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gg-pedro · 3 months

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can you hear the music (ch. 5) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano, and you find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 5: new life, old wounds. a honeymoon has to come to an end eventually.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, protective!joel, implied age gap, hurt/comfort, sickfic?, joel needs taking care of, non-gratuitous descriptions of a wound, mentions of death, swearing, references to gun violence, fluff at the end, angst, and more angst.

words: 4.4k (eek)

a/n: edited this one to death. go listen to adrianne lenker.

Weeks passed. Rainstorms rolled into Jackson.

Dark clouds eclipsed the sky, releasing sheets of rain that melted away most of the snow and rendered the ground a muddy brown. The storm system lasted days, save for an hour or two of sunshine between downpours.

Joel had asked you to move in with him. You refused. Then he begged you, saying that he wanted to be around to help you get back on your feet, but still, you declined the offer.

You always figured your honeymoon winter would have to come to a bitter end at some point. Watching Joel execute a man in cold blood probably wasn’t helping to close the divide that had been growing into a chasm and stretching you thin.

Your wound was halfway healed now, too. It still left a scar that made you nauseous when you had to look at it in the mirror.

You’d been allowed a week off from your usual duties around the commune. You asked to be removed from the position you had in the clinic, and Maria personally saw to that. You helped out at the school instead, with the kids you had grown so familiar with. They were the only thing bearable about your day.

You stopped offering piano lessons. That irked Joel the most. He’d gone even paler when you told him that than when he watched a bullet narrowly miss ripping a hole through your center.

Maybe this is what you got for complaining about the quiet sanctity of your life in Jackson.

You still played. You had long since memorized most of the scores you had collected over the years, so you’d taken to composing your own. It was all harsh, rolling sonatas that poured out of you whenever you sat before the keys. You’d pause to scratch the notes down on paper, skipping over a title because you knew you’d only be able to come up with one thing.

Joel. Joel Miller. Joel #3. Joel and I. Joel… why didn’t you ever ask his middle name?

You’d left him in the dark almost entirely about how you were feeling, save for that conversation you’d had in the clinic. By consequence, he was treating you as if you’d suddenly become fragile. As if you couldn’t handle getting hurt or witnessing death. You wished that you could say any of that was what was bothering you.

Still, he came. He showed up for you. He was sweet. He cared. He barely even flinched when the little things would set you off. It made it all the more difficult to try and push back from him.

On a cool evening, one where the air was almost warm but the breeze was bitter, the two of you sat on his back porch.

He was strumming on his guitar, trying to remember how to play Led Zeppelin's Going to California.

He paused to tune the high E string and looked over at you. “Tommy said he’s goin’ on a supply run next week. Might try and hit up that old college I told you about. Want me to look for some more sheet music to bring back? Beginner stuff, or stuff for you?”

You blew on your hot mug of tea, watching the steam swirl in the air. “No. You’d have to sift through some old performing arts building. No use in that.”

“You sure? I know you said you wanted–”

“–I promise, Joel, it’s fine. Don’t make more work for yourself.”

“Alright, baby,” he said quietly, plucking away at the strings again.

“But for Ellie,” you interjected. “She mentioned wanting some more movie scores. Might be worth finding that for her.”

He played a little softer as he spoke. “It’s no good if she doesn’t know how to play it.”

“She can read music,” you countered. “She’s welcome to use my piano anytime.”

He stopped playing completely this time, groaning a little as he stretched to prop the guitar up against the house. You watched his expression mold into concern as you made eye contact.

“You’re shakin’, honey. Let's go inside. Or I can walk you home.”

The liquid in your cup mirrored a choppy ocean from the tremors in your hands. “I’m okay. Just cold out here.”

Joel got up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Okay. Then I’ll get you a blanket. Gonna catch your death out here.”

Your knuckles were turning white with your grip on the mug and you flinched away from his touch. “Stop it, Joel.”

He paused. “Stop what?”

“Treating me like I’m another child,” you said. “Did you hear me when I said that I was fine?”

“That ain’t fair. I’m just tryin’ to look after you,” he responded.

You started laughing. “Really? It really feels like you’re trying to make up for something.”

It started to drizzle again. You watched as the rainwater began to dilute your tea.

“Yeah? Make up for what, exactly?” He shot back. “Protecting someone I care about?”

You stood to meet him and the rain picked up. “Protect me from what? A man alone in the woods with no weapons?”

“Just ‘cause he dropped his gun doesn’t mean he had no weapons, doesn’t mean he was alone–”

“You beat his fucking face in, don’t act like you did it out of anything but emotion you couldn’t control.” The two of you were nearing drenched, but neither of you seemed to care. “Just admit that it was a bad decision. And that it was cruel, Joel. So fucking cruel.”

Joel just stared at you. “I’m walkin’ away from this, baby. You’re mad, I know. You don’t have to see things the way I see ‘em.”

You followed him to the back door. “I’m not done, Joel. Give me one good reason as to why you did it. A rational, true reason.”

“No,” he said as he opened the door.

“Then fuck you. You were wrong, it was cruel, and there is blood on my hands. How does that make you feel? To know that I blame myself for what you did?”

He slammed the door shut before walking inside, his face washed with anger. “Don’t you come into my fuckin’ house yellin’– not with Ellie upstairs,” he seethed. “ Blamin’ me for shit. For makin’ decisions that you couldn’t even imagine.”

You brushed wet hair out of your eyes. “Oh, but I could imagine it, Joel. I’ve been alive through all of this too. I still came out human on the other side. Not everyone is living in the world that you are. Not everyone acts like a fucking animal everytime they get the chance.”

“So that's how you see me, hm? A fuckin’ animal. You along with everyone else in this goddamn place. Just some old man who likes havin’ to kill people?” He looked away from you and shook his head. “I’ve got my reasons. Bein’ here isn’t gonna make me soft. Won’t make me forget,” he inched closer to you, “the ways that I lost people. I can promise you that.”

Joel had had a part of his humanity brutally gutted from him when his daughter died in his arms. Even still, he found it again in places he hadn’t expected. In Ellie, especially. In you.

“And listen to this closely– real fuckin’ close,” he began again, “I don’t give a shit if you hate me. Move on, never speak to me again. As long as you’re alive, and I know that I did what I could to keep you that way, I’ll sleep fuckin’ easy at night. You understand that?”

He inhaled and went on. “Maybe that man made a stupid goddamn mistake tryin’ to hunt. Maybe I did, too. I wish I could say I was sorry for that. It’s a cruel world out here.”

“Sleep easy at night? Is that really the truth?” You crossed your arms over your chest and watched his expression shift.

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t make it any harder.”

You knew that was a lie.

You could see it now. Joel in another universe. A few less fine lines on his face, a few less grays threaded into his dark hair. No bad memories that would pull him from sleep. The right pocket of his jeans wouldn’t be ever so slightly stretched from storing a handgun there. Wouldn’t look at himself in the mirror like he was searching for the person he used to be. Wouldn’t look at you like you were an impending flatline on a heart monitor.

But this was now, and he would always be so stubbornly him, and you wished your feelings were important enough to him that he could see things the way you do.

He dropped his hands to his sides and sighed. “Look, I’m just tryin’ to make things easier on you. Clearly you took this real hard, and I never should’ve brought you out there, and–”

“Enough, Joel. Don’t act like that was the mistake, or that you ‘ruined’ me, or some stupid shit like that. One of us has to feel remorse for what you did to that man and if you won’t, then I will,” you countered. “And sure, It’s been difficult on me. I’ll give you that. It hurts. There, does that make you feel good? Give you a purpose? You still want to put me back together after what you did?”

The look on his face told you that you had cut deep. You immediately wanted to back down, but you were tired and it hurt and he still felt like he wasn’t listening.

“I ain’t gonna yell at you, baby, if that's what you want. Just… just go. Go on, go home. I’ll still be here if you need me.”

You were angry because you were hurt. He read right through you, too. Knew you didn’t mean all of that. You were trying desperately to stay hurt and mad at something, anything, because once that faded, all you’d be left with was sadness and guilt.

You turned your back on him anyway, soaking wet and furious, and made your way home. You couldn’t help but cry. God, you hoped you hadn’t just ruined everything.

He’s still there if I need him, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s there if I need him.

Joel wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t.

He used to get at least a few hours every night. Took him a while to get there after settling into life in Jackson. Even when you were with him, lying close to his chest, he’d still wake up with the sun, hours before you did.

At least you quelled the restless anxiety that accompanied the morning exhaustion. You’d slip your hand under his shirt, rubbing circles into his side and his chest, and beckon him back to sleep. He almost never did, but he loved it anyway.

And now? He was getting almost nothing.

Sometimes, he could swear that he heard your pleas. Those strangled sobs echoing through the dense forest. Joel. Joel. Joel, stop it, fucking don’t, please–

A single gunshot, and the sound of you sobbing.

There, does that make you feel good? Give you a purpose? You still want to put me back together after what you did?

He laid awake, the rain pelting the roof and the rolling thunder in the distance making his heart rate spike and setting his body into fight mode. It was a feeling he’d grown accustomed to. He’d check that his pistol was on his dresser, then he’d check on Ellie, and finally, he’d look out his window, hoping to see that light on in your bedroom. Maybe your backlit silhouette. Anything.

You didn’t need him trying to protect you all the time. Worrying about you. Losing sleep over you, for fuck’s sake. If anything, he thought, coming into your life had just made things worse for you. If anything, he needed you a hell of a lot more than you needed him.

Powering through sleep deprivation wasn’t an uphill battle. It was all downhill. After the third day in a row with almost no rest, he was flagging. The world around him felt blurred, his senses and awareness all dull. He barely got through the work day with Tommy. He felt, in a word, awful. It was strange. He felt even worse than he had after all those nights on foot with Ellie where he would insist on giving up his sleep for hers.

He wanted you. With more sleep, maybe he could push those thoughts away if he tried, but now, all he wanted was you.

Fittingly, Ellie was the only one that noticed. Well, Tommy must’ve noticed, but he didn’t mention it.

After dinner, he could hardly keep himself awake to listen to her talk about her day. Sitting on the couch, with his head lolling to the left and subsequently making his hearing muffled on both sides, he dozed off.

“–el? Joel? The fuck, man, I was just getting to the good part of the story!”

A hand shaking his shoulder jolted him awake and he was slow to reorient himself with the room. Breathe. He was in the living room. The fire was lit. It was still raining. Ellie was there. You were… fuck, where were you–? Oh. Right.

“Are you good?” Ellie asked.

He nodded quickly, swallowing around a raw throat. “Yeah– m’fine,” he said. “Keep goin’, I’m listenin’ to ya.”

“Uh, no, you weren’t. You fell asleep. And you’ve only been sitting for like, five minutes.”

Joel sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay. Wanna tell me somethin’ I don’t know?”

“You look like shit.” She told him pointedly.

“Mmh. Shouldn’t have even asked.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Come on, dude. Are you sick?”

“No.”

“You sure? You look sick. And super fucking tired.”

“Yeah, m’tired. Storm’s been keepin’ me up,” he said, which was only half of a lie.

Ellie didn’t believe him. “Huh. Fine. Sleep away then, old man.”

Joel’s eyes were closed, but by the way Ellie’s voice got quieter as she spoke, he knew she was walking away. He was a little too tired and a little too deaf to hear the front door open and close again a few minutes later.

“He looks dead.” A pause. “Is he dead?”

“Jesus. No, Ellie, he’s not dead.”

A palm smoothing over his forehead, then the back of that same cool hand against his cheek. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Too tired, and the touch felt too nice.

“Oh, Joel,” you exhaled. “He’s burning up. Probably killing his back, too.”

Warily, he opened an eye to see you crouching in front of him, Ellie close to your side. He would’ve thought he was dreaming, but in his dreams, his entire body didn’t typically ache.

“I knew something was wrong with you,” Ellie proclaimed, looking proud of herself.

“Why’re you…?” Joel rasped.

You cut him off. “Hey, Joel, you with me? Is there any possible chance that you got bit?” You asked. Just covering all bases.

“No,” he replied. “And fuck you.”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Ellie, go heat water up on the stove.” You interjected. “See if there are any tea bags left.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Joel’s eyes slipped shut again just as you sat down beside him. He was sitting upright, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“C’mon, Joel. You should be in bed,” you said softly. Your fingertips brushed his forehead again, confirming the fever you had felt earlier. “Figures… Ellie says you haven’t been sleeping.”

He shook his head and tried to dodge your touch. “M’fine, babydoll,” he said like it was a reflex.

“Yeah, you’re fine, I know. You’re always just fine,” you replied. “Wake up a little, though? For me?”

He couldn’t argue with that. Slowly, he rubbed at his eyes and sat up more fully. “...Ellie got you? Shouldn’t of fuckin’ done that…”

“It was fine. It’s barely six, It’s still light out. I’m glad she did.”

He opened his eyes again, looking panicked. “Six? Fuck, I gotta–”

“Six PM, Joel,” you clarified. “You haven’t missed a thing. In fact, it’s a great time to catch up on some sleep.”

After you grabbed both of his hands and threatened to go get Tommy, he finally relented, letting you help him up from the impression he’d made on the couch. He all but collapsed into bed, hardly putting up a fight when you tugged off his shoes and jeans to get him into something more comfortable.

On second thought, maybe this was more than exhaustion. He didn’t have much recollection of the fever that came with that infected stab wound, not until he dragged himself up from the floor with what dredges of consciousness he had left to find Ellie. This was sort of akin to that hot-and-cold aching feeling. Had a fever when he killed those two men, too.

He groaned audibly at the thought.

“You okay?” Your warm voice rang through the room.

This wasn’t that, though. He was safe. Probably picked something up from being out in the rain with you. Is that how that worked? More likely from the insomnia, which surely must’ve shot his immune system.

“Mhm, yeah… you’re stayin’?” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” You kissed his temple and pushed his hair off of his forehead.

“Why?”

You thought for a moment. Honestly, you were wondering that yourself. But when Ellie showed up at your door in the rain, her face awash with concern, you didn’t even think twice about coming.

“Ellie was worried about you. I had to come,” you said. “And… the things I said the other week, they– they weren't completely fair to you. I’ll try to make it up to you, if you’ll still let me.”

“Nothin’ to make up for,” he told you, words slurring together.

“I think there is, but–” you sighed. “Get some rest. You need it.”

He fell asleep easily after that.

Joel’s nightmares were so vivid that he woke up feeling like someone had died in his arms all over again. He didn’t know who. When he sat up and looked around the room he saw you asleep, clinging to his arm, and a glass of water on the nightstand next to a mug of tea that went untouched.

He was freezing, shivering under multiple layers. His skin and the fabric clinging to it hurt. Everything hurt. He sucked in a breath, too overwhelmed to do anything about any of it. The only thing he could manage was to call your name out into the dark.

Your bleary eyes met his in an instant and you had to untangle yourself from him to sit up. “Hold on, I’m awake,” you said, clicking on the lamp.

Joel was pale and his eyes were glassy.

“Did something happen? No, just feeling like shit? You’re still so warm… poor thing.”

He shook his head and tried to keep his teeth from chattering. When you opened your arms, he melted right into you.

“Okay, baby. You’re okay, I still got you. Bet your fever’s just spiking.”

After a long while of him in your arms, he spoke up. “M’sorry for what I did,” he whispered. “Thought I was gonna lose you.”

You felt the ache in the wound on your arm that pulled from holding him.

What could you say? That you would just put it past you? That all was forgiven? Was there anything at all that could be said with him in this state, sweating out a fever and shaking in your arms?

After mulling over the entire situation while you had been keeping your distance, you weren’t

sure if he would ever be sorry for pulling the trigger. He was sorry that it hurt you. That the golden image of him in your mind was tainted by what he’d done. That just made you angrier.

For Joel, part of that was true. He wasn’t sorry for pulling the trigger. He’d do it 100 times over, even if there was only a fraction of a chance that it made the difference between you living and you dying. But he was sorry for letting all of his past experiences haunt the decisions he made in the present, and he was sorry that he never did try hard enough to be better for you.

He couldn’t magically change, though. Nobody could.

