#here we don’t use the name zombies
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The Magic Trick You Didn’t See: Being An Analysis of Good Omens Season 2
(or: Neil Gaiman, Your Brain is Gorgeous
But I Have Cracked Your Sneaky Little Code
And Have You Dead To Rights*)
(*Maybe)
***
Soooooo I just spent the last 48 hours having a BREATHTAKING GALAXY BRAIN EPIPHANY about Good Omens Season 2 and feverishly writing a fuckin16,000 word essay about the incredible magic trick that @neil-gaiman pulled off.
Yes, it’s long, but I PROMISE your brains will explode. Do you want to know how magic works? Do you want to know what Metatron’s deal is (I’m like 99% sure of this and it’s EXTREMELY FUCKING GOOD)? Do you want to know about the Mystery of the Vanishing Eccles Cakes and the big fat beautiful clue I found in the opening credits? Do you go through the whole inventory of Chekov’s Firearm & Heavy Artillery Discount Warehouse?
Here is the essay, go read it: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ When ur done u can tell me I’m an insane crackpot, and u know what, i won’t even be offended
In case you don’t know whether you want to bother reading the whole enormous thing on google docs, I’ve put the first couple sections of it under the cut. JUST TRUST ME OKAY, HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS VERY EXTREMELY COOL, NEIL IS GOOD AT HIS JOB--
Proem
A dark theater. The rustling of the audience: clothes, breathing, whispers of anticipation. The lights come up. A man enters, stage left. He is a magician—a master magician—and he performs for you a magic trick so good and so subtle... that you don’t even notice you’ve seen it.
You know there must have been a trick—after all, you came to the theater to see a trick performed, didn’t you? And he claims to be a magician. So there had to be a trick somewhere. There had to be.
But maybe there wasn’t. Maybe there was just a man on a stage, talking to you, telling you a story with a strangely unsatisfying ending you didn’t quite understand.
I know. This is a weird beginning to an analysis essay. But hear me out, because I have to explain the mechanisms of the stage before I can show you what the trick was, where the trapdoor was hidden, and how Neil Gaiman pulled the whole thing off so gently and elegantly that you didn’t notice a thing. Ready? Here we go.
The Facts As We Know Them
Let us begin by establishing a baseline—some fundamental, logical assumptions that underpin the magic trick. These will seem obvious as soon as I say them, which is precisely the point: They are self-evident, loadbearing foundations for my entire argument, and if I don’t point them out, I’m going to sound like a crackpot conspiracy theorist. (Which! To be fair, I might be. I could easily be wrong about all this—but I don’t think I am.)
Our baseline, loadbearing assumptions that preface my Grand Unified Theory of Season 2:
1. Neil Gaiman is extremely good at his job.
2. Neil Gaiman loves these characters and wants with all his heart to do them justice; likewise, he has a great deal of respect, love, and admiration for Terry Pratchett and is striving VERY HARD to write the show the way Terry would have been happy with.
3. The devil, as they say, is in the details: Neil Gaiman and the entire Good Omens cast/crew are fully capable of doing extremely subtle detail work, as conclusively proven in Season 1 Ep 6, specifically the whole sequence of the body-swap scenes.
With me so far? Great.
The Elephant In The Room
Season 2 was... odd. It was odd, wasn’t it. This isn’t a matter of whether you loved it or hated it—there was just something odd going on.
I spent the entirety of my first viewing very much enjoying myself and being very happy to be back with these characters and this world, but I was also liveblogging to my groupchat as I went, and a theme soon began emerging:
“Neil, what are you doing? Where are you going with this?”
“What in god’s name is going on here? I’m so lost lmao.”
“What is going on with the music situation?”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE NEIL”
“zombies, ok, I trust u to pull this all together in the end, Neil, but I still don't know what you're up to”
“What is going on LOL”
“Incredibly what is going on here”
“NEIL! WHAT IS HAPPENING!”
“Literally what is happening”
“Neil Gaiman why have you constructed a regency au for mystery VIBES reasons”
“just????????? lesbians????????? dancing what's HAPPENING. just all the background characters are gay here ok sure sure sure NEIL GAIMAN WHAT IS HAPPENING--”
“mmmmmmm neil what u doin”
All these are copied verbatim from my liveblogging, and apparently I am not the only one to have this reaction. And to be clear, I was having a good time! I came out to this theater to see a magic trick, and this Neil Gaiman guy on stage is a master magician—but I didn’t see the trick, even though there must have been a trick.
At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about the season. I wanted to like it! Indeed, there were many things that I liked about it! But I felt a bit muddled and jumbled up and confused—I felt like there was something I didn’t understand about it, and so I couldn’t yet understand how I felt about it either.
I started chewing on this question in a friend’s DMs: Why is season 2 so fucking odd? What is going on here, Neil? What are you up to? The matter of whether he was up to something was never in question. I knew that he had to be up to something. Writers are always up to something, and as I watched season 2, it was as if I was watching Neil scamper around the room with a mischievous expression as he messed with things here and there and made little tweaks and adjustments to the arrangement of all the Chekov’s guns he’s stockpiling on the mantelpiece.
You see, Season 2 has some very bad writing in it. HANG ON, DON’T ARGUE WITH ME YET! THIS IS NOT A JUDGMENT CALL!! This is the rug that the trick’s secret mechanism is hidden under!!! This is the hidden mirror that makes the trick work!!!!! This is the trapdoor in the stage!
Yes, of course I will explain myself.
Neil Gaiman is a master magician, but I am a pretty damn good magician myself—I’m a professional fantasy author who has published nine books, and I teach workshops for apprentice writers online and at universities—and if there is one thing I have learned about the process of achieving mastery of your craft, it is this:
Regardless of what medium they’re working in, the apprentice artist is concerned primarily with achieving realism via an expansion of their control—control of their brush strokes as they paint a photorealistic eye; control of their deck of cards, the mechanisms of their magic tricks, and where the audience’s attention is being directed; control of all the little factors of voice, plot, character, setting, suspense and surprise that go into writing a good story. However, the master artist has achieved that control—so much so that it often looks effortless to an untrained eye—and sometimes the master artist returns to a messy, amateurish style simply because they have control even over this too.
As an example, consider Picasso and his entire body of work. He begins as an apprentice focused on achieving control, doing portraits of people that look like people—like what we expect a portrait of a person to look like. Then, as he grows in skill and gradually achieves mastery, he pulls away from realism. He develops a style, he experiments with faces that don’t look like any human alive colored in ways that do not appear in nature. He expands his control. His work becomes abstract. Towards the end of his life, he starts experimenting with what’s called “Naive art”, something that a 5 year old could theoretically draw... but you have to achieve mastery before you can do it on purpose and have it look good.
On one hand, Neil Gaiman is extremely good at his job. On the other hand, Season 2 has bad writing in it.
What does that tell us?
Well, we know from our Baseline Assumptions that Neil Gaiman is simply too good of a writer to fuck up through garden-variety clumsiness and lack-of-control the way an apprentice writer would. Additionally, he cannot fuck up by accident in this case because I am positive that the man is scrutinizing his work on Good Omens far too closely to let anything slide—for Crowley and Aziraphale’s sakes, for David and Michael’s sakes, and especially for Terry’s sake. The stakes are sky-high, and he cares too much to write a weird, kind of “bad” season by accident.
Which leaves only one option: He did it on purpose.
(Am I sounding like a crackpot conspiracy theorist? Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. I’m gonna get SO MUCH MORE CRACKPOT.)
If he did it on purpose, then the natural question to ask is: WHY!?!?!??
It’s a great question. Not “Why?” in terms of why he as an individual person with emotions would decide to do that, mind you. More like, “What purpose does this serve for the structure of the narrative?” There is a story he is intending to tell, and out of all the choices he could have possibly made, for some reason this one was necessary and correct in order to achieve that end goal—so what was that reason?
See? Intentionality. He knows exactly what details he left in, and he did it on purpose. (Editing! It’s important!)
So there has to be a reason. It’s like when a master magician “casually” rubs an itch on his nose—why did he do that? What is he sneakily slipping into his mouth by hiding it under the excuse of this little gesture that does not even register to you as meaningful? (If you haven’t watched enough stage magic to know what I mean, watch this.)
This question is, of course, impossible to simply answer out of thin air without any further evidence. It is a dead end—so we must adjust the question and come at it from a different angle.
The one I settled on when I was chewing on this was: Well, okay, what do I mean when I say “bad writing”? What is it about S2 that makes it feel so goddamn odd?
The Pledge, The Turn, and... The Conspicuous, Expectant Silence
There are three parts to a magic trick: Pledge, Turn, Prestige.
First, the Pledge: You show the audience something ordinary.
Second, the Turn: You make that ordinary thing do something extraordinary, like vanish.
Third, the Prestige: You bring the ordinary thing back.
To quote the 2006 film The Prestige just after its explanation of the first two parts: “You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet, because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back.”
You have to bring it back.
When I teach apprentice writers, I call this a “setup-payoff cycle”. Achieving control and dexterity with this tool is crucial, because the setup-payoff cycle is the engine of the story—it’s what makes the story run. You can have a setup-payoff cycle at any scale—I have read ones that were a single sentence long; I’ve read ones that were two books long. Additionally, all jokes, no matter how long they are, are structured on a setup/payoff cycle. These cycles work precisely the same way a magic trick does:
You set up the audience’s expectations.
(Optional but generally considered stylish and elegant: You give those expectations a firm jolt to throw the audience off-balance.)
You pay off the audience’s expectations in a way they weren’t expecting, while saying “TA DA!!!!” really loud with your arms flung wide.
Audiences really like this. A setup-payoff cycle executed just right makes the audience’s brains light up like Times Square and hammers on their mental “reward” buttons like nothing else. It’s like you’ve personally handed them a cookie and a gold star. They go wild for this.
Here’s an example of a setup-payoff cycle, though it’s not a perfect one—and you’ve probably heard it before, so you’re not going to be throwing chairs and tearing down the theater from sheer glee:
The Setup: Knock knock. Who’s there? Banana. Banana who?
The Jolt: (the joke starts over and repeats several times without reaching the payoff (aka the prestige) while the audience grows more and more annoyed and frustrated about the unfulfilled expectations, until finally...) Knock knock. Who’s there? Orange. Orange who?
The Payoff: ORANGE YOU GLAD I DIDN’T SAY BANANA?
Good Omens Season 2 feels so fucking odd because the setup-payoff cycles are incomplete—nearly all of them are, and the ones that do close the loop do so in really weird ways which, as a professional author, make me feel kind of, “Bwuh?????? But where’s my cookie? Excuse me??? Sir???? Neil????? My cookie, tho???”
When I realized this, when I finally put my finger on why the whole season was giving me some uncanny valley heebie-jeebies, a chill ran down my spine.
(The rest is here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ I’M GOING TO GO STARE INTO THE ABYSS NOW BYE)
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yayy now that ik you're open to write for joel, i propose smth angsty along the lines of "you came back for me" bc reader and joel got into a really big fight before getting separated. i just want the angstttt pls crush my heart tear it apart then put it back together by ending really fluffy plssss
AN | The inevitable has arrived - here we are foraying into Joel territory. Enjoy ❤️
Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Language
Word Count | 2.4k
Masterlist | Joel, Main
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“You’re really stupid sometimes,” it was an exasperated huff that had your hands on your hips as you looked at him. You didn’t mean it - not really anyway. Joel was probably one of the smartest and most resourceful people you’d ever met. He hung his head with a heavy sigh before turning back to you. His expression was entirely unamused, “so foolish and - and stubborn!”
This got a laugh out of him, a bark of unamused laughter but nonetheless. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself? You don’t get what you want and you act like a petulant child!”
“I am not,” you hissed, trying your best not to stomp your foot; you didn’t need to help prove his point any further. Maybe he was a little right…Joel often was. But you also felt like your point was right too. Even if this was the middle of a weird zombie apocalypse you were now living in, you should be able to take some time out for yourself. Especially now that you had a more stable living situation, “it’s always work this and work that with you. We should-”
“We should do what we need to in order to survive,” he cut you off, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew, begrudgingly, that you also weren’t entirely wrong, “that is the most important thing.”
“What about us-”
“There is no us,” he insisted and damn. Those four little words broke your heart more than anything. All this time spent together, getting to know each other both on a physical and emotional level meant nothing to him. You should have known. It was almost funny in a horrible way. The older man refused to look at you and you couldn’t help but think him a coward. Maybe he was right after all - maybe you were just a child, “get that in your head and let’s get this over with. We’re losing daylight.”
He took a few steps forward, dirt and gravel crunching under his boots. You shook your head, more to yourself than anything but didn’t follow him. When Joel didn’t hear your footsteps behind him, he turned around, “I’m not going with you.”
“C’mon,” he insisted, “don’t be like this. It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself.”
“Well, how am I ever going to learn to survive solely on my own if I’ve always got you or someone else leading the way?” He was correct in reasoning though. It wasn’t safe for anyone alone. It was also recommended that people go out in pairs for that reason, “just go on and I’ll find my own way back.”
“Stop acting like this,” but you just shook your head and took a step further back, “can you just listen to me for once?”
“Actually, Joel, for once it would be me not listening to you. So…you do whatever it is you need to do, do it. I’ll go back and patiently wait. Then you can come back and tell me what to do,” you offered him a sticky sweet smile before turning on your heel and heading back in the direction from which you came. You took off before Joel could say anything, biting your lip in order to keep from making any extra sounds or letting your tears fall down your cheeks.
You heard him call after you, your name falling from his lips in an increasingly exasperated tone. You heard him come after you for a few moments, but eventually he stopped, his signature sigh falling from his lips. But eventually he moved on and you continued back towards Jackson.
Realistically you’d just proved his point by acting in such a childish manner. But you didn’t care, not right now. He’d hurt you, and you didn’t even know if he’d meant to or knew the effect his words were having on you.
“Dumb, stupid girl,” you groaned at yourself, “had to go and mess everything up. And now you’re going to get yourself lost.”
Admittedly, your sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. But the path you’d taken to get to this point, the point where you’d picked an argument with Joel, had been a fairly linear path. Surely you couldn’t fuck that up.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
And yet…you managed to fuck that right up.
It was dark and you weren’t back to Jackson yet and you knew that was wrong. It shouldn't have taken so long to get back. You should have been back already. Somewhere along the line you had either taken a wrong turn or missed a turn but you found yourself wandering aimlessly. It was too quiet out here, not even sounds of nighttime creatures reaching your ears. If there were anything out there with you, they’d probably hear you in a heartbeat. You’d just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any runners or stalkers or worse - clickers. You were glad you’d remembered to stash an extra knife in your boot and still had the shotgun slung across your back. You’d never taken one on your own, but you figured you could manage. You were going to have to.
But you just hoped that you wouldn’t come across everything. You’d just camp out in one of the abandoned buildings you’d found until daybreak and then make your way back. That seemed like the most logical and smart thing to do.
You went to check the front door of the building and, naturally, it was locked. Luckily there was an open window nearby that you figured you could use to get in. Hopefully that was a good sign that nothing else was able to get in either. You jumped the little bit of distance that you needed in order to climb up, catching your hands on the window sill and pulling yourself up. You managed to get in, but suffered a less than graceful landing as you plopped on the ground. And…managed to roll your ankle in the process.
“Fuck,” you cried, clutching at your ankle in pain as you tried to stifle your whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly sat up and tried to massage the pain in your ankle away, “shit, damn it. Fuck!”
As soon as the words left your mouth, you slapped a hand over it to try and keep any further sound at bay. You sat still, and listened for a few moments to make sure you didn’t hear anything. After a few tense, still minutes had passed, you relaxed; it didn’t seem like anything was there with you.
Crawling towards the corner, you made yourself as small as possible, sitting with your back against the concrete wall, and hugging your knees to your chest. Anything to make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. It was probably a stupid idea to sleep, alone and vulnerable, but it had been a long day and you needed some rest. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier and before you knew it you had succumbed to sleep’s siren call.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
By the time your eyes opened up, heavy and dry, it was the morning. Daylight was streaming inside the room and you let out a relieved, but shaky sigh. You’d made it through the night. That in and of itself was a good sign that you’d make it back. It was safer in the light and you might even meet someone from Jackson on the way back.
As you tried to stand up, you quickly remembered what had happened. The stabbing pain your ankle causing you to yelp as you leaned against the wall, using it to help support yourself. Okay, okay, okay - this was going to be trickier than you thought but you’d be able to get yourself out of there. Your survival instinct was stronger than that.
But before you could do anything or plan anything else you heard it. It was your name being called out in the distance. Gooseflesh erupted all over your skin as you tried to pick out the voice. It came closer and closer and it didn’t take long to figure out who it was. Joel. It made your heart jump before you remembered what had happened. You could just - fuck it. You needed him to survive and while you were stubborn among a whole lot of other things, you were willing to put aside.
“Joel!” you held onto the sill so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You poked your head outside and looked around until you found him a short distance away, “Joel.”
He stopped at the sound of your voice, and you could see the evident relief that washed over his features. He jogged over to you, and you offered him a tentative, nervous little smile. He shook his head when he realized that you were safe, running a hand through his dark hair. Joel exhaled slowly before looking at you, a hard glint to his, “do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” you rolled your eyes lightly.
“This isn’t a game,” his voice sounded between annoyed, worried, and relieved all at once. He reached over and gently touched your face, his hand resting on your cheek, “you thought you could just go off on your own and find your way back? You couldn’t even do that. I got back and you weren’t there. Do you even know what I thought? I-I…”
“I’m okay,” you promised, putting your hand on top of his and giving it what you hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. He wasn’t looking at you, instead looking up at the blue sky. It was almost funny in a way; if you looked up, staring into the bright blue sky, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong and the world was as it had always been, “look at me, please. Joel.”
“I thought something had happened,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes met yours. There was a hard edge to them, but they were still soft, “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”
“You came back,” you took his hand in yours, admiring the feeling of his calloused fingers against your surprisingly soft skin, “you came back for me.”
“Of course I did,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that was never a question. You should have just come with me and none of this would have happened. You stubborn, foolish girl.”
“You…” it all seemed so trivial and silly now. Now that he was back and had come for you, “I…’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left. Not with my sense of direction.”
“I’m sorry too,” he admitted and you raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was not what you had been expecting to hear. Joel Miller was a hard man and he didn’t generally didn’t experience situations in which he had to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”
“I shouldn’t have just assumed that you and I were…anything,” your voice dropped as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to well up, “it was stupid of me and ended up causing both a lot of trouble.”
“You are extremely important to me,” his voice was gentle when it broke the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You couldn’t help the small smile that ticked up the corners of your mouth, “even if I didn’t make it seem like it. We’ll…figure it out, okay? But I want you to know that…I…”
“I know,” you did know. You knew exactly what he was trying to convey, exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing you were still scared to say, “me too, Joel.”
He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “c’mon. Let’s get you back home and we can…go from there.”
“There’s, um…just a small issue with that,” you put on a sheepish smile as Joel looked at you expectantly, “when I found this place last night - the door was locked. I didn’t want to make too much noise so I didn’t try to force it open. Instead, I climbed in through the window.”
“I can get you out of the window-”
“I hurt my ankle.”
“Of course you did.”
“Joel-”
“It’s always something with you,” he tutted at you, but there wasn’t any anger or malice behind the sound, “what am I going to do with you, huh?”
“Keep me around because I keep you on your toes?” you tried and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. You looked at him with a gentle smile, “can you help get me out of here?”
“Of course,” he promised, “sprained or broken?”
“I dunno,” you looked at the swollen joint and grimaced, “I think just sprained. But I’m not a doctor so…”
“Kid,” affection laced the nickname that he liked to tease you with. He came closer to the window and held his arms out to you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, letting him tug you closer to his body before he picked you up and swung you through the window. You thought he would set you down, but he didn’t. Instead he held to you his chest, “you’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you,” before you could stop yourself you kissed him tenderly on his scruffy cheek, “thank you for coming back for me.”
“I’ll always come back for you,” he promised and you knew he meant it, “always.”
“I know,” you hugged him tightly, “me too. I mean, if the situation were ever reversed. Which I doubt it would be, but you know, the sentiment is there.”
“I know, Kid,” you could feel the laughter vibrating in his chest, “I know."
