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wandasgf · 8 months

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STREAM IN PROGRESS. mdni. 18+.

pairings: streamer ! wanda maximoff + f ! reader

summary: surely working your girlfriend up while she's on stream won't be too bad, will it?

warnings: dom!top!wanda, sub!bottom!reader, reader has long hair for the plot, hair pulling, mommy kink, this is pretty soft tbh, slight dacryphilia, exhibitionism

wc: 1.7k~

"You guys want my girlfriend on stream?" Wanda laughs as she reads comments, the sound soft and melodic. "Are you getting tired of me already?" Her tone is teasing, and it's part of the reason she's gained such a following. Her change in demeanor over the years has allowed her to gain a bit of a loyal following, going from stoic and cursing under her breath while playing games such as Valorant and Apex Legends to joking around and being more carefree while playing, sometimes those same games, but also some not so competitive titles like Resident Evil and Outlast.

(Occasionally Fall Guys, but she thinks that might ruin her image).

She turns her head to look at you, raising a perfectly manicured hand and motioning for you to come closer. "Well, let's give the audience what they want. Though, we don't have another chair, so you're going to have to settle for my lap. What a pity." She tilts her head slightly and a small smirk graces her lips.

Another thing that's helped her gain popularity is just how bold she's willing to be. Well, that and her audience seems to love her girlfriend and how cute the two of you are together.

"We really should get another one, considering how often I have to 'settle for your lap',” you hum, settling down sideways in your girlfriend's lap, legs thrown across her thighs and arm around her shoulder so as to not completely block her from the camera.

"Well, let's not be too hasty,” Wanda murmurs as she leans up to capture your lips in a soft kiss, smiling against them. You're interrupted by the sound of Wanda’s character dying and she pulls away with a groan, "look what you did, you little brat," she teases, "distracting me like that..." She clicks her tongue in faux annoyance, “you guys ask for her to come on stream and the first thing that happens is me dying. Do you all like to see me suffer?”

The stream continues on like this, with Wanda’s teasing and banter between her and the audience as well as between you and her, until Wanda is bidding goodbye to the audience and turning off her camera in favor of focusing on you. Unbeknownst to the audience, you had been teasing your girlfriend almost since the moment you appeared on camera, the webcam doesn’t show anything below your girlfriend’s chest, so what’s the harm in having a little fun? Sure, you’d probably get punished for it later, but that was something you could worry about when the time came.

It had taken every ounce of patience and self control that Wanda had not to just end the stream early when your fingers somehow found their way under her shirt, nails raking across her skin, and then beneath the waistband of her sweats, playing with the band of her panties and slipping even lower, lower, until she grabbed your wrist and dug her nails into your soft skin. A warning to behave yourself, and so you did, for a few minutes anyway, and then you were back to the teasing touches. It wasn’t your fault she wouldn’t scold you on camera, and if you got her worked up enough maybe she’d skip the punishment altogether.

And you were right, because right now all she could really focus on was your weight in her lap and the fire that your fingertips left behind, the teasing touches getting bolder now that the camera was off. And then she feels your hand slip beneath the waistband of her sweats and she sees that look in your eyes, the one that tells her you think you’ve gotten away with something you wouldn’t usually. Your eyes are almost shining, it's actually quite cute, she thinks. Perhaps she should punish you right now, she’d given you a clear warning to behave yourself, it’s not her fault you just can’t listen to her.

Wanda catches your wrist once more, “Do you never learn?” Her tone is calm as she takes your arm and twists it behind your back, using it as a means to turn you around and push you over, barely giving you enough time to react and catch yourself against her desk with your free arm.

Luckily you do, bracing yourself against the hard surface with your forearm, a bloody nose for that reason would be quite embarrassing. “Do you take pleasure in disobeying me like that? In disobeying Mommy, hm?” You bite your lip as she stands from her chair, watching her movements through her reflection in the now blank computer monitor as you shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? So if I checked right now you wouldn’t be making a mess of yourself? Of course not, you’d never lie to me,” she answers her own question and laughs as if she’s waving the idea off, of course you wouldn’t, and then her fingers are tangled in your hair, harshly tugging you upward and leaning down just the slightest bit, “Would you, baby?”

You let out a whine in response, her other hand is still holding your arm behind your back, keeping you pressed down and making your back arch. The strain on your hair wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t unwelcome either. “Stop it, that hurts,” you huff, avoiding the question, but it just makes Wanda tug harder, clicking her tongue, “that’s not what I asked you.”

Wanda revels in the whimper you give her in response, looking down at you in the reflection of the monitor like you were prey she was waiting to swallow whole. She wishes she had the resolve to properly punish you, to keep you tied up and unable to touch her as she busied herself with household chores, perhaps even running out to get groceries while she has you begging for her not to leave you alone. She almost frowns at that last part, when did she become so terrible that she’d do anything to see your pretty eyes filled with tears?

Instead she takes pity on you, the way your eyes are beginning to gloss over, tears stinging at the edges and threatening to fall from the harsh grip she kept on your hair has her starting to feel dizzy. She just can’t help it, you looked so pretty like this. She lets go of her grip on your arm and you immediately move it to aid your other arm in bracing yourself against the desk, easing the strain on your hair just the slightest bit. She slips a hand beneath your panties and palms your ass.

One of her favorite things was that you never felt obligated to wear pants when it was just the two of you alone, simply opting for a long sweater or shirt with your panties.

Her hand wanders down, pinching the fat of your thigh and laughing when it results in a yelp. “Wanda, just touch me already!” You whine, trying to push back against her. “Patience.” she hums, letting go of your hair and you let your head drop, hair falling down and framing your face. Though she does drag her fingertips over your clothed cunt, cooing when she feels the wet spot on your panties. “Is this why you’re being a brat, hm? Need Mommy to ease the ache between your thighs?” Her tone is teasing, but her fingers rub soft circles against your clit, just enough pressure to pull a soft moan from between your lips.

“So sensitive…” Wanda muses to herself, using her free hand to pull your panties to the side. She'll skip the teasing for now, wants to work you up first, have you drooling all over her fingers before she pulls everything away. She runs her fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and dipping a finger inside of your drooling hole. “Please.” your tone is pleading, wanting nothing more than for her to sink her lithe fingers into your cunt.

It feels like Wanda had been teasing you for hours even though she had only just started touching you, and wasn’t teasing at all. Perhaps thinking about your girlfriend fucking you throughout the entire stream was not your brightest idea, your attempt to tease her had accidentally gotten you all worked up.

You push back against her, trying to get her to sink her finger deeper. “So impatient.” she chuckles, pulling her finger out altogether, resulting in a whine of protest from you, before suddenly sinking her middle and index fingers into your tight heat.

You gasp in response, biting down on your bottom lip to stifle your moans, hands curling into fists as you support yourself on your forearms, having nothing to grab onto. “You really are sensitive, did all that teasing today get you worked up, baby? Did that silly little brain of yours start thinking a little too hard?” If you were in any other position you’re sure you’d bite back with a snarky comment, but you just can’t, not with the way Wanda’s fingers are thrusting into you, curling to hit just the right spot and make you see stars.

Wanda almost rolls her eyes, bringing her free hand up to fist your hair once more, gripping it at the end and looping it around her wrist, tugging harshly near your scalp and bringing you flush against her front, ”I believe I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

You whimper in response, the strain on your hair making tears prick at your eyes, threatening to fall. When your girlfriend prompts your response once more with a slight tug, the tears spill over no matter how hard you try to stop them. “T–Technically, you asked two,” you bite back weakly.

“Brat.” Wanda rolls her eyes, pushing you down and letting her tight grip on your hair fall looser. She feels you clench around her fingers at the harsh treatment and she grins, predator-like, before pulling her fingers out and swiftly landing a slap to your sensitive clit. “Mommy!” you choke on a moan, jolting forward, torn between begging her to hit you again or for her fingers. Your fingernails dig into your palms as your fists tighten around nothing.

“Do you think you can be a good girl for me?” Wanda asks, starting to grope you and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your cheek before using the hand in your hair to properly gather it into her fist, holding it in a makeshift ponytail and finally relieving the strain you were feeling. “Because if you’re not,” she tugs harshly once more, causing you to whimper, “I have no problem giving you a proper punishment.”

#alice's fics !#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff smut #scarlet witch smut #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader

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cranberryjuice-posts · 2 months

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GIRLIE I LOVED YOUR ATHENA DAUGHTER READER ‼️

also guess who’s back can i ask for a athena!daugter reader where it’s kinda like Annabeth trying to tell the reader that “hey clarisse is bad she tried to fucking kill percy she’s evil” and the reader us kinda tries to convince her that Clarisse really isn’t that bad😔

(i love your work girl and your end memes please do more 🔥‼️)

She’s the only one I got

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x daughter of Athena reader

An- fun-fact clarisse loves Dr Pepper It’s cannon Go read the sea of monsters. She’s literally perfect I can’t

An pt 2 - I Hope this is ok i wasn’t really sure what to write but it’s ok bc I’m just a girl

Pt 1 — Pt 2

Palestine aid link

“Are you serious?!” Annabeth yelled, a few of your other siblings backing her up.

You however were standing infront of the full length mirror inside your cabin fixing your outfit which was a pair of bellebottoms and a camp sweater. “Look Annie i get your our counselor and your the smartest out of us all but your not the smartest when it comes to relationships”

“And now she’s starting to sound like an Aphrodite kid” Malcom your brother rolled his eyes before returning to his book. You shot him a hateful look. “All right fine Your right I don’t get relationships like you but I do know clarisse”

“Really?” You sarcastically spoke just wanting the argument to be over. Grabbing some hoops you were deciding between the two different pairs. “Yeah, Clarisse is a hateful arrogant and rude person. She makes fun of our cabin with her siblings and didn’t she use to make fun of you to”

Deciding on the star shape hoop you put the earring in. “Fine! Fine ok I get it but I promise you clarisse is not like that ok she’s sweet, she loves me Annie why don’t you get that” you sighed facing your sister.

The shorter girl crossed her arms, leaning against a desk inside the studious cabin. “Because she’s a bitch”

“Language!”

“I’m 12 why are you giving me shit for cussing you cuss”

“Because I’m 16 you’ve still got two years before you morally can curse now stop.. damn about to make me get Luke” you sighed shaking your head. Facing back to the mirror you analyzed your look.

Annabeth rolled her eyes looking away for some time before facing you once again. “I still don’t trust you being alone with her..”

After finally having enough you turned towards the wiser girl. “Know what fine you can spy on us during our date today, then you’ll see she’s not such a terrible person and you’ll finally get off my ass… deal” you crossed your arms looking down at annabeth.

Your younger sister looked around for a moment feeling somewhat threatened by you before nodding in defeat. “Great” you sighed stepping back, grabbing a small drawstring bag and a book on the stars, you threw on your shoes before leaving.

——

You were sitting in a clearing in the woods, a blanket set out with some strawberries and a pack of Dr Pepper you bought from the Hermes cabin. Annabeth was positioned behind a tree with her cap of invisibility on.

Eventually clarisse showed up. “Five minutes late” you jokingly chastised her.

“Shut up I’m on time” she scoffed sitting down beside you on the blanket. Pulling you into her some she kissed you softly. Her hands finding themselves on your waist

Bringing yourself back you leaned over grabbing a soda, handing it over to the curly haired girl. “Mmhm so how was running around like a fool for the entire morning?”

Clarisse rolled her eyes taking the drink In a harsh joking manner. “First of all its called training and secondly it was actually alot of fun, how was staying up all night to just watch some stupid dots in the sky”

Scrunching your nose at the girl you gave her a sarcastic look. “Yeah you think your so funny huh”

“Yeah I do”

“Mmhm” you knew clarisse was looking at your lips— she wasn’t subtle about it. Tired of her just imagining it you leaned in kissing her again. The playful banter between you two faded away while clarisse deepened the kiss

As much as you wanted to makeout with your girlfriend you weren’t doing it infront of your sister. Pulling back you placed a hand on clarisses arm while darting your eyes to some trees around you with a smile.

The girl furrowed her eyebrows but made a signal to her head almost mimicking a hat. Nodding you knew clarisse understood annabeth was spying on you two.

“Whatever this is stupid” clarisse gave you a teasing look. “What being on a date with your girlfriend? Yeah it’s so stupid” you responded in the same tone.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not. What I meant” shaking her head you watched as clarisse reached over to her spear grabbing a plastic bag.

Handing it over to you you looked inside. “No way clarisse did you”

“Yeah I did. Your not gonna embarrass me about it if I own up to it” she continued to mess with you. Opening the bag you smiled as your girlfriend made you chocolate chip cookies with the nymphs in the kitchen. “Your the sweetest you know” you becoming flustered while you looked at the treats.

She just rolled her eyes with a smile, laying down clarisse moved around to lay her head in your lap. “Woah careful clarisse you might admit you actually like me a boring Athena kid remember”

“Mmhm Same can be said about you what was that about me being a bitchy ares kid?” She bit back. Flicking her forehead lightly just to get back at her.

You smiled while playing with one of the girls curls. You loved clarisse, wanting to proudly say it but worried you’d scare the girl off so for now you’d settle on just this.. cute dates with her, sneaking into her cabin to spend the night with her and just enjoying the silence with her.

After some time you knew annabeth had left after all she had gotten all the proof she needed. Clarisse knew it to.

“I love you” it finally left your lips. You noticed clarisses body tense making you regret the decision immediately. Clarisse however grabbed your hand kissing your knuckles. “I guess I love you to”

“Shut up”

“Why You Said you loved me”

——

Annabeth - Fine she’s not a bitch

Y/n - ANNABETH!

—

Clarisse - *having a Stare off with annabeth*

Clarisse - do we have a Problem

Y/n - dude..

#lesbian #wlw #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x female reader #butch clarisse #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse larue #percy jackson show #pjo show #pjo fandom

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tetsuskei · 2 months

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‘too-too’ - kuroo tetsurō [fluff]

notes: repost. also inspired by work (yay capitalism) and self indulgent. wrote this for a piece of mind, if you will.

warnings: toxic work habits, etc, bad title names, not edited completely

word count: 1.4k

“is everything alright?”

your eyes snap up to your coworker, kuroo tetsurō. he leans against your cubicle. tall, muscular figure moving to look down at you with concern.

you blink, fingers pausing their movements over your keys. “what do you mean?”

kuroo is a strange individual. he’s funny, and nerdy, and a little clumsy sometimes (you’ve seen him burn his hand one too many times with hot coffee). but he has a good heart. one probably made of gold. he’s always genuine when it comes to his actions.

“i’ve just been noticing the boss has been piling a lot of work on you as of lately…i didn’t know if maybe you were overwhelmed.” he suggests, shrugging. he stuffs his hands in his pockets and peers over to the stack of files on your desk. “that all need to get done today?”

you sigh, running your hand through your hair, “no, but they will need to by the end of the week. i can handle it all though, with a couple of late nights. i appreciate your concern, kuroo.” you send him a weak smile.

at work you’re known as the one who can handle anything and everything with no complaints. your boss seems to hold you in high regards to it, coworkers are jealous of your ability, and your family has always been proud of how hardworking you are.

the only problem is, people take advantage of this. they ask for your help on minor things, interrupt you when you’re clearly busy, or assume you’ll have the time and tell your boss you’ll take care of it (without your notice).

kuroo is one of the only people who doesn’t do that. he genuinely comes up to you for conversation and asks about you. he’s taken you out to lunch (usually by force to drag you away from your work), brought you coffee, and always made sure you’re okay.

you don’t want to say his actions have caused a small crush to develop, but you’d be a horrible, horrible liar. after spending so much time with him, you begin to see just how handsome his features are. how sharp and angular his jawline and cheekbones are, how he laughs and has dimples appear, how his hazel eyes sparkle with mischief whenever he tells a (horrible) joke—

suddenly fingers are snapping in front of you and you’re brought back to the present.

“you sure you’re good?” kuroo looks down at you with concern and you feel your heart swell a bit. “you’re spacing out.”

“peachy!” you respond, and feel your cheeks get warm. you hope he doesn’t notice. “I couldn’t be any better!”

his perceptive eyes pensively train on you. “well, I’ll be on my way then. don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“sure.” you nod, smiling.

and just as stubborn as you are, kuroo is more stubborn.

for the next few days, the man is always lingering around when you’re working late.

“what a coincidence, i’m here late, too! need a buddy?” and he’s already invading his way into your space before you can say ‘no’.

you feel as if there’s something he isn’t telling you, but you don’t ask.

the two of you share ordered dinner, chatting and bantering. time goes a lot faster with him, and you think it’s because he’s made you more productive (despite his antics), but you also know it’s because it’s him.

“you know it’s okay to ask for help, right?” kuroo points out again one day. “you don’t have to take on everything by yourself.”

“well, what do you know?” you say spitefully.

he senses your offense, and he knows quickly explains, “i-i’m not saying you can’t handle things, but you shouldn’t work yourself to death. i mean, you’re amazing at what you do, and—“

“look, i’ve been in your shoes before, and i know the feeling all too well. i just know it doesn’t feel great.” he finishes.

“thank you, kuroo.” you smile, “and I’m sorry for snapping at you…maybe i’m just tired and need a break.”

he perks up at this, “then why don’t we go do something?”

you shake your head, “i can’t…i have to finish this.”

“don’t worry. it’s already done.” he assures.

your mouth falls open, “how…?”

he laughs nervously, “well, don’t hate me when I say this…”

you narrow your eyes teasingly. “can’t promise that. but how bad can it be?”

“i rallied up those coworkers you talked to and told them you weren’t available to help them because we’re going on a date.” he confesses, scratching the back of his head. “may have also threatened them to not take advantage of you again…”

you sputter, choking on your food, “a date? like…a romantic date?”

“if that’s what they assume, then yes. which by the way, did you know people think we’re dating?”

there’s another strike to your heart, “they do?! but…how? why?”

he hides his face in his hand, cheeks a light pink, “dunno, maybe it’s because i spend most of my time with you…”

you’re shocked at his words, feeling like you need someone to pinch you. “really?”

“really.” he nods, leaning in towards you. “i thought it was obvious but I guess not…” he laughs.

you shake your head. “i didn’t want to assume anything, so i just thought you were being nice.”

“i mean, yes and no. i always like helping people, but i’d really use any excuse to talk to you.” he admits with a goofy grin. “but i’m sorry if i’ve made you uncomfortable in anyway.”

“no…i just didn’t think you’d feel that way about me, too.”

“‘too’?” he parrots.

you’re quiet for a moment and then say, “well maybe i have feelings for you and wasn’t going to confess unless i knew you liked me back. you do, right?”

“yes! i like you too—too!” he exclaims, probably louder than he means to. “i mean—“

you giggle, “i like you too-too, tetsu.”

he relaxes, like a weight has come off his shoulders. “well, as your date, i say we leave here. one more file to look at and i’ll cut my own head off.” he says.

“agreed.” you nod, standing up alongside him.

you both pack your things up and soon make your way outside. you’re brutally reminded of the cold autumn air as you feel it hit you in the faces.

a shiver comes over you, and you shrink within your own coat, trying to retain any and all warmth.

