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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

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On the Hunt

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 39: Katniss has been bumping into the same stranger (Peeta) for months. When they get stuck in an unfortunate situation together, she decides to be the first to say hello. [submitted by @eiramrelyat / @taylerwrites]

Ratings/Warnings: T

The first time Katniss sees him, he takes her breath away. It’s from afar. He probably doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her, but her whole world tilts off its axis.

She’s not sure why he stands out to her. There’s nothing particularly unique about him. He’s not short or tall or big or small. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous or ugly like a troll. He doesn’t move like an athlete or sparkle with the magic of a performer. He appears normal in every sense of the word, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see how special he really is. At least she thinks he might be—if she had a chance to actually speak to him.

That doesn’t happen, though. She’s too far away when she sees him picking up a loaf of bread, and she can’t seem to move once he’s left her line of sight. She stays frozen in the freezer section (the irony!) for several minutes. Hopefully, everyone else thinks she’s considering her options in breakfast burritos, but she’s actually involved in an out of body experience that follows the young man from the back of the store to the registers, out the door, and into the parking lot where he must load his groceries into his car and drive away. His life is no different, but hers will never be the same.

It has to be because she’s lonely. It’s been a very long time since she’s been in a relationship. In fact, it’s been so long since she’s kissed a man, she kind of wonders if she’s forgotten how to do it. Katniss has never been that popular, but she’s enjoyed her fair share of attention. She tries really hard not to spiral out in the freezer section, but Christ on a cracker! Something about that specimen of manhood has made her question her life’s choices. Why hasn’t she run into him before now? Clearly, she’s been living wrong.

Except, she hasn’t. She’s done absolutely everything she knows to do to be a good person. She supports her little sister and sends money to her mother who needs every speck of help she can get. She has a best friend who’s been by her side since they both lost their fathers when they were barely teenagers. She helps out at a shelter and donates money to the food bank because she knows way too well how hunger can impact a person’s life. In other words, there’s no reason her weekly grocery trip should result in an upheaval to her world. It’s simply not fair, and she plans to file a complaint to who it is that runs fate and destiny. She has a bone to pick.

Somehow, she finds everything on her list and heads to the front of the store. When she gets there, she unloads her groceries and watches as the cashier scans each item. Digging into her wallet, she’s stunned to find she only has a twenty and the total keeps rising. Mortified, she watches as the number climbs to $34.15.

“I don’t have… I mean, can you take off the…”

Trying to figure out what she can live without until her next paycheck, she surveys the food and toiletries. Almost in tears, she stammers for a few seconds before the cashier speaks.

“Don’t worry. Another patron paid it forward. He left a twenty and asked that I use it if anyone needed help. Looks like you could use some.”

“I— I couldn’t. It’s not right.”

“The guy seemed pretty adamant that I only offer it to someone who could use a break. It seems like that could be you today.”

Katniss nodded slowly. “Do you have any idea who it is? I’d like to thank them.”

The cashier shook her head. “Young guy. Stocky, medium height, ashy blonde hair, blue eyes. Very polite. Named Peter, I think. Something like that.”

It’s got to be him. The description’s too similar to be a coincidence. It seems the guy that froze her in place with his looks is as kind and compassionate as he is special. Now, he’s even more intimidating.

She nods her thanks and takes the change and her purchases. The five in her pocket gives her a little joy, but the feeling of not having money still bothers her. Maybe it’s time to get a credit card. She’s been warned off them for so long that she never applied for one, but now, it might be something she should do. Maybe. It makes her nervous to think she could get in financial trouble with it. She’s been poor her entire life. It might be too tempting to resist.

When she makes it back to her apartment, her attempt to unpack her groceries is interrupted frequently by long pauses in which she fantasizes about finding the guy who’s rocked her world and given her daydreams about all the ways she needs to thank him (appropriately and not so much) for the rest of her life. It’s not unrealistic at all. Totally doable, she decides. After all, how hard can it be to find him again? They live in the same town.

****

The answer to that question is that it’s very hard. Difficult isn’t even the word to describe the problem she has in trying to find the Boy With the Bread, which is what she calls him even though he’s definitely an adult. The person she saw from afar was all man if the stretch of his shirt across broad shoulders was any indication. Still, the alliteration makes her smile, so she continues to refer to him as such.

It shouldn’t take so long, but it does. Months pass, and she wonders if she’s made it all up and imagined the creature that changed her life. She keeps her eyes open in public, scans the local news and social media sites, and seriously considers setting up an online dating site just to see if he’s looking for someone. She’s getting desperate, but then fate smiles on her again.

She’s sitting in a coffee shop, something she hardly ever does, when he walks in the door. She doesn’t normally have time for such a mundane, normal activity that other people her age seem to enjoy all the time. She’s usually working during the day, and she has no desire to consume copious amounts of caffeine after 5 pm when she gets off work. Today, though, she has time. She’s taken a half day to run errands and go to the dentist, and she needs the jolt the espresso will give her to survive her reduced shift.

He ducks through the doorway just as she’s taken a sip of her hot beverage, and she almost chokes on the liquid. He shakes the umbrella he’s holding just outside the door and shoves a riot of blonde curls off his forehead that have shrunken up and frizzed from the rain. It’s adorable.

He’s wearing an emerald Henley and faded jeans that hug all the right places. The sight of him freezes her in place, but that doesn’t stop her from tracking him as moves past her. She’s close enough to see his eyes are blue before he marches across the café and approaches a man sitting alone in the corner. They clasp hands and grin at each other, and the vision in green heads to the counter to order.

She’s dumbfounded. Here he is again after so long, and she can’t think of a single thing to say to him or how in the world to actually approach him without making her look absolutely insane. She racks her brain trying to think of an intelligent topic, but she’s jolted from that when the barista walks to the end of the bar and calls a name.

“Peeta! Chai Latte.”

That’s his name, she realizes, and it’s like the sun’s broken through thick, heavy clouds. It’s just unusual enough to fit him and still feel familiar. He smiles at the woman behind the bar and takes the cup from her. He ordered chai, and she files that information away for future reference. He might not like coffee, which seems important.

She’s pondering a trip to the bathroom just so she has an excuse to pass by him when she suddenly understands that he’s leaving. He and his friend are talking as they walk to the door, and she catches the sound of his voice.

“—we can change that, the numbers will—”

His words are swallowed by the rush of traffic outside, but that silky tone she hardly had a chance to listen to has already taken up residence in the part of her brain that creates unrealistic fantasies. She daydreams for longer than she should. In fact, it’s only the vibration of her phone against the table that reminds her she has to get to her job. What a chance encounter, but now she has a name to go with that face.

****

She’s tried to find him again. She’s googled and returned to the coffee shop when she’s had a spare minute or two. She’s asked around and continues to check dating sites. Nothing. She’s found absolutely nothing. Without a last name, she has very little idea how to find out anything else. Frustrated, she goes about her daily life with a weight on her shoulders that shouldn’t be there. He’s a stranger she’s glimpsed only a couple of times.

Frustrated and full of pent-up energy, she joins a gym. There’s nothing quite like working up a good sweat to ease tension and kickstart her brain, so she spends her free time running the track, lifting, and participating in every hot yoga class the establishment offers. After a month, she’s leaner and stronger than ever, but she hasn’t managed to come up with any ideas that might help her find the guy she desperately wants to thank for saving her when she wasn’t sure how she’d eat for a week.

She’s two laps into her normal ten when she glances down from the elevated track and spots a pickup game of three on three basketball on the far court. Three blonde men face off against three with dark hair, one of whom looks remarkably like her best friend Gale Hawthorne, who she hasn’t seen since he left town for a job almost a year ago. As she jogs closer to the court, she realizes it is him teamed up with his brothers. The blonde men look like siblings, too, but she doesn’t spare them much of a glance. She’s got more laps to go, and she doesn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Gale didn’t bother to tell her that he’s in town, and she’s a little miffed by that.

It’s another three passes by the court before it hits her that the blonde men look familiar. She puts on a burst of speed to get back to where she can see the men closeup and almost trips over her own feet when she spies him. It’s the guy. THE guy. The cashier had said Peter, and the barista had called him Peeta. She stops in her tracks and grabs the railing when someone bumps into her from behind.

“Watch it!” he yells as the jogger passes her. “You’re not supposed to stop on the track!”

She dismisses him with a wave and sprints to the nearest stairwell. If she can just catch them… She bounds down the stairs, three at a time, and bursts into a bustling walkway. She dodges and shoves her way free and streaks around the corner to find—

“Catnip! What are you doing here?”

“Gale!” Sweat drips down her forehead and stings her eyes. Cringing, she swipes her hand across her face and tries not to cry. “Where are—? I thought you were playing basketball.”

He throws her a bewildered look and nods like she’s lost it a little. “We were.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah? We’d been at it for a while. Are you… Have you been watching me?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, although that’s not really very fair. She had noticed him. It’s not like that’s not the case. “Who were you playing with? I saw Vic and Rory, but the blonde guys… Who, er, who were they?”

The expression on his face would be priceless if she weren’t so desperate to find out the information. He looks like he’s swallowed something very, very distasteful, and she tries hard not to snort with laughter.

“Why?”

She takes in his narrowed eyes and realizes she’s going to have to lie to get what she wants. Part of the reason they haven’t been as close since he left town is due to his sudden confessions of feelings toward her. She’d let him down easy, but things have been strained since then. There’s no need to rub that in his face when all she wants is to find out about Peeta. With a straight face and innocent eyes, she explains, “I think one of them door dinged my car a couple of weeks ago. The gym won’t give out membership information, but if you know who they are… Well, I’d be really grateful, Gale.”

He falls for it when she bats her eyelashes at him. She should feel terrible, but all’s fair in love and basketball. Of all people, Gale should want her to be happy, no matter if that means she’s interested in someone else or not. She’s no damsel in distress, unless she can’t pay for her groceries or something. However, her simpering works, and that’s really what she needs.

“Mellark is the last name. They all have bread names. It’s weird.”

She rolls the name around in her head for a bit. Peeta Mellark. It’s a nice solid name, and now she has more information to help her figure out how to find him. Almost giddy with victory, she stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses Gale’s cheek in gratitude. Backing away before he can reciprocate, she hears him as the distance widens between them.

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime? Maybe?”

“Sorry, Gale! Got to go. Really good to see you!”

With that, she turns her back and slips down the hall to the women’s locker room. She doesn’t bother to shower before grabbing her bag and heading to her car. She’s barely closed the door before she’s on her phone and typing in the name Peeta Mellark. She has a thank you to deliver.

****

Surprisingly, it’s not much easier to find him now that she knows his full name. She unveils a lot of information about his family, but not him. Apparently, they own a few local bakeries that she tries out and loves. Still, Peeta’s family is not the same thing as Peeta, who is remarkably absent from social media and with no online presence. She’s willing to admit, she got cocky, and now she can’t figure out how to recover from it.

“Where the hell is he?” she mutters as she comes up empty. Again.

Frustrated, she runs over all the data she’s gathered about him. He’s kind, compassionate, and thoughtful; all of those qualities were on display at the grocery store. He drinks tea and has a very good-looking friend who he talks to about numbers; that she learned at the coffee shop. He’s athletic and has two brothers he likes well enough to exercise with them; that information, and his last name, came from the gym. It should be enough to go on. It’s not.

She’s at home on her couch and paying bills when it suddenly hits her that she may never see this guy again. Peeta Mellark seems to be a figment of her imagination for all the good it’s done to try to find him. That and the small number in her bank account are both so unpleasant that she decides she’s going to have to break down and do something she’s been avoiding and delaying for a very long time. She’s going to have to open a line of credit. She’ll only use it for emergencies, but she can’t rely on the kindness of strangers to bail her out the next time she doesn’t have money for groceries, let alone car maintenance or an unforeseen medical crisis. It’s been months since Peeta saved her, but the humiliation of not being able to take care of herself still hasn’t faded. Before she can change her mind, she grabs her purse and heads to the bank. The time is now.

“Can I help you?” A bubbly blonde teller named Delly asks, and Katniss takes a deep breath to fortify herself.

“I’d like to open a line of credit. Can I talk to someone about that?”

“Sure!” she practically squeals. “Let me just call someone to help you.”

She’s led down the hallway and past a few desks to a small office. Once ushered inside, she sits and raises her eyes to view the person across from her.

“Oh…”

The man before her is stunning—green eyes, bronze hair, a swimmer’s build. It’s the guy’s—Peeta’s—friend, the one he was with at the coffee shop.

“Ms. Everdeen. I’m Finnick Odair. Want some sugar?” he asks and nudges a candy bowl toward her.

“No, I’m fi—.”

“Hey, Finn. Can you— Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were with a customer.”

She jerks at the sound of his voice. Peeta Mellark is standing in the doorway, and her heart is in her throat. She has a sudden flashback of the coffee shop, when the two of them walked past her discussing numbers… Now, it all makes sense. They work at a bank together. Of course they do. Peeta turns to leave, and she calls out.

“Wait! Stay with me.”

She claps her hands over her mouth and wills herself not to blush, but it’s no use. She’s just asked a perfect stranger to stay with her, and her invitation sounds much more intimate than she means it to. He must think she’s insane. Maybe she actually is. She pushes down a sudden urge to flee the situation and escape to the safety of her apartment.

This is out of her wheelhouse. Shy, introverted, and intensely private, Katniss worries the end of her braid and bites her lip. Every instinct she has tells her to run, but the temptation of him before her is too great. Rising, she crosses to him and holds out her hand.

“Hi. My name is Katniss. You saved my life once, and I’ve been on the hunt to find you for months. Thank you.”

Peeta and his friend exchange looks, and she fights the urge to shrivel back into herself. Finally, he looks directly at her and takes her palm in his. With a smile so disarming she nearly faints, he answers.

“Peeta Mellark. It’s nice to meet you.”

The touch of his hand on hers melts her insides. She dreads when she finally has to let go, but maybe she won’t have to. With a shy smile, she cocks out her hip and looks up at him through long lashes. Her flirting may be a disaster, but it’s all she’s got.

“It’s so nice to meet you, too.”

The flicker in his eyes makes her knees weak. An hour later, she’s left the bank with a line of credit, a phone number, and a dinner date. The hunt is finally over.

#hutchhitched #eiramrelyat #prompt 39 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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noa-nightingale · 3 years

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Steven Lim Appreciation Week: Watcher-era Steven

We are celebrating Watcher-era Steven and I want to talk about Hidden Narratives for this day of Steven Lim Appreciation Week!

From the description: “Steven Lim speaks with Asian American leaders across industries about how the coronavirus has impacted our community.“

There are six episodes and one of them is also on youtube. Keep in mind that these episodes were created in March/April 2020. More on that at the end of the post.

Quick disclaimer, I am not Asian American and it would be inappropriate for me to lead any kind of conversation about this podcast; therefore I attempted to keep this relatively surface-level. But I have to admit that I got carried away with this pretty quickly and I am not sure if I stayed in my lane. It was meant to be a short, appreciative post but it got out of hand - if I overstepped boundaries, please let me know.

A warning, this podcast deals with heavy and difficult topics, including racism, grief, pain, people losing their businesses, people hurting. It is also very focused on people coming together and how they can help each other - but these topics are still not easy. I still wanted to write about it because I think that Steven deserves all the appreciation in the world for his work.

The first words that come to mind when thinking about this podcast are “heart” and “dedication”. It has a lot of heart - and despite the not always happy topics, it is such a wonderful, beautiful podcast. You notice the hard work Steven put into it, the passion, the care.

In the intro of the first episode he said he was nervous when he made the podcast but that he hoped that people liked it because it would make him feel good. He explained where the idea came from: His friends talked about how the virus effected their livelihood, and he felt hurt and helpless. And he realized that he could share their untold stories.

Episode 1: How Coronavirus Shut Down A Restaurant in 24 Hours

In the first episode, Steven talks to his friend Deuki Hong, chef and owner of��Sunday Hospitality Group, whose restaurants shut down in March 2020. He talked about the emotional impact of things happening so fast, trying to keep his employees safe and worrying about his team, having to question a lot of things he had been taught, and having to deal with the uncertainty.

Steven mostly asked questions and listened. Deuki Hong had to make some difficult decisions, and Steven was never judgmental about it - the podcast allowed for a very honest conversation about a very difficult situation.

The first episode very much was about trying to look out for each other, and that is a sentiment that continues throughout the entire podcast.

Deuki Hong said near the end of the episode: “When people are hurt, they just want someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, whatever that is, so be that person, just be kind, cause yeah, there’s a lot of hurt people right now.”

There is a GoFundMe set up for the team called Sunday Family Dream Fund. It is still open and has not reached its goal - the first episode of Hidden Narratives came out in March 2020 and the last donation to the GoFundMe was 8 months ago, so I am not really sure what the current state of affairs is. (I will come back to this at the end of my post.)

Episode 2: Why This NYC Restaurant Is Staying Open In A Pandemic

Steven mentions in the beginning of the second episode his “close emotional connection to the food industry” and that it is one of the reasons he started his podcast with two stories from two different restaurants. He also wanted to look at the topic of keeping the restaurant(s) open vs. closing it from two perspectives, and says that he does not know if there is a right or wrong answer.

Steven talks to Jimmy Ly, chef and co-owner of Madame Vo and Madame Vo BBQ. Jimmy Ly made the decision to keep his restaurants open. Steven started the conversation with: “Jimmy, thank you for sharing your story and I hope that those listening can gain a little more compassion, a little more empathy and a little more understanding.”

I found it touching that Steven’s first question was “How are you doing?” - it was asked in a way that allowed for an honest answer. This is also something he continues throughout the podcast, and it is very obvious that Steven is a very thoughtful and considerate person.

Jimmy Ly talked about his decision and for him, too, it is about his staff and his obligation toward them - the wanted to take care of them. Steven summed it up with “It is a choice for them between their livelihood and their safety”.

He talked about the measures they took to keep their staff as safe as possible and about adapting to the situation as best as they can.

Jimmy Ly said, if somebody on his team contracted the virus, he would shut his business down. It was obvious that none of the decisions he had to make and has to make are easy. They also talked about how Asian owned business were hit the hardest, and the drop in business for many.

The end of the episode got emotional - Jimmy Ly talked about how people who had to close their small businesses would most likely not be able to open them again. He said he and many others worked hard and that it is unfair that they could lose everything.

