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joelscruff · 1 year

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one thing i'm missing (joel miller/reader) PART ONE

hi there ! i'm new to the tlou fandom but not new to fic, and watching the show over the past few months inspired me to return to fic writing. the idea for this has been milling around in my head for a good chunk of time now and i finally felt ready to put pen to paper and get this thing started. i've already posted this to ao3 if you prefer that medium, but i'll also be posting it here now. let me know what you think!

summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (this part is not explicit but this fic will be) warnings: (for future parts) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink - will add more as fic progresses word count: about 2.6k

You don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

It started about a month ago, after all the shit that happened with that monster, David. After Ellie had decided she wanted to start sleeping alone.

It hadn't really been a conscious decision on her part, but you'd noticed that first night how she'd distanced herself from you and Joel when it was time to sleep. She'd curled up against the far wall of the basement with barely a word, shutting herself off entirely while you'd tended to Joel's injury. Prior to this – ever since Joel was stabbed – Ellie had started sleeping at his side, head on his chest, listening to his heart and hoping against all hope that it kept beating. You'd slept a few feet away, hoping desperately for the same thing.

After David, she avoided physical contact entirely. You and Joel wordlessly understood, though you could tell it alarmed and concerned him. Though he'd been in and out of consciousness for the past few weeks you know he'd become accustomed to having her at his side, curled into him with that familiar daughterly affection he'd been missing for twenty years. Seeing her ultimately decide that she no longer wanted that closeness, probably feared it, distressed him greatly.

“Fuckin' bastard,” Joel had murmured to himself that first night as you cleaned his wound – you'd learned what to do from watching Ellie, “I'll fucking kill him.”

“Shhh,” you'd hushed him, keeping your voice low in case Ellie was still awake, “He's dead and gone, she took care of it.”

“Shouldn't have had to,” he'd hissed, “Fuckin' bastard.”

He'd slept poorly. You knew because every so often you'd hear him mutter something else to himself about David between short fits of sleep. You didn't sleep much either, partly because in the wake of Ellie's sudden distance it was now your job to monitor Joel's wound, but also because you felt the same way Joel did. The thought of that monster... what he'd done to Ellie and what he'd tried to do... you'd never felt so much disdain and hatred for one person in your life. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was the look on her blood-spattered face when you'd both found her, the way she'd barely been able to speak... you could only imagine how much worse the images behind Ellie's eyelids were.

So she slept alone now, which meant Joel slept alone.

For a little while, that is.

After a few days of short spurts of travel and staying in more abandoned houses (Joel wasn't well enough to walk much, though he tried to deny it, much to the frustration of you and Ellie) you'd set up camp on the outskirts of a small community. Ellie hadn't talked much and Joel hadn't been fully in his right mind since you left that first house, so the decision-making had fallen to you for the time being. Truthfully, you were done with the mouldy mattresses and hard concrete of those suburban basements, the smell of rotting food and being bothered by mice and cockroaches while you tried – and failed – to fall asleep. Neither Joel nor Ellie argued when you suggested setting up a campsite in the woods for a change of scenery.

The snow had melted quite a bit and there hadn't been anything fresh in almost a week, the temperature rising rapidly the further you walked. The idea of sleeping underneath the stars again with fresh air in your lungs and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees was enough to keep you going that day. That night, you'd watched as Joel made a fire with the materials you'd collected, Ellie already bundled up inside her sleeping bag a few meters away.

“Hey, you sure you're not gonna be cold over there?” you'd called to her gently, already knowing the answer.

“I'm good,” she'd replied, sounding earnest enough, “If I get cold I'll move.”

You'd sighed quietly, turning back toward the fire. Joel was blowing lightly on some kindling, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You used this rare moment of him being distracted to analyze his face; the dark circles beneath his eyes had been growing more prominent over the past few days, and he'd gotten into the unconscious habit of blinking very slowly, like he was always just a few seconds from sleep. You'd never seen him look this exhausted.

“You need to sleep,” you'd murmured, and his eyes had snapped up to meet yours instantly, “I'm serious, Joel, you look...”

“I'm fine.”

“You don't look fine,” you shifted your eyesight to the fire, lifting your hands to warm your palms, “You look like you haven't slept in days, which you literally haven't, by the way.”

“I've slept,” he'd grunted, turning his attention back to the fire as well.

“Yeah, for maybe twenty minutes at a time.”

“Well, maybe if I wasn't bein' woken up every twenty minutes by you checking if I'm still breathin',” his voice was hard and cold, but you were used to it.

“Don't be dramatic,” you'd snapped back, “I check you maybe twice a night now, if even that. Sorry for wanting to make sure you're okay.” The last few words had come out shakier than you'd intended.

He'd inhaled deeply, and you could see him looking at you again in your peripheral vision, “You're right, I'm sorry. I'm being an asshole. As usual.”

“You're not an asshole,” you'd muttered, “you're tired. And so am I.”

You'd sat together in silence for a few moments before Joel had reached behind him for his pack, digging out the blanket he'd started using in lieu of his old sleeping bag. He'd decided to leave that behind; it was what you and Ellie had used to get him back to that first house, the one Callus had dragged across the icy terrain with a bloodied and near-death Joel as its only occupant. He'd pissed himself in it, which he'd attributed as the main reason for leaving it. But you knew the truth: he'd spent too long wrapped up inside of it during that period of time to ever get a good night's sleep from it again. It needed to be put out of its misery.

Both you and Ellie had offered to give him your own but he refused every time, repeatedly stating that the blanket Ellie had found was warm enough, if not even warmer than the sleeping bag had been. You honestly didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he gave you no choice but to believe him.

“You take first watch, then.” he said quietly, “We're out in the open again, gonna have to stay alert.”

“Got it,” you were a bit embarrassed by your brief moment of vulnerability, but you'd quickly busied yourself with picking up the rifle to hold it in your lap.

You'd watched as he spread out the blanket on the ground, carefully kneeling down and wincing at the pull of his stitches. He laid down on the edge of it, then reached over and pulled the other side over his body like a makeshift sleeping bag. Sighing contentedly, he'd closed his eyes.

Despite how much older than you he was, the word adorable couldn't help but cross your mind.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled quietly to you, and you'd forced yourself to look down at the rifle so he wouldn't catch you staring.

“Night, Joel.”

You'd quickly learned that Joel's new blanket was in fact not warmer than his sleeping bag. After a few hours of keeping watch, you decided to check on both Ellie and Joel to make sure they were doing alright. Ellie was fast asleep and didn't look to be shivering or experiencing a bad night's sleep; she actually looked more peaceful than you'd seen her for a long time. You'd smiled fondly, fighting back the urge to push her hair out of her eyes; she'd made things very clear and you weren't going to overstep.

You wandered over to Joel and the contrast between he and Ellie was staggering; there was no peace here. He was wide awake, shivering ferociously and hunched in on himself with his hands cupped around his mouth as he blew on them for warmth.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you'd immediately dropped the rifle and leaned down to him, “why the fuck didn't you tell me you were freezing?”

It actually wasn't a very cold night, but the combination of Joel's thin blanket, his injury, and the fact that he was overwhelmingly exhausted were just making everything ten times worse. He also hadn't slept outside for weeks. You immediately began to regret the decision to camp tonight.

“Hold on,” you'd said quickly, scrambling back up to grab your own sleeping bag. You unzipped it so it was wide, then draped it over Joel's shivering form, “I'm gonna give you some body heat, okay? Don't make it weird.” You'd only said the last part because you knew he would protest.

You'd crawled underneath both layers of material and without any hesitation wrapped your arms around Joel, ignoring his shaky mutterings of “I'm okay” and “you don't need to”. He'd surrendered very quickly, relaxing into your embrace as you ran your hands up and down his arms at the fastest pace you could muster. You alternated between his arms and hands, taking them in yours and rubbing your palms against them like you were trying to start a fire, huffing hot breath against his skin. Beneath the blanket, you entwined your legs with his, pulling his socked feet against your ankles and trapping them there to warm them up.

It only took a few moments for the heavy shakes to stop and for Joel's breath to even out again. Despite this, you stayed where you were and kept doing what you could to keep his temperature stable. As he warmed up, he began to feel more like himself; he was no longer a cold statue but the warm and solid man you'd come to recognize, and you were hyper-aware of the fact that despite spending so much time with each other you'd never actually been this close to him. His arms, strong and steady beneath his coat, the same arms that carried around that heavy pack all day, the arms that cradled the rifle, they now laid loose and tender under your touch. His hands, calloused and rough around the edges but soft at the palms, the same hands that set the fire still burning a few feet away, the hands that once held his daughter and had learned to hold Ellie's – and now yours, feeling like in some way they belonged there.

You'd known you felt something for Joel, but you'd never realized how strong and real that something was until it was literally in your embrace.

Without speaking you'd laid your head on his chest, closing your eyes and doing your damnedest to fight back the sudden tears that were threatening to well up. Holy shit, was all you could think, a warmth you'd never felt in your entire life radiating in your chest and somehow extending toward him. Holy fucking shit. It was like time had stopped and all you could feel was him.

You'd looked up at his face, needing to see if he felt it too, felt you the way you felt him, but your eyes widened slightly when you saw that his were closed, mouth slightly agape. There it was, that peace you'd seen on Ellie's face, now transferred to Joel's. For a brief second you felt panic, but it was immediately interrupted by the light snore that emitted from his open mouth. He'd fallen asleep.

And a few moments later, so had you.

That was the first night you'd slept solid without waking up even once. Not just since Joel had been stabbed, but since the pandemic had started to begin with. You can't recall ever having such a peaceful, dreamless, absolutely soul-refreshing sleep. And neither had Joel; when you woke the next morning he was still fast asleep in your embrace, that peaceful expression still sculpted on his face like he was a living Michelangelo. In the night you'd only gotten closer to him, legs still entwined and head still on his chest. The only difference was that your arms had obviously stopped their rapid movements to keep him warm, and they'd ended up snaked around his torso, the palm of your left hand laying flat against the hot skin of his waist, just above where his stitches were.

Maybe you should have pulled away when you realized, gotten up and pretended it didn't happen. The thought did cross your mind, but then Joel had shuffled a bit in his sleep and you'd become aware of the fact that his arms were around you, hand pressed flush against your bare back underneath your jacket and shirt, holding you to him. And that was enough to make you stay.

About fifteen minutes later, he'd woken up.

He didn't flinch or yank himself away when he realized the position you were in. He'd blinked slowly at you, and you'd peered up at him just as quietly. His lips had parted and then closed again, as if he was going to say something but then thought better of it. Instead, he just kept staring at you, and you started to feel his hand on your back slowly and tenderly stroke the skin there. In return, you gently brushed your thumb against the bare skin of his waist. It was a moment that felt like it went on forever, both of you touching those small intimate parts of each other without saying so much as one word.

You felt butterflies in your belly when the hint of a smile twitched at his mouth, and you smiled back, sleepy and soft. You never wanted to leave this small piece of existence. You just wanted him to keep looking at you like that, his gaze holding yours with an expression you could only describe as contentedness. You'd never seen him look so relaxed; the dark circles had faded and even the lines on his face had receded into his skin. He looked younger, healthier, like all the bad things that had happened to him had vanished in one good sleep.

“Uggghhhh,” Ellie moaned a few meters away, and both your heads snapped in her direction. She was sitting up in her sleeping bag, back facing you. You could see her arms stretching above her head as she began her typical morning wake-up routine: stretch, groan, flop, repeat.

Without saying anything you'd both untangled yourselves simultaneously before she could see the sleeping arrangement you'd found yourselves in. The loss of warmth and familiarity was palpable as you quickly stood up and grabbed the rifle, walking over to the now completely burnt out fire. Joel silently folded up his blanket and your sleeping bag behind you, then muttered something about needing to look for more shit to burn.

That's how it started.

And you don't, under absolutely any circumstances, talk about it.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou fic #*#fic: one thing i'm missing

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hollandorks · 5 months

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haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fourteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)

Series Masterlist

word count: 2k

“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”

“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised.

“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug.

Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements.

Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up.

They wanted her to know that they could get to her.

And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.

Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes.

Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–”

“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night.

She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her.

“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment.

They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.”

An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.

She looked up, and there was Bruce.

His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home.

Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach.

Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers.

Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–”

Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?”

“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.

Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez.

“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes.

Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!”

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.”

“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.”

They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock.

“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–”

Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.

The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again.

“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!”

Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would.

“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?”

Y/n barely noticed him leaving.

She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything.

“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.”

Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?”

She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–”

“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say.

“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”

She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.”

“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.”

Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out.

Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.”

“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook.

“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. “Arrest me if you have to.”

“How about I get your statement instead?”

It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.”

Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly.

“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”

“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.”

“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.”

Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.

Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed.

She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.

She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later.

Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home.

She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe.

Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.

It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived.

When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome.

She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now.

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone.

Next Chapter

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hsgucci94 · 8 months

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Haircuts and ripped pants

Word count: 1,2k

Content warning: cheesiness and fluff that is good for the soul <33

A/N: was meant to post this one like ages ago (iykyk) but complete forgot, so now that we’re all missing him on stage every night (🥹) seems like a good time to share it with you all. Hope you like it! x

masterlist

“Okay, close your eyes,” Harry spoke on the other side of the slightly open door, where he was waiting for you to cover your face so that he could properly see your reaction once he stood in front of you.

“They’re closed,” you informed him a second later, with the heels of your hands pressed against your eyelids so that he could not accuse you of peeking through your fingers like last time, when he was trying his Venice Film Festival red carpet final outfit on and he didn’t want you to see him until he had added the final touches.

As soon as he heard your words, he took a few step forward and entered his tour dressing room, walking around the small space to the couch where you were sat. He positioned himself opposite to you, kneeling a bit so that his face was at the same height as yours, and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip in anticipation the moment you noticed his presence so close.

You felt his hands resting on your knees almost right away. He gave them a squeeze as he said: "You can open them now."

Behind that uplifted tone you could still perceive a bit of nervousness; he was unsure if you’d like his new haircut.

Every since Love On Tour started last year, you repeatedly told him how much you liked the way his curls were growing out, making him look more boyish and cuddly. But now that his hair was getting pretty long and the only way to keep it off his eyes and forehead was to put a clip on it, he had made the decision to cut it. Not too much, though, just enough so that his little curls you adored so much weren’t as prominent as before. This way he'd be much more conformable singing and running around the stage without strands of hair constantly bugging him.

When he gave you the green light, you opened your eyes and lifted your face up to find his.

"So? How'd you like it?" He had a nervous smile playing between his lips, looking at you expectantly.

"Did I ever tell you how handsome you are?," you replied instead, ignoring his question.

"Yes, actually," he chuckled at your words, moving his gaze away from yours and tilting his face to the side a bit, hiding the way his cheeks were starting to blush, "You do that at least once a week."

"Good, then I hope you know I won't ever find you any less attractive with a new haircut," you smiled.

"You think I look good, then?"

You cupped his cheeks between your hands and pulled his face to yours, kissing him. "Does that answer your question, Styles?"

"Dunno. Try again?"

You giggled, and pressed your lips together once more, both of you sillily smiling through the kiss.

"Lovebirds, it's time for Mr. Pop Start to get onstage. Sorry!" Jeff knocked on the door and peeked through it a few seconds later. Just like that, you were forced to pull away before things heated up. "Nice haircut, by the way, H."