“here,” kuroo quickly wraps his scarf around you and you quickly smell mint and some form of expensive cologne. you bury you face in it and feel more at ease.

“thank you.” you gush.

he hums, “no problem.”

the two of you quickly find yourselves in an arcade. you both play games and you quickly learn how 1. competitive, and 2. horrible kuroo is at games. to soften his sour mood, you do win him prizes on his behalf.

“i haven’t had fun like this in awhile!” you beam. the two of you leave the arcade, kuroo offering to walk you home.

“i can tell, you haven’t stopped smiling since we left.” he says, chuckling.

“thanks to you, i guess.” you joke.

“you’re welcome, i’ve been losing on purpose just for you.” he admits.

you blink, not convinced. “sure.”

kuroo pouts, “it’s true,” he gestures down to his bag full of toys, “worked out in my favor, too.”

“right, tetsu.” you snicker, smirking.

the ravenette feels his heart swell at your words. “heh. well, more important prize is you, though.” he says cheekily.

“corny, but I’m flattered.” and before he can say another (horrible) pun, you pull him to your height by his work tie before abruptly kissing him on the lips.

this definitely throws the man off as he stumbles a bit, gasping against your mouth in surprised. his lips are soft and a bit chapped, his mouth tasting like candy from the arcade.

when you pull away, you say, “thank you for treating me to an evening like this. i didn’t realize how much i needed it.”

he slips his hand into yours, his large palm enveloping your smaller one in comforting warmth.

“of course. i just think someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to worry about things so much.” he says, a faint blush appearing across his cheeks. “you shouldn’t let them walk all over you. make sure you have boundaries.”

you lean onto his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “you’re absolutely right. but you know what?”

he looks at you, “what?

“the only boundary that was worth crossing, was the one involving you.” you confess.

and in kuroo’s honest opinion, you couldn’t have been more right.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou fluff #kuroo fluff #hq x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #hq fluff

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miguelswifey04 · 9 months

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Can I get Miguel with a really short fem s/o. Like 5ft type of short. Please 🥺🙏

of course!! i’m so happy you’ve asked! i’ve always wanted to come around to write a small drabble of what it would be like as his short s/o since i’m 4’11 (i’m 19…still very short haha) <3

miguel o’hara x short fem! reader (pure fluff)

miguel, being taller than you, often finds himself looking down at you with a fond smile, appreciating your petite stature. he sees your height as an endearing quality, finding comfort in the way you fit perfectly in his embrace. he loves the way he can easily wrap his arms around you, feeling an overwhelming sense of protection and adoration.

your shorter height might also lead to playful teasing from miguel, who might make lighthearted jokes or gentle remarks about your size difference. however, it's always done in a loving and affectionate manner, highlighting the playfulness that exists within your relationship. “you’re so short, and i think that’s something that makes you adorable.”

as a couple, you naturally find ways to embrace and navigate the height difference. whether it's standing on tiptoes for a kiss or playfully joking about your petite stature, the contrast in height becomes a source of affectionate banter and connection.

during intimate moments, miguel might take extra care to adjust his movements and positions, ensuring your comfort and pleasure. he appreciates the unique angles and perspectives your height difference offers, reveling in the closeness and intimacy it brings.

in public, people may notice the contrast in your heights and admire the adorable and harmonious partnership you share. miguel takes pride in walking by your side, showing off the love and deep connection that exists between you, not minding the curious glances or admiring smiles directed your way. miguel is fiercely protective of you, his shorter s/o. in crowded places, he ensures you're safe by positioning himself as a shield, subtly maneuvering through the crowd to make sure you're not bumped or jostled. his arms may naturally wrap around you, making you feel secure as he leans down to murmur, "i got you, short stuff."

miguel affectionately bestows cute nicknames upon you that remind him of your height difference. terms like "little one," "pocket-sized love," or "my petite powerhouse" are often used, emphasizing the endearment he feels for you. you play along with a smile, finding these endearing names a testament to your unique bond.

given the height difference, spontaneous piggyback rides become a common occurrence between you two. whenever you're tired from walking or just feeling playful, you jump onto miguel’s back, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. he willingly carries you, relishing in the closeness and thrill of having you on his back.

when cuddling or snuggling up on the couch, the height difference provides a perfect fit for you to rest your head on miguel’s chest comfortably. as you relax against him, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, marveling at the feeling of your smaller frame fitting so perfectly against him.

———

a/n: so happy that my heart flutters whenever i write soft miguel with his short s/o—pls lmk if you want a masc/male version <3

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #spider person #miguel o’hara x y/n #spidersona #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x short! reader #🌱 lin writes #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

I'm on Fire

Chapter 1: Black No. 1

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader

Part 1

Series Masterlist

🚨18+ Only, older!Eddie, tow truck driver Eddie, biker!Eddie, alcohol consumption, sex with someone other than reader, cheating (not on reader), slightly fuckboy!eddie, adult themes. Y/N is used several times in the first few chapters, and I apologize for that. This was the very first reader insert series ever, and it's insane how much the characters and story have grown. I really appreciate those who have been on this journey with me, and those who continue to want to read it!

Word count: 3.3k

There is an instant spark of chemistry between you and the guy who rescues you from the side of the freeway in his tow truck, courtesy of Munson's Garage. While you've never met him before, your roommate has, and you learn a few things about Eddie Munson while he indulges in one of his late-night extracurricular activities, which is just one facet of the dark secrets in his life.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to have a crush on your tow truck driver.

One second, you’re cruising along the freeway, blasting Linger by The Cranberries, looking forward to the future, and the next---your tire blows and you’re on the side of the road questioning when you will ever catch a break. You were trying to remember how far back the last payphone was as traffic sped by, blowing your hair into your face, when a big, mean looking, black tow truck with Munson’s Garage written on the door slowed down and pulled in front of you.

The guy behind the wheel waited for a few cars to buzz by before he dropped down from the cab, boots hitting the pavement, and made his way over to you. He’s wearing his long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail, black jeans with a wallet chain hanging at his thigh, and a button down blue work shirt that says Eddie on it. He’s muscular in a manual labor way, and you spot a few tattoos at first glance, just as he closes the distance between you.

“Come here often?” He asked, the side of his mouth lifting up as he squinted against the sun.

You hesitated, because you weren’t prepared for jokes, and then you shrug. “Yeah, I live here. It’s cozy, shame it’s so close to the freeway.”

He takes a pair of gloves out of his back pocket and you notice his warm, brown sugar eyes take a quick sweep up and down your body. “In that case, I might have to visit more often.”

You also weren’t ready for the teasing, sexual banter, but you could give as well as you got. “Careful. I bite.”

Of course, you don’t have a spare tire, and so the next option is for him to tow you back to his garage. He tells you to get comfortable in the cab of the truck while he hooks your car on.

Inside, you notice that it’s an older cab, but it’s clean and well taken care off. There’s an Iron Maiden sticker on the glove compartment, and a vanilla tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the CB radio. You scoot over, curious as a kitten, to see what other little pieces of his life you can pick up from the area, when you see photo of a little kid, maybe 2 years old, taped to the top of his dash. The toddler had thick dark hair and big, dark eyes, and you realize he must be a dad—the kid looked just like him. You remembered looking at his strong hands before he put his gloves on, and you didn’t see any rings, but most people in his profession chose not to wear them when they worked, as a safety precaution.

He climbed up into the cab behind the steering wheel and took his gloves off, stuffing them in the console between you, apologizing for how long it took. In your mind, he’d only been out there five minutes, but—time flies when you’re being a snoop.

The radio blared loud the second he turned the engine on (Would? by Alice in Chains) and you jumped in your seat, a yelp escaping your throat.

He cringed and turned the volume down. “My bad,” he laughed a little, giving you a wink when you look over at him, your palm flat on your chest, adrenaline coursing through you.

His shop was almost a half hour away, and the conversation stayed light. He asked you what you did for work, and when you told him that you were on staff at a gallery, but you wished you could be a full time artist—he was one of the few people in your whole life who didn’t make fun of you for it.

“You have no idea how much I relate to that,” he said, almost under his breath, shifting the truck into another gear.

You asked him how long he’d been in the area and he replied, “too long.”

He got quiet for a few minutes, and you shifted your eyes covertly to catch his jaw muscles flexing, like he was deep in thought about something he didn’t want to be thinking about.

You adjusted yourself on the vinyl seat with a creak of the upholstery. “So, did you grow up here?”

He opened his mouth for a beat, and then closed it again, as if he didn’t like the answer he was about to give. “I grew up all over the place. But I went to high school here, and then I left, and then I came back.”

You pulled your bottom lip over your top lip, looking out the window at a sea of fat cows grazing in a big, grassy field.

“I’m sure there are worse places to be,” you said aloud, although you meant for it to be a silent thought.

He scoffed. “You must be new here. Give it time.”

He had his hand high on the wheel, and he looked sideways over his arm at you. You could tell he wanted to ask you more, and you wanted to ask the name of the cute kid in the photo on his dash—but it suddenly felt like it was all getting too personal.

There was sudden static on the CB radio and the voice of an older man came through the speaker. “Munson, what’s your 20?”

Eddie reached over to take the handheld receiver off the hook under the glove compartment, the back of his hand brushing your knee as he did so.

He pushed the button on the side as he held it to his mouth. “On I-90, just passed Little River, on my way back.”

He let go of the button so that the other man could speak.

“Charlene dropped the Jaguar off again. Not a damn thing wrong with it, but she asked for you, specifically.”

Eddie swallowed, his eyes shifting to you, as if he was embarrassed or self-conscious about the conversation.

“...I told her I’d bring it by on my way home after work.”

The other end was silent for a bit and then, the older man gave a heavy sigh. “Son, I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re--”

“Talk to you when I get there, Wayne. I’ve got a customer in the cab with me,” and then Eddie hung up the receiver and switched the radio off with a click.

Back at Munson’s Garage you called your best friend, Katie, who you were supposed to meet for lunch, to talk her down from the ledge she was on, panicking over where you were.

“At first, I wanted to murder you, and then--” As Katie is talking, you see Eddie give you a thumbs up from across the garage to let you know the tire was on and your car was ready, and you mirrored the gesture. “...and then I was like, wait, maybe she’s in a ditch somewhere….and you were!”

Like any self-respecting, horny friend would, she asked if the tow truck driver that picked you up was hot while on the phone with you.

You’re watching Eddie pick up two tires and fling them onto a pile like they weighed nothing, muscles flexing in his forearms and hands; he catches you staring and smiles almost accidentally at you over his shoulder, before turning away. “Not really, I mean, if you like that sort of thing, I guess.”

There was a teenage boy at the front desk who looked like he was in training, and with shaking hands, he tallied you up for the price of the tow and the tire.

“Just the tire,” Eddie came up behind him, wiping his fingers on a rag. “The tow is on the house,” he lifts his eyes to you, and then looks down to make sure the kid got it right.

You thanked him, and as you were leaving, you saw the long, sleek, white Jaguar convertible with leather seats parked at the far end of the garage. You wondered who Charlene was, and why she chose that particular garage over all of the other high end, specialty repair shops in the area.

---------

That night, you were snuggled in front of a Golden Girls episode, dissociating in your bathrobe on the couch with your orange, long haired tabby cat named Charlie, when Katie, who was also your roommate, got home after a meeting at the high school where she taught English and creative writing.

“I didn’t get into an accident,” you assured her, turning the sound down on the TV. “I just blew a tire. I’ll still be able to make it to work tomorrow, unfortunately.”

The next night was a huge artist opening at the gallery, and all of the mucky mucks usually attended to buy high priced art and drink free champagne.

“Hey,” you went to the kitchen to squirt some of your cheap, refrigerated box wine into some glasses and brought one over to Katie. “You’ve lived here longer than I have. Do you know a woman named Charlene who drives a super fancy white, Jaguar convertible?”

“Charlene Gregson? The ex-supermodel, the wife of millionaire CEO John Gregson, the ones who just happen to have a summer home near here on the lake?”

You put your wine glass to your lips. “Sure, I mean, I guess. Does she drive a white Jaguar?”

Katie curled up at the other end of the couch and wrapped a blanket over her. “They have a ten car garage at their mansion, so I’m sure she has one in every color.”

“Wait, how do you know this?” You put your elbow on the top of the couch to rest your hand on your fist, squinting at your roommate.

Katie took a big gulp of her wine. “My sister, the one who runs her own carpet cleaning business, she’s been out there. They have these antique rugs that need to be cleaned a certain way.”

“So, she’s married?” You asked, feeling like you’re asking the same question over and over without actually asking it.

Katie shrugs. “As far as I know they still are. I mean, what happened? Did you run into her or something?”

You didn’t feel like retelling the entire debacle, so you trimmed it down a bunch. “I saw that car at the garage when I got my tire fixed, and someone mentioned that it belonged to her.”

Katie gave you a curious look.

You turned and noticed the way she was staring at you. “What?” You laughed as you asked it, turning your gaze back to the TV.

“So,” Katie said, her eyebrow raised. “Forget about Charlene. Tell me more about this tow truck guy. Is he single? Is he tall? Does he have sexy hands?”

You rolled your head to rest it on the back of the sofa. “Do you know a guy named Eddie?”

Katie ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking.

“He drives a tow truck? Works at Munson’s Garage?”

An invisible light bulb seemed to blink on above Katie’s head. “Eddie...Eddie Munson?”

The way she asked it gave you pause; your eyes shifted, and then you shrugged, “I didn’t ask for his last name, but I guess so.”

Katie tilted her head back, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen him around in a minute. He used to sell weed back in the day. I bought some from him a few times when I first moved here after college. But he left town for a year or two, I didn’t know he was back.”

You squished air around in your mouth, puffing your cheeks out as you listened to her. “Well, he’s back. He put a new tire on my car and he didn’t even break a sweat.”

“I remember him being...really hot, in like, a metalhead way,” Katie sipped her wine again. “Does he still have the long hair?”

You nodded, staring at the TV vacantly, picturing him in your mind as clearly as if he were right in front of you. You asked Katie if Eddie had a kid, and she had no idea. “The last time we smoked at his trailer, he was single with no kids, but that was—oh shit---a good 6 years ago.”

The next revelation made Katie jump as she remembered it: “Oh! He was in a band, too. The name had something to do with rust or decay, I never saw him play though, Dan and the rest of his D&D nerd friends worshiped him.” Dan was Katie’s younger brother by two years, and he asked you on a date a while back, but you turned him down, respectfully, being that you didn’t want it to mess with your friendship with Katie.

“That’s his garage, he runs it with his uncle.” Katie corrected your earlier statement. “There’s a rumor that it’s also a clubhouse for the Coffin Kings motorcycle gang, but who knows. In a town like this, there are a lot of rumors.”

You thought about his visible tattoos, including the cluster of bats near his elbow, some kind of monsterous puppet thing on his inner forearm, and there was something spelled out across his fingers, but you couldn’t read what it said.

There is an interlude in your conversation with nothing but canned laughter from the sitcom on TV, and then Katie changes the subject, recalling a dramatic story having to do with one of her colleagues that happened earlier that day.

-------

Eddie waited until everyone was gone before he closed up the garage, noticing that the new kid forgot to sweep the lobby, so he did it himself, mumbling about how it was hard to find good help these days. He had the Jaguar already loaded on the truck, but he needed to wait until after 8 to drop it off at her place.

Charlene was pulling his shirt up and undoing his belt, her mouth on his throat, as soon as she locked the front door behind him. He grabbed onto her wrists and held her in place, forcing her to back up as he walked forward.

There were several Magnum wrappers on the floor by the time he left her there after their final fuck in the shower. He picked up the evidence of their affair and took the wrappers with him, thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time he was with someone he cared about and trusted enough to not use some kind of protection. That same dark voice in his head told him that he’d never get that close to anyone ever again. “Get used to it, buddy. You’ll be alone forever,” the voice snickered.

------

Mrs. John Waterberry, who lived in the house across from Charlene Gregson, grabbed her 78 yr old husband by the arm just as they were getting ready for bed. She could see the tow truck pull up into Charlene’s driveway from their bedroom window.

“That’s five times in two months, John,” Mrs. Waterberry scampered for the binoculars in the desk drawer, putting them to her eyes and pointing them at the house. “Who on earth needs to have their brand new car towed that often?”

John Waterberry fussed to put his glasses back on and watched the big, black truck lower the delicate, expensive Jaguar to the ground with care. “I don’t give a damn, Louisa, let’s go to bed.”

Behind her, John got into bed and turned the lamp by the bed off, but Mrs. Waterberry hid behind the curtain and watched as the strange tattooed boy with the long hair went over and knocked at the front door. When Charlene answered, she was in her a skimpy bathrobe!

“John!” Mrs. Waterberry called to her husband. “She invited him inside again! I told you! Her husband away on a golfing trip and now this.”

“It’s none of our business, Louisa,” John mumbled, turning over on his side, facing away from her.

Mrs. Waterford ended up falling asleep, but her eyes snapped open when she heard the low grumble of the tow truck starting up again. She looked at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand: it was almost 1:00 in the morning.

------

Eddie popped a cigarette into his mouth and rolled the window down, turning his music up in the cab of the tow truck as soon as he was out of the gated lake community. (Black No. 1 – Type O Negative)

"I went looking for trouble, and boy, I found her,

she's in love with herself

she likes the dark

and on her milk white neck

the Devil's mark..."

He should’ve been feeling good, but the frown on his face was giving him a headache, his body telling his mind there was something wrong. He happened to catch a flicker out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a shiny sliver of something on the floorboard of his truck. He made sure there were no cars around and bent down to stretch his hand out and swoop it up. It was an earring; a little silver hoop, and he realized, with sigh, that it must’ve belonged to the woman he had in his truck earlier that day. The one who worked at an art gallery and didn’t have a spare tire in her car. The one with cute, quirky mannerisms and the beautiful eyes.

He sped up and shifted into the next gear, cigarette between his lips, and slipped the earring into his front pocket.

Finally back at the garage, Eddie parked the truck and opened the side door to get his bike. After a wide straddle and a few kicks of his foot, the Harley started up with a growl, loud pipes spitting, his hand with the metal rings twisting on the high handlebar. He had a gig with his band the next evening, but not until after he escorted Charlene to her function and pretended to be her body guard. The whole town had to know they were fucking; he had a hard time believing they were all so morbidly clueless.

While he shot down the highway on his chopper with the wind in his face, he reached over to feel for the outline of your earring in his pocket, and realized with a tiny flutter in his gut, that he had a valid excuse to look you up and see you again.

