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confessedlyfannish · 6 months

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #8

The day Bruce Wayne knocks on her apartment door Sam knows it's going to be a doozy.

"Mr. Wayne, I really do hope no one saw you," she says, ushering him in. "And for the record, a text ahead of time would be appreciated."

"I parked the car a few streets away," Bruce says, sticking a finger in his heel to peel his polished leather shoes off. Sam raises an eyebrow. "It's a sedan, not a Lamborghini."

"You own a sedan?"

"Taught Dick to drive in it...after he crashed the Lamborghini."

Sam snorts despite herself. The charm Bruce Wayne exhibits would usually rub her the wrong way, too reminiscent of wealthy men that feel comfortable placing a hand on the small of your back at a crowded gala, but Bruce is honest enough about his playacting that she has come to find its insincerity comforting. She's actually sought him out more than once, leading to several annoying headlines that can't seem to decide if she's aiming to date him or one of his eligible sons. None of whom are eligible by the way, as they are a) taken, b) legally dead, c) practically a minor, and d) an actual minor.

Sam's generational wealth is peanuts compared to Wayne Industries, so naturally her parents have been thrilled and rooting for option c.

"I also didn't want Danny to see I'd texted you. Or force you to lie to him."

Sam doesn't quite tense, but it's a near thing. She does slide to the other side of her kitchen island, under the context of finishing prepping her feta fried eggs, laid on a bed of smashed avocado and warm tortilla. She pulls a bottle of crunchy garlic oil out of the fridge and drizzles hot red crisps across the runny yolk. She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully, not so much as offering him a glass of water.

"You realize, Mr. Wayne, I have no intention of lying to Danny now?"

Bruce sits at the stool on the opposite side of the island. "I understand. And if you want to ask Danny to return home before we continue, I'd understand that as well. I didn't mean to discomfit you--"

"Please do not lie to me now, Mr. Wayne," Sam says, rolling her eyes. "By your own admission you showed up at noon without warning knowing my superhero boyfriend wouldn't be present. If I am discomfited, all the more likely you get your information, right?" Golden yolk runs down her fingers, and she sacrifices it to the napkin rather than lick up her arm in front of her boss, with no small amount of resentment. The yolk is the best part.

"Get to it then," she demands.

Bruce straightens in his stool, chin raising and firming in a jawline she most often sees under a cowl. His eyes attempt to pin her in place, but Sam has stared the Master of Time in the face and demand he reschedule so she is built. different. She takes another bite of egg taco.

"I was not aiming for you to feel threatened, and moreover, I doubt you could be."

Except a smart person should always feel threatened by a threat, no matter their capability of handling one. It keeps them alive.

"Can you tell me how I'm not like all the other girls after lunch? You'll spoil my appetite."

Bruce clears his throat. "I'll get to the point--"

"Thank you."

"--Danny has been exhibiting paranormal behaviors beyond his baseline. We welcome all biologies; human, alien, and paranormal alike, but I have observed actions unlike what he had previously established as his, for lack of a better word, 'normal'

"I want to make sure he is not experiencing any unwelcome outside influence. Or, if this is merely a facet of his evolution, I'd like to know if this is something we or his family should be monitoring."

Sam has been an eco-consultant with Wayne Industries and unofficially, the Batfamily, for half a year now and this is the most she's ever heard the man speak in one sitting.

"Wow," she says. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?"

"A while." Bruce grunts, voice finally taking that final drop into Batman's gravelly rasp. "I see you're not surprised by any of this."

"No, not really," Sam says. She pours him a tall glass of lemon water from the pitcher, freshly sliced that morning, and he takes a polite sip.

"So what can you tell me?"

"Probably a lot. And Danny would probably prefer that I do, knowing him, the big baby," Sam sighs. "Listen Mr. Wayne, I can appreciate that you came here from a place of caution rather than intrusion. And if Danny was undergoing something negative or from an 'unwelcome outside influence' that would be the right call, and I, albeit begrudgingly, encourage you to do so in the future."

"But he's not."

"He's not," Sam confirms. "And in fact, I think he could really use someone to talk to about it. Outside of his family."

"I see..." Bruce says, shifting.

"If you want to tag team this one with one of the higher EQ players, such as Superman, I give you permission." Sam does not think she's imagining that slight sag of relief.

"Thank you," Bruce says, sliding off the stool. "I don't suppose you have material we could consult...?"

"Actually yes, I happen to have a pamphlet right here. 'So your ghostly body is changing, and how.'"

"You're being more sarcastic than usual."

"You interrupted my lunch, Mr. Wayne."

#sam:#bruce:#bruce: so i was thinking brainwashing-#sam: ghost puberty #bruce: frick #sam give-my-boyfriend-the-talk manson #at some point when danny went from teen hero to the eldritch being of our fanfic dreams he had to start experiencing the “becoming”#i imagine that was actually pretty terrifying #his whole family calling it ghost puberty is probably actually really kind and appreciated #hey i'm starting to forget to breathe and sometimes i want to bite things #aw honey it's ok your body is chaaanging #you're teeeething #baby's first feral chomp #sometimes i hear the universe it is a symphony i cannot explain but if i listen too long i fear it shall sweep me away forever #let's get you some airpods with the latest paramore album #that helping?#yes actually ty #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #batman #sam manson #danny fenton #danny phantom #my writing

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drurrito · 2 months

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Crash

Summary: Pulling this from the vault, I don't have the will to come up with a better title.

Pairings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, cursing...

--------

This was supposed to be an easy job.

You curse loudly while crouching behind a desk, loading your clip and shoving it back into your gun.

“Cover me,” the woman across from you demands and you don’t have much of a choice--watching a flash of red sail through the room and incapacitating one of the guys shooting at you. You manage to gun the other one down and take the lull in violence as an opportunity to get the hell out of there.

“Don’t,” she warns.

“I’m here on other business, this is your mess,” you hiss.

“You’re staying where I can see you,” ignoring her, you clutch the briefcase and dash towards the stairs. You can hear her footsteps coming towards you for a few seconds before a loud blast makes your ears ring. You look back, she’s out cold and there’s a rather large green man howling over her motionless body.

“Shit,” your legs won’t take you any further and you mutter another curse as you charge towards the man. He’s huge, you might just die, you think to yourself while raising your arms, here goes nothing.

“Hey!” you shout, even his eyes are a deep green, reminding you of what the sky looks like before a tornado spawns to pummel a landscape.

He growls and takes a step towards you but is quickly barraged by bullets from the other end of the corridor. Now’s your chance, you’re quick to scoop up the woman’s body and make your way down the stairs to the next floor.

You can feel the cries of the building’s foundation when you realize that taking the stairs will lead you to someplace six feet under. You find the nearest elevator and pry the door open with a gadget, using another to zip you and what you wished was anything but an unconscious woman down and out of the building before half of it crumbles down to nothing.

-----

She thanks you with a fist to your face as soon as she wakes up.

“Hey! Chill out!” you spit, you focus so much on detaining her limbs that you don’t account for her head.

You stumble back a few steps and she tackles you to the ground, not feeling half as light as she did when she was limp in your arms a few hours ago.

“If you wanted to be on top, you could have just asked,” you grunt, still struggling underneath her when she shoves a candle stick against your throat. Her legs are hooked under your hips, not giving you much room to maneuver-usually this position is followed by something a little more pleasant than this, you think.

“Who are you?”

“Y/n," you strain.

“Who do you work for?”

“Myself,” you yelp out in pain as she twists the candlestick a little farther into your neck.

“Who do you work for?”

“I just told you.”

“Not good enough.”

“It’s going to have to be--I have a quasi-handler and that’s it. I’m a one woman show,” you grunt, the candlestick loosens a bit against your neck.

“That building-”

“I was applying for a job, what did it look like I was doing?”

“Stealing.”

“You’re good,” you wince instead of wink, you’re throwing out that candlestick the first chance you get.

“How did we get here?”

“Ever heard about the theory of evolution?”

“Shut up, tell me what happened.”

“It’s hard to talk with you trying to put a hole in my neck,” she finally lets you up and you gasp, letting the air fill your lungs. You make your way over to your chair, reclining with a huff. She stays on the floor, bracing herself against a bruised and bloodied arm.

“Some big green guy busted in, knocked you out cold.”

“Bruce,” she whispers quietly enough that you don’t hear her.

“Looked like he was gonna crush you so as soon as someone started shooting at him, I grabbed you and left.”

“Where am I?”

“At least 25 miles away from the building,” you glance at her, “it’s gone, building folded in on itself as soon as we touched the pavement outside.”

“I need your phone,” she tries to get up but is quickly seated by the shooting pain in her torso. You’re out of your chair and by her side, she flinches away from you, the fiery look in her eyes makes you restrain the urge to try and find the source of pain, you’d like to keep your hands for just a little longer.

“You’re hurt,” you slowly reach for her this time. You mentally give yourself a gold star for helping with a steady grasp on her pinky while she dragged the rest of herself onto the couch.

“Phone.”

“Doctor first.”

“No,” she holds up the candle stick as a threat and you scoff before you realize that she’s too stubborn to be couch-locked by whatever pain she’s in.

“Fine, be my guest,” you hand her your phone, “try not to die on this carpet, I just had it cleaned,” she glares at you while the phone rings, you barely hear a man’s voice on the other end.

“Clint? I’m okay, can you get my location?” you almost don’t recognize this new shade of voice on her. It’s soft, laced with a little worry and care--you decide that kind of tone would have made the candlestick sting a lot less.

“That’s the only easy part, we’re still trying to recover the asset and Bruce is still on the loose-can’t get you until tonight.”

“I’m not alone,” she tips her head in your direction.

“Friendly?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do what you gotta do and hole up, we’ll get there when we can.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You better,” Clint hangs up and she breaks the phone with such ease that it takes you a second to realize you’re without a phone now.

“Right, I didn’t need that anyway,” you mumble, she tries to get up again and you calmly press a palm against her shoulder.

“Unexpected guests are still my guests,” you insist and she shoots you a look. If you’re going to be a hostage in your own home, you might as well be a good host.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some things, I need to call the doctor anyway.”

“Don’t call anybody.”

“Relax, he has to come get this briefcase, he’ll be discreet,” you head upstairs and she stubbornly lifts herself off the couch and takes a look around the room. Her gun and batons are on the counter but are quickly reunited with their respective holsters on her body. She notices a file with papers spilling out of it and opens it up to skim over the contents.

