#the mr needful incident certainly was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 3 months ago

Text

What if all the yeerks suddenly died? AU

Part 3.5; Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 are here. All you need to know from earlier parts is that all the yeerks disappeared at once after the events of #19, and that the Animorphs and ex-controllers have been trying to resume a normal life ever since.

• Hedrick Chapman wanted to be an ecologist when he grew up. Or a veterinarian. Barring that, he’d have settled for being rich. At no point did he ever want to be a vice principal of a criminally underfunded public high school. That had been a yeerk decision, not his. Certainly not his. And yet, here he is.

• Then again, Chapman reflects as he watches Andy Mitchell vomit into the potted plant on his desk, this job has recently involved far more working with wild animals than he initially anticipated.

“It was horrible,” Andy sobs. “Her f-face, it… it split open. I could see bones under the—” He cuts off, retching more.

Probably in shock, Chapman thinks. A perfectly understandable reaction to having seen someone morph for the first time. “What did she turn into?”

“What?” Andy lifts his head. Milk-pale, except for those red-rimmed eyes. Definitely in shock. “What do you mean?”

“Rachel.” Chapman didn’t get a name, but that description could only apply to so many students. “What did she morph?”

“I don’t know,” Andy wails. “Her face got all baggy and horrible, like the skin was coming off, and it…” He makes a pulling motion, away from his own mouth.

“So she turned into an elephant.” Chapman notes that down. “Then what?”

“You don’t understand,” Andy says. “She… she… her body was melting!”

Chapman sets down the pen, looking him in the eye. “I believe you. You saw her turn into an elephant. Did she try to attack you, once she was done?”

“I don’t know! I ran for it.”

“Smart choice.” Chapman massages his left temple, which is where his Rachel-shaped headache seems to have taken up full-time residence in Iniss 226’s absence. “I figured as much, since we’re not having this conversation in the hospital.”

“It was horrible,” Andy says again.

“And what did you say to Tobias Fangor that precipitated this incident?”

Andy blinks. His color looks a little better, anyway. “How did you know that?”

Chapman does not roll his eyes. Because he’s an adult, and in control of his own body. “I just so happen to be fluent in English, Mr. Mitchell. Which is, by enormous coincidence, the language used to write your disciplinary file. I’m also capable of basic pattern recognition.”

“What are you going to do to her?” Andy asks. “Rachel. What happens to her?”

An excellent question. Bringing a deadly weapon to school results in a ten-day suspension. But if Chapman applies that statute in this case, then he’d be forced to suspend all five Animorphs for the rest of eternity. Threatening a classmate can result in expulsion, though it sounds like no actual threats were issued. There isn’t a rule on the books for showing a classmate something so disturbing his brain tries to turn itself inside-out from sheer horror, although in light of recent developments there really should be.

“Not your concern,” Chapman says. “Thank you for telling me. Back to class.”

Andy takes several more minutes to collect himself before he goes. Chapman uses that time to catch up on paperwork, though he does offer the young man a tissue. And a breath mint.

• Andy is barely out Chapman’s door when it swings open again and Tom Berenson strides in. “You have to tell my parents it’s not Jake’s fault,” he announces.

I am not your therapist, Chapman would dearly like to say. I am not your best friend. I am not, regardless of Iniss 226’s relationship with Temrash 114, your fucking subordinate. I do not ‘have to’ do anything.

Not being snippy with vulnerable teenagers is probably one of those things they’d cover M.Ed. programs, if Chapman had ever actually been to school for this job. “Why don’t you take a deep breath and explain from the beginning.” There. That sounds like something a vice principal would say.

“Jake.” Tom sits down. “My parents keep forcing him to go to school. They think he’s, like, being a moody teenager. Or faking it.”

Chapman may not be a therapist, or even a college graduate, but he does recognize that Jake’s entitled to as many sick days as he feels like taking, for the rest of eternity. However, “That’s between your parents and your brother.”

“You can’t do anything?” Tom asks. “You have the ability to give kids permanent excuses for made-up medical conditions— Iniss did it all the time—”

“I am not,” Chapman says severely, “Iniss 226.”

Tom stiffens. “I just meant…”

“I recognize it is not your fault you have entirely too much information about the administration of this school.” Chapman tries to soften his tone. “But if you can do without using the Krav Maga or ability to home-assemble a working handgun that you also didn’t choose to receive, you can do without that.”

“But— Jake. They don’t get it.”

“I will speak with your parents. I’ll express these concerns to them,” Chapman says. “In the meantime, might I suggest you focus on your own grades? Thanks to Iniss, you’ve missed far too much school already. If you want to have any hope of graduating on time, you need to catch up.”

“Why?”

He says it so simply. It’s a question Chapman’s been asked before: Why bother? Of all the kids who’ve asked him, only Marco Santiago has been more entitled to ask. Why, indeed, bother with school? Why care about Civics and Algebra when the world itself has already ended around you?

A real vice principal would make a speech about learning being its own reward, or the importance of insuring one’s future. “Because,” Chapman says, “when I speak to Coach Lu about letting you back on the basketball team, he’ll point out that student athletes need a minimum two-point-oh GPA.”

Tom’s whole face lights up. Suddenly looking years younger. Looking like a kid, for the first time in months. “You’d do that for me?”

That M.Ed. program no doubt would have advised against bribes. “No skin off my butt,” Chapman says. “Now go do your homework. And let the adults worry about your brother.”

“Yes sir!” And he’s off like a shot. Possibly even, miracle of miracles, off to work on that backlog of English essays.

• The first time Jake called a meeting in Cassie’s barn, even though they don’t really have a reason to meet anymore, it was to discuss what they can do to help the hork-bajir—taxxon alliance. The second time, it was to make a plan to help Tobias get caught up in school. The third time, he doesn’t even make an excuse.

Rachel complains about the press hounding them for a statement. Marco complains about his parents making out on the couch while he’s in the house. Tobias complains about Ms. Paloma’s workload, and about the hork-bajir constitution negotiations. Jake complains about his dad’s horrifying questions about how morphing affects puberty. Ax complains about Alloran’s frequent, extremely snobby, emails. Cassie complains about her parents constantly asking her to morph their patients to figure out what’s wrong with them.

It’s silly. It’s fun. It’s playing at being teenagers with teenage problems.

“This time next week,” Jake announces, at the end. “And if there are any major developments in the meantime, keep the rest of us posted.”

• “Tobias Fangor’s aunt called again,” Principal Walsh says, when Chapman gets to the office on a Tuesday morning. “Don’t you think we should at least speak to her, see what she wants?”

“No,” Chapman says. “I don’t.”

“His uncle. This…” She glances at the paperwork. “Axel Mili-Esgarrouth. Didn’t show up for last parent-teacher conference.”

Small mercies. Chapman doesn’t explain Tobias’s living situation. Doesn’t reveal that he owes the kid’s parents the kind of debt that cannot be repaid in an entire lifetime of favors. Doesn’t deign to find out if Maggie Walsh knows what an andalite is.

“Tobias Fangor,” he says, “is part of the one-tenth of one percent of students who are, somehow, attending this high school because they want to be here. If you give him reason to transfer out, I will resign.”

• There are reasons that Chapman stays in this job, despite being stashed here against his will. Not the pay. Not the sullen ingratitude from the teens he helps. Certainly not the parents. It’s because he’s needed here, now more than ever.

• He stays for the times Loren’s kid comes skittering into his office, wild-eyed and muttering, “Sorry, I just, sorry, I’ll be out of your hair soon, I promise…” Chapman knows to open the window, when that happens, knows to shove a chair already well-deformed with talon marks out from behind his desk.

• He stays for the kids who on paper had straight As, perfect attendance, promising gigs at The Sharing — and overnight became failing wrecks with insomnia and dozens of unexplained absences. He can explain to their teachers, to their parents, in a way that someone who hasn’t been there will never be able to understand.

• He stays for the way Eva Santiago clasps his hand and says, “You will look out for him.” Half-supplication, half-command.

• He even, despite himself, stays for Tom. Who showed up at school the day after Aegas 1909 died, trying to pretend like nothing had happened. Who is a truly godawful actor — he took one look at Chapman, went dead-white, and ran for it. Who was backing away even as Chapman cornered him in the parking lot. “Wait!” Chapman had said. “Wait! Iniss is dead too.” And Tom had burst into tears.

• No one else would understand them. No one else would know why nearly every one of the seventy-three ex-hosts in this school has been sent to his office for not paying attention, for sleeping in class, for allegedly being stoned during school hours. No one else would overlook the absolute illegal mess of Tobias’s paperwork, or give Rachel a fortieth second chance after she has yet another hair-trigger reaction to being bumped in the hall.

• But there’s one reason above all others that he stays in this job.

“You don’t mind?” Melissa says, every single time he offers her a ride to school. As if he’s doing her a favor, letting her take up space in the car he’s already driving that way. As if it’s a chore to get to spend time with his daughter and hear about her day.

“You sure you don’t mind?” he always answers, smiling, and she always runs to get her bag.

It takes so little — a smile, a nod, an offer to feed the damn cat, sometimes even just a glance her way — to get her to light up with gratitude. It breaks his fucking heart to know the reason why.

He drives her every day. He helps her with homework every night, and cooks her dinner afterward. He drops more than he can afford on leg-warmers and Lisa Frank and Limited Too. He’s every parenting cliché: on a trial separation from Alison, spoiling their kid rotten because of the guilt.

Anyway, time with Melissa is worth a hell of a lot more than mere money. And it’s almost enough to make up for dealing with parents. Almost.

• “But Cassie’s a good kid,” Michelle Logan says. “She’s always been responsible, and she’s always taken care of herself. There has to be some kind of mistake.”

Chapman looks at the good kid sitting between her parents. Thinks of watching her rip a hork-bajir’s throat out, taking an innocent life along with the guilty one. Trusts that she had no choice in the matter, because if it was him she’d killed instead then he would have understood.

“I recognize that Cassie has had an overall clean record thus far,” Chapman says. “However, the Rain Forest Café is filing charges against the school for the impersonation and theft of several live animals, and I don’t have other suspects.”

“Cassie would never,” Michelle said. “She’s a good kid. She just fell in with the wrong crowd, that’s all.”

“Of that,” Chapman says dryly, “I have no doubt.”

Cassie lifts her head then to look straight at him. “I’m sorry,” she says, not sounding it. “I was trying to help the parrots.”

I. Yes, she’s a good kid. “It’s admirable,” Chapman tells her, “that you’re covering for your friends.” Probably also on the list of things a real vice principal wouldn’t say. “But there is no way that you could have acted alone.”

“Can you prove that?” Cassie asks.

“Can you even prove it was her?” Michelle says. “What about Marco, or Rachel? They morph. Isn’t Tobias a bird quite often? Who says it wasn’t him?”

Cassie and Chapman make eye contact. Marco is one incident away from being expelled. Rachel is about negative eight incidents away, and Chapman can only do so much to protect her. Tobias isn’t supposed to be at this school at all, which the board will surely notice if he comes to their attention. Cassie confessed, because Cassie can take the heat. And Chapman’s letting her take that fall.

“It’s okay,” Cassie tells the adults. “It’s only a week of detention.”

Because that was the lowest sentence he could propose, while still avoiding a legal proceeding. She really is a good kid.

• “Where you going?” Jake asks, not looking up from his Spanish homework, when Tom unlocks the front door at 8:00 PM on a Sunday.

“Sharing meeting,” Tom says casually. “Wanna come?”

Jake sets down his pen. He looks at his brother.

Tom stares back, smirking.

“Where are you actually going?” Jake says.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” And with that, Tom walks out the door.

Despite himself, Jake follows.

• It’s an under-21 nightclub that Jake vaguely recognizes as being a front for The Sharing, but the crowd spilling onto the lawn around it is truly all ages. There’s a giggling pair of 10-year-olds standing too close to the beer keg for his comfort, a middle-aged guy handing out glow sticks, and a woman with gray hair and a hand-knit sweater smoking a joint on the curb.

“Tommy-boy!” That’s the guy standing next to the door, an ex-controller Jake thinks is named Bill. He throws out his arms and, before Jake can react, has grabbed Tom, spun him around, dipped him, and kissed him on the mouth.

“Hands off, asshole,” Tom says, laughing as he pulls loose. “You are so fucking drunk.”

“Sssshhhhhh,” Bill says, not disconfirming the accusation. He points to the Employees Only printed on the door. “Just meat-puppets tonight. Ditch the tagalong.”

“Oh, come on.” Tom gestures at Jake. “The kid was a controller for a hot second last November.”

Bill squints at Jake. “Wait, really?”

Jake shrugs. He doesn’t want to talk about it. “Yeah.”

“Well all right, then.” Bill ruffles Jake’s hair, Tom slaps Bill on the ass, and they shoulder their way inside.

• The club is jammed full of bodies, most of them sweaty and partway naked. Jake retreats until his back is against the nearest wall, looking over the mess of dancing humans. Tom has split off, chest-bumping with some other guy Jake doesn’t know and stealing a drag off his cigarette. None of them are acting remotely like controllers, which is reassuring, and now he’s wondering if it’d be rude to leave without Tom about 10 seconds after having arrived.

No one would notice if he turned into a bug, he decides after about an hour of this. Seriously. This crowd would not notice, and it’s not like they’d care if they did. Tom can find his own way home.

A small form sidles up next to him. “Hi, Jake.”

“Melissa!” he says too loudly, glad to see a familiar face. “Hi.”

“You want some drink?” She holds up a clear plastic cup, three-quarters full of liquid. “There’s plenty more over…” She points to the punchbowl behind her.

“Drink?” Jake asks.

Melissa shrugs. “From the empty bottles, it’s mostly beer and tequila, with a little bit of Bloody Mary mix. Which is probably why it…” She grimaces down at her cup. “Looks, smells, and tastes like urine.”

“Um.” Jake peers at her cup; her assessment isn’t wrong. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Cool. There’s also a guy around here with E, if that’s more your speed.”

“Gee.” Jake looks back over the crowd, which includes several couples openly pawing at each other, a group of four with hands inside each other’s clothes, and Tom apparently attempting to eat some woman’s tongue before she can eat his. “There’s ecstasy here? I never would’ve guessed.”

