#I just had to start with mr. problemo here

[traumainpyjamas]

JENO \\ NCT DREAM 엔시티 드림 'Smoothie' MV

[dilucsflame33]

Donnie's Birthday Special! (Pt. 1)

Hello, everyone! This is my first ever fanfic on Tumblr, so I hope you all like it! Since today is my birthday and Donnie's on the 22nd, I decided to make a birthday fanfic for Donnie with my OC!

I'm writing this in parts because I don't know the limit for posts on here, so just to warn you all this story is long. 😂

If any of you wanna be tagged, tell me and I will add you to my future posts!

Anyways, here's your Donatello's Mocha Cocktail!

Aurora was stressed. Beyond stressed and guilty.

Today was Donnie's birthday and she has completely forgotten about it; so caught up with work that she had forgotten the most important day for her man. Mikey called her, asking about what her plans were for her beloved's birthday. 

"I thought it was tomorrow!" She claimed, British accent at full volume, as she quickly placed the business papers in an organized form. She's a vice manager and assistant for Lily's clothing company that used to run by her mother. After Lily's mother went to jail for her crimes, Lily was now the new store owner of the most popular clothing brand in New York City: Lily's Boutique. 

Tabitha was no longer working at Rick's Cabaret and worked for Lily as the consultant on three floors. There's six floors in total and extra four floors for privacy reasons.

Serenity has now finished her college courses in fashion design and she runs in the back, making sure the quality of said clothing was worth its value. 

Lily was no longer living in the mansion suite apartment with her mother. She asked constructionists to make an extra four floors to her new improved boutique; the building now has four women living with their husbands peacefully. 

Well, Aurora was not feeling the peace at the moment.

"Dang, girl, you're just like Donnie. He completely forgot today was his birthday! How can you forget the day you were born?" Mikey exaggerates through the phone's speaker as the strawberry blonde woman was scrounging around her and Donnie's shared closet. Aurora was lucky enough to buy Donnie something beforehand. She planned ahead just in case she ends up forgetting due to her workload.

At least I have that going for me, she thought as she pulled out the gift wrapped in purple paper. It was hard finding something for someone who literally has every tool in the whole world. But, luckily for her, his metal grinder burned out on him. He investigated it, the fuse burned and had to either replace the fuse or find another grinder. He couldn't find both in the junkyard or in any dumpster. He even thought about building one, but Aurora talked him out of it due to putting too much workload on himself. Now he was not able to finish some of his work.

Well, not until today. 

Wifey coming to the rescue!

But the grinder wasn't the only gift Donnie will be receiving. 

With a shuddered sigh, she went towards the very back of the closet and found a white box that had Donnie's other gift. Her and Donnie's haven't been intimate in weeks due to their work schedule. Aurora getting ready for the soon Black Friday sales while Donnie working on inventions for their coming up missions. 

And tonight was the night that streak would end.

"We are both workaholics, Mikey. It wasn't our intention to forget, I promise." Aurora said as she took hold of the purple wrapped gift, keys, and started heading out of the apartment suite. "I'm heading to the sewers now. Just hang in there."

"No problemo, Mrs. Einstein. Donnie will not be bored when Mikey's around!" She laughed at his antics and said her goodbyes, hanging up and placing her phone in her pocket.

Aurora shook her head as she pressed the button to the elevator, down the main floor and into the back of the store. When she opened the back door, there's nothing but a very high protected fence. She shut the door behind her as she walked down a few steps and there she stood, the cover that leads to the sewers. Lily planned everything out when she made the renovations to her boutique. She wants to be close to her work place while Leo will be close to the sewers, where his father lives.

All of them want to be close to the sewers, especially Donnie and Leo. It's hard for Donnie to move his electrical stuff towards the new apartment, so it's just best to leave everything there and have the lair as their secret base and family get-together spot. 

Now everyone's happy with the way things turned out.

Hopefully Donnie wouldn't mind the second gift she prepared for him. Whatever he wants, he gets. 

She just hopes he has the mental capacity to handle the surprise.  

When Aurora arrived at the lair, cheers and laughter was all she heard. The woman can't help but smile as she saw her beloved talking to his brothers with a smile. Those hazel eyes gleamed as Mikey made a joke and Donnie couldn't help but laugh, making him do his little snorts. 

The woman can't help but admire him. She remembers Donnie all shy and not really wanting to speak to her at the time. She really couldn't blame him, considering where she used to work at the time. But things have changed and so does one's thought process. 

Never in her life had she ever been this lucky.

Donnie could feel eyes on him and he looked towards the entrance, his eyes gleamed even more when he saw her. He spoke to his brothers for a second and started heading towards her way. 

Aurora can't help but to laugh at his eager jog as she quickly placed down his gift and wrapped her arms around his neck when he picked her up and spun them both. 

No matter how old they are and far in the marriage, Donnie still greets her the way he used to back when they were only a couple. And her heart melted at that.

Donnie held her like she was his life line: his snout buried in her neck and brunette hair, hands taking hold of her waist and back as her legs wrapped around his hips. 

He let out a content sigh as he looked into her brown eyes with a warm smile. "Mon chéri, I'm glad you made it." French for 'my dear' left his lips almost breathlessly.

"I will never miss my husband's special day." She says as he placed her down on her two feet. "Let's enjoy ourselves, shall we?" 

Minutes become hours as Donnie's birthday bash lit up the lair. After some party games and eating pizza, it was now time for presents. Lily leaned against Leo on the couch as he had his arm around her, Tabitha on Raph's lap, and Serenity laying against Mikey's chest on the floor. Splinter sat on one of the arm chairs. Even at his old age, he's still thriving like usual. The rat was at peace knowing his son's are living their life with the ones they love.

Aurora sat next to Donnie as he took hold of a purple bag with white tissue paper. He opened it and laughed out loud. There's a coffee mug that says, "There's a difference between book smarts and common sense."

Serenity smiled. "I saw the mug and thought of you. The other ones are either women mugs, so I don't think you would like to have pink."

Mikey was about to say something before Serenity stopped him, "And no, honey, Donnie will not like that kitty mug with the ears. It will poke his eyes out!"

"He's already blind as is! Don't wanna make it worse." Tabitha snickered, her Southern accent was known as soon as she spoke. 

Donnie laid his head back against the couch as he tried to hold in his laugh. "I'm glad to know that I am half blind by my family, even though I've been like this for twenty-four years!" 

Everyone laughed as Splinter shook his head with a chuckle. 

Donnie thanked Serenity and Mikey for the gift and went to the next one. This one was a card in a purple envelope with a beautiful white ribbon, to seal it was a wax seal. "Geez, that envelope is too pretty to be opened."

"I hope I didn't go overboard." Lily says as she moves her pale, white hair behind her ear. "I thought the envelope was too plain, so I decorated it. I hope it's okay!"

"N-No! I love it, really! I'm just surprised how pretty it is!" The purple clad turtle exclaimed, trying to make the Japanese woman feel better. The said woman sighed in relief, the poor woman never done anything like this so it was to be expected. Leo kissed Lily's forehead and she soon melted into his touch.

Donnie carefully untied the string and the wax seal, then gasped as he took out the card inside. "Holy cow, a gift card to Piccola Cucina!" 

The others looked confused except for Lily, Aurora and Donnie. "It's a gift card to an Italian restaurant." 

A chorus of "oh"s filled the living room as Donnie shook his head. "You guys don't know delicious food." 

"It's called 'expensive'." Raph says as Tabitha shook her head. "It's not that we don't know, we just can't afford it." 

Lily looked towards Tabitha. "Am I not paying you enough?" Leo looked at Raphael with warning.

"Oh, Raphael, don't say stuff like that! Now you made Lily think I'm not getting paid enough." Tabitha playfully hit Raph's chest as she looked towards her boss and best friend. "You're fine, sweetheart. Don't listen to Raph, he's saying that to cover up his lack of knowledge of certain restaurants." 

Lily sighed in relief once again. "I don't understand Americans." She says in Japanese as Leo laughed out loud. The woman's innocence will be the death of her. Good thing Leo was there to protect her, even though she could defend herself. He failed once, and he won't do it again.

"Anyways, thank you Lily and Leo!" Donnie says as he placed the card back in the envelope. "So, who's next?"

Donnie's Birthday Special! (Pt. 2)

Here's my Master List!

🔞 REBLOGS ONLY, NO REPOST! 🔞

[honestsycrets]

Show Me I: Bitter Chocolate | [ Ivar x Reader ]

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | even though its relatively recent since you’ve graduated, you’ve always had a passion for dessert making. you’re confident! just... maybe not with your new boss, ivar. 

❛  tags | bjorn & hvitserk dynamic, baking or restaurant au, referenced osteogenesis imperfecta, reader sucks at picking up on clues, referenced deafness, deaf!ivar 

❛ sy’s notes | i tried my best to lean on my shitty knowledge of baking shows to come up with some bullshit for this. additionally, he’s going deaf, hasn’t always been deaf. I tried to mix up since i usually see a lot of focus on the reader in reader inserts being the deaf one. 

You’re sitting barrel down from a tasting table, rolling a ring size too short over and over along your middle finger. The more you try not to look like a meek new graduate with a grand diplome in pastry, the more you felt like you were up a creek without a paddle.

“Sigurd showed us your portfolio but-- I don’t think this was in it.” one of the owners stood by your pastry. He had the type of eyes that could intimidate anyone back-- man or woman -- and imposition in the way he folds his arms one over another. He’s massive.

“It wouldn’t be. I made it just for this.”

The man sitting next to him laughs as he plucks up the bottle of wine you brought for the dessert. Far from being insulted, or turned off, the brothers look amused. “Wine and dine, Bjorn, get it?”

The big blond ignores him.

“Ignore him.”

“A pistachio cake filled with raspberry, wrapped in a mirror glaze and topped with a half-moon of tempered sugar, Mr. Ragnarsson.”

“Call me Bjorn.” he corrects before gesturing to his much punier brother. His hair is smooth as honey, eyes a murky green-- or blue. His brother scratches his beard, lowering himself at eye level with your piece. “We’re both Ragnarssons. There are five of us. What do you think Hvitserk?”  

“You tempered it yourself?” came his reply. He looks silly, alright, but he has the sort of hunger that you only hope to keep as a chef when he reaches for a fork. He slides his knife into the cake and pulls it apart.

“I wasn’t aware there was an alternative.”

Hvitserk looks up from his place lowered among the pastry. At once you think he’s making a mental note of how not to hire you, but his dumb grin widens, flicking his eye over to Bjorn. “I think she can handle him.”

Bjorn unfurls his arms and takes a fork, swiping into the pastry. His brother crunches on your spun sugar with a little bob of his head. “It doesn’t take much to impress Hvitserk,” he remarks, then eases his bite into his thin lips, considering what he’s eating for longer than he should.

“See, ah, ah?” Hvitserk teases, elbowing his much thicker brother in the gut. “She knows what she’s doing. Eat another. Do burpees later.”

“Shut up, Hvitserk.”

You bring your hands together and lace your fingers together hard enough that it’s like a prayer to god-- please, please, please let this be the one. For a moment, Bjorn looks unconvincingly at you. There’s something about you, you decide, that he has some reservations about.

You glance out of the office toward the grandeur of a full running kitchen. They’re crammed in it, everyone with their own station-- pans, pots, skillets, and plates. They’re squished three at a station and still, it seems to run at its perfect pace. You never hoped to be in culinary-- you wanted something bigger and better. Pastry-- that was your home.

“Well,” Hvitserk teases with a big, dopey smile. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

“Your plating looks like shiiiiit,” Hvitserk has this sing song to his voice that you could only attribute to a man that should have been on broadway.

“What’s wrong with it?” Bjorn leans back, raising his hands up.

“Too much sauce,” Hvitserk rumbles without missing a beat. “Looks like a jizzed up prostitute.”

“I hate to break it to you, brother, but most prostitutes wrap it.”

Hvitserk shrugs. “Guess you would know.”

The bad thing about working for five brothers was that you worked for five brothers. Bjorn and Hvitserk jumped off of one another in the kitchen like they were made to be there with one another. A head chef and his much littler, less imposing chef.

You rarely saw Sigurd, their brother, who kept himself to supplying before hours. Ubbe worked the front of the house. Time passed smoothly since your hiring a little over a month ago, and it was easy to get into the swing of the four brothers.

Despite there being five, as Bjorn once told you, you’d yet to hear of the last.

“Careful,” Ubbe stops you on your way in one day. You smooth your hand over your clean white uniform and tilt your head.

“What is it?”

“Our brother Ivar is back from England.” He almost seems anxious in his own sort of way. Strange for a Maitre D. But he’s there for his smooth personality and his handsome face-- because who could really get mad at someone that handsome? “He’s the head pastry chef. I’m not sure Sigurd let him know you were hired. He’s the sort of man that will snap on you if you’re the wrong person.”

This was why Ubbe was the front of house. Not only did he look good in a nice suit, or a good dress shirt with a slender tie, but he had the sort of stubbly smile that reflected genuine concern in his eyes. Enough to be imposing when he needed to be, enough to back down if that needed to be too. He must know something that you didn’t. You try not to think about it.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You were the wrong person.

You know that you had done something wrong when you brought the chocolate molds out from the blast chiller. Not because it wasn’t some beautiful chocolate, but because when you flipped it-- it didn’t flip. Unfortunately for you, you’re not saved by extra time.

“That looks like shit,” Amma peers over your station, biting her lip hard.

“Amma-- shhh,” you hiss.

“It’s not like he’s out--” Amma drops her sentence when she hears a heavy footfall one after another from the slapping gates. You glance over where she’s looking, finding that the man who must be Ivar, walks in with the aid of a crutch under his all-black uniform. He looks like he’s all business, more so than all the other brothers, because of the lack of humor on his face. His brothers hardly acknowledge his presence. For you, it’s hard not to.

It’s not like he’s particularly bad looking, after all.

“Hi Ivar,” she chirps, rushing past him when he doesn’t answer. Amma, you shout as gently as you can whisper. She’s gone in an instant. Ivar makes his way past the busy lunch party toward your working area.

“Hello,” you say as he shoulders by you without a response. You figure-- because you’re a good damn employee -- that you should make friendlies with the last of the Ragnarssons. Something catches his eye and Ivar seizes to a stop and looks to your mold on your workstation. He snatches it from you, flipping it around onto the counter and slams it. Over-- and over-- and over.

And it’s not coming out.

And then worse, it breaks apart.

Ivar bows his head on his forearm and out of nervousness your find your eye wandering-- over to Hvitserk. He’s holding what looks to be a gravy boat in his hand, grimacing with a little shrug, as he mouths for you to pay attention.

Ivar thumps his thick knuckle at your work station. Try again.

Maybe worse of all-- the man doesn’t even say one word to you. You retemper the chocolate.

Usually, something simple like tempering chocolate? Easy, done, finished. No problemo. This is the sort of stuff you could do in your dreams! Except, Ivar has this quality about him, the kind that is scrutinizing even when he isn’t saying anything. The rest of the week progresses the same. Either he doesn’t speak to you at all or doesn’t respond to questions, or has that look about him that you’re the greatest fuck-up to walk in his kitchen.

For the most part, his other chefs seem to not only be used to that, but flourish underneath his scrutiny. Chocolate, something that is so simple, is now your worst enemy. He works hunched over the lead pastry table on his elbows when not on his crutch, glaring at your chocolate like it had done something wrong.

“--if it’s wrong,” you start.

Ivar glances up at you, hard. Shut up, it feels like he says. Your lips press together in a tight seal.

“Right. I’ll just go-- go get the cheesecake.”

Yeah, mini cheesecakes sound good-- somewhere where you could bury your head and scream in the many shelves of the frigid walk in closet. One where your inaccuracies didn’t have to match up to Ivar’s forceful standards and failure didn’t flash like a neon light over and over again. Ivar flips the molds over and slip your chocolate domes out of their home, reaching for the soft foam to go with the dessert. And again, he doesn’t even acknowledge you.

He’s being a dick, so you leave.

“Wow,” the door behind you clacked open. There’s a quiet shuffle of feet as Hvitserk comes in, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a not-for-cooking cloth, because that’s gross, and tips his head to the side. A lock of his chestnut hair clings to his sheening forehead. It’s fucking cold in here. Maybe that’s why he came in. Or, like the others, maybe he wanted to laugh a little bit.

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Hvitserk laughs, clasping his hands together, then release. “You’d know if he hated you.”

“Yeah.” You snap back. “I do. He’s acting like a bitch. He doesn’t even talk to me.”

“He didn’t throw the plate at you.”

You snort. That’s a great start to a relationship with your new boss.

“But that might be because you’re a woman.” Hvitserk slips his hand beside your head, reaching past you to slide out the mini cheesecakes for the event, then taps you on the nose with his opposing hand, and you’re not crying, it’s just the change of temperature that’s messing with your head, because you’re NOT crying.

“Don’t worry babe,” Hvitserk strokes your back with his other hand. “He’s like that with everyone.”

“Not his other pastry chefs,” you say pointedly. Hvitserk opens his mouth, as if to tell you that you’re new, that Ivar will take time to warm up to you, when the door opens. Your boss stands there, holding his crutch stubbornly with one hand, looking at the metal tray. Then, his head shifts, accusatorily toward Hvitserk.

He turns to his brother. “I got your pie.”

“Hurry up,” Ivar says with a low drag that sounds slurred over.

Hvitserk shifts to the side, shrugging his shoulders, “But I got your pie.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Ivar stuffs his crutch under his arm to support his weight. Then, gesturing with two hands, he signs something that you only catch because of Hvitserk’s roaring laughter shaking the cooler altogether.

Hvitserk shuffles out, “Man, you just got back. Don’t be a bitch.”

Or maybe, you were the asshole.

After service, you’re sweeping the crumbles of chocolate that Ivar’s flung off the side during plating. The stations have been cleaned and most the other chefs had gone already. All but Ivar, reclining against his station, watching you sweep until he speaks with that same drag, the first words you ever heard out of him.

“I can teach you how to temper chocolate.”

You glance up at him, sweeping the bits into a picker upper, and you’ve never heard something more demeaning spoken in the kindest of way. His expression seems softer now. “I was nervous,” you excuse, bringing your hand to your chest. With a swirl of your wrist in a circle, you gesture, sorry. Ivar turns his head down. “How long have you been--”

“It’s a recent occurrence.” He snaps, cutting you off. “It’s not like-- not completely. Where did you learn that?”

“My niece? She’s uh-- speech impaired. I know ‘I’m hungry’, ‘Please’ and ‘More,’ too.”

Not the greatest way to start. Ivar cracks into his laughter slowly, running his hands through his long hair, then tipping his head back. His arms fold defensively over his chest. “Good for you.”

It should have died there, but rather, you went on.

“Look I’m not usually this shitty.”

He tips his head forward, raising his eyebrows. Really?

“--I’d like to show you that. I don’t work Sunday, if you have time for brunch?”

It’s not a half-cocked attempt for a date, it’s this stupid desire to show him you could be more than that girl who couldn’t make the simplest of dessert elements. It wasn’t sugar for god's sakes! It was chocolate! After a moment of mulling it over, he nods. You exchange phone numbers, and later, your address.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer​ @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071​ @daughterofthenight117​ @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa​, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27​ @feyrearcheron44​@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer​ @medievalfangirl​ @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies: Chapter Three

Okaaaay I am so fucking sorry it's been awhile, you guys. But you're not here for my life story and personal bullshit, I'm sure (though please do feel free to ask). So here's chapter three. Enjoy... I hope?

Thank you, as always, to @edward-or-ford for being an excellent beta!

Chapter Three: Sex on the Brain Feel you under my skin; middle of the night, wonder if you feel it, too.- All Time Low, Trouble Is

There was a warm body atop Mabel’s, and lips pressed against hers. There were hands grasping her breasts, then one of them traveled down between her legs.

“Mabel,” gasped a voice as the lips traveled down her neck. A pleasant voice. Deep, but not alarmingly so. It was soothing, familiar. Comforting and arousing all at the same time.

One hand pinched her nipple while the other stroked her, and she gasped out quietly.

When she opened her eyes, Dipper leaned down to kiss her again, and-

Mabel woke with a start, disorientated. Her eyes flitted around the dark room, and she remembered she was at Candy’s. Recognizing Grenda’s sleeping form on the floor and Candy’s even breaths beside her, Mabel sighed quietly.

Well. That was certainly disappointing. Those types of dreams were the worst because she hated waking up from them.

She hadn’t always had so many sex dreams. It was a recent development. And frankly, she wasn’t a fan. Yeah, Dipper was sexy, but like. She knew that already. She didn’t need her subconscious waving a big ol’ flag with “REMEMBER HOW SEXY YOUR BRO IS?” emblazoned on it. She could do without that, thanks ever so much.

It was half an hour before she managed to fall back asleep. She definitely didn’t fill her friends in on the details the next day, even though she probably would’ve if the dream had been about literally anybody except her twin brother.

She was quite sure that when Grenda and Candy thought of “sexy” vibes in relation to Mabel, Dipper was the last person on the face of the earth who might be considered for such things.

————

The following morning, Mabel tried her absolute hardest to seem as normal as she possibly could. Y’know, talk without changes in her voice or tone or speech pattern. Gesticulate some but not too much. Talk about non-Dipper things. Definitely not because Mabel was having a great deal of difficulty thinking about anything but Dipper and what his lips and hands and teeth (oh god his teeth) would feel like on various parts of her body. That had zero to do with it.

Of course, normal for Mabel was… odd for other people, to say the least. And that suited her just fine. Really, it did. She rather liked it that way, actually. Normal people were kinda lame.