Steven talked about the impact Madame Vo had on him and that he could tell that Jimmy Ly cared about his restaurant, staff and customers and the food and that he poured love into it. Jimmy Ly said that Madame Vo means family to him.

The episode description includes the link to the Madame Vo website - Madame Vo Kitchen is still open while Madame Vo BBQ is “temporarily closed”.

Episode 3: FBI Warns Asian Americans Of Racist Outbreaks Due To Coronavirus

In the third episode, Steven talks to Benny Luo, the founder and CEO of NextShark, about the surge of racism against Asian Americans. He said despite growing up one of the only Asians in his school and being attacked for it, he has never seen so many Asian Americans being attacked in his life before.

From the description: NextShark is “one of the leading sources of global Asian and Asian American news”.

Benny Luo talked about the cases of racism against Asian Americans rising and that him and his team work the hardest they have ever worked in the history of the company to be able to report the stories.

He also talked about the impact of being confronted with those stories regularly - that it is psychologically draining but that his team feels a responsibility to do this work and that he is proud of his team.

Benny Luo told about someone writing to the team about the momentous moments happening for Asian Americans in the past years - and how it felt like it all came tumbling down. He said it is hurtful but that he also hopes it will be a time in history where the entire Asian community will come together.

But he also highlighted the good - there are people doing important work, in the medical field and in other fields, and it is important to be proactive - and these stories should be covered too.

Steven called the conversation “enlightening and therapeutic”. Benny Luo said to Steven: “You’re a creator, you’ve been a representative for us, being an Asian face on a really really big platform and (...) you doing interviews like this with me and you speaking up, I mean, those things have a lot of impact so no matter what it is, I think that you’ve made a big contribution in helping advance us forward.”

Here is the NextShark website.

Episode 4: On Andrew Yang And How Proving Our "American-ness" Won't End Racism

The fourth episode deals with the controversial op-ed by Andrew Yang that advises Asian Americans to show their American-ness to combat racism. Steven said that he was hurt by his words but also by the way Andrew Yang was treated as a result.

In the episode, Steven talks to Taylor Weik, a Japanese-American writer who wrote an article in response to the op-ed. From the description: “Taylor shares more context on why Yang's call-to-action was dismissive to the history of Japanese-Americans and details the negative impacts of Yang's article on the Asian American community.“

In his reflection of the episode, Steven said he did not know how to feel when the article came out - he did not agree with Andrew Yang and he thinks what he said was harmful but people also dismissed all of Andrew Yang’s previous accomplishments. Steven said he can understand the outrage. He said that he thinks that Andrew Yang can learn and that they can grow as a community.

It was clear that this was a difficult topic for Steven but he did his best to have a balanced and fair conversation and to not condemn.

Episode 5: Why American Healthcare Workers Aren’t Safe From The Pandemic

In the fifth episode, Dr. Shuhan He, an emergency doctor and the co-founder of GetUsPPE.org, talks with Steven about the shortage of personal protective equipment (PPE) for healthcare workers.

They had a conversation about what exactly PPE is and why it was so hard to get. They not only talked about the importance of PPE in hospitals but also in nursing homes. Another topic was the importance of wearing masks.

Steven said: “A lot of people are grieving and (...) I’ve been feeling a lot of pent-up sadness and I don’t know how to channel the energy.” He asked how people can help.

Here is the link to Dr Shuhan He’s organisation GetUsPPE. Once again Steven mentioned people coming together and doing good.

Episode 6: Should Churches Gather During a Pandemic?

The sixth episode is very personal to Steven - his Christian faith is the most important thing in his life. He talks to Pastor Drew Hyun, pastor and leader of Hope Church Midtown in New York City. Steven attended Hope Church when he was still in New York.

They talked about churches gathering - Pastor Hyun’s churches are meeting remotely. He said that people were missing connectivity and that’s why they decided to make services interactive and using Zoom instead of having live streams. They also switched their style of services to a style that would allow more interaction.

Pastor Hyun said what makes the situation so painful is that people share the collective grief but are still physically isolated. Steven asked how people are doing spiritually - Pastor Hyun said there was a hunger, and that people are starting to think about faith and life and God.

He said they would not be gathering because they want to be a loving community - a loving community would serve the vulnerable, deliver food to the elderly, raise money for small businesses, serve non-profits. He wanted to lean into love and generosity.

Steven talked about the challenges with his own faith - why would God allow such a devestating thing? He said he can at least channel all the energy of grief, and that giving back has been therapeutic for him. He also mentioned that churches are now more accessible than ever.

They talked about some churches not being willing to stop gathering in person - Pastor Hyun said it is a grief to him and that the most loving thing that churches can do is not to gather.

Again, the end of the episode got emotional - Steven asked how Pastor Hyun personally was doing and he told about how he tried to support the restaurant of a friend and walked out of it crying. He said it would be easy for him to fall into despair and cynicism - but that he clings to the thought that God will do something. He talked about people suffering and how hard it is to watch - and that the situation is challenging.

Steven said he would keep him in his prayers. Pastor Hyun said: “Thanks for what you’re doing and I think it’s beautiful - you’re telling the stories of pockets of light in the midst of what’s happening.”

In his reflection, Steven said that he had been struggling with the situation every day but where he can find joy and peace and confidence is God and the belief that God has a plan for him.

A few closing thoughts: I admire Steven’s dedication. I think this quote from the end of episode 3 sums it up: “I spend my evenings editing this, it’s not part of our overall business plan and probably, you know, we’re losing money from it. It’s not supposed to be my priority. But I’ve been given the green light by my co-founders, by my head of development to continue making this show.”

That’s incredible hard work right there. And it deserves to be recognized.

The podcast was created in the early stages of the pandemic. I don’t know how the people who shared their stories are doing now, about a year later. I would love to have some updates - I thought about doing some research myself and create sort of a follow-up but, again, I don’t know if I am the right person to do it.

To conclude this already too lengthy post, I want to return to the main themes that could be found in all episodes: Coming together, helping each other, creating support, being kind, channeling negative emotions into positive actions, making positive changes.

That’s what Steven is doing with this podcast and with the rest of his work, and it is very very impressive, commendable and inspirational.

#stevenweek #watcher #hidden narratives #usermarylan #usersimba #steven lim #religion

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freckledoriya · 4 years

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“pass the stapler” (midoriya x reader)

PAIRING: izuku midoriya x reader WARNINGS: none, just fluff! WORD COUNT: 1.6k

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | requests are OPEN!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is my first fic for @bnhabookclub‘s hero camp bingo event! my bingo masterlist will be posted soon and updated as I make my way through the spaces. thank you to @shoutosplaything and @crack-head-lia for last minute beta reading this! and as always, special thanks goes to @gallickingun for being my rock and helping me with everything I do ♡

Your first day working at the hero agency was an eventful one-- work orientation, desk assignment, figuring out the coffee machine. The day would forever be known as the one where you started your dream job, but on top of that, it supplied another memory, one that will forever be ingrained in your mind: the moment when you laid eyes on Izuku Midoriya. None of the romantic comedies or cheesy romance novels could have prepared you for what you felt in that instance: the air being knocked out of you, the way everyone else in the room seemingly disappeared, and the undeniable feeling of a magnetic pull, urging you closer and closer to this stranger.

You felt like a teenager again, hopelessly in love with a person who barely knew you existed. The extent of your interactions with Midoriya was polite nods when you passed each other in the hallways, your heart had no business skipping a beat like it did every time those green eyes met yours. Still, you couldn’t help but swoon every time he’d sit at the table next to yours during lunch break. His presence was intoxicating.

When he first spoke to you, you felt a high like never before. It was a Friday afternoon, another day that you’ll never be able to forget, when Midoriya asked you to pass the stapler. You kicked yourself for how unbelievably cheesy you felt about it, seeing it as a truly magical moment. It became a routine, you watching the news in your apartment late at night, looking to see if the number one hero, Deku, had beaten down another criminal. If he did, that meant he had paperwork to turn in the next day, and that meant that you’d get to hear those five beautiful words pass through his lips: “can you pass the stapler?”

You found him positively perfect. Even attributes that one could see as faults, like his incessant muttering, his stubbornness to put himself before others, his scarred skin that resulted from that very stubbornness- no matter which way you look at him, you adore Izuku. You often found yourself dreaming the day away, simply yearning to touch his freckled skin and feel his lips on yours. The way his knuckles brush against your finger tips when you pass the stapler to him was addicting. Even though he wasn’t using his quirk, you swore you could feel electricity jolt from him to you.

This routine went on for a few months, and you had begun to accept that passing office supplies to one another would be the extent of your relationship with Midoriya. However, today, he came up to your desk, looking as dashing, yet nervous, as ever.

“H-hey, there, I have something to ask you…”

You reflexively reach towards the stapler on your desk, but he quickly interrupts you.

“Ah, no, I don’t need the stapler right now. But thank you.”

“Oh,” you reply. “Then… what can I help you with?”

You swear you can feel your heart beating out your chest. Because if he doesn’t want the stapler, what else could he possibly want?

Midoriya clears his throat and swallows, looking down at his scarred, calloused hands as he twiddles his thumbs. “W-would you wanna go out? W-with me? On a, um.. date?”

“Yes!” you reply, the word almost exploding from inside you.

Realizing how loud and slightly desperate you must have just sounded, your eyes widen with embarrassment as you begin to wheel yourself back from your desk, as if cowering away from the situation at hand.

“I mean, sure, if that’s what you want…” you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Did you have anywhere in mind?”

Midoriya bites his lip and looks to the side. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far.”

You let out a giggle at his adorable bashfulness, releasing some of the pent of nerves inside of you. How he hasn’t realized that he’s the whole package is beyond you. In your eyes, he’s everything a person could ever want: kind, compassionate, selfless, and attractive as hell.

“We could go to the park nearby?” you suggest. “Hang out, walk around, and talk?”

He stops his muttering of possible date ideas to smile, definitely relieved that the responsibility of choosing was lifted off of his shoulders.

“That sounds great! Let’s do it.”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, really just wanting to make sure you weren’t making this whole scenario up in your mind. “Saturday afternoon work?”

“Yeah! Looking forward to it.”

A beat passes between the two of you before Izuku shifts uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “I, uh, actually do need to borrow the stapler as well.”

__________________________________________________________________

You’ve been on plenty of first dates before. You’ve gotten used to the slight jitters, the twisting of your stomach. But this was different. Your insides felt as if you were full of bubbles, bursting in anticipation and making you lightheaded. You attempt to regulate your breathing as you arrive at the park for your date. The air is cool as it blows against your flushed cheeks, already burning as you think about spending time with Izuku.

You’ve played out every possible scenario in your mind, creating an extensive list of conversation starters just in case there’s a lull in dialogue. As you’re going over your do-not-talk-about-topics in your head, you spot the green-haired hero sitting on a blanket at the top of a grassy hill. A classic wicker basket sits next to him, and your heart soars once you realize what Izuku has in store for you: a picnic.

As you walk up to him, he quickly stands up, greeting you with his signature bright smile. You can’t help but admire him in his more casual wear: jeans, a simple, loose-fitting t-shirt, and his classic red high-tops.

“H-hey!” he greets you. “Hope this is okay, but I thought we could have a small picnic? I know it’s a little random but-”

“It’s wonderful,” you interrupt, looking at the setup.

You have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming-- in what universe would you be presented with a perfect, park picnic date from the biggest crush you’ve ever had?

“Crunchy peanut butter with strawberry jam,” Izuku blurts out, snapping you out of your trance.

You look at him with confusion as he begins to open the basket and gestures toward the two sandwiches in plastic bags.

He begins to blush as he hands you your sandwich. “Um, I noticed that you always bring a PB&J to lunch at work. And I overheard you one day talking about why crunchy peanut butter and strawberry jam make the perfect sandwich…”

“They do!” you laugh as you begin to unwrap the sandwich. “It’s just science”

He laughs along with you, and the sound of his laughter gives you the same warm feeling as listening to your favorite song or drinking hot cocoa on a cold, winter’s day. It feels like coming home after a long trip. It feels right.

You spend the next couple hours eating and discussing each other’s passions: you learn about Midoriya’s unwavering adoration for All Might (which you had already known about, from studying your crush’s socials) and the unbelievable amount of pressure he puts on himself to be what others expect him to be.

“I just have to keep being better,” he says to you before taking a sip of water. “It’s what I owe to everyone who’s helped me get this far.”

You tilt your head to the side, hoping it’ll somehow let you see things from his perspective. “That seems like a lot of pressure to put on yourself. Maybe those people didn’t help with an expectation for something in return… Maybe they helped because it’s what you deserve.”

He looks to the side and bites his lip, shying away from opening up to you. You take a breath before reaching over and putting your hand on his. This skin contact feels somehow different than the hand-brushes from the past when you would pass the stapler. There is no shock of electricity, no jolt of energy. Instead, you feel more at peace than you ever did before. The world feels more at peace. You feel like as long as your hand is holding his, nothing could ever throw you off balance.

This gesture causes Midoriya to stiffen before meeting your gaze. When he sees your gentle and understanding smile, his shoulders relax and he lets out a breath that he was inadvertently holding.

“You know, I-I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now,” Izuku blushes as he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“R-really?” you stutter, taken aback by this confession. Could it really be that he’s been admiring you as much as you’ve been admiring him?

“Yeah…” he looks down and swallows. Sensing that he’s building up the courage to tell you something important, you try to give him a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

What could he be gathering up the bravery to say? Was he about to confess his feelings for you? Maybe he really does like you just as much as you like him. Or maybe it’s something much more unfortunate. Maybe he’s changed his mind after spending the afternoon with you. Maybe he-

“It’s just that I wasted so many blank pieces of paper by stapling them together so I could talk to you...”

The two of you break into laughter as the sun begins to set, the purple and pink hues matching the blush across both of your faces as you both realize that yes, you adore the other just as much as they adore you.

#izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader

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redheadedrenagade · 3 years

Text

Wicked Game

Chapter 3: White Winter Hymnal

Chapters 1 & 2 can be found here and here.

No warnings. This takes place one month after the second chapter. Hope you enjoy. :)

The town is bustling in a flurry of wintery solstice and chattering teeth. Snow had just started to fall lazily from the sky, blanketing the grass thinly. Charlotte looks out the window at the passersby anxiously, dying to finally be cleared of house arrest by Maria. She loves and appreciates her with her entire heart for keeping her sorry ass alive, and she knows that she wants to prepare something truly special for her this Christmas. Something that she can look at and hear the words “thank you, I love you” every time she sees it. There would be time for that soon enough, because today her plans consisted of something she’d have previously sworn she’d never miss: patrol.

Oh, god, I’m going to drive everyone crazy…

She has so much pent up energy, and far less fear than before her survival against death, (she was kind of a certified badass now, obviously), and all she can think about is having a bow in her hands again, hunting in the forest, eating at the mess hall, spending time with Ellie and Jo-

Nope. No. We’re not going there.

She brushes the thought off like a snowflake and gently pulls on her coat, making sure Maria sees her being careful with her almost healed arm as she walks into the room.

“Well, you ready to face the outside world yet or what?” Maria smiles warmly at her and walks forward to embrace her in a warm hug.

“I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for you. You…you really are the best leader,” Charlotte says and pulls back to hold Maria’s shoulders and look her in the eyes, “the best friend anyone could ask for. Now that I’m out of that bed I can get back to convincing you of that.”

Maria’s blushes and waves her off, but not dismissively. She’d always been relentlessly modest about her leadership in Jackson. “I’m just doing what anyone else would. Now, listen, I know you’re excited to be back in action, but I need you to promise me that you won’t – “

“Maria, I promise I won’t put all your hard work to waste. You literally saved my life. Anything you say from here on out, I’m gonna’ do, no questions asked,” Charlotte assures her with a signature crooked grin, patting Maria’s shoulder.

Maria snorts loudly and walks to grab Charlotte’s bag with her essentials and hands it over to her.

“You’ve never listened to anyone a day in your life, Char.”

Charlotte can’t hold back a loud laugh that instantly feels so good after such a painful month. “Okay, you have me there. But there are exceptions. Well, one exception,” she replies with a wink.

Maria escorts her out the door, already making dinner plans for this coming weekend after the mandatory optional but highly encouraged Christmas celebration, and Charlotte starts the half mile walk back to her tiny cabin. The cold, brisk air feels like heaven against her face, the crisp feeling of snowfall bringing her immense comfort. Winter had always been her favorite season, even now that it was admittedly much harder to handle since the world went to shit.

It was lunchtime in Jackson, so she didn’t run into anyone on the way, which she was secretly grateful for. As excited as she was to re-enter the world, she needed some time to just be home for a moment. She stops short when she sees a large figure sitting on her porch steps. Cautiously, she walks on and as she gets closer comes to the shocking realization that’s it’s Joel of all people.

She shoves the hand not holding onto one of her backpack straps into her jeans pocket, looking only at the ground until she gets to the porch, where she’s forced to confront him. He’s just as handsome as she remembers. His cheeks are tinged pink from the cold, and his black hair peppered with grays is slightly unkempt from the wind. His hands are clasped together, elbows resting on his knees.

And those eyes.

How the fuck do you make me feel like this?

She manages to give him a quiet hello, nervously re-adjusting her backpack and letting her eyes fall to the ground.

“Hey. Heard that – Maria told me you were – just thought I’d come say, well, I’m glad you’re doin’ better, kiddo,” he manages to stutter out, and it makes her heart jump a beat at how…nervous? And unsure of himself he sounds.

“Oh! Well, yeah. Um, that’s – thank you. It’s really great to be out of that damn bed. Was going a little koo-koo for Cocoa puffs in there,” she replies, laughing nervously and kicking the ground lightly with the toe of her boot. When she looks up at him again, he has a bemused expression on his face that she can’t help but chuckle at. “What’re you smilin’ about, sir?”

He breathes out through his nose in a laugh and shakes his head a bit, giving her a subtle once-over from head to foot, then back again. Charlotte feels her stomach flutter and her face becomes suspiciously warm for a winter day.

“I forget that other people remember things from back then. Sometimes I even forget I’m not the only one alive that had a life of some kind before it happened,” he replies, his eyes not leaving hers and her eyes not leaving the half-smile on his face that she caused.