Part 2

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson series #fem reader

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roolette · 5 months

Note

loved your smoke nsfw alphabet and hoped that you could do the same with Johnny? thanks 😁

You KNOW I can do that

Johnny Cage NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Gonna be real, it takes him some time to get into the habit of doing aftercare. He's used to quick hookups, emotionless sex, etc, and he isn't sure how to go about aftercare. Still, he tries. First, he'll offer you a towel. Then, he'll actually be the one to clean you up. Eventually, aftercare becomes normal for him, and he gets really excited about being able to hold you and kiss you after sex. He likes to lie against your chest and kiss your neck

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

All of it. For both you and him. For him, I mean, isn't that obvious? He's THE Johnny Cage, he's sexy as fuck. Specifically, he really likes his hands. For you, he thinks that you're just hot, and he likes the whole package. He really likes your neck, though. Easily kissable and looks great when marked up.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

If you let him cum on your face, he's yours forever. Literally loves the way you look with his cum dripping down your cheeks. Will wipe it off your face and have you open your mouth so he can stick his finger in. He thinks it's the hottest thing.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's a total exhibitionist, and really likes the idea of people seeing the videos you two have made together. Obviously, he'd never do anything without your consent, but if you were ever down, he'd make sure the world knew just how good he fucks you. You'd probably be trending on Twitter.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced in sex, not as experienced in something as intimate and loving as you two. He'll have to remind himself that it's okay to go slow, that you aren't going anywhere, and he can take his time with you.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He likes when you ride him. He gets a front row seat to you loosing yourself on his dick, and it's the perfect view. He'll hold your hips, thighs, and ass while you ride him, making sure you don't slow down. He'll tease you, too, and it quickly turns into banter.

"C'mon, don't tell me you're getting tired already, hun."

"You can't be the one calling me lazy right now."

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He makes so many jokes. Quips, quotes, everything in between. "Wow babe, you're so tight, that's so cool." There's just a lot of laughter and love here. You two have interrupted sex because you ended up getting into some weird debate or joke.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Man is HAIRLESS. Waxed. Such is the life of a star. He doesn't care about whether or not you shave, though. Hair is natural, after all.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

As much as he's goofy, as much as he dirty talks, there is obvious love and care in every move he makes with you. He wants you to have a good time, and he'll check in to make sure you are.

"Are you good? Like, you're sure? I can move?"

"I've been good for the past five minutes, Johnny. You can fuck me."

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He doesn't WANT to jerk off, he has the hottest partner in the world, so there shouldn't be any need for that. However, his work has him traveling a lot, which means sometimes he has to do what he has to do. Luckily, with the videos he has of you, there's plenty of jerk off fodder. He also likes phone sex if you're down, and he'll send plenty of pictures that manage to have both his face and dick in the picture- gotta include the whole package.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I've done a whole post on this here, but I'll add on to it! He likes using toys on you. If you're afab, he'll hold a vibrator to your clit while he fucks you. He also really likes lingerie, no matter what gender you are. He thinks it looks so good on you, and he'll pull the fabric to the side and fuck you.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In your big bed, obviously. Also against the kitchen counter. Besides the obvious, he likes to fuck you at parties, in some side room or in the corner, not exactly in front of everyone, but dangerously close to being caught. He'll hold his hand over your mouth, whispering in your ear.

"Shh, shh... c'mon, you want everyone finding us out?"

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Everything. Breathe and he's hard. He likes when you dress up, and any pretty outfit is in danger of getting ripped off later. Also, if he's sitting down somewhere, randomly straddling his lap will absolutely do it for him.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like HEAVY bdsm. He likes spanking you, but beyond that, he usually just feels weird and guilty if he hurts you any more beyond that. He's the furthest thing for a sadist. He won't get turned on if you cry during sex, he's going to check in and make sure you're okay.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred receiving in the beginning, and still loves it. He likes seeing you look up at him with wide eyes while you suck his dick, holding your hair and guiding you along. Once he got a taste of you, though, that all changed. He could give you head for hours, loves to hear the noises you make. Don't make him choose, he loves both.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Likes going fast and rough, quickly making you cum before doing it again. He's an energetic guy, and going fast works for him. There are, of course, times when he'll go slow, drawing things out and making you squirm.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

LOVES THEM. Thinks they're exhilarating. He says they blow off steam, but he usually just ends up more riled up after.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He's game for the most part, except for anything that will hurt you too bad. Besides that, he wants to try different stuff with you, and he's pretty openminded.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

I don't think this man gets tired, ever. He can last multiple rounds, and he wants to make you cum as many times as he can. Likes to hear you whining and begging for release one more time.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

As I've said, likes using toys. If you're down to peg him, he is SO down for you to peg him. He gets pretty bratty and whiney when you top him, taunting you. Luckily, you're quick to put him in his place.

"Is that all you can do? I'm barely feeling it here."

"Shut up, Johnny. I'll give you something to feel."

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He's the literal worst. The type to finger you under the table with people there. He'll whisper in your ear, promising all the things he's going to do to you. And don't worry, he keeps every promise.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not only does he whine and moan, he TALKS. He will babble on and on about how good you feel, how well you take him, how hot you are. It's flattering, of course, but I don't think he could shut up if he tried. You wonder how he manages to cum when he's so busy talking.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Thinks it's hot when you wear is clothes. No one can wear them better than him, of course, but he loves the way it's just a little too big on you. He'll fuck you in one of his shirts.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Longer than thick, and he knows how to use it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Again, breathe and he's hard. He's pretty much always willing, but understands if you're not. He'll always respect your boundaries. Sex is only fun if both people are into it, after all.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He likes to stay up talking with you, but since you guys usually do more than one round, it's easy for him to get tired. Likes falling asleep with you against his chest. He feels safe with you.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat imagine #mk imagine #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mortal kombat smut

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starry-eyes-love · 7 months

Text

Chapter 2: Blood & Pain

Masterlist

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader (18+, Minors DNI)

Summary | Joel, Ellie and you are traveling in the wilderness together heading towards Jackson. During your travels both Joel and you get into a heated argument where you storm off into the wilderness alone. When darkness descends Joel goes searching for you, eventually he finds you and breaks down in front of you. You find yourself growing a lot as a person through the hard trials of Life through Blood and Pain, a few surprises pop up along the way (one of which Joel suspects), and ultimately you find compassion and comfort in the decisions that you starting to make with this big broody older man. The chapter ends with a few unresolved issues, as the story will continue in future chapters.

Warnings | Angst, language, names used (honey, baby), age gap, verbal teasing, pregnancy (implied), miscarriage (implied), yelling, arguments, reference to abuse (slight if you squint), reference to sex in the past, reference to mental and physical exhaustion. I think that’s it

Word Count: 5.1 K

Author’s Note: This was a little harder to write as I’m trying to set up the characters into the line for how the story is going to go. I know this didn’t have as much action in it, mostly frustration between the characters but I wanted to show you the problems that these two have. Both of them love the other but just can’t seem to get passed the whole communication problem. Ellie, sweet tell-it-to-you-no-filter Ellie, will be helping these two more in the future getting their feelings out. Now that they found a cabin they are going to be staying for a while. More parts are coming out in the future as we take these 3 amazing characters through a story of learning to live together (and eventually they’ll find Tommy too). Stay tuned for more :)

It had been about three weeks since you and Joel had sex on the ground in a sleeping bag for the first time. Since then, Joel has been a bit grumpy, moody, and constantly correcting you with things. He no longer treated you like you were less than human, or that you were a plague that walked this Earth. However, he was just a bit more moody than usual. He still didn’t want to talk about what had happened between the two of you, that much was for certain. You learned within the first week that you were never going to talk about what happened with him, or at least not right away because as he put it “we ain’t gonna fucking talk about it, so fucking leave it” was always his response no matter what you tried to say. So you left it alone as you didn’t want to bring out the worst in him again.

Each day the three of you would trek closer to Jackson in an attempt to find Tommy, Joel's brother. Ellie had finally eased up a bit on Joel about catching the two of you in a sleeping bag humping, if only she knew what happened after that you thought, but you could never say it out loud. You noticed that the banter between Ellie and Joel was easier, more joking and fun, and you could see how much Joel cared for her as a daughter. You also noticed how much Ellie started to look at Joel like a father figure.

One night when the three of you were collecting firewood, Joel was moving slow as his back was sore and he was tired. Ellie decided to really lay it on thick with the jokes and said with a smirk on her face "So pops, how does one your age still keep up and stay alive. I mean you’re old?” As he stood there glaring at her he eventually let out a huff and shook his head and said "look here little girl, one day you're gonna be my age and then you'll see."

"And how old is that Joel, huh?" Ellie teased while helping Joel with the firewood. When he didn't answer her right away you decided to chime in and say "he's 52" while setting your logs down next to Joels. Ellie looked at you shocked that you knew his age and Joel just scowled at you. “52? Like that’s like ancient. Joel you’re older than dinosaurs, right?” Ellie quipped with a cocky smirk on her face. Joel just stared at Ellie and started grinding his teeth slowly, you knew his age was a sensitive subject for him, though you never really knew why. Feeling a bit frisky at wanting to be included in the conversation for once, you chimed in “Ellie you’re technically not wrong. Some dinosaurs lived to be over 50 and some were long dead before 50. So yes, he’s definitely in the dinosaur category.”

As soon as you finished your statement you heard silence. You looked over at Ellie and she had her mouth wide open just staring at you. She occasionally glanced over to Joel who was also just glaring at you from your statement. Finally after a moment, Ellie burst out laughing and eventually both you and Joel burst out laughing too. Pretty soon all three of you were crying because you were laughing so hard. It was the first real laugh that you three had like this in a long time, and damn it felt good, especially when Joel was laughing with you. After a moment, Joel was the first person to speak wiping his eyes while saying “look here smartass, I’m not 52, I’m 53. My birthday was a few weeks ago.” You were going to ask Joel when, but Ellie beat you to it by saying “53, the dinosaur turned 53 and didn’t tell us, what the hell Joel?”

“Didn’t want to make a fuss, it’s just another day and another year older” Joel said. Ellie then started arguing with Joel about not telling you guys about his birthday and the importance of birthdays when you heard him yell at her “my birthday ain’t something special kid, ok. It just means that I’m a year older in this god for saken world. But if ya wanna know, it was the night it was bitterly cold. So happy fucking birthday to me” and then he stormed off.

You stood there frozen as your mind raced from remembering that night of his birthday, the night you and Joel ended up having sex for the first time. “I don’t hate you, never have…If ya still want to leave, I’ll let you… Fuck baby, you’re so god damn tight. God, I need this…I’m not stopping baby, I don’t fucking care who sees or hears us…we aren’t going to talk about it anymore, clear.”

As your mind finished racing from that night you felt tears streaming down your cheeks silently. That night was Joel’s birthday, the night you wanted to leave because of Joel being an ass. You didn’t know why but you felt emotional about this fact. “God, I need this” statement he made that night kept playing over and over in your head. You thought he just needed sex that night, but what he needed was someone to show him that they wanted him on his birthday, show him that someone cared. “God you’re so stupid” you heard you tell yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

“Yes you are” you heard Ellie say. As you looked up you saw her staring at you. She looked around for a moment before approaching you and saying “do you really think I didn’t know that you and Joel were having sex that night?” You tried to say “we weren’t” when she cut you off.

“Don’t. I may be younger than you, but I’m not fucking stupid. I was hoping you two would finally give in to whatever the fuck has been going on between you two, but apparently Joel is more emotionally constipated than I thought.” Ellie said in a low voice shaking her head. You heard yourself give a little snort at her claiming that Joel was emotionally constipated because well, she was right. “It doesn’t matter Ellie” you heard yourself saying “he doesn’t, we don’t-”

“Oh shut up,” Ellie said louder while rolling her eyes and pointing in the direction that Joel went. “You are just as emotionally constipated as he is. God, go talk to him and tell him.”

“Ellie” you said interrupting her. “He doesn’t want to talk about what happened he’s made it-”

“I know he doesn’t want to talk about it, but damn it, it was his birthday and he obviously needed you that night so fuck…I don’t know, go and like say something to him or something” Ellie yelled at you frustrated. When you didn’t respond Ellie threw her hands up in the air and said out loud to herself storming away “apparently I got two emotionally constipated old idiots I have to travel with that act more like freaking children than me. Fuck.”

As you stood there watching her walk away you heard a familiar voice behind you say “what’s her problem?” Without turning around and facing Joel you said “she’s mad at us and called us both emotionally constipated old idiots.” You heard him snort behind you while saying “why would she call us that?” You turned around slowly and noticed that Joel was towering above you looking down and you both stood there within close proximity staring into each other’s eyes and you thought to yourself what in the hell is Joel Miller thinking.

As Joel stood there looking down at you he noticed that your eyes were bloodshot and your cheeks were rosey. He knew the only time that happened was when you were crying, but he didn’t know why. He reached out and slowly rubbed soothing strokes down your cheek saying “why does she think we’re emotionally constipated idiots?” He had a suspicion of why Ellie would say that, but he wanted you to say it first. He knew that Ellie had seen the two of you that night when you had sex. When you both were finished that night and he stood up to fix his belt back on his pants he happened to glance over to were Ellie was sleeping and saw that she was wide awake and staring at you two. At first he was upset as he just realized that he had sex in front of a teenager, and the thought made him sick to his stomach as he knew better than that. Ellie had tried to approach him several times afterwards and each time he’d say ‘Ellie, it’s not your concern ok, mind your own damn business.’ She’d already called him emotionally constipated more than once regarding the topic, but he wanted to hear you say the reason just in case she hadn’t told you yet that she saw the two of you.

After a few moments of staring up into Joel’s eyes you decided that he wasn’t going to move until you gave him an answer, and this was one answer you didn’t want to give him. You tried to think of a convincing lie to say that didn’t involve admitting to him what Ellie said. But you also knew that whatever it was that you were going to tell him he would go and talk to Ellie about it later, especially since he found you crying yet again. So you decided that the truth would be better in this situation. So you looked down, took a deep breath and said, “she saw us that night. The night we- um- the night of your birthday.” When he didn’t respond right away you took another big breath and added “she saw us having sex Joel, and she told me we both were emotionally constipated, and that we both needed to talk about it.”

You honestly waited for the explosion, for the yelling or screaming to start from him, but it never came and you didn’t understand why. Everytime you had even attempted to bring up this topic he’d always shut you down and yell at you stating that you two were never going to talk about it. So his silence bothered you as this wasn’t Joel. You dared to look up into his eyes at this point wondering if he was seething with anger or just shocked at what you had told him. When you glanced up in his eyes you didn’t see any anger or hatred or impending violent reaction, what you saw was compassion and softness. Joel continued to stroke his finger over your cheek and said “I know. I know Ellie saw, I knew it when I was fixing my belt, I looked over and saw she was awake.”

Now it was your turn to freeze and become absolutely frigid, she saw and Joel knew. Why didn’t he say something you thought to yourself. As if he could read your mind he said “I didn’t say anything cause I didn’t want to upset ya. Baby, I don’t want you thinking bad about what we did that night. I don’t want you regretting it.”

Before you could stop yourself, you snapped at him and said “I don’t regret it, but obviously you do. You won’t even look at me, hold me, kiss me, or fuck- even talk to me about it. Hell, you’ve hardly spoken two words to me at all since that night. I don’t regret it, but obviously you do.” When you looked up at him you felt him go rigid and then you saw the anger come back into his eyes as he looked at you not moving and not saying anything. You stood there thinking Ellie was right, he is emotionally constipated and I’m tired of it. So you did the one thing that you know not to do, you decided to poke the bear named Joel by further saying “I get it Joel, I was a pity fuck. I get it. You’ve made it perfectly clear to me that you regret everything and that you hate me."

When Joel didn't respond you turned to walk away. You knew he was seething with anger, you could tell it by the way he was grinding his teeth, a nervous tick he did when he was angry, upset, or in deep thought. When you shook your head and turned to walk away you didn't see him reach out to you. He grabbed you hard by the shoulders and spun you around and said in a stern voice "when the fuck you gonna get it through that thick head of yours that I don't fucking hate you, huh? And for the record, you ain't a pity fuck."

"Then when are we going to talk about it, huh?" you said with a little bite to your voice, as your anger was also slowly rising at his outburst at you.

"There's nothing to fucking talk about" he replied.

Once again you stood there looking at the man you cared for glaring back at you with anger and you were exhausted and frustrated. Joel never wanted to talk about feelings or emotions. He never wanted to acknowledge his love for Ellie as a father or what his feelings were for you, if he had any. You understood the whole dating role was not really present much in a world where survival was the focus. But you wanted to know what he viewed you as, if you meant something more to him than just a tag along person in the wilderness. You knew Joel wasn't going to define what your relationship was, but you wanted to know if kissing and sex would ever come about again. So with a sigh you asked him the question you've been avoiding. "Joel, are you ever gonna kiss me again or are we ever gonna have sex again?"

When he didn't answer you at first, you knew what his answer was, so you looked down and whispered "please Joel, I need you to say it out loud so I know." You stood there in silence for a long time, trying to will your tears not to sting your eyes as you waited for an answer. You honestly didn’t think he was going to give you one, but when he never left after a bit you decided to look up into his face. When you looked up, you saw that he was looking down at you with a pained look on his face. “Please Joel, I-I just need to know what you think of me. If I was just- if you just wanted-” you couldn’t finish the sentence. You couldn’t say I want to know if I was just a birthday fuck and nothing else. You felt him stare at you as you attempted to say the words and when you couldn’t, you just looked down at your feet again and struggled with the tears that once again were about to fall.

After a moment, you heard Joel exhale and felt him tenderly grab your chin to tip your chin up to look at him once again. Then he very gently said "baby, nothing good ever comes from kissin' in this world. I'm-"

You didn't let Joel finish before you backed away and said "You're right. How silly of me to think a man actually cared about me. You’re no different than Dave, then man who said he loved me but attempted to kill me a few years before you. Silly me to think that I was ever good enough for anyone. I wasn't ever good enough at home before all of this shit happened in the world, wasn’t good enough for Dave, and now not good enough for you. Jesus, can I be any more stupid?” you said with a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh, and for the record Joel, this is the clear definition of what a pity fuck is. So happy fucking birthday right? I'm sorry I wasn't the present you clearly fucking wanted." And at the end of that sentence you felt the sob escape your mouth as you turned around and walked away. You stormed past Ellie and kept walking in the woods, you were so upset that you never thought to grab your gun or your pack. You needed to clear your head and think, and you couldn't do it with them nearby. So when you heard Ellie yell back asking where you were going, you didn't answer, you just kept walking. With each step you took you felt your heart shattered for the man you loved. You had your chance again to tell him, maybe you should have but if he didn't feel anything for you, why would you voice your silly little feelings to him.

Darkness had descended and somewhere in your storming off in anger you got turned around and lost. Usually it didn't matter in the winter as you could always follow your footprints back, but sometime in the last hour your footprints had disappeared because of the wind. You couldn't walk back in a straight line because you knew you had not followed one. So you kept wandering and eventually you sat down next to a tree and closed your eyes to let the cold sting your face and dry the tears that were streaming down your face from anger and sadness combined.

Several hours had passed and Joel was very anxious of why you hadn’t returned. Ellie and him had gotten into a hell of an argument of what had happened. Joel at first attempted to brush it off saying that it wasn’t something of concern, but when Ellie called out his bullshit and stated that she had heard the conversation all he could do was look down. He did care for you but he didn’t know how to express it. Apparently the way he was going about it was wrong and he knew it. God, why am I so stupid? he thought to himself.

When darkness hit his slight worried state turned into complete panic. Darkness was not something where people should be defenseless in the world anymore, especially when they didn’t have their pack or their gun with them. He frantically packed up a bag of medical supplies, bullets, food, and his knife and gun. He told Ellie to stay by the campfire and to shoot anything that came at her that wasn’t the two of you.

