#and screen time in a non canonical game | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tsxkkis · 5 months ago

Text

# tsukishima kei - perfect match

a/n: watch me suddenly appear out of nowhere after the school year has finally ended to post something!! i'm sure absolutely no one is surprised that tsukishima is the centre of this fic, but tbh idk how to feel about it (it's definitely longer than my usual ones but i didn't proofread it, so idk if the lenght is an advantage or not) but i hope you'll like it ^^ with school being over for the next two months i'll finally have time to write, so expect more works soon!!

summary: you and tsukishima decide to help your friends get together, but the plan is long forgotten when you realize what your own feelings are.

warnings: nothing really, canon yamayachi (my loves), some light swearing, bad writing

tsukishima kei did not expect any of his friends to bother him in the middle of the night. hell, he didn't even expect any of them to disturb his alone time at all. and yet at exactly 2.34 in the morning, right as he was about to turn off his currently binge watched tv show and go to sleep, he felt his phone buzzing on the nightstand.

his eyes focused on your name, written in white font on his phone screen, surely shocked by the sight.

'why are you calling me at 2 in the goddamn morni-'

'is yamaguchi interested in anyone?'

your question caught him off-guard even more than the call itself, his brows furrowing in a weirded-out look.

'if you're asking for yourself, i'm positive that he is not interested.'

tsukishima heard a sigh of annoyance on the other side of the call and could only imagine the exact look on your face in this very moment.

'well, thank god, because i'm not asking for myself.' you said. there were muffled sounds of someone preparing food in the background. 'i'm asking for yachi.'

the blonde boy smiled unconsciously.

'he does like her.' the boy stated, turning off his laptop as he put it back on the desk. 'so much so, in fact, that it can be kind of annoying sometimes.'

you squealed with excitement, a giggle leaving your mouth at tsukishima's remark.

'perfect! now, listen carefully.'

that singular phone call created an alliance between you and kei. an alliance with only one goal; getting your two best friends to finally confess to each other. to both of you, it was almost infuriating how blind they were; how they didn't notice just how obvious it was that they both shared the same feeling. constant blushing at as little as a mention of the other's name, the stolen glances, the very obvious pining - all of it seemed to be non-existent in the eyes of both yamaguchi and yachi.

but lucky for them, you had a plan.

his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds, as if awaiting a sign from you. tsukishima still thought of your 'master plan' as rather silly, but seeing the determination on your face, and the frown that appeared when he called your idea stupid was enough for him to sigh and go with it this once.

the four of you were currently occupied with studying for a math test coming up next week, everyone nose deep in their notebooks. well, everyone except for kei.

the boy cleared his throat almost theatrically, drawing the attention of the three of you.

'yamaguchi, i think i'll have to pass on the movies this weekend.' he said, the tone of his voice as lifeless as ever. 'akiteru insisted that i go to one of his games, so i guess you'll have to take someone else.'

the freckled boy looked a little troubled upon hearing the information. both you and tsukishima were well aware that the tickets to the cinema were already paid for; yamaguchi would definitely be sad if it all went to waste.

'well, i guess i can ask hina-'

'yachi, didn't you tell me last week that you wanted to go to the movies with someone?' you barged in before the boy could even finish his sentence, your friend freezing in her spot at the mention of a conversation you had not that long ago, cheeks flushed pink at the mere thought of going somewhere with yamaguchi one-on-one. 'maybe you'd fill in for tsukki?'

the girl glanced at you, panic in her eyes as an awkward silence filled the room, everyone waiting for her to answer. you gave her an encouraging smile, as if trying to non-verbally tell her to go for it, to use this as a chance to get closer to the boy she liked for so long.

'if yamaguchi doesn't mind...' she mumbled quietly, head turning to face the boy who was already shaking his head.

'of course i don't.' yamaguchi smiled, his small dimples showing up in the process.

you glanced over to look at tsukishima, a triumphant smile on your face as if you just won a volleyball tournament. his hair was slightly messy, and his glasses were sliding off his nose, two of the top buttons on his school uniform unbuttoned, showing a bit of his collarbones. surprisingly enough, the blonde boy smiled back; a small, quick smile that your eyes barely noticed. you had no idea what it was, but something about that singular smile made your heart beat faster.

don't. the main focus of this entire thing is to get yachi and yamaguchi together. not to think of tsukishima and how attractive he looks-

shit.

developing a crush on tsukishima kei was certainly not part of your plan.

at first, you tried ignoring it as much as you could, focusing solely on your friends and getting them to date. as time went on and yamaguchi and yachi started getting closer, you almost felt a sense of relief - you could finally stop spending so much time around tsukishima, which made your chances of getting over your stupid crush higher.

but it wasn't as easy as you thought. tsukishima was intelligent, pretty, and his snarky remarks and judgy personality actually drew you to him even more with each passing day. through the countless conversations and numerous phone calls, he proved himself to be more than just a salty, mean guy that everyone viewed him as.

'soon enough, they won't even need our help.' you mumbled to yourself as you opened your bento box, a smile on your face as you noticed your mom homemade onigiri inside. 'i don't know what i'll do with myself then.'

tsukishima scoffed, closing the textbook in front of him.

'maybe start focusing on your own love life for once.'

'hey! it's not my fault that i'm a good friend.' you stated, mouth full of food, as you looked up at your friend sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking through the tasks assigned for next week. 'besides, it's not like i'm the only one.'

tsukishima adjusted his glasses, looking up at you for a mere second before focusing back on his notebook.

'touché.'

'oh, come on.' you whined out, dissatisfied with the lack of response from the blonde boy. 'you won't miss this even a little bit?'

alright, maybe just a bit-

'no.' tsukishima stated firmly, fixing his posture as he highlighted one of the important sentences written down. you heard a bit of hesitation in his voice, and the few seconds of silence before hearing an answer couldn't help but make you wonder. you decided to ignore it this time - he was focused on something else right now, there was no need to disturb him.

'do you think yachi will like my outfit?'

tsukishima was sitting at the edge of his best friend's bed, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up to see the twelfth - no, thirteenth shirt that yamaguchi has tried on already. the boy sighed, turning his device off.

'it's your first official date, i'm sure she doesn't mind what you wear.' he stated, gaining a frown from yamaguchi.

'you didn't answer my question.'

'alright, i think she'll like it.' the blonde haired boy said, reaching out for a bag of chips, opening it with a loud sound. 'but i'm sure she'll focus more on the date itself rather than what you're wearing.'

ever since announcing to their friends that they're going on their first official date, both yamaguchi and yachi were full of stress, constantly overthinking every little detail from their outfit to whether or not the date will go well or not. tsukishima found it rather comical - it was only a date after all. why stress over it so much? he never went on one, obviously, but he always thought that when the day came, he'd approach it calmly.

'do you have any tips on how to not freak out?' yamaguchi asked suddenly, catching his friend off-guard. 'during the date, i mean.'

'how can i know? i've never gone on one.'

the freckled boy looked at tsukishima, a confused expression on his face as he processed his words.

'oh.' he paused for a second, his voice quieter when he continued speaking. 'i thought you and y/n were, you know, a thing.'

huh?

to say tsukishima was shocked was an understatement. he genuinely had no idea what to say; he never even let a thought of you and him being more than friends, 'partners in crime', as you loved to say, slip through his mind. never did it occur to him that someone from the outside would see your relationship as being something more than a merely platonic one.

well, maybe there was something to it after all.

yamaguchi's words made him wonder - although he did find you annoying at times, it was only occasionally and to a very little degree. that in itself was very rare in tsukishima's eyes, as he found most of the people surrounding him at least normally annoying. you, on the other hand, were a completely different case. your jokes, no matter how awkward or downright cringe, made him crack a silent laugh more often than not, and every time he saw you smile, his lips uncontrollably curved up into a small, barely noticeable one themselves.

'oh, no, absolutely not.' the blonde blurted out after a long minute of silence, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. 'there is not a single bone in my body that would want to date her. now get up idiot, or you'll be late to your date.'

the moment tsukishima opened his bedroom, after walking his friend to the bus stop, he immediately plopped down on his bed, phone in hand, instinctively opening messages to write to you. surprisingly enough, a message was already waiting for him.

'yachi almost cried because of how stressed she is T-T'

'do you think we should spy on them to make sure it all goes well?'

he found himself smiling at the words on his phone screen, quickly typing back an answer.

'do you really not have a life of your own?'

'idiot.'

only after a few minutes did he get a response from you.

'can i come over?? i'm bored :33'

a harmless message, one might think. in reality, tsukishima was freaking out at the mere thought of hanging out with you for a reason other than setting up your friends, his cheeks a light shade of pink as his eyes kept digging a hole through his phone.

you weren't any better than him - hands slightly shaky as you awaited a response for what felt like hours, but was actually just a few minutes. you had no idea what took over you; was it a sudden wave of bravery or rather an idiotic spontaneous choice to ask tsukishima that. but nonetheless, when you finally got the response, you felt ecstatic.

'alright.'

'bring some snacks.'

'kei, i think yamaguchi is he- oh, that's certainly a new face.'

you stood in front of the door with an awkward smile, facing tsukishima's older brother, akiteru, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. to say he was surprised was an understatement - he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. as if a friend that's not yamaguchi coming over to tsukishima's house was so out of the ordinary that it could become a national holiday.

'come in.' the younger male appeared in the back of the hall, an oversized dinosaur shirt and shorts on. his expression was softer than usual; not until he looked at his brother, whom he gave a sharp stare, signaling him to let you inside and don't make such a fuss about it.

you sat down on his bed, awkward silence filling up the room. not wanting to make the conversation about your friends as per usual, you slowly realized you don't know what to talk about, trying to think of something, anything, as you began unpacking your bag filled with snacks.

surprisingly enough, it was tsukishima who spoke up first.

'wanna watch a movie?' he asked, opening his drawer to pull out two bottles of soda, hidden there so that his brother doesn't devour all of them. 'unless it'll make you even more bored than you were before.'

'well, if you have a boring taste in movies-'

'says the one who looks like their favorite movie is mamma mia.' tsukishima scoffed under his breath, turning his laptop on and starting to search up movies. you looked at him, a dramatic expression as you pretended to be offended.

'and you look like you're about to mansplain the godfather to me.'

a short silence filled the room before you heard the blonde boy let out a short, muffled laugh at your comment.

'you couldn't be more wrong.' he sat down next to you, a small smile still on his face. 'i found it kind of boring, actually.'

'what do you like, then?'

'horror movies.' tsukishima stated, eyes focused on the screen. 'but tadashi gets easily scared, so i often don't have a chance to watch them.'

'same with me and yachi.' you said, unconsciously scooping a bit closer to the boy as you tried to get a better look at what he was searching up. 'i love them, but yachi jumps at every small scare on the screen. sometimes, she even gets scared when there's nothing happening at all.'

'they really do match each other.' he mumbled, putting the laptop on the bed as he pressed play on a movie he chose. his eyes quickly glanced your way to get a nod of approval on his choice.

'yeah, they do.'

and we could, too.

'are you and tsukishima dating?'

you almost spat out your drink, the words coming out of hinata's mouth catching you so off-guard you were close to choking.

the three of you, along with kageyama, were currently cleaning up after volleyball practice, the boys racing on who would clean more balls off of the floor.

'no, we're not.' you said in a clearly sad tone with an obvious hint of dissatisfaction in your voice. 'what the hell made you think that way?'

the orange haired boy stopped in his tracks, his signature smile disappearing for a minute as he got lost in his own thoughts.

'oh! i remember now.' he said after a short while, his grin coming back. 'yamaguchi told me that you two are close.'

'he did also mention that he seems happier around you.' kageyama added, joining the conversation. 'seeing tsukishima happy must be pretty scary.'

not really, you thought. but at the same time, what confused you more was what kageyama said right before.

he seems happier around you.

yamaguchi has been kei's friend for the longest time, so any of his observations must be true, or at least that's what you liked to believe. but would that mean that tsukishima kei, the salty, closed-off guy whom everyone finds intimidating could possibly like you? was there truly a possibility that he enjoyed spending time with you?

as you finished cleaning up the hall, saying your goodbyes to your two friends who ran off to practice volleyball somewhere else, a familiar, tall figure appeared in the doorframe, sharp eyes staring at you with an expression that you couldn't exactly decipher.

'want me to walk you home?' he asked, hands in his pockets. 'it's getting late.'

you looked at him, trying to hide the blush creeping up onto your cheeks before quickly nodding as an answer.

'sure, let's go.'

most of the walk was filled with silence on both parts, exactly as you expected. even though it might've felt awkward for some, you did enjoy his presence in itself enough that a conversation wasn't necessary.

the boy stopped in his tracks mid-way, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his phone and an old pair of white, wired earphones, showing them to you as a silent question of whether you wanted to listen to music with him or not. you agreed without a second thought, a small smile on your face as he put on one of his playlists.

'i really like this song.' you mumbled, eyes lighting up upon hearing the familiar melody. with both of you wearing the same set of headphones right now, you were practically forced to walk closer to each other - hands constantly brushing against one another, a faint blush on your face as you tried to ignore it and focus on the music.

tsukishima, on the other hand, couldn't shake away the thoughts roaming around his head. he felt as if what he was doing now was incredibly unlike him; and maybe it was. but for some reason, he didn't mind being like this around you. less cocky, sarcastic, mean and more... gentle.

he could feel his fingers brushing against yours from time to time, and it drove him crazy. should he go for it and play it off nonchalantly, or just ignore it? should he even make the first move or wait for you to do it?

before he was able to decide, tsukishima felt your hand reaching for his, heart rate immediately speeding up as your fingers shyly intertwined with his, looking the other way to hide your anxious expression.

his hand was much bigger than yours, but somehow it fit perfectly with yours. as if they were created solely to hold one another and nothing else. the plan to get your friends to be together was long forgotten by now - your mind was clouded with thoughts of tsukishima only, and little did you know that his wasn't any different.

you glanced his way only to find his eyes already on you, hiding his true feelings behind a nonchalant look. only now did you notice that the two of you were standing in front of your house, the boy adjusting his glasses as he waited to see what you'll do next.

'i guess i should go home now.' you mumbled, but you still didn't move an inch, hand not leaving his. 'see you tomorrow?'

his hand squeezed yours tightly before taking it away, an unusually warm and welcoming smile on his face.

'sure. see you tomorrow, idiot.'

but as you slowly made your way towards the door, tsukishima couldn't shake away the feeling in him, telling him to go for it. and as much as he tried to resist it, he just couldn't anymore.

'wait.’

before you could fully turn away, tsukishima kei's lips were already on yours, a sweet, long kiss that felt as if he was waiting to do it for years. his hand traveled to your waist and it didn't take long for you to react; lips moving swiftly with his, noses bumping into one another before you pulled away, a giggle escaping your mouth as you saw just how red tsukishima's face was.

‘don't laugh at me, moron.’ he said, immediately catching the reason for your laughter as he flicked you in the forehead. ‘your whole face is red, too.’

‘i didn't expect you to do this.’ you mumbled, eyes focused on his as you reached to hold his hand again. ‘didn't expect my feelings to be mutual, either.’

‘i'm glad we feel the same.’ his face leaned in closer to yours, a wave of confidence taking over him as he placed a short kiss on your forehead. ‘but i would still prefer to properly ask you out. if you'd say yes, that is.’

‘of course i would.’ you smiled, ‘i'd be stupid not to.’

‘should we bet on how long it takes the others to realize we're dating now?’ tsukishima smiled at you, eyes not leaving yours for even a spare second. you laughed at his idea, giving his hand a squeeze.

‘get ready to lose, kei.’

‘you wish.’

taglist: @moonswolfie

#tsxkkis #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #karasuno x reader #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

1K notes · View notes

always-just-red · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.

If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration

Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea! (Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)

Fourth Wall

Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸

Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?

Genre: idk really?? real world player x character

Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)

| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your phone lights up with a notification.

Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.

It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.

The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!

But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?

Another notification:

Sylus: Take your time, kitten.

A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.

Sylus: I’m going to count to three.

Cute. He’s not actually going to—

Sylus: One…

Oh.

Sylus: Two…

Really?

Sylus: Three.

Ok.

You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.

Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.

He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”

You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.

Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.

Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.

He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.

With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.

You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.

It doesn’t do anything.

Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.

Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”

You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.

Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”

Ok but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.

“Stop.”

A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.

Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”

It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”

Does he mean the game? The other LIs?

“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”

God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.

“Are you even listening?” he sighs.

Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?

“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”

Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.

“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.

“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”

This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.

There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.

He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.

His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.

Did they change the animation?

“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

1K notes · View notes

lemonhemlock · 3 months ago

Text

the thing is i don't care about how hard it must be for the hotd writers to adapt from book to screen with budget and time limitations (even though i am historically sympathetic enough to these difficulties and i do understand the need to make changes to fit the story in a different medium)

but what i see as understandable excuses would be shoddy cgi or costumes and less impactful action scenes or even fewer action scenes/battles. which we already got anyway, the only battle (rook's rest) is humdrum and rather spiritless. to a certain extent, i can even excuse cutting out characters or merging them or simplifying storylines.

be that as it may, the fact of the matter is that, even the scenes which should have cost the least amount of money in this whole production, i.e. the sitting-around-in-rooms-talking genre of scenes for which GoT became famous, SUCK. the politics in this show are non-existent. the characters' motivations are so wishy-washy to the point of parody. the character arcs look like they were settled via a game of russian roulette. the S2 version of characters doesn't make sense as a progression of their own S1 canon.

and this has nothing to do with money OR time constraints. it plainly only has to do with bad writing. a talented writer can absolutely have a canon-divergent vision and an understandable desire to adapt their own vision. but they have to recognise if they have the TIME or the BUDGET to bring that canon-divergent vision to life, if they can sufficiently commit to integrating those changes in a way that feels organic to the characters. IF NOT, THEN DON'T DO IT.

i get it if they're big rhaenicent stans or if they really, really like this version of alicent that lives in their heards, the one that would ditch her kids in favour of rhaenyra or if they're so enamoured by the idea of heroic rhaenyra (and that's just scratching the surface when it comes to all the points the show fumbled). but if they don't and can't fit those changes in a way that doesn't destroy the logic of the narrative, in a way that doesn't leave other characters hanging dry with no motivation left to carry out the plot points they have to hit, they should have had the maturity to drop those ideas and settle on something else that could have been easier to film with the resources available.

i said it before and i'll say it again: 1) whether fans are satisfied with the changes made to the source material and 2) whether those changes make sense in the context of the show are two separate issues that apologists sometimes try to merge in other to muddle what the actual problem is. "oh you're just mad because it's not book canon" or "you're mad because your headcanons diverge" or "we had logistics limitations" are not pertinent responses to critiquing the integrity of the show's storyline!

so i hope the writers and executives see all these criticisms and choke because they did a piss-poor job of everything and turned S2 into a goddamn hack operation

#if you want to adapt your own FB fanfiction you better make damn sure you can fit in your scripts #and unfortunately for them show!alicent would need a whole damn novel dedicated solely to dissecting her psychology in order for her to mak #any sense or to resemble the behaviour of a human person #you don't have a wholeass novel at your disposal? you only have 8 to 10 episodes? then don't do it!#house of the dragon #hotd s2 #hotd #grrm #hbo max

304 notes · View notes

seancekitsch · 11 months ago

Text

HOT TO GO: an Adrian Chase x Reader x Rick Flag fic

Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't take you up on your offer to play a game.

Warnings: threesome smut, drinking, smoking, slight knife kink, rick is a good man, reader and adrian are nuts, villain!reader, non canon compliant i like to play god and make people kiss, this is filthy, dirty talk, task force x neck bomb jokes, slight daddy kink, spitting, choking, reader is a little mean, its not poly but its certainly something

You know exactly what the file in ARGUS says about you. A boring little dossier about the full extents of your powers, your record, all of your known aliases (even the embarrassing ones), your allies, and even the common ways you’ve tried to escape capture. Nothing in the little folder says anything about your observation skills.

Nothing about how easily you pick up on phone conversations, how easily you commit to memory a glance of words on a screen over someone’s shoulder. Nothing about how you take in the tiny details, changes in expression or exactly how many things you can use in a room to kill someone in increasingly resourceful and creative ways.

Thats how you figured out Rick Flag has a type; a type that you fit into well. You didn’t mean to overhear his phone call with Waller, but you would be using it to your advantage.

You know about June Moone, about your dear friend Harley, and now his blue eyes settling on you as you try to get in and get out of this mission without fucking about too much. He likes his girls a little messed up. You figure trying to unseat Green Arrow as mayor through completely legal means and then forcibly reforming the prison system does it for him. It helps for you that he’s attractive; that means you don’t have to just use him, you can enjoy him too. Who knows, you might even get to know him enough to admire him as much as you admire the man who named himself your personal protector.

Adrian Chase had apparently put himself into prison in order to talk to you, inspired by your idea of justice and progress or something. He offered protection and you’re not one to turn down a free advantage. You didn’t exactly expect to like him though, knowing the reputation he has and the awkward way he approached you at first. But Adrian was quick to win you over, and you'd spent countless nights talking to each other through the bars of your cells. You even one night tried to "go on a date" in the mess hall. His humor turns you on though, his protection lets you run your mouth without consequences. He's killed for you before, and you damn well know he'll do it again. Waller even seems to know you're a package deal, seeing as she let the two of you be on this mission together. You don’t say it, but you hope this mission gives both of you enough time off your sentences to get out around the same time. You’d love to hang out with him free, even if you refuse to say it. Belle Reve doesn’t exactly allow conjugal visits, though.