“I…well, yeah, I feel like that sometimes, too. It happened to the whole world but it still feels like no one understands, somehow. It’s weird,” she says, tucking a lock of long red hair behind her ear and lingering a moment too long on the past. Her face darkens as her own memories of horror and loss flash across the forefront of her mind before she can push them back.

He clears his throat a bit as if he understands what she’s thinking and pushes against his knees to stand up and walk down the steps to her. She feels her heart pounding annoyingly hard in her ribcage as he approaches. He always had a way of snapping her out of her thoughts.

He’s so tall. And damn, does he look amazing in that sweater. Oh, jesus, get ahold of yourself, woman!

“Listen. I – well, I ain’t never been a man who knows the right things to say, or when to say ‘em. Just wasn’t born gifted with words like you, I guess.”

She opens her mouth to protest and tell him that she can’t articulate things for shit either, but he holds up a hand telling her he needs to say more. His expression is almost pained as he awkwardly struggles to share what’s on his mind.

“I didn’t act right. That night, when you…when we brought you back. I’ve been kickin’ myself over it and I just wanna’ set the record straight.”

She nods gently and for once, revels in not being the most nervous person between the two of them. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly before continuing.

“It ain’t just because of Ellie. Not just because you bein’ okay is what’s best for her. I’m very…glad, that – Charlotte, when we first saw you, I was sure you were just about gone. I thought we were too late, and I…”

Charlotte is starting to feel bad for him at this point and decides to end his misery. She lets her backpack slide down her arm onto the snowy earth and even as he looks at her with confusion, she leans into his broad chest and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him hard against her. This is her second thank you for that night.

For a moment he doesn’t even budge; just a solid wall of concrete Joel. But he quickly rights himself and lets his strong arms enclose around her, allowing his chin to rest against her shoulder. Her face is nestled into his neck, just like before, when the world was fading into darkness. In the back of her mind, she remembers one thing as she was fading that night, a low voice saying something to her, comforting and calm as a sunset.

Sweetheart.

She blushes fiercely into his sweater and pulls back a bit to smile up at him shyly with her lop-sided grin. Looking directly into his hazel eyes is liking staring into the sun, and she swallows thickly in her nervousness. He, however, seems calmer now, with his big hands now resting lightly at her waist from pulling back from their embrace. Then, he smiles back, and Charlotte feels a burst of warmth bloom inside her belly. She's thankful to have her hands on his shoulders to anchor her.

“I don’t regret any of it. I’d do it all again if I had to,” Charlotte says, her voice soft and sincere as she struggles to maintain eye contact. Her face feels like it's on fire. He chuckles then and takes a step back, and she immediately misses the warm presence of his body against hers.

“I’ll make sure it won’t come to that, darlin’.”

She feels a pang of something in her heart that feels completely foreign and somehow as natural as breathing. The same feeling she felt when he called her sweetheart.

People who are just friends don’t usually say things like this…do they?

Before she can think too deeply on it, a youthful voice all but bellows her name. She knows instantly who it is and turns around just in time to have Ellie barreling into her chest, hugging her so hard she might’ve broken a rib, and Charlotte laughs joyously despite the pain.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were out today?! And you went to see Joel first? Like, c’mon, dude, I'm way more important,” she declares with passion, and it makes Charlotte smile even harder and hold her closer yet.

“Wanted to surprise you. Thought we could walk to patrol together in a bit. God, I missed you, girl!” Charlotte exclaims, swaying them side to side and enjoying every second of having the girl in her arms, safe and happy.

“She didn’t come to see me. I, uh, I had something I needed to talk to her about. An’ now I have, so I’ll let you two be. Ellie, careful of her wounds, your bein’ too rough,” says Joel, shaking his head slightly but he grins, nonetheless. Ellie finally parts from Charlotte to narrow her eyes at him suspiciously, a hint of mischief in her expression.

“Yeah, it sure looked like you were doing a lot of talking with all that hugging you two were doing.”

Oh my god, Ellie. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d strangle you!

Much to Charlotte’s surprise, Joel’s smile widens as he opens his arms to Ellie, advancing on her quickly, “Yep, and now it’s your turn, kid. No need to be jealous.”

Ellie shrieks and tries to escape, but he’s too quick as he grabs her around the middle with her back to his chest, and Charlotte can’t help but burst into laughter at the tiny girl kicking her legs in the air as he spins her around. Joel’s rich laughter fills the air amidst Ellie’s slew of curse words, but when he puts her down, her cheeks are tinged pink and she’s got a big, toothy smile on her face.

“Such a jerk!” She fake pouts and punches him lightly in the shoulder.

“That’s my job,” he replies with a wink, and Charlotte can’t help admiring the relationship and love between the two of them. She wonders if she’ll ever have something like that of her own one day.

“Well, I’ll see you ladies later. Have to go help set things up for that damn Christmas party next week,” Joel sighs, rubbing his forehead in an annoyed fashion before turning to leave.

“C’mon, where’s your holiday spirit Joel? There isn’t anything you like about Christmastime?” Charlotte enquires, eyebrows raised in surprise.

How can someone not like Christmas? That’s like not liking puppies…or chocolate…

He looks at Ellie with a soft expression, and then his eyes flicker back to Charlotte’s. She feels an electric current rushing through her veins as his expression subtly changes as he studies her face, and his eyes hold something very different within them than just moments before.

Joel turns back to look at her and pauses, his expression neutral and unreadable. He then crosses his arms with a wry smile forming on his lips.

“Well, I guess there’s a couple things that ain’t too bad about it.”

Then, as if nothing had transpired at all, he breathes a small laugh out of his nose and takes his leave. Charlotte stands rooted to the spot, feeling like she’s just been wacked against the head with a frying pan. Her heart is still stuttering at the memory of that look in his eyes.

That look he gave me.

Charlotte huffs out a laugh and shakes her head incredulously before picking up her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. She looks down at Ellie and sees that she’s looking up at her with an eyebrow raised and a slightly smug expression on her face. Charlotte shoves her lightly and can’t help but chuckle as they make their way into her cabin.

Ellie snorts loudly and elbows her in the side, bringing her swiftly back to reality.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“Honestly, Ells? I have no fuckin’ clue.”

#wicked game fic #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams #joel miller #joel miller x oc #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #my posts #wicked game

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years

Text

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary - Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden.

Chapter 2 - Camping

Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, the young man grumbled quietly to himself as he scooted closer to the small fire. Two cans of mini raviolis sat nearby, cracked open slightly and heating up just a foot away from the flames. He let out a quiet curse as his stomach grumbled loudly, making more noise in a couple seconds than he had in a week.

'What the hell is taking you so long?' he thought at his still absent companion. The water of the nearby river was freezing, it shouldn't be taking this long to clean. He would had heard if the other was attacked. Even if the attacker was silent Roman typically wasn't, their overly dramatic battle cries carrying over fields if they so chose them too. Maybe they fell in? Again, he would have heard the yell...unless the shock from the cold rendered them nonverbal. Or something had dragged them in. Maybe while cleaning off their weapons their hand had slipped and they had sliced themself open and was currently bleeding out and he wouldn't know because he was being too stubborn to leave the warmth of the fire. What if they fell and cracked their head open on a rock? What if-

Crunching footsteps interrupting his racing thoughts and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. While he was getting better at not having to check on Roman every few minutes to make sure they were still around, it didn't stop his thoughts from quickly spiraling when the thought of him being alone again filled his head. Roman plopped down beside him having deposited their pack with their other belongings nearby, leaning forward to carefully take the cans away from the fire and depositing one in front of each of them before procuring spoons from God-knows-where but he was hungry so it didn't matter.

He growled low as he snatched the utensil, ripping the lid the rest of the way off and shoveling the ravioli with essence of tin in his mouth regardless of the heat.

"Slow down, dark and stormy gremlin, you're gonna choke!" He didn't even spare a glance at the scandalized face as the last of the sauce was scraped up and eaten in less than a minute.

"Was hungry." He mumbled out, hands disappearing back into the cloak as he burrowed further into its warmth.

The other eyed him fondly. "Honestly, Virgil I can't take you anywhere. I get a spot at the nicest pasta joint in town and this is how you behave? I really can't take you anywhere."

They frowned as they only received a soft huff in response. "Are you alright? I'm sorry I was gone for so long, that oil takes a while to work out in cold water."

Virgil shook his head. "....that."

Catching only half the mumble, Roman set their own empty can down and scooted closer. "Can I ask you to repeat that or is it a signing day?"

Virgil squeezed himself tighter in the fabric and lifted his head up towards the other. Roman's eyes shone with concern even in the dim light of their small campfire, the effect only slightly ruined by the dark curls drying in the humid air making them puff out in a fluffy halo around their head. The image made him smile lightly and duck his head back down to suppress his giggles.

"Hairs messy."

He only giggled harder at the offended gasp. "I'm offering you a damn heart to heart here and I get insulted!" Roman grimaced as they felt what state their hair was in, ruing their days as a traveler if only for the fact that hairstyles were rendered useless on an adventure. They were still bitter over The Great Hairspray Debacle of 2015, having to give the space up in their pack for "actual necessary supplies, Roman".

Virgil's laughter died down as the nervous feeling began to creep back into his thoughts. Roman noticed the sobering mood and sat back slightly, willing to wait for the young nervous wreck to gather his thoughts.

"Town's coming up."

Roman nodded. They knew there was a town with an underground market a few days travel away from the last time they had come through this way. They hadn't had time to stop before, but this time around they needed to empty out their packs of the items that had been piling up for a few weeks now and their supplies were getting low enough that they would have needed to stop to stock up anyway. They gestured for Virgil to continue even though they knew what the source of anxiety was going to be.

"What if..." Virgil growled in frustration as the words stuck in his throat, the rolling anxiety in his stomach and mind making him struggle to not shut down. Long, pale fingers twisted and bunched the fabric around him until with a frustrated huff they darted out and flipped out a quick gesture.

"Recognized?"

Roman nodded in understanding and he sighed in relief. He knew not being able to speak most of the time had to be annoying for his companion but thankfully they never seemed to mind, only waiting patiently for either words to be forced out or hands to jerkedly spell out what little bit of sign language he knew. He made up a lot along the way and most of the time he was able to be understood. With no internet to look up the language, books being a Society privilege and a general distrust of people making it difficult to ask anyone for lessons, even though they never stayed in one place for long, official sign wasn't something either of them were good at.

"That's why we have the cloaks and hoods and even the masks if we feel like we need them. We're pretty far away though, I doubt anyone we would know would be around." Roman took up a stick and poked around the fire a bit, stirring it as the embers began to die down for the night. "Nothing has ever happened at any of the towns we've been in, and I've heard this one is particularly...underground, so to speak. No one who would recognize us would be caught dead near there. We'll go in, sell our parts, grab supplies and get out. Next stop after that will be that abandoned city-town-place wherever that we heard about a while back. It'll be fine, Anx."

Virgil smiled at the old nickname, something Roman had taken to calling him when he refused to reveal his name the first few months they began traveling together. His shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit as the name ironically released some of the pent up anxiety, fingers releasing the cloak and instead splaying on his ripped black jeans to try and wipe off the accumulated sweat.

They both sat in silence for a while after that, watching the fire die down completely as the late evening faded into complete darkness, the clear sky allowing the stars to be on full display with no threat of light pollution to obscure their giddy twinkling. Crickets chirped quietly in the long grass, fireflies answering back their call with lazy winks of light. Even the river was hushed, water seeming to lap quieter at the shore for fear of breaking the rare tranquility the nearby travelers were soaking in.

With the world this soft and still, Virgil could pretend for a moment that this was merely an extended camping trip. Maybe they were on their summer break and were hiking for the fun of it. Tomorrow they could trek through a forest like it was nothing, sunlight streaming through normal tree branches as untouched wildlife teemed around them. All of their gear and supplies could be innocent in nature, the heaviest thing in their packs could be a small camping stove rather than their extensive collection of foreign trading parts. Their supplies were running low, so they'd soon start heading back the way they came, finding their car and laughing at some dumb play argument they had on the way back while they reloaded everything and climbed in the front, laughter turning to more bickering as they fought over what music they'd listen to first. Roman would drive first since Virgil only had his permit and wouldn't feel comfortable taking the wheel until he recognized the roads they were on. They'd get to Virgil's house and it would be coming onto late evening so he'd let Roman stay the night, knowing his dad-

Virgil furiously scrubbed at his eyes, snapping back from his thoughts. His dad wouldn't care of a friend stayed over. He didn't care about anything. He didn't even care when - no. Nope, not tonight. Rubbing absentmindedly at his arms he scooted backwards away from the now dead fire and laid back to watch the sky, Roman following soon after. They didn't say anything as he turned and wrapped himself around the other tightly, for which he was grateful. He smiled as he felt lips touch the top of his head and careful arms lay themselves across his back. Surrounded by safety and warmth it wasn't hard for sleep to find him.

-------

".....an."

"Come on, Ro....."

"Princey, get up!"

Roman shot up, blinking rapidly to clear the lingering sleep from their eyes and shaking their head to try and whip the tangled curls away. Glaring in response to their brothers shit-eating grin, they settled for flipping him off while they rubbed at their eyes, getting a water bottle thrown at them in retaliation.

"Too early." They mumbled as they fumbled with the lid.

Virgil laughed. "Try again, Sleeping Ugly, it's almost noon. I've had camp packed up for hours now."

Offended at the nickname but grinning nonetheless, they downed half the bottle in one go and dragged their pack over lazily. Virgil was always the early riser in their party of two, despite the late nights he often kept as a sleeping schedule. Roman however, was happy to spend the day hitting the metaphorical snooze button unless they had actual plans. Which, unless another Mech Beast was spotted this close to a town, which was highly unlikely, this was supposed to be a day of resting.

Looking over at the other however, their irritation softened as the ball of anxious energy went from task to already done task trying to keep himself busy. Though it seemed he'd be more talkative today than he had been that didn't mean his nerves weren't soaring to the sky with how close they were to people again. They knew they should both take a break today, but if moving would help...

Mind made up they stood, swinging the pack around to rest on their shoulder and picking up another to carry first for the time being. Different pieces of metal and containers holding strange substances clanked together inside, securely wrapped in paper and fabric to prevent them from breaking or getting scratched. They'd make Virgil carry it later on but they figured since they got extra sleep it would only be fair to carry the heavier pack first.

Trying one last time to fix their hair back into a reasonable shape Roman turned towards Virgil with a smile.

"Ready?"

Hoisting up his own pack he nodded and kicked at the already severely scuffed dirt, rising up on his tip toes as he began to walk.

"As I'll ever be."

This work is also available on AO3!

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#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #overgrown metal #my writing

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honeyhenry · 4 years

Text

Brother Bubba

this was my first piece of writing so I'm extremely nervous posting! pls be kind if offering any feedback. also this took way longer to write than I intended so I’m sorry if anyone has been waiting for it!

word count: 2k+

warnings: pregnant!reader, lots of fluff, copious amounts of Dodger Evans

enjoy!

Chris sighs as he pulls the large BMW into the driveway. He had of course, ensured that the journey from the hospital was cautious and careful - completely different from the journey taken from home to the hospital only 2 days ago. In his defence, you had yelled at him, telling him to “step on it, I refuse to have this baby in a car Chris I swear!!”

So this time, on the journey back to the large 5-bedroom house, he stays vigilant despite being away for most of the last 48 hours, wary of every turn on the drive home, holding the most precious cargo that at one point he could only possibly dream of. His wife and newborn son.

His family.

For the majority of his career, Chris had been known as one of America’s finest bachelors. Sure, he had friends to hang out with, and a schedule that led to a series of relationships burning out, or indeed them lighting his house on fire with him trapped inside. Metaphorically, of course. And so it had been just him, until one life changing moment a few years ago. Suddenly, it wasn’t just him, anymore.

Because then came Dodger.

Chris’ best friend in the whole world and someone who he could rely on for company, loyalty, and comfort. Chris wanted the whole “picket fence” life, and had thought that he may as well be a step ahead with adopting a fun energetic dog. There had been an instantaneous love and trust between the two, and so Chris reckoned that anyone who he wanted to keep in his life for the long-term, had to pass the Dodger test. Anything less than love and respect shown by and towards the sweet dog, was a small but still quite blaring red flag.

But Dodger had taken to you, almost instantly in fact. He saw you as wholesome and trustworthy, even when Chris himself was still working out what your relationship was blossoming into. Whether Dodger’s adoration of you was due to your character, or the fact that you always loved to sneak him some treats whenever his owner wasn’t looking, Chris couldn’t be sure. But he was glad of Dodger’s approval even during the awkward “what exactly are we?” stage in the beginning.

It was safe to say that the pup had in fact deduced your character, as even though the treats had eventually been halted - ”Y/N, he’s getting a bit of a belly and we’re running low on treats” - Dodger made sure to have a toy or pillow just to give to you when you started going round to Chris’ place more. You were so good to Chris - you made him question if he’d ever fully lived before meeting you, and so Dodger didn’t mind that he was kept out of his owner’s room every now and then. As long as it was made up for in the morning with snuggles that Dodger knew he could get from you. Whenever Chris would leave to go to the bathroom, he’d come back to find that you’d let Dodger in to cuddle and pet him.

“You’re gonna replace me with Dodge, Y/N? Really? My own mutt?” he’d ask, mock hurt while you giggled from between the sheets, stroking Dodger’s soft fur.

“Well it’s hardly my fault you Evans boys are so whiny for cuddles”

And so, after two happy, loving years spent with Chris and his closest buddy, navigating through this new life you’d created together, Chris knew you were the one.

He’d have told Dodger the proposal plans, alongside a couple of your and his own family members.

“S’not just gonna be you and me anymore bubba; but that’s a good thing I promise. Gonna make sure you have lots of friends to play with though, a bigger house and a bigger yard to run around in. Mom and I are gonna be forever bubba, and you’re always in the picture, i promise.”

And he fully kept his promise, only delighted to do so when you cried and said yes as he had got down on one knee. The wedding was held a year on from that night he proposed, and only a month following your honeymoon, you found out that Dodger would have a little friend to play with after all.

During your pregnancy, Dodger was incredibly protective of you. Sometimes not even Chris was allowed past Dodger, particularly after a day at work when he’d been working and ended up smelling or looking different to his normal dusky scent and fresh face. Dodger liked to bark and growl at whoever got what he deemed to be too close, to make sure you weren’t left vulnerable and alone with nothing but a belly full of Evans.