As Joel stormed into the wilderness. He had no idea where you went, what you were thinking, or what you felt. He was searching for you for what felt like an eternity, trying to see where you went. Right before he was going to give up thinking that he could search better in the daylight he stumbled across you sitting with your back against a tree. He approached you slowly and called out to you. When you didn’t respond he felt his gut clench as he hoped that you weren’t injured or dead because of his stupidity. Finally, when he got up to you he knelt down and reached out to touch your leg as he gently called you by your name. When you slowly opened your eyes and looked at him he grabbed you and held you close.

You were so numb from the cold, and from the physical and mental exhaustion that you were limp in his arms. As he cradled you against his chest you heard him let out a small sob as he said “baby I’m sorry, ok? You’re wrong. You ain’t a pity fuck. God damnit-I care about ya, you hear me? I c-care. I just don’t know how to do this. Please- please come back to me honey. Please don’t leave.”

As you heard and felt him cry into your shoulder you slowly started to wrap your arms tighter around him. In all of the years you have known Joel, you’ve never seen him get emotional like this. He sounded and felt like a man that was breaking and you really didn’t understand the reasons why. You didn’t want to give him another chance, but what could you do. You still loved him even though he hurt you. But you knew that you weren’t going to get the relationship that you wanted. So as you hugged him back and said “It’s okay Joel, I’ll stay” you knew you couldn’t lower your guard completely down again, not without him shattering you. So as you hugged him you forced your internal walls up around you in your mind. This is the last time Joel’s going to shatter me, you thought.

2 Weeks Later

It had been 2 weeks after you and Joel had your horrible argument where you stormed off and he found you sitting against the tree. After you had held each other that night, he helped you up and helped to walk you back to camp. That night Joel never slept much as he kept watch of you. Ellie and you shared a sleeping bag that night, against Joel’s better judgement. He wanted to keep you warm but when he offered you, you just looked at him and had said one single word and that was “no.”

Since then you guys were trekking across the country moving closer to Jackson where Tommy supposedly was. After walking in the wilderness for the longest time you guys had stumbled upon an abandoned cabin in the wilderness. After much discussion, mostly Joel yelling at you or Ellie in anger, you guys had decided to stop and make it a home for a week, just to rest and recoup. You were on your period that was several weeks late and were having horrible menstrual cramps, something that was not normal for you. You were unable to walk at the fast pace that you normally did, which resulted in Joel and you arguing yet again. During one of your heated arguments about wanting to stay at the cabin and not able to keep up, you felt a horrible stabbing pain in your lower stomach and you doubled over holding your stomach in front of him.

He had immediately stopped yelling at you and went to your side saying “baby, are you alright? Are you hurt?” while looking you over head to toe trying to find out where you were injured. He never called you baby, except during that one time during sex. You decided not to bring that up to him as you were in so much pain. Instead you told him you were ok and that you just needed to go lay down for a bit in the cabin. That night Joel slept next to you, holding you close to him while slowly rubbing circles on your hip and lower back as you cried out from the pain in your lower belly, specifically the uterine area.

From time to time during the night you’d hear him say “Shhh baby, it’s okay. I got you honey, slow deep breaths for me” as you silently sobbed into his chest from the pain. This was not normal for you to have such horrible menstrual cramps and to be as late as you were on your period. You hope Joel didn’t notice that you were really late with your period. As you laid there that night, having on and off horrible painful cramps, he tried to get you to settle down to sleep. Unfortunately sleep wasn’t something you could do while being in so much pain so that night the both of you didn’t get much sleep. When you had finally dozed off, you maybe got about 2 hours of sleep when all of a sudden you were woken up to a searing pain in your belly. It felt like someone was ripping your uterus apart from the inside out. As your eyes opened you felt and heard Joel breathing slow and even behind you, as he had finally fallen asleep about a half hour after you had. You slowly slipped out of the bed, trying not to wake him, as the pain kept increasing and your stomach decided to start churning in response to the pain. You knew that it was only a matter of time before you would be heaving all the contents of your stomach out so you worked extra careful to get out of bed fast to get outside before you lost your stomach contents all over the floor. You had thought you were graceful in climbing out of bed, but because you were so sick and in so much pain you hadn’t realized that when you slipped out of bed you hit Joel, which startled him awake.

By the time you got to the cabin front door you were practically running. As soon as you hit the outside banister railing you heaved your contents inside your stomach out onto the lawn. As you were retching you felt two strong and rough hands gently grab your hair to hold your hair back, as you continued to vomit. You also felt his one hand drift to your back and he slowly started rubbing it for you until you finished dry heaving. Finally when you were finished you stood up and whispered “thanks” to him as you wiped your mouth off. After only getting a few hours of sleep, you felt exhausted and Joel looked both wrecked and worried.

“How late?” Joel asked while standing next to you. But when you didn't answer and had avoided his gaze, he knew. But he still wanted to hear you say it. So he said more sternly "damn it, how late?"

"2 weeks, Joel ok." you yelled at him for raising his voice. "I'm two weeks late. Not that any of it fucking matters."

"It fucking matters" Joel snapped. You both were so physically exhausted that tempers were flaring once again. As you both stood there in silence you kept watching Joel look at you from your stomach that you were holding, to your face, and then back again. Finally after a moment you sighed and said "Joel, Look I'm- I'm bleeding really heavy ok. And it-it hurts and it doesn't matter if-if we or if- um if I'm…" and then you felt your lower lip quiver as the tears started to flow down your cheeks at the realization that yes you were in fact pregnant, and that you now were having a miscarriage.

As soon as Joel saw your lip quiver he grabbed you and pulled you hard into his chest and held you tight. He heard you let out a sob as you cried into his chest. He didn't stop you because he knew, he knew what you were going through as he and Sarah's mom had gone through the same thing awhile after Sarah was born. He knew you wanted to be a mom. It was something you two had discussed when you first started out together. You told him you had your period and needed to find some type of rags or cloth to put in your underwear to catch the blood. At first he was furious that you didn't have the scheduled hysterectomy that most women got at the QZ. He had called you irresponsible and a damn fool for not following through with the surgery. But when you explained it to him, we'll more like actually yelled at him, he considered the conversation over and knew that you wanted to have children. But he hoped for your sake that you’d never have kids because having a baby now meant a death sentence sometimes, and he didn't want to think of the possibility of losing you. Now fast forward a year later and he was damn protective over you, whether or not you were (or was) carrying his child.

As he silently held you he felt his heart ache at the prospect of losing yet again another child. Even though no one knew for sure if you were pregnant, as out here in the wilderness there was no way to tell for sure until you got later in pregnancy. But it didn't matter, he was sure you knew your body. He also knew your cycle and the timing of it, making sure you had extra supplies around that time. He knew you could get cramps occasionally, but nothing like this, and you usually never bled this heavy. He knew something was different and it reminded him of when Sarah's mom had a miscarriage a few months after Sarah was born.

He stood there with his arms tightly around you gently swaying you side to side humming in your ear that everything was going to be alright and that he was sorry. "What are-are you so-sorry for" you whispered as your sobs started to slow down where you could talk again.

"For everything darlin'." Joel said. "For treating you wrong, to possibly getting you, um, pregnant, and to- uh- a miscarriage."

As you stayed wrapped up in each other's arms you heard him sincerely apologize. But when he did you didn't know why he was apologizing for the pregnancy part. Especially when the both of you willingly had unprotected sex all those weeks ago. "It ain't your fault Joel" you said, but he interrupted you by saying "don't tell me it ain't my fault when I was the one that came in ya. I'm a lot older than you sweetheart, I know how this happens and I knew better. It'll never happen again."

When you heard the part of 'it’ll never happen again ' you froze in his arms as you were dreading what he was referring to. You swallowed hard and then said "What part Joel? What part of it ain't happening again that you mean?"

Joel took a moment to think silently to himself and then he gently replied "all of it." It was then that you silently thought to yourself I’m sick and tired of Joel playing with of my feelings and emotions. But it wasn’t something that you could deal with at the present moment, in the meantime, you would allow him to show you compassion over the next few days. But with it you would keep your heart somewhat guarded. You still loved him very much, and you swore to yourself that one day he may learn to love you back. But you knew you couldn’t force it, or force him to face his emotions and feelings toward you. Deep down all of this upset you as you didn’t know where your relationship stood with him. At one moment he told you that he loved you and didn’t want you to leave, the next moment he’d state that you couldn’t be in the relationship that you wanted with him. All of this was confusing and you wanted to get to the bottom of why Joel was constantly switching back and forth with you. But you knew that it was a topic of discussion with him on a different day.

-End of Chapter 2

Don’t worry, this story will continue with other parts.

Tag list: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg

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semperama · 2 months

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Soak + dosh please

This is way too long for tumblr and I'm sorry, but it totally ran away with me. Also there is going to be a Part 2, I promise. Also I'll put it on AO3 later when I can think of a title lmao. Please forgive me because I have no idea how to write Josh yet, but this was fun!!

----

It’s probably crazy for Daniel to be in the back half of his 30s and still feel like a fucking imposter all the time.

He opens the door to Josh tossing a football back and forth from hand to hand, mouth curved into a grin, and has to bite down on the inside of his cheek just until it hurts, just to make sure this is real. He heard a story once—maybe an urban legend—about a man who was in a coma and thought he lived a whole entire life, great job and wife and kids and the whole nine. Sometimes he thinks that could be him. F1 driver, friends with fucking—movie stars and NFL players. It’s all a little much when just a minute ago he was a kid with goofy hair and crooked teeth and a sense of humor no one got.

“Hey,” Josh says, with his stupid handsome face. “Good to see you, man.”

Daniel steps back to let Josh in and wills the blood vessels in his face to fucking cool it. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he jokes. Another thing to be self-conscious about, this stupid-huge house that’s always empty. It’d be great for parties, but Daniel’s never thrown one.

They should have made other plans, Daniel thinks. A concert. A movie. A bar. Hanging out at home—who does that? Teenagers?

“Humble indeed,” Josh says with a chuckle, elbowing Daniel in the ribs as he walks by. “They don’t pay you anything to drive those cars, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m barely scraping by.” Daniel settles into the banter, grateful for it. “Can I get you anything? I have water, stale bread, maybe some mouse droppings…”

Josh throws his head back at that one, his laugh sending electric tingles down Daniel’s spine. “No beer hidden anywhere?” he asks, and Daniel grins at him, indulgent.

“I think I can rustle one up for you, maybe.”

He waves Josh out to the patio and then heads into the kitchen to grab two bottles out of the fridge. It’s the middle of the season, just a couple weeks until he has to be in Austin, so he probably should be sticking to clear liquor if anything, but who’s here to judge him?

“Did you bring that for me?” Daniel asks when he emerges into the sunshine, nodding at the football Josh cradles in one palm as the takes the beer bottle from Daniel with the other.

The corner of Josh’s mouth tilts upward. “You just about creamed yourself last time we tossed the ball around,” he says. “I figured I’d make your day.”

“My year, more like.” Daniel can’t deny it; Josh has his number on this one. “I don’t want you to be bored, though. You do this for a living.”

“You ever get tired of racing?” Josh asks.

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Touche.”

There’s no grassy field behind Daniel’s house to play in, but they make do with the long strip of pool deck, all the chairs pushed to the side. At first, they just toss the ball back and forth lazily. That’s honestly enough for Daniel, just watching the satisfying spiral of the ball and feeling the slap of leather against his palms. It’s warm and breezy and Josh keeps grinning at him—he could do it all fucking day.

But eventually he gets antsy, wants to make sure Josh is still having fun, so he starts trying to make things difficult, prancing back and forth, sometimes running to the other side of the pool. It feels better when Josh is laughing at him. It feels like he’s pulling his weight.

“Come on, really throw one,” he says, holding his hands up in preparation. Josh chuckles at him, pulls his arm back, hesitates, and then lets it fly. This time, when it hits Daniel’s hands, the sound is loud, echoing. It fucking stings.

Daniel wants it again.

“Is that, like, your maximum?” he asks as he lobs it back.

Josh grins and shakes his head. “Nah, man. I don’t want to hurt you. You gotta be able to hold a steering wheel in a few days.”

“Oh, come on,” Daniel says, hopping from foot to foot and shaking out his arms. “You won’t hurt me. I can take it.”

Josh quirks and eyebrow at him. “You sure do talk a big talk, Ricciardo.”

All the blood rushes to Daniel’s face. He can only hope he’s already red enough from exertion and the sun that Josh won’t notice. Josh seems so fucking implacable, but Daniel’s been soaked in sweat and breathing hard for a while now, his t-shirt clinging to his chest. He pinches the fabric and unsticks it, letting some of the breeze in, but doesn’t help much.

“Just once,” Daniel says, unable to help the pleading note in his voice. “I want to know what it’s like.”

Josh walks over to the table near the house where their sweating beer bottles sit and takes a long swig. Daniel watches the bob of his throat, watches him lick the moisture from his bottom lip when he sets the bottle back down. When he turns back toward Daniel, he starts tossing the ball from hand to hand again, putting a spin on it, the silence stretching until it makes Daniel’s skin prickle with discomfort.

“Alright,” Josh says at last, “but I don’t want to hear your crying if it hurts.” He beckons Daniel with two fingers. “Come here. I need to show you how to catch it first.”

“I know how to catch it,” Daniel says, but he jogs over anyway.

“You know how to catch a ball thrown by a buddy,” Josh says. When Daniel stops a couple feet away, Josh lunges for his wrist and drags him in closer. “You don’t know how to catch a pass thrown by one of the most powerful arms in the NFL.”

“Fuck,” Daniel says, embarrassingly, out loud. He jerks his wrist out of Josh’s hand and wipes his palms on his shorts. “Fine, fine. Show me, then.”

Josh tucks the ball into his armpit, then cups his hands together, a foot or so out from his chest. “This is the way you have been catching it,” he says. “Which is good if you’re a professional receiver. But this time—” He brings his hands to his chest and turns his palms upward— “let it hit your chest first and kinda fall into your hands.”

He motions for Daniel to show him, and Daniel mimics his hand placement as best he can, hands cupped near his stomach. Josh rolls his eyes and puts his hands under Daniel’s, nudging them upward and squeezing, molding them into the shape he wants. His fingers are softer than Daniel thought they’d be, maybe a little callused but still gentle. Daniel can feel his heart thundering against his ribs, and he can only hope Josh can’t feel it too, close as he is.

“And, uh,” Daniel says, voice cracking, “what’ll happen if I don’t to it right?”

“Oh, nothin’ much.” Josh grins, winks at him. “Just a broken finger or two, maybe. But I hear you already have some experience with that anyway.”

Daniel lets out a nervous, high-pitched giggle. “Christ.”

“I’m just messing with you,” Josh says. “I’ve never broken anyone’s fingers.” He pushes on Daniel’s shoulder, like he’s trying to wrestle some of the tension out of him, then points past Daniel’s ear to the far side of the pool. “Go to that corner over there. Then put your hands like I showed you. I’ll put the ball where it needs to be, and you’ll be fine.”

If Josh keeps talking like that, Daniel’s pretty sure he’s going to embarrass the hell out of himself. His shorts are too loose, too thin, and he’s already half hard in them. He wonders, sometimes, if players get like this during games, if it’s normal to be turned on by the perfect tight spiral or the smack of leather against your skin. He’s not sure if it’s the game, the thrill of it, or if it’s Josh, all that power right up close, all of it focused on Daniel.

He turns and jogs back over to the far side of the pool, getting as close to the edge of the deck as he dares. Sweat is dripping into his eyes, and swiping a forearm across his head doesn’t help much. After this, a cold shower. He fucking needs it.

“Alright,” Josh calls to him, “you ready?”

Daniel puts his hands in position and looks to Josh for approval. “Like this?”

“That’s fine,” Josh says. “A little higher, maybe.” Daniel brings his hands up another inch, and Josh nods at him. “That’s good. Now…don’t move.”

The windup feels like it takes forever. Daniel watches Josh’s arm, the bulge of his bicep, the way the muscles of his forearm shift as he brings the football up past his ear. His feet jig a little, his body arcs back. The expression on his face—it’s like he’s already so fucking pleased with himself, and he ball hasn’t even left his hand yet. Daniel wants to reach down and adjust himself, but he can’t move. He isn’t allowed to move. Josh told him not to.

Then, suddenly, the ball is shooting through the air, so fast Daniel can’t even track it like he should. Good thing Josh is a pro and didn’t need Daniel to track it. It hits his chest right where it was supposed to, so hard it nearly knocks the wind out of him, and his fingers curl around it instinctively, hugging it into his body.

“Holy fuck, mate,” Daniel says in disbelief. His palms are still stinging from the last throw, and now his chest aches, and—he feels like he’s losing his mind, but he wants more. It’s still not enough. He wants to catch ten more passes like this. Twenty. He wants his whole chest to hurt, his whole body to be one big bruise.

“You okay?” Josh says, and suddenly he’s right there in front of Daniel again, prying the football out of his hands. “All good?”

“Yeah, I—” Unthinkingly, Daniel reaches down and lifts up the hem of his shirt, looks down at his chest. He expected—maybe was hoping—to see a mark there already, but the skin is just a little red, a faint starburst in the center of his breastbone.

“You’ll have a hell of a bruise there tomorrow,” Josh says. He pokes the spot with two fingers, and the throb of pain makes Daniel’s dick throb in sympathy. If Josh looks down, Daniel’s fucked.

Of course, Josh does look down.

“Hmm.” The sound comes from somewhere deep in Josh’s chest, and this time Daniel’s whole body throbs. “Is that for me? Or the ball?”

That nervous laugh bubbles out of Daniel’s mouth again. He feels so fucking unsexy right now, like he’s in one of those nightmares where’s he’s shown up to school in his underwear. “I dunno, dude,” he says. “You get a personal demonstration of the talent of someone you admire and see how you react.”

“Mhm,” Josh hums again, thoughtfully this time. “No, I know.”

He touches Daniel again, pressing his thumb against the spot on Daniel’s chest and rubbing gently. Anymore of this, and Daniel’s going to have to climb out of his own skin. He takes a deep, shaky breath and pastes on a smile, then steps backward so Josh’s hand is hovering in midair, nothing left to touch.

“Anyway.” Daniel steps out of his shoes. He tugs his shirt off the rest of the way, refusing to notice whether Josh is still looking or not. “I gotta get out of this heat. You coming?”

He’s a coward, but he doesn’t wait for Josh’s answer, only steps around him and takes a flying leap into the pool. The cool water closes over his head like relief. He floats there, weightless, until his lungs burn.

#daniel/josh #dosh #my writing #f1 #sorta #sorry but i had to post this right away #because i'm self-conscious and i'll never post it if i don't post it right now ahaha

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gimmethatagustd · 2 years

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listen. oh queen of life-ruining banter. i come to you on my knees because i require frenemies hatefucking with tae. featuring all the banter. and him being a menace. no this is not self-indulgent at all wdym sdlfjsldkfj - congrats again on your milestone :')))

WANNA FUCK ON CAMERA | KTH

You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s hipster, wannabe-photographer ass. You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s stupid smile and stupid jokes and stupid way of getting under your skin and sticking in your brain.

