#since we know nothing about him

[thesightstoshowyou]

Cold Comfort

John Ryder (The Hitcher 2007) x F Reader (NSFW)

Terror, pain, and a little softness.

Warnings: Dubcon, blood, gunplay, piercing trauma, nail trauma, face fucking, violence

A/N: OKAY so I was talking about this with @theartofslashing over TWO years ago 😭 Forgive me for just now getting to this lmao.

I can’t find it on YouTube anymore, but there is a deleted scene in 2007 The Hitcher where John—laying next to a sleeping Grace in her shitty motel room—plays with her hair, then runs his hand up and down her side. Half asleep Grace, thinking it’s Jim, gently grabs his hand to hold it. John pauses, then rips his hand out of her grip and slowly gets up off the bed, shoulders hunched, this puzzled and almost distressed look on his face. He rubs and inspects his hand like it hurts, like her soft touch burned him.

@theartofslashing said about this scene “…honestly the more often I replay this... he seems so... fascinated by her? Like... he doesn't even really know how to deal with his own attraction? …possibly because he just DOESN'T know how to relate to people without hurting them?” AND THAT IS SO SPOT ON with how I see the 2007 version of John Ryder.

So let’s explore this a little. This is the same reader from my other Hitcher fics in my Masterlist.

~~

Soft, yellow light spills across your face, leaks through your eyelids until you’re aware of its glow. Cheap, scratchy sheets grate against your bare skin, the musty smell of old linen and something metallic wrinkling your nose.

Slowly you shift and—OH GOD you hurt; straining, sore muscles, stinging flesh, dull throbbing in one of your fingertips. Then there’s the ache between your thighs, a pain you’ve come to associate only with…

John.

Your eyes fly open. A dingy, water-stained ceiling greets you. Across the room is a bulky television perched on a cracked dresser, some generic art screwed to the wall. To your left, an ancient, brass lamp sits atop a rickety, particle board nightstand.

Wildly, you rip the comforter off your nude form and glance down. The sheets below you are soaked with crimson—your blood. It’s a fucking murder scene. Your body is riddled with cuts and bruises, your finger twinging sharply until you release the bedding from your white knuckled grip. Your hand shakes as you examine your digits.

You’re missing a fingernail.

You recall the noise you’d made when John had ripped it off with a pair of pliers. Your face burns.

It is then you notice the gentle trickling of water and the steam pouring from the open bathroom door. Your foggy brain clunks and whirs as things start to fall into place all at once.

You’d stayed the night.

You’d stayed overnight with John.

You’re still here.

He’s still here.

He’s going to want you gone.

You need to get out of here.

Gritting your teeth to silence your groan of pain, you claw your way off the lumpy mattress. Frantically, you locate your clothes—jeans, shirt ripped to shreds, jacket, where are your underwear—pulling on whatever you can find until you’re mostly covered.

You reach for the door, pause…where’s your bag? You need your bag. Scanning the disorganized room—jesus, there’s blood on the wall—you spot the corner of black leather peeking out from under the bed.

In two steps you’re there, wincing when you bend down to retrieve it. Sling the strap over your shoulder, scurry back to the door, grip the lock, turn—

“Going somewhere?”

You freeze, stomach lurching. Swallowing thickly, you turn. John leans against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed, jeans hanging off his hips, short hair still damp.

His expression is impossible to read. Is he upset? Apathetic? Is he fucking with you? It’s so hard to determine.

“I, uh…I figured you’d…that I should just….” You motion vaguely over your shoulder toward the door. Your heart still races when he stares at you, blood rushing like floodwater in your ears.

You think…no, you know he meant to kill you that first night he’d picked you up. And you’re positive you weren’t the first. Again, you wonder how many others there were, or have been since you’d met. John’s killed, and you could so easily be next.

So why do you keep coming back?

John says nothing to your stammering, instead leisurely crossing the room toward you, one unhurried step at a time. He watches you shake like a leaf in the breeze, his dead gaze trailing down your body, assessing your torn shirt, your bloody skin. You notice his jaw tensing and relaxing and you’d be worried if you didn’t already know this is just something he does, an unconscious habit.

Briefly, you wonder if anyone else knows this about him.

Thoughts derail when he reaches you, grips your shoulder, pushes you to your knees. Your rubbery legs crumble instantly and you grunt when your sore body protests your abrupt thump onto ancient carpet.

You open your mouth to say something but any words you might have uttered leave your tongue in a terrified squeak as John produces a handgun from his back pocket. His rough hand grips your hair, twists your locks around calloused fingers. Stinging pain in your scalp stills you, fear of ripping your hair out and angering him holding you frozen in place.

Stop curling your toes, he’s got a fucking gun—

“J-John,” you whimper, your terrified expression reflected in nickel plating as the 1911 is brushed against your cheek.

