literature

Harvesting- Chapter 2 (Onceler x Reader)

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    “Like this, _______?”

    “No, you dope! Like this!”

    About a month had passed since I last met the Onceler. This infamous villain had been known for slaughtering of the trees for both profit and other personal gains.  Since his arrival, he had made smiley-face pancakes, practically inhaled three packs of marshmallows, and was currently helping me to trim a truffula tree, all the while wearing my frilly, pink apron. He insisted on wearing it to help keep away, and I quote, the “creepy crawlies”. Isn’t he in his twenties?

    I was standing behind him, hands firmly planted on my hips, coaching/scolding him through trimming a truffula tree by himself for the first time. I’ve never had a kid, but I think this is a lot how potty-training a toddler is.

    When I first told him we were gonna do some small pruning, guess what toll he picked? I freaking BATTLE AX, that’s what! I mean, really!? After all my weeks of training, you choose a weapon over clippers? If I hadn’t stopped’em, he probably would’ve gone Canadian lumberjack on that poor truffula.

    Onceler was on all fours beside a young sapling of a tree, scrutinizing each of its features a little too slowly and a little too carefully. I’d have interrupted him if I hadn’t gotten such a good view of his…back pockets.

    His usually perfectly-gelled hair was ruffled and dirty, and his vest, shirt and trousers were caked in mud and other icky stuff (He had to ditch the green suit not only to work, but he insisted on burning it as a symbol of moving on. That night, the marshmallows we toasted over that fire tasted extra smoky. Mmmm, toasted marshmallows…).

    After much mental debate, Onceler finally decided to pick up those scissors, lifting them shakily toward the tufts.

    “You’ve got this,” I encouraged, giving him a little thumbs up. “Just take it easy and snip. Take deep breaths, if you have to.”

    He gulped and nodded, extending his reach. I can’t lie: I had to cover my eyes the whole time. He couldn’t do it; there was no way he could do this without either stabbing the tree or losing a finger. All I could do was listen and hope the wound wouldn’t be too hard to patch up.

    After several minutes of anticipating silence, I heard him say something I never in a million years would have thought he’d say to me about a tree.

    “All done!”

    What!?

    I uncovered my eyes to see a bare truffula trees, all the red tufts bundle in a rather proud Onceler’s arms. I stepped closer, in complete awe of what he had achieved. I was expecting tons of fur left over, but after stroking the striped sides, I realized my (e/c) eyes weren’t lying to me: it was smooth as a bald man’s head!

    I turned to the Onceler, smiling from ear to ear. “I can’t believe you did it! A-And so easily,” I praised, happily enveloping him into a hug. “You’re a natural!” I felt a little heat radiate off cheeks as he hugged me back.

    “Aw, thanks, _________,” he gushed, “but it’s all because of your awesome teaching that I’m so great at this.”

    I pondered the thought before nodding, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Heh. Touché,” I responded. Just as I was about to pull away, me and Onceler both looked down to the tufts smooshed in-between our chests…Crap, I should’ve thought of that before I glomped him like that!

    Faces dyed a deep crimson, we awkwardly came together again, having to press against each other so the tufts wouldn’t fall and get dirty. “W-Well,” I stuttered, hardly choking back a fangirl-y giggle at the almost fortunate proximity. “this could’ve gone better, huh?”

    He nodded in response, making an effort not to meet my eyes. “Yeah, but I bet if we work together, we can get this all the way up to your house. We just have to be a little bit,” he boldly grasped one of my hand, “innovative.”

    I let out an extremely confused ‘Huh?’ as he placed my other hand on his shoulder, and his own large hand on my side. “Just think: what’s the one sport that requires being pressed up against someone to reach a common goal?”

    “I dunno, e-erm…rugby?”

    “Wrong! I was talking about ballroom dancing,” he smirked, inclining his head slightly to me.

    “First of all, dancing’s not a sport, you idiot,” I said harshly, wanting to bop him on the head, despite my hand being tightly held in his. “Second of all…what makes you think I, a lowly farm girl, can ballroom dance.”