You never had to complain about a lack of love or protection - not with your two boys almost fighting over you for cuddles or kisses. Most nights, Dodger would put his big fluffy head on your stomach and rest there, being as close as he could to his growing friend. It was fair to say that Dodger’s big head and Chris’ hands fought for who got to feel the baby move around the most.

Baby Evans would be completely impartial of course, rolling around for anyone who brought a sense of comfort. Nobody missed out - you were all family.

Therefore, as Dodger has truly been part of so much of your life, it was only fair that Chris felt bad for leaving him for the past 2 days. Of course, his sister had come over to feed him and play with him, however Chris wanted to make sure that his bubba knew he’d not been forgotten by you or him.

But leaving had been worth it, as this time, you and Chris now return to your family home with someone brand new for your lovable dog to meet.

After parking the car, he turns to face you in the backseat as you gaze fondly over the tiny person wrapped up and buckled into the big clunky safe car seat. Your little angel, your honeymoon baby who was most definitely conceived in the villa you’d rented out for 3 weeks in The Bahamas for your honeymoon.

Your husband smiles at you, watching you interact with your son. You feel his gaze on you and you look up to him, not even the impact of the sheer exhaustion you felt course through your body, could change how lovingly he looked at you. It still makes you blush.

“I love him so much.” You whisper, to Chris, to yourself, to anyone who will listen. “ And yes, before you ask, he’s totally fine, still hasn’t woken up. he’s even clutching his tiny teddy.” Chris looks at you the same way you’ve been looking at your newborn son. In utter adoration.

However he soon springs into action, helping you out of the car, using his strength to lift out the baby carrier from the backseat. He gently fixes the blanket on top of his son’s tiny body, a blanket knitted for the newborn Evans by his Chris’ own Ma - now a Grandma to his own child, not just his nieces and nephews. He smiles at the thought of his whole family getting to meet his son, and his son getting to grow up in a huge family full of love and laughter. Putting the carrier next to you at the front door, he retrieves the rest of the luggage, before he grabbing his keys to open the door.

He hears a bark. Then another. And then, a few excitable, louder woofs.

You can both hear Dodger jumping up at the door and so mutually decide for Chris to enter first, going straight to the mutt, cuddling him and letting him jump around in excitement. Chris fluffs his pup’s ears as he laughs at Dodger’s rambunctious behaviour, getting all his pent up energy out while you try to sneak past the two of them having their moment, taking the baby carrier to the living room.

“Hey Dodge! Yeah it’s me, your old man, and Mom is here too!!! Yeah Mommy’s here!! And we have a big surprise for you - we’re gonna introduce you to your new brother! Your baby brother huh, yeah that’s right bubba!” Chris smiles, still laughing and talking away to Dodger who he’s missed just as much the past couple of days. It makes you so happy to see the bond between your man and his ever loyal dog.

Before you know it, Dodger has lost interest in Chris - “Sorry Chris, I guess I’m his favourite now” you had said when you first got together - keen to see you and whatever the new smelling thing is that you’ve brought home.

Finally, the momentous occasion had arrived. the first meeting of Chris’ special boys. You had both been a little nervous for the newest arrival to be introduced to Dodger, given how loving and excitable he could be. But you both trusted him, and your gut instincts, and decided that if you wanted everything to be as normal as possible, then Dodger was going to be with you all from the first day you bring the baby home, and start their sure to be close bond from then.

You take your son out, cradling him close to your chest. From Dodger’s viewpoint, he can see Mom, but also two tiny socked feet. Chris is holding his bubba’s collar, but only loosely as Dodger settles down beside you quickly and quietly.

“Okay easy bud, we’re gonna introduce you now to someone really special. Good boy, Dodge, nice and calm.” Dodger sits patiently, still sniffing at the new smell, but can tell that whatever is happening is important.

You smile, thankful that your pup is staying true to his kind nature. “It’s ok Chris, he’s fine. Dodge honey - this is CJ.”

You lower down your sweet baby to your lap where Dodger can see. CJ is a small, delicate bundle, with a soft mop of dark hair, while his long delicate lashes rest on soft cheeks. You’ve only seen his little peepers once today as you changed him before you left the hospital, but it’s only when Dodger nudges a foot with his nose that CJ opens his eyes again. You smile, and Chris breathes a sigh of relief as Dodger makes no plans to act suddenly or nastily.

“Yeah sweetheart” you address the bundle on your lap, “that’s Dodger. That’s your big brother. He’s been looking after you so much already, and you’re gonna have so much fun with him.” Dodger rests his head on your lap by the sweet boy and sniffs at him, while CJ slowly flutters his big eyes, sleep planning to take him once more.

“Good boy Dodge...good job buddy” Chris pats Dodger, as he watches the scene before him slowly unfold, just as it had in his dreams. Dodgers big eyes are just staring at the baby, and apart from the odd sniff now and then, he doesn’t move. Already, he wants to make sure that his little buddy is good.

You turn to Chris. “See, I told you he’d be fine”.

CJ closes his eyes ready for some more sleep and Dodger turns to look at Chris, which makes him laugh softly.

“Yeah bud he can’t play right now, not like your old man here. But give him a little while and he’ll be chasing you round the garden like nobody’s business.”

Chris goes to give his oldest bud more pats, wanting to let him know what a good job he’s doing already, but quickly Dodger rushes off, only to return with his favourite toy lion, planting it on your lap right next to your newborn son.

“Ohhh thank you bubba”, you nearly cry at the sweet gesture. “What do you say CJ? We say ‘Thank you Dodger’”.

Chris smiles. He’ll take the hospital stuff upstairs later but for now you’re his priority. Well, not just you now, but baby CJ too. His family.

He looks at Dodger resting his head by his lion and CJ, knowing already that the loyal pup would do anything for his little brother. He made no mistake in starting this family with a loveable, trustworthy dog.

He couldn’t have chosen a better best friend and protector for his son, Chris reckons.

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

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captainchrisfics · 5 years

Text

“I’m yours.”

About: Chris’s (first person pov) girlfriend insists on coming to set when he films a pretty fervid scene from Gifted’s sequel with his ex, which leads to more than a little bit of jealousy, a fight, and (unsurprisingly) a make up makeout. Requested by @tabseus - hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3,042

Warnings: I wouldn't call this nsfw, but it does get a bit heated

I stood by the snack table, picking at a muffin that grew stale since breakfast. The craft service crew on the set for the sequel to Gifted was usually really great, at least the few times I’ve been on set. This just seems to be my luck today. Tensions were high with Chris and me today. He thought it was ridiculous that I insisted on coming and would only result in unnecessary jealousy while I argued there shouldn’t be an issue if this sex scene he was filming with his ex was really just that. If I’m honest, I would’ve been just fine going about the rest of my life without the image of Chris and Jenny tearing each other’s clothes off and rolling around in the sheets burned into my memory. Would I ever let Chris get the satisfaction of being right from seeing how uncomfortable I was? Certainly not. So instead I found myself picking the blueberries out of this muffin. Not because I didn’t like them, just because I needed something to do.

As if the universe needed to remind me that a hard pastry wasn’t the worst thing in the world, Jenny bounced over to the table, looking at the display of food up and down. She picked a stem of grapes and popped a couple into her mouth, which I wish I didn’t notice was still red and swollen. I recognized the pink irritation around her chin and cheeks as well, a side effect of kissing a bearded Chris. Seeing it on another person rather than my reflection in the mirror made me lose what little appetite I had left.

Jenny leaned against the table, looking at Chris who was talking to the director in preparation for their next scene. I hated how her eyes on him made me think of how her hands explored his body instead just moments before. I hated how it reminded me they’ve done much more than that before. Jenny sighed, popping another grape in her mouth before turning to me. She could probably sense my stare, the kind of look that made you wonder what would happen if I spontaneously discovered I had laser vision.

“Hey, do you mind if I make a confession? I’ve just got to tell someone,” Jenny said in the low, excited tone I recognized from discussing crushes on the playground. I nodded against my better judgment. “I missed Chris,” she breathed like a weight was lifted from her chest. “Being with him like that is just so… God, I want him back. Even if it was just a one night stand.” The grape she was twisting snapped off its stem. I hoped it was loud enough to drown out how something inside me splintered simultaneously.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my boyfriend like that.” I made the words out through gritted teeth, squeezing what was left of the muffin so hard it crumbled at my feet. Jenny’s head snapped to me with raised eyebrows as the rest of her face fell into a look of shock. “I didn’t know-”

“Well now you do,” I shot back louder than I meant to. The more I looked at Jenny, the more I noticed the little things like how her hair was all over the place from the way Chris ran his hands through it and the way her dark eyes searched my angry face. The jealousy that’d been on a low burn in the pit of my stomach since I watched Chris attach his mouth to hers so desperately it was like she was his oxygen tank finally boiled over. I felt my cheeks growing hot and red as the steam rose to my throat. To stop myself from screaming like a kettle, I stormed off, throwing the muffin into the trash can hard enough it shook. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed in concern over the director’s shoulder, but he didn’t make an effort to come after me.

I paced up and down the short corridor in Chris’s trailer, trying to do anything with all of the nervous energy and pent up jealousy other than scream. I kept thinking about how I would explain this all to him, exactly how I’d tell him he was right in the least humiliating way possible. Rationally, I knew Chris was only doing his job. I knew it was a part of a script and just for show, not some senseless act of passion that actually happened. I knew he was directed to kiss her like that, to look at her with so much love in his eyes. But no matter how many times I told myself that, there was nothing I could do to make myself feel it.

After a while of burning a hole in the carpet with the soles of my shoes, the trailer door swung open to reveal a frantic Chris. “There you are,” he said, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. “What happened?” I stood in front of him stunned, still reeling to find the words to explain feelings I could barely understand myself. As if I needed to contradict myself any more, it occurred to me that even though I was angry with Chris for taking this long to check on me, I wished he would’ve given me more time to figure out the rest of my internal disputes. I stared at him with wide eyes, suddenly confronted with something I thought I had longer to work through.

“I’ve been running all around looking for you. Jenny said-” The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the sudden rush of angry blood to my ears. The sound of her name coming out of Chris’s mouth in the same breathy tone he’d used before brought back the intensity of my feelings that I hadn’t realized subsided with time until that moment.

“Jenny said a lot of things today,” I huffed, crossing my arms to drive home the point that her comments weren’t exactly pleasant. Chris cocked an eyebrow, snagging on my tone. “What’re you talking about?” he inquired in a way that was painfully tentative. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. I told him everything, maybe with a little more venom than necessary. “This is why I didn’t want you to come,” Chris concluded, tugging on his hair like he did when he was stressed. It occurred to me that, for the first time it was as blatantly obvious as now, I was the source of his problem.

“So you could all but fuck her without feeling bad about it? As if my being here is some kind of painful reminder of your real relationship?” I shot accusations at him. Not because I hoped something would stick, but because I wanted him to brush it all away. I wanted Chris to wrap me up in his arms and whisper that none of it was true, that I was the only one he wanted and the only one he really loved. Instead, he shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You know that’s not what I meant. You’re just being ridiculous.” Despite his contemptuous attitude, Chris kneaded his shoulder in an attempt to release his pent up stress. Stress I was responsible for.

In that moment, I wished I had a needle and thread in my pocket so I could sew my mouth shut. Or maybe a lock, so I could do that thing you do when you’re little where you fasten your mouth shut and pretend to throw away the key, but for real. Anything to keep what came out of my mouth next from doing so since my efforts alone were to no avail. “Am I really Chris? Because listening to her drool over my boyfriend wasn’t enough. You kept filming all of these romantic scenes with her, over and over. While I sat here with the mental image of you fucking her. Over and over.”

Chris’s eyes fell to the floor. “That isn’t fair,” he sneered lowly, almost in a growl. “I wanted to talk to you, but I can’t do that if you’re going to attack me for things out of my control. This is my job, nothing more than that.” His squinted eyes snapped up to reach mine. “I didn’t come after you because I was working, which I know you know,” Chris said, his jaw clenching between staccatoed sentences.

“Well,” I pouted, dropping my arms back to my side as I searched for another reason to argue for the sake of it. “You don’t have to be so dismissive of me,” I said with the hope that it came out with more conviction than I heard in my voice. Chris shook his head and responded, “I usually wouldn’t, but you don’t even believe you’re upset about it.” I hated that it was true and how I felt like I was watching Animal Planet, except I was the unsuspecting gazelle at the watering hole. Chris was the hungry one stalking toward me through the tall grass. I retreated until my back hit the wall. They say a lion’s roar could be heard from five miles away, but I think my nervous gulp was even louder than that.

“Like I’ve said, I didn’t want you to come because I knew you’d get jealous.” His passionate blue eyes, the kind you could drown in if you weren’t careful, dropped from mine to my lips before flickering back up again. “Which is what this is all rooted in, isn’t it? Unfounded envy?” Chris’s lips tugged into a smirk of self-satisfaction as my eyes avoided his, unwittingly confirming that he’d figured me out. I wanted to protest or at least put up more of a pointless fight, but I was barely able to catch my breath with Chris so close that I could feel his brushing against my cheeks. He trapped me against the wall with his hand as if I wasn’t already stuck in his rip current. “Want to know a secret?” He leaned toward me until his lips brushed my ear and his beard scratched my cheek, prickling goosebumps all over my skin. I tried to brace for the tidal wave to hit, but Chris made it hard to focus on anything other than him.

“I always think of you,” he whispered with a husky voice. “When I kiss her, I pretend it’s you.” His lips pressed a soft kiss against the patch of skin just below my ear, one of the only places I noticed his mouth didn’t meet her body. “When I touch her, I imagine it’s you.” He moved lower, sucking on my neck. I hoped he wouldn’t leave any marks, I didn’t think I could stand looking at something that was meant to claim me as his when I’d just seen them smattered across her collarbone. “And ever since I had to act like I fucked her, I’ve been craving you.”

He caressed my face for a moment while I searched his for any hint of the game he was trying to play with me. Part of me expected him to pull away and shout that he was just kidding or start yelling at me for all of the unkind, untrue things I’d said. Instead, his fingertips lazily traced down my shoulder before grazing the curve of my hip. When he reached my lower back, I involuntarily arched away from his touch. I couldn’t help remembering how he held her in the same way before laying her down on the bed, before I watched as he…

Chris sighed, pulling his hand away from me to tug on his hair. He took the hint that I wasn’t comfortable in stride as he turned and took a few steps in the opposite direction. “Look, you were right. I want to, I really do. But I just can’t stop playing that scene in my head,” I confessed, biting my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. My shoulders slumped against the wall, feeling defeated as the irrational fear of things never being the same between us crept into my mind. “I don’t know what I can do about that,” Chris said with a shake of his head, tossing his hand in the air as if to say he was giving up in all of his frustration.

“I do,” I said as an idea sparked in my mind. He turned to look at me with an eyebrow peaked in curiosity. I hoped he didn’t catch how I nervously wiped my palms on my jeans, not used to taking the lead on this sort of thing. “Give me something better to think about.” We stared at each other for a few moments, unsure of exactly where to go from there as the tension growing so big I worried the trailed might burst at its seams.

It felt simultaneous and unstoppable, how we fell into each other as if gravity was pulling us together the way it tugs people back to earth when they jump from planes. I wish there was a more graceful way to describe it, but Chris and I simply smashed together. Before I knew it, his fingers were tangled in my hair and my legs were wrapped around his waist and I couldn’t tell where one of us ended and the other began. Chris set me on top of the small counter the kitchenette offered before he unraveled the knot we’d become, taking a moment to catch his breath from a kiss like that before speaking.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m just trying to shut you up,” he said, scratching his beard with uncertainty. I shook my head furiously and leaned back in for another whirlwind, but Chris pulled away again and took a step away so he was out of my arm’s reach. “Seriously, I know we were both kind of heated, but if you’re really upset we can talk about it,” he insisted. I laughed without meaning to. “I’m still pretty heated,” I joked, causing Chris to laugh and agree that he felt the same way. “And don’t you think actions speak louder than words?” I continued, causing Chris to think about it for a moment before nodding tentatively. “Then show me you’re mine,” I challenged.

Chris didn’t hesitate before he kissed me again, this time much more slowly at first. It was gentle and barely there as he tested the waters before completely me down with him, which happened much more quickly. Suddenly, we were back where we left off. I was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt while Chris rested his hands on my hips, just barely brushing the skin above my jean’s waistline. As my hands went down, his moved up until they reached the clasps of my bra which he undid with unprecedented speed. Chris stretched to take off his shirt once I was done with it and I took the opportunity to remove mine, giving us a moment of forced separation to just look at each other.

I took him in, the way the muscle of his peck curved under his white tank top and the dive the v-line of his hips took below his belt, made visible by the rising hemline that felt like it was trying to tease me. How I could see the ghost of his abs underneath it and the tattoos that peeked out from around its edges before disappearing below the thin fabric, which I realized with anxious anticipation was one of the few layers keeping us apart now. Once my eyes reached his, it struck me how dark his irises seemed. I liked knowing the way Chris looked when he was so full of lust, the ship-wrecking kind of stormy water his blue eyes became and the smirk that seemed to never leave his lips until they were on mine. More than anything, I selfishly liked being the one responsible for it, not anyone else he’d been with before.

Chris scooped me off the counter by the bottom of my thighs, resting his hands on my ass once I’d wrapped my legs around his waist again. I held him by his flexed biceps, brushing my thumb over his bull tattoo. We left a trail of discarded clothes to his trailer’s small bedroom where he dropped me on his mattress. Amidst the messy sheets and tangled blankets, Chris hovered above me, pressing light kisses up my torso until he reached my neck where his lips lingered a little longer before drifting back to mine. He hooked a finger around the waistline of my underwear and I complied to his unspoken request, lifting my hips to his to make his job a little easier. Chris smiled against my lips as he slid off the only thing keeping me from him before leaning back, allowing his hungry eyes to roam my body until they reached my gaze with a sincerity I hadn’t anticipated.

