now @stories-from-mars

[a-boca-do-inferno]

collection of personal favourites.

caesar alone // blueberry // good graces // medicine // NSFW alphabet // cold, cuddles & tickles // not an ape // SFW alphabet

erik lehnsherr // allegory // tranquilizer // affection // carpe diem // emotions

logan howlett // aloha, baby // kindness // not a date! // stranger

tony montana // is he the bogeyman? // por um beso tuyo todo lo arriesgo // trouble with a capital T // beija minha boca até me matar // you’re beautiful

michael corleone // i look at you and i see nothing // i look at you and i see nothing part 2 // creativity // satisfaction // i’ve been losing you

vincent mancini // you already did // you already did part 2 // don’t think // amor, amor, negócios à parte

sonny corleone // eu te amo agora // broken // broken part 2

david 8 // trust, habits & displays of affection // sex etiquette, free therapy & sincericide // love?

rick grimes // survival // playing house & cold showers // cowboy blues

jack ryan // trying wasnʼt enough // Prague getaway // manners

gregory house // leaving so soon?

[a-boca-do-inferno]

Leaving so soon?

(dr. house x reader)

summary: You had enough.

notes: well hi. been a long time. enjoy x.

His eyes follow yours wherever they go, yet you don’t dare look up to meet his scrutinising gaze. Why are you still even here? All those years of hard work, research and proving yourself mean absolutely nothing when you remain by the side of the guy who couldn’t give a shit if you dropped dead but hadn’t done your job before that. Sure, it sounds dramatic, House himself has said it so many times; however, for the life of you, you can’t bring yourself to care about his opinion anymore. This was a long time coming. All of the verbal harassment, the abuse of authority, his overall meanness. God, you’ve endured too much. You should be fucking canonised. 

Your hands worked skilfully to pack your things, setting them carefully inside the box you borrowed from your neighbour. Your shelf was almost empty. Only a few more, and then you’d be free from this goddamn soul prison. 

Finally.

“Leaving so soon?” Comes the usual chirp, from the door. You refrain from rolling your eyes. You have to break the pattern. This dance has been done tirelessly before: he provokes, you react, he insists, you cave. No more of that. House adds, still with that stupid smirk as he leans on his cane, “why?”

“Because I can’t stand you.” You scoff without looking at him directly. There’s no use in wasting words at this point. He knows this, and you know he knows this when his answer comes.

“Not a good enough reason.”

“Well, that’s just too bad.” You blurt out, letting go of the diploma you were holding and sighing in defeat. Everything is always so complicated with him. “Just let me go, House. No need to make this an event.”

“You didn’t use the word ‘dramatic’.” House hums, with that ever-present curious, observant gleam in his blue irises, completely ignoring the core message of your speech—unsurprisingly. This time you do roll your eyes. He nods, assimilating his quiet analysis, and states with an air of finality, “don’t go.”

There’s pause before you grunt, more to yourself than toward him, “not your call.”

House raises his brow. “Whose is it, then?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” You shove the diploma inside the box, uncaring if you damage it. You’re this close to punching that grin off his face.

He shakes his head in amusement. “You still can’t make your own decisions, even right here, telling me you can’t stand me. How funny is that?”

“What the hell do you want from me?!” You grab your stuff and rush to the door, only to be blocked by his tall figure. He’s too fast for a guy with a damn cane.

“I want honesty.” He hisses, as angry as you donʼt recall ever seeing House. “Stop being a coward. Say what you wanna say to me. Now.”

Your grip on the box tightens. That urge to punch him is getting pretty big. “I donʼt wanna play your games anymore. Get out of the way.”

He doesnʼt move, as expected. “No.”

“Are you serious right now?” You laugh in disbelief, narrowing your eyes to make sure this is really happening.

House quickly changes his expression, almost as if he just realized something. “Are you attracted to me?” He asks casually, but you both know the question is anything but. Suddenly your chest feels tight, and your heart thumps a little weird. As soon as you open your mouth to reply, though, he clarifies, “of course, I couldʼve phrased it as an affirmation, but see, I can be nice. So Iʼm giving you the benefit of the doubt.” He shoots you a pointed look.

You sigh once more, taking a few steps back, putting the box on your desk and sitting down. Your shoulders slump automatically. Foolish of you to believe he would’ve just ignored that fact, even now, when you were leaving. Maybe everyone around you knew, the closest ones to you especially—it wasn’t anything that needed to be said out loud. The feeling was just too great to be ignored or unnoticed, even by other people. And it was one-sided, of course. You weren’t as delusional as to think it could ever be reciprocated. House stays by the door, leaning heavily on his cane, his face blank. He’s after an answer and won’t give up until he gets it.

Your voice is low, “you already know the answer.”

“I wanna hear it from you.” House limps closer, studying you with clinical eyes. “Yes or no?”

“Cuddy wants to see us.” Wilson materializes by your side and you canʼt help but jump slightly in surprise. He seems to notice the tension between you and House and clears his throat. “Itʼs... urgent.”

You nod and cross your arms, heading to Cuddy’s office without a second thought. Surely that ludicrous conversation wasn’t over, not a chance in hell, but you figured hearing your boss’ complaints was better than dealing with your unresolved feelings for the asshole following you in the hallway.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

first name basis (jack ryan x female oc)

summary: “That shit doesn’t fly with me.” Ella keeps her tone serious. “I don’t care how many medals you got in your closet, Marine, this isn’t our backyard. Things are different around here.”

warnings: angst, violence, blood, swearing, terrorism, nazism, fluff(ish)

words: 7.4k

notes: i started writing this last year and never really found an ending. i didnt wanna just throw it away, so there you go. enjoy x.

BERLIN, GERMANY

“Das FBI-Büro hat noch keine Stellungnahme zu den Bombenanschlägen in North Dakota letzte Woche abgegeben, aber die örtlichen Behörden versichern der Bevölkerung, dass die für diese schreckliche Tragödie verantwortlichen Personen bald in Haft sitzen und für ihre Verbrechen bezahlen werden.” 

Pouring himself a cup of tea, Jack watched the news with a deep frown. He could see his reflection on the screen and took note of the dark circles under his eyes. Being on the job often meant not sleeping well for him and North Dakota wasn’t an exception, especially because the bombings weren’t the only threat he was concerned with coming from Johan Schneider. However, his efforts to control a good part of the human-trafficking business all across the globe fortunately weren’t going unnoticed anymore, not after Ryan tracked millions of dollars donated to one of his shell companies on the day of the incident in Fargo. The country stopped to follow the aftermath of the biggest terrorist attack since 9/11 and it was in his hands to prevent it from ever happening again. The agent could only hope Schneider’s ambition kept leading him to sloppiness. 

Germany was nice so far—nicer than Jack expected, anyway. He’d been around previously, sure, but as a Marine the pace of things naturally turned out to be more erratic. Funnily enough, working for the agency, there were those few thirty minutes of peace where he could watch the snow through a hotel window in silence before going back to the hustle of chasing terrorists. Still, Ryan had been more pensive than usual ever since arriving in Berlin last night. His last visit did happen under rather sourer circumstances, after all. And deep down, he couldn’t help the uneasy feeling when memories flashed in his mind. War was a constant reminder, no matter how much time would pass. 

Jack set down the now empty cup on the small marbled coffee table, grabbed his phone and left the room. He greeted Greer briefly at the lobby and his nose wrinkled as they approached the Embassy just on the other side of the street. With steps light as a feather, despite the heaviness in his chest, he made his way inside the building. Jim walked in stride, opposite to his own visible tension. Right at the entrance hall, Ryan spotted blue eyes in their direction and extended his hand toward the woman, Ella Campbell, readily. The Ambassador gave them both a firm handshake and a quick nod, urging the men to follow her into the office without much chit chat. 

“Very well, gentlemen. Tell me about this Schneider guy and why you think this Embassy should be involved, seeing as he’s a German citizen. Not American.” 

Ella showed them their seats, closing the door behind her gracefully. Going to her chair, rhythmic heels coming in contact with the wooden floor, she leaned back with a serious expression, waiting for a response. Her body language came across as fairly business-like, yet it was quite clear by her gaze how distasteful their visit really was in the particular political state in Berlin as of now. Campbell had work to do and she wasn’t German police or intelligence, so anything CIA folks did wrong under her guidance would be telling of her abilities to keep the relationship between the US and Germany harmonious. And considering the current secretary of state wishfully hoped for a fuck-up on her part for a while now, she certainly couldn’t have that. 

“Ma’am, there’s strong evidence that suggests Schneider could be the mastermind behind the biggest human-trafficking ring in Europe to date, which is active as we speak. And you do know of his financing the Fargo bombings already.” Jack clears his throat, gathering the next words carefully as he crosses his legs. He’s never met such a wary Ambassador in his time as operations officer. “And although he has German citizenship, his family’s origins, associates and shell companies are from and operate in America.” Adjusting his tie, he concludes, lowering his voice, “I do believe he has ties to extremist groups like the KKK back home, as well. It could be in everyone’s best interest that you get involved. The reason we have embassies is so that the American citizen can feel secure when staying abroad or when they need our help. That is our mission, not to simply watch from the sidelines, let alone when the victims could very well be American-born children at risk.”

“I’m well aware of my obligations as ambassador, Dr. Ryan.” Ella doesn’t blink, keeping her eyes on Jack. She didn’t like his speech at all and her face didn’t hide it. Turning to Greer, the woman raises her brows. “What’s your assessment, director?”

“I have to echo what he said.” Jim sighs, pressing his index fingers together. “You should take action now. Schneider’s organised and connected and has been pulling the strings behind other big operations, not just in Europe. You saw what’s going on in Iran. Berlin could be next.”

“Very well, then.” Campbell nods after a beat and takes a pen, swiftly signing a document. She hands James the paper, “firstly, I need more than ‘evidence that suggests’. I need proof, otherwise my hands are tied. I don’t like it any more than you do, but that’s how the job’s done.” Putting down the pen, the Ambassador continues, “you have twenty-four hours to get me something of substance I can show to the Attorney General, not just speculation, and I’ll see where we can go from there. Don’t forget this isn’t our home and we have to play by the rules of this country. I hope I make myself clear.” Ella gives Jack a last glare before eyeing her computer screen. She was caught up on how Jack Ryan conducted his career up until that point, all right; by being insubordinate. “Anything else you can talk to Sally outside. Have a nice day.” 

Ryan gets up, buttoning his suit jacket. “We understand, ma’am.” 

Jim stands up to shake her hand again. “Thank you for your time.” And as they stroll out of the Ambassador’s office, he snickers, holding the document to his eye level. “A sweetheart, isn’t she?”

“One could say that.” Jack shakes his head, passing the hallways. “I get there must be a lot of tension in Europe right now, but she could’ve been a bit friendlier. Wouldn’t hurt.”

“She must’ve been in Germany too long, lost the American sparkle”, Greer shrugs and walks towards the car, getting in with Ryan. “Or maybe it’s just the blood. Her father was a general, Hans Wagner. He served in the highest positions of the government back then, or so I’ve heard.”

“I read about him.” Jack’s eyebrows furrow. His expression is now more serious, trying to put two and two together. “General, huh? Doesn’t sound like he got her this job at all”, he murmurs sarcastically, clearly bothered. 

He didn’t approve of nepotism, and certainly much less concerning important roles such as a diplomat’s. Now Ella’s attitude only reached him as pure entitlement rather than professionalism. Wagner wasn’t exactly the best example of humankind, as far as he knew. 

“The hell do you care?” James scoffs, turning on the engine and taking off. “Like she said: we’re only guests here. I don’t like her either, but don’t let it get in the way of the mission. I hate babysitting.” 

“Right.” 

Jack peeked out of the window, observing the view of the grey skies above them. It wasn’t raining yet, yet the clouds were heavy and dark, indicating there soon would be a storm. Not a lot of people on the sidewalk, and the few ones wore big coats and carried umbrellas. His favourite thing about Germany was the sense of calmness and stillness only a cloudy day could provide. Maybe he could go for a walk in the forest once they caught Schneider, like he used to do with his colleagues in the Corps. His phone vibrated on his leg and Ryan pulled out the device from his pocket, watching the screen light up with a message from Mike. 

“New lead. Hotel Adlon Kempinski”, he reads out loud. 

“That was quick.” Greer mutters, driving towards the address. “Now it’s on.”

Arriving at the hotel, they saw Mike sitting in the lobby wearing round sunglasses and carrying a manila folder under his arm. He seemed serene as always, with an easy-going smile hanging from his lips. Jack could only assume—and silently hope—the lead was actually credible. And as soon as Michael started speaking, he realised he wasn’t dreaming too big.

“He knows we’re onto him now, that’s facts”, November opens the envelope, giving it to James. “These were a pain in the ass to get, by the way. I deserve at least a thank you.” 

Jack ignores his comment, asking although he already knows the answer, “don’t tell me he fled the country?” 

“Yeah, but that’s actually good news for us”, Mike raises a brow, pointing to the document as Greer and Ryan read the content. “You can raid his home. He lives in the woods for some reason. Really particular fellow.”

“Without a warrant? Forget about it”, Jim scoffs, offering Jack a sceptical look. “Ella’s never jumping in on this. She said substance, but not by stealing evidence.”

“Who’s Ella and why is she ruining the party?” Michael crosses his arms.

Jack sits beside him with Greer, pursing his lips in thought. “The Ambassador is not exactly on our side here, the political scenario isn’t the best right now. She’s too concerned with optics”, he mumbles, checking the hour on his wristwatch. “We’re on our own, guys.”

“When weren’t we?” November laughs, eyeing James. “Are you doing this or what? Don’t tell me you suddenly grew a bureaucratic conscience, Jim. When has a suit ever told you what to do?”

Greer shakes his head, passing the ball to Jack. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, but what choice do we have?” Ryan oscillates his gaze between them. “We’re not here on vacation and we have no idea what his plans are after Fargo. I have a pretty good hunch that it could be worse than what’s happening in Iran.” Letting his eyes wander the fancy lobby decorations, he grumbles, “I can deal with the Ambassador later.”

“I’m sure you can”, Jim still sounds sceptical, even faintly critical of Ryan’s intentions. He’s aware of his record with women during missions.

Jack, on the other hand, doesn’t appear offended by the insinuation and simply stands back up. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

They headed towards Schneider’s supposed address while Mike stayed behind—he had some visa issues to tend to. Johan did flee the country days ago, as they found out he was actually gone even before the bombings, almost as if he foresaw the CIA would open an investigation on him. However, a search in his place could prove to be very helpful. And albeit Ella in fact wouldn’t be completely sold by the idea of overruling German police’s decision of not raiding his house just yet, Jack needed to take the risk. It would also serve to show him what his limits were concerning the Ambassador. So far she didn’t seem like his biggest fan, anyway, so this one little thing couldn’t hurt. She expected the worst from him already. Besides, when his ideas went south, he did find a way and resolved it because that was the job. Otherwise, his ass was fried, much similar to what Campbell herself implied earlier.

Greer glances at Jack as they cruise through cloudy Berlin again and the tension is palpable. He’s not happy about this. Ryan meets his eyes in the side mirror before he breaks the silence with one short sentence. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“How perceptive”, James mutters nonchalantly, keeping his attention on the road. “You do realise this is the second time we’re going against direct federal advisement on a foreign nation, right? If this gets out in the press, it’s my name attached to it.”

“Look, I know political implications are a major concern, but you have to trust that sometimes I know what I’m doing.” Jack watches his side profile, furrowing his brows. “We can’t just sit around and wait for the Germans to act, or don’t you think they’re eager for Schneider to do something here so they can shift the blame to us in the court of public opinion? I know how this goes, I’ve been here before.”

“When have you become an expert on international relations?” 

“I'm serious.” Ryan takes a deep breath. “In the end, this will be a matter of who acted first to prevent another tragedy. That’s why we came here in the first place. You remember what the President said.” 

“Fine”, Jim taps his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. “I don’t know what the hell you’ll do to convince Campbell to accept this, though. And I have this feeling I don’t really wanna know”, he turns a corner. “How exactly are you planning to make her go from hating your guts to magically considering you her weapon X?”

He snorts. “I know she’s not the most fond of me, but I’m the head of operations for a reason. I’m good at what I do.”

“I just hope that realisation doesn’t involve you two sharing the same sheets.”

The comment catches Jack completely by surprise and he bursts out laughing. “Don't say that in front of her.”

“Oh, now I just might. Never saw you blushing.” Greer grins, his mood improving as they stop in front of Schneider’s place. Jack only shakes his head and they exit the car, heading towards the house. “So you know about her father”, he kicks down the door, pulling out his gun. 

They sneaked into the living room. It had art all over the tall, dark green walls; huge paintings displaying colourful landscapes, serving as quite the contrast to the dullness and monotones of the forest surrounding the mansion. Entering what looked like the dining room, a rectangular glass table decorated the space, bearing a single indigo flower vase in the centre.The yarrows clearly hadn’t been watered properly for some time, as a few once white petals fell on the transparent surface. 

Ryan scans the place and responds matter-of-factly, pointing his pistol down whilst approaching a cabinet close to the wall, “it made it to national news, I kinda couldn’t escape it.” 

Jim hums along. “Who would have guessed that a man who was in bed with fascists would turn out to be a fascist himself, I wonder?”

“The records were made public now, people only speculated before.” Jack opens the top drawer, finding a folder with bills and even grocery shopping lists inside. Reading the unintelligible handwriting in German, he realised Schneider actually lived here, and the thought caused a rush of adrenaline to reach his bloodstream. Finally they were getting closer. Eyeing his partner again, he says, “Wagner found a way of not getting convicted after the war, the slick son of a bitch.” 

Greer mumbles with a raised brow, “why do you know so much about this again?”

“I do my research. Not everyday the father of an Ambassador turns out to have ties with the Nazi regime.” 

The agent went through more drawers, flipping some pages in another case file which now contained details of Schneider’s various vacation trips. Paris, Rome, Sydney, Caracas and Bogotá. His attention stopped on the last two, as the sheets described the places as “promising” and “adequate”. More bombings? Or perhaps expanding trafficking routes down south? If it was a possibility, they were more behind than Jack initially thought.

“How did they make that connection only now?” James’s voice grabs him again as he makes a face, as if struggling to find an answer. “You’d think they would find out about such sensitive information sooner.”

“He lived in one of Goebbels’ estates, I guess as a gift from an old friend. Not exactly a crime to be friends with a Nazi.” Jack finally closes the drawers and sighs. “Nothing here. Let’s find his study.”

Ryan didn’t want to burden Greer with his theories, keeping them to himself for now. His friend was tense enough with the mere prospect of crossing the Ambassador and he was right to feel like so, it was his job on the line as much as Jack’s. James nodded in response and they made their way upstairs. As the men passed a few more doors, Jack pointed to one room in particular down the hallway and Jim walked with him closely, maintaining his ears open for any sound or movement inside. They stepped into the office and their eyes widened slightly as they saw the area had been searched extensively already. Furniture was overturned and drawers were pulled wide open. 