Still, there were, of course, some aspects of Mabel’s life that she sometimes wished were a bit more normal, she pondered as she brushed her hair in the bathroom mirror. Not entirely, just a bit. She wished she didn’t have to live separately from her sibling. She wished she’d found her soulmate the same way as everyone else rather than having it be a big mystery.

But most all, she wished she’d never developed these stupid feelings for Dipper. They really were stupid. Who gets feelings for their twin, anyway? Like, where did that even come from?

When Mabel thinks of the word “incest”, she pictures royal families trying to keep the bloodlines pure and stereotypical hillbillies and rednecks. What she did not picture was a modern day middle class Californian teenager.

Not that it had gotten to incest levels, of course. Obviously not. In order for anything to happen, Dipper would have to return her feelings, which he decidedly did not. Why would he?

You’re the weirdo, she reminded herself as she set her hairbrush down.

Well. It is what it is, she supposed. No reason to dwell on it.

And on that note, Mabel skipped out of the bathroom, doing a rather excellent job of pretending she was definitely not dwelling on her romantic-but-very-much-unrequited love for her brother.

Not even a little.

————

They didn’t ride in the same car. Of course they didn’t. They never did. She knew, intellectually speaking, that her and Dipper couldn’t be in the same car for the half hour drive from Candy’s to the mountains. Even five minute drives, though, her parents refused.

“What if you get stuck in traffic?” They’d demand whenever she asked if just once, Dipper could take her in his car. It didn’t seem to make a difference that the odds of a traffic jam in a town as small as Gravity Falls were minuscule at best. Eventually, she stopped asking, stopped trying to reason with them.

She wished she could text him during the drive. She couldn’t stop staring at his last message. She didn’t mean to, it was just that she sometimes got into these moods where whenever she stopped looking at his texts, she’d immediately get the irresistible urge to look at them again, even if she knew full well that all she’d see was the fifteen minute old see you in a bit.

Mabel felt bad about the whole thing sometimes. It wasn’t that she’d meant to fall in love. She truly hadn’t. But… Dipper was just so goddamn sweet. He was considerate and kind and he always asked about her day. And when she told him, he actually listened! None of the guys at her school ever did that. They just stared at her boobs while she talked.

It was suuuuuuuper guilt-inducing, though. Like, somewhere near her (it had to be near her or she’d have been going through withdrawal symptoms all her life) was her soulmate. Emotionally healthy people developed crushes on their soulmates even before they turned seventeen and felt the pull.

Evidently, Mabel wasn’t an emotionally healthy person. She’d developed a crush on her twin brother. And then it had developed into this suffocating, desperate, agonizing, all-encompassing consuming love and adoration that she just couldn’t seem to shake.

It was hard not to see him, she mused as she stared at her phone (still black because he hadn’t texted her, obviously; get a grip, Mabel). But then, it was just as hard to actually see him. The urge to touch him was even worse lately.

Sighing and leaning back in her seat, Mabel stared out the window.

She completely missed her father’s solemn gaze flickering to her briefly in the rear view mirror.

————

Mabel liked visiting Gravity Falls in the winter. She probably wouldn’t get to see snow otherwise. It was beautiful.

It had snowed in the mountains the night before, and there was frost on the ground and snow on the tops of the trees, the sun bouncing off them and making them shine. The cold air bit her face when she opened the car door, but Dipper’s smile in her direction as he stepped out of his own beat-up sedan made her forget about everything else.

Buzz buzz buzz, said the bees.

Mabel resisted the urge to dance when she saw him.

Or slap her stomach a few times. Maybe the sting of it would numb the stupid fucking bees and their stupid fucking buzzing, for god’s sake, would you shut up already-

She did neither, however (good job, Mabel girl!), instead opting for a definitely-not-nervous-in-the-slightest-so-just-shut-your-mouth smile.

“Why hello, Sir Dippingsauce!” She ambled over to him, telling herself she was doing an excellent job of not being awkward.

How long did she have to keep that up for again? A week? That was… that was fine. She could do a week. She could totally do a week, no problemo (Note: Mabel could not do a week. She could possibly do 2.5 days, and even that was most certainly pushing it, but to suggest as much is incredibly rude, as Mabel was doing her very best to make her mind into a 100% Doubt-Free Zone™).

He put an arm across his stomach, the other rigid at his side, and bowed deeply at the waist with a decidedly snooty expression on his too-attractive-to-be-legal face. “Lady Mabelton,” he greeted. “I trust your carriage ride was pleasant?”

“Indeed, milord. You may rise,” she lifted her hand in a dainty gesture, her nose (which was red from the cold) in the air. He did, grinning. “So, what d’you have planned for me n’ the ‘rents today?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Just a fun little nature walk, I guess. Nothing crazy.”

Mabel shot him double finger guns. “Coolio, bro-lio.”

Their parents were just climbing out of the car. They always took forever. Why did people over the age of twenty-eight always take forever to emerge from a vehicle?

Mabel fiddled with the empty space her right forefinger left in gloves she wore. Gloves were always too big for her as far as finger-length went.

“Soooooo…” she drawled as her parents rounded their car. “Lesgo!”

Running off in a totally random direction, she skidded to a halt at the edge of a clearing. “Yeeeah… might wanna let me lead the way, Mabes. I know my way around pretty well, since I... y’know... live here,” Dipper said with another one of those heart-stopping grins.

Ugh.

Suddenly feeling tremendously uncomfortable again, Mabel laughed awkwardly. “Indeed you do, bro-bro. Indeed you do.” Chill chill chill it’s fine, it’s fine, totally fine up in here.

Dipper walked around Mabel and started down a winding gravel path, definitely neglecting to give her anything that could remotely be classified as “enough space to not have a heart attack”. She followed behind him after several seconds, trying very hard not to stare at his butt.

Again. Dammit.

Mrs. Pines even scolded him a bit. “Careful not touch your sister, Dipper!”

Her voice carried through the trees, and Dipper called out a quick, “kay,” over his shoulder before continuing on. It had been perhaps five minutes. Ten, maybe? Who knew? Time lost meaning when she stared at Dipper too long, and he was walking directly ahead of her. Besides, she had to pay attention to where he was going! She couldn’t really be blamed for staring at him, right?

The path widened significantly after awhile, allowing Dipper to fall back a bit, frosted gravel crunching beneath his sneakers.

“Is it okay if we walk ahead of you, Dipper?” Mr. Pines asked. “Your mother and I would like to look at the scenery a bit more clearly than we can behind you and your sister.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty straightforward from here.”

Mr. and Mrs. Pines smiled at him and stepped around him, Mr. Pines patting Dipper’s shoulder affectionately as he walked past.

Dipper fell into step beside Mabel, walking in silence. Mabel inspected her shoes. Some of the frost had gotten on the rhinestones she’d glued to them.

Glancing up in front of her after several minutes, she noticed that their parents had gotten further and further away, far out of earshot.

For the first time in as long as Mabel could remember, they didn’t seem to be paying too much attention to her and Dipper’s interactions.

Blushing furiously at the very idea of being alone with her twin, she looked down at her shoes again. Thank god for the cold. Nobody would question her red face in the cold.

“So,” Dipper said haltingly. Mabel’s head whipped up to face him, her eyes wide. She hadn’t really been expecting him to actually speak, but then she couldn’t very well have not expected it, either. It had just… never occurred to her that he might.

“So?” Mabel said back. Don’t be awkward don’t be awkward don’t be awkward-

“Well, there’s this… thing.”

“Very specific,” Mabel nodded indulgently. “Say no more, brother dear. I know of what you speak.”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Y-you do?” He stuttered.

Mabel snorted. “Uh, no. Doi. Why would I know?”

He blinked at her. “Oh. Right. Yeah. Guess you… probably wouldn’t, huh?” He looked away and muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” She asked, pushing her hair back behind the ear closest to him, some of the strands catching on her glove.

“Oh, uh. Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Mm...kay?” When he didn’t say anything, just kept staring at her, she spoke up again. “What were you gonna tell me?”

“Oh! Right. Yeah. That. Right.”

“Right. That,” Mabel agreed with a nod, as if she had the slightest idea what he was talking about (note: she did not, in fact, have the slightest idea what he was talking about).

“So, there’s this thing,” Dipper said again.

“Right,” Mabel repeated.

“This thing… that I’ve been kinda meaning to tell you for… well,” he laughed hoarsely. She’d never heard him laugh like that before. “For a few years, actually.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Errhm. Okay. What is it?”

“Okay, so it’s like this,” he started, then stopped and looked up at the sky. “Why me?” He muttered, so quiet she almost didn’t hear him again.

“Okay, Dip, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

He sighed and stopped walking. So did she. His eyes were closed, which was probably a good thing because they really were terribly distracting and whatever he had to tell her seemed pretty important. He turned his face to her again, opening them, something… different in them. Something she’d never seen before. Something she didn’t recognize.

Something urgent and terrifying and nerve-wracking in a way she didn’t entirely understand, and then-

“Kids!” Her dad called out, both parents jogging over to them. Well, okay, it was more like running. Why would they be running? They hadn’t been that far behind, yeesh.

“Shit,” Dipper muttered again, and Mabel turned to him in surprise. He’d tried to talk to her before, too. Before she’d left for Candy’s. Why? What was going on? Was he sick? If he was sick, why couldn’t he tell their parents? Oh god, what if he’d gotten an STD? What if he’d gotten somebody pregnant? No, wait, pregnancy didn’t last “a few years”, which he had said very clearly, so not that. Oh, fuckity fucking fuck, what if he’d found his soulmate?

“What’re you guys talkin’ about?” Their mom asked with a smile that was a bit too tight and didn’t reach her eyes.

Dipper shrugged. “School and whatnot. Just catching up.”

Mabel didn’t understand why he was lying, but, well. Mabel Pines ain’t no snitch, so she nodded and said, “yeppers yeppers Johnny Deppers! The usual, y’know.”

Mr. Pines inclined his head. Mrs. Pines was clasping his hand.

Her knuckles were white.

Their parents didn’t let their children out of their sight for the remainder of the hike.

Mabel could barely speak. She couldn’t even think much of anything.

What if he’d found his soulmate?

The bees never shut up, either.

[pa-panda-heroes]

LOV x reader who never learned how to treat her wounds properly so they always scarred and people were always confused as to why she has so many but she’s just clumsy

OKAY this will be interesting because I’m the exact opposite ALTHOUGH I am clumsy... ^^;;

~🐼

LoV with a s/o who never learned to treat her wounds properly!

Tomura:

It’s not like he can’t relate. He’s not clumsy per se, but he was never good at treating/keeping up his wounds. He knows how, though, but mostly the basics.

Scars won’t bother him whatsoever. He has his own, after all! So, scars are just like any beauty marks or birth marks to him. He’ll look at them like any other bit of skin on your body. No problemo.

His scars and wounds aren’t a result of clumsiness, though, so he’ll constantly look at you like how. How does this happen? How are you so clumsy? With his quirk, he can’t afford to be clumsy.

That part baffles him, sure. But as he’s used to not treating his wounds, either, he probably won’t do a lot of encouraging for you to actually do so, or any first aid. There’s not going to be any mothering on his end.

Obviously, if an infection or infections occur, he’s going to go a different route than normal. That, he’ll be bugging you to take care of. He’s not going to let the infection get to the point you become septic. Nope.

If they’re textured scars, he’s not above just taking a single finger and dragging it along them.

He’s just curious, and it’s a thing he likes to do for some reason.

If you don’t, he’ll eventually start keeping bandages in his pockets to give you when you get hurt, so that you don’t get blood anywhere.

Mr. Compress:

He will mother you. He’ll see you get hurt and the first thing he does is pull a first aid kit out of nowhere via his quirk. He’ll patch you up cleanly and properly, taking care to sanitize while making sure the proper bandaging is put into place.

Mr. might scold you a little here and there, but nothing that will upset you or make you feel bad. He’s just worried! It’s the concerned and worried kind of scolding, very gentle and kind.

He doesn’t mind the scars; they’re not ugly to him by any means.

But they do worry him because he wants you to take care of yourself and prevent more from arising. Not to mention scar care - some scars, even after they’ve healed, can be generally painful or opened up.

He’s still going to encourage you to take care of any wounds on your own, though. There may be a time he’s not around to help you.

He especially doesn’t want anything getting infected if you’re constantly out and about!

But your being clumsy might scare him on a daily basis. So you tripped and fell onto the concrete sidewalk? He’s leaping to catch you! Almost fell off your own chair? He almost had a heart attack!

He’ll constantly be looking after you and making sure you don’t get hurt. Although, he’s not always successful.

Twice:

Like Tomura, he has his own scars, so they won’t bother him.

However, his is a result from a traumatic event, so he’s going to worry, if you don’t outright tell him, that all of yours are, too.

Not great at treating wounds, but he can try. Might be a little trigger happy with the bandages, but he’s trying! Always does his best.

In all honesty, it’s mostly to impress you. Of course, taking care of you is important, too, but these aren’t mortal wounds. There’s not much to worry about there, unless you don’t keep them clean and they get infected.

In which case, he’s glued to any device capable of searching infection care on the internet to figure out what to do.

Infections, even in small wounds, can become catastrophic, not only to the affected skin but also to your health if they’re not taken care of. I think at some point the wound on his forehead probably became infected (nothing mayor, but still), so he’ll know how horrible they can be. That means he’s going to worry about you a lot.

It won’t exactly bother him that you don’t know how to treat wounds because he’s not exactly the epitome of health. After all, he smokes, so can’t preach about self care. However, he wants you to know how and take care of yourself.

I think Twice would have the “Why should I?” mentality whilst pushing you to take care of your body and health, because he is very attached to his close ones and doesn’t prioritize himself.

Himiko:

Loves them. Loves, loves, loves your scars.

Doesn’t care that you’re clumsy. If anything she finds it cute! It doesn’t scare her or make her anxious. She’ll always catch you when you fall if she’s close, and if she’s not, she’ll giggle at you!

But she adores your scars and likes to count them, poke them, caress them, even smooch and/or lick ‘em if you give her permission to do so. And she’ll constantly ask how you got them!

She won’t practice first aid or even encourage it, mostly because the minute she sees you have a - for example - cut that’s bleeding profusely, she’ll latch onto it with her mouth and lick away. Himiko you have to put pressure to stop the bleeding! Otherwise you’re basically wiping away the clotting factors!

If a wound of yours gets infected, she’ll honestly just send you to someone else who can help out. Any wounds she’s seen before didn’t have a chance to get infected because the person was... a little dead.

She doesn’t really know first aid, and she doesn’t entirely care to, even for you.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care, of course. If it hurts particularly badly, she’ll do what she knows can help out with it. Or what whoever tells her to do. She’s open to suggestions!

Dabi:

Oh sky above does he know a thing or two about scars. He’s honestly not going to mind yours, though. At least they don’t require constant care and aren’t painful to look at like his.

But he’s going to push basic first aid on you.

He won’t let you get scars like his, whether you’re clumsy or constantly in physical danger, or not. Your wounds won’t have a chance to get infected with him breathing down your neck about them.

He’s not going to plop you down and do all your first aid for you, unless it’s something you absolutely can’t do yourself, like a wound on your back. No, you have to learn first aid yourself. Dabi might teach you, though. I have no doubt he knows how.

If you happen to get a wound that needs something to close it, he can help out. With staples. And that’s about it! Stitching doesn’t work with him, so he never bothered to learn how. Any stitches put in him were done so by someone else.

Those staples of his require constant sanitization and maintenance, as well as replacement, so he has some on hand to spare pretty much at all times. That also means he knows when to change wound dressings and whatever “hardware” you have for the injury.

He’s not going to hold back sarcastic and teasing remarks about your clumsiness just because you’re his s/o. If anything, your relationship status encourages it.

He’ll find it cute, but for him it’s also inconvenient if you’re supposed to be on a mission or something dangerous or important.

Spinner:

I think he’d be pretty clumsy himself, so he gets it.

When your clumsiness strikes, he’ll do what he can to jump in and prevent you from getting hurt. Obviously he’s not always successful, but he tries!

Anything he knows about first aid probably came from video games, though - and it’s nothing extensive. If a wound is small enough, he’ll slap a bandage on it and call it a day.

And that’s usually okay. But large wounds are out of his league.

He might flinch if he sees a fairly rough-looking scar because ouch “that must have hurt, babe.”

He’ll think they make you look tough, like someone who’s seen their fair share of violence and made it through like a badass.

He’ll probably lightly encourage you to learn basic wound-tending, but he’s not going to be super persistent about it! He’s not very disciplined in the aspect of treating wounds.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t want you to take care of yourself! He knows it’s best to avoid infection, and where to send you if a nasty one pops up!

[hellogoodbye741]

Hi.. Can you do an IronHawk? I love them together.. Maybe high school AU? Thanks

Sorry, this took so long, my writing muse has been in the john for the last two years ngl.

Hope you like it! Read it here at: Don’t Know Much Bout Biology or under the cut

DAY ONE:

“New year, new school, new me,” Clint muttered to himself over and over as he walked towards the entrance of SHIELD High. “New year, new school, new- aw fuck, I’m so screwed.”

Clint came to a stop right at the doors and looked up at the huge lettering that sat close to the top of the building. “SHIELD High School. A school of Excellence.” Hawk sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “What am I even doing here, man.”

Clint Barton was a 16-year-old circus brat who had thought his education experience would be one of 20-year-old textbooks from Texas, and teachers who did tricks for a living. But here he was, at one of the best schools in the country. All because some Vice Prinicipal saw his act, and thought he would be a great addition to their archery team.

“Ohhh I can’t do this” Hawk said as he felt panic set in. Clint wasn’t a ‘school’ person. He hadn’t even stepped into a school building in almost ten years, not since Barney had dragged him out of the orphanage one night to ran away to the circus.

Yet here he was… This wasn’t going to end well.

~

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Tony said as Jarvis parked the limo.

“I’m not sir, you know I don’t kid”

Tony groaned as he looked at the high school in front of him. “But Jarvis, I’m already waaay too smart for high school! I went to MIT for christ’s sake!”

Jarvis turned and looked over at Tony. “Master Tony, we all know about your timed at MIT. But your father insists, and so do I, that a little… socialization with children your own age would be good for you.”

“I don’t need to socialize, I have Rhodey.”

“Who just got shipped off to Afghanistan, and won’t be back for a year. Also, Rhodey is 10 years your senior and treats you like a little brother. What would be wrong with having friends your own age?”

“Nobody my age gets me Jarv.”

Jarvis sighed. “One semester is your father’s deal if you want to start working in the shop.”

Tony groaned, “One semester??? How about three weeks.”

“One semester.”

“A month.”

“Two semesters.“

“One semester it is, see you at three Jarv.”

Jarvis smiled and handed Tony a box. Tony gave it a look.

“I packed you a lunch, your favorite.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “My favorite when who’s around.”

Jarvis winked, “Me, Anna, and Peggy.”

Tony fist-pumped, “Sweet PB&J.”

“Alright, first bell will be sounding soon. Your schedule is in your bag. Go on now. Shoo.”

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah okay I’m going.”

“Don’t start any fires!”

Tony waved a hand, “No promises!”

~

Clint sat in silence with the Principal and Vice-Principal, his knee bouncing harder and harder the more anxious he got.

“Don’t worry Clint,” Vice Principal Coulson said with a smile. “We’re just waiting for the other new student to arrive.”

The Principal, Fury, snorted. “Student my ass”

Coulson kept the serene smile on his face, so Clint took that as a signal to pretend like he didn’t hear what he just had.

It was another few agonizing minutes later when the door finally opened, and a small dark-headed boy entered the room. “Sorry I’m late, I got lost and didn’t want to be here.”

“That’s fine Mr. Stark, please sit down next to Clint.”

The boy grimaced, “Please call me Tony. Mr. Stark is my old man” and sat down next to Clint. The boy smiled and stuck his hand out, “Tony Stark. Pleased to meet ya”

Clint blinked, but slowly reached out and shook the other boy’s hand. “Uh, Clint… Clint Barton. Nice to meet you too”

Tony nodded and released Clint’s hand, “So we got that out of the way. Why are we here?”

VP Coulson leaned back in his seat. “Since you both are new to the school, we decided that we wanted to cover the basics of our program here before we send you out to classes.”

Tony sighed, leaned over to Clint, and whispered: “Wake me up when they’re finished, kay?”

Clint blinked again, unsure on how to respond.

“I’ll take that as a yes”

~

Clint rushed out of the office 30 minutes later, more certain of his inevitable downfall than ever. So many expectations were on his head, both academically and athletically.

“I am so screwed” He whispered to himself.

“No, I’m screwed, you’re fine.”

Clint jumped and looked back to the other new kid as he exited the office as well. “Huh?”

The kid, Tony, waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. Lemme see your schedule”

Clint tipped his head, “Why?”

“Because if I’m forced to be here, I’d rather share some classes with people I know. Gimme” Tony made ‘gimme hands,’ and Clint reluctantly handed over his class schedule.

Tony quickly skimmed it and made a face. “Well how about. 6 out 7 classes ain’t bad. New school buddies for the win”

“You’re weird” Clint said before he could stop himself.

Tony just smiled and handed back Clint’s schedule. “I know, you’ll learn to love it. Let’s head to class”

Clint tucked the schedule into his backpack, “Is that one we have together?”

“Yep”

“What is it”

Tony turned and winked at Clint, “Chemistry.”

DAY TWO:

“So you’re the new kid?” A red-headed girl asked as Clint stood at his locker.

“Uhm... Yes? At least one of them anyway.”

The girl nodded, “Natasha.”

Clint slowly closed his locker, “Clint.... Nice to meet you?”

Natasha nodded, “You’ll eat with us at lunch. Don’t be late”

Clint opened his mouth to respond, but Natasha walked off before he could say anything.

“What”

~

Tony plopped down at the desk next to Clint’s and leaned against Clint’s shoulder. “Ughhhhh I’m so bored.”

