#you don’t understand what he means to me look at this feral cat of a clone and tell me how I’m not supposed to love him with my whole heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

absurdthirst · 5 months ago

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A Roman Romp {Deiter Bravo *AS* Marcus Acacius x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Drug mentions, power imbalance, fucking the boss, clitoral play, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral sex (male receiving), derogatory names, role play, rough sex, Dieter being unbelievably bad with emotions, costume play.

Comments: You've found a niche as Dieter Bravo's assistant. Taking care of him and sleeping with him work surprisingly easy until his new role as a Roman general makes you completely feral for him.

A/N: Completely inspired by the sexy, bloody gifs.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Deeper. Raspier.” You decide, ignoring the frown of the man in front of you as you contemplate the voice pitch he has changed into. Dieter Bravo loves to experiment with his voice and facial expressions, but being the consummate narcissist that he is, he doesn’t like it when it’s not immediately loved by all. You don’t work that way and he knows it. It’s why you are permitted to run through the dialogue with him and read the scripts when most assistants just scheduled appointments and bring the actors they work for the page changes. “This is a man who has screamed throughout the bloodiest battles, who has inhaled the smoke from a hundred thousand fires. He’s hardened by battle, by death, and he shows it.” You explain, painting a picture for him to visualize from the comfort of his plush designer sofa in his Sherman Oaks mansion.

Dieter nods, shifting to sit up and he clears his throat. “You’re right. He’s seen shit we could never imagine. He needs to be tortured but capable.” Dieter decides and rolls his shoulders. His eyes focus on the script and he says “I declare for Rome. For her Emperor. For her people.” He deepens his voice, letting it catch to be raspier than before. “How was that?” He asks, face softening as he expectedly looks at you.

Despite the massive ego, the demands, and his ability to act like a twelve year old boy at times, Dieter is surprisingly needy. He craves acceptance, like a feral cat who spits and hisses when you get too close, but is desperate to be loved on their own terms. You deal with him delicately at times, more harshly at others, all while understanding that neediness. It’s what made you work well for him. “That was good.” You nod in approval.

He thanks you with a slightly dazed, soppy smile, like he's grateful for the approval. Like it means the most coming from you. "Yeah?" He asks, hungry for more praise and you nod. He stares at you for a second before he looks back at the script, continuing with the new voice he's found for the character and he continues practicing his lines, his eyes drifting over to you every now and then as he seeks approval.

This time he runs through the lines without you reading the other parts, but sometimes he wants you to voice the other characters, to give him a tone to feed off of. Since the Cliff Beasts debacle and you coming to work for him, Dieter has been determined to win another Oscar and you think this might be the role to do that.

“I’m trying on the costumes this afternoon.” Dieter tells you like you didn’t already know that. You know every detail of his schedule. “I know.” You chuckle softly and he flushes slightly, “yeah. I am hoping it’s going to help me find the character posture.” He confesses, “and I get to check out my trailer before filming begins in a couple days.”

That’s code for he wants the trailer to feel like his own personal retreat so you need to pack up all of his favorite things. Like you hadn’t already planned that. “I will make sure that you can relax.” You promise, shooting him a soft smile. “Your favorite incense and candles, that serenity stone and I’ll pack up your favorite sheets to bring with us today.”

“You’re the best.” Dieter compliments you and it’s a rare occasion but he’s sincere as he offers you a soft smile. “I’m gonna go smoke a little before we go to the studio. Can you go get some tacos for me?” He asks, “carnitas.” He decides with a nod as he relaxes against the sofa.

“Sure thing, boss.” You wink at him and put a little away in your walk as you leave the room, knowing his eyes are on your ass. This thing you have with Dieter is incredibly easy and complicated at the same time. You sleep together, pretty damn often, but you aren’t his girlfriend. He’s sworn off relationships since Kate and Anika, but it’s not like you can blame him. You get sex and as a bonus, it puts your boss into a better mood for you to deal with him professionally. It doesn’t hurt that you care about him a lot, love him really, but that’s something you would never admit to him. You know that you just fill a void in his life.

Dieter watches until you disappear and he sets his script down, rubbing his scruffy cheek. Fuck, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Too good for him to touch you honestly and he knows he’s putting everything on the line. Losing you would mean losing his assistant but also his best friend and some of the best fucking sex he’s ever had. He can’t tell you anything about how he feels in case you’re scared off and he loses it all. With a sigh, he looks back at his script and waits for you to return like the lovesick fool he is.

It doesn’t take you long, the place where you go makes the best fucking tacos and they know how Dieter likes them. He’s ordered from there often enough while he’s high. You get some extras because he said he wanted to smoke some weed when he gets back from having his costume fitted and you know he will have the munchies. Picking up some salad because you know he won’t eat greens unless you get them. “I’m back.” You sail through the door with the paper bag and grin. “You eat and I’ll get the bag together for your trailer.”

Dieter groans at the smell of the tacos and he pats the space next to him. “Come and sit down with me, babe.” He orders, wanting you to eat as well. You run around after him all the time and he knows you don’t always remember to eat.

“Okay.” You don’t argue, just plopping down beside him and handing him the agua fresca you had ordered for him from the drink carrier. “I can eat and then I’ll make sure we get you settled into your trailer.”

Dieter reaches out to squeeze your leg. He’s always been a touchy feely kind of man, needing that physical connection. That’s why he wants sex so much. He loves to feel wanted and to be touched. “You’re the best.” He says around a mouth full of tacos.

“You might not think so when you see this.” You tease, pulling out the salad to set in front of him. He doesn’t argue but he does pout, swallowing the mouth of tacos and sighs. “Did you get that adobo dressing?” He asks hopefully, knowing he would eat anything as long as that stuff is on it. “Two of them.” You promise. “So you can have one for a salad on set.”

“Fuck yes. You’re - you’re the fucking best. No one comes close to you. Literally no other assistant is like you, babe.” Dieter praises with a mouth full of tacos. His last assistant couldn’t make him hard and he certainly couldn’t make him eat salad. He was authoritative and while Dieter likes to be submissive, when it comes to his work, he is the one in control.

You shouldn’t let the praise get to you, knowing that Dieter is always expressive when he’s happy and then can throw full tantrums when he’s not. Still, you smirk and lean forward to grab a taco for yourself after putting a straw in your own drink. “That’s why you pay me so well.” You remind him. “Don’t forget you still have to make that happy birthday video to send to your niece.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’ve already sent the gift from you. It’s a battery operated kiddie jeep. She will love it.”

Dieter nods, knowing he would have completely forgotten about her birthday. He loves his niece but his brother is a stiff prick. Always the golden child. Better at everything including being monogamous and heterosexual. He went to college, got his finance degree. Has the wife and 2.5 kids in Dallas and Dieter is…never good enough. Even when he’s won a fucking Oscar. “I gotta go see that kid soon. Make sure she’s not fucking boring like her dad.” He snorts as he wipes his mouth.

“Let me know when you want to go and I’ll work it into your schedule.” You promise, reminding yourself to remind him of it when filming ends for this movie. He always wants to go somewhere after he’s wrapped a movie. “Just let me know and I’ll take care of everything.” From his flight to the drugs, you will make sure he has everything he needs.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, unsure if he wants to deal with his family. Especially his parents. He left Texas to come to L.A when he was eighteen and he struggled until he got spotted while he was failing at being a waiter. “You need a break too. At some point.” He announces as he reluctantly digs into his salad even with the adobo smothering it.

“I get breaks.” You remind him. But it’s true you don’t get them often. Even when Dieter travels, he brings you with him. He likes having you close and it’s not something you are completely opposed to. Spending months in Croatia or China is amazing. You reach over and brush his hair back and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for eating your salad.”

He loves the praise and hates that he loves it. His life is messy and the last thing he wants to do is lose you because he ruins it with his personality. At least like this you’re at a distance. “Fucking lettuce.” He grumbles and takes another bite, tilting his cheek out so he can get another kiss.

You grin against his skin as you pepper his cheek with little kisses. You don’t mind when he’s like this. It’s sweet, even if it’s needy. Dieter so desperately wants love and for someone to adore him. He just manages to ruin every relationship he gets in when someone new shows up and showers him with attention. You know that it’s possible with your situation. You just have to deal with it.

Dieter loves the way you give him affection and he chews his salad after you pull away, he looks down at the salad, setting it down after a moment to dig into another taco. “Tacos are better.” He decides and watches as you dig into your own food.

“I know they are, baby.” He hates eating salads and you try to make it fun most of the time, but there’s no chance against tacos. “But this counterbalances the tacos. You’ve been doing so good at the gym. That sexy body needs the good stuff for all those fight scenes.”

Dieter has definitely had to put in time at the gym to make sure he’s getting in shape for this role. He had a nutritionist and personal chef come in for the past few months and he’s done pretty good building up his arms. “Yeah? You think I’ll look convincing?” He asks, eager for your approval of the body he’s been working out for.

“You’ll be amazing.” You promise him. “You already have a look that can be so authoritative, but put you in Roman armor?” You groan quietly and shake your head. “I thought Maximus was sexy, but your Marcus Acacius will blow him out of the water.”

Dieter flushes slightly, ducking his head at your praise, and he loves how you compliment him. “Yeah? You think I’ll be sexy in the costume?” He smirks, “and the sex scene.” He adds, “gonna watch me on the closed set?”

You knew there was a sex scene, but you didn’t think Dieter would want you there. “If you want me to.” You tell him. “I know that day will be a long one for you.”

Dieter nods, reaching for your hand after he wipes his clean. “I want you there. I always want you there.” He admits, “I just - you know me best in that department and I want to make sure it looks real, natural.”

You could point out that Dieter has had so many more lovers than you have, but you don’t. “You’re going to look even sexier then.” You promise. “They are going to create a new Oscar category just for you. Best Sex Scene.”

Dieter chuckles, “I fucking wish. I could win that every damn year.” He says with conviction, “especially if I was filmed with you.” He says and winks, picking up the salad to reluctantly finish it even with the dressing.

You hum in approval and quickly finish your own taco before you pat his leg gently. “Let me go get you packed up so we can leave, baby.” You murmur. “You don’t want to be late with Wardrobe.”

Dieter nods, watching you get up and his eyes drop down to your ass again as you make your way into his room to get what he needs. You do everything for him and he can’t ever pay you enough for putting up with his shit.

Less than an hour later, you have Dieter loaded up in the car and you are headed to the studio where you will be filming the fight scenes. Some of the location work will be later but they want to get the fights filmed first to give them plenty of time to work on the CGI. Dieter decided to let you drive so he could read over the script again. “Don’t worry. While you are with wardrobe, I’ll get the key to your trailer. We can take a picture outside with your name on it for you IG.”

Dieter sighs, he hates social media but he knows it’s needed for him to keep himself relevant when his industry is suddenly flooded with fucking Tik Tok stars and IG models. “Sure.” He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose as he reads over the script, “you really think the voice is right?”

“That voice went straight to my pussy.” You admit, knowing that confession will give him a smug grin. He likes knowing when something turns you on. “Yeah?” His normal voice instantly changes to the once he had practiced for Marcus and you make sure to squirm in the driver’s seat a little. “Yeah, it’s good. Panties around the world will explode.”

Dieter smirks, imagining the reaction with his fans but he doesn’t care about their panties exploding when he only wants yours to explode. Sure, it helps his career to still be considered a sex symbol but he wants you to want him more than any woman thirsting on Twitter.

You giggle quietly to yourself, guiding the car to the studio and you get parked. “Okay. Do you want to see the trailer first and figure out where it is? I can get it set up while you are in wardrobe?”

“Yeah. I wanna see if they gave me a good one or if they put me in the fucking back again.” He had a meltdown when his trailer was at the very end of the lot on his last project. He’s a fucking Oscar winner not someone doing their first fucking movie. You nod and he gets out while you gather the bags with his things. He doesn’t ask if you need help. That’s never really been his nature so you carry the bags to the trailer that’s been assigned as his. “First row. Now that’s more fucking like it.” He declares as he claps his hands.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and follow him into the trailer. It’s perfectly clean and sterile in that brand new kind of way and it will bother Dieter if it stays that way for too long. “I’ll get all this set up to your liking.” You promise.

Dieter looks around before his eyes find yours again, "that would be awesome." He declares, "oh and get me some Kit Kats. You know I love snacking on those ever since Cliff Beasts." He shivers slightly at that movie. Something he took in the desperation of the pandemic when he was stuck at home alone and was losing his mind.

“Kit Kats.” You nod and walk up to him, sensing that he needs a little affection. You caress his cheek and press your lips to his. “You are going to be amazing.” You promise him. “We will make sure this is the best film shoot you’ve ever had.”

Dieter appreciates you and he sighs, “I better get to costume to try everyone on.” He hates costume design but he needs to get there since it’s his time and they will need to do adjustments. “I better go, babe.” He kisses your cheek and exits the trailer, disappearing while you sort out his trailer.

You run and get the KitKats and make four more trips from the car for the bags of stuff for Dieter’s trailer. Stripping the basic sheets off the bed, you replace them with the Egyptian cotton ones that are 2500 thread count, which he loves. Shoving the pillows that were on the bed into a small compartment because he prefers down alternative pillows and putting the soothing weighted blanket over it all. The candle and incense is already burning and there’s a whiff of sage still, letting Dieter know that you’ve done all the things he claims helps clear his mind and calm him down. The basket full of KitKats next to the room temperature San Pellegrino bottles that he prefers when his throat hurts. The small refrigerator is stocked with other drinks and you look around satisfied that he will be comfortable.

Dieter stares at himself in the mirror in his costume and he smirks, knowing you’re going to lose your mind when you see the armor on his body. It’s surprisingly heavy and he didn’t think they’d use metal but they have. He likes the weight of it, it helps him get into character a bit more. The costume designers take notes on adjustments and he changes back, making his way to his trailer. “Fuck. You are amazing.” He compliments as you fluff the pillows you brought from his home.

You hum in delight and turn back to look at him. “That’s what I’m here for.” You motion to the trailer. “Think you can decompress here?”

He nods, groaning as he lays down on the bed. “Come here.” He opens his arm to invite you to lay with him and you follow his order, making him sigh and he shifts to curl around you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He confesses, burying his face in your neck.

“Be late.” You tease, stroking his side and chest and you let him hold you. “Wear the same thing for a week and eat nothing but tacos.” You enjoy taking care of Dieter and for all his selfishness, you appreciate the moments like this where he acknowledges everything you do for him. “How did costume fitting go?” You ask, sensing that he’s in a pretty mellow mood so it must have been good.

Dieter loves how you touch him and he nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “It went well. They just have to do some minor adjustments. I- I am worried that I look - that I’m too old to do this part. The fighting. Will I look believable?” He asks, a frown on his face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Completely believable.” You promise, reaching up to run your fingers through the longer curls that he’s grown out for this role. “You will look like the war-hardened general. Experienced and trained by years of fighting.” You remind him. “Generals have wisdom. They’ve experienced heartache and lost men. They are supposed to have some gray in their hair and beards.” You bring your fingers down to scratch through his facial hair, knowing how much he likes that. “They might have to add some more. You don’t have quite enough to be that salt and pepper look, if that’s what they want. You’re gonna win another Oscar. I just know it.”

Dieter loves how confident you are in his abilities and that makes him feel more secure, makes him a better actor. “Thank you.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “You - I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He murmurs, closing his eyes. You hum, continuing to stroke his hair until he blurts out, “I want Chinese for dinner.”

You are so used to the way that Dieter suddenly shifts gears that it’s nearly automatic. “The fancy or the nasty?” You ask, wondering if he’s wanting the upscale Chinese fusion place or the tiny little hole in the wall that makes the best egg rolls you’ve ever eaten in your life.

He ponders it for a second, “the nasty.” He offers you a smirk. “The greasy egg rolls. The fried rice.” He groans at the thought, “then tomorrow I’ll be good. I’m training tomorrow.” He tells you like you don’t know his schedule off by heart.

“Sword training.” You agree. “Bright and early at seven.” He groans pitifully and pouts at the early morning call. “I’ll make sure that you have a powerful protein smoothie first thing.”

Dieter groans, “smoothies and sword training. Seven? Fuckkkkk.” He moans and curls around you again. “Baby baby baby. Let’s go back to mine and then we can get dirty Chinese food and then I can eat my dessert.” He smirks, sliding his down between your legs to cup your cunt through your leggings.

“Yeah?” You moan quietly, always loving how his large hands feel on your body. “We can call and pick it up on the way.” You don’t call it home, because technically you don’t live with him although you spend most nights at his house. “Maybe a bath after and I can rub your back before you fall asleep.”

“Fuck you spoil me. I gotta call Sally and tell her to give you a damn raise.” He groans, telling you he wants his manager to make sure you’re looked after. He presses his fingers against your clit through your leggings, wanting to hear you moan again.

You don’t bite your lip, knowing that Dieter doesn’t want you to suppress your sounds. He’s always greedy for the sounds you make, greedy for the approval. His fingers press insistently against your bundle of nerves expertly. “Dee, baby, that feels so good.” You praise breathlessly.

He loves hearing your praise. He’s greedy for it and he hisses when you lean in to kiss his jaw. His fingers continue to press against your bundle of nerves, pressing and rubbing, wanting you to fall apart for him.

“Dee, baby.” You arch your hips up under his hand, grinding your clit down against his fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum. Fuck, I’m going to ruin these panties.”

He wants to hear your sweet cry. He groans, hardening in his pants, “I’ll buy you more.” He promises, continuing to rub you through the material. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Want to hear those sweet fucking moans.” He urges you on.

It doesn’t take long when Dieter wants to make you cum. He’s a skilled enough lover to have learned you, since you’ve slept with him so much. You hold onto his arm, gasping in pleasure until your toes curl. “Deeeeee!” You cry out, closing your eyes when the wave of pleasure washes over you and heat fires through your core.

He hisses when your thighs squeeze his hand, keeping him trapped there while you squirm through your orgasm. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you cum.” He coos, watching you with fascination.

You doubt that. Sometimes you are a little disbelieving that he finds you sexy, but you understand that he might want you to think that so you continue to sleep with him. Whining drowsily, you pull him close and press your lips to his. “Do you want to break in this bed now or go home?”

Dieter smirks against your lips, "come on baby. Let's do it. Break in the bed then we will get Chinese food." It sounds like a fantasy he's jerked off to thinking about you. He is already hardening in his pants and he groans when you reach down to squeeze his bulge. "How do you want me?" He asks, "cowboy? doggy? waterfall? little dipper? the socket?" He lists off positions with raised eyebrows.

You squeeze his cock again and then slide your hand under the waist band to wrap around his shaft. Dieter moans and he twitches in your hand. “How do you want me?” You ask. “You know it’s the Big Dipper with this cock.” You tease, knowing how much he loves being praised for how big he feels inside you. “Do you want to fuck me? Or have me do the work?”

Dieter loves to be a pillow prince but right now, he wants to fuck you. "Strip off and lay on your side." He demands, his voice lowering as his cock twitches at the thought of sliding inside of you. You're so hot and wet, like fucking velvet, and you make his toes curl.

You have no problem stripping for him, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count. Pulling your bra down your arms, you toss it to the floor after pulling your shirt off and quickly strip down the leggings and ruined panties. “Are you going to fuck me wearing clothes or are you stripping too?”

Dieter wants to be naked too. He loves being naked. He would spend all weekend naked if he could. He shuffles off the bed and scrambles to pull his shirt over his head, shoving his sweats down to expose his hard cock. You lay down and he shifts to lay behind you, reaching down to grip his cock. He pumps himself a few times, "lift your leg, baby. I want to slide inside that wet pussy."

Lifting your leg gives him the access he wants and you reach back for his hip. Wanting to touch him as he rocks his hips forward. “It’s so wet.” You promise. “I need you inside me, Dieter.”

He shuffles closer, notching himself at your entrance as he pushes into you. "Fuckkk." He groans as your walls envelop him and he pushes deeper until he's nudging your cervix. "Fuck. So fucking wet." He lets go of his cock and grabs your leg, gripping it to keep it elevated.

“Shit.” Your body lights up when he pushes inside you. Taking him up on his offer of sex about four months after you started working for him had been the best decision you ever made. You squeeze your tits and moan, clenching down around him. “Feels so fucking big, baby. You fill me up perfectly.”

