#hope you peeps are having a wonderful day thus far! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feverinfeveroutfic · 2 years

Text

like blood from a stone | chapter two

Chuck took his seat in the reclining chair downstairs in the living room, and he moved along faster than I could even so much as make my way down the tree trunk outside of the house. Alex seemed so tired back there in that room: then again, it was late, and he had school in the morning to top it all off. A great deal of pressure on that poor boy, especially since as far as I knew, he still had a full year of high school left. Sure, he looked on at adulthood in a matter of hours, but he still had to do what he had to do for the time being, however.

Not like me, though.

I was nothing but a tom cat of sorts, a guy who had picked up a gig with a gig on another gig somewhere far from here. But I had to be out there, out in the open, and especially when no one was looking. Granted, my tenure with the band was a job no matter what happened to me, but I knew what I had to do the very first day I stepped inside of that studio, especially when I realized as to how I had landed the job in question as well.

I had to travel but I also lay it all down once the time had come for me. I paid no contribution to the record other than my own voice. I wanted a bit more to it, without question, but I had the job at my fingertips nevertheless.

Humans were nomadic, and yet we feel the need to nest and set up a place and call it home. I had often wondered as to when that would happen to me in the end, and I had my worries and my doubts, my hopes and wishes, the whole nine yards about it. If that meant finding my way into Chuck’s pants for me, then I was willing to do it.

I felt such a connection to him in particular. I had no idea if it came from the fact that we both had dark, sunbaked skin and raven hair, but I could feel it in my bones every time I gave him a glimpse or two upon his engagement to Alex.

I was a peeping Tom of the highest degree. A peeping Tom and a peasant straight out from the middle of nowhere. I had found my way over to Chuck’s house in that small cozy neighborhood due south of the Bay Area and when I saw the gate was unlocked, I climbed the tree right outside of the property like a koala bear because I wanted to see what was going on inside of that house before the lights went down. No way I could find my way in through the front door, especially with it being so late and my showing up unannounced.

I had missed the first flight out to California from New York and thus, I had to wait a while—a while in a sense that I stood around that particular wing of the airport with my hands tucked into my pockets like an idiot waiting for his wife to pick him up. I stood there with my eyes on the times, but every now and again, I took a glimpse over at the clothing shops on the other side of the hallway.

At all of the women’s dresses and lingerie, and I thought about the little leopard prints I used to wear when I was still in smaller bands that travelled up and around upstate New York and all across Pennsylvania and most of the Northeast.

There was some time before then when I knew that I had long repressed a part of myself. The one issue was the time period of which I lived in: I had come of age in a time where if you were anything at all like me, everyone saw you as a walking, breathing avatar of disease.

There was a time in which I believed that I was into women, and it made sense: before I landed the job with the new band, I would stand up on stage with the microphone stand before me and I would wear a little bright shirt where my shirt collar extended down towards the middle of my chest and the hem was lifted up a bit from my waist. Granted, I may as well have been shirtless, but it was the style I was going for. One of my old jam buddies thought I had stolen a top from my aunt’s closet before I had left for tour, and while I won’t deny it, I also won’t confirm it.

There was just something about a woman’s clothing that made me feel so comfortable, especially given my unnecessary level of thinness. Sometimes, a boy’s clothing proved to be too harsh, too utilitarian for a skinny little fellow such as myself. The harsh denim and the leather on my own skin, and yet whenever I saw a woman’s blouse or a dress, I often thought of trying it on for myself.

It wasn’t that I felt myself to be a woman on the inside: a woman’s clothes, no matter how girly, gave me far more comfort to me and my body than a stiff pair of jeans ever could for me.

There was a time in which I had believed that I was merely into more “girly stuff” because I felt there was a girl inside of me ready to come out of me at any given moment, but I knew it was more out of comfort than anything ever. I often wondered what it would be like if I ever wore a dress or high-heeled shoes. I liked jeans but I often wondered about a little dress, though.

I skulked about outside of the window like a serial killer: it helped that my fingers were long and lanky like little butcher knives. I was ready to swoop into the window, and I had no clue if Chuck would ever see me even if I ever really had the means of tapping on the window to gather his attention.

With one foot down on the branch below me, I slunk my way down the tree towards the ground. Once I reached the grass, my heart hammered inside of my chest. I held still for a moment so it would calm down enough for me to gather my stance; after a couple of minutes, my heart seemed pound harder and harder within me.

I had a weak heart, I guess you could say.

I was a hockey player, and yet, even as I imagined myself flying around the ice rink in a light flowy dress like a phantom, my heart still pounded extra hard in my chest. I grimaced at the thought of having a drink or taking a dosage of something, be it cocaine or something worse, because then I would pay the price in the form of my heart giving out on me. I brought a hand to my chest and gave it a caress and a half.

Careful to make sure Chuck wouldn’t hear me out there in the yard, I bowed my head and coughed inside of my throat. I parted my lips and let out a low whistle.

A heavy sigh. A heavy breath. Another cough inside of my throat.

It was something to help me when I didn’t have my inhaler on hand.

When you lose your breath, your heart goes with it. So I was told, anyway. I could stop a heart attack from happening if I coughed and moved my diaphragm and my otherwise healthy lungs with something as seemingly troublesome as a cough. And again, so I was told.

But I never did pay full attention to the actual sound of my cough, either, at least not until well after the fact. I raised my head for a second look at the window sill over my head: no one there. Indeed, I inched back towards the scraggly tree trunk, and I leaned back and kept my knees up to my chest.

My heart continued to pound away inside of my chest, that continuous skipping of a few beats every other odd one. I leaned my head back against the bark of tree and I closed my eyes. I could feel it hammering harder and harder with each and every passing second; and each and every time, I could feel my brow breaking out into a sweat: this fine line of sweat droplets all around near the crown of my head and underneath my bangs. Sometimes it pounded hard like this and I would think for sure that I was having a heart attack.

But I wasn’t. That was what made it so distressful at times. That feeling that I could die at any given time and yet it never came to me for a second.

I cleared my throat again and that time the pounding subsided a bit from there. I brought a hand to my chest to do a better job of the self-soothing, but I had to relax myself some more, and some more, and a lot more after that. I had almost fallen asleep by the time his voice sliced through my mind like the sharpest knife in the drawer.

“Joey?”

I raised my head and I looked up at Chuck, who had opened the window and poked his head out for a glimpse down at me. Those luminescent eyes had a bit of a glow to them even in the thick darkness that surrounded us: big and brilliant even with his own dark complexion courtesy of the Native Americans not too far from there in Northern California.

My Pomo brother to my very own Iroquois resurrection.

“Hi,” was all I could say to him right then, and all the while, my voice broke from all the clearings of my throat.

“Joey, what are you doin’ out here? It's almost one-thirty in the morning.”

“I came out here to—visit,” I replied, to which he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Again, why now?” he demanded, and he sounded as though he was stifling a big laugh from me.

“It’s... It’s a long story.”

“Well...” He bowed his head and cleared his throat. “...do you wanna come in? It's nearly witching hour right now and there are creatures roaming about the place at the moment.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” I said wistfully.

“It’s not too much trouble at all,” he replied to me, straight-faced.

My knees quivered and shook a bit as I stood to my feet and lingered before the windowsill. Chuck maintained his spot there with a baffled look on his face, and even more so as I put my hands up on the edge of the sill itself.

“What’re you doing?” he asked me, puzzled.

“Coming inside.”

“Take the front door,” he insisted, slightly exasperated. I backed away from the sill and I rounded the side of the house, past all of the low stubby little shrubs and towards the heavy front door with the fancy window that looked to be made of pure crystal in question. Once I reached the doorstep, I caught his rippled silhouette on the other side of the glass as well as the soft click of the dead bolt unlocking. He opened the door for me and I stepped inside of that big cozy front foyer with the plush carpet and a soft smell like fresh sugar straight out of a bakery.

I sauntered past him and I ran my fingers through my inky black curls and ringlets. I turned my attention to him as he shut the door behind me and locked it once again. I kept on turning until I had my eyes fixed on the spacious living room off to the right, and the small stack of wedding gifts on the coffee table.

His and Alex’s wedding took place in a week.

I had to make myself known to him, of my intentions, of what I held inside of my heart.

He was my Indian brother, no doubt about it, but I wanted it to be more. I had explored myself so much in the past before, but nothing could ever better sum up my feelings for anyone like him. I had my eyes on no one else. I couldn’t fully explain things, either. I felt it inside me like a raging fire courtesy of the hottest blood that burned through me.

But no way he could do it for me, however. Not unless I spoke to him about it, anyway.

I glanced straight up to the ceiling and the red and gold trim that lined everything over my head. It was in fact like walking into a palace. By the look of it, a dirty hick such as myself who hailed from a small town in the middle of nowhere had no business walking into a place such as this unless they were marrying up into the family.

“So,” he began with a clearing of his throat. He strode past me and adjusted the lapels of his jackets. “Care for a drink?”

“Nothing alcoholic, please,” I told him with a little wave of my hand. I didn’t dare tell him about my weak heart. If it was someone I liked, no way I could tell them about my condition as of yet.

“I’ve got a few things that are without any booze,” he vowed. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Joseph.” He flashed me a wink and I could feel the first twinges of something inside of there, even as I stood a few inches from him. Chuck led me into the rest of the big spacious foyer and then into the rather large kitchen.

“What I want to know is how did you even find the house,” he started again as I took my seat at the bar; he had this row of tall spindly black wrought iron chairs right underneath the light pearlescent quartzite bar top: I took the seat right smack in the middle of the bar and I folded my arms over that smooth surface of my bar top. On my right stood a whole rack of champagne and wine bottles that looked to have come from all over the world; to my left was a refrigerator with scarlet red and gold double doors. The cabinets were comprised of this heavy dark wood, one that looked like it was expensive but as far as I knew, it was cheap. All the cabinets contrasted with the soft cream-colored splatter paint job of the whole room. But at the same time, I half expected to see a crown on display, comprised of twenty-four karat gold and with the most expensive jewels I could think of, somewhere inside of that whole room, especially given how everything looked so clean and pristine.

I ran my fingers through my jet-black curls and I watched him on the other side of the floor with an open bottle and a pair of glasses. I had no idea if it came from my own sense of fatigue, courtesy of my own heart, or if it was the fact that I had come here to his castle in the heart of the night.

He poured me a glass of sparkling apple cider, in all of its pale-yellow bubbly glory, and then he poured himself a glass of champagne. He doubled back towards me and handed me the cider: a part of me wanted to have a piece of toast or something warm to accompany the warmth within there. Chuck gave his hair a slight toss back with the flick of his head and I lowered my gaze to the other glass rested on the counter: I spotted the engagement ring on his hand.

“To your new husband,” I declared with a raise of my glass, to which he gazed on at me, befuddled.

“To my new husband, yes!” he followed up as he raised up his glass and we gave a toast right then and there. We drank down our drinks in unison, and the bubbles from the cider tickled the back of my throat and eased the feeling in my chest.

“How is it?” he asked me; he held the glass right before his chest. I kept an eye on the rings on his fingers, in particular that one big turquoise ring on his ring finger.

“Delicious,” I replied as I gave the glass a little swirl. The bubbles formed a little spiral right over the glass’ base. I could spiral my way to the answer for him. But I had to think of the question first.

“Where did you get that ring?” I asked him, with a gesture to the big smooth oval lump of turquoise on his finger.

“A little trick in the book of life,” he quipped to me. “A stone to protect me and to protect Mr. Skolnick upstairs, too. I’ve learned really quick on how to put my money where my mouth is.” He downed the rest of the champagne and then he turned to the counter once again. I thought for sure he was going rinse out the glass but he reached for the bottle again.

“Makes me wonder about the booze,” I confessed, and all the while, I could feel my heart pounding inside of my chest again. That time I knew it came from my staying awake at such a late hour. I hoped Chuck would allow me to sleep in the house that night. No way I could go back to my room at that hour.

“I wouldn’t have all these bottles if I didn’t know what to do with all the bills that I could get my hands on,” he explained in a single breath.

“You and Alex are going to be well-to-do,” I followed along.

“Mmm, I guess you could say that.” He stifled a chuckle when he replied with that.

“Sometimes all you need in life is a glass of some kind of drink and you’re set to go for the time being.” I brought the cider closer to my mouth again but I didn’t take a sip, only so I could watch him there across the floor. Another small sip and it could help with the hammering inside of my chest.

“The future is a bright one, Joey,” he promised me as he poured himself a second glass of champagne. He set down the bottle, raised his glass a second time and then took a hearty swig of it before I could take another sip of cider.

Two glasses of bubbly turned into three and four, and not only was I ready for bed at that point but he had a hard time so much as standing upright, let alone keep his hand there on the counter behind him. His feet shook about the floor and his hand slipped back, and he almost hit his head against a corner of the nearest cabinet on the wall.

Chuck hiccupped from the alcohol.

“I could totally get used to this,” he sputtered to me.

“You’re getting married in seven days, though,” I told him as I fetched up a yawn.

“Yeah, I'm aware,” he quipped at me.

“That’s your fourth glass of bubbly tonight,” I pointed out as I rubbed my eyes.

“I’d rather be drunk,” he confessed to me.

“Why?”

“Because...” His voice trailed off. The man was tipsy as all hell. Two o’clock in the morning and he had already had too much to drink for himself.

“Because why?” I asked him as I crossed my legs before me.

“Because because,” he sputtered, and all the while his speech slurred a great deal.

“’Because because’ isn’t an answer, Chuck,” I pointed out to him.

“Well, it fuckin’ should be, Joey,” he spat back at me. I shook my head and I lay a hand on the edge of the counter, clear on the other side of the counter given the length of my arms.

“Chuck, listen to me. What's getting you right now? What’s on your mind?”

“You wanna know what’s on my mind right now? You wanna know what’s there?”

“Yes! Yes, I am demanding to know what’s on your mind right now, my Indian brother.” He hiccupped again, that time within his throat.

“You,” he replied without a second thought. “You are the thing that is preoccupying me right now.”

“Me?” I demanded, taken aback, and I wondered if he had read my mind at all. “Because I'm sittin’ here, talkin’ to you?”

That time, he paused, and it was no short hesitation, either. And then—

“Yes.”

“You hesitated,” I pointed out.

“So?”

“You hesitated and therefore that wasn’t the truth. Tell me the truth, Chuck, what did you mean by that?”

He hiccupped again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm two drinks away from passing out on the floor here and Alex has school in the morning.”

I leaned forward and bowed my head a bit.

“You’re hiding something,” I told him in a low voice. “What’re you hiding?”

“I ain’t tellin’ you,” he quipped. I nibbled on my bottom lip and leaned back into the chair.

“Hey, how’s the couch in the next room?” I asked him.

“Comfy. Like sleeping on a marshmallow.” He paused. “Why? You wanna stay the night?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “If it’s not too much to ask,” I told him.

“No need to ask—” The color escaped his face right then.

“I’m gonna go post up in there,” I informed him as I slid out of my chair. “I’m gonna do that while you go and cleanse yourself.”

“Yeah, that’s—an understatement,” he said in a broken voice. I set my feet on the floor while he bowed over to the side door of the kitchen and puked right outside there. I hoped Alex wouldn’t see it when he woke up in the morning because he had other things to worry about, like the dude with the weak heart sleeping on his couch at least until the sun rose up in the morning.

#like blood from a stone #like blood from a stone fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #slash fanfiction #testament fanfic #anthrax fanfic #testament #testament band #anthrax #chapter 2 #joey belladonna #chuck billy #slash fic #writing #fic writing #drinking tw #text

3 notes · View notes

just-call-me-angel · 2 years

Text

Clever Girl

Chapter 3 - Monster In The Closet

Warnings: Nsft content!!!, edward is a creep<3, noncon voyeurism, closet peeping,(noncon?)mutual masturbation,panty theft, panty sniffing, obssessive behavior, stalking

Author's note: Touching grass is no longer enough I need to be put down. This chapter was so fucking fun to write oh my god. I really hope you guys enjoy it because I'm honestly really proud of this one. Edward being a creep has got to be my favorite thing to write. (Check the end of the fic for a fun surprise!)

Summary: Edward wonders what you would do if you ever caught him following you home. Would you scream? Would you run away? Would he wake up the next morning to cops banging on his front door? No, he decides, you would never run from him, you were his clever girl after all. He imagines instead that you would smile at him, tease him with a little laugh, Edward you scared me, and then you’d ask him to walk you home, "Why are you walking so far behind me Eddie?"

Ao3

Chapters: ||1||2||3||4||

Edward spends most of his nights when he isn’t busy with work following you home. He’d like to tell himself that it was only to make sure you got home safe. Really he’s just making sure you’re safe so that he can be the one to ruin you. It takes everything in him not to just grab you and take you on the cold damp ground in some dark alleyway.

He’s biding his time. He could almost hear the old nuns of the orphanage scolding him, Don’t play with your food Edward. But Edward loved playing with you. You were his new favorite game without even having to try.

Sometimes he walks a little closer behind you so you can hear his footsteps. It’s risky, he knows it is, at any moment you could catch him, and it's absolutely thrilling. He likes the way you freeze up when you hear his heavy boots against the ground. He likes the way he can hear your shaky breaths as you walk a little faster. He especially likes when you almost catch him and he has to scurry into an alleyway and wait until he hears you walk away.

He wonders what you would do if you ever caught him following you home. Would you scream? Would you run away? Would he wake up the next morning to cops banging on his front door? No, he decides, you would never run from him, you were his clever girl after all. He imagines instead that you would smile at him, tease him with a little laugh, Edward you scared me, and then you’d ask him to walk you home, Why are you walking so far behind me Eddie?

He doesn’t even know why he imagined you calling him Eddie, he’d always hated the nickname. It was always what the older kids called him when they were shoving him to the ground and kicking the shit out of him Come on Eddie! Don't be such a pussy, Eddie! Just fucking get up already Eddie! Come on put up a fight, Eddie! He imagined the nickname would sound sweeter coming from your lips. Walk me home Eddie, you’d say, staring at him with a little pout on your lips like you were begging him. As if you even needed to beg, he’d do anything you asked of him.

But that never happened, at least not yet. Thus far he had managed to remain unseen by you on his nightly walks following you. And the next day you would greet him when he walked into the diner, blissfully unaware of the fact that he had been following you home. He had felt so giddy when you mentioned briefly to him that you’d be taking a different shift for a few days because you were worried someone was stalking you.

“You might not see me for a few days” you had told him, giving him a sheepish smile when tilted his head curiously at you.

“Is everything alright?” he had asked, biting his tongue to keep from smiling when you fidgeted nervously with the hem of your apron.

“Uh... Well, I’m just taking a different shift for the next week or so,” you paused, eyes glancing frantically out the window as if you were expecting someone to be outside watching you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked, gently reaching out to touch your hand. You had looked at him like you wanted to jump into his arms. You had no idea that he was the one you should have been worried about, how very foolish of you.

“No, Edward… it’s alright, I just have been worried someone might be following me home so Darcy’s putting me on a different shift for a bit, that’s all.” You didn’t even try to pull away from his touch, you let his hand rest atop yours, smiling shyly like you were waiting for him to do something.

He smiled, tracing small circles over the back of your hand, “What shift will you be working, maybe I can swing by and check on you.” he offered, pride swelling in his chest at the hopeful look you gave him.

“Oh Edward, I couldn’t ask you to do that, I’m sure you have better things to do than worry about me. I’m sure it’s nothing anyway, I’m probably just being paranoid,” you said shaking your head. God, you really were so foolish to trust him. He’d teach you to be more careful someday.

“I really don’t mind, I can’t very well leave you deprived of my riddles now can I, clever girl?” he hadn’t missed the way you shivered and your cheeks went red at the pet name he had given you. He wanted to know what else he could say to make you turn that lovely shade of red.

Finally, you had told him what times you would be working, nervously telling him he really didn’t need to worry about you, and blushing even more when he told you he wanted to make sure you were safe.

Oh, you really were so much fun to play with.

He hadn’t even been the least bit annoyed about the situation knowing he’d have to move his schedule around a bit. He didn’t care. You were worth it. Whatever the cost. You were always going to be worth every penny.

The only unfortunate part of your switching shifts was that your walk home took place in broad daylight so it was a little harder to keep out of sight. It helped if there were other people out and about, at least then he could blend in the crowd. But it worked out in his favor in the end. He knew exactly when you went to work and when you were set to go home, which meant he knew when he should try sneaking into your apartment without having to worry about you coming home and catching him.

In the span of a week, he visited your apartment at least four times. It had been almost laughable how easy it was to pick the lock on your door. You didn’t even have a deadbolt. He would fix that eventually, make sure no one would ever be able to hurt you. Except for him of course.

Your apartment was small, somehow it was more cramped than his own and yet you had fewer possessions than he did. Each time he broke in he found himself exploring more of your apartment, discovering things about you to help him better understand you. Help him better understand how to make you belong to him and him alone.

In time he knew your apartment like the back of his hand. He knew where everything was, he knew how you organized your kitchen spices, he knew how you separated your laundry and he even knew which side of the bed you slept on the most.

He was shocked by the lack of personal possessions in your home. When he had first entered the space he had momentarily worried he had broken into the wrong apartment, but there was mail on the counter in the kitchen that confirmed you were the only resident of apartment 6C. Still, he had expected more pictures, perhaps a few blurry photos of you as a child or even of your parents. But there was nothing, no graduation photos, no old birthday cards, nothing.

So you were like him. All alone, born in a world of lies, where the rich get richer and the poor die owing more money than they had ever owned in the first place. You understood him, even if you didn’t know it yet. You would approve of his work, he was sure of it. You would praise him for the plans he had in store for Gotham. You know what you have to become, Eddie. No one else can do it but you, Eddie.

He was careful, bringing up things he knew liked based on things he had seen around your apartment. He couldn’t make it too obvious, it needed to seem like a coincidence that he knew your favorite color and which brand of coffee you liked best. You were impossibly easy to convince of his innocence, you didn’t seem to suspect a thing, always so excited to see him each time he entered the diner as if he hadn’t just spent an hour jacking off in your bed.

You had no idea that he had figured out which perfume you used most so he could buy it to spray on his pillow at home and you had no idea how often he spent his nights thrusting his hips pathetically against his mattress with his face pressed into his pillow like he needed your scent to survive. You had no idea that the mysterious stains on some of your clothes, thrown around your bedroom floor, were all from him.

And really he should have been more careful to make sure you remained clueless to his perversions. He was going to get caught and as much as the idea thrilled him he wasn’t ready to end the little game he was playing with you.

This is why he had nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard you fumbling with your keys at the door. He was frozen for a moment, for all his fantasies about you catching him in the act, he still wasn’t prepared for how to act if it ever actually happened.

He had forgotten you were supposed to come early today, you had told him as much the day before, something about Darcy wanting you to get in some extra sleep before you switched back to your usual night shift. He hadn’t really been paying attention when you were telling him about it, he had been far too distracted by the fact that your blouse was unbuttoned enough that he could see the bra you were wearing. He had needed to scramble off to the bathroom to calm down when he recognized the bra as one he had used to jack off with only a few days prior, so he didn’t really get the chance to register what you were saying.

And now he was sitting on the edge of your mattress, with his pants pulled down his thighs and his hand already curled around his cock. You stayed in the kitchen for a moment, shuffling around. He could hear you opening and closing cabinets and the sound of the paper bags, meaning you had just gotten home from getting groceries.

It should have made him scramble to find a place to hide knowing he only had a few minutes before you inevitably found him. But he remained frozen until he stopped hearing you moving around for a moment, and then footsteps coming down the hall towards the bedroom had him scrambling towards the closet, shoving the door open just enough for him to shove his way inside.

He watched you through the tiny slits of your closet door as you entered the room, showing no signs that you had noticed anything out of place. You sighed, shoulders dropping as you shuffled into the room, falling into your mattress as soon as your knees hit the edge of the bed.