» pairing: taehyung x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | frenemies to lovers | smut

» wc/date: 3.3k | July 2022

» warnings: fingering | nudes (ig??) | unprotected vaginal sex | spit | tae is annoying

» notes: I’M SO SORRY THIS ENDED UP JUST BEING A FULL FUCKING PWP ONE SHOT KJDKFHS also i def didn’t proofread this enough so sorry 🥴

» masterlist | ao3 | send me ur thots 👅

» what was jai listening to? camera - dj drama ft. 1st fkl, lil uzi vert, mac miller, & post malone

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

If Kim Taehyung placed his grimy hands on the small of your back one more time you were quite literally going to rip them off.

“Babe, we didn’t take a picture together yet.” Before you could react, there was a bright flash of light that formed black holes in your vision. A sleek film camera was the culprit. Not unfamiliar, you’d fallen victim to Taehyung’s “artistic endeavors” on more than one occasion.

“Babe?”

Your spotty eyes grew wide as you quickly turned back to the large man stuck in between you and Taehyung. You’d caged him into the corner of the living room away from the rest of the bustling bodies crowding the apartment you shared with Hoseok. From the moment your roommate introduced you to Namjoon at the start of the party, you were on a mission to get a good grip of his head in between your thighs.

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, waving your arms in an “X” to ward off Taehyung’s evil. “We are not like that, at all. Gross, no. I don’t even know why he’s over here.” You hissed that last part with gritted teeth and shoved an elbow into Taehyung’s ribs.

“We came to this party together, babe. What are you talking about?” Taehyung’s mouth morphed into a deep pout. Your’s, on the other hand, hung open like a fish.

“Excuse me? This is my fucking apartment!”

You watched with growing frustration as Taehyung’s pout curved into a sweet smile. He was an abscess aching your teeth. “Babe, you’re so cute when you joke around.”

“Ummm… I think I’m going to go.”

You both turned to look at the large man stuck in between you. He avoided both of your gazes; instead, his gentle eyes searched the depths of the room, looking for a way out.

“Namjoon, wait,” You reached out to grab his forearm, “Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.”

Namjoon gave you a soft, tight smile. “It’s okay, I don’t want to bother you.” He didn’t give you a second glance once he disappeared deeper into the apartment.

You spun around on your heel and jabbed your finger against Taehyung’s chest. “Listen here, TaTa. If you don’t stop cockblocking me all fucking night, I swear to God.”

“You swear to God what? What are you going to do?” Taehyung cocked his head to one side and you hated how hot it was to watch his bottom lip disappear between his teeth. He raised his eyebrows at you, tilting his head back a bit so he looked at you down the sharp bridge of his cute little freckled nose.

He knew you wouldn’t do anything. There was nothing for you to do.

He was such a piece of shit.

“Why did Hobi invite you,” you muttered, pushing past Taehyung. You made very little ground before he was snatching your wrist in his large hands. “Can you please leave me alone? I’m not drunk enough for your shit right now.”

“Let me get my beautiful model a drink, then.”

“You are the most arrogant, conceited, cockiest person I have ever met in my entire life.” The grin that bloomed across his face was the exact opposite of what you wanted to see, but everything your body was being pulled towards.

“Thank you.”

With a huff, you shook your hand from Taehyung’s grip and continued swimming your way through the sea of people trashing your apartment. Leave it to Hobi to throw a massive party to celebrate “the beginning of his birthday month” without bothering to ask you. When he knew you hated most of his friends, Kim Taehyung in particular. How he’d managed to wiggle his way into your friend group was beyond you. Probably because he was hot, and hot people could get away with everything.

Well, you didn’t think he was hot, obviously. Other people did. Not you. Nope.

“Do not follow me.” You threw the command over your shoulder, praying to the lord that he would grow a brain and listen to you. Breaking free of the last throng of people, you walked the hallway until you got to your bedroom, Taehyung hot on your heels. You tried to slam your bedroom door shut but Taehyung had the toe of his boot wedged in the doorframe. He wrapped a hand around the edge of the door and pried it open just enough to slip his lithe body inside. The click of him locking the door made your spine shudder.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Kim. Why don’t you go find someone to suck your dick and keep your nose out of my business? I’ll even let you use my bathroom.” Arms crossed against your chest. Chin jutted out.

Taehyung snickered, keeping his focus on wiping away a smudge mark on the surface of his camera lens. “Bothering you gives me infinite more pleasure, believe it or not.” He looked up to meet your gaze. “And you know how much I love chasing pleasure.”

By this point your anger was hardly well-contained. As you flipped through every scenario in your head you were finding fewer options to get him out of here. Murder may have been the only option, actually.

“God I love how hot you look when you’re pissed.” Taehyung had the audacity to sit down on the edge of your bed, his long legs spreading like the space-hogging man that he was.

“Take a fucking picture then. It’ll last longer.”

“Ooh, you’re so clever, so edgy.” Despite his taunts, he did what you said, quickly snapping another picture of you. You flipped him off. “Glad you’ve finally agreed to model for me. How do you feel about nudes?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“Not even just a topless one?”

“I would never, in a million years, even if my life depended on it, get any amount of naked in front of you.”

“That sounds like a fun challenge, doesn’t it?” He got up from your bed, leaving the camera to rest on your fluffy comforter. His amber eyes dropped to watch your lips, the edges of his own lips curling slightly when you backed up against your dresser. A bottle of hair product tipped over and rolled off the dresser, thudding against the floor.

“It’s not a challenge, Taehyung. It’s merely a fact.”

“Look at what you’re wearing. You’re already halfway there.” Taehyung shrugged. He ran his index finger along the skin of your midriff exposed by your crop top. Reaching your belly button, he dragged his finger downwards until he landed on the zipper of your shorts. “Don’t act like you’re not desperate. The way you were hanging all over that guy said enough.”

“Fuck off,” you said in an exhale. You made no effort to push him out of the way; this was one of many mistakes.

“Hmm…” You practically felt the baritone vibration of Taehyung contemplating your comment, the hum rumbling from his throat. “Okay.” He took a step back and sunk onto your bed with his camera resting beside him.

“What do you mean, okay?” You closed the gap he’d created and stared down at him with your hands on your hips. “You can’t just say okay.”

The tiniest of smirks lifted the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, but he held it in as best he could. Controlling his eyes was another thing; he let his gaze travel the length of your body. “Am I not giving you what you wanted?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

You opened your mouth, but immediately snapped it shut. Taehyung leaned back on his palms with his broad chest on display and his legs spread. How had you ended up standing between them? He tilted his head up slightly jutting his chin out at you while his eyes continued to examine you. Dissect you. His gaze felt razor sharp on your searing skin.

“Just admit it. You want me. It’s obvious how I affect you.” You felt your stomach flip as Taehyung ran his fingers through his hair, though a few curls decided to bounce back over his forehead. “One simple kiss and you’d be begging for me.”

You absolutely did not want him. Had you thought about what those piercing eyes would look like from between your thighs? Maybe. But who hadn’t?! It was a natural consequence of being “friends” with Taehyung.

“You’re an idiot.” Another glare was shot his way when the stupid smirk returned.

“Prove it then. Prove you don’t care.”

If there was anything you hated more than this idiot, it was being doubted. Fuck this guy for wasting your time, invading your space, and then insulting you in your own house.

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll cut your balls off,” you hissed.

“I’m so scared,” Taehyung said with a lick of his lips. You wanted to smack that mischievous glint out of his eyes. Hell, you should have. But instead you were determined to knock him off his high horse. If you weren’t going to get into a physical altercation, you were going to fuck up his ego.

Shoving Taehyung backwards so he was once again leaning on his palms, you climbed into his lap with your hands gripping his shoulders. Before he could say anything else stupid, you brought your lips to his and tried not think about how many things had been in his mouth.

It was clear that Taehyung was trying to prove a point because he immediately began to devour you. His hands flew up to grip your ass to pull you tight against him, making your hands slide forward so you now had your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Biting down on your bottom lip he coaxed your mouth open to slip his tongue inside. You shivered at the taste of him, sweet like the grapefruit soju he’d been drinking. Distracted by him licking at your mouth, you gasped when you felt Taehyung buck into you. He forced your hips to rock against him and spread your thighs even further apart as you straddled him.

Eventually Taehyung broke the kiss and you welcomed the opportunity to breathe. His lips ghosted yours, the two of you panting heavily against each other’s mouths. He kept a firm hold of your ass while he guided you to continue grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. Every drag of his zipper against your core provided enough friction to alert you that you were soaked through your underwear. All because of a guy you’d swore you weren’t affected by.

The reminder of why this was even fucking happening made you let go of Taehyung’s shoulders and lean back slightly. What the fuck.

“You did that way too eagerly,” he snickered once you pulled away.

“Shut up.” You reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair to tug it out of annoyance because apparently Taehyung tore down your maturity level to that of an elementary student. The moan that came out of his mouth made you freeze. He stared into your eyes with his soft lips parted and all you could hear was his erratic breathing and the pounding of your heart in your head. “Looks like you’re affected by me.”

As if you weren’t an absolute mess in your pants right now. But he didn’t need to know that.

“I never said I wasn’t.” The intensity of his gaze was too much for you, but looking away felt like surrendering. “Are you going to admit defeat now?”

“You’re insane,” you scoffed, determined to hold his gaze.

Taehyung broke first. He let go of your waist and brought his hand forward to press his thumb hard against your clit through your shorts. You instinctively tightened your hold on his hair, tugging slightly. The action pulled another moan out of Taehyung and it was impossible for you to hide the way you grinded against his hand.

“You want me. Just admit it.”

“No,” you snapped. Taehyung raised his eyebrows as though he was shocked by your determination. You were not giving in, no matter what your body wanted.

Even if he pulled down the zipper of your shorts. Even if he tugged on the waistband of your underwear. Even if he squeezed his hand inside your underwear to drag his fingers through your arousal.

“Admit it.”

Your breath hitched when you heard the wet squelch of Taehyung teasing your entrance and rolling his fingers against your clit. You couldn’t speak for fear a moan instead of words might fall out of your mouth, so you merely shook your head.

Wrapping his other arm around your waist, Taehyung bucked into you at the same time he slipped two fingers inside of you. The force with which you bit your bottom lip to keep quiet was enough to shoot pain through your nerves. Seeing you like that and feeling your thighs tremble against his told Taehyung everything he needed to know.

But he wanted you to say it.

“Come on, Y/N,” he cooed a soft whisper in your ear. He curled his fingers, pressing your front wall until he found the spot that made you dig your nails into his biceps. “Just admit it and I’ll give you what you want.”

He quickened his pace, pumping his fingers in and out of you with enough force to rock you back and forth in his lap, all the while his dark eyes locked on yours.

“You’re a piece of shit,” you attempted to hiss but your voice broke into a loud whimper. Taehyung grinned and gave you one final thrust into your g-spot before he watched you arch into him, eyes closed and head thrown back as you moaned his name. He leaned back slightly to give him the perfect angle to snatch up his camera. You thought the bright light was probably the most intense orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life quite literally making you blind, but your pleasure quickly turned into a pterodactyl screech.

“KIM TAEHYUNG WHAT THE FUCK!” You lunged for the camera, but he held it above your head and your legs were still too shaky to do much of anything. “Did you just fucking take a picture of me while I… while I…” You beat against his chest.

“You looked too good not to immortalize the moment,” Satan himself said with a laugh, absorbing your punches with the cockiness of the most horrible person in the world. “If you want to try for a better shot, I still have five photos left on this film.”

“I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“Sure, you can murder me. I’ll die happy now.” You felt weak in the knees once again when Taehyung popped his fingers, wet with your cum, into his mouth to suck clean. “Or you could admit that you want me and I’ll split you open the way you deserve.”

Fuck.

You were in big trouble.

Taehyung’s cocky grin disappeared as you eased back down into his lap, replaced with a look of determined lust that clouded his lidded eyes. At this point, it wasn’t about admitting that he turned you on or that you wanted him. At this point, you needed him.

“Say it and I’m yours,” he whispered. Goosebumps bloomed across your skin as he ran his hands up your sides, pushing your crop top up as he went. You lifted your arms to allow him to pull it off of you. He sucked his teeth when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra and immediately brought his mouth to your nipple. You let out a soft moan when Taehyung flicked his tongue against it, swirling a circle until it was erect and he was satisfied enough to move to the other.

“Fuck you, Taehyung.” You clawed at his t-shirt, less gentle in your approach as you ripped it over his head. Next your fingers flew to unbutton his jeans. “I admit it, okay? Are you happy now?” Frustration made your movements frantic and you tugged Taehyung’s pants down as hard as you could, barely giving him time to maneuver around you to lift his hips.

“Admit what?” He planted a hot kiss against your throat to muffle the deep moan that rumbled in his throat when you finally held his cock in your hand.

“I need you, fuck!” You shimmied out of your shorts and shoved Taehyung onto his back. “Why are you such a fucking dick?”

You grabbed his cock a bit too aggressively and Taehyung briefly watched his life flash before his eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Though he quickly got over it, hips bucking into your hand while he watched you spit on the tip and let it run down his shaft, slow and sweet.

“Took you long enou-” Taehyung gasped when you rubbed his cock along your pussy, quickly coating him so you could sink onto his cock until your clit rubbed against his abdomen when you leaned forward. The stretch was enough that you probably should have eased yourself onto him a bit slower to avoid the head of his cock piercing your cervix the way it had, but at this point you were too pissed off to give a shit. He lifted his head to watch you roll your hips on him, the twisting sensation making his cock pulse inside you.

“Holy fuck.” Taehyung dropped his head back onto the mattress and dug his fingers into the sheets as you began to fuck yourself on him. Sure, he’d promised to fuck you good, but you had absolutely no patience for whatever he was willing to give you. You picked up the pace, one hand squeezing his shoulder for support while the other dragged your nails down the length of his chest. You may have dug into him a bit deeper than you needed to, but the red streaks you left on his skin were more than satisfying.

“Don’t even think about taking a picture of this,” you muttered through clenched teeth. That sweet, hot buildup of pleasure rippling through your abdomen was starting to get more and more unbearable, but you needed to know that the little creep wasn’t going to ruin a good orgasm for you by playing paparazzi again.

Taehyung whimpered, shaking his head frantically. “I swear, oh fuck. I s-swear I won’t.”

His babbling was both pathetic and cute, and you prayed he didn’t bust a nut before you got to. To have Kim Taehyung writhing beneath you with that tight little waist and bulging biceps, all to have him cum first?? No fucking way.

“Good boy,” you snickered and Taehyung practically lost it right there.

“You’re insane,” he huffed, closing his eyes once he felt you tighten around him. “Fucking insane.”

You wanted to bitch him out some more because you definitely weren’t the insane one here, as if he hadn’t toyed with you only to immediately give in once you gave him a taste of his own medicine. But you let it go as you felt that sweet buildup in you finally snap. “Fuck, Taehyung,” you moaned, feeling his hands come up to grab your waist to guide you on top of him as he fucked you through your orgasm and your movements began to falter. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to finally reach his release; you weren’t interested in overstimulation after the sweaty, horny mess he’d made of you.

Leaning your forehead into his shoulder, you let your body go limp on top of Taehyung as the two of you caught your breath.

“Don’t fuck with me anymore,” you threatened, though the post-orgasm shakiness of your voice didn’t make you sound very convincing.

“I can fuck you again, though, right?”

You lifted your head to see that fucking grin again and groaned, dropping your face into his neck again. “Maybe.”

“Are you down for nudes next time?”

“Don’t fucking push your luck, dickhead.” Your body jiggled as Taehyung laughed. There was the cocky Taehyung once again, the one you oh so loved. Something told you if there was a next time you wouldn’t have it so easy.

The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles (mini-series) Masterlist

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

2K notes · View notes

002yb · 3 months

Note

jason and roy have a longstanding guys being dudes thing where they text each other pics of their gnarly bruises and not too serious wounds so that the other can be like “woah, i can see the tread pattern of the boot just from the bruise!” because these things are cool and gross in the way that dudes find irresistible and here is a guy who will valorize it without all the you should have been better undertone or smothering worry and it escalates until one day when jay gets a fingernail ripped off and his first thought after all the danger and blood is ha! this beats roy’s thing from last week and like they are somewhat aware that its kinda abnormal but their text convos are a safe space free from shame or judgement so its all good until someone gets a glimpse of pure gore followed by a winky face emoji when jason goes to open his phone

Just gonna casually bring this around to something more dickjayroy, because of course I would. All the above, but:

Dick and Roy running a mission together and, while successful, isn't without casualty. It's nothing they won't survive, but they're a little fucked up. Dick more so, but he's a scrapper. He'll survive the wait for first aid while Roy takes some sick and sleazy mirror pics for his boy Jaybird. It's all good.

Dick might be a little concussed and bleeding on Roy's couch, but Roy can't not share the road burn that stretches up his arm and shoulder.

Roy hearing Dick call for him from down the hall. Just a thoughtful check-in of, 'You okay?' Like Dick in his current state of wooziness and pain has the wherewithal to come help Roy if needed. The thought is sweet.

The fact that Dick would find the resolve to help Roy even as Dick is s t r u g g l i n g is mildly horrifying though, so.

Some cute banter as Roy sends his message off, calling out to Dick that he's good but also for validation that Roy looked cool while he was skidding across asphalt earlier. He was, right?

Pffft, Dick trying to be playful/teasing when he agrees, but he's so fucked up that it comes out sounding more genuine than anything and Roy is ;U; as he settles in to take care of his friend. Helping Dick out of the top of his costume only to pause because - wow.

Just Dick lacking all self-awareness. He's hurt. He's tired. He's got someone he trusts looking after him, so. Dick just slouches on the couch, head tipped over the back of it. Boneless. Dazed. Chest and abs a beautiful sight - all toned muscles heaving with shallow breaths, and like. Dick being hot is nothing Roy blinks an eye at, nah. It's the ugly, weeping wound in his side that does. Blood stained and irritated and already showing signs of bruising crawling up his ribs.

Of course the camera comes out. Of course Roy sneaks off a picture to Jason (it only shows Dick's wounded torso, even if Dick's scowl is handsome and deserves to be seen by more people than Roy lol).

Anyway, Dick joking about if Roy got his good side. To which Roy snickers because Dick is all good sides; but yeah, for sure.

Then Roy proceeds to actually tend to Dick's injury. Cleaning, stitching, distracting. Dick being a model patient, disturbingly still although he's sweating through all the pain. Seemingly ignoring Roy, only he'd never. Because whenever Roy stops talking Dick opens his eyes to look at him until Roy starts talking again.

Just Dick finding comfort in the sound of his friend's voice ahhhhhhhhhh. ;A;

In which a Roy and Jason ask becomes entirely Dick and Roy omg. This happens every time but in my defense they're perfect, so.

While Roy's hands are all bloody from patching Dick up, a reply comes through on Roy's phone. Roy telling Dick to check it for him.

Which leads to a little coy game of, 'what's your password?' and 'hah! like you don't know,' and 'if it's not my birthday idk if i'll recover,' and 'bull. what's your password?' 'the day we met ;)' which it isn't, Roy would discover later. Which would lead to lots of laughs and play fighting and it'd be cute af.