The fork in the road was clear. To hold onto hope that you could just love Joel deeply enough and some softer, unscarred version of himself would start to appear through the cracks, or to let him go. Let him be who he is, far away from you.

Or maybe, maybe, maybe– keep loving him for who he is now, perhaps even if a little hardened and cruel, in this life with him. Love him deeply enough, love him long enough, and one day who he isn’t won’t matter.

“You won’t lose me. You won’t. We can talk about it more when you’re feeling better.”

And if he ever finds those old pieces of himself, or if you manage to bring them out– you’ll love those, too. And if not?

He brought his face up from your shoulder and took your face into his hands. “I love you. I love y’too much. Don’t lose yourself in all this. Not for me, not for nothin’. Okay? Promise me.”

There wasn’t an ‘if-not.’ The harshness of this life hadn’t taken away his capacity to care about you. To want to give you the world. To love and be loved. Some things, some far away and buried things, the most important things, they had never left him.

And Joel did. He did love you. It was a universal truth. It felt more certain than the sun rising each morning, than the salt in the sea, than the earth spinning on its axis.

“I promise,” you whispered. “I love you, too.”

You made sure Joel got better. Sleep was the best medicine. He was so bone-tired and out of it that you hardly had the chance to say anything else to each other for the next day or so.

You woke on Saturday morning to an empty bed. Joel’s room was tidier, empty mugs and dishes having disappeared from the nightstand along with the clothes that were scattered on the floor.

You could hear Joel and Ellie bickering about something downstairs, and the oaky smell of coffee was permeating the entire house. It made you smile. You wanted to stay in bed and bask in it for a few minutes– that lazy morning feeling, and the growing warmth inside your chest that told you that life could be good again. In the heaviness there was still warmth, light in the darkness, sunshine after the storm.

It was still drizzly out, but everything was remarkably greener. Even the pear trees that were scattered between houses in the neighborhood were blooming. You found yourself looking forward to summer.

After soaking in as much time in bed as you could, you got yourself up and went to check on the commotion in the kitchen. Joel was busy making breakfast– eggs and a few strips of bacon that were sizzling loudly. He had a towel thrown over his shoulder and was gesturing rather aggressively at Ellie with a spatula.

“Come on, how’d you know that one?” Ellie asked incredulously, throwing her hands into the air from where she was sitting at the kitchen table. “It was good, too. Admit it.”

“It was the worst out of all of ‘em,” he retorted.

“Wait, wait, listen to this one– how did Benjamin Franklin feel when he first discovered electricity?”

Joel glared at her over his shoulder. “Shocked?”

She laughed. You were starting to think it was less about the joke itself and much more about Joel’s obvious hatred of them. “You’re killing my flow here, dude!”

He could pretend all he wanted. That smile and the way he shook his head afterwards told you he loved it. Maybe not the joke, but hearing Ellie laugh.

He came over to where you were leaning against the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee and pecking your forehead. You took both things gratefully.

“I see you’re feeling better,” you said, catching him by the arm before he could walk away. “Breakfast, too?”

He nodded, pulling you into him again to kiss you for a little longer. “Mhm. As a thank you for lookin’ after me.”

You smiled against his lips. “I’ll take it, then.”

The three of you sat down to eat together before Ellie, who finished three times faster than either of you, asked if she could meet Tommy at the stables. It was more like a declaration, one that gave Joel no room or time to say yes or no.

You helped him wash and put away dishes, talking and laughing with him about completely mundane things. A part of you hoped that he wouldn’t want to bring up the last few conversations you’d had. This all felt so fragile and you would’ve done anything to keep it intact.

“I got you something,” he said after you’d sat down again. “Shut your eyes.”

Doing as you were told, you brought both hands up to cover your eyes. You could hear him leave the kitchen and bring something in from the dining room.

“‘Kay, open ‘em.”

He’d set a small vase of flowers on the kitchen table. The arrangement was made up of pink and white tulips, interspersed with golden poppies. You’d seen them when you went out with Joel– when you got hurt.

“I went out early this morning. You should see the fields, they’re covered in flowers,” he said. “I went out there to bury that man. Said a prayer for him and all that bullshit. He was alone, you were right. Someone would’ve taken him by now if he wasn’t.” He sat down in the chair next to you, reaching out for your hand. “Thought it was the least I could do… the right thing to do.”

You squeezed his hand as you stared at the flowers. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly. “You’re a good person.”

And somewhere, along the northern edges of a forest, there was a pile of freshly disturbed dirt and a cracked rock in place of a headstone. The rain would still come and wash over Joel’s work, but you hoped that nature would be kind to it. And in a few weeks when the sunlight gave birth to new growth, flowers would spread over the gravesite, too.

“I’m tryin’ to do my best, baby. For you.”

This time, you really did believe in him.

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vestaclinicpod · 3 months

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Audio Drama Sunday - 14th Jan ✨

Oh, friends, I have had a shit week but these listens have definitely gone some way to making it bearable. Happy Audio Drama Sunday 🎧

👻 @tellnotalespod oh how I love you and how I have missed you!! It seems that some time has passed since the end of S1 and Leo has OBVIOUSLY made absolutely stellar choices in the meantime. Nothing is better for one’s mental health than isolation and trusting the slimiest creature on god’s green earth.

🦀 @thesiltverses (37) my beloved Silt Verses have returned with a frankly exceptional HOUR long episode filled with so many things to scream about that I don’t even know where to start. Val’s revelation that extreme power can also be used to bring people joy is VERY interesting indeed. They were never going to be able to control her, but I doubt it even more now. And PAIGE stepping up!! Part of me really wants a Val vs Paige stand off but most of me wants to protect Paige at all costs… I am loving the music choices this episode and the scene with the telephone calls was so good! Also, PLEASE stop foreshadowing Carpenter’s death, I am going ‘lalalalalala I can’t hear you!!’

🧳 I listened to episode 8 of Travelling Light by @monstrousproductions after a night shift and the hazy tiredness only served to make it even more transcendentally beautiful. I adore the blossoming friendships aboard the Tola, especially between the Traveller and Óli 😭🌌

👁️ @malevolentcast (39) I love it when you can *feel* that an episode is gearing up to a season finale, a few little loose strands tied up here and there but one BIG problem looming for the finale. I NEED to remember to not listen to this show when I’m emotionally compromised in any way because I found myself bloody sobbing as Marie was talking about her son. I should know that Malevolent is going to play dirty with my emotions.

🏛 @the-mistholme-museum ENDLESS okay I don’t want to ruin this for anyone who hasn’t listened yet but !!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!! and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let’s go!!!!!!!!!!!

🐬 @patterspod P Files brought creative levity into our lives with the tale of Professor Fantabulum. I’m honestly a huge fan of the idea of creative genius as a torch passed on to the people who you inspire

🌨️ @thewhitevault (5) Oh I just don’t trust this guy at all. . . everything he says is so perfectly plausible that there’s just obviously something wrong with him. My friend pointed out that the family meeting mentioned surveyors . . . . . Now S has been killed by something . . . . I just adore the way The White Vault slowly ramps up the cosmic kind of horror but you’re so distracted by all the other scary human shit going on that your brain is primed and ready to be terrified by the obviously fictional stuff by the time it happens. It’s such clever writing!!

❤️‍🔥 The Love Talker (6) Ah, now, Ren…. Just because you *can* do something, doesn’t meant necessarily mean that you should… you feel me? Some of the anatomical descriptions in this episode made me want to vomit a little. It’s so awful, I need to know what happens next!!

🏢 @somewhereohio (S2E5) I’m absolutely living for these scenes with Green and Sterling. Are they squishing my heart into pieces? Yes. Do I feel sick to my stomach thinking about the impossibility of trying to perfect and control the one you love? Yes. Can I have more, please?

🍾 I finished season 1 of @ameliapodcast and what an absolute DELIGHT that ending was!! What an absolutely masterful raising of the stakes at just the right moment in time to keep the listener absolutely hooked. I hope Tara and Lily come back one day, they were so much fun and I think will be even more fun as free agents!

🌫️ @souloperatorpod dropped this week and the first episode is very intriguing indeed! I think I need to relisten without any distractions if I want to stand a chance of collecting all the threads of red string I’m going to need for this show! I really love the theme music and am very excited for more!

♦️ The Grotto continues to be an absolutely WILD delight. I caved and listened to two episodes this week but it’s okay because I still have ep 4 in my back pocket. I love the music, the sound design, the fact that it is literally impossible to work out what the hell is going to happen next. Go listen to The Grotto!!

Thanks to everyone making art - it makes things better 💓 I’m so excited for @camlannpod next week!!

#audiodramasunday #audio drama sunday #tell no tales #malevolent spoilers #tsv spoilers #the amelia project #travelling light #the mistholme museum of mystery morbidity and mortality #finding pattersby #the white vault #the grotto #soul operator #the department of variance of somewhere ohio

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somebluemelodies · 4 months

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this just in i miss meus pais i don't know how much more of this i can take happy new year friends! sending virtual hugs your way :D

Cellbit thinks this is the first time he’s not completely dreading the new year. The unknown.

(Hell, this is the first time he’s actually celebrating.)

And, well, he owes it to a few people. One in particular, who has somehow completely changed his life and made it that much more bearable.

(Who has shown him not only what it’s like to love, but to be loved. Given him a reason to wake up and do his best other than just trying to survive.)

The island has erupted into a joyous commotion; music, dancing, drinks, sparklers and annoying little horns and everything else fitting to the occasion.

The midst of it all is a little too much for the investigator’s liking, so he mostly sticks to the outskirts and socializes with those who have the same idea as him, immersing himself completely only when his social battery complies.

(He’s getting better at it, the whole not-being-a-recluse thing.)

From his place near the edge of the wall, overlooking the terrain beyond him, Cellbit’s ears twitch at the sound of someone approaching him. He turns his head, seeing Roier sidle up beside him with two sparklers in his hands, and Cellbit’s smile is immediate.

(Roier’s own smile, to him, is brighter than the lit sparklers. Brighter than the moon, the stars—)

The spider-hybrid wordlessly hands him one of the sparklers, using his now-free arm to loop around Cellbit’s own and hold on.

For a while, neither of them say anything, focusing on the ignited sticks in front of them. They don’t need to, though; their presence beside each other, the touch, the comfort, speaks all the words, all the volumes, for them.

Eventually, Cellbit’s head falls to rest against Roier’s shoulder. His eyes never leave their sparklers, and his voice is soft. “Thank you.”

The spider-hybrid turns his head slightly to see his husband better. “Huh?”

“Thank you,” the investigator repeats, simply.

Roier smiles, but his confusion is evident. “For?”

“Everything.”

He’s momentarily surprised, but his smile grows. “Everything?” he clarifies.

Cellbit nods against his shoulder. “For always being there. Always listening. Choosing me. Forgiving me and still choosing me. For loving me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, pendejo.” Roier’s voice is painfully fond. “How could I not?” He pinches the cat-hybrid’s arm just as he opens his mouth. “Don’t answer that. Cállate.”

(Cellbit closes his mouth.)

His cheek presses against the top of his husband’s head. “It’s us against the world, you know? Together ‘til the end. It’s easy.”

(Choosing Cellbit, loving Cellbit, feels as easy as breathing. Flaws and all. He doesn’t know why, and he’s not sure he ever will know, but he isn’t going to question it.

Why question fate?)

(Maybe… maybe that’s the answer.)

Cellbit hums, watching as the sparklers begin to fizzle out. He feels positively mushy, like his heart can explode with the sheer amount of pure love overwhelming it. How is it humanly possible to have so much love for something, someone?

And how is it possible for someone like him to be just as loved back?

(It doesn’t feel completely deserved. And yet, something has never felt as right to Cellbit as Roier feels. So he’ll hold on tight.)

His brain has become an echo-chamber of one mantra. Three words. “Eu te amo.”

Somewhere behind them, a shouted countdown begins at fifteen seconds.

They pull apart, but only long enough to turn and face each other, embracing each other properly.

(The sticks drop.)

Roier’s hands cup Cellbit’s face, and any doubt the cat-hybrid is still feeling suddenly dissipates as their gazes lock.

(It’s warm. It’s so inexplicably warm and fond and utterly intoxicating.)

(Either one of them could’ve hung the moon and stars.)

Ten seconds.

“Gatinho?”

“Guapito?”

Their noses brush. “Te amo. Siempre.”

(Always. Always. Always.)

(Forever.)

Five seconds.

“Good.”

They laugh, and then there’s cheering and even more shouting. An unspoken cue to pull each other closer still and press their lips together. Two halves of a puzzle.

Fireworks crackle and pop, both inside and out, and another chapter begins.

(The sparklers have long-since fizzled out.)

(But one thing never will.)

#i’m a little eepy #but the spiderbit grind never stops #qsmp cellbit #qsmp roier #spiderbit #qsmp #blue writes qsmp

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ykiwrite · 1 year

Text

letters to wednesday

"Don't even think about it."

You didn't even had a chance to say anything before she cut you off.

"What? I didn't make a noise-"

"You want me to dance with you, correct?"

It would be a lie if you said no and she would by all odds saw right through you. The dancefloor was overflowing with people, couples every now and then, teachers, even soloists. The observer she is, Wednesday must have caught you eyeing everyone and everything, smiling to some or dying in embarrassment.

Two of you occupied the farthest table possible in the dance hall because she insisted it's for the best and she has zero interest in watching this nonsense so it's better not to witness at all. Neither did Enids convincing help, it only added fuel to the fire when she said you two looked like a black hole in the corner ready to draw in anyone from afar due to matching black dresses no one dares to glance, let alone look at you for too long. That was the best compliment she got today, other than that it was dreadful. Too much of bright colors, lights way too bright, music was obnoxious and she regretted everything leading to this point. All she did was silently count the minutes until it's acceptable to leave without looking too rude which was unusual for her. Since when did she care? Would hate to admit it but ever since you came along she noticed the unusually big number of situations she found herself in if it weren't for you she would avoid.

"How did you- okay well, maybe? Would it kill you to dance with me?"

"Yes, i'd rather take death as an option."

"Come on, it doesn't have to be long. Just a few minutes."

"Absolutely not, it's humiliating and the song choice is beyond acceptable."

"We didn't move from this table ever since we arrived. Plus, look at us. We both match and you can't deny we look the best out of everyone there. Let me remind you this black dress i had to wear because you wouldn't come to the dance if i didn't equals you owing me."

"The only thing i can agree with you on is the reason why we look so stunning is because of me. Otherwise you would pick some rainbow colored dress Enid made you wear."

"Wednesday please. It's not every year this happens."

"Good thing it doesn't. It shouldn't even happen at the first place."

Just like that you realized it's probably not worth it chasing after her stubborn self. Taking a glance once again for hundredth time around the room, leftovers on every table, alcohol of which you have no idea how it got imported, Enid most likely gathering a new gossip worthy stories in the corner, teachers talking with new faces you never seen before, it was starting to get dull and boring. Wednesday could recognize that face of yours clearly, it's her most known one after all. Except when she's with you but only she knows that.

"Where are you going?" Wednesday questioned as you got up from your loyal seat you swear left your figure on it from how long you've been sitting.

"Just outside for a bit. It's getting hot [in] here anyway. I'll come back in a few."

Cold, almost freezing stone did justice outside. Although not being as comfortable as that chair from the inside it was bearable for a quick stop. Pulling out your phone thinking Wednesday is not completely crazy when she says humanity is too dependent on it nowadays. She has her own way of thinking and you did appreciate the dynamic of you two. Somehow and for whatever unknown way you two work together. It was never a plan, much less expectation to fall in love with someone. Your only goal was to get out of this legal prison as soon as possible. Now you're not coming out alone after all.

As she writes her novels on the old fashioned typewriter, you are not far behind following her with a laptop on your lap making frequents visits to AO3 and Tumblr doing your own writing. She's not interested in that fanfiction stuff anyway. If anything you two certainly excel at together is shared, concerningly over detailed knowledge of serial killers. You are convinced that's on top of the list of reasons what made her adore you.

"This is not what a short break looks like."

Turning around only to be met with Wednesdays far better expression than it was looking at that dance inside. You must have lost track of time once you checked your phone.