And he left, leaving the door wide open so that you couldn’t drag it out any longer, as you had tried to do any other day before the show started.

"See? We all like it," you pointed out, smiling at him with an 'obviously' face.

"I don't really care about other's opinions, though. Just yours."

"Keep saying cheesy stuff like that and you'd have to reschedule this show again," you let him know, biting your lower lip afterwards.

"Is that a threat?", he smirked.

"You bet it is," you rose both eyebrows, giving him a open mouthed smile.

"Three minutes to showtime!” Jeff then shouted just around the corner, which made Harry frown his nose in disappointment. He wanted to spend a bit more time with you, maybe even kiss you again while you passed your hands through his freshly cut and styled haircut this time, but his singer duties' were calling.

"Alright, let's go, love," he undid his previous position and stretched his hand out for you to take it. You walked hand in hand down the corridor until you had no other choice but to part ways; you were watching him from the pit, while he needed to get under the stage to make his immaculate entrance.

"Bye, handsome," you turned your face to his one last time, starting to walk backwards.

Before you could remove your hand from his grip, he pulled you to him, pecking your lips in a sweet, tender way. "Later, gorgeous."

The crowd was roaring and chanting for him the moment you walked into the insides of the Kia Forum, unknowingly stopping a few steps away from where Jeff was, until you spotted him waving in your direction for you to approach him so that you two could watch the show together.

Meanwhile, Harry was already inside the trapdoor that'd get him directly onstage, but waited patiently a couple more minutes just so he knew for sure you were already settled and ready to watch him perform. As soon as the first notes to “Daydreaming” started playing, the whole place went crazy, screaming and pointing their cameras to the stage awaiting for Harry to come out from his little hiding place. And he did eventually, starting to sing the lyrics while he danced and jumped, spreading his good energy all around.

As per usual, he had this cheeky mania of approaching you wherever you were in the crowd to sing that one verse after the bridge to you, the one that went exactly like So give me all of your love, give me something to dream about...

"Let’s go L.A.!," he shouted, coming even closer to your side and kneeling in front of you, not knowing such posture would cause his pants to rip instantly. You bursted out laugh at the scene in front of you as you watched him mouth to himself a big "Fuck!" when he felt exactly what had happened, before he walked away as quickly as he could to try to find something to cover himself up.

A pride flag; that would work until he could go backstage and fix his outfit. Even from the other side of the stage he always knew where to spot you, so his eyes found yours the moment he turned around, allowing you to read his face as he tied the piece of fabric around his waist.

It was a mix of fear and embarrassment.

You weren’t sure if he'd be able to read your lips from that distance, but still managed to mouth a: "I thought it was my job to tear them up later tonight?", in an attempt to ease him, but also wanting to mess with him a little bit, hoping he'd take that unexpected turn of events in a more cheerful way.

After all, it hadn’t been his fault.

And it worked; his face lighted up almost instantly. "Oh, you naughty girl. Watch it," he replied, pointing his index finger at you as he laughed and shook his head, his mind already going wild.

How was he supposed to focus now? For the rest of the show he could only have one thing in mind: the time you two would spend under the covers as soon as he got off stage that night.

You were definitely going to give him something to dream about…

Please, like & share if you liked it? it’ll help so much 🥺✨ x

full masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #short story #harry styles imagines #harry styles prompts #harry styles stories #harrystyles #hsgucci94 #harry styles x reader #hsgucci94 stories #harry styles concept #harry styles fics #harry styles x y/n

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trulybetty · 5 months

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dec' 07 x joy

Prompt: joy Pairing: frankie x reader (maverick) Word Count: 706 Warnings: mentions of the seventh circle of hell that is corporate year-end events Summary: the year-end Christmas party would be a whole lot more enjoyable with company. Frankie has been deployed, meaning your plans for the night have had to change. AO3: Linked

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The music was loud, the food uninspiring and the speeches had dragged out longer than they needed. There were also not enough drink tickets in your hand to compensate for an evening of your own time spent at this work event. It was the same every year. Everyone shuffled into the same conference center, slapped a name badge on, made small talk, ate bad food and listened to the VP talk about himself on stage all night. You were also certain the black and gold decor predated your on-boarding to the company which was— well, now more years ago than you cared to count.

The one highlight of the night though had been your time spent getting ready, taking joy in the purchase of a new outfit that glittered against the festive lights that decorated the room. You’d even splashed out for a room at the upmarket hotel next door. Which now felt a little gratuitous given it was just you who was going to be staying in it.

Originally you’d posed the invitation to Frankie, feeling foolish at the idea of asking him to come with you. It’s not like you were a couple. Despite him coming up to Seattle at that point almost every weekend from McChord. But when he’d said yes to your plus one you’d been overjoyed and the outfit you’d picked out while shopping with Cat weeks ago had him specifically in mind.

But it wasn’t meant to be. Last week he’d had only the time to send you a quick message, short and to the point:

Being deployed, gone for the next week, sorry - F

Which meant he was no longer going to be able to attend your work’s end-of-year celebrations. His absence, though understood, left a hollow feeling that had taken you by surprise. You and Frankie weren’t supposed to be a thing - but you were fast finding yourself fighting more often with the feelings you swore you didn’t have.

As you stood there, half-heartedly sipping your drink and scanning the room, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, a warm breath tickled your ear, and a deep, familiar voice sent shivers down your spine, “Miss me?”

Startled, you spun around to find Frankie standing there, looking unapologetically handsome in a navy suit, one that you had no idea he even owned. Not only that, but the top buttons undone of the crisp white button-up shirt, which you suspected was brand new, showed off a flash of skin. The sight of him took your breath away. He had an apologetic, yet mischievous smile on his face, clearly aware of the surprise he had just given you.

“Frankie! But how? You said you were deployed…” Your voice trailed off as you continued to take him in, still in disbelief that he was there in front of you.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Let’s just say we managed to pull a few strings to avoid the formalities of post-deployment,” he dropped a soft kiss to your lips before he gave you an appreciative once over, “Plus I couldn’t miss seeing you in this outfit after hearing so much about it the last week.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with the background noise of the party. “Well, I’m certainly glad you did. This evening just got a whole lot better.”

Frankie's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and you felt a warmth spread through you. It was amazing how his mere presence could change everything.

“You look amazing, by the way,” he added, his tone sincere as his fingers threaded with yours, giving your hand a tender squeeze. “I mean, you always do, but tonight is something else.”

You felt a heat creep up your cheeks at his compliment. “Thank you. You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” you teased, noting the absence of a tie. “No tie?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Couldn’t find one to borrow on base. This look okay?” he asked, his voice suddenly losing its confidence in concern he might have slipped up on the dress code by not finding a tie.

“More than okay,” you assured him, your heart skipping a beat.

#december x 500 #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #jfrankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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cozy-and-gentle · 4 months

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A Miguel / Peter B. Parker Sickfic

This is actually a re-upload from my blog that got deleted. Someone prompted me to do it, and I really wish I remember who did so I could tag you again. If you find this post, please let me know. I'd love to reconnect. The fanfic is down below. (I made a longer version. I don't know if I'll ever post it because I'm shy that way.)

A shameless little sickfic between Peter B. Parker and Miguel O'Hara because I'm a sucker for fevers and the sunshine/grumpy trope. And if you're a sucker for these things as well, enjoy!

It started a few days ago.

Hopping dimensions wasn’t an easy job. But someone had to keep the multiverse as together as it could be. It wasn’t about living the way you wanted. It was about keeping a delicate balance. That’s what Miguel told himself, anyway. And thus far, that theory proved correct.

Capture the anomalies. Send them wherever they were supposed to be. Correct the flow of canon. Reach stasis. Like clockwork.

For that week, he ended up in Canada for the Spider Woman of that dimension.

He’d faced all kinds of weather wherever he ended up.

But Canada was a new level of cold that he wasn’t used to.

It was bone-chilling. And this anomaly was a Chameleon variant - a master of disguise no matter which variation.

This meant that Miguel was stuck at Earth-705 for damn near a week trying to hunt him down.

His suit was adaptable to the elements, but at times he had to go incognito to figure out his whereabouts. Meaning he felt every single bit of those negative temperatures. Even in his suit, he could feel the cold air entering his lungs.

Earth-705’s Spider-Woman - aka Spider Canada - was cheerful the entire time. She was one of the sunnier spider people. And in retrospect, he felt a little bad for being grumpier than usual toward her. But he was so damn cold the entire time that all he wanted to do was complete the mission and go back to Spider Society. The faster he did that, the better off they all would be.

All would be safe and he could finally get somewhere warm.

Being in a cold environment like that meant that everything was dry. Miguel noticed it by the second day.

Nueva York got cold, but it had humidity. Or at least enough humidity since the city sat near the ocean.

Miguel felt the absence of humidity in his throat. It was a persistent dryness that water temporarily helped.

But he didn’t truly get used to it. He wondered how anyone could live there.

When he came back to HQ, the dryness persisted.

It took a couple of days for his throat to dry out. Maybe it would take a couple of days to adjust.

That’s what he told himself anyway. It’s not like he was traveling much in his dimension to test that theory. But it was the best he had.

The dry feeling in his throat was annoying. The cough that followed was just as annoying. Short, little coughs in an attempt to clear something that wasn’t there.

All things considered, a little cough was the best thing he could have walked away with considering he’d walked away with far worse in other situations.

Pavitir noticed after working alongside him one day, “You’re not smoking are you?” He teased in good humor.

Miguel scoffed, “No. It’s bad for you.”

The Spider-Man of Mumbattan nodded, and left, but soon came back with a cup, “Here. Good chai can help with anything.”

He wasn’t typically a tea person, but it smelled good. Spiced and warm. The kid meant well, and he thanked him as he took a sip.

It was delicious.

The day after, his cough turned into a productive one. Maybe there was something in his throat that he needed to clear. But hell if that wasn’t annoying.

“You smoking, Miguel?” Jess ribbed him.

“You’re the second person to ask, and no.”

“Second? Maybe you should take a break.”

“I’m fine. Throat’s just irritated.”

“Did you try a cup of tea?”

Miguel sighed.

The cough stayed and he muffled it into the crook of his elbow. Annoying. Especially since it impacted his sleep. He tossed and turned the night before, unable to get comfortable. By the next day, he was tired. And stiff.

He hated it. But all he had was surveillance. All things considered, it was quiet again which let Miguel breathe a temporary sigh of relief. Still, he was vigilant. Someone had to be.

And maybe it was the exhaustion but the screens seemed to blur ever so slightly. Like there was a soft haze around them.

Miguel closed his eyes tight, pressing his hand over his eyes in an attempt to get them to focus.

Get it together, O’Hara.

His eyes would focus on the orange glow before they blurred again. He couldn’t remember the last time when he was this tired. Maybe grad school?

He stared at the different sectors of Spider Society. Spider People coming and going. Laughing. Talking. There was nothing so damning that pulled his attention.

So he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh to rest them.

Peter B. Parker had a ritual going on with Miguel O’Hara. He was one of the few that was able to besides Jess. He’d come in to check on him with breakfast in hand. Today was a couple of egg sandwiches on a croissant and two cups of tea. Jess mentioned he seemed to have an irritated throat, so he switched it up.

Peter pushed his office door open with his hip to find Miguel sitting in front of the screens. He usually would in the early hours. Not all the time. But sometimes.

“Hey Miguel,” he said cheerfully.

The other man didn’t move and this made Peter stop. Miguel didn’t respond for two reasons. Either he was engulfed in something, or angry. So he decided for a lighter approach as he walked up, “Hope you like egg sandwiches. Wasn’t sure if you’d like bacon or sausage so whichever one you want, I’ll take the other.”

He slowly put the bag beside him along with the cup, only to find that Miguel had his eyes closed.

His brow slowly raised and a small smile came to his face. Miguel was sleeping. This was rare.

Peter put a hand on his shoulder, “Miguel, hey. Buddy, I brought breakfast.”

Miguel opened his eyes with a sharp intake of air which made him start coughing. He quickly covered it with his elbow.

“Ah, that’s what the tea’s for,” Peter mused as he slid it over in his direction, “Here. It has honey already. This should help.”

Miguel stared at the cup, then Peter with… it wasn’t quite a glare. It was somewhere between annoyance and a pout as he wrapped his hands around the cup with a sigh that sounded pleased.

Peter raised a brow, “How was Earth-705?”

Miguel took a sip of tea, then squinted his eyes as a sneer curled on his lips, “Freezing.”

His voice sounded like it was struggling to claw its way out of his throat.

Peter winced at the sound of it, “That’s rough,” he said as he sat beside the other man, pulling out the sandwiches, “This one’s bacon, this one’s sausage,” he slid them over, “You didn’t get sick, did you?”

Miguel shook his head quickly, “Spider Man doesn’t get sick.”

Peter let out a short, sardonic laugh, “Spider Man doesn’t get sick often,” he corrected, “I got sick way more before I got my powers. It doesn’t happen a lot anymore but when it does, strap in.”

Miguel took the bacon sandwich and unwrapped it, staring at it before taking a bite.

“Trust me,” Peter said, “I got the flu about 5 years ago, I think?” He unwrapped the sausage sandwich and took a bite, talking around it, “Glad it was me and not MJ. People were out of commission for a couple of months sometimes,” he swallowed it and took a sip of his tea, “Thanks to the healing factor, I was out for two weeks. Still a while, but not months. Everyone seems to forget that the flu can kill people, you know?”

Miguel nodded as he chewed slowly, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if you need some time off you know one of us will fill in.”

Miguel grumbled and dismissively waved his hand.

There was a moment of silence before he murmured, “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Always, Miggy,” Peter said as he gave his shoulder a friendly pat.

It was a tame day, but by the end of it, he felt like he was struggling. He was so tired. His head was starting to throb, and he was cold. It was a small chill at first. He had Lyla turn up the temperature a degree. It helped for an hour until it didn’t. And he knew it wasn’t freezing in the room. It just felt that way.

He tightened his muscles to hold those shivers at bay if anyone entered. But by the end of the day, he was too exhausted to do even that.

But no one dared enter his office.

The only person was Peter, who peeked his head in the door, “Hey, just wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Peter slowly made his way in, “Not hungry? C’mon, it’s been hours since lunch. Something’s gotta sound good.”

Miguel shook his head, “I’ll get something later.” He really wished Peter would leave. But he was insistent as he closed the gap between them. He leaned on his desk as he began listing off, “Ah, c’mon. At least take something with you. You don’t want anything? Mexican? Japanese? Indian? Chinese?” He glanced over at Miguel then looked surprised, “Are you shivering?”

“I’m cold,” he grumbled.

“It’s not cold in here. Kinda warmer than usual, actually.”

Miguel was ready to shoo him away when an anomaly alert lit up his screens.

Both men looked over when Lyla popped up and said, “Crossover anomaly on Earth 2851. Shocker from Earth 926.”

Normally, Miguel was a workaholic, but he was hoping that it was the end of the day. He pushed himself up, rubbing at his sore neck muscles, “Alright,” his voice crackled, as his mask appeared on his face.

Peter quickly began to shrug off his robe and sweatpants, “Are you sure you’re up for this, Miguel? I can grab someone else–”

“I’ll be fine,” He said quickly as he typed in his destination on his watch. A portal soon opened in front of them.