#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#tlou#tlou hbo
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{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal
We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.
On food and groceries:
How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss
Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic
If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You
You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid
You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.
On entertainment and socializing:
The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend
7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment
Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date
The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There
Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!
What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?
You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s
On health:
How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke
Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money
Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics
Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership
How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription
On other big expenses:
Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question
Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague
Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke
You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel
3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income)
When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans
The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years
Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”
The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It
On buying secondhand and trading:
Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand
I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online
The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade
On giving gifts and charitable donations:
How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?
In Defense of Shameless Regifting
Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities
The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum
How to Spot a Charitable Scam
Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?
On resisting temptation:
How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements
Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake
The Magically Frugal Power of Patience
6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending
On minimalism and buying less:
Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool
Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse
Slay Your Financial Vampires
The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending
On saving money:
How To Start Small by Saving Small
Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal
The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges
Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead
From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings
Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”
The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess
We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”
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title: stranger than a stranger
pairing: pre-boston raider!joel miller x female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 4964
summary:
When Joel sees you searching for supplies in an old school, he removes your companion from the equation and convinces you that you need to join him for your survival.
author's note: a gift for @dreamingofdaddydin, fellow depraved slut, who sent in an ask that i completely changed. please heed the warnings on this one, as there are dark and potentially triggering elements. if you do decide to read and you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!
content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), undefined age gap, no use of y/n, post-outbreak/pre-boston QZ, dark!joel miller, perv!joel miller, survival as coercion/manipulation, dub/non-con somnophilia (the actions are not agreed upon before hand but reader is receptive once waking), sex as a thank you, voyeurism, masturbation, canon typical violence (mentions guns, knives, blood), handjobs, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), cum eating, huddling for warmth but manipulative, wet dreams, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v. please let me know if any are missing!
You never expected to live through an apocalypse. In fact, before the cordyceps outbreak, you and your boyfriend had watched Night of the Living Dead and you joked that if the time ever came, just throw you to the zombies or demons or whatever hell unleashed.
Yet here you are, ten years post-outbreak and the collapse of one QZ that you and your boyfriend had been living in, climbing through a destroyed school building, picking your way through rubble as you follow Liam in his search for more supplies.
“The stores around here are probably picked clean, but a lot of people don’t think about checking schools. They’ve got plenty of non-perishables in the cafeteria. Remember? We ate like shit growing up,” Liam explains. He shines a flashlight down a hall. “Well, I guess we ate better than we do now.”
“I miss chicken nuggets,” you lament. He chuckles.
“I could definitely use a cheeseburger,” Liam replies.
You continue moving quietly through the school, the cement and linoleum cracked by overgrowth and the abandoned classrooms of overturned desks making you feel like you’re in a whole different world and not just in an elementary school in Massachusetts.
“You got your knife and gun, right?” Liam asks quietly. You nod, pulling the gun from the waist of your jeans and showing it to him. “Good, keep it handy. You know those fuckers are always hiding around buildings like this.”
You and Liam had just started dating when the outbreak occurred, and you managed to stick together for the last ten years. He’s taught you a lot about survival - shooting a gun, starting a fire, and finding edible vegetation in the woods, among other skills. Despite your original desire to be spared from an apocalypse, you’ve somehow managed to persevere.
“Remember to aim for the head,” Liam says.
You roll your eyes. “No, I figured I’d aim for a foot. Of course I’m aiming for the head.”
“Alright, smart ass. You go down that hall and see what you can find.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna look for the cafeteria. Meet me back here.”
With another nod, you part ways.
You both miss the figure lurking in the shadows.
________
Joel watches you disappear around a corner before his attention returns to your companion. The man walks quickly in the opposite direction, holding only a flashlight in his hands. Joel clocks a holster on his hip that must hold a gun or a knife. The man looks like the type to know how to fight, weapons or not.
Too bad Joel is the predator here.
He leaves the dark shadow he’d hidden himself in, following the man with quick, quiet steps. The other man seems alert, but not alert enough to notice Joel following him.
Good.
Joel watches the man draw a gun from the holster, holding it in front of him as he kicks open a set of double doors, sweeping his flashlight and gun into the darkness beyond. Joel slips through the door before it shuts, darkness surrounding him as he lets his eyes adjust.
It looks like a gymnasium, cracked hardwood basketball flooring with faded court lines illuminated in the small flashlight beam of the man, who continues across the court and out another set of double doors.
He follows him back out to a hallway, brightly lit thanks to a hole in the ceiling, crumbled plaster and cement littering the ground. He takes a few steps closer, stopping when he hears a clicking sound that sends a shiver down his spine.
The man freezes, too, eyes wide, hands tightening on his gun. Joel slowly brings the shotgun slung over his back around to his front, taking it up in his hands.
The clicking grows louder, more insistent. It echoes down the hallway and Joel knows that the creature is aware of their presence. No matter how quiet you are, those fuckers know how to find you.
He aims his gun, finger poised on the trigger. Heavy footsteps approach from the end of the hall, punctuated by the clicking noise that makes his hair stand on end. The creature enters the hall, overgrowth of cordyceps blocking its eyes and features. It pauses, head turning with jerky motions as it seeks out its prey. He watches the other man shift his stance, trying to widen his legs, but his foot catches a rock, sending it sliding across the floor.
The creature’s head snaps at the sound and it ambles closer, faster. Joel takes aim, pulling the trigger and blowing its head across the room. The man turns in surprise.
“Damn, man. Thanks,” he says, taking a deep breath and giving Joel a smile of gratitude. He reaches a hand out as he says, “I’m Li—“
He pulls the trigger and the man collapses to the ground face first, blood rapidly pooling beneath his body.
Joel approaches, crouching beside him. He opens the bag on his back, rifling through the contents for anything that might be of use. There’s a med kit, ammo for the handgun he’d been using, gloves, a jacket, and a hunting knife. He shoves all of it into his own bag before grabbing the gun beside the man’s body as he stands.
Joel slides the gun into his waistband before turning and heading back the way he came. He imagines the gunshots will have you rushing back to investigate.
Just like he wanted.
________
You hear two gunshots go off, freezing in your exploration of a classroom. You listen closely, ears straining for any sign of clicker activity due to the noise as you slowly draw your gun from your waistband. Hearing nothing in the aftermath of the gunshots, you race back towards the area where Liam had agreed to meet you, heart racing as your mind begs you to choose flight and not fight.
In your panic, you don’t notice the man in the hall until you’re colliding against him, his arms gripping your shoulders to steady you.
“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, scrambling out of his hold and pointing your gun at him. He’s tall with broad shoulders, a flannel beneath a faded denim jacket stretching over his frame. He has tan skin and dark hair with brown eyes that look at you with concern. “Back the fuck up,” you shout.
The man takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
“I heard gunshots. Where’s Liam?”
“I came up on a guy fightin’ a clicker. He was in bad shape,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
There’s a buzzing in your ears as your brain catches up to his words. You blink, eyes burning with tears that you fight back.
“H-he’s dead?” You whisper.
“‘Fraid so.”
You drop to your hands and knees with the realization, gasping for a breath that won’t reach your lungs. There’s movement from the corner of your eye, the strange man taking a step closer, and you raise your gun once more.
“Don’t,” you snap. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”
“Listen. I’m sorry about your friend. But if there’s one clicker, there’s bound to be more. You can come with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” You keep the gun trained on him as you slowly stand on shaky legs. “I’m leaving now. Don’t fucking follow me.”
You only make it a few steps before he’s calling out after you. “There’s worse things out there than the infected. Girl like you won’t last long.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“It means,” he says, the tone of his voice grating your nerves, “that there are bad fuckin’ people out there, ones that’ll take advantage of a girl headin’ out on her own. Some who won’t give a shit that a gun is bein’ pointed at their heads if it means they die tryin’ to bring you down with ‘em. Is that really somethin’ you wanna go through right now?”
Your resolve waivers. He’s probably right. In the ten years you’ve been struggling to survive, you’ve always had Liam at your back. Even in the QZ, before it collapsed, he kept you going. You could survive out there when it came to skill, but would you make it far on your own when clickers move in packs and raiders run rampant?
“I…I guess I’ll come with you,” you say, lowering your weapon. You flick the safety on and the man smiles.
“The name’s Joel.”
________
It’s been a week since joining Joel. The two of you keep a steady pace in your travels, though there’s no real destination in mind. He’s been on his own for a while, he tells you, having split from his brother who had gone to join the Fireflies in their fight.
“Fuckin’ stupid if you ask me,” he grumbled after telling you that little bit of information. “They ain’t gonna change shit.”
You just nod along, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You can’t pinpoint it, but something about Joel makes you wary of him. He’s been nice enough, sure, but there’s something off about the way he looks at you.
You’ll catch the older man staring at your ass when you’re walking ahead of him, or see the way his eyes go dark when you’re on your knees starting a fire. His hands will linger on your hips a little longer than necessary when he’s helping you jump down from something, or he’ll watch a little too intently as your lips wrap around the mouth of your water bottle.
What’s worse is how it makes you feel hot all over when you shouldn’t feel anything, least of all attraction when you’ve just lost your boyfriend.
It’s starting to get cold at night. The days are still tolerable, since you’re always on the move and the sun is shining, but once the sky goes dark, you struggle to stay warm. You layer your two jackets and even that’s still not enough as you lay shivering in your sleeping bag. You turn over until you’re facing where Joel has his bag set up, curling your legs closer to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.
Past the sound of your teeth chattering, you hear the shift of fabric, the glide of skin on skin, a low groan. Your eyes snap open and as they adjust to the inky darkness, you can make out the vague shape of Joel on the ground. Another choked off moan rings in your ear, the sound of it making your blood go hot. You listen as his movements and breaths and sounds grow more frantic, the desperation they’re laced with making you rub your thighs together as subtly as you can.
“Fuck, fuck,” Joel pants quietly. The air goes still, the sound of his hand moving over his cock slowing to a stop. You wonder where he’s finished. In his hand? On his belly? Your brain conjures an image of you licking the spend from his skin, salty taste of him on your tongue as you look up into his eyes and he groans.
You have to bite your lip to keep your sounds to yourself. You wiggle a hand between your legs, clamping your thighs around it tightly and rocking slightly. It’s not nearly enough and it’s so frustrating you want to scream.
Eventually, as the adrenaline seeps from your body, sleep takes its place, your eyes fluttering shut as darkness consumes you.
You dream of bitten off groans and curses in a voice that belongs to a stranger with dark hair and brown eyes.
________
Two weeks after joining the two of you encounter your first band of raiders.
You’re in a small town picking through a convenience store. There’s a surprising amount of things left on the shelves, including cans of food that you’re tossing into your backpack when the sound of a gun being cocked makes you freeze.
“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you put some of that back for the rest of us, yeah?” An unfamiliar voice says. You glance over your shoulder, a large man with a thick beard smiling at you. You turn slowly, hands raised and mind racing with your options.
He’s blocking the exit. You could try to dart around him, but the gun trained at your head is a bit of a worry. Your own gun is in the waistband of your pants, pressing against your low back. Not much help to you like that. You should have been holding it the whole time.
“Hand over your fucking bag,” he says, the calm in his more alarming than if he were yelling at you. “Got me some food and a pretty little pet to keep, too.”
Your blood turns to ice and your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow hard, bending down to grab your bag.
A shot rings out, glass shattering and you shout, dropping lower to the ground. You open your eyes slowly, you gaze landing on the body of the man lying on the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. You look up, eyes finding Joel’s beyond the shattered window of the convenience store as he lowers his gun.
A shout has Joel whirling, gun drawn as three men appear from an alley. He shoots, one of the men dropping. Grabbing your bag, you rush to the front of the store as another shot rings out, shattering the glass of the door. You drop to the ground, pressing your back to the wall beside the window and peeking out.
Joel slings his gun over his back, landing a kick to a man that rushes him, the stranger landing on his back. A second man points a gun at Joel.
“On your fuckin’ knees!” He barks.
Panic courses through you, but you reach behind you, grabbing your gun. You switch the safety off, leaning from your hiding spot to take aim through the window at the man. Your hands shake as you take a breath in, like Liam taught you, pulling the trigger as you exhale.
The shot lands in the man’s abdomen, making him stumble and drop his weapon. Joel stands, rushing for the man as he pulls a large knife from his hip, plunging the blade into the man’s chest.
The man he kicked is getting to his hands and knees when Joel turns on him, knife held at his hip. A wicked grin spreads across his face before he plants his boot against the man’s ribs, knocking him onto his side. Joel shoves at him with his foot until the man is on his back and he stands over him, a foot on either side of his hips.
Joel raises the knife above his head before swinging it down into the man’s chest, holding it there for a moment before he twists it savagely and pulls it free. You stand there, equal parts horrified and something worse, eyes wide as you watch Joel wipe the blade against the man’s clothes to clean it.
“Get their guns, will ya?” Joel calls out. The sound of his voice makes you jump, your muscles finally spurring into action as you comply with his request.
Later, as you settle in for the night in your respective sleeping bags, you hear the tell-tale sound of shifting fabric and bitten off moans. You stare up at the dark sky, pinpricks of starlight winking back at you, as you gather your courage.
“Joel?” You murmur. The sounds stop abruptly, the only thing you can hear is his heavy breathing.
“Thought you were sleepin’,” he grunts.
You turn over on your side, facing him. You can barely make him out in the dark, only his silhouette, but your heart beats faster all the same as you say, “I could…help.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that you’ve got an apology on the tip of your tongue when you hear the zip of his sleeping bag being opened.
“Come help, then.”
________
Joel tries to contain his enthusiasm. Nights of coming into his own palm while he knows you’re listening, imagining your hand around his cock instead of his, and now his patience has finally paid off.
You’re crawling across the grass to join him in his sleeping bag, your body pressed to his in the tight space. He takes a shuddering breath, the feel of your heat alone almost enough to make him come.
Your hand rests on his belly, tentatively sliding lower until your fingers brush against the hair at the base of his cock. He hisses as your cold hand grips him at the base, slowly sliding up to his leaking tip. Your thumb circles his slit, smearing a bead of precum around the sensitive head as he groans into the night.
“That’s it, baby,” Joel says. Your face is tucked against his neck, and he wishes you’d turn your face up, let him kiss you, but he has to be smart and only take what you’ll give so that one day you’ll offer more. “Tighter, just like that, fuck.”
Joel’s hips flex to chase your fist, the soft feel of your palm driving him wild. He moans, louder than he should be given the vulnerable position this puts you both in, but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he cares about is you.
“This a ‘thank you’, huh? For killin’ those guys?” Joel pants. Your head nods against his neck and the admission makes his head feel light and fuzzy. “Told ya you needed me, sweetheart. Needed someone to take care of you, right?”
You hum, squirming against him. Your lips graze his neck and that’s the final nail in his coffin, his cock pulsing in your hand as he comes harder than he has in years. He can’t help but whine a little when you let go, already missing the warmth and the softness of it.
“Clean it up for me, baby,” Joel says. You bring your hand up, nothing but a dark shape against darker air, and he hears you licking at the cum coating your fingers. “That taste good?”
“Mhm,” you hum. When you’re done, you roll away from him, crawling back over to your sleeping bag and zipping yourself inside.
With a sigh, Joel shimmies his jeans back up his thighs before turning on his side, letting the sounds of the night lull him to sleep.
________
You’ve been with Joel for a month when winter really starts to settle in and you’re forced to keep moving in your travels until you’ve found abandoned buildings to sleep in to stay out of the harsh winter air. While the snow might not reach you inside, the cold certainly does.
It’s one such night that Joel suggests sharing body heat.
“It’s the best thing we can do to keep warm,” he explains. “Can’t keep a fire goin’ inside. Too dangerous.”
You swallow nervously. He’s zipping together your sleeping bags so that you can fit beside each other, laying it on the ground of the old stockroom you’ve barricaded yourselves in for the night, a little camping lamp on a metal shelf providing a little light.
Joel kneels to untie his boots, removing one then the other and setting them aside. He stands, sliding his arms free of his jacket and setting it on the shelf. When he starts to unbutton his flannel, your blood rushes in your ears.
“W-what are you doing?” You ask. He pauses, hands on his buttons.
“Gettin’ undressed. Can’t share body heat with clothes in the way.”
You stand there frozen as he continues to strip, t-shirt and jeans and boxers all joining his growing pile of clothes until he’s naked in front of you and you’re struggling to keep your eyes on his face with so much muscle and skin on display. He slides into the sleeping bag, staring up at you expectantly.
“You gonna stand there all night?” He asks, lips tilted in a little smirk. “Come on. We’ve come a long way today and you gotta be tired.”
You’re exhausted, really, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes your limbs heavy. Slowly, you follow the same steps as he did to undress, starting with your shoes. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s watching you with dark eyes the entire time, until you’re down to your underwear.
“Those, too,” Joel says.
“Why?”
“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I just follow ‘em. Skin to skin is the only way this’ll work.”
Reluctantly, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples are tight in the cold room and you grit your teeth against their chattering as you quickly tug your panties down your legs and add them to your pile of clothing.
You slip into the sleeping bag beside Joel, the heat of his body immediately making you feel warm all over. You zip up the sleeping bag, cocooning your bodies in the insulation. Joel turns on his side, sliding his muscular around your tummy and tugging you closer. The hard length of his cock presses to your thigh and you lie perfectly still, afraid to move.
“Go to sleep,” he grunts. You close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your muscles as you listen to his deep breathing in the dark room.
Somewhere between the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath against your cheek, sleep finds you.
________
Sometime in the night, you’ve turned on your side, your ass pressed snugly against Joel’s hips with his cock slipped between your cheeks. He wakes to the feel of you grinding against his length and his arm tightens around your middle as he groans.
“Joel,” you murmur. He lifts his head to see if you’re awake, but your eyes are shut, brows pinched together. Your hips move against him again and he bites into his lower lip to keep his sounds contained, not wanting to wake you and ruin this.
You murmur his name again and his head drops back to the arm he’d been using as a pillow. He gives a little experimental thrust of his hips and you moan, the sound making his cock jump against you.
With careful movements, he lifts your top leg, laying it over his hip. He lets his hand drift lower, gliding over your tummy until he’s cupping your pussy gently. His fingers slide through your wetness, catching on your swollen clit and making your hips jerk.
Joel worries that you’re awake, but you’re not scrambling from his grip yet. He circles his fingers slowly, so slowly, your hips moving against him and your breathing coming more quickly. You let out little whimpers and whines that Joel wants to commit to memory, the sound of them sure to plague him any time he closes his eyes.
You’re growing wetter and Joel grows bolder, slipping his middle finger into your tight entrance, not able to hold back his moan of appreciation over how your cunt flutters around the digit as he slowly pumps it inside of you.
Another whimper of his name from your lips has his sanity fraying further, his hand moving faster against you, damn the consequences of you waking up to him playing with your pussy. Your muscles go tight against him with your release before going limp, your breath stuttering. He lifts his head once more to check if you’re asleep, surprised to find your face lax with bliss, eyes still closed as your breathing slows to normal.
Joel withdraws his hand, using it to grip his cock, sliding your juices over his length. He angles himself to where his cock is pressed up against your lips before gently lowering your leg. He’s surrounded by warmth, your pussy and thighs cradling him perfectly.
He thrusts his hips, his cock gliding through your wetness with ease. He loses himself to the slick glide, the tip of his cock catching against your swollen clit with each thrust. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip for leverage, pulling you back towards him as he groans against your shoulder.
Your muscles go stiff against him and he freezes as you whisper, “Joel?”
His name is a question this time and he knows he’s been caught.
“It can be another ‘thank you’, yeah? For keepin’ you warm?” He asks, dragging his nose across your bare shoulder. “Could feel so good for us both,” he whispers, thrusting against your clit and reveling in the shaky moan you give him in return.
“O-okay,” you stutter. Joel presses a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude as he returns to the rhythm he’d set before you woke. He slides an arm over your middle, hand finding your breast and gripping it forcefully as you moan.
“That feel good, baby?” He asks. You nod, whining and squirming against him now. “Know what would feel better?”
“W-what?”
He draws back, positioning the tip of his cock against your hole. Your breath catches as he slides inside the slightest amount. Just the tip.