“People are just glad the war’s over,” Melissa says. “And your brother’s a really good kisser.”

It’s official: this is worse than the gathering of alien slugs plotting Earth’s destruction that Jake expected to find. It’s not even a proper orgy, just a whole crapton of giddy ex-hosts hugging each other and then getting too enthusiastic about the hugs.

“Look,” Jake says. “This has been nice, but I have school tomorrow, so…”

• Which is when the commotion breaks out near the door.

“Gatecrasher!” That’s Bill, brandishing a mason jar as he continues to yell. “We have a gatecrasher!”

Several people crowd around him to get a better look, someone holding up a glow stick to reveal that, sure enough, the jar in his hands contains a single wolf spider. Among this crowd, animals that act strange or aren’t native to California don’t go without notice.

«I’m innocent! And even if I’m not you can’t prove anything,» the spider says. «Maybe I just wandered by accidentally, and this is all a big misunderstanding.»

“This thing’s for full members only,” Tom says, straight-faced. “There’s a sign on the door, can’t miss it.”

«Maybe I want to join the Sharing?» the spider suggests.

This gets him several unamused looks. “Toss him out,” Li says. “And let’s get back to the keg stands.”

“Nah, let him stay!” That’s Koko, piping up from the back. “God knows every person in this bar owes the Animorphs a drink.”

Looking between them, Bill turns back to the jar. Finally he lifts it up to eye level, starting at the spider’s middle two eyes. “Repeat after me,” Bill intones.

«Uh-huh.»

“What your mom doesn’t know…”

«What my mom doesn’t know…»

“Will not hurt her.”

«Dude, I wouldn’t narc on you! What do you take me for?»

“A chip off the old block,” Tom mutters.

“Repeat it,” Bill says severely.

«What my mom doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.»

“Great!” Bill unscrews the lid of the jar, dumping it out on the ground. “Welcome to the Sharing.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Melissa says to a slowly-demorphing Marco, “I got the same speech.”

“It really does.” He presses a hand over his heart. “Now, someone mentioned buying me a drink?”

• A small nightclub on the outskirts of the city burns to the ground, shortly after having every piece of its furniture and glassware smashed in a pile in the middle of the floor. The local police force, over 30% of whom were controllers three months ago, elects to ignore this development.

• Chapman loathes paperwork to the absolute depths of his soul. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is worse than filing paperwork to get permission to file paperwork, and yet here he is. The state of California cannot possibly need this many copies of Ashley Shawn’s transcript. This has to be a torment invented by an evil god to punish him for everything he did aboard the Jahar. There is no other explanation.

So when Ms. Hanna comes skidding into his office and announces “Science wing! There’s a brawl!” his first thought is, oh thank god.

His second thought is to wonder why she came to get him, skipping the security officer and Principal Walsh, but they’re already running by the time that occurs to him.

When they get there the press of screaming-chanting bodies fills the hall from end to end, but kids still find room to crowd out of the way when they see Chapman coming. The circle of spectators breaks long enough to reveal the melee at the center, and—

Oh hell. Chapman can tell exactly why Ms. Hanna got him first.

Fiona Aherne has one hand fisted in the collar of Tom Berenson’s shirt, and is punching him repeatedly in the face. Joe Lassen catches her around the middle and rips her off Tom, tossing her to the floor, only to be caught in a side-tackle by Li Saren. Beyond them, Hailey Ng and Bill Renaldi are hanging onto Asher Reed, until Asher suddenly rolls forward and body-slams Bill to the floor.

Chapman winces — so much for not using that Krav Maga. He's knocked aside as Jake shoves past him and dives in to the fray.

Principal Walsh is across the battlefield, staring in bafflement. Shouting ineffectually for everyone to stop. She doesn’t know, of course, what Tom and Joe and Asher all have in common. What Bill and Li and Fiona and Hailey do.

Li has Tom by the throat from behind, which is why Jake throws himself onto Li with the gracelessness typical of a high-schooler. Li head-butts Jake, only to have Jake, snarling, bite him in the face.

“Stop!” Chapman bellows. “ALL OF YOU! STOP!”

Jake drops off Li. Hailey drops Asher. Slowly the others lower their fists, glaring.

Good to know everyone’s fear of Iniss 226 is still good for something.

“Everyone in the Biology classroom,” Chapman barks, pointing at the door. “Bill’s lot near the windows, Tom and the others by the door. Move it!”

Principal Walsh stares at Chapman in confusion, which deepens when everyone obeys him without question. He beckons first to Ms. Hanna, then to Mr. Tidwell, pointing them into the room as well. They also take their places without question, Mr. Tidwell supervising the voluntary half of the room as Ms. Hanna covers the involuntaries.

Pausing in the doorway, Chapman turns at last to face Maggie Walsh. His boss. Who has the ability to fire him, if she misunderstands the situation. “It’s about yeerks,” he settles for telling her.

Her look of bafflement doesn’t fade. “How?”

Chapman opens his mouth. Hunts for words.

“Jake had nothing to do with this.”

Chapman doesn’t have to turn his head to know who spoke from the involuntary side of the room. What a surprise, a Berenson kid running his mouth.

“Thank you for your input, Thomas.” He spins around. “That isn’t your call.”

Tom crosses his arms. Between the fingernail marks down his cheek and the broken knuckles of his right hand, he looks the very picture of delinquency.

“He’s right,” Joe says, from the voluntary side of the room. “It’s nothing to do with Jake.” In Chapman’s peripheral vision, Maggie Walsh blinks several times. He’ll explain later. Or try to.

“Fine,” Chapman says. “Jake, get back to class.”

Jake lifts his chin, blood striping the lower half of his face. “I chose to get involved,” he says. “I’ll take my punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” Tom says. “Then what was the fight about?”

Jake looks from one side of the room to the other. Both sides have ninth graders, twelfth graders, jocks and nerds, white and Black and brown kids. Jake’s probably smart enough to identify several ex-controllers, and to guess at the rest, but unable to tell how or why they sorted themselves like they did. Nonetheless, after a second he opens his mouth.

“That’s what I thought,” Chapman cuts him off. “Anyway, if I suspend you then Marco and Rachel will have burned down the school within a week. Fix your nose, then back to class.”

Knowing when he’s beat, Jake leaves. Chapman makes a note he’ll also have to explain to Maggie how morphing works, and that he didn’t just order a 14-year-old to hand-set a broken nose.

“The involuntaries started it,” Bill announces, the moment Jake is gone.

“Yeah,” Tom snaps, “and the voluntaries are the ones who—”

“Who were lied to, instead of being coerced?” Mr. Tidwell suggests.

Tom shuts his mouth.

“Asher called me a traitor.” Li points a finger across the room.

“Six months ago Li told me,” Asher says quietly, “that I should really join the Sharing.”

“And so,” Chapman drawls, “you had no choice but to punch each other in the face. Is that correct?”

Tom mutters something under his breath that Chapman chooses not to catch. He can’t threaten them, not this crowd. Most of them have survived worse hells than the Geneva Convention ever dreamed of. Detention means nothing.

Fine. Persuasion it’ll have to be. Fuck his life. Chapman raises his voice to address the involuntaries. “They—” He points to the voluntary side of the room. “Are not the enemy. The yeerks are the enemy, and the yeerks are dead. Don’t start doing their work for them, you hear me?”

There’s a long silence. Asher scuffs the toe of his shoe on the floor.

“Yeah,” Tom says at last. “We hear you.”

“Everyone get checked at the nurse’s office,” Chapman tells the room at large. “You’re all suspended for the rest of the week.”

Maggie Walsh takes a seat next to Chapman, even as the kids all file out. Yeah. He owes her an explanation. Taking a deep breath, he tries to sum up what just happened. Hopefully in a thousand words or less.

Don Tidwell, coward, takes that opportunity to slip out the door.

• “Does anyone have anything to report?” Jake looks around Cassie’s barn. It’s still odd to see Ax and Tobias sitting out of morph and in the open. There was a brief collective panic when Cassie’s mom poked her head in earlier to ask if they want any lemonade or feeder mice.

“I have,” Marco says grandly, “a date… with Destiny!”

«Oh, you mean Destiny Trembull in tenth grade?» Tobias immediately undercuts this, because of course. «She seems nice.»

“And we don’t even have to spend the next three days following her around,” Rachel comments, which gets Marco to lob a horse comb at her head.

«I have accessed one-hundred twenty-three additional channels on my television,» Ax adds.

Cassie and Jake exchange a glance. “How’s it going, getting a ride home?” Cassie asks. “Any word on that?”

Ax shrugs — he isn’t even going to fit in on the andalite homeworld anymore when he does finally get there — and looks away. «I’ve been told that there are more important priorities concerning the Navy.»

«Their gratitude,» Tobias drawls, «is overwhelming.»

• Chapman explains to Jake’s parents that Jake needs a therapist, and also permission to miss school if he needs to. Chapman explains the Yeerk Empire and how exactly they recruit humans to Li Saren’s parents for the third, then the fourth, then the fifth time, until they are in tears and begging their son’s forgiveness for doubting him. Chapman explains to the district that he has no idea how the school ended up with a staircase leading from a supply closet to the alien sinkhole, but that he wants it sealed up posthaste. Chapman explains himself to Naomi Berenson, and then he does his best to explain Rachel as well.

• "No," Chapman tells the officious-looking little man sitting across his desk. "I don't know of anyone like that. I'm sorry, I wish I could be more help."

The man — he's probably a real detective, he has a badge — leans across the desk to push the photo array a little closer to Chapman. "You're sure? None of these individuals is a..." He glances at his notes. "Voluntary controller."

Chapman looks at the array, which includes images of nearly 100 students. Some of whom weren't controllers at all — that's Tobias Fangor in the upper left corner. Some of whom were lied to by the Sharing, and then lied to by the Yeerk Empire. Some of whom, like Bill Renaldi and his absolutely debilitating major depression, felt they had no choice but to give up their bodies. "Sorry," Chapman says. "None of these individuals appear to be voluntary controllers to the best of my knowledge."

The detective stares at Chapman, waiting for more information. Chapman stares back, waiting for the detective to get bored. He can do this all day, literal hours of silence if that's what it takes. He doubts any mere civilian can say the same.

Sure enough, the detective breaks first. "You see," he says, "we know for a fact that some of these individuals did, in fact, collude with the Yeerk Empire. And we have CCTV footage indicating that you might have been one of those colluders yourself. So anything you can do to help us out..."

Chapman lets the silence go for another minute, long enough for the detective to shift in place. "You're mistaken," he says at last. "About what it means to be a voluntary controller. Or an involuntary one, for that matter. The distinction you're seeking does not exist."

"I'm sorry." The guy has his notepad out now, pen moving. "You're saying... there's functionally no difference between the voluntary hosts and the involuntary ones?"

"Yes," Chapman says, unaware of the hell he's about to unleash. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

• “Ms. Paloma’s being a butt,” Melissa says, spinning her chair with a toe on the floor. “I told her that I have a French test the same day as the Bio one, but she just said that means I have to learn to manage my time.”

She just walked into his office. Without knocking. Without asking if he’s busy, if he minds, if he’s sure. Without apologizing for her existence. She walked in, she sat down uninvited, and now here she is complaining to him like any normal teenager.

“That sounds stressful.” Chapman is choosing his words with infinite care. He’s six years old again, holding a butterfly cupped in his palms and knowing that even a millimeter’s clumsiness will crush this precious living jewel. Thinking this. This is what I want. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says.

She came in unprompted. She just walked right in.

“I hate French.” Melissa spins the chair again. “It’s all those lists of vocab words, and I can’t even say half of them correctly…”

“Do you want me to help you study?” Chapman asks.

Her head pops up with the force of her surprised, pleased smile. “You’d do that?”

That’s it, then. He’s never leaving this job. Paperwork and all.

#animorphs #animorphs au #long post #hedrick chapman #melissa chapman #violence #implied past child abuse #bullying #aus #imperfect consent #failure to obtain consent before kissing? doing things under the influence of substances that should really be done sober?#sol cares too much about the meatsuits #i am SO normal about the yeerk hosts

178 notes · View notes

hyperiondickrider · 9 months ago

Text

Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 6)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

Vox was gone when you woke up.

Eyes still droopy with sleep, a big yawn forced itself from your throat as you sat up, the sunlight streaming in through the shutters slowing adjusting your eyes to the early morning sun.

The bed was empty, and in Vox’s place sat a neatly folded letter. You clambered over, recognising Vox’s handwriting and your name on the letter.

My darling bunny,

Im afraid i won’t be there to take care of you when you wake up, but i’ve been called on business to the Greed Ring.

Supposedly, Mammon has a business deal for me; one that will serve to increase the VoxTek empire exponentially, my dear.

Whilst I’m gone, i won’t expect you to be at work, since there won’t be anything for you to do without me there. So please, take some days to yourself, visit Angel Dust, whatever you wanna do.

There should be coffee in the pantry, and should you need groceries please take Velvette with you; it’s too near to that time again, and i really don’t want any incidents dollface.

If you need anything else, please go to Velvette, and the Val as a last resort. I’m still not sure how much i trust him around you, especially without me around.

I should be back in a few days, a week at most.

Love you baby,

Vox

With a smile and a giggle, you crumpled up the letter, deciding to take his advice and visit Angel as the day allowed it.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you dragged a brush through your hair, flinching as it scraped your ears, surprised at their unusual sensitivity. Shrugging it off, you through on some clothes, a sweater, skirt, and matching leg warmers, before heading out the door.

Skipping out the door, you stretched the remaining drowsiness out of your sore limbs, enjoying the glow of sun on your skin. Trying to remember to route, you decided to pick up a coffee on the way, unable to find any in the pantry.

Humming a tune, your nose twitched at the fragrant scent of coffee, ears perking up in recognition. Eagerly approaching the counter, you pulled out your fluffy wallet.

“Two caramel lattes, please!” You grinned lightly leaning back and forth on your heels as you waited patiently for your coffee. After all, Angie was never a morning person, so he’d hopefully appreciate being woken with his favourite coffee.