“Okay…” Peter hesitated as he pulled on his mask, “Lead the way, boss.”

Out of all the villains and anomalies he faced with Miguel, this one wasn’t the most difficult. But it was a trying mission all the same. They may have been able to apprehend the Shocker anomaly sooner if it wasn’t for the rain.

Not only did it mess with their visibility, but it amplified the Shocker’s abilities. What could have taken them fifteen minutes tops stretched into an hour and a half.

The Spider Woman of that dimension helped immensely and they were able to send the shocker back to his dimension.

Neither of them had injuries, but Miguel had been shocked a few times which led to his suit glitching. And both men were soaking wet.

As soon as they landed in HQ, Peter pulled off his mask with a gasp, “I swear this thing was about to waterboard me.”

Miguel didn’t say anything as he trudged back toward his office.

Peter was quick to follow him. He needed to get his robe and sweatpants which would come in handy since his suit was soaked. And if Miguel wasn’t hungry before, he had to be hungry now. A perfect time for dinner.

“Good job by the way. I know your suit got jacked up, but you didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Miguel continued to trudge forward.

“Okay, we’ll give you a once-over behind closed doors. But if you’re still standing, that’s a good sign! Now, what do you want for dinner?” Peter attempted to wring out part of his suit, letting the excess water drip to the ground, “Ugh, I’m kind of cold. What do you think about soup?”

As soon as they crossed the threshold of the office, the doors closed behind them and Miguel made his way toward his computer.

Peter quickly worked to pull off his suit, grabbing his robe and sweatpants, wrapping himself in them, “Whew, that’s better. You have a change of clothes here, right?”

Miguel didn’t answer as he stared at the screens.

Peter raised a brow as he came to the other man’s side, “Hey… are you okay? You’re starting to worry me.”

Miguel’s mask dissolved and he glanced over, “I’m fine,” in a barely-there voice.

Peter’s eyes widened at his appearance. He looked exhausted and his brown skin had an ashen cast to it. Before Peter could point any of this out, Miguel’s eyes rolled back and his body pitched forward.

–

Miguel’s eyes slowly fluttered open, Peter’s face coming into focus. The other man was pressing a cool cloth to his cheek.

Peter let out a huge breath, “There you are…”

Miguel’s brow creased in confusion. The last thing he remembered was going back to his computer after the mission. Then, somehow he ended up in his own bed.

He was dry, tucked in, and warm.

He was finally warm.

He tried to push himself up, but Peter held a firm hand to his chest, “Easy, Miguel, you need to rest.”

Miguel went to ask what the hell happened, but his throat was so raw that he ended up coughing instead.

Peter sighed as he rubbed at his chest with a soft circular motion until he stopped. Miguel tried to say something again, but could only wince and clear his throat.

Peter pressed the cloth to his other cheek. And as if he could read his mind, he quietly said, “You collapsed, right after our mission, burning with fever. I had to get Spider Doctor and he said you have pneumonia,” He folded the cloth and lay it against his forehead, “You should have sat out! You didn’t have to wait until you got this bad!”

Miguel sighed and glanced aside.

Peter sighed as well, “I know you’re laser-focused on saving everyone, but you can’t help anyone like this,” he pressed his hand to his cheek, “You’re still burning up.”

Miguel turned his eyes towards Peter with narrowed brows.

“Don’t give me that look,” Peter said, “Do you know how scary it was to see you faint like that?! I’m the one who should be glaring at you!”

Miguel stubbornly looked away and Peter crossed his arms.

They sat in silence for a long time.

Not that Miguel had much of a choice on that one.

Then he could feel the chills creeping up on him again, and he shivered as they sapped away that blessed heat that he didn’t have nearly enough time to enjoy.

Peter looked at him with a worried expression, “You’re cold again?”

Peter was surprised to see a look on Miguel’s face that could only be described as a miserable pout.

“Here. Scoot over,” he murmured as he shrugged off his robe.

Miguel looked at him suspiciously. Peter moved him over as he scooted into bed behind him, holding him close, and resting his chin on his shoulder, “I can’t give you any more blankets, but I hope this helps. And when you’re ready for it, I got you some soup. And more tea.”

Miguel wanted to point out he had more tea that week than he’d ever had in his life. But it didn’t matter. Not when Peter was so warm against him. He turned and snuggled against the other man’s chest with a soft sigh, marveling at the feeling of his fingers carding through his hair.

Maybe he would have admitted his weakness sooner if he knew this was waiting for him.

Maybe.

But he would never tell Peter that. Instead, Miguel would soak up that moment while he had it, letting Peter’s scent, and warmth, and touch envelope him.

Before more missions and more chaos. Before Peter had to go back to his own family.

For the moment, the other man was his.

And he swore it was a little less cold with him there.

#sickfic #peter b parker #miguel o'hara #spiderdads #atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #my writing #fanfiction

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bronzeeditsx · 7 months

Text

Here’s Maya fanfic part 2 sorry I’ve not posted it in ages i’ve just been busy with uni life, I made a longer part to make up for it 🫶

A few weeks have passed since Maya drove you back to your apartment and since then it’s just been training and pre-season.

However this was it, Maya’s official debut against Reading.

You sat in the changing room positioned across from Maya and as the music played and there was some slight chatter you looked over to her.

She had her head down and her leg was bouncing up and down, but it was difficult for most to tell if it was due to the music or nerves.

“Hey, Maya”, You said, but you got no response, maybe she didn’t hear because of the music.

“Maya”, you repeated, a little louder.

“Yeah?”, she replied, quickly shooting her head up.

“Good luck for today, i’m sure you’ll do amazing”, You said with a smile.

“Thank you”, she replied, with a small smile back. You could tell that meant a lot to her.

Everyone then stood up making their way to the tunnel. You got up and Maya followed behind you.

The game kicked off and United took control of the game passing around the ball with ease. A shot was deflected meaning United had a corner.

Katie Zelem signaled then crossed the ball into the box, everyone ran towards the ball Maya got her head on it.

GOAL Maya Le Tissier scores on her debut.

Leigh sports Village erupts as the players swarm around Maya praising her and bringing everyone into a huddle.

When the players withdraw and start walking back to their positions, you bring Maya into a hug moving your hands across her back.

“Well done”, you say to her and walk back into your rw role, so happy for her.

Not soon after Leah Galton puts the ball past the keeper but is taken out at the attempt to save it. Penalty to man united.

GOAL, Katie Zelem cooly slots the ball into the top corner making it 2-0.

Another ball goes out of play, another corner.

The ball is whipped into the box and yet again Maya gets her head on it.

GOAL Maya le tissier now has a brace on her dream debut, it can’t get much better than this.

Maya turns and runs straight into your arms as you were the closest to her, you hold her up as the team crowded around her, her body now pressing firmly onto yours. You let her down and see a big smile on her face, no nerves in sight.

The game ends 4-0 as Russo also scores at the end of the first half.

The players head to the tunnel after signing autographs for fans and everyone is smiling and chatting proud of today's work.

The team congratulates Maya once again in the changing room and she can’t stop smiling.

- The next day -

Today was a recovery day for the team after the win yesterday.

Millie invited a few players to go out for lunch including Hannah, Martha, Vilde, Mary, Maya and you.

We ended up at a cafe in Manchester and ate some sandwiches and drank some coffee.

You were sitting opposite Maya and she seemed a little quiet but that’s expected when she had only recently joined.

“Are you alright?”, You asked Maya as the others were talking about some tiktok post.

“Yes, just tired”, She replied with a small smile.

“I’m not surprised, you played so well yesterday”. You said.

“Thank you”, She replied smiling then looked down at her watch.

“Oh my God it’s already 2pm, i need to walk Mocha”, Maya exclaimed.

“That’s okay, we were probably about to go now anyway”, Millie replied.

“Okay I should probably start walking then”, Maya said getting up.

“You walked here?”, I asked.

“Yes, my Dad needed my car as his broke down a few days ago”. Maya replied.

“I’ll give you a lift then”, You offered.

“No it’s okay i’ll just-“.

“It’s fine, I don't have anything on for today”.

“Are you sure?”, Maya asked.

“Yes”, You replied getting up.

“Ok, thanks ”, Maya said with a smile and you followed behind her to your car.

“You really didn’t have to do this”, Maya said, glancing over to you.

“It’s okay, I wanted to”, You replied. Upon reflection you were annoyed at how forward you sounded.

“Well I really appreciate it”. Maya said.

“I’m only doing this for Mocha”, you grinned.

“Wowww, I see how it is”, Maya said, chuckling and tilting her head back.

You smiled at her and then turned your head to face the road.

“Do you have a dog?”, Maya asked.

“No, but I've always wanted one," You replied.

“Would you get one in the future?”, Maya asked.

“Yes but my ex-girlfriend didn’t like dogs, so that didn’t go down too well”, You said.

“I see”, Maya said with a small grin.

“Is it this house on the left?”, You asked.

“Yes, yes it is”, Maya replied.

You pulled into the driveway and let her get out of the car.

She walked towards her door but then looked back at you.

“Would you like to walk Mocha with me?”, Maya asked, smiling.

“Are you sure?”, You replied.

“Of course, you drove me here so you’re more than welcome to stay if you want”.

“Okay, thank you”, You said getting out of the car and walking up to Maya at her door.

She unlocked the door and you walked in to a small but very cozy house.

“It’s so nice in here”, you stated.

“It’s still new so I haven’t finished decorating yet”, She replied, placing her keys in a tray.

She opens the door into the living room and there is Mocha already at the door and wagging her tail.

“Hiii baby”, Maya says in her dog voice sitting on the couch next to Mocha.

“ Mocha this is y/n, she very kindly drove me home today”, Maya said smiling and looking into your eyes.

You sat next to Maya on the couch and Mocha came up to you and wagged her tail wanting you to stroke her.

“I like you”.

“Sorry, what did you say?”, You asked, thinking you’re mishearing things whilst you were playing with Mocha.

“I said, I think she likes you”, Maya replied smiling at you.

“oh y-yeah i can tell”, you said your heart slightly racing from what you thought you heard.

“Good girl”, Maya said, stroking Mocha’s head.

You gulped trying to ignore Maya’s comment.

“Should we go on a walkies?”, Maya said, getting up and getting her lead.

Mocha’s tail wagged even faster as she trotted along following Maya.

“Are you ready to go?”, Maya asked.

“Of course”, You replied smiling and walked to the door.

You walked to a park not far from Maya’s house and it was big with lots of flowers and tall tree’s around the area.

Maya let Mocha off lead so now it was just the two of you walking together.

“How are you finding Manchester?”, You asked her.

“It’s nice, but it rains a lot”.

“I know”, You chuckled, as you have lived here all your life.

“At the moment it’s just me and Mocha living in our house, I feel like a single mum”, Maya said.

“I can always come around and look after Mocha if you need me to”, You replied, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Thank you”.

“You say that a lot”, You said.

“Well you’re being so nice”. Maya said smiling.

You looked into her eyes as she looked back in return.

All of a sudden you feel rain drip down your face.

“Oh great”, You said wiping your head whilst looking up to the sky.

By this time you were already halfway around the park.

“Hopefully it won’t be too bad”, Maya exclaimed.

Not soon later it was torrential.

“Come on mocha”, Maya called out as you were lightly jogging back to Maya’s house.

She put Mocha on lead and the rain got even worse, to the point we could barely see.

“It’s not been this bad in so long”, You said, slightly chuckling as the jog turned into a run to Maya’s house.

By this point all your clothes were drenched as no one brought a coat or an umbrella and it was freezing cold.

As soon as you entered the house all you wanted to do was to take all your clothes off.

Maya unclipped Mocha’s lead to let her dry off as we watched her shake and spread water everywhere.

Maya then tried to take her drenched hoodie off but her shirt got stuck to it. This meant she was only left in her sports bra.

“Oh sorry, sorry”, Maya said quickly, walking to put her wet clothes to the side.

You panicked and realised you had been staring at her for longer than expected.

You noticed how toned her abs were and how defined her arms were. You couldn’t help but feel attracted to her.

“I’ll go and get some dry clothes for us”, Maya said brushing past you to get to the stairs.

As soon as she exited the room you felt so stupid, I bet she doesn’t even like me back, you thought to yourself.

In what felt like seconds Maya was already changed and had brought some dry clothes down for you. Her wet hair was now down by her shoulders instead of the pony tail making her hair curly.

You couldn’t help but smile saying “Thank you”, as you made your way up the stairs.

“My rooms on the left”, You hear her shout from the kitchen.

You turn to the left and open the door that’s in front of you. Her room was big compared to your lousy apartment and it was all tidy and organised. You noticed she had a queen sized bed but there were only picture frames and an alarm clock on one side, not seeming like anyone else had slept on the other side recently.

You started getting changed into Maya’s clothes and you felt so comfy and warm in them noticing they smell just like her.

You bundled your wet clothes together and started walking back downstairs.

You looked for Maya in the kitchen but she wasn’t there. You turned to the living room and noticed she was sitting on the couch with Mocha drinking some tea.

“You can leave your clothes wherever, come and sit down”, she said smiling at you.

You placed your clothes in the kitchen where Maya had left hers and walked to the couch.

“I made you some tea, i’m not sure how you like it so i’m sorry if I messed up, I can make another one if you want”. Maya said quickly.

“It’s perfect”, You replied, feeling the warmth of the mug on your cold hands whilst taking a sip.

“That’s good”, Maya said smiling.

You nodded in response.

“You can stay for as long as you want or until the rain dies down a bit”, Maya said slightly moving towards you.

“That would be great, thanks”.

“You don’t have to thank me”, Maya said.

“Of course I do”, You said moving towards her.

By now your arms were almost touching.

“I feel a lot warmer now”, you said looking at Maya.

Maya turned her head to look at you and looked into your eyes you thought she was about to say something but then her eyes trailed to your lips for a split second but then back up to eyes.

“Y-yeah same”, Maya replied, sipping her tea.

You realised you had already finished your tea so you placed it on the coaster in front of you.

You turned to Maya who was rubbing her eyes.

“You okay?”, you asked her.

“Yes, i’m just tired”, Maya replied, placing her empty mug down in front of her.

“Do you want me to go, so you can rest?”, You asked.

“No it’s okay, you can stay”, Maya said sitting back, her hand then brushing yours.

You then yawned as you felt tired after running back here today.

“Come here”, Maya said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You etched closer to her and leaned against her chest, you instantly felt safe.

All of a sudden you woke up and realised you were now lying on Maya’s lap, you looked up to her and saw that she was asleep however she must have been uncomfortable.

You slowly lift your head up and look across the room to the clock, it is now already 6pm.

A few minutes later you hear a slight movement and realise Maya started to open her eyes.

She looked confused at first but then a small smile came across her face when she saw you.

“How long were we asleep for?”, she asked.

“3 hours”, you chuckled.

“Oh wow, are you hungry?”, We should probably order something to eat”, She said looking at the clock.

“Yes that would be nice”, You replied.

You ended up ordering Chinese as no one could be bothered to cook and sat opposite her at the small table as Mocha was sitting below you.

As soon as you looked outside the window you realised it had stopped raining however the sky was getting dark.

I think Maya noticed this as when she was clearing up the rubbish she had a slightly sad tone on her face, thinking you were going to leave soon.

“I should probably head home soon before it gets too dark”, You said as you felt bad as Maya had been so nice to you and let you stay for awhile, you didn’t want to take up any more of her time.