“I need you to know something,” Chris said with a lover’s sigh. I nodded, feeling more vulnerable than ever in front of him. “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone before. You’re the one I want to wake up next to and go to bed beside for the rest of my life. You’re all I want and everything I’ll ever want and then some, too,” he spoke softly but sternly without his eyes ever leaving mine. “You shouldn’t ever question that. I promise I’m yours,” Chris finished with so much certainty it left no room for doubt. Partly so he wouldn’t see the happy tears well up in my eyes and entirely since I didn’t have the words to express all the emotion that made my chest feel like it was about to burst, I grabbed Chris by his cheeks and leaned in for a kiss that was more passionate than any we’d shared before. When I pulled away to breathe, I stared at Chris who had a grin so big it squeezed his eyes shut and said, “I love you too and I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

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shortmania · 5 years

Note

If Olga had children, what do you imagine they would be like?

Oh, I created a batch of those years ago. This pic’s from 2014:

To create OC kids, there’s a lot of junk you have to consider. Mother, father, family, parenting styles, income, environment, and all the ways these things might come together to form a person. And thinking about Olga as a mother has always been… fucking hysterical, honestly. Like can you imagine? Can you stand it? I’ve only ever been able to think about it in short bursts because it’s too much for me. It’s too much.

There’s also The Patakis to think about, and the ways Olga is likely to change as she gets older. Lucky for my sanity, I see her developing into a calmer, wiser, less chaotic sort of person. Less luckily, I don’t see this being a particularly significant development. It doesn’t matter if she’s 20 or 50, she’ll always be Olga Pataki and Olga Pataki is ridiculous. I don’t want to say she’d be a bad mom, but… she wouldn’t be a very good mom, either? She’d do some things right and other things very wrong. I’ll get into that, but lemme just do a quick rundown of the other basic considerations here: dad, income, and environment.

I created a husband for Olga around the same time I made these kids, but I never developed him very far past a few basic traits and a general backstory. So he’s very basic, but he works. Charles was a good friend from Wellington College (in England) who shared most of her English classes, was the only one to maintain contact with her after she transferred to Bennington, came from money, raised by nannies, bit of a nervous wreck but hides it well because that’s how he was taught–to be pent up and twitchy. His fam wanted him to be a lawyer or business man but he quietly rebelled by becoming an English major instead, knowing full well how useless a degree it is and not caring at all. He eventually goes on to be a successful playwright, though, and Olga performs in all his plays. So, income would be decent verging on very decent, and their kids would grow up somewhere teeming with theatrical opportunities. Probably somewhere really crowded and loud and pretentious.

Getting right into it then, from left to right, we have Angelique, Helena, and Genevieve, because Olga’s That Bitch. They attend(ed) a fancy private school because Olga’s That Bitch. They’re all very well-read, well-traveled and “well-behaved” because Olga’s That Bitch. But since Olga is, as specified, That Bitch, her kids didn’t escape her influence unscathed.

Tbh, I do think any kids Olga would have would be Pretty Good Kids™– barring her having any with an absolute scumbag like she so easily could, but that’s another question entirely (I write fluff and comedy, so these kids reflect that) – but. Hmm. I see Mom!Olga being extremely affectionate, extremely emotional, and frequently selfish; generally hella overbearing; definitely stifling. And she wouldn’t want to, but I can’t see her not on some level perceiving her children as extensions of herself, and thus incapable of coping with anything less than Excellence on their parts. Not to say that I think she’d be a monster. I don’t think she’d force them into things or demand they win awards or anything like what Bob or Miriam did to her, but being in the same room as her with a less than impressive report card would be… uncomfortable. And that’d be on top of her always being in their business, looking over their shoulders, and constantly trying to spend quality time with them. Even when they don’t want to spend time with her, and so help any of them that say as much, because Olga’s incredibly sensitive. So layers upon layers of bad, there.

Some rebellion would be expected, then, so Genevieve gets into the goth punk scene. She’s more casual about it as an adult, but Olga doesn’t understand her. Helena uses comedy and misdirection as a defense and smiles very big and very nervous when her mom’s lip wobbles at her a little too expressively. Angelique straight up hides from her. She used to be sweeter, used to gently comfort her mom whenever she inadvertently did anything that upset her, but it took a toll on her and she can’t handle crying, or disappointment, or criticism, and she hates explaining herself so she avoids ever needing to. She’s a little emotionally underdeveloped, as a result. Not good for anyone to avoid conflict.

I also see Olga babying the hell out of her kids, so that would be another reason for Genevieve to rebel and Angelique to be Babey. In some ways, it’d be good, like they’d be generally very sweet kids, but I’m not sure how emotionally stable they’d be. Better than Olga, at least. Their methods of coping with heartbreak and life’s little every day tragedies would be… interesting, though. I sense a lot of Beethoven’s 5689574th and other general dramatics. Dancing, ice cream, black mourning veils being broken out over the smallest things. Either that or just complete repression.

Since you asked specifically how I imagined the kids, I’ll go ahead and give a messy little bio on each.

Genevieve: I wanted to play with the dichotomy of the Posh Gifted Nerd archetype and the Cold Badass Rebel archetype. Bob has an influence on her in that he’s something of a military enthusiast (I guess?), and I see Genevieve being lowkey into that as a kid, until she gets older and learns more about what goes on overseas and how much carbon emission hummers give off. Incorporates a lot of her old camouflage into her goth punk looks as a mocking salute to that now. Proudly rides on the outskirts of society in her down time, but she’s the most academically-driven out of her sisters and was absolutely Valedictorian. Reads a lot of books, a lot of Smart Person magazines, and listens to a wide range of music (classical, alternative, showtunes, punk, jazz). Creative. Loves history, but especially the Georgian, Victorian and Edwardian periods of Europe. Super into black pearls and lace. Bit nihilistic, but cares a lot about everything. Always gets into very interesting conversations with Helga, but Olga has no clue how to talk to her.

Angelique: I already kinda rambled about her, but she’s my All Natural Girl. No makeup, no piercings, had to be talked into using conditioner, almost gave up shampoo once (bad month for everyone). Shy, sweet, sensitive. Concerned with the world at large. She tries to be an academic like her family but she’s really not. She dresses and behaves like a perfect little nerd, but school doesn’t interest her, and she feels hella guilty and self-loathing about it. All she ever really wants to do is watch trashy made-for-TV dramas, cook/bake and moon hopelessly over guys. DIY af, buys nothing new. Is Babey. Soft clothes, soft eyes, a little messy and chaotic. Constant low-level thrum of anxiety. Rumpled button-ups and over-worn sweaters energy, forever jeans, rarely in skirts because skirts are stressful. That character you forget and underestimate but shocks you with insight from time to time. Will probably end up a baker or smthn. The oldest of the kids, actually, though she rarely acts like it.

Helena: That girl who raids your fridge, chews twelve sticks of gum and paints your nails whether you want her to or not. No sense of personal space, very touchy-feely, always wants to braid hair and thinks makeup on dudes is the greatest invention ever. Goes against the dress code at her school very brazenly but gets away with it because her work is excellent and the teachers adore her. Attitude in spades but she’s a sweetheart. Lots of friends. Loves her mom to death but tends to avoid her without quite meaning to. More Daddy’s girl, though she avoids him, too. Parents are no fun. Thinks her Aunt Helga and Uncle Arnold are the absolute shit, because why would we want to live in a world where she didn’t?

And that’s my take. There are lots different ways Olga With Kids could go down, but Intense and Stifling are pretty much the two things I see as being universal variables in the equation. So, yeah. Maybe a little less fluffy than originally intended, but Idk. These are old designs. Other drawings and further information on these kids here and here. Shown pic here. I hope this was helpful anyway. Have a good.

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kumkaniudaku · 5 years

Text

Rough Patch: Three

ONE. COUPLES THERAPY.

Warnings: Smut (18+ Content)

Word Count: 3,416

Friday morning came on the heels of another night of separation.

Thursday ended with exponentially more conversation as Chadwick and Tasha maneuvered around the kitchen at the same time making small talk, but when the stars began to twinkle in the night sky and the desire for sleep took over, husband and wife went to separate bedrooms after exchanging timid good nights.

A two-room divide did little to sever the emotional ties to each other as they spent hours tossing and turning with thoughts of the next morning. Chadwick wondered if what he had planned would be enough to recapture his wife’s attention, and Tasha replayed her mental reminder to trust her husband and allow him to lead.

By the next morning, Tasha was up and moving long before she had planned to keep her mind busy until Chadwick was ready to start the day. Her thoughts completely consumed her as she loaded the dryer with bedsheets and she missed the heavy feet beating against the floor in her direction.

“Hey, I-”

His abrupt greeting startled Tasha into an involuntary yelp as she clutched her chest to stabilize her breathing. Chadwick chuckled and leaned against the door frame to wait for her to calm down.

“Yeah, just laugh it up. You almost killed me before the sun could even get all the way in the sky.”

“Sorry, Co. I came up to tell you that breakfast is ready and that you look really pretty this morning.”

“Really,” she questioned before quickly checking herself. It didn’t matter if she was clad in a loose fitting, spaghetti strapped nightgown. If he thought she looked pretty, there was no reason to challenge him. “Wait don’t count that one. I meant to say thank you.”

“I’ll let you slide this time. Now c’mon. Your omelet is getting cold.”

Tasha’s eyebrows lifted at the mention of her second favorite breakfast dish, yet she pushed the questions she had to the back of her mind to follow Chadwick downstairs.

“I know I don’t cook as well as you, but I tried to make your favorites. There’s French toast, that spinach omelet you like, sausage patties, and strawberries that I had to fight an old lady to get the other day.” As he explained the spread laid out on the kitchen island, she stood behind him in silence.

“You hate it, don’t you? Too many carbs? I didn’t even think about that.”

“What? No! It’s perfect. Thank you...again.”

“You don’t have to keep saying thank you, Co,” he reassured in the midst of pulling flatware and plates from their holding spaces.

“I know, but I want to because I mean it. You could’ve said no to all of this and left, but you’re still here.”

Rounding the counter, Chadwick shrugged as he sat the plates on the table, “For the record, I never had any intentions to leave. We gon’ figure this out.”

Chadwick’s admission made Tasha smile behind her coffee mug. She couldn’t tell if she was grateful that her husband had no intentions of abandoning their union or proud that they had spent 10 minutes conversing without jumping down each other’s throat.

The conversation soon tapered into the soft scrape of utensils against the breakfast plates. Both of them strategically stole glances at each other in the silence, picking a new feature to mentally praise.

“So, I was thinking,” Chadwick started between bites of his final piece of french toast. “I want to date you if that’s okay.”

“Date me? We’re married, Aaron.”

“I know, I know, but we never got the chance to really date. I want to get to know you again if that’s okay. I think it’ll help us remember what we’re supposed to be doing.”

From the pleading look in his deep brown eyes, it was clear that the notion of dating despite being married was important to Chadwick.

“Okay. Let’s date.” Tasha watched Chadwick’s smile spread across his entire face for the first time in a long time as he danced in his chair. “When is our first date? What should I wear?”

“I’d say you look beautiful already. This my favorite night thing of yours.”

“Woah! Hold up. Are you saying this was our first date?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. We have to make up for lost time today, so I have a couple more planned before the day is over. How does dinner and dessert after we finish watching Luther and giving each other pedicures sound?”

“We’re gonna give each other pedicures? As in I have to touch your feet?”

“Hell yeah! You thought you were the only one that likes nice toes?”

Silence engulfed the room before the couple shared loud laughter that no longer felt foreign. This is the relationship they remembered and were determined to get back to.

“Alright, then. Dinner and feet. I like it. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now,” He smiled over his shoulder on the way to the kitchen sink. “Go hang out in the living room and I’ll join you after I clean the kitchen.”

Under Chadwick’s direction, CoCo found herself nervously fidgeting with whatever she could get her hands on while she waited for him to join her on the couch. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous but felt her apprehension melt away once their second date of the day began.

Every moment after he took his spot on the other end of the couch and draped the blanket over their bodies felt magical. Their commitment to getting to know each other in a way that they had never explored resulted in revelations neither of them could imagine.

Chadwick learned that during Tasha’s stay in Atlanta she taught herself how to bake and found that she really enjoyed the activity despite gaining weight from “taste testing.” CoCo was shocked to learn the origin story behind Chadwick’s decision to switch to a plant-based lifestyle, citing a Facebook video his cousin tagged him in as the catalyst for his new diet. As each activity passed, the brick wall that they had built in four months came undone brick by brick.

A trip to the grocery store to purchase the necessary for what Chadwick considered a plant-based soul food dinner presented the couple with an old friend they hadn’t expected and old feelings that needed to be confronted.

“It’s so crazy that we saw your ex,” CoCo laughed before glancing at Chadwick as he settled onto the floor on the other side of the coffee table to begin his meal. “Especially considering, you know...what we’re going through.”

“I mean, I guess it’s kind of crazy. I wasn’t paying much attention to her to be honest.”

Tasha shrugged before turning her attention to her cell food, “I hear you. She looked nice. Really pretty actually.”

“She did, but I’m on focused on one person right now.” Chadwick watched Tasha look up at him for confirmation, prompting him to drop his utensils and grab her hands.

“I need you to know that I have not and will not stop loving you. Have I been pissed at you? Yes,” he laughed. “But you will always have my love. We’re going to figure this out, and in ten years when we’re listening to our kids play in the next room, we’ll remember this moment and know that we can overcome whatever shit gets thrown our way.”

The tears building in the corners of her eyes betrayed Tasha and trickled down her cheeks to be wiped away with the pad of Chadwick’s thumb.

“Dammit! I didn’t mean to cry tonight. Who cries on the fifth date?”

“I guess it depends on the context. I’ve had women cry by the fifth date. Usually sooner.”

Chadwick’s cheeky grin contrasted CoCo’s shocked expression and light gasp. “Aaron! I hope you don’t expect me to let you at it so quickly.”

“Expect? No. Am I hoping for at least a hug tonight? Definitely.”

“A hug, huh,” she questioned before stuffing a forkful of steamed kale into her mouth. “I think I can do a hug. We’ll see.”

“I can live with that.”

What Tasha didn’t know was the mere promise of physical contact had Chadwick’s heart racing at unsafe levels. Of the two of them, he was the one that craved physical intimacy. He’d long lost count of the nights he spent trying to relieve himself of the pent up energy to no avail. He needed skin to skin contact but was willing to wait until the time was right for both of them.

Dinner progressed faster than they desired, leading to a joint effort to clean the kitchen while they laughed and joked about moments from their time in school. But, even that activity came to an end before they were ready, and soon, the trek upstairs to their bedrooms commenced.

Chadwick walked Tasha to her door like a teenage boy would do after the prom, contemplating if he should make the move for the hug or let his wife dictate the pace.

“Well, I guess this is it,” he sighed as he turned to face her. “I had a lot of fun with you today. Maybe I could get your number or…”

“Or I could just see you downstairs for breakfast in the morning. My treat?”

“Wow, a sixth date! I’d say we were going steady.”

“Going steady,” she questioned with a smile. “I think it’s called going together these days.”

“I’ll take either one as long as we’re exclusive.”

“I like the sound of being exclusive.” Lost in their own world, they stood staring and smiling at each other as all trace of reality disappeared. This was the feeling they were missing. This is the version of themselves that they knew still existed beneath the turmoil. Sudden realization ended the moment and produced a harsh curse as CoCo pressed her palm against her forehead. “Shit! I forgot to make the bed earlier.”

“I can help you,” Chadwick blurted before he could catch himself. “I mean, you know, the bed is pretty big. It’s gonna be hard to...I’m talking too much. Sorry.”

“You’re saying just enough. I’ll have you in and out pretty quick. That sounded terrible.”

“It didn’t sound nearly as bad as you think. Trust me.”

CoCo missed the innuendo as she shuffled into the bedroom absorbed in her own thoughts. Chadwick trailed behind, taking in the space that he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. He was surprised to find all of his belongings in their original spots, including the pillows he left behind. He noticed the smell of his second favorite cologne lingering in the air and he wondered if his notion that she had sprayed it on the sheets before drying was true.

“I guess this would be a perfect time to let you lead, so...where should we start? Aaron. Chadwick!”

“Huh? I-I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay? If you don’t want to help it’s fine.”

“No,” he exclaimed. “I just- have you been spraying my cologne? It smells just like the one I left in here.”

“What can I say? I like the smell. I like it more when it’s attached to someone, but I make do.”

Chadwick eyed her from his side of the bed with a smile, taking pride in the fact that she still thought about him in his absence.

Tasha hated the way Chadwick made the bed and, in the past, would change it the moment he was no longer around. He knew this information and made it a point to incorporate the methods she liked to make her comfortable with following his lead. In ten short minutes, they were playfully tossing pillows to each other before meeting up at the foot of the bed to admire their work.

“We make a good team, huh,” Tasha smiled as she playfully bumped into Chadwick’s arm to draw a quiet laugh from him. “I guess this is good night.”

“I guess it is.”

“Well…” An awkward bout of silence consumed them as CoCo contemplated her next move. “Can I hug you? You know...as a thank you?”

“Sure. Of course!”

The hug started with a tentative touch. Tasha carefully stepped forward to wrap her arms around Chadwick’s midsection while he slowly pulled her closer and rested his chin on her head.

In any other situation, hugging a person for such an extended amount of time can be strange, but neither of them felt put off by the show of affection. Being in such close proximity felt natural and needed. Muscles relaxed and breathing slowed their racing hearts as they held each other and gently swayed from side to side.

Tension didn’t return until they pulled away to look at each other. This was a new tension; a familiar tension. This was the tension they felt on their wedding night, or after their first encounter in this very room.

Chadwick’s hand rose to trace Tasha’s jaw with a feather-soft touch as he examined her reaction. Her eyes closed at the contact and she seemed to stop breathing until a set of lips came in contact with hers. A short kiss by most standards carried all of the latent passion and desire that they’d carried for four months. Their bodies became pressed together as he flattened his palm against the small of her back to bring them closer.

When they pulled apart hoping that their thirst for the other was quenched, they found that they had only added lighter fluid to the fire.

“I love you.”

Three words said simultaneously by two people destined to be together. Previous feelings came rushing in to charge the special moment with a whirlwind of energy.

Their lips connected again in a more feverish kiss as Chadwick moved their bodies back to the bench at the end of the bed. Tasha allowed her husband to move them at his pace as she settled onto his lap with her knees on either side of his hips. With every sigh of content or soft graze of flesh against flesh, apprehension transformed into desire.