“Like a modern-day robin hood,” she mutters, almost feeling guilty for giving you such a hard time.

“I never got your name,” you call out from the top of the stairs. You let out an unamused sigh when you see that she is up and about. You figure if you had half of the resolve she does then maybe the trash would get taken out a lot more often.

“You don’t need it.”

“But you asked me for mine?”

“I didn’t need it either, you gave it to me anyway.”

“You had a candlestick to my neck,” you retort, she shrugs and you throw everything in your arms onto the counter.

“Clothes, towels, trauma balm,” you make your way to the fridge and push a truce-flavored bottle of water towards the woman before turning your attention to the fridge.

“I’m making tacos,” you don’t catch the high arch in her brow, too focused on filling the room with something much more delicious than the tension between you.

--------

“A few broken ribs, bruising, and some stitches for your head but you’ll live--I gave you the good drugs too,” the doctor stands up to leave when you hand him the briefcase.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously--I don’t need people knowing I make house calls.”

“I hope this has everything you need,” you shake his hand.

“You always get it done,” he leaves without another word and you approach the woman splayed out on your couch. Heavy drugs giving a mild effort in wearing down the stoic look on her features.

“When are you getting rescued?”

“Few hours,” she grumbles.

“Here,” you put a plate on the coffee table, “shower’s down the hall, let me know if you need help.”

You grab your own plate and put on some music, figuring that your guest wouldn’t be much of a talker.

“You help people,” her voice a little raspy from exhaustion and the drugs.

“I try to, yes,” you sit back down, “and you?”

“Same boat,” she cracks, sitting up. You don’t see her briefly inspect the food before taking a bite out of a taco.

“Natasha,” she says, her mouth full, “Natasha Romanoff,” the corner of your mouth ticks up into half a smile, a small celebration for a rather monumental victory.

--------

Natasha towels off her hair and hobbles back to the main room.

“I told you I could help,” you catch her in time to see her wave you off.

“Maybe next time,” she gives you a smirk and before you can even process what she said there’s a knock at the door. You open it to find a man with a messy mohawk, muscles bulging out of his vest.

“Tash?”

“In here, Clint,” he briefly meets your eyes while you step aside to let him in.

“She’s only a little broken, but she’ll make it,” you joke and your newest house guest is unimpressed.

“Christ, Bruce,” Clint grunts.

“Bruce, the big green guy?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?”

“Yes.”

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief, not expecting this to be the product of some friendly fire.

“Let’s go home,” Clint swiftly throws Natasha’s arm over his shoulder and they make their way towards the door, you walk with them.

“Sorry about your phone, and your face,” Natasha’s lips pulse with guilt.

“Better than some broken ribs and stitches,” you tease, thankful to be just out of her reach when you see her arm twitch at her side.

“Don’t crash any more missions,” she says somewhat sternly.

“I could say the same to you,” you smile, she scoffs as Clint carries her to the car. You don’t move until they disappear down the road.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #works #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

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absolute-flaming-trash · 7 months

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Idk if I can ask this of youuuu buuuuut hear me out. Chrollo right right. Taking you to the aquarium

I am hearing you loud and clear, my friend 💛

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapped reader, Implied captivity.

Word Count: 411

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Chrollo’s voice came from your left, but you didn’t look towards him to acknowledge what he said. Instead your eyes remained on the enormous wall of glass that separated you from thousands, if not millions of gallons of water.

The creature in question that earned that comment from Chrollo was drifting by slowly. If someone didn’t know any better, they’d call the movements aimless. Without purpose.

“Dearest?”

“I heard you.” You replied flatly, not looking away from the whale shark swimming no more than twenty feet away from you.

He hummed. “Millions of years on this earth, and still they remain the same.”

You glanced at him briefly, knowing well that he had more to say than just that. You decided to humour him.

“Why would there be any need to?” The whale shark adjusted its course to swim further towards the middle of its massive tank. “Their environment has been stable enough that evolving in response to any change isn’t necessary.”

“True.” He said. “But even still, it’s such a shame such magnificence doesn’t do well in captivity.”

You grunted. “Couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that replicating their environment is almost impossible.” One of your hands went out to gesture to the whale shark as its form grew more desaturated due to distance. “Pelagic species like this don’t belong here.”

“Perhaps this is the moment they needed, then.”

An expression of confusion and mild annoyance spread across your face. “What?”

“To change.” He continued. “They’ve barely evolved because there hasn’t been any need to, correct? Perhaps time in captivity is the stepping stone into that.”

“You can’t be serious.” You scoffed. “You realize that evolution takes millions upon millions of generations to occur, right? There’s no way in hell that would be able to happen, not in this lifetime.”

“Perhaps not evolution, but adaptation.”

“It’s in the same vein.” You argued, getting agitated by how dismissive he was on something that was so obvious to you. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Why ever not? If a species as complicated as a human can change their behaviour to suit their environment, surely a creature that has had little change in its initial design could as well.”

The was an ever growing urge to swat at him, and you had to clench your jaw to suppress it. “What’s your point, Chrollo?”

He smiled as his eyes moved between you and the aquarium.

“You’ll understand soon enough.”

#riri writes #900 followers event #Chrollo #Chrollo x Reader #Chrollo Lucilfer #Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader #HxH #Hunter x Hunter #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw implied captivity #tw captivity #love my moots #sweet shadow

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mickules · 2 years

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CONTINUE ►NEW GAME OPTIONS

---

All credit to the delightful Submas Bros who got me back on this train (ha) with some much needed motivation, so here we go again;

Pokémon Super DanganRonpa 2 Good Bye Despair; this time it's personal.

Hajime: There's something about small unassuming Eevee with all that potential inside 'em which they just can't access on their own. Also there's been a fair few storylines with an Eevee trainer being bullied by a bunch of Eeveelution trainers for not evolving . . . Nagito: I know Absol is a fave to give him but regardless of the fact I gave Absol to Kyoko, I wasn't quite feelin' it. Hear me out here: Diancie. One a kind mythical pokemon, crystalised- not evolved- from a Carbink, insanely valuable, with very good mega evolution stats, equal to Makoto's Tyranitar, all of which Nagito would brush off depreciating that he couldn't even catch a 'normal Carbink' And on a meta level; may be based on the HOPE Diamond (given one of the Diancie event's was named 'Hope Diancie') a gem that's reputed to curse the holder with ill luck. Mikan: Hubris has caught me since I gave Hifumi a Blissey, but Audino is another nurse Joy staple and has the hidden ability 'Klutz' Chiaki: what self respecting gamer wouldn't jump at the chance to have an 8-bit pokemon? Ibuki: Electric Guitar pokemon? Low key Toxtricity even matches her colour pallet Kazuichi: Isn't sentient gear box Klinklang a mechanic nerd's dream? Sonia I'm sure every other pokemon she has is a terrifying ghost type; but nothing quite says 'princess' like a Galarian Rapidash Gundham: "Cower before the 4 Dark Dedennes of Destruction!" (also the Ultimate breeder would have shinies out the wazoo) Teruteru: A Rotom controlled oven is perfect for all his cooking needs, with none of the morality questions about FarFetch'd and it's leek. Twogami: So I may have played myself giving Togami a shiny factory Ditto; but who's a better companion to the lonely imposter with no identity of their own than insecure mimikyu who copies beloved pokemon to seek acceptance? Kindred spirits Akane: Both Gluttonous and Athletic? Greedent is a good match for that Nekomaru: it's like looking in a mirror, Machamp is a classic. Hiyoko: The Ultimate traditional dancer gets a Sensu style traditional dancing Oricorio. Call the presses. Mahiru: I'd admit this was a headscratcher since the most famous pokemon photographer DOESN'T HAVE ANY POKEMON; so for your consideration, Chinchou. Lures out shy pokemon for that perfect poke-snap, plus can be an impromptu flash in low visibility Fuyuhiko: Honchkrow the mafia boss pokemon is a no brainer, but more than that the villain groups are basically the pokemon yakuza; so that would make Fuyuhiko the ultimate. . Evil Team Boss? Not a great ring to it, but he's definitely the boss of this generation's Team Rocket Peko: A Honedge for the Ultimate Swordswoman, and the Jessie to Fuyuhiko's James. (I couldn't bring myself to call her simply a Team Kuzuryu Grunt) Izuru: Nothing outside of Type Null, the artificial pokemon created by combining all the greatest strengths and type advantages of all pokemon would be good enough for the artificial being known as Izuru Kamakura created by combining all known talent within one person. . . If this lad stepped out after you defeated the Elite Four. . . Imagine the Despair. . .

A coupla extras for you since I was in the zone

Genocider Syo: Taking Toko's love of bug pokemon and slapping some blades onto 'em? match made in heaven for a Poke-serial killer Ishida: "Chandeleur? What're ya talkin' about? That's just my bro backing me up! 'sides don't Chandeleurs hypnotise folks to see what they wanna see? I ain't dumb enough to fall for that baloney! Ain't that right Kyoudai?!"

Once again this was a blast! Maybe I've got one more in me . . .

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thankskenpenders · 6 months

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Unsure if you’ve answered this anywhere before (sorry if you have!) but! what are your thoughts on Lanolin if you’ve been keeping up with IDW?

Lanolin's been kind of a fascinating addition to the cast to me, now that she's been promoted to the main cast. I kind of love that Lanolin is unambiguously one of the heroes, but she's also, like... not very nice? But she's also not an antihero like Shadow. She's just a different type of hero than most of Sonic's friends. It would have been so easy to just make her the cute friendly sheep girl, but I think she's led to some really interesting internal and external conflicts by having such a different mindset from everyone else.

Sonic is a very Power Of Friendship type series, and most of the recurring heroes are friends with each other. IDW's heroes have slotted right into that. Tangle wants to be everyone's friend. Whisper is extremely introverted due to her past, but the point is to show her making new friends. Belle's in a similar boat. And Jewel got roped into the series because she was already Tangle's best friend.

And then you've got Lanolin, who's not really here to make friends. She's here to work. She wants to do good in the world, which is why she joined the Restoration... and then the Metal Virus Saga happened. Now she's tired and kind of jaded about all of it. She's a cog in the machine whose power is limited, having neither crazy superpowers like Sonic's friends nor any real structural power within the Restoration. So where Tangle wants to go on fun adventures and Whisper's (understandably) weighed down by her personal vendetta with Mimic, Lanolin is this third wheel who doesn't particularly care about any of that and just wants to keep the team focused on doing their job.