“Would feel so good, right? Fillin’ you up, stretchin’ you,” he whispers. “You could keep me warm just like I’ve been keepin’ you warm all night.” You clench around him and he moans, hips flexing and sliding him deeper into you as you gasp. “So goddamn wet and tight.”
Joel slides the last bit deeper, until his hips are flush to your ass. You’re panting, cunt fluttering around him as you adjust, and he feels drunk on the feel of it, on the feel of you. He pulls out part way before sliding back in with a harsh thrust, the start of a punishing rhythm that has you chanting his name.
The slick slide of you over his cock feels like heaven, but he wants more, wants you cock drunk and earning your pleasure. You are supposed to be thanking him, after all.
He pulls out, lying on his back. “Get up here, sweetheart. It’s time to do your part.”
You turn until you’re facing him, and Joel gets impatient, grabbing at you until he can haul you into his lap, your slick, swollen pussy gliding over his cock. He groans, reaching between your bodies to hold himself steady, notching the thick head at your entrance.
“Take it, baby, come on,” he groans. You rock back until his cock is buried in your cunt, your knees pressing tight against his hips as you whine.
“S’deep,” you slur, rocking yourself over him.
“Feels good though, doesn’t it? So fuckin’ deep in you,” he growls. Your chest is pressed to his, your lips so close he takes his chance, slotting his mouth against yours.
You kiss him back, messy and desperate, moaning against his lips as you take his cock like you were made for it. And maybe you were. Why else would he have been in the right place at the right time, getting the chance to keep you all for himself?
You sit up further, hands planted on his chest as you ride him with fervor. Your blunt fingernails dig into his skin and make him groan, hips punching up into you as you rock back. When you moan desperately, he does it again, and again, until you’re letting out a choked little sob that makes his cock pulse inside of you.
“Come for me, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy choke my cock,” Joel demands. He can feel your walls flutter around him, your noises growing desperate. He brings a hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you tighten around him, squeezing his cock as you come undone with a shout.
You collapse forward and Joel wraps his arms around your low back, holding you steady as he plants his feet and pounds his cock into you with harsh thrusts, chasing his release. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of his neck and the sharp sting sends him over the edge. He pulls out at the last moment, his cum splashing between your bodies in thick spurts.
You lie on top of him, catching your breath. Sweat grows sticky on Joel’s skin as the cool air settles around them, your back erupting in goosebumps as you shiver. He maneuvers your bodies until you’re cradled against him again.
“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs.
When you nestle closer, body lax against his, he smiles in triumph.
_______
You wake before Joel the next morning, body sticky with the mess from the night. You cringe, wiggling away from Joel’s hold. You find your discarded shirt and water bottle, intending to soak the fabric to wipe yourself clean, only to find your bottle is empty.
You locate Joel’s backpack, knowing he keeps his water bottle in there. You dig through the contents, hand bumping against the familiar bulk of a handgun. Your brow furrows. You haven’t seen Joel use a handgun. He uses the shotgun on his back, the other weapons you’d collected from the raiders stored in your bag.
You pull the weapon free and inspect it. You know this gun. It’s the same gun you’d learn to shoot with, the first one Liam found in the aftermath of the outbreak. Your blood turns to ice.
Joel said he’d seen Liam get attacked by a clicker. If that’s the case, when did he get Liam’s gun?
The sound of Joel moving in the sleeping bag has you shoving the gun back into his bag and grabbing the water bottle you’d gone in search of in the first place.
You’ll have to worry about your discovery some other day.
Want more Joel Miller? Check out the masterlist
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#no use of y/n#joel tlou#joel x reader#dark joel miller#joel miller the last of us#joel miller fic request#joel miller masterlist#the last of us
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6 Things I Learned from the Lisa Frankenstein Commentary
We don’t get movies like Lisa Franeknstein often, which is a shame because it’s endlessly charming yet delightfully twisted. While it disappointed at the box office, it has "cult classic" written all over it.
The coming-of-age horror-comedy is out today on Blu-ray and DVD. Among the special features is an audio commentary by Zelda Williams. Here are 6 things I learned…
1. Catch Me If You Can inspired the opening credit sequence.
The opening credit sequence, which briefly depicts the Creature's love story from his previous life in the style of Victorian shadow box art, was inspired by Catch Me If You Can.
"We wanted to do something interesting with the credits in this bit. I was really inspired by Catch Me If You Can, which I thought the opening credits were particularly interesting and helped establish the story before we ever got to it. And because Creature doesn't speak this whole movie, I wanted an opportunity to show what his life would have been like."
2. The film was originally intended to be rated R.
Although Lisa Frankenstein pushes the PG-13 rating as far as it can go, it was originally intended to be a hard R. Williams cites the party scene, in which Lisa originally smoked a laced joint rather than drinking a PCP cocktail, as a difficult revision.
"This is where stuff got a little complicated when we were going from R-rated to PG-13. Originally there was a coated joint they were passing around. This is one of the only scenes that I'm not sure I'm as fond of in comparison to the joint stuff. Most of the rest of the changes were fine, but this one I find very strange. It's just a very different reaction and interaction than what used to be there. However, these are the things that happen when making a movie."
3. Creature is an homage to Day of the Dead's Bub.
Not only Lisa is seen watching George A. Romero's Day of the Dead in the film, but the Creature is an homage to its iconic zombie, Bub.
"Creature for me is definitely an homage to Buster Keaton, but he's also an homage to the zombie you just saw on screen, Bub, who was in Day of the Dead, a Romero movie that I'm very fond of. It was an incredibly emotive and a very intelligent zombie and ended up getting revenge against the asshole in the movie. It was one of my favorite monsters ever made, so when I could put that on screen during the movie, it made me very happy."
4. Zelda hid a tribute to her father, Robin Williams.
Williams is the daughter of Robin Williams, and she included his 1983 comedy album, Throbbing Python of Love, among the records scattered on the floor in Lisa's living room.
"Oh, there's Dad! We used one of Dad's vinyl albums because we had to scatter some across the floor." She refers to it as "a little, mini Easter Egg for me."
5. The police officers are named after John Waters.
The police officers in the film are Officer John (played by Walker Babington) and Officer Waters (Sylvia Grace Crim) — named on a whim in honor of cult filmmaker, John Waters.
"They asked me to name the cops, because obviously they needed to have name tags, so I named them Officer John and Officer Waters." She thought no one would notice since they're so small, but a viewer pointed it out at a test screening.
6. The film is sprinkled with movie references.
Williams wore her influences on her sleeve with her directorial debut, and she pointed out several references on the commentary:
A Trip to the Moon (clip featured in Lisa's surreal dream sequence)
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (stylistic inspiration on the dream sequence)
Weird Science (the party scene)
Suspiria (red lighting during drug sequence)
My Boyfriend's Back (camera shot from inside a grave looking up at characters)
Kill Bill (weapon point-of-view shot)
E.T. (a boy on a bike — played by Diablo Cody's son — at the end)
Notting Hill (reading together on a bench at the end)
Lisa Frankenstein is available now on Blu-ray, DVD, and Digital via Universal.
#lisa frankenstein#zelda williams#diablo cody#kathryn newton#cole sprouse#article#review#dvd#gift#liza soberano#henry eikenberry#joe chrest#carla gugino#horror#horror comedy
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bleeding blue | apocalypse au
part seven
—other parts
pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader
words: 3.3k
tags: death. blood. zombies of course. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers.
summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.
a/n: some chill stuff before more angst ya know
The next morning, it is your turn to slip a treat into Blue’s hand.
You can tell by her expression that the Twix bar is like gold to her. Her teeth sink in. She stifles a moan. She hisses a swear you haven’t heard yet— Fucking noodles.
It reminds you of the time Paul found a Cadbury egg for Joseph. You smile as you watch, the kind where your teeth manage to poke through and your cheeks have to do some stretching. Ghost is chopping wood somewhere on the other side of camp, but still, you decided to close the shed’s door.
Last night, you were too worn to stay in the cabin for long. You left just after Ghost shucked on some large helmet with two strange eyepieces attached to it. To see in the dark, Blue explained in a whisper. Of course he would have that. When you asked him where he was going, he’d mumbled under his breath, Gonna make sure you didn’t have any bloody followers. You hadn’t even thought of that. He must not have thought of it until you actually showed up, either. He expected you not to make it.
You don’t know how long he was out there, but by the fact that you’d woken up to his axe chopping wood instead of heads, you figured the territory was clear.
“Better than Nutella?” you ask Blue.
Grey light streaks through the shed and over her face. The smell of potential rain looms in the air.
“That’s a tough question,” she says, licking the residue from her lips. She’s eaten half. She folds the wrapper over to cover the rest and hands it to you. Sweets like these are rare. You told her you’d keep it in your bag until she wanted the rest.
“I think it’s a strong tie,” she decides and then groans, moving her chin to the dip of her folded knees. “I wish chocolate could be hunted.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you sure you don’t want the rest?” She sounds guilty. “It is your Twix.”
“No, really. It’s a thank you.” Your knee gives a nudge to hers. “As if you haven’t given me food that is yours before.”
The guilt turns into a smile.
“You know,” she then says, eyes flicking to your pillowcase bag of looted goods. “When I was looking at your clothes last night, I got an idea of how you could fix them. Can I—” she tilts her head, “Can I show you something?”
She leaves Grim with you as she departs to collect whatever it is she has to share. It turns out to be a magazine of all things. She clutches it to her chest, rolling her lips together before turning it around to show you. The bright ink is faded a little. The corners bent and worn. The date of the issue reads March 2018. There is a woman on the front - some model you can’t remember the name of - clad in a tight blue dress.
The sight is just as weird as the abandoned streets and homes. For a moment, you look down at the skin of your hands, abraded from your bowstring, and press your lips.
“Remember how I told you Ghost and I went to a military base once?” Looking back up, you nod. “Well, we were mainly there to get ammo but we also went through the barracks— that’s where they slept.”
She explains it as if you have no clue, which you don’t. Never in your life did you care about the military, except for that first day when you hoped they might come to find you in some big tanks or something. They didn't.
Blue giggles. “I found this in one of the men’s old dorms.”
When she sees your expression, she says, “It’s okay. I’m not stupid. Ghost told me his old teammates liked to look at pictures of pretty women sometimes when they got bored. Anyway, I’ve looked through it so many times. I like all the fancy clothes people used to wear.”
She begins to flip through the pages and points out a few things. Where before you sometimes zoned out, your mind distracted by survival, this time you listen fully. One page has an ad with lush grass in the background and she informs you that the shade of green is her favorite color.
“Not blue?”
“That is my name, not my favorite color." Her nose scrunches. "What is yours?”
Do you even have one? You think for a moment. What comes to mind are the flowers your mother used to grow at the house in Norbury.
“Violet,” you softly say. “Like the flowers.”
“Huh?”
“They are like… a bluish purple.”
“Oh! There are some flowers like that by the pond sometimes. Hopefully, they come back this year."
Another page she points to has people laying on a white beach with crystal-like water. Blue says she hopes to go there someday. Not to just any beach. That beach.
When she passes an ad with a young man’s face on it - someone about your own age - she pauses for a moment and looks up.
"Do you think he is cute?" she asks. A tender curiosity.
"Um," you can't remember the last time you saw a man's face besides Paul. Ghost is always covered. She holds the page up so you can see it better. A sharp jaw. Dark hair and a strong nose.
"Yeah, he is very cute. Do you think so?"
She nods and bites her lip. "Did you… have a husband before shit happened?"
"What?" You frown. "I'm not that old."
"A boyfriend, then?"
"I had," you search the memories. They feel unimportant. Buried. "I had a few people who I enjoyed spending time with in uni."
"Like sex?"
You almost choke. "What?"
"I am not stupid," she says again. "The rabbits. They do it all the time. Ghost told me that's how they have their babies, and that is how him and my mum had me."
Oh. This is the first time Blue has ever mentioned her mother and you don't know why, but it makes your stomach tight. But she doesn't add anything else about her, as if she'd just told you the sky is blue or Grim is her friend. Something so casual. Brushed aside. As if, she hadn't mentioned it at all.
You don't pry about it.
Not to a kid. Trauma, grief— you can only imagine what a young brain has decided to do with them. But for a moment, your brain tries to imagine what kind of woman it could have been, what kind of woman Ghost enjoyed spending his time with. The only thing you can picture is Blue's eyes. She clearly didn't get them from him.
Blue moves on from the picture of the man. The page she really meant to show you is of a woman wearing jeans with a belt around them. She points to it and explains you could try something like that for the jeans you found.
Right. Jeans. Along with the blouse you grabbed, you got an ugly pink sweater and some jeans that won’t fit you.
"That’s called a belt," you say. “I don’t have one.”
“I have an old shoelace,” Blue says. “How about that?”
“That could work.”
Blue tells you bluntly that you need to bathe first. You smell like those fucks, no offense. You take your new clothes and she finds you a rag. In the bathroom, you harshly scrub your skin to erase the smell of rot. You wash your hair which is slick with sweat.
On your wrist, you notice a light bruise growing where that Grey had grabbed you. Luckily, you were too tired last night for your brain to conjure up any nightmares, otherwise, you probably would've had one about it biting you. Even a bite to just your hand - to a finger - would be enough for the virus to enter the bloodstream. You don’t want to admit it, but with that revolver, Ghost saved your life again.
After bathing, you slip on the blouse and a pair of too-big jeans. Blue gives you the shoelace. You feed it through the belt loops. It works well enough. The pantlegs fall past your ankles so you roll them. You tuck the large blouse so the excess fabric won’t get in the way while you hunt. The sweater… you don’t bother with it for now. It’s not warm enough. You will stick with Paul’s old coat when you go outside.
You look in the mirror again.
You stroke your own cheek, looking yourself over. You smooth your hands over the clothes. Underneath, you feel the plush of your breasts. The muscles of your stomach. The curves of your ribs. You are almost back to your normal weight, but it is still evening out. Under your eyes, the skin remains grey. Floorboards and stress will do that to a person.
"Let me see," Blue says on the other side of the door before you open it. You can still hear Ghost chopping wood outside.
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” She touches the sleeves. “These are pretty long. They will get in the way when you shoot arrows, right?”
You nod. “Can you bring me the scissors?”
After you cut the sleeves down to your wrists, Blue picks up the scraps of fabric. “Hey, you could tie your braids with these. Like ribbons.”
"I could," you shrug and give a smile. "But I think they would look nicer on you."
The shyness returns as she nods. Gently, you guide her in front of the mirror and begin working your fingers through her hair, just as you do most evenings.
You notice her staring in the mirror with studious eyes as if she is trying to understand exactly what she sees. You wonder if she ever compares herself to those girls in the magazine. An eleven-year-old you certainly used to.
"You look very pretty, Blue."
"It doesn't matter if I do," she shrugs. "It's not like anyone will ever actually get to see me."
"Well," you swallow, "I get to see you right now, and I think you are pretty."
"Thanks.” She accepts the compliment with a puckered expression, before it softens and she adds, "I think you are, too, Twix.”
Twix?
But before you can question it, you hear the front door shut and realize that the sound of chopping wood has been gone for at least a minute. It is clearly Ghost entering the cabin.
You drop your hands before you can finish the braids, stepping back.
He calls out her name.
Recalling the rifle he pointed at you yesterday, you whisper to Blue, "Maybe you should go out before he—“
But of course, his heavy boots approach. The dark shadow of him materializes in the bathroom's doorway, consuming the space with his head dipped down to fit.
You turn around to face her father at the same time Blue does. His brows are drawn low and in one hand he carries the axe. You notice a sheen of sweat at the bridge of his nose where his mask begins.
The thing is, you try to avoid being spotted alone with Blue like this. She talks to you in your shed. You interact when he is busy with things.
Ghost reaches for Blue’s hand. He gently tugs her to him. He cups the back of her head and bends down to meet her level, though he is still much taller.
"Remember what we talked 'bout?”
What did they talk about?
"I remember," she mumbles. She tugs her arm away. "I was just helping her with her new clothes.” Smoothly, she changes the topic. “What do you think? The shoelace was my idea."
Blue. You almost groan, feeling his dark eyes slowly shift over to you. You think you would rather him press the axe to your throat than share his opinion about your clothes— they aren’t exactly like what the models in Blue’s magazine wore. His stare rarely does anything other than burn holes through your skin, so it is no surprise when you feel the heat through your blouse, up your neck, and all the way to your cheeks.
You look down at your feet.
Then, a bitter memory comes to mind.
You look like you're one 'em already.
That is what Ghost said once.
For a brief moment, you wonder if he still thinks it.
He doesn’t give an answer. All he does is clear his throat. Your strange curiosity fades as he stands and looks down at his daughter.
"C'mon, kid. Start the fire with me."
"No, not yet. She needs to finish my hair, Ghost."
He allows it, but remains in the doorway, watching as you finish her braids, using the fabric as floral bows to tie them off.
It looks nice.
It rains just like you thought it would.
Not too heavy, but enough to cut your hunt short for the day, earning you only one squirrel.
When you return to camp, you find Blue crouched over the wood planter as she covers the sodden soil with a layer of mulch. Apparently, Ghost had her plant some cabbage seeds before the rain. The mulch is to stop the seeds from washing away, she explains.
Spring will soon arrive. With it, some crops to add to their meals. Good for them. Maybe you can convince Ghost to lend you a seed or two to plant for yourself.
After dinner, you sit by the fireplace with your boots off in order to warm your toes. The soft drum of rain against the cabin's walls lulls you into a trance as you listen to Ghost quietly read to Blue. Sometimes he points to words for her to try.
Tonight it is a book you recognize.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Your father read it to you once. A younger version of yourself told him it was too boring. But now you find yourself quite liking the story about a magic wardrobe where kids can escape to another world.
Blue falls asleep on the couch. Ghost carries her to bed like usual. It is your time to leave. The rain has died down some but you already know the water has probably leaked into your shed. Lovely.
But again you are stopped by a hand around your arm.
You turn to see Ghost. He clutches the map in the other hand.
“Um. What is it?”
You slip your arm away, his grip allowing it. Is he mad about you hanging out with Blue? Did he discover your secret exchanges? Is he going to finally kick you out since you didn't die like he probably hoped?
“Sit with me.”
You raise your eyebrows. He motions for you to follow him to the table so you sit down, hands in your lap, and pick at the skin of your knuckles. He spreads the map open. He also has a pencil in his hand. Between gloved fingers, he fiddles with it before sliding it over to you.
To your surprise, he demands, “Show me where you went.”
Although confused, you abide, making a small mark over the village. Ribchester.
His eyes narrow. “Not jus’ that. Show me which way you went.”
“This way,” you say, annoyed by his tone. Faintly, you draw a line through the forest all the way to the highway. “Then I followed the road.”
He takes the pencil from you and slides the map back in front of him, sweeping his eyes over the marks you’ve made. Under the black fabric, you detect the contour of his lips pressed into a straight line.
“How many were there?”
“Not many, really,” you admit. “Do you… Are you wanting to go there?”
You furrow your brows as you recall what Blue said. They don't make trips often. It is not like Ghost has much need to.
“No.” Not looking at you, he draws a mark some kilometers south of the one you made. “I want to go here.”
“Why?”
“I need ammo.”
His voice is clinical and gruff. You definitely prefer it over threatening. As he continues, it officially becomes the most words he has ever spoken to you.
“Went to a base over here two years ago.” He points a gloved digit to a spot on the east side of the forest. That must be the trip that Blue was talking about. “Wasn’t much left. Took what I could.”
“You’re all out of ammo, then?”
He gives you a flat look. “No. But I’m runnin’ low. I don’t want to wait until I am all out to go. Need some ammo to make it there, don’t I?”
“Why haven’t you gone sooner?” you pry slowly. “Why do you want to go now?”
“Got a bit more to lose than you do.”
It is a harsh truth, inviting a sharp breath through your lungs. What he means is he has someone he loves, unlike you. Someone he can’t just leave behind on her own.
You realize that Ghost probably avoids leaving this haven he has set up for that very reason, and maybe it is also why he is particularly conservative about their supplies. Whenever they end up running low, he has to drag her along with him to get more. The threats out there can be hard to predict. You’d been lucky.
Ghost continues.
“But if you could make it through here,” he gestures back to the marks you made. The route can act as a way to the military base, but he would still have to go further, maybe 10 kilometers past the village. “Then I can make it that way with her.”