    He scoffed at me, pulling my body even closer to his (That’s even possible?). “Well, we could stand here all day complaining, or we could actually get home while having some fun on the way. Your call, _______.”

    I bit my lip, actually thinking about his proposition. “C’mon, I’ll teach you how to do a simple waltz. All you have to do is follow my lead,” he coaxed. Did I even have a choice at this point? Sighing, I rested my head against his shoulder. I heard him gasp, which only brought more joy into the love-struck teenager part of my heart…

    Which is really weird that that place still even exists, seeing I’m in my twenties…

    “People do this in a dance too, right? What next?”

    He cleared his throat and started coaching me through it, constantly counting to three, stopping, and critiquing me, just to repeat it all over again.

    “One, two, three, one, two, th-ouch!” I had stepped on his foot, probably for the tenth time that afternoon.

    “S-Sorry again, Oncie,” I mumbled, hiding my (s/k) face in the crook of his neck. He took a deep breath and chuckled. “No biggie, let’s just get through this before the sun sets.”

    We went through the motions several times, and I had eventually gotten the hang of it. We had reached the tippitty-top of the last hill by then, night quickly approaching. As we danced, Onceler started to hum (f/s), my favorite song. He’d played it on guitar all the time at home.

    As he got to the song’s climax, he started to sing the lyrics—and sweet tree sap, was he good! I resisted the urge for as long as I could, but eventually I gave into temptation and started to sing along, too. We were singing, dancing, twirling fools out there that night, laughing at each other’s stumbles or mishaps.

    It was like we were completely separate from the world. So much so that we waltzed right into the house. And when I say we waltzed in, it’s not to be fancy—we literally waltzed inside. It was Gracie’s excited barking that brought us crashing to Earth, making us spring away from each other in surprise…as well as all of the truffula tufts. Well, at least it was just the living room floor.

    “O-Oh, sorry!” I stooped down and collected the dropped tufts in my arms and turned to the Onceler once again. “We had a pretty…eventful day, wouldn’t you agree?” He chuckled and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck at the memories.

    “I think I’ll be retiring early tonight,” I murmured, faking a yawn. As I stood and turned to my bedroom , Onceler grasped my shoulder, making me whip my head back at him (Remember that I’ve been living almost completely alone, hardly having any human contact. How does that person react to being suddenly touched?).

    “W-What is it?” I questioned, trying and failing to not blush at the contact. Onceler hesitantly removed his hand from me, as if he’d missed the feel of my skin against his.

    “I just wanted to say…you’re a pretty good dancer and singer. I never woulda guessed it,” he complemented, making his way toward the couch (He’d refused to take my bed and let me sleep on the couch. “It’s just not the gentlemanly thing to do!” he argued. Whatever. At the end of the day, I still get air conditioning in the summer!).

    I scoffed, as if asking if he’d expected any less of me and my awesome abilities. “Not too shabby yourself, Oncie. Hey, maybe you can teach me how to make one of those thneed whatchamacallits you used to make with the tufts you got.”

    “It would be my pleasure, princess. G’night, _______,” he called, wrapping himself in a cocoon of blankets.

    “G’night, Onceler.”

    As I closed my bedroom door, sleep was the last thing on my mind. I paced around the room for awhile, thinking about this guest I had acquired. The first day I met him, he had looked so secluded, so depressed. Yet, in a matter of minutes, he had kissed my hand and introduced himself. That part had left him as soon as it came.

    I noticed the same had been happening today, as well as other times in the past. He’d be all outgoing, like when he offered me to dance, then he’d get all shy! What’s up with that? Which one is really him?

    Sighing, I changed into a (f/c) nightgown and slipped under the covers, setting my glasses on the nightstand.

    It’s alright, _______. It doesn’t matter how he acts. He’s respectful, fun to be around, and a sweetheart no matter what!

    “Yeah,” I whispered to no one, as if trying to convince myself this was true. That night, I slept fitfully with one thought plaguing my mind:

    Who did I invite into my house?

