#please forgive my grammar
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Things always go wrong Pt2 :0
Pt1 Pt3 Pt4
Dani roused from her sleep to see forests rushing passed and the sun beginning to dip behind them. The world was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun and she basked in its beauty. This was why she loved traveling. The beauty, the freedom, the fun.
She turned to Danny to see none of those things. He was gaunt and rigid. Eyes pinned to the road in tense silence as they drove way too many miles over the speed limit.
“Did you die die?” Dani asked, poking his cheek. He felt clammy. That probably wasn't good. Dani didn't feel great either. Tired and saggy, like all her muscles had deflated.
Danny just grunted in response. That was VERY not good. No Danny banter meant Danny really HAD died.
“So is this a drive to heaven or to hell?” She asked. Danny snorted. That was a good sign.
“Gotham.” He grumbled. It sounded forced, like it hurt to say. Dani frowned.
“So hell it is. Why are we going there?” Danny remained silent and his face fell into a scowl. “You’re doing a pretty good Batman impression but that doesnt tell me why we are going to meet him.”
“We are not meeting batman. We are going to Jazz” Danny said.
“Ooh, better than batman!” Dani playfully punched her arms in the air and Danny winced. Dani noticed but didn’t comment as she went to grab his phone. It was cracked slightly and was full of messages and calls from Sam and Tucker. Notably, it didn't have any directions pulled up.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Danni asked. Danny moved for the first time, shifting uncomfortably.
“...No.” He muttered as he kept his eyes on the road. Dani rolled her eyes at him and started looking through his phone, she had learned his password ages ago and as much as he threatened to change it on her, he never did. Though that might have been more forgetfulness than endearment but Dani would interpret it as she wished.
“You are so bad at road trips.” She said as she connected his phone to the aux cord and pulled up directions to Gotham. They still had almost nine hours to drive and the sun was only getting lower. “There is a rest stop about an hour from here. We can rest there for the night.”
Danny didn't look too pleased at the idea but he knew they didn't have any money for a motel and he couldn't drive the entire night. He didn't want to stop driving so soon though. Moving helped dull the pain.
“Are there any further rest stops?”
“Hmm… Theres one about three hours from us?and then another at the six hour mark. We could stop there for lunch tomorrow.” Dani said. Danny grumbled but nodded. He didn't want to stop at all tomorrow. Stopping for the night felt like too much, let alone pausing midway through the drive tomorrow.
The rest of the drive was Dani playing music and chatting away. Chipping away at Danny’s panicked and suffering walls until he finally relaxed into their usual banter. She played eye-spy and when she got bored of that she played twenty questions. When Danny chose a water bear as his animal she gave up on that too. They devolved into silly arguments about how water bears shouldn't be allowed or how it wasn't fair that Dani kept picking things Danny couldn't see in eye-spy.
As the sky darkened and the car’s headlights came on they fell into an easy silence. Danny still hurt but it was better and Dani’s core was humming comfort at him which helped.
Dani was half asleep when they pulled into the rest stop. The lights still on but the cafes and restaurants, closed or closing. She woke up fully when Danny moved to look through the back seat. Shuffling through whatever he had thrown back there and forgotten about.
Gloves, a box of tissues, an empty tote bag and an old backpack he used before he bought a new one. It had a gum packet in it and a pen but nothing else. Groaning, he went and opened the trunk, a black scorch mark from where it had been hit earlier that day. He had camping gear for when he went stargazing. A tent, blankets, portable stove and a lighter, gas for the stove, a pocket knife, a mess kit. He was rummaging through when Dani popped up beside him.
“You got twenty dollars in your phone case.” She said and Danny jerked up hitting his head on the trunk door. He rubbed his head and whacked Dani’s shoulder while she laughed, he was smiling but he wouldn't admit it.
He grabbed his phone from the car and Dani closed the trunk, whistling at the damage.
“Who did that?” She asked, eyeing the marks on the car.
“Some fruitloops after a kidnapped ghost.” Danny said.
“Kidnapped? Me? How awful.” She said, putting her hand up and pretending to swoon.
“You’re right. The poor kidnappers.” Danny laughed and Dani rolled her eyes. She punched him in the side playfully and he hissed in pain.
They both paused and Dani poked his side and he winced.
“Are you ok?” She asked. He hasn't seemed that injured when he was driving.
“Yeah, just a bit tender.” Danny joked. Dani stared at him, waiting for a better answer than that and Danny sighed. “Leaving Amity was harder than I thought it would be.”
Dani still didn't really understand but Danny looked like he would rather be sick than answer her and she really didn't want him to be sick in front of her.
“Do you want to get food?” she asked and Danny gave her a thankful smile before nodding.
They grabbed a snack each, bbq chips and oreos, and a bottle of water to share. Dani nicked a portable charger and some jerky while Danny was in the bathroom and then they headed back out to the door. When they were back in the car Dani pulled out the portable charger and plugged in Danny’s phone.
“Where did you get that?” He asked, eyeing it incredulously. It definitely didn't look under twelve dollars and thats all they had left after the snacks.
“Same place we got the rest of this stuff.” She said dropping the rest of the snacks and jerky between them. Danny noted the extra snack but just rolled his eyes. They ate but Danny kept the jerky for the next day and then he pulled out the blankets from his trunk.
Snuggled up, with their cores harmonizing, they fell asleep.
The car shook and a bang followed by the crunching and scraping of metal woke them up. Danny shot up, the sky just starting to lighten, face meeting with the barrel of an anti-ecto gun. He lunged to the side. The headrest of his seat was evaporated and Dani sent out her own ecto blast. The attacker was forced back into the white van that was ramming them and they could hear some colourful words through their panic. Danny jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine roaring to life. Shrieking metal filled their ears as the forced the vehicles apart and booked it out of the parking lot. The road bumps sending pieces of glass flying as Danny realized his window had been smashed during the attack. The back seat window seemed cracked but still intact and the windscreen had a spider web fracture but was holding up. His core shuddered at the damage but the pain was overridden by the need to protect Dani.
He glanced over and saw a very shellshocked young ghost shaking in the passenger seat. She probably used too much ectoplasm in that blast. Neither of them were recovered enough and even with harmonizing he wasn't sure they would be able to recover enough to take another attack. He shook his head and focused on driving.
It took some maneuvers and some, maybe a lot, of speeding to lose the GIW but they managed. Dani pulled up directions and turned on whatever music she could find.
They spent the next few hours staring out their respective windows. Dani didn't like it. She didn't like the silence or the stress or the way her body shook in fear and exhaustion. Road Trips were supposed to be fun.
Danny didn't speak. His core was barely humming, barely responding to her, as they drove. It wasn't until the low gas symbol popped up on the dash that he said anything and of course it was just another curse. Dani was getting fed up with Danny’s shrinking vocabulary.
She didn't say anything as she added a new stop to the directions, the closest gas station. Maybe a part of her was hoping her grumpiness would get Danny to snap out of whatever grump he was experiencing. Probably not a reasonable or healthy way to handle the situation, if you asked someone like Jazz, but Dani didn't ask Jazz.
Danny didn't seem to notice though. He pulled into the gas station and turned off the car. His core buzzing with panic as he set up the gas pump and slumped against the car with a groan of pain. Dani frowned and poked her head out of the car. He looked pale, too pale. They were in their human forms, he shouldn't be that pale. At least she didn't think so. Though maybe she wasn't an expert on normal human medicine.
The gas pump beeped and Danny dragged himself up to remove the pump and go into the gas station. Dani suddenly worried about how they would pay, they had filled the tank up to full and that couldn't be cheap.
Danny stumbled and fell into someone by the gas station entrance, a big guy with tattoos in a tank top, jeans and were those cowboy boots? Danny apologized and the guy shoved him, making him stumble again. Dani almost flew out of the car at him before she noticed a flash of dark leather in Danny’s hand.
No way.
The big tough guy waved him off and went back to smoking as Danny went inside and paid with a wallet he had most definitely not had five minutes ago. Danni stared at her basically brother, slacked jawed, as he casually dropped the wallet back into the guys pocket with some intangibility and then hurriedly slipped back into the car. His face was hard and he glared forward as he started the car.
“Did you just-?” Dani started, her excitement at her brother's newfound skills making her bounce in her seat.
“No. Dont. Talk about it.” He cut her off, jaw set. She stilled in her seat and went back to pouting. When she vibrated her core at him he didn't even respond. She felt her core freeze at the lack of reaction and she tried again. There was a thump of something and Danny grunted but that was it. That was all that she got. Dread curled in her stomach as she stared at the road in front of her.
They drove on and Dani didn't even mention the second rest stop they were supposed to stop at and Danny didn't either. There wasn't even music and the silence was only occasionally broken by a pained breath from Danny or an attempted hum from Dani’s core. It was a painful drive and Dani tried to sleep to help time passed. It worked partially, she slept fitfully for about twenty minutes each rest but it helped her heal. By the time they had found themselves in the midmorning traffic into Gotham she was feeling much more herself.
Danny looked worse and his arm trembled from being kept in a tense position for so long. A thin sheen of sweat covered him and Dani opened to her mouth to say something only to slam it shut at the waves of panic suddenly rolling off Danny.
The car had rolled to a stop as the traffic came to a standstill. Thankfully they were in the slowest lane and there was a hard shoulder on their right but it did little to comfort Danny’s mounting panic. He didn't want to stay still, he couldn't, they were in danger and needed to keep moving.
“Hey, are you-” Dani was interrupted by an explosion. They both spun to see billows of smoke about twenty cars back and a familiar white van barreling down the hard shoulder. Danny sucked in a breath of air and hit the gas as he swerved into the hard shoulder himself. He pressed on the gas as they went, coming up on a motorcycle attempting to skip traffic. Dani reached over Danny’s shaking arms and slammed on the horn as they gained on the man in red. He glanced back and barely managed to crash out of the way before they ran him down. As they zoomed passed the poor guy Dani looked out her window to give him an apologetic wave. His helmet was weirder when she saw it close up, less like a motorcycle helmet and more like a mask but for his whole head. She gave him a wave and he stared after them. The white van careening after them and obstructing her view.