“Two caramel lattes for Y/N?”

Not noticing the stares and smirks you got, you grabbed your coffees and hurried out the door, eager to see your best friend after way too long.

The streets of hell felt more chaotic than usual. Had something happened? Was something going on?

Shaking off your anxieties, you continued the way towards the hotel, despite feeling as though eyes were constantly on you. The familiar sight of the hotel’s large doors were a welcome refuge, as you knocked gently, you timidity returning at the remembrance of many powerful people residing here.

“Omigodomigod is it a new guest! Vaggie Vaggie come here! Quick!” The door swung open with fervour too great for so early in the morning, and you took a step back out if surprise.

“Y/N? Ohh, are you here to see Angel? It’s great to see you again! Do you want to be redeemed?” Grabbed by the hand, Charlie hastily pulled you inside, bombarding you with questions.

“H-hi Charlie! No, im just here to see Angie, my boss gave me a few days off so i came to visit!”

“Oh, that is just wonderful! Im so glad Angel has such nice friends!” Charlie gushed at your innocent demeanour, pulling you towards the lounge where Angel was sitting on a couch, scrolling on his phone.

“Charlie, my love, calm down. Its 9 in the morning.” Vaggie put a comforting shoulder on Charlie’s shoulder, intending to relax her from her excitment.

“Charlie? What’s goin’ on?” Angel called out not looking up from his phone, seemingly uninterested in the commotion.

“Angie! I missed you! Here i brought you a latte.”

“Huh? Cutie! I missed ya too you silly rabbit! Ooh, is it caramel?”

“Yup, your favourite!”

“Satan, you know me so well!”

You giggled as Angel eagerly chugged his coffee, before pulling you into a tight embrace. You sighed into his touch, ears twitching pleasedly, as he scratched your head.

“Cutie, what are ya doin’ here? Dontcha know how dangerous it is outside right now? Didntcha watch the news?”

Your eyes widened and you glanced up at him. “Why? Is something goin’ on? Mr Vox doesn’t let me watch the news, he says he’ll tell me everything i need to know…”

Angel let out a string of curses and grumbled. “Course that fucking manipulative asshole controls all the information that gets to ya. The extermination, babes. Its comin’ in 6 months now, not a year. Everyone’s freaking out.”

You gasped, a hand shooting up to cover your mouth in shock. “W-what? But that’s awful!”

“Yeah, but we got a more immediate problem on our hands. You feelin’ okay, cutie?” Angel picked you up with a set of arms and turned you around to inspect you, as if looking for something.

“W-what do you mean, Angie?”

With a sigh, he grabbed your cotton tail, causing you to whimper loudly, tears forming in your eyes.

“You’re really fucking sensitive, cutie. Your heat’s about to start, i can smell it on you.” Angel sniffs the air for dramatic effect, causing you to giggle.

“But i should still have at least a week left?”

Angel put you down with a sigh, and glanced out the nearest window. “Cutie, there’s literally like, 15 sinners out there waiting for you to come out. What, didja collect ‘em like fucking pokemon?” The both of you start laughing, as you collapse into Angel’s chest fluff, legs weak from giggling.

Angel lowered a hand down whilst your giggles were muffled in his chest, touching your panties to discover the sopping wetness between your legs as you shivered at his gentle touch. You moaned softly, gripping his biceps as he inspected your slick.

“Yup. Babes, its like the heavens have literally opened up between your legs.” He chuckled at his own phrasing, scooping you up in his long arms. “We gotta get you home to Vox before it fully sets in”

“M-mr Vox isn’t here, Angie. H-he’s in the Greed Ring on business.”

Angel cursed loudly, drawing the attention of the other in the hotel.

“Angel? What’s wrong?” Charlie inquired curiously.

“Little bunny here’s about to start her heat, but daddy Vox ain’t here to help her through it. So I’m gonna hafta help her, cause there ain’t no fuckin way i’m handin her over to Val”

“S-sorry Angie, i guess you’re stuck with me until Mr Vox is back..” you trail off, your arousal growing steadily as your sight becomes hazy.

“Sorry Charlie, can she stay with me a while? I can’t leave her like this.”

“U-uh of course Angel!” Charlie blushes at the implication, but eager to help. “Y-you can be excused from activities until she can get back to Vox!”

Angel scooped you up, preparing to take you to his room when he was stopped by the sound of Husk’s gruff voice.

“Whatcha say, Whiskers? I can’t fuckin hear ya from here!”

Husk groaned, annoyed at having to repeat himself. “I said, Alastor ain’t gonna be fuckin happy about this.”

A figure emerged from the shadows, his grin tighter and more strained than usual.

“i thought i smelt rabbit! Has our dear bunny found herself in trouble, hm?” His teasing tone was lost on the crowd, you soft pants and whimpers permeating the otherwise silent room.

“I see, well im afraid i cannot allow this, my dear. You see, you associate with the television, and i cannot allow that sort of business in this hotel, understand?” The static in his voice grows thick, his irritation audible, but you struggle to understand anything, everythung buried in a hazy fog of lust and need.

“C’mon, Al, cut her some slack. The poor bunny’s in heat and needs help.”

“Hm, no can do, my effeminate fellow! Off she goes!” His grin is so stretched it bares his gums, as his jaw clenches, seemingly holding back from something.

“Satan, you are such a fuckin ass! Promise me you’ll at least get her to Val safely, you fucker! I ain’t strong enough to get both of us through that carnage while her stench literally screams sex. ”

“Hm, i suppose that i can do.” Alastor takes you from Angel’s arms, carrying you bridal style as the both of you returned to the shadows.

“Cutie! Don’t hesitate to call! I’ll come help if ya need me babes!”

You vaguely recognise Angel’s voice through the fog, distracted by the intoxicating scent enveloping you. Grabbing on to Alastor’s chest, you bury your head in his neck, sniffing him deeply, inhaling his musky scent, the pheromones making your head spin as you whine in pleasure.

You can make out Alastor muttering curses under his breath, his smile straining as his grip on you tightened.

“My darling, you smell truly delectable, i can barely contain myself. I wonder how you would taste…”

You whine and grab at him, craving contact, attention, to be touched. The ache between your legs was growing painful, your slick coating your thigh and soaking through your panties.

“A-Al, p-please h-help me~” you plead with him, begging to be touched, to be bred. His grip continues to tighten, bordering painful, until his resolves finally snapped.

Pinning you against the nearest wall, his sharp and yellowed teeth attacked you neck, biting harshly and licking the wounds, eager to draw blood, to taste you. Lapping up the blood beading from his teeth marks, Alastor groaned at the taste, the intoxicating taste of bunny blood. Rabbit meat was rare in hell, and hard to come by, but had always been a personal favourite of the cannibal.

“Fuck, my darling, you truly are delicious. I could just eat you up right now.” He chuckled darkly at your pained whimpers and terrified whines, continuing to suck bruises onto your flesh, leaving love bites and hickies, marking his territory before handing you over to Valentino as promised.

“If only you scent wasn’t plagued by the stench of that television, perhaps i would keep you all to myself this time. Oh well, perhaps next time my darling. Until we meet again.”

And with that, Alastor disappeared, leaving you collapsed on the floor in front of Valentino’s appartment.

With gentle whine and moan, you dragged yourself on shaky legs to the door, knocking and scratching on it until you received an answer.

“Who the fuck is there, hm? I’m fuckin’ off the clock, don’t bother me putas!” Val yanked the door open looking left and right before dropping his eyes to you, his grin widening.

“Awh, my poor little coñejita~ what’s happened, bebé?” Val cooed at you, blowing thick red smoke in your face as you tried to formulate a response through the haze and confusion.

“M-mr Val, i-i need help. M-mr Vox i-is gone, a-and my h-heat s-started. P-please h-help me, s-sir…” you started to tear up out of discomfort, the intense desire proving too much for you to handle as you made grabby hands to Val, who just cooed and scooped you up, closing the door behind you both.

Val chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing.“Don’t worry your pretty little head, bebé. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, hm~”

A/N: So excited to write these next few chapters lol. It’s getting fun and horny

Tags: @enby-rising @whocaresimnothere @christineblood @sirenetheblogger @vash-yuu

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #hazbin vox #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #smut #x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #baby bunny

186 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 16 days ago

Note

If my hubby would go on a trek in Nepal for weeks (?) I'd be SO anxious even if I'd know it's his passion. I do not know how C's feels about this but to me it s a big proof of Love and trust. Now I am wondering if that was maybe what S meant by trial separation. Is there even signals where they go hiking ? I am a total noob about hikes but I guess if they are busy walking from camp to camp with sometimes bad condition there is no time for call and texts ?

Dear So Anxious Anon,

Well, good for you then, since your own 'hubby' is most probably nowhere near such an endeavor, isn't it?

While I do agree this certainly looks like a 'big proof of Love and trust', I so wish people would stop projecting their own emotions upon two strangers they never met and/or never have anything else to share with than a very superficial fan interaction.

You can imagine I am no expert in hikes, treks and climbing (🥶). Still, let's see if Google is our friend, shall we?

We know from that terrible Flaunt Magazine interview what his likely itinerary is going to be:

Relevant info is literally just one click away:

[Source: https://www.acethehimalaya.com/wifi-and-internet-access-during-everest-base-camp-trek/]

As you can see, there are several reliable options which are very easy to access, if still on the expensive side. There has been a tremendous effort to gradually offer the best possible connectivity to the area, for obvious reasons: safety, security and access to help, in case of an incident. If you want to go even further, you'd probably find this short (but recent) National Geographic paper absolutely fascinating - it is even written in simple English and adapted to educational purposes, so very clear: https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/meet-sherpa-bringing-wi-fi-everest/

Thousands of trekkers make video calls, post on Instagram and text while taking the trip. I don't see why S wouldn't do the same, in order to document what clearly is a dream came true and keep in touch with his family and loved ones.

I am sorry if this sounds perhaps less exciting than the usual fanfic this fandom has been plagued with since Day One. If you came here for reassurance, I can reasonably offer it to you: I know he'll be fine and that's all we need to know, for now. He is not alone, he does this with a friendly expert, he probably also does this for a lucrative purpose, in which case the trip will be properly documented (even if it is, as I am speculating, perhaps just a preliminary one). Factoring in all of the above, you can imagine it's not a stroll in the park, but not an ordeal, either.

Give the guy some credit. And stop acting like his mom, he's got one and I guarantee you she is a formidable person, who probably knows and trusts her son better than almost everyone else- I don't have to be Mrs. Graham to know this, just common sense at play, really.

#anon #fandom #Everest trip December 2024

57 notes · View notes

tenthgrove · 8 months ago

Text

Reverse Engineering the OIAR Tagging System: Part 2

I've had another look at things and I have managed to create a more concrete theory for how the tags work, though at this stage I would be very surprised if it were all correct.

A reminder for the unfamiliar- every TMAGP statement comes with a long code, consisting of a CAT (category?), R (rank? - two statements do not have this), a four digit number which seems to be totally random, and the dates of both the statement's origin, and when the episode is set.

I've created this theory by identifying patterns between the CAT and R values and the themes, characters and dates of the statements. It is clear we need some more statements to be sure, so I will update this as new episodes come in. That said, here is my theory.

CAT = Is the Monster an External and/or Being Actively Taken Advantage of by the OIAR?

CAT 1 = Yes. CAT 2 = No, but there are plans to acquire it. CAT 3 = No, and there are no plans to acquire it. CAT 23 = The monster possesses some special quality which the OIAR would like to take advantage of, but currently has no means to do this (hence making it both a CAT 2 and 3 in a sense).

Our only confirmed external, Mr Bonzo, is a CAT 1. The two other CAT 1s are monsters that could very well function as OIAR assassins. Granted, Needles seems to be killing for his own pleasure and seems very ‘green’. BUT- how in the living hell did he murder a man on the streets of London and it wasn’t national news? Maybe, just maybe, Needles was recruited as a result of that incident and the OIAR pulled strings to clean up his mess. Additionally, two of the CAT 1s are delivered literally days before we learn of them. One is older but refers to Bonzo, who we know for a fact is still active. The other was delivered in May 2022. All these statements are live matters, referring to beings who are almost certainly still out there making body counts.

Moving down to the lower rankings, the current CAT 2s are plant guy, Vouyer, the charity shop volunteers and the backrooms service station. These are all statements that leave huge question marks. None of them are delivered by a primary source. They are all 1-15 year old statements. This could mean the OIAR is trying to locate the beings within the statement to potentially take advantage of them, but have not yet tracked them down.

The current CAT 3s are InkSoul, the violin guy, and the bone dice guy. Violin and dice guy are both dead, and the dice were presumably lost in the destruction of the Magnus Institute. It’s clear why the OIAR wouldn’t be interested in them. Now what about InkSoul? Well there are a number of reasons why the OIAR would not want to recruit them. Maybe their power is not reliable? After all, it seemed the effect they had on their victim in the statement was linked to her being an artist. Maybe they’ve already tried to recruit InkSoul and it didn’t go well. Or maybe InkSoul has become inactive since the statement in 2022.

Now, what about CAT 23? I’m really not sure about this one (there are only two CAT 23s so far, one of which is the Red Canary statement) so my theory here is a stand-in. I previously suggested CAT 23 could refer to dimensional cracks and it’s possible that is also the case. It could be that CAT 23 IS the ‘Magnus Protocol’, and that ‘Magnus’ doesn’t specifically mean ‘pertaining to the Magnus Institute’ but ‘pertaining to the Magnus Institute or similar known cracks in reality, of which the Magnus Institute is the one we know most about’. It could be that the OIAR has an active interest in manipulating dimensional cracks but hasn’t yet figured out how, and CAT 23 is created to reflect this.

R = How Useful is this Monster to the OIAR?

A = Frighteningly powerful, possibly equivalent in its impact to the rituals. AB = Between A and B value. B = Pretty useful, but not going to massively improve the OIAR's position by itself. BC = Between B and C value. C = Not especially useful for the OIAR's purposes. Unranked = Value either not investigated or pending investigation. We have no Rank As thus far, and the only rank AB, the Red Canary statement, is widely believed by fans to be the most crucial piece of the puzzle so far to the wider mystery. I believe the first rank A statement is going to be truly massive.

