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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

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The Bad Guy (3)

Bucky x fem!Reader

Smitten Kitten

Theme: It’s a good day in New York City for Bucky Barnes, who seems to feel right at home till his morning is disrupted by a bad guy. Maybe New York isn’t the same place after all. Now he has teamed up with the Bad Guy to fight the good fight. But this Bad Guy is bringing things on his surface he never knew he had

Chapter warnings: horny dumb asses and one thicc ass cock blocker

A/N: @writing-prompt-s once gave a prompt last year that stuck with me…I don’t remember the exact wordings but it had something to do with the reader/writer being the villain having a crush on the hero, always finding excuses (or crimes) to meet them. One day they are getting their ass beat and you decide to jump in and save the day. This one is same but with a liiiiiiiitle twist

Word Count: I hate periods!! Unless someone is paying me for this blood and mucus please just make it staaahp! I don’t know how many of you will get the reference of those dog and cat names. But oh my God if I could hug each and every one of you who reads, reblogs and comments on my fic I would hug the living souls outta you...five...people!!!!! Hnnnnghhhhh!!!!!

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

“Are you sure this is the location?”

“That’s what she texted Bucky.”

“...I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“...you…don't have a good feeling about...this mission or Y/N texting Bucky?”

Steve retreated his gaze from the binoculars to give Natasha a knowing look. The latter just shrugged her shoulders with the display of her innocent face. “He didn’t show you the text. He just told you the loc-esh. It’s normal to worry about it.”

Steve sighed and went back to the binoculars, looking at Bucky playing with a rock at the entrance of the warehouse before kicking it away. Steve hated the idea of Bucky wearing his favourite grey Henley shirt for a meeting with a bad guy.

“If I didn’t know him any better-” Tony’s voice crackled on the comms- “I’d say he was going on a date when he asked me if he could borrow my cologne. And if we go by our history, I really don’t know him any better.”

“Come on, guys. Cut Cap some slack,” Barton- who was screening the whole area from the top of the local water tank a couple of miles above the hill- added, “it’s not every day you see your best friends fall for the bad guys. Twice.”

A giggle and snicker eroded through the comms and Steve rolled his eyes while pushing himself into the seat. “Thanks for the input, Barton.”

“Alright, everybody shush,” Natasha interrupted the tease session, “she’s here.”

A Land Rover smoothly turned into the rundown estate to come and stop by Bucky’s Mustang. Those stooping shoulders suddenly found their rigidity and turned towards the car to welcome whoever was about to step out.

For a hot summer morning with plans to make plans to take down an entire cartel, you were dressed in a floral sundress. Brown shades covered your eyes and most of your face from that merciless sun. What they did not cover was the smile on those naked lips that had been painted the most enticing red Bucky had seen, apart from the gun you held in your dominant hand.

“Hello Sergeant,” you sang while taking patient steps in those white wedges that were in no way shoes made for a fight, “did you get my texts?”

Bucky, the soldier had already evaluated all the entries and exits, the type of gun, it’s range, the best stances if it came to playing offence or defence. Bucky the himbo from the past, though, was having a hard time concentrating on anything else but that suggestive smile and tilt of your head; the light hitting your hair perfectly while the languid breeze annoyed your strands now and then.

“Of course, that’s why I’m here, aren’t I?”

You tsked. “You know what I mean Sarge.”

Of course, he knew what you meant. He could feel his chest flutter by just the thought of those texts last night.

You: meet me @ the warehouse on boulevard street tomorrow. We’ll come up with a plan to bust those bitches. Gimme a suitable time.

Bucky: Ok. How does 12 sound?

You: In this weather? Sarge, we’ll be sweating like a bunch of pigs under the sun!

Bucky: *typing* How about 7? am?

You: Do you feel like going skinny dipping tomorrow with me?

Bucky:

You: I know a really good spot a little away from here. Might end up on a road trip.

Bucky: *typing* I think we should concentrate on the miss-

You: Where do you live, btw?

You: *sends location* This is my place

Bucky: *erases everything* shouldn’t you keep your home location to yourself?

You: Hmm...But if I do that, how will you come over?

Bucky: *silence* *types* why would I want to-

You: It’s not every day I feel like sharing a bottle of some good stuff with someone.

You: It is soooo hot. I’m taking my pants off.

Bucky:

You: The top’s gone too. Phew! Just my lingerie now.

*one minute later*

You: Yeah, it’s not working. Bra is never comfy. Ever.

You: It’s better now! The night breeze is hitting every sweat bead on the spot.

You: Every window is open now.

You: Hmmm...Sarge. Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?

You: Well, thinking isn't gonna do you any good, Bucky.

You: Thinking about my clothes on the floor.

You: Thinking about my skin.

You: Thinking about how much more this wind is getting action than someone you know.

You: Thinking about my hands roaming on my chest.

You: And then my stomach.

You: And then down further…

By this time the phone was a crushed pile of junk in his hand and his cock a frustrated bulge in his boxers. Oh, the dissatisfaction of not being able to push you against a wall and grind his needy bulge against you was frustrating at best. The want to see you naked in the sheets under him while you called out his name increased with every second. Why did you have to be such a fucking tease?! A great one at that. Now he did want to dash out of the facility, steal one of Tony’s cars and drive to your home to take your by your hair and shut that pretty mouth of yours. He did think about it. But imagining you seeing him at your doorstep stopped him for some reason. Instead, he got out of his boxers, jumped on his bed and took care of that urge himself, fantasizing you, your touch, your moans, your highs with his hitting the rocks, till his legs were shivering and he had to stop himself from groaning out loud.

“I...fell asleep.”

Your tongue played with your upper lip and a tiny shudder in his pants was enough to tell him, you knew it was a lie. A lie through and through. There was a point when he started to fear that you might even know what he did after reading those messages.

"Sure, ya did," you chuckled the words through your teeth. "Anyways-" lifting your gun up casually to stroke it- "I was wondering about you last night. A lot. And there were things I did not like."

The safety clicked off and your arm turned straight to point it right at Bucky's forehead.

On the other side of the binoculars, Steve was already shouting his team to move in. Natasha was already driving forward, skidding to a stop right next to Bucky's wheels.

You could hear the commotion all around you but you were more interested in the disappointment building up on Bucky's beautiful face, looking at his pal with a hint of resentment.

"That-" you tilted your head a little in Steve's direction- "is what I don't like. You thought I wouldn't find out?"

"I told you to stay away, Steve!" Bucky yelled at him.

"Alright, this is over," Steve fumed from where he stood, "I knew we should not have trusted you."

With the right force, the gun crunched in your palms as turned towards Steve. You said nothing to the blonde. Removing your shades, you nodded at Natasha. "Hey, Nat."

"Y/N. How's Mr Fuzzy Boy."

"It's Fluffy Boy. And he still hates you. Talking about boys-" you looked around with your arms across your chest- "I thought you would have knocked some sense into them by now."