Danny followed the hard shoulder until it turned to grass and he kept going. The grass turned into a ditch and he grit his teeth as he maneuvered his beloved car to keep going. Thankfully the car, even turned at an almost forty five degree angle still kept going, if only slower than he would have liked. The white van on the other hand, hit the ditch and flipped, crashing to a halt behind them. Dani watched people crawl out of the van and try to chase after them but even going slowly their car was still faster. Though a lucky shot shattered the back window.
They pulled the car back into traffic, receiving honks and rude gestures before they went deeper into the murky city. It was only another few minutes of driving before Danny found an empty, unkempt parking lot to stop in. He shot out of the car and ripped the back seat door off its hinges trying to get the backpack he had back there. Dani grabbed his phone, the leftover cash, portable charger, and jerky before joining him behind the car as he stuffed his knife, lighter and a blanket into his bag. She offered her stuff and he opened the bag for her. As soon as everything was in he zipped it shut and went to pick Dani up.
“Woah! No! You’re not carrying me. I can walk just fine.” She said, glaring at Danny as he looked back at her. His eyes didn't seem totally focused and she grabbed his hand instead. “If you need to hold on to me so bad you can hold this. Now lets go.” And she was off, dragging a clearly not ok Danny behind her.
Did she know where she was going? No, but she would figure it out. Unlike Danny, she was used to finding places to sleep in unfriendly and unfamiliar cities. She could recognize safe places to stay. At least she was pretty sure she could.
~~
Gonna try and figure out how to do the Pt1 Pt2 links
I actually have like four chapters(?) written cause i got sucked in last night
#please forgive my grammar#danny phantom#he kinda out of commission#Dani-centric heehee#dani phantom#creative writing#batman#batfam#dpxdc#dp x dc crossover#this might turn into a danny/tucker/sam polycule#for fun#dp x dc fanfic#fanfic#long post
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BF! WONWOO hanging out on lazy days
18+ mdi
lazy sundays were you completely favorite. everybody hated sundays, the dreaded week lurking the feeling of the rest day just ending.
but you learned to love sundays. sundays meant late and lazy breakfast in bed, it meant snuggle in hoodies all day, it meant not getting out of the house, it meant laying in the sofa all day reading with your boyfriend between your legs.
you started reading a book that your boyfriend and also bookworm gifted to you; "I just thought you would enjoy it" he said while giving it to you as he arrived from his last leg of his tour "I brought in a pretty bookshop in New York, it has a nice coffee in it, you would love it, we should go together in your next vacation" and your heart sweell nicely thinking about your boyfriend just going around New York thinking about you.
wonwoo rubbed himself against your stomach, claiming for your attettion. "this book is boring" he said, leaving the book on the floor. "I mean it's not boring but I already know who is the killer" he continued, putting his hand inside your hoodie and on your skin, making your heart buzz a little and making you shrink a little.
"mine is pretty fine, you made a good choice" you said ignoring your boyfriend lifting his hand to your rib cage and depositing a brief kiss against the line of your sweatpants.
"yeah? did you liked you present baby?" he said while his hand travelled through your body, his fingertips touching the valley between your bobs and resting against your neck. "i always think of you when i see pretty things."
"you know i liked wonu, i almost cried when you showed me the whole bag you brought back full of presents." you saying running your fingers thought his short hair, he almost never used liked that and you dont know why but made you more attatched to it. wonwoo laughed, that almost scoffing sound full of air.
"that's what my baby deserves" he kissed your stomach and retreated his hand just so he could grab you by the hips with both hands. "I'm such a nice boyfriend, and yet you leave me bored out of my mind because of a book." he said playing with the hem of your pants.
"you are acting like I ignored you for an hour." you finally bookmark the page of your book knowing that it is a lost fight. You are not reading a sentence anymore.
"not a hour" your boyfriend finally gets off the sofa just so he can take off your pants, he lays between your legs again and he presses a kiss against you clothed pussy making you catch your breath. "a few minutes at least"
"not even five minutes baby" you complain while opening more your legs so your boyfriend gets comfortable, he just squirm a little and plant his big hands in your thighs.
"more than twenty for sure." he says while he travel his fingers against your clothed pussy, putting more pressure at your clitoris making you whimper pathetically.
"not that much." somehow even to yourself your voice sound pitiful, wonwoo barely did anything to you and somehow you are almost begging already.
"did so." he says without leaving his fingers against your pussy, and you can almost feel his fingertip through the cloth, the way your wetness is spreading somehow makes you feel that the cloth is getting thinner, almost disappearing but still not enough. "I love watching you." he pauses and presses a kiss in your pussy, and you feel his wet tongue against you. "you are so pretty all over, I just can't take my eyes off you" he says as he presses his fingers against your entrance.
"not fair." you protest while your fingers find solace in the pillow by your head.
"what baby?" he tuts. "cant i find my girlfriend pretty?" he says while he finally pushes your panty to the side. he pinches your pussy. "so fucking pretty and so fucking messy."
"wonu" you protest again feelling a little faint, a little dumb like you always gets when wonwoo talks to you like that, with his voice low like he is telling you a secret making your insides coil.
"fucking love your pussy" he says before finally putting his mouth against you, hot breath fanning over your pussy until you feel his tongue between your folds. and its like being submersed in a way, searching for air but not getting enough. wonwoo pushes your legs up and you come back to reality a little bit, the way his fingers presses against your flesh anchors you.
"god" wonwoo murmurs. "i could live like that" he says while his fingers left your thigh and comes to grope at your pussy, pressing his palm against your puffy lips. "could live eating you out" he says against your thights while you feel his fingers at your entrance, and he push just a little, making you go a tad bit crazy, putting your arms above your head and arching your back, trying to make his finger go in just a little bit more. "don't worry baby I will give It to you."
And you just feel a little bit more out of your mind, a little more hot, a little more denraged, the way his speaks to you just make you squirm because his voice is so full of adoration, like every word is just full of lust that make you clench and you just give up feeling his hot mouth against you, his tongue going against your folds. He keeps lapping at your pussy like he is getting so fucking drunk, you lock eyes with him and he just suck your clit while you feel his second finger aagainst you.
"baby please-" you finally beg and you dont even need to finish because wonwoo just knows what you need and his just put his second finger in you, and in a way it feels so much but not enough, you feel so tight, like every muscle of your body is working. You give up, you just need a little bit more, so you trail your hands against yourself, searching, you put your hand inside your hoodie, finding your boobs and squeezing.
wonwoo mouth leaves your pussy and you whine, his free hands lifting up your hoodie so he can watch you playing with yourself. His eyes travel between your hands and pussy like he can't make a choice. "fuck" he laughs a little "you are just so hot." and he just bite the skin at your hips. "so wet and taking my fingers so well" he changes his position and presses his hand against your tigh so you open your legs for him. "look at you" he coos "you have such a pretty cunt." He says while he keeps fucking your with his fingers. You whine again, feeling desperated, hasty, but you are just at the end of the cliff almost falling and wonwoo just know, he takes his other hand and just pinch at your clit making your moan. "come on baby, you can do it, just a little one and i give you my cock hun? just know you gonna take it so well gonna split you open in a little bit."
and you just fall apart thinking about the way his dick would feel.
#wonwoo smut#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo fluff#seventeen fanfic#seventeen smut#authors note: so this is my first fic? so be kind!!!#second: im not a native english speaker so any grammar erros please just point it out its okay not gonna cry if you do it#third: i just think wonwoo would praise and spoil the hell of his gf#also minors dont interact#and the last one is probably would do better next time with warnings and content resume but like i just typed that on a whinper in the -#tumblr app so forgive me#t: writting#t: seventeen#t: jeon wonwoo
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I think that if Kai and Jay were a couple...
• Jay would be obsessed with Kai's hair and he would want to touch it and caress it all the time
• Kai would pretend that he doesn't like it but secretly he would love it (Jay would be the only one "allowed" to touch his precious hair)
#desired reality#reality shifting#lego ninjago#ninjago#ninjago jay#jay walker#ninjago kai#kai smith#ninjago incorrect quotes#kai smith x jay walker#kai x jay#plasma#plasmashipping#ninjago headcanons#ninjago ships#please forgive my mistakes in grammar
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Please let's talk about the infamous quote about Tigris. Enjoy ALL the quote, first of all (thanks to @burntblueberrywaffles for the screen):
Now. You can ignore the second half and take the phrase at its face value, as antis love to do, and think "omg what a horrible man, who thinks this things?! Monster!" and feel proud that you can read in the sense you can recognize the letters, put them together and see that you know how all the words and the word's meaning and applaude yourself. Congrats, you can read!
No, that's not how you read.
Welcome to "basic reading comprehension 1.0".
First of all, this phrase doesn't exist alone, it's not floating in a blank page. You have to read the several sentences before that to actually understand why this phrase was written in the first place. And this phrase is right at the start of the book so I promise it won't take long.
So, let's start. I don't have the english book so please bare with me when I explain you things without the actual quote, I promise it is what actuall happens in the book.
We first see Coriolanus Snow who force himself to eat cabbage soup. That he despises it but he knows he need it to prevent the rumble in his stomach. So, you see, right here in the first sentence you have one important details: Coriolanus is not worried about hunger per se, is worried about let other people know he is hungry. Just with this you can already understand one of his core value: the appearences.
And he tells us so in the next senteces. He has an important name and live in a fancy house (from outside) but he has nothing. He has so nothing that he is now worried about a shirt, because he has important stuff to do (later we discover that the Reaping is tied with the Plinth Prize he needs so desperately). The only hope for the shirt is his cousin, Tigris, who can sew and already save him more than once, but... Well, this time she has not a great start. The only shirt he owns is stained and burned and has only half of the buttons. It needs a miracle, he needs a miracle, and even the black market was no use...