I can kind of understand why some might be put off by this new dynamic if they were fans of the way Tangle and Whisper operated before. But personally, I think it shakes things up in a really interesting way. I could easily see a world where Mimic's return felt like a retread of the Tangle & Whisper miniseries, but Lanolin has helped push things in a new direction. She feels like our representative of the rank and file grunts of the Restoration, and the embodiment of the responsibilities that being part of the Restoration entail. Tangle and Whisper can't just go off and do their own thing all the time anymore. For Tangle especially, it feels like the formation of the new Diamond Cutters is forcing her to grow up a little. The Restoration can't always just be this fun secret club where she gets to go on adventures with her girlfriend. It's a job.

But Lanolin's not infallible, of course. She's frequently wrong, and that leads to conflict. But I understand where she's coming from and why she is the way she is, and that makes her an interesting contrast to everyone else. She's also clearly still growing as a character, and learning how to work as a team without just seeing Tangle and Whisper as people to boss around. I'm sure that whenever she learns that Whisper really was right about Duo being Mimic in disguise, that's going to be a BIG moment for Lanolin, and I'm excited to see how that informs her continued evolution as a character.

#renaliassance #ask #tkp asks

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nayziiz · 2 months

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Team Dynamics | LN4

Summary: To celebrate the launch of their 2024 car for the upcoming F1 season, McLaren hosts a masquerade gala event that sees two souls connect and lead to a whirlwind romance. Unfortunately, the pair realise soon after that they are to work together quite closely after they agreed it would only be a one-night thing.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, one night stand, unprotected sex

Pairing: Gemma (I don't like writing with Y/N or reader) x Lando Norris

Series Masterlist

In the aftermath of Gemma's brief hospitalisation due to food poisoning, Lando's devotion and care for her took centre stage. Their connection, already profound, deepened as he steadfastly remained by her side throughout the recovery process. Lando's presence was a constant source of comfort, offering both emotional and practical support. From the moment Gemma opened her eyes to the sterile hospital room surroundings, Lando was there, a reassuring figure ensuring that she was not alone in facing the aftermath of the illness.

As they navigated the challenges of her recuperation together, their conversations became more intimate, revealing layers of themselves that had remained hidden before. Gemma's feelings for Lando, already present, intensified unexpectedly. The shared vulnerability of the hospital room created a unique space where emotions simmered to the surface. The way he seamlessly balanced taking care of her practical needs with offering emotional support made her realise the depth of her affection for him. The constant companionship and his willingness to put her well-being above all else brought a heightened sense of closeness.

In those moments when Lando briefly stepped away to attend to necessary errands, Gemma found herself eagerly awaiting his return, aching for the comfort his presence provided. The simple act of him bringing food or fresh clothes became symbolic of a burgeoning connection that surpassed friendship. Gemma, surprised by the intensity of her emotions, began to acknowledge the profound impact Lando had on her heart. The hospital stay, though challenging, served as a catalyst for an unexpected but welcomed evolution in their relationship, leaving Gemma with a realisation that her feelings for Lando had deepened into something more significant than she could have anticipated.

The tension in the McLaren pit is palpable as the team eagerly anticipates the qualifying results at Silverstone, their home race. The pressure is especially intense for Lando, with fans and the team hopeful for his first-ever win.

Gemma, seated at the pit wall, monitors the proceedings with a focused gaze. As the McLaren drivers head out for qualifying, she watches them navigate down the pitlane before turning her attention to the data screens in front of her. Oscar's car showcases promise after recent upgrades, securing a provisional second fastest lap time within the first ten minutes of the session.

However, Gemma's attention shifts to Lando's data, and a sense of concern creeps in as she notices his car is not performing as expected.

“I have zero pace.” Lando's mumbled voice breaks the radio silence, expressing his frustration.

“Copy, we’re investigating.” Andrea confirms.

The team mobilises to analyse the data and identify the issues affecting Lando's performance. The high stakes of the home race amplify the pressure on the team, leaving Gemma and her colleagues on the edge of their seats as they work to address the challenges and support their drivers. Harry, perplexed by the discrepancies, calls over one of his fellow analysts for a fresh perspective.

“I don’t understand.” Harry tells Andrea over their radio. “Everything looks good on this side.”

“Lando, continue with your slow lap. We’re still looking into it.” Andrea tells Lando who simply grunts in response. “Gemma, would you mind having a look too.”

As Gemma delves into the analysis alongside Harry and the team, the urgency in the pit grows. The collaborative effort intensifies, with each member working diligently to uncover the root cause of Lando's unexpected performance issues, aiming to rectify the situation before the crucial qualifying session concludes.

“Can I speak to Lando?” Gemma inquires.

“Go ahead.” Andrea confirms. “Channel is clear for comms.”

“Lando, it’s Gemma.” She informs him.

“Gem. What’s happening with the car?” Lando asks her.

“What’s the highest gear you can get?” She implores.

“Can’t get higher than fifth on the straights.” Lando informs her.

“Copy. Hang tight, Lando, we’re taking a closer look.” She assures him.

“Gemma? What do you think the issue is?” Andrea asks.

“It seems to be a hydraulic issue. Very minor, but enough to affect his acceleration.” Gemma explains.

“Should we retire the car?” Andrea asks.

“Preferably. We’re at risk of causing more damage if he keeps pushing.” Gemma agrees.

“Lando, please retire the car. Box, box.” Andrea radios Lando.

“Copy.” Lando responds.

He returns to the pitlane on his next outlap, parks the car outside the McLaren garage, and climbs out. With visible disappointment, he walks over to the pitwall, where Gemma and the team await, collectively processing the challenges faced during the home race qualifying session at Silverstone.

“Can they fix it before the race tomorrow?” He asks Andrea.

“We should be ready to go for the race.” Andrea confirms. “Starting P15 tomorrow, though, sorry about that.”

“Good thing Gemma caught the issue early enough.” Lando states, appreciating the efforts of the team and Gemma in particular, finding a silver lining in the situation.

He smiles, acknowledging Gemma's keen observation that prevented potential complications during the upcoming race. Lando, seeking a moment of respite, retreats into the garage as the crew wraps up the remaining tasks associated with the qualifying session. The familiar hum of activity surrounds him as mechanics work diligently to prepare the cars for the upcoming race.

Inside the garage, Lando takes the opportunity to refuel both physically and mentally. He grabs something to eat and drink, allowing himself a brief pause to recharge before diving back into the intense atmosphere of race weekend preparations. As the sounds of the pitlane echo outside, Lando takes a moment of solitude, gathering his thoughts and preparing for the challenges that await him on the race day at Silverstone.

“Great job today, Osc.” Gemma congratulates Oscar when she passes him in the garage.

“I heard you saved Lando’s race tomorrow.” Oscar comments as he glances at the mechanics working on Lando’s car. “He better celebrate that win with you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.” Gemma chuckles as she retreats to the hospitality suite to get herself some water and a snack.

Gemma spots Lando chatting to some fans as she walks up behind him. The one girl is particularly handsy with the driver who attempts to step back, but she’s persistent. A sudden rage fills Gemma as she approaches the small group. Without hesitation, Gemma intervenes, stepping between Lando and the overzealous fan. Her expression is firm, and her tone carries a no-nonsense authority as she addresses the situation.

“Lando, the boys want to take a photo in the garage before the photographers leave for the day.” Gemma asserts as she shields Lando and glances at the fans. “Sorry, girls.”

Lando, still wearing a grateful smile for the fans, complies with Gemma's lead as she guides him into the garage. Recognizing the need for privacy, Gemma redirects him towards his driver's room, and as they step inside, she firmly shuts the door behind them.

The quiet confines of the driver's room offer a sanctuary away from the bustling activities in the garage. Gemma, concerned for Lando's well-being, addresses the incident with a protective edge in her voice.

"You okay?" She asks, ensuring that the intrusion from the fan didn't leave any lasting impact on him. Lando, appreciating Gemma's concern, nods with a genuine smile.

“They just did not want to let me go, thanks.” Lando breathes, his hand resting on his chest.

“Poor girl wouldn’t stop touching you.” Gemma sighs as she watches Lando strip off his fireproof top leaving him bare chested.

“You just keep saving my ass today, huh?” Lando counters.

“I mean, who else?” Gemma teases.

“You’re kinda hot when you get all jealous.” Lando retorts.

“Me? Jealous? I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” Gemma smirks, shaking her head.

“Yeah, you. Can’t share?” Lando teases her.

“Oh, no. Would you share your car with anyone?” Gemma asks as she rolls her eyes at him while he takes a step closer to her.

“Mmh, you make a good point.” Lando agrees. “We both don’t like sharing things we can ride.”

“Ew, stop.” Gemma laughs as she pushes her hand against his bare chest.

“You’re so sexy when you’re flustered.” He tells her as his hands land on her hips. “And, so turned on out of jealousy and all for me.”

“You’re the only one that makes me feel this way.” Gemma finally admits.

“Good.” Lando mumbles before he places a sweet kiss against her lips.

They kiss for a few minutes before Lando shuffles her over to the massage bed and lifts her up so she’s sitting on the bed.

“I have waited so long to kiss you again.” He whispers into her neck. “It’s been torture.”

Her fingers crawl into his hair and grip onto his curls as he continues to kiss down her neck. His hands travel up her thighs and under skirt.

“Consider yourself set free.” Gemma informs him and he pulls away from her, eyes wide. “Whatever you’ve been wanting, whatever you hoped for, I’m happy to give it a chance.”

“You serious?” Lando asks, his eyes glistening with hope.

“You’re all I ever think about, Lando.” She tells him as she cups his face in her hands. “I’ve just been too scared to admit it to myself, because I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“What changed your mind?” Lando wonders.

“No matter what, you’re always choosing me. You chose to stick around. You carried me to safety in the middle of the freaking woods. You could have let that girl flirt with you, yet you chose to come back inside with me. No one has ever chosen me or prioritised me the way you have and done it so patiently and confidently.” Gemma explains to him.

“God, I am so very much in love with you, Gem.” Lando admits, immediately sparking the blush in her cheeks once again. “From the second you told me that stupid refrigerator joke, I was done for.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” Gemma continues and sweetly kisses him again.