Clint, unused to this sort of touching, awkwardly petted Tony’s hair. “Uhm... There, there.”

Tony snorted, “Thanks for trying bud. You sound like my father... I hate this place, I already know everything.”

“I’m sorry you’re smart?”

“I appreciate it. Anyway, anything new going on in your life since last period?”

“Some girl told me I’m sitting with her at lunch?”

Tony jerked up in his seat, “Red hair?”

“Yes?”

“Looks like we’re twinsies again, I’m being forced to.”

Clint nodded, “Okay so the girl collects new kids then. Cool cool cool cool”

“Are you panicking? You sound like you’re panicking”

“A little?”

“Hey it’s just lunch. Maybe we’ll make more friends and everything will be fine.”

Clint grimaced, “I don’t know how to socialize.”

Tony smiled and patted Clint’s shoulder. “I’ll do the talking, you just sit there and look cute.”

“Thank you... I think”

~

Clint was dragged into the cafeteria two hours later by Tony. “Come on, Merida! If I’m being forced to make friends my own age, so are you.”

“Did you just call me Merida?”

“Of course. You both do archery, right?”

“... I’m gonna ignore that.”

“Why are you booing me, I’m right”

Clint grimaced, “Why did I allow you to become my friend?”

“Because I’m special. Let’s go and find the scary red-haired girl”

“You found her”

Both Tony and Clint gave a small yelp as Natasha suddenly appeared behind them.

“Jesus Red, don’t do that to us”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Come on. Our table is this way.”

Clint and Tony looked at each other, but quickly followed her to the table.

“Clint and Tony, sit down. Let me do the introductions.”

They both sat down.

Natasha smiled, “Everyone - this is Clint and Tony. The new kids”

The full group at the table waved at the pair, they waved back slowly.

“Okay first is Steve,” A muscular blonde waved. “Next is Bucky, his beau.” A muscular brunet with a permanent resting bitch gave a nod. Clint and Tony nodded back.

“Next we have Sam Wilson,” A black boy boy with shades and a goatee gave them a wave.

“Then there are the twins, Wanda and Pietro.” A boy and girl at the end of the table waved quickly before going back to their conversation.

“Okay after them we have Scott.... Scott, wake up!” Clint and Tony startled when a boy climbed out from underneath the table.

“Sup”

“Sup” Clint and Tony said quietly.

“Okay who do we have next... Ah, Little Peter. Late again”

“Sorry guys, I got stuck in the science lab because the teacher wanted me to go over this one scientific principle i brought up with him about the multiverse theory, you know the one I told you guys about? I was trying to explain in detail exactly what, oh hi new kids, exactly what-”

“Peter, peter, please take a deep breath you’re rambling.”

The younger boy, Peter, blushed. “Sorry”

“Hey kid, I love the multiverse theory. Ramble away” Tony said with a smile.

Peter’s eyes lit up.

“Uh oh, you just set yourself up for the talk of a century.” Sam said with a laugh.

“I’m game kid”

Peter grinned and began his ramble again, Tony listening diligently.

Clint tried to pay attention, but eventually tuned out from the conversation.

“Hey”

Clint blinked and looked around.

“Over here dingus”

Clint turned and spotted and black haired girl waving at him from a nearby table.

“Uh... yes?”

“Are you Clint?”

“Yeah that’s me.”

The girl smiled and stuck out her hand, “I’m Kate. Welcome to the archery team.”

Clint smiled and shook her hand, “Glad to be apart of it.... Though not sure how good my technique is, I’m self taught.”

Kate waved her hand, “Technique schmenique. If you can hit the target you’re better than the rest of the team. They all suck”

Clint laughed, “Well hopefully I’m better than suck“

“I’ll be the judge of that. See you on the green at 3!”

“See you then.”

Clint turned back around to find Tony smiling at him. “What?”

“You made a friend without being forced! Good for you Glen coco”

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“Oh dear god, you poor boy.” Tony turned and looked at the group. “Anyone wanna come help me destroy my father’s mansion and show Clint Mean Girls for the first time in the process”

The huge group all shouted positive exclamations, shocking Clint in their fervor to both destroy property and show him a movie he never knew existed.

“Okay... I guess I’m in too... But it has to be after Archery practice”

Tony waved a hand, “No problemo mi amor. I never do anything before 7 pm anyway”

Clint just sighed but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the weirdest thing Tony had said to him in the two days they have known each other, and he knew he was gonna hear weirder at some point in the future.

DAY 10

“Tony, no”

“Tony, yes”

Clint sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “I am not pretending to be your boyfriend for funsies”

“Who said it was for funsies?”

Clint rolled his eyes and pushed at Tony’s shoulder. “Stop playing around.”

“Hahahayeahthatsmeplayingaround.” Tony said quickly, “See you in class.”

“Okay weirdo, see you then.”

DAY 20

“Soooo...”

Clint turned and looked at Kate and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“Soooo when are you and Tony gonna go on a date?”

Clint blinked, “Huh?”

“Dude you and Tony are in love, go on a date.”

Clint rolled his eyes, “Kate you’re drinking the crazy juice. Tony and I are definitely not in love...”

Kate snorted, “Blind as a bat”

DAY 30

“Tony I swear to god if you don’t just tell him you want to date him, I will!”

Tony groaned and slammed his head down on the table. “Red you’re killing me. Don’t you think I’ve tried??? He’s an oblivious, adorable, moron!!”

Bucky patted Tony’s shoulder. “As someone who had to deal with Steve’s oblivious dumbass for 16 years, I feel. I can also help”

Tony raised his head up, “You can?”

Bucky shrugged, “Well I can try”

“That’s all I can ask for really”

DAY 40

“He really is a dumbass” Bucky said with an exasperated sigh.

“See?? I told you!” Tony practically shouted as he paced back and forth. “I have literally tried everything to get him to notice me as more than a friend.”

“There’s gotta be something, I mean Jesus”

Tony grimaced, “Is there though? Cause I can’t think of anything.”

“Maybe we can help”

Tony looked over and spotted Natasha and Clint’s friend, Kate. “You have an idea we haven’t tried?”

Kate and Natasha looked at each other and smiled. “Just leave it to us, okay?”

Day 50

Clint frowned, “But why do I have to wear the blind fold?”

“Because I said so, keep moving” Kate said with a huff as she maneuvered Clint back and forth.

“But what’s going on? You wouldn’t tell me shit”

“It’s a surprise, okay?”

“I’m not sure I like surprises”

“You’ll like this one, okay? Now shut up”

Clint huffed and continued to allow Kate to manhandle him.

“Are we there yet?” Clint asked 5 minutes later.

“Not quite, be patient you heathen.”

“Did you just call me a heathen? You uncultur-”

“Okay, we’re here! Take your blind fold off”

Clint sighed and ripped off the blindfold, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light.”Where am I?”

“Look!”

Clint spun to where Kate was pointing, and gasped. They had walked all the way out to the archery field, and standing in a line were several targets in a line, each with a different letter on then spelled out in arrows. Clint could see the rest of their newfound crew in the background watching.

‘DATE ME’

At the end of the line was Tony with a bunch of fledglings in his hand. Clint’s head tipped to the side and he let out a little laugh. “Oh Tony”

Tony gave him a huge smiled, “Oh Tony what?”

Clint laughed, “I can’t believe what a prankster you are. Such trouble for a laugh! ‘Date me,’ I love it! And you got everyone else involved too”

Tony’s face dropped and he looked over at the crowd in astonishment. Everyone else looked shocked too.

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot” Kate whispered.

“What? What do you mean I’m an idiot.”

Kate gripped Clint by the shoulders. “Clint, this isn’t a prank. It’s real. Tony LIKES you, and wants to take you on a real date!!!”

Clint frowned, “What? That’s crazy. Tony totally thinks us as just friends.”

Kate dropped her hands, “Okay. New question... If Tony didn’t think of you as just a friend, and actually asked you on a date. What would you say?”

Clint shook  his head, “That’ll never happen.”

“Why do you think so?”

“I’m not boyfriend material. Tony knows that, that’s why he’s joking about it.”

“Why are you not boyfriend material?”

“Because I’m a hot garbage can fire and nobody can love me past those flaws?”

“Tony can you big dingus, he’s even more of a hot mess than you!!”

Clint gave her a look, “Tony hasn’t been joking?”

“No!!!”

“He really wants to date me?”

“Yes!”

“Like legit?”

“YES” Everyone shouted, including Tony.

Clint turned and gave Tony a sheepish look. “Uhm... sorry?”

Tony sighed, “Apology accepted... and?”

“And?”

“AND YES OR NO LEGOLAS”

“Oh, yeah. I would love to go on a date”

Tony gave a loud whoop and ran towards Clint. “FINALLY! HE SAID YES!!”

Clint blushed as all of their friends began to cheer in the background.

“Was I really that much of an idiot?” Clint asked when Tony got closer.

“Even more than you know” Tony said with a smile before jerking forward and planting on kiss on Clint’s lips.

Clint let out a muted ‘oof,’ but gladly kissed Tony back.

The kiss lasted a good minute before Tony pulled back. “Best. Semester. Ever”

Clint laughed and pulled Tony back in for another kiss.

DAY 75

Clint’s leg bounced as he waited outside the principal’s office. He had been waiting for almost an hour, and he was getting more nervous by the second.

Finally, the door opened.

Clint jumped to his feet and rushed towards Tony. “So????”

Tony smiled, “I’m staying.”

Clint let out a loud whoop and jumped into Tony’s arms. Tony laughed and hugged Clint back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Wow, it’s like you like me or something.”

“Well who wouldn’t like a boyfriend like you, hmm?”

Tony just shook his head. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for class.”

“What class?”

“Chemistry”

[ilovereadingandilovebreathing]

Okay so Sal is mega sick and Larry takes care of him. Maybe even takes him to the doctor bc Sal will n o t do ir.

Oh my goodness. I’m sorry this took so long. I’ve been so swamped and exhausted and just uninspired, but obvs. I was on a random SF kick today, so here’s....this.

Sickfic with really fluffy moments in which Lisa is a total mom and I LOVE HER.

Warnings for vomit, vomit mentions, fever, moaning and groaning about....sick stuff. Nothing too graphic.

——————

2pm on a bright Saturday afternoon found Larry Johnson rolling out of bed, finally submitting to the passage of the day when Addison’s groundskeeper (aka his mom) started up her leaf blower right outside his window. Groaning, he crossed to he worn panes and threw open the curtains. “Moooooooooom!” He yelled over the din, rolling his eyes when she grinned mischievously in response.

“Morning, or should I say ‘afternoon,’ Lar-Bear!” She teased.

“It’s not even fall yet!”

“Fun way to get you up now that the vacuum is on the fritz!” She laughed.

“UGH!” Larry huffed in false annoyance before closing the curtains and trudging to the bathroom for a shower, noticing the late hour for the first time. He hadn’t slept that long on a Saturday since…probably since Sal showed up. His blue-haired buddy was normally his wake-up call. He’d have to investigate…after he actually woke up.

———-

“Hey, Mom?” Larry stumbled into their living area about half an hour later, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely even after the shower. “Has Sal come by today?”

“Not that I know of. Is everything okay?”

“That’s what I’d like to know…” He mumbled. “I’m going to Sal’s!”

“Okay! Let me know if you’ll be home for dinner.”

“Probably will,” Larry called back while closing the door. “You know Henry’s cooking varies in quality.” He heard his mom chuckle from behind the door as he headed toward the elevator.

When he reached the fourth floor, Larry narrowly avoided running into Robert as the punk headed out. They exchanged a laugh and their customary fist bump and nod before Larry asked, “Seen Sal today?”

“Nah, dude.” Robert replied before the doors started to close. “But I’ve heard some gnarly hacking coming from his apartment.” He managed just before the doors closed.

“Ah, shit.” Larry muttered, turning toward Sal’s apartment with his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Mr. Fisher?” Larry called. When he was met with silence, he let himself in. “Henry? Sal?” Larry called into the quiet apartment. “Sal?” Larry called again as he gently knocked on Sal’s door. “Sally Face?”

“Here, Larry Face.” A voice that sounded vaguely like Sal’s invited him in.

“Sal?” Larry peered around the doorframe to find his friend curled into a lump on his mattress, all lights off and his curtains pulled closed. “You okay, dude?” Larry crossed into the room, leaving he door partially open.

“Been better. Definitely been worse.” Sal grumbled.

As he approached Sal’s beside, Larry noticed the boy’s prosthetic on top of his dresser. “Bad night?” Larry asked quietly, hoping Sal’s nightmares hadn’t returned.

“Bad night and bad day-“ Sal erupted into a stream of coughs, moaning as he curled into himself.

“Geez, dude, what’s wrong?” Larry barely made out Sal’s shrug in the dim lighting. “Where’s Henry?”

“Work meeting.”

“On a Saturday?”

Sal shrugged. “He’ll take what he can get at this point, I guess.” Sally slowly turned over to face Larry, the light of the doorway only catching his mangled chin and a portion of his torso, and he let out a guttural groan.

“What’s with the noise?”

“My whole body hurts. It aches like…god I don’t know, like I’m 85 years old with arthritis.”

“Geez. Sounds like my granny before she died.” Sal inhaled sharply, and Larry threw up his hands and forced out a chuckle. “Granny was 94, dude, you’re fine. Your 16 year old ass better bounce back better than her.”

Sal let out a rough chuckle before exploding into coughs again. “Oh god, I think I’m gonna hurl-“

“What-“

“TRASH CAN!” Sal’s raw yell threw Larry into action; thankfully, he knew Sal’s room well enough to locate the bin by Sal’s dresser before it was too late.

“Here!” Larry thrust the plastic container toward his friend just as the younger boy emptied his stomach of its contents. “Geez, dude, longest hurl I’ve ever heard, and my mom had a nasty stomach bug last year.” Larry grimaced as Sal let the plastic can fall to the floor with a soft thud. “You feel any better?”

“A little.” Sal admitted, moving back into his prior fetal position. “Stomach isn’t cramping anymore, but I’m tired as hell.”

“Makes sense.”

Sal sniffed loudly. “Could you get me some toilet paper? I can’t breathe through my nose.”

“I’ll do you one better, dude. Supply closet is in the basement. I’ll get you real tissues, antiseptic, two more trash cans, and we even have some extra pillows down there if you want.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Mom makes the best soup. I’ll ask her to make you some.”

“Thanks, Larry Face. You’re the best.”

“No problemo at all, Lil’ Dude. I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

Larry threw his friend a grin and a pair of finger guns before backing out the door. As soon as he left, though, the smile fell, and he left the apartment at a brisk pace.

“Hey, Mom!” Larry called as he entered his own apartment.

“Yea, sweetie?”

“Sal’s sick. I need the key to the supply room and your homemade Sick Away Soup if you have time.”

“Of course! Poor little Sal.” Lisa sighed as she fished her key ring out of her pocket. “I’m proud of your for helping your friend, Lar-Bear, but make sure you don’t catch it, too. We don’t need two sick kiddos on our hands.”

“No way, Mom! I’m immune! I didn’t catch that bug you had last year!”

“You barely saw me, honey bear. You were at school, and I hoarded everything I needed in my room.”

“Fair point, I guess.”

“Is Henry home?”

“Nah, Sal said he’s at some meeting.”

“Oh, well bring him here, then. We can’t have our little friend suffering over there alone, now can we?”

“Great idea, Mom. Thanks!”

“Be careful!” Lisa kissed her son’s head as she handed him the keys.

“Yeah, Mom, of course. When will the soup be done?”

“An hour, probably.”

“Okay, take your time, then. Sal just let everything out anyway, so he might need a little time.”

Lisa frowned. “He threw up? So it’s not just a cold?”

“No way. Threw up, coughing, snot city, real sore like Granny was-“

“That sounds like the flu, Larry. That’s a nasty thing to catch, and you haven’t been vaccinated this year-“

“It’ll be fine, Mom! My past shots will cover it!”

“That’s not how it works, Larry-“

“Gotta go, Mom! Friend in need! Be back in an hour!” Larry called over his shoulder as he speed-walked out.

Lisa sighed, turned on the biggest stovetop eye, and dug out her soup pot. “Better set up the pull out bed.” She grumbled as she pulled vegetables out of the fridge, but a fond smile pulled at her lips when she heard her son fumbling in the supply closet next door. “That boy’s heart is too good for him, sometimes.” She shook her head and pulled out her favorite cutting knife, already planning the next few days in the Johnson household.

———————

“Your salvation has arrived, little dude!” Larry announced as he walked back into Sal’s room a little later.

“Thanks, Larry.” Sal wheezed as his friend groped toward his bed in the semi-darkness. “Where’s the stuff?”

"At my place. My mom says we can’t just leave you here all sick and alone, so you’re coming over.”

“Are you sure?  But I don’t want either of you to catch this.”

“Don’t worry. She’s kept up with her vaccines and stuff this year, and I’m immune to that stuff because of past shots-”

“Larry, that’s not how it-”

“Anyway, how about I clean out your can before we go?”

“Larry, you don’t have to-”

“No problem, Sally Bro. It’s what best friends are for.” Larry gathered the biochemical hazard trash can. “No prob. at all, buddy. I’ve seen much worse; I promise. I unclogged Charley’s toilet once....” They both shivered. “So this’ll be nothin’.”

“If you say so.” Sal mumbled, and his friend slipped into the bathroom and was back out again soon.

“Not to be nosy, but have you eaten anything recently? Cuz that trash can-”

“No. I felt too rotten to get out of bed this morning.”

“Perfect. My mom makes the best soup for sickness, but she’ll probably start you off with crackers first or something. I told her we’d be back in about an hour because that’s when soup will be done, but I’m sure it’s fine if we go early. Come on.” Sal could just make out Larry’s hand reaching toward him in the darkness, and he shook his head.

“I just....my head hurts....and my prosthetic...”

“Oh.” Larry thought for a moment. “Maybe just in the hallway?” He muttered softly. “She won’t judge you, Sal. You gotta know that by now.”

“....”

“I mean, I won’t force you, of course.” Larry backpedaled at Sal’s silence. “I just-”

“No. It’s fine. I trust you guys.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Let’s just make sure we leave my dad a note.”

“Right.” Larry left to scrawl a sticky note message to the elder Fisher and quickly returned.

“Okay, then. To mi casa, it is.” Larry handed Sal his prosthetic and helped the sick boy out of bed, keeping an arm around his friend’s back as they stiffly trekked to the basement. The elevator left Sal a little dizzy, but they managed to stumble through the Johnson’s front door without issue.

“We’re here, Mom!”

“Good, just in time. I just got the crackers out.” Lisa called, coming over with an orange bowl.

“Told ya.” Larry chuckled as he guided Sal to the couch, noticing that his mom had turned off all but the kitchen light and a single lamp.

“You’ll be joining him soon, Lar-Bear.” Lisa rolled her eyes and handed her son the bowl after the boys sat down. 

“No, Mom, I told you I’m-”

“Doesn’t work that way.” Sal and Lisa chastised him simultaneously, exchanging a glance and a smile before Lisa went back to the kitchen.

“Try the crackers, and then we’ll see about the soup, Sally.”

“Thanks, Lisa.” Sal called weakly as Larry set him up with his pillows and blanket on the pull out bed. “And thanks again, Larry.”

“Just give us a blanket ‘thanks’ and save your breath, Sal.” Larry chuckled. “You need to rest to get better.”

Sal hummed in reply and settled in to the comfy space, his eyes drooping immediately, but Larry held out to bowl toward him.  “You gotta eat to get your strength back.”

Sal moaned but begrudgingly took the crackers, slowly nibbling on them as his friend settled back to watch TV. 

“Whaddya wanna watch?”

“I don’t care. I’ll probably conk out soon anyway.”

Larry nodded and put on a Cops re-run, his gaze straying between the screen and Sal every so often. “How’re the crackers treating you?”

“I feel okay, I think.” Sal replied, setting the now empty bowl down. “I can’t believe I’m hungry after that.”

Larry shrugged. “The body is weird.”

“So, what’s the verdict?” Lisa poked her head in. “Soup or no soup?”

“I could do soup.” Sal nodded. 

“Me, too, Mom!” Larry called, switching between stations to find something else to watch.

“Okay, kids, soup’s on!” Lisa announced a minute later; she placed each bowl near it’s respective recipient. “Let me know if you need anything else. I think I have some Ginger Ale somewhere.”

“This is perfect for right now, Lisa. Thank you.”

Larry rolled his eyes, and Lisa smiled. “You could learn something from him, Lar-Lar.”

“I have plenty of manners; Sal just has too many.”

Lisa snorted and left the boys to eat their lunches. 

When she heard the clink of bowls, Lisa returned and took the dishes back up, smiling at the lightly dozing Sal. Larry caught her gaze and nodded, a small smile pulling at his own lips, and both sets of eyes fell to the mask on their coffee table. 

“How was it?” Lisa whispered. 

“Great, as always.” Larry shot her a double thumbs up.

Sal stirred and opened his eyes. “It was good. I don’t feel nauseous at all.”

“It’s the perfect blend of satisfying and soft on the stomach.” Lisa smiled softly at Sal. “Your cheeks look a little flushed.” She mumbled, almost seeming like an afterthought to herself, but she set down the bowls and approached Sal, laying her cool hand across his forehead before bending over and tenderly placing her lips against the warm skin.  “Feels like a fever.” She straightened up and looked toward the bathroom. “I think we have some cold and fever stuff-” 

She faltered when she looked back down at Sal, noting the glisten in his good eye and the tightness of his jaw. She turned back to him and bent slightly, gently running her hand over his hair and smoothing the sweaty strands from his face. “We’ll take good care of you, Sally. Don’t you worry. Your family’s got you.” 