They already tried, he tells us so. But no one wants to buy or exchange the shirt. Only... This morning, the morning of the Reaping, he can not find nor Tigris nor the shirt.
So he starts to worried. And he leads us to why he was thinking about a price for Tigris in the first place. Context, people. I will post the actual quote of the book (thanks to @xalonelydreamerx for the screen):
They already try to sell/exchange something for a better shirt, and they have nothing. What is left? Tigris herself. WHAT IS LEFT? TIGRIS HERSELF, PLEASE READ THIS AGAIN.
So, we have an actual reason, a valid reason, he has to think about Tigris selling herself and people putting price on her.
Now after this come the quote, I paste again for you:
And now we can read the FULL quote.
The first half: he uses this to describe to us his cousin, and he tries to mantain a "fair" and "external pov" for it, because he puts himself in the shoes of a man who can be interested in buying her. The "vulnerability that invited abuse" is a mere objective though and also serve the purpose to tell us reader that Tigris is sweet and innocent and maybe a little bit naive, or can be perceived like that from the world. And we know this is true. Tigris is sweet and caring, she takes care of Coryo, she always did. We will know better later, this is a mere introduction.
But the second half. The second half of the quote, you all. He feels disgusted with himself for the though and this is already a good start to understand that HE DIDN'T MEAN TO PUT A PRICE ON HER AND SELL HER, NEVER, but the actual most important word here is "helpless". HELPLESS. BECAUSE HE IS THE PROVIDER OF THE FAMILY.
He is the hope. We will learn about the Plinth Prize and what it means for the family. We will learn that everyone rely on him to win the prize and save them. We will learn that he was told, since the start, that he as 'the man of the house' has the duty of provide for his family.
He is happy in that role, mind you. Worried sick, of course, because it is difficult and he can count only on the Plinth Prize to achieve something, so he has to win and the pressure is huge. There are also complex feelings around the Snow names: the fact that he feels that it is his duty to protect the family image, masking the thruth... etc etc etc.
But the first information we have, the most important piece we have from the start to put together who is Coriolanus Snow at the core, is right here. In the first page. In a part of that sentence antis like to quote and simply forget to do it in full.
Coriolanus Snow has to face the realistic possibility, the realistic concern that his cousin might consider the idea to sell herself to help him provide for their family and he fells horrified and helpless.
Helpless.
Because 1) a Snow could never think such a thing, how humiliating, how a failure for their name; and most important 2) if Tigris will do it it means that he failed in the worst possible way and he is not longer able to provide for his family and so were is his own worth? When everything he learned since he was born was to take care of his family and his family's name, that it is his duty, because he is the heir (also little ps: we learn later that since he will graduate the little pension they have now for his father death will stop because he will be a man, so also Panem itself is telling him he has to be able to provide for his family because he will be 'grown up' and 'in the real world' now).
We learn that Coriolanus Snow never wants to sell Tigris, that he is sick at the mere though, and we learn just right here just in the first page what are the core value of him. What moves him and what he thinks of himself and his family.
We learn who Coriolanus Snow is, as if we never knew his name and he was just a boy at the start of his own story.
And antis always forget about this and take one sentence out of context and judge him with "president Snow tinted glasses" and just because this quote is at the start of the book they like to scream to everyone "See? This is it, he was always bad, from the start!". And they actually just tell us that they can not understand what they are reading instead.
Okay, I hope that this lesson was worth it. Reading comprehension 1.0. I hope some antis will come accross this post and take time to read it. It's not too late to learn how to understand what you read, after all.
And now I will go to sleep that I have a terrible headache 😂 bye!
#reading comprehension#coriolanus snow#tigris snow#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#anti antis#let's read together#and most important#let's understand together#please forgive my grammar I am so tired#but I needed to write this#if I read another time this quote as a reason to why Snow is the Pure Evil I swear-
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Can we be lonely Together?
A Homelander x Stalker!Reader fan fiction
This is my first fic for this fandom (and in a decade lol) this is a bit of a slow burner and will have about 8 to 9 chapters.
This is a Gender Neutral reader (but honestly is just me shipping Homelander with Joe Goldberg... so feel free to see it as a crossover, just not going to make it clear at all in the fic.)
Summary: We were two mouses pretending to be cats, weren't we?
We didn't expect to find ourselves in this situation, but John... Homelander... you were perfect... none of this was a lie, these feelings I got are genuine! So I don't know why you're using such words like: Stalker, Psychotic bitch, Insane, liar! To describe me... after all I've done? To help you!?
You were wrong.
I just yearned to get closer to you. So what if I did my homework? After all it was you who played along.
I knew you knew... you were so loud.
R18+ (there will be smut, drug abuse and gore in later chapters) gore, stalking, killing.
Chapter One
Apologies
It pains me to say this… I'm genuinely ashamed, embarrassed more like it! To admit that I genuinely wasn’t impressed by you.
Your face had been painted on every surface to death... It has grown boring.
Nothing but an overbearing presence to the common man, but the average citizen didn’t loathe you, fear you, hate you or even found you pastiche! They simply adored you.
Your face was plastered on everything one could imagine and then some– I’m not just talking mugs by the Target checkout area or birthday cards, and keychains, but sausage packages in the supermarket! Your face wasn’t all that special to me… I used to think of you as nothing more than an aged jock from a John Hughes movie, the tights didn’t fool me, you wore the varsity jacket underneath the foam-- I had bets that you were going to be the worst the world could’ve manufactured if I ever met you.
Now… Now I see… I was wrong… contrite is the word that describes this social faux-paux of mine.
Now I see… just how… unique you were-- the whole world didn’t have the faintest idea of just the sheer amount of bullcrap you had to endure everyday. Gosh I couldn’t even fathom being in your shoes, the fantasy alone proved heavy, and you had to do it all while looking more well adjusted and prim than Princess Diana during her divorce.
I’m sure you’ll be so divine in that revenge dress too.
I mean… you sort of knew you looked good in women's clothes, Is okay I like adventurous men… I’ll admit I might've dressed you a couple times in my head… but don’t worry! It was all flattering.
Which in terms of flattering things… it's a shame that this is how you catch me, how we end this farce, this game of pretends... today you could be the cat… I wish at least I had the time to wrap up the plastic sheets, or wash all this off me.
I feel the weight hit my foot directly, I barely wince, but I’m not taking my eyes off of you, feeling wet bubbles and gurgles tickling my bare toes– all I want is to give you decades worth of misplaced attention to those red eyes of yours… I seen your face in a million different ways, but never had I seen it in such vivid technicolor-- There’s no red that can quite match your eyes… as they watch me from this eighteen story window, inside an apartment smaller than your closet (that’s New York city for you kids). I can admit to having fantasized being on the receiving end, it would be fitting for me, us.
This building is so loud, it overwhelms us both, but unlike you right now I don’t have to listen to the upstairs neighbors petty grievances, the next door lady wondering where her kid is at these ungodly hours, the stoner in the elevator, or the homeless man wondering if his dollar store hooch was tainted with something because right now there was the freaking Homelander hovering above him! So I listen to her… right at my feet… gargling… hacking… I didn’t cut deep enough, and we both can hear it… knife still in my hand, her mind is nothing but the flashing lights of a faraway train, it’s ever so silent as the train drives off, all she can think off is a trip to europe when she was a child, and the snow devoured the sun and the music, it was just her, the train, the snow and us now.
“‘Is not what it looks like?’ Is that what you want to say?”
yeah. I mean… Can I? I licked the knife clean as if it was residuals from an apple, trying not to roll my eyes at you.
“Evening… John… Homelander.” My hand is on the window latch letting the cold breeze in, your eyes suffocating me just like the bitch behind us… I almost whimpered as they lost their candor giving me back blue moons– What brings you here?”
You points behind me, unable to believe I just said that, I give way for you.
Always staring at me– I want to hear your thoughts… for the first time in all my years of life I am yearning to listen, feeling every particle of my being falling apart as they're begging me to listen to your thoughts once more… but I can’t… Right now I’m in Finland, is winter, is cold-- everything you aren’t… because I am sorry… I pry so much.
The way you watch me isn’t undressing me further, I am mostly bare, just underwear and sweat and my soul too tainted for you to want to seek, I can’t make sense of that smirk on your lips that has only now begun to reach your eyes… this somehow has amused The Homelander, your laugh scares me far more than your ray-guns– are you mocking me!? No you…you wouldn't be, you’re gentleman after all, if you wanted to mock me… you would treat me like Miss Barrett, or Kevin.
I mean… I don’t want you to hate me. We are perfect for each other. We would be perfect… so just… let me… explain.
“Where do you like me to start?”
Your foot crushed the skull leaving it nothing but a gummy, clumpy pancake under your booth, sick of hearing it mope and cry for any longer it seems, you immediately threw your cracked phone at my feet.
“The beginning.” The Homelander growled.
#homelander fanfiction#homelander x reader#the boys#fanfiction#gore mention#I'm ESL so please forgive my english#should post chapter 2 after I get out of work#tomorrow obviously#Can We Be Lonely Together#personal#my fic tag#will fix grammar tomorrow
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love for Satoru is when you wash his favorite blanket. he’s fresh out the shower, it’s rainy and as he’s laying in bed you tuck him in his favorite blanket, warm, soft, and to him it doesn’t smell of flowers or lavender, but your love and warm smile he can feel ignite his being into something he now knows is love
#this is so unnecessary#with so many run on sentences please forgive my terrible grammar as I have been running on four hours of sleep#gojo#Satoru#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#this post makes no sense
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Since F1 suck at doing their job I might as well do it for them
May I present: F1 STORYLINES THAT THE PEOPLE (me) ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT
Ferrari: Leclerc vs Sainz
It is no secret that Carlos Sainz is out of a seat for 2025, and this will be his last year with the Scuderia many people are wondering how this 2024 season will pan out. Before the season starts many fans are already questioning what will happen. Will there be inner-team rivalry? Will Sainz ignore team orders? Will Leclerc be favoured (more than he usually is) and will Carlos be left on the waste side? We will have to wait to find out.
