#you’re actually demented in the fucking head if you do this
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I saw the messages I got sent in my inbox, thank you guys for letting me know about the plagiarism, I appreciate it really.
Obviously I feel for the OP and I truly do hope that they feel comforted in knowing that there are people who believe them. I genuinely can’t imagine what it’s like to have 20k words worth of something you made stolen like that. I’m heartbroken and angry for them and the fact that it happened twice is so…
At least on my end, I’m angry because Fae (@/kennedyswhore, @/hoeromi) is someone I interacted with frequently, and not only was she someone that inspired me artistically, but she was also someone I considered a friend. I’m just angry about it, and it pisses me off more that people who put so much energy and time into creating something gets stolen from them and gets claimed as someone else’s work with more viability. It’s sick. Please block those pages, she has a few other ones too she uses to stalk other accounts so be on the lookout for things that may be copied over too.
Don’t fucking steal from other people. Just don’t fucking do it seriously. It’s cruel, it’s awful, and you’re a low-life good for nothing bitch if you’re willing to sit down in front of your computer to copy and paste someone else’s work and call it your own. It’s things like that that only result in writers leaving this hellsite and stop posting their writing all together. Fuck you if you do this. If you lack the creative ability to make your own shit, at least live in your truth, cause doing stuff like this is just pathetic.
And of course, if anyone ever EVER finds something that sounds remotely like my stuff, either on here or on any ai chatbot spaces, please let me know. Writers and creators work so damn hard to put out original stuff others want to enjoy for free, so much energy into their work just to have it stolen from them. If you plagiarize, I hope you jump headfirst into fucking traffic.
#don’t plagiarize#don’t steal#don’t be a fucking loser#because eventually there will be no more writers for you to copy off of#you’re actually demented in the fucking head if you do this
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COME INSIDE (AND HAVE A BITE)
isagi yoichi x gn!reader
inlcudes: vampire isagi. boyfriend isagi. reader being a little shit for like the first half lmao. mentions of blood/drinking blood. suggestive. use of the word pretty once. probably ooc isagi i’m sorry :’)
notes: idk. this idea has been eating me alive. needed to share
Sometimes, as the sun is setting and you are finally slumping into the soft—arguably run down—cushions of your couch, you like to reminisce on the past you, who had the luxury of experiencing simple, relaxing nights after a long day of work.
When you would come home and kick your shoes off in the doorway. Slide your tired feet across the semi-stained hardwood (that you’re still convinced is fake, despite your landlord’s promises) to the bathroom to scald your skin in the shower for however long you felt like. Not caring for how you looked, throwing on the first article of clothing you’d find, and traipsing your way into the kitchen. To find dinner—or sometimes give up on that endeavor and eat the freezer burnt ice cream, or just order in cheap takeout instead—and plop yourself where you are now. Watching some old drama or drowning out the news until you inevitably pass out on your worn out couch. And you were content with that, honestly. It was fine. It was—
“Aaghhh!”
It was peaceful bliss, compared to the torment you now face per diem.
Everyday like clockwork, as soon as the sun sets over the horizon and dusk seeps in, the neighborhood stray comes to your doorstep for a visit. Wailing, baying; clawing at your door like he’s demented and disturbed.
As you blow out a sigh and heave yourself off of your cushions, you conclude those two words are actually perfect in describing him.
It only takes a few seconds for you to stride to your front door, and only half of one for you to sling it open. The sight you’re greeted with is familiar—near identical to yesterday, and the day before that (and the day before that), save for a different pair of clothes—and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at it.
Isagi sits on his knees, hands suspiciously close to your threshold and fingers obviously charred. His head snaps up at your appearance and he wipes the ash off his fingertips, revealing pristine, flawless ridges once again. Peering up at you through his eyelashes, timid smile twitching his lips, you almost forgive him for his disturbance on sight.
Almost.
“Isagi,” you greet, making sure the exasperation is obvious in your tone, even if your chest swells with endearment. “Evening.”
“Good evening,” he addresses, immediately, and his smile beams out now. Fangs peeking over the plump of his bottom lip and gleaming in your warm porch light. “You look tasty—I mean pretty.”
“Strike one,” you deduce. “Wow, not even a minute in and you’re already soiling your case.”
His smile cinches into a pout, but it isn’t primarily dejected. “Hey, no fair! There’s nothing wrong with honesty. And you do look so…”
His voice trails off as his eyes trail down you. From your bare face to your socked toes, then back up again; pausing at your throat that is freshly exposed due to your shirt’s stretched out neckline. At the fading marks that prove his twisted existence in your life. This time you don’t fight the urge to roll your eyes, and follow suit by snapping your fingers inches in front of his face. He must be extra desperate tonight, he’s usually off of his knees by now.
“Sorry,” he breathes as he comes to, “What were we talking about?”
“Strike two,” you sigh, and take a lean against your doorframe. “You’re just determined to strike out early tonight, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I’d be more inclined to win if you didn’t use fucking baseball..” he grumbles, but stops himself from continuing when he sees your eyebrow raise. “I mean, you know soccer’s my favorite. Why can’t you use that?”
You consider him, mull over this fact that you are well aware of (if the endless documentaries he’s bored you with in his living room or games he’s shushed you for on the bar television are anything to go by), and hum. You suppose you could grant him this, just this once. Give him a little bit of leeway in this perpetual cat and mouse game. Tipping your head to the side, you slant a shoulder in half of a shrug.
“Alright,” you concede, “You have a yellow card. One more, you’re out of the game.”
And it’s almost sick, how his fangs catch on his crooked grin. How you can practically see the saccharine venom swirling behind those deep blue irises. A lesser person might have already fallen for this by now; would have given in months ago when he first showed up on their doorstep begging for entry with those glossy eyes and sweet preens.
A lesser person might join him down on his knees, but you’ve come to take quite a liking to this view.
“How was work?” he asks, like he cares. Like he doesn’t already know by the slump of your posture against the entryway. “Rough? Draining?”
“Hm. You could say that.” And you indulge him, don’t poke notice of his word choice like you aren’t aware it’s deliberate. There’s something different about him tonight, something… enticing.
“Ah, draining,” Isagi nods, leans back on his hand. His eyes shift downwards, to the welcome mat that cushions below him, to the worn out divots he has slotted himself into. “I know all about that feeling, you know. Draining is…”
A glint, a gleam, there’s something damn near chilling that flashes under the delicate shade of his lashes as he flicks his gaze back up to you. Your stomach swoops, you shift on your feet. The need to shut your door scratches at the base of your neck, and you aren’t entirely sure why.
What is so different about the stray cat’s baying tonight?
“Draining is my field of expertise. But you’re well aware of that already, aren’t you?
How uncouth of him, how taunting. Your throat bobs with a discreet swallow but it’s so hard for things to go unnoticed under such keen vision. It’s like the side of your neck is searing, like those faded marks littering your skin aren’t so healed after all.
“What’s wrong?” he presses, and he finally rises off of his knees now. Stands to his feet in such a fluid motion you wonder if he’s floating. (A possibility, technically, but you think Barou’s gotten on his ass enough that he wouldn’t try it in such a public place). “Bat got your tongue?”
He’s so close. His cool breath fans against your cheeks and you just now realize how chilly it’s gotten with the lack of daylight. Suddenly your sleep shorts seem thinner than you remember. You wrap your arms around yourself to rub at the bumped flesh and do your best to seem unbothered—unperturbed.
“Funny,” you scoff, but you’re starting to lack your bite. Maybe you can blame the long work week, the fact you had to stay up later than normal last night to finish some things up for your boss.
One glance to Isagi’s face tells you that no matter what explanation you try to pass off, he’s already calculating that the probability of its truth is zero.
How unnerving.
“I know.” And he smirks, now. Curls his lips up in the way he knows drives you crazy and leans his arm beside your head; careful to avoid getting too close to the dreaded threshold.
(You don’t miss the subtle glare he throws down at it, though).
“Hey, you know what else is funny?”
“What?” You mumble, half-irritated and half-enthralled. You know he knows both sides of that, you know he indulges in it.
That’s what you’re counting on.
“Chigiri thinks you’ll invite him over to watch the new Scream when it comes out on rent. Isn’t that hilarious?”
“I plan to.”
“He’s been talking about it all week and he even said he was bringing snacks. I told him it was pathetic how he—Wait, can you run that back by me?”
“I said I plan to,” you repeat yourself, plainly. “We’ve been talking about it for weeks.”
Isagi blanches. “But he’s a vampire.”
“Obviously.”
“He drinks blood. Human blood.”
“No, really?” Feigning a gasp, you place a hand over your heart.
“He—he’s a life draining monster!”
“Please, the only life he’s draining is his social one by staying home and babysitting you all day.”
“That’s—“ He puffs up, like he wants to spit out a rebuttal, but stops himself. He redirects; steers back to his initial point. You’re impressed with how quick he collects himself, honestly. “That’s unfair! You say I can’t come in on ‘mortal safety principle’ but invite the count? He’s killed way more people than I have!”
“I thought body count didn’t matter, Yoichi,” you tip your head at him, bat your eyelashes like a porcelain doll, “Isn’t that what you used to always tell me?”
You know you’ve got him when he starts to sulk. It’s never in a normal way—nothing about Isagi Yoichi is normal. His jaw is clenched and his lips are jutted but his eyes are dancing like he’s enjoying this.
“Let me in.”
You feel the tug, the tingle inside your brain. The asshole is actually trying to use his mind games on you; the fucking jerk. Not that it works with a threshold in the way, Chigiri told you that early on. Learning the rules and lack thereof was crucial upon discovering one of your closest friends was a vampire. And became even more so when you started dating—courting—one yourself.
“Mmn, don’t think so,” you shrug.
Isagi hisses (not necessarily at you, but just in frustration) and you don’t even flinch. It’s hard to be caught off guard by a daily routine—even if this one is beginning to fall off kilter.
“Lemme in,” he slurs, and the pressure inside your skull dissipates.
No tweaks, no tricks, no compulsion. Just wide eyes and slumped shoulders and a whiny voice that he thinks will help him get his way. He’s strategic, he always has been. He’s playing you even when he’s innocent.
There’s always a millennia old card up the tailored sleeve of Isagi Yoichi.
“Why should I?” The question isn’t new, you’ve been known to prick and prod at him to draw this out. To keep things exciting. To make him think he has a chance of being let in for the very first time.
But tonight, you’re genuine in your delivery. You just hope he can pick up on it.
“I’m hungry.”
“Oh? So I’m just a meal ticket for you?”
An imaginary yellow card weighs heavy in your hand, you wonder if you should go ahead and hold it up.
“You know that’s not what I—“ cut off by his forehead slamming into the invisible barricade as he tries to lean in closer to you, he draws back with another low whistle of air slicing through his fangs. “Fuck.”
It’s instinct, how you reach your hand forward, across the security of the threshold, to swipe your thumb over where he’s been singed. It’s already healed (it was within a second of him pulling away) but you’re kind enough to swipe the char away regardless.
“Then what, Yoi?”
He softens under your touch, grabs at your hand before you even have the chance to pull away. He keeps it close, slides it along his temple, his cheek, his lips. He pauses there; falters. Mouth slotting open, the tips of his fangs skim the plump of your palm then dip—down to your wrist. To where the rhythm meets the surface.
“I miss you.” He just saw you yesterday. “I want you.” He tells you this diurnally. “I need you.”
He yearns, in a way that is new to you.
Your boyfriend must be evolving before your very eyes. He’s delicate in his demeanor but deliberate in his delivery. Even now, as his fangs skim across the thin skin of your inner wrist, they do not press in. They do not break and they do not prod. They retract, and are replaced by the plush of lips as Isagi peers at you with a zealous gaze.
It is mindful, and not hasty.
“Will you invite me in?”
He’s asking like he already knows the answer. Like he has no doubt of what will come. You wonder when such an ego filled him—or maybe it has always been there. Maybe, he was simply waiting for the right moment to release it. Maybe, he was hiding it away, to use it for his advantage when the time proved to be right.
Maybe, you find that hopelessly endearing.
“Yoichi.”
“Yes?”
He’s hanging onto your every word with pleading eyes and fervent apprehension. But his confidence is still oozing. You wonder how so much essence can inhabit a single man. You discern it must be all the centuries he has under his belt.
“Would you like to come in?”
The answer isn’t verbal, it isn’t spoken. No, the answer is brash and boorish and downright primitive. But for once you don’t think you can find it within yourself to mind all of that because in response to your invitation Isagi is shooting forward. Stumbling you backwards a few steps and cupping a hand on your hip and the other at the base of your throat. Thumb pressed to your jugular, he wastes no time in surging forward.
But not for a bite.
His lips hit yours and you gasp. It dusts you with chagrin, especially as you feel a toothy grin mold to your mouth and press deeper. Isagi is not one to waste time, is not one to lag unless it plays into his schemes. And that proves true even now as he wastes no time in drawing your mouth open. Squeezing at your side and humming into your touch until you give in. Not that you ever need much convincing, in times like this.
Your arms find their way around his neck. Your hands find place slotted into his hair. It’s unintentional, how you tug, but it rewards you with a throaty groan regardless. Isagi’s lips part from yours and you think it’s because he’s taken into consideration that one of you still needs to breathe. Instead, it’s to bark out an order.
“Fuck, do that again.”
You hearken to him and obey with a tug. Not because he forced you, but because the heaviness of his eyelids makes your stomach grow hot. He slams his lips back to yours and he kicks the front door shut. You forgot it was even open still. You forgot the part of you that cared. All that mattered now was Isagi, inside your home. Isagi, pressing his lips to yours like he wishes he could suck wine right out of them. Isagi, slamming you up against the hardwood he just closed.
“Shit, sorry, I—“ he isn’t, sorry that is, but he is breathless. And hot. And mind numbing. You nod your head—you’re not sure for what (to dismiss him? Say it’s okay? Just because you’re already out of it?) but it doesn’t seem to matter to him regardless.
He takes heed to your every move. Your every twitch and hitch and cinch of breath. He’s so plotting, so inceptive. His hand finds its way from your hip to the back of your thigh as he hoists you up. And you let him. Let him slide you up the door and wrap your legs around his waist and press himself into you because it feels good, to have him here.
His lips leave yours again and you nearly whine. What the fuck has gotten into you, you don’t know, but you don’t think it’s all that relevant at the moment either because Yoichi’s lips are trailing across your cheek, down the ridge of your jaw. He makes it to the meat of your throat and his hand shifts, slides to cup your chin and tilt your head to the side. You follow his lead, melt into his grasp as he presses hungry kisses to your heavy thumping vein.
“Can I?” He asks, and you’re already nodding before he can even finish. You aren’t even entirely sure of what he’s asking, what he’s wishing for permission for, but you know you want to give it to him.
“Ah,” he hums, sucks a drawn out open mouthed kiss to where his thumb used to reside. “You’re so fucking hospitable.”
A sharp sting rips into the side of your neck as Isagi’s teeth sink in. It is a familiar feeling, one you can never truly get used to but you love the magnetism of. After a few seconds the initial pain wears off—grows dull into a periodic throb. And as Isagi keeps sucking, pressing himself into you like he wishes he could simply crawl inside your skin, it begins to feel good.
A pinched whine finds its way out of you and you don’t even try to stop it. You know better. Know that Isagi likes you to take over every single one of his senses when he gets like his. Wants you to immerse him fully. And you have no intentions within yourself to deny him of that pleasure.
Your fingers thread tighter in his hair as he preens. The vibration against your throat is soothing in a riveting sort of way and you forgot how addicting it is—the high this brings for both of you. If done right and in moderation, the effects are limited, minimal. Maybe some drowsiness for a few minutes and then you’re through.
But your lover is not known for his restraint.
He takes too much and gives too little. It is fine and it is well but you always know that he’s pushing his (your) limits when your grip begins to loosen and your moans become more frequent. You can never tell him to stop—you never want to when it feels so damn good—and tonight is no different.
Especially not when you come to terms with the heat of Isagi’s palm drifting past the crease of your hip. Skimming underneath the hem of your faded t-shirt and pressing into the plush of your abdomen. Dipping lower, toying with your waistband, teasing you like he’s playing out a game strategy.
“Yoi,” you drawl, let your head droop into his grasp just underneath your chin. “Yoichi, fuck—Please—“
Your request, whatever your cloudy mind was going to produce, does not get the chance to acclimate due to a bang on your front door. The vibration it causes has Isagi’s fangs jerking at you, pulling a wince from your lips before he has the chance to retract. He does, a second later, and lauves his tongue over the fresh bite mark that has joined the mirage he has already created.
“Who is it?” He asks you, still cupping your droopy head in his hand. You mumble something incoherent and he presses you again. “Hey, who would be knocking at your door right now?”
You blink. Once, twice, three times. Getting your groggy brain to work right now is a monumental task, but as another bang thuds against the hardwood pressed against your back, you’re able to shake your head just clear enough to process one thought.
“Oh, takeout,” you deduce. “I didn’t wanna cook, so I.. Here, I’ll get it. Can you grab my wallet off the couch?”
Isagi blinks right back, lids heavy, and swipes his tongue at the crimson smeared on his lips. He’s almost blood drunk. “You think you can stand?”
You nod your head even though you’re about seventy-five percent sure your knees are going to buckle out from underneath you the second he sets you back down on your own two feet. Sensing your apprehension, he takes it easy, keeping his hands on your hips until your swaying gets (semi) under control. He turns right after to retrieve what you told him and you open up the front door, painting on a nice grin in hopes that your delivery guy isn’t as angry as he sounds.
But it isn’t a delivery guy at all. Rather, a man in a security uniform, who looks anything but pleased.
“Uhm, can I help you?” You question, halfway leaning against the door to hold yourself up. You probably sound half high to hell right about now.
“Sorry to bother you. I got a call from a concerned neighbor about a neighborhood disturbance to this address. Something about a strange man lurking on the front porch and harassing the owner.”
“Oh,” you cinch up your eyebrows, tip your head to the side. Strange man? Harassment? You don’t think—
“Here’s your wallet,” Isagi announces as he finally makes it back to you. The second you feel him skid to a halt behind you, the dots clear up and connect in your foggy mind.