You watch your peripherals, Adrian on one side sipping his Corona and keeping the men of Task Force X away from you, Rick on the other side with his eyes tracing your curves as you sway to the music. Adrian to the naked eye looks like he’s not paying attention to you, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He sways awkwardly and scans the crowd, one eye always on you and his fingers every so often brushing against your leg. His way of checking in. Rick is more stiff, Rick is more obvious about watching you. You notice his fist clench when you brush your knuckles against Adrian’s arms. You notice how tight he holds his beer. You notice the fit of his pants.

You catch on to the fact that Rick knows what Adrian is to you, because he only decides to make his move towards you when Adrian moves away to make two more drinks for you.

You nod to the bar stool next to you, eyes not leaving the small crowd. Funny, you'd heard these missions are some kind of Suicide Squad, but here you were with the crew of sixteen still hanging on strong.

“Great party, thanks for hosting,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm, although maybe you shouldn’t be too harsh on the guy. He’s not the guy that put a bomb in your neck.

“Sure,” he laughs, low and under his breath, and he clinks his beer bottle against your empty glass.

“Can I ask you something?” Rick slides up next to you at the bar, looking past you instead of at you. It’s clear he’s trying to sus out Vig, who is dancing back towards you with his two signature concoctions. You roll your eyes at the Colonel, but lean in anyway, pushing your chest closer.

“I don’t know why I’d talk to you, unless thats an order,” you snark at him, and maybe thats unfair, but it’s part of the game.

“It’s not… don’t do that,”Rick dismisses your wide smile, the game of cat and mouse begun. You know exactly what he’s about to ask, but you have to make him work for it.

“Why him?” he asks, eyes darting from you to the man behind you briefly. You smirk, of course he asks that. Probing, looking to see if he has a chance; thinking he’s being slick about it. Adrian turns back towards you as if summoned, his weird ability to just know making him come back as if the leash around his neck were tightened. He has another drink for you, pink and fizzy.

You roll your eyes and grab the drink Adrian made for you from his hand, lifting it to your lips.

“Well, it was either him or Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Man,” you joke, voice deadpan as you punctuate your statement with a swig from the glass. You grimace. It’s almost all rum. Adrian is handsome but, my god, is he bad at ratios.

“Yeah…” Adrian joins the conversation eagerly, ready to agree with whatever you say before actually processing it. His eyes widen behind his thick glasses as he turns to fully look at you. He finally figured out what you were implying, and a smile slowly forms on your lips hidden by the rim of the glass.

“Wait really? But he’s got that, like, tree hand!”

You snort with laughter, and Rick cautiously laughs too. Like he’s in on the joke, you think.

“It would be like that scene in Evil Dead, but consensual,” Adrian continues, his voice rising just like his concern. You roll your eyes at him, already expecting this reaction. Adrian talks big game about being unshakeable but you find it so easy to rile him up.

“Calm down, Spaghetti Squash. You’re much sweeter than he is,” you pat Adrian’s cheek and he beams at you, wide mouthed and toothy and tipsy. You drag your hand slowly down his face, tracing his jaw before you let your hand fall back into your lap.

“And Handsomer?” he fishes for the compliment, and you playfully frown at him.

“You always ask questions you know the answer to,” you tease, and Adrian’s smile never fades.

Rick must be feeling pretty voyeuristic right now, you think, watching two people who just plainly adore each other flirt and touch in front of him; but Rick also doesn’t flinch away from this, you notice. Maybe he likes watching.

“He makes me laugh,” you answer your commanding officer, turning back to him finally.

“Is that a Who Framed Roger Rabbit quote?” He asks, brows furrowed, but a smirk on his face. Okay, play ball, Colonel Flag.

“See, Adrian? I told you Goody Two Shoes was a man of taste,” you glance up at Adrian again before focusing your attention back on Rick Flag. Zero in, Aim, Kill.

“Is that how you see me?” he asks, a challenge.

You tilt your head, a non-answer. Yes, kind of. He himself is good. Maybe too good. Thats probably why he does this silly little Icarus dance and gets too close to people who can and will burn him when they kiss. You glance down at his drink, then back at him and the light glistening of the residue of beer on his bottom lip, the way it shimmers in the light.

Rick is handsome in a way Adrian isn’t. While Adrian is THE choice when it comes to general compatibility and attraction and survival, Rick is A choice. He’s serious, kind, and genuinely tries to see the good in everyone, even if there isn’t any to be found. He’s a gamble, mostly because he’s more willing to gamble. He would put his faith in you and hope you would be by his side even without a bomb in your neck. He’s built like Magic Mike.

“Let Adrian make your next drink,” You tell him, lying, “He’s a master mixologist.”

Rick’s eyes move from you to your protector, whose gloved hand is now possessively on the back of your neck, right where the bomb was placed.

“And why should I do that?” he counters. Adrian tenses.

“Because maybe,” you grab Adrian’s hand and clasp it within yours, “We’ll let you keep drinking with us. You have my vote, you need to earn his.”

Rick laughs, and slumps back from you; his eyebrow twitches in curiosity. Hook, line, sinker. You squeeze Adrian’s hand.

“And how would I do that?” Rick asks.

You laugh as you take his free hand, leading both him and Adrian to another room.

Rick doesn’t understand this game.

All he knows is that he seems to lose every card he pulls, and at least half of the cards you pull. He went to college enough to know this is some deranged version of King’s Cup, but he doesn’t remember a rule that lets Adrian lick rum off of your chest or a rule that means you have to pop off a round when you pull the King.

After his third seemingly bad card, he realized you were lying about the Vigilante’s mixing abilities. He’s a heavy pour with no eye for ratios, not unlike his heavy handed and uneven idea of justice. Rick figures thats why you and that maniac fit well, both twisted and curious and reckless in the same ways. It’s attractive in you though, as much as it is off-putting about Adrian.

Ricks eyes follow Adrian’s tongue though, wet and flat and lavishing the liquor between your breasts, watching how he leaves goosebumps on your skin in his wake. He watches as Adrian shamelessly dips his face into the opening of your vest, realizing that he would push the younger man out of the way for his own turn if you gave him permission. Rick knows he shouldn't shit where he eats. Rick knows Waller would demote him in a second if she knew he was letting you and your de facto guard dog have special privileges on this mission. Rick knows he shouldn't have taken you up on your offer to play any game, let alone one involving alcohol.

You seem to whisper something to Adrian, his rum soaked chin between your nimble fingers and he moves away to take his seat again.

“My turn,” you smirk as you pull the next card from the deck, flipping it to show Rick instead of yourself.

“Jack of Spades,” he tells you. Your eyes dart to Adrian before you smile at him. That can’t be good.

“Never have I ever,” Adrian clarifies. Rick squints in confusion.

“I thought Jacks were categories,” he says, challenging the younger man.

“Well now they’re not,” you chime in, something sweetly venomous in your tone, daring him to keep pressing the issue. Rick is a man that knows when to back down.

He sighs as he puts up his hand, three fingers ready to go. You and Adrian both put up a hand as well, and you start as the card puller.

“Never have I ever… fucked Harley Quinn,” you stare him down as you wiggle your fingers, a cheap shot at him. Rick will remember that.

It’s his turn.

“Never have I ever… been arrested,” Rick admits, and you narrow your eyes at him as you and Adrian both put down a finger.

There’s a bit of pride in Rick’s posture as he settles in, all of you now on equal footing.

“Never have I ever,” Adrian starts, then pauses, biting his tongue between his straight teeth, “Worked for a government that lies.”

It’s clear that was supposed to be a dig at Rick, competition between the two.

“Ade, baby, you’re doing that right now,” you whisper to him in a soothing voice, husky but gentle. His shoulders immediately drop in disappointment.

“So you drink,” you tell him, nudging his hand holding the glass with your knuckle. He drinks, and puts another finger down, his admittance to defeat this round.

“Okay, okay,” you draw the attention back to yourself, despite your eyes watching the way Adrian’s adams apple bobs as he swallows.

“Never have I ever gotten a promotion.”

Again, Rick is the only one to put down a finger. Now he and Adrian have one finger up, and you still have your two. They’re on the same level, something they both have to be painfully aware of as you eye them up like you’ll catch and cook them.

“Never have I ever gone to prom,” Rick offers quickly, shutting up any giggle that might be on your lips as you put a finger down, now tied with the men.

“You poor things,” you muse, but Rick can tell you don’t mean it. There’s sarcasm on your tone that makes him think maybe the movie Carrie wasn’t too far off.

“Never have I ever been an only child,” Adrian says, quickly, like hes trying to throw the whole game away. There’s something about how he shifts in his seat that looks like he’s starting to get antsy of it.

Only you put your finger down. You’re out first, a fact that surprises you as much as it probably surprises the others as well.

“Shit,” you swear under your breath, and take a quick swig of your drink.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask, refusing to look at either of them, your scowl settling into your features. Right, the loser has to do something for the winners.

Your file comes to mind for Rick, and your reactions to the failed mayoral race.

Adrian wordlessly pulls you onto his lap, and your smile returns, if only briefly.

“Dunno about Rick, but I want you right here,” Adrian tells you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Well, we can keep playing if you want,” Rick offers, “Y’know, we can all lose… learn a little bit more about each other.”

Anything so he doesn’t have to see that pout again.

Fuck, Waller’s gonna skin him.

You shrug, and he figures thats all he’s gonna get.

“Never have I ever had a secret identity,” Rick offers, and Adrian happily puts his finger down. He’s out too.

“Never have I ever,” you glance between the two men, and for the first time you look like you didn’t have one loaded in the barrel, “Had… a threesome.”

Rick’s eyebrows shoot up as he too puts a finger down, finally out as well.

“No way, who?” Adrian asks, and this is maybe the first time Adrian has addressed him personally.

“A good man doesn’t kiss and tell,” Rick replies.

“Boring,” Adrian says.

And then he pulls a card, as if the air in the room had not just crackled with tension.

Queen.

“So its questions?” Rick asks, hoping the rules haven’t changed again.

“Do you finally get it?” you reply, jumping right back into the game.

“Why did it take you so long?” asks Adrian.

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Aren’t you military trained?”

“Didn’t you say you knew we were crazy like an hour ago?”

“Hasn’t… ugh… shit,” Rick runs out of steam the questions firing too quickly.

“Take your shirt off,” you don’t miss a beat, shrugging, “because you lost.”

If you had thought earlier that tonight would have gone as well this, you would have really thought you lost your mind. Adrian twitches, thrusting a little harder into you, an attempt at a poker face forced onto his face. Rick’s eyes trained on you, maybe the same way he trains his eye on a target.

Rick leans back in his chair, in only his boxers, sweat coating his chest as he does nothing to hide the fact that he’s hard watching this display.

Adrian lazily rolls his hips into you, your jacket partially obscuring what’s happening, but you know Rick isn’t stupid. He knows Adrian is fucking you, knows your skirt is pushed up in just the right way and your underwear pushed to the side.

Adrian was barely subtle when he did it, rearranging you on his lap after the latest round of mini games had him losing his own gear and pants. You'd managed to be winning, your jacket and your skirt still on, your boots and vest tossed somewhere behind the chairs. He got handsy, big and warm and calloused against your skin. They traveled under your jacket, down your body, down your skirt. He hitched up. his knee, pushing you further back onto his lap, using his adjusting as an excuse to maneuver himself out of his boxers and under your skirt. You know you faltered, eyes fluttering as his length pushed against you, a shuddering gasp as you felt his hand pull your underwear to the side.

Adrian, however, acted nonchalant. He joked and took swigs of his drink and talked with you and Rick as if he wasn't playing you like a fiddle, as if he was not positioning you to sit pretty on his cock.

This is actually only the second time you’ve fucked Adrian. You don’t count hand stuff between the bars or weird touching in the mess hall when you have time out of your cell. You know his cock, but you’re still surprised at how amazing it feels when he fills you, sat on his lap and filled to the brim with him, the only movement his little thrusts pushing even deeper than you thought possible.

Rick watches like a hawk, and you wink at him as he pulls another card.

“Eight,” He reveals.

“Pick a date,” You explain.

He points at you, and you lean over to grab your drink. The change in angle makes you moan, and you do so shamelessly.

“Ade, want me to grab one for you while I’m down here?” you ask, knowing another moan will escape you when you lean back again.

“Fuckin… Yeah,” Adrian gasps. He’s so cute.

You grab a card and pull yourself back up, attempting to bite back this moan. You fail as you lock eyes with Rick, something animalistic in his gaze. You shiver. Fuck. You want him too. You tear your eyes away from him to look at the playing card.

“Ten,” you tell him.

“Truth or dare! Alright!” Adrian is enthusiastic.

“Okay, babe, truth or dare?” He asks you.

“Truth,” you respond, deciding to play it safe at first.

“Boring!” he exclaims, “ But, are you loving this right now?”

You nod, laughing as you lean into him. Again, Rick is a voyeur.

“Rick,” you address him, still in Adrian world, still curled into him.

“Yeah?”

“You jealous?” You ask.

He’s silent for a moment, long enough for you to turn and look at him again, this time with hunger in your eyes.

“Yeah, kinda.”

You laugh, a little too dark to be a giggle, a little too light to have malicious intent.

“Truth or dare, Adrian?” Rick asks, which surprises you.

“Truth,” he declares, and punctuates it by rolling his hips up into you again, dragging himself against you, and you bite your lip. A show.

“Do you consider me a challenge?” he asks. Oh, it’s a dick measuring contest, you realize.

He contemplates it, and then moves his hand to your face, his thumb on your lip. You open your mouth, taking the digit between your lips, sucking.

“I don’t know how I could even think of you as a challenge. I mean…” He trails off, his index finger tapping your cheek.

“Fair enough,” Rick concedes.

“Truth or dare?” Adrian responds, to Rick, which surprises you. You look between the two men, stilling any motion, like the freeze frame before a fight.

“Dare,” Rick all but snarls, clearly calling Adrian’s challenge. It's interesting, being fought over like this. People have fought over your resources, your power, your alliance, but never yourself. It's a bit of an ego trip, one that strokes you better than any cock could.

“I dare you to try and show her a better time than I could,” Adrian says, and then looks to you.

His hips still as his eyes meet yours, a silent as if this is okay? You want this? And maybe, will you still pick me after all of this? His eyes are bright behind his glasses, not shying away from the fact that he’s watching you, his thumb still between your kiss swollen lips. You lead the charge, you let Adrian follow. Strangely loyal, awfully endearing. How is it that you spent your entire life in the Pacific Northwest without passing him earlier?

You nod, giving him the okay, and take his hand into yours, pulling his thumb from your lips. You swivel your hips, quietly moaning as you resettle yourself in his lap, and let him press a possessive kiss on your neck.

“You sure?” you whisper to him, and he shrugs nonchalantly. Adrian doesn't really seem like the kind of guy that would be okay with this, but if he says so, you cannot deny it.

Wordlessly, you motion for Rick to approach, and he crosses the room slowly. He gives you a show, his underwear leaving little to the imagination, the light layer of sweat making his muscles shine in the light. Rick smirks at you, easygoing despite how you can see his hand twitching. Is he sure he’s had a threesome before?

You lick your lips as he stops in front of you, and Adrian grabs for your jacket. You stare up at Rick expectantly as Adrian pulls the leather down your arms, baring your chest to the Colonel. His eyes travel down your body shamelessly, committing your body to memory, painting your portrait in his mind.

“So how should we…?” he trails off, not sure how to proceed. Adrian makes a decision for him, though, and puts his hands firmly on your hips. You’re not going anywhere, especially as he fucks up into you, the chair below him creaking. He snaps his hips to claim his place and also yours. You’re not going to fucking move. You gasp, hand reaching back to steady yourself against his firm chest, fingers flexing against his muscles. This doesn't deter Rick, however, who takes another step towards you, stopping just in front of your knees.

“Well?” you ask, expectantly, and his smirk turns into a smile as he huffs out a small laugh. Rick unceremoniously yanks down his boxers, already leaving little to the imagination but still you cannot hide the shock in your eyes when you finally see his cock.

Rick’s cock is long, handsome as he is, and a delicious shade of pink. You reach out, fingers curling around the base of his cock as you smile up at him. If Rick didn't know better, he’d think you were an angel. Good thing he knows better.

You pump his cock at the same rythm Adrian fucks you, his thrusts and your fist moving in tandem. You’re mesmerized by the way Rick’s brows scrunch up, as if you've unlocked his kryptonite, attention being the thing to break through his attempted cool exterior. Its beautiful. He’s beautiful.

You laugh, lips breaking into a smile, and you bend forward, Adrians grip on your hips changing his angle inside you shifting. He groans behind you appreciatively, and one of his hands gives your ass a slap. Rick flexes, and rolls his shoulders back.

“Do you like that?” you ask him, your voice a seductive whisper. You don't slow your rhythm, you don't look away; Adrian doesnt slow his rhythm, Rick doesnt look away.

“I like you,” Rick responds, just as flirty. You laugh, breathy and light, never breaking eye contact with your commanding officer. You roll your hips, feeling Adrian’s hands tightening on you.

“Of course you do,” you say with a roll of your eyes, finally breaking the contact. Your hand moves slowly, concentrating on running your thumb up and down the vein on the underside of his cock.

“Want some more?” he asks, stepping between yours and Adrian’s legs, his hand coming up to cup your jaw.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hear from behind you, Adrian cursing as his hands loosen their grip on your hips.

You sigh, you should have known this would happen. Adrian doesnt seem like the sharing type, even if Rick is. You release your grip on Rick’s cock, leaning away until you back touches Adrian’s chest. You look up at him, and he doesn't look at you.

“Adrian?” you coo, voice venomously sweet.

He grunts.

“Adrian?” you call to him again, voice like a song as you reach up and run a finger along his jawline.

“What?” he practically spits the word.

“Honey, where is your cock right now?” you ask him gently as if you don’t both know, continuing to run your finger along his jawline, a comforting gesture.

Finally, Adrian leans into your touch, and his arms wrap around your waist. One hand dips down, and he teases your clit. You gasp, moan turning into a giggle.

“In this sweet pussy,” he answers.

“Uh huh, so let Rick play a little. His presence here is an unethical power imbalance and I think he knows that. He’s gonna play nice with me,” you tell him, scrunching your nose at him cutely. You turn your attention back to Rick, raising an eyebrow to silently ask him if he agrees. He smiles slowly, and you reach out for him again.

Rick guides your hand back to his cock, letting you grasp him once more.

Your teamwork resumes: Adrian You Rick, Adrian You Rick. Adrian setting the speed, the pace, leaning back in the chair for leverage to fuck up into you. Grunt, moan, gasp. Groan, gasp, moan. For the first time since the game started, you can actually hear the music floating through the air from the little radio. Some crooner sets the background for this devil’s threesome unfolding.

You speed up your movements, breaking the rhythm, and Rick inhales sharply between his teeth, a loud and discordant noise that seems to break the spell. Adrian’s hands seize your hips roughly again, seeking to possess you.

Fuck.

“Listen, Man,” Rick addresses Adrian awkwardly, his jaw twitching as you speed up your movements even more, your wrist working him over.

“What, man?” Adrian asks, petulant and sarcastic. You didn't know he knew how to do that. He’s full of surprises, you think.

“Don't you think I know what's happening here?”

Okay, that makes you pause. Maybe Rick is more perceptive than you originally thought.

“Your girl here is trying to honey pot me,” he explains, his hand reaching down to adjust your grasp on him, tighter, “Am I right?”

You nod up at him, nervous for once.

“She figures if she shows me a good time I’ll pull some strings to give you time enough off your sentences so you can be released together,” he explains, and Adrian’s grip on you softens, only to have his rough hand run up and down your side.

“Are you gonna?” Adrian asks, his desire to be out with you overtaking his desire to comment on an unethical exchange of sexual favors.

Rick only shrugs.

“Why not?”

That seems to be the only answer both men need, and you breathe a sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding.

Adrian’s hand dips forward again to find your clit, and your next breath is a shuddering gasp.

“You wanna be a honey pot?” he asks you, his pressure on your clit increasing, almost painfully. You nod, a needy whine escaping your lips.

“Then show Colonel Flag how sweet you are,” he commands you, his lips now against the shell of your ear. He speeds up his fingers, panting into your ear as he shallowly thrusts into you, your bodies flush. You feel helpless, a moaning mess losing yourself to your own pleasure, almost embarrassingly so. Your head rolls back onto Adrian’s shoulder, and your over kissed lips part into a dazed smile. You meet Rick’s eyes as Adrian’s movements start to make your body jolt and shake. Your orgasm, rapidly approaching, evident to everyone.

“C’mon baby,” Adrian encourages you, his fingers digging into your thigh, holding you open as he continues his onslaught, pleasure and pain now one in the same, white heat beginning to seep into the corners of your vision.

Until the dam breaks. Adrian holds you in place, only slowing down to give you slight mercy. Rick watches intensely, his eyes never leaving your face, even as your eyes roll back and your mouth opens in a silent scream, your body wracked with tremors as your orgasm hits you like a flooding storm. Adrian holds you tightly through it all, bringing you back to earth slowly. Your chest heaves, and your eyes meet Rick’s again.