Current Rank Bs include Bonzo and Needles, as well as the bone dice and the Voyuer movie. Bonzo is a known OIAR assassin and as above, Needles very well could be/could become one if the OIAR wanted that for him. However, they can't exactly take down society. Equally, the dice and the movie have limitations that only allow them to target one person at a time - the dice only affect the person who rolls them and the movie relies on only having one audience member to customise itself for.

The Rank Cs are, so far, just the charity volunteers and the ship tattoo. I admit this may be the weakest part of the theory as it's not clear how these two are 'useless', especially if CAT 23 means what I theorise above. Maybe Rank Cs are useful to study but not important to the main goals of the OIAR, whatever they be.

The two unranked statements are the plant guy and the violin. The violin statement could be unranked because it is just that old, and the plant guy could be unranked for a number of reasons. Maybe he is CAT 2 because the OIAR want to study him, but they don't actually have a use for the anomaly that sired him.

Conclusion

As you can see there are various weaknesses to the theory and I would be very surprised if it turns out to be entirely right. The biggest gap right now is the rank C/unranked theories which are not entirely apparant why they're so low. If Protocol is anything like Archives, almost all these monsters will be revisited, so reasons for their placements could still be revealed to us. I am fairly certain the OIAR already knows more about most of them than is let on. I will revisit this theory as more information becomes known.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp theory #tmagp thoughts #tmagp speculation #the magnus protocol spoilers

75 notes · View notes

afewproblems · 5 months ago

Text

Difficult Days Part One

Even at ten years old Shawn knew he was different.

It didn’t take a genius to notice, and Shawn was certainly good at noticing things --observing, his dad would be quick to say, correcting him as usual.

His dad did that a lot, correcting, insisting there was a right way to do things; there was a right way to play hide and seek, there was a right way to camp, to relax, and more often than not it was the opposite of what Shawn was doing.

While other kids learned how to play baseball and spent their loose change at the arcade, Shawn was instead learning how to navigate through the woods without a compass, escape from the trunk of a car, and how to spot a squeaky floorboard from four paces.

While his classmates were at the beach, searching for jellyfish in the low tide pools, Shawn would memorize the layout of restaurants and describe the last three patrons to walk through the door in the time it took him and his dad to get their drink orders.

‘You can’t skate through life Shawn,’ his dad would tell him, breathing the words out sharply, ‘you have skills others don’t and you need to use them the right way, I don’t get why you can’t see that’.

It was exhausting.

Why was the right way only his dad’s way? It had never been very clearly explained to Shawn, other than how great of a cop he could be -maybe even a detective. But why couldn't he use his observation skills the way he wanted to? This grownup stuff was years away! It wasn’t like it was something he could turn off, so what was the big deal?

Like Mr. Cooper’s homework spot checks.

None of the other kids had managed to figure out his system, the pattern to the days when their teacher would ask for their math homework.

Tommy Decker insisted it was completely random, that the man asked for it on a whim -just to torture them all.

Mandy Holloway on the other hand, whose sister had Mr. Cooper for math the previous year, argued that it was based on the moon cycle and every second new moon the pattern would change - you just have to track it Tommy.

But somehow Shawn always, always, seemed to know without fail the day that Mr. Cooper would ask them all to pass their work to the front of each row.

It wasn’t Shawn’s fault that Mr. Cooper was incredibly obvious, so why shouldn't he take advantage of it? Besides, it was almost mind boggling how the other kids in his class couldn’t see the many, many, tells their teacher had.

First, there were the heavy purple bags under Mr. Cooper's eyes that would tend to show up a few days before the homework check.

Mr. Cooper would also become noticeably agitated over the smallest of incidents in the classroom, whether a student was running late or even opened their book bags a little too loudly - it didn’t matter, detention was in their future.

That coupled with the noticeable creases in Mr. Cooper’s shirts, unironed, and lacking the normal meticulous care --probably on the outs with his wife based on the intermittent wearing of his large gold wedding band.

Finally, and honestly how no one else in his class seemed to see this one, if Mr. Cooper brought in a gas station paper coffee cup as he walked into the classroom -instead of his usual metal thermos from home, that was the nail in the coffin. The final sign that Mr. Cooper would be demanding their homework the very next day.

It was so, so obvious, at least to Shawn.

But then, so too was Shawns ability to avoid the seemingly random spot checks.

“How do you always know?” Tommy whispers to Shawn near the end of the school year, his voice quiet to avoid Mr. Cooper’s notice as the man wanders up and down the rows of desks.

“Know what?” Shawn says, his voice equally soft as he turns towards Tommy, whose face twists into a sneer at the question.

Tommy scoffs with narrowed blue eyes, “Duh, Cooper’s homework checks, you’ve never not handed it in - what are you some kind of nerd?”

Shawn blinks, the way Tommy spits out the word, nerd, can’t bode well for him. He remembers just the previous year, how Tommy and a few of the other boys in their grade had given Gus a hard time, even going so far to give his best friend a swirly. Shawn shivers at the memory and shakes his head rapidly, he opens his mouth to argue when suddenly a shadow appears over his desk.

He manages to quickly turn back to his paper, away from Tommy’s glare, and writes down an answer to question seven from their textbook. It’s not the right answer, he knows that already, but it’s enough to throw Mr. Cooper off his scent.

Their teacher shifts away from Shawn, seemingly satisfied, and looks at Tommy who isn’t quite fast enough.

“Eyes on your own paper Thomas, I don’t want to have to tell you again,” Mr. Cooper says sternly, but his voice is tired at the edges. Whatever fight the Coopers had must have been a real doozy this time. Shawn tries not to think about his own parents' fights and the silence that would drift through the house for days afterwards. Did Mrs. Cooper shut down the way Shawn's mom so often did? Maybe Mr. Cooper yelled, like Shawn's dad. It seemed likely given the number of detentions the man had assigned their class this year.

Mr.Cooper waits for another beat between their desks until Tommy finally shifts in his chair and lowers his face to his desk, the tips of his ears quickly flushing pink beneath curly blond hair.

“Yes Mr. Cooper,” Tommy mumbles into his desk.

Their teacher nods and leaves, making his way over to a pair of girls on the far side of the room hiding a magazine under the desk - or trying to.

“You did that on purpose,” Tommy hisses, shooting a withering glare at Shawn, “you knew he was there-”

“What am I psychic?” Shawn huffs with a roll of his eyes, “how was I supposed to know he was there, huh?”

Tommy turns away again, glaring at the paper on his desk. Shawn watches as Tommy catches the eye of Marcus Boon across the classroom.

Shawn stifles a low groan as the other boy's eyes flick between him and Tommy; Marcus levels him with a sneer to rival Tommy’s own and lifts a finger to his throat before dragging it across in one smooth motion.

Well, shit.

So much for making it through at least one school year without getting into a fight.

***

“You should’a just told him,” Gus breathes out, his chest heaving as he and Shawn scramble over the fence of the Spencer front yard. Both boys make a beeline for the porch, Gus keeps watch while Shawn stops first at the small garden to grab the spare hide-a-key out from the fake rock beside his mom’s hydrangeas.

Shawn is lucky that Gus had been with him on the way home from school, not that it had stopped Tommy Decker and Marcus Boon from making good on their threat from math class, chasing Shawn down the road to the boardwalk.

Shawn winces as his fingers grip the key, his hands hurt from where he had managed to stop himself from falling face first into the gravel after being shoved by Marcus.

Thankfully Gus had managed to distract the pair of boys long enough for them to make a run for it.

“Tommy’s an asshole, they both are, why should I tell them anything,” Shawn mutters, wincing as his split lip opens again, the smell of copper invades his nose, making him nauseous.

He gets the key in the door and opens it, bringing in the fake rock with him. He’ll have to explain to his dad that he ‘lost’ his house key again, knowing that Tommy and Marcus had taken it from him and thrown it into the trees off the side of the road. One more thing for his dad to lecture him over.

Shawn can feel Gus staring as he brings the hide-a-key with him into the kitchen, but says nothing as the pair make their way through the quiet house.

He places the rock on the counter with the spare key beside it. Gus opens the pantry door and takes a pair of Wagon Wheels out of the already open box, the cellophane crinkles as Gus tosses one to Shawn.

“All I'm saying is you might get beat up less,” Gus says before taking a large bite of the chocolate snack cake, he wipes the mess of crumbs from his cheeks onto the floor and shoots Shawn a grin at the mess.

“And I'm saying, they don't need much of an excuse,” Shawn counters, matching Gus’ grin as he watches the collection of crumbs grow on the kitchen tile floor.

Shawn chews on his lip, playing with the thin cellophane around his snack cake, “It’s…it's weird, right?”

Gus blinks, his lips quirk into a half frown as he takes another pensive bite of his cake before finally shrugging.

“Well, who cares? I think we're cool so if that's weird, then we're weird together”.

Shawn lets a groan out and shakes his hands so hard his own snack cake goes flying onto the counter with a soft thunk.

“No!” He breathes out sharply, “I mean, it's weird being able to know things about people without trying, I don’t want to know them, I don't want to be in this situation, it’s weird and it sucks and dad thinks its so great but--”

Shawn stops speaking as the last of Gus’ chocolate cake is suddenly smushed into the side of his face. Crumbs and icing litter the tile around them, some has smeared from Gus's shoes in his haste to dart out of the line of fire. The previously spotless kitchen is now completely filthy in just a matter of seconds.

Shawn slowly looks at Gus, who has the widest grin on his face, and breathes out a startled laugh.

“Dad is going to kill you,” he says, wiping cake and icing from his cheek.

“He's not my dad,” Gus snorts as he tries to dodge Shawn's swipe of cake hands.

He might as well be, Shawn thinks to himself as he reaches for more cake crumbs from the floor and manages to smear them onto Gus’ face.

At least one upside to Shawn’s memory is he’ll be able to hold onto this, their laughter in the afternoon sun, the smell of chocolate, for a really really long time.

Wrestling in the kitchen with his best friend, previous hurts forgotten for now and with chocolate smeared all over their clothes, their faces, and the floor, Shawn had never felt less like an only child.

Tag List: @adaed5 @drakkywolf

Part Two

#afewproblems writes #psych 2006 #psych #psych fanfiction #shawn spencer #burton guster #cw bullying #hurt shawn spencer #henry spencer was not the best dad #hurt comfort #burton guster and shawn spencer friendship #burton guster is a good friend #difficult days #difficult days part one #i know many of my followers are more excited about my stranger things content but I am not abandoning the fandom #childhood best friends #shawn spencer character study of sorts #families of choice

52 notes · View notes

snexy-the-snail · 1 month ago

Note

One shot PJ idea related to your latest tidbit about Percy biting Apollo (lol)

Maybe everyone starts taking a break from the whole “eating Percy whenever they get a chance” thing because Poseidon commanded them to do so after the biting incident. So now it’s been a couple weeks (you can adjust this time period to whatever you think makes sense) since Percy has been nommed and Percy’s kinda going nuts from sleep deprivation and missing the comfort of being held inside a god. He was initially relieved that they’ve giving him space but now he’s kinda peeved that he has to be the one to initiate the noms so he can actually sleep. He ends up having to awkwardly go up to Poseidon/Triton and actually ASK to be tucked away. Noms commence and everyone feels better cause Percy can now sleep soundly and the gods feel relieved knowing that Percy is more comfortable with noms now :3

Hehehe I love it Just the idea that Percy is more than annoyed to have to ask for it. Like sure it sucked being gulped down but having to ask is something thats worse because who asks for that?

A week. A week with little to no sleep whatsoever, with campers looking at him cautiously. He felt like the first week of camp again, with people avoiding him like a plague. Like he was different and dangerous. He was jumpier now, his hand in his pocket more often than not. Even Mr. D started to give him looks which further didn't help with this whole thing.

All because he had bitten Apollo. There weren't any more attempts from gods, not Apollo, Hermes, no one even tried it anymore not even Triton or his own Dad. It was driving him mad to be honest. He probably looked horrible, and the last straw was a new camper bursting into tears when he went to rescue them from a monster at the border.

How did he even do this?

He paced in front of the beach, trying to focus on the warmth of the sand, the soothing rush of water. That was hard considering his heart pounded in his chest, and the anxiety of a monster hunting him itched at his skin. "Prayer maybe?" He mumbles under his breath. Normally he didn't...he could probably count on his hand the few times he had reached out like that to his dad. Everything felt like it was spinning, his vision darkening every few seconds.

If he didn't get to sleep soon it was going to happen, and those types of dreams...

"Dad." He starts out, cringing when his voice cracks. He wets his lips and tries again, standing as firm as he could. "I... like really need you." He says after a second. "I'm not dying or anything I just... I really need you here."

Part of him expected nothing to happen, for his prayer to go unanswered, or just to get a comforting breeze of sea air.

Pure relief flooded through his body when his vision filled with the stupid Hawaiian print shirt. Everything pitched forward, not realizing he was falling until arms encircled around him, steadying him. Poseidon smelt like the sea, and even just beginning in the vicinity made Percy feel like he was a puddle.

"Percy, what ails you, my son?"

"Sleep."

There was a pause, before Percy felt a hand tousle through his hair. If he hadn't been a puddle now, he certainly this moment. His eyes felt concrete, unable to open again. When he didn't get a response, he continued. "Eat me, and like don't argue I.. I need it." He whispers, bringing his hands up to grip the fabric of his dad's shirt. Poseidon was here, he could feel it. You couldn't feel hallucinations.

"You...you need it? I thought that it..." His dad's voice trails off, a panicky feeling rushing through Percy. he couldn't refuse, he couldn't just leave.

"No! No! I need it, don't me make beg please- I just I was so tired of no one asking or stopping. But I need it. I can't sleep, eating is so hard and-and I made a camper cry!" he rambles, feeling build up behind his eyes. Oh he was going to cry. Wonderful. "Don't make me beg...please dad."

