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itsmebytch001 · 8 months

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The Final Straw:

Note: You ever see Mommy Dearest? That's Diana 100%

As like every Friday afternoon in the billowing NYC winter Aaron would escort you to the designated Deli round 11th street trecking through the snow in your giant furry coat wait with you for about half an hour before Diana turned up and then wave you goodbye as you both dissapeard round the corner. Then when he was lone he would tidy the house, catch up on his mechanics and catch up with Miles, but once the quite set in and Aaron was remined how alone he was in the house he would usually go out night walking until early hours once his hands went blue, but this weekend was different.

With each passing weak you seemed more and more reluctant to go see Diana, you would cry and beg not to go, lock your bedroom door only for Aaron to pick the lock rather than kick it down, last week he literally had to carry you to the Deli as you refused to walk, and it wasn't like Aaron was unaware to Diana's antics, but whenever he asked you...

Aaron: "Baby, why don't you wanna go to your Moms?"

Y/n: "I don't want to talk about it I just can't go"

Aaron: "I cant go to the court-"

Y/n: "I am so sick of court I hate it there why can't I just stay here!"

Aaron: "Because that's not how it works, but if she's hurting you" He tried to place a hand on your shoulder only for you to shove it off.

Y/n: "She's not hurting me, I just don't wanna talk about it"

Even your Auntie Rio could not pry whatever was happening out of you even with all the bribary of new clothes shopping wasn't enough and so reluctanlty Aaron handed you over to Diana every Friday afternoon.

Meanwhile, while Aaron re- re organised his record collection, you were being pressed onto the floor by your own mother as she squashed your face onto the carpet she pulled out a pair of scissors and while your face met the soft ground and you cried and screamed for her to get off you felt the blunt end of the blade on your neck and she began to snip taking off a large clump of your hair as you thrashed under your Mother.

Diana: "You think your so pretty? So pretty, you think your gorgeous you stupid ungrateful little bitch!" She screamed lifting your head only to slap it back onto the carpet floor.

Y/n: "Please Mommy stop!"

Diana: "I Put up with you all weekend, and you come back and every week!" She again slammed you head into the carpeted floor.

Diana: "And I make you pretty, I do your hair I make you beautiful and you throw it all away!" She's crying, you can feel her tears hit your face as she continues to snip.

Diana: "You wanna look like your father?!"

Y/n: "NO! MOMMY NO!" Diana: "WE'LL SEE HOW PRETTY YOU ARE MATCHING THE BALD BASTARD!"

Y/n: "NOOO!" You screached out as you slipped out from under her, making a run for it down the hall and turning the door knob.

Diana: "GET BACK HERE YOUNG LADY!"

oh no oh no oh no

Just as the front door opens you feel her hand whisk past your head and you bolt down the hallway and out of the building, and as soon as you found yourself outside you knew you should have picked up your coat before dashing out, or at least put on more than your Pyjamas, onlookers observed you treking it back through the snow with no shoes on and with your hands under your armpits for warmth, it was so cold that your tears were freezing in the wind, you only got two blocks away before you heard police sirens, you froze on the spot only to turn to your right and see a familair face looking back at you in the darkness.

Jeff: "...Y/n?"

Y/n: "Oh...hey Uncle Jeff"

Jeff: "What are you doing ou- ARE YOU WEARING SHOES?!"

Y/n: "No..I didn't have time to put them on"

Jeff: "oh god Get in the car Y/n"

Y/n: "...I am in trouble?"

Jeff: "No No of course not just get in the car"

Y/n: "Can I sit in the front?"

Jeff: "Yes now come on in the car before you get frost bite"

And so once he opened the door you sat with your Uncle in the front of the police cruiser, wrapped in his winter coat like a baby in a blanket, you and Uncle Jeff never had a fantastic relationship so the drive was awfully awkward, though you did feel fancy fir being able to sit in the front of a police cruiser. As he drove in the direction of Diana's building your breathing became quick as your heart banged against your chest.

Y/n: "You can't take be back, I can't go back"

Jeff: "I'm not taking you back sweetie this is just the way back home"

Y/n: "...are you sure?"

Jeff: "Yes baby"

Jeff: "Did she cut your hair?"

Y/n: "No...I did"

Now, you never covered for your Mom out of love, only out the fear of how she may react, and what might happen to her if you really let the truth be told about how unhinged she could truly be.

Jeff: "Uh huh, you sure about that?"

Y/n: "Yeah, I used her scissors though"

Jeff: "Why did you only cut off one pig tail then? Is that a new trend, like a half n half look?"

why must he try and be funny, Just go on with it.

Y/n:" yes...This is a trend"

Jeff: "Y/n...You know you can tell us anything?"

Y/n: "I know"

Once you finally made it to Uncle Jeff's house where Miles was already asleep Rio was hysterically warming you up, making you tea, turning up the heating and pouring you a boiling hot bath that stinged to climb inside. And while you sat in the boiling bath your Auntie Rio cupped hot water in her hands and poured it onto your back in silence tutting to herself as she looked over your slightly bruised left cheek and half cut hair while Jeff in the next room called your father.

Calling Aaron Davis

Ring

Aaron: "Hello?"

Jeff: "Hey, uh so, Y/n's here"

Aaron: "What? Why isn't she at her Mom's?"

Jeff: "Well, uh we found her down her street barefoot"

Aaron: "What?! I-Jesus, oh my God okay, she she okay?"

Jeff: "Rio's got her in the bath...She's gone really quite I think she's in shock"

Aaron: "Okay, Okay I'll be over in ten"

And once Aaron got to the Morales home he saw you asleep curled up on the couch wearing a giant adult top. He sat next to you and rubbed your back lightly not wanting to wake you he whispered over to Jefferson.

Aaron: "What the fuck happened?!"

Jeff: "I don't know, I just found her wandering"

Rio: "I could not pry it out of here, I tried but she would not talk"

Aaron: "I can't...what happened to her hair?" He lightly pulled your hair to see half of it simply gone.

Jeff: "She said she did it, said it was a trend"

Rio: "I dout that, look at her"

Aaron: "It was Diana, this the type of thing she would do...I can't hand her over next week I won't"

Jeff: "Maybe File for emergency full custody, this will be enough to demand it"

Aaron: "Yeah...yeah" He mumbled stroking your head.

Aaron: "Ya'll mind if we sleepover, I don't wanna wake her"

Rio: "Of course" She nodded as she and Jeff made themselves back to their bedroom and Arron sprawled himself on the couch next to you, taking off his jacket and placing in on top of you.

Requets are open!

#dad aaron davis #platonic yandere #aaron davis #yandere miles morales #yandere morales family #rio morales x reader #aaron davis x reader #uncle aaron #jeff morales #yandere spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales #rio morales

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deepestblizzardcomputer · 10 months

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°•°•°BACK 'HOME'°•°•°

Part 2

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / ??

Synopsis: after Miles and MC discovers they were in another universe, they meet sevreal suprsies on their way.

Warnings: none

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

WAKING UP FROM your haze you blinked turning your head toward the door. a slight creak of it barley showed you anything from outside, only allowing the hall's thin light to pass through.

'did it happen to Miles too?? Did he realize it?' your mind thought as you felt a twist in your stomach. This wasn't good, you were no where near home,you didn't know how would you be back in that case since you didn't have those multiverse watches. both Miles and you were thrown into another universe.

And God knows what did it hold for you,fortunately, you didn't need to wait to find out.

you held the knob slowly opening the door, grabbing Miles's attention instantly.

Both your widen eyes staring back at each other, telling you that he indeed felt it as well and knew what it meant. this whole silent interaction went unnoticed by Rio who had her back to her 'son'.

Before any of you utter a word a loud creak was heard from the front door, someone was entering Miles house.

and instead of the usually buffed build cop coming to his house, like any other day. the guy who entered was not him. he was slim and way taller, it was dark yet you could make out those fluffs on his shoulder of the jacket he was wearing and what marked him right away was his bald head.

Uncle Aaron. The man who you attended his funeral not two years ago, was walking alive and well in this world, in this house. Making his way to his 'nephew' all casually as if there was nothing wrong.

for some reason you hid further in the room, pushing the door slightly more so it appeared there was no-one in there. it was dark so no way he would see you, but you could. you felt weird meeting him again even when he wasn't that much of a stranger to you.

you watched how your friend stood frozen staring at his not-so-dead uncle standing front him with a waiting hand in the air, staring back at his nephew although confused for why was he so surprised.

Miles finally takes his hand into their usual 'handshake', it was how he used to greet his uncle before he met his fate before he let his emotions slip and tangled his Uncle in a hug. You could hear him whisper.

" I missed you so much. . ." to him, it was a refreshing moment, a great chance to remeet his uncle depaite the circumstances. to his uncle, it brought more confusion and surprise.

for you, it was mixed feelings. You were glad,confused, surprised and scared. if he was alive that means that he was still the Prowler, right?