Your praise makes him twitch inside you. He loves it when you praise him, it makes his heart flutter and his stomach clench. "Fuck, you're so tight. Tightest little pussy I've ever fucked." He confesses and he has lost count of how many sexual partners he has had. He hadn't ventured out of your bedroom since a few weeks after you started sleeping together. He has become addicted to your body and he can't keep away from your bed. His fingers squeeze your flesh as he starts to rock into you.

You lean your head back against his shoulder and moan. “Easy to say when-“ you gasp when he pushes deep. “Your fat cock makes anything tight.” Your hand reaches back to caress his face, knowing how much Dieter loves to be stroked and caressed while fucking. “God baby, you just ruin me.” You honestly don’t know how you will get over losing the sexual part of your relationship when Dieter gets bored, but you know it will come eventually. Hell, you’re surprised it hasn’t already happened if you’re honest with yourself. But regular sex is something Dieter craves and you have never turned him down, your own sex drive is pretty high.

Dieter loves the praise, fuck, he loves hearing the way he makes you feel spill from your lips. His thrusts become harder and he hisses when you clench around him. “Fuck.” He groans and turns his head to kiss your palm, his other arm is trapped beneath you but he doesn’t care.

You feel that need in the frantic push of his hips. He’s craving the closeness he feels from sex and you push your ass back, encouraging him. “Yes baby, need this. Needed you to fuck me.” You pant. “Always need it.”

He grips your leg, shifting it more towards your stomach and he groans at the new angle. You’re so much tighter like this. “Fuck baby. You - you’re the best. The fucking best.” He murmurs, kissing along your shoulder.

The weight of him on top of you presses you into the bed, making it harder to push back against him, but you just squeeze him tight every time he thrusts back into you. “Deeeee.” You whine, loving the angle of his cock battering against your cervix. He feels like he’s in your guts when he pushes his hope forward. “Fuck baby, that cock is soooooo good.”

Dieter shifts his hips again, trying to find that spot inside you that makes you scream his name. He wants the entire fucking studio to know who is fucking you like this. He groans when you squeal on his best thrust and he focuses on that spot, wanting you to cum for him.

He’s demanding today. Your moans and squeals come easily, fingers gripping the covering on the bed. You’ll have to make it again later, but you don’t care. He feels amazing pounding into you against that spot. “Dee- Dieter- I’m- I’m gonna-“ you pant, trying to talk while he’s fucking you but it’s nearly impossible. “Oh shit!” You scream, clamping down around his cock when you feel the pressure suddenly reach its peak.

The way you gush around him has him panting as he tries to work himself into your cunt as you grip him like a vice. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He hisses, pushing deep. He’s never been great at stamina without drugs so sober, he’s thrusting into you a half dozen more times until he’s painting your walls with his cum.

You groan softly, feeling the hot pulse of his cum filling you. You have an IUD, and Dieter has regular STI testing for insurance reasons and you love that he feels comfortable enough to not use protection with you. “That’s it baby, that’s it.” You reach back and hold his head, wanting to touch him as he rides out his orgasm and collapses on top of you with a breathless huff.

“Fuck. I really don’t pay you enough.” He chuckles breathlessly. “Best fucking pussy in L.A.” He compliments while he’s drunk on his orgasm and he kisses your shoulder, enjoying the feel of your hot cunt wrapped around his softening cock.

You snort at his comment and relax against the pillow. It could be ten minutes or an hour before Dieter moves but you always love the way he collapses into you bonelessly. “If I charged you for my pussy, you wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Dieter snorts, “probably not.” He doesn’t deny that. Sure, he’s had sex workers in his bed before but you are his assistant and there’s an emotional connection he hasn’t found before. He’s addicted to it and he can’t let you go. He is excited to start this new project with you by his side.

****

“Dieter has an interview at twelve that day, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” You tap a pencil against your notepad as you pour over his schedule. “As long as he doesn’t go over we can make it to the studio by four and then have him ready.” His manager is on the other side of the zoom call, video feed in the corner of your computer, wanting to squeeze in a late night talk show to talk about the movie being released next month, while also teasing about this movie. “Will that work for them?”

“Yeah. We can make that work.” His manager and his PR team agree and you add it to his schedule. “We can also get him on that podcast in the next week, if he has a gap. It’s about sexual exploration and of course people know he is quite active. I think it will develop some big hit content. As long as he doesn’t talk about drugs.” His manager sighs.

“He’s been doing a lot better.” You remind them. “Working out for this film is doing wonders for him, even if he complains. He’s just smoking a little weed on the off days.” You look over his schedule again. “On Thursday he is supposed to have a half day of shooting, if we can reschedule his meeting with the accountant, he could do the podcast then?”

His manager hums and looks over the PR team who nods, confirming it with the podcast booker. “That will work. So that’s his schedule for the next month. Thanks for all your hard work. I know he’s not the easiest to handle.” His manager snorts just as Dieter opens the door to his trailer. He’s still in costume, covered in fake blood and dirt and he’s exhausted. He slumps onto the sofa with a groan.

“Okay, I’ll get back with you all later.” You promise, closing out the Zoom call and turning to look over at Dieter. It’s the first time you’ve properly seen him in costume and your mouth drops open. “Holy shit.” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as you take in the raw, rough and frankly sexy view of Dieter as a Roman general.

Dieter doesn’t notice your interest in his costume, rubbing his forehead as he is hot from the fighting. He’s exhausted. It’s been days of trying to get the scene just right. Including more takes than he’s ever known to cover the reaction of the crowd, of the emperor, of his lover in the stands. “It’s been a long fucking day.” He whines, opening one eye to look at you.

“Yeah?” Your voice is a little raspy, making you clear your throat as you sit up straighter and bite your lip. “It’s been a long day, baby?” You ask, wishing for a moment that Dieter was a method actor that stayed in character. Wanting to hear that voice he had developed for Marcus Acacius while he’s wearing that costume. “You need me to take care of you?”

He opens both eyes and smirks, seeing the way your eyes drop down to his costume. “Does this do it for you?” He asks slyly, standing up from the sofa and he brushes his costume down. His voice deepens as he asks you, “you want me to fuck you wearing this?” Instantly interested in this visceral reaction from you.

You shiver slightly, his voice changing to the authoritative tone he had practiced with you. His eyes are hardening as he looks at you. “Yes.” You admit immediately. “We can- I can ride you.” You offer, cunt dripping at the thought.

His cock hardens in his briefs under the tunic and he stiffens his spine, wanting to enjoy this role play with you. “Stand up and strip. I want to see you.” He demands, “I want to see what the emperor has gifted me for winning my battle.”

Shit. A whimper escapes you, biting your lip even harder when he slips into role play as he watches you expectantly. You reach for your shirt and drag it over your head to drop to the floor. Wishing you had worn a dress today. “Too bad they aren’t using me as an extra.” You moan. “Pulling off a Roman dress would be sexy.”

“Fuck. I could ask wardrobe for an extra.” He says as his eyes take in your tits and he breaks character for a moment. When you’re naked in front of him, he straightens his back again. “Kneel before your general and tell him your sins.” He demands, “tell him what your weeping pussy yearns for that angers the gods.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

You have no idea if that is anything remotely like a Roman general would say, but you are quick to drop down to your knees in front of him. You bow your head, feigning embarrassment, and there might be a little of the genuine emotion mixed in. Your reaction to his costume is so physical. “You, general.” You moan quietly. “I wish for the general to take his frustrations out on my body. To use my cunt.”

Dieter knows he should be more like a general but he wants to tease you since you’re turned on by this display. By his character. “You’re nothing but a servant. You are nothing to men like me. Someone to fetch my wine and let me fuck your cunt. You want to please your general?” He asks as he reaches down to pull his hard cock from his briefs. He pumps himself and shifts closer to you, “you’re going to suck my cock.” He demands, “and pray the gods forgive you for your lust.”

It’s demeaning and sexy because most of the time Dieter is a whiny, submissive mess who does what you say, but right now he’s in charge. Except he’s not Dieter Bravo, not completely. He’s his character, Marcus Acacius. You open your mouth immediately, your cunt clenching when he pushes the head of his cock onto your tongue and past your lips. Making you moan as you close your eyes. He’s a little salty from sweat but that only adds to the little scene he’s acting out.

He groans as you take him into your mouth but it’s not enough. He reaches down to grab the back of your neck. “You’re not taking my cock like a hungry, needy, little whore. Show me how much you fucking want it.” He demands, rocking his hips to push deeper into your mouth.

You gasp and sputter around his cock, loving the almost ruthless way he is pushed down your throat. You swallow around him, making him groan and you feel your pussy start to drip onto the floor of the trailer. The scene is obscene and you love it, eyes watering as you look up at his ‘dirty and bloody’ face.

His brow is furrowed as he watches you, makeup on his face making him look fierce and he hisses when you swallow around him. “Fuck. Look at you. I bet your cunt is dripping onto the floor, isn’t it? Knowing you are sucking the cock of a general. Someone you’d never be able to be near unless you’re pouring my wine or taking my cock.” He chuckles breathlessly, slapping your cheek.

Your body shivers in goosebumps and you whimper around him. Your nipples are hard and aching and you want to reach between your thighs to rub your clit, but you want to prolong the pleasure. Saliva is dripping down your chin and you bob your head eagerly as you moan around him again. So turned on that you feel like you might cum right now.

Dieter twitches in your mouth, loving the roleplay. It's not really been something that he has explored due to his occupation. "Fuck. Your mouth is the Elysian Fields. Shit. Taking it so well." He compliments you, bending over you to squeeze your breast.

You hollow your cheeks, pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock. Moaning around his length again as your saliva slick jaw works to take him deeper. Wanting to see how long he can last in your mouth before he is pulling out to fuck you.

"Fuck. I - I don't want to-" He loses his character for a moment as he pulls out of your mouth, "I want to fuck you. Get on the bed and show me how much this little slut wants a general to fuck her." He demands, his cock slick with saliva and he wants to cum inside you.

You love the tone and honestly, it’s a little bit of a turn on to hear him call you a slut like that. Dieter doesn’t usually ever use derogatory names unless he’s talking about himself, but this is sexy. You want him to fuck you from behind, but you want to see the costume. Climbing on the bed and spreading your legs wide while you are on your back, you wait for him to react.

Dieter bites his lip, watching your chest heave and he chuckles at how eager you are for him to fuck you like this. “Look at you. Fucking dripping onto the sheets. Hungry for this General’s cock.” He mocks you as he stands at the end of the bed. He grabs your thighs, dragging you down to the edge of the bed. “You’re going to take whatever I give you.” He orders and grips his cock, positioning himself at your entrance before he pushes inside you in one thrust.

Your cry is loud and you don’t care who hears you. It’s not unusual for cast and crew to hear the sounds of sex coming from Dieter’s hotel room or trailer so no one ever expects any less from him. The snap of his hips is more aggressive and your cunt clenches down around him in pleasure as your fingers twist in the sheets. “Fuck- fuck yes!”

He can see how desperate you are for him to fuck you and he loves it. He focuses on being his character, imagining how roughly he’d fuck someone with adrenaline from the battle racing through him. “Fuck you’re so tight. Such a good little whore for me.” He praises as he grabs your legs and straightens them against his body so he can feel even bigger inside you.

Your eyes roll back because of the angle. His cock pushing deeper and kissing your womb. It pinches slightly but the pleasure overwhelms any pain. “G-gods!” You manage, finding it hard to think about anything but how fucking fierce he looks over you. His brows are pinched together and it makes him look furious, adding to the effect of the costume.

His body is still covered in fake dirt and blood, sweat beading on his forehead, and he looks down as your tits jiggle with each move and your mouth is open in pleasure. If you were a Roman god, you’d be Venus. “Taking my cock. Taking your general’s cock like a good slut. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you? Bet you sat there wet and waiting for me to come back from battle. Fuck you hard and make you cum after my frustration in battle.” He grunts, squeezing your legs as he rocks impossibly harder.

You moan and nod. “Yes, General.” You pant out, reaching up and squeezing your left tit as he fucks you. “Waiting for you to come back. Thinking of you.” Your pussy is gushing and Dieter is playing up the part beautifully. You had never thought of role play with him before but it’s perfect.

Your gushing cunt has his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and his skin slaps against your thighs. “Fuck. So good. Feel so fucking good.” He groans and squeezes your calves. He hisses and slaps your flesh, “you gonna be a good girl for your general? You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You gasp out, knowing that will be easy to do. “Dee- general.” You moan, correcting yourself when he squeezes your thigh and grunts in disapproval when you almost say his name. He obviously likes playing the general right now and you will oblige him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He wants to see it, hear it, feel it. He groans your name and slaps your thigh, wanting you to fall apart around him. You pant, getting closer and your walls flutter around his cock. “That’s it. That’s it.” He grunts, sliding his hand lower to rub your clit. “Cum for me.” He demands, wanting to hear it, “cum for your general.”

He clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare. It's so goddamn sexy and powerful that the sight of it makes you cum. Your cry is strangled, caught in your throat while your body bucks and heaves under him. Soaking his cock and you vaguely hope you don't ruin his costume as you fall apart.

You clamp down on his cock and your cry has to be heard on the entire lot as you soak his cock. "Fuck, you are - shit. Good girl. Such a good little whore for me. Gonna fill you up now. Don't care if you get knocked up. Will make sure you are looked after by the Emperor." He promises, still in character. "Fuck, I'm gonna - gonna cum." He pants, clenching his eyes as he pushes into you, thrusting a half dozen more times before he can't hold off. He pushes deep as he starts to cum, a whine escaping his lips as he breaks character.

You moan softly, watching his face relax and he literally changes from the character he was portraying to the actor that you work for and sleep with. His shoulder slump and his eyes shift back to a more soulful gaze, glazed over with pleasure as he rocks his hips forward to push every drop of cum into your pulsing walls. “Fuck, Dee.” You can’t help but giggle, your entire body tingling from the pure adrenaline of your orgasm. “That was- is your sex scene going to be like that?”

Dieter inhales deeply, his spine tingling from the orgasm, and he snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at you. "No. No. Fuck." He shakes his head, trying to get control of himself after some great fucking sex. "It's gonna be boring. She rides me, her naked, me in armor." He tells you and you nod, "not like this." He caresses your legs, "not like this."

You hum, smirking slightly and you reach down to caress the armored chest of his costume. “Well then, why don’t I ride you in your costume before you film, so you can imagine I’m the one on top of you?” You suggest, not even remotely upset by the idea of fucking him again like this. Your pussy clenches down around his softening cock. “Anything I can do to help you.”

Dieter smirks, "Jesus, you'll have me hardening in the damn sock thinking about you but fuck...I can bring the costume back to the trailer another day." He decides and reaches for your hand to kiss your palm. "Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks softly, knowing you deserve to know how he feels.

Dieter says he loves you all the time, most often after you do something for him he had expected you to refuse. It’s glib and flippant, not real so you don’t ever tell him how it hurts you when he does because you know he doesn’t love love you. “I could stand to hear it more.” You admit, heart twisting and you cup his cheek when he puts your hand against it. “Because I love you too.”

Your adoring gaze makes his heart flutter and he’s reminded once again how he cannot live without you. You’re his rock and you keep him on track, not letting him spiral when things go wrong. He sighs, “not like I want you to” and lets go of your hand to pull out of you. He can’t say how he really feels and he dejectedly tucks his cock away.

The ever shifting moods of Dieter reminds you that he isn’t yours and you decide to just giggle to cover the flare of hurt. “Of course not.” You hum. “That wouldn’t fit your reputation.” You sit up and reach for a towel. “Do you want a snack?” You ask, moving back into caretaker mode.

Dieter watches you shuffle off the bed, reaching for your panties and he sighs, “you don’t get it. I don’t mean- whatever. It’s whatever.” He huffs and decides to head back onto set and find himself something to drink.

You frown when he leaves the trailer before you can put yourself back together. Wondering why he seems so shiftless right now, if he’s feeling guilty about something. You know that he’s not great at expressing himself and sometimes acts out like a child would. He doesn’t like being emotionally vulnerable. You decide to go to the set and see if you can help him.

Dieter is nursing a black coffee when you arrive on set and he is sitting, waiting for the other actors to come back from their break. You walk over to him and he stares at the cup in his hand. “Sorry for - for that.” He manages to get out like it’s painful to say.

“Don’t worry about it.” The last thing you need is for Dieter to think you are mad at him. He needs to concentrate on the scenes being filmed today and hopefully by the time he’s done, whatever is upsetting him will have passed. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? You didn’t eat much this morning.” His blood sugar might be low. “I brought you a Kit Kat.” You pull the candy bar out of your bag and offer it to him.

He looks up at you in surprise and takes the chocolate, undoing the wrapper after you take his coffee and he groans as he chews it, not realizing how hungry he was. You stand there in silence and Dieter hands you the wrapper after the AD calls for everyone to return to set. He inhales deeply, mentally shifting into his character.

You sit in the chair he vacated, that is still warm from him sitting there. Watching as he takes his mark and his co-stars also get into position. It’s always interesting to watch Dieter work, the truth in the saying that all artists are slightly mad being very true. You think he is amazing.

Dieter grunts as soon as the director calls action, working on remembering his blocking and the choreography. People think that acting is easy, that it doesn't take a lot, but Dieter's life has been acting and it's exhausting physically and mentally. He gets lost in his character as he works his way through the scene.

You have memorized the lines and the action sequences. Seeing the hard work he has been putting in come to life as he goes through the scenes. Sometime they cut and reset, but you are so impressed and fucking turned on by his competence in this role, it makes you press your thighs together.

Dieter is sweating when he finishes his scene and he strides off set when the director calls cut, taking the bottle of water you have ready for him. He desperately wants a shower so he's relieved when the director calls it for the day and he hands you the water bottle. "Need a damn shower and some weed." He declares, walking off set and you follow him.

You know that he’s tired so you don’t try to talk to him. Just follow him back to the trailer and you pick up his costume as he strips it off, taking it back to wardrobe as he gets into the shower. His comfy sweats and crocs are set out and you have ordered dinner to be delivered to the house by the time you get there.

Dieter stands under the water, eyes closed as he tries to imagine his life when he’s older. He will be too old to be a movie star, too old to be considered another more than a washed up legend. His legacy will be his Oscar and nothing else. He hates the idea of not having anything else written in his eulogy. He hates the thought of being alone. He imagines if he gets the balls to say how he feels about you. Sure, he’s not conventional but he loves you. You don’t care about the fame or the money. You see him, you know him. He imagines being old, watching his kids grow up with you beside him. He wants that. He just needs to tell you for real and hope you don’t crush his crumbling heart in your hands.

Once you’ve returned the costume, you pick up the changes to the script and the blocking for tomorrow, going back to the trailer to pack up the bag you always carry for Dieter. He’s still in the shower, which is a little unusual but you just think that he’s sore. You’ll offer to give him a massage once he’s smoked a little and relaxed. It’s been a long day.

Dieter finally turns off the shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel around his waist. He washes the makeup from his face with the organic cleanser you get him and he comes out to find you waiting for him. “Shit.” He hisses, rubbing his eyes, “I just know I’m gonna lose you.” He admits, trying to ignore how fucking pretty you look waiting for him.

You frown, not sure what the hell he is talking about. “Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to him and wondering if he might have taken something without you knowing. He's been doing so good with not taking random pills, but this is Dieter. “You aren’t going to lose me unless you wander off.” You joke playfully, reaching out and touching his arm.

He flinches and shakes his head, “no. No. You’re gonna go and all because I can’t control- I can’t stop thinking - fuck!” He yells and you jump, making his frown deepen. “There’s - it’s just all in my head bouncing around all the damn time.” He admits, waving his hands around his wet curls, “you’re gonna leave because you don’t - it’s gonna ruin everything but I can’t stop myself.” He admits and you frown, shaking your head, “Dieter. What’s wro-?” You don’t get to finish before he blurts out, “I’m in love with you!”

Your mouth drops open slightly, shocked by his outburst. His eyes are filled with sorrow, grief. As if you’ve already rejected him. “Dee…” he shakes his head “I knew it.” He mumbles and you step closer. “Know what?” You ask, tilting your head. “That I’m in love with you too? That I’m scared that you’ll find someone else? That you’ll be bored?” You ask, voice shallow and fearful. “Because that’s all true.”