"It's getting to an end anyway."

"Enid told me i should give this a chance. Precisely, you a chance. According to her we could ‘close off this dance in a style’ or whatever's the meaning behind that" she said taking a empty seat next to you.

It was your out of the ordinary silence Wednesday made a remark of. Out of everyone in this school you are record holder for most spoken words with her that are not necessary life threats or morbid and existential philosophical quotes. That's something to be quite proud of. Which also means she can read you well.

"So, do you not want to go back inside?"

Shifting your gaze that found a spot on the moon to her, you were about to answer but stopped the moment your eyes met hers. Is this the thing Kafka wrote about, you wondered. All those letters made sense.

Wednesday was ethereal. Too shallow word to describe her. Yet you didn't allow yourself to let it be known out loud. What would she think, probably another saying of yours that caught your attention amongst all the things internet offers. No depth behind it, no genuine emotions, thrown into the sentence just because with no backing whatsoever.

You weren't aware Wednesday grew to love it. You weren't aware your cold and frightening girlfriend took interest in your ramblings over the months. You didn't know you were far better therapist than that woman she escaped from ever was. What do you think the main topic of her parents calls was?

"You can say it" broke the silence.

"What exactly?"

She sighed as she took your hand, surprisingly warm hands that saved the warmth from inside intertwined with yours lifelessly cold.

"Shall we go?"

"Dorms?"

She nodded, overly prepared and ready to leave this place once and for all.

"Yeah. Let's go watch some documentary on unsolved murders." you proposed. Few steps ahead of her, hands never changed the positions from before when she tugged you to a halt.

You shot her questioning look as she shortened the distance to the point of her breath hitting you as she whispered "This is an exception, for you only."

Gently grabbing you before pulling you in for a embrace. It felt comforting, enough, odd gesture but all you can wish for. With your eyes shut tight it felt like eternity passed.

"That's all i'm getting for sitting 5 hours straight today?" you said through laughs.

"Maybe more at the dorm but don't be too greedy."

lack of wednesday fics is wild

#wednesday imagine #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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ailendolin · 1 month

Note

for the prompts list: the captain/havers, dance, mistletoe 💖🥰

Here's your prompt fic! I hope you enjoy this bittersweet interpretation of your prompt!

List of prompts is here. Filled prompts are here, here, here, here and here on AO3.

Prompts are closed.

————

Sound of Silence [AO3]

“What a party, sir.”

The Captain nearly jumped when he heard the familiar voice behind him. He’d thought Havers had left like everyone else. Most of his staff, including his faithful lieutenant, had an early morning train to catch that would take them home for Christmas which was why the Captain had volunteered to clean up after the party tonight. He would hold down the fort over the holidays as well – the Germans would not rest so neither would he. It wasn’t like he had anyone to go home to anyway. His whole life was here within these walls, and he liked it that way; even if he sometimes wondered what the walls would say if they could talk – about him, and about the secrets he so carefully kept.

Clearing his, throat he turned around to face his second-in-command. “Havers. I thought you’d be in bed already.”

“And leave you to deal with this on your own?” Havers asked, gesturing at the leftovers on the tables. The soft candle light made the smile on his face even more charming than it usually was. “Never, sir.”

The Captain fought the urge to duck his head and hide from those warm and gentle eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the train tomorrow – well today, I suppose.”

Havers glanced at the clock behind him and laughed – a rare reaction the Captain knew he would think back on over the coming cold and lonely days. “My old alarm clock hasn’t failed me yet, sir. I can always catch up on some sleep on the train later. There’s really no need to worry.”

He said that as if it were so simple – not worrying. If Havers only knew how much the Captain sometimes worried about him, be it when he stumbled during a cricket match or wasn’t back at HQ on time after a practice manoeuvre. The Captain worried about all his men and women, of course, but Havers was his second-in-command and well, he wasn’t ashamed to admit they’d all be quite lost without him.

“In that case – you’ll get the decorations, I’ll clear up the plates?” he suggested.

Havers saluted with a smile. “Yes, sir.”

They worked side by side in comfortable silence for a while. It was one of the Captain’s favourite things about working with Havers – that they could enjoy silences together just as much as intense discussions about military strategy. He’d never had that with anyone before. Usually, conversations tended to peter out into awkwardness for him, especially with subordinates, but Havers had a way of filling those graceless moments with soft smiles and kind words that made the stretching silence not only bearable but even something to look forward to.

“The music choice was quite excellent tonight, sir,” Havers remarked quietly after a while.

The Captain looked up from the half-empty bowl of mushy peas he had just picked up.

“Corporal Norriss has an excellent record selection,” he agreed. He paused when he saw the look on Havers’s face. “How come I did not see you on the dancefloor? Are you not much of a dancer, Lieutenant?”

Havers huffed out a soft chuckle that echoed sadly in the silence. “On the contrary, sir. I love dancing.”

Surprised, the Captain put down the bowl and gave him his full attention. “Then why didn’t you accept Nurse Bernadette’s offer when she asked you earlier? She’s a fine young woman, as you’ve surely noticed, and seemed quite interested in you.”

Was it just the candlelight or was Havers blushing? “Let me rephrase that: I love dancing, but not with strangers.”

The Captain wasn’t sure if Nurse Bernadette could be counted as a stranger. She had been stationed at Button House for as long as Havers had, and he’d seen them share a meal or two together over the last few weeks. Not wanting to argue with Havers, though, he said, only half-jokingly, “Well, I dearly hope you don’t consider us to be strangers.”

Havers blinked at him, looking not only genuinely taken aback but almost distressed at the thought that they could be anything less than friends. “No, sir, I – I would have gladly danced with you tonight.”

That … was not quite the response the Captain had expected. He was glad he was no longer holding the bowl of mushy peas because he was fairly certain he would have let it slip from his shaking fingers at this point.

“Good lord,” he breathed and wished he hadn’t when Havers’s face fell and he turned away from him.

“Apologies, sir,” his lieutenant muttered before he busied himself with plucking more tinsel off the windows. “I think I may have drunk a little more than I should have.”

The Captain, dimly aware of how painfully fast his heart was beating in his chest, knew he had two options now. He could either take the olive branch Havers had offered him and laugh the whole thing off with a, “I think we’ve all drunk a little more than we should have tonight.” Or he could be brave for once in his life and seize this opportunity instead of letting it pass him by like he’d had so many others before.

Seeing the way Havers’s fingers trembled around the tinsel made up his mind. The Captain cleared his throat and said, so softly the words were barely more than a whisper, “We don’t have any music.”

Across the room from him, Havers froze. For the first time since they’d known each other, the silence between them stretched into something tense and nerve-wrecking. The Captain suddenly felt dread pool in his stomach, and he silently berated himself for giving in to temptation like this. Nothing good ever came from being brave, not for people like him, not in situations like this. Not when it meant risking everything.

He was about to apologise and offer Havers a transfer in the hopes he would not report him when Havers took a deep breath and finally turned around to face him. There was a guarded but hopeful look in his eyes. “I believe we can manage without music.”

There was no sir attached to the ending of the sentence like the Captain was used to. This moment, whatever it was going to end up being, would not happen between a captain and his lieutenant. It would happen between them, and the dread the Captain had felt only moments ago slowly turned into something soft and warm that fluttered against his rib cage with surprising and most welcome gentleness.

It felt like a dream when he held out a shaky hand to Havers. Tinsel and leftovers forgotten, Havers crossed the room without hesitation and stepped into his arms. He looked at him expectantly, and with a jolt the Captain realised that Havers was waiting for him to take the first step and lead, just like he always did. Even though they had never held each other like this before, the Captain felt his nervousness fade away as a familiar feeling began to set in. They’ve danced this dance before. Not literally, perhaps, but they knew the steps because they each other; knew when to push and when to give, and their feet followed that tenderly honed instinct without missing a beat.

“I didn’t know you could dance so well,” Havers said after a while, his voice soft and close to the Captain’s ear; intimate.

“I don’t do it often,” the Captain admitted. “My knee, you see? But I do occasionally enjoy it.”

He heard Havers swallow before his voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you enjoying it now?”

More than I should, the Captain thought and resisted the urge to lean back just a little to look at Havers’s face. He hummed in confirmation and closed his eyes, willing this moment to last forever. He was painfully aware that this, right here, right now, was probably the closest he would ever get to happiness, and he knew he had to make the most of it. War was unpredictable. Tomorrow, one of them could be reassigned; a bomb could fall on the house; a training accident could happen. There were so many unknowns in their future that even just thinking of all the things that could tear them apart felt overwhelming sometimes.

But the future wasn’t here yet. There was only soft candlelight and the gentle hum of a long forgotten tune, so the Captain allowed himself to hold Havers just a little closer and savour the feeling of having him in his arms like he’d so often dreamt of before, in the darkest hours of the night.

But even dreams had to come to an end, just like songs and wars. Night had to turn to day, dusk to dawn and eventually, the Captain had to sway them to a stop and open his eyes. Neither he nor Havers moved for several heartbeats.

“Thank you,” Havers said at last, his voice rougher than it normally was. “This was a lovely dance.”

“A dance of a lifetime,” the Captain whispered before he cleared his throat and stepped back. His hands fell away from Havers, and he was mourning the loss of warmth even before he’d let go completely. With a rueful sigh, he looked up but for once, it wasn’t the small, sad smile on Havers’s face that caught his attention but a small, green plant hanging above him.

“You missed one of the decorations,” he said softly.

Havers followed his gaze – and yes, that was definitely a blush colouring his cheeks now. The sight was quite enamouring and endearing, and it made the Captain’s heart ache.

“Sorry, sir,” Havers said and got up on his tiptoes to pluck the mistletoe from its string. He looked at the small plant in his hands for a moment, turned it this way and that before he glanced up again. Determination shone in his eyes, desperate and fierce, and the Captain found himself so captivated by it he nearly missed the apologetic, “It’s tradition,” before Havers closed the gap between them and placed the most loving, gentle kiss the Captain had ever experienced to the corner of his mouth.

“Goodnight, sir,” Havers mumbled when he pulled back, and without looking at him he stepped around the Captain and practically ran for the door.

“Anthony, wait!” the Captain called out, almost too late.

Havers stopped so abruptly he nearly lost his balance. Slowly, warily, he turned around. Their eyes met across the room and the silence that began to stretch between them was heavy with resignation and regret; with knowing this was as far as this gentle moment could go, no matter how desperately they wished for more.

“James,” Havers said – a plea? A promise? And absolution?

The Captain smiled at him sadly. “Merry Christmas, Havers.”

Silent acceptance slowly replaced hope, and it was heart-breaking to see. Maybe, once the war was over …

No, the Captain thought firmly. It was best not to think about or dare to wish for impossible things. They had had this moment, and it had to be enough.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” Havers said at last, his voice quiet and steady, before he gave him one of those small smiles that had drawn the Captain in in the first place. “I will see you in a few days.”

“Don’t forget to give Barry a scratch behind the ears from me,” the Captain said.

Havers’s smile softened into something more genuine and gentle. “Will do, sir. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” the Captain whispered and watched Havers go, mistletoe still in hand, with a heavy heart. When Havers’s steps had faded into the night, he turned back to the bowl of mushy peas and picked it up with trembling fingers, trying not to think about how Havers’s hand had felt against his – warm and rough compared to the cold and smooth surface of the bowl. He knew he should not dwell on it. That touch – that kiss – was more than he’d ever thought he’d get, and he tried to be grateful for it.

But as he went around the room to blow out the candles, the Captain couldn’t shake the feeling that this night would haunt them both for the rest of their lives.

#the captain #lieutenant havers #capvers #caphavers #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfiction #my fic #ask game prompt ficlet

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underoossss · 2 years

Text

I’m here – s.h

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

summary: when you have an accident, steve comes to the rescue, bathing you in comfort and soothing your worries without a second thought. in other words good old hurt/comfort goodness.

warnings: mention of injury though nothing is descriptive. maybe the cheesy title needed a warning too.

an: im on my knees begging that this shows up in the tags, i’ve tried everything. Anyways, im back after my writers blog to deliver softness and cute fics again. Enjoy! and let me know if you like this, reblogs are always helpful🥺

Masterlist

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Sock-clad feet glide on the hardwood floor of the hallway as the Saturday sunlight streams through the windows. You turn up the volume of your radio, dancing and bobbing your head to your Duran Duran cassette. It is a universal truth that listening to music while you do chores will not only make you productive, but it will make the tasks more bearable. So Girls on Film floods the first floor of the house as you take the newly dry clothes to the kitchen to fold later. You sing along to the lyrics while you do the dishes and proceed to make something to eat. There are fresh groceries in the fridge, which you got yesterday, and you take out everything you need to make a club sandwich.

You’re so distracted while preparing and eating your food, that you don’t realize time has escaped you suddenly. The clock says its 1:15pm, and you promised Max you’d go skateboarding with her that afternoon –she’s supposed to be here in 30 minutes and you’re still not ready. “Shit.” You say, chewing the rest of your sandwich as fast as you can.

You rush through everything after that: shoving things back in the fridge, leaving your dish to wash later, and running upstairs with armfuls of unfolded clothes to throw on your parents’ bed to be folded later. They’re away for the next five days, so they won’t mind –if you remember to fold them before they get back. You spot your favorite tank top, a lovely deep green one, in the middle of the pile and grab it before you go to your bedroom. Some light washed jeans, the tank top, new socks, and converse and you’re ready to go.

A second later, the doorbell rings, announcing Max’s arrival. “Coming!” You yell over the music, which you then turn off.

Max stands on your porch, her skateboard under her arm. She has her hair braided into two pigtails and her freckles are standing out more than ever with the fierce sunlight outside. “Hey.” She says, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, I just need my skateboard.” You tell her, then go back inside to search the living room’s closet for it. “Aha! Now I’m ready.”

Locking the front door behind you, the two of you skate down the road to the old Hawkins skate park. It is near your house –roughly five blocks– and because Max says the new one is always crowded, the two of you have made it a habit to use the old one instead. It’s not old perse, it just not as fancy as the new one.

“I learned this new trick I have to show you.” Max says proudly, a grin lighting up her features.

“A new trick? Where?” You ask her, pushing at the ground with your foot to gain more speed.

“I saw some boys do it the other day, and I think I got it down now.” She explains, glancing at you for a second before chuckling. “I think I can do it even better than them.”

“Oh, I bet.” You smile, “I need to learn it then, so we can outskate them.”

Sure enough Max starts to teach you the new trick immediately after you reach the skate park. She mentions it might be called a heelflip but she’s unsure, the boys she copied from were far enough that she couldn’t catch everything they said.

“Basically,” Max says. “You jump and use your right foot to flip the board, and land on it once it turns back around.”

The redhead demonstrates, failing at the first try but getting it right by the second. You watch her do the trick five more times, trying to memorize the way she moves her feet before and after she jumps. Once you’re sure you understand what you have to do, you begin to practice, which leads you to one, two, three, and several other failed attempts.

With your frustration beginning to increase, you huff and nod to yourself in determination. “This time for sure.” You tell no one in particular.

You push the ground with your foot and skate a few feet before you try to flip the board again, only to make a terrible mistake immediately after. Just as you think you managed to successfully flip and land on your skateboard, your left foot lands too close to the rear-edge of the board and you fall backwards. The weight of your body falls on your left arm, and thankfully not your head, but an intense pain overwhelms you for a second, making your ears ring. The ache doesn’t pass and instead stays in your arm, and you lie on the ground, your left side touching the hot cement. You try to move it, so you can sit up, but you find that you can’t; it only makes more pain shoot up from your arm to the rest of your body.

“Fuck!” You curse out from gritted teeth, your face contorted in pain as you roll to your back and sit up. You clutch your left arm close to your body as best as you can without injuring it more. “Fuck, shit, ouch, dammit.”

Max rushes to your side in a second, kneeling in front of you to see what happened. “What happened?” Her blue eyes are wide with worry as she sees you hold your arm and squeeze your eyes shut. “Your arm?”