She patted his arm before heading toward the bathroom, returning with the mentioned medicine as well as a cup and washcloth. Sal’s hooded eyes followed her movements, and when she reached him, she helped him sit up, swallow, and drink. When Sal was settled again, Lisa dipped the cloth in the cup and slowly laid it across his forehead, laughing a bit at the small groan that escaped his lips as he finally let his eyes fall shut.

“You’re more dramatic than Larry.” She muttered fondly, laughing again at her son’s offended huff. “Point proven. But I’m glad it’s helping. You just sleep now, honey, and you’ll feel better soon.”

Lisa’s eyes jerked toward movement on the bed, and she found Sal’s hand extended toward her, fingers reached out beckoningly. She took his hand, and Sal gave a light squeeze and mouthed “thank you.” Lisa squeezed back and whispered, “Any time. We love you, sweet boy.” A shadow of a smile passed over Sal’s lips, but he didn’t let go of Lisa’s hand. Larry threw him a questioning gaze, but Lisa shushed him with a look and carefully set herself on the edge of the makeshift bed. She held Sal’s sweaty hand until his grasp went limp and his breathing became soft, heavy snores, and even after, she stayed to change out the washcloth and occasionally run her fingers through his hair, a sigh of contentment emitting from the boy with her motions.

When the thick tendrils of sleep finally tugged at her, as well, Lisa carefully extracted her hand from Sal’s and rose from the bed, blowing Larry a kiss as he waved before heavy eyelids. “Night, Mom. Thanks for all your help. You’re the best.”

“Good night, baby. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Sal sighed heavily and turned over in his sleep. 

“I think that means he loves you, too.” Larry laughed quietly.

Lisa smiled and nodded before slowly padding to her room, hoping to find things brighter and better in the morning. 

Spoiler Alert: She was right. Larry woke up sick in the morning, and he and Sal were bunk buddies for almost a week. They didn’t see each other for a day or two after that, but it was definitely a bonding experience.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Carisi's Wedding, part 3

Thank you so much for all the comments!! I appreciate it so much ❤️

Tag list (if you want to get tagged, just let me know!!) : @inlovewith3 @naniky @lifeisbetterwithbarba @dreila03

"Is there something I should know?" Julia simply asked. She looked calm. That may you wondered what she actually heard. Dominick and you stayed silent for long seconds before you decided you should saved things before a disaster.

"Okay- to be honest, Junior and I had a thing many years ago. But it was nothing serious, it didn't last. Luckily, cause now you two are getting married. And I'm very happy for this Italian spaghetti." You smiled to Dominick. This was the best thing to do.

"Why didn't you tell me Sonny?" She asked.

"My fault," you answered before him. He felt embarrassed and lost, he could totally messed everything up if he opens his mouth. "I asked him not to," Find a reason. Anything. "I'm dating his co-worker. Rafael, I don't know if Junior talked about him? He is kinda jealous and he is invited too. I didn't want this to be awkward," you paused. "just like right now," you whispered. You hoped this would work.

"Is it right, babe?" babe. You felt both weird and relieved.

"Yes, and like she said, it wasn't important, so we thought it was better not talking about it." It hurts to hear him saying this, but this ain't about you.

"O-okay, I believe you. But I would like to meet your boyfriend later," This wasn't a request.

"Of course!" You smiled. "But hey! You are not supposed to see her," you tried to end this conversation and put your hand to cover Dominick's eyes. You surprised him that he almost took a step back. "You have to go," you said to Julia.

"I'm not sure, I prefer him to leave."

"Baby, it's okay. We'll see each other at the autel, and you'll become Mrs. Carisi, alright?" Julia sighed but nodded.

"Can I kiss him, at least?"

"Sure! But Junior, if you open your eyes, you won't be able to have another child." Act like the annoying friend. You took your hand off Dominick's face to let them kiss. You actually looked away while they did. Doubtfully, Julia left you and her soon-to-be husband alone.

"That was close!" You shyly smiled.

"So you're dating him?"

"Damn it Dominick! I saved your ass," you were exasperated by his behavior.

"I didn't ask you to, Y/N!"

"Okay, I can find her again and tell her the truth if you want?"

"Now you are going to pretend to be in love with Barba all night long. I- I don't want to see this." Dominick looked like he wasn't sure about his wedding at this very moment. No matter how hard it was, it couldn't happen. For the baby.

"For god sakes! You are the one that is going to get married. Hear me? Ma-rried. Don't you think it's too late for this?"

"I'm scared, doll." He found a chair in the hallway and sat there, taking his head in his hands. You followed him, grabbed his hands and hold them.

"That's what marriage does. It's okay to be scared, but everything is going to be alright," you smiled to comfort him.

"I'm not scared about this. I'm scared that Barba, or someone else, will be able to do what I've never- been able to." You put your knees down before your position hurts.

"Settle me down?" you murmured.

"Ya," Dominick breathed out. "Why this isn't about you and me? Why did you never stay?" You could see tears in his eyes, so you put one of your hand on his cheek and caressed it with your thumb.

"You never asked me to."

"Gosh, I did it some many times y/n! But you always left."

"Saying "I wish" isn't the same as "I don't want you to leave again, can you stay with me forever?""

"You knew that's what I wanted. I loved you so much, I've waited for you for so long."

"Untrue. You dated other girls,"

"Yea, I did. Did it last? No. Cause all I wanted-"

"But you dated anyway." you cut him "I've never dated anyone but you."

"Says the girl that had a nice dinner with Ewan McGregor." Dominick rolled his eyes.

"I did but we didn't date. I never loved him or someone else. It was always you."

"Aaaand we go back to the start. Why didn't you stay?" it was your turn to have tears. You could hear how broken Dominick was in his voice.

"I was- scared." He knew your past, what you have been through so it didn't take him long to figure out why.

"Not all men are like your father, Y/N. And I wouldn't have gave up on you like your mum did." his voice was soft but hearing this made you cry. Dominick immediately wiped your tears with his thumbs.

"They broke me, Dom- I don't believe in love, in trust, in faithful or even in family. And this has nothing to do with you."

"Somehow, it does. I never been able to make believe in those things. I failed."

"Does it matter now? You found someone. She is carrying your child. Maybe it didn't work for a reason. Maybe-- we were not meant to be, Dominick."

Saying those words broke your heart in pieces and Dominick's too. He didn't say anything, just got up in one move and disappeared shortly after. You stayed there in the hallway, crying at first and then trying to calm down, until you heard your phone buzzing in your purse.

[From Rafael] : Almost there with the squad. You ready, beautiful ? Can't wait to see you.

This gave you a slight smile. You missed your chance with Dominick but maybe Rafael was your second? This man is as broken as you are, even if it's for different reasons. He understood things that Dominick never did. Not wanting so much from Rafael may be the way to make things work. But it may also not be the time and place to think about it.

[To Rafael] : Act like my boyfriend and a jealous one. Will explain to you later. Can't wait to see you too.

[From Rafael] : No problemo mi amor 😉 would've done it without explanations. See you in a minute.

"Wow... You look-wow." It was the first time the squad saw Rafael out of words. Literally speechless. He softly hugged and kissed you. It helped you feeling better.

"Never thought someone could make him shut up." Fin joked. You quickly hugged them too. You already met them before, introduced as Carisi's best friend. But a part of you keep thinking that Amanda knows the truth.

"How is he?" Liv asked.

"Stressed. Nervous. About to have a heart attack I think." Nobody has to know about the conversation you had, and how he truly feels.

"Great. As if normal Carisi wasn't hard enough to deal with," Rafael smirked and it made you smile. He will definitely help you going through this, without doing it on purpose.

Before the ceremony, you sat next to Rafael at the fifth row. Bella came to see you and asked for you to move with them in front, "Trust me, it's better I stay here," you said. And she noticed your fingers intertwined with Rafael's, so she left.

"Are you okay?" he whispered in your ear.

"Better now that you're here."

"I won't let your hand go," he smiled and squeezed your hand a bit. No noise came out of your mouth but Rafael could read "thank you" on them.

"Julia, will you have Dominick to be your husband?"

"Yes, I will."

"Dominick, will you have Julia to be your wife?"

*

"Y/N, this is Dominick, you will study with him four hours a week until your grades are good enough," her father said and left the living room right after. Tough father.

"You can call me Sonny," he smiled to you. "I won't be a terrible teacher, I promise."

"Your name's Dominick, why would I call you Sonny?"

"Call me whatever you want,"

"What's your full name?"

"Dominick Carisi Jr, why ?"

"I'll call you Junior." a sassy teenage girl, this should be fun, he sarcastically thought. And it was.

*

"I want you to be my first Junior," you said as the two of you were making out in your bedroom. You were 17 and he was 23. It wasn't right, so he stopped.

"You should be with someone your age, doll."

"Why? Because people say that's how it should be? I haven't been able to think or look at another guy since my dad introduce you to me." she paused. "do you love me, Dominick Carisi Jr?"

"You know I do."

"Say it. Show it." And he did prove it.

*

"Who's Anna?" she asked.

"What?"

"You got a text from Anna. Who is she?"

"A friend. And don't look on my phone!"

"It was there, I just saw it. Are you dating her?"

"We met a few times, that's it."

"Don't lie to me, Dominick. You know I hate it!"

"She was there and you were not. So yeah, we went out together." it was the first time her heart broke.

And then he thought about this morning when he found you and Rafael waking up naked. When he turned his eyes, they directly found you. Your arm was crossed with Rafael's, you were close to him. So close, it hurts.

"Dominick, will you have Julia to be your wife?" The priest asked again.

[themurphyzone]

Rosieverse Oneshot: Guardian

Summary: Tino is just a simple guy who happens to play a villain in a TV show. Recently, the entire studio has become enamored by a little orphan named Rosie with a talent in voice-acting. Well, everyone except lead actor Jim Starling. 

But everyone has their beef with Starling, so it’s really no big deal. 

Or is it?

Jim Starling wasn’t happy. And when wasn’t Jim Starling happy, he was determined to make everyone else’s lives as miserable as possible. He stood on the long conference table, shouting a plan about a meet-and-greet that would surely boost his fading popularity. 

“Just picture it!” Starling exclaimed. “Look, the Fearsome Four can open the event. Five minutes signing autographs for them and no more! And then I make a fashionably late entrance dressed as Darkwing Duck! Maybe about...fifteen minutes or so after the meet-and-greet starts, we can work out the details later. But the point is, I’m there, the fans will adore yours truly, and Darkwing Duck’s ratings go through the roof! What do you think?” 

Someone coughed, but the room was otherwise full of crickets. 

Tino glanced at the lovely bonsai tree on the windowsill, half-expecting an actual cricket to jump in and chirp merrily while ruining the tiny pink leaves. Next to him, Dan sketched a rough schematic of a toaster, humming to himself and not paying attention to the meeting. Jack flipped through a report on Darkwing Duck ratings and merchandise sales, scanning through the business jargon and statistics with practiced ease. 

In Tino’s opinion, Michael was lucky he got the babysitting job. Rosie was a sweet kid and a delight to be around. Much better than listening to an egotistical celebrity prattle on about boosting his public image. 

Speaking of which...

Tino glanced at the clock. 

Almost 4:00 pm, he realized. And it was his day to drive Rosie back to the orphanage too. They needed to get going before the Audubon Bay Bridge got clogged with rush hour traffic. 

Silently, Tino put his hand up, unwilling to interrupt the argument between Starling and the director. 

“Our budget’s already been slashed, and now you want us to spend more money to fuel your ego?” 

“Just pay for the venue! The special events center maybe. I hear the Duckburg Stadium is nice this time of year too,” Starling continued to suggest expensive locations that no sane person at the studio would ever consider. “Tell ‘em to bring their own snacks though. And you could always charge some good money for an autograph, maybe a little more for a photoshoot. That oughta make up your price.” 

“This town ain’t cheap, Starling!” the director snarled. “Do you realize how much McDuck charges for the use of his locations? In case you haven’t noticed, money doesn’t grow on trees!” 

“You’re as cheap as the network!” Starling scoffed. “Sabotaging a fine art for the sake of money!” 

“I’m. Being. Realistic,” the director gritted his teeth. 

Starling stomped over to the director’s chair. Their beaks were inches away as they stared each other down, willing their opponent to cave in. 

Before it could devolve into an insult-fest, Jack cleared his throat. Immediately, everyone turned their attention to him. Even Starling recognized that it was better to listen when Jack had something to say. 

“It’s Tino’s day to drive Rosie back to the orphanage,” Jack said. “He needs to leave now.” 

Tino shot Jack a grateful look, and the corners of the dog’s mouth twitched upwards in response. 

“Wait, that brat lives in an orphanage?” Starling blinked, his beak dropping open in surprise. 

Clearly, Starling had been living under a rock. Rosie’s orphan status was common knowledge with everyone in the studio. 

At least, Tino assumed it was. 

“Not everything revolves around your universe-sized ego, dim bulb,” one of the editors muttered. 

“Don’t insult actual dim bulbs,” Dan scolded. Then his expression softened as he turned to Tino. “And say hi to Rosie for me, okay?”

“Same here,” Jack agreed. “You should get going. I’ll fill you in later, but somehow I doubt there’ll be anything worth mentioning.” 

Since nobody accomplished anything in meetings when Starling was involved, Tino knew he wouldn’t be missing anything. 

Tino hurried out of the conference room. He felt Starling’s eyes bore into his back, but he brushed it off. 

He was the only person leaving early. It was perfectly natural that everyone’s attention would be drawn to him. 

It made his skin crawl. He just wasn’t one for the spotlight. 

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

“You’ll get there! Five bounces is pretty good for a beginner!” Michael exclaimed as he showed off a rather complicated yo-yo trick that involved a lot of twirling and loops. 

Rosie smiled, a pink yo-yo dangling from a string on her finger. “Thank you, Mr. Michael,” she said formally. “Would you mind teaching me your walk the dog trick in the future?” 

Michael grinned. “No problemo! Just keep practicing with that yo-yo. I’ve got plenty more.” 

“Oh no, I couldn’t!” Rosie’s eyes widened as she tried to give the yo-yo back. “It’s your toy, sir.” 

Michael shook his head, flipping into a handstand before cartwheeling away from Rosie. “Nope! No takebacks! It’s the highest law in the land!” he giggled. He caught sight of Tino and slumped to the ground, reminding Tino of a child who begged their parents for ten more minutes on the playground. “Looks like playtime’s over, kiddo.” 

“Hello, Mr. Tino!” Rosie exclaimed. “How was your meeting?” 

She hugged him enthusiastically, tiny hands squeezing his waistline and nearly knocking him off-balance. 

“Frankly, a bit boring,” Tino admitted once he adjusted his footing. “At least you and Michael are having fun.” 

Michael rolled his eyes. “What demands did the great and almighty Dumbwing make this time?” 

“Please don’t call name-call in front of Rosie,” Tino said as he ruffled Rosie’s flaming red curls. “She’s an impressionable child.”

“Fine, I’ll ask Jack later,” Michael said with a huff. His eyes flicked to Rosie, and his entire expression softened. “I get a goodbye hug too, right?” 

Rosie immediately latched onto Michael. “Don’t worry!” she chirped. “You get a goodbye hug too!” 

Michael laughed and patted her back. “I’ll be sure to pass your goodbye hugs onto Dan and Jack, okay?” 

“And Mr. Starling too!” Rosie added. 

Michael stiffened, though Rosie didn’t seem to notice. “Uh, sure. Him too.” 

Absolutely not, Michael mouthed at Tino. 

Starling loathed any form of prolonged physical contact. But Tino held his tongue, knowing he would confuse himself if he tried explaining that to a six-year-old.  

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

Much to Tino’s chagrin, they didn’t beat the rush hour traffic on the bridge. He turned the radio to a kid-friendly station and hoped the orphanage director would forgive him for being late. 

Caution was highly advised when dealing with St. Canard drivers. Really, Duckburg’s sister city was anything but saintly. 

Rosie didn’t mind though. She folded her hands in her lap, sitting like a dainty little princess upon a flower-patterned booster seat. 

“The view is pretty, Mr. Tino,” Rosie said. 

“It is,” Tino said, though he believed Audubon Bay was more dangerous than beautiful. There was a reason why crime shows loved using this body of water as a background. 

“It looks like the set of Darkwing Duck,” Rosie remarked.

“The main set was modeled off this area,” Tino said, pointing to a tower just above the toll gate. “That’s Darkwing’s lair over there.” 

Rosie craned her neck as she took in the sheer size of the tower. “Is he always up there if he’s not fighting bad guys?” she asked. “That’s awfully lonely.” 

“Darkwing Duck is the loner type,” Tino admitted. “I don’t think he minds.” 

Starling preferred doing everything himself, whether it involved thwarting crimes on a TV show or making himself the center of attention. In the best case scenario, people tolerated him. 

Still, it seemed like a lonely way to live. 

Of course, Michael and Dan would insist that Starling brought it on himself. Tino wasn’t a match for either of them when they were riled up, so he kept his beak shut on the matter. 

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

It was another hour before Tino got home from driving Rosie to the orphanage. The sunset lit up the sky in brilliant warm hues, and Tino was glad he made it home before nighttime. He didn’t like driving in the dark. 

He parked the car next to its usual spot near the mailbox, figuring that he had some time to check on his flowers before dinner. He circled the front lawn of the house, humming a bouncy tune as he checked the leaves of a violet. 

So far, everything seemed fine. The bushes wouldn’t need trimming for a while, no aphids were destroying his flowers, and the pansies were thriving. 

Before Tino could walk up to the front porch, the front door was suddenly wrenched open, bouncing off the wall with a harsh bang. 

“-AND GROW A DAMN SPINE!” Michael screeched, storming out of the house. He brushed past Tino, cursing Starling under his breath. 

Tino let him go. Michael’s temper cooled much faster when he had a few minutes to collect himself.

Dan and Jack watched Michael stomp down the sidewalk from their safe position in the hallway. 

“I’m guessing something important happened after all?” Tino asked, already dreading the answer. 

Jack nodded. “Dabble decided to use Starling’s idea for a meet-and-greet.”

Marino Dabble had the most volatile relationship with Starling out of all the directors in Darkwing Duck. He always seemed to provoke Starling during filming, disregarding any of Starling’s demands and cutting scenes whenever Starling shouted a contradicting order to keep the cameras rolling. 

“Except he wanted Rosie to be center stage,” Dan added. 

“Starling didn’t take it well,” Jack said. 

Tino wasn’t surprised, but he prayed Starling wouldn’t take his anger out on Rosie for taking his limelight. She was an innocent kid, and Dabble was putting her in the line of fire. Starling became irrational and even more temperamental when he believed someone was cutting into his screentime. 

Not for the first time, Tino wished he could be as outspoken as Michael or as respected as Jack. 

“Is that why Michael’s mad?” Tino asked. 

“I’ll go after him. He’s probably had enough time by now,” Dan said, gently pushing past Tino and hurrying out the door. 

“The meet and greet is two weeks away,” Jack said as Tino sat down at the dinner table. There was already a hot cup of tea and a strawberry salad in front of him. “We should prepare Rosie so she won’t be overwhelmed.” 

The deaths of Rosie’s parents had been widely publicized by both the Duckburg and St. Canard media. While details varied between newspapers and tabloids, the one thing that held true was that little rich girl Rosie had been left under the care of several maids while her parents had a date night. On the way back to the car, they were mugged and murdered for their money and valuables. Rosie found out the next morning, and she was shipped off to a St. Canard orphanage within a week. 

The killer was never caught. 

Several months later, a talent scout discovered Rosie’s acting abilities while searching for a suitable child to provide a voice in an animated film and introduced her to the studio. 

When Rosie wasn’t in lessons or voice-acting, she wandered over to the Darkwing Duck set, making polite small-talk with everyone she came across. Starling was the only one who ignored her presence.

He was always too caught up with himself to notice anything an inch away from his beak. 

Though Rosie only voiced a side character in the animated film, the life she breathed into the drawings captured the audience’s hearts. Tino had cried for twenty minutes straight when Rosie’s character sang a lullaby to herself after getting separated from her parents. 

Now that he gave it some thought, that part wasn’t an emotional act for Rosie. She knew those feelings all too well. 

Tino took a small bite of his strawberry, suddenly aware of Jack scrutinizing him like an interesting statistic. 

“Jack, can you please stop? It’s awkward when you do that,” Tino mumbled. 

Jack shrugged, gaze snapping to the table. “Sorry. You’re thinking about Rosie again, aren’t you?” 

“She’s...she’s a good kid,” Tino admitted. “Kinda deserves a permanent home, you know?” 

“I know,” Jack agreed, his mouth twitching. “She loves science.” 

“Just smile,” Tino suggested. “It looks good on camera.” 

“I don’t see any cameras at the moment,” Jack said as he squeezed a lemon into his water. “And besides, someone has to be the aloof, responsible one in this house.” 

Aloof. Sure, Tino snorted. 

Because aloof people totally shouted at the game show channel on TV. 

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

Tino tore the purple wig off his head and dropped onto the green room’s couch in exhaustion, shoulder still aching from Starling’s punch during filming. Dan tossed him an ice pack from the small freezer. Jack made sure they never ran out of ice packs. It was a necessity when one worked with Starling. 

Tino gratefully placed it on his shoulder. 

Michael immediately launched into a tirade on where Starling could stick his overly large fedora, but Tino was only half-listening. They’d been through this song and dance before. 

There was a safe way for actors to punch and kick in fight scenes, but Starling never held back, which led to the Fearsome Four not holding back out of self-defense, and everything just snowballed from there. 

Starling had been more irritable during filming than usual, but Tino chalked it up to a hissy fit caused by Dabble’s decision to include Rosie in the meet and greet even though she wasn’t part of the Darkwing Duck cast. 

“-AND GET ALL THE WRINKLES OUT THIS TIME!” a voice shouted from outside the green room. 