You nod slowly as you begin to wonder why he is telling you this. But then, it sinks in, a pit settling in your stomach. If they leave, where are you supposed to go?
Ghost must read the expression that takes over your face. You don't wear a mask.
“You’re comin’ with us.”
“What?” You stand up, shaking your head as you hiss through your teeth. “No. I don’t want to. I just fucking got back.”
“You’re not staying here on your own,” he growls quietly. “I’m not askin’ whether you want to go or not.”
You catch his eyes. Black glass reflects the dim glow of the fire.
Of course.
He doesn’t trust you enough to stay here.
You have no choice.
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The course of Nature, part (2)
First Part
Pairing: Negan x Fem!Reader
Warnings: mentions of Negan’s brutality, cursing, implied coercion and kidnapping, mentions of polygamy, (c’mon guys, everything related to Negan in the Sanctuary), talking of periods and pregnancy, thoughts about abortion, sensitive content regarding pro-choice… SMUT, a soft mommy kink, rather pregnancy kink, a little biting and a little blood, Negan being a horny jackass.
might miss some warnings.
TWD Era: Alexandria, Negan Era, (season 7)
Notes: Seeing Negan saying, “Oh my, look at this little Angel!” and grabbing Judith from her crib did something to me, and here it is
“Why don’t you want to be my wife?” he asked her, amused
“Negan, I know you are like a rabbit or a jackass… you are horny and you hump the first thing you see, but I’m like a cool Eagle, or a wolf… I mate for life” she answered simply. And it was so clever he wasn’t even mad, he chuckled darkly watching her intently, hoping to burn the shape of her body and her face in his mind forever
“You are acting like someday I’m going to get bored of you and just let you leave” he whispered in her ear. He felt her getting nervous, the small hairs on the back of her head standing to attention and goosebumps in her arms. But still she acted like he didn’t cause her incredible fear.
“You might” she whispered
“Believe me, I will not” he answered back
You didn’t want to have anything to do with the other wives of Negan, really, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, you didn’t want to make friends, you just wanted to stay in your room and most importantly, stay fucking alive and not make it worse for your friends in Alexandria
But…
When weeks passed and you didn't get your period. You were quickly losing your mind
It was hard to keep track of the calendar in the fucking zombie apocalypse. All the electronics went to shit… but you guessed that outside in some place of the sactuary, someone might have a fucking clue.
Your period was like a swiss watch, you were never late, it was like clockwork, so you had a sense of when it was coming, so now, you left your room looking frantically for a calendar, or something
The wives seemed surprised to see you, but somehow relieved, since he took you, Negan never left your side, he didn’t spend the night with any of them, you thought they’d be angry, or jealous, but the looks on their faces told you they were grateful, and relieved.
Even though Negan was proud to say he had killed rapists and didn’t tolerate the awful act, he did use coercion to get what he wanted, he used it on you, and probably all of them as well. Yes he did give them a choice but… “Be my wife or I’ll bash yours or your boyfriend's brains” didn’t seem much of a choice to you.
“Hey, we have been wanting to meet you” only two of them approached you, a redhead, and a smaller girl, with dark hair and and bangs, “I’m Frankie, this is Tanya”
“(Y/N)” You answered, “Sorry I was hiding in my room” you explained
“It’s understandable” she drew an apologetic smile. There was an awkward silence, in which they expected you to say something, and all the way around
“I was wondering…” you started, “if any of you had a calendar, or something… a way to tell what day it is?” you explained. They all looked at eachother. The one you knew her name was Frankie took your hand softly and led you to the wall where there was this old calendar
“It’s the 17th” she said softly. You just nodded, confirming your fears, you were late, two fucking weeks late. You drew a shaky breath, tears burning the back of your eyes.
“Shit” you whispered, debating internally if you should share your fears or not
“What’s going on?” she asked you, “you can tell us”
“Yeah” a blonde one that seemed a little out of it also came close to you, “we are so grateful to you” she whispered with a reassuring smile, “For… distracting him…”
“I’m late” you choked out. You heard them gasp loudly, “I don’t know… I’m two weeks late and I feel like shit, I’m probably…”
“pregnant” murmured the blonde one
Frankie must have known how you felt. Maybe they all did. She placed her soft hand on your shoulder to comfort you, and it worked. You draw a shaky breath, wiping the tears with the back of your hand
“What is he going to do?” you asked, “Is he going to… push me down the stairs or something?”
“We don’t know” she whispered, “we are the ones that take care of it” she explained, “he had never express his want to… have kids”
“He is the one that makes sure we use contraceptives” the black haired woman said
“I’ll go with you to the doctor” Frankie said, and you just nodded, “It’s the only way to be sure”. grabbing the hand she offered you tightly, and under the sad eyes of all of Negan’s wives, you left the room.
“I’m terrified” you murmured, when you came face to face with a man you knew they called Fat Joey
“Hey joey” greeted Frankie, and he eyes you both suspiciously
“Negan wouldn’t want you to walk alone” he said, “specially if you are terrified” you wanted to swallow your own words
“We are fine, Fat Joey” Frankie muttered
“Let me escort you” you squeezed her hand, but he walked behind you silently in your journey to the doctor’s office
You managed to shake him off of you in the consult, you closed the door on his face.
“Good morning ladies, what can I do for you?”, this doctor gave you the creeps, but he was the only one around so…
Frankie gave you a reassuring smile, nodding, so you turned to the doctor
“I think I’m late”, you whispered, he looked at you and nodded
“Very well, I have a pregnancy test you could take”
It was the most uncomfortable 5 minutes of your entire life, and you were living in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, go figure
It took less than 10 minutes for the two lines to appear, and you truly felt like you were going to lose it. Frankie didn’t say anything, neither did you, but she hugged you tightly and you hugged her back
“Everything is going to be alright, it’s still early”, she whispered sweetly in your ear, caressing your hair, you only nodded, it was true, it was only a couple of weeks… Frankie looked at the doctor
“Is there anything you could give her?”, she asked. The doctor looked at you and then at her.
“No”
“That’s a lie”, she accused
“Yes”, he said simply
“You have to do something!” you demanded, “Give me something…”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do anything without Negan’s permission”
“WHAT?” you argued, “It’s my body…”
“It’s Negan’s baby” he said seriously, “I can’t do anything or give you anything without him knowing” He perfectly could, but he had clear instructions from Negan, and he valued his own life more than yours.
. . .
Negan knew something was wrong when he passed the lounge where his wives were and they all looked at him in terror.
Did someone die?
Did someone escape? or tried to?
He hadn't punished someone publicly this week, so he knew this wasn’t that. And if someone actually had died, betrayed him or escaped, he would have known by now, so, what was it? He looked directly at Frankie, she averted her gaze, but her eyes looked at the wall to the right. He just nodded, silently, and kept walking until he found himself at your door. He knocked twice, but you didn’t answer, so he just went in.
He found you with your back turned to the door, in a fetal position on the bed
“Hey sunshine” he greeted carefully, and he saw you flinch. You turned, slowly, and he was surprised to see you crying. Did you find out about all the things he had done in Alexandria? No, impossible, “What is going on?” he asked, you were there, in front of him, so you didn’t tried to scape, and you didn’t kill anyone so he wondered what got you so fucking scared of him right now
“I’m sorry” you whispered, “Negan” you called, “I love you” oh how much he could have given to hear you say those words, but the way you say them, it was desperate, you sounded like Amber, you didn’t mean it, in fact, you wanted to calm him down
“What is going on?” he repeated the question, harder this time, making you flinch raising your shoulders and trying to hide between them
“I’m pregnant” you whispered, you dropped the revelation and then you wanted to bend over your own body to protect yourself from him, and that is what kind of broke him. “I’m sorry”
Of all the reactions he may had that you played in your mind, him chuckling and smiling widely wasn’t one of them
“You are not mad?” you asked back, and he shook his head
One of the most scary things about Negan is that he was totally unpredictable, you could never guess what’s coming
In one scenario he grabbed you by the arm and threw you down the stairs, and then made sure to beat you up until there was nothing left inside of you. In another he’d let the doctor get his hands on you, but you never, ever, thought he’d be happy about it
“Aw honey, this is wonderful news!” you jumped when he yelled that, opening his arms in celebration, he never stopped looking at you, “An heir!” he continued, “A little savior, a little Negan or Lucille” you shook in your place when he called his deceased wife’s name
And suddenly, you were more scared.
“A little Lucille?” you muttered, he had told you everything about his late wife, and the thought he might be using you to relive some weird fantasy chilled your bones. Suddenly you felt your eyes wet with tears, and not being able to stop them, fat, bitter tears started running down your cheeks, “No…” you whined. His face dropped when he saw how you started to lose it, you started to hyperventilate
“Hey, sweetheart, I need you to relax”
“You have to talk to the doctor, so he’ll give me something…” you tried to explain
“Why would I do that, baby?” he asked
“I can’t have your baby” you whined, wiping your tears
“Why the hell not?” he asked, this time his face became so serious so fast you shook in fear
“Negan…” you called, expecting him to understand, “please” he softened his gaze on you, with his gloved hand he caressed your cheek as he smiled sweetly at you, but that didn’t calm you, he was unpredictable and you’ll do well in remembering that. He leaned in and kissed you softly, gently, as he was scared of breaking you
“You are going to be an amazing mother sweety” he whispered against your lips and you only whined, “anything you want, everything is yours!” he announced, standing up, “I’ll tell all of them, to bring you anything you could need”
“You are going to let me carry this baby?” you asked
“Of course”, he said simply
“Please Negan”, you whispered, “I can’t bring a child into this world”
“It will have hundreds of people that will take care of him”, he said, “we are in the sanctuary baby”
“Negan please”, you begged, he just say on the edge of the bed, cradling your face with his big hands
“This a good thing baby”, he whispered, leaning in and catching your lips with his
“Negan”, you whined against his lips
“You are going to be such a good mommy”, he purred, abandoning your lips and going down your throat with heated open kisses
And you snapped out of your hornyness, you grabbed his face and pushed him off of you
“Darling..!”
“Fuck off Negan!”, you grunted, but your heated face told him your resolution wouldn’t last long, you were as horny as he was. He smiled wickedly
He knew he had chosen well, you were going to protect that baby with your life, your lioness instincts already kicking in
“C’mon mommy”, he purred, “come to daddy”
“I hate you”, you said, with no conviction in your voice
“No you don’t”
And perhaps that is what was so messed up about all of this
You were scared to death, yes, but you were also… excited
And Negan could see that
He approached you again and held you in his arms, he leaned in and again he kissed you. It was soft at first but then it turned heated, you grabbed him roughly, pulling on the hairs on the back of his neck making him grunt needily
“You like it rough, don’t you?”, he mocked, you didn’t want to talk, you just took his leather jacket and threw it on the floor caresly
Another day he would have make a big fuss about it, but today he knew better
“he leaned over you, wanting to pin you down to the bed, but you didn’t let him, instead you managed to pin him down, straddling him
“Oh baby”, he purred, “or should I say… mommy?”
“Shut up”, you growled, leaning in and kissing him roughly. he immediately responded with teeth and licks of his own, but as you separated from him, you bit his lower lip until blood came up
He whined under you, not pained but horny and almost pathetic, you grind your hips against his own, feeling his cock hardening between you, giving you goosebumps
“Hormones?”, he teased, but you shushed him up, you wanted him, you needed to feel him, you needed to distract yourself from everything that has happening
You almost ripped his pants off of him, making him chuckle, setting himself comfortably on the bed, you stood up to toss your own pants away from you, and then you crawled back over him. HIs greedy hands tossed your upper clothes, and finally he had you naked all to himself. You leaned in and kissed him roughly
“Yes mommy”, he teased, and you couldn’t help but slap him, not hard, and he only smiled wickedly, “I loved this side of you baby”, he purred, placing his hands on your hips
“You are so fucking mean Negan”, you accused, “you misogynistic prick!”, but you couldn't stay angry at him, you leaned in and kissed him before he could make some snarky remark. He responded at the kiss immediately, his greedy hands caressing you all over he could, your thighs, your sides, your hips. You rubbed your pussy against his hard cock, and you couldn’t help it anymore, you needed him.
You used your hand to pumped his thick cock a few times, before impaling yourself with it
“Fuck!”, you cursed at the same time, perhaps Negan was so attracted to you because you both sounded alike sometimes
You started riding him angrily, almost like you wanted to hurt him, but that turned him on even more. You started moving your hips back and forth. and the friction in your clit almost made you loss it
“FUCK THAT’S IT BABY”, he whined, and you gasped, feeling your orgasm build incredibly quickly
“I hate you”, you cried when you cummed
“I know”, he whispered, entertained, letting you fuck him for once, admiring the goddess riding him.
But you rode him until you cummed again, finally making him finish inside of you.
You let yourself fall on top of him, as you both recuperated, he just held you, caressing your naked back
“I mean it”, he gasped
“What?”, you asked back
“I will do anything to protect you”, he promised, “I leave Rick alone, I promise, you will be a great mother, I really believe that”, you smiled, not letting him see it, of course.
. . .
“Arat” the girl was on his side on a second, that determined look in her eyes that Negan liked so much, “If something happens to me… “ he started, and she frowned, like he just spoke treason, “If this world is fucked up and for reason I fucking die and Rick the prick is still alive I want you to do something for me, ok?”
“You want me to kill him Sir?” she asked, and he chuckled
“No, I want you to take (Y/N) to him” he whispered, “without me controlling everything she is in danger, I want you to make sure she comes back to her people”
Damn, being a father does change you and your priorities
He thought with a smirk on his face and a swing of his bat
TAGLIST
@neganswoman @nijiru @imvomitting @aleemendoza2425-blog @0vecam @heavenhatesme
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hi, I’m LexiRoseWrites
(pfp made by @/itcanbepalped)
☆ you can call me Lexi or Lex
☆ 28, nonbinary, bisexual, autistic, and a nurse
☆ they/he/she, but they/he preferred— gendered terms of any sort are fine with me!
☆ twitter/X: @LexiRoseWrites1
☆ my inbox is open and you’re welcome to ask me anything or send me a request! (I will delete hate/bullying sent, so don’t bother)
☆ please ask before writing about one of my posts! I am not a prompt generator, so make sure you ask first!!
☆ this is an 18+ blog because while I write lots of steddie and specifically omegaverse content, occasionally you’ll find NSFW things or a dead dove here (always heavily tagged) because I’m apparently the big scary proshipper you’ve been warned about
☆ blog navigation: #my fics, #my asks, #wip Wednesday, #throwback Thursday fics, #spreadsheet Saturday, #slick Sunday
↓ masterlist of ficlets and fics below the cut ↓
TUMBLR FICLETS
Steddie:
☆ Amnesia ☆ Card Games ☆ Dinner Reservations ☆ Handcuffs ☆ Lingerie ☆ Not Dating ☆ Serial Killer Soulmates: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Accidentally Summons a Demon: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Steve Isn’t Coping ☆ Transfem Stevie ☆
Omegaverse Steddie:
☆ 24-Hour Diner: part 1 | part 2 ☆ Alpha-for-Hire Eddie ☆ Autistic Omega Steve ☆ Baby Mine ☆ Birthday Massage ☆ Bitchy Omega Steve / Lovesick Alpha Eddie: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Camboy Steve ☆ Everyone is a Beta ☆ Expectations ☆ Fake Dating Fertility Clinic ☆ Fate Binds Us ☆ Hairdresser Steve/Rockstar Eddie ☆ Health Class ☆ Hellfire Cult ☆ I didn’t know we were dating: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ☆ Infertility ☆ Kas Eddie ☆ Losing Control ☆ Nestless Omega Steve ☆ Older Steve/Younger Eddie ☆ Oral Coach Steve ☆ Pathetic Omega Steve ☆ Platonic Stobin ☆ Popstar Steve/Director Eddie ☆ Scent Blockers ☆ Speak Now ☆ Steve Gets A Puppy ☆ Such A Good Boy ☆ The Bachelor ☆ The Best Present ☆ The Reunion ☆ Time Loop ☆ Unknowingly Claimed ☆ Wealthy Steve/Busker Eddie ☆
General Omegaverse:
☆ Alpha/Omega Voices ☆ Basic Guide to Omegaverse Terms ☆ Bite Lore ☆ Rejection Sickness ☆ Scruffing ☆
AO3 FICS
All of my fics are steddie unless otherwise stated, mostly explicit and omegaverse, but check actual tags before reading anything please!
☆ Current WIPs ☆
A Million Dreams: A/B/O, circus AU, 2/4 chapters, 10k
Scatter The Ashes: A/B/O, mafia AU, sequel to Watch It All Burn, 4/16 chapters, 18k
Waking Up In Vegas: A/B/O, accidental mating, rockstar Eddie, 5/15 chapters, 33k
☆ Unfinished (Series) ☆
Going For The Gold: A/B/O, ice skater Steve/hockey player Eddie, 18k
Jailbirds Can’t Fly: A/B/O, dead dove, prison AU, bitching, 12k
Keep It On Campus: A/B/O, college AU, 22k
Lucky Number 666: A/B/O, mafia AU, single parent Steve, 3k
My Heart’s Been Borrowed and Yours Has Been Blue: A/B/O, divorced kindergarten teacher Steve/tattoo artist Eddie, 25k
The Bunny and The Wolf: A/B/O, mafia AU, 154k
☆ Complete ☆
A Prince and His Pauper: A/B/O, medieval/royalty AU, stuttering Steve, 100k
All I Want For Christmas Is You: A/B/O, Christmas fic, 6k
And The Sun Will Rise: A/B/O, zombie apocalypse AU, 41k
Bandaids (And Other Home Remedies): A/B/O, pediatric nurse Steve/single dad Eddie, 87k
Bleeding Heart: A/B/O, vampire Eddie/human Steve, 21k
Business Before Pleasure: A/B/O, Buckingham, Office AU, 16k
Exigency Contact: A/B/O, threesome, Steddie/Stargyle/Steddigyle, rockstar Eddie, 10k
Five Years: amnesia, 1k
Fragile (Handle With Care): A/B/O, soulmates, rockstar Eddie, 117k
He’s So Mean: A/B/O, high school AU, 3k
Let Me Be Your (Teddy Bear): A/B/O, bitching, 11k
Mad World: trans male Eddie, childhood friends, 3k
More of You to Love: A/B/O, chubby Steve, 4k
Never Be Alone Again: A/B/O, dead dove, stalker Eddie, 3k
Oblivious: t4t, mutual pining, 3k
On A Different Page: A/B/O, didn’t know they were dating, 7k
Online, Offline (Out of My Mind): A/B/O, soulmates, online dating, actor Steve/mechanic Eddie, 41k
Screaming Your Name In The Dark: A/B/O, dead dove, Kas Eddie, alternating past/present timelines, 27k
Tell Me About It, Stud: A/B/O, studding, 7k
The Rings Stay On: cis female Steve, 4k
The Start of Something Perfect: A/B/O, soulmates, 2k
The Stutter and The Freak: stuttering Steve, 14k
Touch Me: A/B/O, omega/omega, therapist Eddie/touch-repulsed Steve, 12k
Unholy Matrimony: demon Eddie/human Steve, 5k
Unsafe Bet: A/B/O, high school AU, dating as a prank, 65k
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Secret Rendezvous Part 10: Not Red
Masterlist: Here
CW: Language
Tag List: @emma-munson @aol19 @tlclick73 @prestinalove @kailey-firefly @fromasgardandback @therealgothamguardianfr @peaches-roses-sins @hiscrimsonangel @furiousladyking @angelina16torres-blog @sofaritsalrightt @josephquinnsfreckles @starrywhitenight @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @jasminelafleur @ohmeg @comeonatmebruh @missmarch-99 @arthurcerverogf
A/N: I love your friendship with Gareth the next update will have some answers to some of y’all’s questions, so enjoy✨
“Are you actually in detention this time or is it more community service?” “Happy to see you too Gare Bear.” “Oh you’re so here for detention…what’d you do?” “Let’s see the paper says….oh this is great it says…reason for detention…using language unbecoming of a cheerleader of Hawkins High…but what they mean is Mr. Springer walked out of his class to me telling Jason to fuck off in the hallway after he made Chrissy upset.” “Sounds about right…” “what do you mean? It sounds about right that Jason made Chrissy upset or that I told him to fuck off?” “Uhm…uh…both?…actually?” “Relax I’m just fucking with you…why are you here?” “Oh I just wait in here on Thursdays until Eddie gets here for Hellfire.” “You…wait in detention for Eddie?” “Saying it out loud makes it sound…dumb but it’s just better than roaming the halls….uhm so…how’s…how’s Stacy?” “You haven’t texted her? Gareth she gave you her number like two days ago what the hell?” “I’m nervous! What if she gave it to me just so I’ll leave her alone?” “She gave it to you so you wouldn’t leave her alone you dingus! Text her right now or I’m never speaking to you again.” “Okay okay…what…what do I say?” “You say hey this is Gareth sorry it took me so long to text you I’m an idiot.” “I’m not saying that…or at least not the part about being an idiot….what are you doing?” “We have a game tomorrow and my nails looks like shit so I’m painting them…what else are you supposed to do in detention while Mrs. Taylor sleeps?” “Oh…you have to paint your nails and stuff for games?” “Yeah? You have to look perfect…you’re representing your school and all that shit so…yeah it’s important to look good…now what color?…just not red.” “Oh that’s a lot of…pressure…but why not red that’s a good color?” “Gareth do you even go here? What are our school colors?” “Oh yeah…not red…go with green then.” “Excellent choice…so I’m sorry again…for leaving you at the party.” “We’ve been over this…it’s fine I was having a good time with Stacy and you were having a good time with Hank-” “you know damn well that’s not his name.” “Shit sorry no need to hit me…but really it’s fine but uh did you have a good time?” “Yeah it was…okay…” “Emerson!” “Looks like your ride to the drama room is here.” “You two still haven’t talked?” “Nope…now go kick some weird fantasy troll or zombie ass.” “It’s been like three days…” “Emerson let’s fucking go!” “Ohh daddy is using his mean voice you better listen to him.” “Don’t say shit like that…but you’re okay though right?” “Gareth!” “Yes Gareth I’m okay…now really go before Eddie walks in here and drags you out and then I’ll have to kick his ass and redo my nails.” “Okay…see you later?” “Yeah I’ll text you when I’m home.” “Okay…enjoy detention!”