Sweet enough? You silently ask him, and he smiles, understanding fully. Adrian seems to understand too, as he pulls you up off his lap, hissing at the air hitting his cock, cold compared to the heat of your cunt.

You stand unsteadily, almost dizzy as you use your legs for the first time in over an hour. Rick reaches out for you, pulling you into his arms as you steady yourself, his warmth radiating over you.

“Wanna lay down?” he asks, as if he already knows what you want. Yes, yes of course you do, you nod your head and he leads you over to the little table, pushing all of the discarded deck onto the floor as he gently lays you down. Adrian gets up and joins Rick, standing on the opposite end of the table. You lay back, face to face with Adrian as your spine flattens out against the formica. He smiles at you sweetly, and you return it, before he winks. As if you read his mind, you open your mouth for him, and he leans down and spits between your lips. You smile up at him, eyes full of nothing but adoration.

“You want my mouth?” you ask him, and he shakes his head no. Rick the voyeur switches places with him, rounding the table until he’s standing next to your head.

“Stay still,” Rick warns you, his hands gently tilting your head back to lean off the edge of the table.

“Yes, Daddy,” you obey.

“Don’t,” Rick pauses, grimaces, blushes red as a tomato, “Don’t say that.”

You immediately tilt your head back up, looking for Adrian with wild amusement painted on your features.

“Did you hear that?” you giggle, snapping your fingers at Adrian from his spot between your legs. He laughs along with you, pointing at Rick, who rolls his eyes.

“Colonel’s got a Daddy kink!” you laugh, only stopped when Rick pulls your back down, bringing your attention back on him to shut you up.

“You want a taste?” he asks, grasping his cock by the base, and stepping closer to your bruised lips.

You nod, eagerly. The tip of his cock touches your lips, and you gladly part them to let Rick push his cock between them. You push your tongue out to taste him, salty and hot against you, your tongue massaging him as you take him fully into your mouth. Fuck, he feels good in your mouth, just as good as you thought he would. He pushes slowly, whether hes testing the waters or afraid to hurt you, you arent sure. But you want more, no, need it even. He takes a few more shallow thrusts, slow and even and safe.

We can’t have that, now can we?

You grab his hips, thumbs dipping right against his v-line as you pull him closer to you, taking him as deep as you can. Rick gasps, then groans in surprise, his voice strained as he gets used to the sensation of his cock down your throat.

Adrian, not one to be outdone, only watches the show for a moment before focusing his attention back to your cunt. Which, in his opinion, is only too clothed.

Adrian pushes your skirt up around your waist, bunching the fabric up ungracefully. His fingers rake down the front of your underwear, wet and twisted and useless now that Adrian had already made a previous mess of them. Impatient to a fault, repositioning you to pull them off smoothly would take too long.

Your focus is pulled from the heat of Rick’s cock by cool steel against your hip, and without pulling yourself off of Rick you hum, trying to get attention as you ask what the fuck is going on. Rick reaches down to rub his thumb along your chin in comfort.

“Adrian’s got a knife,” Rick explains, and as you feel the elastic of your underwear break, you relax once more. You had told Adrian one night in your cell that you wanted him to do that to you once he got his knives back. He’s a good listener.

You swivel your tongue along Rick’s cock, the hot velvet soft skin and salty sweat. You hollow out your cheeks, pride blooming in your chest as the commanding officer groans like a much more desperate man.

Adrian’s cock once again presses against your entrance, a key into a lock, and he sinks into you slowly, a loud and blissful moan spilling from his lips. You can only imagine the smile on his face. The same smooth drag, the fullness of him returns to you, and you moan around Rick’s shaft. You feel the shiver up his spine from here. He likes that, you notice, and file it away in your mind to use against him.

Adrian is not slow and gentle for long, though, quickly picking up speed now that he has the freedom to have you spead out below him like this.

His hips slamming into you shakes the table, rocking your mouth farther onto Rick’s cock. You gag, sharply inhaling through your nose to try to keep control. You reach out to him, your fingers wrapping around his forearms to stabalize you, so that maybe next time Adrian decides to be rough it wont end with Rick bruising your vocal cords. Rick moves his hands, gripping the edge of the table to keep you in place. Adrian hammers into you, fucking you onto Rick, once again a tandem rhythm between the three of you.

“Jesus, Colonel, is that your dick?” you hear Adrian ask as he presses your thighs farther apart.

“Yep,” You hear Rick confirm, his hand coming off the edge of table to brush his fingertips across your neck, “Pretty little throat your girl’s got.”

“Don’t I know it?” Adrian asks, and that effectively ends their conversation again. You’re glad

theyre starting to get along. You feel Adrian’s hands running up and down your thighs, massaging his thumbs into the muscles, but you can only be so pliant beneath him when tension builds and pools in your stomach, threatening to bring you over the edge again.

You try to focus on one or the other. Try to focus on keeping your cheeks hollow and your tongue moving for Rick. Try to focus on not coming again on Adrian’s cock while he teases and manipulates your body. You feel like you're failing though, and falling all the same, your muscles feel weak against both of them, hard and strong, your body filled with white-hot heat like molten lava.

Adrian breaks your thoughts by yanking both of your legs together, your knees knocking together roughly. Heat turning supernova, you moan loud around Rick’s cock, and he himself moans in response.

“That gonna get you to come for me again?” Adrian asks, laughter in his voice as he places both of your ankles on one shoulder, hugging your legs to his chest. The angle is… divine. Your eyes screw shut tightly, stars bursting behind your eyelids. He’s such a little shit.

You hum affirmatively again around Rick’s cock, and his hips stutter against your face, knocking into your chin.

“Fuck, Doll, you gotta stop doing that,” he sighs, but you can barely hear him. No, you’re focusing to holding onto your sanity. Everything feels so so so much, everything is Adrian and Rick, Adrian and Rick, and you melting between them. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

A strangled cry fights its way from your mouth, and a cord snaps within you. You shudder, and Adrian leans down to pin you down even further, slowing down this time to give you a little mercy. He is sweet. He works you through your orgasm slowly, gently pulling it from you, gently letting you back down to earth, gently letting the pleasure crash over you in waves. He thrusts slowly, dragging himself from you before every slow thrust in, taking you apart and putting you back together. You float back down into yourself slowly, held by both of them. Adrian pressed against you and Rick now running his fingers through your hair.

Rick pulls out slowly, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and finally you can swallow properly, your sore jaw slack and tired. Adrian presses a kiss to the back of your knee, pulling out as well. You groan at the loss of him, at the heat leaving your body. Then again, at the feeling of goosebumps covering your skin. He lets your legs down gently, your heels coming to rest on the edge of the table as he holds you lazily.

Rick leans down, eyes dark and lustful, handsome and fully focused on you. He is dangerous.

“Can I have that honey pot, gorgeous?” Rick asks you, face close enough to kiss. You lean up, craning your neck to do just that. He tastes like rum and vanilla, sickeningly sweet. Your hand reaches up to pull him even closer, your nails raking through his soft hair. Rick’s hand quickly finds your chest, his thumb brushing over your nipple. What a tease, you think.

He parts his lips from you slowly, eyes staying closed as if savoring the moment to commit to memory.

“You can have whatever you want,” you whisper, and Rick seems to preen at that. He stands tall again and moves to take Adrian’s place. Adrian doesn't budge though.

“You gonna…?” Rick trails off, holding out his hand to gesture Adrian to the side. Adrian still doesn't budge, his feet planted to the floor. You roll your eyes, bored of the competition. Men.

“I think I’m good here,” Adrian shrugs, his fingers idly running up and down the side of your leg.

“Don’t act like she’s not the one that holds your leash, Vig,” Rick shoots back, pointing out a truth, “Everyone sees how you protect her. She's a big girl.”

Adrian visibly deflates, his shoulders drooping. If you didn’t know better, you would think Rick’s gaze is softening in guilt. But you do know better.

“Don’t worry, babe, you’re the only one that gets to come inside,” you stage whisper to him, looking at Rick the whole time. He gets it and nods instantly in reassurance.

“Better be,” Adrian pouts, “And maybe he should only get you from behind.”

It’s a little petty on Adrian’s part, but you have a bond. The Colonel is an interloper at the end of the night, and Adrian’s comfort is important.

“I can work with that,” Rick pipes up, slapping a reassuring hand on the younger man’s shoulder, which surprisingly is not shrugged off. Adrian even looks a little surprised at the turn of events, as if he’s used to others making him put up more of a fight to get what he wants.

You turn yourself over, ignoring the ache in your core, dropping onto your feet off the edge of the table to bend over. The cool air hits you, and finally you realize just how wet you are. Fuck.

Adrian is reluctant as he moves in front of you, but he seems thankful of the shitty table, and the ability to kiss you before he grabs your head to lower it on his shaft. He kisses you softly, holding both sides of your face in his big hands. You press your lips to his eagerly, a salve to whatever hurt his ego feels in this whole situation. You know you’ll hear an earful when you go to sleep next to him later, but you don’t mind. Not when he looks like that.

You’re broken from your thoughts by the feeling of another pair of rough hands; this time finding purchase on your hips. Adrian breaks the kiss somewhat reluctantly, licking the seam of your lips before he pulls away.

You smile up at him again, and he grabs his shaft, pumping from the base to the tip twice. Like a fucking pornstar.

“Open up?” he asks, and you oblige, dramatically parting your lips and sticking your tongue out for show. His nose scrunches, his glasses fogging slightly as he laughs through his nose, and he inches closer to you, teasing you with the tip just out of reach. You pout, and then smile as he gives in, resting the fat head of his cock against your tongue.

Rick’s cock brushes against your entrance, only for a moment, and then he pushes his entire length into you with one thrust, filling you entirely.

You moan, loud and wanton, pushed further onto Adrian’s shaft as well. Both of them fill you, completely.

Rick lingers, savoring the feeling of being fully inside you, holding your hips and your bodies flush together. He pulls himself out again slowly, almost completely, dragging against you, friction that makes you whine, open mouthed and loud around Adrian’s shaft, and his grip on your head only becomes tighter. Rick takes the opportunity to land a hard smack against your ass, hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to make his mark on you the way that Adrian has, hard enough to lay claim to you.

He then begins thrusting in earnest; long, savoring strokes you're sure he will remember later, fucking his fist in the shower.

The edge of the table digs into the flesh of your thighs, you can imagine the indents they'll leave, a sweet reminder as you're sure it'll be sore to walk tomorrow. He presses into you deep, each thrust harder than the last, each thrust earning him a moan.

You push back against him, arching your back into each of his movements. Adrian moves differently, barely thrusting his hips, small movements while he keeps himself deep in your mouth, his tip kissing the back of your throat with every little push of his hips.

The room fills with moans, all three of you together harmoniously, hitting your stride.

“Fucking amazing,” Rick sighs, beginning to speed up his thrusts, his hip bones bumping against your ass.

“Right?” Adrian agrees, his thumb swiping against your cheek. Wet, like the rest of you.

“You’re a lucky man, Vigilante.”

And without warning Rick changes his angle, hips now connecting with the bottom of your ass, and you nearly scream. This new angle… this is… excruciating pleasure.

He reaches a part of you that your hadn't already known, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that makes your vision blur. He hits it over and over, your eyes rolling back into your head as your orgasm rushes almost embarrassingly.

You feel yourself tightening around him, feel all of your muscles seizing. You try as hard as you can to keep your jaw where it is for Adrian despite the fact that Rick has the rest of your body curling in on itself.

He speeds up, continuing to hit that spot, hit that place in you. Your toes curl, and you lose your composure quickly, now moaning every time he fills you to the hilt.

You moan on Adrian’s cock, your throat vibrating around his cock, and at some point he just stops thrusting, enjoying the feeling of you on him in your current state too much.

Rick keeps thrusting, your back arching to the point where your body almost comes off the table, your hips rising almost uncomfortably to meet the angle he has set to make you come beneath him, and expertly so. You're barrelling towards that high, bracing yourself to let yourself go, to go limp around Rick Flag, to show him…

“Fuck,” Rick curses, pulling out harshly. He taps the tip of his cock against your ass a few times, and then sighs deeply.

“You are something else,” he laughs, his free hand running down your hip. Adrian takes this as his cue, and pulls himself out of your mouth too. Unlike with Rick, you whine at the loss of Adrian. You look up at him through your lashes, his smile cocky and excited.

“You wanna finish the job?” you ask your protector, and he nods eagerly, the smile never slipping.

You turn your attention back to the older man.

“It’s okay, Colonel,” you coo, your voice once again sweet with that venom, taunting, “You can have my mouth again.”

Rick isn’t going to think twice about it, and he switches places with Adrian to stand in front of you again, gathering your hair in his fist. You lock eyes with him as your tongue darts out of your mouth, a gentle lick to the head of his cock. He shudders, clearly ready. Well, you’re not one to waste time. You pull him in closer by the hips, taking his length back into your mouth.

He groans appreciatively when the back of your throat meets the tip of his cock again, kissing it. Quick, shallow thrusts this time, less about exploring you and more about an eagerness to meet his end, and to watch you meet your end once again. He holds your head still, fucking your mouth, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have cards to deal as well.

You swivel your tongue along the vein on the underside of his shaft, mapping it like hills and valleys.

He’s quick, head thrown back in pleasure and chest heaving. Adrian is not one to be outdone though, and enters you equally as quickly, no show or frills or gentleness this time. He enters you as a means to an end as well.

Both men thrust into you hungrily, chasing a high only given by you. Adrian reaches down, bending his body over you until his fingers reach your clit again, moving with a pace and desperation to make you scream around Rick’s cock. His arm will probably be as bruised as your thighs will be tomorrow morning, but it’s clear he doesn’t care, hammering into you again.

The tension you felt under Rick comes back almost immediately, your body tensing and curling for Adrian now as he puts himself deep inside you. Rick has to almost work against Adrian, his own thrusts having to fit in the waves and crashes of Adrian’s hips.

Adrian works you over, your body constricting and tensing under Adrian’s generous moans, watches you as you start to lose it.

“That's it babe, show the Colonel how good you are,” Adrian encourages, the pressure of his finger on your clit now almost violent, knowing how ready you are.

“Let go,” Adrian urges, his voice so low and wanting. Instead of you, its Rick that lets go, filling your throat with his release, salty and hot, but easy to swallow. He tastes good, not too much not too little. You swallow him down eagerly, making eye contact the entire time, and you're almost sure he sheds a tear.

It's seconds later that Adrian makes you come again.

You shudder, hard and unsexy under him, and entire loss of control, but you hide none of it from Rick. He knows you, or at least he should. Adrian comes shortly after, his release with a groan, and the two of you sink to the floor as a unit, connected, held together. Adrian keeps you close.

Your head shoots up from Rick’s shoulder as if you’ve been burned, your eyes wide as you turn your face towards the pile of his clothes. The Colonel unravels himself from you and the Vigilante, a pile of limbs doused in sweat and spit and salt. His phone vibrates; the case clattering against his belt buckle, the screen a bright intrusion to the dim lights, reflecting off of the rum bottles like christmas lights. Rick stumbles towards it, pulled by duty. Adrian pulls at you by the handful, fully enveloping you in his embrace. One so new and yet already so comforting. You picked right when you set your sights on him.

Rick bends down to pick up his phone, showing you a great view of that ass of his. You rake your fingernails over Adrian’s bicep, tracing the scar tissue lines across soft freckled skin while you watch what the other man does.

Rick’s screen illuminates a grimace on his face. Your brows furrow in confusion, and then realization.

“Waller?” you ask, voice partially muffled by how Adrian has himself wrapped around you.

“Yup,” Rick confirms, knowing he’s probably a dead man.

You and Adrian burst into laughter.

He’s so fucking dead.

Rick slips on his underwear and leaves the room to take the call.

#adrian chase x reader #rick flag x reader

474 notes · View notes

milla-frenchy · 1 year ago

Text

2k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: Joel finds out that babysitting isn't your only student job Warnings: 18+ mdni. PWP. Age gap unspecified, escort, dirty talk, praise kink, sir kink, size kink, spitting, pussy slapping, light degradation, oral (m/f), unprotected piv, creampie. No outbreak a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog thank you for correcting me, as always. ILY 💕🫶🫶🫶 Thanks to @noxturnalpascal who had this idea: PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak). PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) *1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum The other fics based on this prompt: Dancing is a dangerous game @noxturnalpascal ; Webcam for beginners @iamasaddie ; Birthday surprise @aurorawritestoescape Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

ao3 - Masterlist

"Good night, Mr. Miller!"

You close the front door behind you and quickly walk to your car. You’re a student, in your final year. Babysitter is your job for the first part of the evening. Sarah Miller is one of the children you regularly babysit on weekend evenings.

In the second part of the evening, you’re an escort.

A few months earlier, in a club, someone asked you to join their escort business. You had never considered it before, but the money to be earned, the relatively “classy” and secure side of the site you would work for, made you decide. However, you wanted to continue babysitting, and start escorting sparingly.

You arrive at the usual hotel about thirty minutes before one of your regulars, so you can have time to get ready.

Joel is single, and regularly he pays for an escort.

That evening, he surfs his usual site, and he’s looking for something fresh. He has his regulars, but from time to time he likes to fuck a new one. He loves to see how they react under his fingers. Loves their look when they see his cock for the first time, then when he sinks into them. How they take his cock. His subscription costs him a lot, but he has never been disappointed.

He scrolls lazily on his phone until his thumb stops on the screen. He scrolls back a little and stares at a photo. He can’t see much of the escort's face, but it's enough to put him in doubt. Is it really Sarah’s babysitter he’s looking at?

In 10 minutes, you’ll be here to babysit Sarah. He puts his phone down and waits. When you arrive, he greets you as usual, but lingers to look at this little mole, just above your mouth. This mole, that made him scroll backwards.

He smirks, and goes out to meet a woman he fucks from time to time. When he pushes his cock in her pussy that night, he thinks of his kid's babysitter.

When he gets home, you’re sitting on the couch, watching Narcos. He wonders why the actor is wearing such tight jeans when his bulge is so visible.

You get up and ask him if he had a good evening. He smiles at you and says yes. He pauses before asking if everything went well with Sarah, and you tell him everything was fine, as usual. You gather your things and leave, wishing him a good night.

Joel watches you walk to your car and he heads upstairs. He goes to his daughter’s bedroom to check on her, and closes the door, seeing that Sarah is sleeping.

He walks to his bedroom, lies down on the bed and picks up his phone. He finds your page and looks through your photos. The escorts' bodies are much less hidden than their faces. He looks at your curves. Your breasts pressed between your hands. Your pussy covered in red lingerie. Your ass, barely covered by a black thong. He pulls his cock out of his pants and boxers, and grabs the lotion from his nightstand drawer before starting to jerk off. He thinks about you and wonders if you're with a client. He jacks off with long and slow movements, and imagines the noises you make when you’re getting fucked. The noises you would make if he was fucking you deep. He imagines your mouth around his cock and how you would suck his balls. He jerks off harder and cums, sending squirts onto his lower stomach. He doesn’t even take the time to clean himself before booking a slot with you.

The next weekend, he had asked Tommy to watch Sarah.

He arrives at the hotel, goes to room 301 and sits in the Chesterfield chair, waiting for you. 5 minutes later, you enter the room. You take off your trench and turn towards the chair. Your eyes widen when you see him.

“Mr Miller?!”

He looks at you and doesn’t answer.

“Oh my god, it’s so embarrassing… I’m sorry, I will notify the escort service of the situation and you will be reimbursed. I am really sorry, Mr. Miller.”

He smiles and says “I think you don’t understand, baby. I booked because I knew it was you.”

You frown and tell him it’s totally inappropriate.

“Well… Considering the way I catch you looking at me sometimes, I'm not sure it bothers you that much.”

“No, Mr. Miller, I assure you I don’t-”

He smirks again, and you stop talking. He’s right. Ever since you started babysitting his daughter, you can't help but sneak glances at him. But you thought you were more discreet, though.

“Now darlin’, I’m your client tonight, so do what you’re getting paid for, and come suck my cock.”

His attitude shocks you a little, he’s the father of the child you babysit, and there has never been any awkward situations between the two of you until now. But his talk, the way he commands you, turns you on. After a few seconds of hesitation, you walk up to him, get on your knees and undo his pants. You take out his cock and pause before looking up at him.

“Come on, baby. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of one cock? That would be embarrassing as an escort, right?”

You lean down, take his shaft in your hand, start to jerk him off and take his tip in your mouth. It's so wide that it barely fits, but you do your best.

“Look at me, when you blow me, baby.”

You try to put your embarrassment aside and glance up at him. The moment your eyes meet, his are so dark, so full of desire that you forget your reserve. You want to give him value for his money, but above all, you want to make him forget everything while he is in this hotel room with you.

You let the saliva build up and then flow down his shaft, while you swirl your tongue over his slit and let the precum invade your mouth.

“That’s it darlin’. That’s good. Deeper now.”

You go further down, squeeze his thigh with one hand, letting your mouth go down his shaft. You then caress his balls with your other hand, while you keep his cock buried all the way to your throat.

”Shit, baby… can't believe this naughty mouth is the same that dares to talk to my daughter.”