Natasha shrugged. “Not really. No.”

“She tried but we are too stubborn and our egos are bigger than our-”

“Hey, Stark,” you announced at the voice breaking out through Natasha's car. Turning to Bucky you sucked at your teeth. “I honestly thought you were doing this little team up because you wanted to work with me. Clearly that is not what this was about. You wanted to find out if I was working with the cartel, didn’t you, James Barnes?”

“Oooh, full name,” Clint cringed from his nest.

“You’re not really known for your goodness, Y/N,” Steve broke it down for you. “No offence.”

“Save it, Captain,” you spewed in his direction, “and to think I wanted to crush that face between my thighs.” Digging into your sundress’ pocket, you took out a burner cellphone and threw in his direction. “Happy hunting, you fucked up psychopaths.” You turned towards Bucky with no sign of any empathy in those y/e/c eyes. “Don’t expect anything more from me.”

The Land Rover moved out and away and with a part of Bucky’s broken heart that wanted to stop it so bad but had to do with turning to Steve and yelling out his anger at him. “You had to put your leg in the door, didn’t you. I had it handled!”

“Handled? Handled?!! Buck, she’s been playing you like a fiddle!”

“And you think I can be played?”

“I saw her texts for God’s sake!! Don’t tell me you’re going to defend her.”

Natasha cursed under her breath and stepped away from Steve. “Wow,” Bucky breathed in disbelief. “So just because she is horny on the phone means I am her little puppet? Is that how little you think of me, Stevie?”

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Buc-”

“I am not fourteen anymore! Neither are you! You know what, I’m out. I’m done. She’s given you something. Go use it and go punch some Nazi heads. I don’t want anything to do with this.”

And so he went away too, leaving everyone but Steve standing there to uncomfortably watch the captain look at the car.

“So…” Tony’s voice muttered over the comms, “which ice-creams should I keep ready in big dessert bowls when you guys get back home?”

It's good. Whatever happened was good. I mean, Steve and Tony got what they wanted. Y/N is no longer in the picture and...and…I don't have to interact with her...anymore.

The ball bounced from the ceiling into Bucky's hands, going back and forth without a pause. The other hand rested under his head- the very head that was blankly staring at the ceiling, thoughts running in there like a freight train. Wait, no, scratch that. No trains. They were running more like a leopard- just running around, presenting a brooding picture on the outside while on the inside- just like that very leopard, this poor muscular soul was dying of overthinking and anxiety. The agitation was on the level of a nine-year-old sulking in his bed because his mom was not letting him play with his friend. It was reasonable that the friend was bad, could be a bad influence, had been directly or indirectly leading him on some things he hadn't thought of in a while. But he had just made a frieeeennddd!! Hngh!

Crack!

The sound brought him out of the huffing trance to watch the paint and plaster crack in the ceiling. Fuck! Stark's gonna be pissed.

Bucky closed his eyes and let the hand engulfing the ball rest of his forehead.

Well, to be fair to his 'mom', Bucky was sure he was worried about what would happen if his new friend took him to the dark side again. After all the efforts and blood so many people had gone through, for one woman to undo it all. That was a genuine concern. But then again, she has been more interested in Sergeant Barnes than the Winter Soldier. Except for the part where she said she wants to see him…under the…sheets?

Right! What is with this woman! She speaks without a filter!! Does not care who's listening and what they'll think. I like that. I really like that. But all she wants to do is fuck me? And then what? Go back to ogling America's ass?

A part of him nudged at those angry corners, pressing at the fact that you had been too engrossed to be angry at him to even think about Steve today. So, maybe it was not all about the ass.

Bucky turned to his side, rolling that thought along with him. The ball was moved around by his flesh index while his mind jogged with the possibility of doing something next.

Well, there was one thing he could do. It would drive Steven Grant Rogers crazy but it would be worth all the trouble he would be going through. Well, if he were to get caught he would have been caught last night when he sneaked out of the facility to go check to your place.

The distance had not been much on the bike but the New York heat hitting his face the moment he entered the city was more unwelcoming than the people living in the city. Parking the bike in an alley, he had pretty much parkoured his way over the houses to reach the building next to yours. Silent as a cat in the night looking for its prey, Bucky had planted himself on your apartment’s balcony and watched in impressive horror the modesty you lived in. Paintings made by kids were pinned all over the living room walls while a volcano sat on the coffee table- half done. An empty bottle of orange juice lay on the kitchen table while cushions were sprawled over the floor. Taking a step to his right, he was looking through the french windows into your bedroom where you slept in your queen-sized bed like a baby. All around you were oil paintings in blue and green of what looked like ocean waves in different art styles. On the bed lay your worn down laptop still running. Bending at an angle, his throat let out a muted gasp at collage with his photos on the screen, suggesting you had fallen asleep looking at his photographs. What was weird for Bucky was that his accelerated heartbeat had not found a single photo of his winter soldier avatar in there. What cooled down his burning chest was the serenity on your face. Sleeping under those thin grey sheets with a plushie of a right next to your head, Bucky almost had the urge to grin so wide. He could not believe you were the same woman who had threatened his best friend in full public view. And he knew exactly what he was going to do. Take a picture and blackmail you with it.

Looking down at his jeans to take his phone, his heart felt like he had fallen down the stairs when a pair of glowing eyes caught his. Gaining his mental footing, he breathed in the fact that it was actually a cat staring back at him from the other side of the window. White fur stood out in the dark of the night as it hissed Bucky and tried to claw at him, clearly seeing him as a threat. Sensing the feline’s uneasiness with his presence, he thought it better to leave before that little white monster woke you up. But not before he left a bunch of biscuit crumbs on the balcony tiles as a sign of peace for the little fanged beast.

Now, he wanted to go back through the front door and get face to face with that rage today- not something he had expected after last night’s scenic view of that perfect face.

Pausing movement of the ball, he picked it up in his metal hand, got himself up from the bed and slid towards the edge to put on his socks and boots only to pause and form an attack stance with his metal arm towards that svelte figure leaning by the door.

“Gonna hit me with the ball?” Natasha cocked a brow at Bucky.

Loosening his muscles at Natasha and went on to put his boots on. “Going somewhere, Grumperella?”

“Outside. Away. Somewhere I can grump in peace,” Bucky stated, getting up.

“Take this pretty lady too,” Tony announced as he walked by his room and tossed a pair of car keys at Bucky, “I don’t think you’ll improve those points by going to her place on a bike.”

Silence.

The flutter in Bucky’s heart drowned by Natasha’s words. “Don’t worry. Only Tony and I know. We’ll handle Steve. Just don’t let our image fall further,” she concluded, walking out with a smirk.