Dieter stares at you in shock, thinking for a second that he’s high or this is some dream. He swallows harshly and reaches for his towel, dragging it from his body. “Dieter.” You whisper in confusion and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “I’m yours. All of me is yours and I stand in front of you now naked and totally exposed, physically and emotionally. I’ve been in love with you for - well, since you started working for me but I think I told myself that I couldn’t indulge in you, couldn’t ruin you, until that first night we slept together and I - no one else came close to you. I love you and I want you. You’re the only person I can ever see myself growing old with.” He admits, his heart pounding under your palm.

You bite your lip and your eyes fill with happy tears. “I always worried that you would move on. That I wasn’t enough.” You admit softly. “But I want you. Perfectly flawed you. I think you are amazing and I don’t want to be with anyone else but you, Dieter.”

Dieter offers you a soppy smile when he realizes you feel the same way. “You are - Jesus. Seriously?” He asks and you nod, offering him a soft smile as you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek. “I love you.” He declares before he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips, throwing your arms around him and dragging him closer. He loves you. He’s whiny, sometimes annoying and always needy, but he loves you. You pour yourself into the kiss, your heart pounding in your chest.

His fingers dig into your waist as he pulls you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he lets it sink in that you love him. “Wanna- wanna grow old with you. Well, older.” He says when you pull back and he points at himself, his wrinkles that he’s insecure about.

Leaning in, you press your lips to the wrinkles and smile at him when you pull back. “Only if you’re willing to steal your costume after you finish shooting.” You joke, kissing him again.

Dieter chuckles, “now that I can agree to.” He promises, caressing your back. “Definitely going to steal that one to take home.” He promises, “for now though…let’s go home and have dinner before I spend all night making love to my girlfriend.” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I ordered dinner to be delivered,” you tell him as you pull back and smile at him. “We’ll smoke a little and then I’ll ride you before rubbing your back.” You tell him the plan as you turn around to reach for his clothes. “How does that sound, baby?”

“Fuck, you really are my soulmate.” He murmurs, looking at you in awe. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He orders, slapping your ass. “Uh, you might want to get dressed.” You say and he chuckles, nodding as he grabs the sweats you laid out for him. “Don’t want anyone else seeing the goods. Yours and only yours.” He winks at you as he pulls his pants up and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head while he slides into his crocs. “Sports mode.” He jokes as he pulls the straps up over his ankle.

You roll your eyes, laughing at the complete dork that you love. He’s quirky in about a million ways and sometimes drives you crazy with his antics, but you don’t want him any other way. Especially if he’s going to roleplay a Roman general with you for the rest of your life. “Let’s go home, babe.” You tell him, grabbing the bag. “We’ll practice your sex scene until we get it right.”

“Fuck yes.” He cheers as you walk out of his trailer and he takes your hand, not caring about anything other than showing you how he feels about you. “Food, weed, then some crazy lovemaking.” He decides and squeezes your hand, “you know…I have a costume left over from Cliff Beasts we could try out.” He teases and you snort, “that’s just your robe. You used your own for the character.” Dieter smirks, “could be sexy if we roleplay it the right way.” He suggests, “these cliff beasts are so large-a.” He does his accent and you sigh, “I hate that that works on me.” Dieter grins, “gonna be a damn good life together, baby.” He declares and you giggle, “yeah it is, Bravo.”

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #the bubble #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo imagine

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daycourtofficial · 4 months ago

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I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part IX

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 500 | Warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Next part | Masterlist

Rhys sat in his office, a cold cup of untouched tea on his desk as he reviewed a new trade agreement when Feyre walked into his office. He perked up, leaning back in his chair, arms wide in invitation. She opted to sit across from him instead, a spark of annoyance shooting at him down the bond.

“Rhys, we have a problem.”

“Of course we do, you’re sitting over there instead of in my lap.”

Feyre rolled her eyes, her arms crossing over her chest as she looked at Rhys, straightening in his chair.

“Your sister thinks you hate her.”

His scoff annoyed her further. “Don’t be ridiculous darling.” His gaze shot back down to the paper on his desk, trying to read it once more.

“Am I? You’ve avoided interacting with her the entire time she’s been here.”

“That’s absurd, I have not. I speak to her daily.”

Feyre leaned back in her chair, eyes assessing. “Tell me any and all interesting conversations you’ve had with her that weren’t about her training.”

Rhys stayed silent, a scowl on his face at Feyre. The two stared each other down until Rhys put his papers down again, straightening them on his desk.

“You don’t understand, Feyre.”

“Help me understand, Rhys. Help her understand.” She leaned forward, watching Rhys fiddle with the parchment.

“You don’t have to understand, it’s my responsibility.”

“She’s my sister now, too. That means she’s partially my responsibility. And the way it looks to me is her brother is ignoring her.”

Rhys’s hands moved to his hair, tucking the strands, looking to the floor as he spoke. “They were my responsibility.” He took a shaky breath. “She has been my responsibility even after I thought she was gone, she’s been out there, Mother knows what was happening to her while I didn’t even look for her!”

His voice was getting louder, but his tone was almost pleading with the power to go back, to just look again.

“How could you have known?” Feyre’s voice was similar to what you’d use to calm a feral cat.

“I could have opened the box! Neither of us opened it, but it was my responsibility as her brother to prove she was gone. I never opened it because I was a coward.”

“You saw a body! I wouldn’t have opened the box, either.”

“I should have known it wasn’t her!”

He stopped, taking in a deep breath. “All these years, I haven’t even had an inkling of something strange occurring. I never thought to dig deeper. I failed her.”

“You failed her as much as I failed my sisters. The difference is I didn’t let them think I hated them.”

He rubbed his eyes, looking at his mate. “You can feel like you failed her then, but every minute you spend avoiding her because of your feelings, you are failing her again and again.”

Rhys put his face in his hands, not noticing or not caring when Feyre shut the door behind her.

Author’s note: short little chapter for yall ❤️

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage

I got cursed series taglist: @doodlebugg16-blog @ceoofyearning @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @anarchiii @i-am-infinite @bsenpai @sstrohma @teenagellamaangel @allthatisbuck1917 @elsie-bells @rcarbo1 @pruvii @whyshouldihaveanam3 @sleepylunarwolf

Thanks for reading ❣️

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #i got cursed like eve got bitten

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thesunshinebunny · 8 days ago

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hellooo can you do any dorm leader with male or g/n reader with fierce wild cat personality? And can you make the reader from RSA?? If not that's fine, ty hope you have a great day!!^^

For context: Some RSA students were sent to Night Raven on an exchange program, just for a couple of months, with the intention of generating a better environment of camaraderie between the two schools. Among them, you, with a personality that does not fit into RSA standards, having quite the reputation for being tough and unpredictable. With a feral demeanor and no time for nonsense, you don’t exactly get along with everyone, but that only adds to their charm (or trouble).

Riddle

Riddle wasn't exactly the type to indulge in chaos, but when you showed up at NRC, it was impossible to ignore the tension you brought. You were like a caged animal, unpredictable and wild, with no care for rules or anyone's expectations. For some reason, though, it was your being among anyone else who participate in the program who intrigued him the most.

He thrived on order, structure, and discipline. But there was something captivating about your raw energy, your untamed spirit. You were dangerous in ways he didn't fully understand, but maybe that's why he couldn't stop watching you. The first time he attempted to approach you, he was meticulous. His usual stern tone came out when he spoke to you. “Pardon me,” Riddle began, his eyes scanning you with a mix of curiosity and caution. “You're from Royal Sword Academy, correct? “I’ve heard you’re quite… independent”

You barely looked up at him, continuing to twirl your claws around your fingers, almost absently. “What about it?” Your voice was cold, guarded, almost like you were daring him to step closer.

Riddle stood a little straighter, although the challenge in your stance did not go unnoticed. He wasn't intimidated, but he couldn't help feeling the sparks of tension between the two of you. “I just want to make sure you understand the rules here at Heartslabyul, and preferably in the entire school. We don't take kindly to disruptions, and—"

“Rules? “Do you mean your rules?” You interrupted, your lips curling into a sly smile. “You really think I care about them?”

For a moment, Riddle wasn't sure how to respond. You were brazen, but he wasn't one to back down. His posture grew more rigid. “There are things that must be done properly, or else there's chaos. And chaos leads to trouble.”

Your eyes locked with his, unblinking, the air around you electric with hostility. You approached him, slowly, like a feline about to pounce on its prey. “I'm no one's pet, Red. Don't try to put me in a cage. I’d rather burn it down.”

Riddle’s jaw tightened, too much, even more than before if that can be possible. Something stirred in him. You were a force of nature, much like him. Maybe that's why he couldn't simply dismiss you. “So, you're saying you'd rather be left unchecked?”

You shrugged, bringing your claws closer to his cheek, being able to scratch his soft, pale skin with the tip of your index finger. You finally exchanged long and penetrating glances with him, but not before forming a small, sharp smile. “I'm saying, I'm not going to be anyone's pet project. But you can surely try. Be my guest, see what would happen”

For a moment, Riddle stared at you, his heart racing despite himself. Maybe you weren't the sort of student who could be “tamed” easily, but that didn't mean Riddle would back off. No, he was intrigued, and he could already feel a rivalry—or perhaps something more dangerous—brewing between the two of you.

Leona

Leona had seen many personalities come through these halls, but nothing quite like you. A RSA student with a reputation as sharp as your claws, and a temper to match. You weren't here to be a lapdog, and he admired that. Although the other students weren't sure how to approach you, Leona's wild side made him think that maybe, just maybe, you were someone worth getting to know.

You had a way of carrying yourself like a prowling predator—eyes always scanning, every movement a mix of grace and lethal purpose. You didn't speak much, but when you did, your words carried weight. You didn't need to be loud to make a point; your presence did all the talking.

Leona watched you from a distance as you wandered through the halls, your usual scowl fixed in place. His eyes narrowed, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

It wasn't long before the inevitable encounter came. You were walking through the courtyard when you spotted Leona leaning lazily against a stone pillar, his usual nonchalance making your hackles rise. There was something in his gaze—an unspoken challenge that intrigued you but also grated against your nerves. You stopped in your tracks, eyes narrowing. "D'you need something, Kingscholar?"

Leona chuckled, his tail flicking behind him in amusement. “Nothing. Just wanted to see how long you’d last without making a scene.”

You didn't flinch. Instead, you let out a low growl, like a cat warning another to stay out of its territory. "Do you spend all your time thinking about me? I'm flattered"

His smirk widened as he pushed off the pillar and took a few steps toward you. “You've got the fire of a wild animal, and I can't help but wonder if you'll bite if provoked.”

You raised an eyebrow, sizing him up. His confidence wasn't unwarranted, but you didn't back down easily, especially not to someone who thought they could take the upper hand. “Don't tempt me, second-boy. I don’t need anyone’s permission to run this jungle.”

Leona's eyes glinted, an animalistic challenge flashing through them. “We’ll see about that.”

You didn't know what it was, exactly whether it was his laid-back attitude that rubbed you the wrong way, or the way he kept provoking you, but you felt that familiar wild instinct rising within you. Before you could even think, you were right in his face, your gaze as sharp as a predator's. “You wanna test me? Come on, we both know you bite more than you can chew.”

Leona's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Maybe I will." He stood his ground, his posture tense but ready, his pride as untamed as yours. "But I think you're more than just a wildcat with sharp claws, aren't you? You've got a heart to match that fierce spirit. And I'm curious to see how far you'll go to prove it. "

You blinked, a bit taken back by his words. For a moment, the tension between you two felt like a standoff between two predators, but underneath it, there was something else, something more complex than either of you were willing to admit. Leona wasn't scared of you. In fact, he was downright fascinated. And as for you, well… you had no idea why his challenge made your pulse race.

Azul

Azul was used to work with all sorts of personalities. His intelligence, charm, and resourcefulness usually meant that he could talk his way out of (or into) any situation. However, you were something completely different. You weren't the type to be easily swayed by words, and that intrigued him, but also irritated him.

You had been summoned to his VIP office for a "friendly discussion," as he put it, about how you had been causing disturbances in the halls and dining areas. But you weren't the type to sit quietly and listen to lectures.

Azul was sitting behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, a charming smile playing at the edges of his lips. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you (y/n). You have quite the fiery reputation, wouldn’t you say?”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, not showing much interest in his little speech. “Not a reputation I’m interested in keeping between these lounge halls.” He was taunting you, inviting you to leave and never set foot in his business again, or allowing you to stay, on his terms.

Your gaze was cool, sharp, as you observed his every movement, calculating. “I don't need your approval. I’m here because I want to”

Azul chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “And I'm not here to give you my approval. I'm simply offering you a deal. You see, it's all about negotiation. If you’re willing to work with me, we could make your life here a bit easier… or perhaps, more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “A deal, huh? Don't think you can buy me with your shiny words and contracts, fish boy. I’m not some easy prey.”

Azul’s smile faltered just slightly, but it quickly returned, colder and more calculating. “Oh no. I'm not trying to buy you. I'm offering a partnership. You’re a formidable individual, but even the wildest creatures need a master at times.” His voice lowered, sharp and calculating. “That's where I come in. All you’d have to do is bend a little.”

For a moment, your expression hardened, the words stinging in a way Azul had not anticipated. “I don't bend. I break, especially anything that tries to hold me down.”

Azul's smile remained, but there was a quiet understanding in his eyes. You were a force of nature, and he could respect that. But he wasn't the type to just give up either. “We'll see. It’s always a pleasure to find out just how far someone like you is willing to push before they snap.”

Kalim

Kalim was the kind of person who loved everything and everyone, with a big, bold, and full of warmth personality. But when it came to you, the wild, unpredictable RSA student with a temper like a storm, even his usual optimism had to take a step back.

He had seen you during one of your "episodes"—a moment when you had gotten into a tense altercation with another student, your sharp words and fiery stare more than enough to keep anyone from pushing you further. Kalim, however, wasn't easily intimidated. His natural exuberance meant he wanted to break through that tough exterior and see what lay beneath.

“Hey! (y/n)!” Kalim’s voice was bright as he approached you in the courtyard, his usual cheerfulness radiating. “You've gotta come to one of our parties in Scarabia sometime!” His radiant gaze, not to mention his smile, was enough to destabilize you for a millisecond. “It'll be so much fun! You can hang out with me and Jamil, and maybe you can even let loose a little!”

You eyed him skeptically. “What do you think I need to ‘let loose’ for? You’ve got your whole ‘party animal’ vibe going, but I don’t think it’s gonna charm me.” You emphasized the word animal, making it clear that you would not be one more at their exorbitant parties, nor a zoo animal for his amusement.

Kalim wasn't put off by your cold response. He just laughed, his smile wide and genuine. “I'm not trying to charm you. I just think someone like you deserves a little fun! You’re always so serious and intense… it’s gotta be exhausting.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, studying him. “I don't need your pity, Kalim. If you want a fight, I'm happy to give you one.”

Kalim blinked, looking at you for a moment like you were a puzzle he just couldn't figure out. Then he beamed even brighter. “Nah, I'm not here for a fight! I’m here for you to have a good time!” This boy could destabilize anyone, too much good energy in a school that was too gloomy. Maybe he should have gone to the RSA and you should have gone here. “You're a lot of fun already, and I want you to know that you don't have to be all fierce all the time. You can relax with us. I’ll make sure of it!”

You scowled, trying to suppress the soft tug at your heart from his genuine kindness. “You think I'm gonna let you change me?”

Kalim only laughed again, his eyes twinkling with optimism. “Not change you! I just want to show you there's more to life than being on edge. You’ve got a big heart under all that fire, I can tell.”

He wasn't wrong, and that only frustrated you more. But for once, you didn't want to snap. Kalim's exuberant energy was infectious, even if it wasn't your thing. Still, you weren't about to admit it.

Vil

Vil was someone who took pride in his appearance, discipline, and the image of perfection. As a rising star in the world of beauty, he believed that everyone, especially students at Pomefiore, should strive for refinement and grace. Your wild, untamed personality was the complete opposite of what he valued, but that made you… all the more interesting to him.

At first, Vil had dismissed you. There was no room for chaos in his world of elegance, and you had made your first impression by causing a disruption during potion classes, which only fed the rumors of your wildcat-like nature. However, something about your ferocity and refusal to be "refined" piqued his curiosity.

One afternoon, you were taking a walk around campus, trying to enjoy a brief moment of solitude when Vil appeared in front of you. His posture was regal, eyes sharp and calculating as always.

“(Y/S), was it? you’ve made quite the impression at this school,” Vil began, his voice smooth and flawless, like velvet. “Your reputation precedes you”

You didn't bother to hide your scowl, your gaze narrowing in response. "And what's it to you? I'm not here to impress anyone, least of all your pompous ass"

Vil's lips curled into a practiced smile. “I see. But your appearance seems to speak for itself, whether you like it or not. You’re simply… not the ideal student.” His voice carried a certain weight, one that made your spine straighten, your wild instincts on high alert.

"Is that your way of telling me I'm a failure?" you shot back, voice sharp as a whip.

Vil tilted his head slightly, studying you as though you were a work of art he couldn't quite figure out. "Not a failure—no. But certainly, a diamond in the rough” His eyes glammed. “I could help you polish that sharp edge of yours. I could show you how to refine that… wild energy into something more elegant.”

You bristled, your hackles raising. “I don't need you to 'polish' me, Schoenheit. I’m not some porcelain little doll for your beauty standards”

Vil's gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. But his composure didn't falter. "No, you're not. And that's what makes you so fascinating. A challenge. But if you ever want to learn the art of discipline and true beauty, I'll be more than happy to show you.”

He paused, watching you closely. “That is, of course, if you think you're capable of learning.”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. "I don't need your lessons” you almost spit on his words, such an insult for you and for him. Who does he think he is to say what you can or can't study. And who do you think you are to despise such kindness from Vil.

Vil's eyes softened slightly, amusement creeping into his voice. “Your spirit could be refined. You’d be far more beautiful if you embraced it.”

Despite himself, his words made your heart race. You didn't know whether it was the challenge in his tone or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he saw something in you beyond your wild and hard cocoon. But you wouldn't let him know that.

“I'll consider your offer,” you muttered, walking past him. “But don't expect me to become your little pet”

Vil watched you walk away, his smile a little more genuine this time. "We shall see, darling, we shall see"

Idia

Idia was a different breed entirely. His social anxiety, introversion, and affinity for gaming made him the complete opposite of someone like you—someone who had a fiery, untamed spirit that didn't fit into his quiet world of screens and isolation. He'd heard rumors of the wild RSA student who had a temper to rival the most volatile storms, and as much as Idia preferred to keep to himself, he couldn't help but be a little curious.

When he first saw you, it wasn't during a calm, collected conversation. No, you were already in the middle of a heated argument with someone else over them bumping into you casually in the hallway. Your voice was sharp, your body language wild and defensive. Idia couldn't help but stare from behind his thick, holographic screens in the dorm's lounge, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Yikes… that person is scary…” Idia mumbled to himself, retreating a bit further into his hoodie.

It wasn't long before he found himself face-to-face with you by accident during a late-night trip to the vending machines…in Ignihyde, how you ended up there is beyond me. Idia froze as soon as you turned the corner, nearly bumping into him. He was all awkward gestures and stammered apologies, his eyes darting to the floor.

“Oh! sorry, sorry! Didn't mean to block the path…” His voice was quiet, practically a squeak.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his sudden fluster. “It's fine. Just… don’t make it a habit, alright?”

He looked up at you through his disheveled hair, clearly taken back by your bluntness. “Of course! I wasn't trying to…” His voice cracked in his nervousness. “You're, uh… (y/s), right? From RSA? I’ve heard about you…”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. “Yeah, and?”

He adjusted himself, cheeks flushing behind the heavy hoodie. “It’s just that… you’re kind of… intimidating.” His voice trailed off toward the end, unsure of how to continue.

You narrowed your eyes, intrigued but still not fully willing to show it. “Well, you're not wrong. So what?"

Idia panicked, his mind racing. "I just… you seem like someone who doesn't take things lying down! That’s kinda cool, actually!” he have mumbled the last part, but you heard it clearly.