“Ok that’s fine”, Maya said leaning against the counter.

You got all your things together and headed towards the door.

“Thank you for everything”, you said.

“It’s okay, get home safe”, Maya said leaning against the door.

You turned to face her one more time and just smiled looking into her eyes.

She slowly walked back up towards you to the point you were inches apart.

“I really enjoyed today”, Maya said.

“Same”, You replied, your breath slightly shaky.

Maya then slowly brought you into a kiss, her lips were soft. One of her hands were placed on your cheek as another brushed down your back.

After a few seconds she pulled away, looking into your eyes for your reaction.

“Oh i’m sorry, i’m sorry”, Maya said walking back towards her house.

“Hey, it’s okay”, You said reaching out for her arm, you were just shocked by what just happened.

She turned back towards you.

You leant in and kissed her.

The kiss lasted a few seconds longer and was more passionate.

As soon as you pulled away you regretted it, you wanted to stay with her for as long as possible but you had training the next day so you wanted to get home and get ready for that.

You watched her face as it lit up with a big smile and her cheeks were slightly blushing.

“See you tomorrow”, She winked.

“I assume I can keep your clothes”, You joked.

“Of course, keep them for as long as you want, I don't mind," Maya replied.

“Okay, see you tomorrow”, You smiled walking towards your car.

She watched by the door as you drove off her drive and down the road giving you a wave as you left her sight.

You couldn’t believe what just happened.

#maya le tissier #woso #muwfc #muwfc imagine

33 notes · View notes

xlunacloudiax · 2 months

Text

Heart of two friends.

Description: Juan invites Y/n to his apartment to help her overcome artistblock. A special bond forming between the two friends finally blossoms into something more as they realise their feelings for each other.