Both swept across the room with their guns pointed ahead of them until Jim noticed something in the corner of his eye. He signalled to Jack, who didn’t waste any time, quickly stepping over to examine the cupboard. As Ryan approached it, he was greeted with a distinct smell of mould and dampness, as well as scattered papers and documents. Yet what truly surprised him were a few boxes in the back of the cupboard. They were filled with all sorts of documents and photographs, which all appeared to be very old and worn. From his spot, Jack read the tag “operations” on one of the folders, written in bold print. He exchanged an exasperated look with Greer and their breath caught at the same time.

“This is our goldmine”, James says in a rush, inspecting the items thoroughly. “Call the Ambassador and tell her we’ll take the evidence and give it to the police after we’re done with it.” 

“You’re really pushing our luck here.” Jack mouths in a split second of clarity. “I’m as excited as you are, but maybe this is going too far. We’re overstepped as it is.”

“You’re the one who wanted to come and now you’re backing down?” He reaches over for one of the boxes and takes it in his arms, walking past Jack to place them on the desk nearby. “You said you’re sure you can butter her up. We’ll be fine.” Jim ignores Ryan’s eye roll, gesturing for him to hurry. “Go on, lover boy.”

Ryan pulls out his phone against his will, putting the call on speaker. There’s no use in fighting James. The Ambassador picks up on the third ring, but doesn’t speak first, so he clears his throat. “Ma’am, we’re in Schneider’s house right now. He left some days ago.”

“You’re what? How did you…”

“The cupboard is loaded”, he cuts her off as politely as he can, glancing at Jim briefly. Best to leave the arguing for later. “We have what seems to be documents of dates, transactions, bank accounts, photographs, everything you can imagine regarding Schneider and his crimes. We’re checking them out right now.”

Ella stays silent for a moment. When Ryan thinks she hung up on him, the answer finally comes, in a not-so-friendly tone, “bring it over to me as soon as possible. I’ll show them to the authorities.”

“Yeah, about that…” He trails off, moving the phone to his ear and earning a confused look from James. Jack places a hand on his hip, looking down. “We’ll be reviewing it before handing it to the police, I’m sure you understand.”

“Absolutely not! You’re already in trouble as it is, agent. Come to the Embassy with the evidence now.”

Holding the device closer to his lips, he tries a more soothing approach, “look, I’ll handle the head of MAD later if I have to. I’ll even tell the Attorney General myself, if you want. I’m putting my people on it first because this was our work, it’s only fair.”

Campbell visibly hesitates, but lets out a heavy sigh at last. He quietly thanks the heavens. “Okay, Marine. This is your chance to prove you’re not here just to fuck me over. I’m trusting you, against my best judgement.” 

Ryan blinks, a bit taken aback by her words. This went much better than he expected. “Consider it done.” Sensing Greer’s curiosity about their conversation, he goes back to his professional demeanour. “We’ll keep you posted. Again, thanks for the leap of faith on this.”

“You’re welcome.” Ella sighs again on the other side of the line, in relief but also tiredness, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “Now just get out of there before you get us in any more trouble.” A few seconds of silence pass before she finishes, almost unwillingly, “good job, agent.” She hangs up, leaving Jack to feel confused—and frankly, slightly embarrassed—by that smallest hint of praise coming from her. 

Greer spots his bashfulness and pats his shoulder, walking past him. “You should bring her an apple.” 

Ryan grabs the rest of the evidence. “Oh, shut up.”

♡♡♡

Ella entered the dark apartment and threw her bag on the light rose sofa, kicking off her heels and stretching her toes as she turned on the lights. It felt incredibly—if pathetically—freeing. Heading towards the kitchen, she got hold of the Merlot on top of the refrigerator and opened it with her teeth, disregarding the new veneers acquired just a few months back. The blonde took a long sip directly from the bottle, letting out a deep breath afterwards. Time to take that day’s events into account now: her dad, apparently, was a Nazi. Away from the stress and tension of work, her mind spiralled into the scandal that blew up this morning while she was in a meeting with her boss.  

Even though she hadn’t spoken to Hans for over a decade now, Ella knew her days as ambassador were numbered as soon as the news was out. Müller wanted her head on a plate from the very first day and there was no going around it this time; it was bad enough that people assumed her father, being an influential figure, used his name to benefit his daughter—which was a common misconception, seeing as she literally worked her ass off to become a diplomat. He was never supportive of anything the girl ever planned for herself, so nothing was handed to her so easily. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably as reality set in. Everything she worked for her entire life was slowly crumbling before her eyes and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Campbell angrily wiped off her cheeks, sipping the wine whilst going back to the living room. She turned on the TV for some background noise, not paying attention to the news program. The last she heard from Ryan was the evidence he found in Schneider’s place and as promised, they’d bring the documents to the Embassy first thing tomorrow. By what they cared to inform her, there was a new route Johan had been planning from Vienna and passing through Turkey, Russia and Ukraine, eventually leading to other smaller countries. And although she thought Jack Ryan could in fact be too reckless for his own good, his results so far did appear to be pushing things forward. That meant less worries for her and part of Ella couldn’t help but feel grateful. 

A yawn escaped her lips and she set the half empty bottle on the coffee table. It was past midnight and Campbell had been up since four in the morning, something her ex-fiancé positively hated about her—as he so thoughtfully let her know prior to leaving their home two weeks to the wedding. It could’ve been worse, she reckoned, staggering around towards the bedroom; he could’ve stayed. Now, that sounded like a true nightmare. Closing her eyes, Ella fell asleep in a heartbeat. 

Five hours later, she woke up with a jump. Someone banged on the front door and the blonde got out of bed still sleepily, stumbling in the direction of the assailant of her sleep. Jack Ryan stood across from the blonde for a brief second before breaking into her home, walking past her with a gun in hand. Ella blinked in confusion, offering him a puzzled look.

“The Embassy has been attacked”, he explains through gritted teeth.

“What?” She blurts out in shock, catching the news on TV in the corner of her vision. She must’ve forgotten to turn it off last night. Dead bodies in bags were shown on the screen with a reporter in the front. Ella screamed in horror when she recognized one of them as Sally’s, unable to hold back her desperate tears. “Jesus Christ!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am”, Ryan takes a step closer, balling his fists involuntarily. “You have to come with me, you’re not safe here.” 

“Didn’t this motherfucker leave the country? Why would he do that?!” Ella starts pacing back and forth and Jack takes her arm gently, but she shrugs him off, pointing a finger on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere! This is what he wants, Jack, can’t you see?! What message are we sending to the world?!”

“Ella, hey!” Jack grabs her by the shoulders. “You need to calm down and come with me, there have been enough tragedies”, his voice is now pleading. He feels sick, like he’s going to throw up any minute, yet still tries his best to be in control of his emotions. “We were lucky enough you weren’t there, please.”

“Tell that to Sally”, Campbell hisses, crossing her arms and looking away in despair. This time she doesn’t pull away from his touch, so he lets her go slowly. In a helpless murmur, the woman inquires, “could he have known you went to his house?”

“That’s the theory”, Ryan hardens his jaw. His actions led them to that place and he had to live with this choice for the rest of his life. “That’s why you should come with me now. If he knows this much, we have to assume he knows a lot more, including who you are and where you live.” 

He watched as Ella considered his words and dried her face immediately, going to change in her room in silence. The agent took the moment to call Greer and give him a heads up about the situation.

“Tell me good news.” James sounds like he’s panting.

“She’s okay, I’m taking her with me right now.”

“Good. We got the bomber in custody.” Jack sighs in relief, closing his eyes for a moment. “He’s American.”

When the words reach Jack’s ears, there’s no mistaking his sharp inhale. “I fucking knew it.” He blurts out in anger, holding the phone tightly. “I’m coming over as soon as I can. Any word from the Attorney General?”

“Yeah, we have a meeting later today.”

“Good. We’ll meet you there in a few.” He hangs up and nods to Ella when she comes back carrying a little bag. “Let’s go.”

As they got into the car, Campbell tightened her palms around her belt with enough force to turn her knuckles white. It didn’t help soothe her nerves that Ryan hadn’t spoken a word ever since they left her home, maintaining his eyes on the street with a frown. She sighed and tried to forget the image of Sally in those body bags. Their last contact had happened just a few hours ago in the office and although the woman only worked in the Embassy for two months, it felt unnerving that Ella wouldn’t be seeing her anymore everyday—or ever. She wiped an insistent tear in the corner of her blue eyes stealthily, however Jack saw her distress from his peripheral vision.

Sensing his attention on her, the blonde grunts in advance, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“I know.” He states softly, taking a peek at her face as he pulls over in front of the police department. The Ambassador opens the passenger door and Jack touches her shoulder. Campbell snaps her head back at him with furrowed brows and Ryan coos, displaying a comforting smile, “you got this.”

Ella blinked and nodded, stepping out of the vehicle almost as if to get away from him. They made their way into the police station quietly and the detective showed them the interrogation room where the bomber, David Smith, was waiting for Jack. She stayed inside the one-way mirror as the scene unfolded. Reading the criminal’s file, Campbell couldn’t help an expression of disgust. Smith was in his early 50s and retired early from military service due to a hip injury, but that wasn’t what caught her eye; rather, his history of hate crimes, specifically the ones against jews and black people, which were top on the list. Her stomach turned and a deep sound brought her back to reality.

“I want my lawyer.” The southern drawl comes, along with a glare toward Jack as he walks into the room and shuts the door.

Ryan takes a seat in front of the man, looking authoritative despite being tense. “He’ll get here, he’s just resting right now. Jet-lag.” He says dryly, not breaking eye contact. “I have one question for you and I may even offer you a deal for it, so answer it carefully.” He pauses and leans closer, “where’s Schneider?”

David smirks, studying every feature on Jack’s face. Glancing at the mirror beside them, staring directly at Ella—although he can’t really see her—, he raises his brows, “she’s here, isn’t she? The pretty girl. She ain’t escaping it for long, you know?”

Ella looked up from the documents she was reading and gasped, taking a reflexive step back. Jack hardened his face more and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt in a swift movement, the loud sound of metal clicking on the table causing Greer to swear under his breath before busting out of the booth and getting Ryan off of Smith harshly.

“Get your shit together.” Jim snarls so only Jack can hear and lets go of his arm after dragging him out of the interrogation room. 

He doesn’t respond at first, trying to calm down on his own. “Where did you find him?”

James sighs. “He was caught fleeing the scene just one minute prior to the bomb detonating.”

“You know he’s not fucking talking, Greer.”

Greer nods, laughing humorlessly. “Not after that stunt you pulled in there, he’s not.”

Thinking for a beat, his eyes wander the grey walled place tirelessly. Jack then declares, getting an insight, “they’re not gonna stop going after Ella. Schneider wants to make a statement.”

Jim stares at him confused. “I think the statement has been made, Jack.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Ryan rushes to where Ella is, appearing impatient. She’s still standing behind the mirror with her arms crossed and a worried demeanour when he approaches her. James accompanied him with a frown. “When was the last time you talked to your father, Ella?”

Campbell’s mouth hangs open. “I… what?”

“Get to your point, Jack.” Greer chimes in, giving him a disapproving look. 

“Don’t you think it’s strange that everything happened at once? Fargo, then Wagner being exposed, and now this?” He points to David, who’s sitting on the other side of the glass wall in silence. Ella and Jim listen to his speech in mild disbelief while he continues, banging his fist on the glass to illustrate his point. “These attacks were directed, Jim, he wanted…”

Jack fell silent and stopped talking when Greer widened his eyes, pulling Ella and him to the ground only milliseconds before the loud explosion threw their bodies to the wall behind them. His ears ringed as he tried to regain his balance, blinking and scanning around the dust and rubble. Something applied pressure over his thigh and he moved the wreckage off of him, grimacing at the pain. There was blood everywhere and the smell of human flesh made him want to vomit, but pulled himself together and crawled over the destruction to try and find Campbell and James. Only then Ryan noticed he couldn’t see them anywhere amidst the debris and his heart hammered in his chest, the possibility of Schneider’s plans working out bringing him into the verge of panicking.

Jack dragged his body over a piece of concrete where there was a pair of shoes visible underneath, which appeared to be Campbell’s high heels. He cursed, the pain in his leg making it difficult for him to move, yet he persevered, grabbing the remains of the wall with all his force and throwing it to the side. Ella laid there unconscious, with no apparent severe injuries, her skin completely covered in dust. He checked her vitals and masterfully picked her up bridal style, getting her out of the building. Outside, the hustle of paramedics, police and firefighters welcomed them and Ryan coughed slightly, handing the Ambassador over to one of the black clothed individuals coming up the stairs. They tried to talk to him, but the agent told them off and ran back towards the wreckage to capture James. 

♡♡♡

A FEW WEEKS LATER

It’s Sunday morning when Ella sees the news about a big operation to capture a warehouse that served as the place for a human-trafficking organisation in Vienna. The Ambassador quickly got up from her bed and put on some clothes, running to the Embassy. She just had to yell at Jack Ryan and Jim Greer as soon as possible. That’s why Campbell always hated working with men; they saw one thing they couldn’t do and went right at it, no matter whose orders they ran over on the fucking way. The authorisation she granted them obviously didn’t include running tactical operations on foreign soil without the local authorities involved and now her ass could be on the line with the Prime Minister. 

“Fucking assholes.” She hisses, going up the elevator to her floor.

The lights are dimly lit on a busy Monday afternoon when someone knocks on her office door. Jack is wearing a dark-grey suit that perfectly compliments his brown hair and hazel eyes. He walks in slowly, closing the door behind him. “You said you wanted to see me.”

Ella glares, taking off her glasses and sighing. “I’ll have you know I already contacted your superiors back in Langley, Dr. Ryan. And that I’m also aware of your past transgressions and unwillingness to follow orders.” She frowns, signing a few documents angrily as she does so. “I don’t have to remind you that this isn’t America and my office isn’t the CIA. Things actually work like they’re supposed to here, and transgressors are not welcome. Especially if they’re guests.” Her eyes find his again.

Jack takes a seat opposite from her, remaining stoic. “I’m aware of your position, Ambassador. And this is why I’m here to set some things right.” He keeps his hands on the table, looking patiently at her. “I believe you are aware that, even as a representative of the American government, your hands are tied with the legal complications that come with operating abroad.” Jack pauses for a moment. “And that is where I come in.” He lets out a small breath, hoping she would at least consider his proposal.

“Are you offering to do my job for me, Dr. Ryan?” She blinks in slight disbelief, not at all moved by his seemingly moderate response. “This won’t happen again, otherwise I’m getting your ass shipped back to the US faster than you can call me a tough bitch.” She snarls, getting up from her chair and resting her fists on the desk. “Anything else?”

His expression stays unchanged. “On the contrary. I’m only offering my assistance, Ambassador.” He pauses as he shifts his focus to a corner of the office, thinking about his next move carefully. “As you have pointed out, my past transgressions may have been numerous”, there’s some irony in his words, albeit he’s still trying his best to remain in control of the situation. “But I’m also willing to prove I have learnt from my mistakes and that I’m capable of conducting myself in the manner that is most conducive to your agenda.”

“You went behind my back again, Jack, after I explicitly told you not to.” She closes the case file and sighs, running a hand through her hair. The bags under her eyes are prominent. “I should be sending you packing right now.”

“I’m aware of that”, he states calmly still. “I’m not asking for a pardon, but you know that what I did had to be done and it wasn’t gonna be done by the authorities. They’re trying their best to keep this under wraps when there are innocent lives at stake here.”

“Things don’t always work like we want them to”, there’s no edge to her voice anymore, only exhaustion. “Either way, I do recognize your efforts were fruitful. And you’re right, I think it’s time we get the police involved. Fuck politics.” She hisses, tapping the desk with her fingertips impatiently. 

He’s surprised by her sudden change in tone, but nods in agreement. “That sounds like a plan.”

Ella sustains their look for a second more before nodding back. “Good. Then I guess we’re done here. Tell Greer I said Merry Christmas.”

“Of course”, Jack can’t contain a chuckle. His amusement soon fades as his eyes narrow once again. “Before I go, I gotta ask one last thing.”

She sits back down. “Go on.”

“Why didn’t you give me a chance to find a resolution from the start? Is that simply your usual behaviour or was it something personal?” He tilts his head a bit. “In other words, what’s your problem with me?”

Ella smiles lightly, surprised by his directness. If the blonde was honest, it’s been a while since anyone questioned her authority like that. She was amused by it. “It’s been a long day.” That’s all she says, blinking slowly. Although she appears to be calmer, the tenseness is still there. It never leaves her. 

Jack remains silent, contemplating the moment and the way she carries herself. Her attitude still seems rather cold despite her softer tone. He shifts his attention back to her. “I can see that. But how do you expect people to respond positively to your tone?”

“You did”, she shrugs and starts typing. “Or was it personal?” She gives him a playful side eye, chuckling to herself.

“I guess I did.” Jack grins. “Maybe I’m just used to dealing with... difficult people.”

“You’re the first man who ever called me difficult and still has a pair of balls”, she laughs, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. “I’m too tired to fight anymore, anyway.”

Jack leans forward. “And here I thought you were all tough and mighty.” He chuckles softly. “I guess not even you are safe from exhaustion.”

“Yeah”, she sighs, gazing at him through half closed lids. “Either way, good job on the raid. Even though I’m the one who’s gonna have to listen to the Attorney General’s bitching about it later.”

Jack nods his head in acknowledgement. The two stay quiet for a couple of seconds, each observing the other. He notices how tired the Ambassador looks. His expression softens as he sinks back in his seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, what have your working hours been like lately? I hope you haven’t been overworking yourself too much. We got a lot of people on this, qualified people.”

“I never just ‘worked’, it’s always been ‘over’ with me. It’s either that or the dread. I prefer the work.” She says casually, getting up from her chair and grabbing the whisky on her desk. “And my work isn’t guided by people’s lack of competence, but rather my own excess of it.” Smiling smugly, Ella offers him a glass, “care for a Jack, Jack?”

Ryan stares at her curiously as she reaches for the bottle, letting out a soft laugh with the little pun. “Maybe just a little bit”, he remarks, sitting further back on his chair to relax a bit more.

Pouring him a shot, Ella hums, “don’t say anything to Greer about this. He still has to fear me.”

Jack takes the glass from her, smiling. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I know I don’t have the best reputation among people, but they can say nothing about my job and that’s enough for me.” She sips her drink, resting her back against the edge of the table. Folding her sleeves gently, Campbell bites her bottom lip in thought. “This is all I have and I put my blood in it everyday. And I won’t be shamed because of it, not anymore.”

