#feels like the wild west. being alive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silassinclair · 1 month

Text

Say My Name

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CW// 16+ Content, Abduction, Guns, Yelling, Talk of Murder

Introduction (Optional to read)

Last night my life changed forever. My Father managed to get on the bad side of a wanted outlaw by the name of Maddox Graves. And that very same night that very same outlaw killed my Father in cold blood. I thought I’d be next but instead he bound my ankles and hands and threw me with him on the back of his horse. We’ve been riding for hours and I have no clue where this psycho is taking me. Maybe somewhere far away to do diabolical things to me. If that’s the case then I’d rather be dead.

“What’s on your mind princess? You were thrashin‘ and screamin’ a few hours ago. Where’d that fire go?” Graves turns his head slightly back to face me. But I look away. Being this close to him was the most uncomfortable I have ever been in my life. But I had to keep my arms around him as to not fall off the horse and break a bone. I need to be in top condition if I want to escape.

“Nothing…” I mutter. But that answer doesn’t seem to satisfy the greedy bastard. So he halts his horse with a gentle tug of the reins. For a psycho murderer criminal he’s nice to his horse.

“You hungry? Gotta piss or somethin'?” Even though he has a bandana covering his mouth I can tell he’s annoyed by the way his eyes wrinkle slightly.

“No! I’m fine..”

But I’m not fine. How could I be fine? This animal killed my Father and is taking me only God knows where! We've been riding through this desert for hours and it's almost sundown. I'm scared shitless of potential bandits and I'm literally starvi-

Growl~~~

"Your stomach is tellin' me otherwise sweetheart." I can practically hear the smirk on his stupid face.

Hugging myself I sigh in defeat. "I haven't eaten in over a day.. So of course I'm hungry. I just have no appetite."

Lies. I could eat a horse.

"Well you're lucky because look on ahead princess."

Moving my head up and to the side to see over his broad shoulders I see a town less than a mile ahead. I thank the lord in my heart and soul.

"Now don't go thinkin' you can run off and escape. You go to anyone for help and I'll shoot em' dead like your old man." He adds.

Well that dug deep. Scowling, I kick him in the shin causing him to hiss a low curse.

"Watch your mouth. You may be all big and bad but I'm not afraid of you. I won't let anyone disrespect my Father. Especially not the likes of you." I say. But Graves only furrows his eyebrows and crosses his arms. He hops off his horse and grabs me by the waist, pulling me down with him.

"Get off you mongrel!" "Silence that mouth of yours before I gag it!" He snaps, I immediately do as I say. This unpredictable gunslinger could kill me or worse in seconds. I shouldn't have said anything in the first place. My initial plan was too cooperate so I could escape but here I am blowing it. But it's hard because he pisses me off to kingdom come.

His hands are still on my waist as he pulls me closer and speaks, "Do you have any idea why you're alive girlie?"

I feel myself unwillingly do a full body shiver. His eyes were a dark brown but not a normal brown. Almost red due to the sun's setting light shinning down on us. He asked me a question but my throat can't conjure a reply. I only shake my head 'no' back and forth.

"It's because I think you're pretty, and I'd hate to waste a pretty lil' thing like yourself." He slurs. His rugged hands go lower, I can feel them. The fabric of my dress protects me from his direct touch but the violating feeling is all the same.

"So young and precious, you-" He pauses. "What's your name? I never got it."

What a dunce. I sigh and remove his hands from my waist, luckily he doesn't fight back.

"It's Y/n. Y/n L/n."

His eyes soften, but only barely. There's still a hunger behind them. "Y/n..." He tests the name on his tongue.

"I like that. But I like princess more. Sweetheart is a good one too. It matches that cute face o' yours. Or missy when you're bein' a bad girl." His hand goes under his chin as he lists off the stupidest pet names ever.

I deadpan and shake my head back and forth. Pinching my nose bridge I look over at the town in the distance.

"So aren't you gonna ask what my name is?" His sudden voice whispering in my ear and his fingers grazing my neck makes me physically jump and clamp my hand over my neck.

"D-Don't do that!" I shout and take in a deep breath. I'm probably a tomato right about now.

"And I already know your name." I scoff and cross my arms, turning away from him. But he walks around me to try and get me to face him, which I turn again and again after every attempt me makes.

"I wanna hear you say it though. Bet it'd sound real' sexy comin' from your lips." Grave's hands squeeze me around my biceps and lock me in place, leaving me to look no where else except for those devilish eyes of his.

Knowing him for the day I've been around him I know he won't relent. He'll keep me here until I give in.

Sighing I say his name. "Maddox Graves.."

It came out softer on accident. Maybe I'm exhausted. But looking at his concealed face I can see his wide eyes.

"Say it again." He whispers. His grip tightens. It hurts and I whimper in pain but his eyes still bore into mine.

"Maddox Graves." I say firmly. But he groans and shakes his head back and forth. A dissatisfied groan leaves him.

"No not like that! Say it how ya' said it before!" He whines, but he still sounds aggravated.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..." I mutter and clench my teeth. He has the grip of a bear trap.

"Say it like a wife would! Say. my. name!" He snaps and jerks me forward. My eyes widen in fear at his outburst and I'm reminded that this is no normal man. He's a killer. A dangerous outlaw and the one who killed my Father.

But what he said has me confused. What does he mean by that? He must tell how confused I am because his grip loosens.

"Just... Say it like ya' don't despise me."

That's damn near impossible. But if I want to survive and get food in my stomach then I need to perform.

"Maddox." I say only his first name this time. Gently, I raise a hand and lay it over his that is on my arm. Both his hands drop and I hear his let out a long breath.

He says nothing but he turns away from me and hops onto his horse. His hand reaches for mine and I take it. He pulls me up but I nearly fall over. The control I have over my legs is lacking because of their bound state. Luckily he catches me with an arm.

"Easy now sweetheart. I don't want ya' gettin' hurt. After all, I know what I'm gonna do with ya now." He says in a low timbre that strikes fear into my core.

"Hya!" He shouts and his horse walks in the direction to the town ahead.

This unpredictable psycho... I'm at a complete loss here. What can I do? I'm hopeless! His behavior is nearly bipolar and he's a walking weapon. But now he has a plan for me? Whatever it is I don't want it...

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #obsession #cowboy #western

191 notes · View notes

javier-penas-wifexx420 · 4 months

Text

Godless

moodboard not meant to be a physical description of reader, just her vibes/clothes

western au! dark!outlaw!Joel Miller x f!prostitute!reader playlist

My contribution to dead dove December hehehe. I love dead doves so I'm very happy to participate! @romana-after-dark

Summary: You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

word count: ~5.6k

DARK, dead dove: minors dni!! rough smut, prostitution, reader gets called a whore, sexual slavery, being bought/sold, angst, being owned and considered property, descriptions of men being violent with each other, Joel is possessive and very dominant, reader is very submissive, stockholm syndrome. dubcon, reader obeys but she doesn't have a choice. It's only gonna get darker from here mamas. Unprotected sex, STDs don’t exist in this universe, yeehaw. No use of y/n

A/N: Prepare for light old timey language. Yeehaw shit, in my heart I am a wild west man. Also I have no fucking idea what kind of money they used in the wild west so I just wrote gold coins lmao. Reader doesn't necessarily have a specific accent but she talks like an old timey western person, reader is just a girl in the world, god bless her. set in old west California LAWLESS LAND CALI WAS CRAZY BACK THEN BRUH

You tried to even your breathing as you hurriedly did your makeup, slapping your powder onto your face frantically. The other girls scurried around you, the collective energy was tense and you all shared a feeling of anxiety that was rising as the minutes ticked on.

The bar always went into a frenzy whenever Joel Miller and his men rode through town. You hadn’t been working here for that long but you’d already been here long enough for their visits. His men were animals, every girl dreaded it when they came to the brothel.

Joel and his men are shameless, getting drunk in the saloon and picking fights, riding through town and plundering all the folks living there, demanding "payments" in the form of money, food, jewelry, anything they could find that was worth taking. Payments that the people of your town made so that he would let them keep living there. He made it clear that we could wipe out the whole town if he wanted to, leaving you a people without anything. And that's if he left you all alive.

You hadn’t been living in the town that long. After your father died, you set off west with a man who you thought had loved you. Things had fallen out with him when you finally reached California, and he had left you all alone in this scary new world.

Luckily the people of the town had taken you in, but your shelter and safety came at a price. When you arrived, you had nowhere to live, no money, nothing.

The town brothel seemed like the only solution. You had a place to live, a job, a community. You made peace with having to let men defile you. Most of them were nice enough and your pimp took good care of all of you.

This world was cruel, you did what you needed to do to get by.

You adjusted your breasts where they sat in your low cut dress, pushed up by your corset. You fixed your hair and adjusted the garter on your stockings.

“Well at least we look nice.” A voice snapped you out of your deep thoughts.

You turned and tried to muster a smile for your friend, Anna-Leigh, who was pinning up her blonde curls.

She clocked your fear and reached out her hand to take yours. You couldn’t look at her because if you did you’d cry, and you couldn’t afford to smudge the black pigment you’d put on your eyelashes.

“I know you don’t want to, honey.” She said softly, “But we’ve gone through this before.” Her southern accent never failed to soothe you.

You nodded,

“Yeah.” You sniffled.

“They’re gonna do what they always do, we just gotta deal with it and then they leave.” She said firmly.

“And if they really give us trouble, Mr. Polk will put a stop to it right quick.”

You nodded a little more confidently, remembering that your pimp, Mr. Polk kept a gun on his hip every hour of the day.

No longer able to delay the inevitable, you took a deep breath, and followed your friend and the other girls out of the vanity area and down to the saloon.

Walking down the stairs, you analyze the chaotic scene. You’ve managed to understand how to navigate it so as to not cause any trouble. Keep your head down, be a good girl, let them do what they want and then they leave. Your pimp paid you all extra whenever Joel's men came through. Sometimes he’d give you all new dresses, it does make you feel better but it does little to ease the aching between your legs that persists whenever he and his men visit.

You all disperse and walk among the crowd. Usually most girls will immediately go and talk a man up but now you all just stand around awkwardly, letting men approach you and take you upstairs, or just take you right down here.

You’re taken upstairs a few times by a few different men. And later on, you’re sitting in a very drunk man’s lap down in the saloon with your breasts out, smoking a cigarette. He's playing a poker game and slowly losing everything.

Your eyes scan your surroundings: men brawling, naked women bent over, their legs splayed open. The usual.

Through the clamor around you, you can feel his eyes on you.

Joel Miller.

You'd seen him before, and his cold gaze had made your skin crawl.

You knew he was dangerous and you’d heard the stories about him. You’d never talked to him, only seen him when he came by. After making his rounds through the town, he’d just sit at the bar and drink as his men ran wild. To your knowledge, he didn’t even have sex with any of the girls.

You tried to avoid his gaze but you could feel his eyes on you through the thick haze of smoke. It wasn't fair that he was so handsome, weathered from the desert sun. His soft brown hair was laced with gray, just like his short scruffy beard. He looked like could've been a man that was kind, if it wasn't for the dead stare in his eyes. Meeting his eyes you could see how cold blooded he was, how merciless.

After a while, Joel instructed his men to gather everything up. The barkeep and your pimp seemed like they couldn’t wait to get rid of them, their regulars bloodied and slumped over, the bar a mess.

You were pulling the top of your dress back over your breasts when you spotted Joel speaking to your pimp, who was looking distressed. Your stomach churned. That couldn’t be good.

You were on your way up the stairs when you heard your name being called, panic flooded your system.

You turned, frozen. Your heart was pounding as the other girls ran by you.

Anna-Leigh tugged your arm, "C'mon!"

You turned and the only thing you could do was shake your head.

"What's wrong?" She asked, confused.

Your pimp, growing impatient, walked up the stairs and grabbed your elbow, dragging you down.

"I know y'don't want to." He grumbled, "But I'm not bein' given much of'a choice."

Your feet dragged on the wood as you struggled to catch your footing. Did Joel suddenly decide he wanted to fuck you? Mr. Polk yanked you over to him.

Joel's broad form towered over you as you approached. You felt small under his gaze, you'd never been this close to him before. You took in his scent of desert dirt and sweat. His broad shoulders, hulking biceps and soft stomach stretched his stained white button down. The fringe on his cowhide jacket swayed as he took his hat off his head and ran a hand through his graying curls.

You stood looking up at him, eyes wide. He looked down at you without a hint of warmth and grabbed your arm roughly, spinning you around.

You gasped at his touch and anticipated to be bent over and have your skirt hiked up. Instead he just looked at you and turned you back to face him. He made an approving grunt and nodded his head.

"Yeah." His voice was deep and gruff, "This one."

He reached into his bag on the bar and pulled out a sack that he let fall open, gold coins falling out all over the counter.

You started to feel sick.

"Give you this for her." He said casually.

A spike of fear bolted through you.

"W-what?"

Your pimp sighed and turned to you,

"Go get y'things honey."

"What?" That felt like all you could say, "N-no."

You turned to see Anna-Leigh and the other girls staring at you. Your friend looked just as terrified as you felt. Tears freed themselves from your eyes.