About 6k words. Took me SO LONG to edit, and even longer to find courage to post. Please enjoy a slow but deep romance with Juan Ruiz. 🫶🏻

~~~

" So I was thinking... Maybe we could- " The door to Juan's apartment swings open and Y/n wanders in. Her thoughts are immediately replaced with surprise admiration. " Woah, nice place. I've already enough inspiration just by walking in here. "

Juan enters shortly after her and closes the door, silently locking it behind his back. He watches her soft hair lightly bounce across her back as she smiles contently at the room before her. Finally, he's got her alone with him. He's relieved he can spend some time with her after a busy week with Dr. Burke and the others, but he feels a pang of nervousness.

It's just them two. All alone. In his apartment.

" Yeah, it's okay I guess... Sorry I forgot to clean up the uh- " Juan apologizes. Perhaps he's just shy? He doesn't want to dissappointment Y/n in anyway.

" No it's fine, really. It's neater than my place in the mornings. " Y/n flashes a genuine smile that comforts Juan from his embarrassment. The bubbly nervous feeling in his stomach, which he only recently noticed, eases a bit. " Did you know that a person's emotions are first felt in gut before the brain registers it? " Y/n adds as if she could read his mind, it lightens the awkward mood a little.

Juan shakes his head and chuckles. He drops the keys into their usual spot and follows Y/n at a safe distance. " That's so random, but I didn't know that. "

For some odd reason he always feels calmer around her, so much that he worries little about the chupacabra's sudden appearances. The urge to transform seems almost completely surpressed and instead replaced by the frequent urge to be closer to Y/n.

The only present worry lurking in the back of his mind is Darcey. How will she react after hearing about Y/n's arrival at his apartment? Even if they're no longer dating for months now, she can sometimes be... obsessive with his personal life and friendships. He has to be careful around her. He doesn't want to make her feel any more insecure, but he still wishes she were less suspicious about him nowadays. Even after what happened between them, Juan still sees her as a friend.

" Hey, where's Darcey by the way? Isn't she here today? " Y/n's sudden questions break through his contemplation and he shakes his head. He was dreading those words.

" She's probably out with her friends. I don't know. " Juan chooses his words wisely. He doesn't want to think about Darcey right now. His mind flashes back to his last meeting with her, and the argument they had. He really wishes to forget about it. They've both decided to move on and it seems better that way. " We're not living together anymore. "

An awkward silence descends upon the room and Juan bites his lip, wondering whether he said too much or not enough. It's been half a year since he broke up with Darcey, but he never really talks about it. Y/n lightly pats his shoulder and the sudden touch sends electricity throughout his body. " Sorry. I didn't know she moved out. "

" No, no it's alright. That was more than a few months ago anyway. Things are better this way. "

" So it's just us then? " The words slip off Y/n's tongue and it makes Juan's heart skip a beat. His previous concerns are immediately erased. Odd, he shouldn't be feeling this way ... He hasn't known her for very long, yet it feels like it was meant to last a lifetime. His attraction towards Y/n is nothing new, but still seems ethereal. He's felt it resonate in his bones since the moment he approached her. An eager yearning to get to know her. Their fondness has grown throughout the past 2 months, and the feelings have become more familiar to handle with time. Yet they remain unbeknownst to Y/n.

Is it wrong to feel strongly towards a friend? It's not like this is a movie or anything.

" Yeah. Just us. " Juan releases a shaky breathe and shows her to his study. Y/n follows closely behind and he stops to allow her entry first.

Y/n walks around and observes the room. The surface of his desk was neatly scattered with sketches and portraits seated placidly on stands. A mirror and a large collection of expensive pencils and pens arranged in a holder next to a pile of drawings. A few shelves with books stood bythe side of the room. It had a comfortable lofty style showcasing all of Juan's sketch ideas, some finished and others work in progress. " Oh, this is lovely. It's like your inspiration domain. " Juan stands behind her in the doorway with a shy smile. " So is where you get all your great big ideas onto paper. Really nice. "

" Yes. " Juan agrees with a small hint of pride. " I'll be right back. " Dissapears into the main room for a brief moment. Y/n gazes thoughtfully and meticulously at each artwork, admiring the unique details that depict the artist's hard work, all the while thinking of how talented Juan is. He's worked hard to reach his success, and not many people recognise it enough. All the hours he's spent writing, planning, drawing, and all the hundreds of hours of practice. This room is a special place for him. A big black sketch book on the desk catches Y/n's attention. It lays closed, concealing whatever is inside it like a secret, taunting her. Something whispers in Y/n's mind to open it. _Surely this not invading his space, right?_ Her hand reaches out on its own, her curiousity too strong to resist.

She flips through a few pages, briefly examining the immaculate drawings of hands and eyes and different face shapes. Until she comes across a particular page that peaks her interest. A familiar face jumps out at her, the curves and tones so perfected it stands apart from the paper. Y/n stares at the drawing as it feels like it is staring back. Her heart squeezes in her chest and fills with an unfamiliar warmth once she recognises who it is.

It was a drawing of her.

Y/n feels tears prick the corners of her eyes as she considers ever line and little detail added to the small portrait. Nobody has ever cared to notice such detail about her before, let alone take the time to make an artwork of her. For the first time, as she gazes at the beautiful artwork made by Juan's hands, she realises just how deeply the emotions behind such an act could mean. And her heart is touched with an underlying hope.

Juan returns carrying a dining chair with ease, and places it down next to the desk chair. " Sorry, no autographs." He jokes and Y/n quickly turns the book cover with a small chuckle to swallow her sudden tears. She watches him intently, dark brunette curly strands of his hair fall infront of his eyes and spring up as he stands again with a sigh. " This is now your workstation. " He gently guides her to sit on the desk chair, curling his hands on her upper arms. The warm feeling of his touch lingers longer than it probably should, but it's quick to lift as soon as she sits down. The brief contat leaves a tingling spot on the skin underneath her sleeve.

Juan seats himself beside her on the dining chair.

" Oh- isn't this your chair? "

Juan smirks and leans forward closer to her face, his gaze meets hers, his shyness melting away. " The best way to learn from a teacher is to view the lesson through their eyes. " He shifts closer and extends his arm to grasp another large leather book on the desk, this time a navy blue cover. He opens it to reveal an album of portrait sketches in various perspectives, similar to the one Y/n had peaked into a few moments ago.

Juan carefully watches her face and smiles at her reaction to his work as they page through the book. Each unexpected compliment and question makes his heart flutter. " So, what's your technique? " Y/n finally asks and tears her eyes away from the portrait to gaze at him curiously. Juan feels warmth radiate inside him at her soft expression towards him, he almost doesn't hear her question clearly. " Can you show me? " It's like he has an apprentice. A very pretty apprentice.

" Alright. " He leans back to grab a specific pencil from his stationary shelf and sits closer to Y/n to demonstrate. She watches his movements attentively throughout the lesson, but barely asorbs the explanation. The sturdiness of his wrist as the pencil presses a line to a blank section of the page makes her knees feel weak for some reason. The veins lightly tracing his hands as he holds the slim object in a skilful manner. The strength shifting in his grip when he flicks his wrist in different directions. A few moments later, Juan pauses and swings the pencil towards Y/n's hand, resting it between her fingers the way he previously held it. " Is this comfortable for you? "

She focuses on the intense warmth of his hand gently placed on hers. Her mind almost short-circuits for a second. She nods. " Okay. " He whispers and slides closer, carefully stretching his arm around her shoulders and holding onto her hand with the other. She can feel his warm breath on the side of her face as he further explains the lesson, and the tickle of his curls against her forehead. Her heartrate beats like a drum as his firm hand steadily guides her smaller one across the page. His instructions are clear and concise. A faint musky scent enthralls her senses and her mind feels fuzzy. They are so close to each other now, faces merely inches apart. Y/n is barely able to keep focus, but she manages to capture the just of everything.

After completion, the intensifying warmth retreats along with Juan's hand. Y/n stares at her work feeling pleased.

" That went by like a breeze. "

Juan smirks playfully at her. " You're a faster learner that I thought. "

Y/n gasps decides to play along. " What's that supposed to mean? Your technique is easier than I thought. "

This time Juan gasps and places a hand over his heart. " I am offended. " He jokes and it earns a chuckle from Y/n. What a beautiful sound, he thinks to himself with a smile.

Juan abruptly stands up and heads for the main room. " You hungry? " He asks halfway to the kitchen. Y/n spins in the chair and watches him through the doorway.

" I guess so. What've you got? "

Juan, rummaging through the kitchen cupboard, pauses and looks up to face her. " Have you ever triednachos? "

Y/n in return snickers." Tried? I grew up with nachos. Though not the kind you're probably thinking of. "

" Oh? What kind then? " Juan frowns slightly in confusion but keeps his smile plastered on his lips. He wonders why he can't stop smiling around her? Juan picks up his desired ingredients alongside the chips on a tray. He places them on the kitchen island and quickly prepares the sauce. A moment later Y/n approaches and seats herself on a barstool in front of him. " Different chips? "

" Yes, a little unusual but very tasty. My mother's recipe. " She snatches a single chip from the preparation tray and crunches it. Juan props himself on his elbows and observes her thoughtfully as she explains the process of how her family used to make it.

" Interesting. I never thought you could use that. " Juan takes a chip, his gaze remaining attentive on her movements. She nods, bashfully, feeling his intense gaze. " But you know, the best part of the flavour is in the beans. " Suddenly an idea hits him, and he turns to fetch another topping. He returns with a little bowl of what appears to be sour cream, and places on the tray. The conversation continues. It is nice to finally have someone to talk to. Juan's normally used to being alone or being interrupted, but not with Y/n. " Did she add any spices? "

" Hm. Yes, and sometimes even nutritional yeast. But that tasted more like cheese. " Y/n replies with a glint of nostalgia in her eyes. " Actually, I remember the first time she she added sweet chilies. It was so good, it became one of our favourites. " She bites a chip covered in sour cream and is pleasantly surprised by the familiar spicy toppings. Juan, who's eyes have been carefully observing her facial expressions, gives a pleased smile upon noticing her delight.

" I thought you'd like this. You briefly mentioned it a few weeks ago. "

Y/n smiles appreciatively at the thought of his attentiveness. " You remembered that? "

" Of course. I pay attention to everything you say. " Juan takes a final chip before stepping around the counter. " That's how a spy works, isn't it? " Juan jokingly adds and takes the seat next to her.

" Oh, so you're a spy now? Ironic. I thought I was the only one. " Y/n decides to play along, speaking in a proud accent.

" Mmh, now that's a problem. Two spies spying on each other with a plate of nachos? "

Y/n chuckles at his statement. " And what's all the information you've collected so far? " Juan squints his eyes at her with a smirk, he leans forward until she can feel his warm breathe hit her face.

" Do you really want to know? "

She blinks innocently and smiles, daring to lean forward as well and resting her chin on her palm. The tension gradually building in the air between them. " I don't know. Is it confidential? " A deep hum resonates from Juan's chest and stands up again.

" Well, If I told you then ... there would be some consequences. " He opens the fridge and takes out two cans of some soft drink to show her. " Have you ever tried this? "

" No. You're giving me a lot of new things lately. " Including these feelings.

Juan passes the drink over the counter and their hands touch for a moment. It's like electricity flowing through the simple contact, a subtle but evident connection completing a circuit. There's a tug inside Juan's heart, like he wants to hold on to her. What is wrong with him, he wonders.

That's when he notices the thin, fresh, red lines draping across the tips of her delicate skin.

" Hey, what happened to your hand? " Juan asks concern in his voice. Y/n pauses and looks confused in response before realisation clicked in her mind.

" Oh. This? It's just cat scratches. " She giggles sweetly at the memory.

The internal tug in Juan's heart becomes nearly unbearable. His heartrate speeds up as temptation settles in for the simple desire. Maybe this will be okay? Unsure of the strange feelings developing inside of him, Juan takes ahold of Y/n's hand. His warm muscular fingers gently press along the peculiar lines. Y/n nearly flinches in surprise, her breath hitched in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. Her mind is overwhelms itself like a highway of thoughts as he continues to gently rub and trace the scars.

" I didn't know you had a cat? " He says in a soft tone, slightly deeper than before.

" Oh, well it's not exactly my cat... " Y/n begins to scramble her thoughts together. Juan listens attentively. " It's a stray. Her original owner was one of my neighbours, but the lady recently had an accident and has to live in a wheelchair for a while. I offered to take care of the cat until she recovers. She was very grateful for that... "

" Aw, that's sweet of you. "

Her eyes follow the movement of his fingers. Y/n notices the great difference in temperature between the both of them.

Of course, her mouth speaks before her mind. " You're so hot... "

" W- What? "

Heat instantly rises to Y/n's cheeks in realisation of her own words and she's overwhelmed by embarrassment. " Oh no- I mean, temperature-wise. " What is wrong with me? Y/n cringes at herself for the misunderstanding.

" Oh.. " Juan chuckles, understanding it was meant differently. His eyes flicker to hers and the obvious blush dusting her cheeks. What a pretty colour on her, I wonder what else will make her blush... Juan wonders why he is thinking this all of a sudden? But instead he continues to rub her hands, focusing on the fading cat scratches as a distraction. He can't deny it, he just wants to feel her skin for as long as possible.

Unfortunately their time spent together is cut short. " I have to go. It's getting late. Thank you for inviting me over. " Y/n's soft voice interrupts and Juan slowly feels a pang of panic arise as she retracts her hands and stands up.

" Wait! Before you go... " Juan calls after her fleeting form and he calms a bit when she stops and turns to him. She needs to stay longer. I can't let her go. Please not yet. I don't want that feeling to return... He clenches his fists and gathers whatever excuse be can think of to keep her there. His mouth gapes like a fish but words don't cooperate. So instead he settles for the next best idea.

Juan dissapears into the study for a moment, and returns with another magazine-sized book. He holds it out to Y/n. She takes it from his hands with slight interest. Juan switches on the hanging lights above the counter to assist her eyesight, ones that Y/n notes are quite stylish.

" What's this? " She asks curiously.

Y/n opens the book and reads the first page, only to notice it contains inked pictures. Her eyes widen in realisation and Juan smiles as he watches her excitement grow. " Oh my goodness... " Y/n flips to the next page. " This is one of your comics! But it's brand new? " Her fingers glide over the intricate black lines. She looks up at him with uncertainty.

" It's all yours. "

" Are you serious?! " Y/n's eyes light up and she hugs him. Juan feels an odd warmth grow inside him at her reaction and he encircles his arms around her. Her body fit right into his arms, almost perfectly like a puzzle. Like it was meant to be. Suddenly the air feels thicker again.

" I thought it'd be better if you had more examples to learn from, you know? "

" No ways... Thank you so much. " As she thanks him , he takes the time to relish in her scent.

That flips a switch.

A deep urge inside him silently begs not to let her go. Make her somehow stay in his arms. But he has no choice. He forces himself to detach from her dainty frame as she steps away. His chest aches inside as he attempts to ignore the desperate cries for her touch. It was almost so torturing that his hands began to shake under his balled fists.

" You're so talented, you know? I wish my stories could be visualised. But I don't have the time. "

There it is. Another compliment gracefully falls from her lips. Juan's chest overflows with the familiar warmth, one that often infiltrates his heart whenever Y/n is close by, he realises. It's a newly uncovered feeling that he hasn't even felt towards anyone before.

Perhaps she is a really special friend? He used to think, but now, he's not so sure anymore. Now, all he knows is that he needs to bring Y/n closer.

" Don't worry. I know you will some day. You just have to keep motivating yourself. Your story is good. It's you. That's what makes it so special... " Juan's eyes travel down from her glossy eyes, to her pouting pink lips, her revealing neck, and then to her arms. He has a strong urge to comfort her physically to, but he's afraid of making her uncomfortable, so instead he reassures her with his words. His opportunity to hug her has already passed. It's like a lump of stone sitting in the back of his throat, he struggles to gulp it down as his mind threatens to lose her if he doesn't do something more.

Y/n stares at him, feeling encouraged by his honest words. She smiles sweetly. " Thanks Juan. "

His eyes couldn't help but stare at her graceful figure, and the unique features of her face. Her beautiful hair that shines soft like silk in the lighting above. Her avoiding eyes hooded with naturally long lashes. They are the windows to her emotions, but can't express just how beautiful she is on the inside. He thought to himself. If only he could tell her... He could write an entire book about her and call it 'Y/n's heart of gold, Juan's heart of her'. He doesn't care how cheesy that might sound, that's how he feels around her.

Again he feels an inner tug, pulling him forward as a need to be closer to her. His increase in heartrate, beating like a drum against his ribcage. Is it the Chupacabra wanting to come out? He worries, but can't suppress the temptation to caress her cheek. It's like a different side of him is threatening to overtake. A build up of emotion about to spill like a cup filling with water till it reaches the brim.

That's it. He gave in.

As Y/n turns towards the door, Juan's arms reach out and prevent her from exiting. Her hand that lands on the doorknob is captured by a firm grip, and her fingers are laced with the man's strong ones. Juan's other hand raises itself to gently cup her cheek. She looks confusedly at him as a blush creeps onto her skin under the touch of his warmth. His face inches closer to her own, his dazed eyes boring into her with an intense gaze of longing. Y/n is left utterly speechless, except for the few words that managed to escape her lips.

" Juan? What are you doing? "

Juan remians silent, in thought. He stares endearingly at her. His eyes are almost glossy as he slides a strand of hair out of her face. Now he can see her beautiful eyes more clearly He doesn't understand why he is so enthralled by her, but maybe it was just her? Maybe it doesn't matter either. Words of apology linger on the tip of his tongue and after a while he doesn't hold some of them back. " I'm sorry, I can't... resist you... "

The eager longing inside of him overrides his senses and he pulls her towards him. His lips attack her soft ones and he unintentionally roughly shoves her against the dark wooden door. It was so sweet, so comforting, so right. His body moulds into hers as the satisfaction of his craving is met. His craving for her touch. Her comfort. Her understanding despite not yet knowing the truth about his alter ego.

How he stalked her that one night in his Chupacabra form just to be sure she arrived home safe. How he stopped that guy at the restaurant that tried to hurt her. How he was the one who defended her that night Dr. Burke's house was attacked. How he cared so much for her and admired her kindness and empathy for the people around her, despite not being able to express herself well. How he yearns for her to feel the same towards him. She was so pure in his eyes. Like an angel he thought he never deserved to meet. Oh, how he wishes he could tell her all this. How he truly feels about her.

The kiss doesn't stop. All the deepest unspoken emotions between the two flood into the each other like a dam wall bursting into a tumbling waterfall. It is passionate, other people would say, but in the hearts of the two it means much more than anyone can fathom.