He held his breath, willing himself not to make a single noise as you stretched across the length of your bed. His cock twitched at the whimper you let out and he had to bite back his own low whine. He needed to be quiet or he was going to get caught. You’re fucking disgusting Eddie. Do you like to watch pretty girls from afar like a creep don’t you Eddie? You were waiting for me to come home and catch you weren’t you? His cock twitched again and he dug his fingers into his thighs as he leaned back further into the depths of your closet.

He took slow quiet breaths, willing you to just go to bed so he could sneak out before you found him with his pants hanging off around his thighs and his dick leaking all over his jeans. Fucking Christ it didn’t help that he was sitting in your closet, surrounded by your scent.

You sat up on the bed, quickly untucking your work blouse from your skirt and tugging it over your head without even bothering to unbutton it completely. He was going to die here, he decided. He was going to die in your closet with his cock out and the last thing he would ever hear you saying would likely be you calling him a disgusting freak and calling the cops.

You continued to strip, unaware of him watching you from your closet. Despite the anxiety, he felt at the thought of you actually catching him he couldn’t stop himself from staring at you, nor could he stop himself from reaching down to wrap his hand around the base of his cock again as you lifted your hips off the bed to tug your skirt off. He just needed to take the edge of until you went to sleep.

He waited for you to curl up into your mattress. Waited for you to drift off so he could sneak out of your closet without you noticing. But you didn’t move to turn off the light or even shuffle under your blankets. Instead, you pulled yourself up to lean against your pillows, the same pillows he had been rubbing up against an hour before you had arrived.

Edward swallowed the moan that threatened to spill from his lips as you unclipped the bra, tossing it across the room. God, you were even prettier up close. He could almost make out every freckle, every beauty mark, every little detail on your soft skin. It made him bite down hard on his lower lip, hard enough he could taste blood on his tongue.

This is fine. Everything will be fine. She’s just getting comfortable before bed. Just keep your mouth shut and you’ll make it out of here without her ever knowing you were here. You’ll even have some new things to imagine next time you jack off alone in your house. Just sit tight Edward. You can do this–

You let out a breathy whine, and it takes a moment for Edward’s eyes to focus on what exactly you’re doing. Your hands are moving down. Down. down. And oh god– Edward nearly chokes, I’m dead, I’m so fucking dead. She’s touching herself and I’m stuck in her closet. Is this what hell is like? His hips are moving up to meet his hand before he can even stop himself. God you look so fucking gorgeous with your face all flushed while you drag your hands down your body.

This definitely isn’t hell, he decides, this is heaven, it has to be. He can’t believe he’s actually glad to be stuffed in your cramped little closet. You whimper, pushing yourself further up your bed, using your pillows to stay propped up. One hand reaches up to rest over one of your breasts, while the other traces a line straight down to the hem of your forest green panties.

If he squints he swears he can see a darkened patch in the fabric and it makes him choke back a whine. He wanted to be the thing that got you worked up like this. He wanted to make your cheeks flush deep red. God, it took everything in him not to jump out of the closet and beg you to let him touch you as he watch your hand slip beneath the band of your panties.

You sounded so fucking needy. You sounded like music to his ears. You sounded like heaven. God, he wanted to see your pretty little cunt so fucking bad. He was silently begging you to just remove your panties already so he could see your fingers moving better. He was practically praying, he was already on his goddamn knees for Christ's sake.

And then you were moving again, whining as you lifted your hips to tug your panties down, letting them hang off of one leg, and fuck, you were just perfect. God is real and he has sent me a fallen angel. He nearly sobbed when he noticed the slick dripping from your cunt. Your hand was back between your thighs in an instant and his own hand followed suit.

He doesn’t even care if he gets caught at this point, he just wants– no he needs to reach his high at the same time as you. If he wasn’t dead already he was sure he would be soon if he didn’t get to watch you cum.

You gasped, or maybe he did, he wasn’t all that sure at this point, all that mattered was you slipping a finger into your cunt and whimpering as your thighs trembled against your mattress. He was shaking too, his thighs were burning from sitting on his knees in your closet and he already felt so fucking close to his limit.

Another finger dove between your folds, curling upwards and making you whine, and buck your hips. His hips moved in tandem with your’s following you step for step, trying so fucking hard not to just thrust wildly into his fist. It's better that he’s going slow and following your lead, it's easier to be quiet.

Every few seconds he forgets to breathe till he's dizzy and going red in the face, fist still curled around his dick. He’s lucky you’re so preoccupied, so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t hear his heart beating rapidly or the shaky breaths he lets out when he remembers he needs oxygen to survive.

God, he should have done this ages ago. Risks be damned, this is fucking heaven. He reaches a shaky hand up to shove his glasses back up his nose, squinting to watch you grind into your hand, thumb tracing tight circles over your clit that have you sobbing into your other hand. He gives the base of his cock a firm squeeze, biting his lip to keep from letting out a low whine.

He wishes he was closer, wishes he could see your cunt spasm around your fingers–wishes it was his fingers driving into your cunt and making you cry out. He closes his eyes for a moment, just imagining what it would feel like to have his fingers curled inside you– or better yet, what it would feel like to have your cunt squeezing his cock, milking him for every last drop of cum he had to offer.

For a second he’s so lost in thought he nearly misses it, misses the way you cry out his name. At first, he’s not even sure you actually even said his name. It wouldn’t be the first time he had imagined you whimpering his name and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Edward”

Yea he’s definitely hearing things, he decides. There was no way he was that lucky. In fact, Edward was notoriously unlucky–

“Edward”

Fuck there it is again. He opens eyes, pushing his face closer to the door and watches your mouth, still fucking his own fist, and biting his lip to keep from making too much noise.

“Edward…please”

Oh god… Maybe he is dead… or maybe this is some sort of sick prank your pulling to punish him for being a creep… Either way, he spins it, he can’t deny that it’s his name slipping past your lips.

God, you really were perfect for him. His perfect clever girl. His hips bucked wildly now, he couldn’t even bring himself to try to take it slow anymore. You weren’t taking it to slow anymore either though. You were just as close to tipping over the edge as he was, he could see in the way you bit down on your fist, and the way your legs began to tremble. He moved faster, encouraged by the way his movements began to stutter and your whole body started to lock up.

He kept his eyes open, even as he came into his hand, lip bitten so hard he could taste blood on his tongue. He couldn’t look away from you. He needed to commit the image of you hitting your high so hard that you froze in place, back arched, toes curled and your mouth opened as you choked out his name in a broken sob.

All he could think of was how fucking gorgeous you were. Never in his life could have imagined he would have the good fortune of finding out someone he was interested in was equally as interested in him. It seemed too good to be true. And yet here you were, sprawled out on your bed, thighs soaked in your own cum, the ghost of his name still resting on your parted lips.

It took you 10 minutes to get your breathing back to normal, and even then your cheeks were still red and your thighs were still shaking. He could feel his dick twitch a bit at the pathetic whimper you let out when your hand brushed over your sensitive clit. You crawled out of bed slowly, he could see the slick glistening on your thighs as you made your way across the room, trembling like a newborn deer.

You stumbled into your bathroom, whimpering when you nearly tripped stepping through the doorway. And then the door was shut and Edward waited for a moment until he heard the shower running before he began to open the closet door, hands fumbling to pull his pants back up around his waist. He stood on aching legs, looking around to make sure he hadn’t left behind evidence of his presence. As far as he could tell, there were no signs that he had ever been hiding in your closet, so he made his way quickly towards the exit, only stopping when he caught a glimpse of the panties you had been wearing moments before.

He paused, looking back at the bathroom door and then down at the green panties on the floor before diving to grab them. He stared at them for a moment, giddy at the realization that he could feel the slick dampening of the panties. He didn’t think about it before he was lifting the panties to his nose and inhaled.

Fuck, today must be his lucky day. He takes another deep breath before carefully folding the panties and tucking them into his pocket, as he shuffles quietly out of your apartment, locking the door with a quiet click behind him.

----------------------

Starting now I will be ending each chapter with a Riddle, once solved the answer should give you some insight as to what I have planned for the next update! Please don't feel pressured to solve them and dont be hard om yourself if you struggle with them a bit. This is just a fun way for me to interact with you all and give you something to look forward to in the next update! (That being said i do ask that you don't google the answers and ruin the fun for everyone else)

Here's the riddle,

I see all but I have no eyes. I hold the moments you treasure most. I shoot but never to kill. Give me a smile, don't be shy, go on and tell me, what am I?

I wish you all the best of luck! Remember you are far more clever than you think you are and I'll be rooting for all you guys!

-Angel

#batman 2022 #dano riddler #edward nashton #incel riddler #the riddler #batman riddler #paul dano riddler #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x reader #justcallmeangel fic tag

303 notes · View notes

misspearly1 · 2 years

Text

Millers Retreat

Chapter Three

Chp1 || Chp2 || Chp3 || Chp4 || Chp 5 ||

Pairing: Joel Miller x Y/N (f!reader)

WC: 4k

Warnings: Not a whole lot for warnings. A little bit of Fluff. Definitely angsty vibes & dark themes surrounding the story to 'Bobby' which in turn makes the Miller's a little sad. There's not a whole lot mention Y/N in thus one peeps, more focus on The Miller brothers.

AN: Okay, in regards to the warnings above, this fic is practically a look into the work that Tommy and Joel are doing, it's not all doom and gloom, the angsty stuff is towards the end. I promise we will get to all of the fluffy/smutty parts in the next chapter. Hope you enjoy, my lovelies <33

It’s currently day three into Joel’s and Tommy’s ‘fishing trip’, their last day, and the work still continues, but let’s look back at what they’ve accomplished so far.

Day One

On the first day, it took the brothers a lot longer than they anticipated to get the thick green vines off the two stationary homes properly, even then, the dug well and the surrounding area was heavily covered too, so that took up even more of their time.

Tommy had come across an old newspaper clipping inside the overgrowth, dated back twenty years ago with the heading of ‘Evacuation Procedures Now Underway; death toll in the thousands.’

The brothers looked at that clipping and remembered that some towns and cities got a heads up before the virus hit, unfortunately most didn’t. And it seems as though the town nearby got that heads up and considering Bobby had the newspaper clipping here, Joel wondered if the man left with his family when it was advised.

This place certainly looked like someone had left in a hurry, or as if a storm of infected had blown through it. Pocketing that clipping along with the postcard that he found on the tree, Joel and Tommy shoved their thoughts aside for now and got back to work.

After they had hacked away at every possible blockage covering the caravans, the older Miller put on his garden gloves and began piling it all up to be discarded, grabbing handfuls in his hands and transporting it to a large pile just outside of camp.

As the area around the caravans started to become clearer, he noticed something else under one of them. It was a book, a journal. Pulling it out and reading the cover, Robert Kennedy, the diary belonged to none other than Bobby himself.

Joel didn’t bother opening it up to read the contents inside, but he didn’t throw it away either, instead, he left it to one side to maybe read later and got back to work again. Once his task at hand was dealt with, they both moved on to thoroughly searching all four caravans, to gather up everything that is useful.

One of the caravans that was under the ivy was locked tight and the brothers couldn’t get it open. It was nearing midnight and they left it for now, deciding that they would come back to it the next day.

They both felt accomplished for all the work they had done today, especially after seeing all the difference they have made. Today, they had found three artefacts of information about Bobby and this caravan site, cleared up all the ivy and rubbish in the camp, uncovered the water well, which was sealed, and the place was looking a hell of a lot better since this morning.

So, at eleven pm at night, Tommy and Joel finally sat down after tending to the horses.

Joel did end up getting that chair from Tommy. He sat on it, feet kicked up on the table with a smug smirk to his face and a small fire in the middle of camp. They were tired and hungry, exhausted after the day's activities but it could either only get worse or easier from this point onwards.

Tommy grabbed the bubbling pot from the fire over to where his brother was sitting, he had cooked some tinned meaty soups, quick and easy to whip up and eat along with a few cut up slices of bread that he brought from home.

They both ate in silence, underestimating how hungry they actually are and while soup can sometimes be boring, this soup tasted delicious. After they ate, Joel grabbed his walkie to have a quick goodnight call with his girl, Y/N.

“Baby, it’s me Joel. Are you awake?” He started off the conversation, standing up from his chair and patting his brother on the shoulder to say goodnight then headed into one of the only two habitable caravans in camp.

“Hey, love, yeah I am. Barely, but I’m awake,” her voice croaked through the walkie tiredly after a few moments. Joel didn’t mean to leave it so late at night, he and his brother got carried away with the work, wanting to get a huge chunk done on their first day.

“I’m sorry, girl, I didn’t wake you up did I?” He plopped down on the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes and tossing himself back with a wide smile across his face. It was comfy and her voice was homey to his ears. Joel missed Y/N at that moment and he expressed that to her in between a yawn, “I’m laying down right now, wish you were here with me darlin.”

There was a couple seconds that passed before she came back through the walkie, giggling, “You made me yawn too, but no, you didn’t wake me,” Joel smiled on this side, waiting for her to reposition herself in bed after clearly hearing her shuffle around in the sheets, “I miss you too, handsome. How’s it going out there?”

Doing the same thing as Y/N, Joel repositioned himself in his bed and got under the covers, wishing that he could tell her exactly how things are going out here, but he lied again, “Really good. We caught some steelhead and ate it tonight for dinner. How’s things over there?” He tried to steer the topic of conversation.

Y/N, as well as Joel, was in a position of wanting to tell the truth, but she made a promise to Maria not to say anything yet about Tommy, and she lied too, “The usual, baby. Tea with Maria this morning, I cleared up some of the weeds from the garden and fed the plants,” Joel listened to her voice trailing off about all the things she has done today, making him miss home that much more.

Bringing his hand up behind his head, he rested the walkie on his chest with closed eyes, smiling whilst picturing her face telling him all of this. She finished off with a question, asking Joel if he is staying safe out here, to which he replied saying, “Always, babydoll.”

They chatted more over the radio, sinking further into the mattress and warming up under the covers, until Y/N yawned again and Joel looked at his watch, seeing as the time was nearing one am now, he suggested that they get themselves to sleep.

It took a further half hour for either of them to finish up the call, not wanting to be the last one to say goodnight and after setting the walkie down by his side, he thought that the conversation was over with, but his lady wanted to have the last say and her sweet voice crackled through, whispering, “I love you, Joel Miller.”

He chuckled to himself, mumbling into the covers that he loves her too and turned over to get some sleep. If he picked up that walkie, they wouldn’t ever get off the call, he knows that as well as her.

Day Two

On day two of their trip, Joel and Tommy started their day with bagging up all of the rubbish that was left in a pile at the side of camp and taking it far enough away. Just a quick fix for now, but they do need to find a solid way to rid the rubbish properly for future vacations.

It was roughly a fifteen minute walk outside of camp that they took, coming across a spot to lay out the piles of rubbish that they were dragging along, it was a large clearing inside the thick canopy of trees, and as the men came to a stop, they thought the wave-like sound was from the wind blowing, but it wasn’t. It was water.

Leaving the rubbish where they stood, Joel and Tommy followed the sounds until they came across a river but that wasn’t all they found. The brothers were overjoyed to also find a waterfall. They’ve uncovered another water source, a place to bathe and a place to have fun.

Making the most out of this discovery, the two of them decided to take a dip. They could only clean themselves with a rag and some bottled water yesterday, so today, they’re going to take a bath in the river and get themselves thoroughly cleaned.

After they were stripped down to just their underwear, they quickly headed inside the water and laughed when the other one hooted with the cool temperature.

It was cold at first and Tommy yowled boisterously, eliciting his older brother to laugh at him, but he too found it cold and he thought that the best option was to yell out childishly before throwing himself under completely.

With the sun at its peak in the sky above, it took seconds for either of them to feel the warmth and soon, the chill was gone. Joel popped up from the surface, looking up to the top of the waterfall and wondering if the water was deep enough below to jump in.

Swimming up the river and checking it out for himself, he dove back under the surface and swam below the riverbed. Joel couldn’t even see the bottom, he swam and swam until he finally felt the rocks, and he estimated it to be around fifteen to twenty foot deep.

Coming back up again, he could hear Tommy yelling for him and he hurriedly yelled back, “I’m ok. Just checking how deep.”

“Deep enough to jump off?” The younger man asked, to which his elder brother replied, “yeah, it’s deep enough.”

Swimming back down to his original position, Joel and Tommy indulged in the water for five more minutes, before getting back out and sitting on the side, using the heat and the light of the sun trickling through the trees to dry them off.

They should have brought towels, but they didn’t even contemplate on finding a river out here, either way, it didn’t take them long to dry off as they chatted together in the sunlight.

“This is great, isn’t it? Maria, Ellie and Y/N are gonna love it,” Tommy chirped, while shaking his head like a shaggy dog, droplets splashing everywhere from his blonde long hair.

He reminisced about all the times he used to do this stuff when he was younger with Joel. The memories that they made together. It makes Tommy giddy to make more with his wife, with his brother and his daughter, and maybe even some kids of his own one day.

Getting ahead of himself, he thought about some of the things he could add to this place too, some more tables and chairs, maybe built a little hut of some sort for his family to get dried and dressed properly and privately, with towels.

Joel smiled after seeing his brother clearly in a happy train of thought. He watched the water roll up the side of the riverbank in which he sat upon and nodded to Tommy, “yeah. They’re going to love this place.”

After a couple moments of silence, both brothers just enjoying the comforting peace of nature, Joel stood and grabbed his clothes that were draped over a branch, “They’re going to love it when it’s done, so let's get back to it, bro.”

Taking a mental note of this location and how to find it to himself, Joel began getting himself dressed and Tommy did the same. They headed back to camp and got back to work. Cutting down trees with the chainsaw and then cutting them into smaller pieces after that.

They are going to use this wood in the future for fires or crafting new tables and chairs, mostly for now it’s just clearing the place up and making it look new. That task alone took them well into the evening.

Those trees weren’t so little and the brothers had to be safe about it too of course. When he was satisfied that they had enough wood and had cut down enough trees, Joel started clearing away all of the remaining debris from the dug well.

Thankfully the cover was still placed over the top, otherwise it would be contaminated by now after twenty years. It needed to be cleaned off with water before they opened it, so Joel and his brother had to unravel the bucket from the rope and use it to collect water from the river.

They remembered finding a couple large empty canisters from searching the caravans yesterday, so they grabbed them as well. Finding two long sticks with some rope, they attached the canisters to each of them, along with the single bucket to make it easy when carrying back.

That took some time to do, Joel’s body aches with hard labour, he hasn’t worked this much since his younger days alongside Tommy on the construction site. He liked it. It felt productive and purposeful, but boy did he feel his age.

Secretly, he felt better knowing that Tommy was feeling his age too. He may be the eldest but he ain’t the only old guy here either. Just as if the young man knew what he was thinking about, Tommy shook his head and tutted, “I know. I gotta stay in shape.”

Joel, once again, found himself laughing and bonding some more over this project with his brother.

When they got back to camp, Tommy took half of the water they retrieved to the fire to boil while Joel grabbed some of the cleaning items. With a brush held in hand, he swept away all of the dirt and grime on the outside of the well.

The brick was stained green, which shouldn’t cause much of a problem, but still, he wanted to clean everything just to be sure. It was dusty as hell, covered in green soot that caused him to sneeze a couple times too.

When the water was boiled, Tommy brought it over and used the clean water to wipe everything down. Now that that was out of the way, the both of them started sliding the concrete top off halfway. Joel was thrilled and even a little surprised to see water inside.

Using the remaining water from the canisters that they collected, they used hot water, bleach and scrubbers to clean the caravans thoroughly. Leaving the one that was locked to last, which they still need to get round to opening.

By the time the two men came to that particular caravan to clean - after cleaning the outside and inside of the other three - dark skies had already rolled in but they wanted to try and get it open before calling it a night just yet.

Tommy climbed up on the side to reach the latch for the sunroof but as soon as he peered through the foggy window, the man slung himself back with a fright, “Joel, someone is in there!”

“What?!” Joel fretted. Climbing up the side of the caravan just like Tommy did, he came up beside him and wiped away the dust with a rag. Looking inside, he grimaced and held a hand onto his stomach, “he’s dead. Whoever it is, they’re dead.”

Turning around and looking at his brother, Joel shook his head, “Don’t open this thing up, I think that’s Bobby in there.” The older Miller didn’t want to disturb this caravan, as it is in fact, a tombstone.

Jumping back down to the ground below, Tommy had an inkling to look around for something, maybe another clue to tell them that the corpse lying in the bed inside, is in fact Robert Kennedy.

“Joel, c’mere,” He called out to his brother after walking around the back and holding a flashlight up to the writing that was written along the side.

Tommy felt sick with grief, almost too much grief when Joel came round and read the words out loud, “I’m sorry to whoever finds me like this, I couldn’t wait for their return any longer. To Jenny and my kids, I love you in this life and the next.”

That corpse inside the caravan is Bobby, and his family never made it to their six week vacation, probably didn’t even make it to the airport.

Day 3

That brings us to now. On their third and final day of their restoration project.

After they found Bobby in the caravan last night, both of the men felt too unsettled to carry on with their work at that moment. They needed to take care of him, respectfully.

Taking themselves to bed, Joel only had a quick chat with his lady compared to the night before and after he said goodnight, and that he loves her, he turned over to get some shut eye. Their sleep in the caravan last night was emotionally uncomfortable.

The silence was relaxing, just an occasional bird here or there making its call but the notion of knowing what is sitting beside them just a couple feet away was eerie and depressing. Joel needed to move that caravan away from camp, but he wanted to be respectful to Bobby.

Today is their last day to get as much done as they possibly can before making their way home in the early hours of the morning tomorrow. Three nights is all they could buy themselves and it’s time to get back home to their families.

Waking up extra early today at five am, Joel left Tommy in bed for a little bit longer while he went outside to see what was left to do for the day, but instead, he took a seat at the table after making himself a cup of coffee and decided to read Bobby’s journal, to better understand the fellow.

He smiled and even laughed at some points from what the man wrote. Telling the tale of the happiest events in life with his wife and children. There were pictures too. Joel saw what Bobby looked like and he could feel the joy he held through a simple photograph.

Dark haired, dark beard, small and stocky, the man wore the biggest smile Joel has ever seen. He was standing beside his wife, presumably Jenny, and two young kids. One girl and one boy.

Jenny had red hair, fair skin tone with visible freckles, her smile just as big as her husbands, the kids just the same. All of them looked like your typical happy family and Joel could feel the love they had when looking at each of their faces.

Flicking over to the next page, he came across Bobby’s entries days before the outbreak.

~ 09.15.13 - I've just got here, at the campsite and I’m so excited. I can’t wait for the kids to arrive and see it too. I miss my Jenny a lot but she’s up in Colorado at the moment to bring her parents down here too. Let’s get this place set up for them.

Joel’s eyebrows rose with surprise when reading the first passage, poor Bobby only wanted to rent this place out for the summer for his family and decided to come out early to get it prepared while his wife retrieved her parents.

The man wouldn’t have imagined that the world would come to an end not even then days after. Curiosity pulled on Joel to read more, to learn how Bobby’s fate came to be.

~ 09.20.13 - This place is amazing, there's a waterfall nearby and the kids are coming out in six days, so that’s the first place I’m taking them. I got a postcard from Jenny today, the date is set, the 26th is when they fly out here. I paid for the deluxe package, not realizing that it comes with four caravans. Maybe I’ll let the kids have one each. Maybe.

There’s an ache in Joel’s chest while reading. He envisions Bobby through his words. The man sounded like a great father, a great husband and great son in law who only wanted the best for his family.

~ 09.21.13 - I went into town today, more and more people seem to be leaving because of this virus that’s hit the eastern seaboard of America. Hm weird. I should call Jenny and see if her flight is still good to go just in case.

~ 09.21.13 - Update, I called her, flights are all good.