Mercedes: Hamilton vs Russell
Now we have the reason Sainz does not have a seat for 2025. In a shocking turn of events Lewis Hamilton is moving from Mercedes to Ferrari at the end of the 2024 season. This has left many fans excited but also questioning what will happen on track between the 2 teammates that have already come to blows last season. The main question on everyone’s mind is, “who will be favourited?” The man that won 6 championships with the German outfit or the man who is touted as the future of Mercedes.
Will the other teams catch up?
It is no secret that Red Bull dominated the 2023 season. And all the teams especially Ferrari, McLaren and Mercedes are now playing catch up. But will they even catch up? All the teams reference is the RB19 and not the RB20 that Red Bull spent last year developing. So will the RB20 be better than the RB19 and if so will teams catch up for the 2024 season (I hope the other teams catch up)
McLaren: Norris vs Piastri
Piastri had a rockstar rookie season getting two podiums and a sprint win. That has undoubtedly put pressure on Norris to perform. And of course Norris will be favoured but Piastri will only improve from the 2023 season. So McLaren will need to monitor both drivers and make sure they don’t come to blows on track.
The Back of the grid
Toro Rosso (RB), Sauder (Kick), Williams and HAAS made up the back of the grid last year. And many people are curious if any of them will improve. People expect Toro Rosso to improve as they are taking heavy inspiration from their sister team, Red Bull. But many people want to see where all these teams will finish at the end of the year.
The Red Bull Dilemma
Everybody knows Red Bull like revolving through driver. And this year will be no different. With Perez’ arse on the line and having to perform, at any moment Red Bull can take away his seat and give it to someone else. But who is in contention for that second Red Bull seat? Both Toro Rosso drivers are in contention, with both drivers also racing to stay in Formula 1, as Liam Lawson came in for 5 races (replacing an injured Ricciardo) and lit up the grid, and was promised a seat for 2025. But there are also outsiders who have been rumoured for that second Red Bull seat, with Alex Albon, Fernando Alonso and Lando Norris all rumoured.
Who’s going to get that second Mercedes seat?
There are a lot of people available for that second Mercedes seat in 2025; some of the people in contention are:
Alex Albon
Fernando Alonso
Carlos Sainz
Esteban Ocon
How is Fredrick Vesti not in this conversation?
Kimi Antonelli
It would not surprise me at all if Toto Wolff throws Mick Schumacher in the car
Doriane Pin (in another universe aka my ideal universe)
Will Lance Stroll have a seat in 2025?
Lance Stroll did not have a spectacular 2024 season with many people wanting him out of that Aston Martin seat and Felipe Drugovich to get the seat. But Lawrence Stroll owns Aston Martin so Lance can’t loose his seat. But wait theirs more to the story (😱) Aramco (Saudi Oiler Company) now own a stake in Aston Martin and if Lance Stroll doesn’t improve Aramco might have to force Lawance Strolls hand and kick Lance out.
#please forgive my poor grammar and spelling 🙏#I tried to make this sound as professional as possible… I failed 😞#I’m sorry I refuse to call it VisaCashappRB ima call it toro rosso#same with kick f1 or whatever it’s called I’m calling it sauder#is my biases showing in this? maybe??? I’m not to sure#f1#formula 1#carlos sainz#charles leclerc#ferrari#lewis hamilton#george russell#mercedes#lando norris#oscar piastri#mclaren#red bull racing#aston martin#cecilias vroom vroom car post
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So, I finally dove back into some great writing by @peachy-panic after some chapter updates to their stories Do No Harm and Fifty-Eight Days. I really adore the setting and characters in Fifty-Eight days, and anonamously received the blessing to write some fanfiction, so I did! Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days below the cut - please go read their work if you haven't already!
There's a nameless woman mentioned in the flashback that starts "Reconvergence," and I thought it would be interesting to see the rescue scene from a different point of view (and perhaps from the point of view of someone who is mostly lucid at the time). It's obviously a fan work, so there are some canon divergences and creative liberties just to make it flow, but I really love the characters and hope I did them a bit of justice.
Spoilers for Fifty-Eight Days by peachy-panic
TW: implied non-con, aftermath of non-con, nudity mention, strong language, kidnapping, blood mention, gore mention, violence mention
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“You should be prepared for anything,” the Lieutenant Colonel had said. As any dutiful officer would, Eleanor Martin took those words to heart, and prepared as well as one could. Naievely, she thought she had prepared for anything. But that pre-mission briefing felt like a lifetime ago now that she was staring at the gore-soaked aftermath of the compound raid.
Voss’s men had put up a fight, just as they had expected. The winding halls were lined with bodies of the nameless henchmen, grey brain matter collecting in puddles alongside skull fragments, crimson splattered up against the walls. Ivory paint was pock-marked with countless bullet holes, and the smell of gunpowder lingered alongside the pungent odor of copper. Death permeated every pore of her body.
It hadn’t been hard to find Voss’s room, an elegant suite tucked away at the heart of the sprawling compound. He had thought himself a king, and the bedroom had clearly been built to reflect this sentiment.
The only crown Voss wore now was a ring of liquid red. His eyes were already glossed over with the pallor of death, and he was gazing up at the ceiling with a permanent grimace etched in his leathery skin. For a man who had been hunted by authorities for years, a man turned into a monstrous specter that rivaled the devil himself, he seemed so small as he slumped lifeless against the bedroom wall with a bullet hole between his brows.
But it wasn’t Voss that had seared an image in Eleanor’s mind when she entered the room. It was the two young men, the very ones they had also hoped to find in this place, caught amidst the gunfire and the chaos. Naked, soaked in blood, the whites of their eyes showing like frightened dogs. They hardly resembled the two photos that authorities had received six long weeks ago, but it was unmistakably the two missing missionaries. And amidst the flurry of uniformed men entering the room, it was clear that no one knew what to do with the surviving victims. Perhaps this was because they were never expected to be found alive.
“Gordon, call the medics in,” Eleanor barked at her colleague. He nodded, shoving his pistol back in its holster before running out of the room. Eleanor tried to ignore the fact the other soldier looked as though he were about to be sick.
Movement caught her eye, and Eleanor turned her attention back to the victims. The boy she recognized as Grayson Dawning scrambled off the bed, his face stained with tears and blood, an expression of hopeless despair frozen in place. Alive. He was alive, unmistakably, honest-to-god alive.
While finding both victims alive was better than any of the authorities involved had expected, Eleanor could already tell that survival was not a kindness to either of these young men. The near-catatonic one—Elijah—was still facedown on the bed and gagged. Even among the armed men reorganizing themselves to sweep the rest of the compound, his cloth-stifled soft sobs still filled the room with heart-wrenching pain.
“You- you gotta help him,” Grayson mumbled as he staggered to his feet beside the bed, hands pulling at the cloth gag that was stuffed in Elijah’s mouth. Grayson didn’t seem to care that he was still exposed, burdened by the stench of sweat and sex across every inch of his skin. Eleanor’s stomach turned.
Be prepared for anything.
“Easy, Mr. Dawning,” she murmured, unsure of what else to say. After all, what could she say? It didn’t take an expert or a medic to understand what they had stormed in on.
Blood streaked down Elijah’s legs, across his face, all over the sheets of the bed. From the mass of wounds on his back and his thighs, it was hard to tell which injuries were fresh and which were just gnarled scars. But rather than attempt to stymie the bleeding, she took to pulling Grayson away, trying to get a handle on the situation until the medics arrived.
“I’ll get that,” she promised as she nudged Grayson’s trembling hands away from Elijah’s head. The young man didn’t offer her any resistance as she carefully undid the knot buried within the unruly curls. She couldn’t help but wince as her own fingers shook, but soon the knot loosened, and the crude gag finally came undone. With as much caution as she could muster she eased it out of his mouth.
“Elijah, please,” Grayson cried softly, his hands touching Elijah’s shoulder, trying to break through the fog that had overcome the younger of the pair. But as Eleanor could clearly see, Elijah’s eyes were unfocused, welling with tears, vacant but for the slightest spark of life. She wondered if he could even hear his companion at all.
“Well, shit,” Adam muttered as he looked at the two boys on the bed, the medic suddenly having appeared at Eleanor’s side. He dropped the medical bag to the floor and began his usual procedures, pulling the zippers open to reveal his instruments and supplies. There was no mistaking the urgency with which the man had gotten down to business.
“Adam, this is Grayson and Elijah,” she said, gesturing to them each in turn. She wasn’t trained to interact with patients like Adam was, but the least she could do was give them a name to attach to a face. Maybe she hoped it would give them some comfort, ground them amidst the chaos that had just rained down. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
She wasn’t even sure there was a right thing to do in a situation like this.
“Hey, Elijah,” Adam said as he settled down by the bedside. “My name’s Adam, and I’m here to help you out.” Elijah didn’t respond, eyes still staring off into empty space, tears leaking freely in streams through the blood and grime.
“Please, you have to help him,” Grayson said, pleading. “Please, Elijah, I’m so sorry. I’m- it’s going to be okay. I'm sorry.” It was impossible to miss how Grayson’s hand wrapped around Elijah’s, squeezing tight. Whatever they had gone through, they were the only ones that could understand each other now.
“I’m checking your vitals now,” Adam continued, narrating his actions to Elijah softly beneath Grayson’s panicked chatter. “We’re going to start with your blood pressure and your heart. Eleanor, can you finish untying him?”
Shit. Eleanor hadn’t even thought to undo the restraints binding the boy’s wrists. She made quick work of those so Adam could slide the blood pressure cuff around Elijah’s recently-released arm. Moments later the rest of the medical team arrived, two gurneys and more medical supplies in tow.