#secret rendezvous#secret relationship#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson series#eddie munson angst#eddie munson au#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x cheerleader!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff#stranger things au#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things angst#stranger things series#Eddie musnon#gareth emerson#my little dungeon master baby
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III. Where the sun doesn't reach
Word count: 3,2 k
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader
Content: zombie apocalypse, children, enemies to lovers, slow burn
Taglist: @poohkie90 @gaida-511 @synthe4u @beebeechaos
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
Note: Sorry it took so long to update, I'll try to be more consistent. This one was hard to write because there is a lot of information i needed to put out there and i wanted to make sure it made sense. if it doesn't, please let me know so i can explain better on the next chapter. Enjoy :)
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There was something alien about seeing life growing in a rotting world. Her soft baby skin was a contrast to everyone around her, who wore their skins dirty, scarred, and calloused. He hadn’t truly noticed the baby at first. He had seen her, because soldiers like him were trained to see everything: a child, around a year old, with dark hair and dark eyes.
As the Humvee hit a bumpy road, he noticed how her curly brown hair was secured in place by two pink elastic bands, the locks on the pigtails moving side to side. She held a pink stuffed dolphin with her chubby hands and swung her feet, making the pink socks go back and forth. She wore a pink jumper that seemed a number too big and was covered in drawings of pink unicorns and rainbow clouds. In Simon’s opinion, it was an obscene amount of pink. He didn’t know if he was more astounded by the combination or by the fact that it had been put together in the middle of an apocalypse.
Her eyes were hazel, and they bore into Simon’s skull with innocence he thought he would never see again. Especially in a vehicle like that, made for war and destruction. They sat on the back of it, on the seats that faced each other, like he used to do when going on missions, and ‘odd’ didn’t even begin to describe seeing Cami there. Cami. It felt weird to know her name when all the other boys didn’t. Like it was their secret to share. As if she could read his mind, Cami giggled, somehow not fazed by his mask. He was used to people cowering in front of him, children hiding behind their mothers and peeking at him from behind their legs. The opposite seemed to apply to the baby in front of him, as she grinned showing her scarce teeth.
“Stop staring at my baby.” He rolls his eyes, redirecting his stare to her with a new layer of hardness. The woman looked like she was in her early twenties, but she spoke with the authority of someone who had lived a dozen lives. Her nose and cheeks were covered in scarce freckles from the sun exposure, and her hair was tied in a ponytail, with loose strands now matted to her face in dried blood. Unlike Cami, she hadn’t escaped the crash unscathed. There was a large gash on her forehead from when she probably hit her face on the steering wheel, now covered in gaze from the medkit. Her lip was split and her nose bleeding. During the crash, the instrument panel from the car had collapsed, causing a gnarly knee injury. “Stop staring at me”. He didn’t. She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, don’t mind Ghost. He does that sometimes.” Johnny said in a joking tone, but lightly kicked Simon’s foot, secretly telling him to quit it. “I think it’s about time we do some proper introductions around here, don’t you think?” She gives him a small smile of approval, moving Cami in her arms. “My name is John McTavish, but you can call me Johnny or Soap, since the old man behind the wheel is also John. We usually call him by his last name, Price. Or Captain, but I feel like that won’t be exactly your vibe”
“I’m not old, Johnny.” Price says behind the wheel with a sigh.
“Sure, Grandpa.” Soap retorts, and Price lets another defeated sigh, focusing back on the road. Y/N laughs, and Cami laughs too, even though she has no idea what she is laughing at.
“I’m Kyle Garrick, but you can call me Gaz. We still use our callsigns from when we served together.” He explains, poking his tongue out at Cami and making her laugh even more. This time, she even claps, letting her pink dolphin fall to the floor. She immediately frowns. Not even the car crash had been able to separate her from the toy, her little hands crushing it as she cried in the backseat, and now her face was starting to contort like the crying was going to start again.
Simon reaches out to it at the same time Y/N does, but grabs it first due to his longer arms. “Ghost.” He introduces himself shortly, looking her in the eye. Neither of them breaks eye contact until Cami stretches her hands out towards the toy.
“Dodo!” she screams, shaking a demanding hand in front of Simon. He’s taken aback by the sound of her voice, not expecting her to be able to talk. He hands her the dolphin and she gives him a big smile. He smiles behind the mask in return, a secret infatuation that he buries under the skull. He notices her gaze on him now, studying his reaction, and he has the urge to say ‘Stop staring at me’.
“Kamila is just learning how to talk”. At the mention of her name, she turns her head to Y/N, and shows her the stuffed animal with excitement. Kami wasn’t the only one to hang onto her personal belongings; Y/N had managed to grab a backpack she had taken with her from the house. “She is a bit shy, but once she gets used to you she can be quite the talker, although most of it is in her own language.”
“It’s a beautiful name. Suits her well.” Soap says, smiling at them.
“It’s Arabic, spelled with a K. Means ‘perfect’.” She kisses Kami on her nose. “What about ‘Soap’? What does it mean?”
“Let’s just say I’m pretty good at what I do. Clean with it.” He says with a smug grin on his face. “What about you? Any nicknames?”
“Well, there was a crackhead near my house that used to call me ‘strawberry’, because I liked to wear red lipstick. Until one day I got hit by a bicycle in front of him so he changed it to ‘smoothie’, since ‘I got mushed’.” She says using air quotes.
Soap and Gaz burst out in laughter and Simon snorts, holding in his laugh out of ego. Price is too focused on the radio with Laswell to listen, probably debriefing her about what happened and the new addition to the group. “Peaceful neighborhood, I see”. Gaz tries to recompose, while the Scot is still doubled over, slapping his own knee. “Whereabouts did you live?”
“At that time, Liverpool, but I moved around a lot. My mother was a Journalist.” Her voice sounded distant at the last part. For most people, it was hard to talk about the past. They had lives that were worth living and never thought that they would have to watch it slip through their fingers. In that sense, being a soldier made things easier. They were always ready to pack their lives into one bag, and most of them had made peace with the thought that they might not come home whenever they stepped foot on the tarmac. Others, like Simon, didn’t have a home to come back to and found solace in the nomad nature of the profession. She coughs in an attempt to clear her voice and continues. “I followed in her footsteps, so that’s how I ended up here. I was investigating a corruption scandal in the Government.”
“Always chasing a story. Is that how you got in trouble with the Resistance?” Gaz was good at getting information out of people. Like Price, he had a trusting face and a calming voice that quickly tore down people’s walls.
Although Y/N had been previously reluctant to share information about her past, she knew that she didn’t have a choice now. They had saved her life and jumped into the crossfire to rescue her and Kami. She owed them answers. Taking a deep breath and rearranging Kamila in her arms, she starts talking. “When the first people got infected, I got curious. The story I had been writing had come to a halt after my main source stopped cooperating with the investigation, so I had been looking for a break. The virus seemed unrelated at first, but interesting enough to write a story about. So I started digging and came across some familiar names. The people I had been investigating for corruption had been dislocating funds from the Government for an unsanctioned project on biological weapons.”
The Humvee was quiet, except for the sound of the engine and Y/N’s voice. She looked at Kami again, now fast asleep in her arms. There was a softness in her eyes that Simon yearned for in his darkest thoughts. He dreamed of caring eyes that pulled him out of his nightmares, only to wake up alone, drenched in sweat. During nights like that, he would pour a glass of moonshine and sit on the old kitchen chair in the base. Time would pass as he stared at the glass, each second increasing the burning in his lungs. He ached to scream, to punch, to tackle the thoughts that tormented him and sink a knife in its gut. But he couldn’t, so he would just sit and stare at the alcohol-filled glass, imagining the liquid burning down his throat and numbing the ache in his chest. He would then get up and empty the glass on the sink, because the only thing he could hate more than himself was his father. He relished watching the moonshine go down the drain, a small victory in his demise, a promise that he would never become the man who buries his sorrow with glasses of booze.
“I found a guy willing to talk to me. His name was Eric Rhodes, a brilliant scientist. He had been working on the project but got fired for asking the wrong questions. He thought that the virus he had been working on before he got sacked was the same one that was turning people into… Well, zombies. I guess that’s the technical term for it. At first, I thought it was just some conspiracy theory, you know? The guy gets angry because he got fired and needs to find someone to blame. But then he showed me solid leads, names, and notes he had been able to keep, detailing what he was doing in the lab.”
“Did you believe in him?” Price asks from the front, now engaged in the story. Laswell had the same theory, that the apocalypse was a result of a biological weapon gone wrong, but hadn’t been able to prove it. Not that it would change a thing: they were already doomed, and whoever was to blame was probably dead by now.
“I didn’t, in the beginning. But after he showed me the documents… Yeah, I did. He stopped talking to me after that. I figured he got scared that I was going to rat him out. The virus was spiraling out of control by then, so I decided to reach out to him while the phones still worked.” She pauses, looking at Kami again as if to check that she is still safe in her arms. “His younger brother, Killian, picked up the phone. Told me they had sent someone to kill Eric, burn his house down with all the evidence. He said Eric had told him about me and asked for us to meet. He wanted to know more about the reason his brother was killed.”
“Killian Rhodes. That’s the guy who started the Resistance.” Simon points out in a low voice. He knows his tone is suggestive, that she is way deeper into this than they had previously thought. The silence is palpable in the atmosphere by that point.
“Yes. He did. It wasn’t all bad in the beginning.” Simon scoffs and leans back on his seat. Her voice is more pleading now, trying to resonate with them. “Killian wanted to avenge his brother. I told him about the virus, and how Eric thought it was a biological weapon built by the Government. It was never meant to turn into this, I know it’s not what he wanted.”
“You’re defending him? He tried to kill you. He sent people out to kill you and your kid!” Soap shook his head, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Killian died protecting me and our daughter!” Her eyes were glossy, but she refused to cry. She was determined not to show any weakness. “Don’t you dare try and blame this on him.” Her tone was angry and bitter. It wakes up Kami, and she tries to put her back to sleep, but to no avail.
“Mommy sad?”
“No, mommy is fine, love. Go back to sleep.” But she doesn’t, alarmed now, looking at her mom with worried eyes. Gaz, Soap, and Simon also look at her, surprised by the revelation that Killian Rhodes is Kamila’s father. But she doesn’t give them time to digest the new information. “We made it to the first quarantine zone together, when things started to get bad. Killian had always been good at convincing people, talking about how the government was dirty and that they were better off on their own. With the rations and the way the soldiers were treating people, it didn’t take long before an insurgence was formed. We took them over and that’s when we started the Resistance.”
We. Simon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wanted to laugh and say ‘I told you so’ to Johnny, but the disbelief on the Seargent’s face was satisfying enough for him. If they thought they were helping an innocent girl, they were wrong. They were harboring the founder of the most prominent and deadly rebellion created in the apocalypse. Not that they were sophisticated criminals before, but they had caused enough trouble to get their reputation: either you were with them, or against them. And now they seemed to be more keen on that policy than ever.
Price stops the car, looking at the backseats through the rearview mirror. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Simon recognized that tone, and it meant that whoever it was directed to was in deep shit.
She huffs. “I never asked for you to take me in. In fact, if I remember correctly, I was dragged here.” She gives Simon a pointed look, that aggravates him even more.
“Then leave.” Simon stares her down. “But you won’t, will you? You know you don’t stand a chance against them on your own, so start talking.” His voice is low and threatening. He doesn’t look at Kami when he speaks. He knows his voice would falter.
She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head, looking at the ceiling, trying to find shelter from the prying eyes that stare at her. “People started coming in from other quarantine zones, escaping totalitarian groups and ill-intended people. Other communities began to rise, but they weren’t as strong as we were. They wanted to weaken the Resistance so they spread word that Killian’s brother, Eric, was the one that created the virus. It drove him crazy. His brother had died trying to find the truth and now people were blaming him, trying to use his brother to taint his name. We were forced to step down and give up everything we had built. There was too much invested in the Resistance, too many people with too much to lose. Leadership changed, and we had to sit back and watch as what we stood for was deprived of its meaning. We just wanted to help people. We thought we could stop what would come next but we were wrong.”
“You killed people before that.” John said in a stern voice.
“That was different. We didn’t start battles, we were forced into them. You can’t blame us for fighting back. There is no revolution without war.” She shifts Kamila in her arms again. “For fuck’s sake, you were in the army. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don’t act like you haven’t done worse.” She says the last sentence looking directly at Simon. This time, he looks away. He knows he has done worse, much worse. For some reason, the fact that she would assume that of him hurts.
“You did more than fight back. We’ve heard about what the Resistance has done.” Simon wants to hurt her back, remind her that no one gets to be innocent their whole life.
“That was after Killian and I were forced to step down. We didn’t know what was going on. We thought that the foundation that we had built would be strong enough to last after we were gone, but things changed completely”
“Look, lass. We want to believe you. We really do. But you have to be honest with us.” Sometimes Simon wants to grab Johnny by the shoulders and shake him, so he would stop being so trusting, so willing. But it is also the reason why they became friends in the first place. Soap never judged him, as broken as he was. Whether he was Simon or Ghost, Soap would crack jokes and share a pint, and for that he was grateful.
“When we were forced to leave the leadership, Lawrence took over. He was ruthless and thought that the Resistance should be more than a safe harbor for people. Those are the stories you have heard, of civilians killing each other for no reason. We didn’t know how bad it was for the people outside, how Lawrence had been looking for groups and attacking them, forcing them to join the Resistance or killing them. He had no purpose, no direction, he just wanted power and he kept us blind to it all.”
“I’ve heard of Lawrence. He was killed.” Price’s voice still carries a somber tone.
“I left right after that. He had been talking about how they were finally going to rise to their full potential, about how the Resistance was going to control what was left of the world. He was delusional, talking about how they were going to have enough firepower to kill whoever stood in their way. Killian and I knew we needed to leave by then, that the principles we had stood for were long gone and now the Resistance was just a power-thirsty militia. We only understood how serious things were when the military group arrived. They killed Lawrence and took control of what was left. Killian sacrificed his life so I could run away with Kami.”
“But why are they after you and Kami?” Price pressed further. “Why would a military group want to kill two civilians?”
“Because I’m the only one who knows their identity and their plans. I ran away with documents that could compromise them, photos and names of who operates the Resistance now.” She gestures towards the backpack that she had salvaged from the crash.
“Why would they take over the Resistance but want to hide their identity? That makes no sense” Simon inquires, still skeptical of the story.
“Because they like to operate in the dark. That’s why they call themselves The Shadow Company.”
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me writing that plot twist: 🤭😝🤓
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x you#call of duty#john soap mactavish#simon riley x reader#john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x you
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Buddy Daddies - Episode 6 - Thought Post - SPOILERS!
First, we now know that it is May 27th, so Miri has been with Kazuki and Rei for about 5 months now. We are very squarely in the "several months later" time frame when the opening from Episode 1 would likely have occurred. (Since several is usually viewed as being between 4 - 7). I'm personally thinking that the opening bit from Episode 1 has likely already happened/passed, since Rei seems slightly (only slightly) more attentive, lol.
It's also interesting that the bulletin about the school trip used 父兄 (fukei) instead of 保護者 (hogosha). Both can mean guardians, but 父兄 (fukei) is seen as a bit more outdated and not as all encompassing as 保護者 (hogosha), since fukei is made up of the kanji for "father" and "older brother." It makes me wonder if that little reminder was aimed specifically at Kazuki and Rei, lol.
Also interesting that Kazuki used ママとも (mama-tomo) instead of ママたち (mama-tachi) or something similar when pluralizing and talking about "the other mothers" when saying "Of course, the other mothers all say the same about their kids." It implies that he sees himself in that group rather than outside of it.
I really liked how the focus of this episode was in having a bit more faith in your children (and in how you've gone about raising them) and also how children can behave differently in a school setting than at home. Since I have definitely seen that before with kids when I worked as a teacher. I would mention how well behaved they were or mention something behavior-wise during Parent-Teacher Conferences, and the parents would be surprised, since it was different from their at home behavior.
Taiga was interesting to me, especially because earlier in the episode Kazuki was mentions to Miri that she doesn't understand the difference between right and wrong yet, and many children her age are still learning that and really don't know (also, just realizing that this was said over an image of Rei, highlighting the fact that he is still kind of learning this as well).
I feel like that was Taiga. We learn later that he is a big Morio Kart fan, but he must have had the impression that the others weren't, so he might have acted out a bit in order to get their attention (the other girls). I had a boy, also named Taiga, who used to behave a bit similarly. He was a big fan of zombies, but none of the other kids were, so he acted out in order to get attention and fit in.
The miscommunication between what actually happened (Miri accidentally hit his hand) vs. one of the caretakers thought a fight had occurred, is a very true and accurate thing as well. Young kids Miri's age can communicate their thoughts and feelings, but they may have a tough time communicating it properly still.
Like, Miri knew she didn't hit Taiga and that there hadn't been a fight, but she didn't know how to fully explain it to Kazuki, and likely a similar thing happened with the caretaker at the daycare. They eventually got it all straightened out though.
I love, love, love that Rei was the one who read through the notebook at the end. And how he took Miri to school with little complaint. He really is wrapped right around Miri and Kazuki's fingers and will go at their pace, huh (like the lyrics of the OP). But, I also think it highlights the ways in which Rei is becoming more proactive too. He seems more engaged with being an actual parent.
I can't really explain it well here either, but there is something subtle about the writing that really captures and shows how, with each passing episode, they are becoming more and more like a family. Rei and Kazuki's conversation in the car at the end of the episode felt like a very real conversation that parents would have at the end of the day. I felt they did a good job of making Miri and Taiga's friendship feel like a friendship too, and not any kind of 4 year old crush situation (regardless of what Kazuki's overactive imagination might think!)
Last week's episode introduced us to Kazuki's overactive imagination and his flaw of jumping to conclusions, but this week's episode showed how that could negatively impact Miri. I'm glad he has Rei to reel him in, though him imagining Miri as a delinquent girl made me laugh. Though, I am sincerely hoping that Miri turns out to be a lesbian otherwise Kazuki being so overprotective will turn into an issue in the future. Hopefully, Rei will be able to work on that with him over the years.