“Truffle, Fluffy, stop looking at the neighbour’s lunch and come eat your chicken thighs,” you announced from the kitchen. With a bandana on to keep your hair as far away from your skin, your skin itched for something colder than what the air conditioner was providing right now. This was the third time you had fiddled with your thermostat today. Damn this summer! That’s it, I’m moving out of this fucked up city.

Fluffy’s taps came to a skidding halt at the doorway to slip towards his bowl while Truffle gracefully walked to his bowl and ate his share while keeping a paw between him and the corgi’s audible gobble and chomps, nearly pushing his face away.

Sighing, you sat down on the seat by the kitchen table, looking at your two kids devour their lunch while you questioned the disappearance of your appetite. Maybe it’s the PMS. Is it the PMS? You looked at the calendar over your fridge. Still a week to go. Maybe it is him. That stupid fucker.

Your thoughts started forming around that magnificent frame of Bucky. There were not enough times you could say you had been left attracted to a bewildered face of a guy in awe of your skills. Men would mostly take that power inside you as a wrong stroke on their ego. But this one? This one just stood there looking at you as if the theme of Love Story 1970 was playing in those anime eyes while he watched in gasping admiration at something out of this world. That was the first time someone’s face had given you such warmth. Well, a stranger’s face. Don’t let my family hear it, you thought to yourself. Just then, Truffle looked up from his bowl to turn and stare at your for a solid minute before going back to his lunch.

The doorbell rang, getting you out of those dreamy thoughts- for barely a second- that were making you sweatier by the minute. Getting up and walking to the door, you kept wondering about that metal hand, those absolutely luscious lips, those surprised yet aroused eyes and oh Gods! Those shoulders. Those beautiful shoulders you wanted to bite into. Arrr!

You did not realise when you clicked the door open. But you did feel like eating your own words when that Love Story 1970 theme started playing in the background just as your eyes locked onto those beautiful oceans of blue; the abyss inside them widening just as you came into view.

Bucky forgot how to breathe. For a second you did too. You did not expect him to be standing here; not after the humiliation you put him through in front of his team/friends. And yet, here he was. At your door. Standing in front of you, the bad guy, moving his hair back with his hand, revealing the redness of those kissable cheeks that had been struggling to keep the blood inside the veins the whole elevator ride to your floor. The rubbing of his hand fingers against his palms while his legs shifted his weight on each other.

“Hi,” his husky, barely audible voice sent shivers down your spine straight to your core.

“Hi,” you responded with a softness you had not heard in ages. And the guitars strum in the background, the tune carrying all the unspoken feelings in the shape of melodies in the air around the two of you.

“Can we talk?”

Bucky was almost scared of having the door being slammed in his face. But when you moved aside to let him in, he felt live rush back into his bones. He had not felt this alive since Wakanda. With sure steps inside, he was not letting this feeling go away anytime soon.

The gush of that one magical wind inside you made you discreetly smile to yourself and you could not help but wonder if it was his last night’s visit to your place that brought him back or just his curiosity with this mission. Whatever it was, you challenged yourself to not let this one get away till you had explored every little inch of his being in person.

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thevoilinauttheory · 5 years ago

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Character Info | Amosis

Full Name: Amosis (He has no written surname, though will comment Lellouche if pestered enough.)

Pronunciation: Amo-sis Le-lou-sh

Nicknames: Amy, begrudgingly, by someone he tolerates.

Gender: Male

Height: 6 fulms, 2 ilms

Age: Appears to be in his late 20s. Will not give away his age. If pestered enough, he *might* say 28. It changes every time someone asks. He doesn’t actually know how old he is.

Zodiac: Birthday Unknown; is probably a Capricorn or Sagittarius - despite conflicting with the nameday he’s chosen for himself.

Languages: Common, Old Ishgardian, Old Sharlayan, Ul’dahn, Ancient Nymian, Ancient Mhachi, Ancient Amdapori, Ancient Allagan, Ixali, Dragonspeak/Dravanian - is fairly fluent in all of them. There are a few others that one wouldn’t seem to know, as if he made them up himself. Knows phrases and words of Ilsabardian and Hingan.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair Color: Black with dark brown highlights.

Eye Color: Maroon, nothing bright, just a subtle red.

Skin Tone: Tan, on the darker side.

Body Type: Well toned, athletic, built for speed not physical strength.

Accent: It’s hard to pinpoint where his accent comes from, as it’s strangely... foreign. His R’s roll much like a Miqo’te, though smoother; he has a tendency to draw out his S’s - yet the tone in his voice is incredibly monotone.

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous?

Posture: Usually stiff, mostly proper. Keeps his back straight, though will relax his arms to fold over his chest or rest on his hips.

Scars: Absolutely none.

Tattoos: None, as well.

Most noticeable features: Amosis always wears the metallic mask over his eyes - why? No one can say for sure. He mentions that it helps him see better, but it’s kind of hard to tell how, considering it blocks his entire vision range. For someone who dresses much like an adventurer, he has a surprising absence of scars, nicks, marks, or wounds. Not even so much as a scrape or spot of dirt.

CHILDHOOD

Place of Birth: Is unsure, will usually tell people around the Coerthas area. Which isn’t far off, it was in current Mor Dhona.

Hometown: Spends a lot of time in both Ul’dah and Limsa Lominsa

Birth Weight/Height: Unknown, absolutely no records in any cities’ files. Seems this guy just appeared out of thin air.

Manner of Birth: Also unknown. Though one could assume he was a healthy baby based on his current health.

First Words: Tree

Siblings: None. (Might have a twin out there, who knows? *cough*)

Parents: No records or names can be found. He doesn’t remember.

Parental involvement: He doesn’t remember his parents, at all, in the slightest. In actuality, they were not very prominent in his life due to a busy work life - and, due to the fact that he was not fit for anything but as a historian, they only took care of him the bare minimum until he would be put to death. At sixteen, when he got his career as a museum curator, they cut him out of their life entirely.

ADULTHOOD

Occupation: Museum Curator, Historian, Sociologist; possible botanist.

Current Residence: Resides in Mist, however, his museum is located in Goblet (Zalera, Ward 17, Plot 28 - still under construction)

Close Friends: None. Tries to keep himself as distanced as possible.

Relationship Status: Single.

Financial Status: Both dirt poor and rich at the same time. Makes just enough to make ends meet, saves pennies as much as he can. (He hopes to expand his museum once he has enough saved up.)

Driver’s License: You probably shouldn’t let him drive anything, but he does know how to drive most Garlean tech somehow.

Vices: None, that he can think of. When nervous or stressed, he will lock himself away for days on end with no sleep - but does not drink, smoke, partake in drugs, whore, or gamble. Would an apathetic nature and mindset count?

SEX & ROMANCE

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual?

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic? / Demiromantic

Preferred Emotional Role: Submissive | Dominant | Switch

Preferred Sexual Role: Submissive | Dominant | Switch

Libido: If he has one, he never lets anyone see it.