For a brief moment, you softened, just a little. The truth was, Idia wasn't like everyone else. He didn't try to challenge you like Kingscholar or force you into submission like the little red one…what was his name again? It didn't matter right now.

He was genuinely curious about you in his awkward, quiet way. You smirked, folding your arms even tighter. “You're a strange one, Shroud. Not what I expected from someone who hides behind screens all day.”

Idia flinched, but the slight tease didn't seem to bother him. Instead, he brightened, a little spark of excitement in his eyes. “I’m more comfortable with technology, games and computers than with people, so…”

“Figures,” you said, giving him a sideways glance. “But you're not completely useless. Maybe you're not so bad” Idia's face lit up, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself actually engaged in a conversation, not out of fear or obligation, but out of genuine curiosity. You grinned, your feral smile making your heart skip. “Don't get the wrong idea, Shroud. I'm not going easy on you just because you're all shy and stuff. But I respect someone who can keep their cool despite being thrown into the fire.”

He blinked, processing your words. “So… does that mean… you want to play a game with me sometime?”

You paused for a moment, then gave him a knowing smirk. “Sure. But you better be prepared. I don’t lose.”

Idia practically melted at the thought. "I'll be ready!" His excitement was palpable. For once, he wasn't overwhelmed by your fierce attitude. Instead, he saw it as a challenge, a game of sorts, and the idea made him feel more alive than he had in a while.

Malleus

Malleus wasn't someone who was easily moved by most things. Yet, something about you, the fierce, untamed RSA student with a personality like a wild animal, caught his attention. He had watched you from afar, intrigued by your intense presence, your almost unearthly defiance, and your eyes that seemed to burn with the fire of a creature that could never be tamed.

When he finally spoke to you, it was as if the air itself thickened with magic. “You're quite the anomaly” his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. “You remind me of something… untamed, like a wild creature of the mountains.”

You weren't intimidated by his presence, although you were acutely aware of his power. “You've got a strange way of speaking, horn guy” you looked him up and down “Are you comparing me to some kind of beast?”

Malleus’ eyes glinted, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Perhaps. But is that such an insult, I wonder? I have always found strength in the wild, in the things that refuse to be controlled.”

You blinked, your guard momentarily dropping. “You think I'm wild, huh? Well, that's something we can agree on”

Malleus nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “You are strong. But even the wildest of creatures have their limits, don't they? Perhaps you have yet to meet someone who understands you, who can match your wild spirit.”

There was a challenge in his words, although it wasn't spoken with malice. Malleus was simply…curious. He could see that you weren't just a student who needed to be molded into something conventional. You were like him—fierce, untamed, and powerful. And that intrigued him.

You straightened, meeting his gaze head-on, daring him to push further. “Maybe I'll let you find out just how far I'll go. But don't think for a second you can tame me like the rest of your kind"

Malleus' smile widened slightly. “I don't believe I'd have the need to do such a thing. I simply wish to see how far your power will take you” his figure approaching, his eyes penetrating your gaze, his fangs approaching his smile. Charming was to say the least.

“You are more than a creature of rage, you have the potential for much more”

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bitethedevil · 2 months ago

Note

What do you like about the character of Raphael ?

A Feral Love Letter to the Devil We Know

Oh boy. Here’s my list of why Raphael is like catnip to me (it’s not short and it is possibly a bit extra deranged because I am currently sick).

Purely physical things that convince me that this man was made for me in a lab:

Brown eyes and dark hair has always been my type

The slight stubble and those cheekbones (generally just his whole facial structure is beautiful)

The fucking n o s e <3 <3

Those thick thighs (perfectly sittable and bitable). He is just perfectly shaped.

Those hands he waves in your face all the time and those long fingers (does things to me)

His clothes. Yes, even in cambion form and even the silly clown boots, I love them. It is just all too extra, and I live for it

Everything about his cambion form

I have this crazy theory. There has been made these studies that depending on hormone levels, women are attracted to different kinds of men. At one end of their cycle, they prefer more ‘feminine’ looking men, and on the other end they prefer more traditionally ‘masculine’ looking men. If I get tired of his human form, I get more attracted to his cambion form and the cycle repeats. I think that is why I just do not get tired of staring at this stupid man every day. I know I’m not crazy. It’s science (and we all know I’m a trusted scientist).

Non-physical things that intrigue me:

How expressive he is. I love how his face changes constantly and dramatically with each sentence he speaks. It’s mostly an act but he is so charismatic. He has ‘rizz’ like the kids would say.

I can’t fix him. I don’t want to. His mind games intrigue me. I want to study him like a bug and play mind games with him too (I’m not delusional enough to think I’d win). Let it be toxic as fuck on both parts.

This man is just chucking stones from his glass house like there is no tomorrow. He plays such a big bad devil, but he is really just a little wet cat with a god complex and daddy issues. Not to mention his little hissy fits if any of his perceived weaknesses are pointed out. I find it endearing (unfortunately).

His voice and his eloquence. I love it. Even his shitty poetry. I could listen to it for eternity.

He is so smart. I have been shouting it from the roof tops: he is not stupid. He is always ten steps ahead.

He’s honest. He doesn’t lie and you know where you’ve got him (if you know how to keep up with him).

Genuinely everyone thinks he sucks, both devils and mortals, and yet he thinks he is the shit, either genuinely or as a coping mechanism.

He just such a nuances character if you really dig into it.

Things I relate to:

The scheming and overthinking. Everything is meticulously thought out to the point of obsession. He is playing 4D chess but doesn’t even consider that the other players might just eat the pieces to win. He strikes me as someone who completely overcomplicates things for no reason, and I felt that.

His idea of order is very different from what’s actually orderly. It just has to make sense to him, like ‘what do you mean it’s not orderly to have dead people lying around, trash everywhere, and debtors running around aimlessly in my house? Completely intentional. What’s not clicking?”. I felt that too. There is order to my chaos, and you don’t have to understand it. I get it.

He’s a cringy theater kid with a love for poetry too.

I too find it annoying when other people don’t follow the script I had in mind for the conversation.

Just human enough to understand how human interactions works, but either doesn’t give a shit or genuinely thinks that just spouting vaguely threatening poetry to strangers is a completely normal thing to do.

The obsession and ambition that just completely makes him lose the plot of everything else.

He is just so obsessed with everything being perfect to a point where it almost seems silly.

Acts like he doesn’t care, but actually cares A LOT about how other people perceive him.

I could honestly keep going but you get the picture.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael

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flowercrowngods · 1 year ago

Text

felt like letting mike and steve work through some shit again

cw: descriptions and imagery of them being lost and self-sacrificing, left alone with trauma they have no means to work through, could read as suicidal tendencies or intrusive thoughts

🤍 also on ao3

“What do you want?” Mike asks when Steve sits down beside him, gravel crunching, their feet dangling over the dark and endless abyss that is the quarry at night.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t really know what to say now that he’s here, now that he found him. He looks so small, now more than ever, and it reminds Steve so painfully that he’s still just a child. He was always just a child, and children shouldn’t—

It feels like they got their rights at a childhood revoked years ago, and then they were just… supposed to be okay with it. It was expected, it was implied when nobody came to talk to them after.

When all they got was one NDA after another. When none of the professionally trained adults took one look at the children that they were, and asked, Are you okay? What do you need to be okay? I will talk to you once a week and make sure you learn how to be okay again.

Steve feels like a big brother to most of the kids now, sure, but he’s not their shrink, and he sucks when it comes to actually talking about shit. He can be there to drive them anywhere, can provide an evening of distractions and as much of a sanctuary as a house as haunted as his can be.

With everything else, though, he’s helplessly lost. So he says nothing, weighs his words to make sure they come out right — especially for Mike, who’s always just waiting for him to say something wrong and throw it back in his face with the sunny disposition of a feral, rabid cat.

“Hey,” Mike says then, irritated again; but his voice is hoarse, too. Tired. No heat behind it after that stupid fight with Dustin and Lucas earlier tonight that made him snap and leave Steve’s house in a frenzy. “I said, What do you want?”

Steve shrugs, looking ahead into the darkness that feels endless and alluring and deeply terrifying.

I miss my friend! My best friend, Mike!

“Making sure you’re okay.”

You’ve changed, you know that? You’re not the guy who would jump off a cliff for me anymore, I don’t think I even know you anymore!

Dustin’s voice echoes in Steve’s mind as it undoubtedly does in Mike’s, too, and he can only imagine how much that hurts, especially if he’s shivering like that even though the night is warm for early September.

“I’m okay,” Mike says, sounding endlessly annoyed about the fact. Steve almost huffs out a humourless laugh. Yeah, right.

“Sure you are,” Steve says, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

He shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Mike’s shoulders without a comment, half-expecting him to just throw it into the darkness below. But Mike doesn’t move, is eerily still beside him, pretending not to notice that Steve’s watching him.

“But you know it’s, like,” he starts again and trails off, looking for the right words because this is unfamiliar terrain and the ground beneath his feet is quite literally nonexistent. “It’s fine if you’re not, right? It’s actually really fucking normal to be more than a little fucked up after everything, all that crazy shit. Or just… in general.”

You were twelve, he wants to say. You were twelve and you jumped off from here. You were twelve and you were going to die. And not because of those monsters, not yet. Just because… you were twelve.

Mike doesn’t say anything, but the gravel crunches once more as he reaches for a handful of stones to throw them into the darkness one by one, the void beneath them so enormous that they don’t even hear the noise of impact.

You jumped.

The longer Mike remains silent, the more Steve wants to scream, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to make him see and understand that Steve knows about the scars a decision like that leaves, especially when you live to deal with the consequences.

He gets seizures to deal with the consequences. His ear is fucky, his eye is twitchy, his head is aching constantly, he gets migraines that knock him out for a day or two, all because he wanted to protect his friends. All because he did protect his friends. It worked. They’re safe.

But they’re also unaware of… of everything. Of the horrible stillness as clarity dawns and all signs point to the one way that always seems to work. The one easy way out, and still the hardest of them all when the plan goes wrong and he makes it out alive. When It’s gotta be me is the only thing to say, but later turns into an angry It never should have been me because the world looks different when it’s smeared with your blood.

And it’s always the lost boys who make decisions like that. Steve wonders, some nights in cold sweat, what happens if he makes these decisions without immediate danger. What happens if he just… decides to jump. Decides to run. To give the world more of his blood. Without saving anyone.

It’s not like he wants to — but he’s terrified that it’s just who he is. Who he’s turned into, terrified that his friends will forever expect him to.

And he’s even more terrified knowing that Mike jumped before he learned about monsters. Before he learned about fighting and surviving.

You were a kid, he wants to say again, but his throat is closing up on him.

“I don’t think that’s okay actually,” Mike says after a while, tearing Steve away from his fears. They’re still both looking ahead rather than at each other, but it’s fine. They’re still here. “Like, people say it is, but it feels so empty when they do, you know? Like, sure, yeah, I’m not fucking okay, but what the hell do we do about that now? Oh, right, I know! Let’s throw it in my face that I’m not good enough for you anymore now that there’s no monsters to kill anymore. Now that I’m just Mike, who’s not even enough to be that anymore, sure. Right. Yeah. Let’s pretend it’s all fine, Steve, let’s pretend it’s okay to hurt all the fucking time!”

Mike is shaking now, violent tremors running through his body, and Steve’s first instinct is to reach out and pull him close, to keep him from that edge and take him to his car; turn on the heating and talk there. But Mike seems to need the darkness, seems to need to be faced with endless depth to give voice to his thoughts.

“What Dustin said was messed up. He shouldn’t have said that.”

Mike shrugs, throwing more pebbles into the darkness, though his motions have lost their vigour. “He’s right, though.”

Steve sighs, though not unkindly. “No, he’s not. Hey, listen to me.” He waits until Mike turns to meet his eyes, and he leans forward. “It’s not okay. It’s not right what he said. You don’t deserve to have that shit thrown in your face just because Dustin is a tactless little douche bag.”

Taking a bullet for someone is not the baseline for friendship, he wants to say, and it occurs to him once again how fucked up their perception and idea of friendship must be, now that they’ve all bonded over the most horrific shit and actual grief they never learned how to work through.

It’s not even Dustin’s fault, not really. They’re all just collateral damage to something Bigger, and all they have is each other, leaving them in a vicious cycle that is so, so fucked up.

“Why’d you jump?” he asks eventually, quiet in case the darkness tries to listen in. “Back then, why did you jump?” And do you wish El had let you? Do you sometimes wish that? When your room is quiet and it’s only you living with all those silent, terrible decisions?

Mike shrugs again, but there’s not much fight left in him, Steve can see that, can feel it in the air between them.

“Will was gone,” he says like it explains everything— and it sort of does. Steve has seen the way these boys look at each other when the other’s not looking, he has seen the hurt and the anger and the gentleness stored there, the words unspoken and the fear that, despite interdimensional monsters, kinda goes unmatched.

Because they have each other. They only have each other. And if someone’s suddenly different than what they thought they knew, if someone’s suddenly different, then… Everything might just fall apart.

And Steve wants to grab him again; wants to pull him close and say, I’m the same. We have the same scars. We have the same!

Slowly, carefully, he does lean over now, weaving an arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“I get that.”

Mike swallows heavily and exhales shakily. “I don’t think you do.”

“No. I think I really, really do. But it’s okay, Mike. You won’t be alone with this, okay. I’m on your side, you little shit.”

A pause, a beat, a moment’s respite. Then, “Why?”

“Because,” his heart is racing, his mouth trembling around forming the words for the first time, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. Knows it’s important.

Knows it might just save a life.

“Because I fell harder for Eddie Munson than I ever thought possible, and once i found out what was happening, I kind of wanted to jump off a cliff, too. But I didn’t, because I had someone with the same fears as me, and instead of stupid shit we just… Cried together sometimes. Screamed into our pillows. Laughed with and at each other, calling ourselves hopeless, and— I don’t know. It’s really fucking scary, and that doesn’t go away just because you have someone to talk to. But it‘s… better. It’s so much better.”

He huffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat, smiling into the darkness.

“So I’ve got you, okay? Whatever it is, whatever makes you feel like it’s not fucking okay, I’ve got you. You come to me, yeah? Lucas does, Dustin does, even Max does. This is your official, standing invitation and whatever, okay, dickhead?”

Mike shoves at him lightly, still not parting from the rather awkward side-hug they’ve got going on, and Steve is glad for it.

“Okay, okay, geez,” the little shithead says, rolling his eyes which Steve can see even in the dark, and it feels like the edge has moved away from them, like they have solid ground beneath their feet again.

Steve doesn’t say anything more after that, just waiting for Mike to stir to lead him back to the car, load in his bike and take him wherever he feels like spending the night.

But Mike doesn’t move for another long while, and it makes Steve feel like something big has just happened between them. Like they finally have found the common ground that Steve’s been suspecting they had for months now, even years.

Eventually, as they make their way to the car and Mike goes to grab his bike, he speaks up again, but more subdued now.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Does… Does Eddie know?”

“About what?” My tendencies to take a leap off the edge?

“You. Being…”

“Oh!” A smile as he unlocks his car and opens the back door to squeeze Mike’s old bike in there with minimal smears of dirt. “I’d hope so, we’ve been dating for months.”

“You’re dating?! You? Eddie’s dating you?”

“Yeah, listen, do you want me to just leave you here or would you rather be thrown out in the middle of nowhere?”

Mike grumbles something unintelligible as he climbs into the front seat, waiting for Steve to start the engine before he speaks up again.

“It’s just, you’re so… How did you even do that?”

Steve laughs at that, disbelieving and all, because, “Trust me, I have no idea. Must have been the ol’ Harrington charm and all that.”

Mike rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest, sinking lower in the seats to pout. “You’re so lame.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over how much I have a boyfriend and you don’t.”

If his heart skips a beat because it still feels like a forbidden truth saying the word out loud despite the playful banter, then he’s ignoring that in favour of revving the engine.

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Grow up,” Mike says, but Steve can see the smile he’s not even trying to hide, and he mirrors it with his own as he turns on the radio catching the final tunes of Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark.

They’re not okay, none of them. But the car is warm, the cliff’s edge is behind them, and they’re not listening to the same ten songs anymore.

They’re getting better, step by tiny step.

#stranger things fanfic #steve & mike #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steddie #<- mentioned but established #byler #<- implied & yearning #i am projecting HARD with this one #i’m so so convinced steve and mike are directly juxtaposed in their development with very similar trauma #this probably makes sense to no one but me but alas #let them be fucked up while life continues and let them be unable to handle it #i feel like it’s all over the place but if you’ve ever had a single vulnerable conversation then you’ll know this is how they can go #dio words

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k-dokja · 3 months ago

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Eleceed jumpscare. Kartein x f!Reader.

You frown. A little perturbed, to say the least. When your fiancé had told you about his location, you had expected somewhere more… secluded, or at least, more secure. What you’re seeing is a simple of homestead of a Korean boy, one filled with pets, no less.

It doesn’t help that one of them is staring up at you with intense eyes. You wouldn’t have cared had the not been this… unsightly.

“Do you want something to drink, miss?” The owner of the house has fretted about since your arrival, but you can’t find it in your heart to care about his worrying.

“What is this… mongrel creature?” You point at the scrawny-looking thing that has been following you since your arrival. The way it keeps brushing up against your ankle and staring up at you with unblinking eyes is getting on your nerves.

“Oh, it’s—” Before the boy has the chance to answer, the creature shrieks loudly. You think it’s feline? You can’t tell. It’s more rodent in its appearance than anything else.

“Is it feral?” You take a step back from the creature. “Rabies?”

The gremlin (?) jumps at your accusation, shocked by the words spilling out of your lips. “Rabies?!” It is the voice of your beloved that you hear, but you can’t tell where it’s coming from.

“Hm, right, where’s Kartein?” You turn back to the boy, whose name keeps escaping you.

The boy glances down at the imp (?) nervously before meeting your eyes again. “He’s right here, miss.” He gives you an awkward smile, something you can’t comprehend.

“?” You glance around the living room and see that there is no one here except for you, the boy, and the cats. One of them is definitely oversized and sitting weird from the way he perches on the nearby couch with crossed legs.

You don’t even know cat can sit that way. “Here where?” You ask the boy again and he answers by pointing at the feral critter (?) at your feet.

“Here.”

You stare at it again and see the warmth in its eyes vaguely resembling the affection your fiancé always holds in his gaze. However, to say this ugly cretin is Kartein… “I understand my fiancé is an eccentric sort, but to compare him to this unsightly rat is an insult.”

Without missing a beat, the humongous thing with the vague resemblance to a cat sitting on the couch nearby howls with laughter. Human laughter, that is. That voice is also insanely familiar. As you struggle to pinpoint down who might that be, you fail to notice the flurry of energy exuding from your side. It isn’t until Kartein is up in your face that you pay attention to him.

“Beloved! What do you mean by unsightly rat?!” Kartein fumes, to which you don’t understand why.

“Oh, here you are,” you nod your head at him, “I thought I’ve gotten the address wrong for a moment.”

“Don’t change the subject, how did you not realize it was me?!” Kartein takes hold of your shoulder with an impressive wounded puppy look that makes you almost feel bad about whatever it is that you did to slight him. “Didn’t you say I’m your darling snorkum who you love more than anything in this world?!”

You blink. “I never said that—”

Before you can get another word in, however, Kartein pulls you into a tight hug. “Doesn’t matter now, I’ve missed you so much. I should’ve packed you in a suitcase to bring with me when that Kayden bastard asked for my help.”

“I don’t think that’d work—”

Kartein pulls back to meet your eyes, completely ignoring all of the other people watching in the room. “It’s fine, as long as we’re together, nothing can get in our way.”

“Uh,” you barely have the chance to hug him back, “I’m only here for a visit, you know? It’s not like I can make my residence here with you. I don’t think there’s space…”

“Nonsense,” Kartein bristles, “you just need to become a cat like the rest of us.”

“Us?” You glance down at the other cats down on the floor before the other familiar voice calls out for you.

“Yo,” the gigantic mongrel on the couch waves at you with a smirk. You don’t know cat can smirk.

Your eyes narrow as you once again struggle to recall who that is. “…Is that cat talking?”

“That’s Kayden,” Kartein supplies helpfully.