The above image, of a teen Miri with a teen Taiga also reminds me of an incident when I was working at as a shadow trainer for an ALT at a junior high school in Kawasaki City in Kanagawa Prefecture. The school’s in that area don’t have a great reputation, so while the ALT I was training was teaching a class, I was outside the halls, just going for a little walk. Then I saw two of the students (a boy and a girl) go into the bathrooms together. They had made it clear previously that they were dating, so I just ended up turning around and going in the other direction, because I had zero desire to get involved in any of that - as ALTs you can’t discipline students).
Rei had some absolutely stellar comedic moments this episode from him asking Miri how the fight went and not caring about the violence (which makes sense given his upbringing). To Kazuki mentioning that Miri got their genes and Rei's reply of "Our what?" (Dude was 100% questioning his understanding of biology and genetics right then), to him adding the "paca" verbal tic at the end of one of his sentences, even after they were out of the mascot outfits, seems he got too in-character, lol.
His smug expression whenever Miri preferred him was also unexpected but great!
Oh, also! Before I forget, Miss Anna is a gem and she must have been so worried when she couldn’t find Miri and the others! Anyway, I hope the rest of the field trip was a breeze for her. <3
#Buddy Daddies#Kazuki Kurusu#Rei Suwa#Miri Unasaka#Anna Hanyu#Buddy Daddies spoilers#BD spoilers#BD#long post#image heavy post#meta post#thought post
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can you feel my heart beating like a hammer? | Dabi/Touya Todoroki
You watch from your spot, shoulders tense as you anticipate the arrival of yet another creepy clown or zombie when you see him.
He’s not like the other actors. He’s not quick with his movements and doesn’t yell or jump at anyone. His terror lies in the fact that he does none of those things, that he stands across from you and stares.
And then he grins.
Your stomach turns but not in fear.
Notes: hiiiiii so this is my scare actor!dabi fic. It’s my halloween/October fic for the month!! I’ve been working on this for a while and I’ve finally finished only five days before halloween lmao. Wanna thank mari for calling me after class that day where we had the same exact thought of this at the same time and I had to pull over to put it in my notes (and also for thinking of this title cause I was struggling) anyways I hope you enjoy!!! thanks for reading!! (Title from help I'm alive by metric) listen to the playlist here!
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, f!reader, explicit content, scare actor!dabi, Dabi is touya (quite literally he is not called Dabi in this at all ajhssjsjjss), sex in public, fearplay (kind of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation (very brief), oral f!receiving, fingering, multiple instances where Dabi rests his hand on ur neck but never chokes u, biting (shoulder, neck), ‘baby’ and ‘angel’ as pet names, use of ‘good girl’, frightening (debatable im not that good) depictions of scare actors and haunts, one description of gory makeup, fake weapons
Words: 5k
You’re scared, terrified actually, and your friends are nowhere in sight.
You’re cold. You’re hungry. A clown with a chainsaw won’t stop following you around, and you just want to go home.
When you were invited to the local haunted house, your first instinct was to say no. You’d always been afraid of these things, anything with jumpscares, anything not contained in the screen of your television, you decided wasn’t for you. But your friends insisted and explained that the local haunt wouldn’t be anything like any of those expensive theme parks with big productions and highly trained actors.
But if you were being honest with yourself, it all felt the same to you. It was maybe a little creepier, out in a field in the middle of nowhere, the closest business a couple of miles away, and no background checks for the actors. Uneasiness washed over you the moment you stepped through the wooden gates.
And now you’re alone.
Scare actors are coming at you left and right, all dressed in dark makeup or clown outfits or fake blood, each with their very own faux weapon used for getting just close enough to you without touching. They’re targeting you because you’re scared, you realize because you scream and clutch your head and run in all different directions when they come at you.
It’s quite the production for a local haunt. It’s eerie, smoke machines pour fog throughout, and music that ranges from creepy carnival tunes to popular horror movie scores blare through worn-out speakers, which add to the effect. The actors are painted with precision or covered in liquid latex and black blood that oozes from fake wounds. You feel like you’re in a horror movie. You might be in one, for all you know, which is what scares you the most
You finally find a moment to calm yourself down, seeking a single moment of peace against a makeshift wall on the outside of a haunted house.
You take a moment to look around you, out over the sea of people and costumes. You observe the way the actors jump at the attendees, throwing themselves forward or making loud noises, dragging and tapping their fake weapons against the ground. It’s complete chaos, and you thought that seeing it from the sidelines would make it less terrifying for you, but it doesn’t. You don’t want to be here.
You watch from your spot, shoulders tense as you anticipate the arrival of yet another creepy clown or zombie when you see him.
He’s not like the other actors. He’s not quick with his movements and doesn’t yell or jump at anyone. His terror lies in the fact that he does none of those things, that he stands across from you and stares.
And then he grins.
Your stomach turns but not in fear.
He’s not scary, just strange, and oddly handsome too, you think. You don’t smile back, but you keep your eyes on him. You aren’t sure if his smile is part of his act or if he means it. Somehow, both make you uneasy.
He’s slow as he moves towards you, calculated. His eyes rake up and down your body as he approaches. As he comes closer, you can finally get a good look at his face, smudged with paint over scars that fall underneath both eyes and line his jaw. What looks to be like staples sit in the seam between the marked and unmarked skin, and you can’t tell if they’re part of the costume or if he wears the piercings when he’s not working. You kind of hope he does.
He looms over you, close enough that you can smell a mixture of sweat and cologne on his skin, but not enough to touch you. You think you want him to, though. His eyes are a brilliant blue, almost glowing against the night.
He’s beautiful. You can tell even hidden under the face paint. His costume is stitched together with yarn at the seams of his shoulders, silver staples that imitate the piercings on his face scatter the stitches. His coat is long and reaches the middle of his calves, and a loose white shirt drapes over his chest. His dark jeans wear the same stitches as his coat, and his dark boots are big, the sound of the soles against the pavement is loud as he steps even closer to you.
Touya’s never had any particular interest in any of the attendees of the haunt before. Sure, he’s taken girls home who’d bravely slipped their numbers into his pocket or caught him when his shift was over, but no one had ever caught his eye quite like you.
He’d seen you cowering before his coworkers, running away and screaming, not unlike many of the people around you. But he had noticed you.
And now you’re standing not even an inch away from him, staring up at him with wide eyes and trembling so hard he can almost feel you. You’re adorable. He wants to see you like this underneath him with your back arched, pretty lips parted for him, just for him.
Your moment is interrupted by the revving of a chainsaw and the dragging of metal against pavement as yet another clown laughs loudly in your ear. You jump, unconsciously moving forward, finding yourself in the arms of the patchwork man you’d been so captivated by. You squeak out a small sorry, but he says nothing, smirking down at you.
Dabi’s heart leaps in his chest. He wants to steal you away, pull you into one of the haunts, and fuck you behind one of the walls. No one would suspect a thing if he covered you in enough fake blood to pass as one of them, making you scream in pleasure against the screams of fear.
His eyes flicker to your lips before he lowers his hands to your waist, squeezing tightly before backing away from you and leaving you alone without a word.
…
After another half an hour of running from scare actors and looking for your friends, you finally find them near a food stand, unassuming and completely unaware you’d disappeared.
You sprint towards them, getting good at dodging anyone jumping at you after all of that time alone. Your best friend spots you first, her eyes widening as she walks towards you.
“Where the fuck did you go?” She questions with a drink in one hand that flashes different colors from the plastic light-up ice in the liquid.
“You guys left me!” You exclaim, “I’ve been dodging those fuckers for an hour alone!”
“We thought you were with us. I promise! We went in that one haunt with the possession scene and when we came out you were gone!” She explains, but you can’t help but feel a little annoyed. You didn’t even want to come out tonight. You’d only said yes because she begged.
“Did you look for me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Look,” She begins, “Everything is so chaotic here. Everyone was moving on to the next house! I figured you’d catch up!”
“You suck.” You pout.
“I know I do. I’m sorry!” She pleads. “I’ll buy you something to eat. C’mon.”
She buys your meal and leads you to some of the wooden picnic tables in the small area, the rest of your friends already occupying some of the space. You’re treated warmly as they all throw questions at you about where you went. You resist the urge to act upset or make a scene, explaining that you’d been running around and looking for them while trying to avoid fake chainsaws and machetes. You’re in the middle of telling a story about getting caught in a corner with one of the zombies when your friends start to erupt in a fit of giggles. You pause your story, confused at their sudden reaction when you feel someone blow at your neck.
It only surprises you, all the fear expelled from your body in your hour of terror. You turn to look at the source and there he is again, the patchwork man from earlier. You’re not scared of him, this time, only intrigued.
He hovers over you, moving and contorting his neck in a way that you assume is meant to be creepy, but it does nothing but amuse you.
You smile and let out a small laugh, looking up at him through your lashes. Dabi feels his jeans tighten at the way you look up at him, eyebrows pulled up in a pout, leaning closer as he grins.
“Are you ever gonna tell me your name?” You ask him, eyes flickering to his lips for a moment. He shakes his head slowly, maintaining eye contact while holding a finger to his mismatched lips. You give him yours, but he only stares. You’re once again pulled in by the blue in his eyes, finding yourself wondering if they’re a different shade than the last time you saw him. “Not even if I beg?”
He’ll punish you for that later, Dabi thinks.
You watch him reach behind his back, still bent over towards your face, readying yourself for what you think might be the fake machete he carried before.
He pulls a single yellow daisy from behind him, clutching it between two fingers as he holds it out to you. You know he must have picked it from one of the patches of green that scatter the field. Your friends giggle some more, whispering things you're unable to focus on at the moment. You look between his painted face and the flower, reaching out to take it from him.
Suddenly feeling bashful, you lean away from him, smelling the flower and twirling it between your fingers. The smile he gives you is genuine.
He leans closer to you, bringing a finger up to his cheek and tapping twice to signal something. He wants a kiss, you realize. It’s against the rules, and he knows this. Scare actors are not meant to touch the guests, and doing so could get them into a lot of trouble. But Touya wants to touch you. He remembers the feeling of you pressed against him when you’d jumped in fear of the clown from earlier. He’d broken the rule then, and he had no problem with breaking it again.
If not for your friends' excited squeals around you, you’re sure you would have frozen. You push yourself forward, placing a kiss to his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it. He smiles wide as you pull away, that creepy grin still on his face as he stares down at you.
When he stands up, he begins to back away slowly without a word. You watch him walk, clutching a fist over his heart and giving you a giddy smile as he leaves.
You feel disheartened knowing you might not see him again tonight. You place the flower behind your ear and take your eyes off where he disappeared.
…
You and your friends stay until closing. As the night goes on, you find yourself getting used to the fear. You think you like it now, adrenaline running through your body as you're chased with chainsaws or reached for through windows inside of the haunts. It’s exhilarating. You understand why people like these so much.
Scare actors are practically chasing people out, running at them with their weapons until they make it through the gates. It’s complete mayhem, especially with the number of people now pushed to the front of the area.
Amidst the chaos, you find yourself alone again. You search the crowd, avoiding the actors jumping toward you as you make your way through the sea of people. You push through different groups of people until you make it to a small open spot amidst the crowd. It’s there that you see the man from before, jumping at different people who walk by him. He drags his fake machete against the floor and it scrapes with a metallic grinding sound. He’s terrifying, you think. Not to you, but to anyone around him, he must be terrifying.
He’s tall and imposing, completely silent as he pushes his weapon toward anyone he can reach. He’s fast, too, running up on different people, the sound of his big black boots is loud against the pavement.
You can’t move. You can only stare at him, completely in his element. He’s good at what he does, better and far more intimidating than any of the other actors you’ve encountered tonight. But somehow, you aren’t scared at all, not of him and not in any real way. Maybe you should be, though.
He turns around, looking around as he walks from his last set of victims before his eyes find you. A smile crosses his face and he lifts a hand, wagging his fingers to wave at you. You avert your eyes in embarrassment that he caught you, even in the crowd of people.
He stalks towards you, dragging his weapon behind him. He’s menacing, and you can’t help but feel a little afraid of him, wondering if he’ll jump towards you or do something to scare you all over again. When he approaches, you watch him smirk from under his makeup, close enough to see the texture of his skin and the blue of his eyes. He runs a finger down your arm until he reaches your hand, intertwining your fingers and pulling you along with him.
You know you shouldn’t follow him. This is how people go missing, how people are found in a ditch with their friends crying on the news about how they were just with them.
But you can’t bring yourself to care. You find him endlessly fascinating, from the way he moves to his dark demeanor. He’s strange and unsettling, but you like it. You want strange and unsettling, contrary to your feelings earlier in the night.
Dabi can feel your hand trembling in his. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb over the top of your hand. He doesn’t want you to be too afraid of him. He wants you to like him. He’s almost embarrassed by it, seeking the approval of a random girl who visited the haunt. When he looks back at you, your eyes are wide, mouth agape as you let him pull you through the crowd of people. You look at him with curiosity and intrigue more than fear. Dabi feels his heart beat faster in his chest.
He pulls you to one of the haunts, one you went through earlier with a zombie rock band, a ridiculous theme that you remember scaring you the least. Guitar blares through the speakers as you enter, moving the curtains back that cover each entrance. You realize that the place is empty, with no scare actors ready to jump out, no one on the sets or acting out any of the scenes you remember. It’s just the two of you now.
You feel his arm curl around your waist as he pulls you behind one of the openings in the walls. It’s one of the spaces that the scare actors use to hide in before jumping out at the guests. It’s surprisingly spacious, and there’s a door that must lead outside of the structure or into another room. You don’t have time to ponder it before you’re pushed up against one of the walls, his hands squeezing your hips as he looks down at you with hungry eyes.
“I’ve wanted to touch you like this all night long. You were so fucking scared.” He speaks, lowering his head to the crook of your neck, and you almost gasp at the sound of his voice. It’s rough, gravelly. It vibrates against your body where he brushes his lips against you. “It was so cute.”
You let out a shaky breath, feeling him grin against your skin before licking over your pulse point. You moan, the sound almost swallowed up by the loud eerie rock music reverberating in the makeshift building. Dabi wants to make you louder. He wants you to scream.
“Are you—hah—gonna tell me your name?” You ask him as he continues to kiss your neck. His hands are all over you, squeezing the flesh of your hips, running his hands over your thighs and your arms, hands underneath your sweater, up your skirt. You can’t focus on anything but his hands and his mouth and his hard body pressed up against yours. You almost want him closer, if that’s even possible, tangling your fingers into his hair and arching your body into his.
You’re sure your neck must be covered in smudgy face paint. His mouth is probably a muddy mess, or maybe all of the paint is gone, but you don’t care. His lips feel good on your skin. He feels good.
It barely registers that he ignores your question. “What? You’re back to not speaking?”
He’s silent, once again, pulling away from your neck to smile down at you. You were right, the paint is almost completely gone from the bottom half of his face, leaving behind the sight of scars in contrast to the unmarked skin on his cheeks. You’re panting, looking into his eyes as he reveals nothing. He leans forward to kiss you, catching you by surprise even though he was sucking on your neck just moments ago. The kiss is short, with barely enough time to feel his tongue against yours before he pulls away.
“So mysterious.” You quip, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment of being affected by one kiss. He pulls his long coat from his shoulders to reveal surprisingly muscular arms covered in the same scars and piercings that litter his face. He continues with his vow of silence as he starts to lower himself before you, placing kisses against your chest and your stomach as he falls to his knees. His hands sneak up your skirt. “Oh, fuck.”
He raises the front of your skirt, moving one of your hands to hold it against your stomach. He runs his hands up the front of your thighs, looking up at you through thick lashes, spreading your legs even further apart. He brings a hand forward, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clothed cunt. He gives you a look, and he doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he’s thinking, for you to be embarrassed by how wet you are from just a little groping.
He moves his hand and leans forward, pulling you by your hips and burying his face in between your legs. You feel his tongue through your underwear, gasping at the feeling, simultaneously too much and not enough. You bury your free hand in his hair as he licks you through the layer of fabric. Your panties are thoroughly ruined, your inner thighs sticky with your slick. He groans against you, tasting what little of you he can through the barrier. He pulls away and rips them from your thighs, wasting no time before he’s in between your legs once more.
“God!” It’s not his name, but it’ll do. “Fuck, right there!”
He laps at your entrance, completely lost in making you feel good. Every moan he pulls from you only spurs him on, tonguing your cunt like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He thinks that maybe it is.
You buck your hips against his face, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt and pulling at his hair as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm. He runs one hand up your thigh, pulling away for a moment to slip a finger inside of you. He groans at how much of a mess you’ve become, how much of a mess he’s made you. He adds another finger, watching how easily they slide in and out of you. He looks up at you, silently asking if it’s something you like, and the moan you let out tells him that it is. You nod at him, moving your hips while he moves his fingers in and out of you.
“Please!” You whine, missing the feeling of his tongue on you. “Need more!”
He slows the movements of his fingers down, pulling another unsatisfied groan from your throat. It’s cute how impatient you are, how he’s reduced you to such a hungry little thing, all for him.
He moves one hand behind your knee, hiking your leg over one of his shoulders and earning a surprised gasp from your lips. His tongue finds your clit again, running tight circles around you as his fingers speed up.
You grind against his face, closer to the edge than before, moaning at the sensation of his mouth against your entrance. He curls his fingers inside of you and licks over your clit, his motions repetitive and focused as he feels you clench around his fingers. You’re close, and he can feel it, and it’s taking everything in him not to beg you to come for him.
“I’m gonna—” a strangled cry escapes your throat as he brings you to the edge. He slows his movements down as you ride out your orgasm, thrusting his fingers slowly and licking languid strokes over your clit. Hips spamming against him, you have to push his head away from your sex, breathing heavily and running your fingers through the hair falling in his eyes. He’s gorgeous when he looks up at you through a glistening grin. He rises from the ground, bringing the two fingers, now covered in your slick, towards his mouth. You whimper as you watch him wrap his own lips around the two digits, his eyes never leaving yours. He releases them with a sticky pop, surging forwards to capture your lips with his.
It’s better than the one before, longer, slower. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He slots his body against yours as he deepens the kiss, and you can feel him hard against your thigh. His hands run up your sides, over your breasts up to your sternum. He rests one hand against the front of your neck, gently and not squeezing, just to keep you there against him. He slips his tongue into your mouth while his other hand sneaks up the back of your sweater. He has your bra off before you have any time to think, and then he runs his fingers over your nipples.
He’s much gentler than you thought he’d be, especially under the circumstances. He has you pressed up against a wall in public. You’re someone he’s only just met, and you know you must not be the first person he’s done this with.
But he kisses you like he loves you.
And maybe it’s the adrenaline or the raucous music preventing you from thinking clearly, but you think that maybe he could. Maybe you want him too.
God, you’re crazy.
He sucks your tongue into his mouth again and you tug at the strands of hair at the back of his head. Your movements become more frantic as you push your bodies closer together. Twitching hands find the front of his jeans, thumbing the button open and stroking your hand over him. He groans into your mouth, a faint curse as he pushes his hips forward. He bites your lip hard before pulling away from you, pulling a shiny square package from his pocket and releasing himself from the constraint of his underwear. He tears it open with his teeth and rolls the condom on, reaching down to hike your leg back up like it had been before. With one strong hand holding you up from behind your knee, he drags the head of his cock through your folds, pulling another moan from you that you try to suppress in the crook of his neck.
His lips find yours once more, swallowing the sounds you make as he sinks into you. You arch your back, pushing yourself closer as he stretches you. The stretch is almost too much, even with the mess he’s made of you, but you feel good, full, complete.
He starts slow, long drawn-out thrusts of his hips that drive you crazy. He touches you everywhere, squeezing anywhere he can get his hands on, sucking on your neck, your chest. He kisses over your face, sweet pecks of his lips to your jaw and cheeks. It’s overwhelming, the attention he gives you, the need to put your pleasure before his, to make you feel wanted. You are wanted.
He’s getting desperate now, speeding up as he moves against you. He reaches so deep, keeping your leg hiked up with your back against the wall. You aren’t gonna last much longer, not with his tongue in your mouth, not with the sound of his own whines meeting your ears as he quickens his thrusts.