There wasn't a response which made him antsy, until the warmth instantly enveloped him. When had he shrunk? Did he shrink? All he saw was darkne- oh he hadn't opened his eyes yet. Still, he sunk into the odd embrace eagerly. Percy's brain went numb after that, the familiar motions rocking him much like being on a boat. Next time he swore he was just going to dive into the ocean.

The rushing in his ears soon replaced with the steady thumping of his dad's heart, the deep breaths of the god. At least he had remembered that. The silence would've been worse. He was struggling to stay conscious when a swallow rolled over him, muscles tugging him deeper into the core of the god. This, after a week, was pure bliss.

After that day, Percy found he didn't need to ask anymore, which was great but also awkward in some sense. "I'm fine Triton, I promise." he says with a sigh, stretching slightly as he ran the forms again with the younger campers. "Feet further apart kid, yep- yeah that's it." He says with a small smile, the kid beaming.

"You didn't sleep last night; father did not have you nor did Hermes or Apollo." Triton points out, his eyes wandering over to the group of eager demigods copying stances. "I will do it right here if you refuse." He adds on, smirking when Percy went ridged. "After this group. Deal?"

"Deal."

It was a routine now, asking who had either tucked the boy away or simply had sat next to the boy. At times oddly enough it would be Mr. D, sitting with the boy and ensuring he was sleeping. It wasn't a bad system, although it was agreed that no one would proceed if Percy was genuinely against it, Apollo agreeing as he still felt guilt provoking Percy to that point.

#soft vore #safe vore #pjo vore #extreme cuddling #protective vore #endosoma #comfort vore #pjo soft vore #vore mentioned #g/t vore

20 notes · View notes

inkblot-inc · 9 months ago

Text

Cruisin' For A Bruisin'

Summary: The crew is on a much needed (and definitely deserved) vacation from hero-ing about. It's important to remember that you can plan out a trip, but you can't anticipate everything that happens on said trip.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mutant!TigerShark!Reader

[AU Masterlist] Arc 2: This is Part 1

Warning(s): This one's pretty wholesome for the most part, but I will say there are some descriptions of violence. Also strong language, but if you've been here long enough you know that-

Note(s): WELCOME TO ARC 2 BAYBEE! Jaws is back and I could not be any more excited to get back into this shit! As far as I can tell arc 2 is definitely gonna be longer than arc 1, but I hope y'all enjoy :3

Word Count: Skidding pass 2.9k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

It'd been a little over a year since you'd joined the Avengers. There were certainly a few incidents here and there, the biggest being the dismantling of the Red Room which, incidentally, led to Natasha reuniting with her folks.

It was certainly one way to meet your girlfriend's family, that's for sure...

Things seemed to finally take time to settle, at least for a little while.

It was newly June and you along with Natasha, Wanda, and Vision were set to go on the cruise trip you'd booked around Christmas time last year.

---

"How were you able to swing two months off mission calls, babe?" You looked up from packing your suitcase at Natasha's voice, a small smirk growing on your face.

You made your way over to Natasha before wrapping your arms around her waist. "Well, I'm still not greenlit to go out in the field for a slew of reasons, Wanda's only put on for specific assignments, Vision's her plus one, and you have, what? Three years' worth of PTO? We're in the clear, Natty. The team will be fine for a month or two."

Natasha let out a hum of agreement before she brought you closer for a kiss. "That- and you harassed Tony to figure it out."

You raised a brow in mock confusion, "I thought that part was obvious." Your mouth pulled into a genuine gleaming smile as you got a laugh out of Natasha as she wrapped her own arms around your neck. "You're a menace."

"Is that meant to be a bad thing?" Your lips met in another kiss.

"Never a bad thing."

As the two of you finished packing, you met up with Wanda in the Common Room of the compound, where she was talking with Vision. The atmosphere was sullen with only one set of bags on the couch.

"What's goin' on? Did they not have SPF50 at the Walgreens?" You set yours and Natasha's bags down before going to get the keys to the Quinjet. "I'm sure we could find robo-sunscreen on the way, man."

Vision looked at the back of his hand for a good second. "I don't think I would need protection from the sun, seeing as my skin is-"

You came and wrapped your arm around the synthezoid's neck, jangling the jet keys by his ear. "Joking! Again. If anything, we'll just cook eggs on you when you overheat like a copper pan. We aren't gonna be on an air-conditioned boat the whole time you know." And just like that, the light atmosphere you'd created sunk back down as Wanda and Vision looked at each other. You looked between the two in clear confusion, "Alright, what's the deal?"

Vision eyed Wanda for a bit longer before turning to look at you and Natasha, who just came into the room. "I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany the three of you on this vacation. I will be remaining on call."

You tossed the Quinjet keys to Natasha as she came further into the room. "That's ridiculous, we all sent in time off notices weeks before now. How'd this even come about?"

Vision let out a sigh, "Captain Rogers came to me with concerns of being understaffed during the next few months with the search for HYDRA operatives still ongoing; With Dr. Banner still off-world, Mr. Barton indisposed with his with his family, and Mr. Stark only expected half of the time, it is rather easy for me to see Captain Rogers' point. Out of the four of us approved for time off, it was determined that I would be the one to stay behind in case of emergency."

---

You'd spent the cruise enjoying each stop between Hawaii and French Polynesia, and it's been anything but a normal experience with you around as the agent of chaos.

Wanda made sure to get plenty of pictures to cement the new memories. There's photos of you "hugging" a manta ray, Wanda and Natasha relaxing on the beach in Bora Bora, several pictures at dinner, and even one of all three of you having an absolute ball watching one of the night shows in Samoa.

Your most recent picture was a group one after you laid on a blowhole in Savai'i. You almost gave the nearby family of five a heart attack, but it was still fun to do.

The last two weeks have been a welcome break for the three of you. Despite some of your more "peculiar" ways of having fun, this has been a freeing and relaxing time. No missions, no threats; a true vacation.

Wanda was currently in her cabin across the hall from yours and Natasha's on her nightly call with Vision. Next time he had to come, Steve be damned. Wanda was a good sport about it when Vision was called in at the last minute, but you all wished he was here as well.

Natasha had taken to video calling with Yelena as well, though they weren't as frequent with her being on her own mission.

You had your own time to talk with Yelena that mainly consisted of her cosigning whatever fuckery you were up to on your vacation.

Part of it might be just to get a reaction out of Natasha.....Which she always did-

It was wonderful to see Natasha just unwound and be less serious, Yelena is one of those people that just pulls it out of her.

Their Relationship had noticeably improved since they were brought back together last year, after learning more about each other that they hadn't had the privilege to learn before, having been separated for their most formative years.

-----

You and Natasha sat on the secluded deck connected to your cabin. The open air was refreshing as you let Natasha lean back into your arms, watching the sunset on the water.

"I'll be honest and say that I can't choose between Tahiti or Savai'i,"

You placed your head on top of Natasha's. "It's always going to be Enoka for me. It was so long ago, but can remember the views on the island as clear as day." Your words were less clear, almost like you were talking through your teeth. "The white sand beaches occupied by damn near everyone in the mornings, green peaks covered in flowers, the quiet that surrounded the deep waters at night... Seeing the sun make everything above me glimmer while it was up high in the sky. Those small "nothing" memories are one of the few things I haven't lost to time... I just wish I had pictures to show it to you."

Natasha slowly rubbed your forearm that was across her stomach as she encouraged your rare moment of open vulnerability. "Well that's why we're doing this. Making new memories closer to home..."

You focused on the soothing gesture as you thought of those same flickering pictures taken through a toddling interpretation.

In the morning you, Natasha, and Wanda were going to part from the cruise ship and make your way to where Enoka would be via a smaller, personal yacht (paid for by you, modified by Tony, who was convinced to do so by Pepper).

There's nothing that could ruin this moment for you. With two of your favorite people by your side, you were going to visit what's no more than a watery lump of land that once was your home and put it to rest for good.

-----

After leaving the cruise ship, Wanda focused on directing the three of you through the smaller crowds of people walking in the opposite direction away from the docks. "What's this boat called again? Delilah?"

Natasha unfolded the small piece of paper in her hand to reread the messy script, "The Blue Delilah. It should be near the end of the pier."

You grasped one of their wrists in each hand, "It's just up ahead!" Both Wanda and Natasha cringed slightly as you just barely missed bulldozing a group of people on your way to the boat that turned out to be a custom Sunseeker 76 yacht.

before the three of you boarded the yacht, a brown-haired man wearing thin rectangular glasses came up to the three of you with a gleam in his eyes. Your eyes narrowed at the camera in his hand before he even started speaking. "I'm really sorry to bother the three of you, but you're Avengers, right?"

You just blankly stared at the man while Natasha, while also on guard, she was more cordial when she addressed the man. "We're not exactly on duty right now, but did you want something?"

Wanda noticed that there was a dark haired woman not too far behind him simply staring at the yacht before looking toward the three of you. The bespectacled man, who began perspiring the longer you stared him down, jumped to answer. "I just wanted to get a picture with you guys, my wife and I are really grateful that you all are around to protect us."

The three of you looked at each other. While all of you weren't keen on taking pictures, the couple seemed harmless enough, Wanda read as much from both of their thoughts. The man, Graydon, was both nervous and excited; worried that he'd come off as a creep that was bothering them. His wife, Tara, had a similar train of thought in not wanting to bother the three public. Tara's mind was notably much quieter than her husband's; presumably the result of a calming tactic.

Wanda mentally relayed this to both you and Natasha before the three of you finished wordlessly discussing the matter. With Natasha nodding, Wanda spoke to the couple. "One picture wouldn't hurt."

Graydon's face lit up as he gestured for his wife to come closer, essentially saying they were in the clear. Tara came to stand on the other side of Wanda while Graydon went to find a passerby to take the picture on his camera. After he showed a willing older man how to snap the photo, he stood on the right of Natasha with a rather dorky thumbs up.

You left your mask on, put you arms over Natasha's and Wanda's shoulders and squinted your eyes a bit to give the illusion of a more positive emotion on your face as the brief flash irritated your eyes.

After the picture was taken, Graydon rushed over to the volunteer cameraman to see how it came out. Tara turned to Wanda with a small smile as she exited her personal space after a small shaking of hands. " Thank you for indulging us, and it really is a pleasure to meet you, Misty Red."

Wanda watched the dark-haired woman walk away in confusion. "Misty Red? Who's that?" Natasha raised a single brow while all you did was laugh at Wanda's expense.

Natasha's confusion didn't last long with her own deduction skills. "Apparently that's what the people are calling you," a slow smirk made it's way to Natasha's lips as you were still laughing, "I mean, it does makes sense." The redhead was the first to turn and make her way toward the ramp of the yacht.

"I can't decide if they made you sound like a wrestler or a porn star! I just-" You broke another bout of laughter.

Wanda's eyes narrowed at your juvenile line of thought as she crossed her arms. "It isn't even that funny, Jaws. You're just milking it at this point,"

You took a second to recover from your laughter, "It's funny to me. You don't gotta get it cuz I think it's funny. There's no shame in what you do, Wandy."

Natasha rose her shoulders as she continued to make her way onto the boat. "That's just what happens when you let the public name you."

Wanda almost felt the need to defend her lack of an alias, "I didn't think it had to be very high on my list of priorities!"

You lightly pushed the brunette forward and up the ramp to The Blue Delilah. "Uh huh, get on the boat, Misty Red."

---

When You, Natasha, and Wanda all made it onto The Blue Delilah, a smaller inconspicuous boat pulled off behind it at the same time, noticing that the yacht had a discreet Stark Industries logo. Their plan isn't clear at the moment, but it is clear that they're tailing The Blue Delilah. They follow a long way behind, but have their own tracker placed on the ship so they don't lose the yacht.

The three of you were on the private yacht for about four days so far travelling to Enoka.

Note: All citizens of Enoka have the location of Enoka ingrained in their brains, so Jaws always knows where it is. This is a similar practice for the inhabitants of a certain other living island...

As you got closer to the island, it was clear that it's not completely submerged, but it definitely looks different to how you remember.

The goal now was to see if there were any inhabitants on the island that were still alive and who survived the flood over a decade ago.

You didn't voice it, but there was a new sense of anxiousness and hope that started brewing in you at the prospect of going home.

Maybe there actually was a "home" there left...

-----

About a day out from the Island, the engine to The Blue Delilah seemed to stutter, so you went to check it out and before you reach the engine room on the back pad, you noticed large ripples from something that dove back into the water.

Soon after you heard sounds of a struggle on the yacht and booked it back to where Wanda and Natasha were.

There were two attackers engaged in fighting with the two women, four were on the floor unconscious already. It's rather bold for a group of six, well seven.

Jaws grabbed the arm of the seventh attacker that tried to sneak up on them and threw them over their shoulder.

The attacker you were dealing with was a woman and she had armor that stood out a bit more than the others; she had less of it, toned brown skin shown through the large gaps between the armor pieces, and the shoulders were a bit more prickly and menacing in comparison.

'Definitely their leader.'

You raised an eyebrow at the sort of reptilian bone mask obscuring most of the woman's face. "What, were you too good for Bleach?"

You can see the woman visibly squint behind her mask before she grabs two daggers from their place on her hips, "I know fuckin' Kisame isn't talkin' about me, "

Your own eyes narrowed at her retort. 'Well fuck you, too.'

With both of you having been insulted by the other, the two of you rushed each other. The two of you were essentially going blow for blow for a while before you knocked the bone mask off of your attacker's face.

It revealed more dusky brown skin, a few scars on her face and a tattoo of some kind under her right eye. The woman turned to face you fully, wiping blood off the corner of her lip. "You might be one of the more skilled pirates I've come across. It's a shame I consider your life past tense already."

Suddenly, the woman then tackled you off the yacht, knocking your breathing apparatus off in the process, hoping to hold you down and drown you herself. Her daggers reaching to slice at your now exposed neck.

Putting her knife up to your neck, she then notices the gills on each side of it, which throws her off.

It's then, underwater, that she gets a good look at you before her eyes widen considerably, confusing you.

"Y/n, is that really you?"