Joel takes the newspaper clipping out of his pocket and looks at the date written on the bottom, it states, 09.23.13. Two days after this passage Bobby had put into his journal, which has a sizable gap until his next. He flicked over to the next page and the date that was written, surprised Joel. Bobby hadn’t written in almost two years.

~ 09.26.15 - I haven’t seen this journal since I last wrote in it, two years ago, and what a two years it has been. My family never arrived. The day of their flight, was the day the world ended, the day my world ended. I left camp as soon as I heard on the radio that people were being evacuated and I went straight for the airport, to try and get home. Everything was locked down. Jenny wasn’t picking up her phone. So I drove. I drove home, but my home wasn’t there anymore - my family wasn't there. Now two years on, I still can’t find them. I have been searching everyday and found my way back to this place. I don’t know why but I just kinda feel them here with me.

Joel had found himself hunched over, head practically in the book reading Bobby’s words. This is someone's life, yet it feels like a novel, like it simply cannot be real, but it is. Joel has seen these things in his life and he has lived through this man's loss.

His heart aches for Bobby, and for himself, but he must read on, to find out what had happened to him.

~ 12.25.15 - It’s Christmas today and I got stumbling down drunk before the sun came up. Why the fuck not? It’s not that I give a shit about what happens to me anymore. So fuck it. Let’s get drunk.

I’ve been staying in one of the caravans, trying to live I guess but I can’t go into the others, they were for my family. I can't handle the pain so I’m going to have a drink instead.

Where are they?

Why can’t I find them?

I can’t do this anymore.

Joel read every entry, each without dates, and slowly saw this man losing his mind. Totally overwhelmed with the loss of his family, which he understands. The next entry that Joel read from Bobby, was his last.

~ 09.26.16 - It’s been three years since I last saw my family alive, since I last kissed my wife and kids on the forehead. Three years marks the day that the world ended and took the people that I love most with it. If this journal finds anyone then this is my last message. I want to be with my family. Is it wrong for a father to want to be with his kids? A husband to be with his wife?

This camp was meant for a family and there is none here. Goodbye.

Joel stared down at the words on the page, a gut wrenching ache sitting in his stomach, transporting him back to those days that he lost Sarah. Bobby lost his whole world, and Joel feels that.

He didn’t know at what point his breathing became erratic during his daze, but a hand clamping down onto his shoulder pulled him from it.

Tommy took the book from him and pulled Joel in for a hug. Clasping his hand to the back of his head and holding him tight, the young man hugged his elder brother and assured him without words.

It was raw, emotional and needed. Very much needed, Joel appreciated the embrace - more than Tommy would ever know.

Tagging

Permanent Taglist (All story Updates): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20

All Joel Content: @extraneous-trip @readsalot73 @luvmeijii @pale-gingerale @joelsflannel @something-tofightfor @dinsangelx @ponyofmilfmom @hb8301 @squidwell @spideysimpossiblegirl @mooraakath @michele131 @chxpsi @joelmillerscoffee @zeida @wordsfromshona @joelsrifle @swtaura

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller imagine #Joel Miller request #Joel Miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller x y/n #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #Joel Miller angst #Joel Miller fluff #Joel Miller smut #follow 👑 share ❤️ enjoy 🍑#enjoyreaders #pearlyfics

77 notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 315: I Didn’t Expect This to Blow Up

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “guess which plot that you thought was dead is actually not dead and is making a comeback!” and we were all “EVIL HPSC??” and he was all “girl you know it,” and that’s the story of how we got a sexy Lady Nagant flashback with lots of guns and murder. Flashback!Lady was all “gotta murder peeps to preserve the people’s trust,” but then a little while later she was like “actually wait that makes no sense,” and so she shot her evil boss and they sent her to jail. Back in the present, Deku was all “okay fair, the hero system might in fact be a little fucked up, but hear me out... have you considered not helping AFO take over the world so he can murder like a bazillion more innocent people??” The chapter ended with the not-all-there Overhaul finally revealing himself to Deku, and I honestly have no idea where this is gonna go.

Today on BnHA: In what is unfortunately the single worst plan ever concocted by anyone in BnHA, Nagant is all “I’m going to try and get this Deku kid to panic and freeze up by putting someone in mortal danger.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t panic and freeze up at the sight of someone in mortal danger].” Nagant is all “omg no way.” Deku, who is now all of a sudden being so OP that even I have to acknowledge that it’s OP lol, is all “[smashes Nagant’s gun arm to bits]”, which sucks but is also really cool, and which also apparently makes Nagant decide that she actually likes this kid after all. Deku is all “NAGANT I REALLY LIKE YOU AND THINK YOU’RE GREAT SO PLEASE JOIN UP WITH ME AND STOP BEING EVIL.” Nagant is all “aw shucks (✿ •͈ᴗ•͈) well okay then” and everyone is all “( ･◡･) ✰ ( ˆᴗˆ ) ( ᵘ ᵕ ᵘ ⁎)” and then Nagant FUCKING EXPLODES LIKE AN EGG IN THE MICROWAVE AND FALLS TO HER DEATH!!!! except not really because Hawks saves her??? In conclusion, (a) THE FUCK, and (b) AFO TURN ON YOUR LOCATION I JUST WANT TO TALK.

so I have to tell you guys something, which is that barely ten minutes after I made that “please don’t send me spoilers” post the other day, someone replied to the comments in a stunning fit of “tell me that you’re twelve without actually telling me you’re twelve” energy and posted what seemed to be the copy-pasted spoiler summary from reddit or twitter or whatever lol. so here is my good news/bad news rundown of all that

good news: I have very well-conditioned ABORT!! reflexes and have trained myself to immediately look away from the screen (usually in dramatic fashion) as soon as I realize that whatever I’m reading is a spoiler

bad news: unfortunately as I was subsequently deleting said comments, I accidentally read the very last one

good news??: said spoiler was so unbelievably, absurdly over-the-top that I’m almost positive this person was just trolling. like, there’s just no way lmao

bad news: but in the unlikely event that it is true I will absolutely lose my shit I swear to god

(ETA: “NAGANT DIES.” that was the spoiler I read lol. like, literally all I read from the person’s comments was “My Hero Academia Chapter 315 Title: “Beautiful Words.” Chapter starts with...” and then I noped out of there, and then of all the comments to read as I was deleting, it had to be that one lol. I seriously was just like “SURE, JAN.” all “just how gullible do you think I am” sob. but I was wrong. a troll, but an honest troll they remain.

but anyways like I’m pretty sure Nagant isn’t even actually dead lol, so in the end this whole little adventure doesn’t even have a point to it, but for me it was a journey!)

anyway, so there are apparently two versions of the chapter today?? no idea what the difference is, but I’m going to go with the Bean version, because it’s the one at the top and I don’t feel like making decisions today

huh, so Overhaul is actually more coherent than Horikoshi was letting on

look at him having a whole back and forth conversation with her. side note, how is he still this jacked when he’s been sitting in a cell doing absolutely nothing for the past six months

anyway so he says he’ll go with her on one condition. I wonder what that condition could possibly be. do you think it could be the thing he literally hasn’t shut up about ever since he reappeared lol

yep! and damn -- maybe this guy will surprise me after all

still would be nice if you also felt a bit sorry for the little girl you tortured and traumatized, but this is something at least. maybe Deku will yell at him for that other stuff lol

(ETA: also can’t help but wonder if he wants to make amends because he put him in a coma, or because his plan was a failure and ended up destroying the family. just hoping you’ve finally had that “hurting other people is bad” epiphany dude.)

anyways so now Nagant’s arm is transforming again, and this particular transformation happens to be the only truly unsexy thing that Nagant has done thus far so I’m just gonna skip right on ahead lol

aaaaand we’re back to the delirious ranting

buddy. just. read the fucking room, guy

wow she really is aiming at Overhaul, then. those theories were spot-on

damn she’s really out here all “it really fucks with kids’ heads when you kill people right in front of them and make them blame themselves” like yo

I’m picturing her saying all this in a very loud stage-whispery tone while making very significant eye contact with Deku lol

uh oh but wait

um. okay. who’s gonna tell her. Nagant I might have some bad news for you about the kid you’re trying to capture here. specifically about the way he tends to do the opposite of what you’re thinking that he’s about to do

holy shit

so it’s basically just “tap x repeatedly to charge up your attack” lol

and okay, so that’s cool and all, but is anyone else wincing at the thought of what that must be like on his knees. oh to be young

anyway, but so to the surprise of basically no one, Deku did not, in fact, freeze. I am very sorry, Nagant. he’s just like this

LMAO

someone wanna tell me how getting yoloed in the fucking ribs by this fucking slingshot kid moving at literal sniper bullet speed is in any way even remotely better than getting hit by the bullet itself lol

(ETA: this is 10x funnier now that we know the bullet wasn’t even gonna hit him lmao.)

anyway so now Nagant is having an extended “!?!?!?” reaction about how Deku just moved with no hesitation, and I’m starting to get an inkling of fear that the rest of this fight isn’t going to go very well for her and maybe that’s what all the “hoo boy” is about

oh my god Deku are you about to Gomu Gomu no Rocket yourself at her you insane little man

now Three is popping up again and he’s all “I see you’ve learned your lesson and are now only using three quirks at once instead of five” like with all this effusive praise about how great and badass Deku is and sob, okay, yeah. this chapter is basically one of those machines that shoots tennis balls at people, except instead of tennis balls it shoots hot piping discourse

OH MY GOD

YOOOOOOOOOO but also, NOOOOOOOOOOO

lol oh my god it’s literally two opposing reactions at once wtf. do I love this or hate this. like just for once can Horikoshi actually let a badass lady character win their fucking fight without getting their arm ripped off, BUT ALSO fucking look at that absurdly cool “SMASH” onomatopoeia though. it looks like it’s about to float right off the page holy shit that’s some seriously good art

anyway so is this really the end?? do I need to break out my ಠ_ಠ faces

lmao okay yeah I can definitely see how this would piss a lot of people off

he basically one-shotted her and she’s all “damn this kid is so amazing that I’m about to do a complete 180 turn on all of my previous angst” lmao. Horikoshi is really shounening it up today

on the plus side though, maybe this means there’s still a chance for her to join up with him after all? unless that spoiler was true lmao, then all hell is gonna break loose

YESSSSSSS

OH MY GOD AND HE SAYS THE BULLET WOULDN’T HAVE DONE MORE THAN GRAZE OVERHAUL ANYWAY, wow, I’m actually more relieved by that than I would have expected. I mean I would have forgiven her either way, but it means that there was still more hero in her than she was letting on

YES!!! FUCKING YES, THANK YOU

lol but I mean, it’s also like, “oh so today they get to have brain cells”, thank you so much lol. sometimes it’s really hard to tell which times we’re supposed to question these character decisions that seem dumb, and which times we’re just supposed to full on embrace them and switch off our critical thinking

but okay, so in this case it really was Nagant going easy on him on purpose, and not just her fucking up for no good reason even though she used to do this for a living and was the best in the game. and I know in this case it’s probably just Horikoshi giving us some consolation headpats to soften the blow of her losing so abruptly, but you know what, shit. I’ll take it

also you guys the light is coming back into Deku’s eyes again for just a moment here and I’m having feels about it?? the way it still comes back when he’s reaching out to save someone, and following his own hero path instead of the much darker and lonelier Christopher Nolan path that’s been laid out for him instead that he never wanted?? it’s both reassuring and also very sad

YESSSSSSSSSSS

DO IT LADY OMG PLEASE?? PLEASE COME BE HIS NEW IRRESPONSIBLE ADULT SUPERVISION YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO

AHHHHHHH SHE’S GONNA DO IT AHHHH

p.s. I am now absolutely scared shitless that that spoiler was actually true sob. swear to god, I will throw this manga into a fucking volcano. but we’re almost at the end of the chapter and this seems just WAY TOO GOOD to be true fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck f

UCK

NOPE NAH SEND IT BACK, NOPE, NUH UH, DIDN’T ORDER THIS. “GULLIBLE” OKAY FUCK YOU?? “COUNTERMEASURES” NOPE, DON’T NEED ‘EM, WE’RE ALL FINE HERE. WE’RE ACTUALLY GOOD SO YOU CAN JUST GO, OKAY. PLEASE

fuck, lol, I don’t wanna do it. I don’t wanna scroll down what have I ever done to deserve this oh my god

WHAT THE HONEY-ROASTED FUCK

WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT FUCKING VOLCANO IN ICELAND THAT I KEEP SEEING ALL THESE PICTURES OF. WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT SHIT. LET’S GO

ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

can someone please give AFO a really good, sharpish kick in the balls. just really let him have it. I’m so tired, what the fuck

-- ARE YOU KIDDING ME LOL WHAT

bro. I was literally going through my Excel folders to find the spreadsheet about female characters in BnHA that I made back when Midnight died. was gearing myself up for a wholeass rant. and honestly I might just let all of that continue simmering on low to keep it warm just in case lol, because to tell you the truth I have absolutely no idea what’s happening right now

my girl straight up does not have a face. she used to have a face. people usually need those, idk. like, even if she’s alive, her gorgeous eyebrows are definitely not making it out of this and I’m gonna throw a funeral just for them

how the fuck did AFO just blow her up?? how did he know what was going on?? and if he had a quirk that could explode people at will, why is this the first we’re hearing of it?? you’d think that might have come in handy at Kamino or Jakku, like what

(ETA: present!me, who’s had more than three hours of sleep and can now actually remember facts about the series, would like to remind past!me that AFO gave Nagant a quirk, and so this is probably just more Vestige shenanigans now on his part. that’s also probably why Air Walk suddenly stopped working out of nowhere. still doesn’t explain why he doesn’t go around blowing people up more often though but maybe he thinks it’s gauche.)

Hawks just straight up out of nowhere. just Mirioed his way straight into the chapter just in time to be too late sob. here I was looking forward to seeing your face when Deku showed up with his new best friend. can’t believe Horikoshi deprived us of that moment

on the plus side, WELCOME BACK, HAWKS’S FEATHERS. I have no doubt that in this chapter of Deku being an almighty threequirk-mastering god, and Nagant losing anticlimactically only to be immediately blown up because girl characters in BnHA can only be cool for one fight and one fight only, there are still some people who are focusing solely on the “how dare Hawks get his wings back when he is a MURDERER this is an outrage what about CONSEQUENCES” discourse, and to hell with all the other discourses lmao

anyway, so yeah. wow. and now it’s just occurring to me that maybe the real reason why Overhaul is there is so he can get a head start on that amend-making by actually doing a good thing for once in his life, and using his quirk to heal Nagant. assuming he can still do that

and so now Horikoshi has got me out here actually rooting for Overhaul. you know what, on that note I think I’m just gonna go ahead and call it a day sob

#bnha 315 #overhaul #chisaki kai #lady nagant #midoriya izuku #all for one #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

286 notes · View notes

ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Note

Hello!!! I have come with a soulmate au request: could you write one with Benny Miller, where the voice inside your head is yoursoulmates voice. And he's just like "omg! You're the one with the beautiful voice!"

Everyone, say thank you to @fangirl-316 for being the very first person on my taglist, and thus one of the main reasons I'm still writing.

My dear, please consider this fic a very small portion of my thank you, for how far that encouragement went.

warnings: so much fluff it's not even funny

soulmate requests

You and your soulmate lead quite different lives - you only heard his voice saying your thoughts every couple of days at first. It was supposed to happen when you had a thought that could've been one of theirs, normally something simple about needing to get groceries or hoping for rain.

But, the majority of thoughts the two of you shared were "Ouch." A deep, warm voice would boom through your mind, filling it like broth in a bowl on a cold day - comforting, but confusing. It made you wonder if your soulmate was clumsy, like you, or if he got himself into trouble.

He didn't share your complaints, though, and that simple realization bloomed into a full, indulgent daydream. If he got hurt, but didn't complain... maybe you're soulmate was strong, in all the good, selfless ways that heroes were. The daydream fit, and stuck, and it became your mission mission learn more about him whenever you could

It didn't take you long to learn how kind he was, after all. "No worries," he'd say, and you could almost hear his smile, or "I've got you."

And when you were being your most kind, your most thoughtful, you heard him more than ever. It was sweet, inspiring, his unintentional little encouragement to help your neighbors or lighten the mood.

So one day, deep in your longing to meet the one who's voice was rich as a hot meal from a diner, you took a risk.

He made you feel adventurous, grand, his voice in your mind, as he encouraged the world to do it's worst. The ferocity in which his tone reinforced your moments of confidance were like shots of caffeine in your bloodstream. You were certain he was a protector, a - a fighter.

For him.

Your cousin had become interested in a professional fighting ring by a girl at her gym, and had been begging you to come with. So you took the risk, and allowed yourself to be dragged into a chaotic room full of sweaty boddies and goading cheers.

People were yelling to talk to each other, a triumphant man was soaking in adoration, and your feet stuck to the floor.

The next fight had already started, and as you squeezed into a place you could see, your heart stopped. Above you, solid legs, a bare chest heaving with deep breaths, broad shoulders. From your angle, you could see half a grin, and one of the most beautiful blue eyes you'd ever seen.

Benjamin - Benny - Miller, someone said.

Then he was moving, fuid and fast, like he was animated, and you watched, enraptured. You barely processed his opponent, just a man in contrasting colors, as you stared. The noise became an afterthought, and the back of your mind registered your cousin moving away to search for her friend.

Still you couldn't move, you were planted, still as a statue as your heart began to beat again, pouting unevenly as you watched.

Was it normal? To be filled with liquid fire and to hope desperately for a fighter's safety and triumph at the same time?

It was just.... adrenaline. It was because you were new to this. Everyone around you probably felt as intensely as you did about every thud of gloves against skin, at one point in their lives, anyway.

The noise came back in full, as you were reminded how out of place you were.

"You want anything, honey?" The waitress had pity in her eyes.

A gloved fist came in contact with a perfect jaw.

Ouch.

His voice, as always.

"No, thank you." You didn't even look at her, wondering and watching as your injured hero smiled to himself a little bit.

"I don't believe you," you stared suspiciously.

"No, she's telling the truth." Looking between your cousin and her friend, you felt your fight or flight response kick in.

"I just feel silly." Involuntarily, you backed away. They were insisting you push through the sweaty crowd, accross the sticky floor, to talk to him. They promised it was normal. "I wouldn't wouldn't know what to say."

They both looked at each other, and your cousin shrugged. It was true - as desperately as you wanted to encourage him, you'd barely made a peep during the fight. Instead you stared, almost forgetting to breathe, and eyes almost drying out as you ignored the insitict to blink, least you miss a single second. Even after your embarrassment reared it's head, you'd felt strange - both invisible and like you were alone in the crowd, your willpower alone his encouragement. Cheering felt impossible, your tongue was dry in your mouth as you thought wishes into the universe. Prayers, for him or to him, you weren't quite sure.

Relenting, your cousin gave you a more gentle look, before saying changing the topic. It emboldened you, her kindness, as your soulmate said, "Thank you," to her for you, and you slipped away. The fighter deserved a lite of your praise, after all. Looking in the blue of his eyes seemed impossible, but you found the waitress from before.

So what could you say, now that he was surrounded by friends and fans, clapping the smooth of his shoulder and ruffling his seemingly silken hair?

Meekly you shook your head, trying not to look at him from across the room.

"Hey, hun, how can I help you?" She paused, curious and fair, a testament to the establishment.

"Would you..." you fidgeted. The request felt silly, like kids in a school yard, whispering telephone crushes.

"Just do it, talk to her."

"I just wanted to ask if - "

"Oh my God," a deep voice, from directly behind you. It cut through the chatter and shouts of the crowd, surprised and insistent. The waitress cocked an eyebrow and you turned, following her gaze.

"You're the one with the beautiful voice!"

Benjamin Miller was standing, close, the crowd behind him still marked from his rapid path to you. His eyes were wide, staring into yours like he wasn't sure if you were real.

Staring back, you panicked, wondering when he had even heard you before you registered.

His voice -

He was hugging you. Muscles and fat squishing alike, bones near creaking, you never wanted him to let go. He had changed, wearing soft clothes that smelled like sunshine, and his hands were pressing you against his bruises and God, you didn't want him to let go.

It could've been four seconds, it could've been four thousand before your feet felt like they were on solid ground.

"I knew when I saw you," his voice was loud, excited, before he seemed to realize he was still close, gripping you tightly. Jumping back, his hands ran over his face, and through his hair.

"Sorry I just -" suddenly, he looked almost shy, doubt flooding his eyes, the fear that he wasn't yours at the forefront of his mind.

"Hi," you said, grabbing one of his hands before it could stray out of reach. The nervousness from before seemed offensive, suddenly, because you knew him. This was the man who lived and breathed and thought encouragement and honesty and laughter.

You said your name, and when you half-laughed, giddy with bravery, he couldn't help but relax. "You're my soulmate," you said, more certain than you had ever been.

His own doubts abandoned, a warm hand wrapped around your neck, tiliting your face closer to his.

It was perfect, how he was laughing now, too, just as earnest and brave as you always knew he would be.

"Nice to meet you."

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

#benny miller x reader #benny miller #triple frontier #soulmate requests #maybe i dont know people #elle only posts soulmate rqs at weird hours thats the rule

104 notes · View notes

just-the-hiddles · 3 years

Text

Writer’s Spotlight | myoxisbroken

Happy hump day, peeps! This week’s spotlight is the queen of a historical fic, AU or canon. The maven of food porn in a fic. And the reigning champ of teasing me with smut @myoxisbroken ! Let’s dive in!!

The Basics

MASTERLIST HERE

Any other names you want people to call you?

Miss Ox, myox, whatever you feel like!

How long have you been writing fic?

2 years.

What fandoms and/ships do you write?

MCU (Loki, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes), other Tom Hiddleston characters (Pine, Conrad, Sharpe, Buxton, Nicholls, Plumptre, and ever-growing), and just branching out into Pedro Pascal with The Mandalorian; I also have a few Doctor Who fics in my Masterlist (Ten/Donna Noble)

How did you get started writing fic?

I was reading a ton of Doctor Who fic and enjoying the Doctor/River Song stories. Then I rewatched DW season 4 and was so depressed about Donna's ending that I immediately watched the David Tennant/Catherine Tate version of Much Ado About Nothing. And then I started to ship the Tenth Doctor and Donna.

So I read a bunch of their fic and thought, "You know what would be awesome? If someone wrote a WW2 AU where Donna's a single mother and the Doctor is an injured fighter pilot that she takes in as a boarder." And then I started to get snippets of dialogue in my head, and ideas for scenes, and I wondered if I might be able to write a story myself. I hadn't written anything in years, but I decided to give it a try. And a few months later, I had my first story completed, a 14-chapter Doctor Who AU.

After that, I had the writing bug and I haven't been able to stop coming up with ideas and working to put them into words!

Story Recommendations

Which of your stories are your favorite?

It is honestly so hard to choose. I'm only going to choose completed works, because I always love the WIPs I'm working on. So, let's see: You Bring Me Home is one of them, because it was so fun to just jump into a sexy vacation romp with some playful kink exploration for James Conrad (Kong: Skull Island). With Brooding Wings was my first attempt at a vampire story using multiple Tom Hiddleston characters, and I really enjoyed playing with the dynamics of different personalities and settings in that world.

In A Restless World Like This Is is another, because I had such a great time writing a fluffy love story for Steve Rogers and an older OFC. It started as a spite project because of someone's objections to older characters and turned into such a lovely experience. It was one of the easiest I've ever written in terms of how quickly it flowed from my brain through my fingers. I'd loved writing for Loki (An Excellent Suggestion was my first Loki story, and my first time writing smut) and for Bucky (We Are All Victims of Physics Sometimes was my first dip into capturing Bucky's quiet reserve and depth of emotion).

I honestly could go on and on about stories but would only sound more conceited.

Which story are you most proud of?