“Please—” You beg, digging your fingers into his hips. You’re so close, clenching around him so tightly he can barely think. His eyes find yours as you feel yourself growing closer and closer to your release, neon blue clouding your vision before you throw your head back against the wall behind you. Pleasure wracks through your body as he pulls you even closer. You fall limp in his arms, feeling him release your leg and pull out of you. You rest your forehead against his as you calm your breathing.
“Think you can give me one more?” The rare sound of his voice startles you. His hand finds the back of your head, pulling away to look into your eyes. Dazed, you nod at him, watching him smile down at you. “Good girl.”
He kisses your cheek, and you let him spin you around to face the wall. You brace yourself against it, two hands flat on the surface as you feel him behind you. He places sloppy kisses against your neck, slowly entering you once more. You gasp, still sensitive from before, but he shushes you, nibbling on your earlobe as he moves in and out of you.
“Your—hah—your name.” You whine, barely getting the words out as he quickens his pace. He groans behind you, leaning forward to bite your shoulder, thrusting in quick short motions against you. “Please! Fuck! Wanna—”
“You wanna what, baby?” He breathes against your ear. He places a kiss beneath it, peppering more down your neck as he slows down.
“Don’t! Please don’t slow down.” You beg, pushing yourself against him.
He leans his large frame against your back, bringing an arm around the front of your chest, resting his hand at the base of your neck. He pulls your back against him, lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me what you want.”
“Wanna—ngh—scream it.” You pant, feeling his thrusts speed up at your admission. “Wanna scream your name.”
“‘Course you do, angel.” He coos, running a hand down the front of your body until it slips up your skirt. You feel his fingers against your clit and gasp, twitching from the sensitivity. It’s too much. You want more. “Call me Touya.”
“Touya!” You cry, letting your head fall back against his shoulder. Touya, Touya, Touya. It sounds perfect falling from your lips. You were meant to say it, meant to scream it just like this. “Wanna come. Make me come, Touya.”
He buries his face into your neck, biting down hard as he speeds up the movements of his hips and his fingers on your clit. You scream, just how he’s wanted you to all night, the feeling of pain and pleasure leaving you dizzy.
“Gonna—” You choke, moaning his name once again. He groans against your skin.
“I know, baby, me too.” His thrusts become sloppier, feeling himself approach the edge, but not before you. You scream his name one last time, reaching your high just moments before him. He cries out after, pulling your face towards his to kiss you deeply once more.
Realizing where you are, music still playing loudly through the speakers, your body up against a rough wooden wall, and Touya’s tongue in your mouth, you force yourself to pull away. He moves away from you, taking a moment to discard the condom and pick up your ruined underwear from the ground. You lay your head against the wall, throwing your arm over your eyes and laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
You think about the feeling of dread from the beginning of the night, how quickly you ran from the men in masks and makeup, the fake chainsaws and knives. And now you’d been fucked by one, one you’d learned the name of just seconds ago.
When Touya returns, you’ve fixed yourself, putting your bra back on and pulling your skirt down, though you’re still without underwear. He walks towards you, cupping your face with one large hand and looking down at you.
“You okay?” He questions, genuine concern in his cyan gaze. You give him a shy smile and nod. He narrows his eyes before giving you a sly smile. “I need verbal confirmation.”
“I’m okay, Touya.” You tell him, wrapping your hand around his wrist and resting it there.
“Fuck,” he speaks, “say it again.”
“You should’ve told me sooner.” You say, ignoring the command. He rolls his eyes, kissing your forehead before pulling away. He takes your hand in his and opens the door beside you.
“C’mon let’s get you cleaned up, then I’ll take you home.” He leads you through the door, down a labyrinth of alleys all connected by the various haunts. He looks back at you and shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry. Your friends are probably gone.”
“Probably.” You don’t care, but you should. And you shouldn’t let him take you home. You shouldn’t let him touch your face gently or take you to one of the twenty-four-hour diners nearby after you leave. You shouldn’t give him your number. You shouldn’t let him take you out once, twice, three times. You shouldn’t let him sneak you into a different haunt the next time you visit him at work.
You do anyway.
#dabi x reader#dabi x female reader#touya todoroki x reader#Touya Todoroki x female reader#bnha x reader#dabi smut#bnha smut#ghost.writes#ghost.fic
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Hey who wants a sneak peek wip of some wiring of my take on @phoenixcatch7 's Possessed Doll Au-
Anyway here have a bit of the JL debating on things and about to meet Robin for the first time lol
🪆🦇🌟🪆🦇🌟🪆🦇🌟🪆🦇🌟🪆🦇🌟🪆🦇🌟🪆🦇🌟🪆
“Okay, but what about a demon,” Flash waved around his spoon, holding a tub of yogurt that almost blended with the red of his suit.
“No way, someone would have noticed and can’t they possess people?” Hal protested, scowling. “Obviously spooky is some sort of robot-”
That got another round of protests from the present members, all putting forth their own ideas for what the third founder might be. Superman had admitted before that he couldn’t see through the tattered cloak and suspected it to have lead, which was actually rather concerning if not for the fact that apparently that was just a thing in Gotham.
“I still think he’s some sort of reanimated corpse, some sort of necromancy shit,” Green Arrow grumbled. “It’s Gotham, I know they have a few zombies wandering about.”
“Now that’s just mean,” Superman admonished, having wandered in from one of the many halls. “We shouldn’t be speculating on things like this and feedin’ rumors.”
“Oh c’mon Supes, you aren’t just a little curious? Don’t want to get in on the bets or anything?” Hal motioned around with a grin.
“No,” the kryptonian shook his head. “If Batman wants us to know, he’ll tell us- he already seemed uncomfortable with the fact he can’t even pass as human.”
Right, the whole reveal where the big-bad-bat practically admitted he wasn’t a human and probably didn’t even have a civilian identity. Or any identity maybe- it was Gotham after all, who would report it to the police who were so notoriously corrupt that even they- people outside of the city- knew about it.
“Speaking of our friend,” Martian Manhunter- J’onn- spoke up from where he was eating some oreos. Really, where did he get them? “It is not like him to be late.”
Not unlike the saying speak of the devil, and he shall appear, the Zeta tubes beeped, notifying them all of an arrival.
“Arriving, B002: Batman.”
Hal snorted. “Finally, and he was the one to say not to be la-”
“Guest override. Welcome B003: Robin.”
There was utter silence for a moment, all of them taking a moment to actually register what they had just heard from the security system. Sure it was already strange that their fellow member wasn’t labeled the first of his letter (something he’d never explained) but the fact that there was a third one now?
Hell, they hadn’t even been aware there was such a thing as a ‘guest override’ until five seconds ago! And who in the world was Robin? Was that their actual name, a codename? Knowing the bat, it was probably a fake name of some sort. Maybe.
No one could convince Barry that their ally’s name may not be the Bat.
Exchanging bemused looks, the league settled down slightly, anticipation thick in the air as they waited impatiently for their final member.
#writing wip#story wip#possessed doll au#cryptid batman#cryptid batfam#batman au#batman#dc#dcu#justice league#robin#flash#superman#hal jordan#green lantern#Martian Manhunter#There's more they're just not mentioned by name up to this point lol#This is gonna be great they can't see Robin and are so confused at first lol#IT OCTOBER AYYY
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cowboy!reader likes pop music I've decided. he also drives a truck that looks like it's a fossil yet runs perfectly fine. he knows about horses and will try to talk about old wild west movies whenever. definitely loved woody from toy story as a kid. 1000% baby talks dogs. goes to pride parades in full colorful cowboy outfit. can do bird calls back. stress eats sunflower seeds instead of smoking. the list of ideas goes on really
- 🦦
More (Not) Allergies
Okay, so I've only focused on the pop music for this one. Also it directly follows from 'Alergies (Not Really)' (which wasn't titled earlier but it was the one with Mia in). But I do have them all noted down (I'm working on the sunflower seeds on at the moment).
EDIT: Sunflower seeds one is now done and available here
Warnings: minor sad reader
Word count: 621
PART ONE
Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23
"Hey, where's your cattleman?" Spencer asked as you sat down in your usual seat.
"I er, I need to find a new one."
"Did you lose it? We've probably got time to find it before we take off-" Spencer said, already starting to stand up.
"Nah, I didn't lose it. I gave it to Mia," You said. "I'll go lookin' for a new one tomorrow,"
"Isn't that your favourite one?" JJ asked, turning to you.
"Yes ma'am," You answered,
“Wait, is this the one you wouldn’t let any of us try on?” Derek asked, looking up from his ipod.
“That would be the one,” You said with a small nod.
“Oh man, you must be getting withdrawal,”
“A little,” You joked. "She's a special kid. Plus, I think she might’ve tried to steal it off me anyway. Y’know she called me old? Three times? Imma spring chicken,"
"I don't know about that," Emily teased, "You're nearly thirty,"
"'Scuse me ma'am, Imma spring chicken."
When the conversation dialled down, you sighed slightly, sliding your hands into your pocket out of boredom. You furrowed your eyebrows when your fingers brushed against a small chain. You gently removed it from your pocket.
"Where'd you get that chain?" You asked, seeing Mia fiddle with it, running her fingers along the links.
She shrugged, "I found it on the floor a few years ago,"
"'s pretty," You commented, she looked at you in disbelief. "What?"
"I wore it once, it turned my skin green,"
"Maybe you're just a zombie." You said with a shrug
"Rich coming from you old man."
"Hey, you okay?" You look up at JJ in confusion and she motioned to your eyes, red and brimmed with tears.
"Oh, yeah," You clear your throat wiping your eyes slightly, "Allergies."
She has a knowing look on her face, but goes along with it. "Allergies are the worst,"
"Tell me about it." You muttered.
"But," She whispered, despite the team chatting amongst themselves, "If you are… upset or concerned about anything, I'm always here if you want to talk about it."
You pause for a moment, brushing your thumb against the chain as you frowned. "I-" You paused, "I dunno," You stuff the chain into your pocket as you looked at JJ, giving her a small smile. "'M fine," You gave her a nod, "Just missing ma cattleman, is all,"
"Uh-huh," JJ said with a raised eyebrow before she gave you a small smile, dropping the subject (not wanting to push you). "Alright, well, I believe we are all going for drinks, you should join us."
You look unsure for a moment before nodding, "A'right," You said, "Just don't tell my Mama I'm getting drunk,"
“Ooo cowboy’s finally gonna get drunk?” Derek asked with a grin, “How about you sing some good ol’ country music for us?”
“It’s gonna take a lotta shots to get to that point,”
“Well, we have tomorrow off,” Rossi smirked.
God damnit.
“Y’all do know I don’t just listen to country, right?”
“Yeah, okay,” Emily grinned, “What else do you listen to?”
“I started listenin’ to er, what’s her name?... Arianna Grande, she’s a’right,” You said with a nod, furrowing your eyebrows as the team all let out a laugh (minus Spencer, who was just a bit confused). “What?”
“You listen to Arianna Grande?”
“She’s good!” You argue, “N’ she hits the whistle tones well. I listen to Dua Lipa ‘n’ Selena Gomez sometimes too,”
“Oh my god…”
“What?”
“You have the music taste of a teenage girl!” Derek snorted loudly.
“JJ, defend me here,” You said, turning to JJ.
“Sorry cowboy,” She teased, “They’re right…” You groaned, letting your head fall to the back of your seat.
“God damnit.”
#bau x cowboy reader#bau x reader#bau x male reader#bau#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#spencer reid#emily prentiss#david rossi#jennifer jareau#cowboy reader#male reader#x male reader
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New in Town - Ch. 3: First Family Dinner
Sarah comes to visit and has questions for Joel. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-2 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader
CW: Smut :D Yeah, they're horny, OK? Just expect a lot of smut in this fic. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only
Length: 5.1k
AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Joel actually felt pretty damn smart when he got to his house. He stopped at the trash bin that sat outside the garage and dropped his now empty coffee cup into it, just in case Sarah asked why he’d gone to the place with the name stamped on the side of the cup.
He didn’t have a good fucking reason to be at a coffee shop by your apartment besides being at your apartment. And he knew he wasn’t ready to tell his daughter about the fact that you two were… whatever the fuck you were.
What were you doing with him? What did you want with him? Why was it so hard to know and why was he so fucking afraid to ask?
Didn’t matter now. The morning Sarah showed up to surprise him with a visit was not the morning to be having this discussion.
“Baby Girl?” Joel called as he closed the door behind him, dropping his keys on the table in his entry way.
“Dad!” Sarah flew around the corner and launched herself at him, just like she’d done when she was a kid. He caught her, the air knocked out of him, laughing as he caught his breath. “I missed you, old man!”
“Missed you too, Baby Girl,” he said, setting her down and stretching out his back. “But you’re gonna have to cut me a break, think my back is gettin’ too old to be catchin’ you like that.”
“How am I supposed to properly shower you in affection if I can’t just throw my whole body at you?” She smirked. “But fine, I guess if it’s for the sake of your health…”
He rolled his eyes and tugged her against his side, kissing her temple.
“Just gotta have you move back closer to home,” he gave her a squeeze. “Wouldn’t need to tackle me if I just saw you more.”
“Yeah, I’m working on that,” she smiled. “Trying to get promoted from junior copywriter to intermediate so I can come to the Austin office sooner rather than later…”
“That’s amazing Baby Girl!” Joel gave her another squeeze before leading her to the living room and settling on the couch. “I’m sure you’re close, they know how good you are.”
“Speaking of my grand plan,” she said. “I see you’ve been hanging out with my work wife.”
Joel coughed to try to hide his surprise.
“What?” He asked after a moment.
“Well I know you didn’t do the Seattle Zombie 5K last Halloween,” she nodded at his shirt. Joel felt his stomach drop. “But I know we did.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“Not doing a walk of shame are you?” She asked, her eyebrows raised.
“You ever known me to be the walk of shame type?” He asked, scrambling for a reason that he’d have your shirt. “I just fixed her garbage disposal for her a few weeks ago, got soaked. She was nice enough to give me a clean shirt so I wasn’t drippin’ wet on the drive home. Didn’t realize it’d made it into my dresser is all. I’ll have to wash it again, give it back…”
“But you are hanging out with her then?” She asked. “I mean, you said give it back like you were going to see her again so…”
“We went out once since I helped with the sink and shit,” he said, telling himself that it wasn’t a lie, not really. You’d only successfully made it out of the house together once. Sarah scrunched her nose. “What, Baby Girl?”
“Nothing,” she sighed. “I was just hoping you guys would be friends is all. You’re both kind of alone down here, you know? I worry. I don’t want you doing nothing but sitting in the house doing… whatever weird old man stuff you do.”
“I don’t do weird old man stuff…”
“And leave her alone too long and the next thing you know she’s on the dating apps and she ends up going out with some total idiots,” she said, ignoring Joel’s protest entirely. “Really, Dad, her taste in men is shit and I’m not here to keep her busy, I was kind of counting on you here.”
Joel frowned.
“Not on you to protect her,” he said. Though, from what little he knew, Sarah was right. Your taste in men was shit. “And I’m sure she’s got better things to do than hang out with someone who does ‘old man things…’”
That was something that Joel had been thinking about a lot over the past two weeks. Yes, you seemed to be about as insatiable for him as he was for you and he didn’t have any damn clue as to why. But he could think of plenty of reasons why you shouldn’t be. How long was it going to be before you realized that he didn’t offer you much? He couldn’t take you to fancy restaurants every week or on nice trips. He wasn’t interested in another child and you were still young enough that you might want to be a mother. His body was often sore and worn after decades of damn near breaking himself to make a living. How much longer would you be wanting to pull him into restaurant bathrooms and make yourself come on his leg because you just couldn’t bear to wait anymore? How much longer could he text you to bitch about work while on a break at a job site and have you respond with a gif from Sharknado because you knew it would make him laugh? How much longer could he look at the selfies you sent him and think to himself “that’s my girl,” even though you weren’t even his girl now let alone in the future?
He was already in too deep with you, way too damn deep. Someone was going to have to pry you out of him, you’d already settled inside his skin and he liked it that way. Liked thinking of you first thing in the morning and just before he fell asleep, liked that you were the first thing on his mind when he got lunch at a food truck and he stumbled on something really good, liked that you showed up with his favorite beer and some obscure snack food when you came over to his place because you said you saw it and thought of him.
“Her taste in men isn’t dangerously bad,” Sarah waved him off. “Just… she tends to go for guys who definitely don’t deserve her, you know?”
“Yeah,” Joel sighed. “I know.”
Fuck, did he know.
“Anyway,” she said with a dramatic eye roll that reminded him of when she was a teenager. He smiled a little. “I’m in town until Wednesday! I know you’ll have to work…”
“I can take a few days off,” he said quickly. “Get Uncle Tommy to make sure shit doesn’t go sideways…”
“Awesome!” She perked up at that. “Because I think there are at least two Curtis and Vipers I haven’t gotten around to seeing yet and I’m going to require a handcrafted Dad burger - preferably grilled - while I’m in town. My apartment doesn’t let me have a grill on my balcony, it’s so dumb.”
“Probably a fire code thing, Baby Girl,” he smiled. “But I think we can swing some movies and a cookout while you’re here. Tommy’d love to see ya, Maria too.”
“Can we start by jumping in the pool?” She asked. “Because I haven’t gotten to swim in months.”
“Might be a bit cold…”
“Please,” she scoffed. “This is mid-summer weather in Seattle, plenty warm enough for a swim.”
Joel smiled.
“Whatever you want, Baby Girl.”
The water was definitely colder than Joel would normally jump into but, for Sarah, he’d do just about anything.
He was still getting used to drinking with his daughter, the two of them floating around the water with beers most of the day. Joel got out for a bit to make sandwiches - he put potato chips on Sarah’s just like he had when she was a kid - and he just listened to what she’d been up to, hanging on her every word.
Joel had always felt incredibly lucky to have Sarah as his daughter. There were the obvious reasons, of course. She was kind and thoughtful, she was smart as a whip and loved to do well in school to the point that he almost never had to tell her to do her homework, she actually liked spending time with him. But she never had a problem being open with him about damn near anything.
It wasn’t always the most pleasant experience - hearing about boy problems when he couldn’t actually intervene was harder than Joel had expected it to be - but he was grateful for it. He never had to wonder what his daughter was up to, she just told him.
Part of it, he was sure, was because he’d asked her to grow up too fast. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but it seemed to come with the territory of single parenthood. There was no one there to back him up when he had to work late, no one there to take over the child rearing when he was sick or just so exhausted from work that he slept through his damn alarm. Sarah fell into the role of second parent, sometimes raising herself as much as Joel had.
He was just happy she didn’t resent him for it. She seemed to recognize how hard he’d tried to give her everything, do everything he possibly could to make her happy and give her a good life. Even if it hadn’t always worked, he’d always tried. The fact that she’d made it to college on scholarship, that she’d finished towards the top of her class, that she’d gotten a good paying job doing something she liked to do, the fact that she was happy and doing something with her mind instead of breaking her body down like Joel was every damn day of his life was the proudest he’d ever been of anything.
Could he really risk his relationship with her for you? Yes, you made him happy. So fucking happy. You were the first thing in years that he felt like he really, truly wanted. And it had hit him hard, so fucking hard. It was like he’d saved up all his longing just for you, like it had been waiting for something powerful enough to show up and unleash it all and it had knocked him off his damn feet.
But you were Sarah’s best friend.
“So one thing that’s seriously lacking in the Pacific Northwest is good TexMex,” Sarah said, lounging on a pool float, her face tilted toward the sun, eyes closed. “Think we can go out for dinner tonight? I need enchiladas and tamales and I need them sooner rather than later.”
“Only if you don’t get mad that I ask for the real spicy salsa,” Joel said.
“How did I end up so cursed that my two favorite people love to melt their tongues off as a hobby?” Sarah sighed. “But fine, order the miserable stuff. I’ll just get the regular salsa like a normal person.”
Joel scoffed.
“The normal ship has sailed with you, Baby Girl. Me and Tommy around you so much? Never stood a chance.”
Just an hour later, he and Sarah were headed into her favorite Austin restaurant. Joel added it to his mental list of places to take you. It was Sarah’s favorite for a reason, after all.
“Table for two,” Joel held up two fingers to the hostess but Sarah cut him off.
“It’s three, actually,” she smiled, not looking at him.