“Strange man,” you equate, as you glance over your shoulder at him.
“What?”
“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” you dismiss as you turn your attention back to the man standing outside your door. “The man—this man—is my boyfriend. He is a little weird but he doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just an odd one.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean—“
“Ah, understood,” the security man nods, and you swear you can see a faint smile on his lips. “You know old neighbors, nothing better to do than stick their noses where they don’t belong. Again, sorry for the inconvenience. You two have a nice night.”
“You too,” you nod, send him a smile to be polite as he goes to walk away.
Just as you’re starting to shut the door back he turns back around, “Oh, and you have a little something..”
His gesture to his neck has you slapping a hand over yours. You wince a second later—too tender, and too harsh—and pull your hand back to reveal tacky red coating it. By the time you look back up, the guard is gone. You shut the door and turn back to Isagi.
“Oh no, don’t let the strange man get you,” he taunts, and you simply shove your hand over his mouth to shut him up.
His tongue presses to it a second later, swiping at the blood and humming like he hasn’t an ounce of shame within his body. You let him as long as he pleases (not really having the energy within you to put up much of a fight now) and try to bite off the smile that toys at your lips as he grabs your wrist to tug you in closer again.
“I don’t think I was finished.”
“Then pick back up where you left off,” you chuckle, letting it turn into a string of giggles as Isagi’s lips place feathery pecks around his claimant.
He pushes your back against the door again, leans his weight into you and breathes you in. Allowing yourself to relax, you give in to his whim. His kisses turn languid and his grip tightens up. Your brace yourself for what is coming with an anticipated smile.
But just as you feel cool breath fan against your fresh wound, another (much softer) bang rattles your back. Isagi lifts his head up to peer at you, meeting your gaze in an instant.
“Takeout,” you both say in unison, one of your voices laced in amusement and the other in disdain.
likes & reblogs appreciated : )
#i don’t know why i’m so sick nervous over this LAMOSDHDB#prolly cuz i’ve never written him before#ahhhh maybe it’ll be ok KSHSJDB#yukimiyaz writing#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk fic#isagi fluff
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His Protection {Joel Miller x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 5.2k
Warnings: Post apocalyptic violence, mentions of gun violence, mentions of blood, murder, torture, gore, rough sex, unprotected sex, kidnapping, imprisonment, threats of cannibalism, unhinged delusions of grandeur, fire, being restrained, allusions to sexual assault
Comments: When David's group takes you and Ellie to their settlement, you warn them that Joel will come for you. Knowing that he will do whatever it takes to get back those under his protection.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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GIF credit: @trashcora
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.
“NO!” Your scream is loud, echoing and you don’t care that the men who are hunting for the three of you are now aware of your position. Pressing your rifle into your shoulder, you squeeze off a round, making the man who had shot her fucking horse duck behind some trees as you sling the weapon over your shoulder and race through the snow to where Ellie had been thrown. Joel will kill you if something happens to her. Already upset that she had snuck off to hunt while you were sleeping after spending the night taking care of Joel and ended up running across some men in the woods. Yes, she had brought back medicine that Joel desperately needed, but they were also a part of the group that had nearly killed him. Now they are hunting all of you and Joel is still barely conscious in the basement of that house.
Dropping down to your knees, you reach for her. “Ellie, come on, Ellie. Wake up!” You urge, slapping her face to try to make her focus. Her eyes flitter and slip closed again, making you worry that the fall from the horse had hurt her. “Come on, open your eyes. We need to get out of here.” The crunching footsteps through the snow get closer and you turn right before the butt of a rifle slams down into your forehead.
Joel knows that you and Ellie are in danger and that’s the only thing that gets him up from the mattress he’s been laying on. He’s delirious, but the adrenaline surges through him as he ties both men up after killing the one who had come down to the basement. He’s furious, both with himself and you and Ellie for getting into this situation but mainly himself. “Where the fuck are they?” He growls and the guy is shaking his head. Frustrated, he stabs into his kneecap and the guy moans, making Joel offer him a demented smile, pleased to see the agony in his eyes.
“Oh fuck!”
The man in the chair screams and the one that is tied to the piano cries out in shock. “Jesus!” “Marco-”
Panting, Joel reaches for the man’s head and fists his hair. “No, no, no, no, no. He can’t help you, focus right here.” He rumbles, “or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.” Joel is in agony, wound hurting but he will do whatever it takes to get you back, to get Ellie back. Rage fuels him, the fact that the people he is supposed to protect are now in danger giving him the strength to torture a man like he wasn’t just on his sick bed.
Your head aches as you wake up, blinking as the light stings your eyes and they widen when you realize you’re in a cage. “Fuck. Ellie! Ellie! Are you okay?” You look over at the girl who is in the cage opposite you. She groans, barely able to get up when the door opens and that bastard walks in. “Ah good. You’re awake.” He declares and you curl your lip at him.
“You have no idea what’s coming for you, you stupid prick.” You chuckle and he walks over to your cage, “your friend is gone. My men killed him.”
You blink, the fear that Joel has actually been killed racing through you for a moment but you can’t let this prick see that. There is something off about him, a cruelty in his eyes that you have seen in plenty of men since the end of rule of law. Shaking your head, you laugh. “You poor son of a bitch, you have no idea what he is capable of. Things that would make you squeamish.”
****
“Joel!” You scream, he and Tommy engage in a fight as a raider grabs you, dragging you back towards the truck that’s waiting for him. You struggle, kicking and screaming but it’s no use. You see Joel turn towards you after he defeats the asshole fighting him with a swift blow to the head, and his eyes widen when he sees you being dragged away. Shouting your name, he tries to run towards you but it’s too late, you’re soon being driven away in the truck with raiders, praying that Joel will find you.
“Shut up, bitch!” After they had dragged you out of the truck about five miles away. Pain explodes across your cheek when the one you had bitten when he had reached back to keep you from trying to strangle the driver to get away backhands you.
“He’s going to fucking kill you.” You promise him after you spit out a mouthful of blood. “Let me go, let me leave and go back and he won’t.”
They laugh at you, shaking their heads, and grab the rope to tie you up. “Don’t worry, sweet thing. We will look after you real good. Your boyfriend ain’t gonna know where to find you, let alone get a chance to kill us.” He laughs and you snort, “it’s your fucking funeral.”
Joel paces, staring at the map while he and Tommy try to figure out where you’ve been taken. Tess has already gone out to check on the trails for any tire marks but Joel is growing more desperate by the second. “They are gonna hurt her, Tommy.” Joel growls at his brother.
“She ain’t gonna let them touch her. She’s strong.” Tommy reassures his brother and Joel stares back at the map. Desperate to get to you before something bad happens.
You know it’s meant as a power play, making you cook the food that they had stolen from your group. But it keeps them from touching you as you lean over the fire and stir the pot. Making sure you had chosen the things that would take the longest to cook and require constant attention. Giving Joel time to catch up to them. Poor bastards were unaware they had decided to fuck with a group of hunters.
Joel trudges through the forest, rifle aimed towards the compound as Tommy follows him with Tess. He’s hungry for revenge, for blood, and he’s going to get it. After Tommy strangles the guard, he sneaks into the compound, ready to take out these motherfuckers that dare kidnap you. The first one he comes across gets shot in the head, brain matter flying and the alarms start to sound, red lights flashing as the raiders announce his arrival.
You look up, grinning when you hear the alarms. Looking over at the bastard who had hit you, suddenly looking a lot less confident. “He’s here.” You spit. “You better run, or better yet - save him the trouble and just put a bullet in your brain.”
Joel shoots another guy in the head in his efforts to find you, more blood splattering on his face from the recoil and he chuckles, pleased to see another fucker go down. He’s going to torture the leader, make him pay for taking you.
“Shut up! You’re just a fucking whore.” He grabs you, turning you around and pressing his gun to your temple. “You’ll find out that pussy isn’t worth what you think it is.” He hisses in your ear as he watches the door nervously. Hearing the sounds of people being mowed down behind the steel door. Until there is nothing but silence and you hold your breath, wondering what he is doing.
Joel kicks the doors open, Tommy behind him, and he’s covered in blood. Some men he shot, others he slit their throats, some he stabbed. He’s a monster, determined to get you back. When he sees the asshole who took you has a gun aimed at your head, he growls out a warning. “Let her go and maybe I’ll consider letting you survive.” He lies, knowing the bastard is dead.
You hiss when his grip on you tightens, the relief at seeing Joel has your heart pounding. You knew he would come and his eyes flicker over to you, obviously pissed before he glares back at the man who had taken you. “I told you he would come.” You scoff smugly. “You fucked with the wrong group.”
The bastard presses the gun harder into your head. “Don’t fucking try me, man. I’ll blow her brains out.” He warns, making you whimper when the cold metal starts to hurt. Joel’s upper lip curls in disgust and he growls, aiming to shoot the prick in the knee, making him collapse and you move fast to grab his gun that clatters to the floor.
“I fucking warned you!” Joel shouts, walking over to shoot him in the other knee, rendering him unable to move. “You dare take from me, motherfucker. You’ll pay.” Joel growls, shooting the guy in the upper thigh, close to his crotch.
Stumbling away, you watch as Joel holsters his gun and lunges for him. Apparently wanting to do things more intimately, make him suffer before he puts him out of his misery. Grabbing him and punching him in the face twice before hauling him over towards the chair he had been sitting in before Joel arrived, “Tommy, watch the door.” Joel grunts out, grabbing the man’s hair and pulling his head back. “We’re gonna be here awhile.”
The man, even though he’s in agony, spits at Joel. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your whore.” He growls, shaking his head at Joel who smiles, almost manic, as he grabs the knife. “You took what belongs to me. You’re gonna pay until you’re begging me to kill you.” He chuckles darkly while Tommy watches the door. Joel grabs his knife, dragging it along the man’s cheek until he reaches his eye. “Have you ever seen a man get his eye taken out?” Joel asks and the man loses his shit, shaking his head.
“No. Please. Don’t.” He begs and Joel grabs his hair, “keep still.” He commands and pushes the knife into his eye.
You flinch, listening to the scream of agony and hopelessly, watching as blood and clear optical fluid slides down the man’s cheek. Struggling to get free but he’s also well aware that an inch deeper and Joel will kill him. The knife is close to his brain.
“Please! Just go! Take her and go!” He howls, kicking his feet as the pain radiates through his body.
“I’m not done yet.” Joel growls, dragging the knife out of his eye and trailing it over to his ear. “You need to use your eyes and ears, son. Know when shit isn’t for you to take.” Joel growls, gripping his ear so he can start slicing it from his head.
The howl of pain is almost animalistic, cut off with a breathless cry. Gasping for air as he sobs. The wet plot of his ear hits the ground and Tommy groans. “Come on Joel, let’s go.” He looks back from his post at the door, queasy but you know Joel isn’t done yet.
He’s not done, the blood drips off of his hand as he grabs his hand, “you fucking touch her?” He asks the guy who is almost passed out from the pain. He doesn’t respond. “Did. You. Fucking. Touch. Her?” He roars and the guy whimpers, “no. No. I - I promise.”
Joel looks over at you, “he didn’t.”
Joel feels relieved and he’s ready to end it. Adjusting the knife, he stabs the asshole in the chest. Over and over again. Splatting himself with blood until it’s pooling on the floor. “Joel!” Tommy shouts, eyes wide at the brutality of his brother.
“Joel.” You step closer and reach out, grabbing onto his arm. “Joel!” Your voice manages to break through the bloodlust rushing through his veins and there is a moment where he turns and his eyes are black and almost void of emotion other than rage. Making your cunt clench at the lengths this man will go to in order to protect you. “Let’s go. We need to go.”
Joel stares at you for a moment before he nods, knowing you need to get somewhere safe in case others are returning. He wipes his knife, hands still covered in blood, and he grabs his rifle after holstering the knife to guide you out of the compound.
Grabbing the supplies that they had stolen from you, the three of you hurry away. Listening for any sounds of people following as the sounds of the alarms from their base location starts to fade and be replaced with the sounds of the forest around you. Panting as the adrenaline courses through your veins and you know that you need him. Your cunt flooded with slick and your clit throbbing at how vicious he had been and alarmed at how turned on you are from it. “Joel.” You whimper, making him stop and turn to you, a concerned scowl on his face. “I need- we need to find somewhere. Now.”
Joel knows what you need, what he needs, and he nods as he grabs your hand. Tommy and Tess know what’s happening and let him drag you off while they slowly continue ahead. Joel finds a private space between the trees and sets his rifle down, reaching for you to push you against the tree, his lips finding yours.
Needy and frantic, you grab his shoulders, moaning when his tongue slides into your mouth. Pulling him closer before you try to hastily strip off your pants. Needing him inside you now. The pounding of your heart matches the throbbing in your pussy and it doesn’t matter that blood from the men he had tortured smears across your skin when he grabs your waist before flicking the buttons of your jeans open.
He grunts as he shoves your jeans down to your ankles, kicking them open before he works on his own pants, blood smearing and he grabs your wrist, “take my cock out.” He orders, needing you to do it so he doesn’t get the blood on you, in you. You nod and take his cock out, lifting your leg as much as possible so he can push inside of you. The adrenaline still runs high for Joel so he grabs your thighs, lifting you up to push you against the tree, his cock sinking deep.
He grunts, unable to say anything as he pushes deep inside of you over and over again. His hand leaving your thigh to come up and grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’re mine. I would kill them all over again if it means keepin’ you safe, baby.” He vows, their blood on your skin and he loves it, sees it as his victory to have their blood staining your skin instead of yours on their hands.
You whine out his name breathlessly. “Joel.” You love the way his pace is bruising, brutally reminding you of the fact that you are his. Every thrust makes you wince and ache and yet you are trying your best to roll your hips to help him as your hands grip his shoulders. “Yours- on-only yours.” You promise, watching his eyes gleam in satisfaction when you agree with him.
Joel grunts in approval, his eyes are wild, and he knows he must be so deep inside of you that it almost hurts but he can’t stop. “Fuck. I cant - can’t live without you.” He promises, knowing he’d kill every last person on the planet if he needs to so he can get to you. “Need you.” He groans, leaning down to bite your neck, his bloodied hands sliding along your waist and down to your thighs.
The slap of his hips and the tiny mewls that you make every time he pushes you into the tree are all you can hear beyond his grunts. Heavy and guttural, growling as he fucks into you. “F-fuck.” You gasp, tightening your thighs around him. “Fuck Joel.” You know you’re gonna cum soon, needing to cum.
He grits his teeth, struggling to keep control as he pushes deep inside of you over and over again, the image of you dead or beaten making him desperate to assure himself that you’re alive, you’re here in his arms. “Cum. Need you to cum.” He demands, panting as he leans in to press his lips to yours.
There’s a desperation in the way he hammers into you. The rough growl of his demand and the domineering way he kisses you. Making you cling to him and cry out when the need to cum overwhelms you and you fall over the edge. Clamping down around him and shaking as he holds you up, gasping out his name again while hot waves of cum coat his cock.
Joel hisses when you clamp down on his cock, making him push harder, seeking his own orgasm from your body. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He grunts, hating that he has to pull out but he manages to before he spills inside of you. His hot seed spurted onto the ground and the treebark. “Jesus Christ.” He hisses, fingers flexing around your thighs.
Panting, your forehead drops onto his shoulder and you close your eyes. Breathing him in, sweat and man mingled with blood in an intoxicating combination that makes you feel safer rather than unease around a man who could and would do atrocious things for those he cares about. “I love you, Joel.” You murmur quietly, aware that even if he didn’t say the words, he did love you. He had just proven it.
“You know how I feel, sweetheart.” He murmurs, knowing that years of emotional agony have closed his heart down but you came in and ripped the doors open, letting yourself inside and locking it back up. He knows you know how he feels. “Come on, let’s get goin’. It’s gonna be dark soon.” He lets you down and grunts as he tucks himself away.
****
Left alone again, you and Ellie start trying to find a way out, testing the bolts of the fencing that has been used as a holding cell. “Listen to me, Joel will come.” You assure the girl, aware that David has unnerved her. She senses there is something very wrong with the man and this group just like you do and you trust her instincts. She’s a survivor. She’s on the floor and she gasps, stumbling back and falling on her ass right as the door into the room opens again and David comes back inside with two trays of food.
Ellie watches him set the tray down at your cage before he carries the tray over to hers. She stares at the stew before she looks back at the ear, eyes widening and David looks back over his shoulder before he sighs. “For what it’s worth, this is just deer meat. I swear.” He says and you stare at the stew, not trusting him.
“You gonna chop us up into little pieces?” Ellie asks and you look between David and Ellie.
“I’d rather not.” David looks over at you, “please just tell me your names.”
Both of you are silent, already agreeing that this bastard won’t know your names. “If you want to judge me-” David sighs, still kneeling down.
“Judge you!” Ellie shouts. “You’re eating people you sick fuck!” She rushes her cage and kicks the tray back out, spilling the questionable meal over the tiles. You realize now that you are in a butchering room, the drain in the floor there for an easier clean up.
David has backed up and glances at you before looking back and where Ellie has walked away from the door. “Yes.” He answers and you scoff, shaking your head. “There are only a few of us that know.” He confides and that makes your blood run cold. No one would willingly give that information to someone they were going to allow to live.
“Let us go.” You demand.
David ignores you. “But I would’ve told you.” He tells you both, staring at Ellie in a way that makes your blood run cold. “Sooner or later. Sooner I guess.”
You are forced to listen to David give his reason why he hasn’t told his people about what they are eating, that he sees how violent Ellie is. You watch him step towards her and she looks at you, placing her hand on top of his. You know she’s going to try something and you worry what his reaction will be. When she bends back his fingers and reaches for the keys, you scream when he slams her face into the door and she stumbles back, failing to grab the keys.
“You little cunt!” David growls and you slam your hand against the wire, “leave her the fuck alone.” You growl and David chuckles, walking over to you. “I guess you’re with the asshole who protected her, huh? How does it feel to be with a murderer? Someone who cannot be redeemed under the eyes of God?”