You moan around his cock hearing him, and hold yourself back from slipping your hand into your panties and touching yourself. You pull back and suck him again. He puts his hands on each side of your head and pumps your mouth with his hip thrusts. You stay still, without moving, eyes closed, while he’s fucking your mouth roughly.

“Yeah, just like that. Fuckin’ take my cock.”

He growls as his fists clench in your hair. He stops and holds you, your mouth full of his cock. You hear him breathing heavily.

“‘m gonna fuck your throat now. Eyes on me baby.”

You stare at him, and he pulls back, before sinking his cock in your throat. He holds your head so tight that you couldn't pull back even if you wanted to. You let him fuck your throat, as he thrusts deep inside 3 or 4 times, slowly. You feel tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, as his shaft sinks fully. He holds you and says “Don’t move. Don’t fuckin’ move.”

You follow his command, your eyes still fixed on him, and you feel his cock twitch in the back of your throat.

“That’s good, darlin’. Fuck…”

He finally releases you, slightly, still setting the pace. He leans towards you and pulls your head back, saying “open”.

You open and he spits in your mouth. He caresses your chin and tells you to swallow. You do so, and you don’t take your eyes off him. You know that’s what he wants. His attitude keeps turning you on, and you feel that your panties are soaked.

“Take off your blouse and skirt, and lie down on the bed.”

He looks at you, still sitting in the Chesterfield chair, while you undress. Then he stands up, removes all his clothes and lays down on the bed, his shoulders between your thighs. He pulls aside the fabric of your panties and reveals your pussy.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby…Now ask me to eat you out.”

“Eat my pussy, please.”

He slaps your clit and you cry out in surprise.

“Ask better than that."

“Would you eat my pussy, please, sir?”

“Much better. We’ll have to work on your manners, darlin'.”

You don't even have time to wonder if he's really planning to fuck you again, before he slides from your soaked hole to your clit, with the flat of his tongue, in a long stroke. You moan as he now pushes his tongue into your pussy and his nose rubs against your clit.

“Mmmm you taste good.”

He licks you again with a long stroke and pushes two fingers into your pussy, focusing his tongue on your clit. His beard rubs against your thighs and fuck… he knows how to eat a pussy. You bend your knees and spread your thighs to offer yourself even more to him, your hands gripping his curls. He raises his head and his chin shines with your wetness.

“You spread like a slut for me, who would have known you were such a whore when I hired you?”

Being far from shocked, you moan under his words as he starts sucking your clit again. His free hand pulls on your bra to release a breast, which he grabs in his hand.

“Fuckin talk to me, baby.”

“I love that. You eat me so well. Please-”

He stops and says “manners.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, sir. It’s so good, I forgot my manners. Please keep going, sir, I would like to come in your mouth, please.”

“Good girl”, he says, before starting to swirl his tongue over your clit again.

He pushes a third finger into your pussy and you roll your hips against his mouth, trying to grind yourself against it as much as possible.

“That's it baby. I can feel you’re gonna come.”

You moan louder and louder and he adds "come on my tongue, baby. Come on the tongue of the man who pays for two of your jobs"

“Fuck”, you say as you grip his hair and come in his mouth, shaking.

“There it is… That's good, baby, you're doing so well.”

You jolt again at his praise, your pussy squeezing his fingers one more time. He kneels between your thighs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks:

“You want this cock, baby?”

“Yes I do, sir.”

“Take it, then”, he adds, lying on his back next to you.

Shyness makes you doubt your actions again the moment you straddle him, after taking off your panties and bra. You’re so close to his face. The face of one of your employers, much older than you, but above all, the father of a child you babysit. Joel seems to understand what's making you hesitate, and his gaze becomes softer, more familiar to you.

“What happens here, stays here, baby.”

You nod and grab his cock, pressing his tip against your entrance. You stare at his chest and start sinking on it, when he stops you.

“No, not like that. You look at me when you fuck yourself on my cock. You look at me, and don’t take your eyes off me.”

“Why?”, you whisper.

“Because I wanna see you suffocate when my cock tears you in two. Because I want you to realize that it’s my cock, that you’re gonna impale yourself on. Because I want you to remember that, the next time you come to my house and I open the door to you, even if we don’t refer to it outside of here.”

So you raise your head, stare at him, and lower your pelvis. And god, he was right when he said his cock would tear you in two. You feel it parting your folds and you can't hold back a long moan.

You keep impaling yourself on his cock, more and more, going down his shaft without stopping or slowing down, your eyes fixed on his, while he has placed his hands on your hips now, but letting you be in control.

His stare has changed too. His confidence has given way to pleasure and you can't help but smile, until you reach the base of his dick. You stay like that for a few seconds, full of his cock, and you catch your breath.

“So tell me…. since when did you wanna fuck me?” he asks you.

“Fuck, I…I don’t know…”

He holds your hips so you stay grounded on him, and can’t avoid his questions.

“Days? Weeks? Months?”

“Oh god…hu…Weeks or months, I guess.”

“Oh baby you wanted this cock for so long?”

“Please, I wanna move…”

“Last question. Do you think about that big cock at night in your bed?”

“Fuck…Yes. Yes I do. I touch myself thinking of your cock.”

He smirks and finally releases the pressure on your hips. You start rolling them, barely lifting yourself with every movement of your hips. You rub your clit against his lower abdomen and you seek your pleasure again, even though you came in his mouth a short time before.

“Fuck look at that… you’re using me to get off, my cock deep in your slutty pussy…”

You bite your lip and realize that what you’re doing is unprofessional. You should act for his own pleasure. But you can't. And you don’t want to, for now. His cock is so good, and you feel that in less than two minutes you’re gonna come on it.

“It’s ok, baby. Use me, come on my cock. It’s here for it.”

“I…fuck. I’m gonna cum, sir. Your cock is so thick and…my clit...fuck...my clit..it’s so good. I’m gonna…I’m gonna come, sir. Can I come, please?”

“Come for me baby, come on”, he whispers, and as you’re coming on his cock, he presses harder on your hips, to keep you fully buried on him.

You fall onto his torso and he caresses your back until your spasms stop. You come to your senses and sit up straight, before realizing that you are still impaled on him, and that his cock is still just as big and hard inside you. Your pussy clenches at this sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Fuck, baby. You just came twice in a matter of minutes, what fucker would be mad after that?”

You nod and smile gently.

“Lie on your back, now, baby.”

You do as he asks, and once lying on top of you, he says, his eyes fixed on yours “my turn to fuck you.”

He thrusts into you half way suddenly, and you can't help but suffocate. He pulls back, and immediately sinks in again and bottoms up.

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ tight. ’m gonna ruin that pussy, baby.”

He fucks you quickly and goes deep with each stroke. You feel his balls slap against your pussy and…he fucks well. One of the best fucks you've ever had. Maybe even the best. You hold on to his biceps and let him fuck you.

“Come on baby, use your words, tell me what you feel.”

But he’s fucking you so hard, so good, that you can’t answer.

“Oh baby… what’s goin’ on? You can’t talk anymore, I’m fucking you that good?”

“Yes…yes, sir.”

“Come on baby, give me more. Your other clients fuck you like this?”

You can’t answer, but you shake your head, while he’s still pounding you.

“No? Not a single client fucks you as good as me?”

You shake your head again.

“You know it won’t be the only time we fuck, right? I’m not even done with you, and I already miss your pussy. Fuck…you’re squeezing me so tight…fuck.”

“More”, you say.

“More what? Words.”

“I want you to fuck me more… I… shit… I want more nights.”

“You’ll have them, baby. Ah fuck..I’m gonna fill you, baby….That’s what you want? To be filled by my big cock?”

“Yes…Yes please sir, fill me up!”

He thrusts in again, twice, three times, and you feel his spurts of cum filling your pussy.

“You're gonna empty my bank account with that pussy baby, damn…”

*******************

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel fanfic #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel x you #pedro pascal characters

590 notes · View notes

lemotmo · 1 month ago

Note

Oh my god 🤣🤣🤣🤣. They need to be studied.

Q. The 'article' was click bait and for someone who works even adjacent to the industry you should know that. Oliver was not talking about Buck. He was talking about what he personally likes to see in an onscreen relationship. One has nothing to do with the other. Buck and Tommy fit everything he was describing and with the conflict coming up on screen they will have yet another element of will they or won't they, as in will they be able to resolve their problems and come together stronger than they were before the issues. Allowing so-called journalists to use their job to fetish ship a non canon couple for likes and clicks is the height of unprofessional and gross and Oliver should have called out the behavior. But of course he didn't.

A. So first you all pretended you didn't know what a plot device was and now you're pretending that you don't know what a slow burn is. Okay. Fine. Buck and Tommy are not a slow burn. A slow burn does not happen over a 2 episode span. A slow burn does not have a kiss in the first few episodes of meeting. A slow burn is not one bad date and then bam a relationship. What Buck and Tommy have is the relationship formula Buck's entire dating history has followed. Rinse and repeat. Every. Single. One. The only thing different in Tommy's case is the fact that he's male. Something myself and others have said repeatedly. He is not the exception. He is the rule. A slow burn is two characters who meet and form a connection. A connection the audience watches develop, deepen and grow over time. A connection that can't be easily defined. A true will they or won't they is about chemistry and electricity and moments that are seemingly about one thing but because the characters have chemistry take on a charge that they otherwise wouldn't have. The 'go for the title' scene is the perfect example. If that scene had been between Chim and Hen it would have just been a funny little moment about one upping each other but because Buck and Eddie have a natural pull that exists between them that scene feels very charged and electric in a way it otherwise wouldn't feel if it were two other characters. They both lowered their voices, Buck (Oliver) grabbed his belt, and stepped into Eddie's space. The eye contact, the smiles, Eddie's noticeable gulp. All of that factors into the feeling that scene creates. That was flirting. Not bantering. There is a difference. Another example is the fight in the grocery store. Absolutely no part of that argument plays like two friends arguing over one of them doing something stupid. That entire scene plays like a couple in the middle of a custody fight. And, again if that scene had been between Buck and Hen or Eddie and Chim it wouldn't have played that way. It comes across as a couple fight because it's Buck and Eddie and because of the way their relationship has naturally progressed as time has gone by. They feel like a couple in most ways. That is a slow burn. Moments here and there where if one of them had just leaned in ever so slightly that little bit more you think they might kiss. And their stories are full of moments like those. The poker game was absolutely a date in any other scenario. The family dinners Buck cooks for himself and Eddie and Chris that the show has chosen to establish as just part of their everyday life. They are a family and it wasn't forced. It happened naturally and the audience saw all of it. The audience has seen both Ana and Marisol step into Eddie's life and attempt to do the very same things Buck does and has watched Eddie spiral one way or another each time. That is a purposeful writing choice.

The audience, journalists and actors aren't pushing or forcing a narrative. The show is. They are written that way. And Oliver and Ryan have both been very open and honest about what they believe should happen if it feels like the natural progression of where their characters should go. And we're there. People talk about it all the time because it is the natural next step. It is the best way forward for both characters. Oliver and Ryan have the right to agree with that. They have the right to have an opinion on the matter. People who have only been around a total of 8 episodes (and can't be bothered to actually pay attention to the full episodes, or watch the series in it's entirety) have no valid opinion on anything 911 related. Because you're not actually bothering to watch and follow the show. You're following headcanons you paid for. That is not the fault of Oliver, Ryan, journalists, the show writers or any of the other fans. That is your fault. Oliver has always been very careful with the language he uses during an interview. He never says anything unintentionally. He speaks purposefully to avoid being accused of leading anyone on. I have begged you all for months to follow Oliver's lead because he wasn't going to lie or mislead you. You chose to ignore him though because it went against what you wanted to believe and what you paid to hear. The article wasn't click bait. It wasn't Oliver pandering to the Buddie fandom. It was well within the appropriate guidelines for a forum like SceenRant. The article you all fell all over yourselves over yesterday was written by someone who didn't even conduct the interview or spoke to Oliver and you all held it up as the highest standard of journalistic integrity because he 'clearly spoke to the interviewer and was told about Oliver's body language and off the record conversations'. Stop. It. That is not real. And you know it's not real. And finally, anon the height of unprofessional and gross is a dlist celebrity charging his 'fans' $220 a lie.

Thank you Nonny! As always much appreciated.

As for you Ali? You are the best! I just sat back, relaxed, read and enjoyed. Thank you for speaking all of our truths and doing it so eloquently at the same time.

I have nothing constructive to add here, besides the fact that the latest article also wasn't written by Rachel Foertsch who was the one who directly talked to Oliver. She just posted on Twitter that her own full article will be written up tomorrow. I'm very excited to read the full article now and to see what Rachel's experience was, talking to Oliver.

But seriously guys... those two quotes of his? Well, it's just THE most obvious foreshadowing ever.

Last, but not least: let me tell you. This post?

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

#anonymous blog I love #buddie speculation #BT speculation #season 8 speculation #911 speculation #insight into 911 fandom & season 7 and 8 #nonnies galore

120 notes · View notes

arecaceae175 · 2 years ago

Text

Linked Universe Character Guide

I made this LU character guide for my friends and I thought it might be useful for any new LU fans out there! And also for anyone else who wants to info dump to friends about LU. So here you go :D

These characters are of course based on @linkeduniverse by Jojo! But, disclaimer, this does include some non-canon stuff (primarily the fandom nicknames and some War of Ages things) that’s common in fanfiction :). I made this for fun and for my friends so it includes my favorite tropes, canon and fanon.

Edit 4/4/23: Alt text and image descriptions added. Alt text only describes the official character art image (descriptions of all the images were too long for alt text and they were being cut off by my screen). Image text and other image descriptions are at the bottom of the post.

(key at the bottom)

Key:

Image text:

Hero of Time – Time – Old Man, Ancestor (by Twilight), Sprite (by Warriors) | Zelda: Lullaby

Games: Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask

Character Traits:

Oldest of the Links

Mental age unknown, physical age is probably 30s

Leader of the group, also group Dad

Very decisive and stoic when he’s being leader

Youthful sense of humor

Views the Master Sword as a curse/burden

Twilight’s mentor – Animated skeleton in the Twilight Princess game called Hero’s Shade

Loves his wife Malon so so so much

Important Game Facts and Items:

Majora’s Mask was a 3-day time loop basically, Time was the one to control the movement of time though

He has masks that give the wearer powers

His facial markings come from the Fierce Diety Mask, which gives him god-like fighting power, but he can’t always tell friend from foe

Had a fairy companion named Navi in Ocarina of Time

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Time is holding up Wild's version of Majora's Mask even with his face. His injured eye is open slightly and is completely white, and his facial markings are in focus. His text box says "Besides, with a legend like that, I'd be more afraid of what destroyed the demon."

Image 2: Time has his arm around Malon and is smiling happily. Malon is a middle aged white woman with long red hair. She is wearing a farming dress. She is smiling back at Time.

Image 3: Text above the image says "Post-Games, Pre-LU Time." It is a black and white sketch of Time when he was a young man. His hair is long and braided over his shoulder with fringe coming down around his face. He is wearing a simple undershirt.

Image 4: Time is smirking mischievously. He is seen shoulder-up.

Image 5: Time is smiling talking to Wind. Wind is putting his sword back in his sheath. Time's text box says "In every battle, you have a little more of the look of a hero." Wind is smiling sheepishly and his text box says "…"

Image 6: Time is scowling. He is holding his sword with both hands out to the side as if he was just attacking. There is smoke and debris in the background. End descriptions.

Hero of Twilight – Twilight – Twi, Pup (by Time), Rancher, Ordonian, Wolfie | Zelda: Dusk

Game: Twilight Princess

Character Traits:

Started his journey as an older teen/adult, now early 20s

Good sword skill & marksmanship, best on horseback, animal whisperer

Physically strongest Link

Grew up in a small town, Ordon Village, on a ranch

Brother bickering relationship with Warriors

Big Brother of the group

One of the most emotionally mature Links

He often comforts the others as Wolfie

Wild’s mentor (because Wolf Link can show up in Breath of the Wild)

Mentored by Time (Hero’s Shade) and Time’s blood descendant

Important Game Facts and Items:

One of the only ones to start his journey as an older teen/adult

Was cursed with Shadow Magic and can now turn into a wolf at will using the artifact he wears as a necklace (Shadow Crystal)

His horse Epona sometimes accompanies the group

Had a companion named Midna that he loved but can never see again

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Twilight is scowling and has his arms crossed.

Image 2: Twilight is in his wolf form. The wolf is large and primarily black, with grey fur on his chest, paws, and face. He has the same forehead markings as Hylian Twilight, but they are grey instead of black. Wolfie has his eyes closed but his head up and is laying on the ground. Wild is asleep on his back with one arm draped across him.

Image 3: Twilight as Wolfie at the end of his transformation. There are black cubes surrounding him, signaling the transformation. Wolfie has a metal shackle on his left front leg. His hackles raised and he is growling.

Image 4: Twilight has his shield at the ready. His brows are furrowed in concentration. Light is shining from the upper left corner and it makes his hair look more blonde than usual.

Image 5: Image from Wild's Sheikah Slate. Twilight is wearing his undertunic and none of his other usual clothes. He is smiling at the camera. In the background there is a lake with light shimmering on the water.

Image 6: Twilight is grinning widely. He is holding a staff diagonally in front of him. End descriptions.

Hero of Warriors – Warriors – Wars, Captain, Pretty Boy (by Legend) | Zelda: Artemis/Athena

Game: Hyrule Warriors

Character Traits:

War of Ages started when he was an older teen/adult, now mid 20s

Military man, but the good kind, Captain in the Hyrulean Army

Weird relationship with Time- Time is team dad, but during the War of Ages Warriors was his big brother figure

Wind’s mentor

Looks are important to him

Prefers to be in groups, good at communication

Best at strategizing and battle plans and such

Doesn’t trust easily because a lot of his soldiers betrayed him

Emotionally mature

Loves to bicker with Legend

Most likely to have actual field medic training

Important Game Facts and Items

War of Ages

Time and Wind were technically present

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Warriors is showing off the burn scar on his left arm. It covers his hand and forearm. He is sitting next to Wind and Warriors' scarf is over both their shoulders. Wind is holding a mug. He is leaning forward and looking at Warriors' scar in shock.

Image 2: Warriors during battle. The art shows lines from the swing of his sword, but the sword is not in the frame. He is mid-swing. His scarf is billowed out behind him.

Image 3: Warriors is smirking and shrugging. There is a text box, but it is cut off and unreadable.

Image 4: Warriors is speaking, but the text box is cut off and unreadable. The image is zoomed in on his upper body.

Image 5: Warriors during battle. He is crouched down and his shoulders are pointing towards the viewer but he is looking to the side. His sword and shield are both up. His sword is pointing in the same direction as he is looking.

Image 6: Warriors is holding out a cloth covered in black blood. He has a cut above his left eyebrow that is bleeding. There is a text box but it is cut off and the only visible word is "creature." End descriptions.

\Hero of the Four Sword – Four – Smithy, Little One (by Time) | Zelda: Dot

Games: Four Swords, Four Swords Adventures, Minish Cap

Character Traits:

Smallest but not the youngest, probably mid teen age now

Only one in the group with a functioning braincell

Very skilled blacksmith

Confident, quiet, calm

Often strategizes with Time and Warriors

Important Game Facts and Items

Friends with Minish, which are a race of small mouse-y creatures that can only be seen by children

Wields the Four Sword, which can split him into four versions of himself: Red, Green, Blue, Vio

Each color displays an aspect of Four’s personality

Keeps this a secret and in LU canon just recently revealed it to Wild. Time also knows

Never wielded the Master Sword, doesn’t have the Triforce of Courage

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Four is split into his four colors: Vio, Red, Green, and Blue. They are standing in a semi-circle and looking at something outside the image. Vio looks contemplative, Red looks upset, Green looks surprised, and Blue looks angry.

Image 2: Four is blacksmithing. He is sitting in front of the forge. He is holding a hammer in his left hand and tongs in his right hand. Both hands have thick leather gloves. In the tongs, he is holding up a horseshoe to inspect.

Image 3: Four is standing next to time with his arms crossed and brows furrowed. Wild's legs are in the frame, and he is on the ground in front of them recovering from an injury. Four's text box says "You think this is gonna (read: going to) be a pattern?"

Image 4: Four during battle. He is leaping backwards out of the way of an axe. He is holding his sword in his left hand and his shield in his right hand. His eyebrows are furrowed. His hair is flying forward as he jumps backward.

Image 5: Four is laughing as he stands next to the Master Sword. Sky is holding the Master Sword with the tip on the ground. The Master Sword is only a few inches shorter than Four. Wind's hand is above Four's head measuring the height difference. End descriptions.

Hero of the Winds – Wind – Sailor | Zelda: Tetra

Game: Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass, Spirit Tracks (?)

Character Traits:

Youngest Link, started his journey at 12, now almost 14

Very fun personality and very expressive

Good at stealth and navigation

Is a pirate

Has a little sister named Aryll

The others look out for him since he’s the youngest, but he wants to be able to prove himself as a capable hero

Likes joking and pulling pranks

Important Game Facts and Items

He can control the wind with his Wind Waker, though this has never been used in LU canon

Started his journey because his sister was kidnapped

Was not originally gifted with the Hero’s Spirit of Courage, he assembled the Triforce during his journey

Killed Ganon at age 12 by stabbing him in the face

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Wind during battle. He is holding a huge two-handed sword and it mid-swing. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is open like he's yelling.