Jack holds the glass to his mouth as he listens to her. He’s aware of how she remains on guard throughout their entire conversation, but he understands why. The demands on her are very high, which means there’s always a lot of work waiting for her. And on top of that, being a woman in her position may still be a problem for some folks. “You should know your efforts certainly haven’t gone unappreciated by the agency. Without your help, we wouldn’t have gotten this far, that much I can assure you of.” He finishes his drink and places it on the table, looking directly at her. “And you know what?”

Raising a brow, Ella mouths, “yeah?”

"Maybe it’s time to consider taking things a little bit easier.” Jack coos, almost as if talking to a child. “You’re competent and clearly care about your job, no one’s ever gonna doubt that. And I mean this sincerely, just so we’re clear. Off the record.”

A moment of silence follows his words, and her gaze remains on her lap. “What’s this, free therapy?” Ella snorts, finishing her glass in one go. “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, I guess. I’m used to this my entire career. Been surrounded by men telling me what to do from the start.”

“Then if I may tell you what to do again”, he pauses for a few seconds, trying out a teasing smile. “How about you let someone else help you out once in a while? I know you don’t trust people much, probably because of your father, but we’re a team for a reason. You don’t need to do everything alone, Ella.”

Tensing up at the mention of her dad, the blonde hums along. “We’re really on a first name basis now, wow”, she whistles and Ryan rolls his eyes, yet he’s glad she’s in a better mood now. “And so you’re in on the gossip too? News does travel fast in Berlin”, Ella purses her lips and crosses her arms. “Dad’s the smallest of my problems, trust me. I’m too busy with this guy getting on my nerves with his hero complex.”

Jack smirks back, trying to act unfazed by her words. He decides to take the opportunity. “What’s this guy exactly getting on your nerves about? You sure he isn’t just here to help?”

“He doesn’t follow my orders, for starters.” Ella sighs and gives him a serious look, but not severe. She still has that playful tone. “And that shit doesn’t fly with me. I don’t care how many medals you got in your closet, Marine, this isn’t our backyard. Things are different around here.”

She’s really not making things any easier for him. Jack nods, “I know the American way is not always necessarily the best, and I promise won’t go behind your back again, but all I’m asking here is a chance to prove that there are exceptions to the rules, sometimes.”

The intense look in his pretty eyes makes her stop for a moment. Ella feels her face tingling and her cheeks are probably a bright red because of the alcohol. She only shrugs. “Whatever you say, Jack. Just don’t make my job any more difficult.”

Jack smiles briefly, standing up from his chair. He’s not quite sure if he’s managed to make any progress, but the fact that she didn’t actually send him packing must be a good sign. “I would never want to undermine your work, Ella. I just want to contribute to it in the best way possible.”

“Then try to stay put until I sort this out with Müller”, Campbell mutters, watching him getting up and reaching for the door. She adds in a gentle tone, “and tell your friend his visa is all set up. I pulled a few strings.”

Jack turns back with a surprised expression, but doesn’t mention it. He shouldn’t be so appalled by the fact that a woman like Ella knew much more than she let on. “Thank you”, he grins. “Will that be all?”

Ella gives him a little wink, raising her empty glass. “To first name basis.”

Ryan’s beam grows wider, as he says before closing the door behind him, “cheers.”

[a-boca-do-inferno]

broken, part 2 (sonny corleone x reader) [request]

part 1

summary: What is there left, when the trust is gone?

warnings: angst, swearing

words: 0.7k

notes: turns out im not dead after all. listen to over by tove lo.

Soft rain dripped down the glass on the windows, the clouds heavy and dark, such as the feeling in the pit of your stomach when the lawyers left the room for a moment. You looked back at the man who was once the object of your affection, your love, your ultimate devotion, sitting in front of you with his arms crossed. The sensation in your belly suddenly turned into disgust and a striking urge to vomit, yet you held back and just took a deep breath, trying to calm down. You weren’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing you in such a vulnerable state, let alone caused by his presence.

Santino’s eyes narrow at your direction and he leans in closer, grabbing your face. “Listen up, ‘cause Imma only say this once”, he growls, his tone menacing. “You think you can just walk away from me after everything we’ve been through? After I fucking worshipped the ground you walked on, you ungrateful bitch?” His grip on your chin tightens, fingers digging into the smooth skin of your cheeks. “I made one fucking mistake, (y/n). One.”

“For a goddamn year!” You retort, your eyes widening with anger and disbelief at his foolish insistence on making this work. People passing the hallway shoot you curious looks, whispering to each other as they walk, but you don’t care who sees anymore. You’re done with this. It was your third session to try and settle the divorce, but Sonny’s been relentless. He’s determined to leave you with nothing, not even your children. With a scoff, you add, “you got some nerve demanding anything from me. You destroyed our family.”

Something akin to remorse passes through his brown irises, although it disappears as soon as you catch it. “You know I never meant to hurt you like this”, he snarls, despite the gentleness of his words. He lets go of his painful hold on you, huffing and running his hand over his face in a hopeless gesture. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you. We can fix this.”

Memories from that terrible night still haunt you like a ghost. You couldn’t think of anything else whenever you saw his handsome features, and it’d been months. You were separated ever since that day, sleeping in different rooms and avoiding each other like the plague; that, of course, changed completely when you actually filed for divorce. Perhaps Santino somehow underestimated your decision to leave him. It seemed as though he was holding it up, waiting for the moment when you’d finally give in and take him back, but you just couldn’t. There’s nothing in a marriage without trust. And when he realized it was really over, no matter his best efforts and uncommon patience, the strong man you once knew cracked in front of your eyes everyday. 

“I ain’t gonna let you take my kids away from me, (y/n)”, Santino says after a moment of silence, eyeing you seriously and shaking his head. “And if you keep going with this, I’ll fight you every step of the goddamn way, ya hear me? And I’ll fucking win.” He glares, pointing a finger at you. 

“Did you think of them while you slept with Maria, too?” You murmur, your words dripping with venom. Sonny winces and throws a hand up, letting out a curse. “That’s what I thought. Fucking fight me and you’ll get what you deserve, Santino. I’m warning you.” 

“Are you threatening me?!” He laughs, albeit he’s not amused in the least. No, he’s livid. You’ve never treated him this away, after all; ever playing the sweet, soft spoken housewife in all the time you’d been married. It was a heavy blow to his masculinity. “Don’t you talk to me this way.”

“Or what?!” You raise your voice once again. 

“I’ll show you, you fucking cunt!” Sonny roars, slamming his fist on the table and standing up abruptly, his chair falling on the floor. 

The sound echoed through the walls, startling the lawyers in the next room and onlookers alike. You jumped  slightly at his reaction, but stood your ground, not leaving your spot. Your lawyer rushed back inside the office and murmured something in your ear, urging you to finish the session for the day. Without a last look at your soon-to-be former husband, you walked away to the angry screams from Santino in the background. As the door closed behind you, he kicked over a chair and cursed loudly, pulling at his hair in sheer frustration. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” 

[a-boca-do-inferno]

SFW ALPHABET (caesar x human!reader) [request]

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

words: 3.4k

notes: damn this took me forever cause i was rly feeling it jdfkj anyways i hope you enjoy!

Affection; how affectionate is he?

Caesar is possibly the most affectionate among his peers without a doubt, yet he still would seem somehow “colder” by human standards—mostly because of the different ways apes show any type of affection at all. Being a leader is a big part of who he is, after all, and ever so often that means putting aside personal preferences to be fair for everyone and on top of that, you are human. The ape king has to maintain a certain level of diplomacy when you two are in public as to not stir up unpleasant situations within the colony, a large part of them orchestrated by the likes of Koba, of course.

“He’s trouble.” That’s what Caesar signs to you one time, whilst you both watch over the sleeping apes from his home. The frown on his features is there; unchanging. “Gotta be careful. Fair.”

And you can’t blame him for that. Still, among what it all means for him to show any preference towards you in the public eye, being alone in your place or his is another matter entirely. The king is very touchy, always making sure to wrap a protective arm around your belly while you’re doing some task he couldn’t care less about at that moment. His thick fingers brush your midriff idly, his face nuzzling into your shoulder to get his fill of you for the day; almost like you’re a drug and it’s time for his fix. The element of taboo because of your different species, such a hard pill he has to swallow every day, in that specific position only serves to fuel his desire for you on astronomical levels. He’s completely, helplessly addicted to you.

Best friend; what would he be like as a best friend?

Caesar’s got one of those personalities where it doesn’t matter the relationship he has to you, there’s this unshakeable sense of understanding and security he transpires naturally, along with his obvious need to protect you at all costs, which is arguably shaped by his past experiences with the death of loved ones. Have you ever heard of the term “mom friend”? That is the ape king, all the way. His overprotectiveness might feel overwhelming sometimes, that’s true, but his good intentions are so painfully clear, you simply can’t bring yourself to stay mad at him for long. Not when he tries to win you over with gifts and whatnots; bringing you food when he’s out hunting, handcrafting those flower crowns you love so much, even going as far as confessing his feelings to you through a formal apology, pulling you softly by your elbow after you had supper so you can talk in private.

“How… are you?” Caesar will rasp, his green eyes sweet like honey when directed at you, and that look is all you need to know he’s silently recognizing he was a bit too much earlier—as usual. You cave immediately many times, because there’s no safer place in the world than his furry self holding you tightly, securely, as you fall asleep in his nest.

Cuddles; does he like to cuddle?

Absolutely yes! It’s his favourite time of the day. After so much work with the council, trying to figure out strategies to make apes’ resources last for the whole winter, there’s nothing else Caesar would rather be doing than laying down with you and pressing his body close to yours, cherishing your natural heat. He can’t get enough of your softness, hugging you tight almost like you’re his own personal plushie, his nose rubbing against your neck as he inhales your scent, enjoying every second to the fullest.

“Clingy”, you purr every time, to which the king only huffs, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder even further.

Domestic; does he want to settle down? how is he at cooking and cleaning?

Caesar is very responsible with chores in general, so his home is always neat. He’s definitely a domestic man, preferring the comfort of his own place rather than staying out too much—he loves his community too, of course, yet he’s got a quiet and more tranquil personality—so that’s why he’s invested in caring for his turf. As for cooking, the most he can do is human food, which isn’t so accessible nowadays, but Caesar can hold his ground making an improvised stew when it’s cold.

Also, another one of his favourite times of the day is when you two are in silence at home, just appreciating each other’s company after supper while you groom him in bed. It’s something he’s grateful for; he never asked for it, yet you decided you wanted to socialise and become closer to him through his culture, ape culture, and the king gladly let you do the deed.

Ending; if he had to break up with his mate, how would he do it?

Quite transparently—would casually ask you to join him alone for a serious conversation and lay all cards on the table. Caesar is very mindful with his words and how he says them, watching his tone, his expression, careful not to hurt you more than the absolute necessary. Ultimately, if he ever had to break up with you, it probably wouldn’t have anything to do with lack of sentiment from his part, but rather the impracticality of having a relationship with a human while being an ape—the king, no less. All his decisions are inevitably rational, always in favour of the greater good and in order to maintain harmony in the colony. Even at the expense of his own happiness, no matter how much it would hurt him, and so he’d definitely find the best way to tell it like it is whilst also being the most gentle he could manage.

Fiancé; how does he feel about commitment?

Caesar’s a marriage kinda guy, yep. Being brought up with humans undeniably influenced the way he sees relationships in general and to be honest, he never really felt like his way of approaching the topic fit with the way apes do it, although he’s not talked about it out loud to anyone. Primate culture revolves around utility of a mate and it’s often not monogamous per se, albeit there are some known jealous apes in the group—him included, despite never admitting it to himself either. The usual dynamic is simply a no-no for him, especially with you. He wants it all: the wife, the children, the pets. All he’s entitled to.

Gentle; how gentle is he, both physically and emotionally?

Caesar can be a tough cookie, we all know that. Of course, that is due to the fact he’s the leader and with his responsibilities, among them lie the aching need to appear strong all the time—however, when in your presence, all of that just melts away. You cause him to feel comfortable and safe to be soft and he indulges in that foreign feeling of vulnerability more often than not, allowing himself to relax and let his guard down, if only for brief moments. Physically, it may come as no surprise that the king is ripped. Not sure if it’s genetics or what, but he’s very strong and you feel his strength in all its glory when Caesar is pushing you down against your nest at night. Heh.

Hugs; does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

Not the biggest hugger in general. The king is cuddly, yes, but on his own terms, on very specific times—when you’re both alone. Normally, Caesar prefers to keep any public displays of affection at a minimum, which isn’t to say he won’t hug you back if you come to hold him; he just won’t initiate it himself. He’s a bulky ape, and so being held by him feels quite literally like being snuggled into a bear hug, your face smashed against his furry, firm chest, his thick arms enveloping you and heating you up almost instantly.

I love you; how fast does he say the L-word?

He says it back immediately after you mention it, as it ignites a memory long lost in his brain. A moment when he was a child and Will silently cooed it into his ear, trying to soothe him after he got worked up and attacked the neighbour that one time. 

“(y/n) loves… Caesar.” He repeats, his voice raspy, green eyes watching you intently as he tilts his head, processing your words and slowly understanding what they truly mean. You nod with a faint smile and he hoots, bringing your foreheads together. “Caesar loves… (y/n).”

Jealousy; how jealous does he get?

Caesar’s unsurprisingly very possessive. He does try to keep it in check for your sake, most of the time, but also because he is a pacifist at heart—though no amount of peace inside the king would ever make him turn the other way whenever his gaze falls on you with another male a little too close. The scowl is inevitable and his nostrils flare, something deep in his gut burning, eating away at his stomach. Anger.

“(y/n)”, he calls—orders, his tone authoritative, his look and signing sharp, such a rare sight from him when talking to you. 

And with the slight huff at your direction, you already know what’s going on and make no fuss about it, politely excusing yourself and leaving the male’s side, approaching Caesar obediently. He stands tall in front of you, still frowning, and puts your body behind his, hissing at the stranger from a distance, his fangs showing in a threatening manner. Nothing much to happen from there, besides everyone around getting the message and dutifully going about their way, preferably away from you.

Kisses; what are his kisses like?

Shy and rough. Caesar does know humans kiss to show their love toward one another, after seeing it happen so much between Will and his girlfriend—but he has a silent insecurity concerning your different anatomies, since your lips are so distinct from his own, so much smoother and smaller, which prompts him to feel too self-conscious and overly alert at the possibility to hurting you with his fangs on accident. He does love receiving your kisses, though, even more so than giving them, readily sheltering himself in your arms as you run a hand through his furry head and pepper him with affection all over his face. His quiet grunts are enough to tell you the king’s not getting out of your embrace anytime soon, if he can help it.

Little ones; how is he around children?

Caesar’s got a naturally soothing presence, even around the most feisty baby apes. He’s overprotective of the little ones too, although not scolding them too roughly as he’s learned this approach was hardly ever effective with Blue Eyes when the prince was younger. His relationship to the young often revolves around his wise counselling—whether they asked for it or not, the kiddos just have to deal with papa Caesar going on and on about some life lesson when they just want to go out and play up in the trees already.

Morning; how are mornings spent with him?

Caesar’s an early bird, so he’s always up first. He’s got a habit of watching you as you sleep, revelling in the sound of your soft and steady breath, his green eyes observing attentively as your chest rises and falls. His routine is what keeps him grounded, and so he grabs some breakfast for you both and gently wakes you to accompany him in the meal before he’s off to his duties in the colony. Sometimes you two chat, other times you eat in silence and meet again at lunch, in the communal spot all the apes gather around. 

Night; how are nights spent with him?

Quietly—again, no surprise there. When Caesar’s not feeling too sexy, it’s often because the king’s very tired, so he refrains from talking a lot and simply enjoys your comforting presence. On good days he will talk about something funny that happened while hunting, and on bad days, his complaints will concern some dispute raised by troublemakers like Koba and his followers. You try your best to soothe his nerves in those moments, reassuring him of the trust the apes have in him not to fall for anyone’s opposition to his guidance, which he’s grateful for, too. It’s nice for him to feel like someone, you, will follow him no matter what. Gives him a sense of security he desperately needs.

Open; when would he start revealing things about himself?

You’d have to ask a lot at first, and not even with the promise of getting straight answers every time you do, despite your best efforts. Caesar’s obviously not an open book and even when he does talk about himself, more so about his old life with humans, you usually have to jump through hoots to interpret his philosophical riddles on your own—sometimes you even think he’s fucking with you on purpose, but you don’t mention it, not wanting to fight for such a small thing. Still, you are the only one who could ever question him as much as you do and not get completely ignored, anyway. He’s got a soft spot for you.

Patience; how easily angered is he?

Not very easily. Caesar’s got his head in the right place mostly—he only ever gets angry when it’s something serious concerning his family directly (you, Blue Eyes, Cornelius) and since he’s always silently making sure that you’re all cared for, it is indeed a rare sight to see him irritated. He does get mildly annoyed whenever you’re teasing him about his jealousy, yet it’s nothing compared to how he behaves when he’s feeling really possessive, as stated before.

Quizzes; how much would he remember about you?

A good amount, actually. Caesar will randomly mention some small detail about you that you didn’t even remember telling him in the first place; some things he says are even just his own conclusions he draws from little pieces of information you provide here and there, and they’re usually pretty accurate, which never fails to amaze you. It only serves to show how intelligent the ape king truly is.

Remember; what is his favourite moment in your relationship?

Possibly the first time Caesar understands you like him—more than a platonic feeling. At that point, though you two had become very close, there had always been this little voice inside saying that it couldn’t be really possible, not even in his wildest dreams. Whatever would you have seen in him, an ape? Sure, it was obvious you’d much rather be around him than any other male in the colony, and sure, you mentioned time and time again how glad you were for his presence as you knew apes had their shortcomings with humanity, and he insisted on integrating you into their world at the best of his ability, regardless. Yet the king never once considered those words anything more than you just being your sweet self. Clueless ass.

“I see it.” Maurice commented one night, signing toward your figure a few rocks down. Caesar eyed his friend slightly puzzled, waiting for him to finish his thought, and the ginger grunted, “how (y/n) looks at Caesar.” He points at the ape king’s chest. 

And Caesar could only scoff, huffing and shaking his head, his hands gesturing rapidly, “Maurice… confused.” His deep voice mocks, to which the orangutan merely shrugged, a hint of amusement in his gaze.

And Maurice was right, as he often was.

Security; how protective is he?

