eyes, just listening to his song.

When he finished you looked up at him, his eyes were already on you, an unreadable expression on his face.

„Couldn’t sleep?“ he asked.

You hummed in agreement.

„Too many thoughts in my head,“ you whispered and he nodded. One of his arms came to wrap around your back, pulling you closer against his side.

„You wanna talk about those thoughts?“ he asked and you chuckled.

„Don’t wanna fuck the big scene up tomorrow, well today,“ you said and he gave you a small smile.

„If someone is gonna fuck up it’s me. You make me keep forgetting my lines,“ he winked and you felt your cheeks growing warm, remembering the many occasions Dieter had seemingly spaced out during some scenes, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place.

„What do you mean?“ You asked, and he sucked his bottom lip in, before he shrugged and there it was again, that expression in his face, his eyes big as he looked at you.

„I can’t stop looking at you. You’re so talented and beautiful and kind and so damn intelligent. Sexy….,“ he winked „You just blow me away and it’s like my brain stops working when I look at you sometimes. I never really felt like this before…“ he whispered and you blinked at him.

„What I am trying to say is, I like spending time with you. I like talking to you. I like kissing you, touching you,“ he grinned and you huffed.

„Especially when it’s just the two of us. Last week when the director called cut when we were in bed….“ He closed his eyes, shaking his head.

You had rushed off after finishing the scene with him, having to take care of the ache between your legs in the bathroom after spending almost six hours in bed with him, shooting numerous sex scenes.

„I wish we had been alone,“ he whispered his face getting closer to yours, his lips brushing over yours.

„Dieter,“ you whispered, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his lips pressing against yours and you shivered.

„Yeah?“ He asked.

„We are alone now,“ you whispered and he nodded, before he kissed you again, deeply.

„Would you like to have sex with me?“ He whispered and your lips twitched into a grin which he mirrored before he kissed you again.

„Take me to your room, Dieter,“ you said, giggling when you found yourself pulled in the direction of the elevators in the next moment.

„This is madness,“ you shook your head, the rain coming down on you without mercy, drenching your many layers of clothes.

„Why? Why is it madness that I have fallen for you?“ Dieter asked, in character, his white shirt clinging to his chest.

You huffed a laugh, your character in denial about the feelings not only she had, but he had too.

„Because we are both engaged. And not to each other. We have to end this. I have to….“ You shook your head, closing your eyes, before you looked up at him. Dieter having closed the distance between the two of you, but not close enough to touch. The raindrops where running down his nose, his hair clinging to his face.

He looked like a wet dream straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

„All these times we spend in each others arms, they don’t mean anything to you?“ He asked.

„It was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened,“ you said, Dieter’s character seeing right through your lie.

„Do you love me?“ He asked and you did not have to play the small smile that sneaked to your lips for only a moment before you fought it down.

„It doesn’t matter,“ you said, turning away from him, but his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you before you could go.

„It matters to me. ,“ he whispered, broken, and the tone of his voice made you want to cry.

The rain continued to fall as you gave the camera time to capture both of your faces.

„Of course I love you,“ you finally said, looking at him over your shoulder.

„Then stay,“ he pleaded. You began to shake your head, when he pulled you against his chest, one of his hands on your cheek, brushing your hair that stuck to your face to the side, his eyes gazing deeply into yours.

„Stay and allow yourself to be happy,“ he said, almost begging.

„Stay here and let me love you,“ he let his forehead fall against yours and your eyes dropped close, pictures of the night he had spend with you filling your mind, the way his forehead had rested against yours as he filled you over and over and…

You opened your eyes and Dieter’s lip twitched for a second, having caught your unintended pause.

„What about our families?“ you asked, „What about my sister? She’s in your house getting ready to marry you today,“ you asked.

„They will understand. They have to. And if they don’t, I’ll take you away where we can live our life without the judgement of others. You’ll never have to worry for money.I love you, please be with me,“ his nose brushed against yours.

You felt his other hand on your lower back and you gasped.

„Then take me away,“ you whispered, feeling his smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, your arms wrapping around his broad back, fingertips brushing over his drenched clothes as he deepened the kiss.

The first thing you realised when Dieter parted from your lips was that the rain had stopped and that it was quiet around you. Too quiet.

Looking at Dieter he gave you a sheepish smile before you looked around, finding the crew around you looking at the both of you, Dieter’s PA holding two robes in his arms, giving you a wide smile.

„You gonna listen when I call cut now?“ The director teased with a wide grin and you let your head fall against Dieter’s chest, mortified, but he just chuckled, before he helped you get into the robe his PA had brought over.