“Yeah, we’ve got to load them up and get them out of here as soon as we can,” Adam said as he stood up to look at Eleanor, face taut with a newfound urgency. Whatever numbers the paramedic had pulled from his devices, they hadn't been good. “Our team will take Elijah here, and Joe’s team can take Grayson. We’ll take them both to the predetermined hospital, but it’s up to your folks to get the American authorities down there.”
“Fuck, right, I’ll let the Lieutenant Colonel know,” Eleanor answered, reaching for her walkie-talkie on her belt. The fact that these boys were alive was going to spare something of an international incident. She was supposed to let the Lieutenant Colonel know as soon as there was any definitive contact with the boys, dead or alive. Somehow, that had slipped her mind upon seeing their condition, that scene she had walked in on. If word of what truly happened got to the press, she wasn’t sure it would be much better than if they had been found dead.
After she made the call to her boss—yes, they were alive, and they were about to get brought out to the awaiting ambulances—she helped pull Grayson away from Elijah. This gave the other paramedics enough time to get to work on Grayson, running a rapid assessment of his vitals and responsiveness. As soon as he had lost contact with Elijah’s skin, Grayson seemed to disappear in much the same dissociative state.
This older one of the pair, supposedly a group leader that had pursued Elijah after he went missing, was barely more lucid than his catatonic companion. And as Elijah was rolled out of the room on a stretcher, bodies cleared out of the way as they went, Grayson seemed lost in a fog. Eleanor kept her grip on his upper arm as he looked around like a lost child.
“Where is he?” Grayson asked, panic renewed as he came back to himself, if only just. “Where did you take him?” He pulled himself from Eleanor’s grasp and stumbled towards the hallway, past the broken door, feet passing over the puddles of blood without hesitation.
“Where is Elijah?” He called out into the nothingness as Eleanor and the other paramedics followed after him, prepared to intercept and bring him to a gurney of his own.
“Mr. Dawning,” a shorter paramedic pleaded, “You need to sit down and let the medics look at you. We need to get you to the hospital.”
It was obvious by the full-body tremors that Grayson wasn’t particularly amiable to that suggestion. Eleanor, not versed in the art of comforting, and without a maternal instinct in her body, again attempted to soothe.
“It’s over now,” she said as she prepared to guide Grayson out of the winding compound. “It’s over, you’re safe.” He seemed to flinch when she reached for his shoulder again, so she drew her hand back. It would have to be enough to walk by his side. So she did, walking close by his shoulders, the paramedics rolling the gurney and their supplies a few paces behind. But she may as well have not even been there as they navigated the winding halls, Grayson still calling out Elijah’s name, eyes darting to every face they passed.
Once they were outside in the driveway, washed in the bright white of industrial grade lights and the flashing of emergency vehicles preparing to depart, Grayson seemed to snap back into focus. Of course; it seemed that Elijah was about to be loaded into one of the waiting ambulances, his body atop a stretcher and draped in blankets.
“Elijah!” Grayson cried out, voice cutting above the fray of uniformed officials trying to make some sense of the carnage that was unraveling inside the compound. From the chatter on Eleanor’s radio, it seemed that these wayward missionaries were not the only victims to be found in the recesses of Voss’s personal playground. More ambulances - and coroners - would likely be on their way in a matter of minutes.
Grayson nearly tumbled to the ground as his foot caught on the edge of the gurney, but somehow the emaciated boy caught himself and continued to propel forwards towards Elijah. That spark of desperation pulled again at Eleanor’s heartstrings. She watched the paramedics try to ward Grayson off, refuse his entry into the ambulance, their faces stern. Even Adam seemed prepared to put his foot down and protect the patient in his stead.
For a moment, Eleanor was lost. She likely would never see these boys again, not in person. Perhaps on the news or in her nightmares. But even if she would never see them again, she would remember these moments for the rest of her life. Perhaps they would too. What kindness could she afford them now?
“Let him,” she said, walking a few paces towards the waiting ambulance. “Let them go together.”
One of the paramedics looked like he was prepared to argue, but Eleanor knew that her rank was visible on her chest patch. A short tilt of her chin and squint of her eyes was all it took to make them fold.
As soon as wordless permission was granted, Grayson grabbed onto Elijah’s hand, both of their knuckles white. Fear still danced around them, but in the last few moments that Eleanor saw them before the doors closed, she knew she had made the right decision. Whatever awaited those boys in the future, and whenever they had to reckon with what she had glimpsed upon breaching that door, that would be saved for another day. For now, for these few short minutes before they were subjected to a thousand questions and countless doctors prodding at them, they would have each other. Maybe that would be enough.
#whump#whump community#whumplr#fanfic#peachy-panic#I've never done fanfic for a not-majorly-published piece before#so I'm super nervous lmao but yolo amiright?#trying to get back into writing and I wasn't going to ignore a muse#no matter where that muse came from or what it asked of me#so yeah this was just a little other-POV to look at these sweet bois#how I'd imagine it anyway#ramble ramble ramble I'm just ahhhh#please go read the original it's so good#also please forgive any eras#I have no betas just my own impulses and poor grasp of grammar
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Кто-нибудь из вас любит кошек? потому что если да, то у меня их много, если это имеет значение
Кошки — не мое любимое животное, лично мне они слишком сильно напоминают одного человека. Крысы мне больше по душе.
Но хорошо для тебя. Если кошки счастливы, это все, что имеет значение, и вы должны этим гордиться.
О боже, пожалуйста, прости мою сентиментальность. Двигаясь дальше, прошло довольно много времени с тех пор, как я говорил так. Спасибо, что предоставили мне эту возможность.
#Ah sorry sorry my spelling and grammar may be a bit off#For a rough translation r3oontumb asked#Do any of you like cats? Because if it matters-I have many#Fyo says Cats are not my favorite animal. Personally they remind me too much of a certain person (meaning dazai) I prefer rats#But good for you. If the cats are happy that's all that matters and you should be proud#Oh dear- please forgive my sentimentality. Moving on-it has been a while since I've talked like this. Thank you for providing me this chanc#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd ask#bsd asks#fyodor answers#fyodor dostoevsky
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Apparently this is a thing so here’s an introduction to my blog for the one maybe two people who are interested.
I’m (I have recently been called cassette by someone and I guess that is now my nickname lmao) i currently reside in the middle of nowhere Canada
Uhhhhhh….. I don’t know what else (god I hope this is temporary)
Pronouns: guess lmao
Enjoy this hellhole of blog. Have a good day
And now I bid you adieu
I need sleep
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somewhere in norway, 2016.
scarlett wakes up and finds herself all alone in their temporary safeplace in the middle of nowhere while she and her mother were on the run. everything is completely silent and dark. she calls out to her mother and when she doesn't get an answer, scarlett gets up, and grabs closest weapon to her ( a gun or a knife probably ) and prepares to search the place, until she sees a note left by natasha explaining that she went into town to get more fuel for the generator. “ok, that's not that bad.” scarlett thinks to herself, after all, this was expected to happen. not so soon, perhaps, but expected nonetheless.
she knows the distance and exactly how long it takes from that place to the closest grocery store, so scarlett looks for something to keep her busy while she awaits. she doesn't want to be stuck with her own thoughts because she really doesn't want to think too much about the last few days and how crazy everything has been so she tries the computer left on the table. it still has battery and moonraker is still paused where her mother was probably watching until the generator went out. it's not scarlett's favorite movie, but it’s better than nothing.
the movies starts, and more time passes by, until scarlett realizes that her mother is taking too long to come back. she didn't know exactly when she'd left, but she should definitely be back by now. this is when the redhead starts to worry. scarlett begins to get more and more nervous with each passing minute. when it gets unbearable, she gets up, starts pacing, constantly looking out the window, her ears pricked for noises around—cars, movement—anything.
“something's wrong, something's definitely wrong.” it's all she can think about. at this point she's sure something happened. maybe ross and his goons were able to track them there ? could he arrest both of them this far away from their country ? probably not, but if it’s not him, then what ?
her mind starts racing. she’s thinking of all scenarios and plans that she can came up with…. until she hears something approaching. a car. this one’s different from the one they were using, so scarlett gets ready to fight, to defend herself form whatever’s coming her way. but, to her surprise, it’s her mother who gets out of the car. relief washes over her for a moment, but her guard's still up. the redhead still feels like something is very wrong.
scarlett bombards her mother with questions as soon as she opens the door. "what happened ? where have you been ? why are you all soaked ? are we in danger ?” to these questions she receives only short and to the point answers. natasha tells her to get the new identities and passports and leave everything else behind because they have to get moving. she'll explain everyting with more details on the way.
there's a brief hesitation on scarlett's part. she really thought they could stay at least a day or two there, but they're on the run and it is what it is. she does as she was asked, and they leave the safeplace behind just a few moments after that, heading for budapest.
drabble based on the beginning of black widow
#i mean is this even a drabble ?#idk it started as a headcanon#then it changed to me rambling about this#and in the end this is was on my hands.#this idea has been on my mind for like#2 years ever since i've watched the movie#but i’ve never wrote it down but i did now :3#please forgive any grammar mistakes#it's literally the first time i've#wrote something like this lol#i probably could do something better but#this came from my heart and will have to do#i’m not really used to write stuff like this but#i wanna do more ! i already have an idea#for another one let’s see if i’ll post !#01. ❅ тнaт'ѕ a нιѕтory aвoυт ѕpιderѕ & нawĸѕ ( нeadcanonѕ ) ❅
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Do you ever write something and just stare at it like 🤨 because you can tell something is off with the grammar, but you can't for the life of you tell what it is
#ive been told by friends that my grammar is horrific#which i didnt think it was that bad but then i started actually paying attention and now i agrre#anyways so forgive any grammar mistakes please#ao3#ao3 writer#fanfiction writers#writers
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Date for... Three
Summary: Jaya is going on a date but all the ninja have "something important to do" and young Lloyd can't stay alone in the Bounty. Jay and Nya decide to take him with them.