The following day during the race, Lando is able to move up from P15 to P3 and charges after Leclerc in P2 with only five laps left. Gemma’s eyes shift between the data streaming in on Oscar’s car and the race footage above it as she watches Lando driving. The mechanics found the issue with his hydraulic system and fixed it before the race started. He was driving brilliantly, but like a man possessed, determined to win his home race.

Gemma bites her nails as the anticipation becomes palpable around her as Lando takes second place from Leclerc with Max not far ahead. Four laps left.

“Head down and keep pushing.” Andrea radios Lando.

Three laps left and Lando is almost within DRS range. Two laps left and Lando has DRS. Lando and Max go wheel-to-wheel with Lando taking the lead coming into the Wellington straight and pulling away from Max. The McLaren crew starts cheering in the garage and the pitwall starts buzzing with chatter. One lap left. Lando still has a lead over Max. This is his race to win. Lando comes around Stowe and the crew rush to the pitwall as the chequered flag comes out. Lando sees the chequered flag first and roars over the finish line, winning his first ever F1 race at his home circuit.

The pit wall crew embrace each other as they cheer and celebrate Lando’s win. Tears well up in Gemma's eyes as she watches his onboard cool down lap before he pulls up against the P1 board. He gets out of the car and throws his hands up in victory. The crew envelope him and sing his praises and jump around. They eventually let him go as he looks up and spots Gemma proudly smiling, her hands clasped in front of her mouth. He jogs over to her and picks her up and spins her around.

“This is for you, baby!” He exclaims. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him as she grips his helmet in her hands.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1

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irradiatedsnakes · 1 year

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POKEMOB!!!! ive been thinking abt this nonstop for like, weeks. check it out, though! lots of little guys! reigen's special move where he chucks his nacli at the foe as hard as possible! teru's furfrou's matching wig! other stuff! this post has 18 images

@skypiea helped SO much with pokemon choices for this also!

see under the cut for full teams and further explanation!!! please check it out

mob - ralts & espurr. later, silvally. mob isn't a trainer, and his pokemon don't fight. they're just little guys. type:null was originally toichiro's (who used various pokemon alongside the human claw grunts), mob met it in aftermath of the divine tree once everything in the domination arc was over. (it still doesn't battle or anything. big fancy lapdog full of love.)

ritsu - unovan braviary, bisharp, and alakazam. going along with his student council status & top-of-the-line grades, ritsu's a skilled trainer with some powerful pokemon. braviary and bisharp were his most used pokemon early on- they're sort of representative of his student council thing (note braviary's unobtainable psychic type form)- but abra was his first pokemon, a counterpart to mob's ralts. it only evolved first during ritsu and the esper kids' attempted escape of the 7th division claw building.

reigen - murkrow, greavard, thievul, and nacli. reigen's not a trainer, his pokemon are both pets and assist him with work. with the exception of nacli, dark and ghost types are his specialty (psychic-adjacent types, but Not actual psychic types). his murkrow imitates him constantly. greavard is uu-chan, of course, but this time he doesn't get eaten by dimple (uu-chan is still feeding on reigen's soul). one of nacli's possible abilities in the games is "purifying salt", which cuts damage from ghost moves. reigen's nacli, of course, has sturdy. and to quote kite, re: thievul: "Reigen: would an untrustworthy guy have THIS [sends out the thief pokemon]"

teru - furfrou (shiny), zoroark (maybe shiny i cant decide. burple), and togepi (later togekiss). before his encounter with mob in season 1, teru didn't actually use his pokemon in battle often- they're rare, flashy, and/or powerful, but they were lackeys and status symbols just as much as his underlings at black vinegar were. his relationship with his pokemon improved after he started to work on his humility, leading to the evolution of his togepi.

shou - morpeko, latias, and (mega) blaziken. he's a super tough trainer, and he cares about his pokemon So much. he rides his latias like she's a surfboard

serizawa - swoobat & bewear. serizawa didn't really have pokemon growing up after his self-imposed isolation- the stufful he had as a kid was taken care of by his mother once that happened. he met his woobat a while after joining claw, and it evolved sometime after the world domination arc. bewear isn't entirely his- but after the world domination arc, he reconnected with it and takes care of it some of the time. the rest of the time it's serimama's gigantic housebear

tome - two (later three which become a single magneton) magnemite, orbeetle, eventually elgyem. i think magnemite just fits her vibes... plus it's a bit ufo-y, innit. she HAD to have a bug, and i mean..look at orbeetle's gmax form! and it has the telepathy ability! unfortunately, despite her best efforts, orbeetle's telepathy ability hasn't proved useful for finding human telepaths. she caught elgyem on new years, on the way back down to the car. tome can hold her own in battle, but training for battle isn't something she's focused on.

dimple - is a yamask! his big powerful form is cofagrigus, obvs. his mask is usually blank save for the cheek spots, since he has no memory of his life as a human. the mask does change to fit the (LOL) and psycho helmet cult as well. he places his mask on someone's face to possess them like any other yamask, to others it just appears as the regular red cheeks, but to folks who can see spirits they see the mask. when possessing someone, his expressions will show on the mask as well.

whew, i think that's everything i wanted to talk about. thanks for reading!

#kageyama shigeo #reigen arataka #kageyama ritsu #hanazawa teruki #kurata tome #serizawa katsuya #inukawa mameta #dimple #pkmn #mp100 #pokemob #art #ids in alt btw

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jadeazora · 2 months

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Honestly tho, this is years off, probably more than a decade, but I hope just because we're getting a Kalosian Legends game, that they don't skimp out on giving Kalos an actually GOOD remake when the time comes.

Especially as far as Team Flare-centric characters go. They had the most potential as a villain team, and XY dropped the ball so bad with them, I would hate for a BDSP-esque remake to do the same. No joke, these guys were most of the reason I wanted Z back in Gen6.

Like, Lysandre is pretty much at the forefront of Kalos' tech and communication, and is a very influential person there, they could do something with Malva running cover-ups for Flare in the news media, the entire organization is probably full of politically powerful people given the wealth of their members (Kalos could be quite corrupt for all we know), they have this secret stranglehold on the region, and it's scary, like no one in Kalos really had any idea how fucked they were until it was (almost) too late. Even the Champion was likely completely in the dark, their strongest line of defense was a total no-show, even when the Ultimate Weapon had been raised.

We can definitely pin that on Malva tho, since she keeps all of Kalos in the dark with her job in the news media, and as a mole in the E4, she likely keeps any sensitive information from Diantha too. And she gets away with ALL OF IT. Diantha never even knows, like even as far as Masters, she doesn't seem to be aware of Malva's true allegiance. And Malva never shows any regret or anything for what she did, she tries to justify it. She's even actively hostile to the player for taking them down, and routinely threatens to burn them up where they stand. (And this is before she becomes an accessory to murder in Masters, like, this woman smiles as Lysandre prepares to have Volcanion flash-boil a couple Rocket grunts. What is wrong with her.)

Even the grunts, they're essentially a genocidal secret police of elitist fuckheads who don't give a single flying shit about throwing everyone else under the bus so long as they survive, listening in on Holocaster conversations and having some implicit plainclothes agents (showcased more in Masters tho), and given how wealthy the organization is, it would be very easy for them to make problem people disappear. Imagine if they played up that paranoia factor they have, like, you're on their radar getting into battles with them and interfering with their plans on the regular, Lysandre calls you at multiple points (and definitely knows you're the one causing trouble before the player character finds out he's their leader), you're definitely not safe.

Also, it would have been neat if Sycamore had been in on it too somehow, maybe a joint leadership with Lysandre or something with how he plays off the man's blatant bloodlust as just him being "passionate"? I was side-eyeing him my entire first playthru. But even tho that turned out to not be the case, it would have been cool if one of them tried to save the other, be it Lysandre kidnapping Sycamore to try to spare his friend from the culling, or Sycamore joining you on the front lines to try to talk some sense into his friend. It was such an interesting dynamic at the time, and it was always such a waste it barely got any development. (At least Masters and Evolutions have made steps to fix that complaint since, but still.)

#pokemon xy #pokemon x and y #team flare #elite four malva #lysandre #professor sycamore #augustine sycamore

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displacedentities · 1 year

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N҉E͟W S̸͢͡P͞҉͘͢͠E̛C̴̛Ì̴͜͡Ȩ͟͞S̵͘͘͢͞ Ḑ̷̛̻̱͈̮̔̓͛̕⬤̶̧̪͉͓̑͊͋͘͝ͅ⫷̵̝̳̭̬̣̆̓͗̓͝Ứ̷̧̨̞̫͙̊̈́͘▐̷̛͚͓͕̤͖̓͝͝͝▮̴͔͔̪̭͎̉̂́̋̑▌̸̰̜͖̝́̆͐̈́̈́ͅ█̸̨̗̼̮͊͗͛́̇͜☰̵̧̞͍̗͉̆͒̒̓͌ ̴̧̧̲̼̣̌͊̽͑̓Ṇ̷̨̡̭̙̔̓̽͑̾▀̴͈̼̲͔͎̎͐̈́̉̇█̵̯̱͚̲̪̋̑͗͌͘▀̴̧̢͍̝͈̔̉̒̊̚ ̷̢̘̳̯̪͆̑͒̔͐█̸̪̻̭̦͕̄̍̋̏̚☰̵͓̞͍̰̬̎͛̈́͂͐▟̵̖̣̠̟͓̈́̉̓̐͝