Turn Ons: Intelligence. Submissive behavior - though doesn’t like when his partner submits on the spot; pain or roughness towards partner. Very animalistic and “primitive” in his turn ons. Destruction of clothing and property. Scratching, biting, hair pulling.

Turn Offs: Being dominated. The lie down and take it types. Being bound, blindfolded, or otherwise restricted movement, speech, sight, or hearing.

Love Language: Unsure. He’s never liked anyone enough to know what to do. But awkward, flustered, or strangely embarrassed nature that isn’t part of his character might be an indication. Or becoming increasingly more curious about the one that he finds interest in - will probably be blatant about what they are physically attracted to, and may (somehow) change his body accordingly.

Relationship Tendencies: None. He’s never been in a relationship before.

MISCELLANEOUS

Hobbies to Pass the Time: Reading, Writing, tending to plants, growing plants, or categorizing plants in his own hand-written encyclopedia. Staring at people in a dark corner.

Mental Illnesses: PTSD, Insomnia, Severe Apathy. (Survivor’s Guilt, if you consider it an illness more than a mental block.)

Physical Illnesses/Disabilities: None.

Left or Right Brained: Left

Fears: Earthquakes, failure, losing his work. Being buried alive; the sound of scraping metal and breaking glass. Death.

Self-Confidence Level: Average. He has his ups and downs, but generally portrays himself as prideful, egotistical, and a megalomaniac.

Vulnerabilities: The above three - he is prideful, egotistical, and a megalomaniac. Apathetic to a fault - does not understand emotions or social cues. Surprisingly easy to startle if one manages to sneak up on him before he sneaks up on them. Too curious. Will go through comically large lengths to be nosy.

Tagged once more, but this time, by @jarethnunh! Thank you! For Maximiloix Voilinaut’s page, click here!

Might consider doing it for all of my playable XIV characters.... hmmm...

Not tagging anyone for this one, because I tagged everyone with the last one! BUT. @jasleh and @renofmanyalts, you can consider this a second tag to make one for another character of yours! Mwahaha!

Edit: it was 4am and I had the wrong person on who tagged me so sorry!

#tagged answers #about: Amosis

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dramaqueeenamby · 6 years ago

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4AM (10)

TAGLIST: @texasbama @profilia @90sinspiredgirl @msincognito67@janellemonaenae @onyour-right@beautifulbashfulblackqueen@skysynclair19@ilcb7@theresnomoregoodones@siriuslycollins@kumkaniudaku@inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove@theunsweetenedtruth@chi-chi97@aieyr@sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy @airis-paris14@karensraisns@cockyboysandsugarism@siriuslycollins @sisterwifeudaku@issa-melanin@babygirlofwakanda@niecey4cocaine @gibunpa@ashanti-notthesinger@idilly@wakandawinning@autumn242@chaneajoyyy @SUNFLOWER-HOE@palmsofgranate@lavitabella87@purple-apricots@missumuch1918 @simplyjaydaa @-harmonytbh@simplyyamberr@melanisticroyalty@forbeautyandlife@fentybabyy@amethyst09@ilcb7@maliadestiny@blackpantherimagines@heyauntieeee@youcantkillamutant@tadjoa@mejustme06@bugngiz@aieyr@bamakakechick@blackbypurpose@yourwonderbelle@multipersonalitygirl@chefjessypooh@hamato-rue159@blublubleu@elaindeereads@girlie94 @nubian-queen18@autumn242@romanticcandle@msblkshot710 @nubian-queen18 @romanticcandle @girl-with-the-pen@headhunchess@afraiddreamingandloving @thatbish27@almostpurelysmut @halfrican-heat@blkintrovert @xxthotii @marvelislifemarvelisbae @muhhhkrysta@dreamlloudly @k-o-jass@yoyolovesbucky @kileynoelle852 @mademoiselleoya @supersizemeplz@violet-ines@silentlikethe-g-inlasagna @brianabreeze @bezzywazhere@beautifulbashfulblackqueen@halfrican-heat@marvelislifemarvelisbae @xxthotii @blkintrovert@indieee-vibeees@bluesaladexpertpsychic@queennanayaa@thegirlwithoutaname87@dreamlloudly@supersizemeplz@violet-ines@SHAELYN102@redbutterfly330@who-wants-toknow @abena-aa@bossyboyd03@phambili-myking@esther-adri @bluesaladexpertpsychic @vibranium-soul@yoyolovesbucky@nycoledon @syreanne@disneysdarlingdiva @dameshaemonique @girl-with-the-pen @klaine15689@jessyalmighty@im5ftbutmythroat66 @amore-fiore @thekinglai @ellebosemanduke @ovohanna24@takanoriwatasdeliciousstreetkidcroissant @esther-adri @chereedrop619 @vibranium-soul @bossyboyd03

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN THIS STORY, CLICK HERE.

Words: 3k

MASTERLIST

4AM

“I think we should go to counseling.”

T’Challa paused in the middle of pulling on his shirt to look over at his wife who sat in the middle of the bed, her mane in its natural unruly state and her face bare of makeup.

His eyes then traveled downward, a strange sense of pride filling him as he realized that his shirt was the only article of clothing covering her otherwise nude form.

“T’Challa?” The young king broke from his lustful thoughts. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Counseling?” He repeated, slipping his shirt over his head. “As in a marriage counselor?”

Bashira nodded. “Yes. To help facilitate…..this.” She gestured between the two of them. “The sex is nice, but it won’t fix everything.”

“Nice, eh?” He smirked walking toward the bed.

Bashira attempted to hide her smile as she averted her eyes to the corner of the room while he sunk down on the mattress. She was still unsure of her husband, but one thing she couldn’t deny was that he was a hell of a lover.

Not even Amari could please her like T’Challa could, and that was a fact.

“Just nice?” He couldn’t help it as his hand reached to play with the hem of the shirt before resting it on her thigh.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.” Bashira wondered why she wasn’t knocking his hand away. “Now stop trying to change the subject.”

His eyes twinkled with innocent mischief. “Hmmm?”

Again, she sighed while pushing her hair back and behind her. “If you are serious about this, about us-”

His face fell. “You know I am.”

“No,” she immediately refuted. “I’m not.” Her eyes fell to her brown thighs. “I-I want to, but I’m not there yet. The trust isn’t there yet.”

While Bashira commended the effort T’Challa was putting into repairing their shattered marriage, she was still having a hard time believing that he was genuine. Was it all just because she was carrying his child? What if he went back to his whorish ways as soon as their child was born?

She refused to let him inflict further damage on her already fragile heart.

“Come here,” He quietly beckoned her over with a flick of his hand.

She opened her mouth to protest when he scooted over and easily lifted her onto his lap. Realizing that there was little to no time to push him away, she settled on placing her leg on the other side, leaving her straddling him.