“And you are?” You sneer, glaring at him. “You have a darker soul than he does. You just hide it behind your religion and the fear you instill in your people.” You smirk at him. “Come here and I’ll do more than break your fucking fingers, you sick fuck.”
David huffs but he doesn’t make a move towards your cage. “Let’s see what I go tell the others now.” He storms towards the door and Ellie growls, “Ellie.” You hiss in annoyance, not wanting him to know her name. David turns around. “What?”
Ellie crawls towards the gate, her face covered in blood. “Tell them that Ellie is the little girl,” she starts softly before starting to yell, “who broke your fucking finger!”
David glares at her. “How did you put it? Hm? Tiny little pieces?” He flings the door open and leaves the two of you alone again.
“Shit….” you scramble over to piece of fence that separates your pen from Ellie’s “We need to get the fuck out of here.”
Joel pants as he fights through the wind and snow, trying to find where this fucking resort is. He comes across a barn and grunts as he breaks the door, walking in to find the horse he had ‘stolen’ from Tommy’s on the ground, dead and frozen, and then he turns to see the bodies. “Fuck.” He chokes, knowing these freaks are fucking cannibals. He has to get to you and Ellie. Your backpacks are on the ground and he slings on over each shoulder, groaning with the extra weight but he pursues, battling the snow once more in his rush to get to his girls.
You had managed to get one side of the fencing between your cells open by the time that David comes back, this time with the other one, James. Ellie starts screaming and you rush towards the gates when they bypass your cell and unlock hers. “Leave her alone, you bastards.” You cry, not wanting to give away that you can get into her cell yet, knowing they will leave the door open. “Leave her alone! Assholes!”
“Wait! Wait!” Ellie yells as the guy surges in to grab her, pulling her out and they lay her down on the table. “Wait! Wait! Wait!” She cries.
“Stop!” You scream when they grab the cleaver and hold her down.
“Don’t do it. Please. Wait!” She begs and David sighs, “you had your chance.” Ellie sobs, “I’m infected.”
“Ellie!” You hiss, but you see the fear in the men’s eyes, especially David when he realizes that Ellie has bitten him. The meat cleaver doesn’t come down like he anticipated and Ellie looks up at him “And now so are you.” You start to move towards the opening in the fence so you can slip into her cell. “Roll up my sleeve. Look at it. Look at it!” She demands, her eyes flickering over to you and then back up at him. David slams the cleaver down, embedding it in the wood next to Ellie’s head, nearly making your heart stop and he drags her sleeve up to reveal the scars from her healed bite.
“David.” The other man, James, stares at the scar in horror.
David shakes his head, “no. No. She would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real.” He stares at the pattern on her arm.
“It looks pretty fucking real to me.”
David looks at Ellie and she grabs the cleaver, putting it in David’s friend’s neck and you duck under the fence as Ellie shuffles off of the table and opens the door, both of you managing to escape as David fires his gun at you, narrowly missing you.
Running through the kitchens, you realize that you have been taken to a restaurant. Darting out into the dinning room to try to get out of the front doors but they are locked. Making you turn around and scramble back through the kitchen. Ellie grabs a burning ember and you take it from her, pushing her back behind you as you crouch behind a half wall as the doors from the kitchen swing open and David strides through.
When David strides through, you throw the ember at him and he ducks, sending the flame into the curtains and the restaurant starts to ignite. You grab Ellie and duck behind the bar, watching her grab a knife. “There’s no way out. The doors are locked and I have the key.”
You know now that this man is completely deranged, obsessed with the idea that Ellie is his and he is hunting her now. You put your finger up to your lips to tell Ellie to be quiet before you shift around her, wanting to make sure that there is an extra barrier between him and her. David calls out her name tauntingly, as if he’s playing hide and seek. “Ellie!” You close your eyes, hoping that Joel is still hidden in that basement so you can get back to him and get the fuck away from here. Fire licks up the wooden beams of the restaurant. “Ellie. Ellie.” You peer around the edge of the bar. “I know you're not infected.” He calls out. “No one infected fights this hard to stay alive.” Both of you try to calm your breathing and wait him out.
“So…how did you do it?” He asks, walking around the restaurant, “what’s the secret? Or are you just that fucking special?” He taunts, “no one likes being humiliated, Ellie.” He spins around, “you don’t know how good I am!” He shouts and you grip the knife. “You don’t know what I could’ve given you! If you had just let me! Well…I have news for you. None of us are dying today. You see, I changed my mind. I’ve decided you do need a father.” He says your name, learning it when Ellie had cried it out on the table, “she needs a husband. So I’m gonna keep you both and I’m gonna teach you. Ellie?” He calls out her name then yours. “Ellie.” He sings and you crouch, moving behind the bar into position.
Rushing out, you lunge for David, aware that you need to kill him. Ducking down as he swings the meat clever he had pulled out of James’s neck, you drive the knife into his kidney. He grabs you and throws you down, knocking you off balance and you fall to the carpeted floor. David pulls his hand away from his side and sees the blood. “Fuck.” On the ground, you try to shake it off and turn your head, seeing the cleaver under the table a few feet from you. Sliding along the ground, you try to reach it and David grunts, kicking you in the stomach and making you cry out in pain and curl in on yourself in reflex.
You try to grab the knife but David grabs you, turning you over and he straddles you with his legs, grabbing your wrists to pin you down and you scream, spitting in his face. “Oh I thought you already knew…the fighting is the part I like the most.” You cry out, screaming escaping your lips as he grabs your wrists in one hand and reaches down to work on his jeans. “There’s no fear in love.” You close your eyes, knowing this had to happen to you at some point in this never ending nightmare of a post pandemic world. You feel numb until you hear Ellie scream as she lunges at David with the cleaver in her hand, cutting into his neck. She brings the knife down again and again, blood hitting her in the face and your hands shake as you try to sit up.
“Ellie. Ellie. We - we have to go.” You say as you try to grab her arm and she’s screaming. She drops the knife, shaking herself as she stands up and you both help each other stumble out of the door after you find the key on David’s body.
Gasping in the frigid air, you close your eyes, shaking from the fear and anger coursing through your body. Ellie had just killed a man to save you, her eyes still wide and frantic as she pants. She’s still on edge and you see movement out of the corner of your eye and try to say something when you see that it’s Joel but pure relief robs you of the ability to do anything but watch as he grabs Ellie beside you. “No! Get off of me!” She immediately starts struggling, fighting to get away from the next demon trying to get her. “Get off!”
Joel manages to turn the flailing girl around. “It’s me.” He grunts out.
“Get-”
“It’s me.” Her eyes open and she slowly starts to realize that it’s not someone attacking her, but Joel. He cups her face to look into her wide eyes. “Hey look. It’s me. It’s me.” A sob rips out of your throat, knowing that he would come for the two of you and you had been right. He’s here. He’s alive, you’re all alive.
“He-” Ellie can’t finish her sentence and Joel’s face hardens as he realizes what she’s trying to say: his worst nightmare. “I got you. I got you, baby girl.” He promises her, pulling her close and his eyes close in relief before he reaches for you. Keeping Ellie tucked into his side, he pulls you into his chest, “baby. I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He murmurs, breathing you in.
You tremble, tears spilling down your cheeks and you close your eyes. “It- we’re okay.” You promise him, shaken but you know that you will be okay. Hearing Joel call Ellie baby girl was bittersweet, knowing he had called his daughter that. “We need to get out of here.” You and Ellie don’t have jackets and Joel pulls away to shrug out of his coat and wrap it around Ellie’s smaller frame. Looking at you before pushing to his feet and pulling you up with him. You and Ellie both frame either side of Joel, still hurt, and slowly start making your way through the snow towards the lake and the boats that were lining the shore. You knew that Joel would come for you, never had any doubt. He protected what was his and now that includes Ellie.
#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller the last of us#joel miller tlou#the last of us hbo#joel tlou
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Queen of hearts
Acknowledgements and Disclaimers: this one goes out to all the moms out there. New moms. Experienced moms. Mom-to be. Yall are heroes man. All the love.
Shout out to the mutual who helped answer my pregnancy questions. Thanks for letting me pester you. You know who you are. Any mischaracterizations of pregnancy, labor, or postpartum are completely my own.
Warnings: brief depictions of labor. Mentions of depression. Also not proof read.
***
9 months had flown by like a dream. The whole thing had felt like a movie. And Matty, having made a career out of making life feel like a movie, was wary of the whole thing. Of course they’d had their ups and downs. Worrying over what constitutes a good parent and whether they were going to fuck this child up before it even had a chance to grow up and make its own mistakes. The occasional shock over how powerful and real hormone fluctuations can be. The Braxton Hicks scare. The late night cravings and the crying (some of which was done by him, if he’s being honest). Arguing over baby names, if the kid should be allowed to play football before a certain age lest they get injured. If, being the child of artists meant that the child would be sign up for music and art lessons, or if they would wait and see what the kid naturally gravitates towards. If gender-neutral clothing was inherently boring and lifeless, or, if it was ‘too woke’ to have a baby girl in a car onesie or a baby boy is a butterfly onesie. It was, after all, a pregnancy, not a walk in the park. But he’d loved and welcomed every bit of it. And so had Jo. He’d swelled with joy watching her nest and acquire baby clothes, paint the nursery, and start a vintage stuffie collection. He’d helped her curate a little library of children’s books for kids of all ages, to make sure their baby would be guaranteed a great start, no matter how advanced they turned out to be (Jo and Matty, were, of course, convinced that their child would be a genius). Looking back, even the labor and delivery process seemed perfect.
Jo had screamed at him the whole day.
“We can’t actually go to the hospital just yet. I called. The front desk woman told me to stay put and put on some yoga music.”
Jo had unleashed a string of obscenities upon him that he has chosen to omit from memory ( he remembers them perfectly. She had asked him if he was a demented fucker or if he would like this baby to come out or a teeny tiny hole in his penis instead). He had laughed, told her that she was funny and that he was falling in love with her all over again. She’d thrown the tv remote at his head, missing narrowly.
His gravest mistake, however, was trying to document everything. He’d brought a film camera into the delivery room, which the nurses had balked at. But Matty has been used to being called eccentric so he didn’t care. He wanted to remember every single moment of this day forever. And, when Jo had failed to convince him by making the same arguments that he often proposed at his own shows, for his own fans to put the camera away and just be in the moment, she’d decided to teach him an lesson by choosing not to warn him about the messiness of childbirth. The next thing she heard him say was “oh. So much blood.” Before he’d dropped the godforsaken camera to the floor, smashing it to bits. And ridding everyone of its evils forever.
“Oh my god, she’s here, Jo! I can see her head!” He’d rushed over to her, with tears in his eyes, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, Jo. You’ve got this! One more push.”
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too much. I just- she’s gonna have to stay in there forever.”
“‘fraid we can’t do that, Josephine” the doctor shook her head. “She’s almost out which means it’s tight on her now, if you don’t push, you’re hurting her.”
Jo instantly burst into tears.
“No, no, no! Baby don’t cry!” Matty cooed, then turned towards the doctor. “Why the fuck would you say something like that to her? Right now, as well! are you TRYING to upset my wife right in the middle of the birth of my child?” He hovered over Jo protectively, wiping her sweaty forehead with one of the rags that the nurses had brought in, and kissing her. “You’re okay, Jo. Our baby is going to be okay. Deep breaths, yeah?”
“You promise?” She whispered, too embarrassed for the nurses and doctor to hear.
Matty swears, this, was the moment that he became a dad. Knowing that his wife and child needed him to be the sane and steady one for the first time completely changed him as a person.
Though he had no business making these promises, he’d never felt more certain of anything in his life. “I promise, my love. I’ve got you. And you’ve got our baby. She really needs you right now. So….lets do this, yeah?”
Jo nodded, watching the nurse approach and take her hand to pull her back into position.
“C’mon,love. One more push?” The matronly lady encouraged.
Jo screamed as she gave it her all, Matty’s hand in hers.
“Great! You’re doing great, Josephine! Give me one more push!” The doctor smiled.
“You said that last time! Every single time you say this is gonna be the last push! You’re fuckin lying.”
With tears in her eyes, Jo screamed and cussed out everyone in the room, pushing with all her might, until finally, the baby was out. She heard cheering and congratulations erupt around the room which was her cue to lay back and finally relax.
“Dad, Would you like to do the honors? cut the umbilical cord?” The nurse had asked.
“Oh? I- erm I …should. But I don’t wanna leave you? But also I don’t wanna leave…her- I….” Years later, Matty would realize that it was, in fact, this moment, that had made him into a dad. The moment that he felt conflict between choosing to stay by Jo’s side and hold her hand through what she had just accomplished , or let go of her hand to go meet his daughter instead.
“Go, Matty, go.” Jo had encouraged him, her voice weak from screaming. She nodded as he hesitantly loosened his hold on her hand.
“Let’s fuckin do this!” His shaky hands took the surgical scissors from the doctor and made the cut. “Oh my fuckin god, hiiii” matty cried as he met his daughter for the first time. He almost reached out to take her into his arms but, then, realized that it should be Jo who gets to hold her first.
“Would you like to-“
“Yes, oh god, yes, please?” Jo sat up straight.
Matty, with fresh tears still running down his cheeks, leapt into action adjusting her pillows to support her back as she leaned forward to receive her child.
“Oh god, Matty, look. She’s so….”
“Perfect.”
Everything, about Sophia, from conception to birth, had been perfect. So, it was a complete shock to Matty (and to Jo) when things changed postpartum.
It all started with Jo sleeping in a bit more than usual. At first, Matty had written it off as her body recovering from labor. After all, she’d literally housed, sheltered, and built a human being from scratch for 9 months. She was entitled to a little bit of extra sleep if that’s what she needed. Besides, he saw this as his opportunity to step in. While Jo was pregnant, Matty felt limited in how much help he could be. He flew back and forth in between tour dates to be at doctors appointments, and to help purchase the crib and pick out the nursery colors. He drove across the country to make it to specialty bakeries and shops to fulfill the strange flavor combinations of pregnancy cravings. But none of it was comparable to literally being pregnant. So, it was only fair that he take on some of the work now that the child was born, and let Jo get her rest.
He wanted to be the best dad he possibly could. So, he dove in head first. And he missed the signs. It wasn’t until he was holding Sophia in his arms, looking at Jo, as she laid in bed, saying “it’s a baby, Matty. All it does is cry and sleep. What does it want from me?” That he realized something was deeply wrong. By then, it was too late.
Matty walked around the messy house, eyes blood shot and sore. Whether it was the crying or the lack of sleep, he wasn’t sure. He went into the kitchen, pulling out a massive trash bag and hauling in all the empty takeout containers that had been sitting there all week, shoving them all into the trash bag. He needed to step up his housekeeping game. At this rate, they’ll be living in squalor by the next few days.
He pulled the only clean mug left out of the cupboard and reached for the coffee machine that had been on since this morning, pouring himself a cup.
“Fuckin hell.” He whispered at nothing in particular. What time was it? What day of week or month even was it? He tapped his phone screen for answers. It was a Wednesday in the middle of the month. Just shy of noon. He knew that the best thing he could possibly do for his family right now would be to admit that he’s in over his head. And ask for help.
***
“Where is she now?” Adam asked, stirring the sugar into Matty’s tea before placing the mug in front of him.
“home. Erm….the cleaning service is working on the house. Her mom is there, too, to watch Sophia while she showers and stuff, so….”
Adam nodded, at a loss for words. He squeezed Matty’s shoulder gently.
“What do I do? How do I fix this?” Matty’s eyes darted between Adam and Carly, who wizzed around the kitchen, preparing dinner, with her son at her feet.
“You can’t fix it, mate.” Adam shrugged. Sheepishly.
“I know; I know. But- what do I do?”
Adam simply rubbed his friends back, searching his brain for any words of solace or wisdom.
“Matty, have you eaten anything today?” Carly asked, with her back to him, standing at the stove and stirring something that Matty couldn’t quite see.
He was offended by the question. He’d come to her with the biggest problem he’s ever had to face and her response was to ask if he was hungry? Speechless and indignant, he shook his head. “I have not. No.” He gritted, anger palpable in his voice.
Carly knew better than to take it personally.
***
Carly and Adam exchanged a look. Adam nodded, rising to his feet and taking his child from between his mother’s legs. “C’mon, little man. It’s time for bed. Let’s get into the bath. Give mummy and uncle Matty a bit of time to chat.”
Carly walked over to Matty at the dining table, setting down two huge containers in front of him. “This one’s soup. This one’s chicken and veg. Take them home. Freeze the leftovers and defrost as needed.”
“Carly, I-“
“Comfort food is good. For both of you.” She smiled brightly. “She won’t have an appetite but keep offering it to her anyway.”
“Right.”
“I’m gonna send you a list. Maybe pop into the shops on your way home and buy some of it. Baby cream, nipple pads, stuff like that.”
Matty nodded, dutifully.
“I’ll speak to Patricia and Charli and everybody. We’ll start a rotation. Check in on her and- maybe even send you off to the store a few times. There are just some girl things that she might not have on. Just some bits and bobs to make her life easier.”
“Hmm. Yeah. I suppose.”
“Matty, darling, you know who you need to speak to here. Who she needs to speak to. And it isn’t me, and it isn’t Adam, or George, or Ross, or even a doctor who will rattle off some statistics at her. Why haven’t you done it yet?”
***
Carly was right. Matty knew the person for the job. The reason that he hadn’t called his mom yet was because he was ashamed. Ashamed to admit, in front of her, that he had failed. He’d failed his wife. Failed his kid. Failed to do what he claimed his mother’s struggle had taught him. Failed to be patient, failed to be empathetic. He expected too much from her and he resented her when she wouldn’t rise to it. And he hated that about himself.
But his mom was always there. All he needed to do was call her and say “mum, I need you.”
Denise rushed over.
“Oh, matty, it’s okay.” She placed her hand over his. “It’s different when it’s your partner, isn’t it?”
“Why, though? It shouldn’t be! It’s not like she’s any more or less of a person, a woman, or a mother than you were when you had me!”