“Three?” He frowned. She ignored him and just held up three fingers to the hostess. It took him until they were at the table to really put it together. “Sarah…”
“I’m here to see you but I really want to see her, too,” she said as she slid into the booth. “And I do think you guys will really get along if you actually give it a shot. Please, Dad? Give her a chance?”
A chance wasn’t the only thing he’d given you.
“Baby Girl, I’m sure she’d rather do something besides…”
“Besides what?” Your voice appeared over his shoulder, Joel turning toward the sound so fast it made his head spin. You smiled a little sheepishly.
“Hi.”
***
Well Joel clearly hadn’t been expecting you.
That boded just so well.
“Hey Bestie!” Sarah squealed and got out of the booth to throw her arms around your neck. You laughed and hugged her back. “Ugh, I miss you! The office sucks without you there. So does the rest of Seattle, honestly.”
You laughed.
“I miss you too,” you gave her a squeeze before the two of you separated. “I keep trying to convince the VP at this branch that I absolutely unequivocally need a junior copywriter on my team. He hasn’t bought it yet but I think if I just keep asking him I’ll wear him down and he’ll cave to my annoying tendencies and just give me whatever I want.”
“Oh so you’re playing hardball,” Sarah teased as she got back in the booth and you slid in beside her.
“Clearly yes,” you nodded sagely. “I read ‘The Art of War’ and just bothering people until they give up is the best battle tactic in the world…”
You turned to look at Joel who was watching you intently.
You hadn’t expected Joel to show up tonight anymore than he’d expected you. Sarah was playing you both like a goddamn fiddle. You’d worn a strappy, silky slip dress with a denim jacket over it thinking you were going out with your best friend, not going to be stuck trying to keep from staring at your who-the-fuck-knows-what sitting across from you.
Who also happened to be your best friend’s dad.
You tried not to think about that part.
“Figured I’d force you two to get to know each other better over margaritas,” Sarah said brightly. “I can’t let you both just sit and stare at a wall all by yourselves until I can move back to town…”
“I don’t stare at walls!” You protested. Sarah ignored you.
“So you can at least keep each other company,” she finished.
“Good to see you again, Joel,” you said, trying as hard as you could to not picture him naked across the table.
Which was really fucking hard.
His dark button down was rolled up to his elbows and fit his damn broad shoulders so perfectly all you could think about was the way he looked as he fucked into you, the way his muscles rippled through his chest and you had to fight to not bite down on them. His hair was tamed without being sculpted or overly styled and you wanted to run your fingers through it and sink your grip into his scalp as he ate you.
“You too,” he said.
You’d never had this visceral of a reaction to a man you’d fucked before, never, not even when you were a stupid teenager. Of course, you’d never tried to hide your relationship before, either.
But you had the feeling that wouldn’t matter with Joel. You’d feel this intensity toward him whether Sarah was beside you or not, whether you could be open about your affection for him or not.
And now you were going to have to sit across from him when he looked that damn good all through dinner.
The second the server came to the table you ordered a margarita. You had a feeling you were going to need the tequila.
It took conscious effort to pay attention to what Sarah was saying as she tried to bring up things she thought you and Joel had in common. Almost like she was trying to launch an ad campaign for each of you.
It felt like forever but you were sure you’d only been seated a few minutes when you gave up on not touching Joel. You carefully slid your foot out of your pump and started sliding it up his inner leg, starting near his ankle. Joel jumped a little in his chair at the contact, his eyes darting to you. You just raised your eyebrows at him as you took a drink from your margarita and slid your foot up his leg to his knee. He shifted in his seat, his eyes steadily on Sarah but you could tell he had to focus on her now, actively work to give her attention. You smirked a bit at that.
You kept the pattern up as the three of you waited for your food, Joel’s eyes always going a little wide when your toes made it to his inner thigh.
“Ugh, I’m starving,” Sarah groaned as a tray of sizzling fajitas passed your table. “Here, scootch out, I’m going to the bathroom. That’ll make the food come.”
“It always does,” you agreed, quickly shoving your foot back into your shoe and getting out of the booth.
You both watched as Sarah made her way across the restaurant, turning to Joel the second you knew she was out of earshot.
“Did you say anything?” You were whispering anyway.
“No,” he replied. “We hadn’t talked about it, didn’t seem like the time… Did you say somethin’?”
“Not a word,” you said.
“I really need you to cool it over there, Beautiful,” Joel said. Any other time, you’d think he was teasing you but his eyes looked open and earnest now. “We can’t just go into a bathroom right now and it’s already a fucking miracle I haven’t tried to rip that goddamn dress off you, Jesus Christ, you can’t just show up places lookin’ that damn good…”
“You’re one to talk!” You replied, incredulous, as you looked down at his exposed, tan, muscled forearms and back up at his face. “Fucking hell, Joel!”
He smirked a little.
“That’s all it takes with you, huh?” He teased, leaning across the table toward you. “Just a little bit of skin and you’re outta control?”
“Oh fuck off,” you rolled your eyes but grinned a little all the same. “I know you know what the rolled up sleeves thing does to women.”
“I promise I do not,” he said, watching over your shoulder now. “But you’ll have to enlighten me later…”
Sarah came back to the table and her face fell.
“Shit, that usually works,” she sighed. “Alright, scoot in, we can just trade spots.”
You obeyed and slid over, purposely leaning over the table as you did, giving Joel full view of your bra below your dress as you did. He was all but glaring at you as you sat back in the booth.
Consciously, you knew you shouldn’t be pushing him like this. For starters, this was not how you wanted Sarah to find out. Assuming she was ever going to find out.
But you shouldn’t be trying to frustrate Joel. Not like this, not so early on in your… whatever the fuck this was.
You had a tendency to do this, to bend things until they broke the second something was looking like it could get serious, the second that it looked like it’d be worth the time and the effort. You were starting to think it was something your subconscious did on purpose. If you sabotaged the relationship early, there wasn’t the same kind of risk. Push the guy too far and he’d break things off with you and you could return to the relative emotional safety of dating apps and bars. Only ever go out with someone for a few weeks and it wouldn’t hurt that bad if they left.
And they would leave. They always left. You might be worth the time for a bit but you weren’t worth the trouble for anything real, that much had been made clear to you in the years you’d spent dating around. It had gotten you hurt when you were young and stupid, back when you were Sarah’s age. Now, you fucking knew better.
You knew better than to get anywhere close to what you were starting to feel with Joel.
And here you were, doing it anyway, with your best friend’s dad.
So of course your first reaction was to push him. Push, push, push. It’s what you did.
You stirred your melting margarita.
You’d never been more relieved to have food brought to your table.
“Thanks so much for coming out tonight!” Sarah hugged you goodbye in the parking lot, the awkward, hesitant conversation at the table through dinner still tense over you.
“It was so great to see you!” You hugged her back and kissed her cheek. “Seriously, I’m wearing the bosses down, start packing now because I miss you too much.”
She laughed.
“I’ll be on the first plane out once I get a job offer,” she said. “Either way, I’ll be back for the holidays, we have to hang out then. Just us girls at least once, promise.”
You smiled a little, hoping Sarah would still want to talk to you at the holidays.
“Sounds perfect.”
Joel gave you a tight smile and a nod.
“Talk to you soon?” He said, his voice too open and honest to fit the shared awkwardness of your position feet apart in the parking lot.
“Yeah,” you smiled. “Text me?”
“Sure,” he smiled back.
You poured yourself a glass of wine the second you were in the door, only pausing to take your shoes off as you made your way to the kitchen. You settled in on the couch without bothering to change, carrying the bottle of wine with you, and you put on some shitty Netflix reality show you could zone out and barely pay attention to.
You were four episodes deep when your phone lit up.
“Fuck that was hard,” Joel texted.
You smiled a little.
“Was that hard or were you hard?” You texted back.
“Both,” he replied almost immediately. Your smile grew and you downed the last of the wine.
You hadn’t had enough to drink to be drunk but you’d had enough that it made you feel… bold. Like you wanted to try something new.
You took off your jacket and slid the straps of your dress down so your cleavage was spilling over the top of it, your breasts barely contained by it. You took a selfie, a needy look on your face, and sent him the picture.
“Need help with that?” You asked.
“Jesus Christ,” he texted back almost immediately. “Good thing Sarah just went to call some boy she started seeing back in Washington, can’t just send a guy shit like that and expect him to sit still.”
You bit your lip for a second, getting an idea. You headed for your room and shimmied out of the dress before you put on the sexiest bra you owned and switched to the matching panties. You posed in the full length mirror in the corner of your room, one leg out, a hand on your hip.
“What about shit like this?” You asked as you sent the picture along.
“Really fucking mean for you to send that when you know I can’t come take it off you,” he texted back.
You flopped down on your stomach on your bed, reminded of how you felt texting guys when you were younger and you had to make sure you didn’t go over your texting limit for the month.
“You can always fight back you know,” you said. “I can’t come rip your clothes off either.”
“You trying to get me to sext with you?” He asked.
“Maybe.”
It took a few minutes before he sent you a picture. He was in his room, stripped down to his boxer briefs. He fisted his cock through the fabric of them, the veins on his hand prominent.
“Something like this?” He asked.
You groaned, your hand sliding to your clit before you even thought about it. You rolled onto your back and took a picture of your hand slipping into your panties before sending it on.
“Just like that,” you replied.
“Fuck.”
The one word was all he sent for a minute before he followed it up with a picture of his cock in his hand. You moaned at the sight of him, a pearl of pre-come leaking from his swollen head. You wanted to swallow it up, lick up and down his thick shaft, take all of him in your mouth until you were choking on him and he spilled down your throat.
“Tried to make this last but you’re too fucking much for me,” he texted. “Couldn’t wait.”
You took off your bra and tossed it to the floor before taking a handful of your breast in your hand, holding the phone high over your head, high enough that it could capture your needy expression and the way you were touching yourself.
“Neither could I.”
Usually, when you fucked yourself, you used toys. You had a few that you’d become partial to over the years of cycling through men and relationships, the fake dicks in your life lasting a whole hell of a lot longer than the real ones.
Tonight, you didn’t need one. Didn’t think you could pull yourself away from touching your own body long enough to pull one out, not with Joel’s face and body and cock on the brain. You slid your hand down your chest, your stomach, back to your pussy. You rubbed your clit in little circles with your index finger as you stretched your middle finger down, down, down toward your dripping hole.
When his next message came through, you dropped your phone in your rush to open it and you scrambled to pick it up with one hand, your other one too occupied to want to do anything else.
This time, it was a video. His large hand was working his thick length, his cock still looking big even in his grasp that dwarfed your own. He worked his cock slowly, his thumb sweeping over the head and collecting the pre-come before he slid it firmly down with quiet moan.
“Fuck, I need you,” his voice was soft, a whisper. “Need to feel that perfect fuckin’ pussy…”
You were about to rewatch the video, your mouth watering, when he texted again.
“Can I call you?”
You didn’t respond. Instead, you just called him, putting the phone to speaker and setting it on your chest between your breasts.
He answered on the first ring.
“Hey beautiful,” he said, voice low and dark and needy. “Fuck, I gotta be quiet…”
“I know,” you said, whispering back even though you didn’t have a reason to. “Don’t care, as long as I can hear you.”
“Tell me what you’re doin’ to yourself,” he was almost panting. “What you’re thinkin’ about…”
“I’m rubbing my clit,” you moaned. “Got one finger inside of myself, thinking about you eating me out last night…”
“Fuck you tasted so good,” his voice became a little more strained. “Wanna taste you right now.”
You moaned and fucked yourself a little harder, a little faster, your eyes closed in pleasure.
“Add another finger,” he said. “Want you to work up to this cock, want you thinking about me deep in you when you come.”
“Fuck Joel,” you were panting now, too, as you added another finger.
“Tell me what you’re thinking now,” he whispered.
“You pushing into me,” you groaned it. “Opening me up for you…”
“Fuck, Beautiful, you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”
You heard the pace of his hand increase on the other end of the phone and you worked your pussy a little harder and faster, too, whimpering as you did.
“Can you fit a third finger?” He panted.
“Yes,” you managed, getting desperate, your body starting to feel tight, all the heat of you drawing deep into yourself.
“Add it,” he groaned. “Fuck yourself deep, hard. Fuck yourself like I fucked you last night, how I’d fuck you right now if I were there.”
You obeyed, thrusting your fingers in as deep as you could reach, whimpering at the stretch that you knew had nothing on his thick cock.
“You were so fucking deep,” your legs were restless, the tightness extending so far down that you knew your orgasm was going to make your whole body quake. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn big, Joel…”
“And you take me so fucking well,” he panted. “Take me like you were made to take this cock, fuck!”
“I was made to take you,” you whimpered, desperate and aching. “Made to make you come, need you to fucking come, please Joel, please come for me…”
“Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!” It was a choking, strangled whisper and you heard him muffle his moaning in a pillow, the sound of his pleasure sending you over the edge.
It was the hardest you’d ever come from your own hand, harder than you’d ever come with a vibrator, almost as hard as you came with Joel deep inside you the night before. Your body throbbed with it, so much that it felt like your fingers might break as they stuffed your overwrought pussy full. You all but sobbed as you kept working your clit, even as it was too much, fucking yourself through your own orgasm the way you knew Joel would if he were buried inside you instead of in his own fist. Once it was over, you slowly, gently, pulled your hand away from your dripping slit.
“Fucking hell, Beautiful,” he said after a minute, still trying to catch his breath. You smiled and laughed a little. “Christ, I hope Sarah didn’t hear that.”
“You stayed a lot quieter than me,” you were whispering again. It was fun to whisper into the phone with him, like you were going behind your parents’ backs with it.
“Still,” he said before he sighed. “I gotta go clean up, you made me make a hell of a mess.”
“You’re one to talk,” you smirked a little, looking at the slick gathered on your fingers.
“Can I text you tomorrow while you’re at work?” He asked quietly. “Something tells me I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”
“Course,” you smiled, settling down into your mattress. “Text me whenever you want, I always want to hear from you.”
Maybe it was the post-orgasm haze but you didn’t care that it sounded desperate.
“Good,” he said. “Because hearin’ from you always makes my damn day.”
You smiled at that.
“Miss you, Beautiful.”
You smiled bigger.
“Miss you, too.”
Next Chapter
A/N: Awww doubt is creeping in and they're still fucking each other's brains out from afar.
We love to see it!
Thank you so much for following along with this story! These two are so fun to write and I hope you're enjoying their journey. Love you all!
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#smut fic#joel miller x oc#joel miller smut
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SUCROSE
Paring: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: They live in the same building, in the same corridor, just in front of one another… which helps the friendship but couldn't stop Dr. Reid from falling in love
Word account: 1199
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, friends to lovers
A/N: English is not my first language. Reblog, like, and comment. I am accepting suggestions for the next parts (should I already tell about the nicknames?). Please be nice. The Gif is not mine. Credits to the oner
Chapter 1: Derek Morgan, next door
Y/N’s Point of View
The water ran warm against my skin, a relaxing shower was all I needed after one very busy day serving and cleaning, which was not the worst part of the job, the worst part certainly was the clients themselves.
I had a playlist on to help me relax, thank god I had the day off and would go just to the night shift today, so it is a study and cleaning house day. But a noise interfire my peace day. Noises that come from outside.
In the corridor someone knocked on a door calling a name, Spencer’s name… I finished my bath, put on my robe and with my towel dried a little of my hair just taking the exes of the water then brushing it. I came out just in time to see someone kicking down my door and entering my apartment holding a gun.
“What are you doing?”
The man is a black big man, he looks around and then to me still holding his gun pointing it to me.
“Where is Spencer Reid?”
“Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? Why did you break my door?”
The last sentence was a scream, I can’t believe that a random dude broke my door for no reason. Can’t he see numbers?
“I am SSA Derek Morgan. Now, where is Reid?”
Morgan, the name rings in my ears. Spencer talked about him so many times. Apparently they are friends and coworkers, he can break Spencer’s door, not my door!
“Spencer’s door is the other one.” I point to the one just across the hall. “But relax big man, you do not need to break another door, I have the key, just wait in here and let me put some clothes on. Do not let anyone into my apartment. And put that gun down. Jesus”
Is this a thing? You have to be handsome to join the FBI? After putting a light dress and getting the key I get back to my living room, where that delight for tired eyes wait, he remains stoic, rigid, so tense. Should I be worried?
Knocking soft on the door and calling his name I warne Spencer that me and Morgan are coming in. No response, and the place is immaculate, everything in the right place.
“He must be asleep, he has been very tired those couple weeks. I am going to check his room.”
“By yourself?”
“Yeah. What? There is something I should know? He is contagious? A zombie? No? Ok, so I am totally fine going by myself.”
I walk slowly into his room, it is dark and quiet.
“Sugarpout? Spence?”
A peaceful breathing is heard when closer to the bed, he is involved in his blankets, is the sights of heaven, my heart gets warm seeing Spencer resting peacefully.
I sit at the bed and run my hand delicately in his soft hair before resetting it in his forehead checking his temperature, he moves a little moaning in protest.
“Shh… it's me Sugarpout, it is ok, you can keep sleeping”
Is a very quiet whisper as I place a tender kiss to his forehead leaving my boy there, his hand landing on top of mine making me smile, as quiet as I entered his bedroom is as I live.
Just at the room door, Derek looks at us, I just make a signal to him to keep quiet and we are back to Spencer’s living room.
“So… you seemed troubled. There is something I should know? Is something wrong with Spencer?”
“Why do you have his keys?”
“Cause I live just across the hall?”
Who does he think he is to interrogate me?
“Serious? That 's why? Common, hot stuff, Reid didn't make a move on that gorgeous woman? Man, he really doesn't have material… or does he?”
Flirtatious Morgan, Reid said he was just like that, all charming. Just bark, don’t bite. Well… I don’t think girls would mind if he bites them, I recognize good stuff when I see it.
“Changing subject that quickly? What are you avoiding agent?”
He just looked at me, no verbal answer, heavy shoulders unmatched with the flirt smile on his face… for a profiler he isn't that good in hiding emotions.
“Seriously” a puff of air came out of me. “Is everything okay with him?”
“Yes, Reid is fine. I… was just worried, we had a hard case and he wasn’t answering the phone…”
“I believe you”
“So… why the keys?”
“I live very close, we are friends and I am his food stealer”
I blinked at the man with a dirty smile in my face mixed with my sweet traces.
“Food stealer?”
“He is out, I need something, I enter his apartment, I grab what I need, and then I come back to my place. Simple”
“Are you confessing a crime to an FBI agent?”
“A crime against another agent. And the other agent is very aware of what I do in his hose”
“Sorry about the door”
“It’s okay, it is nice to know Sugarpout have friend that really care about him”
It is impossible not to smile, I care so much about the genius boy. Knowing other people also care about him warmes my insides, it is really good to know he is well protected in the field.
“Sugarpout?”
My eyes almost fall out of my face. Shit! It is a private nickname.
“Don’t. Do not, ever, ever, talk about it to anyone, It is private, and especial, so please…”
“Okay, a secret. Someday you will tell me?”
“Maybe”
Derek Morgan lives his card with me. He waited about 30 minutes talking to me, but it seemed Spencer wouldn't wake up so soon, so Derek decided to go home, but promised to pay for my door. In my opinion it was the very minimum he could do, but them we have a talk, and his caring by Spencer was more than enough for me to forget about my broken door.
“Sugar?”
“Hey, Sugarpout, did you sleep well?”
I smile going to start to prepare something for him to eat.
“How long have I sleeped?”
“Something around two hours, you needed it. Morgan passed by, and broke my door”
“He what?”
“Broke my door. He was knocking, no one opened, then he kicked in. But surprise, surprise. It was the wrong door.”
“Sorry”
“It is not your fault, and he is going to pay for the repair, he was just worried because you didn’t answer the phone, and the last case was hard. I assume you basically blacked out from exhaustion so I decided to let you sleep.”
The toast is ready as is the coffee, the black coffee with tons of sugar.
“Here you go Sugarpout, you need to eat, and then you should call your people. I am not asking about the case. Just a reminder that you can talk about anything with me anytime, I am just one door away.”
I kiss his head, before going back to my place. I could tell he needed a moment alone to call his friends, especially Derek after what I vaguely told him.
#spencer reid x reader#criminalminds#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
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