Though it shouldn't trouble you right now, this was the least you had to worry about. Right now you were glad that at least Miles had a chance to hug his uncle after a long time, even when he brushed him off and took it lightly while walking to the kitchen to greet Rio who greeted back like nothing was unordinary.

Your friend stayed there still, staring at your Uncle. your teeth nipped on your bottom lip feeling suddenly nervous that you were going to reveal yourself to him. it really shouldn't be a big deal, you met him several times, although you were not close. though you find it really awkward to introduce to yourself right now.since they weren't really Miles's family.

but they still were, in a way, right?

Then your mind caught on something. 'hold up, they are Miles's family, does that mean–'

You snapped back to the scene when you saw Uncle Aaron approaching toward their front door telling Miles that they 'had to move' you quickly followed suit without Rio noticing since she entered deeper in her kitchen.

Miles turned to you surprised as you held the door that he was going to close it, you sent an awaked smile to him as you pulled the door behind you.

"Forgot about me already?" You mumbled playfully with an unbothred smile to ease the gravity of this situation.

from his shock of earlier your friend forgot you were with him this whole time, he face palmed himself

" am so sorry." He mumbled back.

You giggled at his reaction patting his shoulder, "it's okay" he smiled back at you.

even when he hated bringing you in all this, Miles was still grateful he had you by his side, you never doubted him or leave him no matter what. this little sweet interaction however was interpreted.

" You followin kid?" A deep voice called from above, the man was at top of stairs waiting for his nephew to follow seemingly not noticing your presence yet.

" Ah yah uncle! I am!" He called walking fast behind him, you following him.

the man before you, frowned deeper upon seeing you beside his nephew, confused.

" Hol up. . Who is your friend?" 'Ah so he didn't know me in this universe'. that or perhaps the hood that kept your face hidden didn't really show who you were.

"She is. . .my friend. . Don't you know her?" Miles lift a brow while rubbing his neck. he was suddenly uncomfortable like he was caught up doing something wrong by simply bringing his friend with him.

you waved awkwardly at him, he didn't seem pleased for some reason, his eyes narrowed more, looking more suspicious of you even.

" her? Who is 'her?' "

Before any of you could answer, Aaron's pocket buzzed to life, he quickly opened his phone, his frown deepening as he typed several responses before engulfing his device back in the pocket.

He turned his back to both of you climbing several steps ahead, his dull eyes turned to both of you.

" Alright whatever, we should keep goin." his said in a cold tone.

This uncle Aaron seemed way colder than you remembered. what happened to him?

even when he was the Prowler from the beginning in your universe he was an easygoing guy, he would always shrugs anything serious off and crack bad jokes with his brother, holding a cold beer and being a 'bad influencer' to Miles.

Speaking of his brother. . . wasn't Miles's father supposed to be back by now? They really needed to speak with him.

you and Miles shared a look before walking behind this man in silence, you walked closer holding on your friend's hand giving it a slight squeeze for comfort. He blinked surprised though lightly squeezed your hand back, smiling to you.

" It's okay" he mouthed sensing your worry.

He too was nervous, this atmosphere was getting unsettling for whatever reason and Aaron's mysterious behaviour didn't help.it's like you were both getting punished for something you hadn't commit and why were you both even going to the roof? What's up there?

Miles was lightly pulling you with him forward, you were making your way to the door till you got hit with the same gut-wrenching feeling, you both glitched tripping on your steps. Aaron turned his head, lifting a brow.

" Ya both okay?"

Your friend slowly nodded as you helped him up holding on his arm, you rubbed your head.

" just a cold. . " you added earning another intense stare and subtle nod, he walked out leaving the door to shut.

as you existed to roof, chilling air hit your face making you shiver and dig deeper in your burrowed hoodie, your arms hugged your body. the sky stopped raining, groups of dark clouds float together as they hid the moon making it way darker, with street lights only illuminating the area you were standing on.

a lot of dusted boxes and other things were scattered around, all chairs were packed together, unused. there was no planting pots nor any decoration giving this place some life.

It felt so unusual how abounded it seemed.

instead of the welcoming aura you used to get from here no matter what, it felt way colder even without this atmosphere. you recalled how many times Miles's family (along with you, sometimes) would drink tea and enjoy the view at sunset or at dusk, mats would be spread on ground where they sat with string yellow lights hinging around, adding more warmth to the moment.

You frowned, your attention at a certain spot where you used to sit back in your universe. 'do they still do that here too?' If not You wondered what would be the reason, could this universe be more depressing than yours.

come again, though you hate to admit it Miguel could have been right when he said that Miles took someone's else role when he became spider-man.

still, it was never his fault, he never knew and he never chose this, it happened as it was.

So, did that mean there was no 'spider-man' here? No Peter Parker? No peace? You kept wondering to dozens of possibilities of what could this universe's fate be if there was no 'hero' in here. a tight grip on your arm snapped you out of your thoughts as you turned to your friend.

Confused at his shocked expression you followed to where was he staring, you face paled. seemingly answering to your previous question of why would they wouldn't do such a 'warming family gathering' thing on this roof.

Infront you, was a smiling face of Jefferson morales, painted on bricks wall, where Uncle Aaron was supposed to be. He was painted in his cop uniform, either as a memory cherishing him or that he died fighting for the city's justice since there were no 'heroes'.

you understood why would Miles be freaked out, he just saw what he wanted to avoid, his father's 'canon event' thought wasn't only what shocked you.

Beside Miles's father's painting there was another one, though in smaller size.

It was–

'me?'

Your wide eyes stuck on the wall as you subconsciously took off your hood still in shock.

Uncle Aaron's reaction to your reveal went unnoticed by you and Miles. you both busy staring at the painting of Jeff and yourself.

Your face was painted on the walls with a very bright smile and little cute drawing around you as if this was a picture taken by a filter on someone's phone. It was like looking in a mirror, except your eyes were in a different shade and you had dark freckles*.

Your irises turned to Miles's brown ones, both of you sharing an anxious look till your eyes widen upon realizing your mistake. You showed yourself when you were 'dead' here.

Miles seemed to catch on that. slowly, you and him turned to the adult man standing silently in the dark, only the light from his phone brighting his face. his expression stayed in their cold gaze, if even more.

That made you scared from his reaction, what would he do now that he seemed to realize you both weren't from here? Especially you, since you were supposed to be, well, non-living. did he thought you were both perhaps imposters? that you were a danger? Or you were lost and needed help?

Miles opened his mouth hesitated to explain himself in a way, he wanted to clear things up for him.

no matter what that was his uncle Aaron, right?

but he couldn't even utter a word as a sudden shadow loomed over you both, when you turned your head in hurry. That mysterious shadowed figure knocked out your friend on the spot, in one punch.

You jumped, panicking. "Miles!!–" before you were about to reach him, two strong arms wrapped around your small figure, keeping you in hold.

You started to struggle, eyes stuck on the unconscious boy as you looked at the mysterious person.

" Why did you do that?!" You yelled, glaring at them.

it was difficult to make out how this person looked like but with his neon bright colored mask, you sort of caught on his purple and black costume. Just like the classic prowler from your world.

They froze suddenly, titling their head.

" [Name]. . . .?" They said it in a hushed voice but you heard it anyway, it wasn't clear what their real voice were but it turned out to be a male as you assumed.

He started approaching you, what seemed like a clawed hand reached toward you. panicking you tried to wiggle harder from Uncle Aaron's grip, it never wavered.

'god damn it!'

"It isn't her, com'on " you heard Uncle Aaron state, his grip on you tighten.

the guy's face turned up at him, seemingly his 'eyes' narrowed at him as they shared a silent interaction before subtly nodding his head. His 'gaze' darkened toward you as he continued approaching, his hand reaching behind his back.

"Wait wait!" You turned your head as best as you could to look at the man caging you. " Mr. Aaron, Please listen!" You pleaded for him as you continued. " We aren't here to harm you or anything! we came from–" you couldn't finish your sentence as a wet cloth was pressed into your face.

Trapping your nose and mouth to be intoxicated with the strong smell.

You shook your head rapidly, trying to pry off this cloth as the 'prowler' held your head with his clawed hand keeping you still, you refused to inhale the intoxicating subject, but you gave up and did it anyway when you needed to breathe.

Why was everything going opposite to what you wanted today?

You felt your limps weaken as your vision began to blur, no matter how hard you tried your consciousness was drifting to nothing, your head felt heavy, everything was heavy that you just let yourself drop into Aaron's grip as you passed out.

He let go off you, only for your body to be caught by the Prowler himself, he held with care despite the eerieness he showed toward you earlier, his eyes staring at your sleeping figure as he subconsciously caressed your hair behind your ear, like he used to do whenever you fell asleep in his room while chatting with him.