Homeboy’s a bit paranoid, not gonna lie. But can you blame him? Being constantly in a state of war with other humans lurking around, trying to harm his colony and his family, along with the petty quarrels between the apes themselves, surely take its toll on the ape king’s state of mind. Your fights about the topic are very frequent because of that, precisely—whenever Caesar’s more stressed than usual, he’ll give you shit for going out hunting with Blue Eyes or Rocket, no matter how much he trusts them to protect you. In his mind, you’re only safe around him and him only. That’s something you’re both still working on.

Try; how much effort would he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

Caesar is a very caring mate and likes to flaunt it a bit. He would put his best into quick getaways from the hustle of the colony, making sure to plan something special just for the two of you next to the river, arranging a meal with your favourite fruit on display. He is also be very thoughtful with gifts, getting something personalised just for you like the head accessories you like to wear occasionally. The king is very reliable and diligent, always doing his part to maintain the relationship and keep things running smoothly, it’s just part of his leading nature to sort of take control over things. 

Ugly; what would be some bad habits of his?

Heavy is the head that wears the crown and with Caesar, apart from the responsibilities he’s got to live with, there’s also the never leaving stubbornness. The king has a sense of arrogance and a feeling of superiority that’s honestly not unexpected for someone in his position—he’s only ape, after all. A lot of arguments happen because of his inflexibility, and they usually concern colony affairs that sometimes you two disagree with, which causes a bit of tension when the power dynamics come into play in your relationship. If he’s the king and you’re his mate, then what does that make you, when you’re not even “publicly” acknowledged as such? It’s a tricky question that even Caesar can’t quite answer whenever you ask. 

Vanity; how concerned is Caesar with his looks?

His vanity arises when you two start your relationship officially. Caesar’s not so much concerned with how he looks, but rather how you perceive him, if he’s attractive to you given your different species and anatomy, and that is as far as it will go. He’s got more important matters to attend to than caring about how others—beside you—see him, either physically or otherwise. 

Whole; would he feel incomplete without you?

Yeah. Caesar’s a big softie inside and he feels something for you that is not even comparable to how he felt with Cornelia before—it’s so much more intense and consuming. It’s like you’ve become his very oxygen. Without you everything else seems so dull, colourless, lifeless. Even your silence is different from everybody else’s, the way you blink, the way you shift slightly in your spot beside him. When he can’t smell you around, it’s like the king unconsciously knows he’s too far away from home, and it almost feels unsafe for him to dare exist in that condition. And Caesar doesn’t even think much about it, there’s simply this… strangeness whenever you’re not there. This emptiness. A sense of nothingness that silently terrifies him when he does think of it for more than a second.

Xtra; a random headcanon for him.

Caesar’s a serious guy, it’s his default, but he just loves making you laugh. He’s often finding ways to goof around in his own manner, which only makes it funnier and more endearing to you, seeing this enormous, grumpy ape trying to make jokes for the sole purpose of seeing you smile. He’ll do it anywhere, anytime, with anything he can find close; holding up blueberries to his eyes’ level and making ridiculous faces, hooting and acting like some random goofy monkey, scratching his sides and screeching, sometimes even going as far as joking about giving you his “banana” later on.

You chuckle softly at his antics, bringing him closer into a gentle hug that he gladly accepts, letting out faint hoots at your familiar touch. “You’re so silly.” You murmur between laughs, and the ape king can’t get enough of that sound. It’s music to his ears.

Yuck; what are some things he wouldn’t like, either in general or in a mate?

Recklessness is the way to make Caesar lose it. He can’t help it, he’s got the fatherly and overly responsible thing going on all the time. That’s something he also has to come to terms with when being around you—he’s not sure if it’s human behaviour or if he’s just too much of an uptight ape himself, but you’re someone who seems to like toying with his patience like no one else does. He feels like he’s being tested, at times.

Zzz; what is a sleep habit of his?

Caesar’s a simple guy. He typically sleeps either on his side or on his back and prefers cuddling you from behind, no matter the position he’s in. The king may also occasionally grunt or make other soft sounds in his sleep, but they are generally not loud enough to wake you in his arms.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

broken, part 1 (sonny corleone x reader) [request]

part 2

summary: “Fuck off.” Sonny waves his hand dismissively, his expression contorted in sheer contempt. “Ya always had champagne taste over a beer budget, sweetheart.”

warnings: angst, cheating (some tom hagen x reader implied just because), swearing (like, a lot), domestic/verbal abuse somewhat, mentions of murder (ya know...usual corleone stuff) and fluff-ish

words: 2.2k

notes: howdy! who asked for some angst??? gosh you guys dont know how much i love writing this type of stuff...please send more angst requests i beg you anyways hope you like it :D xx.

Silence.

It is all he can give you at this moment; after years of marriage, years of your devotion toward him. Unwavering. Unyielding. He had thrown it all away for a cheap settlement, two gladly open legs for the young lady who knew of his money and power. Forgotten immediately, there you stood, facing their unmade bed, smelling of sex and false promises you just knew Santino made her every night they spent together. Whilst you stayed home alone, surrounded by the coldness of tall walls and the crushing weight of his absence. You nearly let out a bitter chuckle, how stupid could you have been, right?

Oh, how they warned you. Everyone! Your friends, your parents, even your dear grandfather, despite the old man being deeply aware he was the one who would always benefit the most from the transaction that was your engagement to Sonny. Because that’s what it was, you had to face it now. Your love had been nothing but another heartless mafia deal to Santino, quite like the relationship your husband himself maintained with the poor girl in front of you, pathetically stumbling to get her clothes scattered on the floor as you eyed her motionless. There was not an ounce of animosity in your bones at this point. You simply did not have it in you to feel anything but pity at her state. Poor girl. Her reputation would be ruined, and for what? She was so young and helpless, almost like you had been once, albeit with the enormous difference that you would not have fucked a married man if he was made of gold. 

“What’s your name?” You order, though gently, still frozen in your spot watching her avoid your eyes at any cost.

“Maria”, she mumbles, adjusting her corset.

“Italian.” You reckon out loud, not really surprised. Having spent such a long time being scrutinised by every pure blood Sicilian who’s ever come into contact with the Corleone family somehow—as ironic as it may seem—prevented you from any type of disappointment at the notion of Santino silently damning you for your half breed background, too. So much so, he’d been searching for compensation elsewhere, on some random broad’s lap. But hey, she was Italian! “How long?” You manage to ask, your voice starting to strain. At the subtle hesitancy from her, you snap, your scream ripping through your throat before you can stop it, “how fucking long?!”

“One year”, comes the coy answer while the young woman shrinks in the corner of the room, her dark orbs filled with tears.

“One year.” You nod, finally letting out that incredulous laugh you had been holding back ever since you spotted the guards standing outside the apartment. That’s when you notice it. Her features weren’t so unfamiliar. Shaking your head softly, you murmur, “you’re the one who brought me the bouquet at my wedding, yes?”

She winces. “(y/n), I’m…”

“You’re a sad, sad excuse of a person.” You hiss, not allowing her to finish the false apology. That was confirmation enough. “I’m the one who feels sorry for you, because you’ll never have what I had, though I only had it for a few months.” Taking one step closer, you spit, looking down at her dishevelled self. “A family.”

You stormed off her bedroom without another word, only to find Santino leaning over the countertop of the kitchen, smoking a cigarette casually. His face spoke of some displeasure at the situation, albeit not nearly as much as you would have expected from him. He was known for making a spectacle out of everything, after all; but you guessed just not when it concerned his own ass. You took a deep breath and grabbed the purse you’d thrown at the brown sofa, spinning to give him one last glare. You had nothing to say to him, not really. Your suspicions about his cheating sprees at night had begun probably long before your husband would have decided to act on it. 

Tom helped you with following Sonny after the kids were asleep, staying with you in the car whilst you both waited for him to leave his—at the time alleged, because you could be fair—mistress’ building. And although the circumstances were less than appropriate or pleasant, you found yourself growing closer to your brother-in-law in the course of your private investigations. You now regretted not fucking Hagen just out of spite for the man staring back at you with disdain, yet your own morals would’ve never let you do such a thing, doesn’t matter if Santino had been sleeping with your own mother. You were not like him and no amount of hurt in the world could ever make you do something as cruel and as vile as this. You refused to sink to his level. 

“I’m taking the boys with me.” You blurt out, causing Sonny to raise his brows and snap out of his grumpy trance at last, lunging at you angrily. You flinch and hold up the pepper spray he’d bought you on another occasion, when you two had to visit a gritty part of town for his business. “Not another step or I’ll fucking blind you.”

“You’re not leaving me, ya hear?!” He growls, grabbing you by the shoulders, uncaring for your warnings. “They’re my kids too! You don’t have the right!”

“The law says differently.” Your tone remains controlled, contrasting with your trembling form under his touch. Your adrenaline must’ve been through the roof by now, and you were blinking rapidly to try and hold your angry tears inside your eyelids. “My grandfather made sure I would be protected in any case, especially if I wanted a divorce for adultery. Guess he was a visionary.” You scoff, hardening your jaw when Santino shrieks and pushes you against the wall. 

“That son of a bitch.” He hisses, pinning you with one arm over your neck. You struggle to breathe, coughing and fighting for air, but your husband’s not having it, pushing you even harder. “You’re not gonna do this to me, (y/n), or you’re fucking dead.”

“And so are you, or do you think my family will let you live?!” You shout, hoarsely, as you gasp for oxygen. He shoots daggers at you and then lets go begrudgingly, your body sliding down the flowery wallpaper while you regain your composure. “I’m sure you… don’t wanna leave the kids orphans either. From either side or both of them.” You finish, pulling the collar of your dress lightly to breathe better.

“You fucking whore.” He grunts, his hand going through his hair in a clear act of desperation. “You’re gonna pay for this.”

“I’m sure I will.” You sigh, your tone dry and full of resentment. Standing back up, you walk over to him, lowering your voice to a fairly vulnerable whisper, “I love you and you did this to me. Believe me, I wanna kill you too, but I have to think of my children first.”

You can swear you see a flicker of remorse passing through Santino’s orbs, but it is as feeble as it is ephemeral. “You wanna act all holy and mighty now, but ya know this was never real, doll. It’s all about money.”

“I always knew that’s all it was for you.” You nod, closing your eyes for a brief second. “I never fooled myself into believing you ever loved me like Vito or Carmela do.” You narrow your gaze faintly, wanting him to know this, as it is probably the last time you’ll speak with him directly. “I’m aware I was but a fun little adventure once, just like Maria is now, and then I became a chore. Something you had to come home to, boring, tiresome. ‘Naggy wifey’, ain’t that how you refer to me to your brothers?” You mock his thick New York accent, frowning deeper. Your talks with Tom often involved some gossip about how Sonny spoke of you behind your back, unknowing that his own brother disapproved of what he said. Well, you just felt like airing all the Corleone family’s dirty laundry tonight. It was as good a time as any.

“Ya been fucking Tom or something?” Santino snickers, however there’s no humour whatsoever in his demeanour. Only awkwardness and embarrassment, somewhat. Such a stark contrast to the man you came to love. He was never smaller in your eyes. 

“That’s what you deserve.” You turn your face away from him, holding your purse firmly against your chest. “But, no. He was the one who asked me about some jewellery you bought me, because the accountant needed to write it down. I’m not sure if he already knew and wanted me to know too or what, but I’m grateful for his character either way. Perks of not being a Corleone.” You snarl at the end, fully aware your words only served to sting his ego further. 

You were right. 

“You know what? That’s what I could never stand about you, your fucking arrogance.” 

“You really wanna pin this on me now, huh? C’mon, Santino, let it all out!” You raise your voice, clapping your hands dramatically. “Now it’s your time to tell me how you always felt so beneath me because you can’t read a fucking drug label without falling asleep or asking for Tom’s help, yet you still wanna be kingshit when Vito dies.”

“Shut the fuck up”, Sonny barks, pointing at your chest. “You wanna be so high and mighty when your parents practically sold you to me? Fuck off.” He waves his hand dismissively, his expression contorted in contempt. “Ya always had champagne taste over a beer budget, sweetheart. If it wasn’t for my family, that prick you call grandaddy woulda gone bankrupt.”

“You wanna act like you care about that now when all you ever wanted was to fuck me and get done with it, no matter the price you had to pay.” You shoot back even before he can close his mouth, crossing your arms defiantly. “And then you get caught cheating and wanna say it’s my fault, because what? I didn’t give you enough attention? You wanted me to baby you and tell you’re the smartest guy in the room when you’re a joke even to your own family?”

“Shut up.”

“Just think what Mikey is thinking of you now...”

“I said, shut the fuck up!” Santino grabs you by the shoulders again, pushing you to sit down on the couch. The noise is loud enough for Maria to burst out of the bedroom, fearful of what he might do. He tells her off with a deep growl and she cowers back inside, leaving you two alone. You try to get up only to be harshly pushed down by his body straddling yours, trapping you completely. You kick and scream under his assault, but Sonny takes your wrists aggressively with one hand, while his other holds your chin in place, squeezing your cheeks with all his force. “Look at me.” You have no choice but to oblige, hot tears streaming down your flushed features. “I’m sorry.” He says through gritted teeth, his own eyes glossy, his sharp inhales telling of the almost inhuman struggle to keep his emotions in check. “I’m sorry, ya hear me?! I fucking love you too.”

Your whole body shook violently, your soft sobs mixing in with his. You said nothing in response, what else could you say? Wouldn’t it be so much easier if it was just a matter of words on divorce papers, your signing and his to make it official and tangible? Yet it wasn’t. There were two sleeping little boys waiting for you both to come home, blissfully unaware of the fact their parents were pulling each other apart at the seams whilst a young girl cried silently in her secluded spot in the next room, drowning in her own remorse and regret. Right now there were mere broken pieces of whoever you three ever came to be one day, and some part of you—masochist, foolish, selfish—wanted to cling to Santino’s anguished confession of his love to you so badly, it hurt. Could it really be too late for him, for you, for your family together?

“Let’s go home.” You whimper after a moment, similar to a scared animal caught in the headlights. 

Sonny’s grip on your chin had long softened as he sobbed uncontrollably on your neck, soaking up your dress with warm tears. You snaked an arm around his waist and sighed, listening to his ragged breathing gradually calm down. Soon you were surrounded by quietness, just like you had been earlier when facing the two of them on that same brown sofa, half naked. The image remained branded into your brain, although less unfamiliar now than a few moments ago. You figured that’s what people meant when they said trust can never go back to its normal state once it’s broken. The cracks are always there, no matter the amount of glue you try to put on them or how unshakeable they may look after the repairs. 

Silence. 

“Yeah.” Santino coos, wiping his face sheepishly, unable to meet your desolate gaze. “Let’s go home.”

Silence.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

not an ape (caesar x human!reader)

summary: Caesar has had enough of your transgressions.

warnings: angst, swearing, slight fluff

words: 1.5k

notes: could be read as a continuation to alone and medicine. enjoy xx.

gif credit

Caesar eyed you up and down and you shrank slightly in reflex, looking at the ground. You had wandered off by yourself in the woods yet again and he seemed really mad. He couldn’t even speak to you in his rage, his glare burning holes into your skin whilst his nostrils expanded in a steady rhythm. His stern expression remained unchanged as he crossed his thick arms, standing tall and dominant. Still silent, he nodded his head for you to follow him as he started walking further into the forest.

You gulped and followed the king, even though you felt your own annoyance boiling inside at the thought of being about to get chastised, similar to a rebellious teenager. His bulky frame strolled in front of you and his steps were heavy on the floor, stomping against branches and breaking them without the bat of an eye. You grunted softly in frustration, then suddenly you both stopped moving. Caesar turned to face you with an unreadable look. The fury in his green orbs had somewhat subdued, but he still appeared displeased by your misbehaviour. He pointed to a nearby log and motioned for you to take a seat. You obeyed him in silence, lips tightly pursed.

Caesar stood in front of you, observing you carefully. He studies your face, the way you sit, the way you keep avoiding his looks, and growls, “explain.”

You almost roll your eyes at the order. “Not an ape.” You sign quickly and clearly irritated, finally staring at him directly. At the immediate puff of his chest, you wince briefly, but you don’t back away. “Can take care of myself. Not dumb.”

The ape was unimpressed at your defiance, having witnessed it and experienced it toward himself a couple times before. Today was different, though; it just wasn’t like you to be so foolish, to go hunting on your own without warning anyone. Caesar unfolded his muscular arms, letting them hang by his sides as he nodded slowly through your words. He huffed and took a step closer, his gaze intense. 

The king signs, his movements deliberate and commanding. “You take care of yourself.” He concedes gruffly, his gravelly voice echoing through the quiet forest. “Then why keep wandering off alone... like a fool?”

You scoff and turn your face away, grumbling, “I’m not a child.” 

Caesar’s eyes darkened at your insolent tone. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look straight at him, his grip firm yet gentle enough not to hurt you. He leans in, his face mere inches away from yours. “You act like one!” He gestures sharply. “No thinking, no planning, no understanding consequences. Just... reckless.”

You try to escape his hold, but he’s much stronger. You move your hands swiftly, pointing to his furry chest, “you don’t rule over me!”

The ape held your wrists in place, preventing you from signing further. He leaned even closer, his large form towering over yours. His eyes flash with ire as he snarls, “think you smart, do you? Always know better than everyone.” 

You stayed silent for a brief moment. It was true that you got into trouble every now and then, however you always had your own way of working things out. He was just being unfair. “Why did you take me in then? Why not just leave me alone? I was just fine by myself!” You protest, so lost in your own anger you didn’t even care Caesar could easily kill you with his bare hands if he wanted.

He loosened his hold on you faintly, but didn’t let go. He glanced at you for a moment, his features conflicted. “Found you injured... weak.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Couldn’t leave you... alone. Needed protection.”

“I can protect myself.” You hiss and glare at Caesar, pushing him. “What? Aren’t you big, bad ape? C’mon!”

Caesar’s annoyance only grows at your continuous challenge. “You think you strong? Able to protect yourself?” He lets go of your hands and backs away, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. He glowers at you, his emerald irises burning. “Prove it.” He huffs once more, his muscles tense. You lunged at him without warning, hitting his chest with all your force. Despite your random attack, he didn’t stumble back. He raised an eyebrow mockingly and you kept punching him with all your might, his firm figure not even flinching at your efforts. You finally grew tired and shrieked in irritation, attempting to pull away from him. His arms tightened around you considerably. “Finished?”

Staring into his piercing gaze, you can only grunt, “you piss me off.” And albeit you were still pretty angry, your voice felt like a whisper in his ears. You took a seat on the log behind you, fixating your eyes on the ground. 

Caesar mimicked your actions and signed, “why keep going off on your own? You know it’s dangerous.” His gestures are careful now.

You don’t look at him. “I’m used to being alone.”

The ape king tilts his head. “Not about what you’re used to. About what it’s safe.” He pauses, gauging your reaction before continuing, “you may have survived before, but that doesn’t mean… you should keep taking needless risks.”