„We’ll meet in an hour for the wedding scene, do not be late,“ the director reminded everyone, giving you and Dieter a longer look, and you nodded. Dieter grabbed your hand, and you looked at him.

„Can’t wait to marry you,“ he winked and kissed you again, before you both were rushed off from the set to get ready.

And you did actually get married.

Seven months later.

On a beach.

In the rain.

Without any interruptions.

#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #my fic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fanfic

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biblomaniac · 4 months ago

Text

Supercorp headcanon:

Kara is ready to combust.

Everyday this week has been complete torment, but in a delicious way.

On Sunday, Lena wore an A-line floral dress to a brunch The Foundation hosted to promote its new Girls in STEM program.

On Monday, Lena showed up to CatCo for lunch with Kara in black slacks and a waistcoat, with a deep purple silk blouse underneath. Kara had to restrain herself from running her hand up and down the back of Lena’s blouse during their customary hug of greeting.

On Tuesday, the forest green dress Lena wore hugged her curves so well Kara couldn’t help but stare everytime she caught a glance of it across the room.

On Wednesday, a Hellgrammite started a fire in the business district that required the Superfriends help. J’onn, Lena, and Brainy stayed at the Tower as support for Supergirl, Dreamer, Sentinel, and Guardian. Four hours after the initial emergency alert, Supergirl flew into the tower through the balcony. She couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and maybe order some Chinese for dinner. But first, she had to write a debrief of her final saves from the day.

“Hey, darling. Are you ready to go?”

“Lena, hi! I’m almost—“ Kara starts to answer, but abruptly stops when she looks to the side and is eye level with Lena’s chest. “—done.”

The blue low-cut blouse Lena is sporting has left a considerable amount of cleavage exposed. Kara’s heart thunders, her face flushes, and her hand’s clench tightly to keep from reaching out to Lena. Unfortunately, the table under her grip isn’t prepared for the brunt of Kara’s Kryptonian strength, leaving two holes of twisted metal.

“…Oops.”

On Thursday, when Kara got to Lena’s penthouse, she found Lena snuggled on the couch in her National City University sweatshirt. The shirt was at least two sizes too large on Lena, giving it an oversized look. Kara’s eyes zeroed in on long, pale legs when Lena stood to greet the blonde with a hug.

After their hug, Lena moved into the Kitchen to gather snacks for their movie night. Without her heels, Lena had to tip toe to reach the Oreos on the second shelf.

“Darling, I can’t reach,” Lena huffed. When Kara turned to help, all the blood rushed to her head when she saw the former CEO’s nearly nonexistent short’s patterned with Supergirls crest.

Kara crossed the room on wobbly legs, reaching over the brunettes head to grab the Oreos, crackers, tea, and anything else from the top shelf Lena may need. If she takes a moment to glance down at her crest running along Lena’s ass and hips, well, she’ll just keep that little secret to herself.

On Friday, Lena wore black leggings and a soft white sweater to game night. Lena looked so soft and docile with her hair down, minimal makeup, and fuzzy socks. Kara couldn’t help but tuck her head into Lena’s neck, breathing in her sweet scent during their hug.

“Are you okay, darling,” Lena quietly asked as she moved one hand to cradle Kara’s head closer, while the other clutched onto strong broad shoulders.

“Fine, I’m fine. I just missed you.” Kara admitted.

“We saw each other last night, Kara.” Lena chuckled, moving to release Kara. The blonde wasn’t ready to let go, but did so anyway. Dropping her arms from Lena’s waist, Kara grabbed her hand and leading Lena to their favorite spot for game night.

On Saturday, it all finally comes to a head. The whole gang is out at Al’s Bar, enjoying the first night they’ve all been able to meet in what feels like years.

Lena looks stunning, dressed down in tight black ripped skinny jeans, a red crop top, brown leather jacket and black pumps. Their table had been crowded, and Lena made the executive decision to sit in Kara’s lap to “save space” for M’gann, who would be joining their group after her shift.

The drinks had been flowing steady all night, leaving everyone at least a bit tipsy. Kara had even indulged herself with an Aldebaran Rum and Coke. She sips slowly, remembering how it felt to be drunk the last time she had this drink. Lena’s proximity plus the alcohol is a heady combination.

By the time Kara is halfway through her drink, her left arm has snaked across Lena’s stomach, open palm holding the brunette close to her chest, while her right hand alternates between Lena’s thigh and her cup. Kara is hardly paying attention to the conversation, focused mainly on how close Lena is, how her hair smells like vanilla and honey, or how her heartbeat sounds strong and steady.

“Corazón, let’s go dancing!” Andrea exclaimed, pulling Lena to the dance floor.

