#dogs will see a big pile of your belongings

[soft--dogs]

lol so i'm in the process of rearranging all of my things, including my dragon plushie hoard. i put them in the corner with a flag covering it so the dogs wouldn't bother them, but as you can see the flag has fallen and boomer has claimed them as his pillow pile.

[moralesispunk]

I think you're either team ghost x civilian wife! reader where the rest of the 141 have no idea you exist or team they know and it's a very familial like and I'm the first one

simon who does everything he can to keep you his secret, even more so when your family starts to grow. when he's finished with a mission he will spend the next 48hrs barely sleeping, moving around to make sure no one is on his tail before making it home into your arms.

it's not that he doesn't trust the 141, but you and your family are far too precious to trust anyone with. you've heard the stories of all of the other men, are sure you would need only one look at them to be able to guess which man belongs to the many names he's told you over the years, but you're aware they don't know that you exist.

that on the rare nights simon ventures out to meet them for a sole pint between missions they think he's holed up in some bachelor flat back in manchester, perhaps with a string of women that come and go, but they couldn't be more wrong with his wedding band hidden under his gloves when he's home like now or safely in his drawer at home when he's on missions.

and it's not that he doesn't wish he could shout about you from the rooftops. everyone in your town knows that the big scary man whose face is always conveniently hidden in the shadows has a missus at home who brings your chubby babies to the toddlers and drops your kids off at school.

but the 141 don't know about you, not until enough time has passed since simon retired to consider it safe enough. simon with his aching joints and trembling hands, the ringing in his right ear and back pain that requires at least two, hour long soaks in the bath a week. simon the husband and dad who has butterfly clips in his hair and at least one nail painted from the game of hairdressers his oldest likes to play, a bright pink plaster on his knee to match the youngest, and one hand on your belly at all times with the third (and final in your opinion but simon is working on that) of your brood.

simon who is out for drinks with the 141 three years after retirement and slips and says something about moving house and the hassle, the rest of the men deciding they will help and so simon decides it's finally time. but he doesn't forewarn them about his family before the day, standing in the garden of your packed up house that your family has outgrown while the men stumble out of the van they hired only to stop dead in their tracks when they see you.

you who is waving in the doorway, a toddler on your hip and looking like you're about to pop while another child - maybe six or seven by their guesses - swings from simon's arm, with a dog jumping up paws on his chest. and like the man he is he doesn't explain, just jerks his chin towards the piles of boxes and empty moving van he's started to pack.

"think you can start making a move on that?"

a few hours later and still no explanation from simon, he's in the first van packed with all the furniture and bigger boxes with you and the kids and the guys follow behind, slack jawed and still confused as they stay speechless until they pull up at the new house.

they're still staring at you as you pile out of the first van and you're shaking your head, elbowing simon in the ribs and muttering a "put them out their misery, Si" and they swear they almost drop dead when they see how gently he handles you, an arm around your waist and a kiss to your temple as he guides you and the two gremlins towards the guys while the dog starts sniffing around its new home.

"fellas, this is the missus and kids," he says and you roll your eyes, holding out your hand towards them and introducing yourself by name, adding on the kids who beam up shyly at these strangers.

that seems to shake them out of it. john takes your hand first, shaking and turning to simon with a "you hide her away in case we try to steal her from you?" he winks and you and only grins wider when simon's hand on your hip seems to squeeze tighter. gaz and soap are bending down and coaxing your two girls out of their shyness, complimenting their light up trainers and asking if it makes them run faster before cheering them on as they run to the front door and back.

they set you up on a fold out chair and do all the heavy lifting as you point them and the boxes in their arms to their correct rooms. later, Simon treats them to dinner (a takeaway) and has you sitting on his knee with the girls in bed and for the first time he spends a night with the guys telling you stories of Simon "Ghost" Riley.

"they're lyin' love," he'll mumble in your ear at every story, "don't believe them do ya?" his hand strokes up your back, squeezing your neck.

"yeah, babe, believe you," you say while smiling at the men around your new dining room table, men who have saved your husbands life more times than he can count, and you find yourself curling closer to simon because of that

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader

part 1 | part 2

Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep. 

The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back. 

It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though. 

Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door. 

“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?” 

And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.  

Maybe summer's not so bad after all. 

You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.” 

There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding. 

The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!” 

One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other. 

“Can take ‘nother if you need.” 

You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home. 

It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in. 

With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to. 

You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away. 

"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.” 

“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.  

You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone. 

“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.” 

For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater. 

-

Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet. 

He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again... 

“Hi there.” 

You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily. 

You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty. 

Although, speaking of fed... 

“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.  

You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...” 

You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.” 

The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm. 

Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade? 

“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.” 

Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.” 

D’you want to come in for a drink?  

It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way. 

He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary. 

He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone? 

Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls. 

The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.  

And yet. 

The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere. 

“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.” 

And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove. 

“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.” 

You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.” 

Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?” 

“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.” 

Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.” 

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—” 

Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you. 

“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?” 

You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?” 

“Might be. You have anyone look at this?” 

You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.” 

Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.” 

-

It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway. 

You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.” 

Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo. 

“You big on reading, then?” 

You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.  

“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.” 

Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains. 

That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments. 

“That explains all the books y’got.” 

“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.” 

“Think it's impressive.” 

Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?” 

Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.” 

You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice? 

Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that. 

He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are. 

When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks. 

Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.  

Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real. 

You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it. 

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. 

Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench. 

There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach. 

But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind. 

“You really should let me pay you.” 

Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.” 

He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything. 

Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.” 

“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.” 

“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.” 

Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver. 

[miguelhugger2099]

Puppy Love

Summary: Gabriella wants a puppy! Miguel doesn’t. You convince him. Kinda. Not really. Art: Spinkee on Deviantart (quality is booty but i couldn't find another miguel with a dog hah)

Miguel x Reader, Pure Fluff that’s it.

“No. No, no, no, ningún perro.” Miguel shakes his head at Gabriella, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

His daughter is on her knees on the floor, looking up at her father on the couch with her hands clasped together. She falls on her back dramatically.

“Pero porque nooooo?!” She whines and Miguel sighs, rubbing his temples with one hand and dragging it down his face. He watches Gabriella complain and pound her fists and feet on the floor.

“Ah-ah-ah! Nada de eso.” He says sternly and Gabriella huffs, sitting back up with her legs crossed. She pouts angrily at him to show her fury but all Miguel sees is his baby girl throwing a tantrum.

“Gabi, mija, you’re not even gonna take care of it. Who’s gonna clean up the poop and pee, huh? It’s gonna be me.”

“Papi, I’ll take good care of it! I promise! Pinky promise!” She whimpers, scooting closer and tugging on his pant leg.

“Dije que no, Gabriella. Deja de chillar.” Miguel doesn’t even look down at her, his stress levels heightened after Gabriella had been asking for a pet dog for weeks now.

Gabriella’s face scrunches up, her tiny features contorting unpleasantly as tears well up in her eyes. “MAMI!” She cries, getting up and stomping away from Miguel in the living room to barge in your room where you were folding her clothes.

Gabriella faceplants in the bed, screams muffled as she flails her limbs wildly in frustration.

You pick up one of her clean shirts and fold it neatly in a growing pile. “What happened this time?” You ask her, taking a quick glance up to see Gabriella had moved her face to the side, cheeks flushed red with anger.

“Papi won’t let us have a puppy.”

“Gabi, my love, a puppy is a big responsibility.” Your daughter groans and flips on her back, watching you do her laundry.

“But, Mami, I'm not a baby anymore! I’m ten years old! Ten! I’ll be so responsible! Tell Papi that he won’t need to do anything!”

Once you’re finished folding, you place a hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow down at her. “Papi said no so we’re not getting a puppy, Gabi. Not now.”

“Mami, please!”

“Take these to your room, my love.” You hand the folded pile to her and she begrudgingly takes it. She hops off the bed and goes into her room where she shuts herself in for the rest of the day.

You meet Miguel in the living room, TV volume lowered of a faint cheer of futbol fans during a game. Curling up on his side, he welcomed you with his arm around you, tucking you closer and getting more comfortable with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe we should get a puppy.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel groans, his head rolling back and you look up at him with amusement. “Not you too.”

“We have the funds! I don’t see why we can’t have a little pet around here to keep Gabi occupied.” You place your hand on his chest, rubbing in little circles.

Miguel’s head tilts towards you. “It’s not the funds I’m worried about. I know as soon as that dog comes in, all Gabi’s gonna do is play with it and I’m stuck cleaning it’s shit.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby. It’s our baby girl we’re talking about. Our princess.” You coax him but he’s firm on his stance.

“No. Dogs and all those animals belong outside. So they’ll stay outside and never in my damn house.” He trains his eyes back on the screen.

“You’re so stingy.” You pout and cuddle up to him, head resting on his shoulder.

“She can get a dog when she moves out which is never.” Miguel grumbles, lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Remember: Don’t tell Papi how much we spent.” You remind Gabriella, giving her a pointed look with your index finger over your lips. 

Gabriella beams with happiness, nodding vigorously as she holds a brand new puppy in her arms. A little black pitbull sniffing the air and wagging its tail from left to right, matching the girl’s excitement.

You open the door and Gabriella places the dog down gently. The puppy sniffs the floor and huffs through its nose, getting familiar with its new home. It quickly sneezes and sniffs through everything, half of its body being swung around with its tail. It gives a small yip and its jumps around, wanting to play.

Gabriella is ecstatic! She chases the puppy around, taking toys from a bag and throwing it. “C’mere Princess!”

You slump on the couch, peering in the bag of pet supplies for a baby dog that Miguel would definitely not be happy about.

Gabriella runs around with the puppy for hours before passing out after a day of play. While placing pee pads in the corner of the living room, You hear the door unlock.

Your lovely and blissfully unaware husband hangs his keys in the hook, shrugging off his coat. “Hola, mi amor.” He greets you. 

You welcome him with a hug and a kiss, one he hums in delight. His arms go around your waist and he bends down for another kiss. “How was your day?” You ask him, lips brushing against his.

Miguel sighs. “Fine. Could be…better…” He trails off after hearing unfamiliar footsteps and a bark.

Miguel turns his head to the side to see a little pitbull running up to him and barking, thinking he’s an intruder! Princess circles around him, sniffing and sneezing with her snout, darting this way and that way before looking up at him with a ‘smile’. All she’s really doing is baring her teeth.

Miguel stares blankly at the dog. “You didn’t.”

You grin up at him, wincing. “I did.” You stop him when he groans your name, a lecture on the tip of his tongue. “Princess is already here and Gabi is just so happy.”

“You named it already?” He rolls his head back, hand coming up to cover his eyes in disbelief. He pulls away from you, a pout on his lips. “I’m not taking care of it. You keep that thing away from me.”

“Miguel, now you’re just being dramatic.” You place your hands on your hips. Princess continues to sniff at Miguel’s legs and he shoos her away.

“Mama, listen. I'm not walking or feeding or playing or cleaning it’s shit. That’s for Gabi to do. Whatever it needs, it’s not my problem.”

Miguel kept most of his promise. That was until you went weekly grocery shopping with him on the weekend. While you were finding the meats, you told Miguel to grab the seedless green grapes that Gabriella wanted.

He came back with the grapes and a dogs chew toy. It was a plain bone with ridges around the middle. He tosses it in the cart and hangs by your side. You glance at the toy and then Miguel.

“Why?” You ask. Miguel takes a grape from the box and eats it. Mid-chew, he answers you.

“For the dog. She’s chewing on my shoes.” 

“Uh-huh…” You nod, unconvincingly. Miguel ignores the way you don’t believe him, his hands grabbing the handle of the cart and moving without you. 

The next time is when Miguel comes home from work, dropping his work bag to the floor and tossing his coat on the arm of the couch. He sits with a loud groan, flipping his shoes off. 

The scratches of Princess’s nails scurry down the stairs and rushes towards Miguel, pawing at his pants. 