I think A Pursuit of the Heart. It was my first time writing in the Regency/Georgian era, and I did a TON of research for it. It was also my first novel-length story, and I didn't even know if I could take on something that big or write a historical romance convincingly, in a way that felt era-appropriate and true. I was so proud of the finished product.

Which of your stories do you think is the most underrated?

Let Your Heart Be Light, a Bucky/OFC story with a Christmas theme - its companion piece, Kissing The New Year In, also didn't get much traction. But I loved writing them!

Someone is new to reading your stories, which story/stories should they read first?

It depends on what actors and characters they like, really, as well as if they like smut or fluff or both. For a smutty one-shot, I'd recommend An Excellent Suggestion (which has a one-shot sequel). For a swoonier longer fic with smut, I'd recommend either You Bring Me Home or my fake relationship Steve Rogers fic The One Thing You Can't See.

For fluff, An Unforeseen Outcome is a Loki one-shot with both fluff and a little emotional hurt/comfort. Interestingly, I've written more not-smut fluff for Loki than for any other character. I think I just want him to find connection and love and acceptance so much.

And if you are a fan of historical romance, I'd recommend either my Thomas Sharpe AU A Compromising Situation, or if you like your fics with a healthy dose of angst, Beside Us When Beauty Brightens, my William Buxton (Return to Cranford) story about what happens after he loses Peggy.

Which Story did you do the most research for?

A Pursuit of the Heart, since it was my first one set in the Georgian era and I had a lot of catching up to do! I research for most of my stories, and definitely for my multi-chapter stories. Even if they're contemporary, I still look up resorts, locations, restaurants and local foods, things to do, etc. I can't help it. It's like I'm addicted to research.

Which Story was the easiest to write?

For a multi-chapter fic, In A Restless World Like This Is. For a one-shot, probably my Loki Christmas fluff All I Want For Christmas Is You.

The Writing Process

What is your favorite part of writing?

When a scene I've had in my head just flies out of my fingers and onto the page, and I can read it back and think, "YES! That's just how I wanted it!"

What is your least favorite part?

When my brain is too scattered and unfocused to actually allow me to do any writing.

Describe your style in 1 to 2 sentences.

Well-researched stories that use the information to make you feel like you're there and that incorporate sweetness into even the smuttiest scenario. Also, food porn, and porn porn.

Who are some of your writing idols and/or influences?

For published novels, Mary Balogh and Sabrina Jeffries are two of my favorite historical romance writers, and I think that reading them has helped to make my writing better. In terms of fic authors (some of whom are also published), @nildespirandum and @caffiend-queen were two of the first I read in the Tom/Loki fandom and their excellent quality and intriguing plots are an inspiration, even if I will never be able to write plots as twisty as theirs. Also, reading @yespolkadotkitty's stories helped me push myself to get better at setting scenes and at incorporating the various senses into stories, because she is so good at both of those things and so much else.

What programs do you use to write and/or edit?

I use Google Docs. I have also been dancing around buying Scrivener for an original novel I plan to write and shop around, so I'll be doing that soon.

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Plotter, for sure. My brain would implode if I tried to pants my stories.

Do you write RPF or not?

I have a few chapters of a Tom Hiddleston RPF in draft form but haven't proceeded with it. I'd kind of like to write a Pedro Pascal RPF one-shot. I love reading RPF but feel odd about writing it for some reason.

Who is your favorite character to write and why?

Again with the tough questions! It might be Loki, because he is such a chameleon and there are so many hidden depths to him. I really want to write some multi-chapter Loki stories, because so far I have done one-shots and one 3-chapter short fic. I'd like to explore a longer character arc for him.

What do you think are your writing strengths?

Authenticity because of my research, realistically depicting emotions, and writing in a style that feels genuine to the setting and era.

What do you struggle with?

PLOT. I do think that there is plenty of room for all kinds of stories, and I like to tell stories about relationships. But I would like to get better at adding outside conflict and other types of plot to my stories.

Favorite Trope?

It's so hard to choose between There Was Only One Bed and Fake Relationship. I think those are my top two.

What is the best piece of writing advice you have heard?

Write something. Anything. Even if you think it's crap, get your first draft done, because you can always go back and rewrite something that's bad and make it better. Also, if you're stuck on your WIP, write something else - a piece of another story or one-shot, a description of something you saw, a character profile, a bit of personal journaling. Keep writing and don't let a temporary roadblock turn into a long-term one.

What would you say to a new fanfic writer starting out?

It's hard when something you wrote doesn't get a lot of attention, especially when you love it. We share stories in the hopes that other people will discover and enjoy them, but you have to at least partly do it for your own satisfaction, or it will get pretty discouraging if the likes/kudos, comments, and reblogs just don't happen.

What is a random bit of research you have not managed to work into a fic yet?

Ladies' drawers (underwear) were not commonly worn until the mid-1800s. They were thought to be gentlemen's garments and it was thus vulgar for a lady to wear them. Yes, ladies of the Georgian (incl. Regency) era were generally commando beneath their skirts, petticoats, and shifts. But that was still a lot of layers.

Any goals or WIPs you want to share?

My goal is to write an original novel (series) set during the Napoleonic Wars. My hope is to get it researched, written, and put in final draft form so that I can send query letters out before the end of 2021.

This or That

Fluff or Angst

Fluff AND Smut

Reader Insert or OC

Canon Divergent or AU

Pepsi or Coke (Neither: Cherry Coke Zero)

Coffee or Tea (Neither: Cocoa)

Sweet AND Savory

And that is it, until next week, remember to check out the masterlist here. And your new fav fic is just around the corner! Until next time, toodles!

#writer's spotlight #myoxisbroken #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki #loki fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

heoneyology · 4 years

Text

simply human | l.jy

A/N: this was supposed to be posted yesterday for halloween so uhh happy late halloween look at me I’m trying to write again! it’s not spooky so I guess posting it today isn’t a huge deal, still fits the season... based loosely on this story idea.

Word Count: 6866

Genre: catboy!juyeon, warlock!juyeon, fluff, lightly implied romance

Pairing: reader (gender neutral) x lee juyeon (the boyz)

Warnings: mentions of magic though nothing used... uhh... very slowly paced is a warning as well (like there’s barely any juyeon wtf was I doing???), also I have a habit of trailing things off at the end of my writings and leaving things to the reader’s imagination after sorry :’))

Summary: Lee Juyeon is possibly one of the most eligible bachelors in town—his looks being favored by everyone who lays their eyes on him—but he has one thing working against him: He’s a warlock. In the city, those who practice magic are just thought of as normal, everyday people. But in smaller towns, they’re thought of as bad luck and archaic. It’s a bias that you’ll never quite understand, and thus you watch the handsome boy who visits the coffee shop you work at daily, admiring him from afar. You’d never have guessed he was leading a quiet double life...

A deep sigh falls past your lips, one that seems to come straight from the depths of your chest—maybe even deeper. It holds something that words can’t quite express; stresses, longing, and a confusion you aren’t sure how to work past. Next to you, the black cat who is just an arm’s length away stirs. It peeps one eye open as your breath travels through the blades of grass, passing through before ghosting over the cat’s fur. It tickles, and felines don’t much like things that tickle.

You’d been watching the cat this entire time, so when it cracks a single amber eye open to fixate on you, you suck in the breath you’d just let out, freezing in place. Waiting, wondering. Had you somehow deterred away your latest friend and most recent confidant?

“Sorry,” you whisper to the cat, wondering if that will somehow remedy the situation.

The cat’s ears flicker in response, and that single amber eye closes.

You’d dealt with many cats before that. For many, as soon as you even so much as had your fingertips graze their fur the wrong way, they’d go scurrying off. Some even liked to lash out. This cat, however, was a curious little fellow—you were fairly certain it was a fellow—it liked to lay just out of your reach, near you, whenever you came to sit underneath the maple tree in the warm afternoons; on days when the sun was just peaking at its highest before dipping down below the horizon. Now that autumn was in full force, days were growing shorter and the warmth which you sought by the sun and the maple—a space to think freely and escape your worries—was also growing shorter as the chill of the oncoming winter began to set in earlier and earlier each day.

The cat seemed to have the same idea as you, seeking out the tree for afternoon naps and letting you rant your heart away. Somehow, it almost seemed as if the feline was listening to you—but not just listening, understanding, as well. The little black feline would fix you with a gaze that was so deep and knowing, you sometimes felt as if you were oversharing. Whenever the cat met your eyes, you could feel your heart seize up in your chest; the idea of the creature somehow understanding what you were saying causing you to panic and double back, wondering if your thoughts were safe with the little cat.

But the comfort the cat brought was something that couldn’t be matched by the company of your friends and family. It was nice to have someone to just talk to and listen, someone that didn’t reply all the time. Even if that someone wasn’t exactly a human. Even if that someone happened to have some human-like personality traits that left you wondering. Cats were intelligent, though, so you never found yourself questioning it too much.

After some time, you push yourself up into a sitting position from where you lay on your side in the grass, letting out another long sigh. This time, your breath doesn’t even so much as reach the cat. However, your presence shifting causes the small animal to stir, letting out a ‘mrrmph’ and stretching out of the ball it had been curled into, rolling over onto its side. The cat lazily blinks up at you, before licking a paw and swiping it over its face, repeating the action and grooming itself.

“This is why my mom told me not to move away to a small town like this. She called me a romantic for trying to follow my dreams—be a writer, live in a cozy space unknown to the world and basically off the grid.” Instead of sighing, you scoff this time. “Little did she know I’d actually become a romantic and fall in love with someone who doesn’t even know I exist… or maybe she did know. Moms seem to somehow know everything…”

You groan, letting your face fall into your hands. “I can’t believe I spilled that all over him this morning—I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow.”

Before one emotion can even settle, you’re letting out another groan and falling back into the grass again. You hit the ground with a slight thud. Next to you, the cat startles in surprise, but doesn’t move.

“I have to be up for seven… I have to open the shop… ugh I hate opening shifts, that’s too early. We saw what happened today! I didn’t even get enough sleep and then that disaster unfolded!”

From next to you, the cat watches as you work through your turmoil of thoughts and emotions for the third time since coming to the maple tree. Before one can settle, another begins, and so your distraught cycle repeats itself yet again. The cat had already heard the story, about how you’d gotten next to no sleep last night—finally finding a strike of muse and mistakenly staying up until almost four in the morning to write the wave out—and had to open the coffee shop at which you work at seven on the dot that same morning. Your crush, the one and only Lee Juyeon—a noteworthy bachelor in town whose presence wasn’t very welcomed, though his looks were practically revered—had entered the shop. Amidst your foggy, sleep-deprived state, you’d clumsily perfected his order, then proceeded to spill it down the front of his clothes.

It was a minor mishap. It wasn’t something that happened often, but it wasn’t something that one should trouble themselves over this much. Although, of course, one had to consider the fact that Juyeon being dashingly handsome, with strong features and a soft smile; as well as being your crush, were added factors that had to be considered in the equation.

The cat still found it ridiculous, as cats often do of human matters.

You push yourself into a sitting position again, with a bit more determination in your shoulders this time. The cat barely pauses its grooming session as you turn to address it, despite not needing to. “I need to go. I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow.”

Despite knowing that the outcome will be futile, you reach out slowly and attempt to stroke the cat with the back of your hand, as a final goodbye before the two of you meet again. But this time, the cat reacts to your proximity—instantaneously cutting its grooming session short by jumping to its feet and away from you. The feline cuts you a look, giving itself a shake, before it trots off.

It had been two weeks now, so you had been hopeful something had changed between you and the cat. But, cats were fickle creatures, and although your feline friend proved to be a good confidant and equally welcomed your silent company—that’s all it wanted at the moment, was some company. A part of you wondered if something kept the cat from being friendlier, even after you’d proven you weren’t going to push or rush any affection received, such as a trauma or unpleasant experience. You weren’t too certain that was the case, though, considering the cat wasn’t wary or scared—just indifferent.

“Get home safe,” is your last goodbye to the cat, spoken into the emptiness around you which is only broken up by the evening breeze whistling through the autumn leaves.

—

Thankfully, you get enough sleep that night. When you get home, the tiredness hits you like a giant wave, and there’s not even an ounce of temptation to continue your writing as there had been the night before. When the next day arrives, you’re much more bright-eyed and alert. Opening the coffee shop goes smooth, as does the passing of the first few customers you have.

After the first hour of being open, like clockwork, Juyeon walks through the door of the little cafe at eight. And, like clockwork, your coworker lets out a grunt under their breath and nudges you with their elbow.

“Can you take over the cash register?”

You frown, studying them, then glancing back at Juyeon as he slowly nears the counter. A few guests cut him unfriendly looks, others stare in awe. You should be used to this, by now, but you aren’t. Growing up in the city, you hadn’t realized what kind of bias there would be in smaller, more rural areas for Juyeon’s kind—as those around here called it. He practiced magic, which in the city was a common occurrence. Being so populated, it was easy to pass someone by and not really know whether they were a witch or a warlock. They were just simply human.

But here, it was like some sort of blight. Where witches and warlocks were far and few between, it was misunderstood, and thus not welcomed. People didn’t like change, or that which they didn’t understand.

If only people could be more like cats—indifferent to those things that surrounded them which caused no harm, despite how different it might be.

Your coworker hadn’t waited for your answer, disappearing, and you have no choice but to take over the cash register. Despite the repeated normalcy of this specific situation, it’s still something you really don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

Juyeon stops in front of the counter and studies the menu above, just as you step forward and wish him a good morning. He glances down at you, gives a small smile, and then glances back up at the menu. He’s been here enough times since you’d moved to town that you know he’ll order the same thing he gets every day. For some reason, though, he still likes to idle a bit and study the menu. Maybe because there’s seasonal flavors to consider trying, despite always defaulting to the comfort pick. Or maybe he’s buffering his mind for the day—a sentiment you felt you could relate to.

“Can I get my usual?” Juyeon asks, pulling his eyes away from the menu with another smile.

You return his smile, nodding. “Of course.”

Although you try to stay calm, you can hear your heart beating much too loudly in your chest, replaying the events from the day before in your head. You try not to outwardly cringe as the scene from yesterday replays itself in your mind; then try further to shut the memories out, though not visibly show your internal struggle—choosing to focus instead on the fact that despite not being weary-eyed that morning, your hand is shaking as you lift it to the register to punch in Juyeon’s order, and you need to make it stop.

It’s something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the regular customer, though you aren’t aware that he even does notice until you’re serving him his coffee. Your coworker has conveniently cooped themselves up in the back to clean and stock. That leaves you left alone to prepare Juyeon’s drink, and you’re grateful there isn’t a rush at that moment.

When you step up to the counter to call out his name and hand over the drink, you’re straining your arm to keep your hand from shaking too badly—paranoid over a repeat from yesterday. As he takes his drink with a smile and a thank you, his fingers brush over yours. You glance up in surprise at him, wondering if he even noticed the skin contact.

Meeting his gaze, you’re aware that he is, in fact, aware of what has happened. He softens his smile—if that’s even possible. His sharp features are always the softest when he comes in during the mornings and hands out smiles to the people around him. Despite the stark contrast of how the townsfolk treat Juyeon in comparison to how he treats them, you’ve never once seen the smile on his face falter.

“You don’t have to be nervous about yesterday,” he states kindly. “Accidents happen. Stop shaking so badly out of nerves, or you’ll really end up spilling my coffee again.”

A flush immediately over takes your face, and you pull your hand back like the snap of a rubber band—luckily Juyeon already has hold of his drink, or it would have come crashing down to the counter below.

“S-s-s-sorry— I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, I’m only joking. Like I said, accidents happen, and clothes can be washed,” Juyeon chuckles. You swear the sound makes your heart seize up in your chest—but it’s a different kind of seize than the feeling your secret cat makes you feel. This feeling is one that makes time seem to stop moving itself; his soft laugh something akin to a toll bell—not quite high pitched enough to be a bell, but not deep enough to be something else.

“Although if you spilled drink on me two days in a row, I’d probably need you to join me for coffee at some point in order to make up for all the dry cleaning,” the joke falls from Juyeon’s lips with ease—and you can only stare at him in surprise as he offers you one last smile and makes his way to a corner of the coffee shop near the window, as he does every day.

Did… he just flirt?

You shake your head at the absurdity of the thought, though the rest of your work day is spent in a trance. Even when there is a callout halfway through your shift, just a few hours away before your freedom from work—you barely react. It’s just a hiccup, even if it means you’ll be working five hours extra. Juyeon’s words idly trail through your mind, enough to keep you in a daze. Luckily, despite your mind being focused elsewhere, nothing is spilled or broken that day and you make it through the shift safely; save for a few moments of tripping over your own two feet.

When closing time rolls around, you finally start to feel all the work of the day and your clumsiness in those same two feet. You’re practically dragging yourself over the threshold when you close up the coffee shop, locking the door behind you. When you turn to begin down the street for home and the comfort of your warm bed—you almost trip over your own two feet yet again.

Except, this time, it’s not by your own fault that you almost trip. Underfoot, the darkness of the night moves just as you stumble to catch yourself, and you startle in surprise. But then, a familiar pair of amber eyes turn and meet yours—and as your eyes adjust to the blackness, you recognize the outline of a little black cat.

“Kitty?” You wonder, surprise lacing your voice. The cat, as if replying, lets out something akin to a meow and an indignant sigh, as if to ask, How dare you trip over me?

The indignant meow-sigh-huff combo makes you smile, letting out a small laugh under your breath. Yes, it’s definitely your cat friend. But why is the cat so far from the fields at the outskirts of town, away from the maple tree? How did it wander so far? You’d always assumed the cat to be a farm cat, since you’d never seen it among the streets like this—which had you worry the feline may have wandered too far from home to find its way back. At night, nonetheless.

Crouching down, you reach out a hand to the cat, back of your hand facing the feline. “What are you doing all the way in town like this, kitty?”

As per usual, the cat backs away from your hand with a little jump, before scurrying off into the night. You let out a sigh, watching it meld with the shadows, before pushing yourself back to your feet.

“Okay, fine. I thought we were friends, but whatever. Just try and assist me in breaking my neck and then leave the scene of the almost-crime.” You give your head a shake, before turning away from the coffee shop and making your way home.

The evening is colder than it has been in the past few nights. As you walk, you snuggle down a little deeper into your coat, surprised by the chill. It’s sharp enough to cut against more sensitive places of your body—like your nose, ears, and cheeks—but not quite deeply cutting in the way that the cold of winter is. This chill doesn’t seep into the depths of your bones and create an ache. It’s just cold enough to make you want to curl up on your couch with a cup of warm tea before bed, but still admire how there’s a warmth to the season overall despite the weather.

It doesn’t take long before a black flash cuts across in front of you. You slow your steps slightly, having set a brisk pace to simply get yourself home quicker, so you weren’t out at night for too long. Your shadowy friend darting back and forth is enough to keep you from walking too fast, though, worried you might trip and fall, and ultimately hurt yourself or the cat. But as you pick your pace up again, the black feline settles into a trot alongside you, weaving close to the walls of the buildings which you walk next to.

“Are you walking me home?” You muse to the cat. “Feel guilty for almost tripping me in the dark?”

You know the cat can’t understand your humor, and likely doesn’t have a conscience enough to feel guilty about such a thing, but it feels nice to talk to someone as you walk. Again—you seek comfort in the feline companion for the fact that you can voice your thoughts aloud, without expecting a reply. It’s also nice to have company on your walk home. Despite the small town being safe, and the streetlamps lighting the way, walking alone at night was an uncomfortable event. Having grown up in the city, you’d been taught to never wander the streets alone at night. It was strange to do so here.

“Lee Juyeon, the warlock that I’ve told you about, came in to work again today. I didn’t spill his order all over him today,” you smile, glancing at the little black shadow that meanders next to you. “You should be proud of me.”

Slowing your pace, you come to a halt. “Do you ever wonder why people treat him differently?” You ask the cat. For a moment, you think, before sighing, “Wait, you probably don’t even know. You’re a cat, after all. How would you realize that he’s being treated differently just because he can practice magic. Heck, you probably don’t even know who Juyeon is.”

Or, maybe the cat did, considering you’d seen Juyeon feed the neighborhood strays outside the coffee shop before.

The thought has you pulling your eyes back to your cat companion. Ahead of you, the animal pulls itself away from the wall and sidles its way into the center of the street. It keeps walking, which prompts you to resume your pace in order to catch up to the cat.

“Anyway, he does magic. A warlock. In the city, witches and warlocks are common. Magic is a lot more accepted where I come from, even though there are rules and restrictions to practicing in order to keep non-magic users safe. Maybe that’s why rural areas and small towns don’t like it, there’s no one to really keep watch and create rules,” you sigh, then wonder why the heck you’re explaining this to a cat. “But still, he’s just simply a human. My coworker doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as him. Isn’t that ridiculous…?”

Much like you do under the maple tree, you ramble to the cat as though it were any other day. It feels kind of nice to have the cat’s company and be able to walk home with someone, even if that someone weren’t quite human. Though you might appear strange to anyone else who might see you chatting into the darkness, you aren’t alone that night—a comfort which you appreciate not only because it’s dark, but also after such a long and grueling day. It allows you to keep your mind away from the dreadful thoughts you might have. Talking to the cat had also become a routine, and though you hadn’t been able to dwell much on the idea of missing out on the almost-daily routine thanks to how busy the coffee shop had gotten in the afternoon, you realize now what it means.

As you near the corner of your street, the cat slows down just ahead of you, sensing a change in your demeanor. Your stomach growls just as you’re about to round the corner the cat is stopped at, causing you to glance down in surprise. Then, you glance at the feline, before lifting your gaze up to glance over your shoulder. Just across the street, lighting up the entire corner—something you’d always been grateful for, living alone—sits a little 24-Hour corner shop. You have food at home that you can heat up quickly, but you remember that your cat friend has wandered into town from the farms, and possibly hasn’t eaten. There’s probably an abundance of mice to catch, if the cat were to look well enough, but you feel guilty after realizing how far the animal had followed you.

And, unfortunately, it wasn’t likely with your current track record that the cat would want to join you inside for the night.

“Wait here,” you instruct the cat, not even sure if it’ll listen. You dart across the street and push your way into the warmth of the little corner shop. The attendant startles in surprise at your entrance, having not expected a customer so late on a fairly chilly night, most likely.

“Do you have cat food?” You ask, and the bleary-eyed boy behind the counter points off in a corner of the shop. You follow his direction to the aisle he points out, wandering down and eyeing the shelves lined with canned and bagged food and treats for all different kinds of pets. You pick out a can of shrimp flavored canned food, remembering that the cat you’d grown up with at home had enjoyed shrimp-flavored things, before heading back to the front of the store to pay for it.

Surprisingly enough, the black cat is there waiting for you as you exit the store—still across the street. You smile, as you near, watching as the cat’s tail tip flicks where it's curled on the ground, rustling a leaf just within reach. Each time its tail does so, causing the leaf to move, the silly little cat swipes at the leaf—and its own tail. And each time, the cat looks offended as it pulls its paw back.

“I have food,” you announce your presence to the cat, so as not to startle it too much out of its little game. As you near, you pull open the can lid, bending down and setting the can on the ground. Knowing the cat will run if you extend your hand, you slowly inch the can forward with your finger tips, watching as the cat slowly inches itself back on its butt in surprise. When your hand returns to yourself, the cat stares at the opened can of food, before bending over just enough to strain its neck to reach out and sniff.

With a sharp flick of its tail, it huffs and turns, trotting off into the darkness.

Your jaw falls open in surprise. “Wow! Rude! That was two dollars!”

Frowning, you glance back at the can of food, then up again where the cat disappeared into the night. Either the cat was extremely spoiled and wasn’t actually a farm cat as you’d thought, feasting on mice—or the animal just wasn’t hungry. Somehow you doubted the latter, as it seemed like quite a journey from the edge of town to your place for a little four-legged creature. Surely any animal would be just a bit hungry after wandering around for hours, right?