Ugh, Andrea. It’s not that Kara dislikes her former boss, per se. The blonde just prefers that Kara and Lena time is not interrupted.

All week, Andrea has been popping up wherever Lena is. She stuck to Lena’s side during the entire Sunday brunch; called Lena for a meeting in the middle of Monday’s lunch date; was present for every single round Lena walked after Tuesday’s press conference; popped into the tower after Acrata helped with the fire on Wednesday; Thursdays movie night was interrupted when Andrea texted Lena about a “fashion emergency,” regarding a dinner she was going to; Andrea came halfway through game night on Friday, stealing Lena as her game partner and leaving Kara to third-wheel Alex and Kelly for the rest of the night.

Kara watches as Lena and Andrea move through the crowd of bodies to find a spot to dance in.

“You should just ask her out,” Alex leans over the the table to whisper-shout, her fourth beer clutched in her hand.

“Who?” Kara asks, trying hard to seem nonchalant.

“Lena, you dolt. We can all see clear as day how you two feel about each other. Put your big girls pants on and talk to her!”

“I don’t—I can’t, Alex. What if she rejects me? Our friendship just recovered, I can’t risk it asking for something I don’t deserve,” she laments, circling the rim of her glass with her finger.

“What about what Lena deserves? She cares about you, Kara. It’s been years of you two dancing around this thing.” Alex says.

“We aren’t dancing around anything, Al. She won’t want me, she doesn’t—“ the rest of her words die in her mouth as she catches a glance of Lena and Andrea on the dance floor. Lena’s back is pressed to Andrea’s front as the move to the beat of the music. When the song changes, Lena turns in Andrea’s grasp, standing chest to chest.

The glass in Kara’s grip shatters, spraying glass across the table. Thankfully, Kara’s cup was nearly empty.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll clean this up,” Kara said, using multiple napkins to collect the shards of glass.

Alex laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “Kara, stop being a wimp and talk to her before Andrea asks her out again.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. I can do this, I got this.” Kara nods her head determinedly, chugs what remains of Alex’s beer and stands to make her way to Lena. As she navigates her way toward her hearts desire, she see’s Andrea’s hand lowering from its position on Lena’s back to rest on her ass. All conscious thought leaves Kara’s head as she quickens her pace just short of SuperSpeed to reach Lena.

“Lee—“

***************************************************

“Corazón, let’s go dancing!” Andrea exclaimed, pulling Lena to the dance floor.

“Drea, what are you doing?” Lena’s asks as she follows Andrea out to the floor.

“I’m helping you, Lena. If we get Kara jealous, she’ll stop acting like such a Girl Scout and finally make a move,” Andrea says, waving off Lena’s concern.

Lena stops walking and starts swaying at Andrea’s insistence, matching her moves seamlessly. It feels just like boarding school, with Andrea leading Lena by the hips. “I don’t know, Drea. You’ve been interfering all week and she hasn’t said so much as a peep. I don’t think she has feelings for me.”

“Joder, las dos son tan despistadas. She will! She has been jealous all week! We just have to step up our game,” Andrea exclaims in exasperation, turning Lena so that the brunettes back rests against her chest.

“Look at her, she’s glaring right at us! When the song changes, I’ll grab your ass and this will all be over,” Andrea laughs.

“Andrea! This is ridiculous. What does Sam think about this whole situation; shouldn’t you be worried about what she’ll say?”

“What’s between Samantha and I is none of your concern, Corazón. But if you must know, she told me, and I quote, “I hope it works so Kara can grow a pair—“

“Hey!”

“—I’m sure she won’t be bothered by what means I use to help you both along.”

“You know what? Fine, whatever. When it doesn’t work I don’t ever want to talk about this to either of you ever again.” Lena mutters, thoroughly embarrassed and ready to call a quits to their plan.

“I reserve the right to tease you both when it does,” Andrea replies, turning Lena around at the song change and moving one hand to grasp Lena at the ass.

“Kara’s coming; I told you this would work! Play cool,” Andrea says.

As Kara closes the final distance, she reaches a hand out to Lena, touching her on the shoulder, intent to end whatever this is between her and Andrea.

“Lee, mind if I cut in,” Kara asks sharply. Lena gives Andrea a glance, dismissing her wordlessly as she accepts Kara’s hand.

“I’m gonna step outside to take a call. Lena, call me later if you want to…talk,” Andrea imparts with a sly smile before moving to exit the bar. Kara glares daggers at Andrea’s retreating form.

“Hi, darling. How are you?” Lena asks, watching Kara’s face transform from a scowl to a happy grin.