Denise rolled her eyes. They both knew Matty was smarter than this. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, does it? You were 17 when I told you about my depression. It had been 17 years. You’d seen me differently. And you knew I loved you because you’d felt it your whole life. You were only finding out about that stuff after the fact. This is not the same. Besides, the way that you feel about your partner is not supposed to be like the way that you feel about your mother, or if it is then I haven’t done my job raising you right.”
Matty frowned and licked his lips, searching his brain for a clever comeback.
“You feel like you’ve been abandoned. Like she’s left all the parenting on you and you’re trying your best but she’s not giving you much to work with.” Denise simply stated.
Matty laughed in disbelief. “That’s absurd. She hasn’t abandoned me.”
“Course, she hasn’t. She’s got an illness, she’s not a bad mother. But that’s what it feels like. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re a new father too. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing and you want to be able to do turn to her but you can’t.”
“I- “ matty turned tongue-tied. Unsure how to respond. It made him uncomfortable to have his unspoken thoughts said out loud for him. “did dad ever…?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. I didn’t really speak much to him at the time. Sort of….blamed him for it, actually. A part of me felt like, somehow, he had done this to me or something.”
Matty listened, wondering if Jo felt that way about him.
“In fact, why don’t you go do that right now. Call him round. I’ll get upstairs and check on Jo.”
***
Tim left Matty flipping through old photo albums and went to answer the door, smiling wide and proud when he was met with Louis at his brothers doorstep. “You’re joining the crew?”
“You didn’t think you’d have a party without me and I wouldn’t find out about it, did ya?” Louis winked. “Nah, mum called. Said to come to Matty’s instantly.”
“Get in there!” Denise appeared behind them. “And don’t call it a party that’s insensitive.”
She shut the door, beckoning both men to huddle in the corner with her.
“We’re all here for one thing and one thing only.” Denise spoke with the command of a military officer issuing orders . “To watch the baby for the next two days. We work in shifts. Louis, you’re young and still have your back. You’ll take the overnight shift. Tim you start now. I’ll step in between you two.”
The two men exchanged a smile, nodding.
“And if you want to be here off the clock, you are not a houseguest. You don’t just sit sound and expect to be catered to. Consider yourself a contributing member of the household. Roll up your sleeves and see what needs doing around here. Let’s give them some time and room to figure out what Jo needs.”
***
Matty felt his heart shatter into a million pieces inside his chest when he walked into their bedroom and saw Jo, hugging the duvet, with tears in her eyes.
He rushed over to her, but as he reached for her hand, he recalled all the times that he’d tried to initiate any form of physical intimacy over the last few weeks —a hug, a cuddle, a kiss, sex— only for her to turn him down. He pulled away, hesitant, and not wanting to pressure her into anything. He wasn’t sure if these attempts were his way of trying to comfort her or if it was himself who needed the comforting. He would never think that he could possibly understand what she was going through, but, he couldn’t deny that he needed her, too. So much so that he was certain a simple touch from her would bring him to his knees.
“Jo, Darling,” he whispered, “fuck. You have no idea how much I wish I could kiss you right now.“
Jo blushed as if it were the first time that he had ever looked at her that way.
“Your mom- Denise, she…well, she and I talked. I don’t think I’m okay, Matty.”
He sat on the bed, looking at her. She was a shell of the person that he’d fallen in love with. “It’s alright, baby-“
“How can it be alright? I’m a mother! I- I’m a danger to my own child. When I should be her first and fiercest protector!” Jo yelled, sobbing into her own hands.
The sound of her crying was worse than a knife to Matty’s chest.
“Well, it’s a good thing she’s got me, then, isn’t it?” Matty pulled her into his lap, laying her head against him.
“I love her…” Jo tried to convince herself of her own words “ I want to love her.”
“Course, you do, Jo. You’re just not able to feel much of anything right now. Because of what you’re going through. But, we’ll fix it. I promise. We will.” He planted a kiss to her head “I’m sorry, honey. I’m really sorry I let it get this bad.”
“Matty, it’s not your fault-“
“No, it is. I- I thought that I was being a good dad by prioritizing Sophia over you. I thought it was what I was supposed to do. I thought it was what was best for us all.” She felt Matty’s tears dripping down onto her hair. “But it’s you, Jo. You’re what’s best for all three of us. Sophia and I need you. We’re nothing without you.”
Jo wished she had the will or capacity to comfort him, to want to hold her daughter in her arms. She knew it must be difficult on him, and she hated being a source of his pain.
“I’m sorry, Matty-“
“No!” She felt him stiffen. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? You’re not alone. Neither are Sophia and I. Look how many people it took to get us to talk” he giggled at the thought. “Look how many people love you and want to support you.”
He saw the beginnings of a smile on her face. “Carly has practically started a catering business trying to feed us. You should see our kitchen. It’s never been this stocked up even when we’re both at home.”
Jo let out a small chuckle, the first since Sophia was born.
To Matty, that small sound was like finding water in the middle of wandering the desert.
***
Matty walked up and down room at the pace that he had discovered was most comfortable for baby Sophia to nap. He rocked her gently in his arms whispering, “you’re gonna be a sweet quiet girl yeah? Look at mommy. She’s so pretty when she’s asleep next to your crib, don’t you think, Soph? You take after her, that’s for certain. Let’s go get mommy a blanket, yeah? Shall we? Look at you! Taking care of mommy already. Bestest baby in the world, you are.”
#valentine75#matty healy fanfic#matty healy fluff#matty healy writing#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy imagine#matty healy x oc
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Sukuna x reader Drabble
implied smut/fifthly language
A Drabble I just thought of where sukuna spews pure gutter filth into yuujis ears about all his sexual fantasies. Since sukuna can’t actually do anything about it, he’s gonna make it everyone’s problem as well.
GN reader, cursing, vulgar language and partial smut/dirty talk but nothing physically happens
Something about you particularly had him riled up though…
You had just transferred as a new teacher and you were just so cute.
“Go on, keep looking at that sweet ass. It’s nice isn’t it?”
Yuuji suddenly drops his pencil during lecture and you turn around just for him to get so flustered he can’t look you in the eyes as you so sweetly ask what’s wrong.
“Ha. Perv.”
Sometimes you would hear Yuuji muttering to himself, he was an odd but good kid so you gave him the benefit of the doubt, plus he had gone through so much..
Little did you know if not for yuuji a demented beast would have taken you by now.
Anytime you walked by him in the halls, you were so blissfully unaware- and sukuna found that absolutely fucking delicious.
“Did you see the way their nipples were poking through that shirt?Just imagine biting down on them, I want to suck on them until their crying from the sensation. Until theyre battered and bruised.”
One day you were in training gear, tight shorts and a tank top sparring with the other teachers as demonstration to the students
Poor yuuji had to sit there helplessly as Sukuna forced his eyes into your legs. The sweat dripping down your legs leaving them glistening like stars in the sun, heaving breaths and flushed face.
“That’s gonna be how they look when they’re fucked out., drunk on my cock.”
Yuuji had to look away and shut his eyes. He respected you, and he didn’t appreciate the devil in his ear speaking profanities about his superior, someone he admired and looked up to.
One particular move you did left your legs spread and little to the imagination. He could see the shape of you perfectly, the curvature of your ass into the place between your legs, the way your body was so hot your clothes were stuck to it like magnets.
“I’d have to tear those off. When you get that worked up and sweaty clothes are a bitch to remove.”
Sukuna manifested a physical mouth onto yuujis face, and as quickly as it happened yuuji slapped his hand on it which created such a loud SMACK sound that everyone turned over to him
“aH! Sorry! Mosquitos..!”
He tried laughing it off as his peers looked at him strangely.
Everyone had seen a change in his behavior.
But specifically you, had noticed the most- considering he was totally and completely avoiding you. Had you done something wrong?
Yuujis walking to the dorms when he’s intercepted by the last person he needs to be alone with.
You’re all flushed because you had just gotten back from a mission. The sun was setting and it perfectly made you skin glow.
“Hey Yuuji, I was hoping I’d run into you I wanted to talk with you. Do you have a minute?”
He visibly gulped as sukuna began to whisper profanities into yuujis head
“Maybe that teacher x student fantasy porn you watched might come true!” He said mockingly
Everything you said flew over his head as he awkwardly smiled
“And I guess what I’m saying is you can always talk to me. These years in your life are important and I care about you, yeah? You’ve already gone through more than anyone else should especially at your age-“
“Give me 10 minutes and I’ll have them creaming all over my cock. I might even let you watch since you’re such a disgusting desperate pervert.”
Then all his thoughts were silent when you placed a hand on his shoulder
“Yuuji?”
He had been spaced out and was just staring intently at your face
“Huh? O-oh… yeah sure thing!”
He tried to turn around and leave
“Wait!”
He cowered and awkwardly turned his head around to you.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Sorry… guess I didn’t catch it… haha…….”
“I said, are you ready for our mission tomorrow?”
You said with such a cute smile and a chuckle
Fuuuccckkkkkkk
All night he spent tossing and turning trying to get any semblance of sleep as sukuna tormented his poor mind.
“Did you see the way that shirt squeezed everything? I bet they know what they’re doing. How long do you think it’s been since they’ve had a good dicking do you think?”
Yuuji held a pillow over his face and audibly groaned into it
“Shut up pleaseee! I’ll do anything at this point.”
He shouldn’t have said that.
“Except let you take over!”
Sukuna scoffed.
The next day sukuna was saying words yuuji didn’t even know. (Or WANT to find out.)
What the hell was “reverse cowgirl” or a “facial” …?
You two were sent on a mission to fight a high grade curse, this mission was really to see what Yuuji was capable of, and to have someone strong like you to stay with him in case things went wrong. You volunteered, hoping to get to know yuuji better and maybe fix this weird tension between you two. You hoped he didn’t secretly hate you, he was clearly avoiding you
You two walked through the remains of a building, it was dark with the exception of streaks of light poking through holes in the ceiling and walls.
The fight was harder than you thought. The curse ended up being special grade. That’s what you get for letting gojo brief you on a mission-
Yuuji was struggling to keep up, and several times you had to get in the way of him taking a blow while also guiding him on what to do.
This was supposed to be an in an out thing to help yuuji use his cursed energy, you were supposed to be there just to keep watch.
No one was coming, you were weakened, and yuujis head wasn’t on right.
“Yuuji! Focus!!” You put your forearms up to eat another blow from the curse
He was spacing in and out… one second he would be responsive and the next he would be totally out of it.
Was he high? No way. He’s a good kid, right?
You had whipped your head around to grab yuujis attention again but in that split second, your instincts were dull as you grew tired and the curse landed a heavy blow right into your ribs.
You were knocked onto the ground as all the air left your lungs and you tasted a metallic sting in your mouth.
Shit.
Note to self- when gojo says “a light and easy mission, basically a baby could do it.” He’s referring to how it feels to him, and not the average sorcerer.
You were left on your knees, one arm desperately clinging to your injured side as you tried shakily to get up
You knew that was the end of it for you until you could get to some place safe to heal yourself. You didn’t have much time to react before the curse tried to land another blow on you, luckily yuuji blocked it.
“Yuuji… we need sukuna.”
That sure as hell woke him up from whatever daze he was stunned in
“What?!” He shouted at you and whipped his head around
“I can’t help you right now and you can’t help me! I’m making an executive decision here!”
“What about what goj-“
“Fuck Gojo!”
He was taken aback by your sudden bluntness.
“I know! I know what he said. That arrogant asshole doesn’t think enough! I’ll take the blame, just do it!”
You were desperate as blood dribbled from your mouth between desperate breaths.
You tried not to blame yuuji for this but you were at your wits end. Worst case scenario Sukuna hurts you, but you know he would still kill the curse in the end. and you really just wanted the people around you safe. There were civilians outside- and if you and yuuji were immobilized who knew how long it would take for help to come? How long would that curse be free roaming?
Yuuji gave you a fleeting glance and almost an apologetic look as you watched him close his eyes and begin to morph into something else…
His eyes shifted from sweet to sadistic. Black markings appeared all over his body. With a deep breath inward he went into hyper focus and with inhuman speed began to attack the curse
His movements were sharp and wild. Like an animal
You could barely keep up with him watching the way he dodged hits just as quick as he attacked
Your body began to succumb to its injuries as the last of adrenaline from your fight pumped itself out of your system.
You collapsed onto the floor half conscious. The room was spinning
I guess you had taken more blows than you thought.
You watched as two yuujis stood above you.
Your vision was going in and out of focus as you felt strong arms lift you effortlessly
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, y/n.”
He said with a sick grin.
#sukuna brain rot#sukuna x reader#sukuna#jjk imagines#jjk#jjk fanfic#jjk headcanons#gojo is an idiot#itadori yuuji#sukuna imagine#implied smut#dirty talk#poor yuuji is stuck with sukuna#sukuna is a bastard#jujutsu sukuna#jujutsukaisen x reader#jujutsu itadori#jujutsukaisen fanfiction
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Like Phil, I’d like to think that Jamie and Keeley still go to Brazil, in spite of the boys’ recent fuck-up, but I’d also like to think that Roy comes with them. Not because Jamie and Keeley can’t be friend on their own or wouldn’t have the best time doing Brazil together – they would! – but because I think Jamie might be conscious, given everything that’s gone down recently, of potentially upsetting what he currently perceives as a rather delicate balance.
Maybe he brings it up a few days later before they head over to Keeley’s for a joint apology, or maybe it happens already at the holy kebab place, once they’ve had a few bites and a chance to settle back into their normal; a little worse for wear, but with no lasting harm done.
And Jamie fiddles with his sleeves and makes little faces as he tries to decide what to say (and Roy notices and waits with some trepidation) and in the end he just comes right out and says it, because that’s what Jamie does, isn’t it?
“I asked Keeley to go to Brazil with me, for that Nike thing I’m doing.”
Roy blinks. He hadn’t known Jamie was doing a Nike thing. Jamie might have told him, but Roy usually stops listening whenever he starts blathering on about brands and clothes and shit, so yeah, if told he hadn’t heard.
“What did she say?” he asks after a slightly too long and awkward moment of Jamie looking up at him, almost through his fucking eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction.
“She said yes.” And hastily, as if worried what Roy might say or do if given a moment to, he adds: “I didn’t do it to try to get back together or anything. I mean, I do wanna get back together and she’s my friend and I love her and I thought we’d have a great time, yeah, but also, she’s great at PR and all that stuff, so. Yeah. That’s why I asked her to come. Make sure I don’t fuck it up.”
And because you want her to be your girlfriend. Roy doesn’t say it, though. Neither of them want a repeat of what went down at the bar. This isn’t Jamie trying to goad him or hurt him, he’s pretty fucking sure of that, so he’ll listen carefully to everything Jamie has to say, and then he’ll react like a fucking grown-up.
Probably. Possibly.
“Anyway, I think you should, like, come with us.”
Fucking what now? “What?”
“You should come with me and Keeley to Brazil.” Jamie is nodding his head decisively, as if repeating the statement has fully convinced him of its veracity.
“You want me to come with you and Keeley to fucking Brazil?” Roy is aware of sounding like a demented parrot, but he doesn’t give a fuck, does he, because he doesn’t want there to be any fucking room for misinterpretation here.
Jamie doesn’t seem particularly concerned about Roy’s tone. Too used to it, probably. “Um, yeah. Yeah. I mean, probably can’t get Nike to pay for it, right, but you’re rich, so you can just get your own ticket and you can stay with me and Keeley in this villa they’ll set us up in. Can’t mind that.”
Which all sounds very reasonable, of course, but still doesn’t answer the most pressing question: “Why?”
Jamie makes a face. “What do you mean, why? Because I don’t want shit to be weird between us, mate. And I think it’d be weird if Keeley and I went away and you stayed here after what happened, you know. Besides,” he adds, and suddenly he looks slightly shy; younger than he actually is, and vulnerable, “It’d probably be fun, yeah? All three of us going, together. Because we’re friends and all.”
And there’s something sharp and jagged turning in Roy’s gut at that, because underneath Jamie’s claim there’s a note of uncertainty that Roy had no trouble whatsoever guessing the origin of, and he adds it to the long list of things he hates himself for.
He doesn’t know how to express any of that, so what he says is, “Yeah. I guess. I’ll think about it.”
Jamie’s grin is immediate and wide; relieved and triumphant in equal measure, like he’s already won – like he already knows for a fact that Roy’s going to say yes.
Roy can’t even find it in him to mind that the little prick is right.
And then they all go to Brazil and I’m currently thinking that nothing further really happened between them there, because apparently they all need to do a little more thinking and feeling and figuring themselves out, but I’m sure they still had a grand, grand time of it.
#just want to be very clear that i absolutely think that jamie and keeley could and should do things on their own#as should keeley and roy#and roy and jamie#no matter what form their future relationship takes#i just think that RIGHT NOW jamie might be conscious of things getting weirdly skewed if him and keeleys goes off on their own#and he very much wants to get back with keeley but he's not ready to sacrifiece his relationship with roy for it#so FOR NOW it's a little bit of a balancing act#jamie tartt#roy kent#roy & jamie#roy/keeley/jamie#roy x jamie x keeley#ficlet#ish#i am trying to write a serious meta about the bar fight AND answer some asks but i keep getting distracted#whoops innit
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Another one! For your follower celebration can I pls get a 🔥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 — with Steve Harrington? I'm thinking a soft enemies to lovers trope where they weren't friends in school, but maybe reader gets roped into helping the gang, and she and Steve end up having each other's backs? Maybe with the dialogue -- "so you like me-like me, huh?"
Feel free to alter however you like or do whatever inspires! I'm just in my Steve feels and would love a lil blub! Congratulations again amor! 🌿
more than a feeling.
pairing: steve harrington x (f)reader
word count: 888
warnings: none other than super cheesy fluff, and spoilers for season four.
etc: first off ilysm and i hope this fulfills all of your steve needs <3 and second off who woulda guessed the first thing my thirsty ass wrote for this mans is fluff? not me!
i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!
“I mean, I wouldnt go that far.” Your tone is lacking that softness it just had, instead replaced with your best forced sneer and roll of your eyes when you see the tug of a smile forming across Steve’s lips; your admission unfortunately not falling on deaf ears, or being mistook for near-death-expierenced kindness. But something else that the both of you know to be unspokenly there.