There's that name, your name. Hardly anyone called you by your given name when you were little, and you hardly cared, but...

"Ys tath uyo, Y/n?"

Your own eyes widen at the familiar language coming from this woman's mouth. Only one person would really insist on using it back then...

"Sienna?"

And with that one word, the woman threw her daggers to the side leaving them to float in the water away from the two of you before tightly wrapping her arms around your neck. You hug her back just so.

After the two of you pulled away, she almost immediately slapped you with a new fire in her molten brown eyes.

"Agh shit! Did you grow talons?!" It wasn't hard enough to actually hurt, but you definitely felt the woman's nails drag across your face.

"Ehrwe ni eth FUCK veah uyo eneb?! Y thugoth uy' DDEA lla heste rayse!"

Sienna went to smack you again before you held both of her wrists in your hands to keep her at bay, your eyebrows furrowed. "Y itd'dn eyrall cieded ot velae, ni cesa uy' omowesh trogof!"

Sienna shook her head as she struggled to get free of your grip, her dark locs waving wildly in under the water. "Elt og of 'em! Y vat'ehn retnotfog shit!" Sienna then began to try and kick at you to let her go, so you brought her into another hug as she resisted.

Her attempts grew more and more feeble as the power behind her punches to your chest fizzled out. It was only then that you realized she was crying.

Sienna's voice was raw and heavy with emotion, "Ehrwe ddi uyo og?! Y odloke nad Y odloke nad Y odloke lla rove rof uyo..."

You let her sob into your chest as you held her, floating in the underwater quiet.

"Y'm ghrit ehre, sersit."

** footnote: I wanted to use a completely different script for the Enokan language being spoken, but I couldn't find a way to import it so that it was shown, so instead I made a simple code using typoglycemia (aka just unscramble the letters of each word). To make it so that it didn't look as clunky, I sometimes replaced (i) with (y). Some words that end with vowels may have an apostrophe that takes the place of the vowel. Apostrophes can also be found at the beginning of words with vowels for fluidity's sake. I didn't think swears should be scrambled cuz that just *looks* off to me. The point of these changes is to have this resemble a spoken language more than it is a blatant tactic to confuse you.

Here's a word unscrambler in case you need it

#jaws au #jaws: arc 2 #marvel #marvel fanfiction #black widow #natasha romanoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #mutant!reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #jc inkworks #ink.nat #ib-jc.

55 notes · View notes

nakimov · 2 months ago

Text

To Live or Die

Chapter 9 - a run in

Decided to get back to this. If you’re new here you can click on synopsis and read from prologue.

Synopsis

WC: 1253

As the days flew by, your curiosity started to get to you whether you’ll ever meet your parents was up in the air. However, Souji kept his distance which was unusual.

Kondo has been working and Souji was helping him whenever he was needed. You on the other hand was wondering if you should venture out more when they leave… Souji may have a panic attack if you disappear. So it was understandable to not leave without telling them.

You haven’t been targeted as of yet by anyone since you’ve been staying at the former Shieikan dojo which has been turned into a residence for you, Kondo and Souji. “Oh, I found you.” His chirpy voice caught your attention. You spotted him with his usual purple kimono, white baggy pants and loose grey haori.

“Found? I have been here for a while.” You were outside in their backyard reading one of Yamanami’s old books he left behind before moving to Kyoto under Aizu’s orders.

There have been quite a lot of new changes since, but you always admired some of the others and missed them dearly. “Is that—"

“Ya, one of his favourite history books of the politics during the Sengoku period. Yamanami-san was really a nerd. Besides, why were you looking for me?” You changed the topic. Souji was caught off guard as he had nearly forgotten.

“Oh! Uh, Kondo-san wanted to know what you’d wanted to eat tonight since he’s off today.” You shrugged whether that was why he needed to ask you that. He knows you would put up with anything that Kondo made.

“I’m fine with whatever he wants to make. I may go explore a bit in town for a few hours.” You closed the book and stood up. Souji gave you a blank expression before nodding soon after.

“If you need—"

“I’ll be fine this time!” Your hand flew to the back of your head awkwardly remembering the incident that happened not even a week ago down at Yokohama port. What an embarrassment… he gave you a slight frown but didn’t want to show his concerns. He certainly preferred if you didn’t wander. He was wondering if he should tail you but if he was caught then it could cause even more issues between you two.

He’d still rather take the risk than if something happens to you…

It was already mid-afternoon as you passed by many of the shops down the same road as last time. You wanted to find one of the spice shops to help Kondo with the flavouring of meals. However, there were more people in the crowded streets of Edo. Why was it so busy? You had stopped in your tracks and noticed a very familiar face speaking to a few of the higher officials of the new Meiji government.

Ryoma Sakamoto.

You met him a long time ago. He was part of the reason why the Tokugawa shogunate collapsed and returned its power to the imperial court. He was rather famous— more looked up to by the young kids and the commoners. He probably doesn’t remember you. It was interesting to see him here in public of all places.

His black hair was nicely tied up messily and he still wore the same old black kimono clothing. Someone tapped on your shoulder which made you jump in your spot from staring at Sakamoto for too long.

“Huh? Sorry—"

“No, no! Haha, I saw you staring off into space for a minute there.” A young woman had moved you to the side so others could walk down the street. Embarrassment had filled you from not paying attention to your surroundings like usual.

“I should get going, I need to find Mr. Yamato’s spice shop.” You were quick to feel embarrassed but as you were going to leave you had rammed into him.

“S–Sorry! I— I didn’t see you!” you were for sure dead. Your head was lowered apologetically. However, he laughed.

“Raise your head and loosen up a bit! What’s with that look? You lost or something?” Sakamoto was alone and the men he was with had left it seems. You were even more embarrassed and no words could form. You had just nodded and tried to rush passed him.

Just as you were about to leave, Sakamoto stopped in his tracks remembering your familiar face.

“Wait a minute, you look familiar like we met somewhere.” This made your heart stop and you could feel your hands sweating. He has a lot of power in the new government. He also has a gun on his waist. So he must be a part of the military or law enforcement to have such privileges.

“You’re the pretty girl that helps the old lady down the street who owns the flower shop?” He had a smug look on his face which you nodded.

“Y— Ya that’s me. I’m just a boring civilian who likes to care for others,” you were nervous and being around him wasn’t helping.

“Like to care for others, you don’t say?” he was very flirtatious and he was making your face bright red from simple remarks. How much more could you take, he nearly has you squealing internally.

“Y-Ya! Sorry, I should get going, sir! I– I need to find Yamato’s spice shop,” you lowered your head apologetically. He gave you a suspicious look before speaking.

“That old fart died years ago, where are you from? I think you are lost. Need me to company you—"

“N–No! I mean– I just returned to Edo and it’s been years so I didn't know. I'm saddened to hear that as well. Sorry…” You wanted to leave, but this man had you cornered with questions and suspicions.

“Well, if you don’t say… take care of yourself next time and look where you’re walking,” he was about to leave but turned his head once more.

“Tell Kondo-san he still owes me for sparing his life and that boy as well. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we see each other. Until we meet again,” he continued to walk and waved with one arm up lazily.

You were freaking out internally. He knew the entire time?! You started to run back to the Shieikan with your heart pumping faster than normal.

Without your knowledge, Souji had watched your encounter with this man. His blood spiked in anger. He was part of the reason why they lost the war and was flirting with you?

He hated to overthink things. Ryoma was a good-looking man but the way he made you flustered instantly pissed Souji off. If he could use his sword, he would easily kill that man if he tried anything. However, with the ban on kenjutsu training and carrying katanas, he wouldn’t be able to fight as they used to. He also has a gun…

One question that was stuck on Souji’s mind was why don't you get flustered like that with him? Souji was glaring intently at his back as he walked. Thankfully, you didn’t see him since there were too many people and a nice amount of buildings to use to cover.

Now, he has to make an excuse why he wasn’t home since you were rushing back in a hurry. Sakamoto really put that much fear in you? He could feel his demon instinct calling for him to kill but he was holding back.

For the first time, Souji was cursing at himself for letting someone like him get to him.

Note: gonna be translating chapter 17 of Chiruran soon. May put off some one shots / requests for now.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok x reader#okita ror #okita snv #okita soji x reader #okita souji x reader #okita soji #record of ragnarok okita #snv okita #ror okita #okita x reader #okita souji

30 notes · View notes

the-daiz · 1 month ago

Note

Imagine a crack fic which is literally... Puri-Puri's dating tips 🌚🌚🌚

"So, you want to know the secrets of picking up unsuspecting specimens?" A clink echoed in the sealed room as Puri-puri prisoner carefully lowered his teacup against the tiny plate cupped in his contrastingly large hand.

"That is not what I asked-"

"well, sure it was, you've got 'hopeless romantic' written all over you." He cut you short, his posture laid-back as if the interrogation room drew out no sense of panic or worry in him, a normal reaction you’d see on most— if not all your work hours.

You had been called in the late hours of a Wednesday night to interrogate the famous hero for another one of his infamous… incidents, if you will. The hero association granted him extra privileges, noting the finely crafted matching tea set with a plate of tiny sandwiches before him, in the interrogation room, and before you: the esteemed detective of this case.

You were almost positive that if he wanted to, he could slip past these allegations with a few pulled strings from the H.A., but, from what you’ve heard from your colleagues, the fine hero wanted to be judged fair and square for his crimes in the name of ‘justice’.

(your colleagues heard him mutter something about how ‘his lovely boys in prison must have missed him’)

You certainly had your work cut out for you tonight.

"Quite the assumption, Mr puri." You spoke firmly. "But let's focus on the matter at hand."

"Your single-ness?" He brought the teacup to his lips.

"Your crimes." You countered.

“Oh, I get it now!” He perks up slightly, his large build straightening as he peered down at you. “You need dating advice.” He leaned down a bit and winked.

“no-“

“You just got dumped, didn’t you?” He looked at you with something akin to sympathy.

“Mr. Puri. My personal matters do not concern this.” You said with an involuntary twitch of your lip.

“There’s no need to be ashamed. We’ve all been there.” He places the cup down and flashes a prideful smile along with a fiery flex of his triceps, causing his sleeves to rip to shreds. You covered your eyes and squinted as a bright light shone from him. “But don’t fret, you’ve come to the perfect lover-boy for advice!”

You blinked in disbelief. ‘Lover boy..?!’

“You’ve gotta take care of yourself, in general really. Making sure that your mentality is clear and confident, and is only emphasized further by your outward appearances, guarantees that your partner will stay head over heels for you.” He interjected anything meaningful you were about to say.

“People like confident lovers, not sulky ones, unless you’ve got one of those mentally ill partners— Stay away from those, they’ll ruin you.”

“You better maintain your shimmy too, make sure to maximize your assets.” He flexed his arms again, the exposed muscles bulging with veins. It made you grimace. “If nothing else works, you can always flash em’! Sometimes you’ve gotta show them what they’re missing out on.

“That much can be said about my dear boyfriends. They can be so silly at times. How adorable.” He let out a dreamy sigh and shook his head with a smile. You could’ve sworn you saw a few illusions of tiny pink hearts fluttering around him.

“right…” you coughed into your fist. “So about—“

“Don’t forget to love yourself, you can’t expect anyone to appreciate you if you can’t even appreciate yourself.” He winked, one hand pointing at you while the other rested over his chest.

“That’s real sweet.” You responded rigidly. Before you could attempt to stir the conversation back to the case, an alarm blared from outside, causing you to flinch.

“That’s my queue!” He shot up from his seat. “Better go make sure no cute boys get attacked by any monsters, that would be such a tragedy!”

“hey, wait! You can’t just—“

He busted through the door. Before he left, he turned to you with a charming smile.

“don’t forget: love is a battlefield, with strength and courage, and a bit of assets, you’ll be sure to win!” He gave you a thumbs-up, then he was gone before you could even process his words.

#I had a bit of fun with this #one punch man #opm #Puri-puri prisoner #one punch man x reader #l-c #crack fic #Opm crack #Puri puri prisoner #HAH #cringe #Puri-puri’s dating tips

17 notes · View notes

rwby-encrusted-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Nora: *Aura Breaks* Fuck!

Glynda: Ms. Valkyrie loses by Aura Level!

Jaune: Nora! Are you okay!

Nora: *Struggles to stand* I'm- I'll be fine I just- I'm just gonna lay down for a bit

Glynda: Miss Valkyrie, is there a problem?

Nora: No- No! I just need a minute to get some aura back.

Jaune: Nora, Your Heartbeat is going crazy!

Nora: It's .... Nothing.

Nora: ... Just let me rest ...

Glynda: *Checking Nora's heart beat* Ms Valkyrie, does this happen oft- Don NOT lifter Mr Arc!

Nora: Only when ... My aura Breaks. I gotta keep my heart normal with m' semblance. It's all electrical stuff, Yeah?

Glynda: ... Everyone, you are dismissed while I take Nora to the infirmary! Mr Arc, follow me.

Nora: No- No. I'll be fine I swear-

Glynda: *lifting Nora with Telekinesis* How long has this been occuring, Nora?

Nora: Whole life? I think? My Mama couldn't get me into school b'cause of it.

Jaune: That's horrible Nora! Why didn't you see a doctor?

Nora: ... no money ... It's- It'll

Glynda: Ms. Valkyrie, if you say some variation of "It Will Be Fine" one more time, I will give you detention.

Nora: ...

Jaune: Nora, this is far from Fine. I know, I of all people know What it's like to feel like you can't ask for help. We, JNPR, RWBY, The staff here at Beacon? We all want to help you. Please. Please let us Help you.

Nora: ... okay ...

Nurse: Good even-

Glynda: Miss Valkyrie here is suffering from Heart Arrhythmia, as well as heart palpitations, and it sounds as though she has been for most of her life. I will contact Vale General Hospital, please ensure her condition doesn't become worse.

Nurse: Uh! Oh, yes right away! How did we not catch that?!?

Glynda: Her semblance. She was Manually Controlling her heart beat.

Jaune: Why did you have me Follow?

Glynda: Emotional Support Mr. Arc.