(The following report has been recovered from a corrupted data drive, confiscated from Team Rocket grunts. Some information has been lost, as the hardware was damaged by blunt force, exposure to the elements and saltwater corrosion. The captured individuals are being questioned as to the origin and legitimacy of the data, as it pertains to an ongoing investigation over the sudden disappearance of the Hadal Research Group.)

~~~

Mod: Meet the newest addition to my roster, TANGLE! Tangle is a Mewtwo x Dragalge fusion I purchased from @absolutedream-art, and- I love him, I love him so much. I couldn't come up with a clean fusion name of the two species, so I decided to go ahead and not only give him his own species name, but also a baby AND Mega form >:)c I even made a full blank Fakemon template for this!

Not gonna lie obsessed with these designs now huehuehue~ Tempted to make an askblog for this guy, cuz I kinda wanna tell his story, but only if people are really interested >u<

Gonna put my thoughts, current info and bonus sketches under the ReadMore cut! cx

MEWELP ("Mewtwo"/"Skrelp"/"Mew"/"Whelp") The Kelp Hider Pokemon PSYCHIC/POISON Ability: Poison Point / HA: Adaptability Moves: Camouflage, Confusion, Water Gun, Poison Tail

Mewelp was created in the Hadal Research Group domed undersea facility, where gene therapy was being studied using the DNA of Water type Pokemon such as Corsola, Slowpoke, and Skrelp for their regenerative capabilities. Mewelp prefers to hide over seeking conflict, using its superior camouflaging abilities to mask itself in kelp and undersea detritus to the point it turns completely invisible. When attacked, Mewelp will attempt to angle its venomous back spine and tail towards the assailant. It loves hide-and-seek, and pouncing from total cover on people and Pokemon that it deems friends and family.

Evolves into MIASMALGA at level 48

MIASMALGA ("Mewtwo"/"Dragalge"/"Miasma"/"Alga") The Wreck Ruler Pokemon PSYCHIC/DRAGON Ability: Pressure / HA: Adaptability Moves: Psystrike, Water Pulse, Dragon Pulse, Gunk Shot

Miasmalga is the "adult" form of Mewelp, having matured enough to evolve the Skrelp portion of their DNA into the full Dragalge DNA sequence. Their thinking and reasoning skills have advanced drastically by the time they reach this evolution, their intelligence on par with a full-blooded Mewtwo. Miasmalga shares the telepathic communication skill of their Legendary genetic donor, and can speak to and understand both humans and Pokemon with fully developed speech and clarity. Their reliance on poisonous self-defense for protection has diminished, instead replaced by great offensive power in the form of psychic and pulse-form attacks. In spite of this, Miasmalga's temperament is typically calm, favoring respect and wisdom over brutality.

Evolves into MEGA MIASMALGA with a Miasmalgite (Root File: C̸̨̺͕̙̤͌̅̀̾͝⬤̴̧̛̭̯̹̹́̔̄͘RR█̷̧̦͖͖̾͆́̐̕͜▄̸̨̛̬̱͕͈̍͌͌͑█̸̥͉͎̯͚́̑̂͋̆P̶̛̪̥̪͖͙̾͒̿̅▀̶͔̌̓͒̈́͝T ̴̳͈̻̅̍̃̈͗ͅED)

MEGA MIASMALGA The Hadal King Pokemon PSYCHIC/DRAGON Ability: Shifting Strands*** / HA: Justified Moves: Psystrike, Megahorn, Breaking Swipe, Gunk Shot

***Shifting Strands is the Signature Ability of Mega Miasmalga. Tendrils around the user's body move and shift to hide and protect it. Raises evasiveness by one stage at the start of battle, and cuts all incoming physical damage by half.

D̷̻̈A̸̘͋ ̶̺͋▀̷̱̈́█̶͔̐▀̶͑ͅ▞̵̪͐▖̵̟̄ C̶̼͓̯͕̟̭͇̳̗̋̆͆̑́̋͋́̚⬤̸̧̛͉̝͇̬͇̭̊̊̋͗̅̿̕͝ͅͅ ̷̲̜̞̲͕͚͕̝̎́͊̎̇͑͂̉̂ͅ█̵̨̹͓̫̩̭̖͇̍̊̈̿̓̌́̚̚͜▘̷̰̲͇̠̹͚͎̼͌̔̑͑̔̓͂̀͜͠R̵̨̗̹̬͎̭̘̩̫̔̒́̋̎̆̾̏͘█̶̧̡̤̜̻̻̦͈̱͗͒̈́̄̔͊͘̚͝▄̸̦̰̟̫͓͕̫͍̦̈́̅̄͂͆̆̾͛͝█̵̧̘̖̳̙̫͕̭̦̃̉̄̀̀̃̈́̌́P̴̨̢̣̠͙͇̯̞̮͛͗͑̀̍́̾͂̓▀̷̧̢̙̺͈͔̼̲͖͑̊̇́̀͛̋̽̉█̵͇̳̩̲̪̪̭̮͆́͑̊̏̾͋̃͗ͅ▀̶̫͕̠͓̲̯̜̟͖̓͗͒͛̎͌̕̚̕ ̸̨̢̗̞̙̬͕͕͇̓͊̀̒̏̾̀̋͘█̸͚̲͇͙̮͍̱̒̑̏͗̿̄̋̇̆ͅͅ☰̷̡͉̟̺̮̫̗̤̄̌͌͒̓̐̐̚̕ͅ▟̸̠͔̮̼̬̱̝̝̜̇̌͒͛̈́́̍͘͝

~~~

And here's the bonus sketches from my work doodle book, where I was trying to learn how to block out Tangle's face, form and limb function xD

#Pokemon #Mewtwo #Dragalge #Fakemon #my art #arts #fusion #Pokemon fusion #Mewtwo fusion #Tangle #Skrelp

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ancientorigins · 1 month

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Groundbreaking research rewinds the clock 1.6 million years, revealing how our ancestors first uttered ‘words’ that changed the course of history. Dr. Steven Mithen examines far back in the evolution of language, tracing its roots to a pivotal moment that forever shaped humanity. From primitive grunts to complex discourse, the remarkable story reveals how speech emerged, transforming our species forever.

#speech #language #homo sapiens #skull #brain #communication

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mskenway97 · 2 months

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What about TFA waspinator encountering a human scientist(reader) the rest is up to your imagination.(Safe vore please)

Peaceful investigation

Tfa Waspinator x Fem!human!reader

Words : 1,145

Summary: You found yourself on a journey, researching species, but what you didn't know was that this fascination would take you to the most unlikely places.

Warning: g/t content, safe vore, soft vore, protection vore

You had always been fascinated by the evolution of the species, you had studied too much and now that you know that aliens also exist thanks to the Detroit autobots. You wanted to know even more since there were some things that looked like them… But they will also have fauna, their flora. Your research had come to fruition thanks to the collaboration of Prowl in certain parts that he had commented with you about the Dinobots, Optimus told you something about Blackarania but not much because of his past. That made me even more curious. Knowing about it made your curiosity grow more and more that you were attentive to any new discoveries. You had notes, lots of notes… The other researchers were beginning to think you were going crazy. But there was something your notes didn't give you a being to investigate closely. Since Prowl wouldn't let you get close to the Dinobots, no matter how many times you tried. Even sneaking around the ninja bot had always caught you. One day they told you that they had discovered a huge being in the Amazon that resembled the descriptions you had given. They called you to see if you could help in their mystery. You were looking forward to this trip at least, you wouldn't be interrupted in case you could see a new species or at worst if they were messing with you for investigating something like this. The climate of the Amazon was complicated to what you were used to in Detroit, besides the fact that here you could be the prey.

You didn't think much of it since you weren't far away from your escort who was watching. The damage caused to some structures, there were some trees that were broken, others were filled with a viscous substance that you did not recognize. It was purple, unlike any fluid you had ever seen. You told your companions about it but they did not give importance to the discovery you made. You tried to analyze it in the laboratory, the results took some time but the only thing you identified was that it was 30% bee DNA and 70% unknown DNA… Unknown, something already told you that this being that roamed the Amazon was no longer common. You tried to describe the unknown genome with different chemicals but all of them were failing. It's like it was mutated or something. You were even more eager to know what was going on but at the same time in your last visits to the affected area, you felt like you were being watched. Until one day they decided to do an expedition at night, they told you that it was completely safe and there would be no problem. You are not so sure, if the fauna detected an easy prey, no matter how many security measures they put in place, they would get whatever they could. But despite the risk you accepted because maybe you could find your specimen. At night you were in your tent still trying once again to get the unknown DNA data out of the sample you took. You ran over 40 tests but this one seemed to be something…. Then you started to hear a rumbling outside they had attacked the camp you were in, you didn't understand what was going on but they took you to safety as best they could so you ran after them, the grunting noises around you left you with goose bumps, feeling your heart in a fist. The men didn't know what to do so they told you to head for a cave to be safe. You didn't object so you went into that cave trying to find a safe place. Some time passed in which you stayed in the cave just listening to the silence of the night and little else. Then you heard a noise at the back of the cave. Your logical side told you not to approach but your curious side wanted to know who was making the noise. So you decided to see what was going on at the bottom of that place that was getting bigger and bigger until it showed you a grotto, illuminated in blue, you were fascinated by the place until you felt something rise in front of you. You screamed for a moment when you didn't recognize what animal had caught you, wait, was it an animal? You focused your sight better to see not a wild animal but… A giant robot and not just any insect looking bumblebee with purple optics, that was staring at you.

-Not to be a threat to waspinator… What to do here, human?

You are trembling, in the servos of that enormous being…. as I took a closer look at you.

-I recognize… Waspinator to see you near dangerous zone. You go where you shouldn't - said Waspinator while I tried to keep calm. You didn't know exactly what its intentions were but if you made a false move it could be fatal.

-I was investigating… It seems to have led me to you… What exactly are you? What do you transform into? - you asked curiously but quite carefully. it felt you were sniffing me out - Waspinator being from Cybertron… You have no fear… That's weird - said Waspinator as he put you on the ground.

-Oh are you an autobot? Or Decepticon? - you asked a little scared while he denied and watched every move you made.

-I'm neither. Being traitors…

-I understand, I'd like to know more about you but I have to get back to camp… - you said as he picked you up again in his servos. I didn't understand why he did it.

-Not leaving is not safe… I'll get you to safety, inside… - said Waspinator you didn't understand until you were getting close to what seemed to be his mouth, you started to move frantically trying to get as far away as you could from that mouth but it was stronger than you. When you realized you were between the jaws of the huge beast that was massaging you with its tongue and crushing your chest a little on the roof of your mouth making you gasp for a moment before it swallowed you. Waspinator felt a pleasant sensation in his tanks.

Waspinator felt a pleasant sensation in his tanks, feeling that you were safe. It wasn't safe for someone as small as you to be alone in the Amazon and his tanks, his body would protect you from harm. He sensed that you were still moving… so he generated some movement.

-Not to worry… Waspinator will protect you - said Waspinator as he moved away to hide in the middle of the night. Where you wouldn't know for sure when you would see the light again.

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winxanity-ii · 18 days

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⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 06 Chapter 06 | smoldering truths⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the classroom.

The air hung heavy with the murmur of pre-graduation jitters and whispered dreams of high school.

You, however, remained unmoved. The childish excitement of your classmates was a dull echo in your ears.

A flicker of amusement sparked behind your eyes. They chattered about their Quirks, childish displays of power sparking and popping around the room.

How predictable.