It was ironic how you chose to wear this hoodie out of everything if you were in his room, because the you he knew always picked this one, his favourite one. He would argue with you to get it back every time. Though he would only take it back to keep your scent, not washing it and wearing it with pride. that till his mother would find it somehow no matter where he hid it and rewash it.

for a moment, he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, he forgot that you weren't really 'here' and that 'you' could be just a doppelganger who came at their place for harm, he didn't know whether it could be possible though and he shouldn't trust your words, somehow he believed it.

it was said in your tone and it sounded genuine, at least for him.

" Kid. . ." Miles's head perked up at his Uncle's call, he turned to him.

the old guy was holding on Miles's clone's limp body on his shoulder, he gave his 'real' nephew a knowing look, though his eyes stayed cold it softened.

" it isn't your [Name], so stay focused. " even when he ordered him, his tone was somewhat caring. He didn't want to see his nephew heartbroken again. Believing in a lie .

his nephew kept his gaze on the girl in his arms, brushing his thumb of his non-clawed hand on her cheek.

"I know. . .it's just. . she is alive. "

a pause as his uncle stared at the paintings on the walls. focusing more on his brother's, he would have been shocked and speechless even, if he saw Jeff standing alive in front of him but his logical mind was more awake than his emotional heart, from what this life has been throwing to him.

so even though he would die to see Jeff again,he knew that would be logically impossible.

" I know but still, don't get fooled." He turned back to his Nephew.

"If anything these two could be planin somethin and we have to find it out."

A subtle nod from him told Aaron that he was indeed aware. which meant he would have to push those emotions aside.

Miles followed behind his uncle, holding you in a bridal style, he couldn't help but steal glances at you. you looked so peaceful, so alive.

Gosh if he could just hug you right now. real or not, you made him stare in awe, like he was himself again back when everything was almost normal.

he didn't what could it be, but it seems the universe had given him another chance, a rare one. he wasn't there for you back then, couldn't save you but now, with you breathing in his arms, he would be extremely determined to know what was your motive for your arrival or your plans, whether you even had any.

Because if his gut feeling was right and somehow, by a miracle, it was you or close to the 'you' he used to know.

Miles wouldn't be letting you go. the universe had brought you to him for the second time and he wouldn't be missing this chance, no matter what.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

* MC has freckles in earth-42, if you have them anyway then imagine that this MC doesn't.

Ughhh I wanted to put 42'Miles interaction with the MC here so bad but that would have made it impossibly long. Don't worry though! The next parts is going to have their meeting reunion? Together!

Please, if you liked this leave a comment, it motivates me to keep writing.

Taglist:

@pifuyue @ueexj

hope you have a great day :)

#earth 42 miles x reader #spiderverse miles #the prowler #prowler miles #miles morales #miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #miles g morales #uncle aaron #rio morales #sony spiderverse #spiderverse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #x reader #reader #writing #spiderverse x reader

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whositmcwhatsit · 6 months

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Chapter 1?

Okay, so technically this is an introduction... taster... of the fic to come? I have been desperately trying to finish this for today, but didn't quite make it, so I'm posting this hoping it'll hold me accountable.

A fall/Halloweeny story Inspired by a brief stop Elvis and co made on their way to the World's Fair in 1962. @thatbanditqueen I apologise for messing with your era Elvis and the naughty, terrible things I plan to do with him later in the fic...

All the love to my coven of wicked sisters of the night @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @ellie-24, @from-memphis-with-love, @peskybedtime, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows

“You have got to be kidding me! What is your problem?!” Cheryl slammed on the brakes as the station wagon in front of her was forced to drop below ten miles an hour because of the Dodge motorhome in front of it. It was the third time it had happened in the past ten minutes and, just like before, both vehicles abruptly started speeding up again soon afterwards. “I’m going to pass ‘em and there’ll be a monkey at the wheel. It's the only explanation!”

The height and size of the motorhome meant that Cheryl couldn’t get a clear look of the road ahead and this had stopped her from trying to go around before, but with time ticking on and so many miles ahead of her, she decided to take a chance. She pulled out into the oncoming lane and stamped her foot on the gas.

It was all going so well, she passed the station wagon and was coming up alongside the motorhome. She had been expecting to see some silver haired, doddery grandpa at the wheel; that would have been the most reasonable explanation for the erratic driving. Instead, with a dark captain’s hat over his dyed black hair, she found Elvis Presley eyeing her curiously as she floored it to try and get ahead of him. And that was when the truck pulled out of a hidden junction from within the tall trees ahead.

Cheryl had ten seconds to choose her fate: splattered face first into the broadside of a pick up or swerve into the ditch at the side of the road and take her chances. Ditch it was. There was a deafening chorus of blaring horns followed by a finale of grinding, crunching metal. The ditch was wider than it looked and the front end of her car dipped before smashing face first into the earth bank and turning sideways.

Ears ringing, Cheryl was glad later that she didn’t have to explain or justify her vanity as she checked her face for injury first. She worked her way down after that and was just discovering that she had managed to survive with only a cut across her knuckle where her flailing hand had caught a knob on the dashboard, when the door was opened above her and, appearing unexpectedly for the second time that day, Elvis Presley peered in.

“I think so?” she called back, wriggling her toes and, she could only blame it on shock, hissing in annoyance at the ladder in her stockings.

“Miss? Miss, are you okay?”

“Good, good,” he murmured, seemingly in relief. “Honey, can you reach my hand? Let’s get you outta there.” More faces appeared around the doorway and Cheryl did not have the time or inclination to worry about the hands gripping her body and pulling her up through the gap and into the damp autumn air.

“Christ, you should be dead!” one of the other men marveled, standing on the near bank of the ditch. Cheryl stared blankly at the dented and torn hood and the shattered windshield of her car, before reality penetrated the high-pitched whistling that filled her brain.

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” She wrapped her hands over the top of her head. “I can’t… I need… What am I going to do?! I’ve got a show tomorrow a couple hundred miles from here!”

“You some kind of singer or something?” asked another of the men, his voice more twang than words.

“Or something. I’m- I’m a clairvoyant.”

“Clairvoyant? And you didn’t see this coming?” scoffed a short, round balding man, eagerly looking for approval from his boss.

“I’m a spiritualist, not a fortune teller,” she snapped. “I see spirits of loved ones watching over us, I don’t get tips on horse races and car crashes.”

The captain’s hat slipped slightly askew with the speed at which Elvis turned from the crumpled hood to her. His gaze was deep and it felt like he too was seeing more of her than just her earthly form. Her face heated despite the cold, damp air and the chilling effects of shock.

“We’ll make sure you make your show,” he said, letting his hands drop from just below his hips to help with his balance as he climbed up the side of the ditch. His gait was a little awkward and Cheryl wondered if it had something to do with the tightness of his tailored pants or the height of the heels on his eye-catching shiny shoes, before she focused back on her mess of a car and wanted to cry again.

A crow fluttered down and settled on the roof of her car, cawing judgmentally at her. She scowled at it, but it just impassively ruffled its tail feathers and shouted at her a little louder. She rolled her eyes and turned from it, surveying the little huddle that had formed around Elvis on the bank of the ditch. She noticed now that all the guys around him were wearing black coveralls like they were his own personal squad of mechanics. They each had a fancy ‘EP’ printed on the breast pocket.

“... I mean we’re on a tight schedule, shooting starts in two days and the Colonel-”

“And if we happen to break down on the road and end up a day or two late, ain’t no helpin’ that, you know.” He winked at Cheryl, smiling so much like a mischievous little boy that she found herself mirroring him, her smile only fading when she glanced back at her car.

“Ain’t gonna know what I don’t want him to know,” Elvis interjected, not bothering to hush his voice the way his lackeys were, which Cheryl appreciated from an eavesdropping perspective. “Man, we’ll make it for shooting, don’t worry about it.” He slapped the shorter man on the shoulder, adding over his shoulder:

As she stood watching a couple of Elvis’ guys scramble down into the ditch to retrieve her belongings, the man himself came to her side with his arms folded, looking down his nose like he was supervising.

“What’s your name, honey?”

“Why are you all the way up here?” she asked. “Taking a vacation from all that sunshine and dry air?”

“Cheryl,” she sighed, turning and giving him a rueful smile. “And you’re Elvis.” He stared at her a beat too long and she realized he was trying to get a handle on her, figure out if she was a fraud. “It’s not like I live in a coffin. I know who you are.” He ducked his head as he laughed a little and shrugged. He was very sparkly, she noted, sparkly white teeth, sparkly, twinkly eyes. Yes, she may have hit her head a little in the crash.

“We’re heading up to film on location,” he explained, sticking his hands into his pockets. “At the World’s Fair.”

“Oh. Still, I bet you’d rather be warm in California right now, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that, honey. Wouldn’t have got to meet a pretty little thing like you now, would I?” His left eyebrow twitched up playfully and there was a hint of a smirk on his lips as he turned away towards the motorhome.

Ignoring the way her stomach churned with excitement, Cheryl reflected that at least her car would have still been intact. She would have to call home as soon as she got to a phone, and get them to wire some cash for repairs. Her mother would be furious, as if it was her fault that Elvis Presley couldn’t drive and some idiot in a truck decided to commit a hit and run.