"God damnit girl I said go get your fucking things." Mr. Polk yelled and gave you a shake. You looked at Joel who simply nodded his head up, as if telling you to go upstairs.

You sniffled and ran up the stairs, your sobs breaking through as you graced the landing and echoing as you flung yourself into your room.

You hiccuped as you threw your few belongings into a suitcase, everything blurred as you cried.

You were only able to get a few items packed before you broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.

You suddenly felt the arms of your friend wrapping around you as other girls gathered around you, all stroking and hugging you.

You blinked back tears and tried to speak but you couldn’t. They just held you as you all cried. There wasn’t really anything they could say to make things better anyway.

You gasped and shuddered, trying to catch your breath. Anna-Leigh took your face in her hands,

“It’s okay, baby, breathe.” She said, tears falling down her face as well. You shook your head and kept crying.

Your pimp appeared in the doorway, looking mournful as he held his hat in his hands.

“How dare you!” Anna-Leigh screamed at him from where she held you.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking down, “It’s either her or they take all a’you. Destroy the bar, hell maybe even the whole town.”

You cried harder, realizing that there was truly no way out of this. If you didn’t go with Joel, you’d be damning your sisters. You let out a final anguished cry before you got up shakily and continued to pack your things. You went down to the bar which was quiet, the men all watching with bated breath.

Mr. Polk escorted you down and you walked over to Joel again, whose smirk made you nauseous. You looked down at the floor as one of his men took your bag from you.

“Alright sweetheart.” Your pimp murmured, “You be good for Mr. Miller now.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face silently.

“Move out.” Joel addressed his men.

It hit you again that you were really leaving and you started sobbing again.

“No please!” You begged your pimp, “Don’t let him take me please!”

Joel reached out and grabbed your arm,

“I ain’t got time for this girl!” He sneered and ripped you away.

“No…” you cried as he dragged you along.

Anna-Leigh ran up and hugged you one last time. Joel let her, but made an irritated noise and squeezed you painfully when she took too long.

She pulled away and grabbed your face in her hands.

“You can do this.” She said, her voice breaking, “You’re gonna be strong.”

You hiccuped and shook your head,

“Be strong ok?” She nodded at you as Joel finally wrenched you away.

“That’s enough!” He barked, “I’ve already been mighty patient with you folks. Stop fuckin’ testing me!”

Everyone stared at him, silent and full of fear.

You could only cry harder as he dragged you outside. He picked you up and set you on his horse, untying its reigns from the post.

“Hey!” You heard a voice call out and turned on the horse to see one of your drunken regulars, stumbling towards you,

“Thas’ my favorite whore!” He slurred, “My favorite fuckin’ whore, y’can’t-“ he hiccuped and stumbled. The people of the town shuffled out of their houses to watch the action.

Joel smiled at the man coldly,

“That’s your favorite whore, huh?” He asked, standing over him. He rolled him over with the toe of his boot.

“M-my whore.” The man warbled.

Joel didn’t really know why but white hot rage shot through him. He inhaled sharply and stomped on the man’s face, hard. He heard you gasp from the back of his horse which only ignited him further.

“She’s my fuckin’ whore now!” He yelled and spat in his face.

Fueled by rage and power, he turned to his right hand with an idea.

“Get me the rope, John.”

The man writhed on the ground, moaning and clutching his face. Joel approached the back of his horse with the rope, making you shuffle back in fear.

“Relax darlin’ this ain’t for you.” He breathed and tied the end of it to the saddle. Then, he turned to the man and bent down, tying the rope around his hands above his head.

You watched in shock and heard people around you, whispering.

“Alright!” Joel said after he was done. He got up onto the horse in front of you.

“Hold on baby.” He said softly and you reluctantly wrapped your arms around his middle.

Adrenaline coursed through him at the thought of the freedom of the mountains, of riding out of this stupid town with a pretty girl on his horse and a worthless drunk at his mercy. He turned to see John, who was giving him a knowing smile, the one he always gave him before they rode.

“Let’s ride.” Joel said, his voice gravelly like the desert sand. Before you could blink, they urged their horses onward and took off at high speed. You couldn’t help but let out a little scream as you startled and grabbed at him.

Your noise of shock was substituted by the agonized screams of the man being pulled by Joel’s horse. Begging and crying just like you had earlier.

You turned and watched the town get smaller, Anna-Leigh stood at the front of the crowd and gave you a pitiful wave. You looked down and saw the bloody body of the man.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned back around, whimpering as you buried your face in Joel’s broad back.

Your tears stained his jacket as you rode away from the place that you had made your home. Towards a terrifying, shackled future.

As you journeyed on, you sat behind Joel on his horse, your hands clinging to his weathered leather jacket. His silence only made you more uneasy.

You feared for what the future held, gone was the stability of the brothel, the protection of your pimp. You were in a lawless land with a man who answered to no one. You’d heard the stories about Joel Miller, about the things he’d done.

You didn’t know how he’d treat a woman, if he’d be rough or gentle. Or if he’d throw you to his men. That was what you were the most afraid of.

You traveled for hours, eventually setting up camp as the sun began to set. As the air grew colder, Joel passed you a thick blanket to wrap around yourself. You sat in front of the fire with him as his men kept themselves occupied.

You brooded as you stared into the fire. You were still kind of in shock. This man had taken you away from everything, your life was gone. You didn't know if you were ever going to see your friends again.

You didn't realize, when you'd started spreading your legs for men, that this could happen. That you could be bought and sold like cattle.

You were scared for life with this godless outlaw. You didn't even know where you'd be living. Would you just sleep out in the desert like this? Would you spend the rest of your days being pounded by vicious men into the hard, dry earth?

"Want ‘sum meat?" Joel's gruff voice broke you from your thoughts. You turned to him apprehensively. He held out a piece of dried meat, offering it to you.

"Go on."

You slowly took it from him and took a bite like a scared wild animal. It was pretty good.

"Thank you." You said softly.

Joel looked satisfied with your response, you were both quiet for a while longer until you finally couldn't help yourself.

“Is this uh…” You spoke and he looked over to you, the fire casting sharp shadows across his handsome features.

“Is this how you normally live?” You finally asked, hoping you weren’t being disrespectful.

Joel shook his head after a moment.

“We’re travelin’ now.” He said, “but we got a place, nice and comfortable for a lady.”

You smiled a little bit at that last part.

“Thank you sir.” You wished you didn’t sound so scared, “I was just curious.”

“S’alright.” He grumbled out and began focusing on whittling a piece of wood.

The journey was hard but you tried your best to keep up. Joel never raised his voice at you, he didn’t really talk to you all that much in general. He hadn’t even touched you yet either. It seemed he was focused on getting everyone home.

His strength and capability drew you to him, but he still scared you.

After days of traveling, you finally reached where he and his men lived; a small grouping of cabins a mile or so away from a small village. It was just as well, since the sun was beginning to set over the horizon.

You still weren't sure what to think. Joel has been gentlemanly towards you so far. He still scared you though. His smoldering silence made you more uneasy than any unsavory man you'd ever encountered. He kept all his cards concealed, barely spoke, only when he needed to. His calm felt like that which preceded a storm, he commanded respect.

You didn't know what to expect from him.

You entered one of the larger cabins with Joel. It was nice, modest, and smelled of carpentry and tobacco. He set down his lantern on one of the wooden tables and dropped your things down with a slight groan.

His men unloaded everything, then they all nodded at each other and all left, closing the door and leaving you with Joel.

He moved purposefully, picking up wood from a corner and moving to the fireplace.

"Need to get a fire goin'." You heard his deep voice in the near darkness. The shadows thrown on his broad back made him seem even larger than he already was.

You didn't move, unsure of what to do, not wanting to make him mad.

After a fire was crackling he moved towards you silently, the wood creaking under his heavy footsteps. You resisted the urge to shrink away from him.

He was so close to you now, right in front of you.

"You were a real good girl on that trip." He said, his gravelly voice soft, the sound immediately went to your cunt and you were shocked at how aroused you suddenly became.

You weren't sure what to say, you kept your eyes down, your hands behind your back.

He held your jaw and tilted your face up to look at him.

"You need to keep bein' good." He said, his tone a warning, "You don't cause any fuckin' trouble, you do what I say."

You felt breathless, the feeling of his hand on your face setting you on fire.

"Yes sir." You said quickly.

He smiled softly, "Good girl." He said gently and, to your shock, leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You gasped a little.

"Remember," His voice was still soft and velvety, "I own you now." He gripped the back of your neck tightly, "That means you're mine and I decide what to do with you."

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat. You wanted to cry. You never liked being a prostitute, but at least at the brothel you were free, not a man's property. At least, you thought you'd been.

But Joel had paid for you fair and square. You were his now.

You whimpered a little at the thought and he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back,

"Answer me when I talk to you girl." He spat.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry!" you choked out.

Seeming satisfied, he let go and patted your cheek, then moved away. It felt like you could finally breathe.

"I'm gonna get us some supper ," He said, "You stay here, make yourself at home."

With that he was gone. You stood in the single room cabin, your heart rate finally slowing down.

You looked around, the place was big enough, it felt cozy. There were some old chairs by the fire with a small handcrafted table in front of them.

The other side of the room had a big soft looking bed, then there was an area to the right with pots, pans and other things for cooking. Besides a small room off to the side with a basin of water and a cracked mirror, that was it.

It wasn't much, but it was nice. It felt normal. There were blankets everywhere. Cotton, knitted, animal hide, what have you.

It all made you feel a little better, but not by that much.

Joel came back in and gathered fixings for dinner. He had you both sit in front of the fire outside along with his other men. You all sat on logs gathered round. His men were boisterous and shameless as usual, but they only did so much as leer at you.

The food was pretty good, and you appreciated the hot meal.

When you shivered a little bit, Joel slipped off his fringe jacket and put it around your shoulders. You looked up at him and couldn't help but smile a little. How sweet, how...considerate.

He looked down at you, and smiled back. The wrinkles around his brown eyes became more pronounced, making his normally dead piercing gaze softer, kinder. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

After dinner was done, you both returned to his cabin. He cleaned up as you got comfortable, changing into a long, off the shoulder white cotton dress that held your breasts nicely.

You settled into his bed. It smelled like wood, tobacco, whiskey, him. The blankets and pillows were soft and you tucked your legs up, opening your diary. Beginning a new entry, you didn't even know where to start. Your entries were definitely going to get more interesting.

You wrote for a while before you heard a man enter the cabin. Looking up, you saw Joel and began to stand up but he put up a hand, stopping you.

You watched him walk over to the fire, his knees creaking a little as he bent down and threw a fresh log in.

He sighed and slumped back in one of the chairs, kicking off his boots, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his shirt.

You observed him for a while, his beautiful hooked nose illuminated by the firelight, his hair looked soft, his tough expression relaxed a bit.

You finally lost interest and returned to your diary, desperately trying to explain to it how you came to be in this situation.

Joel took swigs from his flask and worked on his whittling as you wrote. He liked the peacefulness, he liked that there was a pretty girl in his bed. You had come with him so easily, been so obedient. Sure, you'd been upset initially, but he hadn’t expected you not to be.

You'd been good, so far. You followed his orders and you were thankful for all the things that he gave you.

Compliant little thing.

He suddenly got an idea.

You had already covered two pages in writing when he called your name.

You sat up quickly and set your diary on his bed, slid off and walked across the wooden floor until you were in front of him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, your heart pounding slightly.

“Take off your dress.” He said quietly.

The command caught you off guard and you froze for a moment.

“I-what?”

“Take off. Your dress.” He repeated flatly, “Wanna take a look at what’s mine.”

His words both made your stomach hurt and your pussy ache. It felt like your feet and hands were going numb.

You took him in, his hard stare, the yearning and darkness in his eyes. You realized you had been fooled earlier tonight by his chivalry.

You swallowed and nodded, you were used to this business. You took a deep breath and untied the top of your dress, letting the bodice fall loosely around your chest. You gathered the fabric and pulled it over your head. You weren't wearing any undergarments so as your white dress billowed to the ground, you were left completely naked for him.

You heard him make a noise of approval and he nodded, smiling.

"Knew you were a good girl."

He eyed you up and down. His gaze made goosebumps erupt on your skin, causing your nipples to harden as he examined you. He stayed in his chair, his legs spread. You could see his bulge straining against his jeans.

You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your cunt...maybe Joel Miller would be gentle with you?

He finally stood up. Looming over you, he ran his large, rough hands over your arms, then your stomach and finally, up to cup and squeeze your breasts.

You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, Joel chuckled softly,

"I know baby," He rasped, "You've been waitin’ so long, been so patient."

You nodded quickly, your eyes wide as you looked up at him. Your complete submissiveness to him was due to his power, but you couldn't help but feel a little excited for this strong, terrifying man to take you.

"Go get on the bed for me."

"Yes sir." You said softly and he let out an almost inaudible groan. You walked over to the bed and laid on your back, immediately spreading your legs.

Joel laughed a little and shook his head as though in disbelief,

"Damn, I picked the right fuckin’ girl didn't I?"

He sat on the bed beside you as you lay, your pussy still on display for him, your arms on either side of your head.