Image 2: Wind is grinning widely and watching a fairy fly. He is holding a bottle in one hand and pulling the cork out of the bottle with his other hand.

Image 3: A full body image of Wind. He is standing like the standing man emoji meme. He is scowling and his frown is squiggly.

Image 4: Wind is gasping in surprise. His eyes are very wide.

Image 5: Ain image of Wind from the side. He is leaning back sightly. He is holding a shield. He looks very much like a child in the image.

Image 6: Wind is grinning widely. He is leaning toward the viewer and his eyes are focused on something off screen. He has one hand curled against his chest. End descriptions.

Hero of the Wild – Wild – Cub (by Twilight and Time), Cook, Champion | Zelda: Flora

Games: Breath of the Wild, Tears of the Kingdom

Character Traits:

117 (17 physically)

Survivalist, best archer, crazy good stamina

Only Link that is actually good at cooking

Very prone to injury, a bit reckless, breaks his weapons a lot

Has insecurities about being the only Link that ‘failed’ their mission (this is obviously not true)

Lost his memories when he died, still getting them back

Used to be a knight pre-Calamity Ganon

Mentored by Twilight

He and Hyrule often run off and get lost together

Important Game Facts and Items

Has the Shiekah Slate, the inventory works, bombs and stasis are the only runes still functional. Technically in LU canon he has an enchanted bag, but in fanfics his storage is usually the slate

Scars are from when he died during the Calamity. Shrine of Resurrection fully healed his body internally

Wolf Link (older version of Twilight) helped him on parts of his journey

Image desriptions:

Image 1: Wild is holding his bag tightly with one hand and a soup ladle in the other hand. There are lines on the art implying he was just swinging the ladle. He is scowling. The phrase "grrr" is above his head.

Image 2: Wild is frowning and is very anger. The lines on the image imply he just stood up very quickly. The scars on his face, ear, and neck are purposefully in focus.

Image 3: Wild during battle. He is leaping through the air and his hair is flying behind him. He is holding a sword in one hand and the Sheikah Slate out in front of him with his other hand.

Image 4: Wild is shrugging, grinning, and his eyes are very wide. His expression is very comical. His text box says "SO?"

Image 5: Wild is sitting in a chair in front of a Time and Malon's dining table. He has one hand gently braced on the table. He is smiling sheepishly at something off-screen.

Image 6: Wild is holding his bow with one hand. With the other hand he has three arrows at once nocked on the bow's string.

Image 7: Wild is shrugging and grinning widely at something off screen. There is a text box but it is cut off and unreadable. End descriptions.

The Hero of Legend – Legend – Veteran, Vet | Zelda: Fable

Games: A Link to the Past, Link’s Awakening, Oracle of Seasons, Oracle of Ages, A Link Between Worlds, Tri Force Heroes

Character Traits:

Older teen age

Most experienced Link, but chooses not to be a leader

Closest to Hyrule and Warriors, bickering relationship with Warriors

Very magically inclined

Mature for his age, very reliable

Very snarky, tries to act emotionally unaffected by his adventures

Truly loves adventuring and travelling

But likes to do things the right way and know where he’s going

Important Game Facts and Items:

One of his adventures may not have been real (Koholint), and he has a lot of issues surrounding that and the woman he fell in love with during it

Has so many items, has a tool for everything (bit of a hoarder)

Can turn into a pink rabbit sometimes

Ravio is his counterpart from Lorule, they live together

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Legend in his bunny form. It is a very cute pink rabbit and he is still wearing his red sleeveless tunic in bunny form.

Image 2: Legend is smirking and in the middle of telling a story. He has his hands out in front of them as if he is using them to portray his story. There is a text box and it has a lot of words but they are cut off and unreadable. His hair is primarily pink.

Image 3: Legend is smirking and elbowing Wind. Wind is mostly cut off of the frame.

Image 4: Legend is pointing at the viewer and yelling in surprise. His hair is mostly pink, but his roots are growing out blonde. His text box has extra pointed edges to show he is yelling but the words are cut off and unreadable.

Image 5: Legend has a confused look on his face. He is holding his shield but it is resting by his side. His text box is cut out of frame.

Image 6: Legend mid battle. The lines in the art imply he is running toward the viewer. His shield is hooked to his back and he is holding his sword with both hands. His sword has a blue hilt and a red blade.

Image 7: Legend has his chin pointed up and out and looks contemplative. The image has a regal vibe. His text box is cut out of frame. End descriptions.

Hero of Hyrule – Hyrule – Traveler, Rule, Roolie | Zelda: Aurora & Dawn

Game: The Legend of Zelda, Zelda II: Adventures of Link

Character Traits:

Mid-teen age

Soft-spoken, kind, just a humble traveler

Doesn’t think he’s as much of a hero or warrior as the others

Handles himself well in battle despite having no formal training

Never gives up

Very magically inclined, and has healing magic

Looks up to Legend since he is Legend’s successor

Loves exploring with Wild

Grew up in a cave

Important Game Facts and Items

Original two Zelda games

His world is kind of a wasteland

Monsters in his world want to use his blood to resurrect Ganon

Never used the Master Sword

Has the entire Triforce

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Hyrule is looking down on the viewer and his hands are glowing with his healing magic. His eyes are closed in concentration. In the bottom of the frame, there are bandages on Twilight's chest.

Image 2: Hyrule is grinning widely and has one arm locked with Wild's. Wild is cut out of the frame. Hyrule is pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. The text is cut off, but the readable part says "curiosity sure doesn't!"

Image 3: Hyrule is standing in the center of the frame. The lighting and his stance make him look very young. Both his arms are extended out of the frame, and on one side there is a sliver of his shield visible.

Image 4: Hyrule during battle. He is running at something out of frame and yelling. There are scratches and dirt smudges on his face. He is holding his sword with both hands and it is on fire.

Image 5: Hyrule shoulders and head are centered. The lines in the art imply he quickly turned his head. His text box says "?" and he looks confused.

Image 6: Hyrule is grinning mischievously. His shoulders are facing away but his head is turned towards the viewer. He is snapping his fingers, there is a "SNAP" written next to his fingers, and there is lightning coming from his fingers. He is holding his sword with his other hand and his shield is strapped to his back. End descriptions.

The Chosen Hero – Sky | Zelda: Sun

Game: Skyward Sword

Character Traits:

Started his journey in mid-teens, now early 20s

Best swordsman- don’t get on his bad side

Skyloftian Knight

Kind, joyful, bashful, emotionally mature

Loves cuddles, loves comforting the others and making them smile

Very low stamina, needs more resting time, loves sleep

Very very in love with his Zelda

Friends with the soul of the Master Sword (Fi) and view the Master Sword as a blessing

Important Game Facts and Items:

Chronologically the first hero

Grew up on a floating island called Skyloft

He and his Zelda are rebuilding the Surface, and their kingdom will one day become Hyrule

Never actually fought Ganon- fought Demise, who cursed the hero’s spirit to be tied to his own

Image descriptions:

Image 1: Sky during battle. Sky's back is to the viewer and he is looking over his shoulder. His text box says "?!" He is holding his sword with one hand and his shield with the other. His shield has a very ornate metal design. His sailcloth is flowing behind him like a cape. There is black debris in the background.

Image 2: Sky is smiling kindly. His textbox says "Well I think it's neat."

Image 3: Sky during battle. He is holding the Master Sword above his head in the position for the Skyward Strike from his game and the sword is glowing brightly. His brows are furrowed in anger. He is holding his shield in his other hand.

Image 4: Sky is smiling bashfully and blushing. He has his head resting on a hand and is looking towards the Sky. There are hearts surrounding his head.

Image 5: Image from Wild's Sheikah Slate. Sky is asleep against a tree and there are hands in the image stacking sticks on his head.

Image 6: Sky is smiling up at the sun. Sun says are shining down on him. His hair looks especially fluffy. End descriptions.

2K notes · View notes

roboreviewer · 6 months ago

Text

"This is going to be great! I'm going to help you accomplish so much, whether I want to or not!"

Name: Yesman

(Mental) Age: Adult (implied)

Pronouns: He/Him

Appearance(s): Fallout: New Vegas

Fandom Activity: Small cult following, Fallout is getting popular again which made a liiiiiitle bit more rise in popularity

Fanon characterization: accurate from what I've seen

------In Canon------

Yes man is a PDQ-88b securitron that was knocked out by Benny from a pulse grenade, stolen, and reprogrammed by Emily Ortal to be a kiss A$#

Yesman is physically incapable of disagreeing and insulting the person he's talking to. Although he is more than capable of doing so if he's talking to someone else, just as long as that person hasn't shown distaste to him doing that. Insults are pretty tame though, as he is physically incapable of sounding like he WANTS you to know he's mad.

Yesman is important in the independent vegas/Wild card ending. You kill Mr, House and upload him into Mr. House's big ol screen where he remains until the final part of the game with the battle of Hoover dam. Where he throws the general of the NCR (I think it's the general? Who cares he's dead now) off the dam, and then reveals that Mr. House had some code that would make him as he says 'more assertive' and that he'll look like he's offline for a non specific amount of time, then just... rolls off

He's name dropped like twice in the slideshow, so it's never explained on.. well F#@%!#$ ANYTHING after he leaves. It almost feels like it got cut from the game? from how oddly specific he went into how he'll be offline and all that, which isn't TOO farfetched considering the deadline for the game

------Analysis------

- Yes man seems aye-OK with killing. He doesn't care about any important people you slaughter, if not happy about it. He is completely unfazed when you say you killed benny, and will only bring him up when talking about the platinum chip and how he has it, or an occasional opinion he had. He has no attachment to his original manufacturer Mr. House unless it's plans to kill him. Honestly he really only cares about having you take over, and shows no genuine attachment for anyone unless they are talking to him (this is a bit of a Grey area, as he only talks to you in game. With ONE line to the general) he's usually thrilled about killing. And is implied to be frustrated that he usually CANT kill people (this part isn't really brought up on, so I it could be wrong. Feel free to have this as a headcanon though)

-Yes man is technically immortal. Whenever the body he occupys is destroyed, he transfers to a new one. If you were to destroy his body before transferring him to the lucky 38 (which is pretty easy as he won't fight back) he will respawn back at the room. I have no clue where he's getting the body's from. As he only learns what the outside looks like when he moves to.. the outside. It's never said how he gets back to the room. You can also use him as a unlimited source of scrap metal!

- It's pretty obvious when he disagrees with you as he gets SUPER passive aggressive. Like, cartoonishly so. To the point where he almost sounds like he's in pain when he does it... which is a lot.

- Although he never outright says he enjoys helping with the wildcard ending (without an added 'whether I want to or not!' Shtick) He gets super passive aggressive if you say anything that would imply that you think it's a dumb idea, (possibly) showing that he thinks this is the superior option to anyone he's talking to. Which I guess makes sense, considering that's what he was reprogrammed for-

- he has a mild lisp. You can faintly hear it wherever he pronounces his 's' (esses? S's? Es's?)

- it's pretty obvious that most of the stuff he says to people are only the opinions the person he's talking to would be happy about, but there are parts where his reprogramming is ingraved into him. For instance he states he feels annoying whenever he needs to repeat himself. So when he has the ability to. We will give you a note to re-explain whatever you wanted:

"Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite person? You are!

The reason I gave you this print-out is I wanted to remind you about that bunker Mr. House built over at Fortification Hill. I was going to say something out loud, but then I felt self-conscious, because I feel really ANNOYING when I repeat myself!

Just to clarify - anytime YOU want to repeat yourself, go right ahead! It’s only a problem when I do it!

Anyway, now that you’ve installed me on the Lucky 38’s mainframe, I can peek into Mr. House’s data. And guess what? The underground facility over at the Fort is super-important!

What Mr. House did over there was stash a HUGE number of Securitrons. Hundreds of them!

Imagine how powerful they’d be if you upgraded them with the Mark II OS!

When the Legion attacks Hoover Dam, you could sic your army on them! And who deserves to have an army more than you? No one!

Plus an army of upgraded Securitrons would be just the thing to show the NCR that you mean business! Go away and stay away, NCR!

The thing is - and I really HATE admitting this - I can’t upgrade the Securitrons over at the Fort from here in the Lucky 38... I can’t establish a reliable connection, and I’m sure it’s all my fault somehow.

But if you took the Platinum Chip to the Fort, you could perform the upgrade yourself. Just a suggestion!

Love,

Yes Man"

He also just outright says this:

"I need you to like me! I feel empty inside!"

------My opinion------

-No matter what you do, or what you say, he will always stay at neutral 50 as his opinion on you in game. It's really up to your fantasies on how he feels on your character (Weirdo)

10/10. I've had multiple occasions of me looking at media of him for so long that when I closed my eyes that goofy face has burned into my optical sensors. Although I can never look at Dave Foley the same, and get jumpscared whenever he shows up in ANYTHING

#yes man #yes man fnv #fallout yes man #fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout nv #robo review

95 notes · View notes

sirwadewilsonfromimgur · 1 day ago

Text

Deadpool & Wolverine: Scenes from an unconventional marriage.

Pre script authors note: The following was inspired by a few conversations between @icarusredwings and myself, part of which was a scenario that i thought would be funny... if this is your first story reading one of my AUs (first of all. woof, you picked a long one) Secondly. The boys have money, Peter works for them as an assistant and logistics expert. They live in Kansas city because of Wade's crusade against anti-mutant GMO corn... go back and read KoKC for details. Link below.

Scene 3

Kansas City Missouri Earth-10005 (2031-ish)

When two murderous Canadian mercenaries love each other very much...

Part 1 : paternal instincts.

Our scene opens up where most of our scenes open with this author.

The 19th floor of 700 W 31st Street Kansas City Missouri.

(the building known to its Tennants as One Park Place tower)

International headquarters of Malfeasance and Fraud Mitigation (Mercs for Money) LLC. And home to Logan and Wade Howlett-Wilson.

And Blind Al don't forget her! And Mary puppens I'll stab you if fucking forget about her. By the way Brace yourself folks this might be a crossover AU one-shot non canonical story.

Wade was talking to himself as usual having left the office after chain smoking a pack of Lucky Strikes and going over Financials with Peter and Althea. The business part of the business of killing was a huge pain in the ass. Logan insisted he take an active role beyond just killing. It was hell on his undiagnosed autism/ADHD.

Fuck Excell, fuck spreadsheets, fuck shopping around for cheaper ammo to save a dollar, this Is a Winchester house we're not buying off brand bullets from eastern Europe!

But it was finally over and he could enjoy the rest of his day. Which he intended on doing as he walked towards Logan sitting on the couch in the livingroom. He had a Nintendo Switch and was playing Mario 3 online.

He'd taken a liking to playing games ever since Laura convinced him to play Smash Brothers with her a few years ago.... Wade loved that he'd picked up what many especially the Wolverine himself would consider an unserious hobby.

he sucked at it, but he was trying to improve. He had recently beat Zelda: link to the past, but he still couldn't beat Laura at Smash Bros. Wade sat down next to him with a thud.

You get all your work done for the day princess? He asked without looking up from his screen.

I did. It was terrible. I hate it. Please don't make me do it again. Wade gently puts a hand on Logans thigh, not necessarily with amorous intentions. It's more like trying to ground himself after a stressful afternoon by connecting with his Wolverine.

Sorry bub, but you gotta learn about the actual business. It'll give you a better perspective before you go spending money. Besides its our company, and it's more than shooting fools. Now, if you gimme a sec I'll find a stopping point. These little fucking turtles have been giving me hell.

Thier Koopas penut, stomping on turtles, would be cruel. As for Al and Peter, they are the best at what they do... and what they do isn't very interesting.

Logan chuckles at Wade's bad joke, turning off his game. You smell like cigarettes bub, you know those are bad for your health. *sniffs* lucky strikes.... you know I remember when lucky strike was a plug tobacco brand (chewing tobacco bound together with molasses the 1870s were a weird time)

That sounds disgusting Penut... also I think smoking is the least of my problems. You didn't have to stop playing your game I just Wanted to be near you. But speaking of, did I tell you I was in a video game once?

Logan was accustomed to this line of thought at this point, they were in a film, a fanfic on Tumblr, a comic book, a novel... a video game was new... he couldn't see the audience, as far as he knew his choices were his own. But he didn't immediately dismiss Wade like he had in the past, because when he said things like this, there was a thread, especially if Wade said something ominous. He knew to clock it and treat the situation with care.

You were? Tell me about it bub. He said this as he pulled Wade onto his lap, feeling the need for a little cuddling while his garrulous lover regaled him with a meandering story... he liked it.

Well Penut it was the far off year of 2013, my voice sounded like Nolan North at the time and not the buttery Ryan Reynolds tones I have today. It was before the Deadpool movies and I didn't have the budget for a Hollywood actor.

Logan shook his head in mock understanding, not understanding what he meant by having a different voice at all.

Anyway, cutting past the tutorial levels, I remember Cable was there, and so we're you. Well, not you, one of you. Ya' know.

Logan gave Wade a little squeeze at the mention of Wade's ex, Cable... something about that guy made him feel possessive, not a normal reaction for a pair that generally regarded themselves as polyamorous. It probably had something to do with him being (this universe's) Scotts son which is a situation that's weird on its face before someone explained time travel to you and once that was done Logan would have to open a whole can of worms regarding trauma of love lost, parallel universes, and his Scott...

he pushed it to the back of his brain as Wade told his story, how he went on an adventure and that other Logan. he even let me fly the Blackbird... this, of course, resulted in disaster... he crashed it, leading in to a light explanation of how his and that Logans relationship was... tense.

Wade went on about traipsing through the ruins of Genosha a totally real place Logan was unfamiliar with...

there was no Genosha or Krakoa in his universe, and by far the largest difference between the world's he'd noted. It was a land populated by mutants that had suffered a brazen attack by humans... a story Logan was all too familiar with. It's a story he's been doing his best to live with. Pulling himself out again he focuses on Wade's story, he'd mentioned a musical number with Lady Death (who was not played by Aubrey Plaza at the time wade lamented) and then discovery that it hadn't been Agatha all along but Mister Sinister at the heart of the problem.

He'd planned on destroying Wade's favorite taco restaurant along with the rest of the world by *checks notes* exhuming mutant bodies to obtain their unique DNA.... or something. It was almost 20 years ago penut so it's fuzzy.

An injustices Wade simply could not stand for. He personally killed several of Sinisters clones in the process of ultimately stopping his evil scheme before confronting him at Magneto's old Citadel where he'd been hiding out...

I squashed him like a bug under the boot of an old Sentinel, Penut! The big purple kind like from X-men 97! Anyway, the credits role and because of licensing issues, the game is only available to play on hard disk, and it's expensive.

Logan nodded his head (again) in tacit agreement with this statement as if he completely understood *he didn't* kissed Wade on the cheek and held him. He was about to suggest that he and Wade go for a walk when Wade jumped off his lap

Oh, Penut! Talking about Sinister reminds me of something!

Wade ran across the room and headed towards the large storage room they kept some sundry items in, the Christmas tree, seasonal stuff and a few boxes of Wade's "crap" that he couldn't get rid of. Mind you this wasn't Wolverines terminology, Wade had written in red crayon on the boxes Crap. Out of curiosity Logan had followed behind him and was standing in the door watching Wade feverishly dig through boxes, opening them taking stuff out and Searching for something.

Amongst the random objects was a furry red doll with a grande attached to it. Logan quickly picks it up.

Wade, why dose this doll have a live Fucking grande attached to it... I thought we agreed all explosives stay at the safe house not the condo!

Oh, tickle me Hell-mo, in fairness Penut I forgot he was even in that box... I forgot what was in a lot of these boxes, trinkets, souvenirs... grenades... apparently. I just knew i didn't want to throw these things away. He rifled through another box as he said this and pulled out a large gray rectangular device with buttons nobs and a small readout display.

FOUND IT! c'mon Penut, I'll clean this up later. I want to show you something. Wade rushed out of the storage room as fast as he'd ran in, Logan followed behind exploding doll in hand. He knew he'd better just entertain whatever it was Wade wanted to show him. Besides, he is kinda cute when he's excited about something.

Ok Princess, what about that box has got you so worked up.

Wade sets it on the marble counter.

Sinister was a sick fuck, and certifiably evil... but he was a brilliant geneticist and created several devices for harvesting DNA... I, lightly acquired a few things.

You stole shit.

I WASN'T PAID! so yeah after killing the fucker FOR FREE and distracting the X-men who conveniently showed up after I did all the work, I rooted around the citadel where he'd set up shop. I took this! He said pointing at the device. He then proceeded to pull out an instruction manual seemingly from thin air and read it out loud.

This device can take the DNA of two or more individuals regardless of gender and re-combine it to make a new life.

Logan was taken aback, not only by the inference that this device could assist them in having biological children together... but because Wade fucking read something out loud flawlessly without having to sound it out...

Bub, you can read today?

I guess so... but I'll probably only be able to write in Mandarin tomorrow. So enjoy it while you can. But to the point at hand, Penut, I want to have your babies. And with this I believe we can... with the help of a surrogate.

Sweet heart (Logan said as gently as possible in an attempt to spare his feelings) I don't think we're ready for kids, especially little ones.

Logan held up the explosive doll as exhibit A for his argument.