Miguel leans down and rubs her back a bit before patting her. Princess tumbles to the ground and rolls on her back, huffing while her tongue slips off to the side. “Hey, Princess.” He mutters, patting her over and over again. Princess tries to gnaw on his hand, still growing out her sore canines and Miguel tsks slipping his hand off her. “Okay, okay, ya, ya!” 

Princess rolls back on her stomach, unphased by Miguel’s snapping. She then sits up and jumps so her front paws are on the couch seat and Miguel shoves her paws off. 

“No! Not on the couch! You have a bed!” 

You approach with Miguel’s dinner, him taking the plate from you appreciatively. You then stare down at Princess, her beady black eyes looking between you and the food on Miguel’s plate.

“You just ate, Princess. Go. Bed.” You command and she walks off to her little round fuzzy bed, collapsing on it and rests her head on her paws. She looks between you and Miguel again, her eyes become more and more cute in hopes of some extra food.

“You taught her stuff?” Miguel asks after taking giant bites of your cooking. You sit on a chair by the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table in the middle.

“Me and Gabi.” You hum and turn on the TV to a novela that you and Miguel both liked. 

Miguel grunts. “Quick learner.” He mutters. 

The other time is when you woke up and couldn’t find Princess. You knew Miguel was on his run so she couldn’t have escaped so she must’ve been hiding. But where?

You searched high and low before Gabriella woke up in the morning for playtime. A deep pit of worry in your stomach began to brew, the thought that Princess might’ve escaped somehow. 

While making your own breakfast, you hear the front door open and a loud bark, followed by loud panting. You leave your breakfast, moving over to peek at the front door to see Miguel huffing and puffing and Princess on the ground equally exhausted but her leash around her body. 

“You took Princess?” You ask, placing a hand on your chest in relief. You wouldn’t face a ten year olds tantrum today. 

“I thought Princesa could use an actual workout instead of twenty minute playtime with Gabi and—“ Miguel sighs again, wiping sweat off his forehead and fanning himself with the front of his loose white tank top. “Jesus, she has energy.”

“Princesa?” You ask with a raised brow.

“What?” He sniffs. “It’s still Princess. Don’t be weird.” You put your hands up in defense but he quickly surrounds his sweaty arms around you.

“Ew! No!” You laugh and try to leave him embrace. Miguel pressed a loud obnoxious kiss to your temple. The sound of the kiss making Princess jump up and start barking. She lunges at you both, using her force to push you enough to take a step back. 

She continues to bark and whine, nudging herself between you and Miguel’s legs. Miguel lets go of you which makes Princess jump up as high as possible to Miguel. He leans down and pats her body all around. 

“Alright, alright! I’m gonna shower.” He laughs and leaves another pat to her head before giving you a proper soft kiss to your forehead. 

But what really solidified Princess as an O’Hara was when Gabriella had a mini talent show in front of Miguel.

With one hand she held a treat. Her other hand did commands for the tutu wearing dog.

“Sit!” Gabriella said. Princess followed.

“Spin!” Princess spun.

“Roll over!” Princess stood still.

“Roll over!” Gabriella tried again. Princess tilted her head. Gabriella faces her father. “That one is still a little new.” She frowns but Miguel chuckles. He pats the seat beside him and Gabriella giggles, jumping into his arms.

Princess barks, feeling left out and tries to jump in as well. 

“No, no, no! Bed!” Miguel shakes his head, commanding her while trying to push her off and Gabriella helps her up. 

“Papi! Just let her do this one time!” Princess whines when Gabriella tugs on her front limbs.

“Gabi, no! The couch is gonna smell like dog!” 

Princess lands on the couch, her body having grown a little bit bigger after these few weeks. She places all her weight down on Miguel’s lap, tumbling down to lay down on top of Miguel and Gabriella’s lap. Gabriella tries to move but can’t so she laughs.

“She’s getting heavier!” 

Miguel groans. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” 

Princess tilts her head up, her tongue coming out to lick his neck and face. Miguel stops her. “Eww!” And Gabriella breaks into laughter.

After a while, Miguel stays up watching TV, Gabriella and Princess both asleep in his lap, Gabis arm around Princess. 

You come from outside your shared bedroom and yawn. With your slippers you shuffle into the living room and see all three of them huddled up together. 

“You’re still here?” You ask, another yawn escaping you. 

Miguel looks at you and then his two girls in his arms. “They were so tired.” He mumbles softly.

You sigh and shake your head. He could be soft about his daughter and dog another day. Not in the middle of the night. “No. C’mon. Take Gabriella to bed.”

A/N: Heavily inspired by my own parents teehee

[idanceuntilidie]

Can I request a yandere!ceo x male reader please

Ps, I love your writing ♥️

Thank you!

I hope this was to your liking,

I am working on next request and it will be posted tomorrow.

You are sure your boss hates you.

Sighing dramatically you are met with eyes of worried co workers that are looking at you from behind a comically large stack of documents.

You try to smile at them, then your eyes scan the paperwork again.

You will have to stay after work to even get rid of almost half of the documents.

You rub your face sighing dramatically.

It was tiring, you even regret getting this job in the first place.

“Y/n?”

You feel a light tap on your shoulder, you slowly turn around to face the person who disturbed your moment of self reflection.

It was May, your co worker, she smiled apologetically.

“The big guy wants to see you. What on earth have you done this time man?” She laughs quietly, you join her.

May must be one of the nicest people you have ever met.

“Man, my excuse of ‘the dog ate my homework’ didn’t go through?”

“It seems like it”

She looks at your pile, her cherry red lips forming an o shape.

“Don’t even start May I swear to God”

“What? What? I haven’t said anything”

She huffed.

„You better go, or he will kick your ass out.”

You groaned, lazily moving your body out of the uncomfortable chair that you are pretty sure has reflected shape of your because of the amount of time you had to spend to sitting on it. May patted your back as you dragged yourself out of the office.

You really REALLY don’t want to go there.

Finally you got to the black door, only now you noticed how sweaty your hands were when you were about to open the door your boss did it first.

You came almost face to face with him, he was slightly shorter than you.

He looked at you with a scowl.

“I was about to get you, come in.”

You only nodded, following him in and quietly praying you won’t die in there.

You sat in front of him, eyes scanning the environment and coming in contact with plate containing his last name.

Kingston.

Oh right, you are so used to calling him big man you actually forgot his name.

“Sir L/n, I am not satisfied with your work.

You are lazy, you are coming late.”

Ouch, that’s, that’s not true, you might have been late few times but you are working as hard as everyone else.

“I was thinking about firing you actually”

Your heart sank, mouth opening to argue. Nothing came out.

“You are so lucky I like you.”

“I’m- I’m sorry?”

“I like you. I thought I was clear.”

Your face burned. How is he even saying it so bluntly???

You saw him get up and walk to the big window that was behind him.

He motioned you to come. You did, you swear you couldn’t feel your legs. You wobbly walked next to Kingston. Your eyes looked at the city underneath you.

“Please go out with me”

That didn’t sound like a question nor request.

“You don’t have a choice really, I can make your life a living hell y/n. I can ruin your image, make you loose your job. You don’t want that do you?” he smiled at you,

You swallowed weakly, nodding.

“Great, I will pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

He clapped his hands.

“You aren’t getting rid of me, you belong to me now honey.”

[thesensteawitch]

Fortune Reading 🔮 FORTUNATE READING

🔮🤎🔮🤎🔮🤎🔮🤎

Pick A Pile

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Little Things--- leading to BIG things

A fortunate shake up is happening in everyone's life as this lunar eclipse is approaching.

Hello, senstea souls!💜

Welcome to my blog! I am back with another pick a pile reading that is going to reveal to you how fortunate you are!

This is a timeless tarot reading. So remember you find something when you're meant to find it. Sit calmly, grab a snack and take a few breaths before beginning to read.

AND if you end up resonating with the reading and if it touches your heart then do let me know!💜🔮✨

Also, if you wish to know more about you or your life then feel free to DM me and book a reading with me.💟

I am looking forward to your response to this blog.🪄🤍 (Because it took me a lot of energy to do this reading!🥹)

TAROT BOOKING FORM 🍀 • MY RATE CARD✨

Here you go!🌈

Pile 1

Tarot Cards- Two of Cups, Page of Wands, Wheel of Fortune, Judgement, The Hangedman, Knight of Wands

Pile 1!!!!! You leave traces of wisdom behind you. How fortunate! Isn't it? For the people who will find the marks left behind by you and will call it a treasure. Your existence is fortunate for others. The card says, “No matter what has caused your unique point of view to come about—it has come about. ALL-THAT-IS is benefiting from YOUR existence and your point of view.” How fortunate it is to be a source of fortune for others (I write this at 1:11). You're not meant to draw conclusions. You're meant to allude! Allow your mind to flow into the infinite chemistry of this universe. You're reminding me of the temperature card. You embody the essence of the creator, creating life on the outskirts of the well-established towns. But be careful; you're always on the edges, hence prone to confusion and losing balance. How many times have you lived your days on DIYs? Always find a way to do what you are being called to do. HUGE fortune is coming due to your shrewdness and resourcefulness. When you create something from nothing, you show the universe that you deserve everything your heart desires and may seem too far-fetched of a dream. I see, “A beetle and a boat. A dog and a fox.” If you ever had a pet or a friend who is on the other side or is no longer a part of your life (whom you had to let go), then know they are your fortunate blessing in this lifetime because they protect you from the other side and will always be on your side even in separation. I also feel very strongly that the space that once belonged to someone is now empty, and the universe is about to send someone in your life to fill that space. The month of November is shown in the cards. Perhaps, by the month of November, the spaces in your life will be filled. Till then, hold these spaces and keep weaving magic. Your intuition has been guiding you to trust that the universe is about to shower you with an abundance of love and fortune. Prosperity and abundance are very, very strong in your cards. Like I'm literally going to scream out of the intensity of energies. But I can't! Because at the same time your energy makes me feel so calm. It seems someone in your energy wants to scream out of frustration because they want to LOVE YOU. But something is keeping them away. And when it comes to loving yourself, you too have felt like screaming but quickly went back to being gentle with yourself. AND the word FORTUNE has literally appeared in your reading TWICE.

You have swallowed so much of what you could have said when it pinched you to be in a state always trying to make your ends meet. Though undeniably you do it with so much grace and like a witch or wizard, you still deserve the world! 😭 Don't you worry, darling, the door to your bright future has to open now. There's nothing left in this phase for you to learn or grow. AND YET!!! YET???? Yet you've been filling this phase of your life with love. It's like you're on the last page of this book and it's the blank page because the story ended on the page previous to this one, but YOU are even finding so much beauty in the blankness. HOW??? I hear, “It's the end of a decade but the start of a new age.” You're seriously in your power! The way you're dancing on this blank white page is something only highly wise and mature people can do. Bravo! Fate stepped in and forced you to say goodbye. The book that just ended was beautiful, wasn't it? Though it had a sad ending. I hear, “Long, long live the walls we crashed through. Long live the magic we made and the mountains we moved. I had a time of my life fighting dragons with you. Bring all the pretenders; I'm not afraid. We'll be remembered.” You've been fortunate, my dear, pile 1, and you'll always be fortunate. If THAT BOOK and MANY CHAPTERS in it were so beautiful that the ending made you cry for months, then imagine what fate would have in store for you next?????? Have you ever thought of that? This magic that you walk with is what made you exceptional enough to have another beautiful and abundant story of your life. You changed your destiny. YOU GREW! Not everyone has the capability to come out of adverse situations this strong. You're ready. The new book is launching soon. It's time for an upgrade. Expect LOVE AND MIRACLES.