“It wasn’t needless. I was hunting.”

“It’s needless when you can get hurt… or worse.” Caesar mumbles, frowning a bit. “And why go alone? There are safer ways to hunt.” He signs softly at the end, trying desperately to make you see reason.

“With Koba, you mean? Might as well just kill myself and call it a day.” You laugh humourlessly. 

Caesar shoots back, “Koba… not the only one who can help you. You just… too stubborn to ask.”

“I'm not exactly a celebrity in the ape colony. More like black sheep.” You murmur with a lower tone, finding his emerald eyes. “You never ask for help either.”

The ape meets your gaze, his jaw clenching. He knows you’re right. He’s always been independent, preferring to handle things on his own. After a beat, Caesar signs begrudgingly as he admits, “maybe I don’t ask for help. Fine. But I know when to take calculated risks... unlike you.”

“You win a few times in chess and think you’re Einstein of the apes.” You tease, your anger gradually fading. “Unbelievable.”

Caesar’s rough exterior softens at the playful jab. He can’t help but chuckle, “you just… a sore loser.”

“Maybe. I’m also a damn good hunter and you scared my deer away.” 

His lightheartedness is replaced by dissatisfaction again. His signing is sharp, “so? Rather scare away your deer… than have you get hurt chasing it by yourself.”

“How the hell is a deer gonna hurt me? You have got to be kidding, Caesar.” You scowl impatiently. “I might not be strong like an ape, but I’m not some defenceless puppy either. Fuck off.”

“I never said that.” Caesar hisses, his own scowl deepening too. “But you’re not… invincible. What if you encountered something… stronger than a deer? What would you do then?” 

“Kick its ass. Like I always do.” You stand back up to try and finish the conversation.

The king’s not having it and grabs your arm, gently but firmly, making you sit back down next to him. “Can’t always kick ass.” He breathes out, soothingly. “Sometimes you have to know... when to stand down.”

You let out another heavy sigh, not wanting to fight anymore. “You should follow what you preach, buddy.” You pat his chest in a somewhat chastising manner. 

It’s his time to roll his eyes, a small smile playing at his rough lips. “Stubborn as a mule.” 

“I’m sorry, okay?” You blurt out after a second, your voice reluctant yet sincere. “I’ll ask for your help next time. If I feel like it.” You shrug.

Caesar lets out a low grunt, searching your face for any hints of insincerity and finding none. “Good. But promise me… you won’t go wandering off alone again. At least... not without someone knowing where you’re going.”

“Mmm. I’ll think about it.” You mutter with a smug look.

Caesar grumbles at your cheeky response, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “So damn… stubborn.” He reaches out slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary. 

“You treat me like I’m weak, you know?” You hum, nuzzling into his palm in a silent act of submission he knows too well. “I’m not.”

The ape king holds back a sound rumbled deep in his throat, fighting the urge to pull you even closer. He coos, with a ghostly smirk, “not weak. Just… small.” 

“I hate you.” You push him lightly, yet your words are filled with affection. You can see his fur standing on end at your actions and it makes you grin wider. “Someone’s sensitive today, huh?”

He signs, his voice barely above a husky whisper, “shut up.”

You lean in and rest your hands on his broad shoulders, your look turning a bit more sly. “And what if I don’t?”

Caesar’s heart beats faster, your touch burning him like a brand. His green eyes narrow as he watches you intently, his breathing growing shallow. He lifts his palm to your cheek, tracing his rough knuckles against your smooth complexion. “Keep teasing... and you might find out.”

You hum and bring his forehead to yours. You kiss his face slowly, your body becoming warm at the sound of his quiet, happy hoot. You cannot hold back a teasing smile, “who’s the puppy now?”

Caesar laughs.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

a goddess in my right eye (koba x human!reader) [request]

summary: Kobaʼs plan was just to grab some human guns, until he saw you. Whatever could happen?

warnings: angst-ish, fluff, swearing

words: 1.1k

notes: based on animal by aurora. enjoy <3

You snapped your head at the quiet thud of something falling on the floor, stopping your repairs on the light above you. You came down from the stool you had been standing on and cleaned your hands with a cloth, throwing it aside as you frowned. Who could be around here at dinner time? Mostly everyone was having supper now… Except for the drunk assholes watching over the armoury, of course. Rolling your eyes impatiently, you strolled in the direction of the sound and froze in your tracks as soon as you spotted one of those apes with his back turned to you. You let out a gasp and tried to calm down, gripping the wall you hid behind tightly. Taking another experimental peak at the scene, that’s when you saw it.

Pause. Everything happened so quickly, you didn’t even finish blinking; dead bodies surrounded the angry ape whilst he made his way toward you, stomping firmly on the cement with the biggest scowl you’d ever seen, a machine gun dangling loosely from his arm. Your whole body shook with fear and adrenaline, your hands drenched in sweat and closed in fists. Your mind went completely blank for a second. Run. Run. Run. Yet you simply could not move, your soles glued to the ground beneath your worn out boots. His piercing gaze bore into your soul like burning knives cutting through it. It was helpless. That was your end.

Right?

“Human.” He scoffs, his scarred face contorted in disgust and... curiosity, to say the least. Koba sized you up and down, invading your personal space, his hot breath hitting you so aggressively you had to flinch. Seeming mildly amused by your terrified state, he orders gruffly, “name.” 

“(y/n). I-I won’t say anything, I promise…” You stammer, shrinking even further as the ape towers over you, panting with his mouth open. His sharp exhales blew your hair slightly; such a foreign sensation. Surely that wasn’t the same guy who’d come make peace with your group earlier, riding horses and such? This one appeared not to be awfully fond of the human race in comparison. When you noticed the creature only kept on coming closer, his chest almost pressing against yours, you gulped. “Who… are you?” Your voice is but a whisper.

There was something uncanny about the way Koba examined you. He’d never seen a human that was not a scientist and you most certainly were not one, wearing those old clothes and smelling of grease. You seemed scared, but not because of him—not completely. You seemed scared of everything. The ape enjoyed how you shrank away from his every move like a small animal cornered by its prey; the rules were reversed now, it seemed. His nose caught a whiff of your natural smell again, one he couldn’t quite place under the layer of lubricant. He tilted his head, his sharp stare never leaving your eyes.

“Koba.” He huffs, pointing to himself proudly. His good eye inspected your every feature with a more obviously curious gleam now. His large hand reached out for your cheek and you pursed your lips as he traced your soft skin with his fingertips. His breathing remained heavy and quick, taking in your scent. Letting out a deep grunt, albeit not as hostile as before, the ape concedes, “Koba… like (y/n).”

You can’t help but raise your brows, surprised and confused at the statement. “What…”

He gives your face another rough but faint brush of his fingers before holding your chin in place. “Bad human.” Koba continues, pointing at the dead bodies with the gun he’s still holding, then turns to you and places his palm on your collarbone tentatively. He nods briefly. “Good… human.”

A shiver ran up your spine as he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm securely around your hips. The situation was so widely unexpected you couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh, gripping his furry shoulders for support as he held you. Koba was pleased at the sound you made and accompanied you with a chuckle of his own, deeper and more gravelly than yours. Your breathing was still slightly ragged, trying to make sense of what he meant with his words and his actions. A monkey in love with you? Like… King Kong or something?

“Why did you do this?” You ask, genuinely eager to know, while also attempting to escape your rushed thoughts. It wasn’t like those morons would be greatly missed by you. Good riddance. “Why… did you kill them?”

Koba blinks slowly, considering your questions. He doesn’t respond and instead throws the machine gun behind you, putting both his strong arms around your midriff, “Koba want you.” He snarls, impatient.

You snort and sigh, blushing despite yourself. These apes are really something. “I…”

“No talk.” He cuts you off, covering your lips with his calloused hand swiftly, yet tenderly. You obeyed if only because of the fear of turning out just like your dead buddies, but you wouldn’t fool yourself and pretend you weren’t enjoying him holding you like this. And Koba was aware of that too, huffing softly, “come?”

You took in what he was asking. He wanted you to leave the group with him? For what? For how long? His bright eye watched you carefully, even expectantly, eager for an answer. You thought back to the light you were fixing just now; this place was falling apart, anyway, and you’d had your fair share of disagreements with the leader more than once ever since the apes came along. You were almost certain they’d cause a war one way or the other, from both sides, and at some point you’d have to choose your own. And you sure as hell weren’t gonna be on Dreyfus’.  

Pulling you out of your thoughts, he asserted, giving your waist a tighter squeeze just in case, “with Koba.”

“Yes.” You breathe, not even letting him close his mouth entirely. Koba hoots gently and joins your foreheads. You smile and cup his face, blurting out in a small snicker, “this is crazy.”

The ape grunted in agreement, a smirk playing across his thick lips as you touched his scars so delicately. He closed his eyes and huffed, enjoying the warm sensation of your breath on his skin. He nuzzled into the soft hollow of your neck and sniffed, taking in as much of your muskiness as he could, eliciting a low rumble from his throat and pulling you against him forcefully, almost possessively.

“Crazy ape.” The ape follows your amusement in kind, placing a hand on his own chest. His fangs appear more as he grins, now pointing to you, “crazy human.”

[a-boca-do-inferno]

shut up (frank slade x reader) [request]

summary: Caring for an old man can be stressful enough. Now, imagine doing it when he drinks.

warnings: alcohol, angst-ish, fluff

words: 0.9k

You silently watched as Frank gulped down one, two, three, even up to five glasses at once. Caring for that old man was stressful enough, now imagine it when he drank; it felt hopeless. Sure, he was lonely and you had your own theories as to why that was, but his drunken state still often made your heart sink with worry and overprotectiveness every time. Slade pulled you out of your thoughts, grumbling something under his breath as he leaned forward on the chair to rest his elbows on his knees. He slurped softly and you only sighed, finally having enough of that sight. You stood up and helped the man lay down, gently taking the glass away from his hand and setting it on the bedside table. 

Not seeming happy with it, he protests gruffly, “party pooper.”

“Come on, sir, you’re drunk”, you coo, not paying his grumpiness any mind. “You’ve had enough tonight, yeah?”

“I can never have too much alcohol, sweetheart”, Slade smiles loosely, yet doesn't put up much of a fight whilst you fluff the pillow under his head. He closes his eyes for a split second and huffs, “you worry too much.”

You hum, covering him with the sheets carefully, “I think I worry just the right amount, actually.”

Crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest, he shakes his head. “I’ve drunk more than this in one night.” 

“How many years ago was that again?” You smirk, unable to hold back your teasing. Frank opens one eye to shoot you a sceptical glance through his unseeing vision, making you raise your hands in mock surrender. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“Why, a good while ago. But I can still hold my own in any whiskey drinking competition, you hear?” He rolls over to his side and pulls the covers up to his chin, adding, “and don’t you worry about me. I ain’t a child, sweetheart.” 

“You sure act like one.” You can’t help but murmur, and despite clearly not approving of your words, Frank remains silent and simply sighs. You come closer and take a seat near the bed, watching his belly rising and falling calmly. “Comfy there?”

“I am.” He slurs, almost dozing off completely. “Turn the light off. I want to nap.” You quietly do as he says, and just when you’re stepping out of the bedroom to let him be, comes the gravelly whisper, “mmm, don’t go. Stay.”

You turned on your heels to face him again, with a somewhat confused yet amused expression. You refrained from commenting anything smart, however, deeply aware of how sensitive he could get when drinking. Walking back toward the chair, you felt a rough palm touching your elbow lightly, hesitantly, and then thick fingers squeezed your flesh and pulled you back until you were sitting on the edge of the mattress. The room was silent and dark as you waited for Frank to speak again, but he said nothing, his grip on your arm firm. His face was dangerously close to your thigh and you shivered, feeling his shallow intakes of air against your skin.

“Frank?”

“Mmm?” Slade grunts half asleep, snaking his hand up your arm until it reaches the nape of your neck. You opened your mouth to ask what was that all about, then he pulled you down to lay beside him, your body pressed flush to his. Frank inhaled the scent of your shampoo, burying his face in your hair, and you remained wordless, allowing him to do what he wanted. “Have I ever told you how good you smell?”

You paused, processing his words as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. A soft chuckle escapes your lips, “Frank…” Your tone was reprimanding, yet soothing, and he only let out a disagreeing sound deep in his chest. 

“Shut up”, he mutters roughly, his hand sliding down to your lower back, pulling you even closer. “Let an old man enjoy this.” Slade pressed his nose into your head, eyes tightly shut as he breathed you in.

“You’re drunk.”

“Don’t chastise me.” He snarls, his voice laced with annoyance, however tender it still sounds. Frank wrapped his strong arm around your midriff, your back snuggled against his front. “I don’t like it.”

“I’m trying to be reasonable here.” You shifted slightly in his embrace, turning your face to look at him through the darkness of the room. At the single growl he produced, you rolled your eyes and smiled. “What do you like, anyway?”

Slade kept still, his palm lightly trailing up and down your curves. He cuddled you a little closer, making your body spoon his, and murmured in your ear groggily, “a lot of things.” His fingertips traced the outline of your hip, giving it tempting squeezes. “You.” Before you could respond, his mouth brushed your cheek and Frank moved until you were lying half on top of him with his arms around you. “Just… let me have this.”

Your breath hitched and you gulped, melting under his ministrations. “Fine. But only tonight!”

“Hoo-ah. Good girl.” 

You snickered and shook your head, finding his words silly but strangely endearing. He let out a quiet sigh, still nuzzling you like a damn cat, as if saying “mine”. Slade twirled a strand of your locks between his fingers idly, falling asleep at last. Soon you followed. You could worry about consequences tomorrow; right now, you’d let yourself have this, too. 

[a-boca-do-inferno]

something there (blue eyes x human!reader) [request]

summary: Caesar stares at him, mumbling, “she’s your… responsibility.”

warnings: mild angst, fluffy as hell

words: 0.8k

notes: loosely based on something there (beauty and the beast). xx

You watched as Blue Eyes stepped outside to chat with Caesar on the rock just below the cave you rested inside. He approached the king, looking troubled, and glanced back at you from a distance before turning back to his father. “What do we do with the human?” You can see some concern in his gaze as he signs. The chimp adds, grunting quietly to reaffirm his point, “she’s injured and cold. Can’t let her go like this.”

Caesar takes a second to consider his son’s words, replying with swift gestures, “you trust her?” Blue Eyes hoots immediately and signs positively, causing you to smile. His father stares at him with an almost amused grin, mumbling, “then she’s your… responsibility.”

Blue Eyes left the ape king’s side and went back to the cave, gesturing for your bruised stomach in an inquiring manner. You ran into a bear when he found you just in time a few minutes ago, so you probably owed your life to him. The young ape had never encountered a human before and it was quite the shock, but thankfully he wasn’t hostile as he understood your weak state and rushed to help you. 

The ape sat beside you and carefully pulled you into his strong hold, the heat emanating from his body comforting you right away. You only nodded to his silent question and shifted slightly in his embrace, still adjusting to it. He’d taken it upon himself to keep you warm, even under everyone else’s obvious distrust of you in the colony when he brought you in. It was more than you would’ve expected from any ape, let alone the prince himself.

“Thanks.” You whisper, with a grateful look.

The prince’s eyes softened, pleased that you were safe at last. He kept his arms around you protectively, unwilling to let you freeze in the cruel weather. His look focused on your body, examining each scratch that marked your fragile form from the bear attack, silently assessing your current condition. “Hungry?” He rasps.

“No. The orangutan gave me food earlier.” You explain, pressing your face against his furry chest, seeking his warmth. A quiet moment passes and you hum, your tone insecure, “apes don’t trust me.”

Blue Eyes lets out a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he signs slowly, “apes don’t trust humans.” 

He looked down at you with a frown, but there was no malice in it. He was observant, a strange mix of emotions swirling in his diamond eyes while nuzzling the top of your head in silence, your sweet scent invading his nostrils. That smell didn’t feel like it belonged to something nearly as bad as Blue Eyes had heard Koba imply from his rampage when the prince arrived with you strung on his back. The young ape huffed and palmed the nape of your neck, allowing you to press up against his body. You could feel his heartbeat, a soothing sound to your ears.

“You and Caesar are different.” You continue, gazing up at him coyly. “I’m lucky I have a nice father-in-law, I guess.” You joke, trying to lighten up the mood for your own sake.

Blue Eyes merely let out a small, rumbling laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. While he wasn’t familiar with the term, he understood what you meant. He pats your hair, his large hand dwarfing you, “not mate yet.” He glances towards the opening of the cave, watching the snowy blizzard outside. “Cold out. Stay here for the night.”

“Not like I can go anywhere like this.” You snort, pointing to your now healing wound. 

He chuckled at your comment, his diamond orbs wandering over you once more as he inspected your bruised midriff under the animal fur you were using to warm yourself. He placed a hand on your belly and rubbed it in small circles, his fingers tracing over each visible mark. “Will heal soon.” He signs, displaying a tender beam. “No worry.”

You suddenly found yourselves lying down on the mat, with your head resting on his strong figure and his arms still wrapped around you tightly. “Mmm.” You murmur, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

Blue Eyes hooted faintly at the realization of your slumber, his chest hot and fuzzy at the sight. He felt you relax in his arms, your body going limp and your breathing evening out. The ape chuckled deeply, thinking you were rather adorable for leaving yourself so vulnerable in his presence like that—such a stark contrast from the descriptions of humanity he had listened to all his life. Rubbing your back up and down, his gaze now studied your sleeping form with curiosity and… something else. He sighed and eyed you with a contemplative expression, though you couldn’t see it, finally figuring out the feeling in his heart.

Affection.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

cold, cuddles & tickles (caesar x human!reader) [request]

summary: Caesar and you share a moment on a cold winter’s night.

warnings: mild angst, fluff

words: 0.9k

Caesar stared ahead with a frown, leaning forward as the bonfire crackled quietly. It’d been a tough winter. He watched over the sleeping colony, his mind wondering about strategies to keep everyone safe during those times. You took a furtive look at him from behind a tree, noticing how exhausted he appeared. Strolling in the direction of the fire, you extended your arms in front of you to warm yourself, taking a seat beside him without a single word. 

The ape king briefly acknowledged you, green orbs scanning your form in the darkness, observing how the glow of the flames created shadows over your delicate features. He was surprised to see you awake at this hour, but kept it to himself. The silence was only filled by the sound of wood burning up and some owls up in the trees surrounding you. 

“Hungry?” You finally sign, eyeing him carefully. 

You were not really big talkers, neither of you, nevertheless you cared for him in ways the other apes probably didn’t—maybe it was a human thing, casually asking questions like if he’d eaten or drunk water. You were aware Caesar was always busy and would use that as an excuse to neglect himself, sometimes, and it worried you. The ape, to his credit, simply glanced away, his expression solemn as he shook his head. Despite being leader of the colony, he knew you of all people wouldn’t fall for the usual lies. There wasn’t much food to go around those days and he’d been skipping meals for others. He let out a weary exhale and rubbed his temple, his attention drifting back to the fire.