Glynda: ... And some paperwork about why a teammate needs to visit the Nurse's office, and later the hospital. if you need help I will be able to assist after school today. For now I need to write an Incident Report about this.

Nora: ... Sorry.

Glynda: I certainly hope that apology is for hiding your affliction from us. One more thing to write is nothing when it comes to the health of my students.

I was thinking about how the Heart works, and I realized Nora would likely be able to start/stop her heart at her leisure, and then that Idea turned into this. Originally she was gonna fake a heart attack to get out of paying for food.

I also think Glynda deserves to be shown with a little more heart than she's given. She's a hardass, rules-enforcing, direct and short-tempered person. But she's also a teacher, and does, in her heart of hearts, care about her students.

#rwby #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #glynda goodwitch

230 notes · View notes

princesssarisa · 1 month ago

Note

Character ask: John Brooke (if you're feeling up to do so)

Favorite thing about them: His steady kindness, gentleness, and dependability, and his devotion to Meg, their children, and his friends. Even as he takes on the role of disciplinarian with his children, he combines it with sweet tenderness, and he always wants Meg to be happy, even at his own expense. To say nothing of the way he helps the March parents and write comforting letters home to the girls during Mr. March's illness in Part I. He's an excellent man in general, with very little to dislike about him.

Least favorite thing about them: Probably his behavior in the jelly incident: laughing and joking about it when Meg is distraught (even if it is funny), and saying in annoyance that he'll never bring an unexpected guest home again. Unlike other readers, I don't dislike him for it, but it does show that he's human and not perfect.

Also, the fact that he eventually dies young in Little Men. So sad.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm intelligent and well-educated, as he must be to work as a tutor and a bookkeeper.

*I'm a kind, loving person, or at least I try to be.

*I like a simple, cozy life.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm female.

*I'm not married and don't have children.

*I don't enjoy talking about politics.

Favorite line:

From "Domestic Experiences," when he learns that Meg spent fifty dollars on silk for a dress – even though he's not happy, he makes no complaint, but tries to be cheerful about it for Meg's sake:

“Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I’ve no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat’s when she gets it on."

From later in the same the same chapter, when he cancels his order for a new overcoat:

“I can’t afford it, my dear.”

Again, no complaint. No mention of the fact that it's because of Meg's silk purchase that he can't afford it. He just quietly gives up something he needs so Meg can have what she wants – which rightly moves her to repay him by giving up the dress so he can have his coat after all.

brOTP: The March, Laurence, and Bhaer families, and his own children.

OTP: Meg.

nOTP: His daughters Daisy and Josie.

Random headcanon: Having Laurie as a student helped to prepare him for parenthood, even though Laurie is only about six or seven years younger than himself. Handling 1-year-old Demi's tantrums would have been much more daunting if he hadn't already dealt with such a high-spirited handful of a teenage boy.

Unpopular opinion: I couldn't decide between these two common pieces of slander against him, so I'll cite both. Get ready for some long ramblings from the John Brooke Defense Squad.

He doesn't have anger issues. When Marmee advises Meg never to make him angry (which is problematic advice by modern standards, I'll admit), her message isn't "He's an unforgiving grudge-holder, so you'd better placate him," and it certainly isn't "You should be afraid of him." Her point is just that his anger is different from the temper that Meg (to an extent), Amy, and especially Jo have all inherited from Marmee: their anger is more fiery, but it dies just as quickly as it flairs up, while John's anger is quiet and repressed, but for that very reason it lasts longer. Later, when Meg feels "afraid of her husband" when she's about to reveal her extravagant silk purchase, she's not literally afraid of him – she's afraid of disappointing him. Nor does he "sulk" (to quote one essay I just read) after Meg says she's tired of being poor – he's hurt, but he tries not to show it, and just takes on more hours of work and cuts more corners to have more money. And in "On the Shelf," when Meg worries that he'll be "too harsh" with the naughty Demi, and when she feels anxious about leaving him alone with the twins, she's certainly not afraid he'll abuse them! She's just a soft-hearted new mother who can't bear to see her little boy unhappy – even briefly and for his own good – and who has never let anyone but herself take care of the twins and worries that John might accidentally hurt them. The essays and comments I've read about John's "bad temper" and Meg's "fear of him" seem to lack basic reading comprehension!

I don't think his behavior in "On the Shelf" is nearly as detestable as many readers do. In fact I don't think it's detestable at all. He's not jealous of Meg's attention to the twins – he adores his babies and begrudges them nothing. He just feels understandably ignored and lonely because Meg does devote nearly every waking minute to the babies and is afraid to let him or anyone else help her with them. Yet he doesn't complain or fault her for it at all, he just starts spending his evenings at a friend's house, with no idea that Meg minds his absence. For all he knows, she's glad to have him out of the way so she can focus even more on the twins, which she is at first: only later does she start to miss him, and even then, she never tells him how she feels. It's only her own stress that convinces her that he's being selfish, neglecting her, having fun while she slaves away, etc., and I don't understand why so many readers seem to take her perspective at face value and hate John for it. Honestly, I could write a whole volume about how and why that chapter is a healthy, progressive, feminist portrayal of a couple learning to co-parent and strengthening their marriage, yet too often is mistakenly viewed as problematic, oppressive, and anti-feminist instead.

Song I associate with them:

"More Than I Am" from the 2005 musical.

youtube

Favorite picture of them:

This illustration by Frank T. Merrill:

John Lodge in the 1933 film, with Frances Dee as Meg.

Richard Stapley in the 1949 film, with Janet Leigh as Meg.

Eric Stoltz in the 1994 film:

...with Trini Alvarado as Meg.

Julian Morris in the 2017 miniseries, with Willa Fitzgerald as Meg:

James Norton in the 2019 film, with Emma Watson as Meg:

#character ask #little women #john brooke #ask game #fictional characters #fictional character ask #louisa may alcott

15 notes · View notes

rokishimizu4 · 4 months ago

Text

Signal’s Fast Food Adventure

(I’m gonna be finishing up the BatFam headcannons on my tumblr, then take a small break before starting my actual BatFam story on my AO3, as I’m gonna be starting my new job soon and I need to get it into my routine. Doesn’t mean that I’ll quit posting, but I’ll be posting on my other blog more than on this one.) (Also, Reader is small and has those soul stealing gray/blue eyes, you’re welcome)

To say that Duke was so happy to be stuck on the day shift due to his powers and such would be undermining the sheer wiliness of Tim, who can barley stay awake during meetings on a good day, to replace him for an entire week after the spider incident.

Duke, while facing worse things than a giant spider that wasn’t even gonna hurt anyone, had allowed Tim to join him. Not because he was terrified that Tim would find someway to get him to agree, like putting a fake spider in his bed or something, certainly not.

But he was incredibly thankful when Tim returned to the night shift. Not that his brother was bad at being a daytime bat, but Duke knows that the daytime rouges would appreciate not getting a double dose of roasting from two bats (One bat bringing up mommy issues was enough, thank you)

Plus, the daytime rouges were polite enough not to attack during lunch rush (As the line to any fast food place, not to mention restaurant and gas stations, were packed with already hangry people) and mostly tried to pull off a few bank robberies instead of trying to blow shit up.

Speaking of the lunch rush, Signal sits down on the roof ledge overlooking some of the fast food places/ Restaurants that busy rouges and Gothamites frequently stop to grab a quick bite to eat (That a few tourists go to as well if they’re brave enough), and waits a good half an hour before making his way down once the crowd thins out enough that he could get in and out without being recognized. (Hopefully)

He waits a bit more, until he notices that someone was stepping out of the Batburger and placed a sign out a bit away, then turning back and going back in.

Signal smiles to himself, before dropping down onto the empty sidewalk and casually walking past the sign into the restaurant. (Which reads: Closed for cleaning, this is not an invitation to rob us! Signal is watching!)

The bell rings with the pleasant dings of common dinner bells (not unlike Alfred’s little dinner alarm) as the smell of pure greasy food assaults Signal’s nose as his mouth begins to water and his stomach growls.

“Hey Mr. Signal! Got your order up and ready!” A man back behind the counter calls out with a smile, a gray wife-beater hugs tightly to the man’s chest and eagerly clings to his prosthetic hand/arm and steel plating. The man had a weird Australian/Canadian accent, but the man’s skin reminded Duke of a cup of coffee with either too much milk or too little (depending on the light, he guesses)

Signal just gives the man (who he’s not sure what the guy’s name is as he has no name tag) a smile and a nod. Eagerly taking the bag of four bat burgers and a large fries and setting money on the counter.

He turns to leave, but stops when he accidentally bumps into someone (much smaller than him cause he was almost reaching 6ft).

Cue him looking down into the pouting storm clouds above a flooding river eyes of a very small person, of whom was wearing a knitted purple and turquoise sweater and ripped jeans, and something in his chest flutters like when he first met Damien and won his respect after a brutal patrol.

“Sorry little one. Here, let me help you back up.” Cue Signal reaching up and gently grabbing the kid’s? Hand and starting to help them up, only for his powers to activate mysteriously.

”SHIT CLOSE YOUR EYES!”

Cue Signal running out of the restaurant and back up onto the roof of the tallest building close to the sun.

Cue Signal experiencing a different type of ‘ghost vision’, one were he feels a brief flash of pain of a needle prick, and a taste of chocolate. But, he sees nothing but white, hospital white but different.

Once, the vision is over, he rushes back down to the Bat Burger. However, the person he accidentally ran into was already gone but he swore that he could make out a faint smell of bitter chocolate. (Which was weird as there were nothing made with chocolate in the Bat Burger, not after the Riddler broke the Milkshake and ice cream machines months ago.)

“Hey Mr. Signal, back for a new meal?” The Australian/Canadan man asks as he points down to the ruined bag that was supposed to be Signal’s meal. (Smoking like it got lit on fire and everyone was too lazy to even put it out correctly)

*Biggest dramatic, one full of regrets getting up this morning, sigh* “Yes please.”

(Let me know if you want the reader to be an actual adult, teenager, or a child. Also, I’m like 5’2” but I’m an adult. I feel more and more like I should make the reader a child, so please let me know)

(Also if I should do a Eddie/Venom headcannon too)

#batman #batfam #barbara gordon #tim drake #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #damian wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #duke thomas #jason todd #batfam headcanons #batfam shenanigans #symbiotic reader

29 notes · View notes

smok3r7 · 1 year ago

Text

Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Three: Neighbor

Series MasterList & Main MasterList - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: Finally, you’re starting to find your footing again. You have your job back at the stables, your friendships are growing strong, and now you have new neighbors; Joel & Ellie. After showing them to their new home, you and Joel have a moment on his porch, and you can’t just shake that specific feeling.

Word count: 4.2k

⚠️Warnings: controlling husband, anxiety, forgiving husband over and over, walking on eggshells, starting to stick up for yourself

—

“Morning, Mrs. Rossi! See you soon!” The group of nineteen year old girls yell at you as you make your way towards the stables, turning to see Jinny, Andrea, and Chloe standing in line for some hot cocoa. You smile while waving back to them and yell, hi girls, as you continue past them, and your heart warms from seeing their faces gleam when you answer them. Those girls are absolute saints.

Not long after the incident at the restaurant, Maria helped you get back into working in the stables, and, well, it was really an excuse for you to get out of the house - but Nate didn’t need to know that. The three sisters volunteered to help out with anything you needed, and you weren’t not sure why they adored you so much but you certainly felt more sure about yourself as a person again, not only as Nate’s possession.

When the girls get blabbering about their drama, it makes you think back to Rosa. She would’ve loved Jackson and these girls, so you hold onto these three close to your heart and soul, like they’re your own.

—

The winter season has come in full swing, the bitter chilly air stings your face as you stride faster through the busy streets of Jackson. Even though the sun has just passed the tips of the snow covered trees, Main Street is already buzzing with people talking with each other about whatever they can, even the Tipsy Bison is loud with people singing and talking obnoxiously loud.

Even though you have a hard time with the cold, you honestly love this time of year. Jackson has come to feel like your hometown in Tennessee during the holidays. The way people decorate their homes and businesses reminds you of home with the twinkle lights, Christmas trees, artwork from kids, and the natural joy people have - even with the disgusting truth just outside the walls.

You’re just about to open the red barn door when you hear the deep voice that you swear will make you turn to stone, for eternity. With your right hand on the cold metal handle and your black military boots planted in the wet snow, you slowly turn your hooded head, and you’re met with him about fifteen feet away from you, looking like he wants to murder you here and now.

You know he won’t do it, at least right here in front of everyone, only because he has to keep up his nice guy persona. Little does he know, ever since that night almost a year ago, when he left you lying on the floor from his anger, you started to talk about what he’s been doing to you with Maria and the girls. You’re not even sure who knows, and really, you don’t care about who does and who doesn’t, because at the end of the day, you have to make the decision to leave him for yourself, and for some insane reason a part of you will not let go.

“What do you want?” You ask so only he can hear you, and you’re not in the mood to deal with him but he’s not going anywhere soon it seems. “Didn’t realize you were working today, you knew I came back last night, right?” He spits as he takes a couple steps closer and the crunch from the snow under his feet rings in your ears.

You had snuck out the house this morning while he was in the shower, and he had gotten home when you were already in bed, so you acted like you never heard him come in while he embraced your warm body, and when he started to snore, you knew he was in a dead sleep. That was when the brawl started in you again - on one hand, you can’t leave him because you love him, but on the other, you need to leave now and you don’t deserve this.

Still in the same position, much like a statue, you’re just about to make up some lie when you hear behind you, “You okay Mrs.Rossi?” You despise the way his name is attached to you, confirming the feeling of being his property. It makes you shiver.

All of a sudden, you’re surrounded by the three sisters, and Nate’s expression changes immediately. You almost laugh at the drastic difference in him that let him keep up his appearance. “Thank you ladies, I was just about to head in anyways,” you reply to them, still staring down Nate’s baby blues. You can tell he’s fuming and you sense the girls do too, because they start to babble and push you inside with them.

His tall figure disappears from your view and is replaced with stalls of beautiful horses and bails of haystacks.

“Did he touch you?” Chloe questions as the girls start to inspect your face with care, a hint of anger shining through.