The air inside the motorhome was warm and kind of musky with so many men crammed in together. The guy who had been fretting about getting to location on time climbed in behind her, settling on her other side, Elvis was obviously behind the wheel to her left.

“We’ll just follow the highway until we hit a town,” Elvis said like he was thinking out loud. “Even a one-horse backwater place’ll have a fella with a tow truck. I know a little about cars and I’m betting your ride looks worse than it is.”

One of the guys in the back murmured something in a low voice that Cheryl didn’t catch, but she didn’t miss the sharp look that Elvis gave the rear view mirror.

“It’ll need to have a Western Union, I don’t have enough money on me to even cover a tow. Not until after my show anyway.”

“Well, honey, don’t worry about that,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled out from the side of the road. “I said I’d get you to your show, didn’t I.”

After a couple of minutes, she asked if a window could be opened as it was a bit stuffy and a skinny man behind her with a wispy mustache informed her that Elvis didn’t like the window open ‘on account of his hair’.

At the same time, Elvis instructed the man to shut up in Pig Latin. Cheryl recognised it because it was how she and her brothers had communicated in front of townies when they were growing up. She was impressed with Elvis’ fluency and the way the curse words flowed so nicely off his tongue.

Elvis rolled down his window as she sat pretending with wide-eyes not to have understood what he had said. There was no real need for the deception, but it was just in her nature and part of her upbringing to build up ammunition and jealously guard secrets and information like a secret agent. You never knew when it would come in handy.

“So, what does your show entail really?” he asked, glancing at her before turning back to the road. “You’re up there on the stage and you… do what exactly…?” He met her eyes briefly. “I ain’t making fun, I’m just curious, honey.”

“Well, it’s probably a lot less interesting than your shows,” she murmured, wiping at the beads of moisture sitting on the surface of her wool coat. “People come to me to make a connection or get reassurance or to find peace, and I try to help them. It’s a fluid thing, there’s no set script so to speak.”

“Oh, but you made plenty of connections at your shows, right, Boss?” chuckled one of the guys behind him.

“The road!” she reminded him nervously, reflexively hitting his thigh. He jerked slightly, tightening his grip on the wheel as he turned back to look through the windshield. Luckily, they were only going about twenty miles an hour at the time.

“Shut up, Charlie,” he murmured perfunctorily, still staring at her, eyes slightly narrowed.

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense to Cheryl.

Cheryl tried to not ask too many questions and distract him, but Elvis still told her about the movie he was making, talked about how security was going to be a pain in the ass because of all the visitors to the fair, but that he thought that it would make the movie look better than if everything was filmed on the lot with a backdrop. He said he always found that distracting when he was watching a movie, especially if the film in the background was repeated over and over. Cheryl did not doubt him since he seemed to get distracted extremely easily.

They had been traveling on the highway for about thirty minutes when a big logging rig headed their way on the other side of the road. Elvis enthusiastically gestured for the driver to sound the horn and Cheryl side-eyed him, but couldn’t help breaking into an indulgent laugh at the glee on his face when a booming honk filled the air.

“Hey, what you laughing at?” His entire face was radiant when he smiled. Cheryl almost felt like she needed sunglasses. “You know, I always dreamed of driving one of ‘em big muth- trucks when I was a little fella.”

“Oh well, at least you had this little sideline to fall back on when that dream didn’t work out.”

He laughed too late and with a touch of incredulity, like he couldn’t believe that she could be funny. “Yeah, it’s my, uh, consolation prize.” He couldn’t let that stand even as a joke and quickly included an addendum. “Naw, I’ve been very lucky, I got more than I ever dreamed.”

“You don’t want to tempt fate, huh,” Cheryl remarked.

“Just don’t wanna seem ungrateful, honey, ‘cause I’m not.”

She frowned at his earnest insistence, but smiled and nodded when he glanced from the windshield to look at her.

Finally, Elvis pulled the motorhome into the parking lot of the Cozy Pines motel, sounding slightly baffled as he mused that he’d never seen a cozy pine tree.

It certainly looked like a motel designed by someone who thought a pine tree was cozy. It was the usual two storey L-shape concrete structure with a leaf strewn concrete rectangle sunk into the middle of the parking lot with a little fence around it that looked like it might have been intended to be a pool.

“Welcome to the Bates Motel,” one of the guys in the back muttered, face pressed up against the window.

“It ain’t so bad,” Elvis remarked gently, seeing the dubious expression on Cheryl’s face. “Honey, you just gotta find yourself a car mechanic and have ‘em send me the bill. Won’t take long and you’ll be on your way.”

“Or else you’ll end up dumped in a swamp.”

Cheryl swallowed as she peered at the squat office building, its window dominated by a flashing neon sign that promised/threatened ‘vacancies’.

“Goddamn it, Marty, shut your damn trap!” Elvis snapped, ripping off one of his leather driving gloves and pitching it behind him at the guy who had spoken.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Cheryl murmured, but only softly, because if he didn’t do that, she would slash his tyres to stop him leaving her.

“Okay, change of plan. Listen up, so here’s what we’re gonna do,” said Elvis, talking fast as he grabbed her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Joe here’s gonna get his lazy ass into that office and get us some rooms. And then we’re gonna rustle you up a car and straighten everything out so that you’re on your way in a blink of an eye. Okay, honey?” He snapped his fingers at the dark haired man with wavy black hair on her right, who nodded, but rolled his eyes once he was out of Elvis’ eye line, climbing out of the truck.

It started to rain while Joe was in the manager’s office, and not just flecks but a massive biblical downpour. They all peered through the windshield at it, bemused by how suddenly the clouds had converged.

“Might be better off leaving the car and buying a boat,” Elvis remarked, leaning forward so that his shoulder pressed against hers. Cheryl looked at his lashes, marveling at how long and dark they were. Then she noticed the dark smudge underneath his lower lashes, recognising it as someone who frequently applied make-up and then absently rubbed her eyes. She was growing more and more intrigued by this man.

Joe scuttled across the parking lot with his hand held over his head like he thought this would shelter him from the rain.

“Okay, good news and bad news- Uh, it’s Sunday, so there is no chance of finding a mechanic willing to go out and look at the car until tomorrow. Good news, they have ten rooms available upstairs, and there’s a restaurant just behind the parking lot there that’ll deliver food to the rooms.”

“Well then, let’s get unloaded before we start to attract a crowd,” said the one Elvis had called Charlie.

Cheryl looked around the deserted parking lot dubiously, but scrambled out when Joe proffered his hand. She thought she glimpsed the silhouette of a couple of girls back behind the office building, but they were gone before she fully turned her head.

“You got room 220,” Joe informed Cheryl, barely looking at her as he deposited the key with the wooden room number keyring into her palm. His annoyance was evident, she could feel him almost vibrating with it, along with his anxiety that this stopover would derail their entire schedule.

Room 220 was at the very end of the concrete walkway, next to a room that Elvis and all his sidekicks disappeared into. All in all, Elvis seemed more normal than she would have expected, except for his need to be followed around by a line of identically dressed ducklings of various sizes and shapes.

The room was surprisingly clean-looking, but otherwise much like other places Cheryl had stayed while plying her trade up and down the coast. When she was younger her father used to insist that she stay in boarding houses, places with doilies and nosy old women that set a curfew and forbade all gentlemen callers. No doubt he would have still insisted on this, but he wasn’t in a position to insist on anything anymore. At least not in person.

Cheryl sidestepped quickly from the window as there was a clonk and a barrage of tapping against the glass. After a second, she cautiously hooked back the curtain with finger and frowned at the crow perched on the railing outside. It tilted its head almost condescendingly as she peered out. She huffed a sigh of annoyance and let the curtain fall back into the place.

“Hey, how come your room’s bigger ‘n’ mine?”

Cheryl whirled round and had to bite back from retorting: ‘How come you think you can just walk into my room?’ She forced herself to be more gracious to the man paying for her room and her car repairs. (Even if he was partially responsible for her needing them).

Elvis was standing in the threshold of what she had assumed was a closet opposite the bed. Apparently it was a connecting door between their rooms.

“I’m happy to switch rooms with you if you’d prefer. I don’t mind being cozy.” She stepped closer so she could peer over his shoulder at his room, but she saw no size difference. The only discrepancy seemed to be that she didn’t have half a dozen men turning down her bed, setting out her toiletries and bringing in creature comforts like a record player.

“As cozy as a pine tree. No, I’ll be a gentleman,” he said softly by her ear, his fingers sliding down from her ribs to the hips. His other hand snagged her fingers and lifted them up for inspection, frowning intently at the little nick on her knuckle.