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Pile 2

Tarot Cards- Four of Wands, The Magician, Nine of Cups, Nine of Swords, Seven of Wands, Five of Wands

Were you attracted to pile 1 as well? (Or maybe you're attracted to someone whose life is like that of pile 1, lol.) The first card kind of said the same message I just wrote above. So if you were drawn to pile 1, then by all means read it too. I feel some of you feel so okay being a villain in someone's story. You just try to laugh off certain events that have hurt you quite deeply. Have you been having intense dreams lately? You feel fortunate to be able to have control over your emotional set points. You thought you would be alone in this journey, but the universe keeps talking to you no matter where you are! And you feel so mesmerized and fortunate to be on the receiving end of the divine guidance. I can see you smirk, lol. You're so much up in the sky thinking and thinking that you literally have to walk barefoot on Earth to ground yourself. Tell me how blessed you would feel if you were living in the mountains or somewhere where there were trees all around. You LOVE NATURE. Currently, you feel so blessed to be on Earth and experience the natural beauty. It's healing, and it has healed you. And flowers? You love flowers! You're a flower. Maybe someone related you to a particular flower. Or you may often buy flowers for some reason. It seems this pile has been through a lot when it comes to their health. Have you? There's a lot you need to take care of, like what you eat, how much you eat, your supplements, your skin, etc. Every day you're following one or the other self-care practice, and the moment after you finish it, you feel rejuvenated and healthier. Sometimes you fight a lot with yourself to maintain discipline. Be gentle with yourself because it seems you've come a long way and that too alone. You learned all alone what your body needs and what works for you. And yes, keep spending time in nature. It's healing you. Your cards say that very clearly. You're doing it right. Maybe since last December you started taking more care of yourself, and this coming December or 2.5 months from now you'll see huge improvement in your health. You may not have been fortunate in having the support of your loved ones, but you have always been supported by God, and for that, I feel you're really grateful.

Your energy seems like that of the movie ‘Little Forest'. You know how to make yourself feel warm in cold weather. You also remind me of this K-drama named “When the weather is fine.”.

Someone would feel so fortunate to be around you because they think very highly of you and sometimes even feel that you're not their cup of tea. Very few of you are expecting a child (maybe that's why you are taking care of your health) or are about to get married. Some sort of marriage/union is on the cards. Just know you're not alone. And whatever is around you loves you dearly. You just need to learn to handle criticism well because in the past you've been rejected so much that you've become so comfortable in your own company. This upcoming full moon seems to have something good in store for you. Nevertheless, you have your reasons to have this safe space because you have created this serene energy around you, which you needed after a tough war. Just try to be a little social, keeping your boundaries intact. Do you literally dream of marrying someone or had a dream where you were getting married? Union and celebration are on the cards. It seems that you're fighting yourself when it comes to this wish of yours. Did you confess your love to someone in December? (Very specific) Or that's when you met someone, talked to them, or started weaving this wish of yours. Someone's birthday can be in December. You're definitely enjoying your sovereignty at this point. I hear, “When you're young, they assume you know nothing.” Maybe you've really been criticized for your opinions, and that made you go silent and refrain from expressing them. Hufff...my dear pile 2, there's deafening silence in your reading now. I hear, “Since the love that you left is all that I get, I need you to know that if I can't be close to you, then I'll settle for the ghost of you. Young blood thinks there's always tomorrow. I need more time, but time can't be borrowed. If you can't be next to me, your memory is ecstasy.”

Now, I'll say whatever this dream is, know that you're worthy of having it. Whoever this person is, they really think highly of you. It does seem that you're trying to move toward better days, but your emotions come in between. At one moment you feel so optimistic toward this wish of yours, and in another moment your mind turns against you. I hear you saying to yourself, “Oh, don't be so stupid.” Your emotions go up and down. You felt REALLY FORTUNATE when you stopped pursuing this wish, thinking that it's the right decision you're making for some reason. But it seems it was your ego stopping you. I hear, “I can't save us.” Maybe at times you feel you can't save yourself and your dream. Look how the reading took a u-turn. Your energy isn't balanced, my dear, pile 2. I also hear, “Sometimes I look in her eyes, and that's where I find the glimpse of us.” It seems that fortune lies on the other end of your fear. So go for what you have always dreamed of. And if you think you cannot then just let it go. Don't hold your dreams even in your memories. Choice is yours!

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Pile 3

Tarot Cards- Six of Cups, The Star, Justice, Page of Swords, Tower, Eight of Wands

How many of you applied nailpaint or cut your nails recently wondering how would God or an enlightened being respond/would've responded in a certain situation? I feel that there has been pressure from your parents or an authority figure to be a certain way, but you aren't what they have you in their image. You're someone better than their image, someone different, but you don't know how to show that. You put yourself in everyone's shoes (and they are fortunate to have you in their lives), but it seems you don't get that in return. But let me tell you, you won't. Not because life isn't fair but because you start overdoing it; you start walking in other people's shoes and on others's paths. That's how you lost yourself (if you were wondering how you turned into someone you weren't). But now you know better. Better late than never. Maybe something ended or came into light in the month of August (very specific). I hear, “To live for the hope of it all, cancel plans in case you'd call...you weren't mine to lose. But I can see us lost in the memory as August slipped away into a moment of time.” You sacrificed yourself too much for others. Though you are at a stage where you're supposed to rewrite your story and redefine yourself, know that you'll get success in resolving your problems. You're protected from the negative energies beyond your control. I am getting the message that you need to learn to balance your root chakra and keep your feet clean at all times (idk why I channeled that!). Life will naturally bring in opportunities where your best side will come out and people around you will witness it. An advice that is coming for you is to stay clear of any drama from now on.

Because slowly but surely you're moving ahead, so it's important that you keep yourself protected at all times. Don't get yourself involved in others's business as well. It's time for you to have lighthearted days. It seems that you're very fortunate to come out of a situation that was burning your dreams and who you truly are. So at this time it's important you realize your blessings and take care of YOUR needs first. I am channeling the song ‘If we have each other' by Alec Benjamin. “When the world's not perfect, when the world's not kind, if we have each other, we'll both be fine. I am thankful for my sister even though we fight.” Someone—maybe your mother, brother, or sibling—was there for you in difficult times. You're very fortunate to have someone who always looks out for you. The people close to you see you as a star. They KNOW you're amazing! Don't you ever worry about that! You'll be very fortunate to have justice in the area where you gave too much but didn't receive anything in return. Some part of the justice has happened. It's time that you receive the love you deserve, and justice will fully be served. I see you've been cooking lately. Perhaps you should pursue cooking as a side thing. I don't know it may be specific for a very few of you.

You're slowly learning about life and seeing the world from a different perspective. Consistent ideas after ideas are coming. One narrative ends and another emerges, and then that dies too, only for a new one to come to the surface. You're spiritually growing, so keep going, pile 3. New creative ideas are about to come left and right that will pave a way for you to build the life you always wanted to. You'll soon be working toward a dream of yours. The universe is preparing you to receive these ideas well, and soon, brick by brick, you'll be creating a castle of your dreams.

I don't know why cooking and baking are coming again and again. Maybe it's a form of therapy for you. No more staying stuck in your head, my dear pile 3. Your energy seems like that of a stubborn child. Who made mistakes and now is learning from them? But you're a quick learner, so it seems that you're no longer in pain but very glad where you are. I see books. Maybe some of you're bookworms or are being called to read more. I also hear, “I'll never fall in love again until I find THE ONE.” You're keeping your boundaries strong and making yourself mentally stronger. You've been quite naive and trusted people easily. It seems you had wounds that needed to be healed, and now they are healing. You seem like a very young soul who is just learning about the world. If you resonate as an old soul, then this pile isn't for you.

You definitely have great qualities, but you're new here, so you needed some tough lessons. But I truly feel you deserve gentleness more than anything. But such gentleness could have led you to trust everybody. You need gentleness with strong boundaries (writing this at 3:33).

Protect, protect, and protect yourself. Your spirit team is keeping you away from negative energies, but you need to stand up for yourself too. And you do have space and opportunities to protect yourself and live a gentle life filled with laughter. Your own gentleness and the support around you are your fortune, pile 3.

(DM me if you wish to book a reading with me! Thank you!💌)

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[sehtoast]

Tender Threads ( Homelander x OC )

chapter one: first impressions

chapter directory

summary: holding the heart of a self-proclaimed god is hard work, but someone's gotta do it. who'd have ever thought it would be some nobody, a simple street level hero-branded-vigilante, who would ascend to one of the seven coveted thrones and do just that?

tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

It’s a night like any other in the concrete jungle of New York City.  A streak of red swings through the streets by lines of webbing, eyes peeled for anyone disrupting the peace in his friendly neighborhood.  Well, not his neighborhood exactly.  He was just a vigilante after all.  There’s plenty of fun to pick from, but only one instance could be so special to the city’s one and only Spider-Man– to Benjamin.

It’s not the quippy banter with the thugs breaking into the back of a bodega, nor is it the amusement he gets from webbing each of the fools in one big pile on the ground that makes this night memorable.  It’s the interruption, the anomaly that appears all too silently from the sky.

“And just what do we have here, hm?” 

The bug turns in surprise, steeling himself against the rush of anxiety that shoots through his veins.  This is no ordinary supe here to gripe about him stealing their thunder.  This is a man– a god, perhaps– in a whole ‘nother league. 

Ben would recognize him by voice alone because it was impossible not to hear it at least once a day.  Hell, hide the costume and he’d probably still recognize that face– because it’s everywhere. Billboards, magazines, fucking cereal boxes– you name it, he’s probably there.

Before him stands The Homelander, captain of The Seven, pretty much the face of Vought International.  World’s most powerful supe.

“Oh, y’know.”  He gestures.  “Riffraff doing what they do, and me doing what I do.”

“Nicely done,” Homelander says, professional smile etched into his face like he’d rehearsed this.  “You know, good work like this is why we’ve been nipping at your heels, kiddo.  Really wish you’d stop making us chase you around.”

And there it is.  This was no chance meeting– as if one of the big boys from The Seven would ever be caught dead in an alley in Harlem of all places.  Spidey cocks a brow behind his mask.  Vought must be desperate.

See, he’s been particularly unlucky lately.  

Even before he donned the mantle of Spider-Man, it was never about being in the big leagues.  Benjamin mused upon the idea of it, but he could never find himself truly taken with the idea of selling himself as a hero.  Not only was the mere idea of commercializing his ability to do a unique good revolting, it would strip away one of the only true freedoms he has.  Of course, Vought knew nothing of his reasons– not that they’d care either way– and were ardently pursuing him to fill the now vacant seat formerly belonging to Translucent.

And now, as his luck would have it, they’ve sent their biggest dog to fetch their desired toy.

Benjamin’s sixth sense tells him nothing in the moment.  No hidden danger, no tickling of warnings to bolt.  A goose chase spanning two months finally coming to a titanic head as The fucking Homelander himself holds him not-quite-hostage in an alleyway. 

“You’re still their top pick, you know,” Homelander says, nodding over to the webbed pile of crooks.  “You play by their rules without even being on the team.  A little… sloppy, but effective.  Tell me, how is it you’re going to turn down a spot in the biggest of the big leagues, hm?  You’ve pretty much skipped the line.”  Homelander scuffs the sole of his boot against the ground, kicking a pebble to the side as he meanders closer.  “What, is vigilantism more fun?  You like having all those warrants?  Vought could clear ‘em up.  Get you set straight in the eyes of the law, make you official.  Pay you for your late night troubles…”

Ben bristles as he comes closer.  It’s not the proximity necessarily, it’s… 

It’s like he’s looking straight through the mask.  

Benjamin releases a tight breath.  “My answer isn’t changing.” He says firmly, despite the anxiety cooking in his chest.  He is not a confident man by any stretch.  The most bravado he’ll ever know in his life comes from being Spidey.  Nobody can see him– nobody knows who he is when he’s got the mask on. He can be whoever he wants.  But right now he feels see through.  

Pick your words carefully,  he thinks to himself.

“I’m not a show pony for Vought to extort.”

Don’t cave– do not give him that satisfaction.  It’s what he wants.

He wouldn’t work for Vought.  He’s chosen years of barely scraping by rather than taking a tech job with them as a regular person, why the fuck would he do it as a supe?  What, he’s just supposed to ignore the endless skeletons in their closet?  The pain and suffering, all the people he’s seen online talking about how Vought threw money at them to not sue after some accident or another only to up and disappear?  