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Jay was so angry. He finally managed to ask Nya for another date but obviously something had to go wrong again! He didn't watch after Lloyd the last week because he was kinda sick, that was true. Zane took care of Lloyd for two days to cover Jay's place. This week, he could babysit Lloyd every other day except Saturday! He had a date on Saturday! Jay asked everyone if they could exchange day with him so he would be free for Nya. But no! Everyone had something else to do. Well... Kai didn't really have something important... He just hoped that the date would get cancelled. Thanks Kai...
Now Jay had to tell Lloyd and Nya the news. He decided to tell Nya first. She was in her room so he went there a little anxious, took a deep breath and knocked the door. He tried to look as calm as possible when Nya told him to come in.
Jay: H-hey Nya...
Nya: Oh hey Jay. What's happening? Are you alright?
Jay: Yes, yes! I'm good... I just...
Nya: You don't look good. Sit down.
Jay: No, I'm fine... I just have something important to tell you.
Nya: Oh... It's about our date again, isn't it?
Jay: Well... Yes.
Nya: Agh! Can we just have a normal date? We don't ask for much!
Jay: Well... It seems that someone has to take care of Lloyd today... And that someone has to be me. We are unlucky...
Nya: No one else could replace you?
Jay: No. Zane did last week. And this is our first day off after a long time. They all have things to do.
Nya: So now we can either cancel our date or take Lloyd with us?
Jay: That's how it seems. Umm... What do you prefer? Don't get me wrong, I don't want to cancel our date! I just don't know if taking Lloyd with us is a very good idea...
Nya: Well... We are going to the cinema and then in the park... I think Lloyd can come. Right?
Jay: Don't ask me! I'm awful with children!
Nya: Oh, come on! You're not that bad.
Jay: Whatever... You know what? Don't change your plans for today. We are going on a this date no matter what. We will eventually have company but we can manage. Agreed?
Nya: Since our last date was destroyed, and we don't know when we'll have another day off... Yes, i agree.
Jay: But you are the one who's going to tell Lloyd the news.
Nya: Why me?!
Jay: Because last time i argued with him, he tried to bite me! And he succeeded! I still have the mark!
Nya: Then try to not argue with him this time.
Jay: Easy for you to say. He likes you but he seems to dislike me.
Nya: That's because you are panicking with everything no matter how small it actually is. You end up being overprotective Jay. Let him breathe.
Jay: ...Good point. But come on Nya! Please tell him. I can't do it by myself. Never trust me with a child, that's a law!
Nya: Fine. But I'll do it just because I don't want anything to ruin this date, including Lloyd's complaining.
Jay: Oh, thank you Nya! You are amazing!
Nya: I know, right? What would you do without me?
Jay left Nya's room after a while and went straight to his bed. He wasn't sleepy. He just wanted to think. He was so anxious about this date. He was worried that something would go wrong again... Like last time... And since Lloyd was coming too? More chances of ending up in trouble. But he needed this date so bad... He wanted to make it up to Nya for transforming into a snake and wasting his first chance. He hoped for something better this time. How bad could it possibly go? Okay... This question doesn't help at all. But still. He just needed calmness, patience and luck. Something he didn't have.
Afternoon came faster than he thought. He took a quick shower, got dressed and this time he chose casual clothes. Much better and much more comfortable than the suit he wore to Megamonster. And no perfume anymore. When he was ready, he found Lloyd. The kid was playing video games, completely focused on his "epic win".
Jay: Lloyd? Are ya ready yet?
Lloyd: (Deep sigh) Why do i have to come with you? Why can't i stay here? I almost beat your record!
Jay: What?!
Lloyd: Relax. Not in your favourite game.
Jay: Ah. Okay... Well, Lloyd, apparently you are too young to stay here alone and since it's my turn to take care of you, you must come.
Lloyd: Oh, now I'm too young! Yesterday i was too old, today I'm too young... Choose one already!
Jay: Sorry bud. But please don't make it harder... I wanted so much to have this second chance to impress Nya... Please help me out!
Lloyd: She told me we are going to the cinema and then... The park?
Jay: Yes. Please Lloyd, I'm literally begging you! I don't want any trouble today...
Lloyd: Let me see... Buy me a pack of strawberry caramels and a lollipop and I'll be an angel.
Jay: Deal.
Lloyd: Deal. But tomorrow I'm gonna complain about how boring your date was.
Jay: Tomorrow break my nerves, i don't care. Just not today.
Lloyd followed Jay to Nya's room. She was ready, waiting for them. Jay couldn't help but stare at her. She looked so good in casual clothes (much more like her style than any other fancy dress or something) and wow- blue looked amazing on her... Jay was used to watching Nya in red and he loved it as well, but blue? Blue was something else! It was Lloyd's voice that brought Jay back to reality.
Lloyd: Hey Nya! You look beautiful!
Nya: Hey guys! Thank you Lloyd!
Jay: Hi, Nya... Wow...
Nya: You like it? I needed a change. And i thought blue would look just right.
Jay: It looks perfect...
Lloyd: It's the colour of your eyes. It suits you.
Nya: Thanks! Now let's go! There's no need to waste more time in here.
Lloyd was calm and quiet in the beginning of the date. Nya and Jay were walking holding each of Lloyd's hands like if he was their child. Lloyd was just looking in the city's lights and skyscrapers admiring them. The colourful lights were reflecting in his green eyes. Jay and Nya seemed to have a normal conversation like the usual ones they have which Lloyd though as incredibly boring. He would have started complaining already if it wasn't about the candy deal. Kai banned him from sugar and sweets for a whole month! He needed those candies! Being patient for the rest of the day was his only chance of getting them.
They all finally arrived at the cinema. It was a little crowded due to the new Starfarer movie. Jay and Nya wanted to watch a romantic movie but now that Lloyd was with them... They had to change plans. And of course when Lloyd saw the huge posters of his favourite comics he decided what movie they would watch, immediately. Could they go against that little guy? No. He was too adorable and polite. How could they ignore his request? Answer: they couldn't. And since they couldn't watch the romantic movie they wanted anyway, nothing better than sci-fi.
They bought pop corn because there's no way Jay was watching a movie without pop corn (and jellies for Lloyd but shhh! 🤫). The movie started and ended peacefully. Lloyd liked it a little too much and didn't took his eyes off of the screen, not even for a second. Maybe this date wasn't that bad after all. Jay and Lloyd liked the comics and Nya liked watching both of them happy. She knew the characters and plot after so many hours they were both talking to her about their favourite sci-fi comics so there was no need for the boys to explain anything.
The movie was long enough though and the place was too crowded, so after the credits they needed fresh air. The couple took Lloyd by the hands and they went to the park laughing and listening to the child talking enthusiastically about the film. Lloyd had too much energy after staying still for a three hour movie so he used their walk as a chance to play in the park and the fountain.
Jay and Nya could have some alone time now... They did. They left Lloyd run around the fountain for a while. Not for too long, but it was enough for them to admire the night sky and the bright, full moon. At least that's what Nya was admiring because Jay got lost in her shiny, blue eyes. He was so pleased, watching his crush being happy and relaxed instead of having one thousand things in her mind, troubling her thoughts and breaking her nerves. That wasn't a usual view: Nya being so calm. She usually was either stressed or she was wearing the tough warrior mask for long periods of time. Jay loved giving her a break every now and then. She totally deserved it.
Don't think this date was going to end with that typical kiss everyone shares at similar situations though. Of course there was a kiss as well but it was interrupted by noises of disgust.
Lloyd: That's disgusting, both of you! Ewww!!!
The couple couldn't help but laugh with Lloyd's reaction to their kiss. And they had to tease him about it! They made the perfect plan just by looking in each others eyes, no need for words. They run to Lloyd, hugged him and kissed his forehead causing him to laugh more than he complained. They were so happy running around, playing, and making jokes! Someone might call them childish or silly but Jay and Nya couldn't care less because they loved every single second of it! So did Lloyd!
Maybe bringing the kid with them wasn't a bad idea after all. Instead, of "ruining" things, this little guy helped them relax, be themselves and get rid of awkwardness and anxiety. Lloyd himself didn't get bored as he thought, neither he became a "burden". He had fun too. And he felt safe for once. Safe and comfortable with the people he considered to be his family. They looked so much like a family and felt like being one.
............................................................................
Credits to @finnsomersaults Thanks for giving me this request! 😉 And i should have posted this earlier so i apologize for being late.
Also, please forgive any possible mistakes.
#desired reality#reality shifting#lego ninjago#ninjago#ninjago jay#jay walker#ninjago lloyd#lloyd garmadon#nya smith#green ninja#ninjago nya#ninjago jaya#hydroelectric jaya#jaya#young lloyd#ninjago kai#kai smith#please forgive my mistakes in grammar#kid lloyd#jay x nya
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meme for munday // open
@eternitycyber asked: Tell one of your RP Pet Peeves.
I think this might be considered a pet peeve, or it could just be me bitchin’ but either way it was all that came to mind. That’s the mistreating of OCs, like I said it can be me bitchin’ but it really rubs me the wrong way when you’ve got or know someone that has a very well written OC fixed into a verse and then the fandom just shits all over ‘em. Like I know there are “bad” OCs out there but it doesn’t mean you gotta lump them under the same bus. HELL even if the OC is terribly written, if the creator is open to learn and modify their character then yeah lay off. I’m not saying love every OC you come across or put ‘em on a pedestal, but just remember that real people just like you and me made these characters BECAUSE they love the series/game or even genre that you do, so let’s just respect one another and have a good time. Equally if they’re not well written but the mun is open to change, suggestion and guidance then yeah let’s help them out, and if they’re just an ass well that’s why tumblr made a block option. That’ll be the end of my bitching.