Reaching between their bodies, Tasha attempted to undo Chadwick’s belt only to be stopped.

“What? What did I do?”

“If we’re going to do this, I want it to be the right way, not just because we haven’t touched each other in a while.”

“So you don’t want this,” Tasha asked, disappointment evident in her delivery.

“I think you can feel how much I want this,” he laughed as he gestured below his waist. “But I don’t want to be done and go back to hating each other the next day. Let’s do it the way we should have the first time. I promise I can get us there if you’ll trust me.”

Settling back into his lap, Tasha’s natural inclination to take control had been tested all day and she hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Now was the moment that she could make significant change or recoil into her shell.

“Tell me what to do.”

Chadwick expressed his gratitude with a chaste kiss to her knuckles before anchoring his hands on her waist. “I think we should explore each other. Forget what we think we know and take time to reintroduce ourselves intimately. You mind if I…”

His request trailed off with a gesture toward the hem of her dress.

“Sure. Should I stand?” A simple head nod set off the next chain of events as she moved to stand in front of him.

With laser focus, Chadwick carefully lifted her midi tank top dress over her head in his own quest to stand, leaving her nearly nude body exposed to him. She followed his example by helping him out of his t-shirt and jeans.

Hand and mouths began to wander as they took their time with each other. Tasha traced her name on Chadwick’s shoulder blades over and over while he nipped and sucked at the available skin on her neck and chest. His arms held her close to his body as he led them to his side of the bed and carefully placed her on her back against the cool sheets. Normally he would have engaged in a race against time to disrobe and consume his wife, but he was committed to the process of taking his time.

Every inch of skin that he touched, licked and kissed became hot with building anticipation. He started with her lips and worked his way down, visiting his favorite spots along the way. His pit stop at the birthmark above her navel set Tasha on fire as she began to squirm in his grasp.

“You asked me if I still wanted you,” he spoke against her inner thigh, fanning his warm breath against the rising goosebumps in the area. “I want you in every way possible. I’ve had you mentally and emotionally today. Allow me to have you physically tonight.”

“I’m yours.” CoCo was surprised at how her voice came out in a small whisper but felt so loud in the moment.

She was nervous as if this were her first time with any man, much less her husband. Sensing her apprehension, Chadwick whispered for her relax into the meat of her thigh before hooking his index fingers around the top of her panties and working them down her legs.

Neither of them knew what they expected their first intimate moment post “storm” would be like, but it paled in comparison to the events unfolding in front of them.

Chadwick was attentive with his actions, taking time to build up a steady pace and listen to the way Tasha responded with her mouth and body. Breathless gasps turned into little mewls until her moans were loud enough to be heard in the furthest corner of the house.

He soothed her through a quick orgasm before going back for more, purposefully drawing out her second for his pleasure more than hers. It took CoCo physically cupping his face to pull his mouth to hers to bring him up for air and taste herself wherever her mouth landed.

“Are you comfortable with more? I don’t mind-”

“Please. I am begging at this point. I need you.”

“Yeah?” It felt good to hear that his wife, the woman he loved no matter the circumstances, wanted him the way he wanted her. His cheesy grin was matched by Tasha as she nodded and moved to help him discard his last piece of clothing.

Tasha was eager to make room for her man between her legs as they shifted toward the head of the bed. Their lips never parted as they shared the most passionate kiss in recent memory, keeping CoCo relaxed until Chadwick began to join his body with hers.

“Oh,” she panted as he sank deeper into her love. “...God!”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Not at all. Just...go slow.”

Carefully he worked into a pace and rhythm she could handle, joining her chorus of moans with groans and breathless whispers of praise in her ear. Physically, this was the closest they could get and it still didn’t feel close enough.

As the intensity built into a cacophony of sounds of pleasure, Chadwick intertwined their fingers above his wife’s head.

“Look at me,” he requested through gritted teeth. Tasha’s eyes remained closed until he slowed his thrusts to a near stop and asked again. “I need you to look at me.”

She obliged despite the tears blurring her vision, feeling almost unworthy of his doting gaze. What felt like the most intense moment of her lifetime was dialed up several notches as they sought out their releases together. Utterances of undying love became broken moans and audible shudders until husband and wife came with booming shouts that filled the room to the brim.

Sweat and exhaustion couldn’t keep Chadwick and Tasha away from each other as they rushed to kiss each other while the last sparks of euphoria coursed through their bodies.

Tucking his nose into the crook of her neck, Chadwick fought to catch his breath and speak.

“I think you should sleep in here tonight.”

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Chadwick lifted his head to nuzzle his nose against Tasha’s as she rubbed patterns at the nape of his neck.

Neither of them had any desire to leave the cocoon of sheets and love around them, so they didn’t.

Because this time good night carried the promise of a good morning.

______________

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mattzerella-sticks · 5 years

Text

The Big Goodbye (a 14x12 Dean/Cas Coda to “Prophet and Loss”)

(Link to Fic)

Castiel still had an itch he needed to scratch, and while Sam's speech got through to Dean, there was still hesitance there. That a part of him would not let go of the box even if he believed in his family. Since he feels like their time together was always cut short, Cas decides he will say what he needs to say - what he wanted to say for the longest time. And be the turning point that helps get Dean to fully commit.

Castiel slammed Dean up against the wall of his bedroom. He waited for this moment long enough, the outside world interrupting in the worst moments. Antonio, Donatello, even Sam though he hadn’t meant it, startling him; keeping him from pouncing. But now, locked away in his hunter’s den, there was no one who could have stopped him. He could let drip all the gasoline he held back then set it ablaze with one action. “I have a few words for you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean gulped, darting down the expanse of Castiel’s face before meeting his gaze again. Castiel has studied Dean’s eyes for years, learned the hidden emotions that he believed were reflections of the ones he felt. The feelings he doubted the names of for so long, only assured in his confidence when the end seemed near, were plain for him to see. Jumping like sparks off exposed wiring, ready to shock them both.

“Y’know, I said I wouldn’t do it, Cas,” he whispered; voice heavy and rough, “Sam punched me already… I think I have enough bruises for the night.”

“I don’t think so,” Castiel said, leaning closer, “But then again, I don’t feel like punching you either.”

“…Then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”

“Well then maybe we can get a bit more comfortable – ngh!”

Castiel slipped a knee between Dean’s open legs, grinning at the blush he worked onto his hunter’s face. “No,” he told him, “I need your undivided attention. This has been something we’ve put off for far too long.”

“…I’ve only had this plan for less than a week.”

“I know.”

Dean frowned, sighing. “All right, you’ve come this far, then. Out with it.”

Castiel pulled back, squinting at Dean. He could tell his hunter wanted to look away, his neck twitching like a cornered animal. Dean’s body hummed with all the pent-up energy of a circuit cut from completion. Yet he remained where he was, staring at Castiel like the years between their first meeting and now were nothing but days; time having folded over on itself like a piece of paper. That wasn’t the case. They can’t go back. Castiel doesn’t want to go back. He wants to move forward with Dean, alongside Dean – into the future.

“I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me –“

“I was going to tell you –“

“I had to find out from Sam –“

“I was figuring out how to say goodbye –“

“We’ve said goodbye all the time, in worst situations… how could it be any different?”

“Because I…” Dean muttered, face fully flushed, “Because all the other times I got them wrong – I did them… wrong.”

Castiel smiled, one hand loosening on his jacket to slide up the side of his face. He stroked a thumb across his cheek, scruff a comforting sensation. “So did I,” he said, “Which was why after Sam told me I… I went to work. I searched and referenced everything I could to save you from your fate. But I admit I wasn’t… only preoccupied with that. My biggest fear was that there would be nothing in all the books and guides the Letters collected.”

“It still doesn’t seem like there is –“

“Hush,” Castiel commanded, “I’m not done.” He gripped at Dean’s jaw, applying a light pressure that made stars burst before the green backdrop in his eyes. “When I am, then you can speak… Okay?” Dean nodded. “Good… I figured that, where Sam failed maybe I could succeed. Convince you that there was still some spark of hope left that we could nurture and grow. I meant it then and I mean it now.”

“But…” Castiel chuckled, “You… you’re so stubborn. Running away every chance I tried to speak, each time forcing me to re-write the script I prepared for you. When we got those few seconds alone in the care facility I’ll admit to tossing all my notes out the window – your very presence setting my grace on fire with the overwhelming need to make you see reason. And then I…” He trailed off, tongue darting across his lips.

Dean followed their path. His mouth parted, as if to speak, only nothing came out. Castiel could tell he remembered what was asked of him, and didn’t want to break the rules. Chills rocketed up his spine, and Castiel growled out a ragged breath. “I learned a lot from you Dean,” Castiel confessed, “You taught me to defy fate… that following my heart is better than following orders, even if it led to a few mistakes… and one very, very important thing.” He skewed his head to the side. “You can ask what it was.”

“What was it?” Dean rushed out.

“That we’re afforded so few things in this life, that we must make the most of our nights – as if they were our last,” Castiel told him, “And if you truly believed this was going to be our final goodbye… I wanted it to be big.”

Then Castiel kissed him, doing what he wanted to do earlier in the night, what he dreamed of for so long. Dean tasted of stale beer and grape Jell-O, the mingling flavors only driving him further into madness. They reminded him of the beauty in the ordinary, of humanity, and the man who set the bar for all others that now melted in his embrace. Dean’s arms wrapped tight around his waist, tugging him closer for contact.

“Oh yeah,” he panted, Castiel sliding down to nibble at his neck, “This is just what you ordered, Dr. Novak.”

“Funny,” Castiel said, “I thought you would prefer cowboys…”

“Cowboys, doctors… if you had kept the white coat and stepped into some cowboy boots this would have been the perfect send-off.”

“I find that the grandest gestures are somehow the most simple and…” he traced a hand down his thigh, “intimate.”

Dean shivered at the touch, leg hitching up and over Castiel’s hip. “I don’t get it though,” he continued as Castiel laved at his collar, “Why now? Why make this your goodbye?”

He slowed his affection. Tearing away from the bruise he worked onto Dean’s skin, he returned his attention to his hunter’s face. He looked nervous, like he stood on the edge of a cliff, staring into a long and unknown fall. Castiel grabbed for Dean’s hand, curling his fingers around it possessively. “Because sometimes a goodbye isn’t what you think,” Castiel explained, “It could be a closing of an old way of life – cleansing of a toxic way of thinking. My goodbye wasn’t to you but for you. To show that I am done thinking I don’t deserve this, that we can’t have something beautiful. I… I had hoped the expression of my… care towards you would inspire you to not go through with it – give you something to cling to.”

“Cas…”

“You said earlier, that if I was a good friend I would let you do this?” Cas grinned, an easy stretch of his lips, “Well… that’s okay if I’m not. Because I don’t want to be your friend– it’s not enough. I want us to be more.”

His words had an affect on Dean. From the way his lips trembled, to the glossy sheen of his eyes. He looked gorgeous to Castiel like this, reminding him of the many natural wonders across the Earth. Overcome with the sensations and feelings Castiel evoked, Dean seemed as pure and untainted as nature itself. Castiel wiped away a stray tear that slipped past.

“I – um… I never thought…” Dean choked back a sob, laughing. “I didn’t realize what this was for a… for a long time. Got so used to denying myself things, saying it was good for everyone…” He squeezed Castiel’s hand, his other rubbing at his cheek. “I… I want to say yes. There’s nothing I want more than for us to… But…”

“Dean,” Castiel said, “we still have a chance. Believe in the people who believe in you – that good things can still happen for us.”

Dean chuckled again. “You really know what to say… maybe that’s why I was avoiding you until the end. Could sense that whatever you were going to lay down was going to make it hard for me to walk away from.”

“I can be very persuasive,” Castiel told him, “especially to get what I want. And that’s to wipe away any doubt that we’ll need to use that crazy plan of yours.”

“…It’s in the book –“

“Enough talk of books,” Castiel growled, pressing against Dean’s crotch. “I’m going to fuck you, and when I’m done you’ll be too wrung out to be pessimistic about the future.”

“That’s so sweet Cas… you gonna turn down the covers and light a couple of candles by the bed, too?”

“…Who said anything about using the bed?”

Castiel flipped him over, knocking the air out of him. He latched onto his neck with his lips once more, teeth biting at the sensitive spot he already marked. His fingers sped to his belt, unbuckling it along with his pants’ button.

Dean enjoyed every second of Castiel’s ministrations. As each article of clothing fell away, he was met with a groan, cry, or outburst of heady jubilance. His hunter squirmed, trying to reach out. But every attempt was met with a disapproving snarl. “No,” Castiel told him, “no moving until I tell you.”

He focused on working Dean into a fierce ecstasy he could never recover from. Not burdened by the limits of physicality, Castiel extended his grace out to Dean to increase his sensitivity. So that each brush of his fingers across skin was like a string of wildfires blazing in the summer heat. And his kisses stung with the force of the strongest lightning storms.

By the time they finished, Dean was slumped over on Castiel’s chest, their naked bodies wrapped in each other. Halfway into Dean’s second orgasm, he repositioned him so that he could lift his hunter into his arms. By his third, Castiel was inside of him.

Castiel gently pet Dean’s head, murmuring praise into his ear, showering him with as many compliments he could weave together. Dean traced shapes into Castiel’s back, cheek pressed up against his shoulder.

“Y’know,” Dean said, “I… I’m having a hard time remembering anything before you kissed me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Dean leaned back; his face softer than it had looked in years. He shook his head, dropping it back down, and hiding his smile in Castiel’s neck. He felt Dean's heart beat thunderously against his chest, making him wish he had one of his own so they could match. Instead, he spread his grace over Dean, covering them both in its warmth.

They stayed like that for the entire night.

#Supernatural #Spn #Spn14 #Spoilers #14x12 #Prophet and Loss #Supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural coda #Spn fanfic #Spn coda #14x12 coda #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Destiel #Destiel fanfiction

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avengerofyourheart · 6 years

Text

Flour Girl {9} (Bucky x reader AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky (Jimmy), Wanda, Clint.

Summary: Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? (Inspired by “You’ve Got Mail”, Enemies to Lovers)

Warnings: none! Mild swearing?

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Ummmm. So, yeah. :) I know, there’s been so much anticipation leading up to this part!! Just know that there’s a lot more story coming and trust me, it’ll all work out. I’m actually still on vacation as you read this so I can’t wait to get home tomorrow to read all your reactions!! I love you all. As always, any feedback is adored and appreciated!! <3

<<Part 8 Part 9 Part 10>>

Flour Girl Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

______________________________________________________

The afternoon went by in a blur as you tried your best to work quickly and efficiently until your date. The lunch rush came and went, followed by a short lull in customers so during that time, you baked extra back-up for Wanda to fill the pastry case with while you were gone. Another short rush came so you went up front to help. As 3pm neared, Wanda basically shoved you out the door so you could get ready and head over to the cafe.

You didn’t have time to fully shower and do your hair, but you cleaned up as best you could and made sure there wasn’t any flour or cake batter visible. Slipping on your favorite Beatles shirt, you paired it with a comfortable but flattering pair of jeans and cute shoes you could walk in. Putting on makeup for the first time in a while, you liked the way it accented your features and made you feel more dressed up than you were. With one more primp of your hair, you grabbed a jacket and headed down the stairs onto the sidewalk.

As you walked past the bakery, Wanda waved and gave you a thumbs up, which you returned. You arrived at the Hawk’s Nest with 10 minutes to spare, so you looked around to carefully select a table.

“Welcome to the Hawk’s Nest, can I help you?”

Whirling to face the familiar voice you laughed. “Clint, it’s me.”

The blond’s eyes widened. “Y/N? Wow, you look great! I mean…you look different.”

You just shrugged with a smile. “You mean I’m actually wearing something without flour on it and put makeup on for once?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s a good look. What brings you here in the afternoon?” Clint asked, walking around the counter to clear one of the tables covered in coffee mugs.

“Actually,” you said nervously, “I’m meeting someone. Sort of a…blind date?”

Clint offered an encouraging smile as he stepped closer. “That’s great, Y/N! You work too hard. I hope it works out for you,” he said with a friendly squeeze of your arm.

“Thanks, Clint,” you smiled shyly and headed for a table.

You sat at a table for two with your chair facing the door. Checking the clock again, it was eight minutes until 4pm. Fidgeting nervously, you pulled your jacket open so your shirt was visible, but then decided to take the jacket off entirely and placed it on the back of your chair. You straightened the sugar packets in their small container on the table and brushed away any crumbs visible. A voice nearby spoke then, making you jump.

“Hey, Y/N,” Clint began, noticing your jumpy behavior. “Whoa, sorry. I guess you don’t need this coffee, since you seem pretty alert already, but here’s your usual. It’s on the house.” He placed the coffee drink on the table with a wink and then walked away.

“Thank you,” you called out after him.

You had considered ordering a drink while you waited, but then you’d have to get another one when B arrived. Right? Wasn’t that the proper protocol? You weren’t even sure anymore. Regardless, you blew on the mug of coffee lightly and took a sip of the comforting elixir. Five minutes until 4pm.

Each time the bell above the door chimed, your eyes flew to whoever was entering. There were all sorts of people: an elderly couple with arms linked, a girl with her nose buried in a book, and three young teenagers who laughed and joke around as they ordered. There was a close call when an attractive man entered, but his girlfriend, you assumed, entered a moment later.

Your fingers tapped on the table as the minute hand on the clock ticked closer to vertical. You held your breath as it struck 4pm and your eyes were trained on the door for what felt like eons. A minute passed. Then two. Digging out your phone, you checked the time to make sure the clock was correct, and it was. Sipping your coffee, you jiggled your leg under the table to vent some of your nervous energy.

Five minutes late, but you figured he just might not be a very punctual person. Taking your last sip of coffee, suddenly you had nothing else to occupy your hands or your attention. At ten minutes past 4pm, you pulled out your phone to check for a text you might have missed, but there was nothing. So, you decided to send a message of your own, just in case.

FG: Still planning on the Hawk’s Nest, right? Didn’t break your phone already, did you? ;)

You hit send, hoping your text sounded light-hearted and not like nagging. Watching the text send and then be marked as “delivered”, you now knew it wasn’t the fault of his phone. Where was he? Your mind began to run wild then, envisioning scenarios where possibly he was hurt somewhere or held captive. Maybe he was stuck on a subway train or in traffic. What if he just decided not to come and it was all a ruse? What if, what if, what if?