Ben idolized heroes for so long.  His powers didn’t manifest until his late teens and he grew up wanting to be just like the superheroes that made the world a better place– until he realized that those types were so few and far between that they might as well not even exist.  All of his childhood heroes were NDAs and settlements, pain and suffering, all covered with media stunts and weak, lazy apologies.  Posters were torn down, action figures tossed in the trash– he moved on and eventually became the hero he wished his idols would've been.

“Show pony? Pfffft,” Homelander laughs, blowing a raspberry.  “Please.  Look at yourself.  Skin tight red and blue suit, leaving messes of webs everywhere you go.  Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you’re already there.”

“They parade you guys around like trophies,” Ben counters, trying to keep the edge off his tone.  “I’m not in this to make money for some rich-fuck shareholders, y’know.”

“And?  See, you told every single agent before me that you were in ‘this’ to make a difference.”

Fuck.

“You know how much fucking range you’d have in The Seven?”  Homelander splays his arms wide as if to show the scale of the world.  Agitation is starting to write itself on his face, leaking free in the twitches of his eye and those rapid blinks.  He clearly didn’t expect to have to work for this.  “You could help anyone anywhere, all you have to do is say yes.”

The worst part?  That’s not technically a lie.  And it’s not not tempting. 

“I’m sure you’ll see reason,”  Homelander smirks, sauntering just the slightest bit closer.  “Benjamin.”

The bug’s heart drops to his gut, eyes going wide and glancing in the direction of the pile of webbed crooks in the hopes they neither heard nor will a last name be following. 

Fuck, fuck– 

They have his name. 

“Don’t–”

“Don’t what?”  Homelander asks innocently, lips curling even sharper.  “You really thought we wouldn’t know who you are?  Pff– hah!  Please.”

Closer and closer, every step feeling like a lifetime.

“I can see through that mask, you know.  Can see how scared you are.” Homelander tuts as he comes within arms reach.  “I can hear the pitter patter of your little heart…”

Ben gulps, breaths coming heavy.

“And…”  Homelander leans forward, voice a whisper. “I’m sure you understand, Mister Colyer, that I could kill you right now…”  A hand falls to rest on Ben’s shoulder, gripping tight.  “I really don’t like being told no.”

Ben’s voice shakes and his knees quake, totally ready to dart as soon as the words leave his mouth. 

“I'm… not– I'm not doing it.”

His sixth sense doesn’t stir.

Homelander’s bluffing.  But, really… So is he.

It’s like the world froze.  Time stands still as they stare at one another.  Benjamin can see the anger dancing in Homelander’s eyes, but nothing comes of it.

Not even when the bug backs away and that leather clad hands falls free from his shoulder.

“Look, uh… this was nice, y’know?”

Smooth, Ben.  Smooth.

“But uh, just call me Randy Jackson, because it’s uhm... it's gonna be a no from me, dawg.”  Terrible time for humor, but something had to break the tension.  “Goodbye, Homelander.” 

And with that, Ben bolts, vaulting up and off the side of a building to propel himself into the night.  

Homelander remains in the alley, still stunned, a piercing ring deafening the world around him.  He lingers, thoughts racing.

Turned down by the bug, huh champ?

Of course, of fucking course there would be some commentary.

“Hey big guy, you gonna let us go?”  

And of course there’s some filth bold enough to interrupt him.

Homelander turns, eye twitching as he scans the pile of mud practically cocooned in webbing.  They expect him to release them.  After all, Spider-Man is a vigilante.  None of his catches are technically official, though there’s usually enough evidence for that fact to be ignored.

“C’mon, you know we ain’t done no harm!  Me and the boys were just walkin’ by is all.”  

The man in question chuckles nervously at him.

Homelander saunters closer, hands behind his back.  He stands over the man, inspecting every little detail.  The growing fear in his eyes, the way he sweats.

Putrid. Echoes the voice in his mind.  Remind them of who they’re talking to. Of the god they disrespect.

He lifts his foot, placing it dead center on the man’s chest.

“No– please, I didn’t–”

He presses down slowly, grin etching onto his face as pleas turn to tight gasps.  The others in the webbing try to scramble, but they can’t escape.

They’re at his mercy.  As they should be.

A crunching sound precedes his favorite part.  Ribs and muscle give way and a loud squelch graces his ears and the ringing– oh the ringing stops. It's serene, knowing what power he holds.  What iron fist he truly has wrapped around the neck of this world.

Attaboy.

To think they’d think him so low as to aid them.  To think they’d get to live after seeing him rejected so brazenly.

Now for the rest.

As he takes care of the others, he wonders just how persuasive he'll need to be with the little spider.  What threads must he pull to get his way?

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch6

Description: another slow burn chapter. I did warn y’all. Don’t think Y/N /Laika can quite grasp that she isn’t a monster. She might realise eventually!! Progress with Soap and Gaz - think they might have a soft spot for her already!!

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I eventually recover from Soap's - well - whatever the hell that was.

"Thirty minutes till we load the car and go to the Heli. Let's not keep Kate waiting" the Captain rumbles from the kitchen. I must have put him in a bad mood..

"I have nothing to pack.. should I just" - "you can help me pack, the room is a mess. Need to leave it clean and ready to be used in emergencies again" Gaz interrupts. I nod and follow him back upstairs. I seem to be doing this a lot. Just following Gaz around like a stray mutt. God, they must find me so annoying.

Gaz strides into the large room to the right hand side of the upper landing. I stop at the door. The strong scent of Alpha phermones almost knocks me back a step. I'm not usually overly bothered by scents however I put it down to the fact I've been in the facility for so long, the guards were probably taking blockers anyway. That's what I settle on to explain my new found ability.. if you can even call it that. It's because I've not been exposed to any scents.

"Just come in, we don't do the traditional 'permission to enter the nest' bullshit. We ain't exactly a traditional pack as it is" Gaz says, motioning me further into the Alpha's nest. I try not to look at the worn clothes scattered around the room. It looks so.. lived in. There are reading glasses on the bedside table. I wonder who wears reading glasses..? Two books stacked, one bookmarked, the other dog eared. I bet the dogeared one is Soap's. There is a journal on the floor with a pen resting in the central valley between pages. There is a beautiful drawing on one page, the next page is filled with messy disorganised writing which is, in a strange backwards sense, very pretty. Intruder! Intruder! Get out of their space! You don't belong here! My brain starts to shout at me.

"C'mere" Gaz stops my inner thoughts from running rampage. I obediently move towards Gaz and await instruction. Obedient little mutt, indeed. SHUT UP! I wish I could turn my brain off for a few minutes. Or longer..

"We can start with my stuff. Just check labels for names.. Are you warm enough? You'll probably want a hoodie for the ride home, right?" - "Oh uhm, are you sure you want me rooting through your belongings...?" - "You're not rooting through anything, you're helping, I asked, didn't I?" he reassures "ok, yeah.. ok.. sorry.." - "here, that's my bag" he places his bag on the large bed. The bed they all share. The pack bed.. You shouldn't be in here... QUIET! My damned brain and its self sabotaging tendencies.

I start by collecting the things that Gaz has piled in a seperate stack of all of his things. Fold, place in the bag. Fold, place in the bag, Fold, place in the bag.. it becomes quite relaxing. I enjoy the scent of his clothes wafting past my nose as I fold them. I shouldn't be enjoying it, should I.. Snap out of it.. They are literally taking me to be interrigated later today, why am I acting as if I'm welcome? Stop it, stupid girl!

I make it to the end of the pile and he claps his hands together once as the last piece of clothing gets zipped inside the bag. "Done and dusted! Here, I kept this out for you to wear on the ride back to base." He presents a navy hoodie, a Union flag on the upper sleeve, 'Sgt. K Garrick' embroidered over the chest, below a larger fonted 'SAS - TF141'. I take it from his hold. "Thank you..." I say softly. He smiles brightly at me as I pull it over my head. I must look ridiculous wearing all these clothes that are far too big for me..

*Gaz's POV*

She pulls my hoodie over her head. YES! Mission accomplished.. She will be warm *and* be covered in my scent. I shouldn't care but seeing her in my clothes again wakes something up in me. Like when she wore my jacket.. and how Johnny must have felt when she walked down this morning in his clothes. I knew he'd enjoy the sight.. led her down the stairs trying to wipe the smirk from my fuckin' face. I could see how effected Cap was from the showergel scent too. That fuckin' tobacco smell drives him mad. Could tell it caught him off guard when she turned the corner dressed in his pack Alpha's clothes and scented up to high heavens.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Gaz is looking me up and down, I shrink under his gaze, embarrassed. He definetly thinks I look ridiculous. "C'mon, love, downstairs.. looks like we are ready to. You got your hanky bandana thing?" He asks. I pat my pocket for the shape of it, before nodding, confirming that I haven't lost it. "Good, let's go then. The others will only be five minutes".

I trail after him towards the front door of the house. He holds his hand out, stopping me in my tracks. "You wait here, I'll go and check the perimeter and bring the car round to the door. You'll be alright waiting, won't you?" God he thinks I'm useless, such a burden. The floor is suddenly all too interesting. "I'll be ok" I confirm. He nods and pats my arm before turning and leaving through the door. I get a brief blast of cold air. I'm thankful that I'm no longer in my cell - the snow fell heavily last night. I'm thankful for the hoodie Gaz had let me borrow.

I flinch when two big hands suddenly grab my shoulders from behind. "What's the matter, lass? Planning your escape?" - "No - no Ky-Gaz went to get the car... I was told to stay.." - "Awkt, I'm sure he didnae mean stand and stare at the door. C'mere, come sit with me" - "I..I -"

Soap practically herds me to the sofa and directs me, by my shoulders, to sit. He sits right next to me. "Nice hoodie, you smell like one of us, eh?" he inhales, obnoxiosly loudly and groans. I resist the need to roll my eyes at his light-hearted joking, still not quite ready to leave the sad, anxious corner of the depths of my brain but the fact I was even considering must be progress though, right. It just upsets me, that every single time I feel like I could feel a tiny better, I am reminded that I don't belong here - or anywhere for that matter - and that I am following along with these deadly Alphas, like a stupid mouse right into a trap. It was inevitable.

"Where've you gone.. hey! Laika..?" I feel him tapping on my knee, trying to snap me out of it. Looking at him, with watery eyes, he practically engulfs me. "What's the matter? Tell me.." he pleads, with the softest voice I'd heard from him, right next to my ear. I just sniffle into his chest, still frozen, not reciprocating his embrace , instead, finding warmth and seclusion in his arms. I finally feel like I have some privacy, which is strange, isn't it?

"Whatever it is, it willnae go away if you bottle it up, lass. Tell me, we might be able to help.." - I lean away from him, wiping my face messily with the too-long sleeves of my - I mean Gaz's - hoodie. "I just - I am going to be interrogated.. and I've done so much, so many lives.. so much blood on my hands, all my doing.. I deserve whatever I get, but - but - I'm scared.."

"Lass, this isn't how it's going to happen. We just want to find out more about you. You've been drugged right? You've been forced into submission.. like a puppet on a string. Laswell - she's understanding of circumstances. Hell - L.T's got a few skeletons in his closet - pardon the pun" he laughs. "S'not funny" I whisper, "Look, we dinnae even know what you are going to present as when the drugs leave your system, it's illegal to alter presentations and designations without consent, so you've already got that on your side" he tries to reassure me. "I'm probably Beta.. my parents.. they were Beta's".

"The Cap said you were in there for, what, six years? fuckin' hell. So .. you're twenty six-ish then? That's awful late to be undesignated, lass. Those bastards." he rants on, I just sit quietly and listen. "What other tests and bullshit did you have done to you?" - "lost track, it'll be on my file somewhere. They recorded everything.. They changed it up when I did'nt cooperate to a satisfactory level.." - "what the fuck does that mean?" he scoffs, angrily "well, there was one mission, where I was sent to kill two cartel members.. they were a bonded pair..." my voice breaks and my eyes start to water again. "C'mon lass, you're doing so well telling me all about it.. keep going for me" he rubs my knee reassuringly.