“I think I broke it, Max. I can’t move it.” You say, taking deep breaths and looking into her eyes. The distress in her own is obvious, so you swallow back the pain and say in a calm voice. “We have to go back home.”

Max nods but still glances worriedly at your arm, “We need to get you to the hospital.”

You whimper in pain and nod even though the very thought of going to the hospital makes you nauseous. You hate hospitals, you’re terrified of doctors and any sort of procedure. “I know. Just help me stand up, we need to call Steve.”

The redhead holds the back of your right elbow gently and wraps her arm around your waist to hoist you up. You exhale shakily as another shock of pain shoots up your arm while Max grabs both of your skateboards –she holds one under each arm and walks next to you. The walk to the house is silent, with you focusing on everything else around you besides the pain, and Max burning a hole in your skin as she looks at you.

“I’m so sorry, this is my fault.” She says.

“Max, it’s not your fault. No one could have known that I would fall, I didn’t think I’d fall.” You shake your head instantly, then look at her worried face. “Please, don’t beat yourself up about this.”

She nods silently, worrying at her bottom lip nervously. “We’re almost back.”

You look up ahead and notice she’s right. Your house can be seen in the distance, and it makes relief wash over your features. Shade, water, and a phone to call your boyfriend. They’re all so close but the last feet to reach the house feel like insurmountable task. It’s like each step breaks your arm again and again; by the time you give Max your keys and step through the front door, your forehead is covered in sweat and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

“Call Steve, I’ll get you some water.” Max tells you, leaving the skateboards out of the way and disappearing into the kitchen.

You walk to the yellow phone that’s propped in the hallway’s wall –an inconvenience every day but you can’t bring yourself to complain now– and dial the number you memorized two years ago, picking up the headset with your right hand. Your body aches, and you feel exhaustion creep up on you as the phone rings.

Steve picks up the phone on the third ring, his voice a soothing sound to your ears. “Hello?”

“Hey Stevie.” You say into the headset; your face is a grimace, but your voice is light as air. “How are you, baby?”

“Missing you,” Steve grumbles on the other line. “And jealous that Mayfield has a whole day with you. Wait, aren’t you supposed to be skating?”

“Yeah….” You chuckle but the movement makes you flinch and whimper. “About that.”

Max, who returned with the glass of water, sighs exasperated. She fights you momentarily for the headset, with an unfair advantage of not being in pain, and uses it to deliver the news to Steve. “Yeah, she broke her arm.”

You imagine Steve is asking What?! In a tone of disbelief and worry.

“Y/N broke her arm, we’re at her house and need to get to the hospital.” She says, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head at you when you frown at her bluntness. It seems like the initial shock from your injury has worn off, and now she has a resolute look in her face. “You have to come pick us up.”

“Tell him not to speed. If he does, I’m walking to the hospital. We don’t need another accident.” You tell her even as another wave of pain washes over you. You didn’t want to get Steve so worried he’ll go over the speeding limit, but with the way Max dumped the news on him… he’s more than likely to.

You hear Max tell him this and nod her head and whatever Steve says on the other line before she passes the headset back to you. “He’s coming.” She tells you as you press the headset into your ear.

“Baby.” Steve says, so softly and comforting to your ears that you fight back tears. Your eyes squeeze shut to keep from crying; the next breath you take is shaky.

“I need you.” You mumble, taking another deep breath to keep your voice steady. “Drive safely.”

“I’ll be there in 10. Hang on, okay?” You can hear Steve’s keys jingle on the other end of the line, and you nod. You know he can’t see you but who cares.

“Okay.”

You hang up a second later and accept the glass of water Max hands you. “Thank you.” You tell her, leaning your head against the wall.

Max nods as her eyes scan your face and her eyebrows meet in the middle. “You’ll be okay soon, let’s go wait on the porch.”

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Steve gets there in 8 minutes, leaves the car on, and rushes to the front door where you and Max wait already. He frowns when he sees you clutch your arm and notices that it’s beginning to bruise. Steve wipes the light sheen of sweat that covers your forehead once he’s in front of you and cradles your cheeks softly in his hands. “Hey, babygirl.”

You exhale shakily when he presses his forehead against yours. His presence is a comfort, his words even more so. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay? You’ll be better in no time.”

“Stevie, I’m scared. I hate hospitals.” You confess to him in a whisper as a rogue tear escapes you. Though you don’t know if it’s from pain, fear, or relief of seeing him. “I don’t want to go.”

“You’re in pain, you have to go. I know it scares you but you got us, okay?.” Steve motions over his shoulder to his car. “Let’s get in the car, beautiful.”

He places a soft kiss to your temple when you nod, before leading you towards his car –left hand on the low of your back. Max opens the door for you, and you slide in while Steve shuts the door close and runs over the drivers’ side. You press the side of your head to the window, the cold glass soothing as you close your eyes.

“Pass me the Flock of Seagulls cassette; they’re all in the pocket in front of you.” Steve asks Max as he pulls away from the driveway. “The colourful one.”

“Yeah, I know which one.” Max says, you can hear the eyeroll in her tone –it makes you smile briefly.

Steve fiddles with the cassette before inserting it into the car’s player. A few seconds later, the first chords of I Ran begin to play, filling the car with music. “There you go, baby.” Steve says, putting his right hand on your thigh and rubbing your skin softly with his thumb. “You love their songs.”

You move to look at him— he’s got that worried pinch between his brows despite the smile he’s giving you. The sun makes his hair turn a honey colour, and his white t-shirt turns a shade of yellow as sunlight reflects off the dashboard and onto him. You’re in so much pain you can’t even appreciate how well this outfit look on him. He’s so handsome, he’s also trying very hard to keep it together for you, and you love him so much.

“I do.” You mumble, smiling softly at him. “Thank you, Stevie.”

Minutes later you’re being led to the emergency room by Steve and Max, where nurses take over despite their protests. You can’t help but feel anxious, and in more pain, as you’re pulled away from them. Your heartbeat picks up every time the nurse touches you, and your eyes tear up when she checks your arm –her touch is careful but your arm hurts so much that it feels like she’s pressing hard on your skin. She takes your vital signs and tells you to sit down in a bed until the doctor arrives.

You nod and try to swallow but your throat keeps tightening. “Can my boyfriend come keep me company, please?” Your voice sounds breathless as you speak. “I’m feeling very anxious and he’s the one who always knows what to do.”

Maybe it’s the tone in which you speak, or your anxiousness written too plainly on your face, but the nurse nods silently and leaves. You hear hurried footsteps immediately after. Steve’s hair is a mess as he steps through the door, and you’re so glad to see him you slouch where you sit. Though the movement makes you knock your elbow with your thigh, and you wince in pain.

“Careful, baby.” Steve tells you quietly, approaching you and holding your free hand. “I’m here, the nurse said you asked for me.”

“Stevie,” You shake your head. “I got anxious and lonely. I–I needed you.”

“And I’m here.” Steve reassures you, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’m staying right here, okay?”

“Thank you.” You nod weakly, looking into the lovely brown color of his eyes as he kisses your knuckles repeatedly. “The nurse said a doctor is coming soon.”

As if summoned by your words, the doctor arrives and crosses the threshold of the room to stand by your bed. He’s a short man with black rimmed glasses, greying buzz-cut hair, and deep frown lines on his forehead. The tag on his white coat says doctor Dennison, and he introduces himself by the same name a second later.

“I’ve just talked to the nurse. From what she tells me, we need to take an x-ray of your arm.” He says, talking your injured arm gently in his hands and examining it by touch. “You can’t move it?”

“No, it hurts too much if I try.” You say as you wince when he touches the muscle below your elbow. Your fingers squeeze Steve’s hand tightly; you worry whether you’re hurting him.

“Looks like the fracture is here.” He says, touching the place with two careful fingers. “The x-ray will tell us if we’ll need to operate or not.”

You squeeze Steve’s hand in fear this time, and he squeezes right back in reassurance. “Surgery?” Steve asks the doctor, frowning down at your arm. He knows your fear of doctors and knows needing surgery would send you into a nervous frenzy.

“It looks like only one of the forearm bones is broken but I need to see just how much. If the fracture is at two places, we need to stabilize them with surgery, so they heal correctly.” The doctor tells you and Steve. “The good thing is, your arm hasn’t swelled much, so if you don’t need surgery, we can put your arm in a cast today.”

You nod your head, though you feel numb and more anxious than ever; surgery had never crossed your mind. Why did you have to break your arm.

“I’ll have the nurse prep the x-ray room.” The doctor says before he leaves.

“Thank you, doctor.” Steve tells him, then turns back to you. “I’m sure you won’t need surgery baby.”

“What if I do, Stevie.” You whisper, feeling fear try to take you into its clutches. “I’ve never had surgery before… it scares me.”

Steve lets go of your hand for a moment to slide a chair over to your bed, where he sits and offers his hand again. “If you do, you’ll be more than okay, babygirl.”

“How can you be sure?” You ask him as you look into his eyes though tears are threatening to fall down your cheeks and it makes him look blurry.

Your boyfriend kisses you hand again, his lips soft on your skin as he pecks it repeatedly. “Because you’re strong, Y/N. I know this is scary, but I also know you’ve been very brave despite of your fear before.”

Your eyes squeeze shut at his words, and you nod trying to summon that bravery he claims you have. You both survived the upside down, surely that’s scarier than this. “I’ll be okay.” You say more to yourself than to Steve.

“You will.” He reaches up and wipes your tears away with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right here, and I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

You nod again and just then the nurse is back to take you to the x-ray room so you can find out how serious your injury is.

“Go tell Max I’m okay.” You tell Steve before you leave the room. “I’m sure she’s worried.”

Steve nods, and the soft look in his eyes reassures your frantic heart that things will be okay.

✫✶✫✶✫✶✫✶✫✶✫✶

It turns out, that your injury won’t require surgery, like Steve had reassured you.

There’s a nurse putting pain medication into an IV that’s attached to your right arm, while Doctor Dennison looks over your x-ray.

“You’ve got one clean fracture right here.” The doctor points at the broken bone below your elbow. “So once the medication kicks in, I’m going to set it and we’ll place a cast on your arm.”

You nod in understanding and look away from the x-ray, looking at the fracture makes a shiver go down your spine. “Will I get to go home today?” You ask.

The doctor smiles, “Of course. Once you get the cast, we’ll immobilize your arm with a sling and you’re ready to go.”

“Thank God.” Steve says, rubbing his face with his hands –the first time since you talked to him earlier that he’s shown worry. All the tension in his body leaves him at once when he smiles at you. “Told you.”

Now in less pain than before, and calmer, you smile back at him. He’s reassured you all afternoon, it’s your turn. “I know.”

Though the process is painless and simple, you cling to Steve’s hand when the doctor makes sure your bone is in the right place and proceeds to put the cast on your arm. It goes from your wrist to just above your elbow, immobilizing your left for the next 8 weeks. You smile down at it once you’re given the all-clear by the nurse, knowing the kids, Robin, and Eddie will doodle all over it once they find out what happened. Then, there’s paperwork to sign and pain medication to get for the next five days as prescribed by the doctor –which Steve insists on getting (and you insist on paying back, to no avail). But soon enough you’re reuniting with Max in the waiting room, Steve’s left hand on the small of your back and his right holding a white plastic bag.

“All done.” You tell Max with a reassuring smile. “Sorry for making you wait so long.”

The redhead glances out the automatic doors to see the sky turn orange as the sun begins to set, –it was high in the sky when you first arrived. “I didn’t notice.” She shakes her head. “Are you feeling better now?”

You nod your head. “I’m just tired.”

“Come on let’s get you home then.” Steve mutters against your temple before placing a kiss there.

“Can I drive?” Max asks Steve, sounding hopeful.

“Absolutely not.” Steve tells her and you smile.

Their bickering and the rest of the Flock of Seagulls cassette fill the car on the drive away from the hospital. The air feels calmer with everyone less anxious than before, and you’re in between falling asleep and looking at the pretty pink sky out of the window. Steve drops Max off at her place, and she promises to visit you tomorrow morning, to which you nod with a smile and tell her you’ll be waiting. A short ride later, you’re back at your house, with Steve opening the door for you and leading you inside.

“Finally.” You sigh, moving so you’re standing in front of Steve and can lean your forehead against his shoulder. “I hate hospitals.”

“I know.” Steve whispers, his arms going around your waist carefully.

“Stevie…”

“Yeah, baby?” He takes one step back to look at you, dipping his chin to his chest to meet your eyes.

“Don’t go.” You whisper, eyes glancing at your feet then back to his face. “I don’t want you to go.”

Your heartbeat is drumming loudly in your ears as your right hand holds Steve’s forearm. You have five more days alone in your house, now with a broken arm, and though your parents have left in other occasions, it feels different this time. It makes you anxious at the thought of being alone, after a day at the hospital you feel on edge.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Steve smiles, bringing one of his hands to hold your cheek. You melt with his touch, head tipping to the side to get more of it. “I was going to ask you if I could stay the rest of the week.”

You think about how there’s already enough of his clothes in your drawers for him to stay over and nod your head. Your eyes open and focus on his. “Of course, you can.”

“Let me take care of you, okay?” He drops his forehead against yours while he whispers. “What do you need baby, name it.”

You hum and close your already heavy eyes. “A shower, the leftovers in the fridge, and 10 hours of cuddling.”

Steve smiles, bringing his smile over your lips as he dips his head. “I can do that.” His lips brush against yours as he speaks, and you smile.

“And a kiss?” You add moving your hand from his forearm to the back of his neck slowly.

“Always. All of them, anytime you want.” He says before closing the gap small gap between you.

You’re unable to hold back the sigh that leaves your lips at the kiss and you’re mindful of your arm as you lean your body closer to Steve’s. He is warm against you, gentle in the way he holds your face but not as much as he kisses you. His kisses are needy, a firm pressure against yours, and you can relate to what he’s feeling. It’s been a long and stressful day, one that’s taken a toll on you and, on top of keeping you from sharing a single kiss, most likely worried Steve more than he let show. You feel your body humming with love, your fingertips tingling with it; the wholesome feeling of Steve’s affection, soothing and curing every worry and discomfort you shoved back throughout the day. He pulls back after a few minutes and presses his nose to the side of yours while he keeps you close.

“I love you.” He whispers. “You were so brave today.”

“I love you.” You mumble against this lips, unable to stop yourself from placing a couple of kisses over his bottom lip. “I was terrified, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“I always got you, babygirl.” Steve says kissing you softly one more time.

“Can you help me shower?” You ask him even though you know he’ll say yes. “I don’t know how I’ll manage to wash my hair with one arm like this.”

Steve follows your eyes down to your cast before he looks back at you. “You don’t even have to ask. Besides, I gotta make sure you don’t get your cast wet.”

You nod your head. “There’s plastic bags in the kitchen, I think that’ll help?”

“I’ll grab them. You head over to the shower okay, beautiful? I’ll be right there.” Steve leaves a lingering kiss on your lips before disappearing into the kitchen while you stare at his retreating figure, wondering how you got so lucky.

✫✶✫✶✫✶✫✶✫✶✫✶

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington hurt/comfort #stranger things #joe keery #joe keery x reader #steve harrington story #steve harrington blurb #boyfriend steve harrington

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writingsbyren · 2 years

Text

Navy Blue | R.C.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Kook Reader

Warning(s): 18+ due to explicit unprotected sexual intercourse (p in v sex), language, enemies to lovers, slow burn (kind of), brief mentions of alcohol consumption, drug abuse and past trauma. Minors, do NOT interact.

Summary: When the reader decided to return home to Kildare Island after graduating from college, the last thing she expected was to fall in love. Let alone fall head over heels for her worst enemy.

Author’s Notes: We all know I’m a total whore for Drew and by proxy, Rafe. But I found myself thirsting even more over him in that damn blue suit. Since the only crumbs we have are BTS pictures, I had to go with a different banner this time as a visual aid.

Part Two

The sound of incessant chatter echoed loudly throughout the luxurious seaside home. From an outsider’s perspective, one could easily believe that all of Figure 8 was in attendance for tonight’s gala. A who’s who of Kook royalty, if you will. As if they needed a reason to throw a party, Y/N’s parents used her graduation from the University of North Carolina for such an extravagant celebration. Despite the Kook lifestyle being all she knew, she hated every minute of it, especially these stuffy soirées. The evening gowns and open bar with top shelf alcohol were the only things that made these events bearable for her.