Quirks, the very foundation of this hero society, a system ripe for manipulation.

Ten years.

It's been ten years since you'd woke up in this strange reality—in another world not your own.

A world that, upon closer inspection, held a bitter irony.

Here, Quirks were celebrated, seen as the pinnacle of human evolution.

Yet you, the embodiment of control, the once-feared Makima, were Quirkless—or so it seemed on the surface.

The truth, like a slow-burning ember, had gradually ignited within you.

Memories, fragmented at first, had coalesced into a horrifying clarity.

You weren't some Quirkless anomaly—you were the Control Devil. A powerful entity ripped from your own world and deposited in this one through a freak accident you still couldn't fully grasp.

It's been ten, long years since you'd both discovered and accepted the harsh reality of your situation—there would be no devouring by Chainsaw Man.

No rebirth in a world of blood and battle—of becoming one with Pochita, of a life built on fear and adoration.

That dream, once so vivid and tantalizing, dissipated like smoke...forever out of reach.

The initial wave of despair had been crushing. You wandered through life a ghost blending in with a world that offered you nothing but a gilded cage.

The blonde hair, a cruel reminder of what could have been, became an obsession—a desperate attempt to cling to a shred of the life you craved.

You'd latch onto anyone with that shade of gold, a pale imitation of your lost god.

Bakugo, bless his fiery soul, had been your first victim. You'd use your power, his body a marionette dancing to your will.

As time passed, you still found yourself cupping his face, forcing him to meet your vacant eyes, a single, bored sigh escaping your lips, "If only you had brown eyes..." The confusion and rage contorting his face brought a hollow echo of satisfaction.

A sudden bellow ripped through the classroom, shattering your reverie. Your teacher, a portly man with a perpetually harried expression, stood at the front of the class, exasperated.

"So, since you're all third-years," he droned, his voice laden with weary resignation, "it's time for you to think seriously about your futures."

He reached for a stack of papers, his sigh echoing in the stillness.

"I'll pass out handouts for your future plans now, but..." he trailed off, his eyes scanning the classroom.

A flurry of activity erupted. Lights flickered as students activated their Quirks. One boy's arms contorted into spring-loaded coils, another levitated a stack of textbooks with a strained grunt.

You watched with a detached amusement, the corners of your lips curling into a knowing smile.

"...you're all pretty much planning to go into the hero course, right?" the teacher muttered, his voice drowned out by the excited chatter.

"Yes!" the students roared in unison, a chorus of bravado.

The teacher chuckled defeatedly. "Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks!" He held up a hand, the classroom quieting down slightly. "But using your powers at school is against the rules!"

A collective groan rippled through the room.

You leaned forward, your voice a saccharine whisper that cut through the noise. "But wouldn't the true measure of a hero be their ability to control their power, even in the face of temptation?"

All eyes turned to you. A hush fell over the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on your shoulders.

You met their stares with a serene smile, the mask you wore flawlessly. "After all," you continued, your voice dripping with honeyed insincerity, "a hero who can't follow the rules is hardly a hero at all, wouldn't you agree?"

The students exchanged uncertain glances, a seed of doubt planted in their minds. The teacher, however, looked at you with a weary gratitude. "Ah, yes. Thank you, Akuma-san."

"Teach!" Bakugo's voice boomed across the room, shattering the fragile peace. "Don't lump us all in the same group. I'm not gonna be stuck at the bottom with the rest of these rejects."

"That was uncalled for, Katsuki!"

"You all should shut up like the extras you are!" he snarled, his voice laced with venomous contempt.

The teacher, used to Bakugo's outbursts, sighed heavily. "Oh, if I remember correctly, you want to go to U.A. High, right, Bakugo?"

A collective gasp rippled through the classroom. U.A., the prestigious hero academy, was a dream most students only dared to whisper about. The air crackled with a mix of awe and disbelief.

"U.A.?" one student squeaked, his voice barely a whisper. "That national school?!"

"It was in the top 0.2% this year, you know!" another chimed in, their voice laced with awe.

"Their acceptance rate is always really low, too!" another student added, a hint of envy in their tone.

Bakugo scoffed, his chest puffing out with pride, reveling in the shocked silence. "That's exactly why you guys are just extras!" he roared, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "I aced the mock test! I'm the only one at this school who could possibly get into U.A."

He scanned the room, his gaze finally landing back on you. A smirk played on his lips, a silent challenge. "I'll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero! My name will be inscribed on the list of top earners!"

A glint of something akin to admiration flickered in Bakugo's crimson eyes as he met your gaze. A silent conversation passed between you, a reminder of the unspoken event that took place years ago on the dusty playground.

Back then, after your... introduction to one another, you sparked a flicker of something else in him.

You became a necessary thorn in his side, a challenge he couldn't quite overcome. Here, in the confines of the classroom, you allowed him to maintain his facade of superiority—the "lord" to your unassuming "lady."

However, the dynamic shifted dramatically behind closed doors. You, the seemingly docile enigma, transformed into the puppeteer pulling the strings.

With subtle manipulations and veiled suggestions, you subtly guided his explosive rage towards your own ends.

It was a dance as intricate as it was exhilarating, a constant push and pull between your calculated control and his unbridled ambition.

The teacher cleared his throat, breaking the silent exchange. "Oh yeah, Midoriya, you wanted to go to U.A., too, right?"

A tense silence followed. All eyes darted towards Midoriya, who shrank under the sudden scrutiny.

"Erk..." Midoriya stammered, a blush creeping up his neck.

The class erupted in a cacophony of disbelief. "Hahahaha!" one student roared, tears welling from laughter.

"Huh? Midoriya? No way!" another chimed in. Disbelief morphed into open mockery.

"You can't get into the hero course just by studying!" a voice shouted from the back.

Midoriya's shoulders slumped. "Th-They got rid of that rule! There's just no precedent..." he mumbled defensively.

A guttural growl cut through the chatter. Bakugo, ever the volatile one, slammed his explosive hand clean through Midoriya's desk.

A loud crack echoed through the room, followed by Midoriya's startled yelp. "Gah! Ngh..." he gasped, scrambling back as debris rained down.

Bakugo leaned in menacingly, a cruel smirk twisting his features. "Hey, Deku!"

Midoriya flinched at the nickname, a look of pure terror on his face, his voice barely a whisper. "Ah...!"

"You're below the rejects!" Bakugo roared, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're Quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?!"

Midoriya, ever the underdog, tried to reason with him. "No, wait, Kacchan! It's not like I'm trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me! It's just that it's been my goal ever since I was little. And well... I won't know unless I try—"

Bakugo cut him off with a dismissive scoff. "Whaddaya mean, unless you try?! Are you taking the test for fun?! What the hell can you do? You're Quirkless!"

You watched the exchange with a detached interest.

This Midoriya—this Quirkless nobody, dared to dream of U.A when even you didn't care for it with all of your power?

A flicker of curiosity sparked within you. Perhaps keeping an eye on him wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

☆

The shrill cry of the school bell cut through the afternoon lull, its harsh clang signaling the end of another day.

You meticulously scoured over your notes, making sure everything was in place before packing things into your backpack, the familiar routine a comforting constant.

As you cleaned up, a flicker of movement in the classroom caught your eye.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the unmistakable blond spiky hair of Bakugo. He was striding purposefully towards Midoriya, his two lackeys tailing behind him like particularly unpleasant shadows.

A low rumble of annoyance emanated from one of them, but the exact words were lost in the general din of the departing students.

You didn't need to be a mind-reader to know this wasn't going to be a pleasant encounter for Midoriya.

You'd seen enough of these interactions over the years to recognize the warning signs—the puffed-out chest, the simmering anger radiating off Bakugo like heat waves off a cracked sidewalk.

With a mental shrug, you opted to ignore the impending altercation. There was no point in getting involved. Midoriya, bless his heart, would weather the storm as he always did.

Bakugo loomed over Midoriya, a sneer contorting his features. His red eyes crackled with barely contained rage, a stark contrast to Midoriya's wide, frightened eyes.

In Bakugo's hand, you saw a flash of green—Midoriya's precious hero notebook.

Your eyebrow arched in interest. It seems that this wasn't just your usual bullying routine. This was something more.

Taking your time packing up, you were able to witness Bakugo deliver some rather cruel words.

"Hmph...Most top first-string heroes have stories about them from their school days," he started, his voice dripping with condescension before lighting the green journal on fire with his Quirk.

Midoriya can only gasp in horror as his childhood-friend-turn-bully tossed the notebook with a flick of his wrist.

It arced through the air in a slow-motion blur before disappearing through the open window.

"I want the shine of being able to be called the only student to make it into U.A. from this mediocre city junior high school," he declared, a manic glint in his crimson eyes. "I mean, I'm a perfectionist, after all."

A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he leaned closer to Midoriya, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Ah... And I gotta piece of sound advice if you wanna be a hero that badly. There's a quick and easy way to do it to."

He gestured dramatically towards the window, where the discarded notebook had vanished. "Believe that you'll be born with a Quirk in your next life and take a last-chance dive off the roof!"

And with that, you were on your way, leaving them to their escalating conflict.

You had things to do, and Bakugo's playground squabbles held little interest for you.

Arriving home, you were greeted by an unsettling quiet. You shuffled inside, the silence pressing down on you.

The usual afternoon routine then unfolded—your mother emerged from the kitchen, her face etched with worry. "How was school, Y/N?" she inquired, her voice laced with concern. "Did you have a good lunch?" she fussed, hovering for a moment.

You offered a mumbled response, neither confirming nor denying a desire for a snack. She mentioned your father working late, a familiar refrain.

You allowed her to fret for a few moments longer, the silence occasionally punctuated by her worried questions, before retreating to your room.

The revelation years ago still hung heavy in the air. Instead of continuing the facade of Quirklessness like your unfortunate parents, you'd chosen a different path.

You'd shed a sliver of anonymity, revealing a fragment of your true power—the Control Devil, the Devil of Domination.

With practiced innocence, you'd approached your mother, claiming to manipulate your dolls with "strings." In reality, these strings were meticulously crafted illusions, visible only to those you deemed inferior.

The memory still elicited a wry smile.

Your mother's delight at your "Quirk," a miraculous emergence from two Quirkless parents, had been genuine and heartwarming. Her joy was a stark contrast to your father's reaction. He remained distant, his gaze guarded.

You cared little for his approval though. His wariness simply reinforced your commitment to staying undetected.