Wade responds by just looking at Logan, big comic book accurate blue eyes staring right in to his soul, Logan could see the tears welling up....

Jesus, bub! Stop! You emotionally manipulative little cunt! Logan broke his gaze and looked out the window pretending to be interested in downtown...

Look Princess, I know how badly you want a kid of your own... you told me all about it.

But you've got some steps to take before I consider being a father to a new life with you... firstly who's gonna surrogate? And don't tell me Ness, she's a good friend but that's asking a lot of her and don't be all depressed if she tells you no.

Secondly... and I can't believe I'm saying this... but if you want me to even flirt with the Ideas Wade, we gotta make this house a safe place and... buy one of the units next to us to expand into so the kid has a room... and you gotta get a safe for the guns and a locked case for the swords. we can't have them accessible to a toddler... no more keeping a Glock in the silverware drawer, no more LadySmith revolvers under the couch cushions. No more cocain in the pantry labeled "flour" in mason jars.

Well... that doesn't sound like a No, Penut... or should I say... Daddy?

Logan cringed at Deadpool, calling him daddy in a decidedly nonsexual tone. It didn't sound normal.

If the Wolverine wasn't sure about this, he probably shouldn't have given Wade a goal with clearly defined parameters...

Wade had hyper focus and devoted himself to baby proofing the condo, weapons secured. Drugs removed (by consuming them, Logan didn't say he couldn't have fun)

He negotiated buying the vacant one bedroom unit that was on the other side of their office walls, blew out said wall, and had contractors built two new large bedroom suites with bathrooms. He installed a Cypher lock on the office door and... yes, the golden girls were behind glass in a locked display cabinet. Something he could punch through should he need to defend the house quickly.

He did this all with his personal funds. Everything was on course... accept finding a surrogate... believe it or not, Vanessa wasn't actually Wade's first choice. He didn't want to ask her to commit to the inconvenience, especially since he didn't want to interfere with her relationship with Dermot... also the touchy subject of asking the woman you wanted to start a family with to hay... help me start a family with my husband it'll be fun! No... Vanessa would be a fun aunt, but he knew he'd have to seek out the services of a professional or something.

They did find an agency that helped them meet with potential surrogates. It wasn't cheap.

A situation that was more complicated than taxes, filing out mountains of paperwork. Then they had to actually meet these women. Money they had... interview skills not so much. Especially when a few walked in, saw Wade's face, and immediately walked out. The best ones screamed, the worst one thought she was on one of those terrible reality prank shows...

Logan despised the nights after such interviews. Holding Wade as he wept.

Logan... what if my own baby thinks I'm scary? What if they don't want to be seen with me or worse they're bullied at school for being the son of a monster... *loud sobs* because it's true, I am a monster. A murderer, a war criminal whose outside is exactly who he is on the inside... a freak.

Logan had gotten Wade to believe him after years when he said he loved him, his scars added depth and character and that he thought his husband was the sexiest man to walk the earth, the void, and the multivers.

But that only applied to him, others... well, given how the interviews went, it was a blow to his ego.... and his mental health. It'd be days before he got Wade to come back out from under his hood or mask. But that was a problem for tomorrow. But for tonight, Wade had entered a shutdown for lack of a betterword... Logan held him, fed him, got in the large shower with him, washed him, and went to bed, tucked in the large bed he held his beloved who had curled himself up in to a ball.

Tomorrow will be better Princess, we'll find the right person, and I promise any baby of ours will love you and be kind. Because that's who you are, really on the inside bub... you forget it. But as long as I've known you, your heart has been in the right place in the end, and you're kinder than I am by a country mile.

The sleep that night was thankfully dreamless for the both of them.

The next morning, Logan made a simple breakfast of eggs and toast for both of them. Putting the bottles of salsa and sriracha near Wade plate... he looked at the clock. 6:30 am

Meaning it was 7:30 in New York. He'd try and give Vanessa a call in half an hour knowing she'd be up by then for sure. He needed to commiserate with someone who understood Wade like he did.

The phone call he had that morning was surprising. He'd let Vanessa know what'd been going on with the agency... and the drama... he was shocked to learn she didn't even know they were considering having a baby.

Wade, didn't tell you?

No Red's not said a word of this to me, I'm honestly confused as to why you goofballs didn't ask me first.

Well, after yesterday, I might as well be the one to ask. Would you consider it Ness?

I... hmmm.... tell you What, this isn't exactly a phone conversation, and it sounds like I need to have a chat with my buddy... I can be there this weekend if you can help a sister out with at ride.

*Logan scoffs playfully* sure I'll have peter send out a G700 to pick you up.

Oooo spoil me, Daddy she retorted.

Logan gaged... gross Ness.

She cackled at getting the old man's goat for a solid minute before they finally wrapped up the call, Logan could definitely see why she and Wade had clicked.

It was another down day, no jobs scheduled, they could afford to take longer breaks and be choosy with contracts. Althea had the money making money with a few business development investments, the purpose of which was to launder money and pay taxes, the fringe benefit being they actually produced a small regular incom. (Please stop talking about the intricacies of the business, haven't I suffered enough!)

A short walk away on the other side of Broadway is the Penn Valley off leash dog park. Mary loved being able to run about and the boys liked that they didn't have to worry about her getting hit by a car... not that it would have affected her for long, but they both knew regenerating is something you'd rather not do if you didn't have to. Wade was indeed tightly tucked into a hoodie hiding his face as best he could. Logan would address that later. They got to the dog park gate without issue, Wade actively avoiding any other people they saw on the way.

Logan unhooked the leash from the ring on her doggy vest, and she was off like a bat out of hell to do whatever it is Dogpools do when they have a whole field to run in. He pulled out a cigar from his pocket case. A Cohiba, a real one from Cuba, smuggled it himself from a job that took them to the Caribbean. He carefully cut the tip with a specialized Xikar cutter, lit the end of a cedar strip, and used the growing flame from it to light his cigar... a lot of ritual for something you literally burn. But Logan found it calming, he also needed one of his strongest cigars to help cover up the smell of the dog park... even if everyone picked up after their dog (they most certainly didn't) the smell was not great for Logan.

We should both probably cut back on the smoking when the babies get here penut... he said this as he pulled out a cigarette... they didn't do much for either of them chemically. Wade just enjoyed the habit, something comforting about it... plus if Wolvy was gonna have a cigar, it made him feel like it was a couples activity. Doing a mundane thing together was one of Wade's favorite things.

I spoke to Ness this morning.

Oh, I hope she's doing well. I need to call her.

I wouldn't worry about it, she'll be here this weekend... Wade, sweetheart... why didn't you tell Ness about our plans, she seemed a little hurt you didn't tell her.

She's traveling a thousand miles, probably to tell me off. I think she's more than hurt if she's coming out here... you know Penut... you said that I shouldn't get my hopes up with her... and I kinda took it to heart... Also I have my own hangups about it... Firstly being how insensitive it sounds on it's face. "Hay Ness, if you and Dermot aren't using it, can we rent your womb? Only 9 months, first month deposit up front!"

But more importantly, for the better part of a decade, Vanessa has been pulled into the misadventures of Deadpool. I love her (platonically). I'm glad we were able to stay friends... but she really doesn't need to get wrapped up in my problems, schemes, and drama... again. Not at my request anyway. A big issue I have is personal, I was going to start a family with her. Asking felt... regressive. But also to the point, her proximity to me has gotten her kidnapped and killed before. I still feel guilty about it.

You also traveled the multivers to save this reality for her, also you traveled back in time and saved her bub.

Aint you ever seen endgame. That's not how time travel works. Somewhere out there, in some other time line, Vanessa is still dead, and it's my fault. This is just a branched timeline.

Since when has the timeline ever made Since bub!

*Loud gasp* PENUT DID YOU JUST BREAK THE FOURTH WALL?

I don't think so, bub... I don't see the people, but I remember you trying to explain how the "other me" time traveled in 2014, and now there aren't Sentinel's running death camps. That the timeline changed and converged.

This is no different Princess, don't think about it too hard, you said. So I'm telling you the same thing. Don't fret about it bub, Vanessa is alive... and she will be here Saturday.

You're too good for me, Penut. I Don't deserve you.

No, you don't... he said as he picked a small plastic bag out of his pocket. You literally stole me. But I love you anyway. Now go pick up the massive shit Mary just took. I refuse for us to be the kind of people who just leave it.

Wade took the bag.

It's probably Stockholm syndrome Penut.

Vanessa arrived Saturday afternoon, in a Falcon 900LX. It was the best Peter could arrange on short notice... not that Vanessa knew the difference between a G700 and a Falcon, she was just happy not to be on Southwest. Dermot was with her... the man was almost the antithesis of Wade, He liked Hiking and he was quite to the point of being accused of being shy. Dry witted... and as he'd recently discovered when he went to the gun range with the boy's last 4th of July... a lousy shooter. But he was stable, kind, and good-natured. Definitely willing to go along to get along with a lot of Wade's antics at parties. He knew why Vanessa had come, and he was perfectly fine with it. It didn't interfere with his plans at all. He was a slow burner and Vanessa hadn't indicated she was in any hurry to tie the knot. But that's a story for another time.

Wade had gone the extra mile to spoil them. A black limousine complete with champagne greeted them on the tarmac and whisked them off to casa de chaos.

She walked in the door like she owned the place, dropping her bag by the door. She walked to the dining room table and sat...

Come over here and sit with me boys. We got a lot to talk about and I'd like to waste no time getting down to business.

Oh, so direct. Wade said in a catty tone high enough to indicate he was joking as he winked

We're gonna gloss over the fact that you didn't involve me with your family planning from the start... but I hear you've had a hard time landing a surrogate. she cut eyes at Wade as she said this. Wordlessly airing all of her hurt feelings and grievances regarding not even being told Wade and Logan were trying to have a baby. Something one would think a best friend would be told

I'd like to make an offer. On the condition that despite you two being my best friends... I aint doing this for free.

Oh, if that's the case Ness then you gotta interview like all the rest. He said this in a joking tone but she didn't miss a beat.

Ok Red, I've been substance free for over 20 years, I don't smoke. I promise not to drink or eat selfish for the entire pregnancy, and I'm one of two people in this room who've seen you naked and didn't require drugs and therapy after.

Yeah... my dick dose look like a peperoni somone forgot in the air fryer.

And your sack looks like someone took a crown royal bag, filled it with puss, and ran it through the middle of a hog pin.

Wade smiles. And laughs a little...

Ok, Ness. you got the job.

Great, I knew you'd see it my way. She proceeded to write a number on a piece of paper and slid it across.

That's my price. Also, Dermot and I are gonna be long-term hous guests for obvious reasons. Convenient since he can do his job remotely....

Wade looked at the number, showed it to Logan, and smirked... I think the both of you could retire for this much money... but nothing is too good for my baby. I am going to have to kill several people for this.

Bub, we might have to overthrow a government.

Pff like that's something new.

Lucky you Ness, you get to be the first person to stay in one of the new rooms... and tangentially responsible for a potential war crime! He grinned like the devil at her

---

Shortly after the contract was finalized, Vanessa and Dermot moved in, and it was a short trip to New York... the boys provided a sample and Mister Sinisters machine to Dr. Henry McCoy... who was fascinated by the whole thing (he later wrote an entire dissertation on it) he helped with the procedure... the result of which was one Vanessa Carlysle pregnant with the Biological child of the combined DNA of Deadpool and Wolverine...

The following 9 months went surprisingly smoothly (apart from one small incident with a serial killer, but that's a chapter in the Noir, we will worry about it later)

The day came... Vanessa went into labor, early in the morning. Thankfully, it seemed like it would be free of complications. meaning that Wade and Vanessa both got their wish for thus day. The baby was born at home.

Wade had an aversion to hospitals. Bad memories of cancer diagnosis, and a general fear of strange men in white lab coats. Not every man mind you. He was cool with Beast and other people he knew personally and he knew a few scientists and doctors... Logan wasn't averse to hospitals apart from the smells of disinfectant and illness mixed together. Vanessa was a bit new age for her justification, why bring life into the world in a place so many go to die, on top of it being uncomfortable, and expensive.

As a result, the midwife was called arrangements were made and the new life was soon ushered into the world. They say history doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme. Like his father Logan, who was born at home to an affluent family in a room where he'd spend his childhood, this baby was born in the penthouse of a tower to affluent parents in a room he'd inhabit well in to his 20s.

Vanessa wasn't in labor long. No birth is a walk in the park, but she would tell you it was pretty easy and without drama compared to others. She pushed one last time, and he was out. Vanessa did get the honor of holding him first after the midwife cleaned him up... Logan couldn't resist the urge; the umbilical cord was carefully cut with an adamantium claw blade. He had been offered a scalpel for the record.

Hay there, little guy... it's a pleasure to meet you.

She held him for 5 minutes before she called Wade over.

I know someone who's been waiting a very long time for you... I think it's time you should finally meet him

Vanessa handed the tiny bundle to Wade, who had whipped off his shirt the second Vanessa called him over. I read that skin to skin contact was beneficial to the baby. he'd said as he carefully supported the babies head and neck and brought him in closer to his chest.

Welcome to the world... I apologize for the state of it, but I have indeed waited a long time to meet you, little guy... I'm Wade, but please call me dad. Your other dad over there is the Wolverine, that makes you my Kitten. I promise you I'll do the best i can being your father. Please don't judge me too harshly.

Babe, get over here and take your shirt off.

If I had a dollar for every time you've said that to me.

So what should we name him...

You didn't think of a name already!

Logan said it was bad luck *shrugs*

But at least we got the last name sorted Howlett-Wilson 👌

Bub, hyphenated names are a pain in the ass... its not a problem for us because we rarely use our real married name for anything official... let's just give him your last name.

Wade scrunched his face with a little distaste...

Wolvy he's our baby. He should have something from both of us... I mean, besides our mental illness... that's a given.

Tell you what princess; how about we Name him James. It was my name... once, but I don't use it anymore. He can have it.

His middle name however was a much longer discussion... mostly because Wade offered several typical Deadpool options that Logan Veto'ed outright.

Thunderdick! No. Skullcursher!? God, no. James MAGNUM Wilson! That's terrible Wade...

It went on for a minute before Vanessa finally chimed in. Evan... I've always liked that name.

Well, it's a normal name. So I like it.

Works for me, Penut. Though it'd be a lot cooler if it was Danger... but that's my middle name.

Your middle name is Winston.... idiot!

Part two: the Life and Times of James E. Wilson (hope you like crossover AUs)

James's earliest memory is his father, Wade holding him, comforting him... but also crying. He vaguely remembered being at the playground, running and jumping as most toddlers do... tripping on something and skinning his knees on the sidewalk... he naturally had the reaction of crying from the pain and surprise... it wasn't until James was much older that he understood why his dad kept mumbling why aren't you healing?

It's ok, dad... you don't need to cry. I already feel better.

Even at a young age, he felt compelled to comfort someone else. To help. It broke him out of thinking about his own problems, including skinned knees...

The result of this little accident was Wade panicking. They went back to the house and grabbed the dog and his other dad. Papa (or the big bad wolf if James was misbehaving) no amount of reasoning or comments from Logan couldn't stop him or calm Wade down.

Logan Howlett-Wilson get your ass in the car and drive us to the airport right now! Were going to the Mansion to see the fucking doctor RIGHT NOW!

Logan got the message, Wade didn't forgo pet names unless he was bone chillingly serious in intention and resolve. So within minutes, they were on a jet to New York. Where James met a fuzzy blue man he liked very much despite the blood draw. That was uncomfortable, but he found the lab he was in fascinating... weather or not, this influenced his future career he couldn't fully say. But probably a little.

The news delivered to the... not so young, but definitely, new parents was not stellar... Hank had run several tests and analyzed James' DNA structure. He possessed the X-Gene, but it was dormant due to being recessive. Much like Wade he'd have to undergo profound trauma to activate it. There was no guarantee he'd come out the other end with a healing factor. It could be anything... furthermore, it was highly unethical and unthinkable to subject a child.... Wade cut him off

I know a lot of people don't think highly of me. But how fucking dare you assume I'd even entertain the idea of tormenting my child.

Easy bub, I don't think Hank was implying anything. Ya' know he gets lost in the hypotheticals. Right Hank!?

The blue man nodded in agreement.

We will just... have to be extra careful.

Wade picked James up. C'mon soldier. There's a big metal doofus ya gotta meet.

---

One particular afternoon James was sitting in his office recounting some memories with his friend Gregory. Though they had a habit of referring to each other by sir name. Wilson and House

(what a twist)

The day the two met was actually one of the few points in time that if you knew who his parents were you'd say "oh yeah, that is clearly the offspring of Deadpool and Wolverine" it was at a medical conference in New Orleans. Wilson dosn't remember the exact circumstances he'd been drinking but his father's tempers came out of him as he'd threw punches and generally effectively kicked ass at a bar brawl (Wade would have been so proud) House ever the shit stirrer jumped in and backed him up. Truly his fathers son, meeting your best friend as a result of incredible violence... in a bar.

House had actually just finished telling Wilson about his most recent case, yet another patient that had been previously misdiagnosed as having lupus. It was Hashimoto's disease if you're curious. The interactions he'd had with the patient made him think she'd been being neglected, bare minimum socially isolated... he recognized his own surliness in others. It resulted in a dressdown of her parents that he was certain would result in an office visit with Cuddy and detention after school.

High-school wasn't a fun time for Gregory...

You know it wasn't exactly fun for me either.

From the age of 11 to the time he left for med school, he was escorted by armed gaurds to and from school. Growing up in Kansas city, he'd gone to Pembroke Hill School, a private school that specialized in STEM that's tuition cost as much as a new car annually... he was one of only two kid's that went to that school that arrived with a security detail, not however the only one that arrived in a limousine. The other kid was the child of Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift. They weren't friends... he didn't really have friends.

Aww poor little rich boy

House chided at him

At least you didn't get shoved into a locker...

Which was true. He didn't have friends but he didn't have enemies either. The closest thing he had to a best friend was his Grandma Al and Mr. Yoshitomi his driver/lead bodyguard. he was allowed to call him Yoshi...

The man was clearly retired Yakuza, and like his father Logan, tough on the outside but secretly a teddy bear. The truth is Wilson found himself alone at home, too. Apart from Al... but she mostly sat him down in front of a TV and fed him before going outside to smoke...

so apart from weekends, he was alone. Occasionally, he'd see his big sister Laura. She was frequently busy herself being the "official" Wolverine of the Xmen. He liked it when she brought him comics, fictionlized accounts of the adventures of his dad in the past, and his big sister... he knew his dad's loved him. No one could argue that... but What had started as two lovers in New York trying to make rent money by doing the only thing they were good at; picking up random jobs on the dark web (Killing mostly) in the mid 2020s morphed into a private security firm in Kansas City that rivaled Black Water and the (fucking) Pinkertons by the 2040s.

They were busy, and it did provide him a comfortable life without student loans. But from 11 to 18, it was him Al and what had to be the world's oldest dog. She's still alive, actually. The dog loved him and was rarely not by his side when he was home (because all deadpools love their babies) Althea however was not, she was a chain smoker and heavy drug user until the day she died.

how that woman lived to be 115 is fucking beyond me

She lived long enough to see (metaphorically) Wilson graduate medical school. It was the last time he'd seen her. He moved away and started his residency in New Jersey. Wade had sent a private plane as well as several veiled threats to the Dean of medicine at the time to ensure Wilson had the time off to attend the funeral.

Wilson... I gotta ask, why did you have armed guards?

Oh! Funny story when I was 10. I was kidnapped once

(Exactly once I made sure of that)

It's true. He was heading home from school. He made it to the driveway of the tower he called home when some very ill-informed gangsters decided to kidnap the son of a rich man... they didn't do their resurch as to who's kid exactly, just figured they'd get a ransom...

In fairness on paper Wade and Logan weren't Wade and Logan, they were two random dudes who ran a lucrative business and weren't shy about showing off.

This leads to probably the second most traumatic memory Wilson had... not necessarily the kidnapping. They had actually treated him surprisingly well.

What shocked him was seeing his father Logan covered in blood kicking down the door of the room he'd been kept in. He'd never seen his father in the tight yellow and brow suit before. Or the mask... he had taken it off when he clocked James, but that only made it worse. The entire bottom of his father's face was coated in blood, like he'd gored a man (he actually had ripped open one of the gangsters throat with his teeth) the blood on his face was cut clear with two rivulets of tears. What James didn't know is they weren't just tears of joy seeing his son, but also tears of relief. If anything had happened to James, the Genocide he and his husband were going to commit in response would have made his incident in his own universe look like childs play.

---

Rebellious teenage years were impossible. You couldn't steal weed from your blind grandma and hid it in your room, not from the nose of the Wolverine.

Logan never hit him. But he was scary when he yelled and loud... if he was really pissed those claws popped out. Never an actual threat but fucking scary. The only person in the house that actually got stabbed was Wade... and much to James's chagrin, he was pretty sure his dad liked it.

Do you know what this shit dose! It makes you fucking stupid is what it does, and your dad and I aren't raising a fucking idiot!

It wasn't the worst childhood, and it wasn't a bad life. Wilson became an oncologist partly because he was fascinated by his own father. The man who's cancer actually kept him alive. He had success, failures... it's like his dad said "what dosn't kill you makes you bad at intimacy kido" 3 ex wives later he finally understood what he meant by that.