His answer doesn’t enlighten you enough. “Kayden… the one you went to help?” When Kartein nods, your frown deepens. “I… see. He has changed since we last met. Gained a few… kilograms,” you purse your lips, trying to connect the image of the Awakener you knew to this absolute unit.

“I can do the same thing, too,” Kartein preens with an excited gleam in his eyes. Before you get the chance to ask him to clarify, your beloved vanishes from your eyes, leaving you momentarily disoriented.

“Ta-da!”

Once again, you hear his voice from below, but he’s nowhere around again. “?” You look at the boy once more. “Where did he go?”

“I’m right here!” The hideous creature from before clings at your leg again, making you shudder slightly. “Do you not recognize the visage of your beloved?” But it’s undeniable that his voice is coming from this unpleasant… thing.

“Kar…tein?”

“Yes!” He (?) replies with an unbridled delight in his voice. “Behold, beloved. I’ve transcended the human form.”

“I… see.” You nod, taking in the information in with an unstoppable urge for denial. “This is not permanent, I hope?”

“No, it’s only for convenience during my stay here,” he purrs, wrapping his tiny… unseemly body around you. “Better to say anonymous this way, you see.”

You nod again in acceptance, because you don’t think you have that much reserve of nice things to say inside you. “As long as you’re safe, beloath—beloved.”

“Of course,” Kat-tein perks up at you. “I’d never worry you for no good reason.”

Well, now, that’s a lie. He has vanished on you for months to do… whatever this is. At least, your house has been less noisy without him around. You will count that as a blessing.

“Whatever you say, beloved.”

#kartein #kartein x reader #eleceed kartein #eleceed #eleceed x reader #fics

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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

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You Bury Me

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OC The Last of Us 7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Warning: Hurt/Comfort. Explicit Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI

“I'll never know If there's danger in confession Or it's memory that presses Like a blade against my throat Another word and I could choke But what's worse? Tellin' you my feelings Or to die without revealing That you got inside my head And set a fire there instead?”” -”Ya'aburnee” by Halsey “Ya'aburnee means "you bury me." In Arabic however, it represents the idea that you hope the person you love will live longer than you, so you don't have to live without them.”

“Well aren’t you a stunner,” Tommy grinned, looking her over despite her stance giving off the vibe of a wet cat being forced into a room full of children. She shot him a withering stare, glare sharp, but the hostility wasn’t there like usual. Just extreme discomfort. He only kept smiling and she disliked how they were starting to be unaffected by her now that they were getting used to her.

She glowered, hands fidgeting with the material of her dress, feeling bare and uncomfortable outside of pants and entirely weaponless. The dress was snug, fitted to her body, short bell sleeves of all things draped from her shoulders. She hadn’t worn anything fitted in over a decade, hadn’t worn anything other than pants since the Outbreak. Even now she wore whatever she could grab off the floor, whether it be hers or Joel’s or Ellie’s. At this point Joel was complaining about both of them taking his shirts. But Maria had forced the black dress onto her and pushed her into it even after she’d sneered at the ruffled skirt and v-neck that showed more cleavage than she was comfortable with. Tommy’s wife was starting to grow immune to her snapping as well, knowing that for as much as she barked, there was zero bite against her especially while she was pregnant.

She’d brought it on herself and was going to suffer through it. When sandals were brought out, she flat refused. She could fight in a skirt if she needed to but she drew the line at anything other than her boots, no matter how much Maria corrected her that she wouldn’t be fighting at all. This all had been done with much protesting. A lot of protesting. But she’d been at a disadvantage. She had initiated the trade. Maria didn’t need anything from her and therefore didn’t have anything she wanted for the trade she’d been trying to do between them. Instead, the woman had given her another option in the spirit of integration. She had to come to one of Jackson’s monthly gatherings and dress up for it. Literally. She almost walked out. Almost. This felt like a sort of punishment of the worst kind. A punishment for all the stress and fights and problems she’d been at the center of. Maria was trying so hard to force her to be like everyone else and didn’t understand it was like stepping on a pile of sharp, hot blades. It was physically uncomfortable to be around so many people, especially dressed as she was. No armor. No one understood how intense that feeling was except for Joel, even Ellie having a hard time processing sometimes.

Maria grinned smugly in that overly assured way she always did when she thought she knew better and her teeth grit behind thinned lips. She needed Ellie or Joel as a buffer between her and everyone else, not liking the feeling of the attention being on her. But the teenager had already run off to find her new friends and she wasn’t going to hold her back. The older man was nowhere to be seen since working a construction shift.

She was trying. God, was she trying if only for Ellie and Joel’s sake but it was hard getting used to being surrounded and not on edge 24/7. Ellie had made sure to wolf-whistle at her when she’d seen her, now that she knew how, and asked if she was wearing the outfit because she had a concussion. The little shit. She wanted to lay out back with the pigs and die. “Fuck off, It was part of a trade,” she bit out, the words easier in her anger, slightly glaring at them both in an attempt to hide her discomfort, “All this for a damn record player.” Tommy’s brow furrowed and he looked over at his wife with a frown, “Record player? Our record player?” Maria shrugged, “Yeah, we don’t really use it or have any good records for it so I’m trading it to her.” The younger Miller winced, looking between both women almost fearfully though the look he was giving her was far more nervous, “Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I traded that today. I didn’t know-” “You traded it?” her voice cut him off incredulously, irritation and the bitter taste of disappointment on her tongue. Her tone was sharp, cutting, as her heart sank to the pit of her stomach, “Seriously? Maria-” Tommy cringed harder, eyes roaming as if to search out Joel or Ellie out of safety, while his wife raised her hands placatingly, “I didn’t know, Red. Listen, I’ll figure something out. I’ll see if someone else has one and I’ll make it right.” She felt stupid. She never asked for anything herself. Never tried to get non-essential items or things just for her. Every trade she had made or request had been for the two people she cared for or the kennels. Join the community, they had said. She tried. If only to keep from getting kicked out and Joel and Ellie from being ostracized because of her. Everyone was still terrified of her and she knew that if she got kicked out, there would be no stopping the two of them from following her no matter how much she protested.

So she tried even when it felt like being skinned alive for their sake.

She’d tried to make bridges between her and Tommy, get along somewhat with Maria and even approached her for a trade. It had felt like she was being choked while doing it, but she had and had then suffered Maria’s ministrations and been forced out of her comfort zone for even a hint of a prize. Had sat there, seething as Maria did her hair and dabbed makeup on her, nails digging into her thigh. Now there was nothing but embarrassment.

Stupid. Fucking stupid. Her cheeks were flush and her chest tight, feelings she never allowed to sink in now flooding her. Embarrassment. She was so embarrassed. She hadn’t felt embarrassed since she was younger, hadn’t cared what people thought of her in the years since the Outbreak but now- the feeling was hot and sticky in her chest.

Spinning away from them with a snarl, she pushed through the crowd of happy people dancing around them having a good time and tried to ignore the flutter of her skirt against her legs and the pressing atmosphere of too many people. Skin bumping against her bare arms, laughter in her ear, the lights too bright. Too many eyes, staring, judging, standing at her back. Their laughter was choking her, the music for once not helping but muffling her ears to the point she couldn’t hear herself think. Panic. It hit her hard and she tried to breathe as she ran for the exit.

It’d been a mistake. She wasn’t the same girl from over twenty years ago who had loved music so much she had forced herself into the spotlight despite her fear and anxiety. Letting Maria dress her up, making her feel like a semblance of that girl again, had been a mistake. That girl had died and needed to stay buried if she was going to survive. She wasn’t bashful, gentle, pretty, or delicate. No, that’d all been beaten out of her over and over and over again by life and everything cruel. The world chewed up those types of people and she hadn’t let it, had gnashed her teeth at it and become something else to survive. Maybe she wasn’t made for settlement life. She wanted to claw the dress off her body and burn it, stick her head in a bucket of water until the makeup ran off. She had let herself want something and got burned for it. At least Joel hadn’t been there to see it all, mock her for playing dress up and see how she lacked in comparison to all the other women he could have. She wasn’t sure if she could handle his laughter. He kept her around because she was ruthless, not because of how she looked, and now she appeared weak. Ellie noticing had been bad enough. She didn’t remember the walk home. Only the press of the fabric constricting her skin, the slight buzz of the electricity overhead, the way her heartbeat was overwhelming in its rapid pace. Her breathing was choked around the panic and rage and embarrassment crawling through her veins and she needed to hide away for a while. The slight squeak of the front steps grated in her ear but pulled her back into herself enough to realize she had made it. She huffed out another annoyed sigh, unlocking the front door. She was going to shower, rinse all the stares and laughter and evidence of her humiliation, and hide in bed. Maybe get up early and take a morning patrol shift if only to clear her head and avoid the looks of all the townspeople that had witnessed her embarrassment, breathe in the woods and the wilderness. Hell, maybe she’d take a dive into the river and let it wash her downstream and away from it all. But as she opened the door, she came to a frozen halt. There was music playing in the living room. The soft crooning of Ella Fitzgerald filled the space, the tune soft and low with only the slightest crackling of a worn speaker. It wasn’t the busted radio Joel had tried to fix that cut out every other second. The lights were low, only a lamp on in the corner, and the music made the space feel so much softer, almost warmer. And there it was. The record player she had made the deal for sitting on the top of a small end table that most of the time was covered in books or tools or gun parts. “Hey,” she could feel Joel’s presence even before he spoke, that part of her mind that always kept track of him no matter where he was in the house or around her. But her eyes were stuck on the record player and the spin of the vinyl, watching the motion hypnotically and flooded by the music. Everything drained from her, leaving her hollow, frozen, empty. Her voice was loud in her ears, a roar in a chasm, but she knew it was barely a whisper in the space between them, “I was going to trade for that.” Joel didn’t reply but she could see him rub the back of his neck out the corner of her eye, the slight wince crossing his face as he tucked a hand into his belt, “Sorry, I got it from Tommy today…I knew you had your eye on one and you’ve been stashing records in the downstairs room with no way to play them. This one even has one of those cassette slots for that tape you keep and I know Bobby who runs the library has a good stash of those-” “Joel, shut up,” she whispered though none of the usual harshness was there. Instead, she was struggling to breathe, to suck in air past the knot in her throat and the stinging feeling in her eyes. He’d gotten it for her. Not for him, but for her. He had noticed the things she did, what she liked, and had done something nice for her. Often the things he did for them were utilitarian in nature though he did more for Ellie. It was how he showed he cared. Fixing Ellie’s window, loading the woman’s packs with everything she might need the night before her morning shifts, getting her new boots when her old ones started to rip. But there was no practical reason for the record player. He knew bits and pieces about her that she had given him, scraps of her life. Knew she had tried to be a singer before the world went to hell and her love of music. Knew that the cassette tape in her bag, the one she’d murdered people to keep from getting a hold of, contained her favorite music her sister had made for her as well as her own voice from a rough band practice Annie had recorded. It’d been a birthday present. Remembered the way she would trace her fingers over the records in the wreckage of stores as they passed through them on the road. He’d watched and cataloged it all and had noticed. He’d always noticed her. “Maria made me dress up in exchange for that,” her voice was raspy, choked, “Stuck me in this stupid dress and forced me to put on makeup and did my hair and made me go to that party. All part of a deal so I could get that player.” Joel was quiet, not interrupting but taking her in. Gauging how best to approach lest she run or snap. She could feel his eyes burning into every inch of exposed skin, to the tightening of her hands and the clenching of her jaw. But slowly he stepped a bit closer, more into the light, with a sigh, “It looks good on you-” “I look fucking stupid, Tex,” the words were spit out aggressively, “I feel ridiculous. They all saw me and there were so many people- But I did it. Then Tommy said he’d already traded it and…I don’t know.” She finally turned to look at him, the words a jumble. She couldn’t even understand what she was trying to convey. The overwhelming feeling of shame and disappointment and panic that had flooded her and made her want to run. She caught the way the light reflected off his eyes, the furrow in his brow and the tightness in his shoulders. He was being careful. Even after all the time they’ve known each other, he knew sometimes to be careful. Not to spook her. “You don’t look stupid,” he muttered gently in an effort to convince her and met her eyes, not breaking eye contact and trying to persuade her to listen, “You…you look beautiful and I’m not just fucking saying that. I wouldn’t lie to you, darlin’. Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine and what I’m saying.” She swallowed, heart racing, “Why?” “Why listen to me?” “No, why did you do it? Why did you get it?” The thought weighed heavy, but also was a distraction to keep from focusing on his voice calling her beautiful. It was dumb and meaningless. Placating. He hadn’t mentioned needing a record and had listed things that only pertained to her. She had records, she had been eyeing it. It felt like she owed him a debt, but that thought also sounded like an excuse, the alternative something she couldn’t quite process. The record was ending, the soft music stopping and leaving them only in silence. He stared at her, took in the hard press of her lips, the way her fingers were fidgeting with her dress, the stiffness of her body as if at any second she’d bolt like a wild animal. Maybe she would. She was more animal than woman most days. Joel sighed and chewed on his lip, tasting a hint of blood from the dry cracked skin, “Because I knew it would make you happy.” The scoff that left her mouth was broken, half-hearted. It tasted of excuses and denial. “When have you ever cared about what makes me happy?” “Don’t,” the word was hard and unyielding, almost a snarl, his brow furrowing deeper, “Don’t do that. We’re far, far past that kind of bullshit now, Starshine, and you know it. We’ve been far past that for a good while now. Maybe out there you could have gotten away with that bullshit, but not here and now. Not after everything.” She did know it. But it was the last barrier she could keep between them, a shredded tattered thing to shield herself. The vestiges of that hatred that had burned at the beginning of their relationship so long ago, had stayed long after he started fucking her and then had dissipated when they weren’t looking like a magic trick.

Distrust had turned to respect and then protectiveness behind their backs. She didn’t want to think about what it had turned into next. She’d done so much to keep them both safe because they were hers. She’d burn the whole fucking world down for them, would rip and tear whoever she needed to just to keep them safe, and would smile the whole way. But she and Joel had never spoken out loud what they were. She knew what Ellie was to her, to them both, but between the two adults? That was something else. They were hers and he had said she was his before. But it wasn’t something solid or straight forward. The last tinges of her old self who had been awkward and didn’t know how to navigate dating and relationships still hung on in that aspect, but it was mostly fear. It was a dance she didn’t know the steps to, a language she never learned. She understood sex and family but it’d been so long since she had a relationship and her last had been twisted into something ugly. It was tangled together with her sister, with her death and her screams and the sound of a gunshot. She didn't know how to detangle love from violence. Joel stepped closer and her instinct screamed to run. Her heart was beating like a rabbit caught in a trap, the intimacy almost as frightening as a gun to her head or a Clicker’s teeth. She wasn’t breathing anymore, dressed fisted tightly in her claws. “I know shit’s different here, but unless you have some plans to go back across the country then this is it,” Joel’s accent was thick as he continued to step closer, words direct and to the point, “This is home. This is the place we protect. Ellie, me, and you. And if this is where we’re gonna be I want you to be happy. I want you to have your music, have whatever you want. I’ll fix that guitar and we’ll teach Ellie or I’ll hunt down all those dumb comics she likes so much. Fuck, I’ll be the one to learn to cook if I have to so she stops complaining and so you don’t have to. I’ll let you bring those dogs home whenever you want and maybe let Ellie keep one. I want you happy.” She was choking on her heart, air trapped in her throat and she didn’t know what to do but stand there and shake and listen as Joel painted an image of a life she wasn’t sure she could allow herself to want. “You’re it for me, darlin’,” Joel huffed out a chuckle and shook his head as if disbelieving he was having to tell her outloud, “You and me. I’m not looking at anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. You and Ellie are my purpose and that means I’m going to take care of you both until the day I die. In whatever capacity that means. Whether it continues like we’ve been, continues to a church one day, or out there in the woods without Jackson. It’s us three. I’m not asking you to let your guard down or stop snapping at any dipshit who thinks they can handle you or be some domesticated stepford wife. But I want this place to be home. All of ours.” Her eyes were flickering everywhere else except his own and she wondered if she had ever felt so terrified. Not since the beginning. Not since watching her own version of Ellie get torn to shreds. Not since she’d hollowed everything inside her but the rage and the ugly parts and let it fester into something wild. She’d survived beatings, survived with the worst type of people, survived being a weapon and not once was terrified during those years. Fighting and survival was easy. Killing was easy. Mindless sex was easy. Feelings were not. Feelings got you hurt, got you killed, killed you slowly and made you crazy with worry and the endless possibilities of what could happen. She’d seen Joel wrestle with them. The panic attacks and that numbing fear. There weren’t supposed to be feelings with her and Joel. But that was a lie. They’d been there, deep and hidden under other things. Protecting Ellie. Getting her to the Fireflies. Adjusting to living in Jackson. Jobs and patrol and helping. They were all a distraction. He lifted a hand to her cheek and she couldn’t help the flinch, the shivering as if she was standing in a freezer. But Joel didn’t back off, let her get adjusted and close the distance between them on her own like coaxing a wounded animal to safety. Her hands dropped the now wrinkled fabric of her dress and instead reached out to grip his flannel shirt, relaxing bit by bit while his hand moved to dive into her brushed and slightly curled hair. “You’re mine,” he whispered, feeling the soft strands between his fingers, “Say the word and I’ll get you every damn record player in this town. Whatever makes you happy.” She choked out a laugh that was half a sob, the sound releasing from her throat, and her eyes stung. But she only squeezed them shut, struggling to breath and enjoying the feeling of his touch. His other hand rested over hers on his shirt and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, leaning against her, “You do look beautiful, baby. I promise. You take my goddamn breath away. It’s a good thing I didn’t see you out there, I’d probably have made an idiot of myself or bashed someone’s face in if I caught them staring.” The laugh that ripped through her seemed to break loose everything choked up inside of her. He called her beautiful. The words sent something close to butterflies in her stomach. It didn’t feel real and this new territory still terrified her, but little sparks of joy lit her way. She had vague memories of feeling this way years ago. But this was real and now and felt so much brighter than her memories. She couldn’t help the slight smile, voice still slightly unsure, “I had to promise Maria I wouldn’t fight anyone there.” Joel chuckled, holding her tighter against his chest, rocking her slightly, “You wouldn’t be breaking your promise if I was doing the fighting.” Looking up at him, she let herself sink into his warmth and lifted a hand to trace the beard along his chin. It used to be that this was the Joel she would get at night only. Slightly teasing, slightly playful, more open especially after sex. A stoic wall in the daytime. Something had shifted after leaving Jackson that first time, after he’d tried to dump them off on Tommy. Shifted more after his injury and Denver. Now as they settled into life in Jackson, she could see fully how at ease he was with her. There had been progressively more smiles in the daytime, more soft touches even if discreetly. Eventually not so discreetly. His hand in her back pocket, his arm around her shoulders, on her back. Starshine morphed from being an insult to an endearment. It had been a slow, gradual change, but it had happened. She had only refused to acknowledge it, maybe out of fear. Now staring at him, she let herself see that more often he was smiling at her than frowning. Only called her Red when he was angry or frustrated otherwise it was Darlin’ or Starshine. His room had quickly turned into their room and every morning he was usually wrapped around her. Was there waiting at the gate everytime she had to leave without him, though he preferred to stay at her side. Tommy had once called all three of them codependent and maybe they were, but they were safest with each other. They were home. So she lifted herself up and drew his face down to her, breathing against his lips and almost tentatively kissing him. Like it was new, like she would have if it was twenty years ago and they were meeting back then. She couldn’t say all of what she was feeling out loud, was too tired to admit how much he had shaken her foundation with this one seemingly small act and then demolished it entirely with his words. So she breathed into him, whispering along his lips, “You’re mine too,” and kissed him softly and hoped he knew everything that entailed. He pressed back against her harder, mouth slotting against hers and groaning. The hand in her hair gripped her neck and pulled her as close as she could get, the other moving to grip her waist and the soft fabric there. She felt unsure, awkward, not used to feelings being between them so openly and the pace being soft versus brutal or fervent. Her fingers trailed over the salt and pepper beard of his chin, the slight wisps of curls at the base of his neck, the muscles of his biceps as they wrapped around her. It was almost an effort not to sink her nails into him, to bite his lips with her teeth. Their steps were fumbling as he walked her backwards until her back hit the living room wall. His hand was roaming all over her, touching the bare skin of her legs and drifting his fingers upward under her skirt. They kneaded the soft skin of her thighs and he moaned into her mouth though that quickly turned into a chuckle as his hands found the pair of shorts she put on under the dress. He looked down, lifting the fabric to peer at the additional clothing underneath, “Did you put shorts on underneath this?” She blushed, swatting his hand to drop the skirt, “Shut up, I felt naked.” Joel chuckled and bent, pressing kisses to the underside of her neck before trailing lower, biting and dragging his lips as he went, “You’re cute when you’re bashful, ya know that? It’s fine. Just one more thing to take off ya.”