In Y/n's mind, she knows this is dangerous. Being alone with a guy so dear and allowing him to kiss her? Logically, it was just a recipe of risks. She felt so uncertain, yet her heart felt so at home. But Juan wasn't just any guy, and this wasn't just a kiss. This is the one her heart has long yearned for to find, at last encased by his loving arms. Two fates destined to be entangled. The person she has prayed to meet since she was first able to grasp the meaning of love. The warmth of his lips traverse her her jawline, a sensation her body has long been seeking in her subconscious. She doesn't know why she isn't feeling threatened. Normally a slight touch attempted by a man would make her skin crawl in disgust or uncomfortability. Perhaps this is just the right man touching her, and her body knows it. Feel down, she knows this feels right somehow.

But her morals kick in and hesitation rises in the middle of the sweet sensation. She still needs to be careful not to let it go too far, no matter how good it feels.

She places her free hand that isn't holding the comic book firmly on Juan's chest, lightly pushing him away. Unfortunately he is just too strong for her and keeps in place. The longer she stands cornered by him the more temptation eases its way to give in.

No. She recollects her stance. I can't stay... It's too risky. What if he doesn't feel the same way?

Juan, sensing her hesitation stops and whispers words of reassurance as he leans into her neck. " Hey, are you okay...? I won't do anything you don't want me to. " For a moment she is comforted but her worry remains and battles with the intense feeling of bliss and the relaxation of her muscles in his hold. Her silence makes Juan retreat a little and scan her face for any sign of discomfort. Fearing that he's crossed a line. " I'm sorry... Please, just stay a little longer. We don't have to- " Y/n's voice is choked by uncertainty, but she shakes her head.

She can feel his warm breath lingering over her neck as he waits patiently for her answer, his lean muscular arms holding her dainty ones and she notices one of his thumbs rubbing along the top of her hand in a comforting manner. Their position against the door in such close proximity, the heat radiating off his body envelopes her like a blanket. Realising the strength he has over her in this moment is frightening, yet he remains gentle with her. Even asking consent to continue kissing her. " Will it be okay if I stay? " It's almost impossible to resist. Temptation is right at her doorstep and perhaps that isn't such a bad thing. Such a stupid thought to have in a situation where her body has but a single threatened cell aching to leave.

That is all it takes for Juan to hoist her up into his arms, her legs crossing over behind his back for support. She yelps at the sudden action until she realises where he's taking her. Her voice returns to her, almost shaky and out of breath from the continuous kisses. " Woah, I don't know if I'm ready for this- "

He tosses her onto his bed. Then he proceeds in removing his jacket. Y/n's heart skips a beat and she wonders where this would lead to.

Discarding the piece of clothing on the floor he climbs on top of her. Y/n stares wide eyed, unsure of what to expect. Slightly fearful but also excited. This experience is all too new for her. She just lays still and awaits whatever he plans to do. Her heart feels like it is dancing in her chest. Is he going to...?

Juan stares at her with dazed eyes, trapped in his arms beneath him. She looks as innocent as a deer in his eyes. Unfortunately, he's hunted such an animal before... but he'd never dream of doing such a thing to her. She is too precious. And he hopes the beast inside him agrees. He could see that Y/n trusts him. The last thing he wants to do is break that trust.

" You look so frightened. Have you never been kissed before? " Juan asks while caressing her fallen strands of hair out of her face to

" Not by you. "

He smiles again. He presses his lips onto hers again, this time softer and slower. He travels down to her neck and lightly sucks it between kisses. Her shoulders gradually relax, enjoying the tingly sensation.

Y/n reaches up to his curly hair and runs her fingers through the tousled strands. That seems to encourage Juan as he shifts his towering position over her into a tight but gentle embrace. Once again she is encircled by the comfort and safety of his strong arms respectfully in their place around her waist and back. Thumbs massaging at her sides and sending butterflies fluttering throughout her tummy. Juan quietly and breathlessly chants her name between kisses from her lips slowly traveling her neck, from the back of her ear down to her soft and sensitive shoulders. During this moment, this loving gesture, Y/n longs to know for certain how he truly feels.

After a while Juan lays himself next to her and keeps his arms draped over her smaller frame. Panting and breathless, the tension between them slowly dissapates but the thickness in the air tugging in his chest remains. His head nuzzles her neck affectionately, and he sighs at peace. Y/n gazes at him lovingly, with a mix of bewilderment and pensive. She never expected to experience love this way... And especially not from her dear friend Juan. That seemed no further than a dream to her.

She needs to clarify with him soon. She needs to know for sure.

" Juan "

Y/n whispers breathlessly.

" Is that all you're going to do? "

Juan chuckles at the unexpected question. The sound vibrates throughout her body. It feels so calming and yet contains so much strength. Her knees feel weak despite currently laying down. " What do you mean? Do you want me to do more? " He gives her a teasing glare.

Y/n's face flushes. She avoids the look on Juan's face as it just made her blush even more. Turning over to the other side, she gazes out the window to recollect her thoughts as her heart rate gradually relaxes. Juan watches her intently and holds her hand, lacing their fingers.

" I told you, I won't do anything you don't want me to, remember? " Juan searches her eyes and senses that same hesitation from earlier.

Y/n shifts under his embrace to face him, her gaze now serious from contemplation. " Juan. Tell me. Was this just a 'makeout'? "

Juan smiles at her straightforwardness. " I guess you can call it that, yeah? " He lightly caresses her forehead and presses a chaste kiss on the side.

" I mean, did it... mean anything more to you? " Y/n musters up the courage to ask, her stomach twists in anxiousness of his rejection.

Juan meets her gaze affectionately, searching her eyes again. Something is blooming between them it goes much deeper than the physical.

Juan's voice breaks the silence. " I'm still trying to figure things out between us but... it did, to me atleast. " Juan props himself up on one arm. The rest of the words hang in Juan's thoat and he all he can do is gape like a fish. He looks towards Y/n expectantly, scanning her soft features for the response they're both searching for. Her beautiful eyes bore into his and entrance him with their eager filled emotions. Needless anything to say, he understands what she means, and his hope that she feels it too has been fulfilled. The connection between them, is mutual.

Y/n forms a smile of pure bliss upon realisation and snuggles into his side. " If this is a dream please don't wake me up. "

Juan chuckles and she can feel it resonate throughout his chest like a deep rumble. She feels elated, as if they're lying together in the middle of a grassy field on a warm summer afternoon. The rise and fall of Juan's chest comforts her thoughts and she feels like an invisible weight has been lifted off her shoulders. He feels the same as he gently cradles her in his arms. The silence providing a peaceful atmosphere between them.

Y/n's thoughts remind her of the drawing she found earlier and her heart rate picks up pace again. Should I tell him? I might as well. She wonders where it will lead to but she doesn't waste time and gathers her words with much effort.

" I found your drawing. "

Juan leans back to gaze down at her in mild confusion. " Which one do you mean, love? "

Y/n's heart flutters at the nickname he gives her and looks up to meet his eyes boldly. " The one you made... of me. "

In an instant of realisation, Juan's cheeks heat up to a pinkish shade. He is at a loss for words. " H-How did you..? " His breathe hitches in his throat and causes him to stutter. Now he looks embarrassed and tears his gaze away from her with much shyness. Y/n reassures him by gently placing her hand on his face.

" It's beautiful. " She replies with such genuine sweetness in her voice, Juan's heart could melt right on the spot. Y/n can feel the heat radiating off him by now and he attempts to hide himself in her palm. But he quickly turns the tables by pressing sloppy kisses into her hand. A hearty laugh erupts from Y/n's lips.

" What happened to your shyness all of a sudden? " She asks in between giggles. Juan laughs along with her, thinking what a beautiful sound it is to hear her laugh. He promises himself to make her smile that way every chance he gets.

" Shyness? I'm not shy! " He attempts to defend himself but his uncontainable smile gives it away. " It's just- really hard to talk to a pretty girl like you. "

Y/n pauses and looks up at him teasingly in response to his flirtatious compliment. " Oh, so you're like this with every pretty girl then? " Juan's smile fades a little and his heart clenches at the thought. He gazes at her earnestly with undoubtedly loving eyes.

" No. Only you. " He cups her face in his hand and presses their foreheads together.

Y/n's laughing eases and her heart fills with warmth. Her usually avoiding eyes now wonder up to his own without hesitation, capturing hers with his intensity.

It is the first time they've made such eye contact in a while. Where sparks seem to fly, now the glimmer they share is like a dancing flame.

Both their hearts skip a beat. To Y/n if feels like her entire body is frozen in place under his endearing gaze. To Juan it feels like someone has gifted him the most precious jewel in the world. Her beautiful eyes who's always actively ignoring every attempt of eye contact, has trusted him enough to rest upon his own with such adoration. It's like a romance in a comic book, except this time it's real. They can reach out and they can feel each other. They can know each other. And they can be with each other despite all odds. Never would Juan have thought he'd be so genuinely excited over making eye contact with someone before. He couldn't tear his gaze away even if the world were to end that very second. This is too special of a moment to break. To meet your lover's eyes and know exactly what they're thinking, as if peering through a glass window into a person's soul, and seeing that they reciprocate.

" Your pupils are dilating. "

" What? " Juan chuckles at Y/n's random statement. She tends to do that often. Lighten the mood. " Where did that come from? "

" Oh, I read something about it. A person's pupils dilate whenever they look at someone the love or hate. "

" Well in that case... " Juan leans down to her ear and lightly kisses the earlobe. " That probably answers both our questions again. No? " The last words he whispers in Spanish and Y/n can feel the tension between them slowly rebuilding. She steadily holds his gaze and her heart leaps upon hearing his next words that reflect her own.

" Te amo..."

I'm crying inside. If you made it through this... 🥹 Thank you.

(Btw, the picture above is from a sunset in my neighborhood after it rained a while ago.)

#juan ruiz x reader #juan ruiz #juan ruiz the imperfects #the imperfects fanfiction #x reader #the imperfects #the imperfects netflix #the imperfects x reader #romance

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scalproie · 2 months

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Inspiration is a loop and @kazamajun's post gave me the motivation to write a little something of my own. So. Yeah :)

---

"What should we name him?"

"Him? " Kazuya whipped his head around so fast that Jun had to raise a hand to hide a chuckle. He never spend much thought on this whole... baby situation until now, but saying it outloud made him realize that he half-expected -and in all honesty, would've preferred- a daughter. "How can you be so sure?"

"A little bird told me." At that, Kazuya raised an eyebrow. Knowing Jun, she could mean this in a very literal way.

Gods have no need for sleep, they can partake in the activity all they want but it is more recreational than necessary, Kazuya certainely has never slept before. Well, before Jun. Taking a few hours every so often to lay down and rest together was a habit she took with her from the surface. She used to hide among mortals, watch them closely and fondly, adopted their life rhythms dictated by the sun. Kazuya never understood it and told her as much, but he certainely won't pass on the opportunity those habits of hers bring to hold onto Jun quietly for long periods of time. And it was another change Jun brought that was welcomed by all denizens of Hell, as it meant not dealing with its ruler for a few hours.

That intimacy was new to both gods, but they took to it quite rapidly. Kazuya always found it easy to talk in those moments before slumber, even easier than it already was to talk with her, and Jun never failed to notice, hence why she brought up the baby topic in the first place.

"Fine then, just name him whatever you want. I've no idea why you would even ask me."

"Is it so peculiar? That I would want you to choose the name of our child?"

He's more yours than mine, he bites down. But she must have felt it either way since she laid a heavy palm on his chest.

"He will be a deity, revered the same as us, tied to the both of us. Are you sure you want nothing to do with the way he will be worshipped?"

Ah, playing with his ego, she knows him so well.

"Is there nobody you'd want to honor?" She asks, much, much quieter. And just like that, she takes him to a place much more dangerous than the heavens where his opposing siblings reside: the past. He closes his eyes in remembrance and she observes him, ready to snap him out should he get somewhere too unpleasant.

"Jinpachi," he finally spoke, she squeezes his hand under the cover. "My grandfather."

"The God of the Sky?"

"You know him?"

It should not have such an effect on him, that she would know of his family; everyone knows of the Sky, of course she would be familiar with him, she used to see it everyday.

"Kazama, the God of the Wind -my own grandfather- always spoke of him with great respect."

"He said he would always watch over me..." At that, Jun was now making soothing circles with her thumb on the hand she was squeezing. "Not that it matters now anyway."

Because his own father, eons ago, usurped the throne of his granfather and started their family's cycle of godly violence. Because the sky was now forbidden to Kazuya.

"I like that name." Her soft voice was like a lifeline, anchoring him to the present. He turned his head so his lips would be on her forehead, but nothing more. "He could be like a piece of sky down here..."

Kazuya hummed in aknowledgement, signaling the end of the conversation. She snuggled closer on his neck, and eventually he felt Jun falling asleep before him. This didn't surprised him: she looked more tired recently, her face was paler, her smile thinner... he tried his best not to think too much about it. Or he blamed it on their unborn child.

He took her in his arms, and took her in entirely, before allowing himself to rest with her, undoubtful that at least she will still be here at their awakening.

---

She was gone.

Has it been hours? Days? Weeks? Millenia?

Even if Kazuya had the ability to tell the time down there, he would feel her absence for much longer than it actually was.

She was gone.

"Then go." Was the last thing he said before turning his back on her, before she could do the same to him. Staying here any longer would kill her? Watching her leave would kill him.

(Nothing would kill him. Nothing could kill him. Never again. He had to remind himself of that.)

He sat motionless in the lush garden. He broke his agreement with Bosconovitch to aleviate his sentence should he succeed in bringing a bit of the surface down here, he send him back to whatever torture the old soul was put through before the good inventor could even plead mercy. It was too late.

That damn garden. He wanted to tear it appart. He wanted to destroy it all.

But something kept stopping his hand, what for? he didn't know, that garden was useless now, it would be better to wipe it all out, to make room for something actually of use. Perhaps his mind was being clouded by thoughts of Jun.

Of course his mind was being clouded by thoughts of Jun.

So there he sat, eyes unfocused and aura lethal, in a garden that was gradually making him feel worse on a physical level. But it didn't bothered him anyway: the pain on his skin and bones distracting him from the pain in his chest.

His scar hurted again.

"... My lord?"

Kazuya couldn't care less whichever of his servant dared to disturb him.

"What should we do with your s-"

"Don't touch it." His voice made the ground shake and the air was electric. From the corner of his eyes, Kazuya could see them jump. Good. "I will deal with it myself."

He rose from his spot, and made his way out of the garden, without so much as sparing a glance at whoever would be unlucky enough to cross his path again, the previous servant already having bolted away at his first movement. When he arrived before the room where the dead infant was placed, various souls poured out of it and scuttled away like bugs, leaving it empty for the King of Hell.

Kazuya entered, and there it was in the middle: the small body, bundled up like a corpse more than a newborn. Kazuya stared at it, this pathetic weakling, too frail, too unworthy, and reached to grab it by the neck.

His hand slowed, a feeling reaching his own neck, warning to dig up old, old memories. Instead Kazuya settled to carry the body in a more appropriate matter.

As he stepped outside of the room, it suddenly hit him that he did not yet know what he should do with it. That no one else but him was supposed to dispose of it, of that he was certain, but how?

He looked again at the grotesque little thing. He could not recognize anything of himself in it. He could not recognize anything of Jun either.

Jun.

You were supposed to fix this, he mentally spat to the unborn baby, his face twisting into a silent scowl, you're the reason she had to leave.

The teary-faced image of Jun sprung into his mind with such intensity it brought back the full disturbance he felt upon seeing it for the first time.

You made her weak.

The realization that he wasn't speaking to the carcass did nothing to quell Kazuya's anger. Quite the opposite. He directed a vicious, vicious stare at the pounds of divine meat in his arms.

"I should throw you down to the lowest levels of Hell so that you may feed whatever monstrous things live down there, maybe that way you could make up for your uselessness."

He recoiled as soon as his venomous words left his mouth. The chill he just felt made him stop dead in his tracks. The thunder booming in his mind was a cruel punctuation. No. No, it bears my blood, he tried to rationalize, it deserves a better fate than this.

Yes, this was about pride, and not about the bone-deep horror he felt at how he just sounded like. Who he just sounded like.

He looked around at a loss, only to see that his feet took him back to the garden. Yes, of course, it was clear now: at the very least, it could be used as a grave, soon to be sealed off, and forgotten about. This felt fitting, this felt right, and right now he desesperately needed something to feel right.

So he entered back into the garden, and didn't need to search for long before finding a proper spot to bury the small body, which he set aside as he dropped to his knees.

To his dismay, that motion brought back more memories.

"Come join me!"

It was just after one of their spar, Kazuya was out of breath, as he often was when he went for extended periods of time on the surface. Jun was as lively as ever, covered in dirt that some would say is unfitting of a goddess, but Kazuya was above such thoughts: she yet again tied with him, she could look however she pleases.

"What for?" He called out to her.

"Helping me shape a new life!"

One could hear the smile in her voice as she gestured to the young tree waiting to be planted in a better sunlit spot.

"I take away life, Jun."

"And is that really all you can do, King of Hell?"

This got a smirk out of him, which only made her smile bigger, as she patted down the spot next to her. When he moved over and dropped to his knees, he could see that she has already worked up a sweat, having digged quite the hole, and they just had a fight before! He gave her a curious look: they're gods, surely there must be a less tiresome way to do this? And as usual, she understood him wordlessly.

"The effort makes it mean something," She held a handful of soil almost to his face and he leaned back ever so slightly. "It's much more satisfying than just willing it into existence."

His look turned from curious to perplexed, so she took his hands into her own (gently, so gently he learned not to jump at the touch anymore) and used them to scoop a bit of the earth.

"The soil is rich here thanks to the volcano," She said, referring to Hell's Entrance, not that far away from here. She kept her brown eyes focused on the ground. "Isn't it amazing? That what is thought to only bring death can help raise so much life?"

Kazuya just looked at her. He only ever looked at her. He could spend eons looking at her.

Her voice, somehow, turned ever softer.

"There is so much more to it than mere destruction."

In the garden, Kazuya felt as if he was digging a hole into his stomach, his throat, rather than in the soft dirt.

When the hole was deep enough, he lowered the unborn child into it, and stayed still for a moment to contemplate the fruit of his labor. Should he say a few words? Make a prayer like a mortal? All options beneath him of course, but sadly for him, that memory of... her brought a vulnerability. He especially despised it now.

Sighing, he began to push back the dirt into the hole.

He thought he dreamt the first sound, that it was just the impact of dust on clothes.

The second sound made him stop in confusion. To his credit, Kazuya heard plenty of last breaths, never a first one.

The third sound was like a great dam finally bursting wide open, a piercing scream that might as well have resonated throughout all levels of Hell. It was as if all the air that was in Kazuya's lungs left him to fuel those of the baby.

Kazuya reached into the hole with an alarming swiftness, as if that loud, irritating, wonderful sound could end at any moment. And he held the child with a gentleness he never thought himself capable of.