“You jumped for me.” Steve grins.
You hold your hand up, shaking your head. “I only jumped because everyone else jumped. Don’t let it go to your head, Harrington. Your hair is already big enough. Your shoulders aren’t going to hold any more inflation.”
Your jest does the opposite of what you want it to do; deepening the sickening fondness and knowing on his face.
And yeah, maybe you did jump in because just-maybe-possibly your heart sank just as deep as Steve did when he was pulled under. Maybe something inside of you seized and ached and your stomach was filled with a feeling you can only classify as something close to affection, a stupid crush maybe?
Or you could do the ‘of sound mind thing’ and blame it on the movement of the boat making your stomach ache, or maybe the fear of you being the next to be pulled under—because it made more sense than you actually admitting to yourself, and to Steve, that you didn’t actually loathe him; you actually liked him, alot.
But you know there’s no denying it now. No matter how many scowls you shoot at him or how you try to ignore his eyes moving over to you as the two of you follow the rest of the group through this fucked up version of your town. No, there was no going back now. Especially after you had bashed in a nightmarish bat's head to stop it from gnawing at him.
A longer than typical silence spreads between the two of you. There’s always some tease, jest, or banter flowing between the two of you. There was rarely a silent moment when one of you wasn't voicing distaste or complaints; that were clearly masking unfortunate feelings and the delight your body went through when you saw that deadpan look of his, and frustrating way he would run his fingers through his hair when you would make a stinging comment to his ego.
You were screwed. Had been since you were roped into this little group of theirs.
Guess there was no going back now.
You were either going to die at the hands of some demented boogeyman or from the endless mockery Steve was going to dish out at you now that he knew you actually didn’t hate him that much, or at all.
"So you like me-like me, huh?" He’s still grinning at you.
The eye roll you do is involuntary and completely warranted because god you were never going to live this down and screw your mouth for being so big and your heart for feeling…things. You were just another town cliche. Another girl who found Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington irresistible. Except you weren’t afraid to let him know how obnoxiously irritating he was—is.
“If you tell anyone I’ll deny it until the day I die.” You’re looking everywhere but at him. Trying to make your tone as sarcastic as possible, but not denying his words. Confirming them without letting anymore sentiments come out of your mouth like uncontrolled word vomit.
Theres a part of you that wants to hear him admit the same thing. Even if its masked by a joke, or a dig. And you hate it. Hate that you're pretty much in some fresh hell and your nerves are only tingling and preening at the hope that Steve says he likes you back. That he doesn't really find you as annoying as it seems.
How pathetic is that?
Extremely.
But you’re ready for the humiliation. Know that it’s coming before it happens. Try to convince yourself of it being factual as you stare down at the ground, focusing on not stepping in whatever gross muck is on the road ahead of you; it doing little to stop you from still holding out hope, to feeling the shared aforementioned pathetic feelings.
You're so prepared for the downfall, the aftermath of this situation—this place—just getting worse as the seconds tick by that you don’t realize Steve’s fingers are brushing against yours until his palm is pressed to yours. Your fingers laced with eachothers; your teeth sinking into the flesh of your cheek to hide the huge smile that threatens to spread across your lips.
Who knew fireworks could shoot off in someones body? Could light every nerve ending on fire, how cheesy, cliche.
You love it.
“It’s crazy,” Steve sighs. Your body readys for him to say something regarding the moment, to ruin it by making you feel even more. Something he doesn’t do when he says, “Not a strand of hair out of place,” and it’s even worse. Because you’re letting that smile spread wide as you look over at him and watch him play with his hair, the look in his eyes, in his grin, letting you know he’s only said it so you can say something about it—his hair your favorite topic of tease.
Yeah, you’re totally screwed.
#steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things x reader#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington blurb#stranger things fic#joe keery#5k celebration !
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Delightful | William James Moriarty x Reader
Chapter 12
You were used to feeling an aching pain in your neck. The amount of times you’ve woken up on the sofa or the floor due to drunkenness was something you couldn’t simply count on your fingers. But this was different. Your eyes flutter and soon open to the sight of a dark and empty…
“Cell ?!” You sit up straight in complete shock.
“I bet Louis set me up.” You roll your eyes.
The mans fist punched against the bar and it was only then did you realise… you weren’t alone. Ever so slightly, you turn your head to see who exactly took part in this arrangement. You honestly couldn’t help but flinch in surprise at the way the man sat on a stool just a few feet away, watching you intently. You only remember there being one man in the carriage perhaps he was the getaway driver.
He looked young, possibly your age. As well as that he looked extremely nervous with both of his fists clenched.
“I-I can’t help you.” He stutters, not daring to even look your way. “Yes you can !” You nod, trying to somewhat charm your way out. He doesn’t budge, genuine fear was in his eyes. He actually seemed more scared then you were. “Please I’m frightened.” You faked a gentle tone which seemingly didn’t work. In defeat, you turn back around facing the dark wall.
You were gonna be here a while.
If you were hungover right now, you could deal and honestly quite prefer the eery silence. But you were sober. Unfortunately.
If you had any reason to drink now would be the time.
“There’s these men I know…well I don’t exactly know them and they don’t know me.” You’re not exactly sure what you’re attempting by speaking on such matter that clearly isn’t relevant. But as the words slip past your lips suddenly you lose sense of it all. “I don’t understand why they’re being so nice to me. I guess I do owe them.”
It was true. All of it. Maybe it was because all this nonsense has happened in such a short amount of time that it was hard to process or maybe it was because you’ve never really received much kindness before.
“I wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t come looking for me.”
Suddenly you hear the sound of rustling and you don’t even turn to look until
he slips a piece of paper through the bars your fingers graze against his shaking fingers. Without hesitation You open the folded paper thinking maybe he wrote a location or how exactly to escape. Not that you’re too confident at escaping in the first place. There’s a slight glimmer of hope in your eyes that fades away as soon as you open it all you find written is
144
“The fuck is this ?” You groan, with nothing to do you simply stare down at the unusual numbers.
“What does this mean ?” You wish you were playing dumb. You were genuinely at a loss. “Year and number.” He whispered.
You whip your head around to meet his widen and slightly creepy eyes already on you. You were quick to return to staring at the damp wall before you.
“Cheers that really puts things into perspective.” You frown, crinkling the paper in your fist.
“That’s all the con man has ever said. I don’t even know myself.” The young man is quick to leave after speaking to you, his head remains low as he shuts the door behind him.
“The con man ?” You raise a brow in confusion. A sudden heat burned in your chest. You hiss at the sudden sensation and look down at your chest, you instantly remember you pull it out from your blouse. The crow necklace. You’ve completely forgotten about it’s existence and yet in this moment it’s never felt so heavy and somewhat of a burden. Without hesitation you grip onto it and attempt to pull trying to free your neck of the pain but to no avail it doesn’t budge it begins to leave red marks on your neck if you pulled anymore you were sure that your neck would bleed. But even when you loosen your grip on the demented necklace your throat feels tight and suddenly there’s no air along within the damn small caving in walls in the cell you find yourself in.
You attempt to ease yourself by standing, your legs begin to shake as you do so.
Your only entertainment was to peer out to look at the darkening sky.
Your hand reaches out to touch you…well you weren’t sure exactly theres something of a makeshift window above you to your left, your neck begins to ache again as you stare up above.
It so quiet. So quiet that your ears start to ring. They ring until you catch the glimpse of a midnight shadow passing by.
Just then, a bird had flown down to the window, staring right down at you but to be specific it was a crow. All he did was stare down at you, heckled a caw and disappeared within the night sky.
Maybe you did hit your head again but you could swear on a pint that it was the same bird from before in the garden.
But all crows look the same, don’t they ?
“I’ve actually been kidnapped.” You mumble, eyes still widened as ever.
Your hand shakes at the sudden thought of William. Him and him only. In a moment like this, a situation that you’ve never been in before, why in a fearful place he’s the only one that comes to mind.
He’s a man who has priorities. What could he do for you ? Or perhaps what could you do for him ? Nothing.
But as you stared out at the darkened sky your heart couldn’t help but hope.
Could he really be the one to bring you to back to see day light ? You weren’t sure.
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All is bliss
Chapter 45
Cw: sex,mentions of child brides, bigamy, ghosts🔞
Gif by @barbieaelin
Taglist:@mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9 @alexandria-millie @watercolorskyy @ewanmitchellcrumbs @sweethoneyblossom1
Orphan-Maker suits him.
The Roxtons had been tall, and the sword proportionate to their lords. The longsword is fine, finer than any sword Aemond has had and would make a good weapon.
The sword that once protected Jaehaerys and his heirs confiscated from Aemond’s would be murderer.
“Apparently he may be part of a conspiracy, he had been heard boasting that he would kill you and he’d split me open like he did to a vassal knight and take his wife as a prize.” Aegon comments after presenting him with a sheath worthy of the sword and a new horse. “Ironrod thinks we should arrest his sister and see if her lovely goodfamily is involved, but the girl was only wed for a fortnight before Titus the Turd died in Honeywine.”
The war was lost, any fool could see it.
Only problem is Aegon’s own supporters wanted death in glory and now refused to listen to them.
“It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on her and any of Peake’s family, as numerous as they are, I won’t be here to protect you, you know.” Aemond pointed out.
He is to march tomorrow, to leave even if his wrist and leg are still hurting because Aemma’s behavior brought unwanted speculation.
As if she had been the first hysterical pregnant woman to react over the top about a calamity.
But people had seen it, talked about it and made it all worse.
Someone made a song about it even, an irritating ear worm that invaded your head.
“The elder she beds out of duty and the younger out of love.
The seven can’t save them from her siren song while their mother cries as she looks from above.”
“She’s fucking three and ten, besides she is mother’s cupbearer. I can’t just arrest the girl without making mother look like she wanted to murder you for fucking my wife.” Aegon dismissed his advice with good reason.
Mother would be under scrutiny, and as much as she has changed for the worse, she wouldn’t have him killed.
Or would she?
Fuck.
To think once that thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind and now he can’t trust his mother not to do something so wretched.
“I suppose, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious and have someone investigate Peake. They came after me in broad daylight, who’s to say they won’t go after you now that you’re back on the throne?” The former prince regent reminded him.
He could be foolish.
Aegon had never applied himself thinking the crown would never fall on him and now Aemond fears he will find the city on fire the moment he turns his back.
Mother never helped, too busy caring for father and stealing the crown for Aegon to actually see if he was any good at ruling.
Aemond in the meantime took every lesson taught to Aemma with great pleasure. Everything Aegon never valued, he would take with unabashed gusto.
By the age of ten he devoured histories and philosophies to see how great kings became great kings because father intended him to wed Aemma since the moment both children had been born.
Then mother had to say it wouldn’t be right for a second son to come before his brother in the succession and suggested Aegon in his place.
“Of course, I will. I am not an idiot, Aemond. Which is why I am sending you away instead of marrying you off to the Stokeworth girl as mother suggested.” Aegon did have his moments, moments when he was not blind with drink nor too out of his depth to care.
Marriage would have been worse, especially because mother’s intended bride twelve-year-old Elinor Stokeworth.
Little Elinor who served as Aemma’s cupbearer and blushed red as a beet when Aemma praised her.
She was a fucking child, really the whole idea was demented.
The match was mother’s way of getting back at her for having been made the leading lady of the court and House Targaryen.
Aemma gets to decide how the ladies live, who they marry, and children reared, something Rhaenyra and his mother butted heads over for that decade they lived together.
But mother still had cards up her sleeve and had convinced Aegon he needed to be rid of him once and for all.
And because he refused that generous offer, he would be forbidden from seeing, or speaking or even writing to Aemma while he was away.
Her correspondence would be watched to ensure she doesn’t try to get anything to him nor he to her. any news for them would be sent through his brother or her, and until the anointing for Aenys comes around, Aemond must keep their end of the deal or wed little Ellie.
A difficult choice, but one they cannot say no to.
“Don’t give me that look. It is for your good as well as hers. As they say, if you love her you will let her go.” His brother said as if he hadn’t refused to do the same.
The return of her dragon does lift her spirits.
Silverwing managed to make Alicent scream when she saw her land on the roof of Maegor’s Holdfast and Aemma had a laugh at her expense as she rewarded her silver queen with a lamb or two.
Made her forced separation from Aemond bearable.
Her sole consolation is that she only has three and a half moons to go and he has to be here for the anointing.
After the tourney, Aegon had gone as far as coming to her bed to keep the pretense that they cared for each other.
They hadn’t shared a bed since they married, it was fucking annoying to wake up to him instead of Aemond.
Especially because Aegon took up the whole bed and liked to sleep in the nude.
The first night, she’d turned and held him tightly as if he were Aemond, called him by his name and he just went along with it.
Only thing that gave it away was that Aemond has what he has dubbed the Hightower Hairiness while Aegon is as hairless as her.
“I ache for you and I haven’t even left yet.” Aemond ground his hips against her rump and she bit down on her lip lest they be discovered.
The library was deserted, Aegon never came here and no one save for them and Aemma’s ladies came here often.
His wrist and foot had healed nicely, or so she made out by the lack of bandages as his hand crept up her stomach, pawed at her growing breasts before settling on her neck to tilt her face to his.
The other bunched up her skirts until he found her mound.
“I don’t care what anyone says, this belongs to me.” Her lover palmed her cunt and yet stopped her when he refused to let her release him from his breeches.
He wants to do this his way, and she won’t deny him.
“Aemond, we’ll be discovered.” She warns and yet guides his long and calloused fingers where she needs them.
This was just the beginning, preparing her for his cock and a fuck she’ll feel when he leaves the city later tomorrow morning.
“I’ll tell them I’m afflicted by your siren’s song, Aemee.” He whispered in her ear before biting her earlobe, the hand on her throat leaving her so he could unlace his breeches and free his prick. “That I wed you like the conqueror wed his sisters and you’re my wife just as you are his. Could you imagine if we did that? I already plow your cunny for him, might as well bind you to me with a blood oath.”
He has been drinking, she can smell it and taste it in her mouth as she kissed him again and yet Aemond has never made this much sense.
“I’d wed you with fire and blood now of you wished it, dearest. We have all we need for it.” She doesn’t know what possessed her to say that. “Marry me, Aemond.”
No, that’s a lie, the queen thinks as she bit her lip bloody from the pleasure when he finally entered her.
Right on the rug he first took her on, they wed in the way of their ancestors, alone in grandfather’s library with only the old model of Valyria and a rat scurrying away as witnesses.
He paints the glyph on her forehead with his own blood just as she does with hers and drink wine no one’s else but them have had.
“Hen lantoti ānogar va sȳndroti vāedroma. Mēro perzot gīhoti elēdroma iārza sīr. Izulī ampā perzī prūmī lanti sēteksi. Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, qēlossa ozūndesi. Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.”They speak the words in unison as if they had said it all before.
Perhaps they had, perhaps they were soulmates meeting each other again and again.
Yes, soulmates.
“Blood of two joined as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time of darkness and light.”
Alys’ eyes glitter like glass as she stares into the flames.
A valyrian wedding vow, one she and Rhaenyra had whispered to each other underneath their blankets once upon a time as they shared their first kiss.
You cannot kiss someone until you wed them, Alicent had said even if she has been dying to feel Rhaenyra’s lips against hers more than Criston whom she lied and said she had a crush on to make her jealous.
Then I’ll wed you and wed Criston and we will be sister wives like Rhaenys and Visenya, Rhaenyra had boldly said and taught her the wedding vows.
They had wed each other, kissed and touched each other while Criston stood watch outside Rhaenyra’s door unaware of what happened within.
And then I wed your father and killed you.
“They wed each other. As if adultery wasn’t enough of a crime, she had to make him a bigamist too.” The queen scoffed.
“A shame they had to resort to that, love like that is so hard to come by.” The witch blinked and returned to her mistress.
She is not Rhaenyra, but she made a good enough replacement.
Alicent had let Criston have his way with her while she shut her eyes and remembered Rhaenyra’s delicate features twist in pleasure as Harwin rammed her from behind.
It had been a secret pastime, to live vicariously through Rhaenyra and her lover wishing she had been the one to make the princess come undone and be the one to receive her love and worship instead of Harwin who never deserved her.
To be her or to have her, she could never decipher.
Perhaps it was both.
But you killed me, Rhaenyra’s voice whispers as the woman kissing and making love to her turns into her.
You killed me, you killed my daughter, my sons and yours, sweet little Ellyn too and now you will burn in hell for your sins right there with me, my love, Rhaenyra’s ghost continues pleasuring her, and Alicent lets herself fall further into the fantasy even when her fingers card through dark tresses and not ones as fair as moonlight.
When she sees Aemond with a split lip and Aemma hide hers under a painted lip, Alicent bites her tongue still tasting Rhaenyra in her mouth.
We will burn together, Alicent, the ghost says as Aemond leads the troops out of the city.
#aemma velaryon#aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x ofc#alys rivers/alicent hightower#some rhaenicient#all is bliss (in the court of aemma the great)#all is bliss(in the court of aemma the great) fic
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Hi👋
I remember somewhere you said you’re very visual about your writing process which is why Jake’s stupid moustache had to go.
Does that mean you have fancasts?
:D ! Y'all ask me such great questions :D
The short answer to this question is 80% of the time no jalksdf. The fics I've been writing lately (comics, Moon Knight) are already a visual medium, so obviously I do just kind of use what the characters actually look like in the comic I most strongly identify with them or the TV show. In the end everything sorts out into a really generic mental animation style that's not really anything in particular. The longer answer is that I fucking WISH I did because my actual lifestyle gets so fucking messy. Like all of this actually severely really bothers me nonstop.
Because so much of what I write is multimedia I can't just play the OG work in my brain. Hey, do the other SW writers who think visually have the problem of like - so Obi-Wan in your mind is live action from ROTS, but Ahsoka is CGI from TCW, and Anakin is either live action ROTS or cartooney if he's younger than 19, and the clones are simultaneously live action Jango Fett and CGI clones and it makes it KINDA hard to visualize things? And the exact same issue when writing comic fics with a cast that is half live action and half cartooney in your brain? Like, am I the only one with this issue?!