“Don’t do that.” Though your hands are firm and sharp, your gaze remains gentle. “Gotta eat. Can’t lead apes weak.”

His eyes fall downward once more. You’re right; apes do rely on him to be strong. The responsibility was a constant weight on his shoulders, so hard to carry at times. Caesar takes a deep breath and nods, looking up at you again with a faint, tired smile. “You know me… too well.”

“That’s not a flex.” You snort, gesturing towards your backpack on the ground, next to your feet. You sigh and reach out to grab an apple, gently taking it towards his mouth. Fortunately your farming skills had come in handy, even through the cold season. You managed to grow a few crops with Maurice last week. “Bite.”

His ever serious look gradually softens as he chews on it without much ado—he was pretty hungry, after all, although the king would never admit it out loud. The fruit tasted sweet on his tongue, a familiar feeling he hadn’t indulged in for a while. “Thanks”, the ape signs after he swallows, finishing his humble meal. Hesitating for a second, he rasps, “It's hard… being the strong one. Sometimes.”

“I know.” You murmur gently, coming closer to bring him into a warm embrace. You pet his head, adding with a dry tone, “you think you’re super ape.”

The king lets out another shaky exhale, burying his face in the crook of your neck almost instantly. Your bond with him had always been a special one, with no need for definitions; and so whenever you two were alone, physical touch came naturally. He was used to it. “Wish I didn’t… have to be”, Caesar coos, his arms holding you tight. 

You open your mouth to answer him, but his nose finds the nape of your neck and you squirm in reflex, chuckling under your breath. You both exchange an amused look and you shrug, trying to play it off. “I’m just cold.”

Caesar can’t help but snicker, letting a rough palm trace your skin stealthily. “Ticklish?” He gestures with a smirk before rubbing the same sensitive spot again, this time on purpose.

You squeak and eye him warningly, albeit there’s a smile on your lips. “Hey!”

The ape king laughs at your reaction, his grin growing wider at the sounds you make. He continues to tease your ticklish area, now more soothingly. “That was cute.” He signs, clearly amused.

“It’s not cute. It’s torture! You’ll wake the others like that, Caesar, stop...” You struggle between quiet giggles, wrestling with him lightly, but he’s obviously much stronger and overpowers you effortlessly.

“Then stop making… cute sounds”, he laughs along with you, a deep, unusual noise coming from the normally stoic ape. 

You cupped his face as you brought your foreheads together and his nostrils flared in response, signaling he enjoyed the contact. Caesar stopped his tickling crusade and shut his eyelids immediately, his nose skimming against your jawline, eager for your touch. There was pause until you heard another uncommon sound from his mouth; a shy yawn. You shot him a playful look and the ape grunted in silent disagreement, similar to a stubborn child.

“Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch.” You purr, leaving a tender kiss on his cheek.

Caesar stays unmoving, reluctant at your request at first. It’s true you kept watch occasionally, even under his counter advisement, however right now he just felt like being with you for a while longer. “Later.” He mumbles in your ear, staring at you intently.

You wanted to protest, yet you let it go that one time, cuddling closer as you both looked at the fire. Soon the sun was coming up and another day—thankfully warmer than the last ones had been—would start. 

[a-boca-do-inferno]

NSFW ALPHABET (caesar x human!reader) [request]

warnings: swearing, interspecies smut mention(duh)

words: 2.4k

notes: howdy caesar girlies! this was so much fun. im so excited bc ive never done a nsfw alphabet before, i hope i did well lol enjoy xx.

Aftercare; what he’s like after sex.

Affectionate to a fault. It would come to no surprise that Caesar is very protective of you—always careful not to hurt you given your difference in size and strength. He’ll constantly rub you arms up and down soothingly in silence, scanning you with his green eyes to look for any unintended marks he might have left on your hairless skin. The king restrains from being too rough a lot, but sometimes he can’t control himself and he knows it, even if you actually like it when he does that. And he’s not as stealthy as he thinks himself to be while checking on you, however you allow him to do it without any teasing comments, for his own self-reassurance. It’s adorable.

Body part; his favourite body parts of you.

Caesar has a thing for your chest. Regardless of size or shape, just the softness of it... How it fits into his big hand, how wrinkled your nipples get under his touch. Loves tasting your breasts with his tongue, cupping them, kissing them, the whole deal. And your belly, too; maybe it has to do with the fact that it’d be impossible for you to bear his child, yet he just cannot help himself from imagining how your womb would look like with a baby bump. 

Cum; anything to do with cum, basically.

This ties into his love for your belly and the kink part later on, but obviously Caesar has a breeding kink deep down, even if he doesn’t think about it too much. In his more, shall I say, animalistic moments, his aching need to fill you up with his seed is almost unbearable. He becomes another person—another creature, even—whenever his eyes watch your entrance dripping with his semen, hot, pale, thick, trickling your thighs gloriously. The sight is enough for him to get instantly hard again.

Dirty secret; a dirty secret of his.

Caesar is just a sucker for the sounds you make, although he shall never tell you this; mainly because you two have to keep it low profile, otherwise it would be embarrassing—at best—for him to face the council the next day after the whole colony heard your passionate… love-making. He can get aroused by the tone of your voice only, when you speak a softer word or produce a deeper murmur. Especially if you talk into his ear. And even though he never actively makes you aware of it, you can tell whenever his fur stands on end after you whisper something to him, no matter how trivial the subject is. With one look, you know it’s on.

Experience; does he know what he’s doing?

Mostly. Caesar is undoubtedly well versed in the art of sex with a female ape, but with you—for obvious reasons—he will often ask what makes you feel good, genuinely curious and eager to learn so he can please you. It doesn’t take much for you to get him going, yet he knows human females have a different pace for things, as you’ve mentioned a few times in casual conversation. He’s thankfully not shy when it comes to learning new things, be them about sex or not, and that makes for a considerable improvement every time you two fuck.

Favourite position; this goes without saying.

Doggy. Albeit Caesar can’t help but find the term ridiculous, occasionally making a joke about it and calling it apey style—to which you only snort softly and roll your eyes. He loves seeing your shapely figure all bent for him, completely under his mercy while you take his cock with your face muffled against the nest, moaning repeatedly. His palm tightens around your hair, guiding the rhythm of his thrusts as he goes faster and faster, pounding into your very core. The king enjoys every second of it, coming inside you with warm spurts all over your butt. It’s really a sight to behold.

Goofy; is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous?

Caesar has a sense of humour, sure, but he takes your intimate moments very seriously. He’s a natural leader, after all; and with authority comes an almost unshakeable sterner and more focused way to behave. Fortunately, he knows when to loosen up in bed, and it’s usually at times where he can sense you’re a little nervous or insecure.

Hair; how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes?

lol All natural here, baby. Rightfully so, and Caesar knows for a fact that you absolutely love his fur in all the imaginable places. His natural musk turns you on to no end and the king is very aware of that, frequently using it in his favour. It’s annoying sometimes, how he’ll rub himself on your side when you’re mad at him for some random thing, and you just melt instantly as his furry skin tickles you. Interspecies advantage that the king just loves.

Intimacy; how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect.

Tender and loving all the way, except when Caesar’s really feeling it, which usually occurs whenever he’s had a bad day and you happened to be spending a little too much time with other males. Not that he’s the jealous type—he’ll never admit it, but it adds more fuel to the fire when he can smell the scent of other apes on you. He’s determined to erase it and replace it with his.

Jack off; masturbation headcanon.

Wouldn’t go as far as to say Caesar is a big fan of it, since he’d simply rather have your inner walls around him as opposed to your hands, but he will occasionally indulge in it. It mainly goes down to how much time you two have at your disposal, and how much stamina. Caesar’s an old man, let’s face it; sometimes he just wants to nut with your presence around and it will be enough for him. His only concern is your pleasure, anyway, but we’ll get to that...

Kink; one or more of his kinks.

Breeding is just a dead giveaway at this point. The fact Caesar can’t ever impregnate you is both a lingering frustration deep within him and somewhat a relief when it comes to coming (hehe) inside you, seeing as he can do so as many times as he wants, free of charge. And believe me, he does it a lot. The best part of sex with you is when his nostrils flare and his cock pulses desperately, releasing his seed and marking you as his, just how nature intended—in his mind, anyway. 

Location; favourite places to do the do.

Caesar’s got a thing for rivers, waterfalls, bodies of water in general. His favourite place to fuck you is underwater, preferably when you two go hunting and it takes longer than expected—something he often makes sure to happen, pretending to lose sight of a deer or two just so the sun goes down and he can use his favourite excuse that you should stay the night. He lives for the way you look all wet (hehe) whilst bathing in the river, so vulnerable and naturally beautiful, how the droplets contour your naked curves… The sound of water is a turn on for him too, yet you’re the one in the centre of his thoughts. There’s also a certain thrill of being in “public”, arguably, but he’s much too careful for it to actually be a risk. 

Motivation; what turns him on, gets him going.

Caesar loves your curves because they come with a plus of smoothness that only human females have; the way they shift as you move, making your body a feast for his eyes. You were forced to sew your own clothing as time went by with you living in the colony, and the scarcity of animal fur makes for quite the flashy outfits that show a lot of skin—which he isn’t mad at, at all. This softness of your body shape, paired with your strength, makes you irresistible to him, embodying the perfect balance of sensuality and resilience. You are, to the king, the epitome of femininity in your own way, and he can't help but be drawn to it.

No; something he wouldn’t do, turn offs.

Caesar’s pretty open minded and easy-going sexually, but something he would never do is definitely share. No getting freaky with other males, even females, if he can help it, nope! He’s not jealous per se—or so he keeps telling himself, it’s just the mere thought of having your attention split between him and others, in your intimate moments, no less… It makes him mad, not just turned off. Besides that, anything goes, as long as you’re both safe; especially you. In bed, you’re the boss.

Oral; preference in giving or receiving, skill.

Oh, my, does Caesar love eating you out. There’s just something about the human anatomy of your pussy that he can’t get enough of; your scent, your taste, how much you squirm and suffocate him with your tender thighs. He loves to tease you with his fangs, grazing his teeth over your pelvis before going all in with his skilful tongue. He laps your folds as if he’d been in the desert, without water—or food, in this case—for far too long, just deeply savouring you. Again, he’d much rather have your vagina around his cock, however he can appreciate your orals too. He won’t ask for it, letting you decide when you want to do it, if you feel like it. He’s happy to oblige, but he’s definitely more on the giving side of things.

Pace; is he fast and rough? slow and sensual?

Caesar is adaptable. He’s mindful and watchful of your needs, only getting rougher on his own account in those moments where he’s unable to hold back from his most animalistic urges. His default is slow and sensual, always wanting you to let go and relax after busy days in the colony, and you’re beyond grateful for that. But when you want it rough, do brace yourself. Face against the nest and all that.

Quickie; his opinions on quickies, how often.

Loves them and there are seasons—around winter and autumn—when it happens more often, as the colony affairs take most of his time. Caesar’s a patient guy and would choose to do things at his own pace always, sure, but the reality of leadership isn’t all peaches and cream and he knows how to navigate through that with you like no other. Man got skills.

Risk; is he game to experiment? does he take risks?

Caesar can’t afford to take too many risks because he’s got a reputation to maintain, as stated before. But, he will definitely experiment within the limits—more so if it has nothing even remotely potentially dangerous involved, as he is overprotective of you.

Stamina; how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?

Being a chimpanzee has its perks and one of them is definitely resistance. Although chimps’ intercourse is fairly practical and quick, Caesar’s simply built different. You reckon that’s also a reason why apes respect him; perhaps they can somehow sense the king’s physical advantages over any other males around. You have no complaints, that’s for damn sure.

Toys; does he own toys?

Caesar’s familiar with this concept after you tell him, but it’s no secret the options are scarce in your conditions. When you find an untouched vibrator in one of your scavenging trips to the city, though, his curiosity is instantly peaked. He’s still sceptical about the toy’s ability to satisfy you over his own cock, of course, yet the option seems more reasonable when you ask him to stimulate you further with it while he’s fucking you. He’s always happy to oblige if it adds to your pleasure.

Unfair; how much he likes to tease.

Caesar’s genuine nature doesn’t really allow him to make you suffer often, even if it’s for a reward later on, however he can tease you from time to time. Mainly whenever you get too cheeky with your jokes about giving more attention to the males in the colony, Koba from all apes. He finds himself rolling his eyes in a mix of impatience and amusement at your jabs about there being a thin line between love and hate for humans. Puffing his chest in response, he will sign to you playfully, with a cocky grin, that no other ape in the colony would ever be able to satisfy you like he can. Additionally, he makes his case for it that night, coming three times inside you without batting an eye. You have no choice but to yield.

Volume; how loud he is, what sounds he makes.

Fun fact: Caesar is regretfully much louder than he should, but he just can’t control himself with you. It’s particularly hard for him to shut the fuck up whenever you get the idea of bouncing on his cock. Not his favourite position, yet for some reason, just the sight of you riding him with so much necessity, practically coming undone with every movement is enough for the ape king to snarl and growl almost like he’s being gutted, filled with pure desire for you.

Wild card; a random headcanon.

Caesar’s favourite hobby includes casually grooming you after sex. Not that you have lice or anything like that; he knows you manage to keep up with your hygiene even whilst living with the apes, but the king enjoys bonding like this with you, similar to when you teach him new human customs he never got the chance to get in touch with before the flu.

X-ray; let’s see what’s going on under that... fur.

Caesar’s stature is impressive for an ape and his cock, while not disproportionate to his size, is certainly above average for his species. He’s thick and veiny, qualities that can both be a delight and a burden when you turn him on in public with your teasing.

Yearning; how high is his sex drive?

High as fuck. Seriously. Caesar might kill someone with his bare hands if he spends too much time without touching you. Apes already drive him crazy almost on a daily basis, but if on top of that he can’t even come home with the silent hope you’ll be there waiting for him to fuck you senseless, the ape king will fall apart. He’s that needy.

Zzz; how quickly he falls asleep afterwards.

Depends on what kind of a day Caesar had, really. If he’s been stressed and took the opportunity to blow off some steam, then he will be most likely to pull out of you and hold you to his chest, closing his eyes and drifting off the next minute. Oppositely, if he only improved his day by having sex with you at night, he makes conversation and asks about you and your day in the colony. Ultimately, it all comes down to context.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

medicine (caesar x human!reader)

summary: The ape colony is short on painkillers for humans, except Caesar learned a lot in his time living with them. Lucky for you.

warnings: period mention, interspecies (mild)smut

words: 1.9k

notes: lol yeah another one... im just enjoying it while i can ok. my vacation ends next month 💀 boa leitura!

It couldn’t be later than midnight. You hissed as your cramps only got harsher and harsher. In the cold everything became much worse, and this time was no different. You curled up towards Maurice to try and borrow some warmth from his fur, yet it felt helpless; your body shook like a leaf, and the pain in your womb was ridiculous.

Noticing your distress, Maurice wakes up from his sleep and signs with a worried expression, “I call Caesar?”

You shake your head even before he can say his name. The ape king had more important matters to attend to than your stupid human cramps. On top of it all, it was his resting moment now. You wouldn’t bother him with this. “No. Let him sleep.”

“Herbs?”

“Doesn’t work.” You grunt in frustration, signing with a frown. “I’m fine. By morning it will get better. It’s just the cold.”

“Winter start now.” Maurice argues, still with his gentleness in every word. You only nod in response and he insists, pointing towards Caesar’s tent. “Talk tomorrow. He can help. Lived with humans… before.”

Your eyes fell on the king sleeping a few feet away from you. Could Maurice really have a point? Perhaps Caesar indeed knew some trick to help with period cramps. You did hear he was brought up with human parents, which meant he must’ve had a woman around—you never touched on the subject out of respect, since you two weren’t close. Exchanging a last look with the orangutan, you displayed another short nod. A wave of pain reached your abdomen again and you sighed quietly, burying yourself in ginger fur, despite it being fruitless at that point.

The next day, the colony was awake as soon as the sun was out. It was a rare morning with sunlight and you thanked heavens mentally, appreciating the heat, even if mild, radiating from the star above. The pain had subdued considerably and you took the opportunity to help with supper. Sometimes you helped Maurice in school, but being on your feet proved to make matters worse those days.

You settled around the fire with the girls who tended to cooking. As you were in the middle of grilling fish, a hand touched your shoulder and you turned to face Caesar beating a tight expression. You stood up immediately to greet him, showing your respect for the king. You tried your best to look obedient to his power, as you were well aware of their history with humans, and his reaction was always the same—a dismissive hand gesture, green eyes softening gradually. However, his gaze remained serious now, and you gulped in anticipation.

“Cramps?” Caesar points to your stomach, his gravelly voice a low sound.

Your cheeks heat up and you want to roll your eyes, but refrain from doing so. Maurice and his gigantic mouth. You had hoped he’d forgotten about last night’s talk. Gesturing sheepishly, you stare at the floor. “It’s fine. The sun helps.” You motion upwards to prove your point.

Caesar glances at the pink sky and notices the big star almost fading in the horizon, then back at you. Your inability to keep eye contact with him didn’t go unnoticed, either, making him narrow his green orbs. The muscles in his jaw jump, and he grumbles, his face unimpressed, “sun not here at night.”

“I know, but...”

“But?” He challenges, raising a brow. The king crossed his arms over his chest, a gesture that made him even more menacing. You were used to his imposing presence—the tall and muscular build, the scars on his body, the permanent look of seriousness—yet there were few things more intimidating than seeing Caesar like this, with his displeasure directed at you.

You take a deep breath, trying your best to sound convincing even though you felt like a child being reprimanded. “But I have Maurice to…”

“Maurice... ratted you out. Like humans… say.” Caesar cuts you off with a hint of amusement, in contrast with his dry voice. Carefully, he takes your shirt in his large hands, lifting the fabric to expose your belly without so much as a request for permission; not that he needed it, anyway. His calloused fingers made goose bumps on your skin while navigating your soft form. He lets go of you and signs sharply. “Need medicine. Can’t stay like this.”

You furrow your brows. “They don’t work, Caesar, but it’s okay. It’s just a couple of days. It’ll go away.”

He stops for a moment, contemplating your protests. His gaze flicks to your eyes, acute and intense, making you shrink under his scrutiny. “Not okay. Pain… too much.” Surely the ape would never let you be writhing in pain every night, no matter if it was but a week. With a final huff, Caesar then orders, “you stay with me tonight.”