Completely his, ready to be taken by him. It kind of shocked you that you had surrendered and accepted this role so quickly. But then again, you didn't have much of a choice, this was the easy way.

"Damn." He sighed as he let his eyes fall over you. He took his time touching you, slowly playing with you. You let your eyes flutter shut as you let him explore you, taking in his newest possession.

He touched you everywhere, except where you needed him most. You squirmed and whimpered, moving your hips to get his fingers anywhere near your wet cunt.

Joel quickly landed a harsh spank on your pussy and you cried out.

"Cut that shit out." He growled, "You're gonn' take what I give you and be a grateful little whore."

You nodded quickly.

"Say it."

"I'm-I'm gonna be a grateful little whore."

"Thas' right."

His thick fingers dragged through your dripping cunt and you let out a moan. He drew closer to you, inhaling the dizzying scent of your arousal and spreading your slickness up to your clit.

"Joel..." You whined and rolled your hips against his fingers.

"Good girl," He said huskily, "Jus like that."

He moved his fingers faster and you moaned and arched your back. No man had ever taken his time with you in this way.

You felt the pleasure wash over you and you let your moans echo around the cabin freely. You'd learned it wasn't a bad thing to be loud, your old pimp had always told you it was good advertising.

After taking in your reaction to that, Joel shifted his focus and curiously buried two thick fingers into your cunt. You moaned and gasped at the way he stretched you, it felt fucking amazing.

"Joel!" You cried out and rocked your hips in time with his hand. Following his movements and somehow doing exactly what he wanted.

He liked how responsive you were, how obedient.

He pulled his fingers out of you without warning and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

Joel got on his knees on the bed, towering over you. He pulled his shirt off and undid his jeans, pulling them down just enough to free his cock.

You audibly gasped when you took in the sight of it and he laughed a little.

"What? Not expectin’ me to be this big?"

"I-no-sir I didn't-I mean-" You stuttered.

"S'alright sweetheart." He murmured, "You wanna touch me?"

You stared at his thick manhood. You had no idea how fucking big it was, you reached your hand out and wrapped it around him, your fingers just meeting each other around his girth.

Oh fuck.

You whined and pumped his length, spitting on it and letting it spread over him.

His cock was beautiful, powerful and imposing, resting rock hard and heavy between his strong thighs. His balls hung heavy, his dark hair running wild up to his round stomach.

You sighed, contentedly.

Joel smirked, his large hand resting on the side of your head, cradling you as your hand worked him.

You looked up at him submissively, your eyelashes fluttering. Joel moaned at the way you pleaded for him without even saying anything. You were like a siren. He'd known you were the one the minute he saw you down in that saloon.

He suddenly pushed you back, roughly. Making you yelp out in surprise as your head hit the soft pillows. He looked at you hungrily and grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you landed on your stomach, bouncing up off the bed a little.

He yanked your hips up so you were on your knees, grunting and breathing heavily. You moaned and arched your back, spreading yourself for him.

You felt the head of his cock swipe through your folds and your heart raced with anticipation. He took a sharp inhale before slamming into your cunt with a snarl.

"FUCK!" You cried out, not expecting the sudden burn or stretch. Even with how wet you were, his massive cock split you open.

You gasped and whined as Joel kept himself buried in your pussy, groaning as he rocked his hips, getting harder and more forceful.

You let yourself become undone by him and he started sliding out and slamming into you more, getting faster and more enthusiastic.

He grunted and breathed heavily through gritted teeth as he pounded into you. He threw his head back, using his grip on your hips to move you and fuck your pussy. The way you moaned and screamed for him only spurred him further, abusing your cunt.

He was in control. He bought you, he owned you, you were his whore. Forever.

"Oh fuck!" He groaned, gasping as those thoughts brought him even closer, along with the squeeze of your cunt.

You couldn't even speak, your face was pressed into the pillow as you cried and drooled. You'd lost track of how many times you'd come, just letting yourself be used by him at this point. You couldn't deny that it felt amazing.

Joel leaned over and put a paw-like hand over the back of your head, crushing your face into the bed as he leaned over. Putting his weight on you, he used that to fuck you even harder.

Your cries were muffled and you almost couldn't breathe. Joel's thrusts became sloppier and you heard his breathing turn into desperate moaning. He finally came, thick ropes of cum shooting directly into you making you gasp and moan. The men at the brothel were never allowed to cum in you. If a girl got pregnant, she either got it taken care of or she was out.

But you were Joel's now. And Joel was the one who decided what happened to you.

He fucked his cum into you more, causing it to spurt out. Then he pulled back, you took a deep breath and relaxed onto the bed, his cock still keeping you plugged up.

"That's right baby." He murmured, "Good girl."

You let out a beautiful whine, your cunt tightening around his cock as he stroked your hair away from your face.

He sighed as he knelt over your limp form, his cock still keeping his seed in you.

You didn't move, When he finally eased out of you gently, you winced and cried out at the loss.

"I know, I know." He said softly, petting your hair.

He grabbed a cloth and wiped at your cunt, getting most of the mess cleaned up. When he decided that was good, he eased your hips down and turned you over.

You wriggled into a comfortable position, tucking your hair behind your ear and smiling up at him shyly.

He smiled at you again, the same one he'd given you at dinner. His normally cold eyes looked warm and safe.

You slipped your hands up around his neck, your eyes falling down to his lips under his scruffy beard.

He ran the rough pad of his thumb over your cheekbone,

"Such a good little whore." He said softly, then he leaned down and kissed you.

His lips weren't pressed against yours for that long but it still sparked electricity through you.

He pulled away and breathed out a laugh, "Alright, let's try an' get some sleep now."

"Yes sir." You said softly.

He put out the fire and the lantern and stripped off his pants before getting under the covers with you. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him, his softening cock pressing against your ass.

He buried his nose in your hair, each hand covering your tits, keeping them warm.

You nuzzled into his hold, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been held like this. You turned around and buried your face in his hairy chest.

You had…liked that. You really liked it. You knew how wrong this all was. You knew that to him you were just a whore, his property, but…maybe you could make peace with that? Maybe Joel Miller would be a good owner.

You hated that you were even thinking that.

His large hand rested on your back, holding you close to him as your exhausted mind finally succumbed to sleep.

THANK YOU FOR READING I LOVE YOU

This is my first Joel fic AND my first dead dove fic which I didn’t think I’d be able to write but I had sm fun writing this!! Thank you to @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark and all the girlies with their scary Joels who inspired me🖤

YEEHAW LETS RIDE🐎🐎🐎

351 notes · View notes

plague-of-insomnia · 1 year

Text

Is Sebastian “Evil”?

Recently, I saw a post by @puppyfan9000 about Sebastian, commenting on whether or not he is evil, suggesting he’s more like a lion, who preys on animals for survival and not because they’re “evil.”

I guess I had not fully appreciated how many people apparently view Sebastian through the lens of Christian demonology and dogma and thus view him as evil, some apparently going as far to say he’s the villain of the series. (Yana has said he’s the protagonist, actually, but go off, I guess.)

While I can’t ofc know what Yana had in mind with Sebastian when she created him, I do feel like the manga does a good job of pointing out that demons are not innately good or evil, and the truly “evil” ones are humans themselves.

(This is gonna be a bit long so I’ll go ahead and tuck the rest under a read more.)

Shinto Kami & Three Natures

One of the cores of Shinto belief is the kami, sometimes translated as “god,” though I think “deity” is better since the former often has an association with “good” in the western mindset.

The thing about kami is they aren’t good or evil; they exist outside those human parameters. They’re more like a force of nature than what we in the west might view as demonic or godly.

And each kami has 3 natures, or mitama:

aramitama - rough and wild

nigimitama - gentle and life supporting

sakimitama - nurturing

[SS from Handbook of Japanese Mythology by Michael Ashkenazi]

Think of these three as different colored liquids all contained within a vessel. Each kami has a diff amount of each, with one or more of these natures dominating in different situations and at different times.

Connected to this, the line between a “god” or “kami” and a “demon” (so many words you can use here, including akuma, or even yokai) is fluid in Shinto belief.

A kami can “fall” and “devolve” into a baser yokai or “demon” if they become impure (purity is a big part of Shinto belief and ritual), and/or if their aramitama nature becomes more dominant.

Even so, these beings aren’t considered “evil” in the same sense that a Christian views Satan as “evil.”

Just as the destruction caused by a hurricane can’t be called “evil,” the behavior of a kami or other spirit likewise is neither good nor evil. It simply is.

Yana has described him as “without shame or moral sense” but I think this is a bit misleading in translation (though the original Japanese is lost so I can’t say for sure what she said exactly). I think what she means isn’t “he’s evil” but that “he exists outside the framework of human morality.”

Humans Vs Demons in the Manga

I feel like to call Sebastian evil is to miss the fundamental message of the manga: that humans (and formerly human creatures like shinigami) are far more demonic than demons.

Ciel says that almost verbatim, depending on the translation (and if you’re talking about the manga vs the anime) at the end of the circus arc, and Seb replies that is something that sets humans and demons apart.

Sebastian doesn’t kill for the sake of killing. He only kills on command/when necessary to execute (ha) Ciel’s orders/goals. More than once he’s expressed either his distaste at Ciel’s desires, and while Ciel calls him a beast, he takes offense to that.

From Sebastian’s perspective, humans are interesting because they are more complex than demons, who seem to be driven largely by their hunger and not much else.

Recall that Sebastian hesitated to burn down Kelvin’s manor with all the children inside, and it confuses him enough he even questions Ciel about it later. Likewise, while he does kill everyone involved in the Green Witch arc, that was far less about his being “evil,” and more about his doing the job that Ciel ordered him to do while giving him a chance to get his own “revenge” for nearly losing his meal due to the effects of the gas.

I think the closest thing to “evil” Sebastian gets in the manga is when he first makes the contract with Ciel and tries to trick him by making him believe his brother is alive, since he can’t actually resurrect the dead. But I feel it’s telling that is “day one” Sebastian and he has certainly grown and changed since then.

The Ripper Arc: The First Evil

The first true arc is the ripper arc, and I think it’s important because it shows us early that while Sebastian is a literal hellspawn, it wasn’t a demon involved in the serial murders but rather a human—Madam Red—and someone who was once human—Grelle.

Grelle then kills Red in cold blood because she’s become “boring,” which, as far as we know, Grelle never regretted or felt remorse over.

I’m not quite sure if I would even call Grelle evil, but the point is clear: humans, and former humans, are more demonic than demons.

We see it again and again, with the cult, with Kelvin, with the German military in the GWA, with Undertaker and the Aurora society— perhaps it is telling that Sebastian is the only known demon in canon (no, season 2 of the anime is not canon), because it really forces us to see that even the worst of Sebastian’s actions pales in comparison to the depravity of human beings.

If we do wanna look at non-canon, the first season of the anime featured an Angel, a being that is normally associated with being “good,” who becomes so twisted and obsessed with “purity” that they let their aramitama nature take hold and commit great evil in their quest for purification. Even so much as to try and ally with a demon and offer Sebastian any souls he wishes in exchange for Ciel.

So once more we see a non-demon character being the evil one— and Pluto, who is technically a demon, isn’t “evil.” He only “becomes evil” when Ash/Angela break his mind and force him to attack the city.

Ignoring Ciel’s Commands

Finally, I think it’s important to point out that despite promising to always fulfill Ciel’s orders, there have been several times in the manga that he has disobeyed in order to protect Ciel.

One example happens in the circus arc. Ciel’s asthma flares from the harsh conditions at the circus, but he’s determined to go out regardless. But they’re stopped by Agni and Soma.

Agni then gives Sebastian a harsh lecture that makes him realize that simply always following Ciel’s orders isn’t enough if doing so puts his life at risk. So he goes against Ciel’s wishes and not only makes him rest, but let’s him sleep as long as he needs to.

Later, during the Weston arc, when confronted by Undertaker again, Sebastian ignores Ciel’s orders to try and catch him because he learned from his experiences on the Campania and doesn’t want to risk putting Ciel in danger again.

If Sebastian were truly such an evil being, an embodiment of sin, then why would he care about Ciel’s health? Yes, he’s cultivating his soul for optimum yumminess, but harvesting him a bit early wouldn’t really affect him that badly.

Though Sebastian says that he’s doing it because of the terms of their contract or because he’s “taken great pains” to cultivate Ciel’s soul and doesn’t want him stolen, I don’t think that is entirely the truth. While he ofc doesn’t want to lose his meal, I think it’s more than that.

No, he protects Ciel because he wants to. He keeps him safe and out of harm because he chooses to. And demon or not, I don’t think someone like Agni could call an evil being his friend.

#black butler #黒執事 #sebastian michaelis #character analysis: sebastian michaelis #poi og #good vs evil #demons #let’s see if this shows in the tags #poi theory #100 notes #200 notes #meta

266 notes · View notes

dcwildwestfest · 8 months

Text

Mod's "Most Wanted" - Destiel Western Recs

Howdy! Here are a few fic recs to get you in that Wild West spirit! 🤠

The Shawnee Trail | emmbrancsxx0 (@valleydean)

In 1887, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak lead a peaceful life in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam are stagecoach messengers for Wells, Fargo and Castiel is the town doctor. When Castiel's patient, Kelly Kline, knocks on their door one night about to give birth, she asks for the Winchesters and Castiel's help in protecting her son against one of the west's most notorious outlaws. To fulfill that promise, the men set out on a journey full of shootouts, trouble with the law, gambling, and an important discovery: Dean and Castiel really need to define the nature of their relationship.