It is so problematic for the new story bc of 3 different works with so many different art styles. Mr. Knives Trigun has a highly stylized 90s anime appearance that I don't think of him as, and a super realistic modern CGI appearance with which is how I think of the character, except none of that works for MY Knives, and obviously Millie is 90s anime, and Meryl is some sort of demented mix, Brad & Luida are 300% CGI, and Wolfwood is fucking impossible since he's from one hyper-super stylized woodcut-ass flashback of the CGI anime and AGH. Imagine new Knives Trigun as the 'I'm a healer but' meme guy because that's all I can fucking give you.
Again like this like 'Meg is this an actual problem you have when writing Star Wars, Comics, and Trigun' and the answer is that it's a BIG PROBLEM that BUGS ME. How the fuck do you guys live??? Is this just me?!?!
In brighter but equally uselessly complicated news, New Wave was more complicated since everybody was really specifically designed in my mind in a specific animation style and since I can't draw Y'all Will Never Know it. Obviously it was very 00s animation - you can really safely imagine Bruce as himself from the 00s Batman cartoon. I really liked how much sleeker and skinnier and younger he looks in that design! Steph has the BIG hair from her first Robin arc and Tim has Jake Animorph style Generic 90s Relatable Teen Boy visuals.
Sorry that's not a very fun answer and also not a very real answer :( Fancasts that I do genuinely have is, obviously, all for TMA:
Tim Stoker as a younger, sprucier, Daniel Dae Kim.
Daisy as Kristen Bell.
Elias as Marc Evan Jackson.
Annabelle Cane from Sucker's Bet is a mix of Jadah Marie and my friend from high school, which is unhelpful to you.
Teen Gerry was the kid from Monster Allergy. Yeah really.
Martin as That One Fanart My Friend Drew Of My Martin.
And. Obviously. Jon as That One Fanart My Friend Drew Of My Jon That Just Made Me Go Oh That's Jon Now OK.
(Think of Standard Fanart Basira and that's my Basira. Sasha, Georgie, and Melanie are just more generally designed by my brain.)
Do YOU want to design one of my characters permanently in my brain forever. Just draw nice fanart of them. It's that easy. I'll look at it and go 'oh this is what they look like' and that'll be what they look like in my head, forever, and ever. I promise it'll work.
#id post the fanart but id want my friends permission real fast#wish i could draw so bad.#my asks#my writing
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so you wanna become Hidan's god?
9 easy steps to ensnare yourself a zealous follower.
1. be divine. self-explanatory. he will only worship the entity he deems (most) superior. holiness and goodness are not requirements. honestly, they’re rather optional ( as he will willingly stretch himself out and undergo an amazing assortment of mental gymnastics to thrust holiness upon you and justify all that you require of him! it’s fine. all good. he’ll make you holy. )
2. be… impressively divine. you’re divine? that’s cool, good for you and all. however, are you worth it?? are you the Most Special Divinity to Ever Divine on This Stupid Not-Divine Earth??? I mean, gods are like a salad bar nowadays, you can sort of pick and choose, and he’ll only choose The Rolls Royce of Gods. and he’s not as easily impressed as he looks or behaves ( he looks and behaves like a dumbass on most days; it’s funny, ok, he’s allowed to have fun, fuck you and your judgemental ass--!! ). however, he desperately needs a purpose. so that’s a nice basis to start working from (if you’re sly).
3. break him in. no time to impress him or not the impressing you type? no problem! you can just break him in! in fact, this option is possibly the least time-consuming, and it’s exactly what happened to him in canon. he was so thoroughly impressed via various means of psychological and physical torture ( the worst of which must have been the sensory deprivation & being a witness to innumerable horrors ) that he quickly came to understand divinity when he next saw it! I mean, really, cult indoctrination is sooooo much easier when you have made the material more malleable to work with, after all.
4. make use of him. Hidan’s religion is the driving force behind most things in his life, down to waking up every morning; the purpose of religion is purpose itself andall of that. that being said, you better put him to good use. make demands of him; set him tasks and goals to properly serve your very divine self. he is not only insanely happy to accomplish all manners of things for you, but he needs to. ( seriously, he needs it. )
5. let him worship you; make it as grueling as possible. he needs to deserve your love and attention, after all. bonus points if he has to sacrifice parts of himself or suffer innumerable horrors from time to time.
6. give him little treats & reminders that you are, in fact, divine. he responds very well to positive reinforcement (preferably on a fixed schedule, but anything will do), but a constant reminder is best. such as gifting him with immortality. or any other weird ass supernatural thing, he’s not picky, as long as it clearly demonstrates your awesomesauce, godlike powers. it’s a constant reminder of your Very Divine Self (even if it’s not actually divine.)
7. terrify him. that’s it. simple and straightforward. do not, I repeat, do not, skip this step. it is crucial.
8. don’t mind him bitching (but don’t always put up with his bitching). by his very nature, he’s a brat. he’ll bitch. he’ll moan. probably never to your face (but you’re divine, so you have ears everywhere, right??). boss him around every now and then to remind him who’s on top, but let things slide from time to time. if he gets too out of line, up the ante on #7 (it means you did a piss poor job with it or he suffered head-trauma that muddled his memories a bit; so remind him).
9. bless him by visiting him from time to time. even if it’s via hallucinogenic drugs. or prophetic dreams. he’d totally buy into either and will go a little bit fanatically insane for a few days in the aftermath. that’s cute, right??
aaaand that’s it. he’s somewhat of a troublesome brat, but once you break him in properly, you’ll find him a most devoted follower, willing to stretch himself on your behalf to an inhuman degree. in fact, he will become quite demented just for you. isn’t that a lovely thought? xoxo
#isms.#✧. ┊ ― ᴊᴀsʜɪɴɪsᴍ. ( holy. holy. holy. )#(ﾉoヮo)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧┆ ❛ ᶦ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᶦᶰˢᵃᶰᵉ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᶫᵒᶰᵍ ᵖᵉʳᶦᵒᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵃᶰᶦᵗʸ ❜ ( crack )#( but it's not really crack. adfghjkl )#( you all thought i was joking and yet i did write the thing.#to be updated if anything else comes to mind. )#( as always. i didn't proofread this. i never proofread. so. read at your own risk. )
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Echoes of Our Future, Ch. 1: Where is Everybody, Pocket Protector?
Where is Everybody, Pocket Protector? - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]
CW: Swearing (right out the gate, thanks, Remus), spoopy/horror
For @tsshipmonth2020 Echoes of the Past October Writing Event. Day 1: "Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see." — Edgar Allen Poe
---
“Hey, Pocket Protector, where the fuck is everybody?”
Logan closed his eyes and counted down from seven when his bed suddenly creaked and Remus’ half bored, half grating voice announced his presence in the room.
“Can’t you ever knock, Remus?”
The Creative Side seemed to ponder the question, drumming and somehow clacking his fingers against his chin. Finally, he shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice muffled. “Then why don't you?”
“Now you’re asking the right questions, Nerdy Wolverine.” he disappeared and there was a delicate knock on the door, but before Logan could stand to answer it, Remus reappeared, sitting cross-legged in his desk.
“Remus! I was in the middle of something! My schedules—” he snapped, then his voice softened when he realized Remus wasn't actually touching his desk, but instead was hovering an inch above it's surface. He sat back in his chair, his quiet sigh of exasperation sounding more like a growl. He massaged his temple wi5h one hand and glared up at Remus without speaking, certain whatever he said, he might regret.
Remus just grinned and pointed to Logan’s head. “That’s why!” He hopped off and conjured a chair identical to Logan's, but flipped it around and sat backwards on it, arms crossed over the back where he tested his chin. He batted his lashes up at Logan with a little cackle. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” He shivered and Logan couldn't tell how much was for show and how much was genuine. “Terrifying, but cute.”
Logan rolled his eyes and swiveled his chair back to face his schedules. He'd nearly worked in the new adjustments they'd needed for the YooTooz filming, even after the schedule had been thrown into shambles from the last minute photo shoot. “What is it that you want, Remus? I am quite busy.”
“You may be brilliant, Lo Lo, but you don't always listen.” Remus rested his cheek on his own arms, watching for the light bulb moment.
“Wait,” Remus grinned and sat when Logan finally exclaimed. “What do you mean where is everybody?”
“You even phrased it in the form of a question!” Remus clapped.
Ignoring the outburst, Logan continued. “The others should all be—” He glanced at his watch and his eyes grew wide. Was it really that late already? He looked longingly at his perfectly made bed—somehow Remus’ use of it as a trampoline hadn't marred the smooth bedspread. Logan had been hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep before the others rose but surely even Virgil would’ve slunk down for a cup of coffee by eleven am.
“Well, I imagine they've finished breakfast and are…” He perused the day’s calendar. “Roman planned to finish a fresh draft of the script for the next video, Virgil and Janus are due to see Picani in a half an hour and Patton is usually elbow deep in cookie dough by now.”
Remus leaned forward, his face suddenly serious. “Do you smell cookies baking, Lo Lo?” He met Logan’s eyes and there was a flash of genuine worry behind their constant manic dancing in their sockets. “Cause I sure don't.”
“Nobody's out there, Lo. It's just you and me.”
“Remus!” Logan closed his eyes and let his head hang back against the headrest. He took in a slow, measured breath before his eyes snapped open and he glared at the Creative Side. “If this is just one of your stupid pranks.”
“You know none of my pranks are stupid, Lo Lo. Childish? Dangerous? Demented? Sure.” He shimmied his shoulders, manic grin painted across his face. “Never stupid.” Logan remained silent and simply raised one eyebrow. “I swear, Lo. no prank. NObody’s out there. You don't know how relieved I was to still see you.”
That nearly broke all of Logan’s willful suspension of disbelief but he signed again and slowly got up from his chair. He glared at Remus and straightened his tie, then held out his hand toward the door. “After you,” he said, lipss pulled into a tight scowl.
“Thanks, Lo Lo. C’mon.”
Remus opened the door and they were n’t in the upstairs hall, but they stepped through ot the living room, as though they stepped right through the DVD case next to the stairwell. Logan turned around and touched the wall, looking for a trap or any remnants of whatever door or portal they must have just slipped through.
“I don’t understand, Remus. We were just in my room. There’s no way you were able to accurately replicate my bedroom.”
“Lo Lo…” Remus began.
“And this looks just like Thomas’s living room. Where have you taken us—”
“Lo Lo, look…”
Logan finally turned away from the wall and looked out toward the kitchen. The dining table and the counter were still there, but in the place of the kitchen was a large revolving door, slowly spinning. Logan approached it slowly, nearly close enough to touch it before Rmeu suddenly yanked his hand back.
“Don’t just go touching things you don’t understand!” Remus scoffed and rolled his eyes. He picked up an empty soda can off the kitchen counter and tossed it at the revolving doors. It fell to the floor and was swept along in the movement of the door until it completed its circle and the little can reappeared, bouncing and rolling along on the floor, continuing to be rolled along by the door.
“Good thinking, Remus. A trial run.” Logan tilted his head, brow furrowed, and watched the can go through three rotations. Each time it reappeared, it appeared undamaged, and, although he wasn’t keeping an accurate time, seemed to emerge at a consistent rate. He looked around on the counter and plucked an apple from the fruit bowl and tossed that inside.
The apple behaved similarly, bumping along in a different compartment than the can, but appeared undamaged on each revolution. “I think before we try it ours—” Logan turned to face Remus but stood frozen, mouth still forming his last word. Remus turned around and looked.
The entire living room was gone. The patio, the staircase, everything was just gone, swallowed up in an empty grey mist. Remus grabbed another apple from the counter and beamed it across the room. It should have struck the glass sliding doors, or at least the blinds.
They never even heard the apple land, the sound swallowed up by the thick grey mist.
“We gotta get the fuck outta here, Lo Lo!” Remus started to pull Logan toward the revolving doors. The refrigerator was half-enveloped in the same mist and he could no longer see the kitchen window.
Logan scanned the room, eyes casting uselessly into the grey mist. There was no sign or sound of anyone else. They must have all gone through the door already. His eyes landed on the empty dining table and he tugged Remus’ sleeve. “Wait, were those always there?” He pointed to a folded street map with print too small to read from where they stood, a book with a gold gilded cover that looks suspiciously like the frame of the revolving door, and a key.
He picked up the book. It was blank, save for an inscription on the first page. Logan read it aloud.
"Believe in nothing you hear, and only one half that you see." — Edgar Allan Poe
“Poe? Really? Who gives a fuck!” The mist had begun to swallow up the table, as well. “None of us are gonna be there in a minute, let’s go!”
Still clutching the book, Logan scooped up the map and the key just before Remus dragged him through the door and the world went black.
#Echoes of Our Future#eotp2022#tsshipmonth2022#ts logan#ts remus#ts janus#ts patton#ts roman#ts virgil#ts lucas#sanders sides#ts fanfiction#ts fanfic#canonverse#intrulogical#shocking‚ I know
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the batman lb
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okay, i guess i'll reserve my commentary to a lb now instead of spamming.
when is a batman property gonna be brave enough to make alfred posh again. bruce pulling the "you're not my real dad" card on alfred. like, legitimately, is this supposed to be a comedy. how did people watch this in theatres and not crack the FUCK up, it is beyond me.
you have THREE hours. why are you speedrunning the cypher. like, why is this so fast paced? WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE REST OF THE TIME IN THIS MOVIE IF THIS IS HOW YOU'RE SPENDING IT NOW. I AM CONCERNED. when this movie isn't unintentionally funny, it's just boring. i mean, why else would you just take a thumb? obvs it would be used to unlock something, duh. also, like, what'd you think was gonna happen putting that mystery usb into your computer? maybe put it into a burner with no personal information and network connection on it next time, maybe.
WHY'D YOU MAKE HIS BOOTS SO STUPIDLY STOMPY. IT SOUNDS FUCKING DUMB. also it just makes me think clang, clang, thunk, scrape. it'd be funnier if this were some bdsm club and then batman would come in and nobody would bat (hehe) an eyelash at his outfit choice. HEY, GUYS, DID YOU KNOW THIS CHICK IS CATWOMAN? LOOK AT ALL THE CATS. DO YA GET IT? DO YA GET IT??? everything about this batcat scene is bad and dumb. also, they don't have chemistry.
why is the place SO destroyed. there's TOO MUCH evidence. it's the riddler? are sure? are you sure you aren't mr jigsaw man? are you really certain? LMAO IT'S LITERALLY JUST JIGSAW THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING. THAT EVERYTHING IN THIS MOVIE IS PLAYED COMPLETELY STRAIGHT. "you got a lot of cats." yeah, duh, bruce. how else would we know she's catwoman. the audience is completely stupid and has to have everything spelled out to them, don't you know anything? (the sad thing is that's true. people ARE that stupid these days. ugh, why'd y'all have to ruin it for the rest of us with brains.)
"they injected him with arsenic." "rat poison." also known as: poison. "what kind of demented sob does this to a person?" jigsaw! :) oh sorry, did you want me to say riddler? but i don't see him anywhere 🤷 anyway, remember when jim carrey was riddler. that was at least fun, wasn't it. the complete lack of batcat chemistry lmao. I'M NOT EVEN AN HOUR INTO THIS MOVIE 😭 hey, y'know what makes up for a total lack of chemistry? the old bickering married couple trope, especially for characters that've known each other for like 5 seconds. jk, that's bad. don’t do that. selina would be more interesting if she were just her own character and not selina or catwoman and also if this movie would let her exclusively be about her friend and not, like, batcat nonsense.
when the riddler isn't jigsaw'ing it up he's brainy'ing it up. (y'know, brainy. from hey arnold.) the riddler just blunt force trauma'ing all his victims is so funny. like, i've watched criminal minds. i know that means you're just a coward. especially since you have to get them all when their backs are turned. coward. like, legit, are you supposed to find the riddler in this intimidating? because he isn't. he's funny when he's lurking behind people as if that's somehow supposed to be scary when it isn't, and he's hilarious when he's smashing people's heads in because he must have so non-existent self-esteem that's the only way he feels comfortable enough to attack people, and then he's also funny when he's trying to be the riddler because you're actually just coming up with saw traps. I'M STILL NOT EVEN AN HOUR INTO THIS MOVIE.
oh yay, forcing this batcat narrative despite them having no chemistry. and selina genuinely being a better character far, far away from him. also, you have to keep up appearances beCAUSE YOU NEED A COVER STORY, YOU BAFOON. joker did everything about this better. full offense but pattinson's bruce sucks. he's so boring and awkward. and like, not in a good way like how bruce should be. 'cause he should be a lil awkward. but he should at least be able to FAKE being mr eligible bachelor man, if literally only for appearance and cover's story sake. the bruce in this feels like everybody interviewed about him after he has been convicted of being batman would go "yeah, that kid was always a fuckin' weirdo, i ain't surprised at all." JOKER DID EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS BETTER, FFS.
i'd get out of there. a smart person would've made that car a bomb. i guess making the person inside of it is the same thing. this is so fucking boring, honestly. 🙄 AND I'VE STILL 2 HOURS LEFT. clang, clang, thunk, scrapeeeee. batman has come to uh... untape. that man's mouth. "*heavy breathing*" IT'S BRAINY, Y'ALL! no, you're nygma. e nygma. edward nygma. lmao, joker did all of this so much better. this movie is SO embarrassing. really, i'd have thought since you were a child, you loved the saw movie franchise. 🤷 bruce, i don't think you're supposed to be helping him cheat. but is riddler gonna call you out or. is that gonna happen when you get to the third one and bruce has answered them all for you. oh, that didn't happen. lame.
the idea that batman would somehow survive a point blank explosion to his face when it took off the other guy's head who he was literally right next to when the bomb exploded... now you've broken my immersion on top of everything else. if you're going to be afraid of somebody high up on the food chain in a corrupt justice system, i'd think you've be afraid of like... the mayor? not whoever the fuck that guy is. OHMYGOD, JIM IS FAKING INTERROGATING BATMAN????? WHO??? COULD HAVE FORSEEN??? THIS??????? does the movie think this looks cool? i hope it knows it looks lame.