“Better now that you’re with me,” Kara says pulling Lena closer by the waist. That Aldebaran rum may have given her a bit of confidence, but she won’t do anything Lena doesn’t want. “Is this okay?”

“Of course, darling. Are you okay; you looked a bit frazzled when you came over.” Lena wraps her arms over broad shoulders, admiring Kara’s beauty as they slowly grow closer to one another.

“Yes, yes. I was just a bit nervous, I guess.” Kara ducks her head at the admission, blushing.

Nervous? Odd. Kara may not be as outwardly imposing as Supergirl, but she is hardly nervous since her reveal to the world as being Supergirl. The synergy of Kara Zor-El encompasses both Kara Dancers and Supergirl, but without the necessity to hide behind one mask or the other.

Lena can’t hide the surprise in her voice, “What do you have to be nervous about?”

“I just—I want to be Andrea—“

“You want to be Andrea?!”

It seems the rum has also compromised her ability to articulate clearly.

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant. I want to be in her place with you. I’ve been…jealous. She’s interrupted our time together everyday and just now she was…” Kara bites her lip, turning her head to look away.

Lena bends to the side, trying but failing to catch Kara’s gaze.

“She was what, Kara. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” Kara is jealous. It almost seems too good to be true. Maybe Andrea’s plan will work after all.

Kara lifts her head, piercing blue eyes gazing into Lena’s own. “She was touching you! Holding you! I don’t want her to do that, Lena. I want, I want to do that.” Kara states with conviction, voice hardening determinately.

Kara thinks she’s overstepped when Lenas arms loosen from around her neck. She prepares to apologize, heart breaking at the thought of Lena turning her down. That is, until Lena reaches for her hands, dragging them from their purchase on her hips to rest just above her ass.

“You want to hold me like this?” Lena whispers, head tilted and pupils dilating. “You can Kara, you can touch me however you want.”

The blonde moves her hands down tentatively, looking for any signs of unease. “When she doesn’t find any, she palms at Lena’s ass, pulling her forward and holding tight. “This okay?”

“Perfect, darling; keep going.” Lena noses at Kara’s neck, interested to see how far this will go.

Kara starts to dance, leading Lena along to the thumping beat. She feels a new kind of thrill, so unlike the one she gets from being Supergirl. There is a hot, pulsating feeling running through her veins.

The superhero tilts her head down to lay a kiss on Lena’s temple. “This okay,” she asks, internally begging for Lena to want more.

“Keep going.”

Kara starts to lay soft kisses down the side of Lena’s face, hands still kneading her supple behind. When she reaches the brunettes jaw, she noses her way along the skin back up to her ear. She lays one more kiss on the shell of her ear before she whispers, “More?”

“More.” Lena says, nearly panting under Kara’s ministration.

The blonde drops her face to the crook of the shorter woman’s neck, placing a kiss on each pulse point before laying a third on the beauty mark at the center of Lena’s throat.

Lena reaches up, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of Kara’s neck, while the other holds firmly to a bulging bicep. “Keep going, darling,” Lena rasps.

Tentatively, Kara laves her tongue against the mark. At the sound of Lena’s quiet moan, Kara sucks at the mark. When she pulls away, there is a blossoming patch of red over the skin.

Kara touches her forehead lightly to Lena’s, gazing into verdant eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Kara implores, cerulean eyes glassy and wanting.

“Please,” Lena supplicates, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Without further ado, the blonde presses her mouth firmly to the red painted lips in front of her. It isn’t long before the brunettes tongue runs across her lips seeking entrance into her mouth.

*********************************************

“Did it work?”

“Of course it did, Tesoro.” Andrea answers into the phone.

“Fucking finally. I’ll call Lena in the morning and get all the dirty details. Now that that’s taken care of, when are you gonna come see me?” Sam implores.

“I thought you were coming here next weekend?”

“ I am, but Ruby’s at summer camp for the rest of the week. I thought you could come spend some time here in Metropolis before we fly to National City.”

“Well, what’s in it for me,” Andrea flirts, already looking for red eye flights out east.

“You, me, an empty apartment, and all the time in the world to do whatever we please.”

“Promise me we can do that thing I like and I’ll be there in the morning.” Andrea knows she’s pushing her luck, but there’s nothing sweeter than a little pain with pleasure.

“Oh, baby, we can do whatever you want—” Samantha starts, voice sickly sweet, “—if you get here before dawn,” she finishes, voice low and demanding.

“Done.”

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara zorel #supergirl #kara danvers #kara x lena #first kiss #headcanon #pining #jealousy #andrea rojas #samantha arias #rojarias

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