“Bashira,” she closed her eyes, hating how her name sounded coming out of his voice and how he carefully had his arms secured around her waist. “Whatever it takes, however long it takes, I am dedicated to making us work. No matter what.” She gradually lifted her eyes. “We will not make the same mistakes as our parents. I will not allow our son to be brought up in a dysfunctional and loveless environment.”

T’Challa confused her at times. He could go from a man who caused tears to spill and one that she despised to a man who had her secretly yearning to know any and everything about him. He was an anomaly, and she hated that. She hated how she wanted to both push him away and pull him closer. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t make any sense.

Yet…..she desired to know more of him.

Bashira found herself reaching for his arm, bringing his hand to sit on her stomach, hers remaining on top of his.

“You really want that boy, huh?” She found herself questioning softly. “What if you are wrong? What if it is a girl?”

“The sex makes no difference. I will love him,” Bashira unconsciously licked her lips as his other reached out to grab the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing light circles against her kitchen. “Or her, regardless.” She cracked a small smile. “But I know it is a boy.”

She giggled and shook her head. “Bast willing, we will have a daughter because I am not sure if I am ready to handle two of you.” Her arms naturally snaked around his neck right before she felt her body being jerked forward.

“Nay, I’d say you handle me quite well.” He murmured as their chests pressed against each other.

Bashira’s eyes darted back and forth from his eyes to his lips. “In what way?”

T’Challa’s eyes clenched shut as her small hands moved across and down his broad shoulders. “It won’t fix everything.” He hissed as her nails raked down his chest and stopped at his growing erection. “Remember?”

“True,” she agreed, T’Challa’s throat going dry as he watched her lift her shirt over her head, revealing her nude form. The king��s control was further tested as she moved off him and climbed to the middle of the bed, getting on her hands and knees as she looked over her shoulder. “But it doesn’t hurt either.”

¥ ¥ ¥

“I don’t know why you are so worried,” Ode commented as she, Luna, and Bashira walked through the compounds of the Wakandan Air Force. “You owe him no explanation.”

Bashira ignored Ode’s words of “encouragement” as she nervously held up her dress, feeling so self-conscious by the men and women she passed took note of her bump.

The secret was out. Everyone now knew that their queen was pregnant with the heir to the Wakandan throne.

That meant that Amari knew too.

The exact thing that she didn’t want to happen...happened. And now she had to face him and explain to him why she’d kept such a secret.

“He is my friend, Ode.” She spoke slowly and quietly, not wanting anyone to listen in on their conversation. “And he deserved better.”

Ode rolled her eyes. She wasn’t a big fan of Amari, always finding the man too clingy and possessive of her friend. Yes, she didn’t like T’Challa and his treatment of his wife, but she had to respect that he was still Bashira’s husband. She knew that there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed unlike the General of Wakanda’s Air Force.

On more than one occasion, she’d overheard him discussing how he and his love would one day be together. Everyone else assumed that he kept his “significant other” a secret for security purposes, but Ode knew the truth. She knew that he was referring to the queen, the married queen.

Of course, she opted not to tell Bashira as she wasn’t sure how her friend would react to such information.

“I am surprised that the king even authorized you to leave out while so unguarded.” The War Dog decided to change the subject as she looked over at the Panther who was staying close to her owner.

“It was not without some groveling,” Bashira briefly thought back to only a few hours ago where she and T’Challa were in the same position that got her pregnant in the first place. “Besides, he knows that you two will keep me safe.” She smiled sadly. “And he knows that I don’t want to be there today...not while…”

Ode reached out to grab her friend’s hand, to let her know that there was no need for her to continue. Thom’s trial started today, where deliberations over his fate were set to start, and she wanted to be as far away from that bastard as possible.

“This is it,” Bashira took a deep breath as they reached Amari’s office. She turned to the other woman. “I will not be long.”

Ode nodded her head. “Take your time, but take her with you.” She gestured to Luna.

“She follows me everywhere so I think that not a problem,” Bashira chuckled, reaching out to pet the panther’s head. “Come on, Luna.” The queen entered the room without knocking as she never did so.

She was unsurprised to find him sitting at his desk, his eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him. He didn’t even look at her.

“Amari….” She spoke softly, standing near the door.

“Your majesty,” he bowed his head, still not looking at her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She closed her eyes. “Stop.”

He finally glanced up at her, his face full of faux confusion. “Is something the matter, your maj-”

“Would you cut the bullshit?” She snapped before catching herself. “I know you are upset-”

“Upset?” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands. “Why would I be upset? My queen carries the heir to the Wakandan throne.” She averted her gaze. “The king is quite happy, yes?”

“It just-” She faltered. “It just happened, Amari.” Bashira jumped back as Amari shot from his desk, knocking a few items to the floor during the process.

“That does not just happen, Bashira.” He finally allowed his rage to sneak through his “calm” exterior. “You sleeping with that bastard and producing that….child did not just happen.”

Bashira paused. “Wait a minute...you and I both know that this was eventually bound to happen.” She quickly countered, moving closer to him, Luna never leaving her side.

“And it has been revealed to me in a vision from the goddess Bast,” she recalled seeing the recording of Zuri’s loud voice sharing his vision when she was but a baby. “That a daughter from the River Tribe and prince T’Challa, son of the Golden Tribe, will form a union and experience a love like none other, from which a child will be produced that will set the precedence for a reign the likes of which Wakanda has never been privy to.”

“Yes, but with him?” Amari was losing his anger and was instead starting to show his feelings of betrayal. “He is vile, Bashira, a selfish and arrogant man who is undeserving of your love, your status as the mother of his child, of you.”

She closed her eyes as she realized he wasn’t even upset at her not telling him about her pregnancy. He was upset that she was pregnant, period.

“You know better than anyone the things he has put me through, said to me, done to me,” she spoke in a hushed voice, trying not to dwell too much on the negative aspects of her marriage. “But….he….he is changing, well, trying to.”

Amari looked at her with incredulity. “Changing? Do not be so stupid, Bashira. Men like that do not change.”

“Watch your language,” she warned, her hand fisting at her side. “And I know that I am the last person who should want to believe that, but….I’ve seen….there’s more to him than I thought. We….we talked-”

“Oh,” Amari scoffed bitterly. “You talked?” She frowned, not expecting such an acrid reaction. “Was this before or after he fucked your sister? Or have you already forgotten his treacheries?”

“Stop it,” she shouted, unintentionally commanding so in a loud tone. “I have not forgotten anything.” She felt her throat rattle as she realized tears were threatening to form. She cursed. Damn hormones. “But I also cannot continue to dwell on such painful memories...not….not when we have a child on the way.”

“We,” Amari laughed while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Suddenly, you two are we now?”

“He is my husband, Amari.” She shook her head. “Your feelings toward him and obvious disdain toward this pregnancy will do nothing to change that.” A beat. “And you would do well to mind your tone.”