With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her inside and through the crowd of people, towering over everyone due to his impressive height. He didn’t remove his hand, even as they approached the bar, where she ordered a vodka cranberry and he ordered.. water? She had to do a double-take to ensure that her ears didn’t fail her. He chuckled, studying her surprised expression as he handed the bartender his glass for it to be refilled with water. “Sober, remember?” Immediately, color drained from her face. She opened her mouth but quickly shut it once she realized that she didn’t have anything snarky to say. Instead, she felt like a complete and total asshat for ordering alcohol in front of him. “Right,” she nodded, grabbing her drink from the bartender, feeling very much like an alcoholic, despite it only being her third drink of the night. “Wanna go somewhere quiet?” She asked, having to speak louder over the music and constant chatter. He nodded before following her as she guided him up the grand staircase.

If you had told Y/N earlier in the day that Rafe Cameron would be sitting in her bedroom on the night of her graduation, she would have laughed hysterically. Except that’s exactly what was happening in real time. Instead of mingling with others, like a proper guest of honor, she was hiding in her room with someone she absolutely despised. Until tonight. After they entered the room, she shut the door behind him and kicked off her high heels with a grateful sigh. She quickly downed her drink, emptying the glass of all its content before sitting it on her bedside table. “I’m sorry, I forgot what you said before I ordered that,” she explained, heading towards the balcony. It was her absolute favorite thing about her childhood room. He shook his head, shoving his free hand into his pocket as she opened the door to the balcony and stepping out. “It’s no problem. Really,” he smiled and quite literally took her breath away. Had to have been the vodka she just ingested. She grabbed her floor-length dress and lifted it a few inches, allowing her to sit on the outdoor sofa that overlooked the water. She curled her legs underneath her, getting comfortable as he sat beside her. “I don’t mean to be so forward but holy shit, you’re different.” He laughed, leaning forward and sitting his glass on the coffee table in front of them. They could hear the party dying down beneath them but thankfully, they remained hidden from all the guests. “No, no. I get it,” he shifted so his body was facing her before he continued. “Shit got really bad. I was so strung out on coke that I couldn’t function without it. I ended up getting in trouble with my dealer and my dad kind of bailed me out,” he paused, sighing. “But then I got into even more trouble and my dad fucked me over. It was a mess.” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him as she hung onto his every word, completely invested in his story. Anytime he looked away from her, she used the opportunity to appreciate the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke. She tried to recall what his voice sounded like in school as she was convinced it had deepened over the years. She loved listening to it. “I had to fall on my face before I realized exactly how bad my addiction was. Coke, alcohol, even weed. Hell, I was raiding Topper’s mom’s medicine cabinet, stealing pills, fuckin’ cough syrup.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I just woke up one day and said fuck that. I haven’t looked back since.” His smile was so contagious that she couldn’t help but grin.

“Enough about my ass though. Happy graduation!” Using his hands, he gestured to the events going on beneath them. She only laughed, playfully rolling her eyes. “How’s it feel?” He asked, sitting back against the sofa and draping his arm across the cushions as he faced her, giving her his complete and undivided attention. “So good. All that hard work and so many sleepless nights, it paid off. Now I own one very expensive piece of paper and I have a caffeine addiction. Yay!” She threw her hands in the air dramatically before they both laughed. The conversation rolled so naturally, she couldn’t believe it. She was actually enjoying her night with the same person, who would infuriate her to no end in high school. Everything about him felt different and honestly? She would be lying if she said that she wasn’t intrigued. “Knew you could do it, Y/N,” he said sweetly, looking so deep into her eyes that she forgot to breathe. She felt his gaze in her soul. Adverting her eyes from his gaze, she blushed, looking down and picking at a random loose thread in the couch’s material. “I, uh, don’t know if you’d be interested but I’d love for you to have lunch with me.” Her heart skipped a beat before pounding against her chest. It was so loud, she could hear it in her ears. “I’d love to show you around the office. Maybe we can sit down and talk about what kind of job you’re interested in. Between our company and our network, I’m sure we can get something lined up.” Little did she know that he was simply using business as an excuse to get her alone with him. He always had a thing for her but instead of wooing her in high school, he was a dick and ruined any chance he had at her. He was dying to make up for lost time, if she would allow him to. A grin curled her lips as she nodded, looking in his eyes. “Absolutely.”

Admittedly, she was still skeptical of Rafe. After all, the night of her graduation party was the first time she’d been back home since leaving for college in the first place and he could have merely been blowing smoke up her ass for all she knew. However, she knew just the person that could confirm if the information he’d provided to her was true.

“I saw Rafe last night,” she stated, seated at the dining room table with her parents for breakfast the following morning. Her mother’s eyes met hers and her face lit up. Since they were in diapers, her mom had been trying to play matchmaker. She was convinced they were destined to be together, despite Y/N’s natural disdain for him. Until last night, that is. “Oh, yeah? I was hoping you would,” her mother said casually, despite her folding her hands on top of the table. By her body language alone, Y/N could tell that she was excited for where their conversation was headed. “What’s his deal?” She asked, going back to eating her eggs as she tried to seem nonchalant. The older female saw right through it. “Oh, honey. Rafe’s completely changed his life and turned it around. He went back to school and got his degree. He’s taken over for Ward, running the Cameron’s company all on his own,” she gushed, proudly. “He’s doing a damn fine job too,” her dad added, the sound of his voice catching her off guard. “All that boy needed was to get away from his dad. Since doing that, he’s done nothing but succeed.” She fought back a smile. Well, shit. Maybe he had cleaned his act up after all.

She purposely waited a few days before grabbing her phone and shooting a text to Rafe. Her fingers moved swiftly across the touchscreen as she typed out the message. Only to delete the letters and reword the text a total of six times before finally hitting send.

Y/N: Hey! It’s Y/N. When would be a good time to meet up and discuss possible job opportunities?

She smiled proudly at her decision to play it safe, sending the text under the false pretense of a possible business opportunity. When in reality, she only wanted to see him. She didn’t have a chance to sit her phone down before the device buzzed in her hand, making her jump.

Rafe: I was hoping to hear from you. How’s this afternoon sound? My last meeting’s at one o’clock.

A second text followed, not even a half-second later.

Rafe: I’d really like to see you.

She smiled, reading his words on her screen before checking the clock. She had enough time to shower and get ready before she would need to leave. Quickly, she typed out a response and sent the text off before heading to her en-suite bathroom to get ready.

Y/N: See you soon!

With the purpose of their meeting being strictly business, she dressed with that in mind. She kept it business casual, looking painlessly professional in black slacks, a black blouse and a houndstooth patterned blazer. You could never go wrong with the classics. She polished off the look with strappy black heels that clicked loudly against the polished hardwood as she walked to the front desk. “Hello! How may I help you?” The perky blonde receptionist beamed. “I’m Y/N,” she introduced herself with a smile. “I’m here to see Rafe.” The administrative assistant nodded, her smile never leaving her face as she picked up the phone, dialing what Y/N could only assume was his extension. Less than a minute later, there he was, looking dangerously attractive, even more so than the other night. He donned a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, displaying his forearms. Suddenly, her mouth felt bone dry. “Y/N! I’m so happy you came.” She barely had time to register his words before his long arms enveloped her in a tight hug. Instinctively, she hugged him back before immediately regretting her decision. He smelled absolutely divine. A perfect mix of mahogany, teakwood and lavender invaded her senses but it was the hardness of his body that clouded her mind. How the hell was she supposed to act professional when all she wanted was to strip him stark naked and blow him? She smiled, looking up at him. Even in heels, she was no match for his height. “Thank you for inviting me,” she murmured, eyes never leaving his blue orbs.

After a quick tour of the office, where he introduced her to everyone, they entered his office. Inside was a man that she had never seen before. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties, dressed in a light blue dress shirt and khakis. Sure, he wasn’t a bad looking guy but he couldn’t hold a candle to Rafe. “You must be Y/N,” He stated, standing with a smile and politely offering her his hand. She gladly accepted, shaking firmly. “This is Matthew,” Rafe introduced the stranger as he gestured to the conference table that sat in the corner of his large office. Expensive leather chairs surrounded the table. She sat first, settling into the surprisingly comfortable chair as her handsome new friend took a seat beside her and Matthew directly across from them. “He owns a cloud computing company and is in need of someone to handle their marketing.” While he spoke, the other gentleman nodded his head before joining in the conversation. “Rafe and I were out at dinner the other night when I told him that I was struggling. I’ve interviewed at least seven candidates and not a single one has what I need for my company.” His next words hit her like a ton of bricks. “And then he mentioned you.” She whipped her head in Rafe’s direction before she could stop herself. Not even a week of her being home or the two becoming friends and he was recommending her to people he had worked with for years. “He talked about your drive and determination. He went on and on about how once you put your mind to something, you don’t give up until you accomplish it.” Her eyes fell to the table, a deep blush dusting her cheeks, which she hoped and prayed neither of them saw. But Rafe did. He noticed everything she did. Even when they regarded each other as enemies. “That’s what we need for our company. Then he gave me your resume, which was even more impressive. So you’ve got a position, ready and waiting for you, if you’re interested.”

After shaking hands with her new boss, Matthew, he excused himself and left. She was to report to his office the following week, where they would discuss salary and her schedule before putting everything in an official contract. Because of Rafe Cameron, she had a job, where she could actually put her degree to use. She remained seated in complete and total disbelief. Rafe remained cool, calm and collected as he traveled to his desk, grabbing his coat jacket and his keys. “You ready to get out of here?” She furrowed her brows in confusion. “What?” He laughed, noticing her expression. “Where are we going?” He flashed his megawatt smile as he sauntered over to her, extending his hand. “Come on. You promised to have lunch with me, remember? This is the same but dinner. Plus, we’ve got to celebrate.” He winked. She remained silent, taking his hand and following his lead, walking out the building and heading to his truck. The same one he’s had since high school. Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger side door and helped her inside before climbing into the cab himself. Throwing a cheeky grin in her direction, he started the engine and hit the road.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She asked, studying the way he gripped the steering wheel as he drove, a song by The 1975 playing quietly on the radio. He sighed, stealing a glance at her before focusing back on the road. “I have about fifteen years of being a grade-A dickhead that I have to make up for,” he murmured. She snorted a laugh, tearing her eyes off of him and looking out the windshield. “Yeah but.. a job?” He shook his head in reply. “That was all you, babe. You landed that job on your own. I just made a suggestion to an old colleague.”

Both were silent the rest of the drive. Neither muttered a single word until he pulled the truck into the driveway of an unfamiliar beach home, parking in the garage and shutting the door behind him after he cut the engine. As if he could read her mind, he answered her question without her even vocalizing it. “It’s not exactly Tanneyhill but it’s more of a home than that place could ever be.” He got out and made his way around the truck bed, helping her out. Without releasing her hand, he guided her inside. “I have to warn you. I happen to think I’m an amazing cook but I only cook for myself. So take that for what it’s worth,” he said, guiding her to the center island. She laughed, shaking her head as she sat down, immediately shrugging off her blazer. “You’re cooking for me?!” She asked, hanging the piece of clothing over the back of her barstool as he froze in place, a pained look flashing across his handsome face. “Yeah. I hope you didn’t have plans. I shouldn’t have assumed.” She leaned forward on her elbows, smiling from ear to ear, radiating excitement. “Shut up and feed me, Rafe. I’m starving.”

In a matter of minutes, he whipped up the best chicken carbonara she’d ever had in her life. He paired it with pan-seared scallops and stuffed tomatoes. To say that she was full was an absolute understatement, which explained her wide eyes when he brought out dessert. “Oh my god. No! I can’t breathe as it is,” she laughed until he peeled the tin foil back to reveal her favorite dessert in the entire world.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“Is that-“

He interrupted, finishing the question before she could. “Mrs. Heyward’s chocolate pound cake? Yep.”

She bit her bottom lip, attempting to resist the temptation and failing miserably. Mrs. Heyward’s pound cake was legendary. No one, absolutely no one, on Figure 8 or the Cut could make anything even remotely close.

“I’ll be deeply offended if you don’t share at least one piece of cake and a cup of coffee with me,” he teased, batting his long lashes and sticking out his bottom lip, giving her the most precious pout she’d ever seen. “Fuck you, I’m not sharing. Gimmie my own piece.”

He laughed. The sound was music to her ears and that’s when she knew. She was falling for the one person she least expected.

After that night, the two were absolutely inseparable. It started with lunch. Her new office was only two blocks from his and everyday, without fail, they had lunch together. Even on his days off. If she was in the office for work, he was joining her, never missing one of their lunch dates.

From there, it advanced to lunch on Saturdays. Coffee runs on Sunday mornings. Before spilling over into the occasional dinner on random week nights until it became a nightly occurrence. When they weren’t physically together, they were in constant contact. Either texting or talking on the phone. It happened organically. The person that she used to dread seeing quickly became the one she longed to see everyday.

Without a doubt, he was her best friend.

It was a typical Friday night for the pair. One would be responsible for cooking dinner and the other would handle the clean up. Every week, they rotated responsibilities. This week, it was her turn. She cooked earlier in the evening, which meant he was in charge of cleaning the kitchen. She was sprawled out his big, comfy sectional that reminded her of a cloud, while he stood at the sink, washing dishes. Domesticated Rafe was her absolute favorite. Mindlessly, she scrolled through Netflix in search of their first movie for the night. His eyes locked on her as he spoke from the kitchen, “Move in with me.” The words fell casually from his lips. Y/N’s finger paused on the remote before she sat up, looking at him over the back of the couch. He simply laughed, quickly rinsing off his hands and drying them before he made his way to her, rounding the couch and taking a seat beside her. In one swift movement, he grabbed her ankles and placed her legs over his, so she could remain in her comfortable position. “I mean it, Y/N. You’re here all the time anyways and I know you’re going bat shit crazy living with your parents,” he noted, his hand grasping her naked calf as he spoke, eyes locked on her. “I don’t know. I don’t want to impose. You’ve already done so much.” He rolled his eyes, scoffing at her. “Are you shittin’ me? I’d love to have you here.” His smile told her everything that she needed to know, although he continued to babble anyway. “Think of how much money you’ll save on gas alone because we can ride into work together,” he pleaded as she pondered the idea. “Okay.” Somehow, his grin grew wider as he pumped his fists in the air, clearly satisfied with her answer before throwing himself on top of her and tickling her sides. The sound of their laughter echoed throughout the once empty house.

Within seventy-two hours, she had officially moved in. Rafe quickly realized that nothing made him happier than coming home to her. Admittedly, she was terrified that by moving in, they would grow tired of one another or get on each other’s nerves but it couldn’t have been more of the opposite.

The more time they spent together, the flirtier they became. There had always been underlying sexual tension between the two, even prior to them being friends but now, it was more evident than ever. Longing looks they once shared over dinner became a soft touch that lasted a few seconds too long to be considered friendly. Less clothes covered their bodies as they lounged around the house or worked out together, practically daring the other to make the first move.

Rafe was the one to step up and bite the bullet.

It was the last official day of summer. To celebrate, they joined what once was an unlikely friend group, consisting of Rafe’s sister, Sarah, her boyfriend named John B and Rafe’s childhood best friend, Topper. Taking out Topper’s boat, they met up with the rest of their friends on the water.

Within minutes of anchoring down, reggae music played loudly through the boat’s speakers as their friends swam in between Topper’s boat and one that belonged to none other than JJ Maybank. Like usual at their parties, the girls broke off from the guys, congregating on JJ’s boat and dancing, while the boys horse played in the water. “Y/N! Kie!!” The sound of Pope hollering their names caught both the girls' attention. “What do you want?!” Kiara asked, clearly annoyed. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, secretly loving their dynamic. “We’re going wakeboarding. You’re down, right?” The curly haired brunette nodded eagerly, while the other girl shook her head.

“No, thank you.” Although she denied the offer, she tried to be as sweet about it as possible.