Hunter's Caress | Ltleflrt (@ltleflrt)

Castiel Jameson won't rest until the outlaw who murdered his brother faces justice, and Dean Winchester is the only man alive who can help him track the villain down. Some say Winchester is a cold-blooded killer himself; others say he'd been wronged his whole life. All Castiel knows is that the desire glinting in Dean's green eyes is even more dangerous than he is. Castiel fights to keep his mind on business, but during the long nights on the trail with the dangerously handsome hunter he finds himself dreaming of yielding to Dean's illicit kisses and losing himself in lawless passion. Dean Winchester is about to hang when Castiel saves his neck with his crazy plan. But dying might be better than spending day and night playing nursemaid to such an infuriating city slicker. He appreciates the stubborn detective's desire for justice, but he'd appreciate Cas a lot more if he'd stop being a lawman long enough to just be a man. He certainly has all the right equipment. Dean aches to run his fingers through Castiel's dark hair, yearns to know how Castiel's golden skin will feel against him. And before the coming of the next dawn, Dean vows to teach him the pleasures and sweet rewards of a Hunter's Caress.

Wheat Fields and Jars of Light | krisham, violue (@violue)

It's the mid-1880s. Grieving the loss of his twin brother, Castiel Novak is on a journey across Kansas to search for those responsible for his death. By horse, by carriage, by foot, he won't stop until he's hunted them down and gotten his revenge. What he finds, though, is that nothing in the world is quite what he thought it was.

Vagabonds | chevrolangels (@chevrolangels)

Dean is a sheriff in a tiny town in Colorado, restless and unsatisfied with his life. It's not like what he's read about in the dime novels since he was little, capturing dangerous outlaws and being the last word of the law. More like tossing the town drunk in a cell to sober up when they get a little too rowdy. But Dean's chance comes when a thief rolls through their town. He pursues the thief, which puts him right into the path of Emmanuel, a notorious outlaw. When he is captured by the outlaw and his gang to be held for ransom, Dean starts off on a journey he could have never envisioned, and learns that perhaps there's more to Emmanuel than meets the eye.

West (series) | Xela

Dean/Castiel set against the backdrop of the Wild West. In which Dean and Sam are Outlaw Hunters, and Castiel is a religious man.

4:08 to Tombstone | zuzeca (@lyresnake)

When minor outlaw Dean Winchester's beloved brother ended up on the wrong side of a robber baron with yellow eyes and a sadistic streak, Dean never expected to wind up in the Arizona Territory’s most notorious prison: The Pit. Nor did he expect, after years on the rack, to be sprung by former Federal Marshal and man of the cloth, Reverend Castiel Milton. Now, on the run from corrupt lawman Warden Alastair, the two men must learn to trust each other, or hang. When Castiel, lesser seraph of the Lord, descended into Hell to help rescue the Righteous Man, he never expected to be unwillingly cast in Dean Winchester’s repressed bisexual cowboy fantasy.

Sign-ups for the DeanCas Wild West Fest open September 6th!

Check out the official rules, guidelines, and schedule here!

#dwwf #deancas wild west fest #fic recs #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #western au

106 notes · View notes

profoundbondfanfic · 8 months

Note

Heeeeey just wandering do you by any chance have like a western or cowboy au fic rec list??? If not that's okey but I mean I would appreciate

Hello and of course, here are a few we like!

Apple Pie Order by paceprompting [Explicit, 18k words]

Castiel Novak spends his life the same way, every day, as sheriff of a small town in the old west. Until, of course, a certain green-eyed criminal named Dean Winchester starts showing up in his life...over and over.

Church of the Country Wild by Amazonia_8 [Explicit, 52k words]

Sheriff Dean Winchester has been sent to Boston to collect the new preacher for his town of Lawrence. What he finds is a man nothing like what he expected and suddenly the long journey back to Kansas seems a lot more dangerous than he'd previously thought.

Hunter's Caress by Ltleflrt [Explicit, 161k words]

ride, cowboy, ride by UniversalSatan [Explicit, 12k words]

There's a stranger in town, and Castiel has the sense there's something dangerous about him — yet he's drawn to the man like a magnet, unable to resist his enticement.

The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0 [Explicit, 166k words]

Vagabonds by chevrolangels [Explicit, 89k words]

Whisper My Name by PetraAmia [Explicit, 29k words]

Castiel was an alpha with a few secrets up his sleeve, and had distanced himself from his family in New York City. Castiel was better off in the West than he was in the City, and they weren’t wrong. When Castiel first roamed he made a name for himself in the trick pony shows of the time and finally settled down in a small town called Angel, Wyoming. Here, he gave into some of his Alpha instincts by taking care of the townsfolk as sheriff, but that wasn’t to say that he was not a dutiful son. Twice his family back home had sent him an Omega to keep the families honor and both times, the Omega in question had not survived the sometimes harsh climate his new home provided. When a letter came from his eldest brother Michael to alert him to yet a third Omega coming to meet him from New York, he expected nothing but more of the same. He was totally unprepared for the Omega who came with his favorite brother Gabriel, and the new pup he was to take into his life. However, the events of the town have kept them apart, his duties to the town came before his new mate, and their relationship suffers. Can they recover, and be what they were always meant to be, or will they continue to dance around each other until they wither?

Wicked Game by expectingtofly [Explcit, 104k words]

The year is 1889 and for the past year and a half, Dean has traveled alone from town to town, drinking to ignore his guilt and gambling to make a living. Today, he’s especially down on his luck. He’s broke, was just thrown out of a saloon for cheating at poker, and has now been woken by a blue-eyed man trying to rob him. When he learns that the thief, Castiel, is just as broke as he is, they strike a tenuous deal to help each other rob a stagecoach, share the spoils, and split up. Turns out splitting up is the most difficult task. While Castiel is cold and cruel, Dean refuses to back down from a fight. The two are at odds more often than not, but their relationship only grows more complicated the longer they travel together. They may have more in common than they thought.

There's also this fic we've reviewed a while ago with cowboy!Dean, though he lives on a farm and it's set in the 90s instead of the old wild west:

spirit of the west by teendean [Mature, 141k words]

Dean grew up on a horse farm and can’t imagine any other life. There are drawbacks to working for his father, but they’re worth it if it means remaining with his beloved horses. Besides, between his broken arm and his lack of prospects, he hasn’t got much else. Something of an outsider, Dean always feels like there’s something he’s missing. But this tense summer brings back a figure from his past: years ago, a teenaged Cas worked for a season at the Winchester ranch. His return could change everything. If you ever wanted a 90s horse girl book, but starring a young Dean Winchester, this is your fic.

you can also check our western tag for more.

#asks #group rec #western

101 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 1 month

Text

The Good, the Bad, and the Better II

Pairing: gunslinger!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: "You stood, walking into the main room to see the Millers sat at the kitchen table, conversing in hushed tones. They stopped speaking when you approached; Joel kept his gaze down, and Tommy shifted to look at you, offering a polite smile."

Content: Mentions of crimes? Is that a warning? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Hi this took forever to edit because I love overusing adjectives. Anyway this is part 2, part 1 is here! I likely won't be updating this series super often because I'm way too busy but nevertheless I persist.

You learned quickly that this was not a house of God.

The Miller boys were…brash, put lightly. It wasn’t shocking; of course, two grown men, unmarried and in a territory where anything could happen, and often did, were going to eat, drink, and be merry on their own accord. But you were startled by Ellie’s delight at being included in their fliting and fighting. You listened for hours on end as El and Tommy hurled insults and laughed while Joel looked on with a glint of humor in his eyes, never cracking a smile; the men drinking beer and Ellie sipping sarsaparilla, her hand dwarfed by Tommy’s as she tried her best to beat him in an arm wrestle.

You didn’t mind, in all honesty, but the culture shock was something you hadn’t expected. Maybe you should’ve known that your aunt’s friends wouldn’t be gentlemen to the highest degree, given her track record and the company she often kept, but it was better than sitting at home and waiting to join your parents in the Heavens—death by boredom and self-pity.

Despite the disorder, you found solace in the moments you were granted now, in Texas. The sun was radiant, adding natural blush to your cheeks and making you feel truly alive in the midst of all your losses. And the company was, though chaotic, far from bad. You continued to teach Ellie the hand games you used to play with the girls at church, Tommy watching idly, his foot hitting the floorboards in sync with the rhythm of your hands smacking together. You did, truly, have a soft spot for the younger girl. It was something that felt familial, the thought of two orphans living under the same roof and sharing the experience of adventure and the wild west—or maybe it was just because she made you laugh till your stomach hurt, tears creeping out of your eyes when she made you cackle with glee, the taste of the salt on your face finally associated with joy instead of sorrow.

Tommy, too, was increasingly easy to be around. He was polite, for someone who lived in such a frenzied manner, and seemed to genuinely mean it when he waved good morning, putting breakfast in front of you first when the sun rose.

“How come I never get fed first?” Ellie whined, still in sleep clothes, knees tucked into her chest as the sun crept in through the windows, heating the house.

“Ladies first.” Tommy winked, serving you before reaching over to drop down Ellie’s plate in front of her.

“I could be a lady!” Ellie spread herself out, arms and legs wide as she slumped in her chair.

“Do ya wanna be one?” Tommy arched a brow, feeding himself now.

“…Just want some damn eggs…” She grumbled.

But Joel still made you out of place, still gave you that uneasy heat in the bottom of your stomach that you had grown accustomed to pushing down. He stayed mostly quiet, even when it came to rough housing; his looming presence felt more adjacent to violence than Tommy and Ellie’s wrestling, and his blunt, grunted responses to their insults made your heartbeat pick up just a bit. He barely addressed you, opting to care for the horses while you ate, leaving for town shortly after and returning after dinner. You didn’t know where he went, where he found himself on the long days under the Texan sun, and all Ellie ever told you was not to worry about the work the Millers did.

You heard Joel say your name once or twice on occasion while you readied yourself for bed, Ellie snoring behind you on the mattress you shared, unable to pick up any other dialogue between Joel and Tommy from the other room.

You hated to admit it, so you didn’t, but hearing your name fall from Joel’s lips excited you more than anything else ever had.

~~~

Texas, November 1847

“I don’t understand—how will I know if the next card will be the right number to help me get to twenty-one?” The cabin was quiet, save for your conversation, and you heard birds circling nearby, calling down at the nothingness of the fields below. Joel and Tommy had left after breakfast, and Ellie used the silence to her advantage, finally teaching you the games Tommy said would create a poor influence.

“You don’t! That’s the point—give me your cards.” Ellie snatched the stack of cards in front of you, shuffling them together with her own and dealing them out again. “It’s all luck, that’s all betting is. Joel says it’s cheat or be cheated, but I think it’s fun.”

“He doesn’t seem to say much else…” You muttered, peaking at Ellie over your cards, “Oh—uh, hit me.” You tried to remember the correct terminology for the game, making El smile up at you.

She passed you another card, “He’s not so bad. Don’t know why you don’t like him.”

“Who said I didn’t like him?” You felt defensive, “I never said that. It’s rude to talk about people when they aren’t in your presence.”

“Ain’t it also a sin to gamble?” Ellie looked devious, and you bit back the urge to toss your cards at her.

“I don’t have money down. And I don’t think Joel likes me.” You countered. “Never even looks at me.”

“That’s just what he’s like,” Ellie echoed Tommy’s words from a month prior, and you still didn’t like how they sounded, “Quiet type.”

“I think it’s rude.”

“So you don’t like him.”

“I like him fine. Just wish he would address me. Wonder sometimes if he even knows my name.” You felt heat creep underneath your corset when you recalled that he did, in fact, know your name, and the memories of hearing him say it in hushed conversation with Tommy when they thought you were only made you feel warmer.

“Uh huh,” the same devious look returned to Ellie’s face, and she revealed her cards to you—a perfect 21, “I win.”

You heard the patter of hooves outside, a whinny, and then the sound of boots hitting the dusty ground. Joel and Tommy pushed through the door, respectively stoic and jovial. You noticed the guns strapped to their legs, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin; why did they need those?

And why did you want to watch Joel pull the trigger?

They weren’t anything like the hunting rifles your father had owned but never used. They looked like props, shiny and decorative, but all too heavy on the belts of the men in front of you to be anything but the real deal.

Maybe they just liked hunting in style; you pushed the thought from your mind, supposing that ignorance would be bliss.

You watched Tommy take a handful of coins from his pocket, placing them on the table in front of Ellie, who delighted in running her fingers over the metal. You stayed seated, curiously stealing glances at the money. You nearly jumped when you felt a tap on your shoulder, turning to see Joel standing over you before he reached out his hand to offer you a coin like the ones Ellie and Tommy were giggling like school children over. You placed your hand over it shyly, feeling the cold of the metal where it met the warmth of Joel’s hand.

“Keep it.” He turned before you could ask what for, let alone say thank you.

You looked at Ellie from across the table. She just smiled.