He ignores your plea, or perhaps revels in it, judging by the way his lips curl minutely at the corners. “Stick out your tongue,” John murmurs, voice a low rumble that raises goosebumps along your skin.

Breath shaking, lips quivering, you don’t take your eyes off his face as you open your mouth and tentatively allow your tongue to unfurl. A tremulous whine escapes your throat when the barrel comes to rest on your tongue. Furiously, you blink away tears, silently pleading, begging.

The slide slips past your lips. You cough, gag, retch when the caustic scent of gunpowder and sharp metallic tang hit the back of your throat. Cold metal glides along your tongue as the gun is removed, then pushed back in, as much as will fit.

A hitching sob sounds around the gun. Terror wreaks havoc on your sanity, every panicked thought racing around your skull over and over and over. Is his finger on the trigger? Is the safety on? Is this it?

This is John you’re talking about, so your worst fears are most likely true, but you don’t dare look away from his piercing green gaze. You’re sure, somehow, that if you glance down to check his trigger discipline, John’s restraint will snap and your brains will end up splattered on the scuffed, white door behind you.

Drool pools in your cheeks, spilling over your tongue and down your chin until it drips onto your jeans. When John finally, finally pulls the barrel from your mouth, spit trails with it, little droplets pattering onto the carpet. You gasp and resist the urge to spit out the acrid gun flavor.

Is it relief you feel? Or dread? That can’t be the end of it….

John doesn’t release your hair when he sets the pistol on the dresser. One hand now free, he works his pants open, hard cock springing free. The leaking tip is at your lips before you can even think to protest.

Heated flesh follows the same path the gun took, though this time is much less gentle. In seconds, you’re choking, gagging, swallowing as he forces himself into your throat. Too soon, your nose sinks into the light brown curls at the base of his cock, the scent of cheap, powdery soap momentarily overpowering your senses when you struggle to breathe.

A pathetic, muffled gurgle sounds around the length stuffed in your throat and John huffs, gripping your head with his other hand. It’s vicious, the way he pulls out and slams back in. Your shoulders tense, hands curling into fists on your thighs when he pistons his hips, every inch of him claiming your mouth.

Tears spill unchecked down your face, frothy spit pours off your chin, mucus clogs your airway. You can barely focus, vision blurring and lungs burning. Still, that hateful part of you activates under John’s rough treatment and you feel the telltale twitch of need in your belly.

Suddenly, there’s a swift click near your ear. It’s a sound you recognize. Your eyes fly open and dart to your right. John’s pocket knife is clutched in his palm, blade still caked in your dried blood from the night before. Through wet lashes, you quickly look up at him, watch the grin pull at the corner of his mouth.

“That got your attention,” he rumbles. You feel cold steel against your ear lobe, hear the quiet clink when the tip of the blade hooks into your earring. You only have a second to brace yourself….

Sharp, splitting agony rips a muted, scream from your aching throat when John tears the hoop completely out of your ear. Warmth spills down your neck, your anguished sob so distorted as he resumes his frenzied pace. Maybe you moan then too, your legs shifting and grating together when pain becomes confused in your ruined synapses, another little jolt of want coursing through you.

Nobody knows how to hurt you like John.

Again you look up at him, dazed, teary, and reverent. John meets your gaze, grunts, then pulls you all the way down on his cock. Salty heat paints your throat, his breathy sigh delighting your fuzzy mind.

The gasp you take when he finally releases you is so wet it sounds like you’re drowning. You cough and cough, quivering hands coming up to clutch your burning ear. The piercing is gone, completely torn out the side of your ear lobe. Another sob wracks your tired frame.

John kneels in front of you and you don’t even think, just fall forward against his bare chest. His arms come up, wrap around your back, his fingers carding through your hair. Such a light touch for such calloused digits. You go slack, rest your weight against him, bleed onto his shoulder as you reign in your haggard breathing.

It’s nice. It’s calming. It’s comforting. It’s…it’s….

It’s like you both come to your senses at the same moment. Your eyes go wide and John stiffens. He’s…holding you.

You barely get your hands under you in time to catch yourself when John drops you. Hastily, he stands and strides across the room.

“Get out.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Clutching your jacket around your broken body, you stagger to your feet, grasp the handle, throw the door open. Early morning sun blinds you and you half stumble from the room, gripping the wall for stability. Furiously, you wipe away the fluids still dripping from your face as you hurry across the parking lot to your vehicle.

Collapsing into your car, the door squeals when you slam it shut. Your hand flies to your heaving chest, heart hammering against your palm. What the fuck are you doing…?