In fact, your carefully crafted illusion of a Quirk served as a perfect shield. It was a strategic move, a way to avoid the scrutiny someone like Midoriya faced.

The thought of him, Quirkless and ridiculed, sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but admire his tenacity, but you weren't about to follow in his vulnerable footsteps.

No, you were the Control Devil, and you'd operate in the shadows, your true power a secret weapon waiting to be unleashed.

Tossing your backpack onto the floor, you settled in to tackle the mountain of homework threatening to bury you. As the hours melted away, your focus remained unwavering.

Your phone vibrated sporadically, a notification flickering on the screen.

You ignored it with practiced ease, the dull glow a minor distraction in your studious world.

Finally, with a sigh of relief, you slammed your textbook shut, the last equation conquered. Exhaustion gnawed at the edges of your concentration, urging you towards your bed.

A surge of curiosity, however, propelled you towards your neglected phone.

Unlocking it, you were met with a barrage of texts from Bakugo. The first few were cryptic, simply asking if you were busy.

Over the four or five hours you'd dedicated to homework, two more messages materialized, the first a blunt "Can you come over?" and the last, a curt declaration of "I need you."

One could do but wonder what made Bakugo so privy to your touch, presence—approval.

It was simple, really. You just made him feel important.

After the revelation of having a 'Quirk' to your parents, and registering it into the Quirk Registry, you then revealed Bakugo of your secret—a power not of brute force, but of influence: Control.

You swore him to secrecy—the childish way, of course—because if secrecy was what you truly desired, it would be no problem for you to attain it.

It was a lie that he was the first to know, but the deception served a purpose.

It created a bond, a sense of shared knowledge that inflated his already considerable ego. He, Bakugo Katsuki, was privy to your 'secret' (or so he believed).

He was special.

A low hum escaped your lips as you mulled over the messages. It wasn't like Bakugo to reach out, especially with such an obvious need.

The silence of your home pressed in again, and with a shrug, you decided a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Leaving your phone on your desk, you grabbed your shoes and headed out the door, the mystery of Bakugo's need leaving a knot of curiosity in your stomach.

***in case everything wasn't clear, there has been a 10 year time skip between ch.5 to ch.6. hehehe I love writing this so much, lol. also, just wanted to give a heads up, i won't be updating tmr, hence the double update today; i'll be busy completing homework all damn day 💔💔 pray for me y'all. see ya next update 😘

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bonezone44 · 10 months

Text

Muddy Waters, pt. 1 (18+)

'Limewash'

Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You live with Ezra in Jackson. Joel and Ezra are sometimes partnered for patrol. He doesn't trust Ezra. He doesn't trust you, either, by association, and because you don't have a job. When you finally meet him, he's even less certain than before.

Word Count: 3,5k

next: part 2 (story masterlist) (my masterlist)

tags: NSFW 18+ (not graphic yet). Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Pet names: baby. Eventual smut. Eventual cuckold. Eventual threesome (maybe?). Ezra Enjoying Violence. No use of Y/N.

Author's Note: so this is happening. I'm not fighting it and just letting the story come out. Also doing paintings for them because I gotta. I've been reading so much amazing smut recently, this was bound to come out sooner or later. I'm thankful to @toxicanonymity and @walkintotheriveranddisappear for sharing their amazing work and inspiring my own.

=================================

An irritatin’ snake.

That’s how Joel saw Ezra.

For starters, the man talked too goddamn much. Drove him goddamn crazy when they were out on patrol or in and taking care of the horses. Fucker always had something to say about something and it rode every last nerve Joel had left in his aching body.

Secondly, he was so charming that Joel found it disconcerting. Ezra could make everyone around him smile and feel special. At the Tipsy Bison, when Ezra drank enough to turn his ears pink and his eyes blurry–there’d still be a flirtatious grin plastered on his face. Hell, people loved the man even more when he was drinking. He would finally stop talking so much and listen for once.

But that didn’t mean he was quiet.

Ezra was what people would call an ‘active listener.’ He’d stare into the eyes of whoever was speaking like they were the only other person in the world. He’d follow along real intently, nodding his head, and asking follow-up questions as if he was damn near desperate to learn the answers. He would laugh real loud at any little pun or joke. Shit, he would make even the dullest Jackson had to offer feel like they were a goddamn movie star.

Goddamn! It annoyed the hell out of Joel.

Because thirdly, and most importantly, they didn’t see Ezra’s twitchy fingers or shaking legs when they were alone at night, circling outside the town on horseback. They didn’t see the shift in his face when he would gun down infected–something sick and excited dancing through him. It was even worse when raiders would show up. Ezra looked downright horny. He’d stroke his gun like it was his own cock blasting holes in people’s heads.

One time, Ezra killed a man and then turned to Joel with a grunt and said, “Doesn’t that feel divine?” He dragged out the word ‘divine’ like he was scraping up poker winnings–slow, indulgent, and haughty.

“Not s’posed to feel good,” Joel chided.

He gave Joel a boyish grin. “Which makes the taste of it that much more ambrosial, don’t it?” He hummed and stared at the barrel of his rifle. “It is an effusive pleasure to be a batter for the winning team.”

Joel scoffed. “Winnin’ ain’t a sure thing.”

Ezra huffed. “I must riposte, brother. We may succumb to a battle or two, but Jackson is winning the long game.”

Joel always twitched when Ezra would call him ‘brother.’ That serpent would never be his kin. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do,” Ezra began with his shoulders back and chin high. “Look at history. Look at evolution. Our species thrives with the efforts of cooperation and cohabitation.” He huffed. “And Jackson’s community grows stronger every day.” A gloved finger rose into the air. “Now stay with me for a moment while I explain this.” He paused for dramatic effect to which Joel made no response. “But I believe God sent the fungal plague to start us anew and on an upwardly path.”

Joel’s lip twitched.

“Better the cordyceps than nuclear warheads, in my opinion.”

Joel glared that much harder.

Ezra held up his palms. “You know as well as I that we were gonna end ourselves on way or another.” He shrugged his shoulder and flicked his head. “At least this way, the earth is still fecund enough for us to plant our virile seed.” Ezra’s left eyebrow curled upward as he chuckled to himself.

Joel huffed all frustrated and leaned forward, resting his elbow on the saddle horn. “How the hell does that make Jackson the winnin team?”

“Raiders are individualistic,” he answered with confidence. “And individualism is a remnant of the old world. Individualism. Capitalism. Monotheism.” He held his palm out wide. “We are evolving beyond it.” He gazed at the dead raider on the ground between them before pointing to it with his rifle. “We’re putting down the dying breeds to secure resources for our symbiotic comrades.” He looked up at Joel again. “And please–” he raised his empty palm. “--do not mistake my analogy for eugenics.” The empty palm found his heart. “We’re killing ideals, not controlling gene pools.”

Joel’s brows shot up. “Are you trying to say that we only killed that man’s hopes and dreams?” He pointed to the body with a thick, gloved finger. “That we didn’t just kill off his family tree?”

“I–” Ezra’s brow furrowed as he solemnly observed the deceased. His lips went tight. “Shit.” He watched the blood soak into the soil. “I guess we are doing a little bit of both, aren’t we?” He looked back up at Joel with that cheerful, boyish smile again.

Joel clenched his teeth. “You gotta be shittin’ me.” He grabbed the reins and tugged his horse back toward the main path.

Ezra held out his arms, gun barrel aimed at the clouds. “No philosophy is perfect, brother. It evolves just as we do on our ascension toward greater realms.”

Joel stopped humoring Ezra after that.

Now you…

Joel wasn’t too sure about you, either. You didn’t have an exact job as far as Joel could tell. You were never on any of the rotations. When he asked Tommy about it in passing, Tommy only said that you ‘contributed in your own way.’

“If you took the time to get to know her, you’d understand,” said Maria.

“Dude, she just gets it,” said Ellie.

Buncha bullshit if you asked Joel.

There was no reason for you to be wandering the town every day without a care in the world, smiling like the sun shined outta your ass and everyone should be kissing you for it. Anytime he did see you in a storefront or at the stables, you weren’t doing anything special. Just… visiting with whoever was doing all the real work.

Like some kinda lazy ass.

He wondered if you were just like Ezra: charming people around you while something twisted boiled underneath.

Were you just as bloodthirsty?

No.

Couldn’t be.

You never ventured beyond the safety of Jackson’s walls and he never saw you arguing with anyone–let alone get into some kinda physical altercation. You seemed pretty happy most of the time. And downright jubilant when you had a few drinks at the bar.

(One time, he saw you gather up a group of women to sit around and play hand games. Hand games. At a goddamn bar. You were singing songs and clapping and even convinced Maria to join and teach everyone the songs that she could remember, too. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Grown women regressing into little girls–and under the influence to boot. There was so much screaming and laughing that the whole bar nearly emptied. Anyone not in on the fun didn’t wanna be anywhere near it. The whole thing bombarded the senses. And then Ellie came home a few days later, clapping her hands and singing the same songs. Joel almost kicked her out the house.)

Were you some kind of a crook? Were you gaining the trust of the people in town as some kind of long con?

It was possible, though unlikely.

And to what end?

You and Ezra seemed so invested. Not just in planting roots for yourselves, but invested in the town in general. Ezra was at every town meeting, offering his opinion and joining the group discussions. Joel never attended himself, but he would hear about it from either Tommy or Maria.

That was another thing! Tommy and Maria liked Ezra, too! They admitted he was ‘interesting’, but couldn’t find any real fault in him.

One night, Joel confronted Tommy about him.

Joel’s eyes got real wide. “Something’s wrong with that man.”

Tommy laughed. “Everybody’s got somethin wrong with them.”

“You know what I mean.” Joel punctuated his remark with a sneer. Like he was saying something he really meant.

“Look.” Tommy sighed. “I don’t know how to put this, but his wife or partner or however they like to call it–she’s a good influence on him. Keeps him settled, I guess.” He sighed again. “Like… you and Tess,” Tommy added hesitantly.

Joel huffed and clenched his teeth. There was no way. He and Tess were–they were–he and Tess were nothing like Ezra and his ladyfriend. Simple fact. He just didn’t know how to prove it, yet.

For all Joel’s pondering and curiosities–he finally got his chance to talk to you.

You were walking by one morning while he was on his porch drinking coffee. You smiled and waved, he answered by raising his brows at you. But then you stopped dead in your tracks and pointed past him.