“But I...” At the look he shoots you, you know there’s no more arguing. The king has spoken. With a defeated sigh, you nod and watch him step away on his hind legs, towering over the others. You mutter under your breath, “God, I miss democracy.” 

As the day went on, you did your best to ignore the annoying throb in your abdomen, knowing you'd be glared at by Caesar if he caught you grimacing again. A low hum of crickets began to fill the night air as the apes settled down around the fire. The hour grew late and the campsite gradually became quiet, the crackling bonfire the only source of light and life. 

You were eating fish alongside Maurice and Rocket, laughing at something the ginger spoke about the kids in school today. On the other side of the circle, green eyes kept vigilant over you with no subtlety at all. You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burning at the attention. Caesar finished his meal, glancing towards you through the darkness as you remained by the fire after everyone was gone. He slowly made his way over, his massive figure casting a shadow as he approached you. 

With some lightheartedness he signs, extending a hand, “time to rest.” Your eyes follow his gestures and you take his palm. He guides you toward his tent in considerable silence before closing the curtain-like branches draped over the entrance, hooting faintly as he points to his nest. “Lie down.”

You obey him, your breathing slowly increasing its pace. You clasp your hands over your stomach anxiously, intertwining your fingers. “What are you gonna do?”

Caesar scans over you for a moment, noting the tension in your demeanour. “Massage.” He grunts, moving to sit next to you, his muscles rippling with his every movement. The ape pries apart your hands, replacing them with his own much larger ones, his palms settling on your abdomen similar to how he did earlier. He eyes your reactions closely. “May… I?”

You didn’t respond with words, silently granting Caesar permission to go on with his idea. Hooting again, a sound that almost felt like he was trying to soothe your nerves, his rough skin made contact with your tender one, brushing and squeezing it in fairly skilful ways. In spite of the awkwardness of the situation, you found yourself relaxing under his ministrations, your eyelids fluttering shut from time to time. The ape didn’t say much as he worked, green orbs fixated on your expressions while continuing to move his hands in small circles over your womb area. His face was nearly unreadable, the usual stoic frown now replaced by a look of concentration.   

The ape kept going, a low grumble escaping him every now and then as he tried to maintain the pressure at a certain point to make the pain dissipate. You had no idea when it shifted in nature, yet all of a sudden, his movements seemed a lot more sensual than anything. Your interior was only getting hotter by the minute, accompanied by the clear flush on your face. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. It’s the hormones. Your attempts at making yourself believe in those affirmations were unsuccessful, pathetic at best; and it all came down crumbling when the quietest moan left your throat, causing Caesar to freeze and stop with the massage.

You stare at him with widened eyes, embarrassment and fear encapsulated in your features, and you immediately sit up and sign in desperation, your tone just as urgent, “I’m… I’m sorry, Caesar, please. It was just…”

A dark look passed over Caesar’s face as he watched you stumble on yourself with apologies. Without a word, his stare dropped to your body once more, the fingers in your abdomen applying more pressure against the flesh, feeling the heat as you reacted to his touch. He could smell your scent changing and a guttural sound escaped his lips as his green eyes glanced at you unblinking, his hand slowly drifting down your womb and stopping on your pelvis deliberately. 

You inhaled sharply, in surprise and excitement, the realisation hitting you like a brick. The ape curled his digits and resumed the massage, his nostrils flaring as he huffed, clearly aroused. Your faces stood inches apart, his hot, heavy breath against you blowing your hair lightly. You put your arm around his neck and he grunted in appreciation, his expression softening at the way you whimpered in pleasure, begging for more. His fingers rubbed circles on your clit through your clothes in a steady rhythm, causing you to bury your face in his furry neck, gasping.

“I’m gonna…”

Caesar heaved in your ear encouragingly and it was the final straw. You came against his hand, squeezing your thighs in reflex whilst he kept massaging your heat through your orgasm. The ape king continued to look at you eagerly and you tried to get out of his grasp, ashamed of what just transpired. He swallowed thickly, holding onto your forearm to prevent you from scooting away, and pressed your foreheads together.

He hooted, grabbing your palm and taking it to his leg. Your gaze followed his movement and you noticed how excited he was, too. Your mind was hazy from your high just a few seconds ago, then it dawned on you that he felt as aroused as you by what happened. It wasn’t just you and your period hormones. It never even crossed your mind that it was possible for him to desire you this way. You cupped his cheeks as your heads stayed pressed to one another, closing your eyes, his scent intoxicating your system.

Caesar nuzzled your cheek, inhaling the sweet smell of you in as much as he could, making sure to memorise each and every inch of your scent under his touch. He ran his hand to place it on the nape of your neck, guiding your body towards his, until you were sitting on his lap, straddling his massive frame. The action brought your chest flush with his, a low rumble escaping him when your curves brushed his bare skin. He found the crook of your shoulder, his tongue trailing a path over the sensitive area, making you shiver. The king huffed again, his free hand sliding up your leg to grip a handful of your flesh, pulling you closer—his grip kept you in place, letting him claim you in any way he wanted.

“Cold?” He hums, still nuzzling you.

The sensation causes you to blush deeper, caressing his chin. “Not anymore.”

“Cramp?” Caesar rasps inquisitively, placing a warm palm on your belly again.

You snort and shake your head. “No. Your medicine worked... Thanks.”

You can swear there’s a smirk on his lips as he nods once, holding your hips protectively. “Good.” He presses you closer to him and huffs, and you understand it right away. Your doctor’s appointment wasn’t over yet, it seemed.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

good graces (caesar x human!reader)

summary: A remarkable ape catches your eye at the sanctuary.

warnings: angst, swearing, mild fluff

words: 0.8k

notes: just a little drabble... he owns me now i fear. enjoy!

gif credit

“Hungry?” You hum with a soothing tone, petting the orangutan’s head to catch his attention. He eyes you and signs positively, making you smile. “That’s why you’re my favourite, but don’t tell anyone. They might get jealous.” You tease and Maurice grunts in response, clearly amused by your words.

You were a volunteer at the sanctuary for a year now and you attempted your best to help the apes in light of the clear mistreatment they received from that blond asshole. You lost count of how many times you tried to get him fired, but the owner simply didn’t care enough for the animals to do something about it, so your only option was to show some kindness when you fed them or went inside to clean the cages. Most were indifferent to your presence there when it wasn’t food related, outside from Maurice and Cornelia, who had gentler personalities. Until something happened.

Someone.

A newbie came along—wearing clothes, no less. He was standoffish and kept to himself a lot, but the primates didn’t like him already, especially Rocket; and so you watched with an aching heart as he beat up Caesar and no one did anything to stop it, ape or human. You wanted to step in and do something, anything, even if it meant you getting hurt in the process, however it was out of your reach.

“That’s just how nature works, (y/n).” The boss tried to console you that morning, to which you only huffed in indignation.

As weeks went by, the newcomer got settled in, albeit not without his fair amount of struggles. Everyone picked on him and one day, you simply had enough. Stepping inside the area of the cages, your ears ringed as the animals screeched in excitement, probably thinking you were bringing food. You strolled towards Rocket’s cell and tapped lightly on it, catching his attention.

“You need to stop.” You sign firmly, although being fully aware Rocket didn’t know ASL as well as Maurice did. The other apes look at you with a mix of confusion, some even getting angry at the realisation you’re not there to feed them, and they start screaming again. You continue, your hands swift, “leave Caesar alone.”

As you said that, your eyes fell automatically on Caesar’s cage at the end of the hall. He stared at you quietly, his green orbs filled with curiosity and sheer surprise at your display of protection. Amidst the bullying he endured daily, the ape didn’t have time to take note of your kind acts, the hurt from being abandoned by Will the only thing in his mind—up until that moment, that is. The apes kept on shrieking while you sighed and prepared yourself to leave at last. A gesture from Caesar made you stop in your tracks, though. You never saw him speak to anyone before.

“Come.” He signs almost stealthily, blinking impatiently towards you.

You step closer to his cage and ignore the loud sounds around you, raising your brows. “You know how to sign?”

He hoots softly, suddenly excited at your interest. “Dad taught Caesar.”

You can’t help but grin, nodding slowly. “That’s amazing… I never saw a chimp sign before, only orangutans.”

He grunts and points to you, asking, “why defend Caesar?”

You consider his question for a split second and shrug. “Why not?”

He snorts happily at your answer. It’s like music to your ears, for you never heard him make such a sound before. He glances back at his cell, staring into blank space as he remembers the harsh treatment he was put through every day. “Everyone hates Caesar.” He signs simply. A statement, as if it was a known fact.

You shake your head vehemently, eyeing him with resolve. “I don’t hate you.”

As Caesar finds your gaze again, he seems deeply affected by your response, walking closer to rest his forehead against the cage. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Just helping a fellow primate out.” You grin, touching his hand through the cold metal separating you both. 

He’s surprised by your touch, the warmth of your hand sending chills down his spine. He looks down at your fingers as his eyebrows raise, his own twitching without being able to grab yours in return. Caesar hoots once more, his expression softening. “Stay.” He pleads, his palm signing desperately.

You feel your chest tighten at the sight, giving him a bittersweet smile. “I’ll come back to feed you in a few hours.”

A whimper escapes him, Caesar’s body hunching forward in disappointment. A moment passes and although his demeanour deflates considerably, he grunts in acknowledgement, still eyeing you eagerly, “Caesar wait.”

You only chuckled to yourself and exchanged one last hand wave with Caesar, walking out of the cages’ room with your head down. Soon you’d have to tell Maurice there was competition to your good graces, now.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

manners (jack ryan x female oc)

summary: “I heard a lot about you.” Méndez tilts her head to study his features. “The Marine turned analyst turned American hero.”

warnings: swearing, smut(fingering, butt stuff, oral, slightly bdsmish), angst, enemies to lovers(sorta), terrorism, violence, blood, suicide mention

words: 2.4k

Being a terrorist is tough shit. Not that Grace cared for the work—her ultimate goal was ever present in her mind, after all. Those who had taken everything from her would soon pay for all the pain she endured all these years. But sometimes, exhaustion crept in her core. That was one of those times.

“God, just shut the fuck up”, she sighs, shaking her head at one of the goons her employer had found on E-bay, most likely. “Get this over with by tomorrow. I don’t wanna hear about Jack Ryan anymore.”

Grace knew who he was, it was impossible not to with the work she did. Jack was one of the self-proclaimed “good guys” who embodied the war on terror, and that made him her worst enemy by default. She had taken this path because of life’s circumstances, it’s not like she longed to be a terrorist from an early age, but Méndez wasn’t letting some boy scout destroy everything she built in the last five years so easily. 

Somehow he had tracked one of her accounts overseas, more specifically on Curaçao, and had been breathing down her neck ever since. And with Ryan only getting closer, nerves were starting to be a problem in the organisation—she was surrounded by weak men with no control of their emotions, so that wasn’t a surprise. Looking up at the cloudy sky, Grace kissed her crucifix and closed the windows to her hotel room. If everything went according to plan, Jack Ryan would be dead by morning and no longer a threat to her empire.

Obviously, that didn’t happen. Waking up slowly, the first thing Méndez saw as she opened her eyes was the barrel of a gun pointed in her direction. The cold metal touched the tip of her nose and she raised her hands in reflex, staring at Jack’s face angrily. He had a similar look, except he appeared not to have slept for quite some time, his skin dripping with sweat, blood and what appeared to be mud.

“Rise and shine.” Ryan hisses, pressing the pistol on her nose slightly harder before putting it down, hazel eyes still watching her like a hawk. “Get up. Get dressed.”

Grace remains silent and obeys his commands, slowly sitting up and putting on her robe. “Am I being arrested?”

“Not yet.” He states with a tight voice, as if he’s containing himself from snapping at her. “First, you’re gonna confess. I wanna know everything.”

“Don’t we all?” She fakes a smile and he frowns more. Grace leans with her hands on the mattress, crossing her legs. “I assume you killed my men?”

“They’re incapacitated.” Ryan corrects with a sarcastic tone, sitting beside her. “Most of them, anyway.”

“I heard a lot about you.” Méndez tilts her head to study his features. Even covered in dirt and blood, his orbs look so… hypnotic. “The Marine turned analyst turned American hero.”

“Don’t make me blush now”, he mumbles nonchalantly, and that makes her giggle. “Skip the introduction, Méndez.”

“As you wish”, Grace shrugs and takes a deep breath, staring at the white wall in front of them. “I would have died for this country. I believed in it with all my heart, until it killed the only people I ever loved. My family. And for nothing.” Her voice falters and she sits up abruptly, but Jack takes her by arm, stopping her from walking away. 

“Really? That’s your sob story?” He hardens his jaw and pulls her closer, their faces almost touching. “Your friends died on the job and you killed thousands of innocents as revenge? What about holding the actual people responsible for their deaths accountable?!”

“What kind of fucking world do you live in, Jack?!” She screams right back, and his grip on her arm tightens. “Do you really think those guys sitting behind desks, signing death reports are ever gonna pay?! They meant nothing to them! They’re numbers! Just like the people I’ve killed. I’m giving them right back.” She finishes with resolve, glaring at him.

Jack scoffs and lets go of her, shaking his head in disbelief and pure rage. “Do you hear yourself? You sound crazy.”

“Maybe I am. I don’t expect you to understand. You still believe the shit they feed you.” Grace spits on the floor and Ryan’s nostrils expand for a split second before he pushes her against the wall, holding her neck with his forearm. “Do it. Fucking do it!” She struggles, widening her eyes and digging her nails into his skin. Jack steps away angrily and growls in frustration. “What are you really doing here, Jack? If you won’t kill me, then why are you keeping this charade?!” Méndez gasps for air, supporting herself on the mattress.

Jack turned away from her for a moment, raking his hands through his already messy hair and exhaling deeply. He spinned around to face Grace again, taking slow and calculated steps towards her. The agent grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, their bodies almost pressed together. His face was filled with hatred and tiredness. He’d been running after her for four days now, and his current mental state wasn’t his best. Pulling out his gun again, Ryan grazed the barrel over her abdomen until it reached her cheek.

“Maybe I should do it.” He whispers against her neck, his voice dripping with anger and frustration. “I should just kill you and be done with this whole thing.”

“Why won’t you, then?” She shoots right back, her eyes filled with tears, albeit her expression is as hateful as his. Jack’s gaze falters for a moment, and she’s not sure whether it’s from her tears or her words. The woman is trembling against him, her wrists desperately trying to free herself from his grip.

Pause.

“I don’t know.” Jack mutters through gritted teeth, his hands tightening around her arms, pinning her against the wall. He feels the sudden urge to pull away from her, but instead, his body moves on its own and he comes even closer. His weapon stays pointed at her, poking her cheek slightly.

Grace’s breath hitches and there’s the hint of a smirk on her lips, “you do know.”

Another pause. Ryan threw his pistol away and it fell on the ground with a heavy thud before he cupped her face almost delicately, joining their mouths in an urgent, sloppy, aggressive kiss. He pushed Méndez against the wall harder and deepened the contact, their teeth clashing against each other from time to time. With a growl, his palms reached for her waist, pressing her abdomen flush to his. And just as quickly, in a sudden lapse of reason, the agent broke the kiss and took several steps back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

Jack swallows hard and tries to speak, but the words feel like sandpaper in his throat. As Grace catches her breath in silence, her dangerous eyes glued on his figure, he gulps, “no.”

“You…”

“Shut up.” He grumbles and turns her around harshly, cuffing her with a swift movement. From this angle, her nipples appeared slightly under the crevice of her loosened robe, but he shook his head and looked away. “You’re under arrest, Grace Méndez.”

She only scoffed as Ryan pushed her toward the door, opening it and walking with her down the stairs. They reached the parking lot and he shoved her into the car, cuffing her to the hand brake in silence. His gaze couldn’t bear to cross hers as he stepped into the vehicle and started driving, gripping the steering wheel tightly as he attempted to forget what happened just minutes prior. Still, Jack kept stealing glances at the woman every now and then, and every time his eyes met hers, he would look away. Her hair was messy and her robe remained loosely put on, making it impossible for him to not steal peeks at her supple chest.

He clears his throat, breaking the awkward silence. “We’ll be at the base in about twenty minutes.”

“No rush.” She says with a sarcastic smile, her tone defiant and somewhat unbothered. As they stop at a light, Méndez quips, “that was your first time, huh?”

Jack sighs heavily and his hands grip the steering even tighter. “Shut it, Méndez.” He spits, avoiding her gaze once again. He can feel his blood boiling at her mocking words. After a beat, he swallows hard and forces himself to look back at her, his curiosity getting the best of him. “What makes you think that?”

“You are the ultimate boy scout. Surely you’re not going around kissing terrorists on the job.” Her voice is casual as her orbs fall on him for the first time, her chin up. “Unless it’s all an act?”

“Jesus, will you just shut it?” Ryan grits his teeth harder, his foot unconsciously speeding up the car.

Grace can’t help but laugh, and as she glances at the volume on his pants, she murmurs huskily, “pull over.”

Jack freezes momentarily at her words, his breath hitching as his trousers only get more strained. He shoots her a brief warning look, keeping his eyes on the road. “Shut. Up.” He growls again, but the desperation in his voice betrays him.

Méndez’s free hand creeps up his thigh suggestively, undoing his zip without much ado. “Pull over.” She insists, this time much softer, offering him an almost fraternal smile. “Let me help.”

Ryan let out a surprised huff at her skilful movements, biting the inside of his cheek as his foot pushed harder on the gas paddle. He quickly swerved the car off to the side of the road, amongst some woods, and stood statue, glaring at Grace in a mix of ire and necessity. She grinned once more and eyed her cuffed palm, causing him to shake his head vehemently.

“No.”

“I need two hands to do the work.” She hums with furrowed brows, yet her demeanour is of someone who’s negotiating any ordinary deal. 

The agent looked up, perhaps somehow trying to find the answer to his doubts in the orange sky. Jack let out another impatient huff and his eyes darted down to her cuffed wrists, his hands clenching into fists. He cursed under his breath and glared at her, his mind debating on the choice he’s about to make. With a heavy sigh, he reached over and unlocked the cuffs with a quiet click. 

Grace grunted in a quick acknowledgement of this show of trust, kneeling on her seat and leaning down towards his lap carefully. As she did so, her robe fell off ever so slightly, exposing her bare butt. Jack hesitated before rubbing her soft flesh in small circles as she bent over more, pricking up her ass in the air and moaning in approval. His cock throbbed under her hand as she squeezed it, oozing his pre-cum and licking the tip teasingly. He shut his eyes tightly and groaned, gripping the wheel until his knuckles were white.

“If you keep this up, I’m gonna cum”, he says through a shaky breath, giving her right cheek a playful, loud slap.