~~~

You spent the following morning at the small desk in the corner of your bedroom, writing notes to your aunt and describing in less than stellar detail the events of the past month, asking how New York was and ensuring that she knew how deeply you missed her. The paper was old, and the ink nearly dry, but it was all you could find in the house and felt it would be a waste not to use what you had so luckily stumbled upon. You pushed the letter out of the way, putting down the pen and watching it roll back on the wood of the desk. It hit the coin Joel had given you the day prior, and you sat staring at it for a moment; why on earth was this clouding your mind so much? It was just a coin, a dollar piece—Ellie hadn’t seemed disturbed by the wealth the Millers had brought home yesterday, why should one dollar cause your hands to tremble?

You knew why.

You knew it was because of the mystery, the sudden understanding that these men were likely insincere, despite your best efforts to see the best in everybody. You knew it was because of how the coin complemented the tanned skin of Joel’s hand when he had gifted it to you, and the way you could still see the imprint of his thumb against the stamp of lady liberty. The thought of Joel keeping one of the coins with the sole intent of giving it to you made you turn scarlet.

Your first crush had been an older boy at church; his hair was dusty blonde, and you liked the way he sang his hymns. And then there had been the boy who worked at the stables in town, who tried to steal a kiss from you when your father stopped to talk to the man who ran the place. There was the man who worked at the shop down the road, and the other boy from church. And of course, the boy on the ranch next door that your mother insisted you bring fresh bread to whenever she had made enough, pushing a basket into your arms and encouraging you to find yourself a lifelong connection.

But they had all been so…plain.

You felt dirty, knowing that deep down you harbored any sort of feeling for a man who wouldn’t even look you in the eyes, one so much older than you with a hint of gray in his beard and calloused hands, silver gun strapped to his hip and money you didn’t know the source of in his pockets—but maybe that’s what made it fun this time, instead of harboring a guilty conscious about whether or not you were good enough for him, you were left wondering whether or not he was good enough for you.

It was a complete role reversal, a situation that turned the tired trope of your incessant need to be a good, God-fearing young woman in order to appeal to someone on its head. You were already good enough—great, even. Better, at least, than he was.

And at the very least, it was more interesting than any other crush you had experienced.

You stood, walking into the main room to see the Millers sat at the kitchen table, conversing in hushed tones. They stopped speaking when you approached; Joel kept his gaze down, and Tommy shifted to look at you, offering a polite smile.

“Where’s El?” You asked when you realized they wouldn’t speak unless spoken to.

“Off somewhere.” Tommy was casual about Ellie’s outings. You felt almost jealous of how easy it was for her to go off exploring on her own, taking a horse—her horse—and spending her days wild and free; you wondered what life would have been like for you if you had been granted that type of liberation growing up.

You supposed you would be much more like your aunt.

“Oh,” you tried not to show your disappointment at the younger girl’s absence, or your anxiety at being left alone with the two men currently in your presence. You spoke directly to Tommy, facing him to speak rather than leaving your words ambiguous in the direction of both men. Joel didn’t seem to care, not that you’d be able to read his expression properly if he did. “I have a letter for my aunt. Will you mail it for me?”

“You can mail it yourself today!” Tommy’s grin grew wider, “You’re goin’ on an adventure, girly.”

“What?” You couldn’t begin to hide the surprise in your voice. You hadn’t left the house since you’d arrived, opting to familiarize yourself with the space and the patch of land surrounding it, and the thought of leaving made your stomach churn just a bit.

"You have land, ever think to check on it?" Tommy teased, though he clearly sensed your distress with the way he pulled another chair out from the table, beckoning you silently to sit. You did, crossing your ankles and clasping your hands in your lap.

“When? Now?” You prodded, trying to maintain a shred of dignity, but feeling antsy.

“Slow down, now—in a bit. Y’ever ride a horse before?” Tommy narrowed his eyes at you playfully.

“No.” Joel interrupted before you had a chance to open your mouth.

“I—yes, I have.” You tried to ignore Joel, side-eyeing him while you answered Tommy’s question.

“She’s not takin’ a horse.” Joel was gruff, and you liked the way his accent paired with his deep voice, but that didn’t quell your confusion.

“C’mon, Joel—” Tommy raised his shoulders, something you noticed he did when arguing with his brother.

“No. Too dangerous.” Joel leaned forward, “Not worth the risk.”

Tommy let his shoulders sag, looking between you and Joel. He let out a defeated huff. “What, then—she ridin’ with you?”

With you?

“S’what makes the most sense.” Joel shrugged, nonchalant, and reached for a bottle of something on the table before taking a swig. “Safer.”

You think this may be the most you’d ever heard the elder Miller speak in one sitting, and you didn’t know whether to be honored or threatened that he was talking about you.

“I don’t…I can’t ride that well,” you muttered, feeling as though it was only fair for you to get a say in the outcome of this argument, even if you were agreeing with Joel, “Joel’s right.”

Joel and Tommy locked eyes, and Tommy raised his hands in defeat, before silently leaving the table to prep the horses.

You sat quietly next to Joel, sneaking glances, and listening to him swallow the remaining liquid in the bottle he had in front of him. You felt hot again, unsure of why you had agreed to share a horse—unsure of why it was Joel taking you in the first place, why Tommy couldn’t be your guardian for the day, why you didn’t just take the cart they had picked you up from the train station in.

“Y’alright?” You jumped at the sudden intrusion from your thoughts, looking up at Joel, who stared back at you.

“N—yes, I’m fine…How are you?” You tried desperately to make an awkward situation less awkward, still almost frightened by Joel’s presence despite the way it thrilled you. Joel made a face that neared a smile but still managed to come off as more of a sneer.

“Doin’ fine, darlin’.” He stood, finding his way outside to help Tommy, leaving you to reflect on how stupid you must look trying to engage with him.

When you mustered up the courage to leave the shack and locate the two men, you found Joel mounted on his horse, Tommy winding the rope they had used to keep the animal close to the house around his fingers. Joel looked statuesque; high and mighty, wide shoulders sending a shadow behind him that you let your shoes toe at in the dirt. The suede of his hat barely hid the graying hair he had pushed back underneath it, and as you studied him atop the white, speckled horse, you found yourself thinking of the Bible verse that had scared you so much as a child, about death and his steed. You felt your thighs tremble and buried the thought.

Tommy snapped you to attention, whistling low.

“You ready?”

“I—yes.”

“Got that letter?” He smiled at you. You patted your apron pocket, reassuring both Tommy and yourself that the note to your aunt was tucked away safely. “Atta girl. Get on up there, then.” Tommy nodded towards the horse and an uninterested Joel, and you hesitated. There was no mount, no saddle for you, and the Millers seemed to forget that you were shorter than they were—and wearing a dress. You heard Joel huff before he dismounted, boots landing hard on the dirt, crunching rocks underneath him as he walked towards you and, wordlessly, picked you up.

“Joel!” You felt red rush to your face, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist until he stood parallel to the ever-patient horse, where he maneuvered you bridal-style and waited for you to get your legs around the horse’s midriff. You couldn’t look up, stunned and somewhat frozen in place, refusing to make eye contact with an amused Tommy as Joel himself got onto the horse with ease in front of you.

“El jumps. For the record.” Joel muttered at you, “Hold on.” You hesitated again, raising your arms before an impatient Joel delicately connected his hand to one of your own, pulling it against his stomach. “I don’t bite, darlin’.” You could see the white of his teeth when he spoke. You scooted closer, pressing your chest into him slightly as if to test the waters. He didn’t budge.