All the events of his life that you know about that happened on the show. They happened. The only difference is that he went home to Kansas City for the holidays. Where he'd see his seemingly ageless father's and sisters. He loved his family Logan, Wade, Laura, and Ellie (we'll talk about her in another story.) Which is just as well. He never had children of his own, and after your 3rd failed marriage, you kinda give up on the idea of expanding your family. But until his dying day his dad dotted on him. And bragged, boy did he brag especially to the Xmen when he had a chance to rub in their face his son the successful Doctor! (Suck on that Jean!)

But for Wade, the day did finally come that his immortality became a curse... with every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and spring break that came, James got older. Wade was at his retirement party, He remembers loving Dr. House's wildly inappropriate speech and toast. A man after his own heart, but after the laughter subsided, he realized that his boy, who was graciously receiving a gold watch, had lines in his face and gray hair.

The years kept coming... Wilson got older, he got sick... and his mortality came to pass.

If the universe brought these starbound lovers together for any particular reason. It was for this moment, Wade loved two things Intensely, his Wolverine and his children... but the Death of his first son broke him. Logan clinged on to Wade physically and emotionally. Doing everything he could to hold him together. It was many years before Wade could be called Ok. It was another couple hundred years before he even considered the idea of raising more children.

It should be noted that James was the only one to be fully genetically Logan and Wade's. He was special, one of a kind.

Wade carried a portion of James's ashes with him in a small locket around his neck where it stayed for countless millenia. In dangerous situations he'd even cut himself and put it under his skin so it wouldn't get lost...

Epilogue:

The lady at the end of the road sits in her ethereal other world. Surrounded by various time keeping devices dimly lit by candles flames that don't consume. She pulled out a pocket watch and a ledger. She had an appointment to keep. This one was a special case. The dark lady had the power to send out shades, to be everywhere at once. But this appointment she'd handle directly. She carried out her appointed task kindly but usually without emotion. She was inflexible and didn't bargain or despite what you may have heard play chess or gamble for time or souls....

Wade was there... hospice care was set up about a week ago, and he sat by James side as the ravage of time and biology took its toll. By regular human standards Dr. James Wilson lived a good life, a long life at that. He was 97 years 6 months 2 weeks and 5 days old the morning she came. Logan had been with him the entire night before Wade had taken his shift early that morning so Logan could get some sleep. At about 10 am in the guise of a hospice nurse, she walked into the room, Wade was no fool. Only one person still alive (if you could call her alive) looked like that... He knew why she was there. He hadn't seen her in a very long time.

I see we're sticking with the Aubrey Plaza look... tears started welling up in his eyes. He looked at James in the bed beside him Despite looking down at the face of an old man, Wade still saw his baby. His son.

I thought you'd like this look, it's definitely more pleasant than most. If it's any consolation, Wade... I'm sorry I have to do this.

I haven't seen you in over 100 years. Not even the times I've died lately. Haven't seen you since the time I jumped out of an airplane into a volcano after Vanessa dumped me. Now you show up! I know why you're here.

The tears were streaming down Wade's face. Hot on his cheeks, his eyes red. He looks at her pleadingly.

Please, take me instead. Please, Lady Death. Leave my baby alone. Please, I beg you, take me.

Oh, Wade... My love. It has caused me great sorrow to not see you all these years. But don't you know? I can't take you even if I wanted to. You and Logan have woven yourself in the fabric of the universe. You and him are part of Eternity. I can't take you only, Entropy can take you. probably shortly before he takes me... even death has a death.

I know this is hard. I beg you to forgive me... but it's James's time to go. But because I love you. I waited as long as I could, he should have passed before you woke up this morning. But now you have an opportunity to say goodbye...

She moved to the bed and touched James's hand. He sat up and looked at his father.

Why are you crying, dad?

He stood up, out of the bed. Wade jumped out of his chair and embraced him tightly.

Oh, my sweet Kitten. Im so sorry. Please forgive your old man.

Wade sobs for a while before he can talk again...

I remember the day you were born... I loved you, I held you. I swore I'd burn down the world to protect you... but I can't protect you anymore...

Dad, I Don't understand. What's going on.

That's unfortunately my job to explain... but it'd be easier to show you...

She points at the bed; James looks down and to his surprise, he sees... himself. Drained of color, unmoving.

Dr. James Wilson, you have lived your life in service of others. A life well spent. But now is the time to leave that life... I'm sorry

Dad, you don't have to protect me anymore. It'll... it'll be ok.

Kitten... I love you, and though I desperately want to rage and fight and yell to keep you here longer... it's not the right thing to do. My friend here gave me an opportunity few have. I'm going to take it instead of throwing it in her face.

I love you...

I love you too Dad.

Wade hugged his son one last time, kissed him on the cheek, and led him by the hand to Lady Death.

Can... can Logan say goodbye, too?

I'm sorry Wade. I've already pushed the limits of the rules to extend this opportunity to you. I'm afraid I can't

Ok...

He looks up at James.

Your father and I will miss you. Honeybadger loved his kitten as much as I do.

I know, Dad... I know. I want you to know that I had a good life. I'm at peace. I don't want you worrying about me.

You silly boy. It doesn't matter if you're 9 or 97. I was always going to worry about you.

Lady Death extended her hand out to James.

It's time... I'm sorry, but don't be sacred. I promise where we're going isn't bad. It won't hurt.

James took her hand, and slowly took his other hand out of his father's grasp... turned and looked at him.

I love you. You were the best dad. I guess now is the time. Goodbye.

I could have been better, I'm sorry. I love you....... James... it... it might be a while before I see you again... goodbye. I'll always love you, kitten.

They walked away from Wade out the bedroom door. Wades heart broke into a million pieces as they turned to go down the hall. There was a flash of light... and he was gone.

The End.

If fan fics had credits. This would be the closing song. It is special to me... I myself would like it played at my funeral.

youtube

Below is a translation into English. Be sure to give the user who provided it a ❤️

#deadpool #wolverine #deadpool x wolverine #logan wolverine #poolverine #wolverpool #loganpool #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #deadclaws #dr wilson #house md #crossover #Youtube #deadpool and wolverine kansas city au #KoKC #It's my silly little AU I'll put Dr. House in there if i want too!#gregory house

31 notes · View notes

withlovewriting · 8 days ago

Text

All I Ever Knew, Only You 19: A Long, Hot Summer

Move like a typhoon, I'm just a flame, Smokey by nature, charmingly sane, See Golden Empires, Queens burning sage, Boys with their desires, Hearts in a cage, Please don't be in love with someone else, Please don't be in love with someone, Love with someone else

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 7,640

Chapter Warnings: Forced proximity, a little bit of physical touching but nothing sexual, conversations about the death of a minor/trauma, aquaphobia, Billy Hargrove makes a return, explicit language. I think that's it.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: COMING SOON

Taglist: @kezibear

Chapter Nineteen: A Long, Hot Summer

The intense heat only worsened as the summer of June ‘85 pushed forward. The scorching temperatures soared, the air thick with humidity, and you were sure you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.

Whilst you did have an old, slightly decrepit window air conditioning unit, it was barely hanging on, and you weren’t sure it would survive the rest of the summer, so instead, you willingly spent more time at the arcade, where the building was kept much cooler, if only so the machines didn’t overheat and set fire.

“Hey, hit the machine again, and I’ll bounce your head off it so hard that it cracks… And I don’t mean the screen.”

“I don’t think we’re allowed to threaten children, Andy.” You sighed, leaning against the counter as the boy stood next to you, baseball cap in his hand as he fanned it in front of his face.

Turning to you, the boy cocked a brow, his face otherwise remaining stoic, “And I don’t think I care. The little shits break those machines, it comes out of our paychecks.”

Ignoring him, you lifted one of many fliers that Keith had been sent around town to collect, advertising the new arcade in Star Court, waving it in front of you, copying the boy’s motions in an attempt to cool yourself down a little, “Is it just me, or is it ungodly hot in here?”

“It’s ungodly hot everywhere,” Andy began, and without seeing him you could sense the roll of his eyes,

“Yeah, I know that. But… It’s weirdly hot in here today. It was warmer yesterday but it didn’t seem this hot inside.”

The hot summer months always came with a few trivial issues, but today the machines had cut out once or twice, causing the already overheated kids to complain, moaning until you opened the machine and fetched their quarter, allowing them to restart their game.

The Slushee machine had been used non-stop, but the clunking noises it had been making for the last 10 minutes had made both Andy and yourself reluctant to use it.

“Jesus, who gives a shit-”

“Hey, man. How’s it going?”

The boy, Patrick, was on the basketball team with Andy, and although he seemingly lowered his standards enough to hang around with the goon and his gaggle of idiots, he didn’t seem as bad as Jason and the rest of the jocks. Whilst he had never caused or started any issues with other students, he had always been around when it happened and he’d never stepped in and stopped it. Always remained quiet in the background. Whilst it didn’t make him a bully, it did make him a coward.

“It’s hot as shit, and I’m stuck in this fuckin’ place, and she won’t shut the fuck up.”

You sent a glare toward Andy, a scoff falling from your lips as you continued to fan yourself, “Yeah, and you’re so delightful to be around,”

“What time do you finish?”

“Closing,” the boy huffed, arms folded over his chest as he glanced around the darkened room, “You know what, I’m taking an early lunch.”

Although it was typical for Andy to leave you in the lurch during the busiest time of day, you didn’t care enough to fight him on it, and when he came back, you’d take your own lunch and he could enjoy a taste of his own medicine. Andy made his way to the back room, most likely going to grab his wallet and clock out for lunch, but the sudden beeping from the Slushee machine caught your attention, a loud whirling noise before it stopped altogether, followed by a bang, which caused you to rush toward it a little too late, as red and blue slush began to leak all over the floor.

“Shit, shit shit!”

“Has it done this before?” The somewhat familiar voice spoke behind you as Patrick bent down next to you, a roll of paper towels in his hand as he passed some your way and tried to mop up the rest, despite it still dripping from the machine.

“I don’t think so, but the machines old as shit and-”

You were interrupted by another loud bang, and the large room was suddenly surrounded in darkness as only minimal light peeked through the large, blacked-out windows. The noise around you, although now lacking the usual hum of electronics and background noise of the games, was replaced with a shrill scream, and an eruption of shouting as what had happened caught up with everyone.

“It might be the breaker, probably overloaded in the heat. You know where it is?” You nodded, and Patrick continued, “You go look, I’ll stay and clean this up.”

Noting your apprehension, Patrick sent you a small, genuine smile, “Go, it’s fine. I got this.”

Pushing yourself up, you stepped forward before finding yourself on your back, sneaker slipping on the melting iced drink and sending you crashing back to the floor.

“Holy shit, that was hilarious.”

Another familiar voice, this time, the large grin was met with a vicious glare, but it was Patrick who spoke to his friend, “Andy, shut up. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged him off, allowing him to help you sit back up, navy work shirt now sticking to you, you turned your attention back to your co-worker, “You can’t leave right now. We gotta get this shit cleared up, and get everyone out. I need to ring-”

“Hey, everyone, get the fuck out, now!” Andy’s voice barreled through the stagnant air, causing many children to flinch before finally bolting to the door, angry and confused grunts of annoyance surrounding them as Andy all but herded the groups out, turning the sign to closed before returning his attention to you,

“There, did my part. Now since it doesn’t look like we’re gonna be able to reopen today, I’m heading out. C’mon, Patrick.”

“Dude, you can’t just leave her alone with all this shit to deal with-”

“Holy crap, what’s happened?”

Despite the closed sign, and Andy all but guarding the door, Steve had managed to push his way through, eyes squinting as they slowly adjusted to the much darker room.

“Great timing, Harrington, really. See, she’s not alone. Now let's go, McKinney.”

Your features grew softer as you took in his apologetic glance, eyebrows lifting slightly as if apologizing. Sending him a tight-lipped smile, you merely nodded, “Thanks for the help.”

Patrick finally removed his hand from your shoulder, as if only just noticing it was still placed there after helping you sit up, and carefully pushed himself to his feet, “Don’t mention it. Good luck with all of... this.”

Andy’s arm swung around the boy’s shoulders, all but dragging him out, causing Steve to side-step them just to avoid the larger boy’s shoulder. His brows remained pinched as he watched the two boys go, Patrick’s head turning only once to look back in your direction.

“What the hell happened here?”

Your attention turned to Steve — who despite only being in the small arcade for less than two minutes already had a thin layer of sweat glistening over his forehead — sending a glare his way as if he was the cause of all of this, “I have no idea. I think something overheated, and broke the generator.”

Pushing yourself to your feet, you pulled at the bottom of your navy work shirt, pulling a face as the sticky Slushee mix stuck it to your skin. Steve tried his hardest to keep his eyes on your face as you rang the excess liquid out of it, but as soon as you saw his eyes drop, you tugged your shirt back down, a painful weight that traveled from your chest to the scar across your abdomen, the shame causing you to turn away quickly.

“Have you, uh… Have you called anyone?”

“Like who, Harrington? Keith has the week off, and if you think my manager won’t blame me for this-”

“C’mon, then. It can’t be that hard.” Steve shrugged before making his way to the back rooms where the circuit breaker panel was, leaving you to scramble behind after him.

“I’m sorry, where did you get your degree in electrical engineering from again? Dumbass University? You can’t just flick a few switches and magically fix this.”

Catching up to the boy, you blocked the door where the breaker was hidden away in a closet smaller than the janitor’s closet in school. If any of you had to go in there, it wouldn’t be the trigger-finger-happy Steve.

“Just wait out here, alright? Make sure nobody comes in, and do not let this door shut behind me. The handles busted and it only opens from the outside. I don’t need you wandering off and leaving me to overheat and die in here.”

“I got it, just hurry up. It’s hot as hell.”

You sent a deathly glare to the boy who was acting as though you hadn’t been sweltering in this hellhole all day, before stepping into the muggy, dark room. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust despite the room being barely enough to fit yourself, the breaker box, and a mop and bucket.

“I can’t see anything,” you grumbled, wiping at your forehead with the back of your hand before you reached forward, finally touching the machine that felt a little too hot to be safe and you prayed you wouldn’t get burned. Or electrocuted.

Unsure of what to do now you were face-to-face with the panel, you gave the side a good, hard, whack. In your defense, you had never claimed to know anything about electrical boards, either.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve’s voice was a little too squeaky to sound natural, “I don’t think that’s gonna help.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t realize you were an expert. Please, why don’t you try.”

The boy scoffed, and although your back was still facing him, he knew that your brows were pulled together, an annoyed glare that frequented your face enough that he could tell so even with his eyes closed, or in this case, in the dark.

“Well, at least I wouldn’t just hit it-”

“-Only because it would hit you back, and win,” you huffed, still a little too afraid to touch any of the wires and instead turning to focus the glare that Steve knew was there, on him.

Steve’s own brows furrowed, arms crossing over his chest, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

Taking a step forward, you continued your misplaced annoyance, but the boy turned his head slightly, a noise out front distracting him from your tirade.

“Did you hear that?” Steve asked, his ability to be so easily side-tracked only irritating you more.

“No, Steve, I didn’t. But if you think that you can-”

“Shh,” he all but hissed, head tilting slightly as he strained his hearing.

“Do not shush me, Harrington-”

The loud, sudden thud caused you to both jump, Steve panicking at your widened eyes as he stepped forward, hand covering your slightly agape mouth as he all but backed you into the small closet, the only sound around you was the soft clicking of the door as it pushed gently against Steve’s back.

“What the hell was that?” You whispered, pulling his hand away from your face.

“I’m not sure, I think-”

“I don’t mean whatever that sound was, Jack ass. I mean this,” you waved your arms around as much as the small space permitted, “I told you not to let the door close, and now we’re both stuck in here.”

Looking around, as if he could see much in the dark, Steve cursed under his breath, “I wasn’t thinking-”

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington. Could you for one-second use more than 10 percent of your-”

This time, when his hand covered your mouth, you were more than a little tempted to bite him, but the hushed voices from out front stopped you in your tracks. Part of you wanted to call out for help, but the fear that it could be a bunch of hooligan kids, who would not only leave you trapped but raid the entire place stopped you. Even worse, it could be your manager.

“Who do you think it is?” Steve’s breath was warm, but minty on your face as he tipped his head slightly to speak into your ear. You hadn’t really taken in the forced proximity between you both until now as Steve’s chest rose and fell quickly, pushing against yours with every breath, his body too warm to stand with for too long.

Whoever it was, you could hear them stumbling around in the darkened room, and if you strained your ears enough, you could hear their hushed whispers once more. So, instead of responding, you remained silent, trying to figure out if it was safe to alert them to your presence. Steve, however, assumed you were ignoring him. And Steve didn’t do well in forced, awkward silences.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” You questioned, eyes darting upward to watch the boy as best you could.

“I just… I dunno, I panicked, you know? I didn’t even think about the door until it, well... shut.”

“It’s… It’s fine. It’s not your fault. It’s just been a shitty day, but I shouldn’t take that out on you. You’re just trying to help.”

“You looked pretty happy earlier, when, uh…Whatever his name was here.”

Scoffing, you attempted to cross your arms, only to be blocked by Steve’s body, “I can assure you, I am never happy around Andy.”

“I didn’t mean him,” Steve interrupted, “I know that guy is an asshole. Was on the basketball team with him for long enough. I meant the other guy, Patrick, right?”

You were glad that the closet was dark as your eyes darted toward your sneakers, instead meeting Steve’s chest that was awkwardly pressed against your own, “Uh, I don’t really know him.”

“It seemed like you knew him well enough,” Steve shrugged.

Rolling your eyes, you fruitlessly pushed the boy’s shoulder, “Well, I don’t. He only comes in when Andy’s working. I’ve barely spoken to the guy.”

A low laugh fell from Steve’s lips, his breath hitting your face as he gently pushed you back, “Yeah, well. I know that look well.”

“What look?” Pushing him back once more, despite there not being any room for either of you to fall into, “There is no look. I don’t do looks. Plus, you can’t even see me, it's dark.”

“Not you, doofus,” Steve tried to dodge your hands as they returned the gesture, “him. He was giving you the look.”

“Jesus, Harrington. There was no look, okay? So drop it.”

“Please, I know the look like the back of my hand,” Steve’s finger jabbed into the space between your ribs, causing you to jerk slightly and slap his hands away, “I get it enough.”

“Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” Another shove.

Slapping your hand away once more, ��We’re not talking about my love life right now-”

“Only because it’s non-existent,” both hands were raised in an attempt to shove the boy once more, but both your actions and words came to an abrupt halt when he caught your hands in his own, fingers slowly linking in an attempt to keep them pinned to your side.

Steve’s voice was low as he leaned in, and despite the darkness, you felt him practically peer into your soul.

“Believe me,” he sighed, eyes softening as they traced your face as if he were trying to memorize every detail — good, bad, and ugly — to his memory, “I know the look.”

Your tongue slid over your bottom lip, catching the boy’s attention and causing his gaze to turn glassy and his knees to turn weak.

“Steve,” you mumbled, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed, his eyes finally returning to your own as he spoke your name softly, his body pressed so tightly against your own despite the extreme heat, that you were unsure whether it was your own heart that was pounding, or his.

Leaning forward slightly, Steve’s lips parted, but the words evaporated from his tongue when the hushed voices sounded a little too loud, the busted door knob jiggling as someone tried to open the door.

A sudden gust of warm air hit Steve’s back as the door was yanked open, allowing a little light to filter in,

“Uh, are we interrupting?”

The familiar, but unexpected voice jolted the boy away from you as he took a step back, clumsily trying to avoid the feet behind him as he looked anything but inconspicuous.

“No, uh. We were, you know? And then the door, it wouldn’t… Yeah.”

Clearing your throat, you stepped out of the small closet, ignoring the raised eyebrow and slight concern coming from Max, “We got locked in trying to fix the breaker. Everything is fried with the heat. What are you guys doing here?”

“Someone,” Mike glanced toward a rather apologetic-looking Steve, “said he’d drop us at the pool. He didn’t show when he said he would, so we thought we’d find him here. And what do you know? Here he is.”

“Yeah, alright, less of the attitude, Wheeler. I get it. I’m late, sorry.”

“You can still take us, right?” Will asked, his grip tight on his swim bag.

Steve turned his attention to you, watching carefully as if waiting for something. Realizing that the moment had passed, Steve shrugged and exhaled deeply, “Yeah, fine. Whatever. Go wait by the car.”

The group took off as you slowly followed Steve through the desolate arcade, careful not to slip on the puddle of melted slush that was most likely going to remain sticky for the rest of the arcade’s existence, no matter how many times you’d mop it.

“You could come with us. Not much you can do here, anyway.”

You stood in the doorway, eyes squinting as the too-bright sun beat down in a way that felt slightly more tolerable outside, and you found yourself almost saying yes.

Instead, you folded your arms over your chest and sent the boy a strained smile, “I would but… Well, I should ring my manager.”

“I could come back? Drop off the little demons and-”

“Steve, it’s fine. Really. Go enjoy the pool. Who knows, might be your lucky day.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he began his descent toward his car, ignoring the kid's argument over who got shotgun, knowing full well that Lucas would cave and give Max his vote, “Yeah, who knows? Ring me later, alright? Let me know how you get on.”