Amari looked at her. “Do you even want this baby?”

Bashira grew quiet. When she first learned that she was pregnant, she was devastated and heartbroken. She was vehemently against being the carrier of T’Challa’s heir. She wanted nothing to do with him. But then events started to transpire that slowly influenced her feelings toward her baby.

T’Challa revealing the truth behind his “hate,” their talk on the cliff where he gave a rare glimpse inside his vulnerability, their decision to try and repair their marriage, her waking up and finding a bump that solidified the existence of the life growing inside her.

Not to mention, T’Challa’s dedication and commitment to making her feel safe, to feel like despite her world falling apart, he would never let anything happen to her and their unborn baby.

“I do.”

Amari did not even attempt to hide his disappointment.

“So he means that much to you? Enough for you to forgive everything? All because of that child-”

“My baby means that much to me,” she was becoming defensive, growing tired of explaining herself. “And...T’Challa-”

“Oh, please.” He shook his hand, waving his hand as he turned his back toward her. “If you wish to be stupid and allow that fool-”

“Would you please stop talking about him as such?”

Amari’s face dropped. “Get out.”

Her heart stopped. “What?”

“It’s clear that you’ve made your decision,” his voice held all of the bitterness and animosity of a man who finally realized he never truly had the chance that he’d always wanted to believed waited for him.

“Amari,” her eyes watered as she moved toward him only for him to move back. “Please.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Queen Bashira.” He straightened. “I have important matters to attend to.”

She breathed heavily as he walked past her, Luna releasing a low growl as the man quickly moved past the two.

With the loss of her mother in her life, a father who was always too busy with Wakanda to deal with her, and a friend whose occupation left her away half the time. She truly needed someone who she could lean on, who she could feel safe with.

She thought that person to be Amari, but…that clearly was no longer a possibility.

No. Not at all.

¥ ¥ ¥

“I have something I wish to show you.”

T’Challa’s voice broke the deafening silence that accompanied Bashira as she sat on the sofa on the balcony of their bedroom.

She kept thinking about her encounter earlier that day with Amari, a mixture of pain and anger resonating with her.

She was upset because she felt like his spiteful feelings were unwarranted. He was her lover, not her boyfriend. She was married for Bast sake, and he was acting as though he was the one experiencing trying tribulations.

Yet, she was in pain because before they moved to the bedroom, they were friends. He was her best friend long before she even met Ode. She always felt like she could talk to him about anything.

That was no longer an option.

Bashira looked up at T’Challa, prepared to tell him ‘no,’ but before she knew it, she was on her feet and moving toward him.

“Should I change?” She gestured down to her shorts and tank which were covered by a robe.

He shook his head and slid his hand toward hers. “It is not necessary.”

He tried to make conversation with her as they moved through the palace, but her mind was somewhere else, with Amari. The king skilfully held his dejection with her one-word responses.

“Where are we going?” She finally asked after a good five minutes of turning down halls, descending down steps, and greeting various guards.

When they stopped, he moved in front of her. “Close your eyes.”

She frowned. “Are you serious?” He looked despondent and irritated at her lack of cooperation. “Whatever.”

T’Challa squinted to inspect that her eyes were indeed shut before grabbing her hands and helping her to walk.

“If you let me fall-”

“Then I shall simply catch you,” he responded smoothly. “Every time.”

She couldn’t contain the small smile when she felt them stop.

“Here it is.”

She opened her eyes and looked around the room with confusion. It was an office, spacious, dark exterior, and pieces of furniture such as a sofa, a lounge chair, and the obvious pieces like a desk and chair.

“You….wanted to show me….an office?” She didn’t even hide her annoyance. “T’Challa-”

“No, I wanted to show you my office.”

She snapped her head to look at him. “Your office?” This time, she observed the room more closely, noticing personal touches such as pictures, one in particular especially caught her eye.

It was of her first sonogram.

She smiled through teary eyes, lifting up the frame and ghosting her hand over it.

“I-I realized that the older office contains too many memories and while reminders of painful past transgressions are certainly something that I deserve…..you do not.” She listened to him explain the seemingly random act of kindness as her eyes fell on a sheet of paper. She picked it up and saw that it was a list.

A list of doctors.

Therapists.

Marriage counselors

“They all came highly recommended.” His voice was full of trepidation and apprehension, two unfamiliar feelings to the man she always knew to be exuding with confidence. “I was thinking that we could interview them tomorrow and-”

“You did all this,” she whispered, carefully placing the photo of the sonogram back where she found it and turning around. “For me?”

His eyes gleamed with hope as he wiped at her face when he saw that she was crying. “I really am trying, Bashira.”

She stared up at him, the earnest and authenticity something she was both uncomfortable with but yet embracing. Here he was, continuing to break down her walls.

She closed her eyes and nodded. “I know….I know.”

T’Challa readily reacted as she placed her hands against his pectoral muscles and buried herself in his chest. “Let’s go to bed.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Bed or….bed?”

Bashira’s mouth fell into a broad smile as she slapped his chest. “T’Challa!”

The king mirrored her smile and kissed the top of her head, encouraged by how she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, easily bending down to lift her into his arms.

“Bed it is.” He feigned disappointment as she laid her head against his shoulder and just stared at him, letting her thoughts roam free.

Perhaps….perhaps she didn’t need Amari to be her safety net.

Perhaps she already one.

---

A/N: Got a break from angst....don’t get too excited.

It’ll be back in the next chapter which includes these two interviewing candidates for their new therapist (ya’ll all saw that part coming lol) and a date night 👀👀👀👀

This was therapeutic. My head has been in a pretty dark place these past few days so this was definitely helpful. ❤️❤️❤️

#t'challa x reader #t'challa udaku #black panther imagine #black panther fanfiction #t'challa x OC #t'challa #t'challa x you

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skyecrandall · 6 years ago

Text

Makeover - BloodBound fic

Summary: The Baron wants a makeover and so he decides to go to fashionista Priya La-Croix for some tips. It is also my participation to choices creates with the theme : unsung heroes. @clonedhayden

Genre: Comedy

Words: 1455

"Morning La Croix," said Baron as he entered Priya's studio with his bodyguards.

"What the hell Baron? Can't you knock or even let me know before you enter?" Said Priya a little frustrated by the sudden intrusion.

"Well it is an emergency but first, boys. Stay out and guard the door, no one is allowed to enter or leave," ordered the Baron as his bodyguards exited the building.

"So what is the business? Are you going to investigate me like Adrian?" Asked the designer.

"You see, I've been feeling really old and out of date lately and I'm thinking a change of outfit will be welcomed. I need something that makes me look younger and hotter," said the Baron with a sheepish smile.

Priya couldn't help bursting into laughter.

"La Croix!" Yelled Baron.

"Wait you were serious? Alright alright, try this," said Priya as she wiped off a tear and handed over baron an outfit.