B was now 20 minutes late with no messages on your phone. Feeling the disappointment settle in your heart, you thought about leaving right then. Perhaps he wasn’t the person you thought he was. Or maybe it had all been a facade. Maybe you got “catfished”, or whatever the term was, and he wasn’t a young man in his 20’s but an old man. Or a woman. Who knows?

Just as you were reaching behind you for your jacket, the door jangled and your heart leapt in your chest. Eyes flying to the door, you held on to hope until….you saw him. Jimmy. Unbelievable. Hoping he hadn’t noticed your presence, you hunched down over the table and put up a hand, shielding your face. Maybe he would just order and go away without you having to speak to him at all, you prayed.

You heard him greet Clint and then the sound of footsteps drawing closer filled your ears. No. Please, no.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Jimmy asked from where he stood beside your table.

Begrudgingly dropping your hand, you finally looked up to reply. “Jimmy. What are you doing here?” you asked coldly.

This was not the time. You couldn’t deal with him in your current state. He looked perfect as always in black jeans and a zipped up hoodie with his hair expertly quaffed. Obviously he had cleaned up since you saw him earlier because there wasn’t a hint of hat hair on that head. Why did his very presence mock you somehow?

He shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood. Listen, I—“

Suddenly, you slid you chair back with a scrape of the wood and got to your feet. “Not now, Jimmy,” you said in a clipped voice as you slipped on your jacket and took a step toward the door.

Jimmy gripped your arm lightly. “Hey, wait, I—“

“No!” you exclaimed, a little too loudly as you shook off his hand. “Can’t I have one moment’s peace? One day where I don’t have to feel your little jabs and criticisms about how I’ll never make it in the business world? About how I’m doomed to fail? I’ve wanted this my entire life and I’ve worked too hard for too long and sacrificed too much for you to try to take it away from me,” you snarled angrily within inches of his face.

Jimmy seemed speechless but he couldn’t have stopped your rant, anyway. There was a pent up fury that was suddenly being unleashed from inside you.

“I haven’t had an actual day off since I opened the bakery. Why? Because it is mine. All mine, I’m not riding on my daddy’s coattails. I have built this business with my bare hands and I won’t let you or anyone take that away from me. I’ll wake up at 4am and bake until my lungs are white with flour, I’ll plunge toilets in the middle of the night when tenants call, I’ll scrub floors and do dishes until my hands crack and bleed. Because that’s what it takes. I want this more than anything and you have no right to criticize because you know nothing about my life or my business,” you finished, finally taking a breath and standing up straight with conviction.

The brunet’s mouth had gaped open sometime during your unleashing of words and he still had yet to recover.

Straightening your jacket, you began to feel the anger drain from you, leaving behind the heartbreak and sadness of being stood up. Refusing to fall apart in front of this man, you squared your shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run,” you declared, storming out of the cafe and down the sidewalk before the tears began to fall.

Wanda was surprised to see you returning so early, but when she saw the look on your face, she knew. She excused herself from the one customer at the counter and followed you back into the kitchen where she wrapped her arms around you without a word. You clung to her and cried for a few minutes until you finally pulled yourself together. Wiping your tears and blowing your nose, you gave Wanda the short account of what happened. He never came.

She asked a few questions, but there were customers to attend to and it was still a little too raw to speak of, so you said you’d tell her later and asked her to get back to work. There was no time for you to fall apart. Making yourself presentable, you passed through the bakery once again and headed upstairs to change. Looking down at the crumpled Beatles shirt on your floor, your heart squeezed. How could you have gotten it so wrong? Had you misread all the signs?

You went back to the kitchen and focused on what you did best: baking. Blasting music and singing along, you did your best to distract yourself. As the night ended and you closed the bakery with Wanda, you finally offered more details about what happened, including your encounter with Jimmy. She was impressed by your outburst and only wished she could have seen the look on his face. It was a pretty spectacular face, you admitted with a small smile.

As you were about to lock to door, you finally voiced the worry that had been rattling around in your brain.

“What if he showed up, took one look at me…and left?” you asked with eyes downcast.

“No,” the long-haired brunette assured you instantly. “Whatever his deal is, it has nothing to do with you. If he’s everything you had told me, then there has to be a logical explanation for him not showing up. You are amazing and beautiful and a badass baking boss who deserves someone who will not be intimidated by that. And if it’s not this B guy, then forget him,” Wanda said sternly as she pulled you into yet another hug.

You let out a watery smile and thanked her before watching her walk to the subway station and then climbing the steps up to your own home. Getting ready for bed, you slipped out of your pants and plucked your phone from the pocket. You hadn’t been able to bring yourself to check for messages as you worked, mostly assuming there wouldn’t be any.

Tossing the device on your bed, you washed your face, dressed, and crawled under the covers. Only when you plugged in your phone to charge did you see the screen illuminate, showing a text message waiting for you. With shaking fingers, you opened it.

B: I’m sorry. There are no words that could possibly express how sorry I am. I wanted to be there so badly. I have no excuse. Someday, I hope that I can explain but right now….I can’t. I won’t expect you to forgive me and if you never wish to text me again, I’ll understand. But just in case you do…I’m still here.

Feeling tears threaten, you locked your phone and set it aside. A small sob escaped as you curled around your pillow, wishing and praying for a deep, dreamless sleep.

__________________

Part 10>>

_________________________________________________________

Ahhh!! I know, I know, I’m sorry!!! It absolutely broke my heart to write this part, but this is the way it had to go. This is far from the end, though, so I hope you’ll trust me to make it right. Some of you will say that she should have let him speak because yes, maybe he would have told her the truth, but I really think what it comes down to is...she wasn't ready to hear it. That screaming rant at Jimmy feels a little cathartic, though, right?? He deserves it, for sure. Now we get to see if what’s been broken will be able to come back together again. I adore you all and again, I’m sorry for the heartbreak. It’ll all be okay, I promise. :) I’m still on vacation as you read this so I’ll reply when I’m home! Please let me know your thoughts, I live for your comments and feedback!! Thank you. <3

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@yallneedtrek @lexie-mo @flowercrownsandmetallicarms @kingcarterprince @snuggleducky @acunningstargazer @zadyalyss @satans-knitting-club @honey-bee-holly @just-add-butter @captainradicalpassion @chook007 @peekingsunshine @odinhson @chrisevans1fan @fangirlwithasweettooth @angryteapot @srhls @jurassicbarnes @livingoffsavvyillusions @ahufflepuffbitch @sebbystanlover-vk @thisismyfriend-tree @susmita121 @fandom-addict-aesthetics @lowkeybuckyb @jitterbuck @lunarcajun @aligatorinavest @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @lilyblack78910 @uservalkyrie @hawaiiantozier @belledamsceno

**I’m still having trouble tagging some of you. I’m sorry!! Tumblr is the worst. From what I’ve gathered, it has to do with your settings. Otherwise, I don't know, I’m sorry. :( **

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bakery au #reader x bucky #bucky barnes #reader x bucky barnes #bucky au #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #avengers au #marvel fan fiction #avengers fan fiction #you've got mail #baking #bakery

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chameleon-of-the-fandom · 6 years

Text

Repetitive Treatment: Chapter 3

Words: 1481

Warnings: Abuse

A/N: (Y/D/N) = Your Dad’s Name; (Y/M/N) = Your Mom’s Name; Also, the medical part is probably inaccurate, I’m not a doctor, so just going off what I know. Chapter 4 will be up Monday! Enjoy!

Sweet Pea exhales harshly, his world stopping at the doctor's words. He thinks about the pain you must've been in when you called him. "When can we go see her?" The words tumbled out gruffly.

"As soon as she is settled in the ICU, a nurse will take you back." Doctor Sillaw smiles sympathetically at the people standing in front of him. Sweet Pea wants to punch something, but restrains himself so he doesn't get kicked out of the hospital before he can see you. He turns back to the chairs and sighs.

FP must notice because he speaks, "Sweet Pea. Use some of that pent up energy and get me a coffee will ya?"

FP doesn't actually want a coffee, but he knows how hard the boy is trying to behave. He looks at your parents. They have dark circles under their eyes, and (Y/D/N)'s clothes are ruffled, like he hasn’t changed in a day or two. FP wonders how long you were at your boyfriend's before calling for help.

"How long have you been waiting?" FP asks, trying not to be insensitive. But, he has a sneaking suspicion that (Y/N) has been gone longer than they realize.

(Y/M/N) eyes shoot up to meet FP's. "She went over yesterday morning to study with him. We figured something happened when she didn't call last night, but I convinced (Y/D/N) that we were probably just overreacting." She broke off into muted sobs, and (Y/D/N) hugged her to his chest, trying to comfort her.

FP nods sadly, in understanding. Having a teenage son, he understood the connection between lack of communication and the climb of parental concern. He may not have been the best father, but he still tried. Jughead had always been able to forgive, but struggled with forgetting, not that FP blamed him. You can only be vulnerable to someone so many times and be hurt before drawing a line in the sand.

(Y/D/N) looks at FP, "Tell me you'll have her back. Tell me you'll get revenge on this son of a bitch." He is almost pleading, and the venom and lack of compassion takes FP by surprise.

"Of course, right now, we just need to let the Sheriff handle it, though, (Y/D/N)." FP means it. When the Serpents find out what Alex did to you, they would hold nothing back. Not like they did with the Bulldogs. That was different though. The Bulldogs simply messed with the nest, but Alex messed with their loved one. No one would ever get away with that. Ever.

Toni sits in the hard plastic chair once again. How could someone do this? She still wonders. Toni is heartbroken for you. And she continues to try and figure out when Alex's abuse started. You had been wearing more long-sleeves lately, but it hadn't been that different. Compared to a lot of the female Serpents, you were quite modest. Her two best friends had found that quite refreshing. Quite honestly, so had she. She remembered when you had first walked in. You had strolled through the doors with a quiet confidence, stunning in the jeans and bright red tank top you wore. She got nervous about your safety when you made your way to the bar, and though she couldn't hear what you said, she watched as Hog Eye threw his head back in a laugh. She had been impressed, most people were too intimidated by him to even try to crack a joke. Suddenly, the doors were thrown open, and Sweet Pea, Fangs, and a few other Serpents stumbled through. You stood up straight, and made your way over to the blood-covered Serpents. Toni almost winced when Sweet Pea started chuckling at you, but he stopped pretty quickly when you ran out the door. She had wondered why he stopped. Then, you came through the door again, this time carrying a fairly good-sized first aid kit. She winced again, this time in pity for the bloody Serpents. She continued to keep an eye on you, as you tended to their wounds, and though a few swear words could be heard from that direction, not one of them even tried to become aggressive. Toni had thought briefly that you may be the new Snake Charmer, especially considering you were bandaging some of the most dangerous Serpents and receiving no aggression.

"Toni, how are you? How's Cheryl?" Toni looks up from where she's sitting in the direction the new voice came from.

"Reggie. What do you want? I'm not in the mood." She snaps. And although she had been quiet since arriving, she is still a Serpent.

"Woah," Reggie holds his hands up in surrender. "Just wondering what you guys are doing here. You all normally avoid the hospital at all costs." Curiosity rings in his voice.

"Why do you even care?" Exhaustion surrounds her voice.

"Just want to know if we're going to have issues." Reggie states.

"No, we aren't. Okay?" She punctuates her question by putting her head in her hands and staring at the floor. She listens to the Bulldog get up and walk away, before letting tears slip down her face silently. Tears for the crap the Bulldogs had given and blamed on the Serpents. Tears for the crap that the girls at Riverdale High had taken in the last year. Tears for the girl who was injured when she was the most innocent person Toni had ever met. Tears for the anger Toni harbors towards Alex Arbin. She thinks death would be too kind a punishment for that boy, and doesn’t blink an eye at the cruelty of that statement. For as much as she was the kinder of the three young Serpents, she could also be the most aggressive, when the situation demanded it of her.

(Y/D/N) holds your mom to his chest, trying to comfort the quietly sobbing woman. He wishes Alex would walk through the doors, just to make him feel an ink of what you must've felt as one of the few people in the world meant to treasure you, had beat you instead. And (Y/D/N) thinks that somehow this is his fault. Because he encouraged you to get a boyfriend. Because you needed something to do besides hang out at the Wyrm all the time. You were young. You were supposed to be living life, not lying in a damn hospital bed. Little did he know, the boy he had met a few times and liked was having the same thoughts.

Sweet Pea wonders what you'd be doing if you weren't unconscious in the hospital. He thinks you'd either be at the Whyte Wyrm, doing homework, or sitting in a booth at Pop's, having fun with your friends. But no. Instead your jackass of a boyfriend had to hit you for some unknown, and probably stupid, reason. This thought angers Sweet Pea, and he finally loses his tenuous hold on his anger. He yells and punches the wall in front of him. He looks down at the glistening blood on his knuckles, and wishes it were Alex's. He looks back to the wall, and sees a nice dent in it. Sweet Pea wishes he had asked you out the first time he saw you at the Wyrm, when he wanted to, instead of being a smartass. If he had, you wouldn't be here right now. You'd be doing something relatively normal for a teenager.

A nurse approaches the group of people, who look like they'd been tortured in different ways. She warily lets them know (Y/N) is settled in the ICU and they are allowed to visit for a bit. She watches as the tension slowly begins to drain from their shoulders the closer they get to her room.

Everyone's eyes light up as they see you in your bed. Your injuries look so much more encompassing with the casts, bandages, and tubes running over your pale, petite frame. The first thought that runs through Sweet Pea's head is that the doctor lied- you had died. But he hears the rhythmic beeping of the cardio machine, and knows it's not true. Toni thinks you look faintly like a ghost of you should. FP is so glad you survived so far, and he knows you aren't out of the woods yet, but you made it this far. You'll be okay. Your dad puts a hand over his mouth in a physical representation of the shock from seeing his little girl, his princess, in a hospital bed. Your mom doesn't even hesitate to walk over and grab your unbroken hand, and murmurs that she's there, you're okay, and you'll be fine. She whispers that she's so sorry for ignoring her maternal instinct to check in on you. She repeats these words even as your dad puts a hand on her shoulder, using her as a connection to you.

Chapter One; Chapter Two

tags:

@answer-the-sirens @quinn-e-dawson @writing-yj @chipster-21 @serpentmo @falling-stars-never-cry

#riverdale #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #toni topaz #fp jones #fangs

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demongoatkingo · 4 years

Text

Let’s start off with I am a very, very, very, sad person, and I don’t even mean that in like a joking way when I say I’m sad I mean I am sad. Constantly. Same goes for being Anxious, it’s there and always in bold capital letters. I am writing this at 11:11pm MST to vent(?) or maybe to organize my thoughts. I don’t know I just want some semblance of order. So here it is in a nice neat order of how I got fucked up, how I fucked myself up, why am I still here/the people I love, and my emotions will be mixed into all three.

1. How I got fucked up. (TW: Descriptions of physical abuse/child abuse.)

When I was a itty bitty person like 6 or so, my mom had married a man and that man by law had became my step-father. I don’t think I ever went into detail about how he hurt me so why don’t we get it out now while I’m feeling extremely low.

When things first started out it everything started out fine. I never liked him but before I was out of that situation I chalked it up to me being shy and awkward but I now know that I was justified in my distrust in him. I don’t know how but my younger self had already sensed the danger even before it had even happened. At first it was little things like “I’ll spank you if don’t clean your room.” And then he would even if my room was clean. Then little by little it would escalate. He would always find something wrong with me including actions that I had very little control over like fidgeting. There was always a reason to hit. If I was too loud or hyper I would have my hair yanked. If I argued I would be thrown against a wall. If I ate something like a snack I would get slapped. He would always find a reason to cause some type of physical harm. When I would threaten to tell my mom he would always say “I already told her and she said you deserve it.” And I believed him. I believed him every single time he would punch, kick, and throw me. He made me believe that every little thing I did was wrong, that I was stupid and defective. Then there were the weird comments about me and my body. “You’re such a skinny Minnie, it looks cute.” to “You fucking fatass.” It didn’t help that my step siblings would follow in their fathers footsteps and continuesly insult me. It completely warpped my perception of my body and my view of others into a mess that I’m constantly fighting even now. One event that sticks out in my mind that when my day is particularly shitty I will have a nightmare about.

One year before I got out. I was 12 and I was left at the house alone with him. I was staying in my room because that was one of the few ways I could avoid him and he had me come into his room. He didn’t rape me but what went down was equally awful. He had me strip naked and lay on the bed. He got on top of me and put his hands around my throat and while he didn’t choke me made sure that the threat there was clear. He just sat there with his hands around my throat and went into a weird rant about how he was a better father than my bio dad, insulting me, and blaming me for all his problems. I didn’t say a word because I believed him. In that moment I really thought I was going to die right then and there and I cried because I wanted to live.

His abuse had and has affected every little aspect of my life. I am very distrustful of a lot of people, I get nervous about everything, I cry over things that seem really unimportant, I constantly fight with myself about how I look, for a while when I was younger I would take all of my pent up fear out on my siblings, I couldn’t stay over at other peoples homes until sophomore year (grade 11) because I was afraid he would hurt my siblings if I was gone to long even though by that time it had already been 3 years since I had seen him, and for a very long time I didn’t have the energy to make friends so I was completely alone.

My mom never knew, not until I had a panic attack in a red lobster, 3 weeks after the divorce and to this day she still doesn’t know the full extent and probably never will. The important part is that he lied to me. I had no idea that she didn’t know until that very moment. Everything he had ever said about me deserving it was a lie but it was already too late, I was too far gone and the damage had been done and I felt like a fool for not questioning him and just letting it happen. I was an utter and complete idiot and he was right. It was like he got one last hoo-ra that would last me a life time.

2. How I fucked myself up. (TW: Suicidal thoughts)

I couldn’t cope and so all that pent up fear would lead into me to yell at anyone and everyone, usually my siblings because they were always around and I would hit as well. Never to the extent that man did to me but hitting nonetheless. I had become the very thing I feared. After a while I broke out of it because I saw how it affected the ones I was supposed to love but I will never be able to forgive myself for becoming like him. As I got older I couldn’t make friends because I was distrustful and I didn’t have the emotional energy to form any kind of real bonds. Even when I had a girlfriend I felt like I was wearing a mask. She gave me a sense of normalcy despite saying awful things about my family and constantly talking about self harm and how we should kill our families.