As she opened her mouth to make a joke about how it was clearly the end of her promising career as a piano player, he pressed his soft, pillowy lips to her knuckles and what came out of her mouth was instead a slurred mumble of vowels. She held her breath, gazing up at his dark blue eyes and watching those long, black lashes flutter, before his pout spread into a sunny grin and whatever spell they had been under dissipated like mist.

“You hungry? I am starving!” he announced. He turned back to his room, “Hey, it’s chow time. Where’s Billy?”

After half an hour, there was a knock on Cheryl’s door and one of the guys stood on the covered walkway, his hands behind his back like he was about to ask Mr Bumble for more gruel.

“Y’all can come eat with us, Boss said,” he informed her. There was no question involved. She reminded herself that her room was being paid for and stretched her mouth into a smile.

“I guess the locals have heard about their special visitor,” she said, slipping her feet into her pumps. “All that screaming, I thought someone was being mur-” She stopped as she looked over the railing at the dreary, gray and empty parking lot. “I could have sworn I heard girls outside.”

“Oh, they’ll be here soon enough,” he sighed with inevitability. “They always are.”

To be continued...

If anyone is any good at yelling at people until they ignore their boring real life commitments and do the fun writing stuff, please feel free to shout at me in comments!

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #hollywood elvis #elvis x oc #elvis fanfiction #whositmcwhatsit #I'm really just missing one crucial part in the middle that totally makes sense of the smut and horror to follow #How does one make sense of smutty horror?

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vandaliatraveler · 2 years

Photo

At an elevation of 4,308 ft (1,313 m) above sea level, Bald Knob is a commanding high point from which to view Canaan Valley and the undulating ridges of the Allegheny Mountains to the west. A hike to the summit, via Canaan Valley Resort State Park, can be either challenging or easy, depending on the mode of ascent. For those wanting to test their endurance and stamina, a trailhead adjacent to the ski area will gladly accommodate, with a 900 ft (274 m) vertical rise in about a mile of constant climbing. On the other hand, a visitor can opt for a $5 lift ticket at the ski area and hike essentially downhill from there. Either way, the reward is a breathtaking panorama of some of Central Appalachia's wildest country.

From top: the edible “haws” of one of the many hawthorn trees (Crataegus) that grow in these mountains, providing a valuable food source to wildlife; the bright, clustered berries of the American mountain ash (Sorbus americana), like hawthorn, a member of the Rosaceae family; whorled wood aster (Oclemena acuminata), a lovely mountain aster whose bunched, tightly-alternating leaves give the appearance of being whorled; and a Pholiota mushroom, most likely shaggy scalycap (squarrosa), growing in the hitch of a red spruce tree (Picea rubens).

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atqh16 · 10 months

Text

They’ve kissed before. It’s a common past time for them and one Sasuke unabashedly admits he enjoys immensely. That’s not to say he’ll ever say it outloud to anyone of course. Karin and Suigetsu can make all the dirty innuendos they want but he is an Uchiha, stoic and infallible and he learned from the best.

Which also means Itachi is one of the few people who can get under his skin about it.

Itachi reads the telltale signs coming off his little brother like one of the story books he used to read to him before bed. Words filled with a thoughtful yet still fanciful tenure as if he was reading the same cliche lines all over his little brothers face. Trying to convince Itachi that he was not in fact blushing would be like trying to tell a child the sky wasn’t blue.

Then there’s Naruto, still sprawled on the floor from where Sasuke had pushed the blonde off his lap in alarm when he'd heard the click of his bedroom door knob. Sasuke never thought he’d ever meet someone so addicted to grinning as if his life depended on it, but he’s known the blonde since they were 5 so that’s a ceiling that's been broken through before he realized it had even existed.

Naruto's features were always such a mess. Is still a mess. Every inch of it from his eyebrows to his chin so unashamedly transparent in a way Sasuke doesn’t know how to be. It's also what sent his heart tripping over its beating rhythm even before they'd officially started dating.

It's also what informs his brother that the smirk curling his lips is justified.

"Hey Itachi! ", Naruto waved from the floor where he'd made himself comfortable by Sasuke's legs, "Didn't know you were home"

Itachi's eyes soften into something fond when his sight meet's cerulean blues. "I just got back actually. I didn't know you were here either"

Which is a bald faced lie.

"Niisan, get out", Sasuke grits through clenched teeth.

"I simply wanted to ask if you both would like something to eat"

" We don't. Get out"

" Actually ... ", Naruto pipes up and Sasuke's eyes snap from his brother to his boyfriend, betrayed.

Itachi nods in understanding, " I'll fry up some gyoza and steam some dumplings"

"You're the best Itachi!", Naruto calls out to the older Uchiha who responds with his own wave as he leaves. Blessedly closing the door behind him.

Sasuke makes sure he hears his brother's gentle footfalls recede before he lets out a relieved sigh. He turns to Naruto but before he can snap out a scolding, he finds himself pushed down onto the bed followed by the blond climbing onto his lap.

Narutos smile is accentuated with anticipation by a bite of his lower lip.

"That'll keep him busy for a while. Now, where were we?"

#sasunaru #sasuke uchiha #naruto uzumaki #naruto #Mine #ficlet

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huuoh · 4 months

Text

WILD THINGS MY FRIEND BLAKE HAS SAID ONLINE ( 1 / ? )

a mix of questions, statements, etc. nsfw included. / adjust as needed

❝ i'm sorry i'm down bad for women who can keep me in a cellar ❞

❝ fuck them kids bro , punt 'em ❞

❝ damn are you a parking ticket , cause you got FINE written all over you , aha ❞

❝ i sleep on my back so i can practice for my casket ❞

❝ 'tism and titties should be the first bullet on every marriage application ❞

❝ woof woof ❞

❝ it exploded . . . i fucking took off ❞

❝ i know that shit feel like when you open your window during a carwash ❞

❝ i'd rather hit my package with a ballpeen hammer ❞

❝ no problem, forehead ❞

❝ put a leash on him ❞

❝ manifesting wet socks for the lot of ya ❞

❝ that shit sounded like a grapefruit being rung out ❞

❝ we as a society need to start calling people poindexters again ❞

❝ my brain needs food it aint got no wrinkles on it ❞

❝ thicc ❞

❝ need me some of that stuffin' ❞

❝ ONCE AGAIN I AM TIRED OF LEAVES ❞

❝ if we see a cow we moo ❞

❝ if we see a deer we say OH DEER ❞

❝ ' it's grey sweatpants season ' ma'am if i wanted to display small things i would open a jewelry store ❞

❝ violently shitting myself due to being nervous ❞

❝ where does one aquire a steed ? ❞

❝ ARF ARF ❞

❝ this that type of cold that just piss you off ❞

❝ i'm tired of this grandpa ❞

❝ i found the best stick of the year ❞

❝ i fucking hate leaves. i wish all the trees a very bald ❞

❝ this aged like milk ❞

❝ let him cook ❞

❝ with how deep i sleep i need that mf alarm clock spongebob had ❞

❝ Ghost is just spooky bon jovi ❞

❝ butter up them cheeks boy ❞

❝ is it dangerous to fall asleep at night to videos about demonology lmao ❞

❝ i am making it a personal goal today to feel bonita ❞

❝ SHOW ME THE TIT ON AN ALMOND ❞

❝ y'all better hype me up like this when i get jiggy❞

❝ two halves of a whole idiot ❞

❝ a homie needs about 3 years worth of hugs ❞

❝ i got a canoe, don't make me pull up ❞

❝ YOU THE ONE THAT'S A KNOB SMHHH ❞

❝ holy hellfire i just had to walk a plaza the size of two football fields ❞

❝ yeah i ugly cried ❞

❝ girl dinner honestly ❞

❝ here lies [ name ] ' s hopes and dreams ❞

❝ i'm being held hostage ❞

❝ [ name ] don't even start the top of your head probably flat ❞

❝ my brother in Buddha LEAVE THE PREMISES ❞

#rp prompts #rp memes #rp ask meme #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #inbox memes

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

hello my dearest, may i request a soft/fluff of baker!reader teaching/showing any cod character of your choice, how to bake/making pastries, just pure fun and giggles 🤭🥰

freaking love your writing, thank you for your time❤️

“Cookies”

Thousands of miles away, at some base in a new country, there’s a craving disrupting Soap’s body. It’s random, bubbling inside him, and growing everyday.

“You think they got chocolate chips here?” He asked Gaz one morning during breakfast.

“Er— I’m sure the cook has something, he’s American.”

Soap, embarrassed by already craving something you made, was not about to ask another man to bake him cookies— let alone bake those cookies, fuck them up, and have to eat them because he asked him to do them.

On FaceTime that night, he’s complaining about how bad he needs those cookies.

“You don’t understand pet, it’s like a need at this point.” He scoffed, his mouth watering imagining the mini chocolate chips you use, the softness of the cookie in the middle, the crunchy, salty edges he saves to get that perfect last bite.

“I could make some and ship them to you,” you offer, knowing that they would get to him pretty late, and if there’s anything worse than a hungry Johnny, it’s a pissed off Johnny.