Speak of the devil. 

“Stupid incompetent wardrobe team,” Starling muttered as he swept into the room. He’d discarded the cape, but wore the rest of his Darkwing Duck costume with overblown pride. 

Starling ignored everyone as he headed straight for the fridge and pulled out a brown paper bag that contained his lunch. Tino tried not to gag at the canned tuna and sauerkraut smell. 

Dan and Michael shifted over to Tino’s side of the room, occasionally shooting livid glares at Starling. Michael’s face turned the same shade of red as his Quackerjack outfit. He was only holding back for Tino’s sake. 

Since when did Starling take his lunch in the green room anyway? He hated eating around people he believed were beneath his association. 

“I’ve never been to a beach, Mr. Jack. Is it nice?” 

“Sure is. Natural saltwater is the best. Just don’t get it in your mouth though. It doesn’t taste good.” 

Jack neatly hung his coat on a row of hooks next to the door. Rosie tried to follow his lead, though she was too short to hang it herself. 

“May I take your jacket, young lady?” Jack asked with an elegant bow. 

Tino grabbed a pillow to muffle a sudden case of the giggles. So much for being the aloof one. 

Rosie smiled and folded her puffy pink jacket over his outstretched arm. Like a true gentleman, Jack placed it on the hook and patted out the creases. 

Starling rolled his eyes at the display and turned his back on them. But Tino knew he was watching Rosie bounce on her tip-toes as she explained everything she learned in her singing lessons. 

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

“I am the terror who flaps in the night! I am the faulty cord in the outlet of evil! I am Darkwing Duck!” Starling dramatically held his cape out behind him as he appeared in a puff of blue smoke. He shifted not-so-subtly to the left in an attempt to show off his best side. 

Since only Dan and Jack were needed for this episode, Tino and Michael watched the filming from the sidelines. It was for the best. Rosie’s reading tutor had unexpectedly called in sick, so she was able to spend the afternoon with them. 

Tino didn’t want Rosie exposed to a Michael and Starling showdown just yet. Things tended to get ugly. 

“Give up! St. Canard’s hydroelectric dam belongs to us!” Dan shouted, a sinister cackle escaping from his throat. 

“You’ll pay for stealing electricity and throwing St. Canard into the Dark Ages!” Starling retorted. “Let’s get dangerous!” 

The prop team immediately dumped a bucket of water on Starling from the catwalk above the set, throwing the bucket at him for good measure. They didn’t bother disguising their gleeful smiles. 

Starling spat out several plastic goldfish, coughing as he declared how pathetic the attack was. Then Jack crept up behind Starling and threw a quick punch to the back of his head. Starling crumpled dramatically. 

Rosie frowned as Jack tied Starling to a pole with a water hose. “I hope he isn’t hurt,” she said. Her fingers nervously drummed against her pink dress. 

“Unfortunately,” Michael muttered. 

Tino elbowed him lightly. “Starling’s a resilient guy. He’ll be alright. Besides, Darkwing Duck always wins.” 

Starling slipped out of his restraints, which were already loose to begin with, and shot a column of smoke from his gas gun at Dan and Jack. Their surprise only lasted for a minute, but it was enough for Starling to subdue them. 

“And the vigilante is once again victorious against the vile villainous scum!” Starling crowed as he tossed Dan and Jack into the set’s jail cell. He struck a final heroic pose to wrap up the episode. 

While the film crew reviewed the footage they captured so far, Starling strutted off the main set and grabbed a soda from a nearby drink cooler. He didn’t free Dan and Jack from the cell even though the key hung on a peg several feet away. 

Pushing down a burst of anger at Starling’s carelessness, Tino left Rosie with Michael and freed his friends himself.  

“I need an aspirin,” Dan groaned, nursing a bruise on his cheek.

Jack folded his arms across his chest, not looking too worse for wear, but Tino could tell he favored his right leg.

“I should invent an instant healing ray gun,” Dan sighed. “No more bruises, cuts, or pimples and it won’t leave a scar either.”

“A huge hit on the market,” Tino said.

“Supply and demand,” Jack added.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Not all of us majored in economics.”

As they rejoined Rosie and Michael, Starling sauntered over. His fedora was pulled low and tilted sideways in his usual careless, jerkwad fashion. The edges of his beak curled into a sneer.

“It’s awfully nice to have coworkers who allow a little brat to steal my thunder,” Starling growled.

“Don’t call Rosie a brat!” Michael shouted, clenching his fists. Dan stepped in front of him, whispering soothing words to prevent him from punching Starling in the face. “You don’t know her. You don’t know her at all!”

Tino shielded Rosie behind his back. She clung to his waist, innocent green eyes flickering between each adult. He couldn’t meet Starling with equal aggression, remain calm and cordial, or invoke a balance between the two extremes.

This would have to do for now.

“None of us played a role in Dabble’s decision,” Jack said. His tone was even and controlled, but Tino heard the slightest edge of steel creeping in. “I suggest releasing your frustration towards him in the studio’s gym instead.” 

Starling’s cape flared out as he stomped up to Jack. His beak was several inches away from Jack’s nose. “And where exactly were your so-called diplomatic skills when I needed them? Either the fans come and see me because I’m there, or they don’t show up cause I’m not. Who’s the main character of this series? Who’s the person everyone watches the show for? Who’s the inspiration, the fighter, the creme de la creme of all superheroes? Cause last I checked, it sure as hell isn’t Liquidator!” 

Starling always referred to them by their character names. He couldn’t be bothered to remember their actual names, or more importantly, that they weren’t megalomaniacal villains. 

“Go away,” Dan said as held onto a seething Michael. “Some of us have lives outside a fictional world.” 

“Darkwing isn’t fictional, you half-wit!” Starling snarled. “He’s—I’m right in front of you!” 

Starling pointed an accusing finger at Dan, but a grimace flickered across his face and his arm fell to his side. 

“You’re hurt!” a little girl’s voice cried. 

The tiny pressure around Tino’s waist vanished. 

Before anyone could say anything, Rosie latched onto Starling’s fingers, holding his palm with one hand while the other carefully pushed his sleeves away from his wrist.

Michael’s eyes widened, Dan gasped, and Jack’s brow furrowed in worry. 

Tino bit the inside of his beak. 

Rosie had broken Starling’s no-touching-me-offset rule. Everyone agreed with this rule, no matter how much they disliked Starling. 

No hugs, no pats on the back, no friendly jostling, no handshakes. 

Starling hated physical contact unless it involved beating someone up during filming. Nobody asked why, and Starling never offered an explanation. 

A red mark circled Starling’s wrist. Starling’s breath hitched, looking as though he desperately wanted to pull away but couldn’t make his body move. 

“You should put some aloe on it,” Rosie suggested. “It’ll sting, but it takes the pain away.” 

Starling didn’t seem to hear her. 

“Rosie, let him go,” Jack ordered. 

Rosie cast an unsure glance at Starling’s wrist. 

“Now.” 

Startled by Jack’s no-nonsense tone, Rosie let go of Starling’s hand. 

Recovering from his frozen state, Starling scoffed and rubbed his wrist against his blazer to shake off any lingering traces of her touch. “Whatever,” he muttered as he stalked off. 

“Mr. Starling?” Rosie called. 

Starling paused in the doorway, inclining his head towards Rosie. His eyes were covered by the brim of his fedora. 

“I’m sorry,” Rosie whispered. 

“Don’t do it again, kid.” 

Though his tone was blunt, it wasn’t haughty or condescending. 

Maybe there was some cordiality in that universe-sized ego after all. 

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

Starling was talking to Rosie. 

Okay, so most of the conversation was about himself and how badass he looked on camera, but he wasn’t entirely ignoring her.  

Rosie clasped her hands together and maintained a respectful distance. She learned from the first incident, taking Jack’s lecture to heart on how some people disliked touch and a few tips on what she could do to respect their boundaries. 

If Starling noticed, he didn’t give anything away. 

Tino found his aloe bottle in the wrong cabinet with traces of green ointment on its side. Wordlessly, he wiped away the extra moisture and returned the bottle to its proper place. 

He had a hunch on who misplaced his aloe, but he didn’t think it was worth mentioning. 

Over the next few days, Rosie settled into a routine. She learned, she played, she voice-acted, and she ate lunch with Starling. 

Michael balked at the last development. “Girl’s gonna ruin her nose,” he muttered, shaking his head incredulously when Rosie barely reacted to the smell of Starling’s canned tuna and sauerkraut sandwich. 

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

Tino’s day to drive Rosie back to the orphanage rolled around again. It was the day before the meet-and-greet, and they’d spent the entire week preparing Rosie for her first public appearance. 

Rosie could answer questions and smile like a champ now. She’d do well tomorrow. Tino didn’t mind fading into the background and talking to the occasional fan who wandered his way. 

That’s how the Darkwing Duck cast did things. 

Starling soaked up everyone’s attention and signed autographs while everyone else formed a nice backdrop. 

Starling’s animosity to Rosie had lessened over the past few days. While he still wasn’t pleased by Dabble’s decision, he managed to grasp that it wasn’t Rosie’s fault. 

“Got everything?” Tino asked as Rosie slid a math workbook into her princess-themed backpack. 

“Ready, Mr. Tino!” Rosie exclaimed, slipping her backpack over her shoulders. “I don’t think I’d be able to sleep tonight. I’m just happy I can see all of you tomorrow!” 

Tino couldn’t help but grin at her unbridled honesty. 

“Bushroot! Just the guy I wanted to see!”

Tino suppressed a sigh. Only one person called him Bushroot outside of filming, and it wasn’t a person he tried to interact with on a casual basis.

“Yes?” Tino asked politely, channeling what he believed Jack would say in this type of situation. “I need to drive Rosie to St. Canald...I mean, St. Canard. Sorry that we’re in a hurry here. You know how bad the Audubon Bay Bridge is during rush hour.” 

The corners of Starling’s beak turned up. One could call it a smile, but only with a very loose definition of the word. 

“Is your face alright, Mr. Starling?” Rosie asked. 

“What’s wrong with my-” Starling’s snappy mood returned for a brief moment, but he coughed and busied himself with smoothing down his clothes. 

Which consisted of Darkwing’s turtleneck and unbuttoned purple blazer. 

Tino was starting to believe that Starling had no life outside of Darkwing Duck. 

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Starling said. At least he dropped the not-smile. “I wanted to see you off. We talk at lunch, but that’s only an hour. Not even an hour if Dabble decides to rush us.” 

Rosie bounced on her heels, eyes glazed over in thought. She had a tendency to bounce while thinking. 

“Can Mr. Starling come along too?” Rosie asked, tugging on Tino’s sleeve. “He never finished his story about the malfunctioning jack-in-the-box in the ‘Knick-knack Paddywhack’ episode!” 

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea...” Tino trailed off. Rosie’s curls had gone limp. Tino wondered if she had secret hair powers. 

Starling looked a bit crestfallen too. 

If Jack, Dan, or Michael had been in his place, they would’ve ignored Starling and left already. But Starling was actually interacting with Rosie. 

Interaction that didn’t involve punching someone or bossing them around. 

Tino lost the battle. That’s what he got from looking at Rosie when she was nearing disappointment. 

“Alright, he can come if he wants,” Tino sighed. 

Rosie cheered and Starling puffed out his chest as if he never doubted that Tino would refuse. 

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

“-Darkwing Duck on the brink of defeat, nothing but open air behind him and a monochromatic malefactor cackling madly in front of him! Then he remembers how much the citizens of St. Canard depend on him to keep the criminals at bay, and in a sudden burst of strength, he clubs Paddywhack with his trusty gas gun and seals him in the cursed jack-in-the-box!” 

Tino concentrated on switching to the middle lane, choosing not to comment on  Starling’s deliberate omission of how he got stuck in the springs of the jack-in-the-box during the Paddywhack fight scene. 

Rosie listened attentively, eyes sparkling as she envisioned the scene before her. 

They hit the usual traffic on the Audubon Bay Bridge just as Starling’s tale ended. Rosie didn’t bat an eye. She loved seeing the cargo ships sail through the bay. 

But Starling groaned and tilted his seat back at a thirty-degree angle.  

“Hey bush-for-brains, can’t this seat go back more?” Starling growled, yanking at the lever in a futile effort to make the seat tilt further. 

“It’s an old car,” Tino admitted. “You’ve already got it at the max.” 

Starling rolled his eyes, but at least he stopped trying to mutilate the lever. 

Rosie swung her legs, looking towards the horizon, oblivious to Starling’s numerous complaints with Tino’s car. 

“Rosie, I was thinking of becoming your legal guardian,” Starling said as he slipped a pair of sunglasses over his eyes. 

Tino caught his eye in the mirror, but Starling either didn’t notice or care. Tino returned his attention to the road, trying not to complain out loud when another driver cut him off. 

Rosie’s head whipped around so quickly that Tino was sure she’d have whiplash in the morning. 

“You don’t wanna live at the orphanage forever, right? Living with THE Darkwing Duck is better than those guys,” Starling declared. 

After a brief moment of silence, Rosie smiled at him. “Thank you, Mr. Starling, sir! I’d love for you to be my legal guardian!” 

She reached out for a hug, but Starling just raised an eyebrow at her. “First rule, kid. Don’t touch me,” he reminded her. 

Rosie teared up, but she seemed more happy and relieved. “Mr. Tino, I have a legal guardian now!” she exclaimed. 

Tino knew she was equating ‘legal guardian’ with ‘parent’, but Rosie didn’t realize she’d just accepted a self-centered, vain, gloryhounding jerk who didn’t deserve either title. 

Tino wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to Michael. He’d dropped hints recently about taking Rosie in. 

“I’m glad,” Tino said. 

He was the worst liar in the world, but Rosie beamed at him anyway. 

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

When they got to the orphanage, Rosie immediately broke away from Tino and Starling so she could gather her belongings and say goodbye to her friends. 

“Jim Starling, the one and only Darkwing Duck. There supposed to be a few papers I can sign so I can take legal guardianship of little Ruby here?” Starling asked the orphanage director. 

“Actually, it’s Rosie,” Tino corrected, shuffling his feet when Starling glared at him. 

Seriously, who took in a kid without bothering to learn their name first? 

But the orphanage director simply dropped a huge packet of stapled papers into Starling’s arms. “Just sign in the highlighted areas,” she said, returning to listlessly stirring her coffee. 

St. Canard orphanages must’ve been in worse shape than Tino realized if they were willing to hand a kid over to Starling without asking any questions. 

Starling took out a pen topped with a Darkwing Duck figurine and scribbled an enormous loopy signature in the highlighted portions. He flipped through the papers so quickly that Tino only had time to read the bold print on top of the page. 

“Wouldn’t it be better to read the page before you signed it?” Tino asked. The look on Jack’s face would’ve been priceless if he’d been here. 

Jack’s biggest pet peeve was how people never read the fine print before they signed a document.  

Starling huffed. “You wanna be here all night?” 

“Well, no-” 

“Then shut up and let me sign this in peace.” 

Thankfully, the next page asked for name, date of birth, address, and the usual things that were asked on important forms, forcing Starling to slow down. 

Tino’s leg bounced as watched the clock. The hands crept towards five-thirty. Rosie would need to eat soon. 

And Starling’s usual dietary habits shouldn’t be passed onto any six-year-old. 

“Do you even know how to take care of a kid?” Tino asked. 

Starling’s hand clenched around the pen. A glob of blue ink stained the paper. Starling tried to rub it away, but only succeeded in smearing it across his hand. 

“Can’t be that hard,” Starling shrugged. “She gets food, a place to sleep, a stuffed animal or two, and a famous actor for her legal guardian. She could use someone to help her navigate the adoring public anyway.” 

“And caring about her?” Tino asked. “Love, attention, guidance, school?” 

Starling rolled his eyes. “Look, I give her a roof over her head and she doesn’t need to share her stuff with a bunch of other snot-nosed brats. She can run and play and hang with you and everyone else. She can go wherever she wants or do whatever she wants.” 

Starling signed the last document with a flourish and set the clipboard aside. 

Tino gritted his teeth, but there was nothing he could do to counteract Starling. 

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

Starling’s apartment was several blocks away from the studio, and judging by the amount of dust that had accumulated over the furniture, it hadn’t been lived in for a while. 

Tino delayed going home in favor of helping Rosie unpack and settle in, cleaning the lonely, secluded guest room until it was suitable to sleep in. Tino dressed a spare mattress in a Darkwing Duck bedspread, pushing down a pang of anger at Starling for his lack of preparation when it came to bringing a kid home. 

Speaking of which, wasn’t it the guardian’s job to make a kid feel at home? 

Rosie hadn’t complained once, but that didn’t make it right. 

Tino probably would’ve stayed all night, but he was booted out after he disagreed with Starling’s decision to feed Rosie an unhealthy Hamburger Hippo kids’ meal. 

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

Tino didn’t get home until eight in the evening, and the rice and bean plate Jack had left for him in the fridge tasted like cardboard. 

“You missed Pelican Island,” Dan said as he fiddled with a blender-like invention. “They almost got off the island, but then Dahlia found out that Georgio kissed Valerie and they broke the sail in their fight and all of Mason’s progress got set back by three weeks. Then they look in the almanac and find there’s a monsoon heading their way so now they have to delay leaving the island and find shelter as soon as possible cause the rains are gonna hit in less than a week-” 

Tino listened to Dan ramble about the show, focusing on his commentary and allowing Starling’s legal guardian status to slip his mind for the time being. Tino wanted to break the news gently and hopefully minimize any casualties that might ensue, but he’d need time to work on framing his words so that nobody thought it was the end of the world.

Jack leaned against the doorframe, coolly staring at Tino. Finishing his dinner quickly, Tino scraped the remaining crumbs into the trash and took much longer than necessary to wash the dishes, feeling Jack’s eyes bore into his back the entire time. 

Jack never pushed the issue, but he always had the uncanny ability to sniff out a lie. 

Dan and Michael were locked in a heated debate over who Georgio was better off with, suspecting nothing out of the ordinary. 

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

The meet and greet started at noon, but they arrived at the venue an hour early to help the film crew set everything up. 

Dabble had reserved a section of Barks Park for their public appearance. It was a good park with plenty of grassy hills, a playground, and a bike trail. 

It was popular for family outings, Tino recalled, hoping to spot Rosie’s red curls among a group of children who were playing soccer nearby. 

But there was no sign of Starling or Rosie. 

Starling always arrived later than everyone else so all the attention would be drawn to him. Tino just hoped that Rosie didn’t adopt Starling’s compulsive need to be fashionably late. 

“Places, everybody!” Dabble barked. “That means you, Michael!” 

“I’m in the middle of something!” Michael called as he twisted a green balloon into a sword for an excited boy. 

“Put that helium pump away and get your jester butt over here!” 

Michael rolled his eyes, but he did a handspring-cartwheel combination that propelled him to his seat and wowed his young audience. 

The Fearsome Four’s table was on the right end of the gazebo, while the writers and artists’ table was to the left. The table in the middle had two empty chairs. 

“Wait, we can’t start yet! Where’s Rosie?” Dabble shouted once noon hit. He tapped his watch in frustration. 

“It was my day to pick her up,” another director admitted. “But I called the orphanage and they said Rosie doesn’t live there anymore.” 

“What?” Dabble cried, tearing several white feathers from his head. “Then where does she live now?” 

The director shrugged. “I asked, but some kid knocked over her coffee cup and she hung up to deal with them.” 

Tino’s hands clenched in his lap. Sooner or later, someone would remember that he dropped Rosie off last night and put two and two together-

Jack’s hand came to rest on Tino’s shoulder. 

And Tino knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Rosie’s new legal guardian is-”

“I AM THE TERROR WHO FLAPS IN THE NIGHT!”

A column of blue smoke flared out. Several children tried to touch it, but their parents pulled them back.

“I AM THE CAUSE OF GRAY HAIR ON CRIMINALS’ SCALPS! I AM DARKWING-”

“Rosie, get up here! You were supposed to open the meet and greet ten minutes ago!” Dabble called.

Rosie nudged her way through the crowd, politely excusing herself as she made her way to the front of the gazebo. Michael waved, and Rosie returned the gesture, much to Starling’s disapproval. 

Starling crossed his arms as Dabble hurriedly gave a microphone to Rosie and whispered a few instructions to her.

“Are you kidding me?” Starling scoffed. “She’s not even part of the show! And you interrupted my introduction! I spend two hours ironing my cape and this is the sort of reception I get?” 

“You shouldn’t be wearing that outside of the studio!” Dabble hissed, gesturing to the Darkwing outfit. 

“There’s plenty to go around,” Starling scowled. 

“It costs money to make those-” 

“Shouldn’t we let Rosie speak now?” Dan mumbled. 

Rosie held the microphone loosely in one hand, the other nervously fiddling with a ribbon on her dress. For all the preparation they did, Rosie wasn’t experienced enough to handle an argument between Starling and Dabble. 

Starling snatched a spare microphone from the writers’ table. “Well, as much as I love verbally sparring with Babble here, I just want to take a few minutes to address something of the utmost importance.” 

“They’re kids,” Michael hissed. “They’re not interested in whatever you have to say.” 

True to Michael’s prediction, several kids left the audience to pursue more fun activities.

“As a man of action, Darkwing Duck always seeks opportunities to eliminate criminal scum and rescue innocents,” Starling declared. Tino could just imagine his pompous beak growing Pinocchio-style. “And of course, I’m Darkwing Duck, so I believe it’s time for me to put my lessons into practice. And what better way to do that, I wonder, then to become a legal guardian to a talented St. Canard orphan?” 

Michael gripped the tablecloth, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “He didn’t...” 

“I’m Rosie King-Fisher’s legal guardian,” Starling grinned. He bowed, expecting applause and praise. 