Straightening yourself up, you call out into the darkness, “I’m leaving this here, then—in case you change your mind!” But your words are met with silence, and there isn’t even the breeze of the autumn wind whistling through the trees to fill the void of the night.

Parting ways with the darkness and its feline voidling, you finally round the corner and head the last few feet up the street to the warmth of your home.

—

When you wake the next morning, there’s not an immediate rush through your morning. You don’t work until a bit later in the afternoon. This means you’re able to sleep in, enjoy the warmth and comfort of your bed and burrow yourself further down under the duvet as the morning light streams through the curtains, casting even more warmth over you as it filters through the glass window. When it comes time to finally pull yourself out of bed, you shower and brush your teeth, brew a pot of coffee for yourself, and set to work at your laptop for a couple hours to get some writing out.

It’s at this time that a repeated rapping catches your attention, and when you glance up from your laptop—pulling your eyes away from the white light of the screen and squinting—you’re surprised to see a black shadow at your window, two amber eyes peering through a frame of the glass intently.

“What the—? Kitty?”

Hearing your voice, the cat stands up from crouching on the sill, butting its body against the window and letting out a loud meow. You’re fairly certain this is the first time the cat has answered you in such a blatantly obvious tone, which has you excitedly pushing yourself to your feet and rushing over to the window. In the entire time it takes you to cross your bedroom to the window, the cat continues to meow, pacing back and forth along the sill and butting itself against the glass. The cat’s tail curls, waving about languidly.

“Good morning,” you greet, pulling the window up and open for your friend. “What are you doing here? Did you sleep outside on the street last night?”

With more room on the window sill, the cat sits, pointedly fixating its gaze on you. Curiously, you present the back of your hand to the cat, holding it up between the two of you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to the creature, but that doesn’t mean you’re quite out of the woods just yet.

It takes everything within you, though, to hold back the gasp of surprise when the cat leans forward just a bit to sniff you, cold nose pressing against the back of your hand and whiskers grazing across your skin.

“Can I pet you?” You wonder, turning your hand over slowly and reaching behind the cat—but, as fickle as ever, the cat lets out another meow and turns before you can even so much as put your hand onto its fur, dropping down from the window sill. The most touch you get from the interaction is its tail swiping your arm as it turns and jumps down—which, honestly, still leaves you grinning after the cat.

“Wait there again,” you instruct the cat, closing the window. Not waiting for an answer from the feline, who seems a bit chatty that morning, you make your way out of your bedroom—pausing momentarily to grab your coffee mug—before heading to the kitchen. You wonder if the cat is hungry, mentally noting you don’t have cat food, which is why you had bought it last night, before reminding yourself that it didn’t seem to like the canned food anyway.

Fish? No, you’d have to go to the market for that. If you ate fish, you typically cooked it immediately rather than let it sit in your freezer. What else could cats eat? “Chicken…?” You wonder aloud, opening your fridge and eyeing the leftover container of some grilled chicken you’d had the night before.

“It’s a bird, cats like bird meat.” Giving yourself a small shrug, you pull the container from the fridge and open it. It takes a few moments to shred it down to something a bit more manageable to chew with your fingers, before you pop it in the microwave to nuke it a bit. You didn’t mind cold chicken, but assuming the cat had spent the night outside, you figure a little warmth in its belly would be nice.

As though sensing your intentions, when you open the front door, the black cat is sitting expectantly on the porch, staring up at the door. Its tail swipes across the wood deck lazily, seemingly unbothered by having had to wait.

“It’s not much, since I don’t really know what to feed a cat that’s okay and I don’t keep cat food… not that you appreciated it last night…” You scoff, before setting down the container on the porch in front of the cat. “But here’s some breakfast for you. Or brunch now, I suppose.”

This food smells much more interesting than the canned cat food, and the feline doesn’t hesitate to step forward and crouch down in front of the leftover container, immediately gobbling up the grilled chicken you’d shredded. You smile, watching with relief as the animal eats. You really weren’t sure at this point if the cat was a farmcat after all, a stray, or simply a spoiled wanderer—but not knowing where the animal had been overnight, and seeing it eat now after refusing food last night put your mind at ease.

You watch the cat eat in silence, making yourself comfortable and sitting back against the doorframe of your open front door. Every now and again, you sip your coffee, glance up at the street and off into the distance where you can see the rolling hills of the countryside, before looking back down at the cat. When your feline friend finishes its meal, it lays back on your porch, grooming itself in content—then moving off to a warm patch of sun and curling into a ball on your deck. Deciding you don’t want to waste this precious moment, you clean up the container before grabbing your laptop, and setting up shop on the deck for a few more hours before work, writing alongside the silent company of your tiny visitor.

“Okay, I have to go to work,” you announce after a few hours have passed, not entirely sure why you’re detailing this to the cat. If it really was a stray, it would probably remove itself from your company whenever. Or, you’d return home after work to it having disappeared again. The thought made you wistful—maybe even a bit sad. This had been the first you’d ever had the cat’s extended company and attention for, and you were growing quite used to it.

To your surprise, when it actually is time to leave for work, the cat begins to follow you after you’ve closed and locked up your little house. You let out an amused half smile, watching as the cat follows alongside you. “What, are you my chauffeur now?”

The walk to work that day is infinitely more amusing than all the other times you’d walked the same path. You don’t have much to ramble to your companion about that day, though you do mention that you wonder if Juyeon will pop in at the coffee shop in the afternoon. Typically, he was a morning coffee person, but you’d seen him stop by in the evenings once in a while. Instead of talking as you walk, though, you watch as the cat darts ahead of you every once in a while—chasing a stray leaf on the breeze and pouncing after it down the street until it lies motionless on the ground. Sometimes, the cat lags behind, and you find yourself glancing over your shoulder to see what curiosities it's getting itself into—jumping on a fence to tease a dog, sniffing around at certain things on the path, or slinking down close to the ground and acting as if it’s hunting nothing in particular, before darting ten feet ahead of you at a run and waiting for you to catch up.

“Don’t stay out here for too long tonight,” you warn the cat, pausing outside the coffee shop. “This street gets busy on weekends, someone might not see you…” You didn’t want to imagine the poor cat getting lost in the crowd. The coffee shop was in the center of a small village shopping square, and on weekend evenings it filled up with families and others sharing date nights and evening events together. You frown, wondering if the cat will listen, before giving the animal a small little wave and heading inside.

When you set to work, you can’t help but find yourself glancing out the window periodically—taking mental stock of the cat through your shift. Each time you go to clean a table, you peer out the window and see the cat either peering right back in at your, or napping somewhere nearby. Every time you call out someone’s order, you push yourself onto your tiptoes to glance over the customer’s shoulder as they near, mentally noting every spot the little black shape outside moves to. If a new customer enters the shop, you greet them and take their order, and before the transaction finishes you ask in a quiet voice if there’s a cat outside still—relieved when a customer confirms they’d seen one lounging about.

Halfway through your shift, your cat friend disappears from the view of the window, and a small panic sets in. You notice as you’re taking an order for a couple of guests, two people who can’t seem to settle on their decision and keep talking over each other as they tell you what they want. They aren’t the type of people to inquire about the cat outside, especially since it seems as though they’ve popped into the coffee shop for an afternoon pick-me-up to help settle some of their irritation. Yet as you speak with them, and punch in their order, you can’t help your eyes darting off to the side now and again to try and peek around them and out the window.

“Can you take over the register for a bit?” You ask of your coworker almost as soon as the two chatty, indecisive guests walk away. You don’t wait for them to reply—considering they always drop the same on you without warning. It’s rare of you to return the “favor,” but you don’t feel guilty doing so.

As you move around the counter, you grab a tray and a cleaning rag in order to clean some tables, eyes never leaving the window as you do so.

“Was that your cat? The one outside?” Your coworker asks, scoffing. “Should take better care of it.”

You scowl, eyes snapping back to your coworker, who shrinks in surprise at the ferocity of your gaze. “No it’s not. It’s a stray that followed me, and I’m worried.” As you turn away from them, you grumble under your breath, “You have a nasty habit of assuming the worst of people.”

As you near the window, searching for the black furry shadow outside, your eyes are so fixated you barely register the door of the shop opening and the lackluster greeting being called out by your coworker. In fact, you’re so out of it that, as you move, you practically stumble straight into a wall of body that had just entered the shop. You stumble back in surprise, realizing that you’ve almost walked straight into a customer, glancing up to apologize—and blanching when you realize it’s Juyeon.

“S-sorry!”

Juyeon smiles in greeting. “It’s fine,” he answers, before glancing over his shoulder outside, then back down at you. “Are you okay?”

“I— yeah… I just—” You frown. “Nevermind, it’s nothing. What can I get for you today?” Sparing one last glance at the window, you move back toward the counter, eyeing your coworker as they move away and disappear, refusing as always to take the young warlock’s order.

“Can I sit at the bartop today?” Juyeon asks, trailing after you. You glance over your shoulder at him in surprise, before nodding.

“Let me take your order and then you can take a seat.”

“I’d like a mochachino today.”

You punch in the order, looking at him in surprise. “Chocolate?”

Juyeon smiles that soft smile that always seems to leave you winded and out of breath. “Craving something sweet, but I’ve got some work to do, so I need something that will keep me awake, too.”

You nod, letting out a hum of understanding from the back of your throat. When you read the total off to him, Juyeon pays the appropriate amount, and you wave him to the bartop just to the left of the cash register. His presence at the bartop is almost certain to keep your coworker from ever returning to the front of house, so you silently hope that no sudden rush comes through the cafe as you set to work making his drink.

“Why did you seem so distracted when I came in earlier?” Juyeon asks, tone of voice idle. You glance over your shoulder, away from the espresso machine, in surprise when he speaks. Had he always been this chatty? Although, to be fair, Juyeon always came in during the morning rushes and you never had a chance to actually talk to him.

You aren’t sure what really catches you by surprise—the fact that he’s making conversation with you, or the fact that his deep voice has caused your heart to begin a rapid and stuttering beat in your chest. Yet, somehow, despite your nervousness to be talking to a young man you’d always admired from your own little corner of the coffee shop, and how he gazed out the window and watched the world in silent content and admiration, and offered up sweet and soft smiles to everyone around him—his voice also fills you with a warmth that’s almost soothing. Like the familiar smell of the coffee grounds that waft through the shop daily, then later cling to the strands of your hair when you get home. It feels familiar.

“Are you really okay?” He asks, prompting again.

“I’m fine. I was just worried… there was a cat outside. It followed me to and from work yesterday and today, and now that it’s getting busy I’m wondering where it went off to and if it’s okay. I feel responsible even though it might be a stray that just followed me for its own amusement,” you explain as you work.

When you finish Juyeon’s order, you turn and set it on the counter in front of him. He smiles, as always, and takes it with a polite and soft thank you, before leveling you with his gaze.

When his eyes land on you, almost instantly you feel your heart seize up in your chest. You’ve never been this close to Juyeon before—never actually gotten a good look at him up close. His features from afar are stunning; he’s handsome in a very simple way that’s easy on the eyes. But up close, it’s almost as if he’s crafted from marble. You’ve never had a chance to admire his sharp features; study the lines of his jaw and his high-placed cheekbones, notice the square shape of his earlobes, or admire his long and straight nose or the way his lips curl upward slightly at the corners.

“Cats are street smart, you know. I’m sure your little stray friend is fine. They probably know these streets better than the both of us,” Juyeon replies, “And luckily for them, people in this town are a little kinder to stray cats than other types of strays.”

It’s then that you meet his gaze, catching on to a deeper implication of his words—studying his almond-shaped brown eyes and taking note of the curious amber flecks that hit the warm yellow light of the cafe just right.

“No way,” you breathe out.

Juyeon smiles—and this time, his smile isn’t the usual soft and kind one, but one that pushes his cheeks up in a way that causes his eyes to smile along with the rest of his face. He seems much too amused by the realization setting across your face, followed by a flush that follows soon after. You’d ranted and rambled about Lee Juyeon to Lee Juyeon—albeit not the human one.

You’d heard that some witches and warlocks could shapeshift, and that others had familiars. Never once in your life did you think you’d somehow be on the receiving end of that gift. Of course, it made sense, considering the treatment around town that Juyeon often received—that he’d either hide in another form or test the honesty of those he interacted with in a different form.

Juyeon lifts his coffee cup to his lips, smiling over the rim. “Can I walk you home tonight? Perhaps this time not as a cat? I’d love to hear you regale one of your lavish tales of me.”

#juyeon fic #juyeon fanfic #the boyz fic #the boyz fanfic #juyeon #the boyz #tbz fanfic #m.writes

76 notes · View notes

angstsfordays · 4 years

Text

A Lot Like Love

Summary: Six months into joining the Avengers, you had your first clash with Steve Rogers. A prequel to Stay With Me.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader, Bucky x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: FLUFF. ANGST. FEELINGS. A few bad words.

Word count: 6k-ish

Notes: I’m back with another Steve Rogers fic! I don’t know how I always easily write over 6k and I sometimes wonder if its too much! Honestly, I’m hoping to write more but I have been stuck with a writer’s block. Several ideas and draft were made but I can’t seem to follow through. Hope you will forgive me as I navigate this through! 😭

This story took me weeks as I felt it was not good enough but I managed to write a version that I liked. Hope you will do too! If you haven’t checked it out, I wrote a Dad!Steve story called No, Mama. Check out my masterlist too! 🥰

Leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 💖

———————————————————————

“I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N. I expected more from you.”

His words were laced with frustration. Your face scrunched up as you tried to prevent yourself from crying.

You wanted to show that you deserved a place among the ranks of the Avengers. Afterall, you had come to idolise Steve Rogers ever since you entered the academy and grew an admiration for the hero under the influence of your then mentor, Phil Coulson.

However, you have soon come to learn that the perfect image of the Captain changed when you got to work under directly.

You heard about how much of a hard ass he could be from Bucky and Sam. Steve Rogers had rules when it came to managing his team and expects his team members to follow his instructions closely. In your ignorant bliss, you believed that he was just acting like any other leader.

It was a mission targeting a rogue scientific facility that decided to engage in human experimentation involving missing and homeless people. The catalyst for this mission came from a sharp increase in missing reports. The local authorities believed it was out of their league to engage this facility given that it was backed by an influential figure.

The goal was to save those under captivity and hopefully arrest the mastermind behind this cruel act of humanity. A majority of the team was deployed with Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, Wanda and yourself.

Sam, Wanda and you were placed on the team to bring the captives out while the Steve, Bucky and Natasha were tasked to take out security and secure data that could aid in finding who’s the one supporting the facility.

You were informed that everyone was held accounted for and that everyone can proceed to board the jet. The woman you held in your arms was still trembling as you moved to escort her to the Quinjet meant to transport the captives.

Her sobbing intensified as you started to feel her weakly clawing at your arms while mumbling something incoherent.

“What’s wrong? Hey, breathe in, breathe out.” You tried to get her to calm down so that she can speak properly.

“There’s someone else- Jacob, they kept him in the-” The woman tried her best to tell you as she took deep breaths.

“Where did they keep him?”

“There’s an isolation room. Jacob fought back as they tried to take away one of the little ones. They placed him in solidarity confinement for that. It’s located in the west wing of the-” You heart accelerated as you took in the information.

You knew that there was plans to burn the facility to the ground. You overheard one of the guards giving instructions to another before Natasha shot him.

“Everybody out, we’re done here.” Steve came into your view as he overlooked at the captives being escorted into the Quinjet.

“Please, he’s a young boy himself too. No more than 18 years old.” The woman pleaded with you. You nodded in response to show that you understood her worries and you made to move.

“Follow the rest back to the jet. I will get him.” Reassuring her once more, you took off into a sprint and allow your powers to push you off the ground in long strides towards the direction of the crumbling building.

“Y/N! What are you doing?!” You could hear Steve screaming after you. Pressing into your earpiece, you told him that there was one more person to save.

You could hear your comrades persuading you to stop as you see the whole building ablaze on fire.

“Y/N!” Steve shouting with both frustration and desperation, asked you to turn back but you ignored his instructions for the first time ever.

Hoping your instincts were right, you rushed to the west wing of the building. There were debris everywhere and you had to conjure a shield from your energy-based powers to protect yourself.

Your eyes lit up and seeing a plain door with a small peep hole.

“Jacob!” You called out, hoping that you got the right one and made to blow the door off its hinges before kicking it down.

You saw Jacob covered in soot from the flames and he was seen to be gasping for air, presumably from the inhalation of smoke. His hands reached out to you feebly and you pulled him closer under your protection.

“Captain, I found him.” You pressed into your earpiece.

“We will be there to extract the both of you.” His reassuring voice allowed you to take a breath as you cradled Jacob in protection. The oncoming debris alerted you that the building was going to fall and you might be buried underneath it. Frantically looking around for an exit, you knew the door you came in from was not an option.

As the four walls came crashing down, you let your powers engulfed you and Jacob in a protective bubble. You weren’t sure how long you could hold it out as you felt the impact of debris falling.

The call of your name brought you out of your temporary prayer and you could hear Wanda on the other side of the wall. You weren’t sure what happened next but when you opened your eyes, you saw that you were on the grassy ground not far from the facility.

Your senses alerted you of another impending explosion, thus you quickly shielded yourself from the impact by projecting a tranquilizing barrier to soften the impact of the blast. The next moment was a daze as you felt your face meeting the fresh grass. In a state of blur, you could sense yourself being lifted off the ground and carried into someone’s arms.

Your eyelids were heavy while you struggled to open them. The last thing you remembered was a voice calling out your name.

———————————————————————

You were jolted awake but all you see was darkness. That was when you realised that your eyes were not opened and you were only subconsciously awake.

You willed yourself to open your eyes but the bright line that pierced into your sight had you closing them immediately. Waiting a few more seconds, you slowly tried again and blinked to adjust to the light.

The next thing that your senses picked up was the beeping of a monitor. Then came the aches in your body. Letting out a groan, you slowly wriggled to move your muscles. Within the next minute, you managed to sit up.

You realised that you were in the medical wing of the compound. Flurried footsteps were heard as Dr Cho came into view. She started fussing around to check for your vitals. You were still in a blurry state of mind and only started to focus when she called your name.

“Y/N, how are you feeling?”

A groan answered her question as you held one side of your head.

“I suspect some traumatic aftershock from the blast but you seemed alright everywhere else. You’re lucky.”

“That’s my middle name.” You kidded as you saw your friends filing in the room. Dr Cho informed them of your condition and you could see the relieved expressions on their faces when they were told that you were mostly alright.

You blinked several times and saw Wanda came to sit by you, petting your head in a comforting gesture. You leaned in her warmth and had your head on her shoulder. Natasha came to sit on your other side and held one of your hands in hers.

“I will keep her under observation for a day.” Dr Cho informed before walking out of the room. Once she was gone, all attention was back on you.

“That was ballsy of you, kid.” Tony quipped as he gave you a once over. His heart dropped when he was informed that you lost consciousness in the field while working in the lab.

You gave him a mock salute and grinned in response.

“I don’t think you should be joking, Y/N. You almost got yourself killed.” Steve Roger’s voice took your attention. Oh boy, he looked fuming in his signature crossed arms pose.

“Hey, all that matters is that she’s okay.” Bucky interjected, sensing Steve’s bad mood. He looked over Steve with a concerned expression before moving to yours to show support.

“I did what I had to do, Captain.” Brows furrowed, you did not understand why Steve had to take that tone.

“No, I gave you clear instructions to come back. Instead, you just ran head straight into a blazing fire.” Steve pressed on in a reprimanding tone.

“She was just trying to the right thing, Steve. Anyone of us would have tried to do the same.” Sam tried to speak up on your behalf. Everyone was now alert of the hostility emanating from the Captain.

They knew Steve could have a temper if he wanted but what they didn’t know was why he seemed more bothered than usual. Everyone had made several mistakes in the field from time to time, but Steve never took it to heart. He overlooked them quickly and just reminded to do better next time.

It seemed that Steve was more affected this time round. Steve then asked for everyone to clear your room so he could speak to you alone.

Everyone started filing out, Bucky and Sam gave you worried looks while Wanda and Natasha gave you pats on your shoulders. Tony, being the nosy king he is, wanted to stay to see what happens next but was swiftly ushered out by Natasha. Vision who came to visit tried to give you a reassuring look to which you responded with a slight smile.

You didn’t see what the point was when the walls were made of glass and everyone could still what was going on. Once Steve saw the last person out and the door closed, he spoke up.

“We could have come up with a plan instead of rushing into a burning building that’s about to collapse any minute!”

“There was no time for a plan. I could do it! I’m trained for this!” You retorted in your defense. You believed you made the right call, how could you not take any action when you knew someone needed saving.

“I was an agent before I was an Avenger. I knew the risks!” You added onto your argument to justify your actions.

“Sometimes we cannot save everyone, Y/N. It’s not worth the risk!” Hearing Steve’s words riled something up in you. For the first time, you forgo the idolised image you had of him and saw him as a stubborn and unreasonable person.

“It’s worth trying! And I did it!”

“Have you thought of what everyone felt? Have you thought of what I felt when I see you running into the burning building? The odds may not always be in your favour.” Steve decided to take strides towards the end of your bed.

“Well, I beat the odds? Didn’t I?” As you were still sitting down on your bed, you craned your head to look up at him. You returned his intense glare with your own. Steve couldn’t believe your defiant words and he felt his temper reaching a boiling point.

“Don’t make excuses for your reckless behaviour. You should have listened to me!”.

“I’m sorry I don’t listen when I think something is unreasonable.” Your words came out cold and you heard the gasps from some of the team outside of the room.

Everyone couldn’t believe the exchange happening in front of them. Your sudden attitude change towards Steve caught them by surprise as well Steve’s display of temperament. In the time they know you, they known you were polite and respectful to Steve and they had always known Steve to be mild-tempered.

“You think asking you to stay away from your impending death is unreasonable?” Steve spoke calmly but in a way that showed restraint from bursting.

“You would have done the same, Captain. Ironic for someone who once marched into a fully armed Hydra camp solo.” If your previous words from before didn’t serve to tip Steve over the edge, your last one did. Steve’s eyes widened at your remarks as if he couldn’t believe you said that.

“Suspension from the field till I say so. Until then, I hope you’re looking forward to paperwork, Y/L/N.” Gritting your teeth in anger, you also started to feel the unexpected tears welling up in your eyes.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N. I expected more from you.”

Ouch, those words hit you like a bullet train. What’s more, it came from Steve- someone you respected and admired.

You tried to blink them away and looked down on the surface of your bed. You knew you were close to tears and balled up your fists to stop yourself from losing your emotions. Opening your mouth, you were sure that you wanted to make another retorted but was surprised when nothing came out.

You looked out to the needle in your hand connecting to the IV drip. Reaching out, you pulled it out with the little strength you had. Steve was shocked to see what you were doing and his next sentence came out in a concerned tone compared to his previous stern one.

“What are you doing?”

You briefly ignored him as you got your legs off the bed. Setting them down gently, you made sure you had your bearings and stood up gingerly. You took a few steps to warm up your sore muscles.

Steve’s hands came up to rest on your arms and you looked up to his eyes full of bewilderment at your actions. You shrugged them off and returned a cold stare back, you then tried to move around him.

“Hey, where do you think you are going-”

“Oh, am I supposed to report my every location to you now?” You answered sarcastically. You made your way to press the button to open the glass door of your ward.

“I can leave, Y/N. You need to rest!” Steve was clearly flustered by what you were doing. He knew he crossed the line on his remarks but he was still concerned about your well-being.

You spoke up as the door opened to your friends staring on in disbelief.

“Come on Tony, let’s order cheeseburgers and fries.”

You were apathetic to the reactions of everyone and especially one in particular as you tried to walk off in the direction of the kitchens, faking a strong front when really you were broken inside.

Steve Rogers can go piss himself.

———————————————————————

You recovered faster than expected but were restricted to less strenuous activities for at least a week by Dr Cho.