#❛ JAY ANSWERS ━ strike with my stick but no wood slice it up good.#❛ OUT OF CHARACTER: They don't give then I take.#also sorry for all the bad grammar in there#forgive me please >.>#eternitycyber
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Desperate
COD Men x FemReader
Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.
Word count: ~3.6k
A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.
Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)
Banner credit: @cafekitsune
You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.
The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.
The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.
You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.
You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…
Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.
No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.
Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”
Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.
“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.
You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-
But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.
“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.
He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.
“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.
His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.
It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?
You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.
The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.
The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?
He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.
He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.
His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.
He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.
“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.
“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.
His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”
Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.
He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”
Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.
“Yes.”
This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.
“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.
You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.
“Well, I did say next time.”
This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.
Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod x reader#female reader#codmw2 smut#smut#smutty#smut fanfiction#smut fic#captain john price#simon ghost riley#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#alex keller#alejandro vargas#rodolfo rudy parra#keegan russ#Kim Horangi Hong-jin#ghost x reader#könig#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#john price x you#konig x reader#konig x you#captain john price smut#sex pollen
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౨ৎ ‧˚
𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧
miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.6k words
fic masterlist previous five pt six next part
mentions of injury; miguel be fantasising bout you guys; miguel makes you say spanish sentences that you don’t know the meaning of (i don’t think this is a warning but oh well); please also forgive if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes (I’m tired af) — after the incident you wake up at HQ, with a note saying your hired status. with confusion you go to speak to miguel. along the way there and back you get your friends acting suspicious. miguel finally begins to accept that he wants to keep you close.
Your eyes slowly blink open, bright light invading your vision. At first you just lie there, no thoughts really occupying your brain.
As you go to sit up, having realised that you're lying on a bed, a hand suddenly rests on your shoulder. You turn to see Hobie. "Careful there, mate, wouldn't want ya knocking out again."
"What..." You drift off, brows furrowing as you rub your temples. "Knocked out...oh." Thoughts, or more so memories, begin to flood your brain. The different universe. Miles. The masked men. The running...and then...Miguel. You remember seeing Miguel, he had helped you, asking you to stay quiet.
You remember the instant feeling of relief when he had spoken, and then the droopy feeling of your exhausted body.
You go to swing your legs off the bed, as you gaze around the medical room. But Hobie keeps his hand on your shoulder. "You've gone through some stuff over the past couple days, take it easy."
"I'm alright...thank you." You nod, giving him a small smile. "Am I back at HQ?" Then you further mutter. "I thought he'd send me home."
"Yeah, me too...but maybe your act of defiance changed his mind." Hobie chuckles.
You go to shake my head. "I didn't mean t-"
"Mean to go, yeah don't worry we knew not long after you disappeared." Hobie interrupts.
You nod, but then your brows begin to furrow. "Wait, how did you know?"
"Miguel actually found out. He got pissed you left a day early. Thanks for that, by the way." Hobie nudges your shoulder gently.
You softly chuckle, though your thoughtful expression stays. "How'd he found out? I could've just gone home. I planned to just go home."
"I think he went to your universe." Hobie says, a sly grin forming.
You stare at him. "Why? To tell me I should have worked that day?"
Hobie shrugs. "Maybe."
You shift your body, so that you're somewhat facing him more. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Hm?" Hobie hums, acting innocent.
"Hobie don't have that expression if you're gonna stay silent." You wave your finger in front of his face.
Hobie stands, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what you're talking about, y/n."
"Hobie."
But he's already walking out he door. "Oh." He pokes his head back in. "There's some lunch on that table there. Be grateful I didn't eat it."
;;
You stare at the note in your hand. It read 'You're not fired as of Tuesday'.
"Peter, hey. Have you seen Miguel?" You ask as Peter nears you, your hand now scrunching around the note. Another god forsaken note.
"Y/n, hey. Glad to see you look less pale." Peter smiles, but you're persistent.
"Apparently I'm not fired?"
"You got your job back, nice." Peter at first doesn't notice your blatant narrowed gaze. But when he does, his smile turns to a frown of confusion. "You don't seem happy about that."
"I'm confused. He isn’t one to mess with people…right?"
Peter tilts his head to the side. "Eh, part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he did." He mutters.
"I mean, not even a day ago he was wanting me gone. Not that much has happened to change his mind." You say.
"Actually a lot has happened."
"Yeah, but that stuff shouldn't change his decision about me working here."
Peter shrugs. "Maybe it did."
"Your elaboration there is great, Peter, thanks." Your sarcasm is clear.
Peter smiles, fixing the spider beanie on Mayday's head, as she babbles on about something. "Go talk to him. Most of the time I can't read him, so I wouldn't have a clue."
"That's why I'm trying to find him." You say, to which Peter answers with "I think I saw him heading to the top floor."
And so you make your way to the stairs to heaven (hell). You had just walked down them in an effort to find Miguel, now you were walking up them...in an effort to find Miguel. This fact only seemed make you even more annoyed with him.
Great, you got your job back, but at this point you needed to know why. You needed to know what made him change his mind that quickly. Nothing else ever has. Miguel has always been one to make final decisions, with not much there to sway him.
You think back to Miguel’s reasoning for his initial firing, as you walk up the steps. It was because of the attack. So why would he re-hire you because of another one? Or more so because of the same masked men who had attacked. Were they even the reason?
Does Miguel think you know something, and is wanting you back to tell him? No—you think to yourself. He wouldn’t re-hire you for that simple reason.
When you reach the top, your gaze gets caught up in a decision of what direction to take. None of his offices were up here. The only place you can think that Miguel would go is his room.
But you pause in front of his door. Did you really want to go in there? He’s clearly not working if is in there. God, but you had too many unanswered questions, so you knock.
It’s silent for a moment, besides your breathing and the distant chatter of spider-people. You go to knock again, but the door creaks open. It’s darker inside, the dim lighting reminding you of one of his past requests. You can remember the feel of his broad shoulders when giving him that massage. The small groans he would let slip.
You had pushed aside that memory, not liking the way it made your entire body buzz. “Miguel?”
Then he opens the door wider, staring down at you. His position was surprisingly relaxed, one arm leant against the doorframe, as he wore those monotoned clothes that brought out his red eyes.
Speaking of those red eyes, you caught them scanning your body, a little too slowly and for a little too long. You gulp, not meaning to come across so nervous.
You hold up the severely scrunched up note. Miguel shifts his gaze to it. “I see you decided to take your annoyance out on that this time.” He comments.
You narrow your eyes. “Why am I not fired?”
“I thought you’d be happy to see that note.” He says, relaxing more against the doorframe.
“No. I’m not happy to see any note.” You say, lowering your arm. “Why couldn’t you just tell me in person?”
“Because I wanted to avoid this.” He gestures to you in general.
“You can’t expect me not to be a little curious at the sudden change of heart.” You say, trying not to let your gaze drift down his body. When he had shifted his shirt rose a fraction, letting you see part of his hips and abs.
Of course he had abs. You weren’t blind to how built he was, but the small visual still seemed to make you blink too many times and your brain re-wire.
“You don’t need to be curious.” Miguel states, his tongue running along his fang as if he were bored, but the expression in his eyes begged to differ.
“But I am.” You say, tucking the note in your back pocket. “Look, it’s beneficial for you if I know the reason. Then I can work on what made you want to fire me and continue doing what made you re-hire me.”
“Don’t do what made me re-hire you.” Miguel quickly answers.
Your brows furrow. “You’re saying that like what I did was bad…Why would you hire me for something you don’t want me to do again?”
“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”
“Don’t worry, I have a lot more in my head for you.” You smile.
Miguel shakes his head, looking away with a clench to his jaw. The tiniest of smiles edged the corner of his mouth, but with his turned away head you weren’t able to catch it. And when he glanced back it was gone.
“Can’t I do something without being questioned?” Miguel asks. “I mean, you got your job back, you should be happy…and any other sparkly emotion.”
“You should use those ‘sparkly emotions’ more often, O’Hara. You know people who can lead with positivity usually get more people on their side.” You tilt your head with a raise to your brow.
“You do realise going off track isn’t gonna make me tell you anything.” Miguel says.
Your smile falls as you press your lips together with a sigh. Miguel darts his gaze up your form again, checking your injuries. Your ankle was only partially sprained so no cast was needed, but his gaze kept on getting caught up on the small cuts that littered your body. Some faint, some more prominent, like the one on your bottom lip.
Before he knows it he’s grabbing a belt loop of your pants, pulling you slightly closer as he tilts your head how he wants. Your eyes widen at the action as your heart begins to pick a quicker pace. Two of his fingers stay under your chin—keeping your head tilted up—while his thumb hovers over your cut lip, his gaze narrowed in inspection.
“You should make sure that that doesn’t get infected.” He says in a whisper.
You scoff, though it comes out softer than intended, you having to gulp immediately after. You had been right—having him this close was going to give you a heart attack. “That’s rich coming from you.” Your voice has turned to a mere whisper also.
“You keep seeming to forget that you’re only human.” He mutters. “Weak.”
“You forgot annoying.” You mutter back. Miguel meets your gaze and you freeze. He was close. Too close. Because your mind was beginning to fog over as you stared at Miguel’s intrigued eyes.
Then suddenly he says “We’ll continue our Spanish lessons in a few hours.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.” You say, to which his eyes narrow, his hold still keeping your head tilted up.
“Really?” He sounds disbelieving. “So, you manage to say one Spanish sentence, and that’s it? you’re done?” He tilts his head his eyes darting. “I thought you were more determined than that.”
You narrow your eyes in turn. “And I learnt that sentence from my phone. So, yes, I think I’m fine.”
A small sneering smirk began to curve his lips. “I thought I took your phone.”
Your mouth opens and closes. “I…got a new one.”
“Or…you stole it back.” He counters, raising a brow.
“It’s easier this way. I don’t have to bother you with lessons.”
“But I liked getting something in return.” He answers smoothly.