He didn't even know where the knowledge of making hushing, soothing noises came from.

He wouldn't dare to tear his shining bright red eyes away from the tiny godling in his arms, who in-between two hiccups started to just slightly open his own. Kazuya looked into them for the first time.

Dark, rich brown.

Outside the garden, a commotion has started to form, loud whispers started to rise, all souls present unsure of what to do, or what even was happening in there. Some were debating if they should enter to offer assistance to their Lord, some were saying it would mean risking punishment for daring to disturb their Master.

Hell embodied, an entity far older than all of Hell's denizens combined, including its Lord for whom she always had a soft spot for, broke away from the crowd to enter the garden, and find the origin of that strange, thundering noise.

It treaded inside on cautious steps, and she immediately felt the same unease Kazuya would when he stayed in there too long. She too was bound to this deep place far below from the surface that is Hell, maybe even more than him, but it was willing to endure the rising discomfort to help the one she had already saved long, long ago, and who she deemed her appointed ruler.

It found Kazuya in the middle of the garden, slowly pacing around, aware of her presence but unwilling to break his attention away from whatever he was holding.

When Hell Embodied came closer, it too felt it's breath taken away from her.

"Implausible," She whispered, awestruck, staring at the first ever hellborn child. "It came back to life."

"Jin."

Kazuya's eyes were shinier than she ever had seen them, even more shinier than when it encountered him for the first time, dying, at the bottom of Hell. They stayed fixated on the boy. He lightly bounced his son to make him more comfortable in his grip. Tiny hands were clasped on one of his much, much larger fingers.

"His name is Jin."

#I'm not a writer so sorry if its like. Not Good lmao #hits kaz with the indulgent slightly ooc beam sorry kaz I love you #ANYWAY HOPE YOU ENJOY PATERNAL KAZ CAUSE ITS AAAAAALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE LMAO #(at least for a few decades)#anyway teeheeheehee #tagging later #tekdes au

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astralarias · 7 months

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please talk about your characters! i don't mind who i just wanna hear you ramble about your toons <3

Aaa thank you!! 🥺

Since I just posted a gifset of her, I'll talk a little about Aikarico, my beloved warcat, and her backstory <3

She came remarkably close to having a completely different life! Her parents were critical of the Legions as a whole and had plans to leave after the birth of their cub, as fleeing & traveling would be too strenuous on Electra (Aika's mother) during her pregnancy. Their goal was to reach Lion's Arch and settle down as a family.

However, mere weeks before Aikarico was born, her father, Theo, was killed on patrol by a Flame Legion ambush. Electra was heartbroken, and after Aikarico was born she didn't have the strength to flee the Legions alone - only to give Aikarico as much love as she could in the time they had. Being an only child, Aikarico was incredibly clingy and a very shy, sweet cub who rarely left her mother's side.

When it came time for her to join the Fahrah, she didn't cope well. Ripped from her mother's warm embrace into a world of survival of the fittest, she struggled - bullied endlessly by her peers for her softness. Until she wasn't. Until she forced herself to get tough, against her every instinct. She fought back with fang and claw, so no-one would ever hurt her again.

Her mother had promised she'd visit. She never did. Aikarico grew up believing she had been abandoned without reason by the only person who had loved her for her, not knowing the truth - Electra had died shortly after Aikarico left her side, falling ill and not having the strength to recover.

By the time she reached adulthood, Aikarico had become an arrogant, defiant problem for her warband and superiors, and had no intention of changing. It was a mask, but one she could no longer tell where it ended and she began any more. She had stopped trying to take it off long ago.

However, her higher-ups weren't about to let such subordination slide for much longer, especially after her stunts to prove herself as bigger, better, stronger, resulted in casualties in the field more than once. She always knew better, and nothing was ever her fault. It couldn't be - she was flawless, because if she wasn't, she was nothing.

After a string of complaints from her warbandmates, Aikarico was made a gladium. As the verdict was dealt, though, she stood tall and announced she was leaving, anyway, so there - you can't fire me, I quit! Denounced as a traitor and disappointment, she fled the Legions - just as her parents had meant to do all those years ago, albeit with a twist.

From there, she wandered Tyria, taking up jobs for bandits and thieves - anyone who would pay, at first - but eventually building up a reputation as a skilled assassin. She hung around human lands for a while - the least charr place she could think of, although she still held herself as charr in far-too-high regard. Among certain shady circles, she gained notoriety. If you wanted someone dead, she was the cat for the job. She was never happy, but she was feared and respected, and that was enough for a time.

Eventually she grew bored and set on the road again, winding up in the Desolation after a few years. Here, she worked with the Order of Shadows alongside her regular assassination jobs - she never became an official member, but she was known throughout the ranks as "that arrogant charr who thinks too much of herself".

During the events of Path of Fire, she was given a mark that would change her life once again; the Commander. She never did find out who put her on the job - it was all very secretive - but it payed well, and she knew to kill him would bolster her legend beyond all belief and hope. She took it without a second thought.

She followed Atlaki for days. Watched his every move, as he stopped amid the carnage to...help people? Didn't he have a god to catch? Why would he stop and show such...weakness?

She was horribly intrigued. And besides, maybe she was a little bored of the desert too, now. The Desolation was all moody skies and sulfur. Even killing here was getting dull.

So, finally, she engaged her target. But instead of shooting him from some perch, she appeared to his face and demanded he fight her. She was somewhat hurt when he appeared more tired than anything, but he agreed - and promptly kicked her ass. Okay, now she was impressed...although, of course, her losing was totally all part of her plan.

She introduced herself, told him she was meant to kill him but kind of didn't want to do that anymore, and she'd be helping him out from now on. A paw was offered to shake, and Atlaki - deciding this odd charr wasn't the worst or strangest thing to fall from the sky in recent times - took it.

Thus began Aikarico's looong, winding path to becoming a better, and certainly more tolerable person - someone her parents would be beyond proud to see flourish, with Atlaki's influence. She remains proud, arrogant, even but it's genuine now and not so much of a mask. She's charismatic, brash, and herself. She has the family she always needed, in Atlaki, and Cassien, and Aurene.

#sorry for the NOVEL but I love my girl so dearly #aikarico #oc talk tag #thank you again anon!!

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f0xgl0v3 · 3 months

Text

The Octavian and Michael Quest; Story Snippet

Hahaha I’ve done it. I’m finally going mad, anyways after staring longingly at the Converse wedge high tops vowing to one day add them to my collection (and for some reason way more publicity on the post) I’ve decided that I’m making a like teaser for the Octavian-Michael fanfic I talked about all those weeks ago. Also I’m really bored this mid-winter break and I’m a mediocre narrative writer soo uh

Also if my google docs yell at me one more time because apparently the way I spell something is the British English way I’m going to scream. I’m sorry but it’s travelled. Anyways, I’d like to say again in no way am I an author nor do I think I write stories particularly well. There’s probably a reason why most of my big posts are formatted the way they are,

Also sorry no Michael in the sneak peak/ first bit I wrote, this is just the like. Set up? It’s mean to be short and sweet, enjoy! (also this isn’t proofread I’m so sorry),

I should’ve just chosen to use dice or birds primarily, Octavian thought as he pulled his dagger through another stuffed animal. It stung a bit, partially from the repeated weight of taking the golden blade through fabrics and partially because he had to. The dove between his hands looked pleading with its plastic eyes, the same sound of threads ripping apart while stuffing piled out. It caught in his ears again, the ringing that came before the voices. The same feeling of hair standing on end that Jason described when lightning was about to strike, and that’s when it began,

“Great strife shall befall the legion,” He had heard this voice before, the mixed harmony of several Gods murmuring before one truly broke through. It took awhile to get used to, his ears still rang after most of the Auguries, and Octavian could barely hear his own voice murmur in reply,

“What’s going on?” it felt odd to ask, Octavian’s own voice sounding desperate and panicked, though usually his tone reflected those of the Gods. The world around grew blurry while the harmony thinned out to one single melodious voice, humming in his ears, Venus, something in his mind decided,

“[the super duper cool prophecy that will be there at some point I pinky Promise]”

The world spun some more, and once Octavian’s vision settled the stuffed dove and his dagger had been dropped to the altar, his brows furrowed and breath a bit frantic while he tried to make some sense of what was just delivered to him. A prophecy. An actual prophecy. Octavian tenderly picked up the stuffed dove and dagger again, first giving the poor thing an apology and sewing it back up, gently holding it while he exited the Augurculanum. The blinding rays of the sun beat down on his eyes while Octavian made the run to the Principa from ground zero. His hand tightened around the dove, which was decidedly now named Beatrice. His boots crunched against the gravel roads that wound between most of the buildings. He opted not to walk on the main Via Principa; there would;ve been too many legionnaires walking back from the fields of Mars anyway.

Finally reaching the Principa was always a relief. It was great having most of the buildings Octavian had to go to in the Porta Praetoria; It meant everything was in arms reach. But also subsequently meant that heading to the Principa took longer and always felt more daunting (not to mention the Principa itself always felt impossibly big). Octavian rushed up the few steps and into the door, walking through the big halls and passing several doors and legionnaires before finally slipping into the main office. His eyes travelled to the Praetors; who snapped up once they realized he was there. Marcus spoke up first, already concerned,

“What happend?”

——————————————————————————

That’s it! Uh, I didn’t want to type up a giant thing so there’s the short and sweet version. It’s also a draft partially? It’s my first time writing this little section. I also tried to keep it from being like.. super ahdiajfbsj like how I usually write things. Also the actual one will probably be first person because that means I can do my super fun parenthesis bits in character and that makes me happy.

Anyway goodnight internet.

#hehe :3 #idk how to tag this #pjo hoo toa #camp jupiter #hoo #hoo octavian #pjo octavian #octavian hoo #octavian pjo #hoo fanfic #a short story snippet!#a teaser if you will #honestly I didn’t proofread either so uhh #okay bye

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pez-and-quiet · 1 year

Text

Okay does anyone ever like cling into something someone said in a conversation that was probably meaningless to them but in someway meant everything to you? Because I do a lot, especially with my one friend.

So We go to the same church and we were at the yearly party/Vidgil we have the night before Good Friday. So we play our usual game of hide and see in the dark of the Church. Everyone teams up and (since me and friend have been being friends more) we teamed up. First round we were looking around for somewhere to hide when he pulls out this god spot of a hiding place.

In the church at the side entry doors there’s this little like room in between two sets of doors. There were these huge stone pillars framing the doors and that’s where we hid (much to my objection) we were out of sight but still in the building.

So we were whisper talking about the others not being able to find us and our friends and school.

We were sitting there across form each other waiting for our friends to come and find us, and I decided to let him in on a secret I’ve been holding onto for a while now. (For context we were somewhat friends before Covid when I was around 10/11 and he was 13/14 then the pandemic hit and we lost contact, but we reconnected a few months ago and it’s awesome) Anyway in 5th grade when all you talk about with your friends is new movies and boys and crushes, someone is bound to ask who you have a crush on. And me being the honest 5th grader I was told the truth “no one” but pretty sure we all know that is never believed and they asked me again and I panicked saying the first name that came to mind (name of new friend from church)

like a couple weeks before that night I had been talking to my two friends (I’ll call M and A) about it (the vidgil, my friend,) and the one story came up. A started calling him “crush boy” and M caught onto it and did aswell (all on good fun) but I thought I was going to die, because I knew that they’d meet at some point most likely at my Confiration since his younger sisters were also getting confirmed. I had no interest in them meeting and A and M calling him “crush boy”

So four years later here I am sitting on the stone floor of a church hiding from our friends in the dark with that same friend telling him the whole story (I’ll be honest it took a bit to get there I was very reluctant at first) waiting to be called weird and immature but he looks at me with a goofy smile on his face and the only thing he says is “I’m honoured it was me” and then conversation moved on a bit and we’re still sitting on the floor somewhat silence someone talking and I don’t really remember what brought I up but he laughs and says some thing along the lines “you know we’re kinda like Steve and Robin, sitting here on the floor of an empty room talking about the randomest things”

And let me tell you I died, I smiled and i know it was a big one that was partially covered by the darkness. “Yea, the bisexual and and lesbian”

Yea so that entire experience had basically been stuck to be like glue and I very much have hyper fixated on the the fact he compared me to my favourite supernatural fighting, sarcastic lesbian who I’m probably unhealthy in love with. Now I regularly call him Dingus and Harrington.

This post ended up being much longer than I planned but in some way I’m slighting glad it worked

This memory would save me from Vecna

#steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #platonic soulmates stobin #stranger things #hideandseekinthedark #confessing a secret to a friend #hope my friend dosnet have Tumblr #dustin henderson #lumax #el hopper #argyle #max mayfield #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steddie #ronance #st vecna

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isnt-it-pretty · 10 months

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Wip #5

So far I've posted Amputee!Cyno, Cyno & Kaveh childhood friends, Cyno's Vision being stolen, and Windblume

This one is set during the event when Lisa visited Sumeru! It's her and Kaveh talking abdout Cyno's not-so-great mental health.

It had been a long time since Lisa was last in Sumeru. Once, she had thought she would never return-- she hadn't thought she would want to. But the Spantamad reunion was rare, and she had missed the last. With all the changes at the Akademiya, who knew when the next would be.

Her second reason was tucked between the seams of her bodice, hidden from any would-be enemies. The contents were too sensitive for anything less, and Lisa wouldn't risk those mentioned in it by carelessness. Ideally, she would have burned it, but the information was too valuable to dispose of.

Running into the Traveler had been a pleasant surprise, even if Gafoor's attempts at enticing her back to the Akademiya were less so. Insulting her position as the librarian for the Knights of Favonius? She should have done worse than a verbal lashing. Her work was more worthwhile than anything Gafoor ever achieved, herbad or not.

She let out a harsh breath and busied herself with the coffee cup on the table before her. A selection of pastries and sweets had been set out for her and her companion-- her treat. Kaveh deserved it after the stress of the last weeks, the events of which Lisa knew frustratingly little about before his letter. Her only consolation was that even Kaeya's various contacts were slow in gathering the true story of the Akademiya's change in leadership-- and even that had differed from the account Kaveh had pried from his friends.

It didn't take long for Kaveh to arrive, and Lisa stood to greet him with a tight hug. They still shared letters a few times a year, but they hadn't seen one another since she left about a decade ago now. Archons, this entire trip made her feel old.

"It's good to see you," she said, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. It was different from the pardisarah perfume Kaveh used to wear to cover up the smell of cheap soap.

The Akademiya may have claimed not to discriminate, but Kaveh still encountered much of it when people learned he came from a poor family. (Cyno dealt with even more, his grades always behind hers despite performing at the same level. It was Kaveh who had to explain what being from the desert meant, and why their classmates scorned a boy younger than most of them.)

"You as well," Kaveh responded, pulling away. He held her at arm's length, his eyes roaming her form as he took in her appearance. "You look lovely as ever. How was your trip?"

"Flatterer," she said, laughing, and motioned for him to sit. "Long. The Chasm being reopened made it substantially shorter compared to going through Fontaine, but it still took longer than I would have liked."

They spoke of frivolous things for a while, catching up on all the things that occasional letters couldn't explain. Work, friends, anecdotes. She even learned a few more stories of Kaveh's infamous roommate, some of which she had learned glimpses of from Collei. It was nice.

Of all the people Lisa knew, Kaveh was one of the few she never had to watch herself around. Even after all these years, their trust was implicit-- a friendship that lasted longer than those she had in Mondstadt. Cyno was another, for all they didn't speak anymore. Anybody else was a member of the Knights, but even they often had their own motives.

When the coffee cooled and their treats were picked over, their voices lowered and their conversation changed to more serious topics.

She drew the letter from her bodice and spread it between them, Kaveh's careful hand staring up at them. He hadn't asked her to come, but Lisa had read the desperation between the words. How could she have stayed away when her friends were struggling?

Kaveh picked up the letter, his eyes scanning his own words. Eventually, he put it down and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to worry you."

"You always worry me," she replied, piecing up a piece of baklava. "Is Cyno really doing that badly?

"He's... struggling," he said after a moment of hesitation. "I can't blame him after everything that's happened, but it's worrying."

"Is it as bad as it was in school?" she asked, her mind drifting back through the years.

Cyno had always been standoffish. His demeanour was unwelcoming, a blessing and curse when so many people were waiting for him to fail. It meant that he had few friends-- something that was still true today.

She remembered the days when he couldn't get out of bed, the world weighing too heavily on his shoulders. When she would bring notes from class as she and Kaveh studied quietly with their notebooks spread across Cyno's dorm room floor, hoping their presence eased some of the loneliness. She remembered the jumpiness, the lack of sleep, the days and hours where something seemed off, like Cyno wasn't quite there. She knew more now than she did then, could list symptoms of trauma like a grocery list.

"I don't know," Kaveh said, sounding frustrated. "He doesn't like talking about it. I visited Tighnari but Cyno hasn't been any more forthcoming with him, either."

Which was a concern in itself. Cyno's previous episodes were always accompanied by self isolation.

There wasn't much Lisa could do. She didn't know Cyno anymore. Their friendship had deteriorated over time and distance as her letters went unanswered. What news she learned of him was delivered via Kaveh, lines sprinkled throughout his letters that 'Cyno is doing well. He was promoted to General Mahamatra.' All of that aside, she still worried.

Kaveh's news had been distressing to read. Cyno helped overthrow the Akademiya, his partner was injured by the sages' pet god, and his mentor died all within the same month. Anybody would struggle with that, but Cyno hadn't spoken about any of it, withdrawing into himself as the days passed.

"Any panic attacks?" she asked

"Not from what I've seen, but that doesn't rule it out," he replied, leaning his elbows on the table. "I don't think he's been sleeping either."

END

...

I was planning on Lisa having a talk with Cyno and dragging him to the reunion event. Probably also bringing him to Gandharva Ville with her to see Collei and Tighnari. Cyno being loved and cared for is my brand.

Also, let me know what you want to see next! I have a polycule, Blind!Cyno, Younger!Cyno finding Collei in the desert after she escaped Dottore younger than canon (pretty short), and a few Kaeya and Xiao centric wips.

#genshin #wips #my wips #my writing #sometimes i'm creative #cyno #kaveh #lisa

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sealrock · 8 months