This only meant a week of boredom as you struggled to occupy your free time. You were worried how you were going to get around the compound with the possibility of coming into contact with Steve at any moment’s notice.

However, when Natasha told you that Steve was going on the follow up mission to apprehend the mastermind behind the science facility, you heaved a sigh of relief. Natasha and Sam were also tasked to go along with him as well.

Luckily, you still had Bucky, Wanda and Vision to keep you company. Tony made sure to stop by when he comes into the compound with your favourite takeout, he thought he could make up for Steve’s harshness on his part.

You told your friends about Steve’s ‘punishment’ and were genuinely concerned at its implementation. Taking you out of the field was one of the worst punishments for you. If you do not work in the field, then what kind of Avenger could you be? Plus, you hated paperwork the most. They always gave you a migraine.

In Steve’s absence, you were free to roam around as per normal. You went about your usual routine of catching up with your shows and just chilling with your friends.

You went out shopping with Wanda one day, the next you had engaged Vision in the fun of board games specifically the ‘Game of Life’ and you also played video games with Bucky the day after.

However, your momentarily bliss ended on your fourth day of rest when footsteps entered the common game room.

“Oh come on Bucky! You can do so much better!” You stated as Bucky tried to keep up with the steps on ‘Just Dance’.

“I don’t know why I let you rope me into this.” Your friend grumbled like an old man (which was befitting of his age) as he started shaking his hips awkwardly in accordance to the character on the TV screen.

“I’m helping you to keep up with the times! What better way through dance!” You countered his remark as you did a body wave.

“You’re lucky Sam’s not here, otherwise I would never-” Bucky spoke as he chuckled at your remark but he was not able to finish when he got interrupted.

“What the f-” The recognition of Sam’s voice had you pausing your game momentarily. You turned around to face what you would expect to be Sam only, but your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights at who else you saw.

You froze in your actions and looked over to Bucky who looked equally mortified. Both of you were panicking for different reasons.

“Friday, you got that on camera?” Sam started balling over at how he witnessed the usual stone-cold Bucky dancing. Bucky dancing like a modern millennial?! Sam grinned like a Cheshire cat.

You started blinking nervously as you craned your head to see Bucky positively fuming and you could even detect Bucky growling.

“Hey! That’s not nice, Sam! Bucky was just accompanying me because I was bored.” You tried to intervene as you placed a hand on Bucky’s arm to reassure him.

“But did you see his moves, I mean-”

“Bored? Didn’t you start on the paperwork I assigned you?” Steve’s voice cut into the conversation like a knife. The atmosphere in the air suddenly shifting towards a tense one. You looked down on the floor to avoid answering Steve’s question.

“I’m still resting from the previous mission. Dr Cho’s orders.” You formulated an answer after a moment of silence.

“Clearly.” The hint of sarcasm in Steve’s voice was unmissed by everyone in the room, proving to further embarrass you than you already are.

“You can start on collating the report from the previous mission.” Taking a nervous gulp down your throat, you looked over at Bucky who eyed you sympathetically and then over to Sam who kept quiet.

Even he knew when to read the room when Steve was putting on his captain hat.

You begrudgingly dragged yourself to the level where the open office is. With Friday’s help, you retrieved the documents that you needed to kickstart the report that Steve assigned you. You began to work while listening to your music playlist and soon find yourself immersed in the zone.

The music in your ear pods was blasting in such high volume to drown out your surroundings that you could not hear Friday calling for your attention. Your jerked in your seat when you felt a tap on your shoulder and looked over to see Bucky.

Taking out your ear pods, you paused the music playing on your laptop.

“What’s up, Buck?”

“I’m calling you to come to dinner. Friday told us you have been here for six hours.” Oh, you didn’t know you had been here at your desk for that long. Looking at the time on your computer, you saw that it was already closing to half past seven in the evening.

“Come on, Wanda and Vision made dinner.” Bucky pulled you out of your chair and placed his hands on your shoulders to guide you out of the office.

“Look, Y/N-” Bucky let out a sigh as the two of you made your way to the elevator. “I’ve known Steve forever and believe me, he’s not out to get you.”

“Oh yeah, what about what happened earlier?” You asked Bucky with a defeated look while leaning your back on the wall.

“You have to understand from his perspective. Being a leader is more than just leading, a leader takes care of everyone in his team. How do you think he felt when he knew you were in danger?” Bucky’s question made you reflect and realized that you had only be thinking about yourself.

“He would have felt the worst if we lost you because you’re his responsibility.” Bucky continued while placing a comforting hand on one of your shoulders. A sense of guilt had sunk inside your heart upon listening to what Bucky said.

You awkwardly looked down on the floor as you did not know what to say. Hearing Bucky’s words, you realised that you had only been thinking about your own perspective and failed to recognise what people around could have felt.

Bucky knew you were deep in thought and reflection as you kept quiet. He felt that he wanted to explain on behalf of Steve since he believed that you might have not understood where Steve was coming from.

You weren’t the only one affected from the argument. Steve didn’t have it any better. Steve tried to conceal his emotions with neutral expressions but Bucky saw that his best friend would always perk up when your name was mentioned amongst the team for the past weeks.

Bucky saw Steve standing outside your door the day when you were cleared to go back to your room. It seemed like Steve wanted to talk to you but couldn’t bring himself to actually knock on the door. When he was caught, Steve brushed it off like he was just passing by. But Bucky knew better.

Bucky had his hands around your shoulders as he led you towards the common eating room. You could hear the voices of your friends chattering and instantly picked up the smell of lasagne inviting you to take quicker steps towards the room.

“I smell lasagne!!!” You skipped in joy towards Wanda who was letting the lasagne cool on the table. Wanda gave you a bright smile and did a small cheer dance,

Your cheery persona, however, dropped when you turned to see who was sitting at the dining table across you. Steve looked up at you with an unreadable expression as if to gauge your reaction at the sight of him.

Wearing your heart on your sleeves, you couldn’t hide your emotions when you saw him. Half of you still felt upset at Steve’s cold attitude while the other half was consumed by guilt.

“Come on, Y/N. You must be starving after doing so much paperwork.” Bucky tried to sit you down but you resisted his push. You refused to let your feet move but it was a laughable attempt when he was a super soldier and could have just easily picked you up.

You were not ready to face Steve yet as you were still uncomfortable from your previous exchange.

With your quick wit, you brought your hand up to one side of your head and crouched over in fake pain. “I’m not feeling so good, I think I’m going to head back to my room-”

“What? But Wanda made lasagne! You live and die for it!” Sam exclaimed from the side and you cringed when you realised that you had to come up with a better excuse.

“Oh, I must have gotten a migraine from all that paperwork. I think I need to lay down, I don’t think I can see-” You held yourself back before the truth came out but you peeked over and could see that Steve didn’t buy your nonsense.

“The lights.” You tried to quickly cover up your verbal flounder. “Oh, the lights are making me dizzy.” Spinning out of Bucky’s hold, you kept up your act by muttering excuse after excuse. You tried to ignore the calls of your friends as you briskly walked back to your room without turning back.

Letting your body fall onto the comfort of your sheets, you let out a big sigh as you looked up at the ceiling. Your eyelids felt heavy as you started blinking, you knew you were worn out from just typing at your desk all day.

The next moment you woke up, it was still dark outside your window. You reached for your phone and saw that it was around midnight. The grumbling in your stomach served to remind you that you haven’t had dinner.

You made to wash up first before making your way to the kitchens. Friday had informed you that everyone had retired to your rooms. Knowing that you were alone, you walked with ease in search for food.

Your eyes spotted something at the table and saw that Wanda had left you a portion of dinner. Putting it in the microwave to heat up, you took your phone out to find something to watch while you ate dinner.

You propped your phone up against a tissue box and dug into your dinner. The comfort food made you feel good and you went over to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer.

Engrossed in the video playing in front of you, you didn’t realise someone in the shadows who was watching you giggle at something funny playing on your phone.

———————————————————————

Steve regretted the way the words came out of his mouth. He was supposed to check if you were alright after the incident but he was taken aback by the turn of events.

Normally, you were polite and respectful towards him. You two had friendly exchanges but he could tell you were more comfortable with the rest of the team.

It riled him up when you challenged him and refused to admit your mistakes. You did not realise how worried everyone was when you ran ahead to the burning building. The panic rose when there were the minutes of silence that followed after he tried to comms you.

Everyone in the team looked to each other in worry and were at a lost on what to do. Steve brought Wanda and Bucky over to the supposed location where you might be at. The two looked over Steve for his next instructions.

Your voice coming up on everyone’s ear piece was an answered prayer when he knew you were safe. Steve got Wanda to blast a hole in the side of the wall. That’s when he saw you huddling over the young boy, using your own body to shield him while extending one hand to conjure an energy-based force to protect from fire and debris.

Wanda used her powers to bring both of you out and settled you on the ground. Even to the last moment, you mustered the last bit of energy to increase the projection of your shield and received the last brunt of the blast from the explosion.

That’s when you collapsed back onto the ground. Steve immediately went to pick you up while Bucky helped the young boy. Your eyes were half closed as Steve could see that you tried to stay awake but eventually fatigue must have gotten the best of you.

“Y/N!” Steve tried calling out you to ensure that you were alright. Holding you securely bridal style, Steve made sure to bring you back to the jet fast.

Steve’s memory then went back to the moment where you looked like you were crying. In his fit of anger after you dared to talk back for the first time, he decided to throw out a punishment to put you in your place.

Steve didn’t realise the impact of his words when you stared back with glossy eyes. You had an unreadable expression but Steve was sure you were upset. When you reached out to take out your IV drip, Steve panicked at your sudden actions.

He tried to stop you from leaving, he knew that you were still weak considering that you were knocked out for a whole day. When you said you couldn’t stand to be around Steve, Steve swore his heart sunk for a moment.

How were you able to have such an effect on him?

Then you walked out of your ward, asking Tony to order cheeseburgers. Steve didn’t know whether to scoff or laugh at that moment. Of course, you will do that after waking up from losing consciousness in the field.

When Steve walked into you and Bucky dancing, he started to experience a strange feeling. What could possibly be an endearing sight didn’t sit well with him. Steve saw how happy you were in Bucky’s company and how Bucky looked the same.

Steve knew Bucky rarely acted so carefree in front of others but always somehow looked visibly relaxed in your presence. He always known you two had got along well but somehow the sight in front of Steve only made him feel bitter.

Why do you keep everyone close but only him at bay? Steve’s hopes for you were only further dashed when you decided to skip dinner, knowing that you had to be in the same room as him. Did he really made you hate him that much?

Steve only wanted what’s best for you, he thought he could had lost you in the fire. When he saw you could still joke around after almost tossing your life aside, an anger started building inside him. How could you still be so cheerful when he was here worried sick about you?

When Steve saw you eating dinner alone past midnight, his heart sunk at the sight. He didn’t want you to hide from him forever. Yes, it’s fine if you do not want to see him but you should not be deprived from being around the rest of team.

The next week had you finishing reports and helping out with other people’s paperwork. You were positive that you were going to break down from the sheer boredom of it all.

You decided to bring your laptop around to do your work instead of being bounded by your desk. This got you to be creative in the many spaces you can choose to work in among the large grounds of the compound. The only condition was that Steve was not going to be there.

You began with working in the common room but it was too lonely with everyone else to do their own things in the afternoon.

You then moved to occupying a small desk in Tony’s lab. You found his company enjoyable as you tried to multi-task between typing and gossiping. However, when one of Tony’s experiments nearly caused you to be fried by an electrical outburst, you decided to scout for another workspace.

You then crashed your team’s training room and decided to do your work in a corner of the room. You were slightly irritated when Friday informed you that you were not allowed to return to training under Steve’s orders when you entered the room.

You were positively fuming and humiliated while your friends looked at you with pitiful eyes when they heard it too.

How dare he! To think you were felt bad when you listened to Bucky’s defense of Steve. Turning your feet, you decided to leave the room when you were suddenly pushed back by a collision with a big mass.

You fumbled as you nearly dropped your laptop but someone beat you to it.

“Thank you-” You spoke gratefully before you looked up to meet the eyes of the one person you vehemently wanted to avoid.

Steve had a look of surprised as he realised that he bumped into you while you looked on at him with annoyance. Seriously, you thought Friday had told you that he was in a meeting!

“Y/N-” Steve tried to break the silent exchange but you were not having any of it.

“Jerk.” You countered in greeting before you pushed past him to walk out of the door.

Steve looked over to see his friends on the training grounds who witnessed the hostile exchange. Most of them tried to maintain neutral expressions but Bucky was the only who gave him a look that said, ‘Go after her punk!’.

You started stomping your way to the elevator so that you can return to your own room. What a bad day, you thought as you shook your head.

“Y/N!” Your ears perked up at the call of your name and you started to panic when you realised that Steve was calling after you.

Looking back, Steve was taking long strides to catch up with you. Without much thought, you didn’t know why you started to make a sprint for the elevator doors and started punching the button as if it could make it arrive faster. You really did not want to deal with him at this moment.

To your relief, the elevator came onto your floor within a few seconds and you immediately threw yourself in and asked Friday to quickly close the doors.

“Friday! Hurry up, please!” Hearing your words, Steve quickly countered your instructions.

“Friday, hold the door for me!” Your eyes widened when the seemingly closing doors started to back up and open for Steve.

“Oh come on! Friday, I asked first!” You whined when Friday informed you that Steve outranks you and hence, she had to follow his instructions instead. Why is she such a stickler?

Thinking fast, you decided that you could still exit the elevator before Steve came in.

Oh, how foolish were you to think you could outrun Steve Rogers?

You were enhanced but not one of your powers included superhuman agility. Steve grabbed you by your shoulders and nudged you back into the steel and glass box.

As the elevator started moving, there was only the sound of your panting and you thought you could burn a hole on the floor with how intensely you tried to stare down and not at Steve.

“Hey, Y/N. Please listen to me, alright. Don’t leave.” His voice was earnest and felt yourself weakened, you gave in and decided to look up into his crystal blue eyes. You swore he was staring into your soul and you realised that it was much too intense.

You tore your eyes away from his and tried to look anywhere else. Two hands then came to rest on the side of your face and held you in place.

Adrenaline was rushing through your veins at the most intimate interaction you ever had with Steve and you could hear your heart beating wildly. Taking a nervous gulp down your throat, you were waiting to see what Steve was going to do.

When Steve was sure he had your attention, he then spoke.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I have crossed the line the other day but-” Steve suddenly paused and appeared in deep thought to continue his next sentence.

“I never want to hurt you. I never meant to. I’m just so frustrated.”

“About what?” You were surprised that you could say anything. Your arms clutched your laptop tightly to your chest as if it could act as wall between you and Steve.

“About how you can easily say that you would risk your life on a whim. Why?” Looking back at Steve with tears in your eyes, you started recalling an old memory.

“When I was a SHIELD agent, I was on a mission to save a hostage. My team took out the guards and I was supposed to get her out.”

“The guard set the place for self-destruction, they didn’t care of what they left behind. I couldn’t find her room in time. Phil pulled me out as the walls are collapsing, he knew I would be buried along with her if I didn’t get out.” Your voice came out trembling. Steve then moved his hands from your face to the sides of your shoulders, holding you close in comfort.

“I can still hear her screams, Steve. I was so close to finding her, if only I had another minute….” You looked up at him once more, a single tear falling down your cheek while you tried to refrain yourself from breaking down completely.

“If I had been faster, stronger, I could save her. She was only nine. She was abducted because she was enhanced and they were going to exploit her for her powers….” Shoulders slumped, you let yourself fall to the ground on your knees as you felt a sense of weight off your shoulders.

Steve observed you for a moment before joining you on the floor, he reached out to take your laptop from your hands and placed them on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I now understand.” Steve gathered you in his arms and you allowed yourself to return the same gesture.

As you closed your eyes, you felt several more tears falling and leaving wet spots on Steve’s sweater. You tightened your grip and you heart skipped several beats when you felt him doing the same.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. You tried your best.” You could feel the rumble of Steve’s chest as he spoke and you sought comfort in the warmth he provided.

“You did a good job. You always do.” Steve used his thumb to wipe of the tears off your face and gave you one of his beautiful boy-ish smiles.

“I’m so glad you returned to me-us safely.” Why do you feel heat rushing to your cheeks when he said that? Why does he suddenly seem so wonderful at this moment?

Your mind started whirling at how Steve’s words and actions managed to tug at your heartstrings? What was happening?

“Lives are lost every day during the fight but I don’t know if I will take it if you were gone. You are an important member of the team.” Steve’s words stroke a chord within you and you weren’t sure of what to say in return.

You decided to nod in understanding and Steve took well to your response. What happened next took you off guard as Steve leaned in to press his lips on the side of your temple.

Steve now knew the reason behind your actions and he was angry at himself for judging you too quickly. How you managed to survive in this line of work with such softness and vulnerability baffled him.

Such emotions might be viewed as weak but Steve recognised this to be a source of strength, for you do not fight to kill but help others in need. That’s why Steve had not regretted his decision to bring you into the team, you embodied the very essence of being an Avenger.

Unknowingly to Steve yet, you also have grown to be someone important to him as well. Someone he hoped that will stay by his side for a long time.

———————————————————————

“You know this is an infringement of privacy, right?” Natasha spoke as everyone gathered to look at the hologram screen that Tony put up in the training room. Steve and you had stood up to leave the elevator with smiles on both of your faces.

Steve had his arm around your shoulders as he led you out while you smiled adoringly at him.

Tony shrugged as he justified his actions. “Hey, had to make sure they didn’t kill each possible, am I right?”

“That’s least likely unless you are talking about these two here.” Natasha nodded to Sam and Bucky who stood side by side.

“Man, it seems I like I’m watching a romantic soap. Gross.” Tony waved off the screen before walking off.

Everyone dispersed soon after while Bucky continued to stand still at his original spot as he stared off into where the screen once was.

Seemed a lot like love, Bucky thought as he witnessed the development between his best friend and the girl that managed to find a way into his pal’s heart.

———————————————————————

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #angstsfordays #Steve Rogers #captain america

72 notes · View notes

chaoticevilbean · 3 years

Text

Atla Youtube Au, Sokka-Centric

1/?

“What’s up, ma dudes? Time for another session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. This time will feature Lady, Warrior, Gurl, and Princess.” The male was wearing his Southern Water Tribe facepaint, and from his background, it seemed he was indeed in one of the Water Tribes’ territories. His hair was white for this particular video, long and pulled back into a tail. His irises were bright blue, and once again left no clues as to whether it was the real coloring or just contacts.

“Alright, so this story is a bit strange, as per usual. As you all know, my friends are activists and Lady takes that to the extreme. Well, they did it again. What do I mean, you new viewers ask? I mean they started another rebellion. Now, maybe it’d officially count as just a bunch of protests, but I personally believe that once the number of protests in a single city is more than five in as many days, it’s the start of a rebellion. And yes, I did say another. I’ve got it all in a playlist if you wanna look.”

The background behind the videographer changed as he presumably walked around as he spoke. Snow and a clear sky were shown, and there didn’t seem to be any other people in sight.

“Now, it all started because of a previous thing my wonderful Lady did. If you’ve already watched the video, noice. If you haven’t, pause this and find the one labeled ‘Lady Vs Old Coot’. Very inspiring. Anyways, so they came back here and thought that maybe at least that Old Coot had changed, but no. No, instead there’s been no change. Or there hadn’t been. We all came as a group, but only myself, Kuzon, Lady, Bluey, Princess, Gurl, and Warrior. Bandit, Ballerina, and Knife would’ve come, but they were all busy. Or Ballerina and Knife were busy. Bandit hates it here cause there’s no land. Nothing to see.”

“So, we’re all here, and we spend the day touring and exploring and stuff, and then we meet up for lunch. Well, Lady starts ranting about how they’re so disappointed in everyone, especially the Old Coot, and demands that we do something. Immediately, Gurl, Warrior, and Princess all pledge themselves to the cause, and then guess what they do? Guess what they flippin’ do?” The Youtuber gave a sarcastic and slightly pained chuckle, dark seal markings emphasizing his features as he looked around a little.

“If you couldn’t guess, they asked me, me, to help them plan their course of action. Now, these are my friends. Basically my family. I’ve been through a lot with them, from overthrowing corrupt organizations to taking down drug rings to literally being Kuzon’s father one time. And through all of these things, I’ve somehow become known as the one who’s really good at planning. But they asked me to help plan a stinkin’ rebellion. I do it, obviously, but the fact that they even asked.”

“But then, apparently they told all of these people who’re following them in protest that I helped organize everything. And no one decides to tell me this, so I keep helping from the sidelines. We reach day three of protests, and it’s lunchtime, so I think I’ll just walk on over and bring some food to these people who’ve been standing outside the Council all morning. I get there, and I get mobbed. Everyone’s either thanking slash congratulating me, or they’re complaining about the protestors. It takes me an hour to find Lady and ask them what the Spirits happened because of all these people just crowding around and yelling at me.”

“Lady apologizes, but the damage is done. The warriors are asking me to end the protests. I tell them I can’t. They get mad because I’m supposedly the one in charge. I am not the one in charge. I am the one who the people in charge asked for a favor and got dragged into this mess. No one seems to get it. Then the heckin’ Council calls me in and tries to make me end it all. I kept trying to say that it’s not my fault there’s a rebellion. It was the will of one person, aided by the wills of three other people, that inspired the hopes of everyone who’s protesting. I just helped them do the most damage so they have a big impact and this doesn’t take a year.”

“So here I am.” The camera turned around, and started panning to show the barren ice devoid of any life. “I’m currently out here attempting to hide from everyone. I have enough supplies to last me a week on its own, three if I make the most of it all.” The screen showed several bags, including a green Earth Kingdom satchel, a blue Water Tribe satchel, a black Fire Nation duffel, and a yellow Air Nomad backpack. A few items are attached to the duffel and backpack, though it’s unclear what. “I’ll wait out the protests, since Bandit’s giving me a play-by-play of the progress. Once that’s done, I’ll just head back and hope that no one’s still under the delusion that I’m in charge.”

“Thus ends this day’s session of What My Friends Have Put Me Through. I’ll be back in an hour after I figure out what else to video and get bored enough to post again. Hope y’all like junk food, cause that’s all I’m serving. That being said, I’m signing off. See ya.”

The video cut to a picture of a boomerang with ‘Boomeraang’ written in calligraphy on the flat side. The entire vlog was titled ‘Lady’s 75th Revolution’.

True to his word, another video was posted about an hour later, this one titled ‘Furry Friends and Shock’.

“Sup, dudes. I’m back as promised, and this time, I’ve brought friends. Say hello to Fluffster, Rookie, and Baby.” The screen flipped, and three wolves were sitting like trained dogs in front of the Youtuber. “The biggest one’s Fluffster, since he’s obviously the floofiest. The smallest one’s Rookie, he’s pretty young. You can tell because his paws are a bit too big for him. He’ll grow into that. Then Baby’s this lovely little gal, and she’s super sweet. Took forever to stop her from licking my face.”

The three wolves wagged their tails as their names were spoken, and people who had watched that far were already commenting about how either it was impossible to tame wolves, the canines were incredibly cute, or disbelief at how it’d only been an hour and he already did something weird.

“Now, these beautifuls are strong predators. Usually, they’ll avoid humans, but I’m alone and my facepaint makes me seems less like a threat. They approached me pretty casually, not stalking or anything. I didn’t even notice they were there until I looked around again. And they’re much more tame than most wolves would usually be. Again, it’s likely because I seem unthreatening. Please do not try to do anything like this without training. I literally just did this by chance. I named them and they understand their names, but most animals wouldn’t. I mean, Foo Foo Cuddlypoops didn’t. I don’t think he did.”

Avataratlast: Who’s Foo Foo Cuddly Poops? Another friend?

- Banditrocs: Probably an animal.