You love that they care so deeply for you but you feel extremely guilty for making them feel like this, until you remember that you were doing the same thing for families, seeing a lot of yourself in these smart girls.

“No, honey. Thank you, though,” you reply softly while you guide their hands away from your face, “Let’s get to work, ladies.” You’re not gonna have Nate mess up your mindset for work, or even these three. He doesn’t deserve that kind of attention.

—

“Tommy!” An unknown voice echoes throughout Main Street. The day is about done, you’re taking a breather after taking care of just about all the horses, and your head instinctively turns in the direction of the mystery voice. Who is that? You whisper to yourself as you notice Tommy climb down from the wooden stage and jump into this older man’s arms in a strong hug.

You don’t quite have the best view of the situation, there’s about a ten yard gap from you and them, and all you can really make out is that this seems like an important reunion.

“What’s that all about?” Andrea asks as she sits next to you on the bench. You shrug your shoulders, “I’m not sure, but I’ll probably find out soon.” She looks at you with her head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised.

“I bet money Maria will talk to me about it, I guaran-fucking-tee she will.” You laugh, your eyes returning to the two men now walking with each other, when you notice a girl on a horse behind Maria who must be his daughter.

“Okay,” you announce, standing up with the pop of both your knees, “Back to work!”

Andrea groans and throws her head back dramatically, “Aren’t you tired, old lady?” and the two of you fall into a fit of laughter. Let’s go, you repeat and head back inside, still laughing.

—

You wave bye to the sisters one more time as you lock up the barn doors, before turning around you hear them laugh in unison, “Bye, old lady!” Followed by the sound of their feet creating shoe prints in the freshly fallen snow as they quickly run home.

A genuine smile grows on your face, your chest fluttering from the name, so much better than Mrs.Rossi. You begin to walk in the direction of your own home, passing the Tipsy Bison for the second time today and it’s still just as busy, if not more, people finally being able to relax after a hard day's work. Kenny’s Burgers is the next building you strut past, and you hate that you associate Nate with this place because their food is delicious, but your gut twists and turns whenever you’re there.

After taking a right turn on Spruce St., you finally hit your neighborhood and a sense of peace flows through your body. You take in the smell of smoke from people having fires and the natural outdoorsy smell, and you love Jackson, you really do, but you wish you could start from scratch.

The familiar sound of Maria calling your name from her front yard a couple houses ahead breaks your aimless stride home.

It’s just after six, and the sky is pretty much pitch black, so the only source of natural light is from the moon, and tonight, she is shining beautifully. The snow covered yards, streets, and pathways are eye-catching. You’re in awe at how incredible this place can look and feel and yet, only a couple yards away on the other side, it’s wretched.

Thankfully, there are some lanterns that light up the streets and sidewalks, and you can see who is standing in front of you. As you approach Maria in her front yard, two male shadows come into your sights on her porch, and you’re a little weary but you continue with strong strides up her driveway next to her, not wanting to look weak.

“Hi hun, how was work?” She warmly asks and pulls you into a strong hug as you stand on her porch. She holds you for a second then pulls away while you answer, “It was good, got all the horses pampered up and the girls stacked up some more hay bails.”

“Good shit, girl!” She praises you with a genuine smile and a gleam in her dark brown eyes that tells you that she’s actually happy for you and not just saying it to say it.

“Maria-” Tommy clears his throat to remind her what she wants to talk to you about, and she whips her head around to look at him sitting on a couch behind her, he immediately whispers, sorry!

You laugh at how quickly the long haired man listens to his lady. He’s obviously not actually scared - they just play around but have respect for one another, which is how every relationship should be.

Then your eyesight shifts to the left of Tommy and you take in the face of this handsome looking man in front of you, leaning on one of the brown porch posts.

“This is Joel,” Maria introduces, and she continues to ramble on but it quickly fades to a buzzing sound as you reach out your hand to shake his. Joel. Joel. Joel. It repeats on a loop in your head.

His large, calloused hand wraps around your small hand and firmly shakes, but yet you feel like he’s cradling you, trying to be careful - like you’re so fragile that anything could break you.

You slowly take in the strong features of his mesmerizing face. He’s carved with lines that make you crave to learn more about him, his long brown curls now streaked with beautiful grays that match his scraggly beard, the color of his lips reminiscent of a rose from the bitter cold, and finally his whiskey stained eyes gazing back at you - they are what capture you the most. Joel. Joel. Joel.

“Since the house next door to yours is empty, I was hoping that you could show Joel and Ellie the way.” The last bit of her story catches your ear, thank god. You and Joel are still staring into each other's eyes as you speak, “Yeah, I can definitely do that.”

“Thank you, darlin’,” he winks and walks back into Maria’s home, “Gonna go grab the kid.”

You don’t even realize, but the smile on your face says it all - you have fallen hard for this man. You slowly wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your jacket closer as you lean back against the railing of the few steps leading to the cement. As you take a deep breath in and out your nose, the cold air causes a cloud to flow out of you and you chuckle to yourself.

“You’re funny,” you laugh as you make eye contact with Maria, who is now snuggled next to Tommy on their brown wicker couch under a quilt blanket.

“Who? Me? No way,” She shrugs her shoulders and giggles for a second before she sincerely goes, “But really, don’t write this off immediately. Give it a try.”

You know exactly what she’s referring to; leave that bitch ass and venture out. Which you honestly want to do, and the majority of you wants to be absolutely done with Nate. You desire to pack up all your shit and leave him and everything in relation to him. But you just can’t do it yet.

You wrap around yourself tighter, now wanting to halt this conversation from snowballing into an emotional mess. Then, just like that, your wish is granted; the creaky wood door opens and out struts this young girl, who you’re guessing is Ellie, followed by the brooding figure of Joel.

You quickly wipe your cheek from the one tear that fell, and stand up straight so she can hop down. “Ellie, what do you say?” Joel sternly asks, clearly annoyed, but you’re assuming he must have to constantly remind her. It’s sweet to see.

“I already said thank you earlier!” She responds as she continues to walk towards the lit up street, “So where are we going?”

Joel scoffs next to you and you look to see him shaking his head but with a slight smile, “This girl… Well, thank you for lettin’ us stay here. I guess we’ll, uh, see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” Tommy gets up and hugs Joel one more time while Maria comes over to you and takes you in her arms.

“Remember, don’t write this off immediately,” she whispers to you and you smile back at her, nodding with a soft okay. The couple goes back to sit down and Joel is next to you, both of you waiting for the other to walk down the front five cement steps.

“Ladies first,” a more defined southern accent flows off of his lips as he puts his hand out for you to go first. You nod and take the first step down, and suddenly you feel the butterflies start to form as you play back, “Oh, so we have a southern charmer here?”

You hear his deep chuckle behind you, “Yes, darlin’, guess you do.”

“Well, if you guys just wanna follow me up the road a bit, I’ll get you to your house.” You instruct as you turn on your heels and guide the pair down Spruce St. to their beautiful home right next to yours.

“This place is fucking huge!” Ellie states in awe, you turn around to see her face taking in all that Jackson has to offer, remembering that feeling for the first time.

“Ellie!” Joel snaps at her, and your body jumps from the sudden change in his tone.

Your high from meeting a new man who you admire has disappeared, now you're back into your normal defense mode. Knew it was too good to be true.

You only live about six houses down from Tommy and Maria, and by now, you're about three houses away from the navy colored house they’ll be living in. The rest of the walk is silent - all that can be heard is the snow crunch and noises coming from each house as you speed walk past, some with the loud sounds of children, some with couples singing and laughing, and others filled with music flowing out their windows.

“Why is she walking so fast?” You hear Ellie whisper.

You haven’t even realized that you’re about two houses ahead of them, having blocked out everything, just trying to get them to their destination before you crack from the disappointment of believing he was different. You slow your walking down so they can catch up just a bit, and you don’t say anything, you just slow down so you don’t make this any worse.

“Not sure,” Joel whispers back trying to keep you from hearing, however they don’t know that you’ve become a master at listening to whispers, and can thank Nate for that skill. You know when to hold your breath and how to zone in on the inflections they make, you can hear them clearly as day.

“Maybe cause you yelled, you dummy,” Ellie retorts a little louder than you think she intended because then you hear a smack and an ouch! Followed by Joel saying something you couldn’t catch because you started to laugh, a guttural kind of laugh that makes you stop in your tracks and hold your hands on your belly.

You don’t doubt that you look insane to Joel and Ellie, especially since they thought you couldn’t hear them.

But you honestly don’t even know why you’re laughing hard enough to the point where tears are forming and your belly hurts, leaning forward just a bit to relieve yourself. Maybe you’ve finally snapped, all because you now know that either Maria or Tommy - hell, maybe the both of them - told Joel and Ellie about your marriage and what you’ve survived, and still are surviving.

After a moment, you finally collect yourself, and by now, the two strangers are to the right of you, just standing like lost puppies waiting for directions on where to run.

“So sorry,” you apologize while wiping the happy tears that brim your eyes, before two of them quickly spew, no, no, it’s okay, and you can see that they are trying to gauge your reaction. They handle it well, surprisingly.

You all take a second to regroup as the delicate snow softly falls from the black sky, and then you’re back to leading them just past your moss green house, where you see the living room lamp on and you know that Nate’s waiting for you. Like you’re a teenager sneaking back in the house and he’s your father, just waiting to catch you and read you the riot act. You know you’re in for it tonight after the stables act anyway.

You carefully walk up the wooded cream colored steps that lead to the large porch wrapping around the beautiful home, and you hear Ellie gasp. You can just imagine the excitement she feels as you unlock the big oak door and softly push it open. You step to the side as you put your hand out in front of Joel with the key dangling from your cold fingers, watching as he gently pulls the key ring off your digits.

“Welcome home,” you softly coo as you gaze between Joel and Ellie.

“I call dibs on the shower,” Ellie shouts as she flies past you and Joel, causing you both to chuckle as you watch her sprint up the stairs and disappear into the second floor of the newly owned home.

“Thank you, sugar,” Joel says, his accent thick and smooth, “Will I- we be seeing more of you?” Joel asks as he stands across from you with one hand in his jean coat pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck just where his lazy curls sit, gazing down at you with such admiration and enthusiasm in the glow of his brown eyes.

The butterflies have come back in full force - your head starts to feel fuzzy and light headed from the way he calls you darlin’ and sugar with a voice like butter, and the way he watches your movements, as if he’s trying to memorize them all, filling you with curiosity and the yearning for more. You haven’t had this feeling for someone since you first met Nate seven years ago, it’s exciting.

Rocking side to side to try to relieve your sore feet from standing all day in terrible shoes, your hands interlocked behind your back, starting to become frigid, and you lift your head up to meet his gaze one more time to engrave in your mind the features that make Joel Miller so enticing.

“I sure hope so,” you purr with innocence pouring out of your eyes while your actions speak the opposite. With a sudden wave of confidence, and without thinking, you take a step to close the gap that separates you, now only being a couple inches away from his bearded face, both taking in each other breaths escaping your mouths for a moment. You whisper with a sly smirk on your lips,

“Goodnight, Miller.”

“Goodnight, Sugar.”

Neither one of you move, both of your wet soaked boots from the snow firmly planted into the cream porch adjacent to one another. You should go home to your husband, you know he’s waiting for you, counting the minutes that you’re gone, but for the first time in ages - you don’t care about that.

All you desire is Joel Miller. The want, no, the need to have him hold you with all his limbs and stroke your back with his calloused fingers until you fall into a deep peaceful slumber and can forget about everything you’ve been through is growing larger and stronger, the longer you stand here and stare at him. You gaze between his whiskey colored eyes and pink lips that curve into a soft, kinda cocky smile as he too gazes between your eyes and lips.

“Goodnight, Sugar.” He repeats, more convincing than the previous.

“Goodnight, Miller.” You slightly bite your bottom lip as you smile, still just inches away from his lips.

You’re the first one to move, reluctantly turning your body around and cautiously walking down the front steps. When you reach the bottom, you turn around to see Joel in the same exact spot, still watching you.

“Just wanna make sure you get inside safely,” he says with a certain charm to his words.

You have to force a smile as you make your way next door, you don’t want to go into your house - more of a prison than a home. You wish you could laugh at that but you can’t because it really is; Nate makes it a living hell within those walls, even though, now, you don’t cower away and you hold your own. But he still doesn’t let up.

You reach your smaller porch and raise your hand on the knob, but before you turn and open it to whatever fresh hell is waiting for you on the other side, you turn your head to the right to look at Joel one more time for the night, and he’s still in the same spot. Now, though, he’s facing you and leaning over the wooden railing with a look of concern. Your heart stings at seeing this man, who you just met under an hour ago and yet you physically feel like you know everything about him and you’ve known him for years, showing such sorrow on his face for you.

Hoping to give one last attempt at a smile to try to convince him or, well, let’s be honest, you try to convince yourself that everything will be okay. He sends one back to you but he is filled with rage as he tries to keep it together, fists balled up and rubbing together.

You take a deep breath as you now face the white door. Please be passed out, please, you whisper to yourself as you build up the strength to turn the doorknob your cold hand is holding onto.

Three, two, one, you mumble as you open the door and you’re immediately met with Nate staring right at you, sitting in his brown leather recliner with a glass filled with whiskey in his hand, and the empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s sitting on the glass table in front of him.

Closing the door softly, you lean your back against it as you kick your boots off next to the others, staring right back into his blues, not backing down from him. You begin to walk to the kitchen, away from him as soon as possible, because even though you’re not scared, you would rather not be involved in a fight tonight.

He still hasn’t said anything to you, he just keeps watching your every move, and even though you're not looking in his direction, you can feel his eyes like daggers in your back. You open the fridge, grab the jar of pickles, and as you open the jar with a pop, your hip bumps the fridge door closed.

Pickle jar in one hand and a pickle in the other, you start up the steps to escape into your bedroom, and you’re just about to make the final step to your safe space, casually chomping on pickles when you finally hear it.

“How’s Joel?”

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #Is Leaving Even An Option #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #pedro pascal

69 notes · View notes