I would pretended that I was happy and overly joyful about everything because my bio siblings and mom had already moved on and who was I to get in the way of their happiness. I hid my emotions for so long that I didn’t even feel like a real living breathing person even though inside I was constantly at war with myself and haunted by the memories of him. I am always scared, nervous, and sad and to be honest I don’t know if I have justifiable reason why. I often think this awful thought that I was jealous of those who can’t feel anything at all because they don’t have to go through this constant torment even I know full well that isn’t true. After awhile these intrusive thoughts would pop up. I would think I just want it to be over, I just want things to end, I want the pain that I always feel to just leave. I would think, I could walk in front of that truck or I really can’t bother being alive. I wanted to die so badly even though at that point just 3 years earlier I prayed to live.

3.Why am I still here?/The people I love.

In sophomore year I had made the single greatest decision of my life. That decision was I don’t want be alone anymore. I got this random thought that I was super fucking lonely, so I tried to make a real friend. I failed at first but there was just this intense drive to keep trying anyway. That’s when I met Zeph (they/he). I had saw one of their friends shirt that had an anime I watched on it so I used that to break the ice and finished with “Hi, I don’t have any friends do you mind if I sit with you?” They said yes and the rest was history. We sync up so well most of the time, we fight about stupid stuff like how I’m a poor sport, they put up with all my weird little quirks, we listen to each other when we’re having a hard time. In the most platonic way I am in love with Zeph. Zeph is my best friend in the whole wide world and I will fight to keep it that way. They make me feel complete in a way I will never be able to describe with words. Zeph is the one of the biggest reasons I am still standing even when the pain feels like too much to bare.

Zeph if you ever read this I have things to tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t say any of the following earlier and I love more than anything, thank you for giving me a reason to keep going. Even if we suddenly stopped being friends I’ll keep going because you helped me discover an abundance of reasons to be alive.

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gloomy-goober · 7 years

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Glam Up a Rainy Day

In which a young Creativity and a young Anxiety bond during a rainy day in Thomas’ mind.

@holdnarrytight @justanotherpurplebutterfly @twinkly-lights @here-to-vent @that-space-gay-writes

Anxiety sat by the window in the main hub. The youngest side had his hood pulled up over his head and his hand pulled into the over sized sleeves. Outside the little home light grey clouds hovered over the sky and let rain drops go and hit the ground.

It was not caused by any terribly bad day that Thomas was experiencing, if it was Roman would be outside trying to fight it off. No, it was merely a normal occurrence of bad emotions appearing that any young teenager gets. Seventh grade was not an easy ride after all and neither is puberty.

The other sides seemed to be effected by this rainfall in Thomas’ subconscious.

Heart, usually happy and bouncing, had lost his step and went to take a nap when the light rainfall briefly became a downpour. Logic went with the usually peppy side to make sure that Patton was not alone. Creativity had been going in and out of his room like a nervous squirrel.

Virgil seemed to like the rain more then the others. It symbolized Thomas letting out some of his pent up emotions that made the anxious side’s job hard. He had a small desire to just go out and lay outside. Let the water seep into his hoodie, but he also did not want to risk a cold or Patton’s worry about him disappearing out into what was normally Roman’s domain.

This did not stop him from cracking the window open slightly so he could listen to the rain and smell the calming scent. He liked listening to the other sides talk but this rare moment when the hub was empty made him realize he slightly missed his alone time in the basement.

The boy let out a sigh and rested his head on the glass. The pitter patter of the rain lulling him into a blanket of security. He had probably would have sat like that all day if it was not for the afternoon interruption of Roman “Creativity” Sanders.

The side did not seem to notice the newest addition over by the window as he dropped his stuff onto the hub’s coffee table. The usually green clad side had seemed to have taken a costume change in the direction of a disney character onesie. Virgil could not tell if it was Chip or Dale but he honestly expected a princess or Mickey Mouse. Maybe Pansy was feeling off today.

The silent side shifted his watchful gaze from the window to the new interesting thing in the room.

He watched as Creativity turned on the T.V. and stuck in a movie. From the sound of it the movie was Peter Pan. The Disney obsessed side did not look at the screen as he started to set up the things he had brought out.

The young side dug around in the box he had brought out. Taking things out to put them back in after he set up a bunch of small glass bottles. Each one was a different color and Virgil slowly realized that they were all different kinds of nail polish. He pulled out cotton balls, nail clippers, a nail file, and a bottle that read ‘nail polish remover’ before the side closed the box and set it on the floor.

A burning question burned in the back of Anxiety’s mind as he watched Roman look over the different colors before he grabbed a red colored bottle and began to shake it.

What is Roman doing? Does he know I am here? Would he be mad that I am here?

Anxiety hugged his knees to his chest. His eyes were locked on Roman even though his thoughts were elsewhere.

He probably would be mad. He hates me because... I’m too quiet. Not outgoing. Stupid. A nuisance. An unwanted addition.

Just a terrible side for someone to have. I don’t do anything productive. I should just leave before I ruin his time out in the hub. He was here before you technically.

“I know I am handsome but there is no reason to stare.”

The statement made Anxiety jump out of the darkest part of his mind and brought him back to reality. Creativity had stopped shaking the bottle and was looking over at the other with an unreadable expression.

Virgil’s face burned with embarrassment. The dang habit of staring off into space was one he had not been aware of until he joined their world upstairs. He looked away and made sure that his hood casted a dark shadow over his pale face.

“Sorry. Just...wanted to...” he began to say but let it trail off into mumbles. He still was not the best at expressing his thoughts verbally, it was something Patton was working with him on. “I’m sorry...I’ll go.”

Virgil slipped from the window sill quickly and hunched his shoulders. He barely made it two steps away from the window before Roman’s words froze him in place.

“Now hold on a second, Anxiety. Come over here.”

He is going to yell at you for staring. Tell you how you were being really weird.

Anxiety sucked in a shaky breath and curled into himself more. He wanted so badly to run away back to his basement but that would only make Creativity even angrier. Roman was not known for his easy temper.

The nervous side took in a deeper breath and forced his feet over to the couch. The boy sat as far as he could from Roman without letting on that he was scared. It was a skill he was learning was pretty hard; to put on an act of uncaring.

“What?” His voice squeaked a little and he was going to pretend it was Thomas’ physical changes not his nerves.

Roman held out his hands with the palms facing up. He did not say anything; just waited for Anxiety to get the idea.

Virgil looked at him confused from under the shadow of his hood.

Is this some kind of trick? What does he want?

Roman raised an eyebrow at him and looked down at his hand then back up at Virgil expectantly. This happened a couple of times before Anxiety finally understood what the older side wanted.

Hesitantly, Virgil brought his hands out of his pocket and put them in Creativity’s outstretched ones. He held back a gasp at the feeling.

Roman’s hands were weirdly soft and warm, not unlike Patton’s but there was more of a noticeable trace of growling callouses. This is not what made Anxiety sit up straighter. Creativity was also Thomas’ self confidence, positvity, and dreams. He was the opposite of Anxiety’s role as the caution, self-hatred, and pessimist.

The warm, positive energy that Roman was leaking fought against the dark that plagued Virgil. The youngest side wanted to pull away and lean towards it all at the same time. Whatever Roman’s plan was with the holding hands, Virgil was not going to complain. It felt oddly nice for the thoughts to be completely quiet.

Creativity had locked his fingers around the other’s hands as soon as they had touched his palms. The grip was gentle yet firm as he got right to work. He pulled them up close to his eyes and observed them with a quiet noise that sounded like a tisk.

“Bitten almost down to the bone,” Roman muttered, “But not completely irreparable.”

Virgil wished he could do some other expression besides confusion when around Creativity but it seemed this side could only spur that emotion.

Just as quickly as Roman had latched onto the hands he let them drop back to Anxiety’s lap. The warm positive feeling disappeared with the loss of the touch and Virgil had to do his best to not let the disappointment show. The boy just pushed them back into his hoodie’s pockets and watched as the older side looked over the items on the table.

“Well, I am not specialist but I think today is your lucky day,” Roman said after a moment and held out a hand expectantly.

“What?” Anxiety got out, finally voicing how lost he was.

Creativity rolled his eyes and pulled one of Anxiety’s hands from the cover of the pocket. The same warm feeling passed over Virgil but he kept his mouth shut about it. His eyes locked onto the nail clippers that Roman held in the hand that was not holding his own.

“I am going to fix this nail biting problem. It is simply a terribly thing to do to your nails,” Roman said and began to work at clipping down the ragged ends of the youngest’s finger nails. “You are so lucky that it was me you came to for this.”

“I didn’t...you called me over?”

Roman ignored the quiet supply of the true information. “I doubt Logan or Patton could fix them in this stage of terribleness.”

He clipped the last nail and looked them over with an approving gaze. The fanciful side set down the clippers and grabbed the nail file; working with experience that Anxiety could not help but wonder where the other got it.

“Choose a color.”

“Huh?”

Roman blew over the other’s hand to get the dust off and nodded his head to the table that was still strewn with different colored bottles. There were pinks, blues, red, greens, and even glitters. It was a little overwhelming for the quiet side.

“I don’t really have greys or blacks or whatever you emos like,” Roman set down the hand he was working on and grabbed Virgil’s other hand. The anxious side not even reacting to the flood of positivity this time. “But I am sure that you can find something dark enough to appease your little gremlin soul.”

“Do I need to choose a color?” Anxiety whispered. The flood of positive emotions spurred him on a little.

The question made Creativity pause. The boy mid-clip of a terribly torn up thumb nail as he seemed to mull the question over in his mind.

“No?” he said the word slowly and unsure before he seemed to find a train of thought that appeased him. “But the polish will hopefully help in stopping this bad habit. You would not want to bite this stuff off your nails; trust me.”

He’s...trying to help me? Why?

Virgil bit back the question with a bite to the lip and looked over the different colors again. The free hand almost went and grabbed a sliver bottle before he spotted a color that was set near the blues. It was out of his range of motion with Roman filing down his nails so he had to point over to it.

“Can...can I have that one?”

Roman blew off the dust and looked over in the direction the darker clad side pointed. An honest shocked expression passed over the young side’s face as he let go of Anxiety’s hand.

“Royal Purple?”

Virgil nodded. The more he looked at the color the more he liked it. It was weirdly bold while also having a calming effect.

“Well,” Roman paused and took a glance at Anxiety’s eager face before the pre-teen gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I was going to paint my nails red today anyway.”

The creative side grabbed the bottle and set it down close to the two of them before he grabbed a clear bottle. The began to shake it.

“We need to put a base coat on first. It helps the polish stay longer,” he explained when he caught the shadowed expression on Anxiety’s face.

The next few moments were filled with Peter fighting hook on the T.V. screen as Princey carefully dusted off the last of the dust with a rag and then began to paint Virgil’s nails with a clear coat. Neither of them said a word to each other but Anxiety had to admire how the simple clear polish made his usual disarray nails look better.

“Wave your hands around,” Roman commanded as he put the bottle up. “We want that dry before I put on the purple.”

Anxiety felt ridiculous doing it but he was not going to question Creativity. He waved his hands around to dry the polish and while he did Roman began to clip his own, much nicer, nails.

Roman set the down the clippers when he was done and gently placed a hand on Anxiety’s wrists to get him to stop. He held one of the wrists in a gentle grip and grabbed the purple polish.

“Alright, be super still for me. I don’t want to get it on your skin. I don’t like to clean edges.”

“Okay.”

Virgil was as still as a statue despite his nerves. The young side stared down at the other as he worked. Every time a clear coated nail turned into the vibrant purple he felt a small spark of excitement go through him.

Roman did not even have to tell him to wave his hands when he finished the last nail. The quiet side going to the action without question. Virgil did not even move to pull his hood back over his head when it slipped down. He did not want to mess up Creativity’s work. The flamboyant side grabbed the nail file to work on his own hands while they waited.

When the color was done drying Roman put another clear coat over the nails. It seemed to take the purple and turn it into jewels in Anxiety’s eyes.

“And there, when that dries you will be all done. Course you could do a pedicure but I refuse to do feet,” Roman said as he set the bottle down.

Virgil stared down at his painted nails with wide eyes. Sure the skin around the nails still had the obvious signs of dry skin and his cuticles were not the best in the world but they looked amazing. Roman had done an amazing job with the limited experience.

Roman and Virgil were shocked when the youngest side suddenly lept forward and hugged the other. The two frozen with Anxiety latched onto Roman in a hug.

“Thank you.”

Creativity was not given an option to respond. Just as quickly as the other had shown affection he let go and hurried out of the main hub. The basement door closing before the other side could blink.

It was nerves that drove Anxiety into hiding but they were not the standard nerves the young side was used to. They were the kind of nerves that made someone want to giggle, jump, spin around in a circle, or just all over be happy. The positive energy that Creativity had unknowingly leaked still running through him as he made his way down into his room in a careful way to not mess up his hands.

Upstairs, Roman did as he said he was going to do. He painted his nails red; bright rubies that would stand out against his usual green outfit if he decided to change back into it. The movie he had put on covering up the fact that the rain that had been falling outside in Thomas’ subconscious had stopped.

#Growing Up Part of a Whole #sanders sides #Roman #Princey #Roman Sanders #my fic #'A' fic #fic #Anxiety #Virgil Sanders #Virgil #unedited #And they bonded

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iwantkiwijuice · 5 years

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A clean slate

It’s January 3rd and the last time I blogged was almost 2 months ago oops. There were many times I wanted to write something, but decided against it because they were mostly negative and frustrating thoughts about the people that were close to me. I think the past year has been quite long (as compared to the previous years haha) and there were so many things that have changed and that I have to get used to.

I had so many plans for this post. I wanted to talk about the bad things from last year and let them out. I wanted to list out all the unhappiness that I kept in. About ting, bao, keng, dwayne, jermaine and start this year brand new, to have washed away all these feelings. But then I thought about something Ting said once; we don’t have to ruin someone’s day just because they have ruined ours. In all honesty, this year was a good one for me. I went to Berlin, I made new friends at work, I got better at being by myself and conveying my thoughts. I got closer to the people I have always wanted to and strengthen relationships with my friends. I talked more to my family, I did well in school, I had less negative thoughts about myself.

I’ve always felt like it’s people who are in a good place who have the energy to judge those around them. Like how it’s those rich, privileged educated people who talk the most about poverty, racism and discrimination. When you’re not facing certain issues firsthand, you tend to make your own assumptions and exaggerate the truth. You form your own biased impressions, and even if sometimes they might be true, you won’t ever know the real reason behind them.

Sometimes it’s just nice to give others the benefit of the doubt and trust that they can handle their issues correctly. Today Elsa and I were making plans and even though I asked her super early on, she wanted (really strongly) to postpone the plans or cancel them for another (which involved friends she only just made not too long ago). At first I got annoyed, but also realised that getting my way would mean both sides get upset in the end. The meet up would have felt forced and awkward. This was when I realised a lot of interactions were almost like that this later half of the year, especially with bao and ting. Every time we met spontaneously, the meet up would be great and we would have lots to talk about. But when it was planned, something would go wrong before we met and make the meeting awkward. I realised that it takes a lot of control to let something slide, but it almost always is worth it in the end. I’ll still get to meet Elsa and catch up without any worries or awkward feelings. it would still be a nice day.

anyways what I wanted to say was that yes, maybe it would have felt good to air everything out, but there are so many ways to achieve the same thing and sometimes, it’s not worth it bringing up past memories. Maybe I would have released everything pent up inside me and made myself feel better, but I would have released those emotions into the people I care about the most and made them overthink. As long as the problems are over, and I’m over them, it doesn’t matter anymore right? Once an action or word goes out into the world, it can never be taken back, so we don’t have to harp on those things. What’s more important is how we move on from them. And that’s what I’m going to do. I’m giving 2019 a clean state. I’ve decided not to bring up things, but still start this year with a clean slate. To let go off everything - good, bad, and just start off anew. To get to know my friends like it’s the first time we’ve met, so that I can accept everything about them without any prior expectations or assumptions. Things I thought they would do or say on account of our friendship, I would not bank too much on and just live life as it is haha. I’ll give everyone else more space, while giving myself more too.

My new year’s resolution is to be a giver. I will try to be there for others as much as I can, and try my best to not be negative. I feel like these few years are when I’ll see everyone changing and finding themselves all over again, and it’s good to trust that people know how to handle their own situations without me assuming the worst in them.

I’d like to thank cini for always being there this year. I think that my exchange + his exchange gave us time apart to be ourselves - something that we didn’t have before and I think it was much needed. I’m forever grateful for this friendship and how it has grown. I’m even more comfortable with my thoughts and feel like it’s easier to voice them out now, without having to worry because I know he’ll always listen.

I’m grateful for Bao for being the person I’ve met the most this year. I think working together is a big part of that and I’m glad that before her work officially starts, we had one year of getting to know the little quirks about each other. I’m glad that there were some disagreements, some frustrations with each other because it meant we have shown a bit more of ourselves to one another. Thanks for discovering steamov and the cookie with me HAHA.

I’m also thankful for knowing jermaine this year. Sometimes in life you think that you’r too old to be making new friends, especially younger ones, but there are people who surprise you and I’m glad that we were stuck with only each other when boat noodle first opened. I like how mature yet immature she is, and how we can talk about a lot of things that I would never have brought up when I was at her age.

I also met Zhongyu a lot this year for some reason and that’s something I’m also thankful for? That there is someone I can consistently rely on to make time and hang out without any reason. Thanks for just being there and being a reliable source of comfort, hopefully it’s not just a one year thing and we continue meeting up regularly haha.

The year seems to be starting real fast. In 5 day’s time, I’ll be going to beijing and the sem will start again. I’m actually super nervous for school because I heard my tutor is quite a demanding one. There’s some relief in knowing that Sulin will be there too, so I’m anxious but excited to see what this sem brings.

So yeah I think that’s it. I’ve been less tolerant of bullshit towards the end of 2018, so maybe I’ll try to understand others more but also be more real. I think since we’re turning 25, we can’t always be romanticizing our mistakes but deal with them head on. Here’s hoping that it continues being a smooth sailing time this year!!

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