Keepitreal: how did this dude manage to tame three wolves? it’s only been an hour?! and why does he wear that makeup? i’m so confused, was this all planned? does he have a crew?

- Boomeranglife: You must be new here.

“So, I’m gonna sign off soon, mostly so I can give these three some love. I think the best course of action would be to answer some of my commonly asked questions, tell you all a bit about wolves, and then give you the official goodbye until I get bored enough that my resolve crumbles. That’ll take at least another two hours with the fact that Lemur somehow managed to sneak my notepad into my bag. I wasn’t gonna bring it because I left in such a hurry, but then I’m inventorying my stuff and find it. Lemur’s such a pal.”

“Alright, gotta start the answers so I get cuddle time with the canines. My frequently asked question get put in a list thanks to my subpar hacking skills. Don’t tell Knife I said that or they’ll make good on their promise to lock me in a closet. Let’s get to it.” The screen split to show a list of questions on one side, the wolves on the other. Some of the questions were blacked out, probably due to being inappropriate.

“So, if it’s blacked out, those are hateful, nasty, or have far too many swears. The first question is the same as always, asking what my name is. My response is the same as always. Smiley emoticon. The next is my age. Under 50, above 10. My gender? Male. Is this a profile or something? Seriously, all these are about my identity. Sexuality? I let the people theorize cause I don’t care about what y’all think, unless you’re a bigot, then get off my channel, pretty please with The Moon on top. Real hair color? Hmm, I guess I can probably give you that. It’s not white. Eye color? Not white, either.”

Actlikewater: is everyone getting this?! he’s giving us information!!!

rockbeatsfire: what r y’all getting hyped up for? he hasn’t said anything

- powertoBoomerang: have you watched these before?

- - rockbeatsfire: i watched that parkour one

- - - powertoBoomerang: one - watch them all. two - you need to be more specific, and three - he never says anything about his identity besides pronouns. we have information. we can figure this out!

- - - - CaptainSparky: Are you sure about that?

- - - - - powertoBoomerang: we can figure this out maybe!

“What’s my nationality? Theorize, ma dudes. I ain’t gonna say, so go to one of those lovely blogs. Boomeranglife is really sweet, they’ve got a bunch of videos all about this sort of stuff. Actually, it might only be about my channel. I don’t really know. I just saw one of their videos and started questioning if I really was a Spirit. Ask them, and give them some love. They a nice peep.”

“What is my favorite animal? Either sabertoothmooselion, flying bison, or flying lemur. Is that seriously a commonly asked question? Am I gonna get spammed with artwork now? Do I need to have a lesson on how to draw flying bison and lemurs and all that? I’m gonna do it anyways, and all artwork is accepted, so long as you keep it PG-13. I’m around kids.”

“Am I single? I don’t know. Really, I don’t know. I could be dating Warrior, or I could be stealing Kuzon. I literally have no idea. I platonic flirt with everyone, and I’m horrible at reading social cues when it comes to romance. Wheaty? Apparently had a crush on me until three months ago. They told me when it ended so I would relax and I had to explain my oblivious nature and crippling anxiety. Ballerina? We’re married according to a small town and soulmates if you listen to a certain nomadic troupe. I might even be dating everyone on the team, heck if I know.”

“Am I a bender? Heh, that’s a good one. Can’t believe you haven’t figured it out yet. Who am I? Hold up, Ima search this.” There was the sound of keys tapping as the screen showed the videographer searching himself up. When the screen loaded, there was a bleeped out sound and the three wolves rushed towards him in concern.

“Holy Spirits! Tui, La, Yue, and Agni! *bleep* I’ve got a Wiki page! They gave me a *bleep*ing Wiki page! I’m not even that popular!”

Livelovemurder: he knows we see this, right

- Boomeranglife: I’m still recovering from him mentioning me, but I don’t think he realizes he is a celeb here

Azulastan: someone get this boy some tea! His video from literally an hour ago already has thousands of views! someone call Bandit!

- SouthernChief: on it! I’ll spam the comments of that last video. Hopefully they respond!

- - UncleTea: Good man/woman/enby!

Livelovemurder: wow, our first reaction to seeing him hurting is to contact Bandit. didn’t she once launch him into a tree?

- UncleTea: that was the first time they were officially friends. now they’re best friends

“Alright, I think we all earned some wolf facts. Did you know that wolves can live over ten years? Pretty long for any wild animal, even longer for a predator in a wasteland like this. Wolves are also extremely expressive for animals, and they’re very social. Wolves can get much bigger than dogs, except polar bear dogs, and despite what most people think, they don’t usually hurt children. Even the really small ones. They’re more likely to adopt your kid than try to hurt them. I personally believe it’s because they’re a lot smarter than most people credit them. Comment #WolfRights below and I’ll see if I can start a movement.”

“Now, I’m signing off once again, so say goodbye to Rookie, Baby, and Fluffster. See ya.”

The second video ended. Comments were pouring in about the clip, and Boomeranglife had already gotten another thousand subscribers in the time it took for the video to be played twice through. SouthernChief did indeed spam Bandit’s latest video, and had the earthbender ignore them until they mentioned that the guy from Boomeraang didn’t think he was popular.

- Bandit: He what?

- - SouthernChief: he doesn’t think he’s popular

- - - Bandit: I’ll take care of it.

Time Skip 5 Hours

The next video was titled ‘Who Sold Me Out?’ The starting screen showed Gurl in their Hei Bai mask, very clearly holding the camera. They waved at the screen before flipping the view around to show what was in front of them. The Boomeraang guy was sitting squashed between what appeared to be several people hiding underneath blankets. He was glaring directly at the camera, face set in a scowl that was once again greatly emphasized by his facepaint.

“Alright, I only got a few minutes to get this out before the others get sick of hiding under blankets. Who the *bleep* sold me out‽ Just because I didn’t realize how popular I am doesn’t mean you needed to call Bandit! Seriously, who was it‽ I’m out on the ice, having the time of my life sketching Baby and Fluffster and Rookie, and then, out of nowhere, Bison is flying towards me with Kuzon and Princess. Then they practically drag me back and I can no longer feel my legs because there’s four people on them. Whoever it was, you’re on thin *bleep*ing ice. I was fine! I was more than fine! I wasn’t the alleged leader of a rebellion!”

“You done?” Gurl asked from behind the camera.

“Yeah, I’m done.” The screen flipped back to Gurl.

“The dude’s been majorly *bleep* off because someone tattled on him. You have the thanks of the rest of us and the anger of one squished Youtuber. He refused to come out of the house, so we all decided to stay in tonight. The protests are over for the day anways, thanks to the fact that the Council is starting to give in. We promised an afternoon of peace so they could discuss it all without worrying. And we’ll be bringing you rebounders to the morning rally as well. NO EXCUSES!” The last words were thrown towards the guy on the other side of the camera, and a loud groan was heard. “He’s gonna do his outro and then y’all are gonna say goodbye.” The view reversed again.

“Signing off for now! See ya, ya traitors!”

The screen cut out.

SouthernChief: i regret nothing

UncleTea: He looked like an angry toddler, OMS.

Boomeranglife: gals! pals! dals! I got big news!

- Livelovemurder: spill

- - Boomeranglife: the NWT is having a bunch of protests all across their cities!

- - - Tyleestan: do we know who’s leading it?

- - - - Boomeranglife: no, NWT is too secretive! i just heard it from a merchant that left as they were starting. we live about as close as you can get to the north pole w/out actually being there

- - - - - SouthernChief: sucks, dudes. next time, for sure

- - - - - - rockbeatsfire: next time there’s a rebellion? does that actually happen a lot?

- - - - - - - Boomeranglife: seriously, watch the videos. I recommend in chronological order instead of by playlists

- - - - - - - - rockbeatsfire: alright, alright, i’m going

#sokka #atla #atla youtube au #youtube au #avatar the last airbender #smellerbee #katara #aang #toph #azula #zuko #suki #haru #teo #appa #momo

9 notes · View notes

vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Desert Rose

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Naruto

Characters: Shikamaru Nara, Temari

Additional Tags: Medieval AU

Hey, everybody! Here is my piece for Day 2 of ShikaTema Week for the prompt “Masquerade.” I hope everyone enjoys it~!

Temari’s slender arms glided through the sleeves of the ballgown as her attending ladies slipped it over her head. The heavy fabric slumped against her legs to puddle at her feet in rivers of white and cream and gold. One of her waiting ladies bundled a bronze corset to her chest, while another began tying up the ribbons with expert fingers. Careful hands smoothed every crease and crumple in the ballgown’s embroidered, bejeweled skirt as they straightened out the magnificent train, while pooled behind Temari like a grand golden-brown lake. Her blue-green eyes searched her reflection in the mirror as a maid combed and styled her voluminous, fluffy blonde hair, piling it atop her head in two buns streamed with beads of topaz. They settled a golden crown inlaid with crystal, tourmaline, and smoky quartz upon her brow and strung dangling earrings from her lobes. Perfumes of sandalwood, cinnamon, and nutmeg clouded the air around her, before the misted droplets settled upon her skin and were absorbed. Finally, a mask fashioned in the image of a golden hawk fell over her eyes, and Temari’s preparations were at last complete.

“You look splendid, my lady,” one of her attendants cooed over her shoulder with a happy smile. Temari’s lips curled up into a smirk, and she skimmed her fingers underneath her chin, admiring her regal personage reflected within the smooth glass.

“You think?” The ladies giggled at her pseudo-insecurity. Temari’s ladies revered her for her unflinching confidence and brash boldness, so they knew her comment was in jest. Temari ruffled the heavy skirts enveloping her smooth, slender frame. “I must, or Father will be most displeased.” Discontentment saturated her voice.

“I am sure that His Majesty’s efforts to secure My Lady a husband will be most successful,” one of the young girls, a hopeless romantic, sighed dreamily at her hip as she adjusted the train of Temari’s gown. The princess snorted derisively and cocked back her head.

“At the very least, he has finally allowed me to seek my own suitor. I cannot believe he offered me that bungling, dreamy-eyed fool that is the Uzumaki heir. He has eyes for the captain of his guard, and that is painfully obvious,” she haughtily snorted. Not that Temari cared if the future king of Konoha kingdom was besotted with the stoic, raven-haired knight; as long as he left her well enough alone, he could romance the entirety of his royal sentinel for all she cared. “It is too bad for the Hyuga princess, though,” she smirked as her ladies trilled in laughter. “The poor dear is enamored with him and has no idea that he grazes on the other side of the pasture.”

“My Lady Temari! You are too bold!”

“That Sasuke Uchiha is a dream, though. I cannot blame Lord Naruto for his fondness.”

“You hush now!” Temari laughed as she strode away from the mirror to her bower’s window while her ladies gossiped of various lords and ladies. Temari sank onto the plush pillow of her window seat, watching the stream of horse-drawn carriages and guard details pour in through the open gates of the desert palace. Many had come from far and wide to woo the indomitable Temari of the Sand, and many would leave with their hopes ruthlessly dashed. Temari leaned her cheek in her hand with a weary smile.

“Father only wants to marry me off so that I can produce a male heir before he has to relinquish his throne to me.” Temari was the only one available to be heir, but her father still refused it, as she was a woman. Their mother had died in childbirth of Gaara, and her loss drove their father to weld iron around his heart. He became dispassionate and totalitarian and cruel. It drove Kankuro to rebel and renounce his royal name to escape into the desert sands, and poor little Gaara was driven mad and imprisoned for his insanity and malice. In love for her poor baby brother, she arranged for his smuggling beyond the border.

Temari was the only one who knew what had become of them. Somehow, in the vast full world, they had reclaimed their own identities and were living peaceful lives in the neighboring forest land of Konoha, under the protection of the very princeling that had half-heartedly courted Temari. He was a fool with his heart on his sleeve, but Temari was at least grateful he had offered her displaced brothers a home with no strings attached. She smirked wryly as she watched the sun sink below the red sands. “It is a curse to be a woman, but especially in royalty. Count yourselves lucky in that, my dears,” she said as she turned back to her waiting ladies. They all bowed their heads and shuffled their feet. The world will still be cruel to them. It has no love of the female sex, she grimaced.

It didn’t matter if the world had no love for Temari. Every mountain that it tossed as her would be flung aside with the force of a sandstorm. She would not relinquish her agency, not for anything. “Is it time?” she asked, and languidly rose from the window seat. Darkness had descended over the desert; one by one, the braziers scattered around the palace were springing alive with flame.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Come then. Let us see what the desert winds have brought us,” Temari smiled and strolled towards the door. Two of her ladies carried her sprawling skirt train, while another held her hand to escort her properly. Together, they wound around the spiraling sandstone steps of her tower suite into the main wing of the lofty palace. The ball was already underway; lamplight glowed at the end of the carpeted hall, soft and yellow, and minstrels’ music floated on the air. As they rounded the corner, Temari watched the shadows dance along the walls. Dark men led grey ladies in dance all around her. They danced like their feet rested on the ever-present wind, skirts swishing like banners caught high in the morning breeze. Temari wondered if any among them would intrigue her enough even to entertain the thought of marriage. Most likely not. Most of them desire the iron mines, not me.

Politics was a cutthroat world, after all.

“Hail, Princess Temari!” a squire announced as she and her ladies strode into the ballroom. The attendants paused their revelry to return the hailing and bow respectfully to her. Their masked personages studied her as she marched to the long, clothed table situated at the back of the room, where her father was stuffing his face with roast quail imported from Konoha. They were lucky their kingdom sat upon the densest concentration of ore in all the realm, else he would likely be dining on stewed rat. Temari seated herself in the gilded chair beside him, and the servants wasted no time in procuring her a plate laden with delicacies imported from almost every kingdom in the Great Alliance.

“So, my daughter,” King Rasa tutted as he cracked the wing joint of the artichoke-stuffed bird, “many have come to look upon your beauty. Will you not at least give them the pleasure of a smile?”

“That pleasure must be earned,” she answered stoically and crunched on a tomato with only enough force to not breach propriety. He scowled at her.

“Willful girl. You should show more respect to your father.”

“That pleasure must also be earned.” Temari ignored his scathing glares to partake in the lovely spinach salad before her. Rasa continued to silently fume beside her; Temari wished she could exploit her willfulness in full capacity, but she did owe a duty to her kingdom to find a suitable husband, at least. As she chewed on the tender flesh of the quail, her sea-blue eyes raked the crowd of lords and ladies. A multitude of masks pranced within the sea of bodies- a blooming lotus, a roaring bear, a graceful swan, a gallant lion, a watchful crow, a tusked boar, and a colorful butterfly, to name a few. However, it was the majestic stag that caught her gaze for more than a few seconds, as its wearer strode undauntedly up to the royal table.

“Your Majesty. My Lady,” he uttered respectfully as he held a hand to his chest and bowed down to a ninety-degree-angle. The curved white horns of his mask jutted into the air like pale fulgurite. Black eyes twinkled behind the white-spotted curves of the mask as the man smirked at Temari. “Care to dance?” He asked while extending his hand to the princess. Temari had to summon all the will in her body to keep her mouth from falling open. What cheek, to beseech me as I am eating! The glimmer in his onyx eyes indicated that he was well aware of the nerve of his action. Temari found herself smiling at his boldness. No man had ever dared so brazenly court her. Despite her father’s complaints, she found herself bundling up her skirts to hurry around the edge of the table.

“It would be my pleasure, good sir,” she responded once she was in front of him, dropping into a curtsy. His smirk widened when she slipped her hand into his. A pink haze alighted her cheeks as he brought it to his mouth to drop a kiss onto it. Those glinting obsidian eyes bored into hers, like a thunderstorm rolling upon the blue-green sea. The snark and self-assurance were a welcome change from simpering, underhanded compliments. Thus, she allowed him to sweep her out onto the dance floor without so much as a peep.

“I had wanted to wait until you finished eating,” he admitted as he settled his hand upon her waist and held her other aloft, “but the crowd was rippling with your compliment. I realized I had to make a good first impression. Have I succeeded?”

“No man has ever dared interrupt my dinner.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he purred. He eased into the movements as the band started up their melody, circling her around the marble dance floor. Temari’s dress swished around her knees as he rocked her gently with the beat, guiding her with utter surety. It was clear that her suitor was of high birth, perhaps even a prince.

“Tell me. From where do you come?”

“The vast forest lands to the east, if it pleases My Lady,” he responded. He paused to spin her around before easily reclaiming her slender corseted waist. “My family has long made a living developing medicines and droughts for the illnesses of the world.”

“You’re Shikamaru Nara?” she gasped in shock, and he nodded. The Naras were under the dominion of the Uzumaki’s kingdom, a noble house renowned for their doctors rather than their knights. They were known to keep very much to themselves, marrying middleborn children of dukes and minor lords. One had never been so bold as to court a princess, let alone one of the heirs to the vast wealth of the Sand Kingdom. Temari found herself relishing the fact. “You are bold.”

“I imagine you grow bored of empty flatteries and the whispers of sycophants who want nothing more than to usurp your throne.”

“How do I know I am not in the arms of a usurper as we speak?” A delighted smirk flashed on his lips, and Shikamaru brought his face close, close enough for his hot breath to puff over her face. A titillated shiver traveled the length of her spine.

“I care not for caverns of iron or halls of gold. My interest lies in a single topaz shimmering in the vastness of the desert.” Temari’s cheeks blazed with the pinkness of an opal, and she shifted her fingers that were clasped in his hand, feeling them grow clammy with nervous sweat. Many had compared her to precious gems before, but this was the first time it sent a nervous titter springing through her nerves. “It is true, some in this realm are more renowned for their beauty-” Shikamaru cast a look at a raven-haired woman in a moonflower mask who was undoubtedly the Hyuga heiress, “but I find that the flower that blooms under hardship puts them all to shame.”

“And what hardship would that be?” Temari asked with a coy grin.

“The crushing thumb of a father who values you more for what is between your legs than what you have to offer.” His lewdness set a blaze to her cheeks, but his words rang hollowly in her heart. Her chin dropped against her chest as she bowed her head, for tears were gleaming on her blonde lashes.

“You speak truly. My father wishes to marry me quickly, so that I may produce an eligible heir.”

“A pity. I have heard much of the shrewd tenacity of the Desert Rose.” The epithet had always grated her. There were much more distinguished and inspiring names she could bear, but she was known for her looks more than anything else. Still, hearing Shikamaru call her such was more bearable than usual. He stepped a little closer to her as he continued to ease her through the dance steps so that their chests brushed. When she glanced up, he was staring into the crowd. “None of these men care for your value, really. They want power, or influence, or wealth. It is dangerous and disappointing to be a woman in politics.” Temari blinked disbelievingly. Surely, he must be speaking words that I wish to hear to gain my trust. This man may be more cunning and sly than all the lords in this hall- and so the most perilous. She jumped when he peeked at her with a wry smile. “You are thinking my words dishonest, a ploy to lead you into a false sense of security.”

“Indeed. What man has ever cared for a woman’s place in this world?”

“A man who recognizes an amazing woman when he sees one.” Despite her misgivings, her cheeks still flushed again. He flashed her a sincere smile. “I arrived here four days ago. I wanted to know if the tales of the courteous and intelligent Lady Temari were true. So, I disguised myself and wandered the town. The townsfolk and knights speak very highly of you,” he said, making Temari smile shyly. “Your council has averted war many a time. You reallocate funds to ensure the people have food and water and healthcare. I’ve even heard you descended into the rabble to deliver medicine to plague-ridden peasants while your father insisted that three doctors attend him until the sickness dissipated.”

“The people gossip. Rumor is a powerful thing.”

“But most rumor contains a speck of truth, no?” Caught red-handed, Temari could only bashfully look down at her feet. It was true; Temari boasted many a political feat. Her father had once been a kind and just man, but age and toil had disfigured him into someone paranoid and venal.

“My father has forgotten that without the people, we are nothing. They are our charge. It is our responsibility to protect and care for them. All he cares about protecting now is his house and his wealth,” she sighed dismally with a glance Rasa. He was in fervent discussing with King Minato Namikaze and his queen Kushina; her father was always bleating about maintaining a good relationship until they could stab them in the back and usurp their fertile forest territory. Temari quite liked the royal family, as they were just and fair and well-liked by their people, so she had coaxed her father out of fruitless war efforts many a time. “I am but a means to an end,” she lamented quietly, turning back to him to look at him pitifully.

He released her waist to grip her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“It would be a pity if the beautiful Desert Rose wilted before she ever got to bloom,” he murmured. The pad of his thumb ever-so-gently brushed over her bottom lip. His dark eyes studied her intently, and all Temari could do was stare. She had never meant a man like this, that sent her heart fluttering because he saw her, not her throne or her father.

She was gripped with the overwhelming need to see him.

“I wish to leave this place. Be alone… with you.” He flashed her a beguiling smirk.

“As My Lady wishes.” They ceased dancing, and the room erupted into pleased applause. He offered her his arm, which she took, wrapping her hands around his bicep. He guided her back into the throng, meandering through the mass of royals to lead her towards the exit. They chatted amiably with various prominent figures, and though he was of lower birth, Shikamaru commanded more presence than even the most celebrated kings. After what seemed a life age, they finally slipped behind one of the tapestries into a servants’ passage. There, Temari grabbed him by the hand and broke into a run. His startled gasp bounced through the small crawlspace, followed by her gleeful laughter.

“How do you know your way through here?!” he asked loudly as she expertly weaved through the labyrinthine array of tunnels. She stuck out her tongue at him over her shoulder.

“How do you think I snuck out to deliver medicine?”

By the time they burst into the garden, they were red-faced and panting. The moonlight streamed down from a cloudless sky, casting the world in its milk-white glow. The garden was actually a vast greenhouse, as the arid desert climate made it difficult to cultivate most plants. The glass panes misted with condensation from the evening’s watering and the plants’ respiration. This particular section was the garden proper; another area was cordoned off for the kitchen’s supply. Flowers imported from all corners of the realm bloomed here, but regardless of what color their soft petals boasted, they were dyed silver from the starlight.

Temari strolled to a stone bench nearby and sat down, tucking the thick fabric of her skirts under her thighs. Shikamaru eased down beside her and sighed exultantly.

“It’s a beautiful garden.”

“I imagine the forests of your homeland are much better. Wild, untamed, not carefully tended with every errant leaf snipped away,” she frowned with a glance around the pristine garden. Shikamaru chuckled and leaned back on his hands.

“You’ve got me there.” He paused, inhaling the air laden with the robust aroma of loamy soil and fresh water. “There’s nothing like it, Temari,” he breathed wistfully. “Wandering the paths through the wood, with the birdsong filling the air and decaying leaves crunching under your feet… There is so much life out there, so much wonder.” He gave her a humorous look. “Still, the desert has its beauty too.” He punctuated the remark with a graze of his knuckles over her cheek. She leaned into the caress, smiling softly.

“Yes. The sky stretches on forever, like a blanket of sapphire over the world… And the sunsets are magnificent. Many a time I have watched the world fall away as the colors bleed over the horizon like paint, filling the kingdom with the glow… I can forget, sometimes, and just watch it sink. No crown, no throne, no iron mines… Just the majesty of it.”

Shikamaru smiled, then removed the mask from his face. His sharp jawline seemed all the finer in the white light, and his dark eyes shone like polished hematite. He was incredibly handsome. As Temari stared, his hands came to her face to gently remove the hawk mask from her face, and she allowed him to do so. Slowly, he pulled it away, and drew in a sharp breath.

“You are more beautiful than I could have imagined.” She flushed, her cheeks glowing rose in the soft light. He stroked her cheek again, and the pad of his thumb spawned a trail of fire across her cheekbone. His fingertips skipped down her jawline to rest against the column of her throat, feeling the blood pulse thunderously through her veins. “Beautiful, and much too special to be doomed to a bridal gown.”