Anyway, Dick checking the message and seeing that the picture Roy took of him went to Jason, of all people. Jason - who has no idea who he's looking at.

Letting Dick read the texts is top tier distraction plan, on Roy's part. Also, it ends up being funny.

Just Jason being genuinely confused because he doesn't know about all of Roy's missions and stuff. So he's just like, 'hot damn.' 'i know that's not you who's mr.man?' and extra stuff about the actual injury with Jason trying to figure out what happened and being all thirsty because he'd take a bite fr

And it makes Dick laugh and ow, but it's so dumb

Dick taking the cheekiest photo with Roy that shows how he's stitching Dick up and tbh? Roy thinks it's criminal the sort of devastation Dick can cause when Dick tries. In that same vein, he's just as devastating when he doesn't try. That's neither here nor there though.

Roy cackling as they send off the photo and watching through titters at the ensuing silence, the indication that Jason is texting before he disappears before coming back again and going away.

Something something with Roy and Jason being fascinated by injury and gore. Meanwhile, Dick is all there for the emotional damage and injury through flustered feels. He's w/e about a bleeding wound, but blood rushing to Jason's cheeks in a blush? That's what Dick would want a picture of.

Commence Roy and Dick having their own text conversation that is entirely photos of just that LOL.

Roy's just living his best life and he deserves it.

#dickroy #dickjay #jaydick #royjay

82 notes · View notes

nuancedeaths · 20 days

Text

Posted this in December on ao3 but thought I might share it here too...

REVERIE

Word count: 3.2k

Summary:

"You're beautiful, Simon. If anyone dares tell you otherwise, I'll put a bullet through their fucking skull." Simon scoffs, reaching for one of Johnny's hands and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You really know your way to a man's heart, Johnny." "Aye, so you admit, there is a heart in there somewhere?" – John and Simon try their best to navigate their relationship through Simon's past trauma, the progress is slow, but they're getting there.

Johnny found out about Simon's nightmares one night on a mission. They were left overnight with no evacuation possible until morning to huddle together in an old abandoned farmhouse until sunrise.

Being in a compromised position, Johnny suggested they take turns being on watch in case they managed to get any unwanted company during the night.

Simon offered to be on watch the entire night to let him get enough rest, but there was no way Johnny would agree to that. Not only to let Simon rest up, but also for the simple fact that not getting enough sleep could compromise him in the event they are faced with an unfriendly face at the window.

Simon took the first watch and dutifully woke Johnny for his turn two hours later before he found himself a corner to rest in.

Johnny could tell he was nervous about actually trying to sleep, so he decided he would give the man his space and keep the questions to himself.

He broke that agreement the moment he heard the other man crying, muffled pleading into the quiet night.

"Ghost?" He'd called out, a bit nervous.

His hand reached for the knife at his side, in case someone had gotten to him. But when he rounded the corner, he found the man alone, huddling in the corner with his head tucked between his knees.

"Ghost?"

No response. Then softer.

"Simon?"

That seemed to break through to him and he looked up, startled.

Johnny could almost swear he saw tears in the man's eyes.

"You alright, LT?"

"I'm fine."

Johnny knew that was a lie, but he didn't want to push anything, so he let it go, figured if Ghost wanted him to know, he would've told him.

Maybe Johnny did mean more to Ghost than he initially realised, because not long after, on one of their tired nights awake after everyone else had long gone to bed, Ghost told him about Roba. The nightmares, why he never shows his face.

That's when Johnny first saw Simon, under the mask, under his persona. He saw the man that underwent years of trauma to become a ghost of what he once was.

Johnny had been fond of the lieutenant for a while now, but seeing the real Simon Riley under the hard exterior made him fall harder than he expected.

He began to see parts of Simon in Ghost. In the way he took his tea, the joy in his voice when he told one of those awful jokes.

Johnny loved him, he realised one day Ghost had a scare about a bullet that had nearly hit him, how he fussed over making sure Johnny was alright.

It took far quicker for them to finally kiss than Johnny thought it would. Just one late night, a bottle of Bourbon and a whispered admission later, Simon kissed him hard and rough.

Touch starved.

They didn't make it another day before they had a second kiss, or a third, or a fourth, for that matter.

The dam wall had broken and there was no way to contain months of feelings, mutual feelings, banter that was overstepping the line of flirting.

There was one rule that they'd established early on. A very clear line in the sand that would never be crossed.

No sex. No unwarranted touching. And they were taking everything at Ghost's pace…

Simon's pace.

Johnny had no problem with that, more than willing to let Simon be comfortable around him and find love without being pressured. Johnny's also relieved that their agreement spares him the awkward conversation about Johnny wanting to save himself for marriage.

So it works. They keep it wholesome and they enjoy each other's company and affection at their own pace.

Johnny's favourite time of day was the evening, those rare occasions he could slip into Ghost's room without suspicion and they could lie together, talking for hours, holding hands under the blankets.

One night, as Johnny watches Simon switch his uniform for a nondescript white t-shirt, he gets an idea that makes his face flush in an instant.

He's already sitting in the bed when the other man walks over to it, leaning over to give Johnny a kiss to his forehead.

"I want to ask you something, you can say no, but I just want to try."

"What is it?"

"I want to see you," Johnny says simply, hand hesitating over Ghost's shirt. "If it's alright with you?"

The other man looks like he's genuinely weighing out the options.

"Fine, but our trousers stay on, MacTavish," Ghost warns and Johnny gives him a confident nod and a smile.

"Aye, I'm in no rush. You forget, LT. I try not to stray too far from my virtue."

And that was true. There may have been examples of better, more virtuous men, but Johnny took pride in trying to keep to his faith, despite everything. It grounds him when they're under fire, gives him something to hold on to when he genuinely fears he might lose his life out there. It gives him something to hope for in the terrible scenario that he finds his lover dead, that they'll be reunited after death.

He spends most nights praying that they'll have enough time together. On his more optimistic, yearning days, he prays for a marriage. He wants more than just Ghost. He wants Simon in his arms, next to him every morning, kissing his temple on those nights he's shaking with nightmares from a past life.

He really is in no rush with Simon. There's much more to loving him than what's in his pants. He really wants Simon to understand that. He hopes after all he's been through, Johnny will be able to show him he deserves to be loved without the necessity of sex.

Ghost lets Johnny tug the shirt over his head and discard it on the floor next to the bed.

He sits back against the headboard and Johnny moves closer to sit between his knees, making sure to let Ghost know he's in control.

What Johnny finds beneath the fabric is no surprise, but he sucks in a sharp breath anyway.

"May I touch you?" He says before he's actually thought about it. Ghost gives him a bit of a dramatic eye roll but nods anyway.

From his position, leaning over Ghost with a soft, sympathetic smile on his lips, he ran a tender hand over the man's exposed collarbones, tracing his thumb gently over the skin in a way that dripped with the softest of affections.

It was a new thing, really. This level of intimacy between them, the times they're allowed to be gentle and meticulous with each other. Outside of the cover of night, Johnny and Simon's relationship was a fleeting thing that burned like fire. Untamed needing that manifested in desperate kisses, when the gunfire was muted and they pulled themselves into a corner to hold each other. Just to remind the other that they're still here, still breathing.

In those moments, its borderline painful when Simon tugs him closer by his heavy gear to kiss him like his life depended on it, only to release him moments later to find the others and act as though they did not know each other much more intimately than they let on.

This was none of that.

Johnny steadied his hand over the beating of Simon's heart, feeling the man still beneath his touch, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop and something terrible to happen. But it doesn't.

Johnny would be lying if he said it didn't break his heart, though.

Simon's body knew no gentle touch. That much was evident with the amount of violence carved into him.

Jagged knife edges, bullet wounds, shrapnel.

Johnny grimly wondered if there was a pain left that he had not endured.

And here he is, with his body exposed to a man that could very nearly give him another to add to the ensemble on his chest.

Cautiously, as to not startle him, Johnny leaned forward and nosed against the soft dip of Ghost's neck, moving to trail soft kisses against the column of his throat.

He feels Simon's heart race under his palm, warm and steady in building hysteria. Soap smiles into his warm skin.

"Your skin is so soft."

He feels the heart rate rise again, heat flushing the man's neck against Johnny's mouth.

"I moisturise, fucking flawless isn't it?" Simon says simply, so deadpan that Johnny can't tell if he's trying to make light of the array of scars covering his body or genuinely happy with his skincare routine.

Either way, it makes Johnny smile.

"Aye. Not even a blemish."

Both men chuckle a little at that.

Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders, too afraid to put them elsewhere, and nuzzles his face into the side of his neck.

He takes in the sweet scent radiating from his skin and smiles a bit at the nostalgia it gives him.

He chuckles a little, shakes his head in half disbelief and just places an affectionate kiss to his neck.

"Simon Riley, stone cold killer, the Ghost himself, am I mistaken or do I detect a hint of baby oil?"

Johnny can barely keep the grin out of his voice as Simon's face goes a shade or two redder.

"I can't confirm anything, sergeant. M'fraid that's classified information."

Johnny hums into a kiss. Its slow and deliberate. He can almost feel the other man smiling against him.

This was so unusually soft for them, its new territory. But he likes it.

He takes his time now, in the silence, the absence of danger around them.

Johnny prefers this to an adrenaline high kiss after a gunfight any day, even if opportunities like this are rare.

He likes taking his time figuring out what Simon likes, being gentle with him.

This was progress, though. Simon's never been comfortable enough to take his shirt off.

Simon flinches slightly when Johnny drags a hand down his chest, stopping a considerable distance above the waistband of his trousers, but it still gets a reaction out of him.

Simon's hand shoots out to grab him by the wrist, eyes wide with something that looked a lot like fear.

Johnny retracted his hands in an instant, offering him a soft apology.

"It's just me, you're alright."

Simon's breathing eases and Johnny gives him a moment to compose himself. He's not Roba. He's not that son of a bitch who Simon was unfortunate enough to call a father, either.

Johnny knows what happened. There's no way the ominous line my father used to taunt me with snakes as a kid" didn't have a far more sinister meaning behind it. He knows Simon was a cheap commodity when he was with Roba, for anyone to use when they needed to blow off steam.

He's gathered as much from the muttered words in his sleep, the pamphlet on living with childhood sexual trauma Johnny'd accidently found, collecting dust in his desk drawer. He doesn't ask questions about why the man insists on showering twice a day and never feeling quite clean.

He wants to give back what those two stole from him.

Control.

"Too low?"

A grunt of acknowledgement. A yes.

"Okay, its your call, LT. We can stop or you can put my hands where you want them."

For a moment, Simon genuinely weighed out the options before slowly reaching for Johnny's hands and placing his open palms on his chest. Warm. Wanted.

Johnny's eyes never strayed from Simon's, the searing eye contact burning a warm glow in his stomach.

He needs to stop before he loses himself to the heat of the moment.

But oh–

Simon presses Johnny's hands onto his chest and Johnny squeezes his pectoral muscles lightly, cautious but gentle.

A small, stuttered sigh escaped Simon beneath him.

"Is this alright?"

A barely perceptible nod. Like a delicately balanced art, where he was on the edge of tipping over into uncertainty, but he trusted Johnny enough to let him do this.

He's almost afraid to touch him, to move his hands from that one position, but he traces the skin tentatively, mapping out every one of the man's acquired scars in safe reach.

Just to say, 'I see your imperfections, I love them, I love you'.

I love you…

It seems like the easiest thing in the world to say, but it gets caught in his throat.

He punctuates the unsaid affection with a kiss to the space between his eyebrows, feeling Simon furrow his brow in thought.

Johnny feels the scar tissue of a knife wound under his palm but it doesn't bother him in the slightest.

He's hyper aware of how stuttered Simon's breathing has become, as though Johnny's beginning to unwind the coil of tension keeping him rigid and silent.

It offers Johnny a boldness he doesn't expect.

Watching Simon's face intently, Johnny brushed a thumb carefully over the other man's nipple. His expression remained mostly the same, except for a swallowed whimper that gets caught in his throat.

It's a beautiful sight really, seeing him so vulnerable but trusting enough to let this happen. Johnny tries to memorize the image of him, bare skin under his hands, mouth tipped open ever so slightly, uneven breaths, racing heartbeat.

There's a stray lock of hair fallen out of place and covering his forehead that Johnny brushed back into position.

"Still alright?"

"Affirmative."

Johnny feels need creep closer at the sound, staining his senses red with a different kind of heat he doesn't want to indulge himself in.

Not now. Not with Simon still seeing his abusers burned into his eyelids. It wouldn't be right.

And he wants to marry the man first. He wants to do it right, treat him right. Love him the way he deserves.

Simon is a marvel, a beautifully dangerous man, scars and all.

He's startled when he feels warm hands fiddle with the hem of his shirt and he looks up to find urgent brown eyes.

"May I?"

Johnny nods, trying not to look too eager. He helps Simon in removing his shirt. Heat rushes to his cheeks as the man gives him a once over.

He'd lie if he said he wasn't more than a little intimidated by Simon's gaze. His eyes were just as intense without the mask as they were when he was wearing it.

It's Simon that makes the first move, pulling Johnny down to kiss him, pushing their chests together. Skin against skin, at long last.

"Hands where I can see them, Johnny," Ghost warns against his mouth and Johnny immediately moves his hands to steady himself against the headboard behind Simon instead.

Simon's calloused fingers brush up from his hip, counting his ribs with his thumbs, mapping him. Taking stock of each scar on his body, now seeming inconsequential in comparison to Simon's scars.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't feel vulnerable like this.

He's watched those very hands, now digging into his skin with gentle, pliant heat, kill men without mercy. He's seen the violence that could come from him just as much as he knows the affection.

He wonders who the last person was that Simon touched with so much tenderness. Selfishly, he sort of hopes he's the first.

Simon pulls him in for another kiss, a more heated, desperate one than the first.

Johnny's just glad he's feeling comfortable enough to initiate things.

It's a long way from where they started, where even the subtlest of affection would set him on edge.

Johnny savours the warmth of his hands against his waist, keeping him in place. He dutifully keeps his hands on the headrest until Simon clumsily reaches for them and rests them tentatively in the dips of his hips.

He's hesitant and his hands shake far too much for him to be completely sure of himself.

But Johnny knows how hard this is. This wasn't Ghost, this was Simon. The man he tried to bury over years of indifference, coldness.

Ghost has never trusted anyone else with Simon and Johnny feels honoured to know him behind that mask.

He's not an unfeeling killing machine. He's just a man.

His train of thought is broken when Simon speaks.

"You need someone better than me, Johnny. You deserve someone pretty."

Simon's gaze is fixated on Johnny's exposed skin, comparing it to the state of his own with more than a little pain in his eyes.

Just thinking about the self loathing in that statement makes his blood boil. Simon didn't lose his innocence to a man who couldn't control himself or get used as a means of pleasure against his will to call himself undesirable or unworthy.

Johnny cups a hand to Simon's jaw, stroking his thumb along three day old stubble.

"You're beautiful, Simon. If anyone dares tell you otherwise, I'll put a bullet through their fucking skull."

Simon scoffs, reaching for one of Johnny's hands and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "You really know your way to a man's heart, Johnny."

"Aye, so you admit, there is a heart in there somewhere?"

"Fuck off."

But it's far too affectionate for him to mean it.

They decide to call it a night soon after that, before things get too serious.

Johnny meets urgent brown eyes and offers the man one last, chaste kiss before he turns to his side of the bed.

"Suppose we should be getting to bed, don't wanna push you too far in one night," Johnny says as he retrieves Simon's shirt from the floor. He slips back into his own.

Johnny says it in part for himself and the rapidly approaching arousal he wants to keep at an arm's distance. He needs to think of something else before he gets himself too worked up.

The last thing he wants to do is make Simon uncomfortable. Heaven forbid he has more need for that pamphlet in the desk drawer. He doesn't want to trigger anything from his past.

Johnny can't bear the thought of hurting Ghost. It makes him physically sick.

Wordlessly, they settle into bed and Johnny turns to face the other man.

They're tired. They both are.

When the silence has settled just enough to lay heavy, a thoughtful little smile finds Johnny's lips. He finds the strength to say the words.

"Love you, Si."

Simon says nothing but intertwines their fingers under the blanket and raises their clasped hands to his mouth for a kiss to Johnny's knuckle.

Johnny lies there a while, awake, in quiet reverie.

In rare moments like these, the banter dies away and unmasks what lies beneath it. The raw emotion, the history and the heartbreak. They say it, all the things they can't express during the day.

The honesty catches them sober and still overtakes them.

He savours the moment, because he knows all the walls they broke down tonight will be back in the morning and this will all feel like a fever dream.

While he still has this, has them, Johnny loops an arm around Simon's waist and pulls him against his chest, holding the man protectively against him.

"I promise as long as I'm here, LT, I'll never let anyone lay a hand on you again."

It's enough honesty for one night.

Tomorrow, everything will go back to normal.

#simon ghost riley #soapghost #john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #fanfic #fanfiction #ghostsoap #ghoap #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #soap x ghost fanfiction #ghoap fanfic #my writing #ao3 link

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showtoonzfan · 11 months

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HELLUVA BOSS: S2E4 REVIEW

Ganna be honest, this episode wasn’t AS bad as I thought it would be, like I’m lowkey shocked. It’s certainly not the worst out of what we’ve seen, and it didn’t piss be off to high heaven, especially since the runtime is short and Blitz and Stolas are away from one another here, but….it still wasn’t….good, so let’s get into it.

So everyone already knows this episode was….so fast paced. Andrealphus doesn’t even get a proper introduction, and like I said before, in the span of one fucking minute, we have Stolas and Stella petty banter, Andrealphus, and Striker coming back to kidnap him. For starters, Yayy….glad to see Stolas and Stella acting like petty middle schoolers towards eachother. I was right when I said that the writers can’t figure out what they want their dynamic to be. Like….this is supposed to be the same couple that’s in an abusive serious situation, and it kinda doesn’t make me take them seriously if they’re just swearing at each other and bickering Viv. Also, glad to know the writers are outright saying “cheating is okay”- simply because Stella never liked him, so again….way to take the flaws Stolas had in season 1 and completely erase them and excuse them, just because you want Stolas to be in the right. It’s so distracting how fucking retconned they are, they might as well just have said “Stolas did nothing wrong” in Loo Loo Land if these were the writer’s true colors all along, but since Viv wrote this episode, I’m not surprised.

They hyped Andrealphus up but he gets like….two scenes and doesn’t do much like…lmao. In The Circus, again…they try to make it clear that divorce in the Goetia family is uwu serious, and Stella mentions Andrealphus, implying that he would be upset, or is a threat. When we actually meet him tho, he isn’t even….upset about the divorce? Why did Stella mention him then? What was the point of foreshadowing him and having Stolas say he doesn’t care what he thinks if Andrealphus was just going to be all like “oh you’re getting divorced? Okay, give us money then”- like it’s so fucking underwhelming but we’ll get back to him and Stella later. Also we see that Stolas has a scheduled meeting with Ozzie, implying that he may be trying to get that crystal after all. But…can this show just fucking….stop teasing us with future shit and just do it already? I’m so tired of the show dangling plot threads to come later in our face but they either NEVER come or the execution is underwhelming.