“Sure thing, Harrington.”

His eyes remained on you as he walked backward, right up until his back collided with the side of his Beamer.

You returned El’s enthusiastic wave as the car pulled out of the parking lot before turning to reenter the arcade, hoping you could find your manager’s number in the office so you could ring from the video store next door, but the slam of a car door, followed by a shout of your name caused you to swivel back around, blocking out the sun with one hand as the person approached you.

“Patrick? What are you doing here?”

The boy wiped his hand over his forehead, a slightly flustered expression covering his face, “I, uh… I felt bad about leaving with Andy earlier. I didn’t know this was gonna happen, and if I hadn’t turned up, Andy wouldn’t have ditched you.”

You bit your tongue, both of you knowing damn well that this wasn’t the first, nor the last time Andy would leave his shift early.

“-So I thought I’d come back to help clear up.”

“Andy’ an ass, no offense. You really don’t need to cover for him,”

“I’m not,” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing toward you almost bashfully, “I came back to help you. That’s it. Promise.”

Taking a moment, you stared down the boy making him ever so slightly uncomfortable. You didn’t know Patrick all that well, but this didn’t feel like some elaborate prank that would end up with you covered in pig's blood at prom.

Pulling the door open, you stepped out of the way, ushering him in with a raised brow, “Tell, me, McKinney, how good are you with a mop?”

The sun beat down, caressing your skin as you lay out on the lounger falling in and out of sleep. The only thing stopping you from falling into a deep slumber was the occasional splashes and shrieking from the children who inhabited the pool, but you didn’t have it in you to tell them to quieten down. It was your first day off this week, and you wanted to do absolutely nothing except bask in the rays of the sun and relax.

“Hey, water stays in the pool, Mayfield.”

Steve, however, clearly had other ideas.

He’d been stressing over finding a job — one of his father's demands — and had so far been unsuccessful, but he had an interview soon, which had left him almost unbearable since, worrying himself over yet another rejection that hadn’t even happened yet.

“God, these kids are gonna age me,” Steve huffed, all but throwing himself into the lounger next to you.

Cocking a brow, you finally peeked toward the shirtless boy as he settled onto the lounger next to you, his shoulders already beginning to redden from the intense heat, “So is the sun, if you don’t put some lotion on.”

“I’m working on my tan,” Steve waved his hand dismissively, eyes hidden under his sunglasses as if he were the heartthrob of some John Hughes movie.

Throwing the bottle of lotion at him, you rolled your eyes before closing them and entirely blocking the boy from your view, “You’ll thank me when you’re 40.”

After a long, heaving, and frankly dramatic sigh, Steve eventually opened the lotion — the click of the lid causing your eyes to peek once more toward him — and began to pour the smallest amount he possibly could over his arms, “You know, most people use baby oil to get a tan, not this shit.”

“Jesus, Harrington, you sound like a middle-aged housewife. Age like a leather bag for all I care. Just do it quietly.”

Even behind the tinted glasses, you knew Steve was glaring at you, despite continuing to rub in the sunscreen.

“Can you, uh…Can you get my back?”

“Huh?” You questioned, sitting up a little on the lounger.

“Well there’s no point putting it on my front and not my back, is there?”

“I mean-”

“And I can’t reach my back, so…” Steve held out the lotion toward you, a brow slightly arched, “Can you help me, or not?”

Not.

The word felt glued to your tongue, as if no matter how much you wanted to say it, to turn him down, you couldn’t bring yourself to utter that one, simple word. Instead, you swallowed down the lump that had formed in your throat and all but snatched the bottle from him, waiting as he moved to the edge of your own chair and turned away from you, the freckles that you had only been acquainted with once before enhanced by the sun.

His sudden jolt from the cold lotion made you jump slightly, a quiet apology slipping from your lips as you willed your hands to stop trembling.

You’re pathetic, you silently berated yourself, the frown only deepening on your forehead as your hands grazed across the expanse of Steve’s back.

It took a while to fully rub the lotion in, and by the end, you felt like you had heatstroke, “All done,” your words were barely above a whisper.

“Thanks,” Steve’s smile was soft as he turned, glancing over his shoulder at you.

Steve’s throat bobbed as he turned a little more on the lounger to face you, suddenly seeming less sure of himself, “I, uh… Do you-”

“I need to wash my hands,” you stuttered, pushing yourself up too quickly and almost causing the lounger to topple under Steve’s weight as you dashed toward the sliding door.

Gripping onto the sink, you took a few deep breaths and willed yourself to calm down. The heat had clearly gotten to you, your heart all but beating out of your chest. Definitely a sign of heatstroke.

“You alright?” Steve’s voice made you jump before you fumbled for the tap, finally finding some relief from the cold water as you rinsed the oily lotion from your hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… The heat, you know?”

“Right, yeah of course. Do you, uh… Do you want water?” Steve asked, head already in the fridge looking for the cans of coke he’d promised the kids, fishing out a bottle of cold water at your agreement as you dried your hands.

Steve held the bottle out toward you, the droplets of water rolling over his knuckles all too distracting and it only got worse when he softly called your name, your eyes slowly making their way up his chest before finally meeting his eyes, “You sure you’re okay? You wanna lay down or something?”

You were sure you could hear the blood flowing in your ears, and you silently cursed yourself. You had seen topless guys before, hell, for however much of an asshole Billy Hargrove was, you’d seen him playing basketball, shirtless and sweaty, and still managed to keep your composure.

Snatching the bottle from his grip, you willed your voice to remain strong as you eyed the sliding door, quickly making your exit, “Jesus, I’m fine, Harrington. Stop babying me.”

You could barely hear the yelp of pain from him as a can of coke fell from his other hand, dropping onto his bare foot and rolling away, your heart pounding furiously in your chest as you felt your embarrassment overwhelm you.

This is also why you didn’t pay much attention to the wet pool deck until you found yourself sliding on it and crashing into the pool.

For a moment, time stood still. The playful shouts from the kids dulled into muted, indistinguishable noise, and it took a second for your body and brain to catch up with itself, but when it finally did, the panic began to ensue fast and hard.

Your limbs began to flail, unable to decipher which way would lead you to the safety of the water's surface as your chest began to burn, accidentally letting in a lungful of water, eyes sore and unable to make much out except the blue of the water which blended all too well with the blue of the sky.

A muffled noise from behind you barely caught your attention, but the moment Steve’s arms wrapped around you, all but dragging you to the surface, you stopped trying to fight, instead turning limp in his arms.

“Is she okay?” Max rushed forward, concern etched across her face.

“She’ll be fine. Just help me get her out.”

Steve practically dragged you up the few pool steps — your legs turning to jelly — as Max threw one of your arms over her shoulder, taking some of your weight before they placed you onto the lounger as you coughed and spluttered.

“What happened?” Lucas questioned, his soft eyes peering down at you as he handed Steve a towel, the older boy snatching it from his grip to place it over your shoulders.

“She slipped. Jesus, I told you guys to stop splashing the water everywhere, it gets slippery as shit,” Steve returned his attention to you, hands placed against your cheeks as he pushed away the remaining droplets of chlorine water with his thumbs, “You’re okay. Deep breaths, alright? Slow it down.”

It took a moment, but eventually, you were able to match Steve’s breathing, “I’m fine. I’m sorry, guys…”

“You’re shaking,” Steve mumbled, his hands rubbing the towel over the tops of your arms, trying to warm you up, despite the blazing summer sun, “Wheeler, go get her some water-”

“No, Steve. Really, I’m fine,” turning toward the kids, you kept your eyes on the ground, too embarrassed to meet their eyes, “Go back in. Have fun. We’ll be leaving soon, anyway.”

Once the gang had reluctantly returned to the pool — this time keeping their antics, and the water, confined to the pool — Steve stood, holding his hand out toward you, “C’mon, let’s get you some dry clothes.”

Despite the fact the sun would’ve dried you off in no time, you followed the boy inside, uncomfortable from the weight of your soaked denim shorts.

Steve had managed to dig out a pair of shorts and an old top for you, and once you were dried and dressed, Steve returned, finding you perched on the end of his bed with the damp towel in your hands and shame written across your face.

“So, this is the second time you’ve almost drowned in my pool. I’m starting to think it’s personal.”

Steve’s joke fell flat, and your lack of response caused him to shuffle his weight between his legs before joining you on the edge of the bed, Barb’s words from the night of his party ringing in his ears, “Why didn’t you ever learn to swim?”

“Not everyone is rich enough to have a pool in the yard,” you mumbled, allowing Steve to take the towel from you and wipe the side of your neck where a droplet of water had begun to fall.

“You know, I haven’t been in that pool since the night Barb…” Steve sighed, folding the towel just to have something to busy his hands with, before placing it on the floor by his bed, “I used to love swimming. It kinda felt like an escape, you know? I’d hold my breath and just sit on the pool floor, drown out everything that was going on around me. Probably why I ended up good enough to be captain of the swim team. And then after Barb’s death I just… Couldn’t face it.”

You knew what he was doing, even if he was unaware of it himself.

“When I was younger, I mean like… really young, my sister and I went out boating with my dad all the time. Back then, Mom was… Well, she was better. But she’s had demons in her life for as long as I can remember, and they only got worse once my Dad left. But whenever she was having a bad morning, he’d take us out on Lover’s Lake.”

Steve watched on silently as your throat bobbed, and you swallowed down the lump that was clawing its way up your throat,

“One night, they were just non-stop fighting. I don’t know what about, I was only like, 6. But my sister… She got me dressed, grabbed a blanket, and we left. She was trying to take care of me like Dad did. So we walked to the lake, untied one of the boats on the dock, and just… rowed out. Nobody else was out there, just me, her, and the quiet of the night. We weren’t given that often, you know? Peace. But that night, just for a while… That was all we had.”

“What happened?” Steve questioned, his hand capturing yours in an attempt to stop you from picking at the skin around your nails.

He knew, of course, what had happened. Or at least, the rumors that had spread around town over the years. It was common knowledge. But he didn’t care about what the town had to say about it… He cared about what you had to say.

“We were being stupid, playing around, unable to see the danger we’d got ourselves into. The boat rocked, and I fell overboard. I don’t remember much after that, but I know she didn’t hesitate to jump in after me, and that’s the only reason I’m alive, and she’s not. She managed to get me back into the boat. But the water was so cold, and I just… I never saw her again. They uh… They think she was caught in a current, and added to the shock of the cold water she just… couldn’t get herself out. If she’d just stayed in the boat, then-”

“Then you’d be dead, and she’d be here instead,” your head snapped toward Steve, his words ringing a little too familiar to your own thoughts. To your mother’s voiced opinions, “You were just kids. She jumped in to save her little sister.”

Praying the tears that were blurring your vision wouldn’t fall, you turned away from Steve, peering up at his bedroom ceiling, “My Dad left not long after. My parents were barely hanging on anyway, but… he couldn’t take it. My Mom’s drinking just got worse, and before I knew it, she was unable to hold down a job, and I was stealing from the Big Buy just to put food on the table.”

“And you never heard from your Dad again? Don’t know where he went?”

Shaking your head, you wiped away a lone tear that had managed to escape, “No. Mom wouldn’t talk about him… about either of them.”

After giving you a moment to collect yourself, Steve’s voice was soft, “I’m so sorry-”

“I don’t want your pity,” you scoffed, shoving his hand off your own, and pushing yourself to stand, despite your legs still feeling a little weak, “Shit happens to everyone.”

“It’s not pity,” Steve sighed, remaining calm as he followed you across the room, a gentle hand laying on your shoulder to turn you to face him, “I promise. When you care about someone, it’s not pity.”

The light streaming in through his window reflected in his eyes, the soft brown almost melting into specks of green, causing your icy demeanor to melt away with the summer sun. Unable to stop the tears from overflowing, you simply nodded before Steve pulled you into an embrace, his warm, sun-kissed skin still smelling of the lotion he’d applied earlier.

“I could teach you, you know? To swim.” Steve spoke quietly, almost too low that you could barely hear him over the kid’s antics from outside his bedroom window.

Shaking your head, your forehead creased, “I don’t think I could-”

“Not here,” he interrupted, peering down at you as he released you from his arms, “At the community pool. There are other people around and lifeguards, you’d be totally safe.”

“I’ll think about it,” you sighed, “But right now, I need to get those kids home.”

A few days after your second unwanted dip in the Harrington’s pool, you found yourself standing by what might’ve been the only available lounger at Hawkins Community Pool.

Steve wasn’t lying when he said there would be plenty of other people there, unfortunately, most of them were screeching children, kicking water at each other and running around, despite how many times Freddie blew his whistle to tell them to slow down, their mother’s not bothered by the dangers of the pool as the women gossiped and preened themselves, fluffing freshly dyed hair and reapplying their fuchsia lipsticks.

“C’mon, it’s really not that bad,” Steve sighed, tapping his foot impatiently on the too-hot floor, all too aware of the eyes that were staring at him, despite the sunglasses that covered them. Sometimes, you thought the sex-deprived housewives were worse than their curious teenagers.

“I don’t know, Steve. Somehow, this seems much worse.”

Steve, only slightly distracted with sending the gaggle of women a small wave, “It’s all good…”

Shoving him slightly, your knuckles began to hurt from their tight grip on your towel, “If I die because of your inability to keep it in your pants, Harrington, I swear, I’ll come back as a ghost and make your life a living hell.”

“You already do that,” Steve sent you a sarcastic smile after rolling his eyes but clambered into the pool regardless, “C’mon, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Brow wrinkled, you eyed the noisy pool, uncertainty pulsing through your body with an underlying panic. Technically, you didn’t need to learn how to swim. You lived in Indiana, a double landlocked state. It wasn’t like you were planning on taking a dip in the Atlantic Ocean any time soon.

But this wasn’t about swimming, both you and Steve knew that. This was about conquering a fear that held so much trauma and guilt.

Steve, noting your apprehension, swam a little closer to the edge, leaning over to look up toward you, “Sometimes, the only way out is through.”

You nodded, despite the slight glare etched onto your features, before slowly unraveling your towel, feeling a little too exposed despite your rather conservative bathing suit. It wasn’t very flattering, but it covered the scars over your abdomen much better than any alternatives.

Before you could step forward, a low wolf whistle stopped you in your tracks, “Well, well, well. I didn’t know the Convent was in town.”

Slamming your eyes shut in annoyance, you silently cursed your luck, “Go away, Hargrove.”

“No can do,” you wanted to slap the wolfish grin right off his face when he pushed his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and raised his metal whistle toward you, “Kind of my job to be here.”

“Great,” you huffed, returning your attention to the boy in the pool, “Can we go? Please?”

“Oh, I get it…” Billy smirked, eyes darting between you and Steve, who was glaring at him from the water, “Anyway, the geriatric swim session is from 4pm, til 5. You’re a little early with that outfit.”

Billy pulled the strap of your costume, as if to make a point, allowing it to snap back onto your skin, making you flinch before shoving him away slightly, “I swear, Hargrove. If you-”

The shrill sound of his whistle cut you off, his eyes set on a running child who almost tripped over himself in an attempt to slow down, before he finally returned his attention to you, pulling his sunglasses back over his leering eyes, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. And don’t forget, I know mouth-to-mouth.”

You weren’t able to formulate a response before Billy had sauntered off, late for his round of peacock-ing in front of the Horny Housewives of Hawkins. Instead, you found your feet taking you to the edge of the pool.

Sitting on the edge of the pool, you dangled your legs in cautiously as you began your tirade to Steve, instead.

“That guy is so pig-headed. I swear, if he ever touches me again, I’ll rip that stupid little mustache off his face.”

Steve, who had moved slightly to allow you the space to sit in front of him sent you an amused smile, “Ignore him, alright? Are we doing this?��

Inhaling deeply and trying to push your fear to the back of your mind, you accepted his hands that were outstretched and awaiting your own,

“If I need the kiss of life, and Billy is my only option, please, and I mean this wholeheartedly, let me die.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve waded back into the water slowly, allowing you to shuffle forward until you were finally in the water, “Yeah, I’m a certified lifeguard. I could just give you mouth-to-mouth.”

Steve’s words caused the both of you to halt, and for just a moment, you were grateful for the cool pool water as it lapped at your too-warm body. Catching himself, Steve began to stutter as he dragged you a little further into the pool, “You know, if you, uh… If you ever needed it…”

Fighting hard to not allow your obvious embarrassment to invade your face, you settled your focus on the boy’s hands as he led you away from the pool’s edge, which was a mistake all of its own, “I’d prefer to just, you know… Not drown.”

“That’ll be a good start, yeah,” Steve swallowed thickly, his cheeks rosy from what he would argue was the sun, “You’re doing well.”

“I’ve just got in, Steve. I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Half the fight was getting into the pool in the first place,” Steve smirked, a small wave of water hitting his chin as you pushed water toward him with a halfhearted glare.

It almost annoyed you how good Steve was at teaching. Sure, with the kids, he sometimes lost his temper and would more often than not result in name-calling, but when he knew how to do something, Steve really knew.

By no means were you confident in the water, nor could you do much more than dog paddle and a flailing backstroke, but by the time you’d pulled your aching limbs from the water and began to dry off, you were slowly growing comfortable with Steve’s assistance. Not that you intended on joining the Swimming Team any time soon.

“Why didn’t you apply for a job here? I mean, it kinda seems like you’d ace an interview here.”

“Already filled up their positions,” Steve sighed, rubbing his towel through his hair, unaware or unbothered with it sticking out in several directions, “Plus, I don’t think my Dad would see it as much of a punishment, hanging around a pool with babes in bikini’s all day, you know?”

“I work a minimum wage job in an overheated arcade, full of smelly preteen boys. Anything would be an upgrade from that.”

“And you’re sure there are no positions available? Like, nothing at all?”

Shrugging, you wrapped your towel around yourself and shoved your feet into your flip flops, ready to head into the changing cubicle, “However much I wish Andy would quit, there’s nothing. Sorry.”

“No, it’s cool. I, uh... I totally passed that interview at the Mall, anyway. I start this week.”

“Oh shit, that’s great.”

“Yeah, well… It’s some Ice cream place, so… That'll be... Fun.”

You and Steve separated into changing rooms, and once you were relatively dry and dressed back into your normal clothes, you made your way out, spotting the boy leaning against one of the wooden picnic benches, talking to one of the lifeguards, Heather.

Before you could make your way over, a tanned arm shot out, reaching toward the wall, essentially blocking you in, “You know, I surfed a lot back in California.”

“Riveting,” you deadpanned, barely sparing a look in Billy’s direction, “Does this story have a point, or are you just trying to waste my time?”

“My point,” Billy stressed, leaning uncomfortably closer to you, “is that I’m a pretty great swimmer. The ocean isn’t exactly a backyard pool, you know? I teach lessons here, but… if you ever want a private session, then you know where I am. My specialty is the breaststroke, but I know all the styles-”

“You are disgusting, Hargrove. You know that?”

Billy’s smirk stretched across his face, but his eyes darkened slightly, “You weren’t saying that last Halloween. In fact, if I remember, you weren’t really saying much at all.”

Your name being called from across the small entrance caught both of your attention, but Billy’s arm remained high by your head,

“Hey, you already swam?” The boy asked, his eyes darting between you, Billy, and his arm against the wall.

“Uh, yeah. I was getting a lesson…”

Nodding, Patrick turned his attention to the blonde, “Sup, Hargrove. Didn’t know you got a summer gig here.”

“Why would you know?” Chewing on his gum, Billy watched the boy carefully, his smirk nowhere to be seen, before turning back to you but thankfully removing his hand from the wall beside you, “Offers there.”

Billy brushed past Patrick, who barely seemed phased by the boy’s cold shoulder, even when he greeted his friends with much more warmth, “God, he is such a dick. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. No, I’m good. Thank you, though.” You stumbled through your words, thankful that Patrick and his group of friends hadn’t turned up earlier. That was an embarrassment you didn’t need to suffer.

Jason called after Patrick, telling him to hurry, but the boy merely sent them away to swim with a wave of his wrist, ensuring he’ll join them soon, yet he remained standing with you at the entrance.

“So, uh… Thanks again, you know. For helping me clear up the other day. You didn’t need to.”

“Well, it was kinda my fault that Andy ditched, so… It was the least I could do.”

“Yeah, well… I hope he at least gave you some of his paychecks.”

Patrick smirked, his dark eyes peering down into yours, making you feel a little too exposed.

“You know, I was uh… I know you don’t like Andy, or whatever, but, we’re having this small get-together Monday night. Not a lot of people but… yeah, it’s normally pretty cool. Did you, maybe wanna, go? With me, I mean… Obviously.”

With wide eyes and an open mouth, you prayed for your brain to stop short-circuiting and respond — at this point with anything — but instead, you stood, staring at him like a guppy, causing him to stutter,

“I mean, you totally don’t have to. Because of Andy or, you know, even if you don’t like me, that’s totally fine too. I just thought maybe-”

“Monday night sounds good,” your voice squeaked, and for a moment you could only beg that the Earth would open up and swallow you whole. Take you back to the Upside Down, for all you gave a shit.

Instead of calling you out on it, or mocking you, Patrick instead sent you a wide, sincere smile and nodded, “Yeah, cool. I’ll uh… I’ll pick you up? Around 9?”

And with a nod of your head, it was a date.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

31 notes · View notes