I continue "They were a bonded pair.. I-I had lost my drugs that I was ordered to take three times a day to keep me complient. They must have been fading from my system, because I started to-to question the information I had been given. My own conciousness sort of kept fading in and out at that point. It's sort of blurry.. I- I had the shot lined up on the leader - an Alpha - and just as I was about to pull the trigger.." I stop suddenly and turn away.

"Shhh, lass, shhhh, it's ok.." - C'mon, tell him - "the trigger, a kid pulled my leg.. he needed help, he'd been caught in the fire and was all hurt and scared.. I don't know why.. I shouldn't have done it.. it was stupid of me.. I shouldn't have.." I wipe my tears again, reliving the trauma. My heart hurt. "Shouldn't have what, Lass, what did you do to the wee boy?" he asks, I swear I can hear suspicion or tentative anger in his voice.

"I got him killed. Walked him straight to his execution. Delivered him to his death.." I weep.

"whoa, whoa - what d'ya mean? You've lost me, lass. Slow down, take deep breaths, aye?"

"I - I took him and hid him under my elbow, I lined up the shot again, trying to keep the boy quiet.. but he was scared. He was so scared.. Something got in the way of the shot.. it was - was one of the guards from the facility. They'd come to finish the job, probably thought I was dead because I was late returning or something like that, but when I saw him in my scope I took the shot.."

"Good lass, you were fighting the drugs! You clever girl!" - "no- no not clever.. I tried to run back to the spot they said they'd pick me up from.. I don't know why but my brain wasn't - wasn't completely cleared from the drugs. I don't know why I thought they'd be pleased. Pleased that I'd saved the kid. All they cared about was the success of the mission. The cartel leader. And his mate, a male omega. I think he was killed.. because they were never apart but when I had my shot, it was just the Alpha.. I think - I think he saw me, when I took the shot at the guard, I swear he caught my eye as I ran.."

"Did you make it back to where you were supposed to meet?"

"Yeah, they shot the boy. Right between the eyes. It was like slowmotion. I don't remember what happened, but I woke up attached to machines and my brain went back into the controlled state again.. they developed a new drug that lasted longer, so it didn't risk running out on missions.."

"Bastards.. fucking BASTARDS" Soap rages. I look at my lap, shaking and weeping. "Pieces of shit, I'll fucking kill the lot of them slowly and" - "Johnny, that's enough!" he is interupted by a gruff voive.

I look up from my, lap my eyes widening. I obviously didn't notice the arrival of the rest of the pack. The Captain was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a reserved anger soured his face and crinkled his brow. Slightly behind him was Gaz. How hadn't I noticed Gaz come back from outside..? Then behind both of them, I see the masked Ghost, sitting on the bottom of the stairs, his elbows resting on his knees, while he cracked his knuckles.

I had just signed my death sentence. They'd heard everything. How I killed the boy.. Fuck.

FUCK!

[lemonandlime22]

Angsty Bitey child!Yuu idea

Warning(s): sad, possibly soul crushing, not edited

Word count: 570

A/N: I’m so sorry I haven’t posted anything, me and my family moved across my state and it was just a lot but the move is finally over, but I’ll still be busy cause of organizing and all that stuff for the next couple of days. I wrote this on my phone so the formatting is prob different.

[Bitey child!Yuu Masterlist]

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Yuu had an amazing day, they hung out with all their friends, Cheka even visited and they both played for hours. But now they were all tuckered out and were laying in bed snuggled up to Grim with their arm locked around him like usual. Being some comfy it was easy for little Yuu to slowly drift off to sleep….

Slowly the small child opened their eyes. They were met with the thin line of bright sunlight that peeked through the two buildings on either side of the alleyway’s over hanging roofs a few feet away from them. They sat up rubbing their eyes with a yawn, they looked at their surroundings to take note of the few belongings they owned that were scarred around the concrete ground.

On the other side of one of the cardboard box flabs were 4 old cards that nearly hung on to themselves, a diamond, a club, a spade, and a heart. On top of them was a long dead and wilted rose that looked to be very crudely ripped of a bush.

Safety under a rock laid a cut out picture of a lion and a picture of a hyena that used to be connected to the lion, both clearly very old and weak. With only a leg under the rock was a small plushy of what they believed was a wolf, but it had been to chewed up by one of the stray dogs to be completely sure.

In between the two piles was a third. At the bottom were two ripped up teal pool noodles that used to be one but had been torn in half. On top of pool noodles was a rubber purple octopus that used to be sticky and squishy but was now covered in to much dirt you could barley see the purple.

Next up was a toy gold bracelet that was surprisingly clean considering what it was surrounded by. Wrapped around the bracelet was a small rubber black snake, one that could be found in any gift shop.

Closer to the box, on the opposite side from the cards and rose, was a plastic doll with blonde and purple hair. On top of it was a dirty once white feather, and a long rotten apple that had not once been bite into before it rotted to its core.

Off to the side was a small blue box of matches but it only had two inside of it, one long working and a shorter one that had broke in half and was unusable due to a crumbled tip.

In the corner further from the rest of the piles was a long pice of thorns that were ripped off the rest of the bush. Inside of the thorns were dirty old pair of you vampire teeth, with a small pile of various animals tufts of fur and feathers, and last in the pile was a small plastic toy croc that had missing limbs and was very chewed up.

And lastly right next to the small child in the side ways cardboard box were three scrap sheets of white cloth, and a rag doll with big blue button eyes that resembled a grey cat.

The small child picked up the rag doll and laid back down onto the various scraps of fabric with it comfortably in their arms. They smiled, so very happy to have had another good dream!

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In short this angsty idea is like if all of twst was made up by Bitey as a way too cope with their loneliness, and it’s all just dreams and their imagination.

This was originally going to be the ending of the choose your own adventure but the fluff ending one the poll lol.

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[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Mammon with a Dragon!Mc

this piece belongs to this and has 950 Words

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despite being the Avatar of Greed wealth isn´t the most important thing Mammon looks for in a partner but if one of them happens to be rich who would he be to not take advantage of it?

granted he doesn´t really take advantage of it, he might talk big but he would never force them to spend money on him or just use them for their money also you would never want to piss of a Dragon who also is your partner

Mammon doesn´t know if all Dragons are like that but he knows if he would ever mess with them or genuinely hurt they will try to end them but the same can be said for Mammon and his Brothers is they were to hurt him but they have been together for 500 years so the chances of that ever happening is Zero the worst thing that ever happened is that they refused to let him leave their treasure pile because in their words he´s the most important one of all

granted he thought it was incredibly cheesey but it also made him feel like there were butterflies in his stomach and he might have liked that they think he´s the most important treasure of all, he knows what´s in that pile and that´s one massive compliment he got from them

he even adds to their to their treasure pile every once in a while, he even found the presents he gave them buried in their and honestly? he felt like crying because there is EVERYTHING he ever gave them, even the smallest of things he gave them he could fin somewhere but he never told them what he found but that was more so because he doesn´t want them to think he was snooping around… and he didn´t want to tell them he cried over it because the Great Mammon doesn´t cry over such silly things, he might claim that but truth is he always cries over such things especially if it has anything to do with them even more so when they do something he thinks is sweet or adorabel

actually thinking about ti makes him tear up again and-

“are you thinking about the money you owe the witches again?” he could have almost forgotten the, scaly beast which is also the love of his life which despite them decreasing their size to better cuddle with him is impossible for most even if they were to get lost in thought, they still are a lot bigger than most creatures that can be found in all three Realms

“no and I told you to stop bringing that up, that happened only one time 50 years ago and you keep bringing that one up”

“and what else is the problem? if you want to ask me to adopt those three puppies we found again the answer is still no”

“okay but they were really adorable and instantly loved you when they saw you unlike most animals who see you for the first time”

“Mammon we can barely take care of our selves you think puppies would be a smart idea?”

“okay not what I was thinking about but like I said they loved you and were really smart puppies, smarter than most dogs even I say we could have easily taken care of them” he could feel the movement beneath their scales, no doubt laughing about him and his arguments about why both of them would be good to look after a bunch of rowdy Puppies and they miiight have a point about them barely being able to take care of themselves

“and why would you tear up them? don´t tell me your Brothers were rude again? If they were they are going to lose a house to spontaneous fires” now it was Mammon´s turn to laugh, he knows this is an actual threat and if they truly wanted to they can burn the House of Lamentation but he still loves how much they care about him

“well you know how I sometimes go through your treasures to see if I can find something impressive?” they moved a bit so they can look at him better, he saw them nod as an acknowledgment as well as a sign for him to continue “and I finally managed to get to the bottom of the pile and saw what you were hiding” they didn´t say anything but he saw them hide their face in the rest of their curled up body, no doubt embarrassed about it

“well… that´s a bit embarrassing” they just mumbled this into their body, Mammon doesn´t even know if they wanted him to hear or not, he did his best to move their head at leas enough for him to look into their eyes

and when he did it they couldn´t even look him in the eyes “yeah you´re true it´s embarrassing” he had to keep a firmer hold on their head so they couldn´t move it away “but even then it´s a lot sweeter than what most people would ever do for me” he planted a kiss on their snout, that´s a scenario he isn´t used to usually they are the one who is trying to stop him from being embarrassed about whatever he did

“thank you Mammon”

“I´ll always be here for you just remember that, nothing you do can ever get ride of me” he took a moment to think “well when we´re still on the topic…”

“no Mammon we won´t get a pet”

“I´ll get you one day” he just heard them laugh, it seems like they already forgot about what just happened a couple of minutes ago “keep dreaming my treasure”

[jungle-angel]

The One With Royal's Old Firebird: Part 1 (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: It's almost Royal and Cece's 37th wedding anniversary and you and Rhett are trying to do something extra special for them, but your little venture isn't without plenty of shenanigans in between

Warnings: Not really, just a bunch of typical man shenanigans, references to "The Sandlot"

Tagging: @floydsmuse @floydsglasses @withahappyrefrain @attapullman @rhettabbotts @sorchathered @callmemana @delopsia @lewmagoo @kmc1989 @cowboybarbie

It was probably the hottest day that Wabang had ever seen, made hotter still by the fact that Memorial Day was well around the corner and that a heatwave was beginning to hang over the Rocky Mountain states.

Rhett, Wes, Billy, Rip Wheeler, Kayce Dutton and the others had been combing Hank Hewson's junkyard since nine that morning and already the heat was beginning to settle over the place. Even after twenty something years, the place was still a chaotic mess.

"Hey ya'll think that old Ed, Edd n Eddy shag wagon's still at the other end?" Kayce asked. "The one we all used to hide out in?"

"Wouldn't doubt it," Rhett chuckled. "Thing's probably a literal rat's nest by now."

"Remember when we all used to play 'Smokey and the Bandit' in that thing?" Rip reminisced.

"M'fuckin surprised the CB radio still worked," Teeter laughed, chewing on a piece of Ice-Breaker gum.

All of them laughed and reminisced about the childhood memories of when Hank would let them play in the junkyard. He had always been good to the local ranch and reservation brats who often came traipsing in, the neighborhood misfits who didn't belong to a particular clique or group and who had formed a tribe of their own. His razor sharp tongue had earned him the admiration of the neighborhood miscreants who came before Rhett and the others and the utter disdain of local hag, Gale Burch.

They followed the sound of a slide guitar being played and sure enough, there was Hank and his dog, an old English Mastiff named "Hercules". Hank sat in his rocker on the porch, guitar in hand, picking away and a pair of aviators on his face as he sang along to the familiar sound of "Boom Boom Boom" by Big Head Todd and The Monsters. Hercules howled along as Rhett and the others listened, bobbing their heads and their hands beating along on the porch posts. When he had finished, all of them applauded.

"Now if my ears don't deceive me, I'd think it's been close to fifteen years since I heard my favorite miscreants show up at my doorstep," Hank laughed.

"How's it goin Hank?" Rhett asked.

"Never better Rhett," Hank answered. "Whatcha lookin for this morning?"