"So what do you think of it?" Asked the designer.

"It's okay but it is still too close to my previous style. Also what is this smell? Did you steal that outfit from a dead body or what?" asked the crime lord.

"No comments. Okay then, next outfit, what do you think of this?" Said Priya as he handed him another outfit.

"Seriously La Croix? I said that I wanted to look young? Not like I was born 170 years ago?" Complained the Baron.

"Weren't you born about 170 years ago though?" Asked Priya and the Baron just glared at her with daggers in his eyes.

"Fine, fine. You said you wanted something more youthful? How about this?" Said Priya.

"Actually it ain't so bad. Besides the little breeze I can feel on my ass sometimes, I feel fresh and young, ready to date and maybe even fight an army of robots with my cousin," said the Baron excitedly.

"I think this one is making you too excited. Let's switch it. I got an idea for the perfect outfit," said Priya as he forced the Baron back into the dressing room.

"So what about this one? I honestly think that it's perfect," says Priya.

"I like it. I think it fits a diplomat such as me. I look young and suave, kinda like those Hollywood managers. But it still a suit," said Baron.

"But do you like it or not," asked Priya.

"I like it, but let's keep browsing," said Baron.

"Something youthful but not a suit hmmm, how about this?" Proposed Priya as he handed the crime lord another outfit.

"This one is a little more summery. What are your thoughts on it?" Asked Priya.

"It's nice but I don't like the patterns on it. They do nor represent me," said the Baron a little sad.

"Well sorry Baron but this ain't Noah Textiles, no one does patterns about skulls, blood and daggers here. Geez you sure are a picky person. I did not expect that," huffed Priya.

"Oh I think I saw a really good outfit!" Said the Baron as he quickly grabbed an outfit and jumped back into the changing room.

"Wow this quite comfortable," said the Baron as he adjusted his headgear.

"Damn it Baron, this is the cleaning lady's uniform. Look there are still her hair on the headgear. Ew," said Priya in disgust.

"That would explain the window cleaner smell. But I have a question? Why do your maids have such nice outfits?" Asked the Baron.

"I can't have them come into my house looking like they just crawled out of a dumpster Baron. My house has standards unlike yours," said Priya.

"Also, don't you only employ fuckboys with great bodies? Then what is an old lady outfit doing here?" Asked the crime lord.

"Why would I waste hot bodies on cleaning duty? I'd rather have them as stewards, chefs and masseurs. Wait, where are you?" said Priya.

"I think I found the perfect outfit," said the Baron from the changing room.

"Wow I look so hot, I could even kiss myself," said the Baron while posing in front of the mirror.

"Take. It. Off." said Priya.

"What? Why? I like it. I think I'll be taking this one," said the Baron.

"You look too hot. No one is allowed to look hotter than me. This outfit will now be mine and mine only," said Priya as she approached him like a predator and tried to the dress off.

"Hold on! I said it is now mine. Now fuck off La Croix!" Said Baron as he tugged back and soon they reach started tugging the dress and in the end... CRACK!

"Nooo! The dress is destroyed!" Both cried simultaneously.

"I will never forgive this treason La Croix," said Baron.

"At least no one will Look hot-wow...." said Priya as she looked at the Baron.

It was the first time that she saw him without any clothes...

"What? Wow?" Asked the Baron a little confused.

"Well wow because I did not expect this. I never thought that you looked like this without any clothes on. What happened to the big fat belly?" Asked Priya.

"Nah, it is just the additional multiple layers I made them add to the suit. I easily get cold and I had to add them. Unfortunately like you said it gives me that good fat old belly, said Baron with a smile.

"I see," said Priya a little disinterested.

"Since you don't seem to believe me, why don't you try my suit. You'll see how much comfortable it is and I won't take no as an answer," said Baron as he pulled Priya in the changing room and gave her his usual clothes.

"I must say, it is quite comfortable and it does not look bad at all. Sure it gives a little bit of belly put I feel really good in it and surprisingly it does not stink," said Priya with a smile when *click*

Priya whipped her face towards Baron and sees him grinning behind his phone.

"You better not post this on Vampire Diaries!" Yelled Priya when her phone rang.

'Vampire Diaries : You have been tagged in a photo by the Baron. Click to see it,'

"I hope you choke Baron. I really hope you do," said Priya as she gritted her teeth when her phone rang again.

'Vampire Diaries: Kamilah Sayeed just commented on your photo. Click to see it,'

"Some people really have too much time on their hands. I hope you will show as much enthusiasm as tomorrow's meeting Priya," said Kamilah.

"Oh my god.... I want to kill you Baron," said Priya as she prepared herself to jump on the Baron but the latter was leaving the studio.

"Bye Priya. I think I've found THE outfit. You may take the suit I don't need you anymore. I hope to see you well again tomorrow at the meeting," he said as he left with his bodyguards.

The next day in the Raines conference room.

"I saw your picture on Vampire Diaries last night. You sure looked hot even in that old geezer's suit," whispered Lester to Priya.

"You are the one to talk. Look at yourself oh and are those bald spots there and there?" Replied Priya.

"But seriously though. You rock any outfits Priya, maybe I should start bringing you at my rallies, we might get even more people," said Adam.

"No thanks Adam, I'm not in the mood," said Priya.

"Well I hope you are in the same mood as yesterday because members of your clan have started making quite a ruckus," complained Kamilah.

"Uh Kamilah? Shouldn't we wait for the Baron to come first?" Asked Adrian.

Just then from the speaker, Amy's voice started ringing.

"Sir, The Baron ... is here?" It said.

"Good we may start now," said Adrian.

The door opened and Baron's voice could be heard, "Good morning everyone."

Instantly Vega spit out the water he was drinking and then joined Lester in his mad laughter.

"I'm so done. No wonder no one takes us seriously. This council is a clown city. Amy call a taxi, I'm leaving," said Kamilah as she walked out of the door, clearly annoyed.

Priya just sat there, clutching her face in embarassment. She was expecting something bad, but this not that horrible.

"My, Kamilah seems like an awful mood. You must have really messed up Priya. By the way thank you for the makeover, I never felt that comfortable, hot and young at the same time. Also Adrian, you might want to close your mouth. Your drool has drilling onto what I assume are important papers," said the Baron as he took his seat.

"Guuuuuhhh???" Said Adrian still shocked and confused.