Her hands dug into the fabric of his shirt and she was determined not to pout, objecting at being called cute of all things, but quickly found herself melting at his ministrations. The delicious friction of his beard on her skin always did something to her and she was feeling especially sensitive to him, her nerves on fire. Joel bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder, sucking and teasing the skin, drawing a moan from her mouth. There’d be a mark there, she knew that, and didn’t care. “I wouldn’t mind you wearing dresses more often. Jesus, woman, you’re gorgeous,” he moaned against her skin as he kissed the top of her cleavage. Unconsciously, a yelp left her mouth when he bent down and scooped her up with his hands under her ass, arms flying around his neck and legs crossing around his waist. He grinned at the sound and the flush that heated her cheeks, “I got ya, darlin’. Just wanted to get you to the room before the kid bulldozes in here.” “You are not climbing those stairs with me,” she hissed, looking at the staircase behind them. No matter how strong he was, she also was very aware of both their ages and that if they injured themselves stumbling down the stairs on their way to have sex she’d ask Ellie to put her out of her misery. Joel huffed a laugh, “You’re right, I’m not. We’re using the downstairs room. I’m old, I ain’t stupid.” The spare bedroom on the first floor had quickly become the spare after Joel had complained the handful of times she’d slept down there. Now almost every night she shared the upstairs bed with him lest she wanted to be woken up by him kicking the side of the mattress and grumbling to “get to the room.” It held various things they had scavenged and collected like the guitar Joel had made a project to get to working order, the pieces for it she’d traded along with his craft bench she got for him, her hoarded music, and the various knickknacks she hadn’t wanted to clutter up what she had deemed Joel’s room. Though every now and then the things she put there would somehow appear upstairs, out on full display on top of the shelves and dressers mixed in with his belongings. His own way of making her stuff mingle with his.

He carried her through the door and kicked it shut with her foot, quickly remembering to hit the lock as a precaution after Ellie had almost barged in on them a couple times before. Joel made sure to take advantage of holding her, fingers kneading the soft skin of her ass and keeping her pressed tight against him. With a squeal she hadn’t heard herself make in over two decades, she was dropped down on the small mattress on the far side of the room and he quickly climbed on top, not leaving her alone for even a second. She could feel the delicious pressing of his arousal through his jeans, the way he ground it against her core making her groan. His mouth found hers, frantic and eager, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and diving into the soft graying curls of his hair. She loved to feel the weight of him on her, the hard press of him steady and assuring. Hands quickly tugging his shirt out from his jeans, she felt the heat of his skin and the ridge of every scar she had cataloged by that point. Bullet grazes, knife slices, the puckered edge of that brutal stabbing that had almost taken him away from them. She knew them all, had kissed and licked every single one and memorized them.

Joel Miller’s body was a thing of beauty, not softening even with age or settlement life. He’d quickly taken up a position in the community he knew how to do well. Construction. It kept him active, in shape, working with his hands and that meant he was still covered in muscle from a hard day's work. It was also why she wasn’t surprised when he had gained the attention of most of the women in Jackson, especially now that he had softened up personality wise. But he’d chosen her. Was kissing her, currently worshiping her mouth and trailing those rough fingers along her arms to intertwine with hers together. It was her that was making him moan and pant her name. Not her name. That name, the one given to her at birth by a woman who didn’t care who she was, had been given to the woods and the bodies she’d left behind. No, he whispered the name they had given her. The only name that mattered now as if she was baptized into this new life the moment she’d met them and been given it.

Red. Starshine. Darlin. Theirs. His. Her fingers pressed into the skin of his back and she hooked her legs around his, welcoming him to settle between her thighs while she poured everything into kissing him. She swallowed each sound, welcomed the burn of his beard against her skin, feeling arousal shoot straight through her and pool at her core. When she went to unbuckle his belt, he paused her movement and pulled back, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and the deep V of her dress, “Not yet. I wanna savor this dress on you. Show you exactly how beautiful I think you are.” She bit her lip at the heated look, the slight smirk as he sat up, hands roaming over her thighs. Her own insecurities turned her nervous and she struggled to keep eye contact as his hands found the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down and off of her. He chuckled and threw them across the room, “Next time you wear something like this, you can go without those…if I’m feeling generous and let you leave the house.” “Let me, huh?” she whispered, bottom lip still between her teeth. Joel bent down and pushed the skirt of her dress up, bunching it around her waist, “Can’t have other men wanting what’s mine.” He took his time, tracing the edges of her underwear teasingly, the rough pads of his fingers sending small shocks through her in anticipation. Ever so slowly, he pulled her panties off her legs and knelt between her thighs, leaving heated kisses against the skin. She swallowed, mouth dry, and let out an airy chuckle, “Better watch it, Miller.” He paused, dark eyes meeting hers, “What’d I say about my name, Starshine?” Smirking and remembering that night so long ago when he had fucked her in the abandoned store, the night that cemented the path they would take, she raised herself up on her elbows and stared down at him, “Joel.” And then his tongue was on her, parting her folds and licking up every bit of her arousal. A moan tore from her mouth, head falling back as he devoured her whole, lips sucking on her clit and teasing her desperately. His hands palmed her bare ass and the thick meat of her thigh, fingers bruising as he teased her with his tongue. Joel had always been so good at that, something she had gotten intimately familiar with once they had settled down and were able to finally have time to explore one another. No longer having to have quick blind fucks in the dark, one ear open to danger or Ellie waking up. She didn’t think he even got to see her with her clothes fully off until they made it back to Jackson. But now that they had time he made sure each moment lasted. He played her like his guitar, pulling sounds from her mouth unbidden with each flick of his fingers and tongue. Joel Miller was good with his hands and knew exactly what to do to make her come hard and fast when he wanted her to. But he was taking his time, bringing her to the edge then slowing down before doing it over and over again. She was never one to beg, but she could feel the plea on her mouth as she ached all over for release and overwhelmed by the sensitivity. She panted his name in desperation and could feel him grin against her, mouth glistening with herself, “Tell me what you want, darlin’. Come on.” So fucking cocky, this asshole. She was tempted to swallow her words, swallow her own tongue just to be defiant. But then he dipped his tongue into her, the flat plane of it sending shockwaves through her body and she growled, “Fucking make me come already.” He laughed at the not so gentle plea as if knowing she wouldn’t mewl and beg like he wanted, shaking his head, “So bossy.” But she didn’t care after that because he was sucking her clit between his lips and his fingers were pumping into her, hard and fast, curling into the exact spot that made her see stars. The friction of his beard on her, his tongue, his hands were all so much and she was overwhelmed, body made of fire and lighting searing every nerve. She came against his mouth, orgasm hitting her hard enough it took her breath away. Her body felt like it was floating, Joel’s careful hands keeping her from washing away, gentle lips leaving soft kisses along her thigh. A thrill went through her at the gentle affirmations and breathy, “good girl,” he whispered into her skin. She was still catching her breath, but could feel him locate the zipper on her dress and he helped her to sit up to pull it up. So gentle with her like she was the most valuable thing in the world. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and slowly she undid them, feeling his eyes on her as he kneeled between her thighs. His hands never left her skin, trailing softly over her calf but letting her take her time. Each layer came off of him. Shirt, undershirt, belt, jeans. He let her unveil him like it was a ritual. And when he was naked before her, both of them bare and heart open, his hands cradled her cheeks when he kissed her. It was more intimate than anything she had ever felt and was as if he was cradling her raw heart between his hands. It was fire and fear and joy and so much and yet not enough. It was an I love you without words. She pulled him down on top of her and deepened the kiss, tongue swirling to lick up every bit of herself and devour his own taste. Everything that made him Joel. Her gasp was swallowed as he started to push into her, groaning at how tight and warm she felt, thighs slick with the aftermath of her orgasm. Her forehead was pressed against his and she drank down every little sound his mouth made, every hitched breath, watching as his lashes flickered against his cheeks. The pace was slow, building, and she hooked her legs around his calves to usher him deeper, wanting him to fill her up as much as he could. “Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, fingers tightening on her thigh while the other intertwined with the hand above her head. She held onto him like her life depended on it and let her drown in him, gave him the control and simply held on. Trusted him. Each stroke was a lightning strike and she could feel the way he was slowly losing himself in her, the pace becoming faster and thrusts more aggressive. Her orgasm was climbing, pleasure tightening low in her belly, skin hot with sweat. Her hand clenched his, almost a sign to him, and he broke at last. His mouth collided with hers, tongue against her own, teeth biting into her lips. Joel pounded into her relentlessly, her name on his lips and hold bruising. This was how she liked him best. Passionate and uncontrollable, a fucking tornado to be reckoned with. She’d seen it only when it came to them. Whether it be protecting them or destroying everything in his path to get to them. Joel was as much a beast as her at times but she’d always accepted that, never shied away.

Like calls to like.

Both their orgasms were building together, crashing into one another as if their bodies knew. Every tense moment, every decision and fight and fuck and choice, had led them together and she felt it in her whole being that this was who she was supposed to find at the end of the road. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let go, letting her be pulled under by him and their bodies and everything that had come before and would come later. It was fireworks and electricity and everything as her orgasm hit and she moaned hard into his mouth, feeling him release inside of her, warm and full. He would always follow her over the edge and the thought made her eyes sting.

They were panting, breathing each other in, bodies sweaty and sticky and the cooling air doing nothing against heated skin. She opened her eyes and met his dark irises, watching her intently, and she couldn’t help but grin at him wide. His breath caught and he swallowed hard, hand leaving her thigh so he could trace the crinkles around her eyes. He caressed the skin with his thumb in reverie, drawing out a blush even after everything they had just done. It was new to feel so exposed. A second later they could hear the front door crash open followed quickly by the familiar stomps of Ellie entering the house, kicking the door shut even after they had told her a million times to stop doing that. They froze, eyes locked on each other, waiting to see if she would call for them or try to enter the downstairs room for some reason. But they could track her loud steps up the stairs and a bit later her door shut.

It was hard to believe she ever used to be good at walking silently out beyond the walls. They both breathed a sigh of relief and then chuckled only for Joel to quickly hiss, pressing his face against her neck as she unconsciously clenched around him, “Darlin’ don’t laugh while I’m still in you.” She had to try and keep another chuckle in, a first for her, knowing it would only make her do it again. Teasingly, she did it on purpose one more time only for him to bite her shoulder and she yelped, letting laughter take over her once he had pulled out. He chuckled as well, pressing small kisses all over her skin. It would take time to get used to all the new. The new change in their dynamic, the open feelings, the music, the softness, the laughter and smiles, the fear that came with it all. Lifting your armor can leave you vulnerable but without doing so there was no way the joy could get in as well. And she couldn’t live her life without them, would brave every horror imaginable for them.

She’d take it all if it meant she got to keep both of them. ______________________________________

Feral Reader Tag List:

@alouise20 @faceache111 @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8 @badwolf00593 @themothersmercy @mxtokko @happinessinthebeing@taranicristeard @aroacefanenby @barbellpedro

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller imagine #series: feral #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou #the last of us #joel miller #feral reader #raicodoll writes #in case you haven't noticed but the last Halsey album is basically Red's whole vibe

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seeminglyseph · 5 months ago

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Swear my brain is like. “Hey, you should try and figure out a way to make an essay out of the topic of how cool Wind Breaker’s expression of Masculinity is”

And like. Thanks brain I want to have the best case scenario of a YouTube career be “nobody watches you” but also like. I think I would have to talk about the manga a lot because a) the manga only character profiles lend a considerable amount to my analysis. Those grooming products are so vital to characterization. It’s like. I know you can’t fit whole character’s grooming habits into a story organically so fitting them into character profiles makes perfect sense, and it works its way into the design elements of the characters anyway so it’s often stuff you can imply about the characters based on appearance and design. But sometimes it defies what the design tells you about the character, like Sugishita looks like a scruffy hooligan. But instead he’s a guy who gets a hair treatment once a month and has a brand of day-to-day hair care that is recognizable enough that it was censored in the notes. I just don’t know it because I don’t know Japanese beauty products very well. (If I do an essay I’ll do the research I promise, I haven’t decided yet, right now I’m just sitting outside navel gazing about a series I’m fixated about)

But I figure if I let the anime have its finale, which is looking to be a hook for the Keel Arc which I kinda figured, it was the next major arc coming up. And it will take me more than a considerable amount of time to even start let alone complete, people will have time to decide to read the manga if they want more information and I can can give spoiler warnings and start with a discussion of Shishitoren some I do adore them extremely.

And if it takes time maybe some manga stuff will wrap up and I’ll have some manga stuff to say about Shishitoren that is like. Further exploration of the community building through healing and understanding. The “No Man Is An Island” theme of Wind Breaker is really interesting and I really enjoy it, and I also enjoy the concept of like… “you aren’t being a man wrong if you aren’t being a bastard about it”??? Like. Obviously it’s a fighting anime, so people fight and have flaws and hurt people, but that’s not like… proof of them being bad people. But like… also being gay or feminine or liking stuff other people don’t like or being a nerd or concerned about your appearance or being sick or being weak… like that doesn’t make you a “bad man” either. It’s like… there’s a million billion different ways to be a man. And they all count and matter and make the whole stronger for being included. And it’s just that this show is about teenage boys learning to become men, and most of these boys have been pretty fucked up and hurt but like, they just wanna be accepted and loved and respected do good. And like. I love ‘em.

Sakura didn’t think there was a world where he could do good, and is learning so fast that not only is there, but he’s in it and now he’s responsible. And he likes it??? And it’s that’s like. Intimidating and scary. Which might actually be more terrifying than being alone. Being afraid of losing people he likes. The worst. Uggghhhh the Keel Arc has one of the best moments.

God Clover Works do not fuck us with this season 2. Tell me you learned your lesson about season twos from the neverland show. Do not fuck me with the Keel Arc. I need my feral cat child to have his feral cat moment. I need Suo to have his fucking “you won’t like me when I’m angry” moment. I need this. I mean I also need to eventually get to Tsubaki and the like… man I keep calling them El Tango de Roxanne and The Communist Child Mafia. The first one not officially, the song just plays in my head, but like it’s hard to get that across in text and like. It’s not the Police version it’s the Moulin Rouge version, because like it’s clearly the superior version obvs. And due to this being text and any video being likely to require copyright, there’s no way any version of my subconscious association will translate. I know those gangs have their own names I’ll remember on a reread, that arc confused the shit put me in the Pepe Silvia Conspiracy Spiral that is “this is a dystopian hellscape” because like. The Communist Child Mafia was like… sure, within the realm of possibility, but like. Definitely kind of wild. And the Red Light Crew were like. “What the fuck do you mean you are teenagers you assholes?!? You’re fucking bald. That is not a teenager. What?!? Oh he works at the host clubs?!?? But of course he doesn’t drink! That was my first concern of course. That he was drinking.”

I feel like I need to do so much research but I don’t even know what to research. Like. That arc still like, it in no way defies the theme of “No Man is An Island” or “There Is No Innately Incorrect Form of Masculinity” but like. The worldbuilding questions it poses. I don’t know if I’m even supposed to ask them. I might be the wrong one. This might all be reasonable and o just like… misunderstood the setting because like. A couple things could reasonably clear up a few things. Like… a few natural disasters and poor infrastructure and the city being located in an area with poor government oversight and like. Most people in Japan are aware that area has that problem locally. But as someone not in Japan I’m not aware of that history so I’m not aware of that one simple contextual clue that makes like… everything click into place. Because there are things that make me suspect aspects of that but like. I don’t just wanna throw my own bias onto things, you know?

Well I guess I do because that’s the point of an essay. You create a thesis and then you argue for it based on your own biases and how you think the text backs it up, plus maybe some arguments from other texts or anecdotes from life or whatever.

Idk. I might be losing coherence. Ideas out of momentum for now. Need to collect more data.

#wind breaker #seph reads wind breaker #navel gazing

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herecirmsims · 2 years ago

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15 Questions Tag Game

Thank you @alpine-lapine for the tag! I’ll put the questions and answers below a cut so as not to clog the timeline. Random story screenshot above, just because.

Are you named after anyone? Yeah, a person my mum met while backpacking during her gap year.

When was the last time you cried? I stabbed myself in the eye a few weeks ago on some rush grass, I cried then. It left an ulceration across my cornea (which apparently has the most nerves in the eye?) and was UNBELIEVABLY painful. I spent a couple days unable to see because moving the damaged eye (which I couldn’t open anyway) meant it rubbed against my eyelid and hurt like hell, and I had to keep my good eye closed to avoid the temptation to move my eyes to look at things. I don’t recommend, tbh.

Do you have kids? Absolutely not. 😅

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Not really. I s’pose I might be peak British and say “Oh yeah it was fucking amazing” if someone asks how a bad situation went. 🤔 I enjoy sarcasm when I understand it/know the person using it, but otherwise it stresses me out when people say things they don’t mean.

What sports do you play/have you played? None competitively, I don’t really enjoy them.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people? Their energy, which is the most hippyish response I could’ve said. 🤣

Eye colour? Blue-grey, somewhere in between.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings! I enjoy a lot of angst on the way there, though. The angst makes the happy ending sweeter, I think, but I like to know that it will end well. Nothing worse than investing myself in a story only to be left feeling sad and empty at the end of it.

Any special talents? Hmm... no. I’m quite good at finding things - noticing small insects or interesting things amongst the stones at the beach, stuff like that.

Where were you born? In the UK.

What are your hobbies? The vast majority of my hobbies are Sims related - storytelling, posemaking, playing. I also enjoy looking for old bottles in Victorian dumps (a lot of farms have them round here), looking for cool things on the beach, bug-hunting, growing vegetables, archery, writing fantasy, hiking.

Do you have any pets? Yes! I have a cat (an ex feral kitten) called Belleraphon or Bel for short, two ponies called Cash and Joey (though they’re really my partners. One was bought because he was going through sales, and with his issues my partner knew he’d have a bad outcome - he’s not ridden and lives in retirement with us. The other was given to us for free by a roofer we had in, and we took him because he’d been living on his own for four years - equines absolutely need company), and two mules called Marty and Xato who are mine (my own! My precious! I bought one for £1 and the other was given to me. I don’t talk about them much in my Sims community circles but I’m obsessed with them... mules are absolutely my number one special interest).

How tall are you? 5′3″

Fave subject in school? English and Media Studies

Dream job? I'd still say author, though whether I’ll ever get over my perfectionist trait and publish anything is another issue. I enjoy writing drabbles for myself, and I enjoy my Sims story which is god-awful but I embrace that - it’s been really freeing just to put down whatever I want to read, and share without overthinking anything. It would be nice to earn money from things I enjoy, but that then puts pressure on them.

I’m not tagging anyone because I tarried and I think everyone who I would’ve tagged has done this already, so if you see this then it’s an open invitation.

And because I think people might ask, and I can’t resist talking about them a teeny tiny bit... here are my mules. Marty, on the left, was photographed here on his way to the shops; Xato, on the right, was helping me carry sacks of pulled hemlock up to the bonfire. Marty is my going out and about mule (he also does litter-picking, takes bottles to the recycling centre, carries food and luggage on long hikes), and Xato is the work-on-the-farm mule. Though neither have done much at all for a while because sometimes I’m not very good at walking. 😅

#tag game

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ailendolin · 2 years ago

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ThemThere Thursday - 01 - Yonderland

Title: Menace [AO3]

Characters: Negatus & Debbie, the demons, the twins, Voltari

Prompt: Negatus adopting his mangey (compliment) little Yorkie. - Prompt sent in by the lovely @tonystarksfabulousass.