“The hell you aren’t,” Rafe said, his deep voice startling her as she hadn’t seen him swim into view. “Get your ass into the water.”

“Yeah. Uh Huh.. Okay,” she scoffed playfully, dismissing him with a laugh as she turned to grab her phone.

Before she knew it, Rafe climbed aboard and wrapped his strong arms around her waist. His warm breath tickled her neck as he spoke directly into her ear for only her to hear. “Get your cute little ass in the water or else,” he warned, his husky voice and flirty words going straight to her core. She didn’t shy away from him. Instead, she pushed her ass out, purposefully brushing against his crotch before realizing exactly how bad the idea was. Considering they were both dressed in bathing suits, the thin material of her bikini bottoms and his swim trunks left little to nothing to the imagination. Her worry soon disappeared as Rafe lifted her with ease and tossed her overboard, jumping into the water behind her.

To her surprise, wakeboarding was like riding a bike. It had been years since she got up on a board but once she did, she was hooked all over again. After crashing, she signaled to Topper that she was done. He brought the boat to a complete stop as she swam back. “I see you, little miss badass,” Rafe beamed, helping her climb aboard. She laughed, unclipping her life jacket and shrugging it off her body. “Shut up,” she teased, giving him a playful shove, making him laugh as he took the life jacket from her, placing it on the floor. “Shit, Y/N. That looks painful.” Her eyes widened at his words, filling her with instant anxiety. “What does?” She asked, worry evident in her voice as she watched her roommate remove his sunglasses, hanging them on the chain around his neck. Gently, he took her face in his hands and examined her newly discovered sunburn. “Sunscreen?” Biting down on her bottom lip, she shook her head in his hands, feeling like the size of an ant as he looked at her in disbelief. “You know better,” he chastised, releasing her before grabbing his book bag and fishing out a tube of aloe vera. “C’mere,” he said after squirting some onto his fingertips. She stepped closer and looked up at him as he ever so gently applied the gel to her irritated skin. “I know, I know,” he cooed as she winced. Holding her face in his hands again, he used his thumbs to make sure the gel covered all the redness that spread from her nose to the tops of her cheeks. As much as he wanted to blame the romantic setting of the sun setting behind him or the loving look in her eyes, Rafe couldn’t deny his desires any longer. His eyes darted from her eyes to her lips, which were slightly parted. He’d never seen anything more kissable in his life. “I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he whispered, his eyes finding hers again. “I always want to kiss you but right now, I’m struggling.” Her signature smile appeared and he felt every ounce of control melt away, watching as she leaned in. He met her half way, crashing his lips to hers. Over more than ten years of desire poured into one kiss and god, they both could feel it. As he cradled her flawless face in his hands, deepening the kiss, she grasped his forearms in hopes of remaining steady in the event that her knees gave out. Slowly, as if it was the last thing he wanted to do, Rafe pulled away. He opened his eyes to find her smiling as he stroked her sunburned cheek. “Mmm,” she hummed, stepping even closer and wrapping her arms around his naked abdomen. “I’ve wanted you to do that for so long,” she whispered. She felt his abs flex against her as he chucked, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as he bit down on his. He wanted more and so did she. “Yeah? I’m sorry it took me so long.” With his free hand, he ran his fingers through her wet hair. “S’okay. You can make it up to me by doing it again.” And that he did.

Despite the fact they didn’t arrive home until well after two o’clock in the morning, both were wide awake. Sleep was not on their agendas. Before they entered the house through the back door, Rafe peered over his shoulder, watching their friends disappear from the dock before he was all over her. The kiss was now drastically different. This time, it was hot and desperate, full of tongue and teeth. If there was any question about exactly how desperate they were for one another, it was clearly evident now. He hooked his hands under her hips and lifted her up, guiding her to wrap her legs around his waist as he reached for the door. He brought them inside, kicking the door shut behind him with a little too much force, causing it to slam. “Sorry,” he laughed before finding her lips again and walking down the hall to the closest bedroom. Only when her back met the mattress did she realize they were in her room, although their location was the furthest thing from her mind. He could have her on any surface in every room of the house and she would gladly take it.

Her hands were all over him as she explored the planes of his broad chest, savoring the feel of his muscles under her palm as he rutted against her barely clothed core. “Mmm. Rafe,” she sighed when his lips found her neck. “We can stop now. We don’t have to do this,” he murmured before continuing to litter her neck with wet kisses. “Want this,” she paused, rolling her hips. “Want you so bad.” He bit down on her neck, thrusting his hips forward. She moaned in response, nails scraping his lower stomach as she tugged on the hem of his board shorts, signaling she wanted them gone. While trailing the tip of his tongue along the length of his neck, he reached behind her and untied the thin pieces of fabric at the nape of her neck before descending down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses before stopping between her tits. She arched her back, body chasing him, silently pleading for more and he used the opportunity to reach behind her, and untie the last piece that kept her breasts confined and hidden. He pulled the fabric away from her, throwing it off the bed haphazardly before kneading her newly exposed skin. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over one of her already hardened buds. He licked it teasingly before wrapping his lips around it and sucking harshly, while rolling her other nipple between his fingers. She writhed underneath him, squeezing his biceps as she slowly lost her mind to his sweet assault.

He groaned as he pulled away from her tits, sitting back on his haunches with his fingers inside the hem of her bikini bottoms. In Rafe’s mind, this was it. There absolutely was no going back after this. He locked eyes with hers, staring into her soul as she nodded her head. There was no doubt in her mind, this is what she wanted.

She lifted her hips as he tugged down the last remaining fabric on her body, his eyes never leaving hers as he pulled the bottoms down her toned legs. He pushed himself off the bed and stared down at her, his eyes raking in every inch of her newly exposed body. “Fuck,” he muttered, quickly reaching for the band of his shorts and pushing them down to the floor. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip as his cock sprang free. “There’s no way you’re real.” Her words made him grin as he climbed back onto the bed, settling in between her welcoming thighs. “You’re so beautiful. I don’t even know where to begin,” he admitted shyly, staring down at her with eyes full of wanton lust as he toyed with her tits. She bit her lip, reaching forward and taking his cock in her hand. He hissed as she stroked him at a dangerously slow pace. His mouth found hers, plunging his tongue inside, massaging against hers, his hands taking purchase in her hair.

“Condom?” He asked against her lips, untangling his hands from her and ghosting down the length of her neck, falling to her shoulder, then down to her collarbone, where he traced her skin with his fingertips. “Uh, yeah,” she murmured before rolling onto her belly, reaching for her nightstand. Considering she hadn’t been with someone in over a year and this was the last thing she expected to take place, she silently prayed that luck was on her side as she opened the top drawer and reached inside. While she searched, Rafe’s were glued to her ass. He grasped her hips roughly and lifted her lower half, grabbing two pillows from the head of her neatly made bed and stuffing them under her hips. With her ass now in the air, every bit of her exposed and on full display, he roughly kneaded before spreading her cheeks apart and spitting. The sound alone was enough to turn her on but when she felt his saliva coat her puckered hole, she audibly moaned. He didn’t need any assistance. In fact, she was absolutely soaked with arousal, he simply gave in to his deepest desires anyway. He spread his spit to her clit, circling once before plunging his middle finger inside of her without warning.

It was official. Rafe Cameron was going to be the death of her. “Shit,” she gasped. Partly in frustration because she hadn’t found a condom yet but mostly because Rafe quickly added a second finger. “Fuuuck,” he groaned, watching the way his slender fingers sunk into her with decadent ease. “Please, tell me that you found one.” He was desperate for her. He wanted to feel the warmth of her walls, squeezing his cock as he fucked her with every ounce of energy he could muster. “Hold on,” she said breathlessly as she shoved the top drawer closed and yanked open the bottom one. She didn’t even have time to search before she felt his cock slide into her. “Rafe!” She yelped, clutching the side of her bed, eyes falling shut at the pleasurable stretch and sudden fullness.

Never in his life, not even once in a drunken stupor or manic high, had Rafe fucked anyone without a condom. He wouldn’t risk the chance of an STD or unwanted pregnancy. But with Y/N? He couldn’t careless. He could have easily gotten up and walked down the hall to retrieve one from his room but fuck. He spent so many years longing for her but believing he would never get the chance, so now that she was underneath him, he couldn’t think straight. It didn’t feel real until her wet pussy clenching around his cock brought him back to earth as he slid to the hilt. “Holy shit,” he moaned, digging his fingertips into her hips before the realization hit. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I-I got too excited, couldn’t wait,” he said quickly, attempting to pull out, only for her to reach back and grab his hip. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” she snapped, pushing her hips backwards, so his dick never left her. “I need you to fuck me, Rafe.” The grin that curled his lips was bright enough to light the room alone until he bit down on his bottom lip, pushing his hips forward and bottoming out in her again. “Goddamn, Y/N. Holy fucking shit,” he stammered, while her nails dug into his tanned flesh.

Immediately, the sounds that he elicited from her were downright pornographic as he moved his hips in a languid pace. Her head fell forward, forehead pressed to the mattress as she gripped the sheets with both hands, while his sturdy hands ran up and down the length of her back. “So good, baby,” she whined. He smiled at the pet name, increasing the pace of his hips as he attempted to fuck her even harder. “So. Fucking. Wet,” he punctuated each word with a brutal thrust, making her cry out for more. “Need to look at you,” she pleaded over her shoulder, eager to get her hands on his perfectly sculpted body.

Carefully, he pulled out of her. With his knees still firmly planted on the mattress, he shoved the pillows that were once underneath her hips off the bed as she rolled over. “You’re so fucking hot,” she admitted, a wicked smile dancing across her face as she took a moment to appreciate him, while he nestled himself between her thighs. “I’m convinced you were made for me.” The words spilled from his lips as he pushed back inside of her, moaning as she somehow felt even tighter with the new angle. He hooked his arms under her thighs, spreading her legs wide as his body remained upright, moving his hips vigorously. “This pussy was made for me,” he proclaimed, jaw slack as he watched her take his cock greedily. She mewled, sitting up on her elbows and forcing herself to watch him as he fucked her for all she was worth. It was a truly glorious sight, one that she could never grow tired of. The muscles in his forearms flexed as he held her legs wide, brows furrowed and jaw clenched tight as he looked at where their bodies were connected. She reached forward, between her legs, splaying her hand on his stomach as his abs rippled against her palm with every thrust. “Oh fuck,” she cried out, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. When he looked up and locked eyes with her, she was a goner. “Rafe, baby,” she screamed, head falling back as her pussy clenched around him. “Oh, that’s a good girl right there.” When she clenched again, he chuckled. “Good fucking girl,” he praised, reaching for her feeble hand that was pressed against his lower stomach and lifting it above her head, intertwining their fingers as he pinned her down. With his free hand against the inside of her thigh, he spread her even wider, pinning one leg to the mattresses and quickening his hips. “That’s right, baby. Give it to me.” His filthy words in combination with his hypnotizing thrusts sent her over the edge.

For the first time, Y/N saw stars as pure, unadulterated bliss spread from the tip of her head to the bottom of her curled toes as her entire body spasmed underneath him. He fucked her through her orgasm, continuing his movements until she stopped shaking, indicating she was coming down from her high. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, massaging her thighs before he released them and leaned forward to catch her lips. “Watching you cum is my new favorite thing.” Still dizzy from her orgasm, she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as his tongue wrestled with hers. “Wanna make you cum,” she whispered, rolling her hips. It was his turn to laugh before speaking against her swollen lips, “I don’t think you have to worry ‘bout that, babe.” He nuzzled his face in her neck, creating a pattern, where he alternated between licking and sucking different patches of smooth skin. His hands wandered to her tits, where he tweaked her nipples, while teasing her with slow thrusts.

“Rafe,” she whined, desperate for more. He smiled against her skin, reveling in the way she begged for more. He paid close attention to the way her breath hitched when he gripped her hips, sending his own forward as he pushed his cock as deep as their bodies would allow. Her newfound tightness caused a filthy moan to spill from his lips. “I’m not gonna last long,” he warned, voice strained and his breath completely ragged. Vulgar sounds echoed throughout the otherwise empty house. His finish was quickly building, he could feel it in the heaviness of his testicles each time they met her ass. “Where do you want me, baby?” He nipped at her shoulder, hips keeping their brutal pace. Still too blissed out to think any coherent thoughts, she blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Cum inside of me,” she gasped, knees digging into his sides as he pounded her cunt relentlessly. “Please, please, please,” the words ran together as she begged. Burying his face in her neck, one final thrust, he gave into his release and granted her wish, spilling deep inside of her. It was the filthiest thing he’d ever done but fuck, it felt so right as he pumped her full of his cum. “Fuckin’ shit,” he groaned, teeth grazing her earlobe as his orgasm slowly ceased.

Propping himself on his elbows, so he could keep the majority of his weight off of her, he pulled back to marvel in the damage he’d done. Splotchy marks in different shades of red covered her neck, while she displayed a bright, fucked out smile behind freshly-kissed lips. Rafe couldn’t help it as he surged forward, beaming with pride, knowing that he was the cause of her beautifully disheveled appearance. “Hi,” he whispered, making her giggle as she lovingly massaged his shoulders. “Hi,” she responded, nibbling her bottom lip. “I don’t want to move.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed, hugging her body tight to his with his head resting on her breasts. “Then don’t,” she laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, earning a groan from deep in his throat. “Oh, I’m not planning on it. Hope you’re in this for the long haul because I’m not going anywhere.” She knew his words had a deeper meaning, which was the reason goosebumps appeared throughout her body. She smiled, her hand falling to his shoulder blades. “I know. I am too.” He lifted his head and found her lips, kissing her lazily, exhaustion from their lovemaking and late night finally settling in. “Promise me something?” She nodded her head, eyes falling shut. “Promise that as soon as we wake up in the morning, you’ll help me move your shit into my room. I can’t have my girlfriend sleep anywhere other than my bed.” She smiled, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. “Anything for you. Boyfriend.” Her words were the last thing he heard before falling asleep.

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mikhailwrites · 2 months

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Soaring Ever Higher 4 - Ghoap/Ace Combat 7 crossover

Previous chapter | This Chapter on AO3 | Next chapter

And so, Ghost finally has a chance to make good on his promise... with some interest...

Be advised that this chapter is pretty spicy so if you mind or are a minor, I trust you'll stop reading at # symbol :)

The bar is nice and surprisingly classy, considering the city is on the smaller side. The music isn’t too loud or obnoxious; the overall noise is also bearable. Ghost lets himself enjoy it.

“What can I get you, lads?” the bartender flashes them a broad smile, not even batting an eye at Ghost’s scarred face, which is to his credit.

Trigger also doesn’t seem to mind. Once Ghost took the balaclava off, the bloke did pause on his face, but there was nothing to suggest what he thought of the map of scars. After a few seconds, he nodded and smiled as he held the door open for Ghost.

“Bourbon for me,” Ghost points at the bottle of Woodford Reserve on the shelf. The bartender nods and looks expectantly at Trigger, who seems to be scanning the shelves for something specific.

John shakes his head in mock disbelief. “And here I thought you were a cultured man,” then he turns back to the bartender, “Do you have Lagavulin 16?”

The bartender thinks for a second. “I think so, but let me check; we keep the better stuff in the back.”

Ghost chuckles. “What can I say? I’m drinking Yank stuff with a bloke flying a Yank plane. If you were a patriot, you’d be flying Typhoon like the rest of the base.”

“Somebody knows their jets,” Trigger whistles. “But last time I checked, Typhoon ain’t Scottish-made.”

Their exchange is interrupted by the return of the bartender with two glasses. Ghost says he’ll be paying for both. The price doesn’t really surprise him. “Are you getting the good stuff at my expense?” The money is no issue. He’s just interested in the reaction.

“Why, of course,” Trigger smirks, “it’s not every day I get a free drink.” He raises his glass, “Slàinte mhath.”

“Cheers,” Ghost answers the toast with his glass, sipping the bourbon, sighing in content as it slips down his throat, warming him inside out. “You think I believe you? With the free drinks? Or do you want me to feel special?”