“Best get a move on,” Tommy reminded you of his presence, “Wanna be back before sundown.”

~~~

It had been years since you had ridden a horse. As a child, you knew girls whose parents were wealthy, and could afford the luxury of buying their daughters their own personal mare to parade around. You tried not to feel envious; you were happy for what you had—for everything God granted—but you couldn’t help the flare of envy that rose in your throat when you saw girls braiding the dusty manes of their horses, putting Queen Anne’s lace and dandelions in their tails.

Joel was silent. He hadn’t said a word since Tommy had seen you off on your excursion, and part of you was glad. You could focus on the slow sound of the horse’s hooves against the landscape and the way the breeze knocked the short plants over themselves. You could feel Joel’s stomach expand with every breath he took, your hands still planted cautiously around his waist. You found yourself leaning forward into him every few minutes, the comfort of his back, the friction of his jacket against your cheek keeping you grounded. You jumped where you sat when he turned slightly to spit the chewing tobacco he had in his cheeks.

“Sorry.” Joel grumbled a short apology, and you lowered yourself back onto him hesitantly.

“It’s alright.” Your breathing fell in sync with his. More silence followed, and you tried to think of ways you might break the tension that surrounded you. “Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Why did you give me that money?” Your words were quiet, nearly vanishing into the suede of his jacket. Joel didn’t respond for a long while.

“Wanted you to have it,” He shrugged, and you moved with him, his shoulders lifting your neck slightly, “ain’t like you got a job.” His head turned just enough for him to view you in his peripheral, and you looked up at him, not fully convinced by his answer.

You didn’t believe him. “Got land.”

“Not the same, darlin’.” Joel returned his attention to the path in front of him.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Pardon?”

“The money.”

Joel sighed, as if he had been anticipating your line of questioning. “Y’ask a lot of questions.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re difficult, too.” He spoke with an air of amusement.

“Yeah? Well, you’re rude.”

“Why’s‘at?”

“You don’t address me properly, you don’t look at me when you speak, you drink too much, and you manhandled me earlier.”

“That all?” Joel snorted, amused by your distaste.

“You aren’t a gentleman.” You removed your arms from his waist and placed them at your sides.

“I’m not?” Joel was taunting you now, entertained by your outburst.

“You’re not.”

Joel purposefully kicked at the horse’s side, encouraging it to speed up and cross haphazardly over a brush. You bounced, quickly returning your hands to Joel, wrapping them tighter around him this time, and feeling his stomach vibrate as he chuckled.

“Joel!”

“You’re no peach yourself.” Joel brought the horse to a trot once more.

“I’m—what?”

“You ain’t as proper as you act, darlin’. It ain’t hard to tell.”

You spluttered, taken aback by his attack on your virtue. “I hardly know what you mean.”

“I think you do,” Joel brought the horse to a stop, jumping off before reaching out a hand to help you down. “Pretty thing like you in that fancy dress, roughin’ it with three strangers out in th’middle of nowhere.” Joel didn’t wait for you to reach for his hand; instead, he placed his palm on your waist and maneuvered your leg over the side of the horse to let you jump off. “I know you like those card games El taught you. I think you like the idea of letting yourself get a li’l corrupted.” Joel’s eyes were like molasses under the sun, and you averted your gaze, watching his lips move when he spoke instead of trying to make eye contact. The choice only made it worse, pink lips forming his words so precisely that you could practically see his accent. “Where do you think the money came from, sweetheart?”

“I…I can tell you where I hope you got it from…” You felt relief when your feet hit the ground. Joel’s hand didn’t leave your waist, and you looked up at him, realizing that this was the first time you’d seen him smile—all it took was a few insults at his expense, and his own analysis of you.

“Where’s‘at?”

“A bank.”

“Then that’s where it came from.” He abruptly removed his hand from your waist, and you expected to see a bright red print when you looked down at the spot he had been holding; instead, all you saw was the same blue of your dress, a warm, damp feeling on your hip where you could still feel the excess heat from Joel’s skin. “C’mon. We’re walkin’ the rest of the way.”

You followed him, feeling a bit pathetic at the way you ran to match his stride before he could leave you in the dust.

“But that isn’t where it came from, is it?” You pushed, not done riling yourself up, kicking dirt up on the trail as you walked.

“Why’re you so worried ‘bout where it came from?” Joel stuffed more tobacco in his lip without breaking step.

“I’m—it isn’t worry.” And it wasn’t, to an extent: really, you were just curious to unravel the mystery that the Millers had so plainly laid out for you. That, and with the new knowledge that he had a gun strapped to his hip, something gnawed at you to know any shred of truth you could get out of him. “I’m just curious.”

“I couldn’t tell.” Joel didn’t look at you, but he slowed his pace, putting his hands on his hips. “All money comes from banks, darlin’.”

At that, you dropped the subject, understanding that at the present moment you’d get nothing else out of him. “Why do you call me that?”

“Mm?” Joel’s speed increased again.

“You call me darling. But you don’t call El that.”

“Mm.” Joel mumbled again, in assent this time.

“Do you call my aunt that?”

Joel guffawed, “No—Tess’d serve my head on a platter.”

“So why me?”

“Suits you.” Joel looked down at you, and you avoided his gaze, leaving you unable to see the sudden consternation in his face. “Why? Y’don’t like it?”

“I—no, I didn’t say that…”

You rounded a bend, and the house came into view in the distance; it was old. Worn down, but not nearly as much as the old shack the Millers and El called home. It looked sturdy, at least—like it could sustain life, if someone was there to give it a little love. The thought made you think of Joel, and you didn’t know why.

Maybe you did. Just a little.

You were about to ask more questions, try to get more information out of Joel, when he smacked a hand on your stomach, landing with a thud that made you grab at his wrist to steady yourself.

“Joel—!”

“Quiet.” He looked stern, a far cry from the grins and giggles he had shared with you, however hesitantly, on the journey. You followed his line of sight, narrowing your eyes against the glare of the sun, and you could make out three men and their horses.

“Joel…?” You whispered now, hand still grasping at his wrist.

“Get down.” You did as you were told, following Joel’s lead and flattening yourself against the sand and pebbles beneath you. The earth was cold, like it had just rained, and you could hear Joel breathing beside you, his arm coming to rest over your back, shielding you. From what? You were unsure. You tried to crane your neck to see what the men were doing—get a glimpse of the people who surrounded your would-be home, who were clearly making Joel antsy—but the weeds were too tall, and the men were too far away. You could hear small crashes every now and then, ground crunching under boots and hooves, unable to make out any conversation. Joel’s hand was heavy on your back, and you could feel his calloused fingers gently brushing against the fabric of your dress. Whether it was subconscious on his part or not, you couldn’t complain; it felt soothing in the midst of whatever you had stumbled into.

You don’t know how long you lay in the dirt before you heard a whistle, and the sound of horses running too close to you for comfort.

When you peaked your head up again, Joel quickly moved his hand up your back and clapped it on the back of your neck, bringing you down to his level, close enough to see the sweat dripping from his temples. “You stay right here.” He didn’t give you any time to respond with so much as a nod before he was lifting himself off of the ground and grabbing the pistol from his hip, walking slowly toward the house; gun drawn, head down, steps silent. You counted the seconds until you were given a sign that you, too, could remove yourself from the ground.

“S’alright,” Joel called over his shoulder to you, “c’mon down here.”

You caught up to him, wiping what you could of the dirt off of your dress and stretching your limbs after lying idly for so long.

“Can I please have an explanation,” you stomped as you approached him, “as to what that was about?”

“Later,” Joel muttered, “Get inside.”

You meandered towards the entrance to the house, the small wooden door looked as though it might fall off its hinges if you pushed too hard, so you tried to open it with grace despite your frustration. Leaning against the frame, your head fell, neck stiff from your attempts to follow the action from your spot in the weeds, and you spotted a piece of paper in the grass.

You bent down, grabbing the torn paper and dusting it off as best you could. Your heartbeat picked up, and the hot air made you feel suddenly thirsty and dazed. The muscles in your knees tightened.

“What’cha got, darlin’?” Joel made his way to the door, ready to get out of the sun.

You pushed the paper into him, and you’re sure you must have looked an ugly combination of hurt and outrage, glaring at him when you pressed it between his ribs. If he was worried, his face hardly gave it away; the cold look he always wore marred only by a bit of mud and furrowed brows as he delicately slipped the paper from your hands and brought it up to his face.

WANTED:

JOEL and THOMAS MILLER

DEAD or ALIVE

NOTORIOUS ROBBERS of BANKS and TRAINS

$5,000.00 REWARD

CONTACT SHERIFF and RAILWAY AGENCY

Joel smiled at the poster in his hands, tracing the sketches of himself and his brother with his eyes, then moving his gaze down to you. You continued to glare, now feeling unafraid to look him dead in the eye despite what you had just learned.

“Told you, it all comes from a bank.” Joel sounded almost sheepish, but you couldn’t tell if it was because he now knew someone was looking for him, or if it was because of how quickly the ad had turned you against him.

You turned on your heel, and slammed the door in his face, not caring if the hinges broke and the wood splintered out at him.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut

52 notes · View notes

rodolfoparras · 3 months

Note

from the rdr2 ask

r is reader akssjsjs 😭 and rdr2 is like 1899 wild west cowboys set in usa (for context)

I'm thinking r gets up on his horse (who's actually a horse of one of the men he killed), he looks back once again, the white of his eyes standing out in the blood covering his face, and catches gaz's eyes. it's a silent goodbye, but not one on a good note. r gallops away from where the 141 has set camp, not knowing where to go next or even where he's going to get a meal or sleep tonight. honestly he fall asleep right now from how exhausted he is from the fight and the lack of sleep the last few days, but he keeps riding till he's certain no one has followed him, then finds a nice tree to pass out under.

meanwhile, back at the camp, gaz is at a loss of words. people he considered family, people that Are his family lied to him about you. worse than that, they left you out to die, after gaz had been the one to save you. when they first met you, you were apprehensive of tagging along w them, not wanting to be a burden, and gaz reassured you it's okay. and all he can think of now is how you must think that gaz's promises meant nothing. and he knows you'd be right to think so when the people he trusted the most have betrayed him like this. he asks them one simple thing, "why?" he didn't shout or look angry, but everyone knew better than to think he wasn't. he was fuming.

"kyle, you can't expect us to just up and trust some stranger. you know we have plans in motion, plans that we can't risk anyone else getting the wind of..." price spoke up.

"so you left him to die? if that is what we are now, I want no part of it," gaz said, and he could almost see soap's eyes bulge out at the insinuation of leaving. they might be wary of outsiders, but they still love gaz dearly. and gaz loves them too, and deep down he knows he could never really leave them.

"i wasn't going to wait for him to slit our throats in our sleep, yeah?" soap said in frustration and a second later price and ghost had to break gaz's grip on his throat, pushing them apart.

"why do you even care so much, eh? in love w the lad or what?" soap coughs out, and the look on gaz's face says everything. first the knowledge of gaz possibly caring about this stranger sinks in, then comes the dread of what they did to the man gaz cared about, their heads now hanging low. ghost tries to say smth, but it's too late and gaz is storming off, trying to find some place to be alone.

he settles down near the stream, he tells himself he has to accept the fact that he might never see you again. that is if you're alive. he's so worried about you, wondering how you manage the injuries all on your own, just one horse to keep you company, the blood soaked clothes on your back, and not much else. by god, he's so worried about you he could cry. and he knows even if he sees you again, you'll want nothing to do w him. he can't go after you. he can't bear to see the faces of his family, the people he asked you to trust, after they've all but stabbed you in the back. so he sits alone, and thinks and think and thinks.

he thinks about how you must've felt, when left alone in the middle of an already unfair gunfight. he can't imagine what that feeling of being completely alone in the middle of certain death must've felt like. but then he thinks about how you made it out anyways. always fighting death. he thinks of how he's seen you survive against all odds, cheating death twice in the time he's known you. he hopes that you live through the aftermath of the fight too. and he hopes to find you again some time. he hopes he can get the chance to apologize and maybe, just maybe you'll believe him. he wants to hold you, he wants to tell you all the things he wasn't brave enough to in the 10 weeks you travelled w them. he hopes he hasn't missed his chance.

-❕️

SUGAR THIS WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL READ IM BEING SO SERIOUS THIS IS SO WELL WRITTEN I LOVED THIS you can genuinely feel how sad gaz is for reader and how torn he feels being in the position that he is in it’s also very clear he absolutely loves reader please 🧎🏻‍♂️ BUT WHY ANOTHER CLIFF HANGER IM GOING TO SCREAM

#alec answers #❕anon

28 notes · View notes

obsidiancreates · 3 months

Text

One Undead To Another (Chapter 2)

Shawn can't speak, his bleeding thumb trapped in his mouth by the absolutely frigid hand clamped over his face. Nails press into his cheek as two other figures seem to melt straight out of the shadows, snarling like wild animals.

No stalling with rambled nonsense, no breaking down the case to play for time, not even any chance to get in a clever quip or movie reference before he dies. Now would be a great time for a classic Lassie and Jules last-minute rescue. He keeps glancing to where he thinks the in-house entrance is, waiting for them to burst in with guns drawn.

The only sound is his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He feels something cold, and wet, drip onto his shoulder. The person holding him licks their lips, wet and loud, and he realizes they’ve drooled on him. It feels like ice water.

“Breaking, entering, and stealing.” Gruffest Man Alive, AKA Gramv, who looks exactly like Shawn expected by his voice, reaches into Shawn’s pocket to pull out the crystal. “Aren’t you working with the cops?”

“He’s faking psychic. Of course he breaks into places, probably looks around and pretends to have a vision once he’s with the police.” The smoother, lighter voice he’d heard arguing with Gramv before belongs to a 30-something year old woman whom he’s dubbing ‘Cyndi Chomper’ for her pop-star resemblance and extremely sharp and obvious fangs as she snarls at him.

Surgical, has to be surgical- they’re a cult, they’re murderers, he wouldn’t put it past them to have weird body modification surgeries to follow that lifestyle- even though he didn’t see them when he came with Lassie and Jules before and they’re too natural-looking to be glue-on or otherwise removable.

“Aw, crap, he even bled on it.” Gramv holds up the crystal. “Now we have to clean it… before… you’ve got to be joking…”

Shawn flicks his eyes away from Cyndi Chomper’s chompers and to the crystal. There is indeed still a bead of his blood running down the side, and as it does the crystal is… changing.

As his blood rolls slowly down it’s side, leaving a warm and sticky trail behind, the yellow moves with it. The blood rolls down, the yellow chases it, the hue of the entire crystal shifting. Once the blood meets the bottom and pools at the base, getting into the cracks separating each column, yellow blooms at the bases and reaches up to meet the tips.

“He’s for real?” The one holding Shawn practically growls the words into his ear. He’s decided to dub them ‘The Popsicle’. “I can’t believe this. Right under our noses the whole time!”