A/N: While this is a sequel to my fic Scratchy, it's not really necessary to have read it to understand this one.

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

————

Menace

“Don’t you think it’s time to get a little of that feeling Scratchy gave you back?”

Negatus could still hear Debbie’s quiet laugh ringing in his ear when he’d asked her, “Are you telling me to get another dog?”

“No, not quite,” she had said. “But I’ll gladly go with you to the shelter if you’re thinking of adopting one.”

He had told her he would think about it – and he had, every day and every night since her birthday party. Now that the idea had been planted in his head, he couldn’t seem to get rid of it anymore. No matter where he looked or what he did, something always reminded him of it; be it Jeff every time he went a little too feral and nearly shredded the newspaper instead of giving it to him like a good little demon, or Neal who seemed to have adopted a stray flutterbug he’d found half-dead in the Chamber of Evil Misdeeds. It was even worse when he left his Fortress. Just yesterday he had seen that good for nothing Payne give his son some sort of lizard, of all things. The lad had beamed up at his father as if Thanktival had come early, looking like he was about to cry. Negatus gave the poor lizard three days tops before it found its head parted from its body and up on one of Payne’s walls.

He’d always despised the old bugger.

All of this made it incredible hard not to give in to temptation and ask Debbie if she’d really meant what she said. Telling himself that he sort of already had a pet in Jeff or that dogs were too high maintenance with their walks three times a day and special dog food and all the toys they left lying around didn’t help either because he’d inevitably remember how kind and loyal they were too. How they managed to calm you down and make you smile even when you felt like crying just a moment ago by simply looking at you with their big brown eyes and wagging their stupid tails.

Negatus closed his eyes and sighed. He’d never stood a chance, had he? Even though he had lost Scatchy years ago, he’d never forgotten how safe he’d felt with the little guy curled up next to him at night. There had been precious little in his childhood that hadn’t terrified him one way or another but Scratchy had made those fears disappear simply by being there.

Negatus rarely allowed himself to think about him these days but when he did he missed him so fiercely it felt like his heart was missing a piece. A new dog wouldn’t change that, wouldn’t ever replace Scratchy – he knew that. But maybe … maybe it would give his life a new purpose now that being evil had gone out of fashion so spectacularly with Cuddly Dick’s defeat.

“Demons!” he called, decision made. It only took a second for Rita, Jeff and Neil to appear out of nowhere.

“You called, oh not-so-dark Lord?” Rita asked.

“Fetch me my helmet. We need to find the elf. I’m going to get myself a dog.”

Rita and Neill shared a look that didn’t seem as surprised as Negatus had expected it to be. Jeff merely cocked his head to the side. “I thought you were a cat person.”

“Ugh,” Negatus said and shoved him away.

————

“We can’t take the demons with us to the shelter, Negatus,” Debbie said for the third time.

Also for the third time, Negatus frowned at her. “Why not? They’re my minions – that’s almost like pets, innit? No one will notice a few more scraggly beasts running around the shelter. I mean, look at them.”

The demons all gave a little wave. Debbie groaned.

“They,” she said, pointing at the demons, “are your employees. We’ve talked about this, Negatus.”

“Have we?” Negatus asked, glancing at Rita and Neil. They nodded, and so did Ben and Hayley who sat next to them. “Okay, fine. But it won’t be my fault if they won’t get along with the dog.”

Jeff looked up from the drawing he was making. “Dog? I thought we were here to see James McAvoy.”

Before Negatus could do so much as roll his eyes, Debbie marched over to the TV and turned on the film with the magical cupboard the demons and children had been watching the last time Negatus had been in Debbie’s world.

“Not again,” Neil groaned at the same time as Ben and Hayley shouted, “Mr Tumnus!” drowning out Jeff’s equally excited, “Look! That’s him!”

“That’ll keep them busy,” Debbie murmured before she added a little more loudly, “All right, kids, I’m off with Negatus. Daddy’s upstairs fixing the leak in the bathroom so if you need anything, just shout for him.”

She gave both Ben and Hayley a kiss before she took off Negatus’s helmet and gestured for him to say goodbye as well. He waved at the demons. “See you later, losers.”

“Unbelievable,” Debbie muttered as she pulled him out of the room. “Pete! We’re going! Love you!”

“Love you more!” Pete’s voice echoed down the stairwell, followed by a loud thump and a quiet, “Ow,” that Debbie chose to ignore.

“Shall we?”

Negatus hadn’t known what to expect when she told him to get into the car – something similar to a taxi ride in Yonderland, perhaps, where the slow pace allowed one to really appreciate the scenery. It certainly wasn’t Debbie driving them to the shelter at neck-breaking speed and nearly getting them both killed on the way. She even had the audacity to laugh in his face when she saw him desperately clinging to the door upon their arrival. “Bit too fast?”

Negatus merely glowered at her.

The shelter didn’t look like much at first glance, he found, and that impression didn’t change when they stepped inside. He considered the possibility that it was meant to appear a little rundown and uninviting – he had never been in a shelter in Debbie’s world before, after all, so who knew how these places were supposed to look. But he got the distinct impression that lack of funding made it difficult, perhaps even impossible, for the staff to give the animals the love they needed despite obviously pouring their hearts and souls into their work. The took good care of the animals, yes – all of them had food and water bowls, as far as Negatus could tell, and sometimes even the odd little toy – something that couldn’t be said for the hunting dogs his father used to own or the horses Negatus had watched wasting away in the dark stables. But good care alone wasn’t enough. If he had learned anything from Scratchy then that food and water might be needed to survive but were rarely enough to live.

As he went down the corridor and looked at the kennels with Debbie at his side, sad eyes glanced up at him wherever he looked. Some of the dogs came running up to the doors, barking in excitement; others curled up in the corner, whimpering. Some didn’t move at all, already having resigned themselves to their fate.

It tugged at Negatus’s heart, and he found himself stopping and turning to Debbie with a helpless look on his face. “How am I supposed to just … choose one? I mean, look at them.”

He gestured at all the sad faces around them, each and every one of them deserving of a home.

After a moment of silent consideration, Debbie said, “Maybe you’re not supposed to.”

At first, Negatus thought she was telling him to take all of them home. While he certainly would have the space in his Fortress, he didn’t have the time to take care of that many dogs nor the capacity to love them as they deserved.

Debbie gently touched his arm. “Maybe someone else is meant to choose.”

She nodded towards the caretaker who had been showing them around and was currently kneeling in front of a door, trying to coax one of the dogs closer, and Negatus finally understood.

————

Asking to see, “The dog everyone just walks past and no one wants,” ended up with him walking out of the animal shelter with a three-legged and half-blind Yorkshire Terrier – that’s what Debbie and the caretaker had called the pitiful little bundle of matted fur in his arms, anyway. Apparently, she had been found on the streets half a year ago and the caretakers had lovingly called her Princess even though she gnarled and growled at anyone who came too close to her.

Negatus instantly fell in love. Princess as a name, however, wouldn’t do so he had chosen a new, appropriately evil name for her that was similar enough to her old name for her not to get too confused.

“Demons!” he called when Debbie opened the front door. “Meet your new housemate – Menace!”

Rita and Neil gave him looks that clearly said he had lost his mind and carefully kept their distance from the little growling thing in his arms. Jeff, on the other hand, came right up to him and reached up to pet Menace without any hesitation.

“She’s fluffy,�� he declared happily even though most of Menace’s fur was awfully matted and in desperate need of both a bath and a cut. She bared her teeth at him but allowed the touch. “Aw look, she’s smiling at me!”

“Right,” Rita muttered and took another step back as Ben and Hayley rushed past her. They were crowding the little dog before Debbie had a chance to stop them.

“She smells,” Hayley said with a mix of disgust and delight. Ben scrunched up his nose and nodded in agreement but didn’t let that stop him from petting the dog.

Menace, it turned out, was – well, not exactly friendly with children and demons but willing to tolerate them. The same couldn’t be said for most adult humans. Debbie wasn’t allowed to pet her and neither were the Elders when Negatus brought her around for the first time, much to Choop’s disappointment. She seemed to like Nick and Elf well enough, though, and loved to play fetch with the Youngers.

There was only one exception to her no-adults rule aside from Negatus: Voltari. Whenever Menace saw him, she would follow him around like a – well, like a lost puppy. Negatus was sure Voltari kept sneaking her treats when he wasn’t looking but so far hadn’t been able to catch him doing it.

“That’s my dog, you know? Get your own if you want one so bad.”

Voltari shared an amused look with Dissectus before he pointedly gave Menace a scratch behind her ears. “Oh no, we’re just fine, aren’t we, sweet girl?”

Menace, the little traitor, closed her eyes in bliss.

He might not have been completely sure about getting a dog at first but now that he had her, Negatus couldn’t imagine life without Menace anymore. She slept next to him at night, licked his face in the morning to wake him up, chased the demons around the kitchen table for fun during breakfast and nearly killed him twice a day by leaving one of her toys lying around in an unfortunate place – though that could have also been Jeff, now that Negatus thought about it. Most importantly, she made him laugh with her goofy antics and silly barks – more than anyone else had in a very long time.

She wasn’t Scratchy – and that was okay because Scratchy would always have a place in his heart that no one else could possible take. There was space there for Menace too, and Negatus liked to think that Scratchy would be happy for him.

“He would have liked you,” he murmured fondly as he lifted Menace up onto his lap. She growled but closed her eyes in bliss when he petted her behind her ears, making him chuckle fondly. “You little menace, you.” It was nice to have a buddy again.

#negatus #debbie maddox #yonderland #my fic #themthere thursday

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bigg-city-riders-au · 1 year ago

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Getting To Know The Beast

Yet another drabble for the feral au featuring Titan. Dabble under the cut. Tw for threats of violence under the cut.

“You know, you’re not as bad as they say.” Michael looked up at the massive ocean going tug, who was resting on the sandy shores of the beach, having heaved his massive body onto land a few hours before. His eyes constantly scanned the area as he kept a watchful eye over two children who were playing with his towline, which idly twitched to encourage them to play with it, like a mother cat letting her kittens play with her tail.

The jet black hull was accented with horizontal white stripes and the nameplate on the bow of the beast bore its name, Titan. A fitting name for a tug his size. His chest, back and head were a rust brown. His facial features were not too dissimilar to his father’s, Hercules. He was just as big and powerful as his father. Titan’s icy blue eyes bore a cold glare that pierced one’s very soul. His messy jet black hair was gently blowing in the wind as a gentle breeze picked up, carrying the scent of the ocean with it.

Titan turned his attention away from the two young children that were playing on his deck, one boy, one girl. They were born a few years ago. Dusk, their mother, refused to reveal details about their father but they did share a few characteristics of other Riders. Michael couldn’t help but feel uneasy when the massive tug turned its cold piercing gaze to him, like being stared at by a great wolf and Michael was nothing more than a mere rabbit. He shuddered as Titan narrowed his eyes at him, turning his large eyes into icy blue slits that stood out startlingly from his dark colored hide.

“Don’t mistake my babysitting for hospitality, welp. I’m allowing you to be this close because my Rider has taken a liking to you.” Titan growled softly as his towline twitched. Michael shrank back at his voice. The tug’s voice was riddled with malice and was far deeper than anticipated. Perhaps deeper than Warrior’s voice. Yet, it was almost pleasant to hear, like the voice of a nobleman. Michael hadn’t felt so insignificant until he was under Titan’s harsh glare and heard the tug’s formidable voice for the first time. Michael immediately nodded and averted his gaze.

“Yes, I should have taken that into account. I’m sorry about that, Titan.” Michael swallowed the lump in his throat. The tug’s mere presence was enough to make even the bravest warriors grow uneasy.

“Hmph.. I suppose my Rider judged you well.. That doesn’t mean I’ll allow you near her children. They’re as precious to me as they are to her. They hold the Ravenswood’s future. They are heirs of the dark throne. It is my duty to guard her and her children with my life. I would not have hesitated to set an example out of you if you hadn’t bonded with my mother.” Titan’s harsh words cut like a knife. He wasn’t afraid to kill a villager or even threaten another Rider to get his points across. No wonder why they get along so well.

“I suppose so.. I don’t understand what she sees in me. If you don’t mind, could I ask you why she took me in so quickly?” Micheal dared to look up into Titan’s eyes. Titan’s icy blue eyes locked with his brown eyes, studying the human before him before turning his head away from him and a puff of thick black smoke billowed from his smoke stack not too dissimilar to a dragon’s snort. The tug remained silent for some time before finally speaking up.

“It’s obvious you have potential as a Rider. You’re sleight of hand and your tongue is sharp and your mind sharper. She sees you as a student. Why else do you think she’s been teaching you about the magic she uses? The history of the Riders? Combat training? She doesn’t take on just any student. One must have that hunger for knowledge, ambition, and confidence in oneself. She saw that in you, Michael. That is something for you to take pride in.” Titan spoke with such sincerity yet malice trickled in his voice. Micheal took in every word. The bard bowed his head in respect.

“Thank you. I appreciate you answering the question.. if you don’t mind-“ Micheal was cut off as Titan pushed himself back off the sandy shores of the beach. The two children clung to Titan as his massive body slipped into the water of the ocean.

“My Rider is calling for me. Perhaps we can meet again. Just not when I’m babysitting my Rider’s pups.” Titan’s cold gaze fell upon Michael again. The human shuddered under his intense gaze. This tug wasn’t one to be taken lightly. Michael bowed his head to the gigantic tug.

“Yes, of course. I’ll take my leave then.” Michael nodded in acknowledgement. Titan simply grunted before making his way to the fortress, leaving the bard alone on the beach. He sat down on the sand, watching the waves crash against the shore. He needed some time to ponder Titan’s words.

#this is tugs #feral!au #Titan #Michael #Michael the bard #my writing #bigg city port #tugs oc

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threadsun · 2 years ago

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JDA Asks: "STOP- STOP STOP STOP STOP—

-JDA HERE OK STOP IT STOP-

I LOVE HIM !! I LOVE Z SO MUCH ALREADY the uh— that one thingy about finding them all beated up at a random ally (or alley I have no idea English is so hard LMFAO—) sorta woke something in me should I be worried? yeah I should- also the thingy about easily flustered people was so sweet idk why,,,

Another question uh- do you have any headcanons for him? Okay wait let me— I like to think of random headcanons for my own Ocs then realize “wait they’re mine so technically they can be canon,,???” BUT ALSO NO??? LIKE LMFAO WHY WOULD I DO THAT LETS JUST KEEP IT AS A RANDOM FANTASY- idk if that made sense I just hope it’s understandable no don’t expect me to explain it again I have no idea how to put words together in order for them to make sense.

-silly example, that one fact about Bun liking reptiles started off as a joke with a friend then I started liking the idea turning it into a silly hc and now she’s just a reptile freak yeah fun-"

Yesssss!!! Seeing a pretty man in distress is so hot!!! Z simply looks very good bruised and bloody~

He goes feral for people who are easily flustered!! He sees someone cute and he needs to make them feel good!!

Oooooh yes, I know exactly what you mean!! Ummmm let's see... these all started as joke headcanons but then became canon:

He has absolutely shit eyesight. Like he needs very strong prescription glasses. Technically, he owns a pair, but he just doesn't bother to use them most of the time. Instead he just squints at everything, which makes him seem more intimidating than he actually is

If he gets part of him cut off, like his arm or something, he just boils a kettle and pours the water on the two bits that need to be reattached and then just... jams them together and waits for the clay to dry again?

Oooooh this one kinda goes back to the idea of turn offs, he once found out that a guy he was dating (a vampire named Charles) had previously dated his grandfather and he immediately dumped the guy. It was just too fuckin weird for him. His grandpa thought it was very funny though

(Just in general, his exes are very interesting imo. I've got like 12 or so of them fleshed out, and they're quite the line-up. Z has... some interesting tastes)

He and his spouse had a very romantic meet cute where Nik killed the guy who was beating Zander up, and Zander was not thrilled about it, but was very into the tiny angry person who just committed murder in front of him. And then Nik couldn't get rid of Z because he was enamoured with them

His grandfather (on the golem side) prefers to take the form of a cat so he can more easily keep an eye on Z. This does lead to Z picking up a giant fluffy grey cat and introducing him to people as his grandpa, 100% seriously and with no understanding that this may confuse people or make them think it's a joke

He was a baby at one point, and did sort of half do the whole "childhood and growing up" thing because his mum wanted him to, but once he hit about 14 he said fuck it and just kinda... became an adult. He didn't wanna have to deal with that bullshit anymore, and his mum had already sent him away to the circus when he was 10 so he realised he didn't have to be a child for her anymore

He loves worms, they're his favourite animal!

#sunshine #asks #zander #jda

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blondrichclosetwitch · 10 months ago

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NR 77 2/2/17

So he is working at saam.

I mean let’s remember you led me around the collar for weeks, before. Right?

(Braced) So is this an alternative world?

(transmission)

So he is at saam bar.

So she led me to taylor swift?

(the month before i downloaded taylor swift for the first time, had never heard her before; she was Katie’s all-time favorite, my brother just told me; months earlier Jakk had come over and made me great food out of nothing, and told me I should give 1989 a listen. out of the woods was the first song out of any song I listened to over and over, and I stood there in my living room in December, understanding there was something I was to get, but not clear on what or why)

That’s hilarious.

And he wants to be with me as much as i do right?

(transmission)

So the problem is what exactly?

Her pregnancy?

Because i..you don’t see maggie _______ saying *anything* about it.

(transmission)

Maggie is done with being involved?

(transmission)

She’s trying to get away from the witchcraft? From the connection?

Is Blond still keeping an eye out to see if i’m doing anything with tantra? She just looks on backpage tho?

(transmission)

She just looks for my work name. And my phone number.

So if i switched my number? And my name? Do you think i would be safe?

(transmission)

No. she’s gonna look. She wants to ruin it for me.

Does jakk ____ _____ ___ _______?

So what is…what is the situation? How are we supposed to proceed? You’re saying going the way we’re doing things…but why was i thrown that vision again yesterday, why did you wake me that way?

(transmission)

Because jakk made you?

I don’t understand ..i mean because then…it’s like everyday is a test.

But then you made that orgasm go into my heart, and then you had the tree fill me up to the tops of my eyes.

(so this was a new piece. I was told to have the branch from the tree under my feet, along with the pendulum in my mouth, which caused some sort of wild reaction which i would describe as feral yet not completely human-sounding.) it’s like i’m going through a modern-day….witch school. And he is too.

(to cat) that’s not water you’re supposed to drink, that’s to suck up the negativity in the room.

Which family do you think is going to work out? They need someone good.

Steady job. Is that the job you want me to take? Really? You don’t want me to take the two greenpoint ones? I mean if they’re gonna pay me like…..24 an hour, i’ll take it. And then i could work on my writing. He’d sleep all the time.

I mean i’ll have to follow how i feel. Cause like…if i can make 800 a week… what month is it? I’d say, til september. I mean i think i should plan on doing it until only september, because i’m planning on going to italy in october.

But when we were looking at the pictures of who rachel ______was, you had the wrong woman as rachel ______. So what does that say? You know?

I’m a little confused. I don’t know what it says. Like i said to katie, i found that confusing.

I think what i know at the very least, unless jakk has turned off his heart….jakk loves me…and…this woman….there’s something deeply wrong with her. Like deeply deeply deeply wrong with her.

Why is it that Katie can open this channel between us? What is that? What is that? I send him something, and..he opens it…and i feel him reading it, and his heart pulsating. I don’t think anyone else is having the experience that the three of us are having. Has anyone else had the experience? This is unique, right? This thing that is going on between me and him and her. She is like this tie (starts crying) that i can’t explain to anyone.

Wait is this katie now?

Katie is this you?

(fully crying) i don’t understand, but i know it’s real. I know that you keep doing things that are real, and i don’t know..and all i want …..and what, he can *see* me? He can see me? Like…can he see that i’m on the couch crying right now?

So he can see me…but i can talk to him. (breaks into laughter)

Ok i need to write, let’s get some poster board. You, my love, are going to help me figure this out. Did the double action candle do some work to secure his job, can he feel that?

(transmission)

So he has a magic wand, is that correct? So Random had him get a magic wand? And he can see me…..does he keep it in his bag?