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I meant to post this a few weeks ago whoops

a companion piece to my foulques and paris misadventures post, here's foulques' family and brief backstories for all (set before 1.0):

bohort 'bors' carhaix: an elezen of seventy winters, bors is the father of tristeux and grandfather to the carhaix brood. a miner for most of his life, bors lost his wife in a freak chocobo carriage accident when tristeux was nine years of age, something his youngest son blames him for to this day. their relationship is distant at best, and estranged at worst, but the wizened elder doesn't hold it against his son. he feels guilty for his son's pain and does his best to stay out of his way whenever possible. bors lives with tristeux and his family after he grew too old to take care of his tiny homestead. he enjoys spending time with his grandchildren, especially the youngest as he always has stories to tell.

tristeux carhaix: having just seen his fifty-second nameday, tristeux works tirelessly mining in the west shroud's ore-rich caverns and teaches his young sons the family tradition that spans back generations. the youngest of nine children, tristeux lost his elder brothers in various mining accidents, and the death of his mother is a sore spot for him. for years, he blamed his father despite him having no hand in the tragedy. resentful and unable to move on, tristeux focuses his energy in keeping his family fed and sheltered, but he's frequently spotted in the hamlet tavern after a hard day's work in the mines.

isaut (née lejelle) carhaix: tristeux's wife of twenty-odd summers, this fourty-six year old elezen is the matriarch and owner of the hamlet's only bed-and-breakfast, having inherited the business from her late grandmother. a no-nonsense woman, isaut strives to be a good wife and mother while also acting as a buffer between her husband and father-in-law. she doles out chores equally amongst her children, but some might say she spoils her youngest as she tends to call him her 'surprise baby' and lets him stay close by her. she views paris as one of her own, and she became a mother figure for the young hyur.

gavain carhaix: the eldest child of the brood, gavain is a reserved young man of twenty-four summers. having worked in the mines since the age of five, his father holds gavain in high esteem as the firstborn son. but when gavain announced his plans to join the gridanian lancer's guild and become a soldier, tristeux was taken aback, but nonetheless filled with pride. wanting to give back to his community beyond chipping away for gold and silver, gavain wanted to make a difference in showing others the good qualities of duskwights. he left home at seventeen, and through blood, sweat, and tears, gavain achieved the position of a serpent officer of the twin adders. he writes back to his family often and tends to drop by every now and then if duty allows it.

linette carhaix: at twenty-three, linette is the second child and only daughter. an avid reader and songstress, linette is a staple at the tavern as she sings old hymns and songs in her people's native tongue of high gelmorran, thus keeping the dying language alive a little bit longer. she often helps her mother with housework and upkeep of the boarding house, but she dreams of leaving the boundary of the west shroud like her elder brother and finding a partner to start a family of her own. for now, she keeps her younger brothers in line with the authority only an older sister can have, but she adores them both regardless. she had a slight crush on hector, though it seemed he was oblivious to this.

keux carhaix: the second son and third child, keux is a rebellious and mulish youth of seventeen summers. while he has experience in the mines, keux took on most of the responsibility and teachings of his father after gavain left, but keux would rather be tipping cows, playing footie, or betting his gil on a game of fivestones with his father's friends. while gavain attempts to set a good example for his brothers, keux follows the beat of his own drum at his parents' chagrin. keux takes advantage of his older age and tends to taunt his youngest sibling, and he sometimes shirks off his household chores to his brother to play hooky.

foulques galath carhaix: the fourth child and baby of the brood, galath is a boy of twelve summers and a bundle of mischievous energy. doted on by his mother, galath spends the less amount of time in the mines and instead follows his mother and sister around the hamlet, curious and bright. a little fearful of his father, galath loves spending time with his grandfather. he idolizes his eldest brother and tries to impress gavain with his fighting skills whenever he comes home. he's often teased by keux for being the youngest. the only other child in the hamlet is paris, and the two have been attached to the hip since they were very young.

#mypost.#ffxiv gpose #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv oc #ueueeu #i love all of them. unfortunately they're dead #if anyone notices a pattern of the names i'm giving them a cookie #keux took after his dad and peepaw more out of all of them #q.#meta.

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panicatthediaz · 1 year

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This concludes chapter 3, posted earlier to my AO3 because timezones apparently glitch it out. This is currently one of my three longest parts :') And like I said there, I have no idea how long this entire fic will end up being. I hope you enjoy part 9, 'cause I definitely had fun writing it!

[Part 1] – [Part 8] – [Part 10]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @swiftiebuckleys @spectrum-spectre @epiclazershark @redheadchimechild @steddie-there @gayngerthings @manda-panda-monium [Let me know if you want to be tagged!]

Pin a String to My Chest - 9

Confirmation

"... And that's what she's doing," Steve finished explaining the current supernatural happening, El trying to find Eddie in his own mind.

Wayne took in the explanation silently, as he'd done every other time. If it weren't for El's demonstration earlier, he wasn't sure how believable any of it would be, but Wayne knew they weren't lying.

Or, well, he hoped he did.

The man nodded slowly, fidgeting with the necklace in his hand. Dustin had held onto that pick necklace until he saw Eddie's uncle a day after everything happened, and Wayne hadn't let it go since.

Everyone else had explained what happened since '83. Nancy had said he'd been a little amused by being right about a Creel doing it all, he'd just missed a generation.

He'd also been reasonably horrified when Nancy and Robin talked about Starcourt, but that had been the worst it got until this spring break.

"Say, Harrington," he spoke after a few minutes of radio static filling the room. He didn't take his eyes off of his nephew on the opposite corner of the hospital room. "I reckon I oughta thank you."

Steve turned sharply to face him, frowning in confusion. "What…?"

"I don't think that many people would actually carry my kid out of any kind of situation," he shrugged. "Even before all this."

Steve nodded slowly. "Sir—" A glance from Wayne, eyebrow raised, had him correcting, "Wayne…" He sighed. "Truth is, two weeks ago—" before all of this— "I'm not sure I would have…"

"You didn't know Eddie," he said, as if Steve admitting that he wouldn't have tried to help Eddie somehow was normal. "I mean, you knew of him, what people said about him, just like I knew of you."

He grimaced. Whatever Eddie had told Wayne had come from his highschool years, and Steve knew there wasn't much good there. Or maybe it'd come from later, from the ridiculous amount of first dates. He knew what that looked like.

"It's not all bad, Steve," Wayne reassured, glancing at him with a smile. "Not from Eddie."

The questioning noise that escaped him made Wayne's smile widen.

"Eddie always said, 'Harrington's always tryin' too hard to please someone'." Wayne's impression of Eddie was pretty good, making Steve snort. "He never elaborated on that, by the way, always shrugged it off when I asked what he meant."

Steve looked down, focusing on the spotless tile of the hospital room. "I, uh, I didn't know he noticed that." What else could he say? Eddie apparently had him figured out a long time ago.

"He talks big and he's always been wary," he smirked, "But he's always been curious about people too."

Steve nodded and let the silence settle between them. He didn't know Eddie as well as he'd like to, but hopefully he could remedy that soon… Assuming Eddie would want to hang out, which he also hoped would be the case. Steve had admitted a while ago that he needed a friend his age that wasn't Robin or his ex.

A sniffle came from Eddie's bedside as El took off the bandana from her eyes some time later. Wayne was up and next to her faster than Steve had expected, but he was just a second behind him.

"You okay?" Steve asked, standing behind her chair as El reached to grab a tissue from the table off to the side.

"Yes." Her reply was a little muffled by the tissue. She did her thing a bit longer than usual, but there was no noise of discomfort or any complaints, and her nosebleed wasn't that bad, so he'd let her be while he talked to Wayne. "Sorry, I got distracted."

"Distracted?"

El nodded, tossing the bloodied tissue away. She looked at Wayne with a smile and shiny eyes.

"He is in his memories, so I didn't talk to him," she explained, "But he is resting. He will wake up soon."

It was like the whole room relaxed a little, the air feeling less tense than before. Steve felt his shoulders relax, and it seemed that Wayne's entire body loosened and he held himself upright with his hands on Eddie's bed.

Steve knew from Dustin that he'd been working as little as he could afford to, worried about Eddie and staying at the hospital with him.

El stood slowly, surprising both men by hugging Wayne. She didn't wait for him to return the hug.

"I saw some of his memories," she announced, only letting Wayne go enough to look at his face. "You were in a lot of the good ones."

"Lord knows he didn't get many of those as a kid," he grumbled, his expression creasing with whatever thought he just had.

"He had you," she said, in that firm way she had when no one could really change her mind. It made Steve smile. "I think he is lucky to have you."

Wayne cleared his throat, returning El's hug a little awkwardly.

"Pretty sure he's been my favorite person since he learned to talk," he admitted with a choked laugh. "Only ever stops when he's asleep, and sometimes not even then."

Steve snorted, drawing attention to himself and making El chuckle.

"Yeah, I can see that," Steve said softly. "He always seems to have something to say."

"I'm glad I can help him say some of it," Wayne sighed, looking at Eddie and taking in the visible bandages in his arms and left cheek. His torso had even more bandages hidden under the hospital gown and the thin blanket.

"He is healing. He is safe," El reminded him, as if she could sense where Wayne's thoughts were going. Wayne nodded absently, not taking his eyes off of his nephew. "But you worry, anyway." She was smiling when Wayne looked at her. "You are good for him."

"I try to be," he mumbled, moving to sit on the other side of Eddie's bed.

El nodded, thoughtful for a moment. "You remind me of Hopper." She glanced at Steve before adding, "You two worry a lot."

Wayne frowned, apparently confused by the comparison, and turned to Steve. "Her adoptive father," he explained. Steve could only guess that Wayne filled a fairly similar role in Eddie's life. He had no idea where Eddie's biological father could have been, but the fact the man had taught a kid how to hotwire a car didn't sit well with him.

Before Wayne could reply through his surprise, a knock at the door drew everyone's attention and Hopper poked his head in.

"El, we gotta go." He nodded at Steve and Wayne in acknowledgment and let out a weary sigh when his eyes fell on Eddie. "He okay?"

"He is resting," she replied. El pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, waving to the two of them and following her dad out.

"I should probably go too," Steve said. He'd been the only one in the room in the times he visited Eddie before, and he found El and Hopper at the front desk this morning. He wasn't sure what to say to Wayne now that the silence was settling with no one else in the room to break it. "Let you get some rest."

"Not that these chairs help much with that," Wayne sighed. "But thanks."

Steve nodded, walking to the door with his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker.

"Steve."

He turned back to face Wayne. The man was staring at him with narrowed eyes, looking for something in him.

"Just because you think you wouldn't have saved my nephew before all this," he spoke sternly, "It doesn't make the fact you did it last week any less important, alright?"

Steve nodded, unsure once again of what to say. He wiggled his fingers in a wave and left, Wayne's words bouncing in his head all the way to his big empty house.

#asexual Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Stranger Things fic #Steddie fic #Eddie Munson fic #ace!Eddie Munson #asexuality #Wayne Munson #Steve Harrington #Dustin Henderson #wereswriting

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genjishimemeda · 6 months

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been going through my WIPs and i'm gonna post a couple old old old ones that i really need to finish. this one was meant as a gift for someone but i think they went on to block me (lol)? idk. it was like almost ten years ago.

it's cloudgeal with the theme of gardening

Of all the areas in the Shinra building, Cloud likes the courtyard most.

Few even realize it's there, attached to the cafeteria like some awkward, bulbous tumor that everyone passes by, probably curious about, but doesn't bother to explore. It's weird and it's honestly rather ugly, obvious sod laid down over a metal floor with weak, meager sunlight filtered through glass, supported by flickering sun lamps, its only sources of light. The grass itself on the sod is just a pitiful excuse for grass, yellow and brown for the most part. They said nothing grows in Midgar, and it's probably true.

Except, and Cloud notices this, there's one corner of the courtyard where the lamp doesn't flicker, the grass is a little less brown-and-yellow, and there's obvious signs of work.

He's drawn to the courtyard in the first place because, being a mountain-dweller, nature's in his blood. He didn't have to (and didn't want to) ask about its existence; it just sort of happened that he took the wrong door out of the cafeteria when he wasn't paying attention and wound up looking at a small patch of greenery wondering how he got there. For a brief moment, it had reminded him of when the snow finally melted and the grass hadn't yet grown back after a winter in Nibelheim; returning there, he smiles as he notices the grass is just a little bit greener than before.

And over in the corner, there's a little row of pots.

As he nears, he counts maybe six of them, sitting in neatly arranged rows. The soil's still moist and the lamps are fixed on them, but not directly. He makes a noise of curiosity, kneeling down and examining them. Nothing on them says who put them there, or even what species of seed was planted in them. Just nondescript clay pots, sitting and waiting.

A little confused, he leaves for the day.

Some time a few weeks later, he pops back in just to have his lunch in relative quiet, and the pots are still there. It's a little warmer, and he notices the thermostat is set to almost 27°—going to sit by the pots, he notices one has a tiny shoot sticking up from the center. It's not quite like the green, fleshy stem of a flower, but like a thin, bladed leaf. The soil is damp again, as if they've been recently tended to, and the watering can is, in fact, still there.

Cloud picks it up and examines it. Again, like the pots, it's nondescript to the point of blandness. He places it back down, gently, and just looks at the tiny shoot with masked wonder.

By the next time he has a chance to return, early one morning before breakfast is even ready, all the pots are bearing several little shoots, but this time, the soil is dry. He realizes the time of day and, glancing at the schedule that seemed to have mystically appeared on the wall, the plants have yet to be watered. Curious, he looks to the can, and gingerly lifts it to see if there's any water in it.

Barely…

Shrugging to himself, he goes to the spigot on the wall and starts filling it. The water is cloudy, obviously not filtered tap. He's not sure if it's the best choice, but it's all there is—maybe the plants need the extra minerals? Hoping he's not destroying anything, he sprinkles water over all of them, kneeling before them and ensuring they've each had an equal amount.

To himself, or maybe to the plants, he mutters, "That should be okay…"

He sits there a while longer, checking each one over. The original one has a few more leaves, and they're a nice, vibrant shade of green. Not too dark, not too pale. He can't be sure, but he thinks they're bromeliads. He'd only seen a few in his lifetime, as they were more well-suited to warmer climates than Nibelheim (and possibly even Midgar), but he knew what they looked like in a vague sense.

He looks at the schedule again and notices "drain the cups" written in small writing beneath the watering notes. When he glances at the pots again, he notices the bottoms slip out. Removing each one, he pours the excess water onto the grass… probably how it got so green in the first place. He continues to pour out the water as it drips down, and eventually they all stop leaking.

With caution, he picks up the permanent marker by the schedule and checks off the watering.

* * *

From then on, he checks up on the plants daily. When he gets there before their caretaker does, he completes the tasks himself. That is, up until one day he comes in and there's a note attached to the schedule.

I'd certainly like to know who's been tending to the plants, the note says. Succinct and clearly written, though the handwriting is quite obviously masculine.

Cloud pops open the marker and scrawls his name and rank onto the paper.

They exchange words in notes over the next few weeks, and the plants have become handsome bunches of leaves. Cloud is gently stroking the leaves as he waters them this morning, reading over the last note written.

It's not the first time I've planted bromeliads here, but they always die before they flower. I'd like to have this batch actually bloom this year.

When Cloud leaves, he decides to do a bit of research.

As far as he reads, bromeliads are mostly tropical, though can survive a drought if needed. Some need lots of sunlight, some shrivel up under too much. They're not supposed to soak, thus the draining, and their flowers come naturally. Cloud wonders if they're perhaps exercising a little too much care, rather than too little.

We should meet, he writes on his next note, the book from the library tucked under his arm. What's your schedule?

Unfortunately, the next note leaves him disappointed. My schedule is so spontaneous I couldn't give you a set time.

* * *

Cloud's next eating lunch with some of his squadmates, barely listening as he's thinking about the note and eyes fixed on the courtyard door. He's hoping he'll see someone go in and figure out who tends to the plants, who's been writing back and forth with him… and who shares his love of nature in this gods-forsaken city.

"Y'know that Second, uh… Zack's his name, yeah?" one of the guys says.

"Mm?"

"Heard him in the hall earlier whinin' that the guy who trains him showed up late or somethin'."

"And we care, why?"

"He bitches like a damn dog in heat, man. It was grating as hell."

Cloud just tunes out the conversation and wanders over to the courtyard door. It's not like he cares what they had to say about some SOLDIER he doesn't even know. He goes for the door, though freezes when he notices someone's in there.

Surreptitiously, he glances through the fog of the door and barely makes out a large black shape amongst the silver walls and greenery. Backing away, he tries to find a place to look inconspicuous, and waits. This is the moment he's been waiting for, swapping those notes like they were little kids or something. He tries not to stare at the door, and waits.

He hardly notices when a SOLDIER Second with hair rivaling his own comes marching through the cafeteria and opens the door.

"Angeal, what the heck?" the Second half-whines. "We were supposed to train like twenty minutes ago."

"I'm sorry, Zack," came the voice from inside, and Cloud cranes his neck a little. "I had… business to attend to."

"More important than me?"

A deep chuckle. "Just a little."

The black-haired young man just sighed. "I'll see ya in the VR room, then." He then muttered something under his breath about 'Genesis' and 'bugs.' Cloud doesn't know what to make of that, but he has a name!

Angeal… Where does he know that name? As he's mulling it over, he misses the man pass entirely, only shaking out of it when he doesn't hear any shuffling anymore.

Armed with half of the identity of the man he was looking for, he scampers off to see if he can actually nail down just where he heard that name.

* * *

A SOLDIER.

Not only that, a SOLDIER First.

Angeal Hewley.

Cloud's mouth goes dry as he reads the SOLDIER roster again, and doesn't find another instance of the name. He can't believe he's been corresponding with one of the triumvirate of SOLDIER Firsts (and subtly thanks the gods it isn't Sephiroth, he'd die of a heart attack even at such a tender young age). He'd never be able to approach him, even if they planned the meeting, and dear gods he was alone and he was shaking like a leaf.

When he returns to his room, he looks to the library book sitting on his bunk looking, for all a book could be, so forlorn. He flops down on the bed and opens it up, looking at the card inside and reading through the names.

Sure enough, multiple times, Angeal's name. Going back several years, at that.

He closes it slowly, then rolls over and looks at the bunk above his. He kicks his one leg, not fully on the bed, and tries to think.

After several hours of tossing, turning, trying to nap, and grinding his palms onto his eyes, he makes his decision.

He may be shy, but gods-dammit, Cloud knows he's not a pussy.

#cloudgeal #cloud strife #angeal hewley #fanfic #final fantasy vii #i'll definitely finish it at some point but hey #why not contribute to a rarepair

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