    ~O~

    Beep beep. Beep beep. My alarm clock sounded off the next morning, seemingly loud enough for the whole universe to hear. I really need to get a new alarm, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll get that one I saw at the shop that plays ‘Gangnam Style’, or the ‘Harlem Shake’ clock so I can at least jam out after I wake up. Decisions, decisions…

    Anyway, I reached to turn off the ungodly device, when I feel something underneath the covers.

    Movement.

    This was no small movement, like Gracie squirming into my bed late at night. That was no biggie, and I would have felt her fluffy fur pressing against my legs if it had been her. What was a biggie was I felt HUMAN FLESH pressing against my sides.

    Who…how in the…WHAT!?

    I tried to remain calm, slowly peeling the cover back from my body. It’s okay, ______, you’re probably just imagining things. There’s nobody in there, and you’re just having a bad-SWEET MOTHER OF PANCAKES, WHAT IS HE DOING HERE!?!?!

    The Onceler was laying in a t-shirt and boxers, cuddled-up beside me, using my tummy as a makeshift pillow. His tousled hair tickled my abdomen as he shifted, a content, almost blissful expression on his face. I bit my lip to prevent myself from screaming and reached across his still body, shutting off the long-forgotten alarm clock.

    As I attempted to get out of the bed to pace the floors, questioning what I was doing with my life, a pale, lightly-calloused hand shot out from behind me, gruffly pulling me towards its owner. Onceler wore a devilish smirk, emerald eyes seeming to glint in the dark room. There was something about that look that really freakin’ scared me…even more so than it turned me on.

    Using my better judgment, I struggled against his grasp, but to no avail: that little wimp was stronger than he let on! I rested my back against his chest with a heavy sigh, earning me a dark chuckle in response.

    His mouth moved to the side of my face, gentle breath tickling my ear. “Oh, __________. You never cease to amuse me…” Onceler’s hand ghosted my rosy cheeks, making me tense dramatically. By the time he had gotten a hold of my (h/c) locks, I was ready to beat’im to a bloody pulp.

    “Too bad I hadn’t met you early. You’d have been my best intern,” he cooed. Slowly, he moved his lips closer to mine, not taking his green eyes off of my (e/c) ones. A bazillion thoughts whizzed around my brain as he closed in, trying desperately to focus on anything than what would come.

    You might have guessed it from my distance from other farmers and, well, society, but I’ve never actually kissed anyone before. In fact, it seemed kinda gross, seeing as many people know it as ‘Swapping Spit’. Yet, as the Onceler’s breath mingled with my own, I started having second thoughts. It can’t be that bad if everyone does it, I convinced myself. Besides, people do it with the ones they love. That’s what makes it special.

    Is this who you love?

    Before I could answer this question, Onceler jumped, as if startled, and ripped himself away from me with a girly shriek. Quite the atmosphere changer. I stared intently back into his eyes, genuinely confused. You don’t go from kissing a chick to spazzing out like that. Then, I realized it:

    Now, his eyes were brown.

    Any other day, that wouldn’t have made a difference. Who gives a crud about eye color, anyway? But…could this be why his personality would flip-flop from cowardly to courageous? Because of his eyes?

    ...That doesn’t make any…what…?

    I looked again at the Onceler to see him eying me even more than I was eying him, albeit shyly. “W-What is it?” I asked, still a little flustered from what had just happened.

    I looked at me a little longer before his whole face went crimson. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just…you have Care Bear underwear?”

    SLAP!

Muhahahaha~!
Hello world, I am back with even more Onceler fluff!

If you haven't noticed, I have started to develop a bit of a plot in there, so this may or may not be the last fluffy chappie for awhile. :3

I don't know if you were expecting a lemon or something in here, but there won't be for two reasons:

1. I don't write lemons.

2. I don't know who or how old my target audience is right now. (Note that my Hetalia stuffs can get heavier because the show itself is rated M)

I do not own you or the marvellous Oncie. Please read and reveiw!

Stay beautiful~
© 2013 - 2024 moot3100
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LadyAlmathea99's avatar
Umm, not trying to be rude here, but Oncie actually has BLUE eyes, not brown. Just wanted to point that out