Tentatively, gingerly, your hand slides from your chest up to your shoulder. You can still feel the warm weight of John’s arms cradling you to him. Nervously, as though your thoughts might be broadcasted, you wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

Your expression sours and you shake your head. Keys jingle when you produce them from your bag. Your car thrums to life and you exit the parking lot as quickly as you dare.

What the fuck are you doing?

From behind the motel room curtain, green eyes follow your retreat.

[timethehobo]

What-if pair…? Just had the thought of both of them silently enjoying their hobbies in each other’s company. (Emmy is helping, ok.)

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[navree]

Incorrect, the fact that Biden has dropped out and a candidate with history of supporting medicare for all and being more receptive to a ceasefire in the I/P conflict has made me go from "I cannot morally support the Democratic nominee" to "I am voting for the Democratic nominee despite the fact she isn't perfect in every respect." I'm really happy this played out. The Dems for the most part abandoned the old Obama platform and it feels like its possible an actual progressive agenda could come to pass in my lifetime.

Kamala 2024!

If you weren't going to vote Democratic in this election before Biden dropped out you're a dorkass loser who does not care about any of the issues you're yammering about here and also a fundamentally bad person, and I hope you get run over by a bus.

But you got one thing right in all of this gibberish, Kamala 2024.

[skitskatdacat63]

2009 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix - Sebastian Vettel(ft. Mark Webber & Jenson Button)

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

stan: how can you be polyamorous and aroace, or…whatever mabel called it?

ford: in my case, i have my family and i have my platonic polycule. i would prefer to never have to interact with anyone outside these two groups

stan: what about soos and wendy? they’re not in either of those groups

ford: first of all, i am soos’ uncle, second of all, are you saying you don’t believe i would both die and kill for wendy?

stan: you’ve got a weird way of defining family, six

ford: it’s my favorite way

[reel-fear]

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

[autisticrosewilson]

So do you guys actually think that Jason's entire story, relationship to the others, and philosophy amounts to him being a rebellious teen who wants his dad's attention? Like are you 100% serious? I thought you were joking about that but too many of you are saying it with your whole chest.

And what the fuck is this "Bruce antagonizing Jason is fanon!" Shit I've been seeing? You guys are aware that a parent can love their kid and still be a shit parent right? I know you guys don't want to fathom the thought that maybe your blorbo might also occasionally have to face responsibility for consistently endangering children but let's not start being delusional now.

Bruce does love his kids, that doesn't mean that he hasn't hurt them. And I'd also argue that for the most part he feels in the right for it, and he's said multiple times that he believes it's for their own good, so you can't even argue that he's sorry about it. It's okay for you guys to admit that your PERSONAL INTERPRETATION of the character wouldn't do that but don't sit here and pretend that it's not a facet of the source.

[ratatatastic]

my favourite part of hockey being back is that i get to caption this guy and so i bring you the "bad attitude" bit from last season finally being put to rest because we've beat this poor horse to death... only to be revived once more! if theres anything we like around these parts its living for the bit!

Training Camp 24 | 9.19.24 (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EPISODE 2 AND 3 HAVE BEEN SOOOO FUN im already so emotionally attached to each of these characters.. if anything bad ever happens to any of them im killing everyone and then everyone.

[rapidhighway]

Dude, whatever. Dean Winchester was aromantic and bisexual

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[kayvsworld]

it's just so insane. he looks so good. it looks good. it looks interesting. it is going to get drop kicked directly into the dumpster because they've elected to keep the problem that's had it on a bds boycott list for almost a year. when this movie does badly they're going to blame mackie and sam and not the the problem that's had it on a bds boycott list for almost a year. i'm pacing

[littlerosetrove]

I know how some people who follow me feel about Tommy and Buck/Tommy, but certainly not everyone.

To keep it simple, yes I want Buddie endgame. I always have, though I've known it's never been a guarantee. Character wise and narrative wise, Buddie makes the most sense and will be the most satisfying of outcomes. Anything less will be a disappointment.

For now, I am enjoying Buck/Tommy while it lasts. Tommy is a good guy, and I think he's good for Buck, even if he's not here for long. And even though it's early game, no I don't suddenly think they should be endgame. They shouldn't. As I said, anything less than Buddie endgame would be a disappointment, and frankly a disservice to Eddie and Buck as characters. They're perfect for each other, no question.

(I really doubt anyone has actually "jumped" the Buddie ship. People, like me, are just enjoying Buck have a good queer time with a good queer man while we have it.)

[labyrynth]

*deep sigh*

don’t make me tap the sign

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I'm frightened of you knowing who I am but, could you possibly give me your frank frankly theories pretty please idc if you only have like 2.1 I want them regardless of how many you have.

mayhaps?

ah man i wish i had some to give! i think all of my Frank theories (at present) are tied into other theory posts! he simply doesn't have a lot to chew on yet