She chuckled deeply and finally swallowed his veiny meat, bobbing her head up and down rapidly. He threw his head back in ecstasy and let his rough digit enter her tight, spasming hole at last. He felt her tensing up around his index and gently started poking it in and out of her ass, using his pinkie to smear the wetness over her puffy lips. She groaned in approval, moving her other hand around his balls to give him a slow massage. His whole body shivered and he smacked her buns again, this time more aggressively, leaving his handprint on the smooth, pale skin.

Fucking the very person he was assigned to arrest wasn’t on his plans, but as a wise man once told him; you can’t really plan on the heart—or in this case, on the penis. And Ryan now not only knew it, he even commended himself for his own self-awareness while Grace choked on his dick, her warm throat assaulting him shamelessly. He kept his gaze up ahead on the desert road, and the sun was already coming up at the horizon. Soon that moment would end and they’d have to go back to real life. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, trying to concentrate on the way she swirled her tongue on the pink tip skilfully.

How could the worst woman he’s ever known make him feel so good, pleasuring him with her mouth like that? It felt criminal—well, it was, he corrected himself in a passing moment of clarity. Still, his large hand groped her ass again as he came like a fountain in her lips. She sucked him dry until the last drop of cum and sat back up with a smile, her chin glistening with saliva and semen. Jack gulped quietly and nodded in acknowledgement, offering her a silent “thank you”. 

“Is that how it goes?” Méndez laughs, wiping her face clean with a tissue she found in the glove compartment. “Where are you manners, Dr. Ryan?” 

Jack snorts, blushing a little. “You’re right.” He clears his throat and straightens up, putting his belt back on and turning on the engine. “Thanks.” 

Grace smiles and helps him out with his pants, their hands bumping. He looks up and finds her mischievous brown eyes; so different from the cold ones he came to know through file reports and TV’s breaking news. “What now?” 

“I don’t have to tell you”, Jack sighs, yet his voice has no animosity at all, despite the blunt nature of his words. They know how this will go. They knew from the start. 

Grace only hums in response, putting on her belt too. “Then I reckon I won’t see you again.”

“I don’t think so”, he gets back on the road, stepping on the pedal. He grabs the pair of cuffs and hands it to her, not taking his attention off the street. “Put them back on.” She obeys, clicking the round metal around her wrists once again. But just as she’s gonna speak, the vehicle comes to halt and she raises her brows, giving him a puzzled look. Jack closes his eyes for a few seconds before he opens her door at once and gesticulates outside. His voice is gentle, but firm. “Go.” 

Grace left without hesitation. He watched as she ran into the woods with her hands cuffed and couldn’t help but chuckle dryly to himself. Jim always wanted his job, anyway. Might as well give him an early Christmas present.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

blueberry (caesar x human!reader)

summary: Man is insecure and, perhaps not so surprisingly, so are apes.

warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

words: 3.6k

notes: can be read as a standalone or a continuation to alone. this is set somewhere between the events of wftpota but he is alive in my heart btw. enjoy x

gif credit

“I don’t care”, you sign and huff, glaring at him. You needed to hurt him; like he had hurt you just now. You point to the cave entrance. “Leave.” 

Caesar shoots you a desolated look, standing in the middle of the rain, completely soaked. He can’t speak. Not this time. He’d done it so many times before, repeating the same thing over and over again. I will change. I will stop worrying. I love you. And now you could see the truth: no matter how much he claimed to love you, his sorrows would always be stronger than his feelings and you just had enough. You were a tired woman. And he knew that, too. 

“Okay”, he mumbles at last with a brief sign as he watches his step and backs away. 

He leaves with his head down and disappears into the dark of the night. You’re only left with the sound of heavy drops smashing onto the floor. The ground now felt like opening up under your feet, but it wasn’t always like this. 

Caesar stared at you with widened eyes, not noticing your presence until you spoke up. A smile spread on his face and he shrugged off his worries, his frown fading gradually. “You… lifesaver.” He gesticulated toward the food you carried with a grateful look. It smelled so good and he didn’t hesitate to grab the bowl of soup, sipping on it and letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you... for everything”, he signed with his free hand after a moment.

“You’re welcome, now what do you want?” You teased and ruffled his head lightly. Caesar had become a good friend over the past few months. It felt like you’ve known each other for a long time, even before the flu. “Or were you just that hungry?”

Caesar snorted, still drinking the soup. “Both… I think.” He swallowed before adding hoarsely, “sometimes I just need… to see you.” It sounded like a lighthearted comment, but he wasn’t smiling because deep down he knew it was true. You made him feel like he never did with anyone, ape or otherwise. He recoiled in his spot, watching you with attentive eyes. 

And you, to your credit, chuckled quietly with pink cheeks, “well, here I am.” You sat in front of him and leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “You know, Caesar, I’ve been thinking… Maybe you should come stay with me for a while.” 

You were well aware of his problem with loneliness ever since he lost Cornelia and couldn’t help but want to take care of him. Being a leader had its perks and many included a deep sense of isolation, especially when the very lives of a whole species depended on him to make it in this world. Humans were still a constant threat, even amidst the downfall of civilization, but you reckoned Caesar felt lonely long before the apocalypse from the few stories he’d tell you about Will. If anything, being surrounded by his own kind only alienated him more overtime due to the burden of the “crown”.

Caesar tensed up, his eyebrows raising at the unexpected offer. He stayed unmoving for a few seconds, however his demeanor eventually changed into one of contemplation. Perhaps it wasn’t such a terrible idea at all. He’d been greatly feeling the change in environment since they moved and doing things alone had always proven to be harder for him, if more familiar. Taking another sip of his soup, his thoughtful gaze traveled the ceiling. 

“Sure… you wanna live… with my drama?” He finally asked, with an almost amused expression.

“We can be dramatic together”, came the quick reply, as you carried a playful tone of your own. “But really, I think it’ll do you some good. It’s not permanent, I just wanna help you get a little more time to adjust while you sort things out with the council.” You grinned softly, “change is always overwhelming and some company might broaden your horizons, maybe even help with your decision.”

Caesar pondered your words, still with a humorous smile. “I could stay… for a while.” He added with some emphasis. 

“It’s settled then, you can move in anytime you want”, you stood up and patted his shoulder. As you noticed there was a hint of uneasiness lingering in his eyes, you hummed, “consider it my formal thanks to you for taking me in. Now we’re even.”

“Then I move in… tonight.”, he tried to play it off with humor, signing with a smirk. “Don’t like my place… anyways.”

In fact, deep down Caesar was glad to get away from there; especially because he was about to face the most challenging phase of leadership: letting go. By the end of the day, he was all settled into your home. He took your bed under your indignant protests that the floor was a “back killer”, in your own words. You had a way of making him sustain a smile for far longer than he was used to—which wasn’t often—and that was the sole reason for his compliance. 

As you were fluffing the makeshift pillows made out of animal skin, he organized his stuff in the small cabinet you made yourself. You were a handy carpenter. A quiet chuckle reached his ears and he shot you a glance. 

“I didn’t take you for the messy type, I thought all leaders were neat.”

Caesar rolled his eyes, closing the cabinet door. “I only clean… other people’s messes”, he signed with a wry smile. He turned around and leaned against the wall to face you properly, his grin fading into a sterner look. “I’m glad… you’re here.”

“And I’m glad you’re here with me, that way I don’t have to worry about your insomniac ass wandering in the cold”, you threw a stick at him, sitting on the bed with a small beam. “I really do worry and care for you, Caesar. I hope you know that.”

Caesar caught the stick with ease and met your gaze with warm eyes once again. He was clearly touched by your words and his shy grin turned into a real one, despite the tiredness on his features. He came over to sit beside you, much closer than before. 

“I know”, he replied huskily, gently caressing the nape of your neck with his thumb. “And I hope you know… I care about you.” You shivered under his touch and your lips reached for his rough palm as you kissed it. His breath hitched at the sensation of your smooth skin and he touched your foreheads, shutting his eyes.

It was now but a distant, bittersweet memory haunting you while you gathered your things and left your tent-like home with him, preparing to move in with Maurice. You had a close bond with the ginger ape due to his calmer nature; sometimes you even assisted in his classes, too, and he knew better than anyone about the shortcomings of your relationship with Caesar. This time was no different and he offered you shelter right away. He had always been supportive of you two, but never judging when you had a falling out with the boss.

Maurice knew better than anyone as Caesar got older, his stubbornness and overprotective nature only got bigger. You left out a humourless laugh, walking into your new home. Man is insecure and perhaps not so surprisingly, so are apes. And with insecurity comes obsession, along with an unhealthy need for control. Yet you always had too much understanding in your heart. Caesar just needed help, you thought, as you would peck his head whilst he slept soundly on your lap. It was so rare to see him that serene, and you cherished every second of it. 

He still had trouble sleeping; nightmares and such. Your heart ached with the ever present reminder that you just couldn’t make all his pain go away forever, no matter how hard you tried. And God, did you try. Rocking a grown chimpanzee’s body to make him go to sleep wasn’t exactly in your plans when he brought you into the colony, but you gladly took the task. You loved the guy, after all. 

And wouldn’t it be stupid to even doubt that? Still, that’s what Caesar did on occasion. He wasn’t easily upset, but when he was... It often got ugly. You were never a fearful girl, but seeing his angry fits deeply affected you. Soon talking to him became a constant walk on eggshells and if he noticed your change in behavior, he never really spoke on it, which was perhaps his biggest flaw; not communicating. But he was a leader, and a perceptive one at that. Even though he never said it out loud, it must have been clear that you couldn’t take it anymore. There was something telling about the way he simply let you go a few hours before, with no fight. 

“Comfortable?” Maurice eyes you carefully, bringing some blueberries with him to cheer you up. 

You can’t help but grin at the sight. “I am. Thank you.” You sign back and nod, taking a deep breath as you gaze around. “Caesar?” You hum, curious of where he might be. You hadn’t seen him since last night’s argument.

The orangutan shakes his head slowly, pointing at the forest, “he hunts… when angry.”

You snort. “Sounds about right.”

Maurice grunts in agreement, signing softly, “you two… end?”

You take a moment to consider his question. It looked like a break up, didn’t it? Although you weren’t sure if apes even used the concept of “breaking up” with their mates. Every couple you knew in the colony seemed happy together. No trouble in paradise. You shrug and look down. “Maybe.”

“Caesar is… difficult”, he rasps, causing you to smile despite yourself. That’s the understatement of the year. The ape adds, “you like blueberries… for a reason. They’re not… always sweet.”

You scoff at the comparison. No wonder Maurice was a great teacher. You sign with amusement, “except I can smash a blueberry if I don’t like it, but with Caesar, I can’t.”

Maurice laughs deeply. “Fair enough.”

As the night fell again, you watched the apes gather around the fire to hang out after another tranquil day from a distance. Since the war, things were slowly returning to normal and you felt a mixture of relief and anxiety every time the thought crossed your mind; growing accustomed to peace those days was dangerous. Hope could be a friend, but also a great enemy in the apocalypse. Caesar had taught you that through your many late night talks after you made love. A light blush came across your cheeks as you sighed and tried to shake off those memories. 

Dating another species was already a challenge on its own, now add being the leader of a colony on top of that, you were surprised you two had made it that far. When Caesar found you all alone hiding in a cave, struggling to survive on your own, never in a million years did you think that creature would become your closest friend and even lover. He didn’t like or didn’t see the point of those nomenclatures, sure, as he only ever referred to you as his family. If other apes outside Maurice and Blue Eyes knew about the implications of it, though, no one dared speak on it. Yet it didn’t make it any easier to digest whenever you stopped to think about it, even more so amidst his angry fits.

You finished preparing for bed and lay down in silence, staring at the stars. Another summer had begun with the difference of Caesar’s absence by your side as you tried to sleep. You took a deep breath and wiped away some stubborn tears, turning to face the wall. You closed your eyes for a brief second and when you opened them again, a large silhouette appeared on the stone surface and you slowly shifted back to find Caesar standing tall, eyeing you silently.

“Talk?” He signs hesitantly, his expression difficult to read in the dark. You only nod and he approaches you, and as he steps in an angle under the moonlight, you see he’s got a deep cut across his abdomen. You immediately sit up, looking alert. He smiles weakly and waves a dismissive hand, taking a seat beside you. “It’s… fine. Not… serious.”

You frown nevertheless, tracing his bruise and inspecting it. “What happened?”

“Bear.” He murmurs hoarsely, with an amused gleam in his green eyes. You grunt in displeasure and he asks with an almost mocking tone, “worry?”

“Of course I do, Caesar.” You huff indignantly and it only makes him smirk, but you keep glaring at him. “You think it’s funny?”

“Yes”, he says, reaching out to take your hand over his furry stomach. He comes closer, bringing his forehead to yours, “I’m… sorry.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’re not sure what to say, but he fills in the silence with a low sound, “miss… you.”

“You’re a stubborn old man”, you pull away to look him in the eye, albeit your voice stays tender. He looks humoured by your choice of words. “But I missed you too.”

Caesar’s expression softens significatively. He produces another coo, “forgive?”

You smile and bring his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles. “Maybe.”

“Brought… present.” He rumbles after a moment and you watch him leave in silence, coming back shortly with a bowl full of blueberries. You grin and Caesar hoots quietly, feeding one to you. You blush and accept the gesture, causing him to nuzzle your face gently, “Maurice… advice.”

You roll your eyes. “That turncoat.” 

Caesar only snickers and shrugs, making a face as he tries a blueberry. He signs and pushes the bowl towards you, shaking his head in comic disapproval, “sour.”

It’s your turn to laugh.

[a-boca-do-inferno]

alone (caesar x human!reader)

summary: Rocket captures you and takes you to Caesar.

warnings: swearing

words: 1.0k

gif credit

You gasp softly when you see his eyes. They look so… human.

You had heard stories, sure; who hadn’t at this point? But being face to face with the real thing—scratch that, the real person, because the creature in front of you sure as hell wasn’t just some animal—was another matter entirely. As you were nudged towards him, your hands in makeshift shackles that the bulky chimp put you on, you were pushed onto your knees. 

You lift your head slowly, with a frown of your own. He could be the king around here, alright, but you didn’t feel like you’d done nearly enough to deserve that treatment. Your gaze meets every ape’s surrounding you attentively. You speak, quite loudly so everyone can hear, “I’m not looking for trouble.” 

Caesar’s eyes measure you up and down carefully, his expression hard, yet somehow neutral despite your position as his prisoner. His friends seem much more wary of you in comparison to their leader, who only appears mildly observant, perhaps intrigued. He signs finally, his gravelly voice following his gestures suit, “who… are you?”

Ain’t that the million dollar question? Did people even still have names in the apocalypse, and if so, what for? You take a deep breath before answering, your tone firm, “(y/n), not that it matters much.”

He remains unmoving when met with your defiant words, signing again, “are you… alone?”

You consider his inquiry for a split second, contemplating the pink sky. “I am, which is why I’m not looking for trouble”, you reiterate, glaring at the muscular chimp in reflex. “I’m not stupid. I was hunting nearby and your buddy here got trigger… or rather, spear-happy.” You scoff, shaking your head.

The apes all start whispering and signing to each other like you just told the best gossip they ever heard, and at the solemn hand signal from Caesar, everybody goes silent again. He grunts, pointing somewhere behind you, “you’ll stay… the night, but… leave in the morning.”

You don’t have time to protest when Muscly yanks you back to your feet and drags you into an empty den. It’s a secluded spot, away from the hustle of the colony. You figure you’ll have to sleep with your hands tied, given Caesar’s urgency in getting you out of his turf by morrow, until your “guard” cuts off the vine-made shackles around your wrists with a swift movement of his blade, without warning. You let out a shriek and jump in fear, to which he makes a sound resembling a laugh. 

You stare at him with a scowl, muttering under your breath as he walks away, “asshole.” 

As the night falls, you make yourself as comfortable as you can on the ground, using your old backpack as a pillow. Fortunately the apes weren’t so fearful to leave you without your things, albeit you were sure Muscly had gone through your stuff to try and find your weapon—the cross-bow you managed to scavenge a few weeks back in the city, which obviously wasn’t in your bag when you retrieved it. It’s fine, though. You had made ends meet without as much as a sharp stone to defend yourself before; you’d just do it again. You close your eyes, feeling your body giving into sleep at last. 

A raspy voice echoes through the den, startling you yet again:

“Awake?”

“Jesus.” You grumble, sitting up in a heartbeat. Caesar is standing on his hind legs, not quite inside the cave, almost as if he wants permission to enter. “What is your problem?” You ask rhetorically, leaning against the wall, still annoyed.

“What is yours?” Comes the witty answer, and you can clearly hear the same sound Muscly made before, resemblant of a laugh, as Caesar steps towards you casually. 

You can’t help but take in his imponent figure, watching as his feet move closer and he takes a seat by your side. “What do you want?” You narrow your eyes, your voice a suspicious whisper.

Caesar smirks, his green orbs always piercing as he signs softly, “talk.”

You snort, still eyeing the ape warily. “You didn’t seem like much of a talker earlier.”

“Rocket was… worried.” He explains huskily, his tone much gentler than hours prior. “Had to… know you first.”

“You asked me two questions and you think you know me?” You raise your brows, somewhat amused by his pretentiousness. 

A grunt escapes him as he smiles, “Didn’t need… the questions.” Caesar keeps staring at you with a sterner expression, and for a moment it really does feel like he knows you, even though it’s completely impossible. He signs, “you are… alone.”

You don’t respond right away, your gaze falling to your worn out boots. He’s right. “I am.” You nod, pursing your lips in deep thought before you continue, looking back at him. “And so are you.”

There’s pause until Caesar produces a low sound, a quiet agreement to your statement. His big hands move swiftly as he murmurs, “it wasn’t… my choice, but… it was yours.”

You tilt your head, processing this assumption. “Did that drug they gave you make you omniscient or something?” 

He notes, with a deep chuckle, “you… escape the conversation.” 

“And you think too highly of yourself. I blame the apes.” You shoot back with a half grin, although still unamused at his assertiveness. “I’m a survivor. Not everyone makes it.” You finish gruffly, glancing away. After another moment of silence, Caesar finds your eyes once more and you want to gasp just like the first time. You only gulp, however, his undivided attention unsettling your very core. He seems to notice your uneasiness and holds out his hand in an inviting gesture. You furrow your brows in confusion. “What?”

“Stay”, he mumbles, reaching for your palm when he anticipates you won’t do it yourself. His calloused skin grips yours firmly. “You don’t need… to be alone.”

You try to move away from his hold, but it’s to no avail. “I…”

“Together… we’re stronger. Apes and humans.” He adds tenderly, squeezing your hand for emphasis. “Stay.”

You almost want to roll your eyes at his insistence, yet something inside you is strangely warm because of his reassuring touch. You give his palm a squeeze back, even if brief, and a small smile appears on his face. You return with a grin of your own.

And just like that, you were not alone anymore.