“Are those new shutters?” you asked, face all screwed up and confused.

Joel turned his head to see. Even though this was his house. He knew the shutters you were talking about. He turned back to you. “Uhh… yep.”

“When did you put ‘em up?”

Joel’s body tensed. “Last week.”

“Wow. I walk by here every day. I don’t remember even seeing you workin on ‘em.” You shook your head. “How long did it take?” You weren’t smiling or sunny when you asked him, either. You looked downright offended for some reason that Joel couldn’t quite figure.

“Couple days,” he answered with tight lips. He wasn’t sure where your questions were trying to take him.

“Well, shit.” You put your hands on your hips. “How did I miss all that?” You tilted your head and pointed again. “Did you thin out some paint or is that a real lime wash?”

“‘S a wash,” he said. “Don’t gotta prime it or nothin nowadays.”

“Ohh, okay.” You shrugged. “It looks really good.” And while you were giving him a compliment, your face said ‘meh.’

“Thanks.” He glowed a little in his chest. He could tell that you meant it. That you weren’t just being polite.

And Joel didn’t know what made him say it, but he followed up with, “I did the kitchen table, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded his head back. “C’mere. I’ll show ya.”

Next thing he knew, Joel was talking to you about a country music festival he went to when he was 25. It was just him and his old friend, Andrew. Andrew had bought tickets for them and even secured a sitter for Sarah. They spent the whole weekend sleeping and drinking in the back of his truck, singing songs and saying hi to all the pretty girls that walked by.

And when the story was over, and you both said your good-byes, Joel felt more confused than anything. He held a glass of water in his hand. His throat had gone dry. He wasn’t used to speaking that much, because, yeah, Joel just spoke a lot. A lot a lot. More than he’d spoken in years maybe.

And he felt good. Real good. Like a high flutter in his chest that got him all excited to go out and do something. Do something fun just for the fun of it.

But… why?

All he did was show you some work he’d done on the house. Then he saw his guitar and talked about playing again. Then that turned into talking about the music he liked. Then somehow he remembered that festival. Clear as day. After not thinking about it for over two decades.

And all you did was listen.

You just visited.

But it got him all excited. Like he was a little boy making a new best friend.

But… how?

Joel couldn’t make sense of it. And he didn’t have anyone to talk to about it either.

He didn’t like that something so simple could feel so good. He didn’t like that you didn’t do any of the talking. He was supposed to figure you out. Figure out you and Ezra. But this just made him even more confused.

You didn’t listen like Ezra did–all hyped up and dramatic. You made a comment here or there, but nothing significant enough to recall. And you barely asked him any follow up questions.

But you smiled when he said something nice. Chuckled when he said something funny. It was like you were water–rippling out and taking shape in whatever manner he needed you to. Whatever kept the words flowing out of his dry, creaky throat.

But people weren’t water. People were people. They had opinions and wants and needs. And no one could be that easy going, that passive, that submissive without expecting something in return.

Joel needed to figure you out. He just needed to figure out how to figure you out.

+++++++

Now that Joel had officially met you, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He stopped seeing you walking around town. He stopped seeing you in the storefronts. You weren’t around during mealtimes or at the bar at night, either. It was like you up and vanished.

He knew nothing bad had happened. It was a small town. Word traveled fast. If anything had gone wrong, he’d have heard about it an hour later. Two hours, tops. And Ezra would certainly not be walking around so cheerily.

The whole thing was making him all sick in the stomach. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, worrying about you, looking for you. He made to ask Tommy or Maria, but the words never breached his lips. It felt wrong. Like he was gonna expose something about himself that he didn’t want them to know.

If he had known where you lived, he would have shown up at your house. Shit, the man even tried to follow Ezra home a couple of times–lurking in the shadows, stepping real light. But there was always something ruining his efforts. A loud tumble of cans falling over behind the general store. A small group of drunks walking by and talking loud. A goddamn dog barking at him.

Shit.

It pained him–greatly, he might add–but he knew what he had to do.

He had to talk to Ezra.

Joel waited until they were paired up again for patrol–well, no. That’s not true. He switched shifts with someone to hurry it all up. But nevertheless, he waited until they were alone and out of earshot of anyone else, lest they get the wrong idea about Joel. He was just wondering about her. That’s all. Nothing untoward about it.

Joel cleared his throat, trotting alongside Ezra in the bright light of the full moon. “How’s your uh… ladyfriend doin?”

“Ladyfriend, huh?” Ezra teased. “I like that word. I don’t know how I ever forgot about that one.”

Joel rolled his eyes.

Ezra chuckled. “She’s doin alright.”

Joel slid his jaw side to side. “Haven’t seen her around in a while.”

“Yeah, she gets like that sometimes,” Ezra murmured.

“Is-is somethin wrong? Did somethin happen?” Joel asked, concern evident on his brow.

Ezra’s eyes found Joel. He sized him up as they made their way around the north end of the woods. After what felt to Joel like twenty fuckin minutes, Ezra looked away and sighed. “Look,” he said. “There is no need for you or anyone else to worry–”

“Worry ‘bout what?” Joel’s heart raced in his chest. His hands gripped tight around the reins, leather gloves squeaking. He’d go straight back to town if he had to–patrol protocol be damned.

“She has this feeling that someone is looking for her.”

Joel blinked. “What?”

Ezra sighed again. “She gets the feelings sometimes and sometimes she has misread her notions and sometimes they are accurate.” He stared off. “Disconcertingly accurate, to be honest with you.”

“Once,” Ezra began. “In our early days together, I got shot in my arm.” He pointed to his right bicep. “It wasn’t direct, but it wasn’t a slug, either.” He laughed and shook his head. “This asshole in a fuckin 49er’s cap was firing buckshot.” He looked at Joel with wide eyes. “Can you believe that shit? Buckshot. And the 49ers? Who in the hell liked the 49ers?” He huffed and wiped his mouth. “Now this all transpired down in Louisiana where I was born and raised. At the time, we were somewhere a little east of Houma, which if you don’t know, is mired in swamps and bayous and just… water, water everywhere.” Ezra gazed through the thick of evergreens, sucking fresh air through his nose. “And I was not thinkin clearly at the time.” He rolled his shoulders, eyes blank in disbelief. “Maybe it was the oppressive summer heat or the unrelenting humidity, but I washed the wound with some contaminated water.” He sighed. “As soon as I unveiled my hardship to her, she took one look and said, ‘We’re going to LSU.’” He shrugged. “That’s all,” he said. “And I can remember thinkin to myself, ‘LSU? Where the hell did that idea come from?’ We had been trying to go back east. I wanted to keep trekkin towards Florida, hopin we might find some help along the way, but she told me no. Said we had to go north. Go get our purple and gold on, I suppose.” He grimaced. “We walked a day straight. Now I mean that.” He stressed his words with widened eyes. “Twenty four hours of walkin. No little catnaps under the shady oak trees or dippin our toes into the creek.” He took a deep breath. “A whole day.” He exhaled laboriously.

“And I… started gettin feverish toward the end of our journey.” He closed his eyes. “I could feel every little pellet as it pulsed and bulged with pus beneath my skin.” He shuddered and opened his eyes. “I thought I was gonna start devolving into the Thing. Thought I was gonna have to strap dynamite to my torso and blow myself into smithereens.” He threw his arm up, exasperated. “She wouldn’t let me search any of the Eckerds or pharmacies we passed. Wouldn’t let me stop walkin neither.” He laughed dryly and sighed. “We make it to the LSU campus. We walk up to the gates.” He threw his arm up again. “And those people took us right in. No questions asked.” It was a good thing, but Ezra sounded so frustrated. “Got me cleaned and bandaged. They fed us.” He shook his head. “They even gave us each a new pair of shoes. Nike’s.” He looked in Joel in whole-hearted disbelief. “Swoosh on ‘em and everything.” He huffed out a laugh. “She just knew. She knew where to go and how to get us in. Didn’t need a map. We were out and exposed, walkin along the main roads. And when we got there, she spoke to the doctors and got me a change of clothes, too.” He chuckled. “She slept about a week straight after all of it was said and done, though. Poor thing could barely stay awake long enough to eat.” He hummed. “She had exhausted her mind, body, and soul to get me to where I needed to go.” He smiled with tender warmth. “I am forever grateful to her for that.”

“Sh-she just… knew?” Joel asked.

“She just knew.”

“Y-you think she’s right this time, too?”

Ezra threw his head back and laughed. “Now, she is resolute to be right and true this time.” He grinned. “Her worries are beginnin to snake themselves into my mind, as well.” He turned to Joel with a playful smirk. “Past few days I could have sworn someone was following me in town.” He shook his head, still smiling. “But I know there’s no real danger in Jackson and the daily reports offer nothing of significance. I am inclined to believe that she has misread her notions again.” He sniffed. “‘Cause the real danger–” He pointed to the words with his chin. “The real danger is all out here.” He narrowed his eyes as his breaths grew heavy.

Joel watched as Ezra gripped the horn of his saddle with both hands, leather gloves twisting and creaking. He lewdly rolled his hips into the rise of his seat with a grunt.

Ezra turned back to Joel with a devilish grin–leaning toward him with slack shoulders. “Let’s go kill us some infected, brother.” He bit his lip before turning and trotting deeper into the trees.

Joel sucked his teeth. “Sick fuck,” he said under his breath and followed.

+++++

The following morning, Ezra woke you up on the couch after returning home from patrol. He pet your shoulder while you laid wrapped in your blanket.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered.

“Hey,” you mumbled with your eyes closed.

“How you feelin?”

“Like shit.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he cooed.

You didn’t move. Only grunted.

“Guess who was askin’ after you?”

You grunted again.

“Joel Miller.”

‘Joel Miller?’ you thought. ‘Why?’

Then it clicked.

Fear left your mind and body and was quickly replaced with fury.

You shot up with a gasp. “Oh my god!” you shouted.

“What?” Ezra reeled back with his palms up in surrender. “What?”

“That’s who’s been lookin for me!” You balled up your blanket with righteous anger and hopped up from the couch. You threw the tangled wool fabric to the floor. The fact that it was too soft to make a sound when it hit the wood just pissed you off even more.

“Him?” Ezra’s eyes glittered, a small smile on his lips.

You squeezed your fists tight. “That motherfucker!”

+++++

-----

part 2

(story masterlist)

(my masterlist)

#ezra x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #ezra x reader x joel miller #my art #muddy waters series

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