Blitz continues to be the most annoying and unfunny character in the entire show. His jokes and dialogue are a fucking pain to sit through and the scene where he’s trying to announce his appointment and fights with the lady in the waiting room drags and is unneeded. In fact, this whole side plot was unneeded. Viv doesn’t know how to fucking balance this show, she wants episodes to be serious and story driven but have a slice of life filler side plot at the same time and guess what? It doesn’t work or blend well. The constant cut aways are distracting from the main plot and you could have used this premise for a different episode. Loona doesn’t even have any dialogue, you could have at least improved the relationship between her and Blitz or had a moment of her being thankful that he was here and comforting her, appreciating him more….ya know….character development……..something that would have made this side plot actually useful since this is supposed to be a fucking “character driven” show about the relationships between the characters, but no. This side plot existed to pat out the run time and give Blitz and Loona something to do so they’re not just sitting there. As usual Loona does nothing, is useless and only there for the furry porn. The shot of her butt with the needle was 100% on purpose, I can tell.

(Also we’re on season 2 and only now finally get to see an upfront interaction of Imps being treated as the lower class, but it doesn’t do anything. This show tells us instead of showing us, they constantly remind you that imps are at the bottom but Blitz still literally has a good job that pays well and aside from the wrath imps providing food too feed hell, there’s no exploration of how imps having it lower than any other demon species. If anything it seems like Imps and the rest of the Hellborn species are all on the same ranking because Viv can’t storytell.) Also what is with the bleeping? I really don’t get it, it’s not funny and it’s distracting, making scenes awkward.

Predicted it, but Moxxie and Millie were…unneeded in this episode and were only included to fight Striker. These two really are useless when they’re not the focus and you can tell Viv has no idea what to do with them when they’re not. Also…..Viv…..Viv……is Moxxie strong, or not? Make up your fucking mind. In this episode he’s able to get the upper hand against a bigger imp, make him bleed and tie him to the car without an issue, and yet he’s been characterized as weak and not the muscle of the group. Is he strong or not? YAYY MORE CHARACTER INCONSISTENCIES! And glad to know Millie did nothing….as usual. Besides fight.

So Stolas has officially become Angel Dust, and Moxxie is slowly turning into Blitz so that’s great. It’s amazing how there’s barley a difference between the Stolas and Angel tho, he’s just Angel Dust. And Chaz. And Blitz. And every other fucking gay male character Viv writes. The constant cursing, the quick sassy witty banter, the sex jokes of him being tied up, you can tell Viv wrote this with those “harder” jokes between Moxxie and Stolas like…wow, it’s amazing how her gay characters have recycled personalities, aka the Sassy gay twink. Anyway, to me, Stolas before was horny and rabid don’t get me wrong, but something about the way he is in this episode just irks me more. I get that he hates Stella and Striker, but now he just seems like a petty sassy royal bird who acts like a child 24/7…..and it’s unfunny…..and annoying. All these characters are written like fucking children I can’t.

Apparently Striker has a reputation, is wanted around Hell and is well known for being an assassin now??? I thought he was just some Imp who was hired to kill someone? Lmao yet another retcon because if this was the case before, you’d think IMP would have heard of him in Harvest Moon. What’s also retconned is Striker saying he was asked to give Stolas the “full royal treatment”, to torture him I guess but….no? He was hired to shoot Stolas with an angelic gun. Why didn’t he just fucking shoot him. Speaking of that, where is the fucking angelic gun? The IMP gang had it last, and now they don’t have it. Also I already pointed this out but…Stolas can’t recognize Striker despite meeting him in episode 5 upfront. Let’s actually talk about Striker tho. He wasn’t perfect but he certainly was the best part of the episode. I actually applaud Bosco for his voice acting, and the scene with him snapping at the band to leave him alone was the only joke that made me laugh. I didn’t care about Striker that much before but this episode honestly made me did now, ignoring the fact that he’s characterized as egotistical. Problem is tho, like the rest of the antagonists, Stikers kinda just a tool. So he….may or may not be dead, I legit have no idea. If he is dead however….boy oh boy, that would piss me off, because IF he IS dead……then way to go guys, you killed off the only interesting and cool character. 🫠

I expected it, but it’s amazing how everything beforehand regarding him was for nothing if he does turn out dead. The tension he had between him and Moxxie? Would be gone. The fact that he appeared in Blitz’s hallucination, being someone who was similar to Blitz but they used their skills differently yet were the same regarding being mistreated by the upper class? Would be gone. Striker wanting to rebel against the higher class? Gone. Blitz doesn’t even get to interact with him before he dies, for a character that clearly had an impact on him. I was going to applaud this episode for actually being consistent and keeping Striker the same person who despises the upper class for what they do to the lower class, they even imply that he had someone he cares about taken away, but it’s all fucking gone if they KILLED HIM OFF. It all would go nowhere in the end and it pisses me off now because you HAD an interesting character, a villain who contrasted the main character, who had a point and could be humanized, and who rightfully calls out Stolas and his people being the scum of the earth, and now he might be dead because once again, Vivzie is an impatient writer who pushes the story forward too fast before we can even get to know these important characters, and also doesn’t want Stolas to be in a position where he’s in the wrong. Bro was literally eating at a rich place where imps serve you, treats his butler like a stress toy, talks down to Blitz and other imps…he’s not innocent Viv.

(It’s also obvious but this episode suffers from pacing issues, the constant cut aways, and scenes moving by so fast we can’t digest any of it. The FIGHT scene tho? Good god that was a mess, it’s literally faster than Millie’s fight scene from last episode, and the annoying songs playing as we kept cutting to Blitz at the appointment REALLY doesn’t help. I really feel like this studio can’t handle fight scenes….at all, or knows how they work. The video literally gets fucking blurry at one point like what the FUCK LMAO…..either hire someone who knows how to animate action scenes or don’t do action scenes at all.)

I knew Stella was still going to be one note, so I wasn’t surprised, but honestly what did piss me off is how stupid they make her. She was inconsistent before but now she’s just an idiot, because apparently she needed to be TOLD that once Stolas dies, everything goes to Octavia. Like are you kidding me? She’s so dumb that she needed to be told that?? She doesn’t even respond when Andre mentions Via, lmao her whole character really is “me hate Stolas and me want him dead” and nothing else. I’ll give the episode this, even though we barley got to see Andre, he wasn’t insufferable like I thought he would be, in fact, he’s more tolerable than Stella and Stolas combined since he’s the one who’s annoyed at their bickering and calls Stella out for being dumb, but that’s not a writing flex. Andre clearly seems to be the smart mastermind leading Stella now, I have no idea wether if they’ll later make her sympathetic and paint Andre out to be the baddie leading her, or not, it would be bad writing either way tho. Speaking of that….the way Andre treats Stella is off, and I don’t mean in the way that he could be evil. Like other critic blogs have been saying, he calls her attractive, a minx, and a vixen, all words you….wouldn’t really call your sister. It’s really gross and I’m starting to think the information we’ve been given of these two secretly screwing might be true. Like…if we’re doing straight up incest, I’m ganna hurl.

Andre also is all like “if we keep him alive, we’ll have more opportunities, let’s wait till we can get the upper hand”- and I’m…..what? You HAD the upper hand, that’s number one, and number two, this dialogue is VERY vague and makes me feel like Viv had no idea what exactly Andre’s end goal is here, so she used this dialogue as an excuse to figure it out later since she doesn’t plan shit ahead. Because what is Andre’s end goal? It’s confusing. Stella wants him dead, but then they’re talking about money and possessions. Andre seems to want to help Stella have Stolas’s estate, but she just wanted him dead because she hates him. Now you’re telling me she wants his estate too? YAY MORE RETCONS AND CONFUSING PLOT HOLES. Guess we’ll have to wait for Viv to figure out their motivations later lol.

Yada yada another retcon, Blitz cares for Uwu Stolas and is a dumbass for acting like he never knew Stolas could get hurt despite having a fucking angelic weapon on him and learning royals could be in danger in the last season, moving on-

So we’re finally at the end, the most important scene, the text scene. For starters, just like the other critic blogs have been saying……Ozzie’s finally……FINALLY gets brought up again and acknowledged, and it’s over a fucking blink and you’ll miss it half- assed text message. Like….WOW Viv, way to scrape the bottom of the barrel and confront this in the most underwhelming way possible. Would have been actually impactful and better if we saw this go down on fucking screen and have Blitz and Stolas address this in person, but nah let’s just have it happen off screen because storytelling and Viv? They don’t know each other!

But putting that aside, I want to talk about two important problems I had with this scene, because nobody is talking about how these messages make no goddamn sense. So if you actually read the messages between Blitz and Stolas, I hate how Stolas is characterized here, and I don’t mean how he’s suddenly acting like he always cared about Blitz because that’s been a problem since Ozzie’s, I’m talking about how oblivious and emotionally clingy he is. Like…seriously these text messages are a fucking mess. He suddenly acts clueless to how Blitz feels, wondering if he was upset or not, as if Blitz didn’t fucking tell him exactly why afterwards. Fuck you mean by “you just took off?”- I’m sorry Viv, did you forget the scene where Blitz drove Stolas home that night and called him out on his bullshit, saying all he did was treat him like a plaything? Because yeah, Ozzie’s may have finally been fucking mentioned in this show, but now it’s retconned AGAIN because apparently Stolas is a dumbass and can’t remember why Blitz was mad at him in the first place when he had spelled it out loud and clear. Stolas’s text messages make it out to be like they left the restaurant after Ozzie’s taunting and the scene with them at Stolas’s house never happened. Then Stolas is saying shit like “okay well phew glad you’re not upset then Ozzie is a kidder lol I didn’t mind the jabs he makes at me”- I…..WHAT??? What the fuck is going on? Why is Stolas written differently here? Why is the events of Ozzie’s written differently now? Stolas was literally embarrassed by Ozzie calling him out and hid in his menu, much to Blitz’s dismay. They then leave, Stolas can obviously tell Blitz is upset, and when he tries to reach to him gently, Blitz shuts him out, causing Stolas to cry alone. This episode is apparently now acting like their quarrel never happened because the dialogue is written as if they’re referring to Ozzie’s torment, not Blitz calling him out. This legit pisses me off because the show is once again telling us what we saw didn’t happen and rewriting it to fool us. Making Stolas out to be some vulnerable softie who cares about Blitz’s well being too—

And finally, Viv does what she does best by wanting to make you ship Blitz and Stolas together SO badly, but accidentally contradict herself by showing even MORE proof on why these two aren’t good for each other. Putting all the retconning aside, in this case it’s that…surprise surprise, Blitz is constantly miserable and unhappy around Stolas, or whenever they interact. And it’s not even that Blitz can’t communicate, or sucks at emotions, he just doesn’t fucking LIKE Stolas, and I don’t understand how many times the show is going pin that nail on the head until something actually happens, because this scene would have been more impactful if we weren’t already HERE before. Remember The Circus Viv? Stolas going through his Instagram and noticing Blitz was miserable all the time, and reflecting on how their relationship was a figment of his imagination? This scene is the same, it’s just done through text messages now. Why are we doing this again. And I don’t get what Viv’s end goal is here. Is she trying to make Stolas realize that Blitz never gave a shit about him (because we’re on season two and this bird brain can’t take a hint) or is she trying to make Stolas go “I thought he didn’t care but omg he texted me “get well soon” he DOES love me!” Yeah…probably the last option. This ship sucks. If anything…..why can’t Blitz and Stolas just be fucking friends? You wanna say they care about each other? Fine. But romantically, it just doesn’t work. They aren’t good for each other, and function better as friends, but GOD forbid, we can’t have that because they do the dirty in bed SO IT CAN’T BE PLATONIC, it must be romantic! I was literally right, this ship gets worse and worse every passing episode and Viv wants you to ship it so hard despite the fact that she STILL hasn’t given me ONE good reason why they should be a couple. End of story.

So that pretty much it. This episode was nowhere near has bad as the previous three, it’s the most tolerable, but still heavily flawed in the writing department. The dialogue still lacks nuance and sounds like an edgy 12 year old wrote it, the world is still empty, pacing was off, the animation was off too at times, the constant sex jokes during serious scenes are distracting and take away from what’s going on, the side plot didn’t need to happen, there’s also SCENES that didn’t need to happen, there are multiple retcons and empty plot holes/threads, and Viv once again can’t write a complex serious gay couple. She just doesn’t have the writing chops for it, especially since she keeps rewriting aspects and flip flopping between who is the worse lover and who isn’t. I’ll talk more about this episode later, you know how I rant a lot lol. Tomorrow I’ll be finally answering inbox questions too! If you managed to read my endless rant essay, I thank you! See you soon!

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #helluva boss #helluva boss Stolas #helluva boss andrealphus #helluva boss Stolitz #Stolitz critical #review

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findingnemosworld · 7 months

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𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬

( 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐡𝐜𝐬?? 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭!! )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤'𝐬 𝐢𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 ( 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 ) 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭, 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 ( 𝐨𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 )

[ 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ]

headcanons ( dating dominik )

fluff:

supportive partner: dominik is someone who is incredibly supportive of his partner's goals and dreams. Whether they have a career, hobby, or personal aspiration, he will always encourage and cheer them on, your graduation ceremony, guess who's shouting the loudest when you stand on the stage, when you get the promotion you wanted, expect a fancy dinner, that's how much he loves you and loves encouraging you.

adventurous spirit: dominik has a love for adventure and trying new things. He would be the type of partner who constantly suggests going on spontaneous road trips during the weekends, exploring new places together, however he'd also be the type of guy to take pleasure in strolls around the city to explore new restaurants and café's to try out.

gentle and patient: dominik possesses a gentle and patient nature. He understands the importance of actively listening and being empathetic to his partner's needs and concerns. He's always willing to provide a shoulder to lean on or offer a comforting presence when needed, I believe he's also the kind of guy to value your desire to be silent and simply bask in physical contact so if you're sad, or tired, or simply down from life, crawl in his arms and I can assure you'll feel better instantly.

humor and playfulness: dominik has a fun-loving side and enjoys bringing laughter into a relationship. He would often crack jokes, engage in playful banter, and create little surprises or games that keep the relationship light-hearted and enjoyable, he also has an affinity for a soft kind of teasing in which he'd tease you but it wouldn't cross bullying and if you get upset, he'll be like a baby, sulking until you relent and allow him to be the little spoon, resting his head on your chest and murmur his apology a few times until he's certain that you accepted it.

___

smut:

direct eye contact: when you and dominik are in bed, he won't settle for anything less than eye to eye contact, he wants to see break down as he's thrusting in and out of your slick walls, he'll resort to wrapping his hand around your throat to apply gentle pressure while whispering, " good girl " each time you squeeze his cock.

passion: dominik is a passionate man in every aspect and that doesn't differ in the bedroom, whether he's eating you out like a starved man or he has you on top of him, bouncing up and down on his cock while he caresses you waist, in his eyes these moments are enveloped with an unspoken level of passion.

taking control/submitting: I mean, it's in his namesake, he won't relent easily - he likes to be on top ( figuratively and literally ) of everything, and that includes when you are in the bedroom, he'll set boundaries while also establishing that you are, his sweet baba that takes his cock like the good girl she is, if he's angry from a loss or simply a terrible performance, be very prepared to listen to everything he says and if you refuse, trust that your body will be covered in marks.

taking control/submitting part ii: now there are times where dominik is in a different headspace, you can see it in his eyes and that's when he relents, allowing you to take the reigns so as long as you maintain the fact that in the end, he's in charge; however, on such rare occasions, he'll permit you to tie him up and help take his mind off of a bad match, or anything that could have dampened his mood.

foreplay/dirty talk: before you get down and dirty, there will be at least an hour either his fingers, his tongue. ( or both ) are inside of your pussy, he doesn't know why but he's obsessed with how easy you melt whenever he eats you out, and vice versa, if you're on your knees, your makeup smudged, and lips hollowed up to take all of his cock inside until the tip hits the back of your through, whew ... let's just say, he might as well stay there cause dominik loves your mouth.

[ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 … 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 ]

#dominik szoboszlai #dominik szoboszlai blurb #dominik szoboszlai smut #dominik szoboszlai fluff #dominik szoboszlai headcanons #dominik szoboszlai imagine

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sinon36 · 13 days

Text

Ghost x undercover!reader (HC) Part VI

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Warnings: torture, violence, gore, mistakes.