“Right down to the business, aren’t you?” the corners of his mouth twitch. “The thing is, I don’t leave the base often. Don’t have much business outside.”

“And for pleasure?” Ghost watches him intently, noticing a minuscule twitch in John’s left hand, the way his tongue darts to wet his lips. He’s either nervous or pretends to be. Both options are intriguing, if for slightly different reasons.

“That’s complicated,” he lowers his gaze. Now that’s a good tell that he’s just pretending and luring Ghost, tickling the hunter in him by playing a helpless prey.

“It’s really not. When you boil it down, it’s always about pushing, shoving, and exchanging bodily fluids. Nothing complicated about that,” Ghost presses, shifting a little closer and putting his hand on John’s knee.

“Yer not a wooing and romance kind of lad, are ye?” Trigger takes his glass and drinks a bit more of his whisky. The smell of smoke, disinfectant and burnt tyres tickles Ghost’s nose. Christ, he could never stomach peated scotch, but the scent becomes John. It may very well be how he smells when he climbs out of his plane after a mission.

“Is that a problem?” Ghost asks with fake concern, tasting the bourbon once more.

“Didnae say that,” Trigger shakes his head, resting his hand atop Ghost’s. That’s the only permission Simon needs.

He leans closer as he speaks quietly, right into John’s ear. “I want to bend you over the counter and shag you like there’s no tomorrow."

“Damn, not even a second drink? You think I’m that cheap?” Trigger grins, and it’s all teeth and intent.

“Not cheap. I think you know what you want and usually get it. Am I close?” Ghost leans even closer. If he tried a little, his lips could brush the trimmed beard. He notices a pleasant whiff of cologne as well.

“Close enough,” Trigger admits, wiggling a little in a movement intimately familiar to anyone ever sported a stiffer in public space.

“Base or hotel?” Ghost asks, momentarily turning his attention back to the drink. There’s still about half of it left.

John understands and promptly finishes his glass before answering. “Hotel, but we need to do some shopping first.”

“Obviously,” Ghost agrees, tipping the glass back and setting it on the counter.

The moment the door of the small hotel room closes behind them, they’re on each other. John’s fingers tangle in Simon’s blonde hair where it’s long enough on top of his head, nails scraping the scalp. Simon’s lips smash against John’s; tongue, teeth, doesn’t matter. First, Simon presses John against the wall. Then the other man, despite being shorter, retaliates and shoves Ghost back, pinning him to the opposing wall and wedging his knee between Simon’s legs and up until Ghost grunts in both impatience and anticipation.

Trigger’s hands leave Simon’s head and immediately sneak under his tee, feeling him up, kneading at the hard plains of muscles.

“Fuck I love how you’re built,” John gasps between harsh breaths, tucking the tee up, uncovering inch after inch of scarred, pale flesh.

Simon grabs him by the mohawk and forces him to expose his neck. With no hesitation, he licks it with a long, broad and wet stroke before sinking his teeth in. John yelps above him, digging his fingernails into Ghost’s sides with enough strength for it to hurt.

Trigger’s pelvis also moves in a fluid, steady motion, hard-on on hard-on. It’s wild and heavenly, free of any and all troubles. Just like Ghost said back in the bar, when it comes down to it, sex is a rather uncomplicated endeavour.

Somehow, they manage to get mostly undressed and on the actual bed. Simon lies on his back with John braced above him, only heading in the opposite direction. They suck each other’s cock in a perfectly balanced ratio of giving and taking. Well, it’s a little more taking on John’s part once he finds out he can actually fuck Simon’s throat and does so with relentless vigour. Simon, however, uses the situation to his advantage, blindly grabs a bottle of lube and, without John noticing, squeezes some on his fingers before he presses them against his hole. Two at first, and he’s about as gentle about it as Trigger’s cockhead is to his throat.

John gasps and groans at the intrusion, but Ghost sucking him feels too good for him to withdraw. He takes those fingers just like he takes Simon’s prick, at least what he can actually fit into his mouth.

Soon enough, the stretch starts to feel good, and he moves back further to have more. He’s close and feels the orgasm building between his prick and his balls. He lets the cock fall from his mouth to slobber nearly unintelligible “’M close.”

Simon grabs his ass and helps him thrust deeper. He’ll have an even raspier voice for days; he knows it, yet doesn’t care. His airways are momentarily blocked, but he expected it. John grunts and then changes the rhythm to senseless rutting as he nears his peak. Simon adds another two fingers and wedges them in by force, knowing the pleasure and the tension of impending orgasm will numb the pain, morphing it into something else entirely.

John cries out, his voice breaking, and he thrusts one last time as he comes down Ghost’s throat in powerful pulses.

Simon barely lets him have a few seconds before manhandling him, throwing him off of himself and onto the mattress face-down. Once more, he reaches for the lube, slicks his prick and slides into John’s now pliant and lubed-up hole. John moans, hypersensitive and surprised, but he doesn’t move.

“Fuck yes,” Simon growls as he starts thrusting. Fast and deep, he’s way past caring. Bracing himself on John’s shoulder blades, he enjoys the hard body beneath all the more as he knows the other man could stand his ground easily. He could fight Ghost if he wanted to, and even though he wouldn’t probably win, it would be a good fight. And he shags him like that, too. With none of the gentleness and all of the respect.

John grunts and huffs beneath him, the discomfort clear in his voice, but eventually, he starts jerking his hips to meet Simon’s thrusts. His back glistens with sweat, scars starkly pale on the tanned skin. Ghost leans down and tastes the salt and musk—breathes Trigger in as he regains his focus and slows the thrusts to savour this.

Simon drags his fingers through the mohawk, grabbing a fistful of hair barely long enough to get a hold of. He lifts John’s head from the bed and motivates him with a firm tug to look over his shoulder. John’s face is flushed, his lips slick with saliva, his eyes searing despite their colour.

“That all ye’ve got, Si?” Trigger taunts, smirking. His brow furrows, and his mouth forms a pretty “O” when Ghost answers the challenge with a backstab of the pleasurable kind.

Simon can feel the tension inside him rising. The fast, punishing pace he’s set does nothing to stave it off, and he doesn’t even try to fight it. His breath is ragged and Simon groans every time he bottom out. So close…

And then it’s here, rolling over him, dragging him under as his whole body locks for a moment before the muscles seize and his heartbeat thunders in his ears. Simon collapses on top of John. It’s bloody uncomfortable, all hard muscles and hot, sweaty skin, but he barely even registers any of it.

In about ten seconds, his brain reboots, yet he still doesn’t move. Instead, he nuzzles against short hair and the mohawk. Trigger sighs; it sounds content and peaceful, so Simon continues rubbing his stubbly cheek against the trimmed hair.

“Yer a good weighted blanket, Simon,” the Scot says quietly, but there’s mirth in his voice—an almost fond edge.

Ghost hums. He wouldn’t mind staying like this longer, but the discomfort is only worsening. Eventually, Simon rolls off of John, but seeing as the other man didn’t complain so far, he grabs him and squeezes him in a firm hug. He basks in the closeness as he buries his face in the nape of John’s neck.

“Not that I’m complaining, but I haven’t pegged you for a cuddler… ‘s nice surprise,” Trigger speaks again, squeezing Simon’s hands where they hold onto him and presses even further into him.

They drift off like that, because shower can wait, and they wouldn’t be in the military if they couldn’t stand being occasionally gross and disgusting.

I have way too many screenshots, here, have some Eurofighter Typhoon.

#I so enjoy their dynamic #Johnny playing coy is mood #Simon Riley - the weighted blanket #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ace combat #ace combat 7

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jedi-lothwolf · 1 month

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Whump: The Musical Day 6: Newsies (Chronic Pain)

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Summary: Crosshair finally does something about his hand.

Crosshair hated Hemlock. Never before had he hated someone so much. As he watched his hand shake, he knew that if he ever saw the scientist again, he would shoot his in the stomach and drive his rifle into the wound. He would make him feel as helpless and as awful as he felt.

It wasn't just the shaking. His arm had been in pain for months. There was nothing he could do. Pain medicine made it bearable, sometimes it even kept it from hurting, but like a river, the dam could only stop it for so long.

So, Crosshair started to think there was nothing he could do. It had been months.

Tech would have known. But, Tech was dead. Az should know but he didn't have the technology he needed. Crosshair was too nervous to go to the hospital on Pabu. He knew he shouldn't wait, but he wanted someone to go with him and he wasn't going to take the kid. Hunter would be his best opinion but he couldn't face him yet.

This morning, Crosshair grabbed the last of his stolen pain meds and put them in his mouth. The bitter taste lingered on his tongue as he swallowed the pills. But the pain wouldn't leave him alone.

As the day went on, Crosshair seemed detached. It appeared that he was always thinking about something. The batch didn't know rather to give him space or if they should talk to him.

"I'm going to talk to him" Hunter finally said.

"Normally Cross doesn't like to talk to us about these kinds of things unless he comes to us." It wasn't that Wrecker didn't want to talk to his brother, he just didn't want to make anything worse.

"He's in pain, I can tell. I don't want him to hide that from us."

"Okay."

So Hunter went to find his brother. Crosshair was in tears when he found him. Holding his wrist, the sniper tried not to look at him.

"What's wrong?" Hunter came to sit beside Crosshair.

"I'm fine" he scowled.

"You're crying."

"I said I'm fine."

"What's going on?" Hunter sounded so calm. He talked to him with all the patients he had, maybe more.

"My hand" Crosshair sighed, "my hand was messed up at Tantiss . It hurts Hunter." The man looked over at his brother, tired. "It hurts all the time and I'm out of pain meds."

It took a moment before Hunter said anything. "okay. Let's take you to the hospital. They might be able to do something for you." Seeing Hunter reach out to him, helped. It almost felt like nothing happened.

The two walked to the hospital together. Hunter went in first and whispered something to the nurse at the front desk that Crosshair couldn't hear. The sniper followed his brother inside. After a while, the two were called back.

"So the nurse tells me that your wrist has been bothering you."

"Yes."

"Alright, lets take a look." The doctor took Crosshair's hand into her own. After talking for a while, the doctor ordered a few tests. She was determined to get to the source of Crosshair's pain.

A NCV showed that the man had nerve damage.

"Unfortunately, we would have to operate. Even then the pain and the damage will never completely heal. I'm sorry but you'll need a brace to help steady your hand and we'll put you on pain medicine for the chronic pain."

"That's it?" Crosshair sighed. "How soon can you do the surgery and how soon can I have those meds?"

"Soon and soon. I'll get everything scheduled. About once a month you'll come here to pick up your medication. After your surgery we'll put you in physical therapy to help with the recovery."

"Okay."

"Thank you doc." Hunter stood.

The brothers walked outside. "It's a start" the older of the two said.

Crosshair looked at his hand. He took two of the Gabapentin pills. Then he put his dark gray brace on. "Okay."

#whump: the musical #chronic pain #star wars #star wars whump #whump #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch #crosshair #tbb hunter #hunter the bad batch #hunter bad batch #pabu

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cotidianoseeder · 5 months

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Ninjago Skybound AU idea!

During this time away, I've been marathoning a bunch of fics and thinking "damn, I might as well create an AU". Let's get to the main point: Canary!Jay In short: In Jay's second wish, instead of him simply wishing that Nadakhan would go away he wishes: I wish you would leave here and I wish I could be free as a bird to fly far away, so you wouldn't bother me anymore!" In general, what happened in the original happens, but as time passes, Jay notices feathers appearing, desires to chirp and other things that birds would do.

Basic Informations

1. Jay will turn into an avian, his species will be this type of canary, a "canário da terra" ( Sorry, but I really love make references to my country)

2.The transformation is not fast, it is slow.

3. It takes a week for the transformation to be complete, it is painful, little by little you surrender to instincts and behaviors that are not yours.

4.I think we could continue with the classic things that happened to Jay on board the Misfortune s keep, the classic scrap 'n tap, being forced to clean the entire ship and the psychological pressure. But how about we add something heavier? Skybound itself is one of the heaviest seasons of Ninjago, and if we turned it into something rated +16, we could only imagine what happened there. I think that Jay there could also go through dehumanization, he would have his wings cut and in a very bad way, the cutting of his feathers would be horrible, all messed up. He would also be trapped in a cage, instead of the usual cell in the canon, the foods provided are bread crumbs, seeds, mealworm larvae and dirty water.

5.Other methods Nadakhan would use to try to make Jay break would be beyond dehumanization: Forcing Jay to sing for him and in front of other pirates. Do you know those bars with music? Well, Nadakhan would have Jay sing in front of everyone wearing clothes similar to belly dancing, only a little more masculine. He would also wear a kind of pearly veil. 6.In terms of behavior, Jay would sleep earlier and wake up before sunrise, singing and chirping. He also starts to clean his wings, make some chirps out of nowhere and every time he feels himself falling from a high height he flaps his wings wildly to try to fly.

Transformation: Day 1: the wish is made, a few hours later there is a sensation of bearable pain in the back, coccyx and back of the ankle. There is also an itch in the hair, cheeks, back, shoulders and collarbone area. Day 2: The hair becomes a little longer, its roots take on a lemon yellow - orange tone, small feathers appear on the back of the back. Day 3: The host of the desire begins to act strange, is feeling sleepy much earlier than usual, around sunset and wakes up shortly before sunrise in a very excited and energetic manner. A strange sensation begins to appear in the throat region, creating the desire to chirp and sing. Sometimes the host accidentally starts chirping and singing, even at times when it shouldn't. Day 4: The pain intensifies further, small feathers appear on the cheek, collarbone, shoulders and region. The hair reaches halfway down the neck, the colors at the roots are stronger and more noticeable. The host begins to become more anxious and alert, as if it were prey, it also gets scared more easily, often jumping into the air as if trying to fly away, claustrophobia begins to appear, the chirps become more intense. Day 5: Reliefs begin to appear on the scapula, coccyx and back of the ankle, and along with feathers in this region, they also seem to move according to emotions. Vision and hearing noticeably improve. Body language becomes more animalistic, specifically resembling that of a bird. If the host has a crush on someone, he may sing to try to win over his partner. The canines become soft quickly and soon they fall out. Day 6: The new canines finally grow, they are bigger and sharper. The reliefs on the back become a kind of small arm with feathers, the one on the coccyx and ankle area become a kind of small tail with feathers as well. Every hour these new members grow, it becomes more difficult to disguise them over clothes. Day 7: The wings and new limbs are at the end of their growth, it is impossible to hide the new limbs even when wearing them over clothes, the clothes are uncomfortable, a few hours later the new limbs will tear the clothes off so they can finally be "free" . There are also flight attempts.

Changes in the:

Comportament: Frequent chirping and bird calls, Sleeping easily in warm and fuzzy areas (Jay is a teen in the AU and babies birbies sleep in warm and comfortable places, like in your hand), waking up VERY early and feeling very sleepy at sunset sun, altered biological clock, jumping from one side to the other, cleaning the feathers, stealing small objects and fuzzy objects and turning them into nests and body expression more similar to that of a bird, attempts to fly when scared, ruffling the feathers to appear larger when threatened, wings protecting the body when frightened

Psychological: Mild paranoia (prey instincts always alert), anxiety

Physical: emergence of new limbs, such as a pair of wings on the scapula, a tail on the coccyx and a type of altered tail in the rear region (do you know the wings on the boot of the god Hermes? something similar, but they are on the back of the ankle, which can fit on long flights ensuring more sustainability in the legs), feathers on the cheek and regions close to the new limbs, longer and thicker hair, hair roots taking on a lemon yellow and orange tone. More sensitive eyes and ears, new and sharp canines, stronger and sharper nails like claws, lighter bones.

I intend to do concept drawings for AU, I don't have my graphics tablet for now. Anyone interested in helping and giving ideas for the AU and perhaps adopting it and creating a fic on AO3 with long chapters, good writing, angst and those necessary things just comment or reblog! (I might try to write one day, but I don't think I'm a good writer) Have a great day!