And Random taught him how to use it?

(transmission)

And you taught him how to use it. You and random taught him how to use it.

So he can hear me. He can hear everything that i say.

Ok so…you and Random taught him how to use it. For real? (cracks up)

So is that part of the reason that he was able to break Blond’s spells?

So speaking of…….ok. So he has a magic wand. Does he have the other tools of the Magician?

(end of tape)

NR78 2/2/17

(quietly) Jakk?

Are you ok?

Katie told me to send you a picture, was that ok?

Is everything ok?

Are you missing me?

I’m missing you too.

You can’t really talk to me though. You have to work. I know that you need to stay focused.

I don’t know. I can’t tell.

Katie, i can’t tell. My connection is strong with you. You say he wants to talk to me……it’s like i said….i can’t tell. I really can’t.

(end of tape)

#watch the tapes

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hausofmamadas · 7 months ago

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OHHHHHPUTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (affectionate) the way i came this👌close to paying someone to legit strap me to a gurney so i didn’t quote this whole ass thing line for line BC GOTDAMN, YOU WERE FUCKING ON👏ONE👏WITH THIS INSPIRED SHIT RIGHT HERE

⥈

Silence is heavy in your apartment, but you know he is here, Alejandro, you can sense it, waiting in the dark at your expense. You are not surprised you are next, not when you know how they handle deserters, when you know too much, when they are scared you might talk.

The way I saw the phrases, “you are next,” and “how they handle deserters,” and immediately just like put on my helmet, strapped myself into my iron-man-style spacesuit bc I knew that you were about to rocket launch me on a fucking journey from which I might never return and mentally, bc my mind was so blown and turned to jelly, I’m glad I had the foresight to take these precautionskdjdjdb

Removing your shoes, dropping your bag. Maybe you are just tired, maybe the doormat wasn’t that crooked, maybe the fingermarks on the handle were yours, maybe-

MAYBE THE DOORMAT WASNT THAT CROOKED FUCKIKKKKKKKKKK DUDE THAT IS SO OMINOUS AND SINISTER like I am just marveling at how you’ve sown the tension and dread and how you’ve managed to convey how high the stakes are in a matter of like 2 fuckin paragraphs like do you even understand the SKILL THAT FUFKINT TAKES CABRONA????????

‘’ You know I couldn’t. ‘’ Alejandro sits on your sofa, his back against the cushion, your cat purring on his lap. ‘’ Such a pretty thing like you… ‘’

I mean, this part just– like, okay I have two cats, I am a very much a Cat Person, it’s not that I don’t like dogs but like you have to be a monster to not be a Dog Person, right? Like in a way, I feel like everyone is a Dog Person. BUT I get why ppl have beef with cats, they can be aloof, hard to read, they're picky, very main character syndrome, shit is always on their terms so I think it makes sense that they’re not for everyone but BY GOD IF ALEJANDRO ISNT ABSOLUTELY A FUCKING CAT PERSON, HE JUST IS, oKAY???????? HC ACCEPTED, LIVELAUGHLOVING IT

Side note ppl: the trick to getting a cat to love you is basically to neg them, like just ignore them, bc they’re expecting you to shower them with attention cuz that’s what ppl do with dogs/other cute things, so just think about what you’d do with a dog and do the exact opposite with a cat. also this is gonna sound insane but I’ve forsure hissed at cats that some might call disagreeable, aka downright petty, vicious beasts. Does it look, feel, and sound unhinged and like you should prob be institutionalized? Abso-fucking-lutely. Does it also get a hostile feral creature to know who tf’s in charge? I’ll let you do the math.

It is meant as a joke, probably, but it doesn’t make you laugh, doesn’t make your insides warm up like they used to.

SKSKSKSKSK I mean given the fact that like one of the most dangerous men in the world if only it could be the most interesting man in the world bc the Dos Equis guy seems like an undercover pacifist, I have exactly no evidence for this but it just feels right just pulled a casual B&E, is now sitting in a dark corner of your home, stroking your cat before he presumably kills you, it would make sense that you’re not getting like the warm and fuzzies under those circumstances sksk

‘’ Can I feed the cat? ‘’ … The cat is up as soon as he hears the pantry open, rubbing on your legs, wet nose meeting your ankles. You put more kibble in the bowl, just in case.

UGH THE WAY MY STOMACH DROPPPEDDOSKSKD AT THIS bc like this is exactly what I’d do if I thought I was gonna die😞😞😞😞😞😞leave extra food for the kitty

You liked his eyes, how he didn’t speak much, didn’t move air, a peacefulness to his presence, weirdly.

The way you describe this man is unparalleled, like I’ve said this 40bajillion times in other screamblogs but this is the exact type of description that makes me, “ohhhhhhh okay, yes, I see what’s happening. This man is just in your bones, in your blood, you know him without even trying.” Bc he is silence, he is smoke, he is mist, he is lethal ……. Aaaaaaaaaand ??? yet ?????? he’s somehow as calming as chamomile tea before bedtime too??? as soothing a presence as the white noise machine I use to fall asleep??? Like if i had to die but got to choose who killed me, id choose Alejandro or Hannibal for their impeccable bedside manner alone

The hours would be longer, the pay better, dirtier.

UNMMMMMMNYou fuckingisshgwgww wordsmith you????? Like I know I’m flipping out over a pretty straightforward sentence which i am but it’s specifically the use of the word dirtier that lends SO MUCH EXTRA COLOR AND TONE AND PERSONALITY AND UMPH that it wouldn’t otherwise have. And I’m just up here in these bleachers, standing up and slow clapping and putting on my microscopic reading glasses and taking microscopic notes in my microscopic detective’s pad andliterally anyone sitting near me is like “can this noisy bitch just pipe down and sit still for one goodgoddamn second so I can enjoy the show”… BABAHWWB JOKES ON YOU, I WILL NEVER REST

Everything was more hands-on, no more slowly gnawing at it, no more psychological tactics, just raw human nature, animals in cages. Most days would end with you screaming at Matt that you would quit, that this wasn’t what you had signed up for. Oh, but it is, sweetheart, do you know what happens to you if you break this contract?

OH OKAY I SEE HOW TF IT IS SO NOT ONLY ARE YOU A MASTER OF ALEJANDRO BUT YOURE SO CORRECT WITH MATT TOO??????!???????)/:$!:&:! BC ITS NOT ENOUGH TO HAVE ONE MAN DOWN TO PAT, YOU GOTTA BLUDGEON ME WITH THAT, LEFT HOOK TO MY JAW, WITH THAT ONE TWO PUNCH???? Bc yes that condescending use of sweetheart is so just so on the money for him esp trying to intimidate a woman someone

… letting the sound of his breathing ease the voices in your head, letting him trace figures on your back with his fingers until you would fall asleep.

NOOOOOWOWOWOOOWWOLSDKJFAOIWJPFOAQIWHEI3PQAWIU3HAQ[OI3RJ[AQWOIJJK YOU ACTUALLY A DIABOLICAL MF FOR THISSS

like you already had me at him soothing Reader’s trauma/deeply broken mental state, quieting the voices like an antipsychotic medication, buTJ THENNNNNNNN?????FUCKINGTHENNN????? YOU MURDER ME WITH TRACING FIGURES ON YOUR BACK TIL YOU FALL ASLEEP AREAOUSDOFIUASOEYOUFUCKKKKKINGGNNGKDSJFKSLDJFJKIDDDIDING ME WITH THIS SHIT ??????????????????????????????????

Matt wasn’t blind, though, you could see the crease between his brows when you would get on the plane together, how he had started to comment on your outfits, your hair. You could tell he was going fishing, throwing the bait, waiting to see if the wolf would bite.

No this is actually brilliant it’s making me physically ill bc Matt would 100000% be the type to hit on his own employee but not even bc he’s a regular, run-of-the-mill, predatory creep, but more to fuck with his employees bc he’s trying to sniff out if they’re together by provoking alejandro with jealousy which is just about the most laughable thing bc christ, if that isn't a man who knows how to maintain a poker face like that's his literal job so great plan Matt sfjlskjd so he can sabotage everything, and rig the entire relationship to blow with like 7000 tons of dynamite aka office goss bc that’s just how much of a vindictive girlboss he is

Don’t do this, you know what they think when people leave, what they will do. What they will make me do, he meant, and here he is.

NOOOALEJANDROOO NOT WHAT THEY’LL MAKE HIM DO!!!! BC THEY ABS WILL BC HE’S LITERALLY JUST A FUCKING TOOL, OUR POOR BBY BOI

You can tell Alejandro is somewhere far away now, deep in thought, going back to caress the cat as it snuggles back into him.

I’m sorry but i will never recover from the fact that he’s a cat person and that it’s so goddamn correct skskskjs it is actual fact now

You know the way he remembers those things so clearly as if he was hovering, watching. He had told you so one night on the jet, when Matt was fast asleep on the couch, when you were seated across from him, when you had asked him if he had dreams too, as vivid, as bloodied. I don’t, he had said, and then motioning to his temple with a finger, but it’s in here, I’m always there.

GOOODDLKJSDF;LAKJSD; I’M LEGITIAMTELY CHEWING ON MY PILLOW AND CHOKING ON MY OWN TEARS CRYINGSLDKFJ BC THIS IS SO???????? LIKE YES???????????????? Idek exactly what it is about it that moves me. I think I just love the complexity bc I feel like with assassins, it can easily become one-note where they’re just sick, twisted, emotionless sociopaths such a snoozeworthy approach imo bc there's no way to make someone interesting who has no real emotional depth But like that’s not what’s happening here, right. He’s not devoid of empathy, I think he’s just reallyreallyreally good at locking it away, like scary good. But he has his limits and doesn’t really relish the job, doesn’t get joy from killing unless it's vengeance which like lskjflskjdl; valid, who hasn't felt homicidally vengeful at least once or twice lbr

HOWMEVER, that's not to say Alejandro is like? normal? ksdjfsk it’s very clear that he is a stone cold mf. He has both seen and done some shit but I’ve always imagined him as just highly compartmentalized, so he locks away the human part to get the job done. And bc he’s so good at detaching from his own empathy, his experience of trauma is diff from most people. He’s literally trained his nervous system not to react to that kind of duress, so he doesn’t have bad dreams or flashbacks, right, BUT at the end of the day, the body keeps the score, that shit will always be knocking around like ghosts in the attic which is exactly what he's saying and i know i’m just babbling now but likelkjdf[]09i3jqj];oeFINW DUDE THE WAY YOU JUST CAPTURED SOMETHING SO SPECIFIC TAHT I HAVE GIVEN ENTIRELY TOO MUCH THOUGHT TO more in relation to my other favorite cold-but-not-psychopathic assassin, mi barroncito ofc AND LIKE NAILED IT SO WELL

After all of it, he means, now that his goal is achieved, that debts are paid and revenge is cold and done.

UGJ ofc he wouldn’t know what to do. bc It’s not like you get your bachelor’s degree whilst carrying out high-risk hits on high-profile targets at the behest of the CIA sksksk in the service of the US’s sick agenda to control everything and everyone and everywhere else even tho there’s so much shit here that needs fixing becauseeverythingsonfireandfallingapart andidkwhyigotsopoliticalwiththis

I can’t, I-

You can, of course you can.

OOHHH AND THEN YOU JUST HAD TO STICK THE LANDING TOO BY BRINGING THIS BACK AROUDN AND SOMEBODY PLS PRAY FOR ME BC IM ACTUALLY INCONSOLABLE RN AND WILL BE THINKING ABOUT THIS FIC FOR AT LEAST THE NEXT SEVERAL MANY DAYSOKAYGREATTHANKS[IJ9F[Q0I93=Isk

Of wolf and sheep

Alejandro Gillick x gn!reader, (the usual for the movies, nothing too graffic) 1793 words

a/n : another Alejandro Gillick fic??, I hear you say, and to that I respond, do you mean sexy Alejandro fic, eat my children

Tagging the besties-that-might-like-this as usual @narcolini @drabbles-mc @anunhealthydoseofangst @hausofmamadas

‘’ Are you here to kill me? ‘’

You haven’t turned on the lights yet, boots still on, waiting in the entryway. Silence is heavy in your apartment, but you know he is here, Alejandro, you can sense it, waiting in the dark at your expense. You are not surprised you are next, not when you know how they handle deserters, when you know too much, when they are scared you might talk. It makes your heart beat faster, especially because you know they hold Alejandro in a tight lease like a dog.

If he hears you he doesn’t answer, and so you keep moving, what else is there to do? Removing your shoes, dropping your bag. Maybe you are just tired, maybe the doormat wasn’t that crooked, maybe the fingermarks on the handle were yours, maybe-

‘’ You know I couldn’t. ‘’ Alejandro sits on your sofa, his back against the cushion, your cat purring on his lap. ‘’ Such a pretty thing like you… ‘’

It is meant as a joke, probably, but it doesn’t make you laugh, doesn’t make your insides warm up like they used to. All you feel now is cold, a deep, freezing cold that seeps inside your bones, and tense your shoulders, making bile pill up in your mouth.

‘’ Can I feed the cat? ‘’

A simple question, one that he nods to, one that he understands means you are not jumping on a hidden gun or making a b-line for the bedroom window. The cat is up as soon as he hears the pantry open, rubbing on your legs, wet nose meeting your ankles. You put more kibble in the bowl, just in case.

‘’ Wasn’t easy to find you. ‘’ He continues, ‘’ Montana is large, it was pretty hard to track. You could have moved countries. ‘’

‘’ Just to have you catch the flight log? ‘’ You move to the armchair in front of him, taking a seat, ‘’ I thought I did well, everyone makes mistakes. ‘’

You cross your legs, tucking your feet. He watches your every move, like a hawk, barely moving. Alejandro doesn’t look much different than he was a year ago, black still looks great on him, his arms are bigger, the beard slightly longer too.

Your first mistake was getting recruited by the CIA, a consultant they had told you, something up to your added value. Talent, Matt had called it later down the line, interrogation is what makes the world turn. In a way it did, they all talked, and you went home, cashed your check, just to fly back out whenever was needed. A few months later, you met Alejandro on base, near the Mexican border. You liked his eyes, how he didn’t speak much, didn’t move air, a peacefulness to his presence, weirdly.

And then one day your contract changed hands, no CIA, just Matt, and whoever held the chains. Your second mistake was to accept it, not to ask for a transfer, and join the team. You could sense the heaviness in the interrogation rooms now, notice the dangerous glint in Alejandro’s eyes. The hours would be longer, the pay better, dirtier. Sometimes, Alejandro would join you, make you leave the room halfway in, cutting the camera before closing the door behind you. Everything was more hands-on, no more slowly gnawing at it, no more psychological tactics, just raw human nature, animals in cages. Most days would end with you screaming at Matt that you would quit, that this wasn’t what you had signed up for. Oh, but it is, sweetheart, do you know what happens to you if you break this contract?

Threats, every day, all of it, but you couldn’t allow yourself to find out, not after Kate, not when you had heard words here and there of what had happened. You had gotten to know Alejandro better pretty quickly after that. Maybe you had eventually gained his respect by being so out of bounds every time.

Between the long hours, the endless plane rides, inevitably running into him at the motel bar, even when you thought there was no way something would come out of it, you kept finding him around every corner. And then you kissed him one night, or maybe he did, one drink too much, pressing on you, bringing you up against the bed. Your third mistake. It felt different to be able to touch him, how he would accept it, initiate it even. A breath of fresh air compared to those stuffy interrogation rooms.

You found comfort in Alejandro’s arms, in the dark of night, letting him wrap around you, letting the sound of his breathing ease the voices in your head, letting him trace figures on your back with his fingers until you would fall asleep.

No one knew, no one suspected a thing, and you liked it better that way, as you are sure he did too. Matt wasn’t blind, though, you could see the crease between his brows when you would get on the plane together, how he had started to comment on your outfits, your hair. You could tell he was going fishing, throwing the bait, waiting to see if the wolf would bite. Still, he was always your colleague first, a good one, never late, easy to work with, and then he was something else. Something you couldn’t name, something you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, not lovers, not friends.

Then one day you cracked, like an egg, somewhere in the middle, slicing you in half. A long time coming. I can’t do this anymore, you had told Alejandro, sobbing, huddling in the tub, under the water. You could feel the water in your lungs, the tightness of your chest, in your throat. I can’t breathe, I can’t, I- You don’t remember him turning off the water, gently pulling you out, but you remember him wrapping the towel around you, hugging you to warm you up, brushing your wet hair with his fingertips, rubbing the water of your back. You can, of course you can.

You remember telling him you were done, that when Matt would receive your resignation letter tomorrow you would be long gone. You owed him that, the truth, the why, before leaving and never seeing him again. You couldn’t bear the thought of him wondering, the pain it could cause of losing someone again. Don’t do this, you know what they think when people leave, what they will do.

What they will make me do, he meant, and here he is.

You let yourself sink into the pillows, feel the tightness in your throat, let your shoulders drop. Now that you are closer, you notice more grey in his hair, a sign that time hasn’t stopped for him either.

‘’ Now what? ‘’ You breathe. The air is thick, the room dark. What will you do now?

‘’ I’m not here for you. ‘’ His eyes soften, and he readjusts himself in his seat. ‘’ I killed Alarcón. I’m here because I’m done, it’s over. ‘’

I’m not here for you. I killed Alarcón. It is just Alejandro in your living room, plain, simple, soft Alejandro, no wolf, no sharp teeth, waiting to pounce. Him, here, after that, you think maybe he wants to talk about it. A shoulder to rest on, after all the stress from those years, the hard work, repressing everything down.

‘’ How do you feel? ‘’

‘’ I don’t know ‘’ His dark eyes are back on you. ‘’ Relieved, I guess. ‘’

You are still not over the fact that he is not here to kill you, only looking for comfort, friendship. Your fingers are still tightly wrapped around the armrest, and the fabric bristles as you let go.

‘’ You want a beer? ‘’ A peace offering.

‘’ Hmm. ‘’

You can tell Alejandro is somewhere far away now, deep in thought, going back to caress the cat as it snuggles back into him. He must be there, you think, where Alarcón was that day, he probably feels the gun in his hand, hears the bullets hit the ground. You know the way he remembers those things so clearly as if he was hovering, watching. He had told you so one night on the jet, when Matt was fast asleep on the couch, when you were seated across from him, when you had asked him if he had dreams too, as vivid, as bloodied. I don’t, he had said, and then motioning to his temple with a finger, but it’s in here, I’m always there.

You are alone in the kitchen for a minute and then you aren’t, turning around, knocking into him who is now in front of you, with so little space to spare. Alejandro takes the beer from your hand, gently discarding it on the countertop. You let his eyes run over your face, let him observe for whatever he is looking for. He opens his mouth and then closes it, swallowing words that he decides are not meant to be said.

‘’ I came here because I’m not sure what to do now. ‘’

After all of it, he means, now that his goal is achieved, that debts are paid and revenge is cold and done.

‘’ You’ll figure it out, you always do. ‘’

You don’t flinch when his palm reaches up, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he cups his hand around your face, cradling your jaw between his fingers. You let his fingers warm up your skin, letting the familiarity of it submerge you.

‘’ I meant it, ‘’ he whispers, ‘’ so pretty… ‘’

‘’ I think you need sleep. ‘’ You caution back. It feels overwhelming, having him here, so close, after so many months.

‘’ I guess. ‘’

He trails off, but he is not listening, there is a hunger in his eyes, and you remember all the nights he would look at you like this, soft, tender, something you could mistake for affection. The tip of his fingers caresses your hair, running down the side of your neck, feeling your pulse underneath his touch. He knocks out of it after a few seconds, letting his hand rest on your shoulder instead.

There is a seriousness in his eyes, an int of doubt, something different.

‘’ I know what I need. I’m going to Bogotá, and I want you to come with me. ‘’

I need you to, he means, you’ll be safe with me. You feel as if the wind has been knocked out of you, the blood pumping in between your ears is loud and heavy, you can’t hear yourself think.

I can’t, I-

You can, of course you can.

#screamblog #sicario #alejandro x reader #diosmio #this one really did a number on my psyche #like i don't think i've ever typed such a long wall of text on one of these as I did here #when i was psychoanalyzing assassin characters that arent boring ass psychopaths

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