“You were asking for things anyone could do.” You say.
“But I’d have to pay for someone to give me a massage.” He mocks sadness. “When you were there being oh so nice and generous.”
“I wasn’t being generous. It was apart of the deal.”
“And it still is.”
“No. You firing me, got rid of the deal altogether.” You say, moving to step away, wanting to breath in air that wasn’t getting mixed in with his.
But he pulls you back, tightening his hold on your chin a fraction, one of his fingers dragging to rest on the in-between of your jaw and neck.
“But I re-hired you, which means the deal’s back on.”
“What if I say no to the job?” You suddenly ask.
“Chaparrita, you’re not gonna say no.”
And you hated the fact that he was right. No matter what people said you did like this job, being around all these spider variants. It settled for an interesting life.
Miguel’s finger—that rested by your jaw—started to subtly caress back and forth. It had soon grown into a habit of his, when he got the chance to touch you.
There was almost something soothing about it for him. Being able to feel your soft skin against his claws, that he would usually only use for violence. A contradiction that silently said to him ‘Not everything about you is violent. Not everything has to be’.
And those words only seemed to come up in your presence. At first he had been annoyed by them and that fact. He doesn’t have time or the energy for “feelings” and such. He had to stay focused.
But over—especially—the past few days his annoyance had fizzled away, slowly but surely. Shifting to a feeling that he much preferred, one that made his body buzz with heat. And of course—only in your presence.
So, yes, maybe he did re-hire you so that the masked men wouldn’t be able to find you in your home, but maybe it was also for selfish reasons. Not liking the idea of not seeing you, even if his scowl was still present.
He liked being around you, even just listening to you talk. It all still confused him, but he finally recognised his want for you to stay. To make him feel settled, calm even.
At the end of the day, both his ‘reasons’ for re-hiring you are selfish and he knows it. He wants you close and in his line of vision, and he was going to make sure things stayed that way.
“Alright.” You say, finally agreeing to continuing this deal with Miguel. “But please don’t make me run around endlessly.”
“Have I been?” He shakes his head for you. “No. I’ve only given you easy tasks.”
You don’t why he has but you are definitely grateful. “Don’t use your phone again.” He suddenly says.
“Many people use phones for different thin—“
Miguel cuts in, sparing you an annoyed look. “For Spanish lessons.”
You finally manage to step back, holding in your sigh of relief until you were alone. Miguel watched you intently, catching onto the way your hand began to fiddle nervously with the very same belt loop he had been holding onto.
“I’ll uh…see you in a few hours then.” You say, beginning to step backwards down the hallway. “In the tech room?”
Miguel shakes his head. “It’s still being repaired. Just come back to my room.”
You ignore the flutter in your stomach, as you nod. “See you then.” Then you swiftly turn and head towards the stairs.
Miguel watches you go, his lips curving up into an easy smile.
;;
A few hours later—those hours having been filled with back and forth thoughts—you were walking past all the different spider variants, heading towards Miguel’s room.
You narrowed your feelings down to nervousness, having gone in a roundabout of thinking ‘it’s fine’ ‘I’ll be fine’ to ‘im starting to sweat’ ‘why the hell am I starting to sweat?!’
“Y/n!” A voice stopped you, and you turn to see Miles, Gwen and Hobie.
“Miles.” You smile. “So sorry for practically leaving you back there.�� You did feel bad.
“Please don’t. I would have told you to run anyway. Those men were scary.” He made a face which made you chuckle. “They had like….real large claws.”
“Yeah…would much prefer never to see them again.” You half chuckle.
“How are you?” Gwen asks, taking her hood off.
You nod. “Good. Better. Yeah…a lot better.” You glance down at your ankle. “Wish I wasn’t so accident prone though.”
“Nah.” Hobie begins, swinging his arm around your shoulder. “You jus’ have a running theme of bein’ in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” You scoff.
“Where are you headed anyway?” Hobie asks you.
“Oh, just to Miguel’s—“ you pause. You were gonna say ‘Miguel’s bedroom’ but then realised how strange that would sound. “To speak to Miguel.”
“I thought you already did?” Gwen asks, brushing her hair from her eyes.
“Yes…but…we have more to discuss.” You nod.
“Like what? Does he want to talk to you about his strange display of worry the other day?” Hobie asks with a sly smirk.
You glance at him, brows furrowing. “Coz that don’t really sound like him.” Hobie continues.
“You’re doing that face again.” You say, narrowing your eyes.
“Am I?” He again prays innocence.
“Yeah, you are. And it’s beyond annoying.”
“Jus’ like I thought he found you.” Hobie mutters almost smugly.
“What?”
In response Hobie just smiles at you, putting his hands in his pockets. You shift your gaze to Gwen, who is looking away.
“Why are you guys acting so suspicious?” You ask.
“We just find it…strange is all.” Gwen says.
“Find what strange?”
“Well…Miguel was the one to bring you in…which isn’t strange, but it was just the way he was acting.” Gwen begins, making your brows furrow further.
“I’m not following.” You say slowly.
“He didn’t really let any of the doctors touch you up.” Gwen continues.
“Then how….?” You’re confused. Because you had woken up with clean cuts and a fixed ankle.
“Ay, what are we all talking about, you guys?” Pav appears, swinging down from a different ceiling path.
“Jus’ about Miguel’s strange actions in medical.” Hobie says.
“Oh yeah!” Pav nods quickly. “He was acting really different. Wouldn’t let anyone near you, y/n.” He gestures to you, to which you raise your brows in disbelief. Then Pav chuckles. “It was almost like he was—“
But Gwen cuts him quickly. “He was just acting different. That’s all.” Gwen spares Pavitr a small glare.
“Okayyy.” You drag out, eyeing them all again. “Right now Miles is the only one seeming to be acting normal. Which I appreciate.” You had begun to back up down the path. Miles spares you a small smile in response.
As you begin to head to Miguel’s room, their words circled your head. What did they mean by ‘didn’t let the doctors touch you up’ or ‘didn’t let anyone near you’. They’re right—that is different from Miguel. So far different that you just can’t seem to believe it.
Maybe they were playing some prank. But even though you can see Hobie and Pav coming up with that joke, you can’t see Gwen getting in on it.
But those thoughts soon drift away as you near Miguel’s door again. You knock, feeling your palms increase in sweat.
Miguel opens the door. Upon seeing you he tilts his head, asking for you to come inside. You do, slipping past him and into the cozy, dim room.
“I hope you’ve come up with some helpful phrases.” You say turning to him. “Because I gave up my phone for this.”
Miguel pulls out a desk chair, taking a seat. You look around, seeing no other chair to occupy. “Use my bed.” He says, gesturing to his ruffled sheets.
You turn your gaze to it, holding down the small hitch of your breath. Why was it hitching? It was just a bed.
You walk over, carefully taking a seat at the edge, facing an already seated Miguel. “And yes, I am better than your phone.” He says, meeting your gaze.
“You sure?” You question. “My phone is pretty helpful.”
“And you’re saying I’m not?” Miguel asks with a small tilt his head. “That hurts.” His dry humour was something that had grown on you. Whether you liked it or not.
“Quiero ir a la feria.” It was a simple beginner question that you repeated effortlessly.
“Quiero ir a la feria.”
“It means ‘I want to go to the fair’.” Miguel explains.
After a few more simple sentences, a idea pops up in Miguel’s head. He probably shouldn’t execute it, but of course he still will.
“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” Miguel says, waiting for you to repeat it.
“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” You repeat, your flow having gotten a lot better.
Miguel’s breathing hitches upon hearing the words. You had assumed he got you to say something simple, along the lines of ‘I am a farmer who plants trees’. But he instead made you say ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.
And Miguel should probably stop and move on, but he doesn’t particularly want to. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?”
“Aren’t you gonna tell me what the other sentence means?” You ask.
“Repeat it.” Miguel doesn’t budge.
You sigh. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?” (Don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets, Miguel?) You tilt your head, staring at him. All you know is that you asked him a question, but that’s about it.
Miguel breathes heavier, giving you a once over. “Tan bonita.” (So pretty.) He murmers.
“Do you want me to repeat that too?” You ask.
Miguel chuckles. “That’s fine.” Your words staying trapped in Miguel’s brain, seeming to repeat…over and over.
Miguel’s gaze kept flicking to your lips. Conflicting emotions resided behind this action. He could see your cut, which reminded him of the fact that you got dragged into a mess you didn’t particularly ask for, resulting in you getting injured and down right hunted.
The other emotion veered closer to his reasoning for getting you to say those sentences. He wanted to feel them. Lean closer…and see what they felt like. Maybe he wanted to soothe your cut with his tongue…
“Miguel? Are you gonna tell me what I just said?” You ask, leaning closer to get his attention.
Miguel meets your gaze. “I’ll let you try and figure it out.”
“That’s not very good teaching.” You mutter.
He just shrugs. “Then I guess you‘ll never know.”
“And don’t translate it on your phone.” Miguel says pointedly. “That would make you a bad student.”
You clench your jaw but nod. “Fine…” your gaze shifts to the window, seeing the dark sky.
You quickly stand. “I didn’t realise it was this late. I should go.” You begin to head to the door.
Miguel watches your every movement, until you glance back giving him a small nod. “Thanks for somewhat of a good lesson.”
Miguel just hums with a nod, as you turn shutting the door and leaving. Leaving Miguel to gaze back at his bed and where you were seated.
He had already begun to decide on what he wants in return.
ok, this post isn’t letting me add the colours and now I’m sad
this part was a little less action, coz i wanted focus more on miguel’s fEeLiNgS. coz boy does he have them
taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright
taglist #2 taglist #3 taglist #4 taglist #5 taglist #6
#the miguel effect#miguel o’hara one shot#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara fic#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara across the spider verse#miguel o’hara smut#atsv#spiderman atsv#across the spiderverse#across the spider verse#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderman 2099#spiderman
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