But Starling’s words seemed to go over the children’s heads. But the parents understood, shooting venomous glares at Starling as they steered their children elsewhere. 

“Hey! Where’s everyone going?” Starling called. He looked genuinely baffled that nobody was interested in the meet and greet anymore. “Seriously, isn’t this usually considered a good deed or something?” 

An empty water bottle smacked Starling in the face, and Tino silently thanked whoever threw it at him. 

Michael’s face turned a brilliant shade of red, and Dan was forced to hold him back as he screeched profanities to Starling’s face. Starling yelled back, and most of the backstage crew was too dumbfounded to interfere. 

Between calming Michael down, berating Starling for his impulsive decision, and Dabble trying to do damage control, Rosie’s presence was quickly forgotten. Jack gently pried the microphone out of Rosie’s hand. He took her by the hand, made eye contact with Tino, and inclined his head towards the gazebo’s other opening. 

The chaos allowed all three of them to slip away unnoticed. 

“Will Mr. Starling be okay?” Rosie asked as they reached a picnic area that contained several other families eating lunch and enjoying themselves. “And Mr. Michael?” 

She worried about Starling. 

Tino had never seen anyone worry about Starling before. 

“They’ll argue, but they’ll be fine,” Jack assured her. He knelt down to Rosie’s level, but he was still much taller than her, and she had to lean back slightly to make eye contact. “Is Mr. Starling treating you alright?” 

Tino made a small noise in the back of his throat. Starling never treated anyone alright. 

“He took me in,” Rosie said. “He’s kind of grumpy, but he did microwave me frozen waffles. We never got waffles at the orphanage. It was just oatmeal.” 

She spoke as if everything were really that simple. And to her, maybe it was.

“Are you happy?” Jack inquired. 

Rosie smiled. “Yes, sir. I’m happy to have all of you care for me.” 

There was a tiny twitch in Jack’s shoulders. 

Jack probably debated taking Rosie in too, but his logical mind drove him to question the expenses and sacrifices it would take. It wasn’t just Michael and Dan who toyed with the idea. 

And Tino had entertained it too, Multiple times. 

“Rosie, why don’t you go play?” Tino suggested. “It’s a nice park. Run around and have fun.” 

“Are you sure?” Rosie asked. 

“Jack and I have to talk,” Tino said gently. “We’ll stay here if you need us though.” 

At Jack’s encouraging nod, Rosie hugged them both and ran off to play. 

                                       ----------------------------------- Moments later, Rosie joined a game of tag and was having the time of her life. Confident that she’d be fine, Tino and Jack settled at a picnic table under the shade of a sturdy oak. 

“You knew the entire time,” Jack said. It was a statement, not a question. “Starling became Rosie’s legal guardian yesterday.” 

“Yes. Starling mentioned it in the car and Rosie agreed immediately,” Tino admitted. 

Jack didn’t reply. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him,” Tino whispered. “Rosie seemed so happy though. I think she just wanted someone to get her out of the orphanage. It didn’t matter who.”

“You work with Starling. You know how he disrespects everyone,” Jack snapped. “Waffles and giving someone a place to stay doesn’t make him a good guardian overnight. And you just...didn’t say anything?” 

“Please, every time Michael brought up adopting Rosie, you said something about not having an adequate guest room for her,” Tino shot back. 

“Starling knew you wouldn’t say anything because you’re such a pushover! He deliberately targeted you!” Jack shouted, drawing everyone’s attention to them.  

Tino ducked his head, waiting until everyone lost interest and returned to their lunch. While he was more embarrassed from the sudden scrutiny, Jack seemed to interpret the motion as more of a guilty expression. 

Jack moved to Tino’s side of the table, wrapping his arms around Tino’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “Sorry, Tino. I didn’t mean that. I swear I didn’t,” he said frantically. 

Jack rarely stumbled over his words, so Tino knew that the entire situation had gotten to Jack’s head. 

“I’m alright,” Tino said quietly. “Guess we’ve gotta stop beating around the Bushroot now, huh?” 

“You’re never gonna let me live that pun down, are you?” Jack sighed, but his lips were twitching upward. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

They watched Rosie for a while. Her pink dress was caked in grass stains and there was a leaf in her hair, but she was radiating happiness with every spring in her step. 

“Rosie deserves to be happy,” Jack said. “I wish we could’ve said something sooner.”

“She is happy,” Tino assured him. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s happy we care about her.” 

“But does Starling care about her? As more than a publicity stunt?” Jack asked. 

“I don’t know,” Tino shrugged. “Starling’s a hard guy to figure out. If he does care about her, maybe he could be a better person. If he doesn’t, then we’ll keep our home open to her so she won’t be alone.” 

“We’ll have to figure out that guest room.” 

“You’re planning to drag us all to the store to look at paint swatches for an entire afternoon, aren’t you?” 

“Guilty as charged.” 

Rosie shouted in joy as she tagged another girl and darted away before she could be caught again. She looked just like any other six-year-old instead of the little orphan girl. 

Though she could probably do with clothes meant for playing in, Tino noted. 

A rustle of the leaves from the leaves above him caught his eye. Curious, Tino peered up into the branches of the oak. There was a dark shape leaning against the crook of a thick branch and trunk. It was hidden from everyone else’s view, concealed by the verdant leaves. 

Though his eyes were concealed by the brim of his hat, Tino could see a ghost of a smile forming on his beak.  

Maybe there was hope for Starling after all.

[writtenfan]

The Necklace’s Curse...

Severus x Reader Imagine

Request: hello! can you do a snapexreader where the reader is injured/almost died by a cursed necklace. snape is called in by mcgonagall about a injured student and isn't aware of who it is until he finally arrives at the hospital wing. he stays by their side until they finally heal. basically fluff, fluff, and more fluff :)

(no problemo- hope you like, love me a fluffy Snape I do...I hope this is alright! There's a bit of stress...but nothing that isn’t fixed!)

“Now pour your honey-water into your specialized silver cauldrons, slowly...I don't want to see any water spilt..”

The sound of slow pouring water filled the room.

Severus strode in the middle of the room, glancing from table to table. Giving a stern talking, to anyone who was found doing anything... even a tad bit wrong. 

“Next...pulverize your Valerian Root. Give them a good shake beforehand...put it in the cauldron, then mix in one direction for one minute, until it is a fine and crimson red…” 

As the students followed his instructions, Severus walked back to his desk in front of the class. Danity grabbing a vial filled with Nettle leaves and spun around to present its contents to the class.

He casually flicked his hair behind his ear.  “Now. Lightly bruise-”

Three rapid knocks interrupted his words. He snapped his head to the back of the room and so did the students in curiosity. It swung slowly open revealing the form of Professor McGonagall.

She gave the class a small smile, “Hello everyone...I hope you're having a wonderful class...” some murmurs responded in disproval only to be cut off by the swift hand raise of Severus Snape. 

 McGonagall let out a soft chuckle, “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Severus-” 

“-Yes…what is it Minerva...” he curtly responded as he rolled up his sleeves and placed the vial back down with a soft clank.

“We need your assistance, a student found something rather...startling and they need a particular remedy, nothing which I, and surprisingly the nurse, can pinpoint. We need your well-trained eye and knowledge of potions to help us out…” Severus surveyed the many eyes of the students, he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of an early dismissal...yet he did not know how long this would take…

“Fine. Minerva…” he grumbled striding to the doorway. Once there, he grabbed the side of the door and turned back towards his students.

“Don't move, do anything and you get frequent detention or worse...stay in your seats and look over the chapter...don’t...do anything.” 

As soon as the door shut, the room erupted with noise.

You were lost in a world of white, you couldn’t think, you didn’t know you could. You didn’t know who you were...you didn’t know how to know who you were...You were nothing,  you couldn’t move all there was a blanket of white.

“Here Severus, right here!..” she pushed away the curtains that floated around the bed, which automatically furrowed itself behind the bed neatly.

Severus Snape peered over to the bed, yet unable to see the student that needed his assistance.

Glancing his eyes back at Minerva he lifted an eyebrow, “...What exactly did this student do to themselves, to need my presence?” he grumbled staring at her with an indifferent gaze.

“Well... Mr./Ms. l/n found a necklace in the forbidden forest…”

He jerked his head down to the bed and grabbed the bar at its foot.  “What?!” he hissed softly, finding your face.  It was stiff. Emotionless. Your eyes were like glass. Your pupils had taken most of the white in your eyes.

“In the forbidden forest?!” he barked clenching the bar hard before moving to the side of the bed, your body was covered by a thick white wool blanket. Your (h/c) hair as stiff as raw pasta.

He touched you with his forefinger pressing it softly against your wrist, It was warm yet malleable, like putty.

“It was a simple thing Severus, a black lanyard with a little fire charm in the middle, seemed like something a young witch or wizard would buy at a store. I bet they just thought it simply was...” 

McGonagall walked the other side of the bed, studying Severus intently…  “Although- when  Mr./Ms. l/n came to my class this morning, it only took a few minutes for me to notice something odd with them...especially when they started staring off into space and especially when they eventually slammed (her/him-self) onto the floor!”

“Did you figure out the charms enchantment?” he whispered, removing his finger from your wrist staring angrily at McGonagall while absentmindedly moving your blanket closer to your chin.

“Yes. It was a very, horrible enchantment. Something you don't see every day, someone was hoping another would fall upon it, that's obvious enough….” 

Severus looked down at you and forced himself to not fix your bed so you could be more comfortable. 

McGonagall let out a long soft sigh, “Luckily we did what we could to undo the magical effects, but as you see..” she gestured to your body.  “It seems they need something else besides magic...a potion I think would do the trick to complete the healing...do you think you could provide them with something?”

Severus leaned over your body slightly his eyes strained, his eyebrows furrowed making the lines on his face crease as he sneered. “How could you be so stupid? how?! I thought you would know better than to go into the forest let alone...yet...you still don't cease to surprise me..” he whispered under his breath towards you as if you could hear him.

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it back from his forehead. 

“Think? hmm...Yes. I know of the perfect set of potions...It seems I will need to brew a few things...give me a moment, I’ll be swift. You can leave to attend to your other duties Minerva. I'll handle this..” he stood up and glanced around the room.  

“They should be fine by Thursday afternoon. I'll keep reporting to you and the nurse on the progress...Although I want no interference, This is something only one as experienced as I can handle…” he rumbled as he vaulted towards the door.

It closed with a slam, McGonagall looked down at you with soft eyes… “Oh, poor y/n…Hopefully, this will teach you to wander into the forest now hmm?” and with that- she left.

Its late afternoon, bird chirp their last songs through the glass windows in the dim light infirmary, although you can't hear them. All you hear is quiet..and surprisingly...quiet has a sound, although you won't remember it…

You're no longer in the white. Yet your unconscious. Your figure lies in the bed unmoving, it's like a deep, deep sleep.  

The door slowly creaks open. An unrobed Severus holds three potion vials in his hands, his long fingers wrapped around them carefully. He looked at your figure and sighed, placing the vials down on a small end table next to you with soft musical clinks. He swipes his finger at a chair across the room and it flies behind him. He clears his throat and adjusts his sleeves while picking up a slender green vial in this hand popping the cork.

“How naïve..” he murmurs softly swirling the liquid in the vial softly as he stared at your closed eyes. The setting sunlight had flittered in through the glass, perfectly against your face.

He hesitantly reaches down and softly grabs the sides of your jaw with a firm hand. He pulls down gently, your lips part open.

His eyes linger on your mouth for a moment, until he shakes his head and grimaced as he props your head up, as he slowly pours the green liquid down your throat. A drop of liquid did not go into your mouth and dripped down your lower lip, he observes the droplet slide its way down your chin into the dip of your chest.

He lets out a low disapproving sound as he takes his thumb and wipes the bottom of your lip, although he holds his thumb there for a second too long before correcting himself with an angry scowl.

“y/n.. you need to take better care of yourself…” he whispers softly to himself, picking up another vial and popping the cork.  “Who knows what could have happened to you if things didn’t end up this way..” He slowly pours the liquid down your throat...you let out a soft sound..he pulls his hands away from you.

His eyes widen, he waits….but nothing. After two minutes, he rubs his temple and picks up the last vial.

“You can't do this...to me...I wasn’t able to continue my schedule normally because I was too worried about you...pathetically..” he snarls as he sloshes the liquid in the vial, holding it up to his eye for a closer look.

He glances down at you through the vial, at your lips….

“It seems I can't handle anything happening to you..” “I guess if it did...it would be the end of me...you would be the end of me…” “it's funny really..” he sighs as he pours the last vial of liquid down your throat. Wiping your chin or your lips whenever he saw fit despite it not being needed.

He places down the last vial on the table and slowly sits down in the chair under him. Severus sits by the side of your head for about an hour, he summons a book to him and he reads leaning forward in his chair towards you, periodically glancing at your face and thinking...worrisome and loving thoughts.

The sun tucked away; the night had bled through the sky and the candles in the infirmary sparked on in an instant, causing Severus to jolt slightly.

He peered back down at you and let out a low yawn.

“Move already...open those pretty little eyes of yours… move your soft little lips...let me hear your annoying, sweet, voice…” he whispers sarcastically As he closes the book and sets it on his lap. Rising from his chair putting the book down on the table he places a hand on your upper chest, feeling your heartbeat. It was regulated, much better than earlier.

“Wake up y/n. “ he stares at your for a moment waiting for a response 

“If you don't ill be forced to stay here all night...you wouldn’t want to do that to me now would you?...”

He slides his hand up towards the side of your face, cupping his hand around your cheek rubbing his thumb into the corner of your mouth. His chest rose and fell faster, as he took deeper breaths.

“Please...wake up…” he croaked.

An hour more had past. He was pacing back and forth in the room, going over his potion making in his head repeatedly, trying to figure out what else might work… “No..no...no...this should have worked…” he growled clutching the sides of his waist tight.

“I cannot. I can't…” he presses the palms of his hands firmly against his forehead

Your eyes snap open, the ceiling is foggy. You don't know where you are... You clear your throat and cough violently. Footsteps bound towards your side and force you to sit up. You clutch your chest and bend over and continue to cough.

“Breathe, Breathe!...deep breaths. Slowly..” you hear the gruff barking voice of someone you were happy to hear…

A hand pressed you back against your pillow as your coughing fit ended, your eyes squinted at the world around you. The hand then ran its fingers feverishly through your hair on the back of your head and stayed there as you laid in silence.

“y/n…” Severus whispered

“Well, finally...It seems as if….everything worked…” he growled. Jerking his hand from your head and wiping it on the side of his pants.

“Stay down...relax...someone has cursed you, it's gone but its damage lingers...all that is needed now, is your swift recovery.” He sits down at your side, his hands fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat.

You turn his head towards him and muster a smile….

“Stop smiling at me you...you..” his voice trails off as he looks at your soft face. He turns away and stares at the stone floor.

“Don't go into the forest anymore.” he hisses as he grabbed onto your cover and molds it in his hand.

Your vision clears enough so you can make out the detail of his aged face. His hair hung to his shoulders loosely his eyes stern and dark. You looked down at the hand near your arm as it held onto the cloth angrily. You moved your hand on top of his and it stopped moving completely. He darted his eyes back at you. Staring at you in disbelief. You weakly rubbed his knuckles and turned your head back to the ceiling.

“I'm sorry…” you squeaked softly, your voice raspy...

He lets out a low growl, his hand still under yours. “Just don't be stupid...then you won't have to be…”

“I can't have you...dying...now can I?”

You grin and close your eyes and fall asleep.

Severus watches you rest listening to the sound of the candlelight crackling and the wind blowing softly outside. He flips his hand over so and holds onto yours tightly pressing his fingers into the back of your hand.  He begins to hum a tune. A soft tune that only he remembered…

His soft humming lulled you even deeper into your sleep and you dreamed of you both sitting on top of a hill looking over into a valley full of trees…

Dumbledore entered the room...he found Severus hunched over, head propped against his hand as his elbow sunk into your mattress. Holding your hand…

His eyes softened, he slowly backed back out the door and placed a simple charm or two at the door entrance to prevent you two from being disturbed.

[sofiahahaaa]

Demigod Delinquents | Pt. 9 | OOh thEy’rE iN tRoUBle

| MASTERLIST |

Summary: Man, this mr. Richardon is a real douche. Hate him tbh. But i like this crew dynamic.

Rating: Keaton gets jealous, but nothing else. 