- the sixth time you meet it’s after a lot of frenzied searches

- the missions have been slow a while now; you mostly act as a handler for TF141, alongside Laswell; the boys got used to your calm voice in their earpieces, guiding and directing them through buildings and underground bases; your “hacking” skills come in handy when Laswell gets caught up with something else

- they always come home in time for you to get supper together; it’s a nice way of living; so different from the loneliness you felt before; now you have a small family to call your own; the banter between you and the sergeants feels the air; you throw jokes to one another; Price quietly chuckles at his younger subalterns; Ghost on the other hand stays silent most of the time;

- you always sit next to him, in the mess hall, in briefing rooms, in helis, or cars; it’s something he’s not sure yet how to interpret; yes, the two of you got along just fine; you have the same dark humour that makes the other soldiers in the base shiver when they hear you laugh at your jokes; you can sit in comfortable silence for hours; you don’t pry into each other’s lives, which he’s thankful; you hadn’t even asked him his name, and you already know one another for more than two years; he won’t admit but he doesn’t like the way his heart feels when you laugh at one of Soap’s jokes, or discuss with Gaz one of the new books you’ve bought, or even when Price comes close to you, peaking over your shoulder and talking quietly with you about the files you’ve got in front of you;

- Ghost does not allow the thought, that he might be jealous on his comrades’ interactions with you, take roots inside his mind; he can’t; you’re just doing your job and you just happen to enjoy the 141’s company, in the most platonic way; he knows that your bond is far superior to that of the other’s; you saved his life, saw his face, and he in turned saved yours; that must add up to something;

- yet he feels that something’s wrong with him; Price pointed out that ever since you joined TF141 he seems quieter, and less present; he’s becoming more and more his namesake; he denies that, and argues that he’s just tired, now that he’s getting older; Price calls out his shite; the captain is older than him, and he’s far more active than him;

- but the captain can’t do more than that, a friendly conversation; yours and Ghost’s relationship is extremely professional; he rarely sees the two of you interact in the common room, or anywhere else for that matter, that’s not the battle field or the briefing room; you also work incredibly well; you two and Soap had made quite the trio when it comes to field work; he affectionately calls you the Unholy Trinity of Task Force 141; trails of body are left in your wake and almost all missions go well without the tinniest hitch; the men joke around that surely you are some kind of witch that made a deal with the devil to have success; you laugh and chalk it all up to skill, hard work, and a shite ton of sheer luck;

- though you keep reminding them that your luck will run out one day, they ignore you, joking that you’ll have to tolerate them until you retire; you’re not as optimistic; you’re the realist of the whole team; you know the risks are ten times bigger than theirs

- most of the times you go in alone, unarmed, no back up, no communication; you only have yourself to rely on; and you know that when the fatigue catches up with you, you’ll slip up, make a mistake, that’ll get you killed or worse

- and then the worst you feared happens; you go MIA during a simple infiltration; the boys find no trace to indicate where you’d been taken to or by whom; Laswell can’t find any sign of you, no matter how hard she tries, or how far she’s stretching her informant network; nothing; denial turns to angry searches, busting down doors and torturing anyone they come across; that turns to desperation, they start looking into the most unrelated events they find, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they get a glimpse of your name, or an alias, or something, no matter how small; and that turns to silence, they stop bringing you up, start avoiding your name or anything that might point out you’re not there; after Laswell mentions you in one of their briefings, that the time to change your status to KIA is due, Ghost smashes the chair you used to sit in

- it’s one of the most violent reactions he’s had outside the battlefield since you’d disappeared, and Price starts to worry that his lieutenant will do something stupid if they don’t find out what happened to you; he threatens Laswell to not touch that file of yours; ‘Not yet, Kate. Not yet.’ He says in a sadder and calmer voice

- acceptance never came; the thought that maybe you’re not even alive, buried somewhere unmarked, or body burned beyond recognition is a thought they’d long banished; wherever they went they kept their eyes peeled for you; their hope of finding you never wavers

- and then their prayers are answered; they get something; it’s not much; a 3-second clip; it’s blurred, to few pixels to really make out any details; and the camera seems to be moved violently, barely catching the hunched posture of a person tied to a chair; Laswell got it form one of her contacts; it’s from a half destroyed hard drive they recovered from heli the dropped out of the sky

- it’s not much; actually, is far too little to go on with; the video doesn’t show a face, nor reveals any names; the background so dark they can’t make out anything; But they agree it’s you; from the size of your body, to your complexion to the colour of your hair, now longer and falling over your face; it’s been months since they last saw you but they know it’s you

- ‘Proof of life’ Price concludes; ‘But fur who?’ Soap voices the question they all thought of that; ‘It don’t matter’ Ghost points out, voice gruffer than ever; ‘Where is more important.’ Gaz specifies

- they get to work; they comb the crash site, having received the location from Laswell; at first they don’t find anything; but Ghost’s keen eyes find it; it’s a small piece of silvery metal, wedged in the dirt; it’s only half, but he can make out the letters clearly; cyrillic letter; he grunts; ‘Price…’ he shouts to get everyone’s attention; when they come closer he shows it to them; ‘Russians’ they conclude

- the hunt begins; Nik is there to smuggle the Brits over the Russian borders and to provide them with an extraction vehicle, in his case an old rusty Russian helicopter, that can barely fly under the radar, it flinches and grunts at every gust of wind, but it’s as covert as can be; they don’t bear any insignia visible on their black camo uniforms; their faces tucked under black balaclavas; even their guns are Russian, some AK-47 Nik provided them with no striations on the barrels; they even agreed to keep their mouths shut, letting the captain converse with anyone that they might encounter; no one can no that a team of Brits put their feet on Russian soil

- they carefully went over all the details just like you got them used to when you did infiltrations; they are as prepared as ever; the plan is simple; take out the guards that make their rounds through the facility and take their place; that will give them sufficient time to look for you and find a way out to get you out; “if” they find you; the information came through Laswell and it was already a couple weeks old; chances are you’ve been moved;

- they search everywhere; you’re not there; time for plan B: infiltrate their data base; Price gets his hand on a computer and plugs the USB containing the backdoor virus; it takes some time to install, then to reboot the whole system; Laswell gives the green light that they’re in; they get out of there leaving no trace that they ever were inside

- the next two weeks are gruesome; Ghost spends most of his time destroying the punching bags in the gym; he barely eats and barely sleeps; he starts hearing your voice in the night when he climbs the ladder to the roof, perched up like an owl, having a smoke away from everyone; he hears a soft whisper, or a small chuckle; he’s going crazy, he thinks; crazy with worry for you;

- it’s been years since Simon felt worry for someone; when his family was killed, he vowed to never get close to another soul again; but then you had to save him; you didn’t even know him; risked your life for a stranger that cannot repay you for that act of kindness

- but he can; he can make sure you’re safe on missions; that’s why he’d always stalk your figure through the scope; that’s why he’d have you with him and Soap every time you’d split up; so he can keep his eyes on that pretty face of yours; that’s why he’d threaten the other marines on base with the court martial when he’d hear lewd comments about you being their whore and so much worse; he’d be wringing their necks if Price didn’t keep such a close eyes on his actions

- he misses you, and your presence, and your sweet perfume, and your voice, and your eyes that would look straight into his when he told you a joke, smirk matching his own; he missed the way you’d drink your tea together in the morning, in silence broken only by soft sighs and the sound of the sofa under your weights; if he got up before you he’d make sure to boil enough water for two mugs and he’d put the tea in the moment he could hear your footsteps heading to the common room; he was so accustomed to you that he could make out your footsteps even in the busiest corridors; lighter than most, almost quiet but quick, lively; he misses that too

- the way you’d make your away towards him and with a nod take the seat next to his, softly brushing his shoulder with yours in an unspoken acknowledgement… I’m here, next to you… your simple touch made his skin boil underneath his clothes and yearn for more; he’d take advantage of situations out in the field; he’d grab you and help you climb over obstacles, he’d give you a head anytime he felt you needed it; and you’d never refuse his help;

- he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t find you; just like you found him when you first met

- two weeks pass by slower when you’re almost always awake, Simon knew that already; but he’s the first to get on the tarmac when Price gives the order for heading out; Laswell managed to pinpoint your location; one of the Russian commanders moved you to an off the record, but not really cause ‘Russians are shit at keeping a low profile.’ Laswell adds, compound where they’d keep foreign prisoners for interrogations; the American woman sends them out to get you out and wipe any witness that has seen your face

- exactly what Simon wanted; the green light to do what he’s best at: mauling his enemies;

- the compound they keep you in is underground, ventilation system outdated, like pretty much any piece of technology they keep; they record the interrogation on an old Sony camera; you doubt it can register your mumbled responses, not that you’d say anything useful; you’d match every question with a curse in a clear American accent; you don’t want to give them anything that might be traced back to your British boys;

- they can’t get anything out of you; not your name, not whom do you work for, or where you’re from, what you were looking for when you infiltrated their operation, etc.; they were met with an unsurmountable resistance; no matter how many times they’d beat you, drown you, burn you, cut you, electrocute you, or humiliate you; they took away most of your clothes, leaving you in your underwear and what little remained from your tank top, enough to cover only your upper torso; you were cold, hungry and in pain; you had been in this condition for months; but you wouldn’t give up

- in the academy they taught you that the longer you lasted the more chances of being found; that thought has crossed your mind more than once; but you don’t allow yourself to hope; that would only weigh you down the more time passes; no, you look for ways to free yourself and learn the personnel’s schedule; and you wait for the best opportunity

- that window of opportunity is near; for a week now you worked on pulling out the nail in the chair that holds the chair’s handle together; you managed to pull out the nail and twist your wrist to try and scratch at the rope; the motion is uncomfortable and painful, the skin of your wrist is cut open by the rope that soaks up your blood; you’ve been at it for hours, trying to cut yourself loose; and you finally manage; surprise overtakes you as the rope unravels and your hand is free; the limb aches with exertion as you shake it to get the flow of circulation to get back to normal

- then you lean forward and grab at the knife left there from the previous session, still wet with your blood; freeing yourself is more strenuous than you would have imagined; as you bend down to free your ankles you almost pass out from the sudden rush of blood to your head; you lost of it, enough to hinder you in your escape; but you push through

- when you stand up you grab the chair for support and move in slow motion afraid you’ll pass out; you have a plan in mind already; get dresses in the coat left on the hanger by the door, and lay in wait for the interrogator to come back for another round; now that your body is filled with adrenaline times moves slower, but it doesn’t take long for the door handle to start to move; you wait for the tall and skinny man to enter; if he were a little leaner you wouldn’t have had a chance; but this failed physician that took to torture won’t even know what hit him; you stab him in the neck with a somewhat quick strike;

- he dies drowning in his own blood; you manage to drag his corpse under the table, leaving the pool of blood untouched; maybe they’ll think that you finally bled out and someone took your corpse to the morgue to be burned; you don’t care as you grab the handgun off his waist; the same one he’d threaten you with when you wouldn’t answer;

- judging by the thick clothes your assailant wears you know outside is cold; so you do what they told you at the academy; you undress the corpse an take his pants an shoes; they’re huge on you but you can’t complain; you shiver at the warmth still trapped in the wool fibres;

- you make your way outside checking for any guards; you found none, as expected; you heard the Russian complain that is too cold and stuffy down here that nobody but him frequents the lower levels; some people don’t know to shut up and you are glad to exploit that; with his gun, knife and car keys in hand you make your way through the dark corridors; you follow the boot prints left on the filthy floors;

- the only guards you encounter are the ones stationed by the door that leads to the stairs; you make quick work of them; one shot for each of their heads; you almost fall down on your ass as the gun kicks back in recoil; you take a moment to lean on the wall taking a few calming breaths

- your ascend is slow, laboured breaths escaping your gaping mouth; you strain your eyes and try to decipher the word on the walls marking the level and the facility; you’re looking for the parking lot; you find it after climbing to the second to last level; Russians really don’t know how to keep a facility secure; as you climb the emergency stairs there is no one to stop you; they underestimated your ability to escape this hell hole; their mistake

- as you reach the parking lot you look for the physician’s car; it’s a rusty red Lada; it’ll do just fine; as you get in the passenger side you start hearing gunshots; it’s faint; maybe you imagined it; but no, it’s there; you don’t wait to find out what’s happening, as you turn the key in the ignition you pull out of the spot and quickly drive towards the exit; whatever firefight broke out in there, pulled away every guard from their stationary position; for a moment you think about TF 141, but you quickly dismiss it

- you make your way out, a little dizzy from the spiral ascension; once out of there you notice that there’s forest around, and some snow; you hit gravel and as you look back you notice the exit; the only indication that there is something men made here; you doubt that tunnel can be spotted from a drone; the trees block the line of sight; that confirms your suspicions

- the gun fire must be coming from another escapee, not as lucky as you; you drive down the dirt road following every twist and turn hoping you won’t see any other cars; you check the glove compartment; now that the adrenaline rush is over your body aches like never before; you search for some pain meds but you only find a wallet with some cash in it; Russian rubbles, enough to keep the car going for a while; maybe you’ll find a gas station; it’s risky but you are I dire need of food and water; that might give you enough strength to push forward

- the 141 moves quickly taking care of the two sentinels at the mouth of the tunnel; two well placed shots and they’re down; Gaz and Soap move the bodies in a bush and hide their car in the tree line; hopefully nobody will come looking for this two in the next crucial minutes; they comb through the facility dropping anyone they encounter; their pistols bear silencers masking the loud sounds; they move deeper and deeper, but soon the alarm is sounded and a full fight ensues; the guards are no match for the 141; they drop like flies; but the fight costs them precious minutes;

- Ghost breaks away from the rest of his teammates; he knows they got it; he needs to hurry to find you; he needs to make sure you are still breathing, and that your pretty eyes still hold fire in them; he gets to lowest level where the holding cells are; he checks behind every grate and every door until a he gets to what seems to be the place they torture the prisoners

- he notices how filthy and cold it is; but what makes his blood freeze is the chair and the large pool of fresh blood; no…, he’s too late; he came to late; a wave of blinding fury surges and like a tsunami Ghost thrashes the room; he stops only when he discovers the body of a tall Russian man behind the desk; his throat slit; pants and boots missing; atta girl he can’t help the smirk taking over his face under the balaclava; you were capable, he knew that, but you still manage to surprise him; he gets out trying to radio in the discovery to the rest of his teammates

- the radio crackles with static, concrete walls too thick for the signal to penetrate; he’s made his decision; he’s going after you even though he knows Price will kick his ass later; you need him; probably not as much as he needs you; he chases the droplets of blood you left on the ground as you walked towards the emergency staircase; at the door, two more casualties; no, you didn’t need him; you had it handled

- in the parking lot he finds a military truck with the key in the ignition; he follows you as quickly as the car gets on the dirt road

- you drive for what feels like hours; your mind is struggling, eyes out of focus and body feeling heavier with every minute; you don’t know why or when the car starts to shake and tilt, you feel yourself flying out of the seat; everything goes black

- Ghost’s eyes scan the road in front of him through the thick snowfall; he almost misses the red car that swerved of the road and now rests on the side in a ditch, snow piles on top almost making it disappear; he gets out of the truck and approaches the car pistol pointed at it; he wipes away the snow that covers the window on the driver’s side; inside he can make out a body that’s laying on its side face obscured by the thick collar of the jacket; he pulls the door open carefully and nudges the body to see if they’re conscious or not; when there’s no movement he peels the collar from their face

- Simon thinks he is no longer able to panic; he survived through his father’s and brother’s abuse; then he joined the military where they taught him to surpass any fears and to control himself; then the Mexican cartel who buried him alive; that experience showed him what terror looks like; only to return home and find all the people that he held dear massacred; Ghost is the result of so many horrifying events; he is the cautionary tale of what prolonged survival in a malignant environment looks like

- the level of fear matches that of when he found the body of Beth hugging Josep’s smaller one; he acts without thinking, grabbing your limp and cold body and pulling you out of the wreckage; your head is bleeding from where you hit it on the window; lips are blue and your skin cold to the touch; he checks for a pulse; he can’t tell if he feels yours or his own; his hands are trembling with rage and powerlessness; he grabs for the radio’ telling Price he’d found you but you need medical assistance immediately; there’s no answer on the other side; just static

- he hoists you up and takes you to the stolen truck placing you in the front seat; he climbs in the driver’s seat letting you down slowly over the seat head resting on his lap; he puts the heat on high trying to make you warm again; he checks for your breathing and he’s thrilled to find that small puffs of air come from your open mouth

- he starts driving, he doesn’t know where; he neds a safe house to treat your wounds and to keep you safe; the snow is falling heavy, making impossible to see where he’s driving; then he sees it; to the side he can make out a building in the tree line

- the abandoned cottage is nothing more than a ruin; but it has four walls and a roof and he’s glad to see a small fireplace, dry wood abandoned next to it; he puts you down on what he can only assume is what remained of a thick rug long forgotten by its previous owners; he works quickly and efficiently, in mere minutes a fire burns casting a warm glow in the barren room

- he moves to work on you; he peels the jacket off only to find that you are nearly naked under the stolen clothes; he gets angrier at the Russians wishing he could bring them back only to subject them to the same kind of torture they did you and some more; he quickly checks for deeper cuts or signs of infection; but he can’t find none; they must’ve given you antibiotics to keep you alive as much as possible;

- he cleans the cuts with the antiseptic wet wipes his med kit contains; then he dresses the wounds with gauze; your thin body looks like a mummy from the amount gauze; he addresses your head next wiping the blood of and bandaging your forehead; he sighs in relief when your lips and skin slowly turn pink from the warmth; you lay in between his legs as he sits on the floor, your head laying on his thigh

- he tries contacting 141 again, but to no avail; looks like he’ll have to hold out here tonight; he’ll stay awake to protect you until you wake up

- it’s morning when you stir, he watches your face intently from above you; your eyelids groggily open eyes trying to focus; as you lay eyes on brown ones, hidden behind a black balaclava you start to panic; you weakly push at his hands and chest, mumbling and trying to get away from him; he doesn’t relent though; his grip is firm on you and in a commanding voice he orders you to sit still; hearing your name does the trick; you didn’t tell those fuckers your name; and his embrace is not restraining more like protecting; you think hard and try to remember eyes flickering over the balaclava; ‘Ghost…’ you croak when your vocal chords decide to vibrate; ‘Gho…’ you repeat even more brokenly; he shushes you and reassures you that yes, he’s here and no, he won’t go anywhere; not without you; that puts your mind at ease and you close your eyes again

-when you wake up again is noon; he feeds you some water through cracked and dry lips and he gives you a dose of morphine to help with the pain; that sends you back to sleep

- the third time you wake, you are being carried by strong arms; the sound of blades cutting air becomes louder and louder; Ghost walks backwards shielding you from the snow that’s being picked up by the gusts of wind;

- he climbs the heli; Nik greets Ghost, as Soap and Gaz pull him and you inside; the ride is silent, no one says anything; the Russian pilot takes you to a better equipped safehouse

- you wake up to someone entering the room; you’re in a warm comfortable bed, IV connected to your wrist fluid being pumped in your veins; you open your eyes to a dark-haired man bringing in a tray of food; you panic again when you hear him greet you, voice laced with a deep Russian accent; he sees the look on your face and he slowly puts the tray on the table; ‘Don’t vorry, I’m Nick. A friend ov 141. I von’t hurt yu, agent’; he tells you it’s nice to finally put a face to the name, and that you are prettier than Gaz told him; you watch him in silence, regarding him with apprehension; when he stops talking, you look to the door and ask for Ghost

- he chuckles knowingly and then informs you that “your boy” is being ripped a new one by the captain just outside, and he leaves you to tell Price that your awake; you don’t have time to correct him cause he already out the door; Price walks in soon after, you’re glad to see him; ‘Ah, there you are’ he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; he asks you how you’re feeling; numb thanks to the morphine; he wants to know what happened

- it was a trap; they were waiting for you, Russians; they wanted to know who you were and who did you work for; you told them nothing; he knows; he asks you about your time in the facility; you don’t quite remember much, just the torture and the questions; he tells you that you did good, and that you need to rest now;

- Gaz and Soap stop by to talk to you a bit; you tell them you’ll be fine; and then you ask for Ghost; they rub their necks a little ashamed; you asked them what happened; Ghost got scolded for going AWOL in search for you; Price even threatened him with the court martial; you huff; and swing the blanket off; you sit at the ledge of the bed; you’re glad to find you’ve been clothed in a pair of slacks and a long sleeve shirt; you grab the IV needle and pull hard on it; then you stand grabbing the table for support

- the two sergeants move forward to catch you if you fall; you wave them away and move towards the door; you search the living room for any signs of Ghost; instead, Price and Nik talk about something at the dinner table; when Price sees you up and about, despite him telling you to rest, he mutters a ‘Bloody stubborn they are’ and points toward the kitchen; you thank him; you can hear Nik commenting something about you and Ghost deserving each other; but you keep walking, slowly, one hand on the wall for balance

- Ghost stands by the window, his back turned to you; he ignores your poor attempt at greeting him; without thinking you cross the distance and hug his waist burying your nose in his hoodie; he tenses

- ‘I’m probably high right now,’ you nuzzle your face in his back inhaling his scent: soap, cigarettes and something you can’t quite tell; ‘thank you, for coming after me’; you let go of him turning to go back to rest; he grabs your upper arm and gently turns you; he watches you closely, you can feel his breath on your face, and smell the cigarette on his lips; his balaclava is pushed up his nose; he stares into your eyes as he speaks ‘Tell me to stop’ his eyes shift to your lips

- ‘Please don’t’; he kisses you, deeply and for a long time; you pull away for air ‘Ghost, I…’ ‘No,’ he cuts you off; ‘Simon, my name is Simon’ you smile lost in his pretty brown eyes; ‘Simon Riley’ and he surprises you taking his balaclava off; you stare at him, trying to memorize every scar and blemish; he’s handsome, in a rugged way; blonde hair, pale skin, and brown eye; you kiss him again.

Previous part here.

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