"Uh.....we heard ya'll might have a car body we're lookin for," Rhett answered. "Seventy-six Pontiac Firebird?"

"Got it!" Hank exclaimed. "C'mon, ya'll can follow me."

Hank grabbed a walking stick that leaned near the front window. Normally, his wife Cecily, would have showed them where it was, but she had gone to help Joy and Martha with a project for the day. Hercules was right at his side, acting as Hank's eyes when others couldn't.

He led them to a part of the yard, not far from the house where piles and piles of rusty car bodies were neatly lined up or stacked in some cases. Hercules stopped and put his paw right up on the frame of one of them, barking to signal that he had found it.

"And here we go," said Hank. "One 1976 Pontiac Firebird. I'll see if I can call Howie Kavanaugh and have one of his brothers tow it for you. Where's it goin?"

"Gonna have it stored at my Uncle John's place up in Montana," Rhett explained. "Tryin to keep it a surprise for Dad."

Hank laughed as memories of Royal, John Dutton and their own gang of merry misfits came flooding back to him. "In that case I'll give ya'll the frame for cheap," he said. "How's fifteen-hundred? No more, no less?"

"I've got sixteen if you'll take that?" Rhett said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Fifteen-fifty and you've got a deal," Hank offered.

"Done!"

Rhett shook his hand and paid him the money up front. Hopefully his earnings from the last ride of his career would be enough to cover it.

Howie Kavanaugh, one of the only tow truck guys in Wabang, came by before they left and towed the rusted body and frame away for them, Rhett and the others following them all the way up to Bozeman where it was stored in one of the garage barns where it would be safe. John didn't say a word about it, wanting to keep it a secret for Royal.

"Alright, let's look at this beast and see what's up," Rhett remarked, lifting up the hood.

Needless to say, what met their eyes was pretty nasty.

Everything was completely rusted out, the engine block black with oil rot and rust while grasses and rodent droppings lay throughout.

"Jeebus, Mary and Joseph!" Rhett gagged.

"Oh that shit's nasty," Rip said, making a face.

"I'm afraid to open up the oil tank and smell it," Kayce shuddered.

"Holy fuck," Teeter half laughed. "Guess the mice made this place their personal shitter."

Sure enough, Rhett and Kayce opened up the oil tank and the smell hit them full force, the two of them gagging as hot bile rose in their throats. The rest of the car wasn't much better, the trunk full of so much junk that it really should've been a trash compactor. The fabric of the seats had been chewed and torn by the mice while the carpeting on the floors was completely gone.

"We're gonna be here a while aren't we?" Kayce asked him.

"Yep," Rhett said with a nod.

[rowdyhughesy]

bringing Jamie to ur family’s Christmas party!!

Grateful you’re mine - J.Drysdale

I’m not really a Christmas person but I tried my best and I hope you like it! ♡

Letting your boyfriend tag along to your family gathering is always something that gives you the jitters. You know that your dad loves Jamie and your brothers too, hell they like the Canadian more than they like you sometimes. But coming from a family like yours it will never be calm. It’s the exact opposite of who Jamie is as a person. That’s why you sometimes wonder why the two of you even fell in love in the first place.

Jamie’s gentle, soft, a living teddy bear for Christ sake. You on the other hand could be found in the dictionary under chaos. Always running around, talking, anything that can get the excess energy out of your system you do. Maybe that’s what drew Jamie in, he saw the chaotic personality and fell in love with the girl who always tried to make people smile and never let the grown up responsibilities stop her from letting the childlike side come out.

—

The two story house is loud and there are people everywhere when the two of you step inside. “Jamie!” Immediately the hockey player is swarmed by your dad and siblings. All of them wanting to know how his shoulder is feeling and what he thinks about the season so far.

Before you started dating Jamie your family had zero interest in hockey but after they met the blue eyed boy they started watching every ducks game that was on. No matter how late it was for them back in Europe. Your dad made it a tradition to take a picture and send to Jamie with a kick their asses today before the games. You knew Jamie loved it, he was nervous that your dad wouldn’t like him in the beginning but he was proven wrong within the first hour. It felt good that he fit in so well with those closest to you, no boyfriend prior had even tried to get to know them but Jamie did and you couldn’t be more grateful for that.

—

You lost Jamie early on, your younger cousins deciding that they wanted him to play with them before dinner. You know you shouldn’t get baby fever at 20 but seeing your boyfriend with kids made that hard. He was so sweet with them, even if they could barely speak any English or even understand what he was saying. He just smiled, nodded and used words he knew they could understand as they ran around him.

When dinner is served you all sit down piling food on your plates. You can see Jamie’s confusion at the food, it’s nothing like he’s used to but you assure him that it’s good and that he will like it. He even tried the Christmas edition cola that’s a big tradition in your country and he admitted to it tasting weird at first but he liked it after a couple of sips. It felt nice to share the things you grew up with, with him. Some things he even leaned in and whispered that he wants your kids to have when you’re older. Like the Donald Duck Christmas show you all watch at 3pm every Christmas, most of the adults taking the chance to get an after dinner nap in. “I know my family can be kind of crazy but I’m so happy that you’re here.” Jamie flashes you a big smile wrapping his arm around your waist so that he could pull you closer on the couch. Leaning in he plants a kiss on your lips. “I love your crazy family, they gave me you didn’t they?”

After dinner all the presents are opened after your show the kids yet again see their chance and steals Jamie away. Leaving you to sit alone on the love seat watching, taking in the happy squeals of laughter as Jamie tackles one of your cousins in a bear hug. The other kids jumping on him creating a dog pile of toddlers and a twenty year old hockey player. It sure is a funny sight to you.

Your father sneaks up beside you, leaning down so that he can whisper something in your ear “You did good Mein Liebling. I’ve never seen you as calm as you are with Jamie. He brings out the best in you.”

Standing there, watching who you know is the love of your life belong with your family you can’t help but agree. He truly brings out the best in you and you can’t ask for anything else but him by your side forever.

[astrox]

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 / 𝟎𝟏

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

not proofread (too lazy)

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀

⇾ description of injuries and cause of death

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒

@sanemisfav ( i love you but I love sanemi more)

( previous chapter )

You've spent restless hours tending to the stranger's wounds, applying a slave of mint, chamomile and clay on the smaller injuries before you wrapped them in bandages to clear them of any infections. The stab wound, however, was a hard one to tackle as you rummaged through your things to find your grandmother's sewing kit. The dagger pierced his right side, below the rib cage. If he had lost any more blood he would've lost his life. You carefully stitched the puncture shut, taking precautions not to cause more harm than good and covered it in bandages like his other wounds. 

After you've done all you could, you manage to move him into the spare room with a bed once you cleaned his body of all the blood. This was your old room that your younger self would sleep in whenever you came by to visit your grandmother. Now you sleep in her room and leave the other vacant without an owner. It took you almost an hour just to get him onto the bed. 

Earlier you planned on dressing him in whatever you could find in your house, only to rely on a blanket to cover his privates. Too embarrassed, you couldn't look at the man naked any longer. All the clothes you found belonged to your father and your two older brothers. None of them fit, either they were too big or too small, which is why you were surprised when you found a bag near the pool of blood. Inside the bag are men's clothes that are a perfect fit. Gliding your hand along the fabric of a shirt, you piled most of the clothes onto your lap. 

"These must be his clothes...at least he came prepared," You thought. 

"Winter no! Stay away!" You scold the dog the moment she jumped on the bed as you clothed the man. Winter didn't listen, her nose poking at his legs. You lightly shoved her back by her nose, laughing. "Go annoying the rabbits you adorable dog," 

Tucking him in a blanket, you sighed in relief knowing that you'd saved his life and kept a close eye on him in case his condition suddenly change. Moving onto the huge mess left on your floor, you'd spend the rest of your afternoon. The dagger that the wolf pulled out of himself was left untouched. You wished to find the owner who might have been killed and learn more about the hunters. Where did they come from? Who are they? Why hunts this wolf?

As the hours turned into days, you wandered around the forest just to see if the hunters had returned. During the search, Winter sniffed out the wolf's blood splattered on the roots of a tree. You wiped a handkerchief on the roots staining the cloth with the dry blood for Winter. 

Using your canine's nose, you tracked the trail near the outskirts of your old village. Then taking out the dagger from your pouch, the cause of the wolfman's horrific injury, you allowed Winter's nose to catch another scent. She followed the scent on the dagger's grip to an outlook looking over the town. You gazed over your hometown seeing no change. You wondered if the townsfolk changed over the years since your departure. 

"It still looks the same as before," You thought to yourself. 

Following Winter near a group of bushes, you discover the body of a fair-skinned hunter leaning against a tree. He appeared to be short, with short brown hair. The clothes he wore provided little to no protection as they were frail and covered in blood. 

"Someone must have taken his armour," You assumed. Checking for a pulse, huge bite marks caught your eye. They tore through his neck and no doubt the cause of this hunter's demise. Then again he did stab a wolf so carelessly as you presumed. Large claw marks on the man's stomach are another cause of death. 

"That wolf...man did this?" You asked yourself, stepping away from the corpse. Winter yaps whilst you gazed down at the hunter's dagger. You cleaned the dagger using the clean side of your handkerchief and set it in the hunter's hand. "And no one came back for this hunter's body. He probably has a family or friends who must be worried sick-" 

You didn't know what to make of your situation. Whether to drag the corpse near the gate for someone to find or not. Perhaps you'd be welcomed back into your village and be deemed a hero if you turned in the beast or stay an outcast. All options could open new opportunities if you were that kind of person. You're not. Despite your distaste for people, you'd never sell someone out for your own benefit. It never works well in the end and you'd be left with regret until the end of your days. 

Fidgetting with your ring, you turned to the village. In all honesty, you fantasised about the day you'd find yourself roaming your old neighbourhood. The nostalgia you'd feel will be overwhelming for your inner child to bear as you'd passed by the places where you used to play. Then you'd stop in front of the town hall where an unavoidable event occurred. Tempering with the hunter's body, you made sure the body wasn't lying in murky dirt. If his corpse was to become maggot food, you would at least want him to look presentable till then. 

As luck would have it, no one had looted the body and fished out the man's coin pouch. You place two coins over the man's eyes after you lay him down on top of a leaf bed. Then, you cross his arms over his chest once you put the dagger back in its sheath. Lowering your head in silence you muttered a few words before you look down at Winter. "Pray that you find peace in the afterlife because you deserve to suffer for bringing harm to an animal," 

"We should head back Winter," You suggested. 

On your way back, you revisited the river. Washing your hands in the water and splashing your face, you dug into your bag for the handkerchief covering a badge. You nicked the hunter's crest badge off the man's corpse, a pretty blue shield with a dagger coated in blood engraved in the middle. The dagger on the badge resembled the hunter's dagger and you decided to keep the badge to recognize the hunters easily in your trips around the forest. You cleaned it along with your handkerchief, hoping that the blood would wash off well enough for the cloth to be used again. 

The blood didn't come off easily so you left it as it is and continued the long walk back to your cottage. However, you didn't expect your uninvited guest to be awake after a nightmare. You stumbled in on him off his bed, recollecting his thoughts and scanning his surroundings on his own two feet before he grunts in pain and falls to the floor. 

A soft gasp from you startled him as you rushed over to his side. Reluctant to your help, you still grabbed onto his arm, opposite his injured side which he protest against. 

"D-don't touch me-" He protested, yet you stood your ground and pointed near the stitches. He resisted, however, the pain he felt was too unbearable to ignore. 

"If you move any further you're going to tear your stitches and die in minutes," You tell him, keeping a steady grip on his arm, you assured him. "I have medicine that can help with the pain," 

Your grasp is so gentle on his forearm and shoulder, providing him with the support to haul him to his feet. Somehow that started to annoy him. 

"I don't need your help-" He cuts himself off, misstepping on one foot. Your hand quickly straightens him up by his chest. Head turning towards you, you're taken back by a vibrant pair of violet eyes staring deeply into yours. 