A/N: for real you guys, I’ve been feeling so motivated to have these out. cherish this while it lasts. as always, i love you guys and i hope you like this bit because i worked on thi s s o mu c h

~~~

Leo’s POV –

As we stumbled into the Dean’s office, I wondered if I should saunter in and say: You called? #458 in the house! 

But then I reconsidered. 

The dean sat at her desk, a stern look plastered on her face.

“Well, well. The delinquents finally get here.” She clicked her tongue– a sound I despised, for some reason. “The director has been waiting.” She turned to Mera and Keaton, not saying anything– but her look said it all. You guys are dead. Keaton looked at his lap, but Mera glared back.

Eventually, the dean gave up. “I’m calling in. He might be on a phone call, so bear with me.” She buzzed the intercom, and we waited. I scratched my leg with my foot, then tried shifting my posture to see if it made me look cooler. No such luck. I tapped the armrest agitatedly, looking at the others every 2 seconds. I didn’t want to say anything, because the tension in the air was making me uncomfortable. And besides, the dean was there. She would not approve. So I sat and waited, tapping my foot to keep my calm.

Finally, when it seemed an eternity had passed, the dean looked up from her computer. “You may go.” We started to stand up. “Stay out of trouble, next time.” Ari rolled their eyes, but the dean didn’t see them, apparently. We walked into the other room single file.

The director was a pudgy man, busting through his suit. His form was oddly shaped, which made me wonder, but I tried not to look at him in general. His face was worse. It was rosy and mud-colored. I felt a memory tugging at me– but I let it slide. We already had a pretty good idea that this guy was a monster.

There were only two chairs available. The man in front of us looked like he could take up several, but he sat in an upholstered leather chair similar to a throne. The other two chairs, opposite him and separated by his grandiose wooden desk, were fold out.

“Well? Take a seat!” He demanded. There was an awkward struggle as we figured who got to sit and who didn’t. Then, he waved his hand impatiently and ordered us instead: “Just– the blonde one and prisoner 120. Sit down, I need to talk to you two first.” Jason looked at Keaton, realizing that ‘the blond one’ was him, despite Keaton’s hair color. Jason, who was not one to get in trouble, sat down awkwardly in the rickety chair. Mera clambered into hers, looking upset. 

“Sir?” Jason asked quietly. The director went red in the face.

“You do not speak unless I tell you to!” Spit frothed from his mouth, and he dabbed at it with his shirt sleeve. “Pardon. I know you are new here, and you may not be accustomed to our requirements. Please do be considerate.” Jason looked annoyed, but I focused on the glint in Mr. Richardson's eyes.

“Of course, sir. I meant you no disrespect.” He responded in a monotone voice.

“What did I just say?” Mr. Richardson crossed his arms on the table. “Oh, forget it. You children are so stubborn. Never learn.” His voice was gruff and coarse, like sandpaper. “You two have been a cause of some trouble.” He glared pointedly at Jason. “Especially you, I hear.” I almost snickered at the thought that Jason could be more of a troublemaker than me, but remembered what the dean had said. I kept my mouth shut. 

He drummed his fingers on the desk, then reached down into his drawer to take out a file. “Well… here it says you slapped another inmate unconscious– we do not, in any circumstances, tolerate physical abuse. Do you understand?”

“I punched him, actually– I mean, yes, sir.”

“Once again, I did not ask you to talk.” Jason opened his mouth, then closed it. “I am disappointed with you, newcomer. You have been given the privilege of a fresh start here at our establishment, and you have already ruined your presence with the board. I would like you to lay low, or be extracted from our system and our penitentiary.” Jason nodded slowly, meeting his eyes. “You may speak.” Jason’s eyes traveled around the room– a sure sign he was coming up with an excuse.

“It was not my intent to knock him unconscious, sir.”

“Well–” Mr. Richardson started.

Jason interrupted before he could spew more nonsense. “He was abusing other inmates, as well. And it seemed like the best solution at the time. I do acknowledge that it was a rash decision, but the past is the past.” Jason stopped to take a breath. “And I also can agree that two wrongs do not make a right, but I have opted out for this special scenario.” 

Mr. Richardson looked taken-aback– or as much as he could with his triple chin. Jason started up again. “Sir, I apologize,” he turned to Mera. “For acting out. I assure you it will not happen in the future.” He cleared his throat. 

Mr. Richardson straightened his tie, his arms making a weird smushy sound when they moved.

“Mera!” He boomed. “Too many times I have had to call you to this office!” He banged his fist against the table. “Oh… too many.” He clasped his hands together and eyed her hungrily. “If you will, children– I will deal with Ms. Taylor alone.” Mera’s eyes widened. Her eyes went to Percy, and Percy met hers reassuringly. 

I wondered what had gone down between them. I knew it wasn’t just about cake. Well, sort of. I guessed it wasn’t just about cake. 

Percy raised his hand timidly. “Yes?” Mr. Richardson scowled.

“Do you mind if I remind her of something we must do after this, sir?” Percy said with a shaky voice.

“What?” He demanded, getting impatient.

“We have this guard… she needs something. But it’s quite embarrassing actually, and I don’t think she would appreciate us telling you.” Percy raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, alright.” Mr. Richardson was one to be a skeptic, but so far, Percy hadn’t done anything too bad. He had just hung out with Jason. Percy leaned forward to whisper into her ear. His words were not audible from where I was, but his face showed urgency in what he was telling her. Then, with one last showy gesture, he handed Mera a pen. Riptide. “What is the pen, 456?” Percy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“My good luck charm.” He coughed into his fist.

“Ugh. Just get out of here.” We filed out of the doorway. When the door was closed, we sat down in the Dean’s room. Old Stern wasn’t there.

“What was that, Jackson?” Percy’s eyes warned me.

Keaton seemed to study Percy a little more carefully now. Like he was… jealous? “What was it, Jackson?” Percy touched his pocket out of habit. Then he snapped to look at me, a look of accusation spreading through his face.

“It’s not my good luck charm.” He laughed. “That should’ve been obvious. Man, that Richardson is not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“Then what was it?” Keaton asked again, this time looking upset.

“Like those pen weapons. Except… better.” Keaton looked a little offended, to say the least, but he was intrigued. “You’ll know what I told her when she gets out.” So we sat in silence as the clock ticked, waiting for Mera to be released. I heard a scuffle, then the door creaked open. “Did you…?” Percy asked her, looking at the pen in her hand. Mera shook her head.

“He, like, looked at me, then his face contorted a bit and he changed the look, and then he had to take off. No idea why.” She handed Percy the golden pen. “Thanks, anyways.” I dusted my hands off on my lap.

“Well, we can go now, then.” Keaton nodded. His eyes bobbed from Mera to Percy, trying to decipher what was going on between them. He looked at his lap, defeated.

“Okay.” And we clamored down the halls, eager to be gone from the horrid room.

A/N: I know this chapter is soooo short but the next chapter is going to be out in a quick moment so no problemo i promise

[axelsagewrites]

How you met-Glee Preference

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Artie

It was winter in his freshman and the ramp was frosty, making it harder for him to wheel up. You were walking in with your sister, Quinn when you saw his struggle. You quickly said 'bye' and walked to Artie. "Hey, do you want a hand?"

He looked at the ground, embarrassed, but muttered a 'yes'. You wheeled him up and held the door for him. "Thanks. You're the first person to stop and help me."

"No problemo. I'm (Y/N)." 

"Artie." You smiled but saw your friends so waved Artie goodbye but you had definitely left an impression.

Blaine

You were at Lima Bean getting (Y/F/D) after a hard day at school. Mr Shue had been sick so Rachel tried to take over. Let's just say you had a huge headache afterwards.

You had just ordered your drink as you looked through your bag for your wallet. "Where in the hell is it?" You muttered to yourself. You cheeks went red as you heard the man behind the counter tut and sigh.

"You dropped this." You turned to see a man in a blazer holding out a $10 bill. You froze for a second till he pressed the note into your hand. 'Thanks' you mutter as you handed the cashier the money.

After you got your drink you sat at a table, eyes never leaving your saviour. A couple minutes later blazer boy sat at your table. "Hey." He greeted.

"Hi," You spoke, cheeks red."Thanks for that. It was sooo embarrassing."

"I get it," he chuckled. "Forgot your wallet. Could happen to anyone."

"I swear I had it." You proclaim, glaring at your bag. You began to rummage through your bag again and he laughed. "Ugh." At that moment your phone buzzed. After reading the text you grit your teeth. "I'm going to kill him."

"What?"

"My cousin, Finn, 'borrowed' my wallet to take his girlfriend on a date. How am I meant to pay you back?"

"Don't." He plucked the phone from your hand and began typing on it. You raised an eyebrow so he explained. "Heres my number and next time, you can buy my drink."

Kurt

You had seen Kurt around McKinnley but hadn't spoken to him. Until your neighbour and friend, Mike dragged you to glee club. "I can't even sing." You whinned.

"Neither can I. Oh come on it'll be fun." He tried to convince you as you stood next to the door to glee. Kurt walked into glee, saying a quick 'hi' to Mike. "Ok, you have to join now." He said, noticing your eyes following Kurt. "You like him."

"Screw you." But you walked in any way. 

Mr Shue looked up. "Whose this?"

"This is (Y/N). Their an amazing dancer and want to join." I glared at him for his words. He grinned and added. "and they can kinda sing." I elbowed him for that.

"Show us what you can do," Kurt spoke. Mike winked at you but you two danced together anyway. After your dance, you were panting slightly and the glee club clapped. "You have to join." Kurt proclaimed.

"Welcome to glee." Mr Shue patted your shoulder and you and Mike took a seat. "Now this week assignments is 'beats you can move your feet to'." He started writing on the board.

Kurt turned to you. "Want to be my partner, newbie?" 

"Totally."

Mike

You and Mike were both in glee club together. You didn't really talk, like at all, but you couldn't help but notice he was cute AF. You and Mercedes had just grabbed lunch and were looking for a table. She noticed some of the glee guys (Mike, Puck, Finn, Sam) sitting at a table so she winked at you and basically dragged you over. She knew about your little crush and said she shipped it.

"Hey guys, can we sit?" She asked. Finn nodded and they kept talking. Mercedes beelined to the seat next to Sam so you had to sit next to Mike. She sent you a wink though.

You went to sit down and Mike pulled your chair out for you. "Hey." He greeted.

"Hi." Your conversation went quiet for a couple moments. "The dance you did yesterday was awesome." You internally cringed but he smiled brightly.

"Really? Thanks. Oh, and you should have totally got that solo. Rachel gets them all."

"I know." You complained, started your lunch. "It's so irritating. You excited for the assignment."

"Yeah, kinda. Its good to dance but I've got no vocals." He sulked slightly. "Cause, I know I could do a cool routine but I feel like it needs a voice."

"Why don't you two pair up?" Mercedes suggested.

"Sure, you in?" Mike asked. You nodded and internally did several summersaults. Little did you know Mike was doing the same.

Puck

You avoided Puck like the plague. He was a bully and he and his friends had thrown your brother, Kurt, into a dumpster for ages. You didn't get why Kurt would be in a club with him but knew he loved music. Either way, you avoided him.

You hadn't even spoken to him until one fateful day. You and your friends were sitting, chatting at a lunch table when you felt a slushie roll down your back. You gasped at the cold drink as you began to hear laughs. You turned round to see Puck standing behind you with a shocked look on his face, holding an empty cup. He tried to say something but you were too quick and ran away.

You had never been slushied before so you ended up crying and running to find your brother. "Oh, what happened?" He exclaimed as he saw your soaked t-shirt.

"Puckerman." Kurt grabbed the spare clothes he had in his locker and guided you to the nearest bathroom. 

Kurt's clothes were more...flamboyant than yours so you felt slightly weird in his white trousers and pink shirt. "I can't believe he did this to you," Kurt said as you washed your face, trying to erase the tears.

"Well, he did. I saw him, cup handed."

It was later that day as you were passing glee club when you spoke to Puck. You were heading to the library and he saw you pass by so sprang out his seat and ran after you. 

"I am so sorry." He began as he quickly caught up with you. "I tripped, I swear I didn't mean to."

"Yeah right." You muttered as you turned away.

He grabbed your shoulder and you couldn't help but flinch. "Oh my god, you're scared of me." He muttered.

"No wonder. You tossed my brother in the trash every day."

"You're a Hummel?" You nodded. "Huh. Well, I promise I didn't mean to. Ask Finn, he was with me. He tried to jokingly trip me and next thing you know..." He gestured to your new clothes.

You sighed. "I need to go." You didn't know whether or not to believe him. But for once, Puck had said the truth. It really was an accident.

Rory

You had transferred to McKinley a year before Rory so principle Figgins called you into his office. "(Y/N)" He greeted. You couldn't help but notice the cute boy in green, awkwardly sitting in the room. "This is Rory, an exchange student from Ireland. He's been staying with Brittany Pierce," You nodded, still not understanding why you were here. "Since you know what its like, being new and all, I was thinking you should show him around."

"But sir, I'm busy with glee. Why can't Brittany show him?"

"Take him with you. C'mon (Y/N). Look at the boy. He needs guidance. You know what Brittany is like." You did. She'd end up dying his hair green or accidentally locking him on the rood.  "You, however, are just the person. You know how hard it was when you came here." He tried to convince you.

You sighed. "Sure." He was right, you did know. Within your first week, you had been slushied and your accent mocked. "Cmon Leprechaun. Let's get to class."

"I'm not a leprechaun." You almost swooned at his accent.

"I know, but Brittany doesn't. She's been going on about the 'little green man' living with her."

"Oh." He quickly grabbed his stuff and you left the office.

"Let's see your timetable." He handed it over and you saw you shared first. "Oh, great, were in Spanish together. We've got Mr Shue, he's the glee coach here. He's great." You briefly told him about his teachers and he listened intently. 

"Bit of advice," he nodded. "avoid Sue, bitch is cra-cra. The hockey team are all idiots. The football teams not much better. Avoid Jacob or he'll shove a camera in your face. If someone walks towards you with a slushie, walk  the other way."

"Why?" The timing was perfect as you saw some cocky kid walking over with a slushie. As he began to throw it, you smacked it out his hand. It splashed the lockers next to Rory who jumped. 

You shoved the kid into the slushie covered locker and pinned him against the locker. "What have I told you about slushie-ing, my friends?" The kid, Jordan, nodded scared. "If I see you do it again I'll drown you in the slushie." You let go of Jordan and he scurried off.

"Woah." Your attention was brought back to Rory who was staring at you. "You're tough."

"Yup. I got sick of being slushied. Stick with me and you'll be fine." You sent a wink to Rory and began to walk to class. It took the Irish man a moment before he hurried after you.

Santana

Santana was...crazy. You had initially agreed to join glee but changed your mind when you found out some cherios were in it. Your sister, Rachel, wouldn't take no for an answer.

After weeks of her whining 24/7, she somehow managed to get you to join. "Everyone, this is (Y/N) Berry-"

"Oh great," Santana cut Mr Shue off. "Another Berry." 

You glared at her. "Got something to say?" She didn't expect your reply so was caught off guard for a moment. "Good. Rachel may be incredibly annoying-"

"Hey!"

"But it's my job to insult her. Not yours." You took your seat next to Rachel.

"Okay," Mr Shue spoke slowly. "Let's just start. Okay?" You all nodded and began the lesson. 

Santana was glaring at you for the whole period. You just glanced at her and rolled your eyes. After the bell went Santana caught up with you. "Hey, Berry 2"

"What?" You were sassy, she could tell that by your crossed arms and stance. She wouldn't admit it but she was sick of no competition and no one to shot insults back at her. She loved bantering but no one at glee had the guts or the patience.

"Well done," She complemented with a twisted smile. "your the first one to stand up to me. Don't get used to it though, I'll crush you."

"Bring it on."

She did live up to her words just not how she expected. Soon after that conversation, you both had a crush on each other.

Sebastian

You had heard about Sebastian from your friend Kurt. He told you about how he was trying to steal his boyfriend and everything else. Later that day Santana also talked to you about him as he had interrupted her, Kurt, Mercedes and Blaine's convo at the lima bean. To say you already disliked him would be an understatement.

Sebastian had decided to take it up a notch so he and some warblers headed over to McKinnley. He wanted to stir the pot and spy on the New Directions and maybe to insult Kurt some more.

When they arrived Sue saw them and instantly asked why they were there. Sebastian said that Mr Shue had invited them so she told them to head to the auditorium. 

They entered silently but it happened to be during a performance. Yours. Well, not only yours. You, Mike, Santana, Quinn and Tina had decided to perform Dirty Little Secret. You sang lead with the girls as back up. Puck and Artie played the guitar while Finn was on drums.

It wasn't a serious performance, just something you had made up for fun, so the rest of the glee club ended up joining you on stage. You all just wanted to have some fun. Even Rachel came up.

After the song finished you were all smiling when you began to hear clapping. You all looked to see some warblers walking to the stage. A cocky looking boy leads them. He spoke first "Well who would have guessed at least one of them have talent?"

"You're Sebastian arent you?"

"The one and only." He proclaimed.

You grabbed a water bottle and drank, not without muttering "Explains a lot."

"What was that?" You just shrugged your shoulders.

Kurt glared at him. "What do you want?"

"Calm down little girl." Kurt rolled his eyes. "We just wanted to see the competition. It's not illegal."

You leaned over and said to Kurt "What I'm about to do is."

"Have we ever even met? Why the hate?" He mocked hurt.

You glared at him. "Mess with my friends, mess with me."

"Oh, I'm scared." The warblers chuckled for some unknown reason. "Why are you friends with them? You could do so much better with a face like that." He had a smug look.

The new directions didn't say anything. Normally you were passive, fun, carefree maybe even a little shy but when someone challenged your friends... well let's just say they didn't stand a chance.

"What? Are you jealous since I actually have friends?" You asked. "Jealousy isn't a good look. Though you don't look good either way." You heard a couple glee members chuckle.

Sebastian glowered at you. "Honey, I ain't-a mirror. Your ass must be jealous of all the shit coming out your mouth." It's a good thing Mr Shue had left to talk to Emma.

"Don't feel sad, don't feel blue, Frankenstein was ugly too. Besides at least you'll be safe if there is a zombie apocalypse, they only eat brains." You could see him grit his teeth.

"Oh was I meant to be offended? They only offensive thing is that outfit."

"If I wanted to deal with a bitch, I would've got a dog."

"Funny,  I thought you'd want to be with your kind."

"At least I ain't as ugly as your personality."

"Sorry, say that again. I couldn't hear you over the smell of peasant."

"Keep on talking, maybe you'll say something intelligent."

Mr Shue walked in at that moment but no one looked at him. All the glee club was looking at you and Sebastian. "Whats going on here?"

"Nothing, we were just leaving," Sebastian stated, eyes on you. 

Later on, your choice of song was comical to him because two weeks later you were his dirty little secret.

[just-my-onion]

Goodnight Dr. Forceps – a Bughead One-shot

Written in response to @jokerscrown ‘s prompt on bughead-fanfic-wishlist  " A fic where Betty got injected with an anaesthetic because she broke her arm, and feels a little loopy after the operation. Jughead is the nurse in charge to take care of Betty, and loopy Betty kinda asks Jughead to marry her, and says she loves him. They both are strangers.”  Read it on AO3 here The world was a little different during night shift. It often ushered in intoxicated demons; shadows stretched their gnarled fingers across the little hospital garden; and on the worst nights, when sleep had failed him completely, strange shapes danced along the edges of Jughead’s vision making it hard to be sure what was real.

So, it didn’t worry him quite as it perhaps should when he saw an angel in the ER waiting reception. He was rushing through, a car accident to attend to, so an impression of white gown, blonde waves and radiance was all he had a chance to capture.

Still, it stayed with him throughout the night.

*****

A few hours later, Jughead was in the middle of trying to calm down a shrieking five-year-old with a very painful ear infection, when his best friend Archie walked over.

“Jug, would you mind swapping and taking over the aftercare for my patient? She keeps asking for you”, Archie asked in a surprisingly sulky tone for someone asking a favour.

Archie was a good nurse, but sometimes Jughead couldn’t help but feel there was more than a little truth in his friend’s jokes about going into the profession because of its high female to male ratio.

“Asking for me?” he asked suspiciously. “It’s not Mrs. Wyndham again, is it?” The elderly and somewhat hypochondriac librarian had taken a shine to Jughead and would barely allow anyone else to tell her that there was really nothing wrong.

“No, a cute blonde. Solid 8.5. She’s said I was cute but then started insisting on speaking to, and I quote, ‘the glarey dark haired boy’. No idea why she wants you, but I think the anaesthetic has messed with her head a bit.”

“Gee thanks Arch, when you sweet talk me like that, how can I possibly say no?”

Jughead handed Archie Timmy’s notes and headed over to the bed his friend had just come from, where an angel was sitting, waving at him.

The angel turned out to be Betty Cooper, a beautiful blonde girl, who looked about the same age as Jughead and Archie. Big green eyes looked up at him from a heart shaped face that wore ever so slightly smudged lipstick. She must have tried to tidy her hair one-handed – it had been flowing in gold waves over her shoulder earlier but now was in a very lopsided ponytail. She was wearing a white lacy dress, pale blue ballet shoes and a large cast on her left arm.

“Hooray, it’s you!” she beamed. She looked a little drunk, but any alcohol she’d consumed would surely have all but worn off by now.

“Hi Betty. Err, do we know each other?”

“Not yet, but we will. We’re meant to, I can tell”, she smiled up at him.

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he concentrated on her notes.

“So, you broke your arm huh?”

“Yes, my best friend insisted I join her at this stupid fancy nightclub that makes me feel like a total hick, so I drank a few too many glasses of the champagne she ordered – I don’t even really like Champagne! – but then Ronnie disappeared, I think with this very boring man she spent way too long talking to, while I just got to know the champagne.”

Throughout her ramble, Betty pulled a series of increasingly animated facial expressions – it was hard not to be charmed.

“But then I was a bit worried and I wanted to go home so I went to find her and I guess I tripped on the stairs and this happened”, she raised her arm, “ouch!”

Jughead quickly helped her resettle her broken limb into the best position for her to hold it.

“Theeeeeeeeeeeen”, she took a deep breath, “I looked a bit more but I still couldn’t find Ronnie, so I walked home but she wasn’t there either and my arm was still hurting so I figured I’d better come to hospital.”

“You did all that with a broken arm?” Jughead asked, concern mixing with admiration. Who was this adorable but formidable young woman?

She shrugged. “Owww. Yeah, I figured it’s an arm not a leg and I don’t usually walk on my hands too much, so I might as well just wander in.”

He double-checked the very decent job the doctor had done and gave her the usual fracture after-care spiel, combined with the finer points of her own case, though it was clear she was struggling to maintain attention. He’d look up from the notes to find her gazing at his lips, before suddenly whipping her head around to stare in seeming wonderment at some of the more mundane equipment, then looking up and giggling, inexplicably, at the fluorescent overhead lighting.

She had an air of innocence and preppiness that would usually make Jughead bored or sceptical, or both, but her open demeanour, obvious intelligence despite the adorable anaesthesia dizziness, and kind, classically pretty face were utterly disarming.

“You really care about my health don’t you – ” she squinted at the hateful name tag Dr. Masters insisted all the nursing team wore, “Dr. Forceps?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s my job to care about your health, plus you’ve not called me emo or goth as yet, not racially abused anyone or spat in my face, so you’re officially on my nice list. But I’m a nurse, not a doctor I’m afraid, and it’s Forsythe, not Forceps.”

For a moment ‘normal’ Betty – or what Jughead imagined she must be like – seemed to resurface. She shook her head and blushed. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry Forsythe – I can read, honest! I’m actually an English teacher, would you believe.” She buried her face in her hands, wincing as she lifted her left arm.

She was even cuter when she was embarrassed and Jughead had the sudden stupid urge to run away. Instead he gently corrected the position of her arm again.

“Short of risking my job by failing to wear it, I’ve done everything I can to ruin the integrity of this stupid badge – it’s been through the washing machine more times than my actual laundry, I’ve tried scratching the letters off, I even got Archie to run over it once – so it’s no wonder you found it hard to read. Anyway, Forsythe is not really my name. It’s Jughead.”

“Jughead. Juggie Jug Jug Jughead”, she mused. “Ooooh and Archie! Was he the cute ginger boy who was in here earlier?”

Of course she was attracted to Archie really. Jughead was ashamed by how deflated he felt.

“Yup, Archie is our resident hottie.”

“He was cute but you’re beauuuuuuuuuuuuuutiful”, she slurred, gazing at him lovingly. “And he kept staring. Stupid dress. Staring at me, then getting distracted by all the other girls around. And he says he’s a musician really. I don’t want a musician, I want a nurse. Like you. You want to make me better. And your eyes are the best, Juggie. And you look like you like books. Good books. Not Dan Brown and Marian Keyes like Polly reads. And I want to touch your hair, very badly.”