somebody add that whip noise effect for how often this scene is switching between coverage of bruce and jim lmao. why doesn't batman just upload all of this evidence to like tiktok or something. modern day technology exists in this iteration. he's actually being extremely ineffective as batman by not doing that. STOP PRETENDING THAT BATCAT IN THIS HAVE CHEMISTRY. THEY DON'T. shouldn't bruce be like brain dead with how many successive concussions that he's had at this point. bruce revving his engine like this is somehow supposed to be intimidating... embarrassing. i must have THE most bored expression on my face watching this chase scene. LOOK IT'S THE SCENE FROM HEAVY RAIN! how does this scene have any stakes. did anybody watch this and care about what was happening. i mean i guess now there's stakes that poor innocent people are being sucked in this clusterfuck lol. but i mean for the main characters? eh, who cares. oh look the car is flipping, you can tell because it's that shot of the stuff in the car goin’ nuts. LOOK HOW COOL BATMAN LOOKS UPSIDE DOWN IN THE RAIN WITH THE FIRE AND HIS STOMPY STOMPY BOOTS. HE'S SUPER COOL, RIGHT GUYS? AND WITH THE SUPER COOL MUSIC PLAYING? WE MADE A GOOD MOVIE, RIGHT? that's what i assume the people who made this movie were thinking.
when i can even take them saying the riddler seriously i just hear method man saying the riddler. *takes a 3min dance break for the song* i'm not joking, i took a break to listen that song. OH THANK CHRIST. i am halfway through this movie. THE EVIL IS 50% DEFEATED. 🎶 THE RIDDLAR 🎶 this movie is soooooo bad lol. i mean el also means god. is that gonna be a thing lol. remember when jon glover voiced the riddler. that was fun, wasn't it? remember when lost did this bit with the old school technology? that was fun, wasn't it? THE TOWER? THE TOWER THAT JEREMIAH DESIGNED? is that what you're talking about? okay, but fr, why is there an HOUR AND A HALF OF THIS MOVIE LEFT.
ohno, bruce, you've put alfred in danger by existing AND after you've already pulled the "you're not my dad" card on him. that's sad, huh. "i'm afraid it already has, sir." dory is hilarious. unintentionally. please explain how alfred is doing so poorly despite at least THROWING THE BOMB AWAY FROM HIM but meanwhile bruce survived a fucking point blank explosion. POINT BLANK. LITERALLY RIGHT FUCKING NEXT TO HIM. like, you can either have realism or fantastical. YOU HAVE TO PICK ONE. YOU CAN'T HAVE BOTH SOMETIMES AND OTHER TIMES NOT. every time this movie thinks it's being cool my eyes just roll. 🙄
THEY DON'T HAVE CHEMISTRY. STOP. everything about this is getting lamer and lamer 🙄 THERE'S STILL OVER AN HOUR LEFT. i mean, the joker also thought bruce's parents were his when they weren't. did you get a dna test done or. why's it so laaaaaaaaaame. why are they kissing. this doesn't make sense. ugH. now, you could make this acceptable if she stole shit off of him.
"martha was in and out of asylums" joker!martha canon??? okay. i highly dislike this version of bruce. he is just *sad trombone noise* i don't want *sad trombone noise* for a bruce. ...didn't i play this scene in a batman game or something. why is the plot for this just jumping everywhereeeeeeeee. *sad trombone noise* is so boring. all of the wayne manor designs (sans gotham) have been bad since 90s batman ended. 💅 bruh, he just woke up. calm down. what, you did nothing for your mom? RUDE. ....i miss when alfred got to be posh. i do not accept any of you non-posh alfreds. 🙈 this scene is so touching. is what somebody would say who is possibly easily manipulated i guess. not me though.
i just. do not like this selina. there are only two selina's for me and they are from batman returns and btas. why would you do this plot and make everything so boring when you could've just done white knight. except whoever made this would've just made that boring too. "come on, vengeance." pls stop. literally every time this movie is like look how cool this is, it's just the lamest shit ever.
now it's like you're trying to copy batman returns but like. you have to know batman returns did it better, right. right. if all of you stopped monologuing, you'd solve all of your problems. like, at all. instead of not at all. omg, she scratched him. like a cat. get it. 'cause she's catwoman. GET IT. DO YOU GET IT. everything about this is just the lamest. i mean, batman's secretly recording everything he sees and hears so perhaps not. THERE'S STILL ALMOST A FUCKING HOUR LEFT.
i was going to make a joke about the riddler sniping falcone but i guss it wasn't a joke, huh. i hope it is the riddler who shot him because that makes actually no fucking sense whatsoever. so it's perfect for this movie! remember how fun the riddler's place was in batman forever and they played bad days by the flaming lips? that was fun, wasn't it? ohmygod, is he drawing a question mark in his cappuccino or whatever. because that'd just be. so clever of this movie. so clever and creative. i am not at all being sarcastic. IT'S THE ONE THAT SAYS E NYGMA. AS IN NYGMA. EDWARD NYGMA. oh, movie, you're just oh so creative and clever to have him draw a question mark in his coffee. i'm so super duper impressed by you and your storytelling skills!
no, his name is edward nygma. "suffocating my mind no escape" yeah yeah cut my life into pizza, we get it. "he's got like 500 followers." i have a lot more followers than that. on tumblr. tumblr. wow, is it: I'M GONNA SAY WHO BATMAN IS. i, for one, would gladly have this be the end of THE batman. 'cause this movie is bad and you're a bad lame-o batman, full offense.
...is that collar a joke, because you could easily slip it over your head. like, it's much larger than his head. okay, so on top of being jigsaw and brainy, he's also literally just stanley coleman too? dumb. man, you know things in places like this are recorded, right? or did you stop the cameras? kinda looks like they're still recording so uh, you're kinda already fucked. where's the joker to pop in a bitchslap the fuck out of riddler and be like "WE ALL KNOW HE'S BRUCE, YOU MORON. YOU'RE RUINING THE GAME WITH BATMAN FOR THE REST OF US." the joker did this way better. 🙄 WHY THE FUCK IS THERE STILL OVER 30 MINS OF THIS MOVIE LEFT. why'd people give joker so much shit when this movie and character exists lol. bruh, are you faking this or like everything in this movie: is this supposed to be unironically played straight. let's fast forward outta this scene already pls.
i am at the point where if i could run this movie at 2x speed, i would be already. alas, i cannot. now you're just stealing from jeremiah and gotham. LAME. literally every single thing this movie is copying... everything else did it better lol. jeremiah already did this and he's so much cooler this is so unfair 😤 LITERALLY GOTHAM ALREADY DID THIS AND IT WAS SO MUCH COOLER UGH. also, like, year one/zero year was the inspiration for both, right. BUT GOTHAM LEGITIMATELY DID THIS BETTER AND COOLER.
ohno, the dumbass mayor who thinks she knows better than everyone else got shot. how terrible. also, i totally have emotional investment in all of this characters and not. literally none. oh yay, it's the look how cool batman is fight scenes. yay. waiting for the moment when batman gets saved by catwoman 'cause this is super lame and that's one of the lamest things that could happen. oh i'm sub 30 mins, yay! this random villain taking for fucking ever to just shoot batman when he could've just shot him. lame. also, hey, catwoman stopped him and saved batman. who could have forseen this totally not lame turn of events.
remember when the joker and batman were bleeding out and their blood was making a broken heart on the ground. anyway, that was more romantic than this nonsense. so now he's just using magic juice to pump himself up? lmao. what even is this. "i'm vengeance." yeah, it sounds lame af doesn't it. i know that's not the real reason. but it should be. isn't the entire city there getting deded lol. LMAO ARE YOU FOR REAL. THIS IS SO FUCKING LAME. like, your epic "oh batman dies" moment is him being a fucking moron and cutting an electrical wire to stop it from electrocuting people except THEN you fucking chicken out and don't even have him die (or ‘die’)? EVEN THOUGH YOU SHOT IT AS A DEATH SCENE MOMENT. HOW MUCH FUCKING LAMER CAN THIS MOVIE GET, JESUS. all tea all shade all offense but batfleck did this better. look at how ~emotional and ~moving this scene is. totally not schlocky as hell. wait, was that the dumbass mayor who's there? who got shot? bitch, you're gonna die in those waters. your wound is getting super infected. that's sad huh.
OH YAY THE EMO MUSIC STARTS. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO COME ON WE'VE RETURNED TO THE RORSCHACH VOICE OVER NARRATIONS?????????? THIS IS SO SAD FOR YOU. I'M SO EMBARRASSED FOR YOU. THIS IS REALLY PATHETIC, Y'ALL. ugh, when is this gonna be over. somebody soundproof the riddler's cell. YOU CAN'T SUCK ME IN WITH BATJOKES. I WON'T FALL FOR THIS. is this how it's gonna end. on them. having no chemistry. "you're already spoken for." YEAH, BY THE JOKER. i mean, not this batman. he's *sad trombone noise* and deserves no jokers. but like, batmans in general. they are all spoken for. (by the joker.) all you have to do is end the movie and you're still making it lame. YAY, IT'S OVER. I'M FREE. anyway, gotham did all of this, everything in this movie, but better. go watch gotham. 💅
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The many times...
Shepard and Alenko were in close proximity, and the one time they did something about it (in other words, welcome to the “Into Darkness” vampire verse, and in typical fashion, no, I’m not starting at the beginning of it lol)
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1/?
He’s trapped in a cocoon of dark energy, not quite a stasis field but definitely the threat of one, Shepard’s presence a layer of frost biting down to the bone. Kaidan inhales, ready to flare, when the hand over his mouth tightens and Shepard’s breath ghosts over his ear. So close, too close, much too close.
“Listen,” he whispers and Kaidan has no choice but to obey as someone passes underneath. An even tread, gone sharp and intent, heels an impractical clack across the floor. Miranda, it must be, still riled from their argument and on the prowl for him.
Too bad the actual hunter aboard snagged him first.
She makes two trips up and down the hall before slowing directly below, likely noting the biotic snare above her head — but Shepard hisses, a hair-raising, nerve-jangling warning that has Kaidan trying and failing to slide a barrier between them, smothered again by Shepard’s field, and she moves on without a word.
Peace at last, except for the vampire pressed up against his back, blocking him from dropping down from the... crawl space between floors? Maintenance shafts?
“Figured you could use an escape route, Alenko,” Shepard says.
“You... heard that, huh?”
“Only all of it. The joys of a vampire’s heightened senses.”
“Do I even want to know what else you can hear?”
Silence, broken only by his own breathing, then a thoughtful hum and the faint crackle of the not-quite stasis field pulling back, dispersing.
“Your heartbeat, slowing now. A bit dangerous, don’t you think, around a vampire?”
“Oh, fuck off,” he snaps back and Shepard laughs, a sound Kaidan feels everywhere they touch — almost.... everywhere in such a tight space. He barely has time to register Shepard moving, the scrape of a latch coming loose, before he’s falling straight down, too quick to brace for —
Until he’s upright, all of a sudden, not a thump or bruise to be had, Shepard in his face and hands steady on his shoulders when he staggers.
Fucking vampire reflexes.
“You all right?”
“You’re a dick, you know that?”
Shepard grins, fangs and all. It’s nowhere near as frightening as it probably should be. “You’d be bored if I wasn’t, Alenko. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes around here.”
“And it has to be you?” Kaidan asks, stepping back. A move mirrored.
“Why not?” Shepard replies, then: “Lawson’s in the observation lounge. Might want to find a different haunt for a while, Alenko.”
Kaidan slams to a halt mid-step, biting back a curse, then about turns to head in the opposite direction, aware of those grey eyes tracking him.
Fuck Cerberus. Fuck their bullshit. And especially fuck the vampire damn determined to give him a heart attack by popping out of the ship’s many nooks and crannies like some demented jack in the box.
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| The sweet, sweet sounds of Dinarrón |
⁂
Pairing: Dinarrón (Dina Arellano Félix x David Barrón Corona)
For @narcosfandomdiscordNarcOctober - Day 30 - Day of Amnesty (originally Day 3 - Day of Music)
Prompt: Create and post a playlist for fic/wip of yours OR your favorite episode and explain why each song resonates for that fic/wip or episode
Word count: ≈ :yodib:
The playlist -> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7DrO59HcsobbbmnVDEjLBX?si=3lcETYcXR6eDv-G_so1eBw
Since the playlist is over 100 songs, I couldn't go over every one and its place within the Dinarrón pantheon, so I decided to pick the most enduring, impactful ones and share some of the brain virus thought process and inspo for the as-of-yet unpublished Dinarrón saga whose page count will prob give War And Peace a run for its money if I can even manage to start releasing the thing to begin with:
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Blue Jeans and Born to Die - Lana del Rey
Both of these songs are basically the madness that started it all so we all have problematic fav, Lana, to thank for the Dinarrón madness that’s taken my brain hostage and effectively turned me into a psy op for my otp whose sole purpose is to construct the world in which they plausibly exist and accumulate hapless converts to my cause Nothing lyrically especially screams Dinarrón so much as it is the vibes, although the “you fit me better than my favorite sweater and I know that love is mean, and love hurts. But I still remember that day we met in December, oh baby, I will love you till the end of time. I would wait a million years. As long as you remember that you’re mine” of Blue Jeans definitely reflects their relationship dynamic or rather the one that exists in my head. Namely, the fact that they just innately get each other bc due to their shared like outsider/insider status albeit for diff reasons when it comes to the family business.
Better Version - Sabrina Claudio
So, I actually have @narcolini to thank for this life ruining song bc even though Lana was the introduction, this was the song that really solidified the madness. Like I don’t know that I would’ve continued writing for them, were it not for this song bc I shit you not, it could’ve been written for the Movie In My Head for a lush, slo-mo montage of their most tender moments, as Dina’s reminiscing on the good times while she’s actively planning her wedding to Claudio. Fíjate bien, mis compas:
More frequent visits would’ve been nice.
But I don’t want you knowing that there’s somebody new.
Sometimes the guilt will clog up my mind.
But is it cheating if I love a better version of you?
Cause he is perfect, everything I give him, he deserves it.
Rarely does he ever come to see me.
But any time he does, he makes it worth it, like I earned it.
God, I love him.
And when I’m with you, I can’t help myself but only think about him.
I can’t wait to see him again.
My god I miss him.
And when I’m with you, I’m just thinking ‘bout how much I wish it was him.
I can’t wait to see him again.
Granted, I don’t think Dina doesn’t love Claudio but she can’t help but still hold a candle for my boy, B. And she feeeeeels reaaaaaal extra fucking guilty any time she considers that Barrón might’ve been a better partner given the reality of the industry they’re in which she’ll find out the hard way. RIP to a homie, Claudio. Sosorry I have to keep your canon death in my Russian novel to further the goals of getting these two to bang it out and run off into the sunset together but you just didn’t shine quite like Our Boy at Christine’s, my dude. It’s okay, not everyone was made to be that cool under pressure sksks
lo que pasó - Nina Cobham
alright, so here's another life-ruining pick by @narcolini who tbh is like the co-compiler of this playlist I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that they've picked at least like 35% of the songs here and sent them to me for fevered, demented consumption sksks and I nearly fell to my knees the first time I heard it and DO YOU KNOW WHY????????? JUST A TAKE A GOTDAMN LOOK FOR YOURSELF:
Lo que pasó, ya no duele tanto
Think that I can move on but I'm not sure
... what you want from me
... if you want from me
Tú me has esperando tanto tiempo [You've waited for me for so long]
Ya me tienes donde quieres [You have me where you want me]
Y no te das cuenta [And you don't even realize]
in addition to,
Me dejas sin palabras. [You leave me speechless.]
But what does it matter?
If I told you how I'm feeling would you feel it too?
I don't speak with so much fluency
Words don't come so easily as they used to
I think I got it but it's not it, and it throws me off
You're a constant learning curve for me
Pa' qué lo sabes
How much, how much, could I make it any more obvious?
... Probably
I MEANNNNALSDKJF;ALKSJDFJ;AKJ can you think of another song that better captures Barrón's struggle to express himself in even the most casual, mundane situations and his tendency to compartmentalize his emotions in order to get through bc ew feelings, why would I ever deal with my trauma? are you mad? AND MANAGE TO DO THIS USING THE ALLEGORY OF ACHIEVING FLUENCY IN A LANGUAGE, IN THIS CASE BOTH THE SPANISH LANGUAGE AND THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE I'M GOING TO BE SICKDA;FLKSJD;FLAKJW;KLJ and it really just feeds into so many hcs I have in regards to their relationship like, 1) the whole fluency thing, the song's in both spanish and english, and they help each other improve in their respective languages as a way of bonding early on, 2) the tone of the song implies the object of interest/desire/heartache has the upper hand in the situation much like I think Dina would have the upper hand over Barrón bc she just would, 3) the whole "what/if you want from me" is justslkdjf;lskj saoooo0oooo Barrón, like he's not gonna act unless it's a sure thing, and at this point in the relationship despite the fact that all signs point to -> yes, you may, in fact, roll again, pass go, collect $200 dollars, she's crazy about you, hombre, do we need to hit you over the head with it for you to see he's second guessing whether Dina reciprocates Big Feelings Of Lust Love bc the class difference is so vast and he doesn't realize how actually Hot Shit he is, so he thinks it's literally insane to entertain the notion that Dina might very sensibly and understandably want to climb him like a jungle gym and any time he's close to giving way to hope and maybe broaching the topic with her, he clams back up and continues the cycle of self-inflicted torture like the good blorb he is
Cielo - Los York's
Aight, so the lyrics are sweet and romantic in a way that applies to most pairings, which means they don't speak to the Dinarrón Dynamic as much, but this song would be period-appropriate for the show and I just feel like Ramón insisted on there being a boombox in the office despite passionate protests by Mín, and everyone else who isn't filled to the brim with general anxiety and mild panic outvoted him, so now they have a boombox that's playing any time someone's there doing work. And this seems like something one of them would've played while working together at the warehouse.