"Easy," You spoke, easing him back onto the bed where he slips out of consciousness once more. You cradle his head, resting it on top of the pillow and noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead. Feeling his head with the back of your hand, you groaned quietly. 

"A fever," You said, internally.  

© 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎 — all works belong to astrox! do not plagiarize, recommend, or translate my work without my permission

[thiswasinevitableid]

Strange Days (Indruck)

The winner of the mer and humans on land poll was: A lighthouse keeper who doesn’t believe mer are real

“You sure you don’t wanna keep him?” Duck stares at the Newfoundland on the steps of the lighthouse. The dog stares back disdainfully. 

“Nah. Beacon’s a good dog, but my place ain’t big enough for him. Besides, it’s good to have one of those around in case you gotta rescue folks. Or you fall in.”  Leo pats him on the back, “you’ll be fine. You got a good head on your shoulders.”

Duck thanks him and says his goodbyes as the former keeper gets on his horse and rides inland. Then he walks up the stairs into the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, where he’ll be the keeper until…

Well, until he gets tired of it or dies. Leo had been keeping it since 1880, and after twenty years decided to leave the Graveyard of the Atlantic for somewhere a bit less windswept. 

After ten days of learning the ropes from Leo–and getting growled at and knocked into by Beacon–Duck prepares himself for his first night alone. Winnie, the mouser, meows at him from the steps of the staircase to the lamp. 

“Yep, guess it’s just us three.”

“Mew.”

He stares up the spiraling iron walkway, “Wish I could say that suits me fine. But I’m a shit liar.”

“Bwoof” 

“Coulda done without that agreement, Beacon.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

“It’s just by the lighthouse. You can’t miss it.”

Indrid is glad Barclay gave him that detail when directing him to his new territory; the outer banks can bleed together after a while, and being relatively new to the whole area means he’d rather not make enemies by unintentionally stepping on someone’s tail. 

He makes a full circuit of his new home, waving to Dani when she swims by on her way home. He can unpack his few belongings soon; it’s warm and calm enough this evening that he doesn’t feel like being cooped up. 

Once on the surface, he floats on his back and soaks in the sun. In his old haunts he wouldn’t have been so bold; the Colds held territory near old whaling and fishing communities up north and as a result had made a lot of enemies by ripping holes in nets or tipping over boats. Showing his face as a mer would have meant someone trying to shoot him or catch him to sell to a sideshow, as Barclay calls them (he’s been reading human newspapers more lately).

But here, on a stretch where the only visible structure is the lighthouse and the beaches are empty, he feels no fear of being in the open. One of the selling points his friends made when talking him into moving south was that this patch of sea is dangerous for ships, but safe for those who can be beneath the waves. Which means fewer fish being chased off and fewer people trying to throw nets on him. 

(Besides, since he can see the future, he has some chance of knowing when danger is coming).

He drifts and daydreams so long that the light is now beaming across the water. It transfixes him, and he climbs up onto a still-warm rock to better observe it. There must be a human in there, perhaps more. It seems a lonely location, even miserable if it becomes as story as they say. It must be a certain kind of human who is willing to take such a post. 

Indrid knows it is good manners for both humans and mers to offer gifts when you move into a neighborhood. If he and this human are to live so close, perhaps he ought to make a gesture of goodwill. 

Now if only he knew what to offer….

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck is walking the beach at the base of the lighthouse, not thinking of anything in particular, when a shine catches his eye. On a nearby, half-submerged, rock is a pile of silver. When he picks it up, it cascades to reveal a necklace studded with gems. There hasn’t been anyone on the beach all morning, and this was placed here. Not lost. 

“Plus sometimes when you’re up there you get a glimpse of a mermaid.”

“Leo, I ain’t a kid. Or a sailor who’s gone too long without, uh, company. I don’t believe in mermaids.”

The older man smiles, “Keeping the light can change some things.”

There’s no mermaid leaving treasure from sunken ships for him to find. This was just tossed here by the waves. 

He tucks it in his pocket; it’s not a bad start to a nest egg. 

—-------------------------------------------

Indrid ducks back under the waves. The human liked his gift. And stranger still, Indrid rather liked watching that human, with his dark hair and round, friendly face, accept something Indrid had chosen for him. 

If he leaves enough acceptable gifts from afar, perhaps the handsome creature will allow him to offer some in person.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

This is weird.

Two days ago, Duck found a massive Marlin, still alive, on the same rock where he found the necklace. Since he wasn’t lacking food, and felt kind of bad for it, he managed to toss it back into the sea. 

Today, he’s found a basket of fresh oysters. The basket is green, almost like it was made by seagrass. 

Once again, there’s been no one on the beach for more than a short stroll, let alone someone equipped with a boat to dive from. 

Yeah, it’s strange alright. But he really likes shellfish. He can even cook them on the beach for lunch.  Even if they’re probably washed off from a boat somewhere and definitely not left by a mermaid. 

Three nights after the oysters, Duck is in the gallery, checking everything before the lamp is lit. In the sea below, a human face and chest emerge, watching the lighthouse. The man doesn’t seem to be in distress, and it’s calm enough today that there’s been a few swimmers. 

That has to be what he is. Because Duck refuses to believe the silvery tail glinting in the sunset belongs to the swimmer. There’s no such thing as mermaids. But maybe he needs to request more books from town before his imagination completely gets away from him.

—------------------------

Indrid has just finished leaving clams for Duck when there’s a splash behind him.

“Damn it, Beacon, I told you, you don’t gotta fish people out if they’re just swimmin’!”

Indrid trills, failing to gain speed before a large mouth closes gently around his arm and begins dragging him onto the shore. The futures suggest that a struggle will lead to injury, and so he resigns himself to an undignified entrance. 

The dog shakes himself off as the lighthouse keeper hurries down the beach. 

“Sorry, uh, sir, he gets a little overeager when it comes to help….” The charming drawl peters out as the human notices his tail. 

Indrid waves both that and his hand, “Hello. My name is Indrid. I am your seaward neighbor.” He pats the dog's head, “it is nice to formally meet you both.”

The human says nothing, just stares at Indrid’s tail with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. 

“I brought some clams today, since you prefer shellfish to swimming ones.”

“....You’re a fuckin mermaid.” He murmurs. This close, Indrid can see one of his eyes is blue, the other brown. 

“Just mer is fine. We come in a wider variety than man and maid.” He cocks his head, “are you alright?”

The human sits down in the sand, “Leo was right. Y’all are just swimmin around out there.”

Indrid shifts so he’s sitting rather than on his stomach, “My presence bothers you.”

“N-yeah-uh, I, I don’t feel, uh, fuck, strong one way or the other? Fuck.” The human removes his hat, brushing sand from the top, “Look, uh-”

“Indrid. And you are..Duck? An interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname. How you know it I got know clue. Look, Indrid, it ain’t personal. In fact you seem real friendly. But I spent my whole life trying to tell myself this kinda thing is just old wives tales. I feel all…outta sorts.”

“Ah. I see. I will leave you in peace. I know what it is like to feel as if you have unwanted company.”

“It ain’t even that. If I’m bein’ honest, I don’t mind company. I just need a little time to take it all in.”

“Shall I…come back tomorrow, then?” 

“Sure. Just not too late, I gotta make sure I’m minding the light when I’m supposed to.”

“Very well. Just after that bell in town rings noon?”

“That works, yeah.”

“Should I bring clams or oysters?”

Duck meets his eyes with a bemused, but friendly, smile, “Wouldn’t say no to some snapper.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Can you hear it from there?” Duck calls out the window of the keepers cottage. 

“Yes!” Indrid grins at him from the beach, then continues turning his catch—a massive flounder–humming as his silver tail gleams in the sunlight. 

Satisfied that they’ll be able to pick up the second episode of The Outlaw on the radio while they eat an early dinner, Duck heads out to join him, two bottles of Coke in hand. Indrid adores sweet drinks, and if Duck could bring him a strawberry phosphate from town, he would. 

Since Indrid became an undeniable element of his life, Duck has seen him almost every day for the last two months. And if he’s honest with himself (or with Winnie, who listens as he fusses over all this out loud), when he doesn’t see the mer for a day or more he gets worried that something has happened to him. 

The Outlaws theme blares to life as Duck divvys up the fish. Usually the two of them will talk during dinner, but after the first minute of action Indrid’s focus is entirely on the radio, and he barely eats until the program is over. When the announcer says to tune in next week, the mer gives an indignant chir. 

“But I wish to know what happens now. Will the sheriff simply ride off now that the outlaw has let him go? Or will he follow him into town? What if they never see each other again??”

Duck chuckles, “guessin they will, if only so they can make more episodes.”

“Promise you will let me listen again?”

“Of course, ‘Drid. I like your company. Pardner” he exaggerates his accent on the last word and Indrid laughs.

“You would make a very dashing lawman. I assume.”

Duck nudges his toes against Indrid’s tail “Thanks, but this life is plenty exciting for me.”

The mer goes silent for a moment, then he asks, “Duck? Why were you so bothered when you first knew of me? Is it because that is too much excitement?”

“Not exactly. I’ve had…weird stuff happen to me most of my life. Blue, glowing women turn up in my bedroom. There are lights in the sky near my hometown no one can explain. A friend of mine when on some scientific research trip and swears that something bit him and that he can’t remember what happens to him on the full moon. And all I ever wanted for myself was a quiet life. To do what made me happy without the fear of it all bein’ upended or dangerous. The weird shit always made me…nervous. Maybe that makes me a fool or coward but…I dunno.”

“I do not think it does.” Indrid moves closer, “I left home for the same reason. To not be looking over my shoulder all the time. But…since strange things have found you..perhaps you and he could look out for each other?”

Duck wants to kiss him. Red-brown eyes are so earnest, so hopeful, that he’s certain he could and Indrid would melt in his arms. 

Beacon howls from the house as a warning comes over the radio of a storm. 

“Dear me, it’s early.” 

“Guess I better get my ass in gear. You gonna be okay?”

“As long as I am deep enough, it will not catch me.” Indrid takes his hand, rubbing it against his cheek, “take care, Duck.”

“I will. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck takes back every single bad thing he’s ever said about Beacon. The dog’s barking is the only reason he goes to the door of the lighthouse and looks out. In the roaring, ripping wind and rain, a figure has been tossed to the rocks at the base of the house. 

Indrid. 

He drags the mer inside, nearly being blow off his feet. He’s glad he’s kept up the floor of living quarters in here, and even gladder that said room is only three floors up. 

“Fuck, fuck, ‘Drid, can you hear me?” He lays the mer on the floor, his chest and tail scratched and bruised from the rocks, “goddamn it, you told me you were gonna stay deep!”

“There was a future where you Winnie slipped the door and you went after her and drowned.” Indrid murmurs, then chirps in pain, “I wanted to be here in case you did, so I could, could save you. The wave took me by surprise. I am sorry.”

“Why are you fuckin sorry, you got hurt because of me.”

“Yes, but you now risked your life for something strange, which I did not wish you to do.”

Duck cradles him closer and kisses him once, gently. Indrid trills, surprised, and then purrs and wraps his arms around Duck’s damp shoulders. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that’s the worst fuckin moment for this but I just...’Drid, you may be the weirdest fuckin’ thing in my life but you’re also the best. Everyday I wake up happier because I know I’ll see this fuckin’ stunnin face in the waves, looking for me.”

Indrid kisses him, tasting of the storm, “And everyday I surface with a heart lighter than the sun because I know you will be in the lighthouse.” He strokes Duck’s cheek, “my brave keeper.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “Don’t that work out nice?”

“It does. And since you are about to ask, yes, please get the bathing tub you’ve been keeping outside; the collected water will be enough to wait out the storm. And after that…well, I have some ideas for how to pass the rest of the day.”

Duck trails his fingers up Indrids’ tail, savoring the way it flexes under his touch, “I’m all ears, darlin.”

[mothguillotine]

V.

CW: Lots of talk of blood, more than usual, honestly.