#ninjago #jay angst #jay walker #ninjago au #lego ninjago #ninjago headcanons #ninjago jay #ninjago angst #angst #fic ideas #au idea #ninjago nadakhan #skybound #adoptable #headcanon #ninjago skybound #read it #ideas #reblog it

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haileymunson · 2 years

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can you please do Eddie dating a Sinclair sibling and the reader introducing him to Afican American culture and things . Like our black laughs, our grandmas ect?

ouuuuuu this is a good one bestie i gotchu. i’m gonna make this a headcanon!

eddie x sinclair!reader headcanons - introducing him to black culture

being the eldest sinclair sibling was not as easy as people made being the eldest sibling seemed

lucas wasn’t a terrible brother, always out with his friends and usually with his off again, on again girlfriend, max

erica was the one that made it difficult. her loud music, her clique of loud laughing and gossiping friends made it hard to babysit just one kid

luckily your knight in a leather jacket and black skinny jeans made your night more bearable

he’d already met both of your siblings through hellfire club

he’d met your parents because you called him every single night, and your parents wanted to meet the boy who’d made their phone bill sky high

you figured you’d slowly feel him into your family and let him get involved with you and your culture

at first dinner was great, before your parents were watching The Jefferson’s and your father had let out a loud spray bottle laugh, making eddie nearly choke on his mac n cheese as he laughed along with him

then during a family reunion your family had at the sinclair household, you let him meet your various family members

some of your uncles and your grandfather were a bit skeptical of him

“what kind of man wears skinny jeans and has a mullet?”

the typical christians and holy worships nearly crucified him for his tattoos and wearing all black

thank god he wore a black button down shift instead of his hellfire club shirt

he mostly stuck with lucas and i since he wasn’t very familiar with any other family members, but we tried our best to introduce him to all of our family members

when it came time to eat my grandmother practically shoved me away and offered to make him a plate of food

“a growing boy like him needs a big plate of food, y’hear?”

after receiving a huge serving of baked chicken, collared greens, mac n cheese, corn bread, rice dressing, and sweet tea, eddie nervously stuck his fork in the food and took a bite

i watched him as my grandmother and my mom came behind him and rubbed his back, “how’s the food baby?”

as the food started to sit on his tastebuds and savor his hunger, he hummed satisfied and smiled, “incredible ms. sinclair!”

he starts gobbling up his food as my grandmother leaves the dining room with my mom as they both laugh, the rest of our family members laughing and smiling at his satisfaction with the cooking

he also became accustomed to your very lengthy, but relaxing (when it was doing what you wanted it to do) hair care routine *wash day headcanon coming soon!*

watching you do your hair and twist and coil your beautiful curls was so natural and normal to you, but so intimate to him

no one but your close family was able to see you do your hair, so eddie felt so honored to be able to watch you do your hair

“eddie it’s not that big of a deal babe, i’m just doing my hair!”

eddie frowned and shook his head vigorously as he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around your hips

“babe it’s so much more than ‘you doing your hair’. you only do it around few people and you being so patient and caring with your hair is so cute to me. perfecting each strand and making sure you do your hair just right”

your heart swooned at his confession as you giggle, “okay lover boy trying to cop a feel tonight?”

he rolled his eyes but smiled at you bright laugh, “yeah yeah whatever babe, um can i ask you something?”

you caught your breath, “of course baby what is it?”

he cleared his throat, “um i was wondering if you could show me how to do your hair? you know, just in case of emergencies or something? also can you show me how to do my hair.”

your eyes and smile became as bright as the sun and eddie almost fainted at your beauty, “of course baby! you’re going to have to be patient with me though. since i’ve already done and finished my hair how about we do yours?”

he nodded and you brought out an extra bottle of shampoo and conditioner you had, “okay babe, take your shirt off and lean your head over the bathtub”

as he took his shirt off he smirked, “and you’re telling me i want to cop a feel? why do i have to take my shirt off to wash my hair?”

you rolled your eyes, “so your pretty hair doesn’t get all over your shirt goldie locks. plus i’m going to be a little heavy handed with the water okay?”

he agreed then followed your commands. you turned the water on and rinsed his hair. you grabbed the scalp massager and poured shampoo his hands, “massage your scalp with this babe”

he carefully put the shampoo on his scalp for about a minute until he felt your hands pull his fingers away, getting the massager to work the shampoo in his scalp

“jesus christ, y/n/n that feels amazing”

you giggled as you told him to rinse his hair out and went to your counter to get the conditioner and detangling comb

you handed him the conditioner and told him to rake it through his curls, and he followed your instructions

you handed him the comb and he looked confused, “to detangle your hair and make it not have any knots or tangles to make styling easier”

he understood and did as you told him, and your heart soared watching your sweet boy follow your every command

he rinsed out the conditioner once he was done and combed through his hair again

“okay babe, we’ll try deep conditioning another time, but let me show you how to style your hair”

he stood up with his wet hair framing his face, a towel wrapped around his shoulders as he nodded

you brought your leave in conditioner, styling gel, and mousse from your cabinet and put it on the counter

he watched in the mirror as you did his hair, combing through his brown locks and carefully applying the product

seeing you be so domestic and so loving towards him made his heart so full

he never had many memorable experiences with his family and mother, but he was very excited to make many more memories with you and your family

i hope this was okay! pls send me more asks i’d love to do requests! also thank y’all so much for the love and feedback on my recent posts! my heart is so full that we’re close to 100 followers eeeeee!!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x sinclair!reader #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons

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thefandomcassandra · 10 months

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My collected thoughts on Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective (as someone who only played the remake, at the behest of xyr good friend who insisted xe played it because "you would love it" and "its your brand" (which was correct))

The way the puzzles are made are so tight and so intuitive (with a few notable exceptions, which were only bearable because you can try and try and try again).

Being able to use a controller (guess whose crunchy t-rex wrists are too fucked up for mouse and keyboard controls for more than five minutes? This guy!) was so so good, even if the OG was a point and click. Apparently the switch version has touch which is neat? But the controller controls are tight and I only had a few issues with them (namely I kept clipping into cores I didn't want).

The story is brilliant with superb foreshadowing that, even on a first playthrough, can be seen and noted. The amount of times I hooted like a beast and pointed out smthn for my friend to only 🙂at me through discord tts was so so many. And I was right to point them out too.

Missile.

The characters are so genuine and real and quirky (Shu Takumi, you weird girl enjoyer™️, you do it so well) and several of them reminded me of friends' ocs (in a deeply positive way).

I never wanted to stop playing (I did because I was streaming for the above friend, who was having A Time™️ and deserved the secondhand First Time Experience Of A Beloved Thing emotions, but god I wanted to keep playing until I was done it was RESTRAINT and LOVE that stilled my sinful hand).

It's not terribly long, really. My finished game (featuring several minutes of idling and listening to the in-game music/viewing the art) was 11.4hrs. That's a trip and a half baby! Nice tight little game.

Missile.

The way the characters were animated was so charming. 10/10 art style. I wanna play with them with little action figures. Smack em together and write funny stories.

There is no unmotivated action. Even the villain, even the most bad of guys has a motive that, even if its stupid or bad, is there.

When you fuck up, you still get a laugh out of it. There were at least two (2) instances of my friend saying "Hey do [this] for me?" When I did, I was always rewarded with something stupid or interesting that made me lose my mind.

The game, while not hand-holdy, will give you hints. They're always contextual and specific to whatever you've just done (or should be doing) and they're usually internal or external dialogue between the ghost you're playing as and whomever is listening (usually nobody, sometimes the dead person they're helping).

Missile.

Anyway, play Ghost Trick. It's worth the 30USD.

#the sheepy speaks #ghost trick #here i am waving a banner #missile is the best dont look up anything about missile just trust me #top pomeranian

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bell-of-indecision · 4 months

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✨I ranked all the indian stuff I watched in 2023✨

For context, this July I finally gave in to my decade-old urge and dove head first into indian culture. It's been nothing short of phenomenal. The more people I meet, the more foods I try, the more music I listen to, the more Hindi I learn, the more I fall in love with India.

Although I became more of a TV serial person, eventually, I gave in to the movies as well.

So here's everything I watched, ranked from worst to best.

(I'm sorry in advance)

10. Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani

This movie is useless, I'm so sorry. Somehow, it fooled me into thinking Naina was the main character, then the whole thing became about Bunny and I was so confused, who was I supposed to care about anyway? Can't complain though, Naina is a boring and uncharismatic cliché, I couldn't care less about her, had she disappeared midway into the story, I would've been thankful. Avi, Bunny, and Aditi, on the other hand, are loveable characters that deserved to be in a better movie — especially Aditi, I liked her so much. Too bad the movie seems to be about absolutely nothing. There was a message, I think, but it felt so shallow it didn't even matter to me, there was no actual relevance, no lesson, no impact, nothing. Maybe I'm stupid, but this movie is a drag. And the soundtrack SUCKS, Ilahi is the only good song in it.

2.8/10

9. Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2

The very first Bollywood movie I've ever watched. I wanted to like it so bad, it makes me sad that I didn't. Is it a comedy? A horror story? A dramatic murder mystery? Somehow, it's all of these and none at the same time, it can't decide on a tone to save its life, not even the humor can decide on what exactly it wants to be (most of it is just bad). The main couple has negative chemistry, their romance is so bland it's almost funny. Ruhan carries the whole movie on his back and is the only character with enough charisma to make me care, I honestly love this guy. His scene where he pretends to be possessed is incredible, and Tabu as Anjulika was great too. The plot twist was really nice, possibly the only good thing about the whole story, but then the movie ends so abruptly and on such a heavy note that it almost made me sick when the upbeat theme song started playing immediately after. This movie could not read the room, everything about it throws me off.

4/10

8. Jab We Met

Aditya is a dream, Geet is kind of a nightmare. I have nothing against characters that are lively, optimistic, and cheery, but they have to be bearable, she was just way too much for me. I loved Aditya's character development, it was fun and endearing to watch. The movie itself is not bad, just overrated. Nagada Nagada slaps though.

6/10

7. War

I wanted to love this movie just as much as it wanted to have a good twist. We both failed. Underestimating the audience's intelligence is one thing, but toying with us and making us feel like fools for the sake of a “big reveal” is something else. And no, it wasn't worth it. It wanted to be surprising, but it was just frustrating, shocking for all the wrong reasons. The action was fire though, no complaints there, and I loved the relationship dynamic between Kabir and Khalid, I would watch 11 seasons of those two going on missions with their team and fighting together, their chemistry is so good, I enjoyed every second of their scenes.

6.4/10

6. Arjun: The Warrior Prince

As a Mahabharat fan, I had hopes, but that's on me. Loved the way the story was presented to the audience, simple but brilliant. Shaheer Sheikh's Brihannala altered my brain chemistry, and I was elated to see her again. The animation was gorgeous, that goes without saying. I just hated how it ended right before the war, right where Arjun has some of his best moments, and hated even more how they practically erased Krishna from the story. At least they made him dark skinned this time.

6.7/10

5. My Name is Khan

Had this been based on a true story, I would've been the biggest fan of this movie to ever exist, I am a sucker for movies based on real life stories. Still, despite the disappointment of finding out this whole thing — as good as it was — was fictional, I see it as a touching, lovely, honest, and relevant story that kept me interested and broadened my horizons. Say whatever you want about allistic actors playing autistic characters, Shah Rukh Khan sold the heck out of this character and I bought it like the big neurodivergent fool that I am. I see a neurodivergent character onscreen, I am immediately on-board and loving them despite all their scripted flaws because “they're just like me fr”. "Marry me", indeed.

7/10

4. Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani

Is it innovative and groundbreaking? No, but it is so much fun. It's deep and honest enough, charismatic and funny enough, it's just good entertainment with a good message. I expected nothing to be honest, either way, the story just kept getting better? The dynamics kept getting deeper and more complex? Wait a minute, this was actually good! I went in for the soundtrack — I'm obssessed with Dhindhora Baje Re — but I stayed for everything else. I laughed out loud many times, I shed some tears, I rooted, man, this movie made me feel actual things! What a lovely surprise.

7.9/10

3. The Railway Men

I went into it with such high hopes. Some of them were met, but part of me was left unsatisfied. As I said before, real stories are my favorite, but the way this show was presented feels too much like fiction. Good fiction, but still. And I know it’s not fiction. I am aware that many creative liberties were taken, and I'm not against them, at all, but the thing is: I could see them, I knew they were there. When I watched HBO’s Chernobyl, I was fully convinced that everything that was presented in the show was reality, exactly how it had happened, and I doubted nothing. I was shocked when they revealed that Ulana Khomyuk was a character created to represent many scientists that were involved in the incident. I had eaten her up, and I still can't believe she wasn't a real person. The Railway Men feels like the opposite of this, most of it feels like a creative liberty, very little reads as a real event, a real interaction, or a real person. I doubted a lot of what I saw, and had to do some research to fully understand what exactly had been real. But like I said, it was still good. I found myself caring deeply for each and every character, no matter how minor, I deeply empathized with their pain, rooted for them, cried with them, cried for them. It's heartbreaking, gut wrenching, revolting, yet it still manages to be inspiring. Why I never learned about Bhopal before watching this show is beyond me, but at any rate, I will be recommending this show to everyone I know.

8.1/10

2. Brahmāstra: Part One – Shiva

I will defend this movie's honor, I don't even care. I loved it so much that I made my mom watch it with me the next day, and she loved it. The dialogue is cringy, yes, unbearably so, some lines make my skin crawl. But COME ON, the plot is great, the concept is creative, the visual effects are wonderful, the soundtrack is divine —Mohan is dreamy— hear me out, I was hooked, on board, immersed, you name it. This movie made me feel so excited, I felt like a 7-year-old watching a super hero movie and wanting to have cool powers just like those, I honestly can't remember the last time a movie made me feel this energetic. Do I understand why Shiva and Isha were so deeply in love despite having met each other a week ago? No, but I was still rooting for them. Do I understand why sometimes people yell out the Astra’s powers in order to activate them like the Power Rangers? No, neither do I vibe with it, but do you think it mattered? The next moments were so freaking cool that I completely forgot what I wanted to complain about. (Oh, and Saurav Gurjar was in it! I gasped so loud when I saw him on screen, and playing a villain no less!) I was genuinely sad when it ended, I would've watched three more hours of that, despite the terribly written lines. I will fight for this movie and forgive every bad line of dialogue if it kills me.

8.7/10

1. Mahabharat (2013)

In case you haven't noticed, I am absolutely obssessed with Mahabharat. Initially, I’d decided to face the 267 episodes of this show because watching stuff in your target language is a good way to learn (also, that Krishna guy was very easy on the eyes, looking at him a bit more surely wouldn't hurt). It took me a few episodes to really get into the story, but once I did, oh boy, I was so hooked on the plot I even forgot about the language (although I did learn some words from it). The thing about this show, other than the freaking superb plot and phenomenal cast, are the characters. They all made me feel something. And that's the thing with characters, I believe, they don't necessarily have to be good or bad, morally speaking, they have to be well-written and entertaining, they have to make you feel things, positive or negative. Shakuni, a villain, was freaking great because of how good he was at being bad. And the good guys, like the Pandavas, weren't just good, that'd be boring, they were also charismatic, unique, funny, inspiring, and sometimes morally grey, which made them even more interesting, even more human. Watching them get in conflict with their morals when things got dark was insane. Even when they messed up —I'm looking at you Dharmraj— I still wanted to see them win. They felt like family, I watched them grow, I felt so close to them that their struggles and victories felt like my own. “My boys”, I call them. Mahabharat is my Roman Empire, man, I could talk about this show for HOURS. Anyway, this became my favorite show of all time and I'm so glad I didn't let the number of episodes scare me away. (And yes, I am still very much in love with Saurabh Raaj’s Krishna, he is probably one of my favorite characters ever, my heart raced when I first saw him and it still does to this day, BYE)

9/10

Oh, this ended up being a Top 10. Nice.

I both thank you and applaud you for reaching the end of this ramble that is ultimately just a result of my obsession with making lists and ranking literally everything. And also my admiration for indian culture.

I would've included Porus and Chandragupta Maurya but I'm not yet finished watching them, but I thought I should say: I am liking them a lot.

What do you people think I should watch next year? Recommendations are welcome!

✨🇮🇳 ✨

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