“Ugh no, as much as I would love that pet, I just know it’s not the same fresh out of the oven like you make them.”

He laughs, then adds,

“look at me, craving sugar like an American, what have you done to me?”

You laugh, and suggest asking the cook if he would make it.

“If he’s American, I’m sure he’s nice and will offer to make them.”

He side eyes you. Remembering how much of an ego he’s got to uphold here. At home, he can be soft, loving, playful.

He’s wrapped around your finger. He’s willing to do anything and everything for you. From carrying your shopping bags, to bringing you your morning coffee. He rubs your feet at night, and warms up your towel once you get out of the shower. He dotes on you, knowing that you’ll return the love if he asks you for something too.

But here? He’s captain. He’s got to lead his team, he’s got to tear it into someone when they do something stupid. He’s a leader here, not your boyfriend.

“Listen, I’ll send you the ingredients. It doesn’t hurt to ask. You’ve got another two months babe.”

Soap’s outside the kitchen area, pacing around. He knows he’s going to look like an absolute knob asking another man for cookies.

The cook comes out. He’s a blond man, shorter than Soap, he’s got a fresh buzz cut, going bald at the crown of his head. He’s got pink cheeks, from endless heat surrounding him in the kitchen. He looks at Soap, offers him a timid smile.

“Hey ya mate, how’s it goin?”

“Hello. I’m good how are you?”

“Captain MacTavish, listen I got an usual request for you…” he holds his hand out.

The man freezes up, wondering what sort of request this entails.

“Uh—sure what is it?”

“I need cookies.”

The man laughs at Soap. Guides him to the kitchen where he’s stored some snickerdoodle cookies and oatmeal raisin cookies in a bin. There’s a green apple in the bin, assuming to store its freshness. He looks at Soap, waiting for him to take one.

“Take one.”

Soap does not mean to be rude. The last thing he wants is to offend someone in the kitchen but these aren’t cookies. These aren’t made with love. These cookies look like odd shaped discs. He rubs his hand over his face.

“Listen mate, I don’t mean to come off as a bampot but I was kind of hopin’ you could follow my bird’s recipe.”

The man covers the cookies and stores them away.

“Oh sure. What do you got in mind?”

Soap hands him the recipe he’s written down from your email. The chef looks at it and looks back at Soap. “Chocolate chip?”

“Aye…”

He smiles at Soap, and begins to laugh.

“Kind of funny you call them cookies and not biscuits huh?”

Soap doesn’t find this funny at all. Because of his bird calls them cookies, they’re fucking cookies.

It takes about two weeks to get the ingredients. Soap waits around the kitchen talking to the chef but criticizing everything he does wrong. There’s just no flow to them. There’s no effort put into the cookies. By the time they come out of the oven, they look wonky, misshaped rocks.

Soap judges these cookies HARD. He takes a bite and immediately hates them. He can't believe he ever trusted someone to even try to copy your recipe.

“Nope, sorry mate. We’ve got to call my bird.”

It’s 2 in the morning when he calls. You ignore it the first time, thinking it’s a dream, but the second time your phone goes off, you pick it up to see it’s Johnny, calling you via FaceTime. Fear runs through your body, assuming the worst.

As you pick up, you're rubbing sleep out of your eyes, hoping it's nothing serious going on.

Johnny's there, adjusting the camera, smiling big and wide. He's not in his usual office surrounded by dull beige paint and steel furniture. He's in a kitchen? A blond man standing next to him.

"Johnny?"

"Hiya pet! Listen, I know it's late over there but I could really use your help."

You're staring at him, confused.

"What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Course I am, I just need you to guide me step by step on baking your cookies."

You can't fucking believe it. You start laughing hysterically, not willing to believe what he's asking you right now. Part of you feels joy, love, and admiration, you kind of don't care that it's two in the morning, you just want him to suppress the craving he's been having.

You stand up, go to the kitchen, and get your supplies out.

You're standing in your kitchen, it's dark, you've got on one of Johnny's t-shirts on, covering your bum, and your hair is up in a rats nest, clipped by two claw-clips.

"Ok, so first you're going to melt the butter. You're going to need half a cup, so a stick should do." You model it for him then ask him to do the same.

Johnny runs over to the fridge, takes out the butter, puts in the pot.

"Babe, make sure the fire is on low, you don't want to burn it while it melts."

The man walks over and lowers the heat.

"Aye! I almost forgot! Pet this is..." Johnny is stunned that he didn't even ask the poor man's name.

"My name is Richard."

Johnny huffs out a laugh. "Aye, it's Chef Dick."

"Johnny..." You start over the other end of the line, and the chef dismisses it, saying he gets it all the time.

"I'm sorry about him, he can be immature sometimes, we're working on it."

"So, you're going to get half a cup of brown sugar, and a third of a cup of white sugar."

Richard looks at Johnny, who's looking for brown sugar but doesn't have any. Richard walks over to the pantry, gets the white sugar and molasses.

"Guess we got to make our own brown sugar." He mixes the molasses and white sugar until he's got enough. He packs it into the cup.

"Is the butter cooled down yet?" Johnny runs over to the pot, touching the edge of it.

"Yes pet, now what?"

"Okay, you're going to mix the cooled butter, white sugar, and brown sugar together until it's a nice paste like consistency."

He's overestimated the coolness of the butter because it's still pretty hot. He stirs it into the bowl, Richard watching him work with a flat spatula.

Richard interrupts, "excuse me, do you think working with a whisk would work better?"

"Yes Richard!" you chirp, "That would be much better than whatever Johnny is using."

Johnny looks over at you, raising the spatula he's used, replacing it with the whisk that Richard hands over.

You start shouting orders at Richard.

"While he works on that, I need you to get a cup and one-fourth of flour in a bowl, with three-fourths of salt, and half a teaspoon of baking powder and baking soda."

Richard completes this request, Johnny still whisking away at the sugar and butter.

"Let me see how you're doing babe." you tell johnny, but both Richard and Johnny hold up their own bowls, Johnny laughing at Richard.

You ignore them, clearly flustered, and tell Johnny to mix in the two teaspoons of vanilla extract and one egg.

Johnny goes and mixes it in, you see the way his eyes light up.

"OH fucking hell, pet this is what they look like!" He's proud of himself, then waits for the next step.

"Okay, now I need you to fold in the flour that Richard has into that bowl, with the spatula you had. Do it in small batches Johnny, don't pour it all in at once."

Johnny is folding it in, Richard helping him with little pieces here and there. Once that's completed, you tell him to put in the chocolate chips.

"You don't have to measure, just whatever your heart tells you."

"Aye, and my heart tells me to put in half the bag." Johnny pours in the chips, then folds them in.

"Look at me pet, just look at me! I can make what you make!" you laugh from the other end, knowing that he's going to hate the next part.

"You preheated the oven? 350?"

"No, fucking hell, Richard what’s 350 degrees!?"

Richard goes over to the oven and preheats it. Richard comes back to the screen, then waits for your next order.

"Alright, you're gonna need an ice cream scoop. Once you've settled about 5 cookies on the sheet pan, you bake for 12 minutes."

Richard looks at you, then Johnny.

"Ice cream scoop?"

"Yeah pet, why do we need an ice cream scoop?"

"To scoop the cookies onto the pan, that's how you get them big enough, the way you like them."

Richard lines up the pan with parchment paper, begins to scoop the cookies onto the pan.

"Jesus dick, you've got the hands of an angel look how evenly you've placed them!"

Johnny brings the phone over, and you praise Richard for giving each cookie a good amount of space.

They wait until the oven beeps, placing the sheet of cookies inside, and Richard setting a timer on the oven.

As they wait, Richard asks for your name.

"oh it's-"

Johnny interrupts, saying that it's classified, and to not get any ideas trying to look you up on any social media accounts.

You ignore Johnny and tell Richard to go ahead.

The three of you talk about what's going on in the world, the plans you have for this weekend, and what made Richard become a chef for the 141. As Richard tells you his life story, Johnny walks over to the oven, beaming that they've officially gone down, only a few more seconds until they're in his hands.

The timer goes off, and Richard and Johnny look at each other. Richard goes to pull the cookies out of the oven, wide eyed at how perfect they look.

“So that’s the secret to the perfect shape huh?”

“Make sure they cool for about 3 minutes!” You yell out.

Richard placed them on a cooling rack, begins to prepare the other cookies with the ice cream scoop.

Johnny smiles at the camera, watching you clean up your things.

“Aye pet, I love you, you know that? I’m glad you could help.”

You offer a tired smile, walking back to your bed.

Richard and Johnny each get a cookie, melting before your eyes.

“Hot dog! These are fantastic!” He looks at you, Johnny laughing at his American coming out.

“Did ya hear that pet? He said hot dog like Mickey Mouse…” Johnny holding back his laughter.

“Alright guys, enjoy the cookies. Baby I expect a call from you tomorrow night.”