Carl needed surgery. Everyone knew that Carl needed surgery. But you knew that he needed surgery more than anyone else. You could tell Carl was having a hard time breathing. If Shane and Otis didn’t get back soon, Carl would be screwed. Rick had given him a few blood transfusions as had you. He and Lori couldn’t stop thanking you.

“I would hope that if Gracie or Adi were in the same position, then you would do the same.” you tell them, but honestly, that's not true. You would have helped the boy even if you had no children of your own.

You felt sick donating this much blood. One of the women, whose name you learned was Patrica, had given you so much orange juice and crackers that it made you not want to eat them ever again. The family had been quite welcoming to the four of you. You were sitting beside Carl when Gleen and T-Dog showed up at the house.

“Hey.” Gleen says awkwardly from the doorway, “You guys doing okay?”

You look at Rick in the chair across the room. He looks tired, you imagine you do as well. Giving away this much blood has caused you to become more exhausted than you already were.

“As long as Carl is doing good, then, yes.” you tell him, “Where is Jesse and the girls?”

“He decided to stay back with Dale and the others. He had no idea if that girl was telling the truth or not.”

“Are they coming tomorrow?” you ask him.

“Yeah, they wanted to stay one more night to see if Sophia made her way back.” He tells you and you nod in understanding.

“I’m gonna go see Carl.” Rick tells you both before standing up.

You and Glenn look at each other when he goes into the room.

“So what are we supposed to do about the sleeping situation?” he asks you.

“Yall can stay in the living room tonight,” the younger girl told you, “But you look like you might need a shower.”

So there you stood looking at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom. Your hair was a mess and your skin was bloodied. You looked down at the dress that Beth had given you. It was a white sundress with little flowers printed on it. The idea of wearing that dress was completely impractical. What would happen if you needed to run from walkers? Beth had also told you that the dress belonged to her mother. You looked back at yourself in the mirror. You looked older than before. You could see it mostly in your eyes, they looked tired. You were tired, exhausted even.

The next morning you wake up to the news that Shane arrived sometime in the night with the supplies that had saved Carl's life. Shane also arrived without Otis. You really wanted to believe that you and Dale had just caught Shane in a bad position when you saw him point the gun at Rick. Yet the evidence kept piling up and telling you the opposite.

While you are eating breakfast you hear the sound of approaching vehicles. Which means that your family is here. You get up suddenly and run to them pulling them all into a big hug.

“I was so worried about you all.” you tell them.

“Is Carl okay?” Adi asks you.

“Yes, he got surgery last night and it went well.” you tell her hoping to ease her worries.

“y/n we need to talk about this.” Jesse tells you.

“Not right now,” you tell him, “you just got back.”

“Stop putting off this conversation.” he tells you, getting more upset.

“Fine. Adi take Gracie inside.” you tell her.

“But-”

“No. Go now please.” you tell her. She picks up Gracie and carries her inside.

“You have to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop risking your life for people you barely know.”

“Oh screw you. I was looking for a little girl.”

“Yeah I know that, but you do things that aren't even asked of you.”

“These are people. You don’t know how many are left. Or even how many good ones are left.”

“We both know that it isn't just about helping them. If it was, you would've told them that you were a nurse in the beginning. Instead you kept risking your life.”

“What? Do you think that I am trying to kill myself?”

“I honestly have no idea y/n. I'm just concerned about you.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I honestly don’t know if I want to die or not. What if this is it? The rest of my life- our lives are spent inside cars and living for a tomorrow that might not even exist.”

You both stay silent for a moment.

“Why don’t we go up north and see if we can find Mom and Dad?”

“Jesse-”

“No. Don’t say anything. We could see if they are still there. We could see if-”

“Jesse. No, we can’t leave because of a what-if. We need to stop thinking only about ourselves. We have Gracie and I need to keep Adi safe. I think the best way of doing that is staying with the group.”

“Okay.”

“You should know that it’s not that I don’t want to know. I do. I would love to know if- but we can’t.”

“I’m sorry for being such a dick these past few weeks. It’s just-”

“I know. It’s not your fault you weren't there. It’s not your fault she didn’t come too.”

“It feels like it.”

“It’s not. I promise.”

Now you and the group stand around a mound of rocks that symbolize Otis. You listen to Hershal talk about God. You think it’s funny that someone could believe in God in a time like this. He also asks Shane to speak about what happened. You can tell that he is just repeating the same story that everyone else knows. You don’t believe it, you need to talk to Dale about it.

After the service you ask Maggie if it is alright to give the girls a bath.

“Of course it’s okay. You can use some towels and rags.” She tells you.

“Thank you, they are getting a little stinky.” You say.

“How old were you when you had her.” She asks you, pointing at Adi.

“Oh Adi isn’t mine. I worked at a daycare to help pay for school and when everything happened she came with us.” you explain.

“What about Gracie?” She asks.

“Gracie is my younger sister.” You say, “My parents had me really young and had her old.”

“And Jesse?”

“Also younger brother. He’s three years younger than me, he was about to be a Senior in high school.”

“What about your parents?”

“I haven't seen them in months, so I have no idea.”

After you go outside with freshly washed children to find Jesse helping the group get a walker out of the well. It's a surprise because honestly this is the most you've ever seen him help the group. It’s good it makes you feel better about making him stay.

“Don’t get too dirty please.” you tell Adi, “I’m going to set up the tent.”

Later that night you and the group are gathered around a fire eating a few squirrels that Daryl got earlier. After being treated to food in the house this tastes like trash, no offense to Daryl. We just need some seasoning and that should make everything a lot better.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dale asks you.

The whole group is looking at you expectantly.

“I was just thinking that this could use some seasoning.”

The tent that you shared with your family was really not made for 4 people. It was crowded and felt like you were just recycling everyone else's air. You were careful not to disturb anyone when you got out of the tent. It couldn’t be past 1 you thought to yourself. Mostly everyone was asleep except for Shane on lookout. When you noticed it was him you almost went back inside your tent because you needed to talk to Dale before you talked to Shane otherwise you might say something that could get Shane to dislike you. But before you did you noticed that Daryl was also still awake. His tent was far away from everyone else's. You make your way over to the fire that he was currently tending to.

“Why are you so far away from everyone?” you ask him.

“I don’t wanna bother anyone.”

“You won’t. You wouldn’t.”

“I like being closer to the woods.”

“Okay.”

You sit down on a log by the fire. It’s silent for a while. It’s not awkward like you assume it would be.

“Why are you here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Bad dreams?”

“Not always, just anxiety I suppose.”

“Why?”

“I’ve- I've never had to care for children before. Not like this anyways.”

“Don’t Jesse help?”

“Not as much as I would prefer he did.”

You fall back into silence for a while. You liked being with him like this. You both didn’t need to talk with each other.

“It’s getting pretty late so I should try and get to sleep. Same with you if you are going to find Sophia.” You say standing up.

“Hey, y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“I like your dress.” he tells you.

“Thanks,” you say smiling at him.

<Previous Part/Next Part>

Masterlist

[biographydivider]

A Team Rocket Fic! Well, it was inevitable.

I needed to write something for my first ever blorbos - especially as their retirement draws near!! Plus, I’m in my feelings right now and I’ve been watching a lot of old school Pokémon for comfort.

Jessie is standing in line at the PokéMart (forty more Antidotes piled up in her basket; her latest clutch of Ekans just will not stop biting each other, the little brats) when, out the corner of her eye, she sees a shock of black hair crammed under a red-and-white cap.

Something swoops in her stomach, and she turns so quickly her hair takes out the person in front of her in line - Jessie apologises, though deep down she’s pleased she’s one step closer to being served. But no. She’s trying to be nice, now. Turning over a new leaf. They all are. So she forces herself to simper “ahaha, sooo sorryyyy” - all the while frantically scanning the PokeMart. Why is he here, she specifically picked a town without a gym to set up her breeding centre, there was simply no reason for him to...

Ah. No. Of course it wasn’t the tw...it wasn’t him. A little boy, chasing his new Charmander around the store, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. Drunk on his new freedom, away from Mom. Jessie knew that feeling. When her first clutch had hatched, she’d invited the boys over and danced the night away, tiny ribbons of purple Pokemon slithering around their feet as they swigged from a bottle of fancy wine. One had bit Meowth on the tail, and he’d yowled so loud that the neighbours had knocked on the door to make sure she was okay. She was usually such a quiet member of the community, after all. Once they’d gone, satisfied she wasn’t being killed, Jessie and James had laughed until they felt a bit sick. She had given them the grand tour soon after; delighting in the fact she now had her own bedroom, an en suite, a wardrobe for all her outfits! A living room! A couch! Look, fellas! And it all belongs to me!

The boy finally corralles his Charmander and they leave. Off on their own adventures. Jessie shrugs, turning back to the counter just as the guy behind it called her forward. He doesn’t even look like that, not any more. He’s big now; broad shouldered, but still dumb as a box of Geodudes. She and the boys had gone to see him battle at some tournament a month or two back; she’d called it her vacation for the summer. James - Mr. Fancy Designer - had stumped up for swanky digs, and they had good seats for once, instead of wandering the aisles dressed as hot dog vendors. Going straight had its perks when your best friend spent his days selling dresses to fancy widows and flirting with their equally rich sons.

The kid had used Pikachu. Of course. His battling style - barrelling ahead blindly, resorting to a Thundershock if he was backed into a corner - hadn’t changed in all this time. He hadn’t learned a thing - but, Jessie supposed, they hadn’t either. He’d won his match, and whooped so loud you could hear him over the commentators. The more things change, Jessie had thought, as she screamed along with him, James’ arms wrapped tight around her waist in glee.

“Back again, Jessie?”

She nods, and the clerk laughs, ringing up her Antidotes. “By the way, my sister’s Ekans evolved last week. She called to let me know.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” Jessie smiles, and she means it. “She took one of my first babies. Alyssa?”

“Amara.”

“Close enough, right?”

“Ha. Well, she’s racking up victories somewhere past Celadon. Arbok’s her main partner, so at least I know she’s safe out there with him to watch over her.”

Jessie thinks back to her own nights sleeping under the stars, her own partner resting his gigantic head on her stomach. She can still picture every groove in the scales on his belly, every marking on his hood. Jessie bites down on the desire to cry until it vanishes. “That’s...great.”

“Here you go, Jess. And a free Premier Ball; special offer this week if you spend enough.”

That offer was just on Pokéballs and she knew it. Maybe he was flirting with her? She was gorgeous, after all. But she already had two men in her life, and she didn’t need any more.

Meowth was staying for a few days; he bounced between her house and James’ apartment. They joked it was a custody arrangement. He’d been sitting on the roof a lot recently, staring at the moon most nights. He had these sad periods, now that they weren’t on the road as much. Jessie didn’t know what was worse; Meowth screeching in that awful accent and following her around yammering about nothing, or just sighing and mooning and taking up space. For such an idiot, her friend sure did think a lot.

Jessie was thinking she’d get him to look after the new clutch for her for a long weekend, pretend she had admin to catch up on for the new Trainers who were looking to adopt. She’d caught him in there with the hatchlings before, purring happily to himself while they crawled all over him. Meowth always did have a paternal streak. Or, more accuratly, a desperate, clawing (ha) need for affection. Same difference. Maybe she could entice him in tonight, and they could watch a movie. He loved Hollywood blockbusters. He could snuggle on her lap, if she swore she wouldn’t tell James.

“See you next week,” she calls over her shoulder to the clerk.

“Bye, Jess. Hope all those Ekans don’t cause too much trouble!”

She winces. Something akin to an electric shock runs through her, and she can almost hear the music pounding in her head. The words would come so easily, if she let them. Along with everything else. Everything in this PokéMart would fetch a pretty coin with the right buyer. Plus, all those lovely Pokémon running about would get her in very, very good favour. She could burn this life down in a second and run away - back to what she’d known for all those years. Simple, easy, comfortable villany. But she knew she didn’t want that any more. None of them did. So, instead, she turns on a dime, and waves to the clerk.

She says;

“Don’t worry about me! I’m prepared for trouble!”

Laughs at the private joke.

And leaves.