“Yet, doomed I am,” she whispered woefully. Shikamaru was a splendid man, more honest and enticing than any she had ever met. Yet, if the courtship proved fruitful, she would still be no more than his bride. Their son, when he came of age, would be ripped from their grasp to begin training for his role as Rasa’s successor. Frustrated tears sprung to her eyes to then roll down her cheeks. Shikamaru tutted softly and swept them away, only for more to come. “I am no more than a tool in political bargaining. My talents will never be acknowledged by my father. Whomever I marry, I will be shipped off like common goods and serve only to spawn heirs.” She hung her head, sniffling. “It is a lamentable existence.”

“Lamentable indeed,” he remarked in a soothing whisper, “but is it entirely horrible?” She peered through her blonde lashes at him. “Temari, I cannot give you all that you seek. I cannot change your father’s mind.” He smiled wanly and cupped her face in his hands; they were so warm and comforting. “All I have to offer you is my heart, true as death. I will love you and you only. I cannot make you a queen, but you shall always rule me. I will live only for your happiness.” His voice shattered into a ragged whisper full of emotion, and Temari did not doubt that he spoke truthfully. Her hands rose to stroke the tops of his and her eyes fluttered as she attempted to dry her tears.

“That doesn’t sound entirely horrible,” she admitted with a small laugh. He smiled relievedly and continued caressing her teary face.

“I wish more than anything that you could be given what you deserve,” he said softly and pressed his forehead to hers. “I am sorry. What I can give you falls utterly short of it.”

“No,” she refused and smiled kindly at him. “What you have offered me tonight is more than anyone has ever given. If you offer me your hand, I will take it gladly,” she said and stroked his chin, her fingertips rolling over the black stubble, “for you are the first man who has ever offered himself wholly to me.”

“I pity all the men who have come before. They knew not the treasure within their grasp,” he smiled thickly. Her eyes now studied his face, the lines and the contours. He truly was handsome, but it was clear that his honesty had caused him much grief. The world was just as cruel to honest and just men as it was to women. Her sea-blue eyes dropped to his lips, and she fancied kissing them. It seemed Shikamaru was having similar thoughts.

Their lips melded together, slotting together like the were made for one another. Her fingers ghosted the side of his face in repetitive touches, while his found purchase on her waist, pulling her closer. His breath clouded over her mouth as he shifted his head to the other side to kiss her with more fervor, drawing a small, needy moan from within her. Their arms wound around each other and every inch of skin possible touched, but it was not enough, not nearly enough…

The world was cruel to Temari, but it was kind enough to give her someone who loved her utterly, truly, wholly… and in that moment, it was enough. It was enough.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @shikatemaweek @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece

#shikatema #shikatemaweek #shikatemaweek2020 #shikamaru x temari #temari x shikamaru #shikamaru nara #nara shikamaru #temari #temari of the sand #temari no sabaku #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #medieval au

42 notes · View notes

ninjakasuga · 4 years

Text

Sonsal Celebration Year 2, Day 8

The final day is here; and this one took me a bit to figure it out but here we go! I’ve enjoyed the celebration hosted by @boundforfreedomsonsal this year and look forward to more events to come. I honestly haven’t felt a drive for my solo writing like this in awhile. Sure I’ve had some projects cooking in the wings but they’re slo-mo going for various reasons. Maybe I just needed an injection of my favorite furry couple to light the fires? XD In any case, enjoy and can’t wait to hear what’cha all think.

PROTECT:

Flipping her book to a new page, Sally’s eyes began to read over the new lines of the beginning paragraph. The curl of a smile began to form more as she read on with the book. Said book was actually was not the full release novel. Wanting to encourage her friends’ new hobby, Sally had offered to be a beta-reader and thus the manuscript was in her hand; a manuscript that Nicole had already bound as a book to ‘sell the experience’, a rather cute gesture Sally appreciated since she did enjoy the ‘feel’ of a book in her hands. As she moved to the next page, she softly chuckled. “I think Nicole is channeling you into the male love interest, he reminds me so much of you Sonic.” The book was actually a thriller but there was a romance subplot, and Sally couldn’t help but notice two of the lead characters channeled Sonic and herself. There was another female character who seemed to be trying to romance both, and this made Sally raise an eyebrow as that character felt like a fusion of Nicole and Bunnie. Was Nicole just being creative or was she projecting something into her hobby?

With the book obscuring her view, she didn’t see Sonic but could hear him walking back into their bedroom from the adjacent bathroom, having finished brushing his teeth. “Oh? So how does this fictional guy remind you of moi?” He playfully inquired, his footsteps softened as the bed shook, indicative of him crawling onto it from the bottom edge.

After she finished scanning the current paragraph, the skin under her fur began to blush as a ‘love scene’ started, and again she had to wonder if Nicole was somehow psychic or if she could ‘see’ things through the nanites regardless of her wishes; or in a worst-case, ‘Sally-did-not-want-to-believe-it’ scenario, a voyeur. Especially since the scene described the two characters slipping into a utility closet for a ‘quickie’; which invoked a memory or two Sally had of Sonic and her doing similar things. Shaking her head, she dismissed such a crazy notion; it wasn’t an uncommon romantic story set-up, so that was probably the case, making her feel silly for even considering Nicole would have peeped on Sonic and her.

“Long and short of it sweetie, he’s got your flair for ‘smooth style’ as you put it.” She answered her husband, moving to the next page. Suddenly she felt her nightgown being pulled up past her thighs and belly, making her lower the manuscript and stare at her husband with a slight frown and raised an eyebrow. “Sonic, what are you doing? I’m not in the mood.” She flatly told him; and she wasn’t despite the slight spicy turn in the novel she was prereading.

Looking at his wife, Sonic put a hand to his chest fur as if wounded by her accusation. “You think I would start being frisky without checking with my wife? For shame Sal!’ He ‘tsked’ and wagged a finger in the air. “Much as I enjoy lovin’ on you, my goal is to do this.” With that statement said, Sonic then laid his head on Sally’s four and a half month pregnant belly. His ears began to twitch as he nuzzled and listened for any sounds or signs of movement within. A hand rested along her belly where his head was not resting, slowly, softly stroking in tender circular motions. The expression on his face was a mixture of pride, love, happiness, and something, Sally could not put a word to it; but it made her heart melt seeing her beloved husband so, in-love with the lives growing inside of her.

Smiling Sally put a bookmark between the pages of the manuscript and set it on the nightstand, content to just watch her husband rest on her belly. “You can’t get enough of that can you?”

Flashing his own smile her way, he made a sound that was just joyful as his cheek nuzzled her swollen-with-child belly. “They need to hurry and come on out.”

“Three and a half months at the least Sonic, you can wait a little longer. Not that I don’t wish they could hurry from time to time myself.” Sally couldn’t help but giggle some at his impatience but ultimately she also sympathized. She wanted her little bundles in her arms as well. So far she was enjoying her pregnancy; the highs and lows together even if the lows were sometimes unbearable. Sally was someone who liked to be in control of her faculties, and her hormones making her irrational at the drop of a hat was not entirely her idea of fun.

Still, the upside outweighed that, but she would be happy to not have her bladder kicked every half hour! After a moment’s debate, Sally gripped her nightgown bunched up just under her chest and pulled the article off and cast it aside.

Craning his head, Sonic sent her a playful smile. “I thought you weren’t in the mood?” Laughing she playfully smacked his arm. “I’m not, I just got a hot flash, and well- these!” She gestured to her chest which had gained some growth. “They felt too confined, and urgh heavy! How much milk does my body think I need to produce?!”

Unable to help himself, Sonic laughed as his lovely wife hefted her breasts while looking out of sorts with the recent hormonal developments. As she pouted at him, he waved a hand apologetically in the air. “S-sorry Sal, just watching you juggle them around is too damn funny! P-plus if I may be frank it’s kinda probably a thing since you’re having twins. Remember how much my Mom got bigger in the chest when she was pregnant with Sonia and Manik? Plus if our kids have my metabolism they’ll be hungry suckers.”

Pouting she quickly if carefully stops hefting her chest and crossed her arms. “The next time ‘YOU’ have our child. I am making it a royal decree. Let’s see how much you laugh with the back-pain, bladder control issues, cravings, and hyper mood-swings.”

Snorting Sonic sat upon his knees, a hand still on her belly. “I kinda lack the equipment Sal, so decree all you want.”

As Sally opened her mouth to make a retort, she slowly closed her mouth, then opened it again but yet as before closed it as she could not think of a solid argument. Pouting in frustration she threw her hands up in the air. “Fine you win this one.”

Having dealt with her mood swings enough, Sonic could see she was one-foot in the midst of one; hence her insistence he carry the next kid despite being a biological impossibility. Moving his hand from her belly he scooted down the bed toward her upper half and gently slid his hand around one of hers and squeezed. “Hey don’t frazzle yourself hun, I just got one over ya’ this time. No big.”

“I know, it’s just mildly annoying when my hormones make my mind or mouth run away without a clear thought.” She murmured, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her free hand. Looking his way, she smiled warmly. “I appreciate you putting up with me when I get out of sorts.”

“Hey fair’s fair, you put up with me.” He winked, which as he hoped got her to laugh. “There we go, have a chuckle hun, let the bad vibes out of your system. Plus heck if you really don’t wanna do this again we don’t have to have anymore kids.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful as she pondered this. “Suppose we do?” “We can adopt.” He pointed out.

Sally couldn’t help but consider all angles; “Suppose I lose my mind and want to be pregnant again?”

Sonic shrugged, “Stuff to consider when we come to that bridge Sal. Right now, just focus on these two. I have a feeling they’ll keep us busy and on our toes well enough. Whatever we decide we decide together.”

Unable to not smile, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I love you, and thank you for putting me at ease about those future thoughts.”

“S’what husbands are for right?” He chuckled kissing her back before moving back towards her belly. Once back in place, Sonic resumed resting against his wife’s belly, planting a warm kiss against the lump housing their children. “Mama and Daddy kicked all the bad guys butts for you before you were born, but we’re gonna protect you still when you come into the world.” He coo’d, as he continued to massage his wife’s abdomen which had a soothing effect on Sally as she relaxed against her pillows.

“Damn right we did, and mmmm, don’t stop.” A low moan of contentment left Sally as she found her eyes fluttering. She guessed it was time for bed after all. “...I want… I want to give them the best lives we can Sonic. That’s all I want for them.”

Glancing her way, Sonic slid a hand up to wrap around hers, squeezing as he then moved up the bed, now laying beside Sally and kissed her softly. “We will, that’s always gonna be the plan Sal, they ain’t ever gonna go through the crap we did, nor will they question if we love em’.”

Nodding softly as her eyes fluttered, Sally squeezed his hand, then moved her arms around him to pull him against her side like he was a cuddle toy. “I hope we’re ready, I want this but I worry I might not be good enough-.”

“I worry too Sal.” He gently interrupted, kissing her tired eyes as her sleepy expression grew across her face. “I worry too, but I know we’ll figure stuff we go together. Like we always have.” Nuzzling her cheeks, he reached down to pull the covers over her so she wouldn’t catch a cold. “Sleep sweetie, I love you.”

“Mmm love you too my sweet Hog’.” Sally murmured before sleep fully and utterly claimed her. Leaving Sonic to kill the light by the nightstand before he curled back against her, watching her sleep as he lets his own body relax. Sleep would come for him eventually, until then, he wanted to keep watch on his wife and unborn children.

Even in peace, he would keep protecting. It’s just how Sonic was, and always would be.

#Sonsal #Sonally #boundingforfreedom #Sonsal Celebration Day 8 #prompt #protect #Sally Acorn #Sonic the Hedgehog #Archie comics #Archie Sonic #romance #pregnancy #babies incoming

14 notes · View notes

diyunho · 4 years

Text

The Joker X Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 2

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“That was very nice,” you whisper in The Joker’s ear. “I know you’re not sleeping,” you sigh and force yourself to get out of his bed after watching TV together for almost 3 hours. “I’m going, OK?” you whisper, not sure why he’s ignoring you. But you have a clue: he probably just wanted to avoid a huge fight with Emma or your father finding out about his cruel words regarding your illness. “Fine, whatever…” you admonish and exit the premises, upset he’s behaving like that since he offered truce a few hours ago. The King of Gotham is actually completely out, even if you believe otherwise.

It was awesome having him carry you in his arms and not protest when you kissed him; you have to admit you were disappointed he didn’t initiate anything once you ended up in his bed; you really thought he would. J let you snuggle to him and you hoped for more to happen, yet his lack of interest made you realize it was stupid to try and hint you wanted him. What is a 40-ish old man supposed to do with a 22 years old woman that playfully keeps flirting with him? In this case, obviously just enjoy a couple of movies which proved he doesn’t take into consideration your dumb crush.

The more you analyze this night, the more you’re inclined to vote for the exact opposite of what you did: you should have kept your mouth shut and refrain sharing intimate matters with him.

I guess sometimes genius truly skips a generation …

*************

3 Weeks Later

You didn’t come to the mansion in the last 3 weeks: when J woke up the next morning after your visit, you were gone. Emma informed him you waited for her to catch up and then went home; he wondered if you left because of what happened or if there was no reason for it at all. One thing’s for certain though: The Joker got the slight impression you evade him, especially since two days ago you dropped Emma off then raced out of the property in a hurry when you noticed he was coming out of the house. The skid marks on the pavement were a pretty clear sign you didn’t want to linger at the place you normally enjoyed hanging out at.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean you can escape The Clown Prince of Crime forever.

“OK,” Emma gives you a soft nudge in the restaurant owned by her parent. “You gotta help me out,” she pleads to a skeptical Y/N. “I insisted we have lunch here for a good reason: my dad brought his wacko-on-and-off-girlfriend and I can’t stand her; I need backup. Please flirt with him and say that stuff you usually say!” she giggles. “You have my blessing to go crazy, I swear you won’t hear a peep out of me! It will be hilarious to see her reaction!” she pushes you and it’s too late to escape the unwanted rendezvous you had no clue about until now.

You are already at the table and didn’t have a moment to take in your best friend’s proposal: you wish you had a warning about this plan of hers but Emma impulsiveness and surprise element runs in the family.

Maybe she thought you would love such a funny challenge…

Yeah… not really...

You know Mara anyway and bumping into her alongside J is not enjoyable to say the least, mainly due to the odd atmosphere you hope his daughter won’t notice.

“Hi daddy,” Emma pulls her chair and you take a seat by her muttering a faint hello.

“Hey kid!... … Miss Crane,” he sneers and you intensely stare at the menu in front of you without blinking.

“I didn’t see you in forever,” Mara addresses you and you indifferently glare at her. “I must say you look terrific: you are glowing! What’s your secret?” she snickers and you duly inform:

“I’m dying. I’m sure you remember I have terminal cancer; my dad makes my meds and they do help somewhat, thus the glow.”

“As long as you’re not contagious,” the woman underlines and Emma gasps at her affirmation.

You smirk and reach over to touch her forearm, softly digging your nails in her skin.

“I am and now that I touched you, you’ll die too!”

You get up from the table while hearing The Joker saying something but your ears are ringing so you can’t discern a word.

“How can you say stuff like this?!” Emma reprimands and you calmly take a small ampule from your pocket, open it and pour some dust in the palm of your hand.

“I was just expressing a concern,” Mara gesticulates and you bend over, blowing the fine ashes in her face.

“What the fuck?!” she quickly brushes the ticklish powder off her cheeks, worried at your action. “What is this?!”

“Nightmare,” you scoff. “One of my father’s top products. I recently assisted him make it stronger and there’s no antidote. Don’t worry though, it won’t kill you and it will wear off in a few hours. Plus, it’s not contagious. Enjoy!” you leave the gathering and Emma follows, enraged things didn’t go as planned yet she can’t blame Y/N.

Since the restaurant is closed to the public due to his owner’s presence, there’s not a soul around besides J that can hear Mara’s terrified screams once the wicked hallucinogen kicks in: it’s called Nightmare for a good reason!

*************

6:02PM

“Knock, knock,” The Joker enters Scarecrow’s lab, already in a foul mood.

“Not a step further!” his movement gets halted. “Sterilize yourself if you want in: I’m making more capsules for Y/N,” Crane points at the numerous ingredients on the counter.

“Your lab is huge, if I stay right here…” J tries to convince Jonathan although he’s aware he has zero chances: it never succeeds but his stubbornness prompts him to fight the request each time.

“No!” your father firmly rejects the proposal. “Sterilize yourself and come help me!”

“Where’s your daughter?” The King of Gotham starts washing his hands in the sink by the glass sliding doors.

“She went to stay at the cabin. I got lectured,” your dad huffs, scolding in the next second: “You’re not done! More!” he commands and J reprises the cleaning process required by his very obliging host.

“Ugh,” he mumbles and continues. “Why did you get lectured?”

“Apparently, I buried myself in this place and she hates it. I also got threatened that if I don’t stop trying to find a remedy for her incurable disease, she’ll quit taking the current medications. I received orders to call Evelyn and beg for reconciliation also,” Scarecrow briefs a gratified King of Gotham:

“I guess we both have someone in our lives we can’t neglect,” The Joker dries his hands, puts on latex gloves and snatches an immaculate lab coat from the hanger nearby.

“What am I to do?...” Crane whispers. “Let my daughter die without trying to save her?...” then immediately snaps out of it. “Hair net!!!!” he shouts at The Joker, annoyed he’s trying to skip it.

“For God’s sake,” J complaints … still does as required. “What’s in for me in exchange for my services?”

“What do you want?”

“Two vials of your new, improved Nightmare formula. I witnessed it at work today and let me tell you, that stuff’s amazing!”

“How did you witnessed it at work?! It’s not released on the black market yet,” Jonathan carefully measures the quantities for your medicine.

“Oh, funny you should mention,” the evident sarcasm makes your father pay attention. “Y/N used it on Mara earlier today and she totally lost her mind! I had to lock her up in the pantry at the restaurant with three of my men guarding the door! She went bonkers!!!”

“Sorry,” Scarecrow’s flat tone irritates J. “I guess either you or Mara did something Y/N didn’t like. Welcome to my daughter’s shit list,” he cordially emphasizes.

“You shouldn’t talk to me like this,” The Joker fixes his green locks under the hair net. “One of these days I might become your son-in-law, you know Y/N showers me with her undivided affection.”

“Over my dead body!” Jonathan shrieks and The Clown Prince of Crime seems delighted.

“Hmmm… I can arrange that.”

“Just shut up and help me, would you? What am I paying you for?! Y/N needs more capsules; she’s almost out. Can you tell Emma to take this to her? I’m gonna let her chill, she’s still mad at me.”

“Wimp, you’re afraid to confront her,” J rolls his eyes and Scarecrow is not the one to be intimidated by his guest’s nonsense:

“Says the man that freaked out and searched the town for hours thinking his daughter run away when in fact she was asleep behind the rose bushes in the backyard at their mansion.”

“I didn’t freak out!” The Joker sulks at the unwelcomed reminder.

“Of course you didn’t,” Jonathan serenely replies. “Now fill out the capsules with the amount I already weighted and don’t mess up! I’ll verify your performance.”

“Give it a rest!” J growls. “Emma left for New York; she’ll be there for a couple of days. I’ll take this to Y/N.”

“Don’t think so,” he gets cut off. “I’ll send one of my couriers.”

“I’ll do it for free.”

“Why?”

“I have a score to settle,” J confesses to Scarecrow’s dismay.

“If you hassle my daughter, I’ll create a plague designed only for your genes and I’ll exterminate you from this planet!”

“Imagine this is not the first time I’m threatened with a pathogen manufactured to ensure my demise,” The Joker hints even if he doesn’t have to.

“She is my daughter,” Crane explains, entirely understanding the reference. “The branch doesn't fall far from the tree; she knows I would so you’d better watch it!”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, right?” the pushy menace concentrates on his task, adamant in finding a way to see you no matter what.

**************

8:31pm

The Joker drives on the narrow path leading to the cabin, stirring left when a car coming from the opposite direction hunks at him.

“Heeeeyyyyy, Mister Joker!!!!!” someone yells and the other SUV accelerates past J’s yet he has enough time to recognize the aggravating pest: Sam aka Bane’s son. A few unpleasant phrases are grumbled regarding the encounter when another detail sets off the pissed King:

Y/N is racing towards the cabin after recognizing her best friend’s dad vehicle; you came out to say goodbye to Sam and take a walk when your idea abruptly changed.

“Are you kidding me??!!” J grinds his teeth while watching you stumble in the grass, then energetically gather yourself up and sprint inside, slamming the door behind.

“Wow!” he exclaims while parking close to the stairs, unsure on how this day will evolve; so far it goddamned sucked.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker taps at the heavy oak door. “Open up, I have your med!”

Maybe if you don’t engage he’ll leave.

“Is this how you thank me for delivering your pills?!” he gets worked up, thumping intensifying.

“Leave the package on the porch and go away!”

“Oh, she speaks!!!” J instantly snaps. “Open up, it’s cold out here!”

“No it’s not,” you call him out on his bullshit.

“You owe me apologies for what you did to Mara!” he demands, cringing at your defiance.

“Ha! When hell freezes!!!”

“What was Bane’s son doing here?” he tries a different strategy, definitely losing patience.

“None of your business!”

“I brought dinner,” J adds because that’s the last ace in his sleeve. “From the restaurant… your favorite. Aren’t you hungry?”

Does the silence mean you’re giving in?...

“Did you bring strawberry crepes too?”

“Yeah,” The Joker lies since he naturally forgot about desert.

The door faintly creeks and you unlock it, finally letting him in; you’re hesitant about your judgement and snatch the two paper bags out of his hands: the small one contains capsules, the big one harbors foam containers with the foods you like.

“Where are the crepes?” you frown at the lack of the delicious treat.

“I have this suspicion you’ve been avoiding me,” J talks about the reason he’s there without answering your question.

“I’m not…”

“Then why don’t you come to the mansion anymore, hm?”

His gaze circles the living room, involuntarily noticing the blood stained tissues in the trash can by the couch.

“Did you have another episode?” The Joker inquires. “Should I call your dad?”

“No…I’m fine…”

“Are you sure?” he insists and you unwrap the plastic utensils, sniffing.

“It’s not a big deal, it happens more and more often… I wish Emma was here,” you wipe your teary eyes and J bestows his infinite wisdom upon the young woman.

“Well, my daughter’s not here and I’m not renowned for making people feel better,” he twists the cap of the bottled water near him. He takes a sip then gives the container to the confused Y/N. “I’m not sure if this will help, but you can touch something my lips touched.”

You smile at his offer, kind of happy he’s using one of your catchy lines.

“What’s this? Reversed flirting?” you pout and drink from the bottle, placing it on the table afterwards.

He doesn’t bother to respond besides apathetically mentioning:

“I’ll spend the night; it’s dark outside and I don’t want to end up in a ditch.”

“It’s summertime, still sunny,” you highlight the indisputable truth to a guy that couldn’t care less.

“I’m tired. Crane pressured me to work! Did you know he took advantage of my kindness and made me sink a couple of hours in his project? What project you ask?” J cracks his neck although you weren’t curious. “I helped made your treatment,” he blurs out and your blank attitude irks The Clown. “You can compensate me by letting me crash here for the night.”

“I’m 100% sure my dad already compensated your efforts,” Y/N utters.

“Why was Sam here?” the earlier question is reprised in order to distract you.

“Are you jealous?” you nibble on your lasagna and J snarls:

“Why would I be jealous?”

“Then why do you have to know?”

“Professional interest,” the vague disclosure scores absolutely no credits with the feisty Y/N.

“That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” you shake your head and decide to unravel the mystery. “He picked up an item for his father. Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite,” you tease and The Joker protests.

“I’m not worried! I don’t even care! Can I sleep here?” he switches the topic and has to boast: “We can party all night long like we did last time!” J sassily reveals; he believes you’ll mock yet it’s not the case.

“You’re very late to this party…” your voice dies out and The King of Gotham is aware what you’re referring to. He digs his fork in the fresh salad, reassuring on a whim:

“Better late than never…”