Running Up That Hill - Kate Bush
This is a bit of a weird one? I guess it's less them and more Dina's POV about them. It's also contemporary the show and here's no way Dina's not into Kate Bush. I refuse to believe it. The best way I can explain why this made it on the playlist is by describing the scene in my head when I listen to it: Dina's standing at a window, looking out at the backyard of the Arellano house, contemplating the meaning of life. It's a rare cloudy day in TJ. She's newly engaged to Claudio (think early S3 long hair Dina but this would be set before S3 starts), Barrón has cried weeeweewee all the way back to the Imperial Desert to escape the crippling heartbreak of seeing her every day, knowing they'll never be together 'cause she's marrying an Actually Decent, If Not Boiler Plate dude with more status and money than he'll ever have train his dudes in the ways of paramilitary tactics, and their last convo ended somewhat tensely with him pointing out that in order to marry this guy, she'll probably have to give up any ambitions of serving the family biz in the way she always wanted bc of blahblahblah murrhsdlkjfs gEnDeR rOLeS. And right now, she's finding herself missing Barrón, wondering where he is, resenting herself for missing him and wondering where he is, resenting him for being right about giving up her ambitions, scared that him being right is going to make her resent Claudio over time and ruin their marriage, and just overall wishing he were there so she could make him understan, and what if the only way to do that is to switch places a la:
It doesn't hurt me
Do you wanna feel how it feels?
Do you wanna know, wanna know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, it's you and me.
And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God and get Him to swap our places.
Be running up that road, be running up that hill, be running up that building.
Like^^ all that is going through her mind, staring out the window. How can she make him understand? and lowkey realizing the only way might be for them to Freaky Friday that shit skskjdlkj
You don't wanna hurt me. But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware, I'm tearing you asunder. Oh, there is thunder in our hearts.
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?
Oh, tell me we both matter, don't we?
You, it's you and me.
It's you and me, you won't be unhappy.
Come on baby, come on darling. Let me steal this moment from you now.
Come on angel, come on, come on darling. Let's exchange the experience, oh.
^^ this part slaps particularly hard for the "Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Tell me we both matter" bc Dina gets that poor Davidito is having a rough time. It hurts her to hurt him this way, but she's also a bit, "Can you not find it in your heart not to hate/be mad at me? It's not like I didn't think about this decision entensively and arrive at the conclusion that sacrificing my professional goals is worth it to further the goals of teh family and I do forrealsies love this guy. Like damn, can a woman get a break pls. also pls don't hate me cuzIstillloveyoukbye"
El Muerto - Los Muchachos
god, I could write an actual fucking PhD dissertation on why this song is emblematic of my boy but this is alreayd long asf so I'll just break it down like this.
Mi gente la espalda me cuida [(I know) my people got my back]
En cualquier misión suicida [on any suicide mission]
Que todos con todos lo que ando son soldados [That all those I roll with are soldiers]
Un hermano está en la fría, [A brother out in the cold]
Otro hermano ya está arriba [another already above]
Y lo que quiero es tenerlo aquí por mi lado [All I want is him here by my side]
Pa' fumarnos un cigarro de maría [to smoke a joint]
Como antes lo que hacíamos [like we used to do]
Cuando la vida no era tan complicada [back when life wasn't so complicated]
Obviously, color me inconsolable bc of the brother references and how well it lines up with Bugsy, out in the cold (in prison for life) and Matteo, already upstairs (BC THEY KILT MY BABY BOI DEAD) but it all began with the opening lines aka clearly Barrón's sentiments upon hearing of Dina's engagement, "Pensaban que estaba muerto pero solo andaba de parranda. Sí me fui de la ciudad fue para curar mi dolor interno" which like.... so, maybe he doesn't actually flee Tijuana without telling anyone, is gone long enough for the Arellanos to wonder if he didn't somehow get himself killed, and turn out to really just be on a bender bc he needed to escape the deep anguish and personal devastation of losing his lady love ... but that doesn't mean he didn't consider it as an option very, very seriously
Killing Me - Omar Apollo
Another @narcolini pick, and this one has it all when it comes to Barrón internal strife and turmoil: questioning his sanity for being in the Business of Crimes, thinking bout how Dina's prob the only person he feels comfortable revealing himself to in any capacity except Bugsy, thinking about how that gives her way too much power over him and is tehrefore fucking terrifying, and daydreaming of making sweet, sweet love to the Woman of His Dreams. For your consideration:
There ain't nobody but us.
Love me like I'm gonna die. Fuck me like you fantasize.
Touch me like you know you provide to, ain't one to lie to, just wanna slide through, oh
What I do makes me if I wonder if I'm alright
Holding back feelings like it's the end of my life
That's right, you're killing me
Lejos de Ti - Julio Jaramillo
Tbh I can't remember if I actually got this from the OG soundtrack but this is another one that is pretty self explanatory and is highly not!anachronistic. There's a few other songs on my list that rank as contenders for whatever would play in the end credits of the Dinarrón movie that's constantly playing on repeat in a projector in my brain, but this is the first one or maybe it'd be the end credits of an episode of an HBO miniseries? idk. what you guys think
Call Me In the Day - La Luz
Uhhhhhh, I can't even begin to unpack how close this song is to my heart in the Dinarrón pantheon, except to say that if I were to film the warehouse makeout scene that I wrote in Always Short to the Gate, this would be playing over it. Also, Léo RIP to a baddie dancing with Teresa in the Bolivia episode of Queen of the South polluted my mind and the sexy made it's way to Dinarrón so really, I can accept exactly no credit here
NO HAY LAY - Kali Uchis
GODDDLSKDJF;LSKJD;LKAJ okay, this is another song that inspired an elaborate scenelet in my head, which takes place after they get together but before the brothers are aware of it, so they're keeping the relationship under wraps. And as a result, this song is playing while they're getting freaky on the dancefloor yes I have a thing with dancing and these two and I have no answers or explanations except that imsorryforeverything of some trendy nightlclub that the Arellanos don't own that's like 100 miles away from TJ that they escaped off to, so they could be an real couple aka all googly eyed and loveydovey in the open. It's basically their version of date-night that's gotta be date-night on the DL bc they're both scared that if the brothers knew about it, Ramón would cut Barrón's face off and wear it to his birthday party, at the behest of Mín who is decidedly Not B's Biggest Fan at this point in the story.
If it feels so right why say it's wrong,
I know you ain't had enough
Sabes que yo soy la única [You know I'm the only one]
que puede hacerte cosas mágicas [who can do magical things to you]
Hey, en el amor no hay ley [In love there is no law]
Y deja que nos miren si quieren [And let them see what they want]
No matter what we do, no matter what they sayNo importa lo que digan [I don't care what they say]
Yo te besaré otra vez, otra vez, otra vez [I'm gonna kiss you again, and again, and again]
Bésame otra vez [Kiss me again]
For Your Precious Love - Otis Redding
I meannnnnn this legend speaks for himself, I feel like I shouldn't have to explain anything other than, pretend they got married and this is the song of their first dance and try not to throw yourself on the floor, screaming and crying. You can't
DNA - Tabi
This is more a Dina one, than a Dinarrón one, that feels like what her internal dialogue might be if she either fell out of love with Claudio after being married for some time, or began to resent him and the marriage and her having to give up her place in the AFO to play dutiful wife to someone in the public eye, or both? Like it's essentially her trying to force herself to be happy playing a role she didn't really ask for, and then eventually recognizing her independence will always be a priority to her and affirming her own need for autonomy is not something she's going to be able to suppress, no matter how hard she tries, that's just how she is and that's exactly why we love her
DNA, I don't need anybody
DNA, sometimes I wish that I could change my ways
I wanna need you, but I, I wanna need you, but I
It's just my DNA
Banquetera - West Gold with Simpson Ahuevo
This one's mostly for the homies, specifically Barrón's homies Chato and Ziggy. The song itself is contemporary, but honestly, if we were going for period accuracy and this was in the Dinarrón Double Feature soundtrack, I would never know it was anachronistic. Like shit is right at home next to Tupac and Easy E, y'know
corazón caramelo - November Ultra
good GODDAMN okay, another @narcolini choice, that actually made me cry sksldkjfskldjflsk not just bc of the clear Dinarrón parallels but also due to Just General Life Heartache, Suffering, and Existential Dread and the LongSTanding Recovery from My Divorce That Yes, Happened 2 Years Ago But Still Hits Sometimes and is one you, dear Reader all 2 of you should listen to for the fucking out-of-this-world, actually-unreal vocal performance by November Ultra that really hammers home these actually-unreal lyrics:
Un amor como el primero [A love like the first]
Pero que dure hasta el final [But lasts until the end]
Mi alma es tuya, bájala de la cruz [My soul is yours, take it down from the cross]
Si yo soy luna, tú eres el sol que me da luz [If I am the moon, you are the son that gives me light]
Ídolo - Adrian Quesada with Angélica Garcia
Another contender for a closing credits song and- y'know all these closing credits songs are so good, maybe I should just settle on this being a miniseries and not just a movie. We'll see what Netflix execs have to say on the matter when I inevitably write this script and clearly shop it to all the big streaming platforms and tv networks and everyone is fighting each other, full Spy vs Spy, to produce this award-win- er okay, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, here. There's something about the organ that makes this feel period-appropriate, despite it being a modern song, and I can just see all the pickup shots of San Diego and Tijuana, before it cuts to Dina and Barrón driving in some classic car, top down bc it's a convertible obvio, and quite litrally riding off into the desert-framed sunset. I mean,
En mis horas turbulentas solo oigo tu voz [In troubled hours I only hear your voice]
Embrujada con potencia que hemos probado los dos [Bewitched with power we have both shared]
Sombra tan bella [Shadow so beautiful]
Que cobra mi voluntad pa' conocerlo [It steals my will not to know you]
Ídolo, mi ídolo [Idol, my idol]
Me robaste la cordura [You rob me of my sanity]
1994 - United Freedom Collective ft. Jordan Stephens
In order to fend off the doubling over in pain that I always do when I think about what this song means to Dinarrón for any length of time, I'll just say, this is how Matty feels thinking about Barrón, and how Barrón feels about Bugsy and none of it works out the way they want it to
When I look at my little brother, I feel an awful urge to smother him
I wanna bubble wrap his organs
Stick styrofoam in his pity
Funnel sunlight into his solar plexus
Turn every fall into a ball pit
But I know that one day that little scooter's gonna turn into desire
And much like what I just witnessed, he'll be unable to break
He'll break and I'll have to watch salt crystallize on his cheeks knowing it'll have more value than any cushion I've sown myself
I dream of a version of him in the future
Tumbling around rock bottom, stranded there in the deep
Maroons and wounds he can't touch
A bruise has got its own life
Every wound is in arrears
It hurts and it hurts, then it disappears
Corderio De Nanã - Os Tincoãs & Sukiyaki - Kyu Sakamoto
Bc this Russian novel/Movie/Show In My Head is actually more of a Barrón biopic since I've hijacked him and essentially acted like the man's my OC instead of someone who was on the show skskjsk and in this Barrón biopic, there's a part where he lives in Hawaii briefly bc his Garbage!Father is in the navy and gets stationed there for a little while. And despite the fact that Kyu Sakamoto is Japanese and Os Tincoãs is Brazilian and not remotely Pacific Islander in any way, let alone Hawaiian one or both of these are 1000% going to be playing over a montage of Matteo, Barrón, and Bugsy riding their bikes on the beach and just generally adventuring around the island, as three brothers should. It's pre-gang initiation for Matteo, so it's them at their purest, most undiluted little kid selves Barrón looks back on this time so fondly he actually refuses to think about it bc the nostalgia is physically painful. Also, both songs are pretty cheerful and breezy sounding but can't speak to the lyrics bc the first I'm p sure is in Portuguese and the second is in Japanese so they could be all doom and gloom and I just have no idea ksksks
Cerca De Ti - Hermanos Gutiérrez
Once again, I'll refrain from going full Charlie Kelly/Pepe Silva on everyone here, but what I can say is just.... just picture, Dina and Barrón, at the beach, at night, they decide to go swimming naked in the ocean under the light of the full moon. I'll let you fill in the rest sdlkfjskd
Sage Motel - Monophonics ft. Kelly Finnigan
The final (I think?) contender for the closing credits song. Tbh this song just oozes sexy in a throwback way, in the same vein as like a Smokey Robinson or a Sam Cooke, and would be right at home in a Scorsese movie, which makes it more than qualified to feature in the end credits of the Movie-In-My-Head that will probnever happen lbr, like I'll be lucky if I even post 1/3 of what I've written skdjksjd
Over-the-Ocean Call - Lizzy McAlpine
Go ahead and throw this one on and imagine Dina calling Barrón while he's doing this paramilitary cry-fest training in the desert pretending he's not sobbing into his cheerios every morning Dina doesn't exist, and she needs to, idk, talk about some wedding details or something, maybe coordinate where he's gonna be during the ceremony and whatnot bc he's head security so poor mf's like contractually obligated to be there skskksjdkj and this sentiment is exactly where Dina's at. Throw this shit on and think about that not-at-all angsty scenario bc that's what @narcolini did before sending it to me, for me to turn around immediately and do the exact same thing. I mean, c'mon.
And you hate the things I do and sometimes you hate me
But I think my mind is far away, sorta strange, this is
But I think I'll call you anyway
Call collect
'Cause baby this is, an over-the-ocean call
And I thought I could make it short
But my brain's all outta sorts, I can't hide it
I'm staring at the my wall and I thought that I wouldn't cry
But breaking your heart breaks mine
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine
I'll call from over the ocean
This time, this time, this time
I'll break your heart through the phone
With an over-the-ocean call
Is how I told him, this isn't working anymore
You Make Your Own Heaven And Hell - The Temptations
Now, I have quite a few end credits songs, but this is the only opening credits song bc the little scenelet in my head with this song is just so perfect, idk if I could find a better way to start. It'd be similar to that asslong shot at the beginning of Jackie Brown that's literally just Jackie (played by the iconic Pam Grier and honestly, even if you don't like Tarantino, you should watch Jackie Brown for Madame Grier alone bc she's incredible) on the little conveyer belt in the airport (she's a flight attendant) trying to make it to her next flight. I think I'd do something like that with a few pickup shots right before of Logan Heights and San Diego, to introduce the neighborhood, like where B grew up. Not only is the song perfect vibes-wise, but the lyrics are so perfectly aligned to what I've essentially sksks decided are Barrón's beliefs about making money and what it takes to get by and be successful in America (and later, Mexico, ofc) and his general philosophy on being a criminalsksk
Time passes and your values change
Life becomes a strange, confusing game
Suddenly, you want the finer things in life
But you find it takes lots of hard work and sacrifice
Now you're standing at the crossroads of life
To satisfy your personal wants, will you do wrong or will you do right?
Life is a giant, invisible scale with two sides: good and bad
You and your beliefs are the weights
The things you do each day determine the balance
Your conscience is a flawless judge and jury, and the only question is what do you want?
I'm tellin' you the natural facts, for what it's worth
You make your own heaven and hell, right here on Earth
we've been loving in silence - MARO
So, if we were to continue the Stealing-Away-Into-the-Night scenario that I proposed above for Kali Uchi's No Hay Ley, and fast forward to Barrón and Dina in some random roadside, pay-by-the-hour motel room waking up next to each other. Dawn's barely broken, Dina's laying on her stomach, and Barrón's on his side, facing her, tracing the liines of her shoulder blades with his fingertips ......, and I'm dying, and I'm dead, and I'm typing this from beyondthe grave rn, I actaully cannot continue to soldier on, so I'll just leave you with that and this:
Oh, we've been here for a while
Haven't seen the sun come out
Oh, we've been loving in silence, drawing with our bodies
Oh, I feel like running again, yeah, I feel like running again
Oh, I wanna do it again, yeah, I wanna do it again
Every crooked line in your back feels like part of me
Your story's in my fingers, you'll never wash away
Oh, we've found some secret smiles
Haven't heard the rain come down
Oh, we've been loving in silence, talking with our bodies
═
taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord @narcolini @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc @artemiseamoon
#naroctober#day of amnesty#enedina arellano félix#david barrón corona#dinarrón#day of music#narcos mexico#narcos#netflix narcos mexico#netflix narcos#character inspo#character playlist#Spotify
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Questions from the internet:
Would you rather go to prison for one year or go to prison with a Rubik’s cube and you can leave when you’re done?
What crime would you commit if committing it would mean it is never committed ever again?
What is a Tier 1 operator?
Why do we yawn?
What does a Carolina Reaper pepper taste like?
Where is my delivery?
Who am I, Meg Ryan?
On my bike ride home I am kept from the speed I prefer to travel at by a middle-aged man straining to pedal, swerving unpredictably enough that it never quite seems safe to overtake. Fuck this guy, I think. When I discover at a traffic light that the man is Louis Theroux I have no choice but to forgive him. After a double take, I shout over the traffic “big fan”, and he says “oh wow thank you, is that a fixed gear?” and I say “yes but I still have the front brake so the purists aren’t impressed” and he says, “well I’M impressed”, and I bid him farewell as soon as I can so I’m not tempted to take a selfie with him at a busy junction. I am struck by how good he looks for 60 and later learn he is 53. I half wish I had had the gall to pull over, beckon him onto the pavement and make him late for whichever engagement he was headed to by singing the praises of the documentary he made about a compound that houses pedophiles who have served their prison time but are not yet safe in society. But in life, and in brushes with national treasures, brevity is key. Plus a cab driver beeps his horn and yells “get a room!” when the light turns green, and what could be better than that?
Prior to this, I sit with V in the yard as she explains basic concepts of finance to me. Not in a belittling way, but merely to put my uneasy mind to rest. I learn what VAT is, what cash flow means. She bailed me out on Monday so I could pay my tax today, and in the 72 hours between the bill and the payment, I had visions of my assets being repossessed and C’s joked suggestion of helping me fake my own death. “I could sell the shit out of your fake funeral”, C says
But I do not need to pretend to die any more than I need to actually die. Plus money, in its quantifiability, has always just been a placeholder for other less quantifiable things. Before I go to sleep I watch a video of Britney Spears doing one of her slightly demented and worrying dances on Instagram, except in this one she is holding two large kitchen knives. “Don’t worry”, she says, “they are not real knives”
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