“Aye pet! Thank you for this.”

“Thank you pet? I appreciate the new ideas you’ve given me!” Richard says in the background.

You hang up.

Johnny sits back against the counter looking at Richard.

“Ice cream scoop. Who would’ve thought?”

#john mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #soap x you #soap x reader

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numinousmysteries · 4 months

Text

Dancing the Tandava (6/10)

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Geneva, Switzerland 2023

As a scientist, Scully is thrilled to see the inner workings of CERN where leading researchers from around the world are uncovering the building blocks of the universe. As a mother, she’s filled with pride that William is among the brightest minds decoding these mysteries. She didn’t expect that the first time she’d walk these hallowed halls, though, would be while trying to find her missing son.

The hallways and offices of CERN look uncharacteristically dated for such a cutting-edge facility, Most of the structures were erected in the 1950s and have an underwhelming, dull and gray aesthetic. As she follows Hannah to Dr. Bellona’s office, Scully wonders if the facilities would feel more inspiring if she wasn’t so despondent.

Alongside her, Mulder has slipped into his investigator skin, all of his senses heightened as they search for William. It’s been so long since they played these roles that she’s nervous they’ve forgotten how. She hasn’t felt this way since the days before William’s birth when it seemed as if a threat to her unborn child lurked around every corner. But after William was born—completely normal, although no less miraculous—the shadowy forces retreated.

She taught at Quantico for a few years before leaving the Bureau altogether to practice medicine full-time. Mulder refused to grovel to Kersh for his old job after getting fired, and instead became an adjunct professor of criminal psychology, a role that left him with enough time to research the occasional cryptid. Thanks to skillful diplomacy on Skinner’s behalf, the X-Files remained open with Doggett and Reyes at the helm and Mulder and Scully serving as unofficial consultants. They’ve been living a normal life for the past 22 years. Scully didn’t expect the darkness to find them once again.

She hasn’t had a chance to bring it up to Mulder yet, but she’s terrified that someone from their past has come back to target William. She’s already berating herself for letting her guard down and failing to properly warn her son.

During William’s childhood, she and Mulder tried to straddle the line between caution and paranoia. They didn’t want their son to grow up in fear and, after several years of nothing nefarious happening, it felt easier to relax. By the time he went away to college, their worries weren’t any more extreme than any other loving parents’ concerns. When he announced that he’d been accepted into CERN’s internship program, they never questioned his safety living abroad.

It helped that he’d be going with Hannah. William claims they’re only friends, but he doesn’t talk about any of his other friends as often or with as much admiration. When Hannah came to visit them over the summer, Scully noticed how she and William could communicate with just a glance or a gesture across the dinner table. It was as if an electric charge passed between the two of them and anyone who came close enough could feel the buzz. Mulder insists to her that they must be dating but if their friendship does grow into something more, Scully knows it will have to happen on its own time.

When they reach Bellona’s office, Mulder knocks on the door and starts turning the knob before hearing an answer.

Bellona, a pale man who looks like he’s in his early 60s with dark sideburns and a balding crown, rises from his desk chair as the three of them enter the room. His office is small and drab with cinderblock walls and a small window. There's a laptop on his desk alongside messy piles of papers.

“Are you Dr. Bellona?” Mulder asks.

“Yes,” he says. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Fox Mulder and this is my wife Dr. Dana Scully. Our son, William Mulder, is missing and I believe you might have something to do with that.”

Bellona tilts his head at them but his eyes don’t give anything away. “I’m sorry to hear about your son. But I can assure you I have nothing to do with whatever might have happened to him.”

“You were the last person to see him,” Hannah chimes in. “You called him in last night to assist with a collider run.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Bellona says, smiling. “I needed assistance with a project and Dr. Farber mentioned I could borrow one of his promising young interns. He helped me with calibrating a magnet on the LHC and then he left before we did the run. I assume he went back home. It was late, after all.”

“But no one saw him leave,” Hannah says firmly. “The entire facility was locked down because he was missing in the tunnel.”

“You’re one of Farber’s interns, too, right?” Bellona asks.

“Yes, I’m Hannah Schwartz.”

“I thought so,” Bellona says. “I’ve seen you around. Then you should know as well as I do that no one can go missing in that tunnel. The facilities team did a full sweep but didn’t find him so, as I said, we assumed he went home and continued with the run.”

“There are security cameras all over the place,” Mulder says, gesturing to one in the hallway right outside Bellona’s office. “And yet none of them picked up on him leaving last night and he never showed up at his apartment.”

Scully knows he’s bluffing. Without their FBI credentials it would be impossible to access the security footage, but Mulder is eager to push Bellona.

Bellona shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. CERN has an excellent security team. I’m sure they’ll be able to assist you.”

There’s a tall, potted tree in the corner behind Bellona’s desk. Nearly reaching ceiling height, it leans toward the room’s only window. The tree has green, three-pronged leaves that look similar to the ones they found at the foot of the Shiva statue. She makes eye contact with Mulder, who’s also noticed it and he nods.

“That’s an interesting plant,” Mulder says, pointing it out. “Happen to know its name?”

“It’s a bael tree,” Bellona says. “It has spiritual significance in Hinduism. When a former colleague of mine from Kolkata, came to work at CERN, his mother smuggled some bael seeds into his luggage when she learned they didn’t grow in Switzerland. Once his research stint was over, the tree had gotten too big to bring back to India so he entrusted it to me.”

“So it’s likely the only one of its kind around here, right?” Mulder continues.

“I’d imagine there aren’t many. It’s a tree that typically prefers a more tropical climate, but this one is stubborn and seems to tolerate my space heater and the occasional sunlight that filters in.”

“That’s strange, though,” Hannah says, “because we found some very similar leaves around the Shiva statue on campus. I remember noticing them because they looked out of place. Any idea how they could have gotten there?”

Scully’s impressed by Hannah’s questioning. She’s giving enough for Bellona to know they’re on to him without showing all their cards. It’s a technique she used on cases before and it worked more than a handful of times.

But Bellona doesn’t bite. “No reason I can think of. Anything else I can help you folks with?”

Scully wishes she still had her badge and gun. As an FBI agent, she had the power to make people talk. Now she feels helpless. Glancing over at Mulder, she sees his gaze locked on Bellona. They both know this man is responsible for their son’s disappearance but they don’t have the authority to detain him. Instead, they have to accept his lies and leave his office empty-handed.

***

Without any other leads to go on, they decide to let Hannah get some rest. They walk back to the apartment with her to pick up their luggage, and then leave to go check into their hotel and try looking into Bellona’s background.

Scully finally lets herself break down when they make it to their room. Sitting at the foot of the bed, she rests her head in her hands and starts to cry.

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder says gently, coming to sit next to her and taking her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find him.”

“You don’t know that,” she says between sobs. “We don’t know what happened.”

Mulder rubs her back and she tucks the crown of her head under his chin. No matter what calamity they find themselves in, she always feels safe in his embrace.

“What if this is our fault?” she asks. “What if someone is trying to get to us through him?”

“Why now after so many years?”

She shrugs against his chest and he kisses the top of her head.

“We’re going to find him,” he repeats. “I promise.”

His words shouldn’t soothe her, but they do. Mulder promised she wouldn’t die of cancer and that their son would be born safe and healthy. He makes these vows based on nothing but the power of his beliefs and he hasn’t been wrong yet. This is the man who went to Antarctica to save her life. If William is out there, she trusts the two of them will do everything they can to find him.

“I did some more research on the bael tree on the ride over here,” he says. “Offering bael leaves to Shiva in worship is traditionally considered very auspicious. The three-pronged leaf represents Shiva’s three functions—creation, preservation, and destruction. So it makes sense that Bellona would be scattering them around the statue”

The leaf is still in Scully’s jacket pocket from when Hannah handed it over to her near the statue. She leans away from Mulder to retrieve it, tracing its edges with her fingers.

“But why would he lie about it?” She asks. “There’s nothing wrong with making a religious offering."

“I don’t think that’s all he’s hiding, Scully. He knows what happened last night and I have a feeling it has to do with whatever he was doing by that statue. I think William saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.”

“By that logic, wouldn’t it mean,” Scully hesitates. “That Bellona would try to get rid of William?”

“We can’t think like that. There’s no evidence he’s been hurt in any way.”

There’s no body. She knows that’s what he means. She’s thinking the same thing. The old statistics on missing persons race through her mind. The more time goes by, the less likely they are to find him alive. She leans into Mulder’s chest and lets him wrap his arms around her again.

“What’s our next move?” she asks, her words muffled against his shirt. “Should we involve local law enforcement? Even if we were still with the FBI, we’d have no jurisdiction here.”

“I want to find out more about Bellona. He’s obviously lying. But I want to know why.” She can feel his larynx moving against her forehead as he speaks, and she can hear the wheels of his mind turning.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, startling her. Mulder lets her go so she can answer. Hannah’s name is on the screen. They’d exchanged numbers before parting ways at the apartment.