“No way.” Gramv snarls at Shawn and grabs his other wrist, tight, yanking it up! “I’m not spending eternity with a guy who tried to do a fake interview with us after he snooped around our house. He’s an idiot.”

Actually, I sent Gus in for the fake interview. He hates not being able to talk. He hates not being able to move. He hates that he’s starting to believe this is for real.

Gramv takes Shawn’s hand and presses it into the crystal, hard. Shawn cries out, muffled by the two hands in and over his mouth, twisting in The Popsicle’s hold as pain shoots from his palm.

The crystal, somehow, turns even more yellow as the much larger amount of blood rolls down.

“... Crap.” Gramv hands the crystal over to Cyndi Chomper. “He’s real.”

“Just our luck.” Cyndi nods at The Popsicle, and they push Shawn with their shoulder as the group begins navigating the maze of the basement. Not good.

“Hey, at least The Boss will be able to shut him up with the sire bond,” Cyndi says. Shawn flicks his eyes over to see she’s rubbing Gramv’s arm comfortingly.

“No she won’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know that sire bonds don’t happen with psychics.”

“Those are just stories.”

“They aren’t. I know.”

“... You mean you’ve been in a coven with a psychic before?”

“Not a coven. I travelled with a loose group of nightstalkers back in the Old West days. One day one of ‘em- this young girl who got turned maybe a year before- comes back with a shaking new spawn with her, another girl. First one says ‘Hey, I found us a psychic, like the campirefire stories!’ all proud. Psychic spawn tried to run away all the time, but the others thought she was too useful to let go- me, I didn’t care either way.”

“Wow.”

Gramv notices Shawn watching, and scowls at him. “Count yourself lucky, buddy. You know what happened to that girl? She went nuts- visions every hour of the day, until one day she got one just after sunrise and ran out the door in a fit. Poof.” He makes a gesture of poofing with his hands for emphasis. “Disintegrated in the sunlight, right in front of the whole town. Least when you lose it, you won’t expose us to the whole damn city.”

“Guess it’s luckier for us than you,” Cyndi says with a shrug. She turns away from Shawn, uninterested in his growing panic as it sets in that this is when he dies. There’s no rescue this time.

“So what happened to the rest of the group?” The Popsicle pipes in.

“I got the hell out of there and left ‘em to the townspeople,” Gramv says with a scoff. “Even if I’d woken them up and warned them, what could they do? Escape in the middle of the day? Easier and cleaner to just ditch them.”

“Amen.” Cyndi coughs after saying it, ash flying out of her throat. “Dammit. Every time.”

“It’s been a hundred years, you’re never going to learn.”

“Think The Boss will give me a sip of him to heal that up?”

“No chance.”

Shawn tries to kick back and hit the shin of Popsicle. He does- and they don’t even twitch. This is really it. Is it better if his imagination is getting away from him and these people aren’t actually vampires like he fully believes now, or is it better if they are? He doesn’t want to die, not like this, but he doesn’t want to be some vision-plauged vampire captive either. He can’t even touch the Possible Actual Psychic part of the whole ordeal yet- that’ll only matter if he makes it out of this basement, anyway.

Serious, Lassie, Jules, Gus, Dad, anyone! If he was actually psychic he should be able to get a message to them, right? He souldn’t be in this situation at all! What’re they going to do if he wakes up a vampire and they realize he isn’t psychic? They don’t seem very excited to have him around- which he takes some offense to, frankly- so he doubts they’ll be nice about it. Is he going to be killed, revived, and then killed again? That’s just overkill, literally.

Speaking of overkill, when Popsicle finally stop Shawn can’t help but roll his eyes because of course they’ve got a freaky ritual circle drawn in blood with candles all around it. As though this couldn’t get even more horror-movie-cliche. It’s his own fault for ignoring the obvious signs, he supposes. He’d always thought he was more a Final Girl type than a First Sacrifice, but clearly he needs to reevaluate.

Popsicle leads him to the middle of the circle and kicks his knees, sending him collapsing to the floor. They finally pull their hand away from his mouth, and he takes his pucker-skined thumb out. At least it stopped bleeding, but he thinks he has frostbite now when Popsicle was holding him- and where they’re not tying his hands together behind his back. Great.

But… his mouth is free now.

“Listen, guys,” he says, panting a little as his heart races. “I get that you want to keep me around forever, I can’t blame you. I have a dynamic personality and hair like an alpaca, but thicker. But this is a terrible start to an eternal friendship.”

“Shut up,” Gramv snarls. “I’m keeping my eye out for the second we can replace you with a different psychic.”

“Seriously, man, I think you guys have a great thing going- you set up interviews with a specific set of parameters that’ll probably attract unaware psychics, right? And-and then you use your crystal thing to check. If they’re for real, great, mission accomplished. If not, well, then you have dinner, and you make the body all nice and untraceable as a vampire attack by slashing the throat to cover up the fang holes, it’s-it’s good planning. But this is ridiculous, I mean- you don’t need a psychic with planning like this.”

“You don’t know what it’s like out there.” Cyndi walks up with a wet wipe and starts scrubbing his neck. “You know why you don’t get any paranormal crap here? Because of two things. The sunshine, and the ghosts. You’ve got enough spirits around you to drive off every other creature within a hundred miles or more. No-one likes messing with that stuff.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Shawn tries to lean away, but as he starts to tip over Gramv walks by and roughly shoves him back into position. “Why is that?”

“The dead don’t like the undead, and we don’t like them either. You can guess why.”

“... Right, right. … So this is just- this is happening, then.”

“Believe me, we’re not happy about it either. You’re the worst.”

“Okay, you can at least pretend to like me. What, we’re just going to argue forever? That doesn’t sound fun! That’s only fun to watch, on sitcoms, or to do with Lassie!”

“You’ll lose your mind to your visions within a few years,” Gramv grunts, “If we’re lucky.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Cut out your tongue, maybe. Premonitions are fine, but the solitude is better.”

“My tongue? Are you medival vampires, what-”

“He really is insufferable.”

A new voice. No, not new- just new right now. That’s the voice that greeted him, Gus, Lassie, and Jules at the door when they first came around, who lead them through the house, and who-

Who convinced everyone else not to check the basement. With-

“Hypnosis.” Shawn says it as she kneels down in front of him, red eyes boring into his. “That’s how you kept everyone else off your trail when we came in for interrogation.”

“Aw, he’s slow.” The Boss says it pityingly, patting his cheek. She doesn’t look like a vampire queen- she looks like a lawyer, maybe an attractive accountant. “Yes, hypnosis- which I should’ve realized wasn’t working on you and tested with the crystal right then and there.”

“You’re why no-one will follow me on this lead.”

“Maybe you can be clever. That’s nice, I hate having to lead idiots around. Speaking of, someone go get Charlie from the door.” “Why? Is this a family event?”

“Ha. You’ll learn.” She tweaks his nose, and puts a hand in his hair. “What do you want your last words as a free and living human to be, psychic?”

He tries to undo the knots around his hands, but they are tied impossibly tight. He looks The Boss in the eyes, his tongue touching the center of his top lip as he tries to seem Definant and Unafraid.

“... If I’m not able to keep eating human food after this, I’m putting garlic in every bed or coffin we find.”

“Cute.”And then she jerks his head to the side, shoves his face into her shoulder, and bites.

#psych #psychusa #psych usa #psych 2006 #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

20 notes · View notes

sheeple · 1 year

Text

Lady Strong | Chapter 3.5

PHOTO NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): Strong!reader / Angst? Fandom(s): House of the Dragon (TV series) Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryan x Strong!reader / Jacaerys Velaryon x Strong!reader (platonic/siblings) Summary: It's not easy being a Strong; with a mother who committed suicide, a father who sired three children out of wedlock and then died for it, and a creepy uncle who has nefarious plans for his niece, it's hard to find people who truly mean the best for you. Luckily there are your brothers and your fiance... right? Warning(s): Drowning / fighting / holding someone hostage / mentions of murder / choking / blood [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist]

There is something inherently peaceful about your state of mind right now. It's like you're floating in an endless sea of nothingness, just floating among the push and pull of the water.

That is until a large wave crashes into you and pulls you under. Suddenly, everything's wild, you're thrown around under the water, crashing into the rocks at the bottom. Events flash before your eyes.

Visions of you and Luke running through Storm's End, both of you flying above the trashing seas, being chased by Aemond. Before finally being pushed off by Luke and seeing your brother get devoured before you crash into the water.

And at last; someone diving after you. Long, white hair floating in the water and a blue gem gleaming. Could this be The Stranger coming for you? To take you to be with your father, mother, and brother?

With a gasp, you open your eyes and sit up. Panic washes over you as you are in an unfamiliar room. It is a private chamber, as you are laying under dark green, silk bedding. Multiple walls are covered by tower-high bookshelves packed with books and scrolls. A large round table is filled with more books, scrolls, and quills. A fire crackles softly with two chairs in front of it.

Panicked you scramble out of the bed, limping towards the window. King's Landing... You're in the capital. Then it clicks. It was no stranger at all. It was Aemond diving after you.

You rush towards the door, trying to pry them open. But it is no use. Scanning the room, you search for something to pick the lock. A quill, a knife, anything.

But all of sudden, you remember when Ser Erryk helped you escape through a secret passage. Running your hands along the walls to search for a lever or a dent, you find it and push against the panel. It swings open and a gush of wind welcomes you, ruffling the silken dress you're wearing. Since when were you wearing that? It doesn't matter.

Running down the dust-covered stairs, you end up somewhere along the west wing in an alcove. Hiding behind a wall until guards have passed, you continue sneaking towards the exit.

When you escape, what then? Your horse is in Dragonstone. Does anyone even know that you're alive? Or do they think you've died with Luke?

Oh, Luke...

Halting in your steps, you lean against the cold stone wall and clasp a hand against your mouth, silent tears rolling down your cheeks. The poor boy was so young, being trusted in a war of a previous generation. And Jace. He must feel so guilty to have suggested going for themselves.

No, you have to continue to fight. Fight for Luke. Fight for the injustice of it all. Fight for the rightful ruler of the realm.

Pushing off the wall, you start to sprint. There is yelling behind you, ordering you to stop. The King’s guard has drawn their swords as they chase you. Turning a corner, you bump into someone and stumble a couple steps back. Two hands shoot out and hold onto your shoulders.

Before you can thank the person, you notice it’s Aemond. Shit. A smirk grows on his face as his grip on your shoulders tightens and he pulls you towards himself.

“And where were you thinking of going?”, he asks smugly.

You try to struggle out of his hold, but he’s way stronger than you. In an attempt to hit him where it hurts with your knee, he anticipated your move. Aemond wraps a hand around your thigh, effectively halting your shot to knee in the family jewels.

In one swift movement, Aemond lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder. You scream and trash against his hold, but his grip is made of iron and holds you tightly over his shoulder.

Once he reaches his chambers, Aemond throws you onto the bed, which you quickly scramble off.

You are the first to speak. Aemond's too busy raking his eye up and down your body. "How could you."

He takes one step closer to you, and you back away. Until you feel your body press against the cold stone of the wall and Aemond's just a hair away from your face. "Would you believe me if I said it was an accident? That it wasn't my intent to kill him? I just wanted to scare him, make him crash into to sea below."

His fingers trace the burn scar on your hand that leads up to your shoulder. His touch continues to the scar his mother inflicted upon you. While his eye holds both of yours captive, you don't notice his hand wrapping around your throat. A gasp leaves your lips as Aemond squeezes slightly and tilts your head upwards.

In a panic, you reach for the sapphire bejewelled dagger around his waist and hold it up to his throat. The corners of his lips turn upwards as he watches you with dark eyes.

"You always go on about justice for what Luke did to you. You always claim to want his eye. But what of a life? What do I get in return for you taking Lucerys Velaryon's life? Your brain? Your heart?"

Aemond grabs your hand that holds the dagger. He fiddles with the clasps of his cotton shirt and lays the tip of the blade on his bare chest. "Then do it, carve my heart out. You already own it, so take it as payment for your brother."

You are trembling, and silent tears roll over your cheeks.

A mocking smirk replaces the smile. "Not so brave now, are we?"

You want to do it. You want to plunge the blade into his chest and take his hard. Throw it in front of the false king to see that they should not mess with you, with the Blacks.

But no. You want to do it where an audience will be. You want the world to know that Lady (Y/n) Strong is the one who took the Aemond 'kinslayer' Targaryen's life in retribution for your brother, the Queen's son.

The point of the dagger pierces into Aemond's chest, drawing blood before you pull away and drop your arm. "For now, we are even."

232 notes · View notes

searchingforserendipity25 · 11 months

Note

For the ship ask, Galadriel and Celeborn?

thank you nonnie <3

for galadriel/celeborn, oh boy, as much as i love a good dramatic reveal and consequent shattering and rebuilding of trust, i think celeborn, who is markedly distrustful, having the strangest certainty that the arawinfian princess is hiding something is really interesting. he courts her both as a political move, a way to find out what she's hiding, but of course he is wildly attracted to her.

they have incredible chemistry constantly. teasing and prickling exchanges veiled in politeness, a game of will, eyes on eyes while dancing, inevitably drawn back into each other's mouth as the music stops and lingers in the air....most importantly, galadriel is melian's apprentice, and is willing to go to extreme lenghts to make certain that does not stop.

her ambitions of a new kingdom of her own are challenged when she is actually living in the kingdom of doriath - she has to face the wild arrogance of her younger self's desires, the coldness and ruthlessness she has learned on the ice, the horrible isolation when separated from the tight-knitted culture of the host that made the crossing, the cultural differences, melian's many tasks and challenges to make her students prove themselves...

celeborn is far from her first priority, which is telling, because she is very aware he might be her ticket to queenship. but she fully wants to rule alone, at that time; her trust is very, very hard to come by, and it makes trusting her hard. cultural assimilation while being true to the identity she betrayed is a Lot for a young sorcerer's apprentice to keep up with, and lord celeborn's scrutiny is more of a hindrance (as are her feelings for him....)

celeborn's first love is always the land, galadriel's is knowledge. that is how they are happy. doriath loves him; doriath loves galadriel too, in time, but always celeborn best.

later on, they get together. later on, celeborn fades a little when beleriand dies, and galadriel flourishes in middle earth. it gets hard; it gets better. celebrían finally happens, only because they are certain of the safety they have built. later later on, they separate when celeborn refuses to cross moria to join his family - really, they break up during the whole eregion dispute, partly due to sauron's bad vibes infecting relationships as per melkor, partly relationship attrition building up.