I really hope you guys enjoyed this did as I much I enjoyed it. I thought of it only the previous day so it's quite a surprised I already finished it. I guess that's what happens when I'm super excited, inspired and having fun. I hope the edits won't haunt your sleep haha.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bloodbound #choices bloodbound #priya lacroix #the baron #comedy #fanfiction #my fics #long post #ChoicesCreates67 #ChoicesCreates

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undercovermcdfan · 7 years ago

Text

the calm before the storm | prologue 1

title: travis: 3:56 am, Saturday

summary: what should you worry more about: why the lake is so still or what will cause the ripples of chance? Zombie AU. Travlyn. Lucidenza. Vylance.

a/n: This is the prequels to the MCD/Mystreet Zombie AU I’m finally writing. This is just story and character set up, as well as asserting what would the main couples to the upcoming main series. You don’t have to read this to get into the main story but it would be nice if you read and reblogged.

warning(s): mild violence, zombies, pining, character building

prologue: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

main series: —-

Check it out on AO3

The funny thing: the end of the world didn’t happen all at once.

No, in actuality, he—like everybody else—watched as the world they knew slowly but surely get devoured by the End. Denial and delayed panic was what killed society, he remembered Laurance would say; how so many of them didn’t want to see, so they all played and clung to the words of those in higher power would sort this out.

This isn’t some regular ‘crisis’. Fucking look—those shots were definitely going through and they keep getting back up, keep walking.

The video was freaky. Some nondescript warzone, far far away his little off-campus apartment, as bulky soldiers took aim at a tattered-clothed woman who limped with a lifeless gait. The noise was almost hard to pick up between the gun shots, but low, gut-twisting moan, animalistic and inhuman coming from the woman. The video continued, the woman finally goes down but where she falls, descended from alleys and further down the road.

He shouldn’t be scrolling through comments, because they always unnerved him more than the video himself. People chiming in and linking posts, more videos, foreign articles, etc. of ‘proof’ that whatever was going down overseas wasn’t another exotic disease to spook flyers from traveling out of the country.

He clicked another tab, scrolling over his timeline—and it’s like another mind frame, people peacefully oblivious and instead enthusing about how excited they were for the upcoming summer, their plans, rants about some T.V. show. Maybe they’re like him, quietly reading and researching and losing sleep over the possibility of a horror movie scenario come to life. Maybe they didn’t care. He glanced at the notification of a new direct message, from a smiling woman, though her smile was reserved, with blue hair and giving a peace sign as her icon.

He wasn’t completely alone in this. Finding weird solace from a person he didn’t think he would find, the serious looking Katelyn from the theatre course they taken in fall together—clicking the message, she linked a couple of articles with a following message:

I couldn’t sleep. Sorry. – 5 mins ago

In the dark, only lit by his phone screen, Travis chuckled.

DW :)

I couldn’t either lol

Been watching that video you sent yesterday— like is that forreal??? – secs ago

He clicked the articles she sent.

They were all the same; different politicians who say Nothing to worry about yet their actions show the opposite, as ‘outbreaks’ of ‘riots’, cities declaring state of emergency and quick federal government actions. Small time local news who report who uptick in rabid cases were reported and safety precautions to watch out any animals who could carry the disease. As well as Mayor Malik updated the curfew, initiating tomorrow at midnight.

Their friendship blooming out over paranoia over the possible end wasn’t what he had in mind when he stumbled across her late night links to some strange and obscure website five months back. She deleted them an hour later but… it didn’t stop him or his big mouth from asking, “What the hell was that last night.”

There was a moment of embarrassment flash in her eyes, her shoulders squaring in a defensive position as she turned herself fully towards him. “Do you really want to know?” Her tone asked a different question, one trying to gauge how serious he was. He nodded.

And it went down from there.

She didn’t say they were friends, but soon their discussion over the weird things they dug up turned to casual talk—and the causal talk, in real life and online, turned into something every day. It almost became their thing, as they started to withdraw from other people. They chatted about what if scenarios, plans and as the months showed more, more and more cases of this epidemic, they started to stockpile supplies.

How did shooting range go with Jeff today? – secs ago

Her icon appeared with ellipses.

Bad.

I don’t think I’m cut out for guns. – secs ago

Travis hummed, acutely aware of the way his smile widen and the turn-around with his mood.

Well it would be unfair if you were perfect at everything :P

I kid I kid; all u need is practice, blue

did that ivy chick tag along too? –secs ago

A moment passed.

The eclipses appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

I’m starting to think this license was a mistake haha

And yeah. Yknow, you should come along next time

Jeff is pretty good teacher.

And it was last time– three mins ago

He stared at the message longer than needed, as if doing so would decipher a hidden message. It didn’t—but it was worth a shot, pun intended. Lately, despite the possible end of the world being imminent that spurred this doom-prepping fanaticism within them, he wondered if she was catching the hints.

Of course, their friendship was sincere. As well as his panic and general anxiety about the stately affairs of the world.

He was but a person, nonetheless. And sometimes, shallow feelings turned into actual feelings saddled up next to that friendship borne of strange circumstance. True, he was scared to gamble away what they got—but the curiosity took hold like a cat.

I was hoping it was the two—Delete

Jeff doesn’t have to—Delete

Sure :) when’s the next time you’re free? – secs ago

The eclipses appeared immediately.

Tomorrow afternoon. Around 1 pm. We can meet up at the rec center in city.

You know Aphmau, right? She wanted to come along

Apparently her bf is on the same force as Jeff and she wanted to take some lessons

Is that okay? – secs ago.

Well, at least three won’t be the crowd he had to worry about. He pursed his lips, his eyes lighting up as his slight frown returned into an almost devilish smirk.

Sure.

And ofc Ik Aph!!! We took a history class together

She’s terrible at work citing but man

Her cooking tho

Tho huh im sad to hear she has a bf now lolol – five mins ago

Typing.

Disappear.

Reappear.

Disappear.

Pause.

Then Katelyn’s typing begun again.

Why are you sad to hear that –secs ago.

Travis:

Becauseeeee. She was a cutie.

Katelyn:

Well duh, she’s beautiful

….but why do you care if she has a boyfriend or not?

Travis:

Why do you care if I care? lolol

Katelyn:

I don’t.

Answer the question.

Travis:

Uh oh

Ur using periods at the end of ur sentences

Interesting – six mins ago

Katelyn’s typing stopped. Then started, much less disappearing and reappearing of the eclipses now.

What’s that suppose to mean?

Travis smiled. He could see his two options clearly—and though, the one funniest one would lead her to giving him the cold shoulder, the temptation to his sleep-denied mind was too great.

Ur annoyed @ me

Katelyn shoot back:

Why would I be annoyed

Travis laughed.

A little jealous that I’m not calling you a cutie? –fifteen mins ago

Katie?

Blueeeee?

Blueberry

Uk Im kidding rite? Aph isn’t my type lolol

Im just messing with you

….hmmm i rlly pushed it didn’t i? lol

well im going to bed but before I gooooo pls remember

I like u best :) – eight hours ago

Katelyn:

Like u best too – message unread

#aphmau #minecraft diaries #minecraft mystreet #travis valkrum #katelyn firefist #katelyn mcd #travlyn #zombie au #my writing #series: when they all fall down #heyyy yall ready????#i haven't started a project like this in a long long time lmao

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