“Hannah?”

“Dana,” Hannah’s strained voice utters on the other end. Scully can tell in the short time they’ve been apart she hadn’t gotten any rest. “I think I found something.”

“What did you find?” She asks. Mulder gives her a concerned look. “Wait, Hannah, I’m putting you on speaker so William’s dad can hear you, too.”

“Okay, so,” Hannah continues, “I started Googling Bellona and apparently he had a wife, a Dr. Samita Shah, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances thirty years ago. She was a physicist, too, and she was working at a military lab in the U.S. in 1993 when she suddenly went missing.”

“Did they ever find her?” Scully asks, her voice full of desperation.

“It doesn’t look like it. It seems that she was presumed dead,” Hananh says. “Oh god, what if he did the same thing to her that he did to William?”

“Where was the lab?” Mulder asks.

“Um, it was out on Long Island. In Montauk.”

Mulder twitches with alertness, like a bloodhound who’s caught a whiff of its prey. “Camp Hero?” he asks. Scully’s never heard of the place.

“Yeah,” says Hannah. “How did you know?”

“Hannah, Scully and I are going to go back and ask Dr. Bellona some more questions. We’ll call you as soon as we’re done.”

“No,” the voice on the other end says. “I’m coming with you.”

They agree to pick her up before returning to Bellona’s office and Scully hangs up the phone. “What’s Camp Hero, Mulder?”

“Come on,” he says, standing up from the bed. “I’ll explain on the way.”

#xfiles #txf #xf fanfic #msr #xfiles fanfic #x files #the x files

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mxmollusca · 5 months

Text

Hello friends! Got a little sneak preview of tomorrow's chapter 8 drop of Wave Hello to the Void. It's gonna be a wild one.

(spoilers under the cut)

✨✨✨

It felt fucking great to get out of the cabin for the day, but the anxiety eventually seeped back in regardless, sinking its sharp little fingers in one by one. Not enough to make him want to stand Stede up—Ed’s desire to clutch at something good and hold it tight to his chest is far too strong at this point, and besides, he might be Mothman but he’s not a fucking dick—but still just enough to sustain that little voice in the back of his head, the one forever trying to caution him away.

But Stede, with his flirty smile and little cinnamon kisses, is making a truly valiant attempt against that stupid voice in the back of Ed’s head, and so now here they both are, on their lovely romantic date, which is… a hike. Sure, okay, at this point, Ed’s pretty fucking sure he’s incapable of saying no to Stede Bonnet, and while he was never much of an outdoorsy type in his previous life, he’s developed a certain wary respect for it since then. His cabin in the woods is as safe a space as he can hope for, sturdy and surrounded by nature—not people, not constructs. Nature is used to ripping and being ripped apart; it’s just another process that shapes the world, and it’s why Ed’s never been able to do much damage to a tree or a rock. When Ed pushes, the earth pushes back.

As they stand in front of the RV and he watches Stede hoist a comically large, well-stuffed hiking pack onto his shoulders, Ed can’t help but think that Stede’s the same way. Ed tugs at Stede, and Stede tugs right back. They give and take, push and pull, but somehow it never feels like a struggle. It’s balance—ease—as if Stede was designed to bend but never break. It’s a sick cosmic joke that Ed’s finally found someone he might be able to grow into, someone Ed’s roots would strengthen rather than rend. But that’s not much of a promise, and even less of an offer. Ed’s a walking disaster, and even if Stede could look past it all—ignore the monster and see the man—at the end of the day, Ed’s still just one sneeze away from tragedy.

He shouldn’t be at a trailhead for a sunset hike up to Bald Knob of all fucking places, but his no always seems to become a yes when it’s Stede asking the question. And as Stede extends his hand in offering, beaming his radiant grin, Ed knows he’s well and truly fucked. He can’t bear to walk away, even though he understands exactly how the story will end. Instead, he takes Stede’s hand, allows himself to be pulled, and follows him into the stretching shadows of the forest.

“Were you a Boy Scout in a past life?” Ed smirks as they start up the path, the final sigh of the sinking sun sliding through the canopy to paint them both in shades of ochre and auburn. His fingers tingle where they’re tangled together, itching for more contact, more Stede.

“Ah,” Stede says. “No, not a past life, actually. This one. Loved all the outdoors stuff, animals and nature. Even liked the community work, soup kitchens and the like. Struggled to make friends, though.” Stede squeezes Ed’s hand, and his voice wobbles. “Would you believe I was a bit of an odd duck as a child?”

Ed watches Stede’s eye unfocus a bit, following some unseen thought as it scampers into the woods. He squeezes back. Maybe he wasn’t an odd duck in quite the same way that Stede was, but he knows what it’s like to be on the outskirts, forever looking in. “You? Nah, mate. You’re super normal. Normal as they come. Totally average. Mean, median, mode—”

Stede laughs, the warmth of it confirming Stede’s return to the present moment. “And that appeals to you? Central tendency?”

“Little bit, yeah,” Ed says quietly as the path begins to gently meander uphill. Stede had claimed the trail was rated “easy to moderate,” but Ed’s already sweating into his henley a bit; he wants to pretend it’s the fault of his leather jacket—armor he no longer needs, not with Stede—and not the man whose hand he’s holding—not the memory of that same man tugging at his shirt and fumbling with his pants, calling him things like curious and funny and breathtakingly beautiful—

His body aches in protest as he disentangles himself from Stede to tug off his jacket and cinch it around his waist. The breath of cool air against his skin does little to lower his temperature. “Feel like I’ve been living a life of extremes for longer than not,” he says with a swallow as he stares at his palm, unsteadied by just how much he can feel the lack of Stede’s hand in his. “Getting a little tired of the fringe—”

Stede cocks his head. “And I’m not the fringe?”

A fresh churn of guilt kicks up deep in Ed’s abdomen—he’s itching again, poking at his surroundings. He can feel himself slipping, mentally digging into rotting logs and layers of shale—but then suddenly Stede reaches out for his hand once more, palms sliding together like plug and socket to deposit Ed back into his body and close the circuit once again. “Not to me,” Ed says, and now it’s his voice that wobbles. He gently swings their hands between them, looking down as the footfalls of his booted feet are softened by the blanket of leaves that have yet to turn crunchy underfoot. He should stop talking; he knows every subsequent word to fall from his mouth will be one that can’t be taken back, but he can’t help himself—Stede’s smiling, yielding, grounding him. “You’re the Goldilocks Zone.”

Stede hums. “Goldilocks zone? Like, porridge and bears?”

Ed huffs affectionately. “More like stars and planets. When astronomers and biologists look for life on other worlds, they have a list of requirements. Availability of things like carbon—”

“And water?”

“Yeah, for sure. But also, the planet needs to be a certain size in relationship to its distance from whatever star it orbits. For life to exist, there needs to be a balance between gravity and radiation.” Ed stops at a large elm covered in scaly circular patches of lichen lined up in a near perfect conjunction, and he taps them gently with a fingertip. “The energy that powers life can also burn it up. Gravity can crush just as well as it can bind. Life needs that little sliver,” he says, the ridges of the bark skipping under his finger as he draws an invisible line between two of the patches. “Right down the center. The perfect combo where everything is just right.”

Stede softly bumps Ed’s shoulder with his own, then raises his hand to trace the same line. Ed feels it, a brief tickle down his spine, as though Stede had touched him and not the tree. “The Goldilocks Zone.”

“Yeah.”

Stede turns, the light catching him just so, and it knocks a soft breath from Ed without warning. He’s almost ethereal like this, eyes a bonfire of ache and longing in equal measure. “And that’s how you feel?” Stede asks, voice small and unsure. “Crushed? Burned?”

Ed turns sideways to press his shoulder into the tree, diffusing his knotted anxieties into knotted wood. “Not anymore. Not since you.”

“And that’s—I—” Stede stammers, growing even pinker in the weak autumn light. “No one’s ever…”

Not crushed, not burned. Stede’s pulling, and Ed lets it happen. Their mouths meet and Stede’s lips soften under Ed’s own with a delicious squeak that quickly slips into a moan. Ed’s scattering again—scratching along the stressed seams of Stede’s bag, snagging the cracked aglet at the end of his sneaker lace—but then Stede’s hands find Ed’s hair and slam him back in his body. Stede kisses back, his teeth catching against Ed’s lower lip with infuriating gentleness, and now Ed’s in Stede’s body, a melange of earnest intent and unquenchable need growing roots and digging, digging, digging into the both of them—

Abruptly, Stede pulls back with a breathy pout. “Hey,” he says, scrunching his nose good-naturedly. “I’ll be the one doing the seducing this evening, thank you very much! And we still have a little way to go. Would hate to miss the sunset!”

Ed takes a deep breath and nods, as much to himself as to Stede. Ed was right before—

He just can’t say no to Stede Bonnet.

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #whttv #wave hello to the void #ofmd fanfic #my fanfic

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