get back together after the war, build lothlórien - plant it, more like, and whatever is said of him, celeborn is an excellent gardener, whispers to the seeds in their own languages, is beloved by ferns and wild grasses everywhere he goes. galadriel gets her kingdom and her king (less powerful than her), her defiance and her slow defeat, the ring that keeps summer alive and saps a little of her soul.

it's like, fine. they are old marrieds by then, speak more in mind than aloud, have started moving and even looking a little alike. far less so than most elvish couples married that long.

they are fully individual people, and celeborn's decision to stay in middle earth isn't a tragic end so much as the thing they both knew was always going to happen. celeborn sang the saplings to tallness, and it will be celeborn who sings them to the long sleep of winter; and then he, too, will lay down between their roots, and join his wandering spirit to theirs. and galadriel will diminish, in the west, and be galadriel only, as he named her; and he will come to her in dreams every night, and sometimes a slant of tall light heavy with the smell of summer and golden flowers comes to her. which is far better than death and sweeter than divorce, and really the ideal end to every marriage.

#galadriel #celeborn #galadriel/celeborn

63 notes · View notes

hyolks · 1 year

Note

omg! You answered so quickly I didn’t even think you were going to respond! Thank you thank you!

Btw I do have a few questions, you never do specify if they still have alchemy or if this wastelands au has another power system but even if they do have alchemy I was wondering how Al got all fucked since I have a few ideas for that

(Alchemic) Al didn’t get his whole body taken and only most of it which definitely traumatized Ed for sure

(non-alchemic) Al got the same sickness as their mother which would actually spread through the blood slowly and once it got to Al he had enough time to chop off most of the infected parts and save his life and give him prosthetics and such

In this wasteland au they work as sheriffs if I’m not mistaken and I’m guessing mustang team and everyone else does as well and I see that this is a town where they are only present but they are part of a bigger organization where it is basically the military in canon but I’m opt for just kicking the whole military and having it be domestic life and no homunculus

But I don’t mind following canon but I have a few ideas on a different plot line that could work for the boys but tell me what you think :)

fjlgd OF COURSE!! :'O

i havent mentioned alchemy yet bc tbh I'm. still up in the air about it? some of the ideas i tossed around was like. very particular alchemy use? like ed being able to transmute his gun into another kind of gun, but not sure about that since it feels weird for them to have guns yanno? i feel like it would be a very last-measure kind of thing... i don't think they'd actually shoot to harm ppl, but like--shoot at an overhanging beam to make it fall down and pin their opponent or something

but your non alchemic idea is pretty similar to what i was thinking!! like. ed al and trisha all got this weird infection that ate away at them (not sure if its like a legit disease/infection dealio or like. similar to a chemical burn), kinda visibly similar to how transmutation occurs on skin, or like regeneration on homunculus

like this! but the skin would be like. dying or something.

and it eventually got trisha fully, and al's was getting REALLY bad and they had to salvage what they could to keep him alive!! like what you mentioned :")

i knew i wanted roy and his posse to be sheriffs/law enforcement, while ed and al were kind of bounty hunters in some way? so they would interact in the way that roy would be like pst. hey. fix this for me and get this guy. and then they would. but they would still have some kind of autonomy, separate from law enforcement, and could still get in hot shit with other town sheriffs lol

BUT YEA all in all i didn't really think about the military or the military coup too much? i tbh have very little knowledge on wild west politics n all that, so i don't even know if it could even GO as big as it does in fma, since i'd imagine it mostly be limited to small towns.

most i've thought about homunculus is like... lust being one of those saucy ladies in a saloon, but literally nothing else lol. maybe they could be. crime lords? bandit leaders? the kind of fellows who organize attacks on trains/townsfolks/carriages?

everything i've got isnt set in stone and totally up for interpretation!! i haven't even thought much about a storyline for the au other than little bits of ed and al being chaotic on bandits lmao I'm really interested what ideas you have!! 👀👀

#ive at a LOT of inspiration from rdr2!!#so. like. if you know rdr2 lore (i dont know much either tbh)#i'd imagine the homunculus to be similar to the o'driscoll gang #so like an aggressive gang of outlaws #then. king bradley could still be part of the outlaws and giving them information on things they can f with. i think #(draws blank)#thats it thats all i got #apologizes for this wall of text LOL #wastelands au

65 notes · View notes

kickedshins · 7 months

Text

readalong riverdale playlist guide

songs have been added in no particular order. sometimes songs tie to broader visions of a musical episode, but some are just “they should have shoehorned this in somewhere in that classic riverdale way”. all songs are musical theater songs. yes i know they did superboy and the invisible girl but they did it wrong (sorry cami, you were great). this is an eternally updating playlist and guide. enjoy!

Corner of the Sky, from Pippin: Archie!!! This literally could happen anywhere at any point in time. What is this song if not Pippin going left Pippin going right. Put this wherever your heart desires. I want to come up with a Pippin musical episode plot because it’s so good. Jughead singing "Simple Joys" over a montage of Archie not dealing with his problems… I’m getting carried away.

Kind of Woman, from Pippin: Veronica would sing this in an entirely unselfaware way. I’m thinking early season two. Isn’t it a beautiful vision?

Superboy and the Invisible Girl, from Next to Normal: THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN A COOPERS SONG. I’m mentally rewriting the n2n episode with this being a Coopers song.

Could I Leave You?, from Follies: A timeskip Veronica and Hermione duet at their respective shitty husbands. It ends with Hermione resignedly going back to the minutiae of marriage and with Ronnie shooting Chad in the face. Don’t worry about how this messes with plot this isn’t about that.

Your Fault, from Into the Woods: Read this post and envision a beautiful ITW episode.

I’ve Never Been in Love Before, from Guys and Dolls: Okay honestly? Archie and Josie duet. Cuter than "Fight For Me", imo.

Mother Knows Best, from Tangled: Alice, duh. Season one or season seven.

Do You Hear the People Sing?, from Les Mis: Season six union stuff baybee! Hand in hand with "Bread and Roses". It also would be really funny to have KJ and Vanessa, who in my opinion suffer the most from iPhone Voice in the cast, to do such a grand musical-y song. It would not be very good but boy would it be entertaining.

Therapy, from Tick, Tick… Boom!: BUGHEAD DYSFUNCTION DUET YES PLEASE. Let’s say season four. "Exquisite Corpse" vibe, but suppress it all. Maybe the problem’s simply codependency!

Get This Right, from Frozen II: Okay hear me out this is one of the most stupidly romantic songs I have ever heard. An Archie song, obviously. Timeskip Varchie. Maybe he’s actually about to propose, maybe not, doesn’t matter. All that matters is how much I genuinely think KJ could have slayed this song.

Being Alive, from Company: Obviously go read Jughead’s Weird Fantasy right now if you haven’t already. But even in Riverdale canon I would want Jughead to sing this in timeskip. If we’re getting specific it feels very Tabby tucking him in after he gets too drunk at the key party. Sorry for nixing the gay subtext by putting it next to a Jabitha moment jail for a million years for me I know. It could also be after Archie calls him when he’s in NYC. There you go, gay people.

Something’s Coming, from West Side Story: Season one or seven Archie. Just feels very wholesome. I think it would be cute. Could be performed on stage if season one.

How Did We Come to This?, from The Wild Party (Lippa): A Veronica La Bonne Nuit performance that somehow becomes a group number (she’s the only one singing on stage though). Season three. No "Queenie Was A Blonde" tag. I could make an AMV to this song. I should not do that I already have three in the works. But I could.

Run Away with Me, from The Mad Ones: This is purely self-indulgent because I like on-the-road Jarchie and I have a soft spot for this mediocre musical for personal reasons.

Suddenly Seymour, from Little Shop of Horrors: Choni! Choni forever and ever amen. Season seven, I think, when Cheryl finally accepts that she’s a lesbian and is facing homophobia from her family/society/etc. Cheryl is Audrey which is funny because “mama was poor” lol no she wasn’t. They should go all the way and get the rights to change the lyrics to Suddenly Toni. Neither Madelaine nor Vanessa has the right voice for this song even a little bit. I do not care.

Partner in Crime, from Tuck Everlasting: Betty and Archie. In my wildest fantasies this is like a season four flashback to them as kids and we have kid Barchie sing this song but other than that I think this could be a number when they’re hooking up in timeskip. Even though I don’t approve of Barchie hooking up in timeskip because I hate straight people I do think they would slay this. KJ specifically I think would sound great on this, it’s not really a Lili song but oh well. Another version that would be incredibly funny but not as good would be having timeskip Veronica and Reggie sing it about, like, actual crime.

Totally Fucked, from Spring Awakening: Kevin-centric group number in the style of "In" or "Beautiful". Could be anywhere from seasons two to four. Maybe we include the “did you write this?” thing with Betty and Jughead as Melchior. They did some expose for some paper. You know how it is. I wish the Riverdale characters were allowed to say fuck so bad.

Moving Too Fast, from The Last Five Years: Timeskip Jughead. It almost fits but doesn’t in a way that’s oh-so-Riverdale.

The I Love You Song, from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee: Sad. Shared between Betty, Veronica, and Cheryl, but Veronica-centric (could be an unhinged La Bonne Nuit performance from her with cutaways to the other two, actually). Whenever the most amount of parents in this group are in jail. There’s at least one meaningful shot of Jughead reacting.

I’m Breaking Down, from Falsettos: Okay this one is sort of cheating because I don’t necessarily want to fit it into the actual canon of Riverdale I just think if Archie had come out in high school Veronica would have pulled a "The Ladies Who Lunch" and done this at La Bonne Nuit. I think Cami would body that.

What Is This Feeling?, from Wicked: Hear me out. Bret/Jughead duet.

For Good, from Wicked: Betty and Veronica, season seven. Or quad number in late s4/early s5 before the timeskip. I think Lili would sound gorgeous on this, especially the bridge.

Two-Player Game, from Be More Chill: Look Joe Iconis wrote music that was used in Archie: The Musical let me have this okay. Season one Jarchie. Jughead as Michael obviously even though he’s nothing like Michael and Archie is nothing like Jeremy. I just want to make Cole Sprouse say “favowite”.

Mother’s Gonna Make Things Fine, from A New Brain: I have a whole beautiful vision for an A New Brain musical episode that takes place in season four. It’s too long to get into right now but just know it’s there and it’s gorgeous and I’m going to fully flesh it out soon. Once again this is obviously an Alice song, except instead of well-meaning Jewish mom it’s overbearing evil (albeit MILFy) WASP. She’s fretting over Betty because Betty’s fretting about college or Jughead or something who cares. I just need Mädchen to do this.

Change, from A New Brain: This would happen about three quarters of the way through the episode. In classic Riverdale fashion they’d get a little insensitive with it and this would be a Ronnie La Bonne Nuit performance. Change the government kill the mayor! Say that! Even if the mayor is your parent! Especially if the mayor is your parent!

Brain Dead, from A New Brain: This is my favorite part of my A New Brain musical episode. It’s once again a Bughead repression duet. Just imagine the lavender marriage dream sequence anger tango they would do. I also think Cole Sprouse wouldn’t sound too horrible on this song. High praise. No lyric changes Jughead is saying “as the MD lifts me in his cruisy chiseled arms”. I’m getting angry about the fact that I will never get to see this on my screen I’m going to do some breathing exercises to calm down.

Take Me or Leave Me, from RENT: We’re gonna split this up among couples in classic Riverdale fashion. Timeskip, our Maureens are Kevin and Veronica, and our Joannes are Fangs and Archie. The Joannes don’t really work so maybe we’ll pull another classic Riverdale and cut their verses. Unfortunately the best line of the song (“Women, what is it about them? Can’t live with them or without them!”) has to be cut. I wish Choni could also sing this but alas it can’t work in this. Mostly this is an excuse to give Casey Cott more stuff to sing and I think it would be hilarious if he sung this.

Tango: Maureen, from RENT: Honestly, Riverdale both could and would do a really messy RENT episode. I should ruminate further on that. Anyway. I don’t actually know where or how this could work but I want it to be a weirdly sexually charged Vughead duet. But that makes Betty or Archie Maureen, and they are not Maureen… I don’t know. This one’s just in here because I like imagining Cole Sprouse dancing, and because I think Jughead is Jewish and it would be really funny to hear him say “Riverdale Jewish Community Center”. Let’s go with timeskip. She cheated! She cheated! Betty cheated! Fucking cheated! Oh, shit, could this be a Jarchie song in timeskip when Betty and Archie are hooking up? I think it could! Wow. Good work gang.

Razzle Dazzle, from Chicago: I’m also creating a beautiful Chicago musical episode that I don’t have time to detail right now but trust me it’s awesome. It’s in season four, Hermosa is relevant to it. Anyway this is another Kevin-centric group number where everyone is lying to different people about different things. Crucially, Cole Sprouse says the line “they’ll never know you’re just a bagel”.

I Can’t Do It Alone, from Chicago: Veronica’s asking someone to help her scheme!

Mister Cellophane, from Chicago: GAY KEVIN. NEED I SAY MORE.

My Own Best Friend, from Chicago: Beronica duet. Lives would be changed. They’re sort of fighting at this point in the episode so there would be an underlying current of potential hatefucking. But that’s sort of always the case with this song tbh. Also this isn’t on this playlist but imagine Reggie singing "Roxie". So bad. So good.

American Idiot, by Green Day/from American Idiot: Songs from jukebox musicals count too, right? Archie-led group number obviously. Let’s go with season six, but it could be season one or five, too. Maybe he is the faggot America. Jughead says the line “now everybody do the propaganda”. There’s a coordinated dance thing a la "Random Number Generation".

A Cockeyed Optimist, from South Pacific: Archie, duh. Season one, six, or seven. Probably sung directly to a Lodge.

Watch What Happens, from Newsies: Betty, season four. She's doing a piece on the community center that Archie and Mad Dog co-run. I think Lili would slay this honestly. I debated adding the reprise largely so that I could have Cole sing the snake line and to have an iconic "the poor guy's head is spinning" thing side note how can I make Davey and Jack about Jughead and Archie someone needs to shoot me. Anyway we'd cut the stuff about Katherine being into Jack in this song obviously because Betty is unhappily hetero with Jughead. Hashtag women in journalism.

Matchmaker, from Fiddler on the Roof: 50sdale girls. Really strong fun gay visuals exist in my brain for this one.

Anything You Can Do, from Annie Get Your Gun: Vughead. Neither can I!

Let Me Entertain You, from Gypsy: Ronnie duh. Season three-ish La Bonne Nuit Era. Or Polly Amorous.

I Cain't Say No, from Oklahoma!: 50sdale Betty sexual awakening era. I can SEE a beautiful beautiful dream sequence vision where she dances around flirting with Archie and Jughead and Reggie and Veronica can't you.

Tribulation, from Schmigadoon!: Yes this is a TV show not a staged live musical who cares. I don't like Music Man I'm not putting "Ya Got Trouble" on here. Alice gets a patter I don't think Mädchen would be particularly good at it but it would be extremely fun. Season seven most likely, but let's be real it could come at any point in the show.

Naughty Baby, from Crazy for You: You think I'm about to say Veronica or perhaps Cheryl don't you. WRONG Dark Betty. Oh it would be so cringe so painful so bad so terrible. It must happen. I don't know when in the show it happens it could literally be any time in s1-6.

With One Look, from Sunset Boulevard: Ronnie... I'm thinking s5 Riverbucks era.

that's all i have for now but there's more to come :]

#riverdale #kickedshins originals

24 notes · View notes