She grabbed his hand, “Jughead … er… Nurse, will you marry me?” Her earnest, slightly tearful face was the loveliest thing he’d seen. Her ‘proposal’ should have been funny, and he knew it was just the drugs talking, but his heart was pounding.

“Hey, of course I will”, he replied in what he hoped was a light & breezy tone. It was hard to tell as he’d never felt light and breezy in his life. “Let’s get you all better and clear away this anaesthesia fog and then we can start planning.”

“How do you feel about kilts?” she asked.

There was little left to do now, and, even on quiet nights like this, the hospital was stringent about maintaining bed availability. It was time to discharge Betty, but he hated the idea of turning her out while the weird effects of the anaesthesia clearly hadn’t lifted.

And there was something else. Jughead loved his job, loved feeling like he was doing some small measure of good in the world, but he didn’t always love spending so much time with other people. They exhausted him, sometimes depressed him, and almost always compounded his sense of not-quite belonging. Yet right now he desperately wanted the world to just stop for a while, so he could simply sit here with this strange and wonderful girl for the rest of the night, without responsibilities pressing in on them.

“How are you going to get home Betty? Do you have someone that can pick you up?

“Oh, I’ll walk. I walked here, I can walk back no problemo.” She began saying “o, o, o” repeatedly, mouth like a fish’s.

“No way I’m letting you walk home at this time of night with only one arm.”

“Do you think I might be attacked by wolves?”

“Wolves or worse. Archie could catch up with you and ask your opinion on his new songs. I’d love to offer you a ride, but I’m on my bike and I don’t think you could hold on with that arm. What about your friend – Ronnie was it? – could she come and pick you up?”

“Phone is –” she blew a raspberry.

“Ok, well my shift is almost over, so if you don’t mind waiting just a little while for me, I can call you a cab and then sit with you until it’s here.”

She was still quite wobbly when he walked her to the car park, so he let her lean on him with his arm wrapped around her waist. They were almost at the bench when she suddenly wheeled around and up into him and clumsily crashed her lips onto his. He tried not to notice the softness of her lips and the crush of her breasts against his chest, tried not to notice that she tasted like strawberries, tried to concentrate only on the fact that this was his patient and she was only marginally in control of her own body and mind right now.

“Hey there Betts, you don’t want to do yourself anymore harm”, he said, very gently nudging her away from him and sitting her down on the bench.

It wasn’t a cold night, but in her flimsy dress, Betty was soon shivering.

“Here, take my jacket”, Jughead helped her into the soft fuzzy-lined denim. He’d never lost his teenaged tendency to hide himself in over-sized clothes, and the coat swamped her. She still looked cold so he leaned over and retrieved his beloved crown beanie out of one of the denim pockets. He pulled it down over her scruffy golden ponytail, and stroked the hair out of her eyes.

The image of her cuddled into his over-sized jacket, beanie almost falling down over one of her eyes made his chest ache. He hoped, suspected, he’d never forget it.

She slipped her hand into his, their fingers interlaced. Holding her hand felt so right somehow, the perfect fit, but she still wasn’t in a fully lucid state and he had a duty of care to her. Her wellbeing and his dedication to his profession were a lot more important than any pathetic feelings he might be having over someone who likely wouldn’t remember his name in an hour.

Squeezing his hand tighter before he could pull it away, she gazed up at him.

“Jughead? I love you.”

His heart stopped; he knew she was still in the anaesthetic fog, but he’d never before had those words spoken to him by anyone but family or Archie, had almost given up on it ever happening. The world felt suddenly wide open and vast and yet simultaneously shrunk down to the size of a hospital car park. The stars pressed in around them and glittered from her beautiful angel’s eyes.

Her taxi was approaching. He squeezed her hand softly before gently disentangling their fingers, “I’m pretty sure I could love you too, Betty Cooper.”

[modosphere]

Now I’m Standing Alone: A Dara Drabble

Surprise! Bet you didn’t think this was coming out tonight...

Apologies for it taking so long, but its been a long, kind of difficult and infinitely more exhausting week and this (fingers crossed) will be the hardest one to have written - so I should be better with the others!

Remember, there are other instalments to come... And like Tinkerbell, I need applause to live, so please let me know what you think (ask/submit boxes preferably, that way I can save them!) and hopefully it’ll keep the creative wheel turning for a faster follow-up ;)

Happy reading! And I hope you all like it!

Bonus: shout-outs to my returning anons (hey guys), the anons who’ve been asking after/encouraging me with this drabble and @franklyineedcoffee for entertaining the mess that was my creative process when writing this!

- gawaine xo

The Kensington Hotel South Kensington, London 2041

She looked super hot.

And that wasn’t Mara being biased - objectively speaking, she looked smoking. Better than she’d ever seen herself look. The kind of hot that warranted winking at your own reflection and taking an obnoxious amount of selfies.

It was… A shame. A shame that it would… Go to waste, she guessed? Like, yeah, okay, people were still going to witness the hotness in question - a damned honour, really -, but not enough to be… Appreciated.

The wedding tanking was more likely to be the topic of conversation, come the end of the night.

Samara thought she’d feel… More conflicted. More lost. The (supermodel) reflection in the mirror… Was a stranger. Samara Zafar, to-be. Someone who didn’t exist. Who never would.

She felt a surprising amount of pride at that reflection, and as she tilted her head slightly, Mara gave herself a small, albeit sad, smile. It had been a good run. One Hell of a performance. In an odd way, she was sad to see it over - she’d made friends, had a family. Jesus, she’d even had Danyal Zafar be the closest thing she’d ever had to a best friend and whilst that was, wow, wow, so truly fucking pathetic… That would be gone, too, in a few hours. Maybe even less than that. One thing she and Dany hadn’t planned, was the exact timeline of the evening.

Mara checked her phone for the time - the car would be arriving soon - and so, placing it back down and turning to her reflection again, Mara surveyed herself one more time for all last-minute checks.

Her wedding outfit wasn’t the most conventional, which, given the true nature of her and Dany’s relationship, Mara found funny more than anything else. Instead of the full, traditional outfit of dark red decked with gold, Mara had opted for a slightly modernised version.

Her skirt was white and decorated with red stones and gold thread, flowing elegantly from the waist and swaying slightly every time she moved; and the blouse was the opposite, a velvet, burgundy affair with long sleeves, decorated intricately at the ends with more gold thread and tiny pearls. The neck was high and the rest of the blouse plain, allowing the focus to be the heavy, layered gold necklace hanging from her collar.

All of her jewellery was like that, heavy and majestic - a large, sun-shaped ring on her hand, a matching hair piece pinned to the side of her head to hide the bobby-pins. And with Mara’s full lips, high cheekbones and straight nose all thrown into high definition by some excellent makeup artistry, and her loose, dark brown curls pushed gently to one side… Mara looked like some kind of sexy Asian medieval princess, with a twenty-first century twist. Mara snorted happily to herself. Given the Zafars’ standing as social royalty, maybe that wasn’t so shocking.

The best part of the outfit was something she couldn’t even see - the fact that the blouse was backless, aside from a small pearl clasp at the base of her neck securing it in place.

And yeah, sure, there was the option to clasp it more, but given Mara’s bra size being completely at odds with the size of her shoulders, all fully clasping it would achieve was Mara asphyxiating, and that was of no help to anyone. Anyway, it was… Sexier. It was hidden anyway, behind a curtain of Mara’s hair and then the scarf pinned over her head, white and gold like her skirt. But Mara knew it was there, and Danyal was probably going to seize when he saw it -

Samara’s smile immediately disappeared and she looked away from the mirror, blinking back sudden tears. What was she crying about? Being stupid? Running away with her vanity?

It didn’t matter how good she looked. It didn’t matter what Dany thought - she gripped the table, her black nails digging into the wood -, because he wasn’t going to see it, nobody was, because by this evening, everyone would be applauding the new Mrs Zafar and that wouldn’t be her.

Which was fine, whatever, fine. Fine. It wasn’t like… She’d never wanted to be that, that hadn’t been the plan.

What if your plan was wrong?

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Mara snapped at her reflection, pointing at it angrily. “No. Shut the fuck up. You - you made this decision, you-” Mara sighed, her eyes temporarily closing in resignation. She couldn’t look at herself for the next part. “You made it clear, you told him-”

Except had she, really? It was on odd feeling, to feel as if you knew someone - their thoughts, their intentions, the very words that were about to leave their mouth - without having proof. Without truly knowing.

That was why she hadn't entertained… It was why she’d been so abrupt with Danyal. Even if he had just been talking in hypotheticals - and that was a possibility, she didn’t know -, she couldn’t think like that. Not… Now, not so close, not when her head was in such a mess. Not when she was filled with so much doubt.

Not about the wedding. No. Of course not! How could she? She couldn’t be…

It was fear, that was all. Fear of the unknown. Fear of committing a homicide, when her aunt inevitably started gloating about her failed marriage. Fear of finally being… Free, without the consequences.

Mara had wanted that for so long. To be free, independent, able to make her own decisions, without slamming the few doors open to her closed. But now that it was here… It was weakness, probably. Or complacency. She was filled with doubt because she’d gotten so used to her gilded little cage, that anything beyond that was terrifying! It was the brainwashing.

She was fine. She was. She knew where these… Fake doubts were coming from and she was handling it, it was… Fine.

Sighing to herself, Mara leant forward in front of the mirror, checking her makeup. It was made to look like she had some sort of natural glow but, of course, this close, it looked anything but. It was all about the eyes - perfect eyebrows, perfect eyeliner, perfect eyelashes and perfectly hidden eyeshadow (from a distance). The makeup artist had told that she’d wanted Mara’s lips to look like “an overdose of pomegranates” and Mara could only assume she’d managed it, because she didn’t know what else to call the matted colour on her lips, apart from maybe attractively bruised, which… Didn’t sound alluring.

One thing Mara could appreciate for certain, was the paradox of the whole thing. The face of an innocent, glowing young bride, the outfit of a princess, a super-sexy braless outfit once her veil was removed. Talk about split personality personified.

Of course, looking like some kind of regal portrait was costing Mara… All sense of comfort. She literally felt pinned taut, and even blinking caused something to pull. The top of her head felt like some kind of bridge support, thanks to the various clothes and jewellery items pinned to her skull - and thank fuck the skirt was meant to trail slightly, because in heels, she would’ve toppled over after the first step. She was wearing white Adidas trainers underneath her skirt instead.

She was allowed to take shortcuts! After all…

“It’s not like it’s your real wedding.” Mara joked to her reflection, not sounding particularly convinced. Good to know she could rely on herself for a pep talk.

Her phone beeped - and Mara caught the message that quickly flashed onscreen. It was her uncle. He was on his way up.

I don’t know if I can do this.

Nope! No psychoanalytical bullshit today!

Jogging slowly on her tiptoes and stretching slightly, careful to make sure the weight of her scarf didn’t snap her neck in half, Samara closed her eyes and took long, slow breaths.

“You’ve got this.” She told herself, before staring at her reflection. “You have got this. Get your shit together, bitch, freedom is on the horizon.”

There was a tap at the door.

“Samara!” Her uncle called through the door. “It’s time to go!”

“Coming!” She shouted back - before staring, wide-eyed and terrified, at her reflection one last time. The next time she’d be in this room… It’d be all over. “Shit. Yes. Okay.”

She was about to enter an art gallery full of important, influential, powerful people… And lie to them. Lie to them about who she was, about being in love with her fiancee, about wanting to get married, and then lie some more by saying she was heartbroken to not marry her fiancee, after his ex stormed the stage, demanding his love and attention.

It was fine. Cool. No problemo.

… Shit.

*

Liaquat Ali Khan Airport Islamabad, Pakistan 12 Days Ago

Dany twirled the warm, white box between his fingers, staring disinterestedly at the small crowd huddled over by the Arrivals door... Before looking over to the small, ignored hallway in front of him. Still empty.

It felt like just yesterday that he’d been here with his family - and Mara’s - after the engagement. Dany’s mouth lifted into a small smile as he remembered the look on Mara’s mamaani - aunt’s - face, at seeing them suddenly jump out of the car and disappear for a few hours. Mara had told him afterwards that her cousins had said she’d almost had an aneurysm.

It was his last day in Pakistan before the wedding. Technically, it should have been the day before - but with Samara landing for her final fitting before the wedding, Dany thought it’d be… Nice. He was only travelling over the border to India; first to see how Ari’s preparations for the walimah, the after party, were going at the haveli in Punjab; and then onto to Delhi, to leave with Raj for his stag.

It was weird to think that the after-party Ari was planning would be for a different bride than the one whose name was on the invitation.

Because you’re stupid.

Dany paused, frowning slightly, and stopping his fidgeting.

Dany refused to pay much mind to the little voice in the back of his head, or the uncomfortable squirm that tended to come with it. It had been happening… Too often recently, and for no reason at all. It wasn’t worth the effort.

He glanced around again, sighing to himself. The small shop selling freshly brewed tea in the corner, the racks of picturesque post-it cards, the announcement boards, the various corridors leading off into different parts of the airport, the hallway…

The young woman walking down it towards him, a security guard at her side.

Dany quickly rose to his feet - and seeing her smug smile as she stopped where she stood, raised his eyebrows as part of their silent, secret language.

Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?

One eyebrow raised, Samara nodded to the white box. She’d had a similar one, when she’d welcomed Dany and his family during their first trip - and she was touched, if not teasing, about the sentimentality of it all.

As Dany walked towards her, he could feel her eyes scanning him from head to toe; his slim-fit, light blue trousers and matching tunic, the collar undone and the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He didn’t understand that Samara was thinking back to when she’d been waiting for him; how she’d seen him with messier, fluffier hair from the heat just like today, but stretching and his sunglasses threatening to fall onto his nose from his forehead as he did. How she’d almost laughed at how adorable he’d looked.

But as the distance closed between them, Danyal fell back into habit - and once again, he found himself mentally acknowledging that there were prettier girls in the world than Samara Kayani. More naturally beautiful girls, better groomed girls, more fashionable girls. In fact, the women Dany usually found in his social circle were as close to aesthetically perfect as a human could be… Whereas Samara? She didn’t fall into that category.

Oh, Mara was beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see that, and that was Dany being objective. She had to be. Even with a fake bride, the famous Danyal Zafar was expected to have nothing less. But Samara’s face was riddled with imperfections - and that was what took Dany by surprise each time, because on anyone else, that was all they were. Imperfections. But on her… They weren’t.

Samara had a perfectly straight nose, cutting a side profile like a piece of art; but because of it, it was almost too perfect when seen head on, too… Proportionate. It was almost unsettling.

Her lips were full and pink, but the bottom lip was fuller, giving her a constant pout, however accidental. When she wasn’t wearing makeup - like most days she wasn’t going out, including this one  -, you could see the tiny beauty spots dotted across her face. One on the right side of her nose, near the middle, another one on her cheek on the same side. She smiled with her teeth, which were white and straight, but not perfectly straight - when Dany had once asked why, Mara had scathingly informed him that she’d never worn braces, in a way that clearly told him to shut up - and her skin, fairer than Danyal’s or any of his siblings’, easily became flushed and rosy after just a few seconds in the sun. Her eyes were wide and large and brown, framed by long and thick dark eyelashes, almost too doe-eyed for Dany to comfortably accept. Too... Innocent.

He saw these imperfections every time, analysed them, tried to see them in a new light - and always came to the same conclusion: that it was a part of Mara’s undeniable charm. Samara’s face was beautiful and glamorous, yes, but it was raw, and real, and with imperfections that made her seem more… Imperfectly perfect than her airbrushed counterparts.

But it didn’t mean that Danyal understood it - how she could exude that, so effortlessly. At first, he’d studied it, but now, it was just… There. It was all he saw. One look at Samara’s face and you knew her and, if you already did, you truly knew her. She made you feel safe and happy and seemed like the most pleasant and loveable person in the world… Until she opened her mouth and sassed you into next week, oftentimes doing so in a way that had you smile at being roasted more than anything else.

He could see it now, as she stood in front of him; in jeans and a tunic covered in funky geometric patterns in bright colours, her hair tied into a ponytail and her sunglasses propped on her forehead. It was… Effortless. But the security guard holding her bag still looked smitten, stealing glances at her as if she were a painting instead of a person.

It wasn’t creepy, the security guard’s look - it was just… Filled with awe.

When Samara wanted to be, she was a pretty friendly person.

Dany’s expression became a mix of amused and confused as Mara’s expression immediately became arrogant, upon facing him.

“Why’s your nose up in the air?” He asked in Urdu, laughing slightly. Mara pretended to toss her hair back dramatically.

“Because clearly I’m such an important, glamorous, special person that I’ve resurrected chivalry from the dead, to have one guard offering to carry my bags and you bringing me food.” Mara grinned.

With a sigh, Dany turned to the security guard.

“Thank you.” He nodded, shaking his hand - and, Samara knew, slipping him a tip with it. The guard nodded, handing over Samara’s duffel… Before offering Samara a polite, but happy smile, before leaving. Samara waved. “Your friend?” Dany asked dryly.

“Everyone is my friend, with the exception of you.” She said happily, plucking the white box from his hands. She thought for a moment. “And possibly your mother.”

Dany decided to ignore that last comment.

“Wait a second,” Dany hesitated, as Samara began to walk towards the main doors. He looked around. “Where’s your uncle?”

Dany motioned for her handbag - which Samara dutifully handed over -, but Dany’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she avoided his eyes, fidgeting with the box. In a way, Dany was glad she hadn’t opened it yet - inside was one of Mara’s favourite desserts, jalebi, a dessert made of sugar, flour and light spice that presented itself as bright orange, oddly shaped pretzels. Samara was obsessed. Once the box was open, he was probably going to be ignored until she realised she’d inhaled it all.

Realising Samara’s lack of an answer was an answer in itself, Dany began to mutter under his breath, the two of them resuming walking.

“He promised you.” Dany said irritably. Beside him, Samara shrugged, prying open the box. “You’re getting married in a few weeks-”

“As far as he knows.” Samara muttered, breaking off a small piece of jalebi.

“Exactly.” Dany huffed. Upon reaching the front doors, the warm Pakistani air hit them, humid and smelling of petrol - and Samara followed, as Dany quickly found the Awans’ chauffeur in the crowd. “He said this was the time you were going to spend together - hi -”

Mara offered the chauffeur a polite smile, waiting until he’d taken her bags from Dany and they were following him out to the car. Then, deliberately quietly in the hopes her voice would be lost under the loud traffic of the car park -

“He bought me jewellery instead.”

Dany paused in the street, his eyes narrowing… And even though Mara rolled her eyes at his melodrama, she smiled slightly. It wasn’t shocking that Danyal had a protective streak - Mara had seen enough of him with his siblings and Raj -, but it could still be… Surprising, when aimed at her. Even if she’d seen it before.

“Oh, relax.” She sighed, slipping her hand underneath Dany’s arm. Although disgruntled… Dany sighed, allowing her to lead him to the car. She fed herself with the hand tucked under his arm. “It was pretty jewellery and Mamaani probably had heart failure when she saw it-”

Dany said nothing, removing Samara’s arm out from under his as they crossed the road. His hand hovered protectively over the small of her back instead as they crossed and, upon reaching the car, slipped easily into it, the doors already open for them.

Dany tried to… Shake it off. It wasn’t Samara’s fault that her uncle was a weak asshole and her aunt an insecure cow. Dany thought it was ridiculous, and stupid, and unfair that Samara’s family treated her like some kind of… Leper, especially when she and her cousins were so close - but clearly, it wasn’t something Samara wanted to discuss, so Dany shut up for the sake of her mood.

“Honestly, you need to stop being so sensitive.” Samara sighed - but happily, Dany noted, as he only grunted in response. Dany nodded as the chauffeur shut the door behind them. “And anyway, it’s probably a good thing - we need to… Talk strategy, one more time…” Dany raised an eyebrow as Mara hesitated. “You know, before.”

Danyal looked down, grimacing slightly as his stomach… Did that thing again.

… Whatever. Mara was right. They had to focus - if it all didn’t go to plan next week, all of their planning, months and months of lying… It would all be for nothing.

Dany flexed his fingers as his stomach twisted even harder than before.

“That’s why I brought you a snack, I guessed we’d have work to do.” Dany mumbled. Once the driver was in the car, Samara happily offered the box - and although he declined, he smiled warmly at Mara as he shook his head. The charm offensive wins again. Dany sighed to himself. Considering this was meant to be a pleasant reunion, he suddenly just felt… Tired. “I thought we’d visit the office-” He began - only to stop and raise an eyebrow, upon finding Samara struggling to push her sunglasses from her nose onto her forehead without using her sticky fingers. Apparently, they’d fallen.

It was like watching a bunny trying to put on a hat.

Pointedly, Dany removed the glasses from her nose and gently placed them atop her head. “You okay there?” He asked sarcastically.

Mara simply shot him a happy smile, before nodding. As ridiculous as she was… Dany couldn’t help his smile back.

“You know,” She said conversationally, between bites. “I can’t believe this is our final trip to the office? I mean… It’s here, you know?”

His smile faded.

They glanced at each other then, and for a moment, Dany thought he saw - well, something he surely couldn’t identify, because that would mean acknowledging it within himself. No, he was just being… Sentimental. Pakistan had that effect on him - although culturally there was often little difference, owing to the drastic differences in population, Pakistan was always… Quieter. More peaceful.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Dany said honestly. “Our last trip to the office.” He repeated quietly.

“I meant the wedding, too, but… Yeah.” Mara mumbled.

There were a few seconds of silence.

“So, where is everyone?” Mara said quickly. She hated silence. She and Dany… They didn’t do silence.

“Ari’s still in India with Raj, making sure the walimah stuff is all ready. She’s flying down tonight and then I’ll take the jet back to meet Raj in Delhi.” Dany blinked as Samara snorted quietly. Suspicion immediately coursed through him. Was she unhappy about his stag plans? He’d cleared them with her beforehand, they’d agreed it was a good idea… “What was that for?”

Samara shrugged. “What?”

Dany fought the urge to roll his eyes. He knew her better than that.

“The-” Dany did a casual imitation of the look of judgement that had briefly passed across Samara’s face. “- that.”

“Nothing.” Dany knew she was lying. He knew her, remember? Not just at face value. Plus, judging by the all-too-innocent lilt of her voice… Mara wasn’t going to be able to keep her opinion to herself for much longer. “I just… I hope Divvy appreciates all of the effort Raj and your sister are going through.” She shrugged, before frowning. Dany stared, unsure of what to say. When had Divya become a part of their conversation? “God. Have you actually worked out a way to warn Raj yet, or are you still going with just hoping to dodge his punches until he tires out when the shit hits the fan?”

Dany knew she was just trying to distract him - but it worked, and Dany grimaced at the thought of yet another difficult decision. He was Aman Zafar’s firstborn. He already had a whole lifetime of difficult decisions to make.

“Dodging punches.” He said reluctantly. They were peeling out of the airport car-park now, and if it weren’t for the bumper-to-bumper traffic and rising fumes, Dany would have cracked open a window. The air in the car felt thick and heavy. “Anyway - I… Have time. They’re all too busy with their conspiracy theories.”

A thickness that suddenly felt… Uncomfortable, as Samara laughed - before beaming at him with a carefree smile.

Dany fidgeted with his collar, ducking his head down to hide how Samara’s smile was infectious - and how confused he felt at being so quickly infected. Wow. He really was being sentimental. If he’d realised Islamabad was going to have such a profound effect on his ability to think logically, he would have left yesterday.

“Right.” Samara nodded, oblivious to Dany’s sudden discomfort. She didn’t need to ask who they was - she already knew; Pixie (because once Mara had found out Annie hated that nickname, was she ever really going to call her anything else?), Zarina and Raj. “That we’re secretly falling in love and the stars are aligning and that everything will work out happily ever after in the end?”

Dany hummed, making Samara laugh some more. It was a nice, tinkling sound.

“I think you and your ex have a different happy ending in mind.” She remarked, shaking her head as she returned to the box for some more jalebi.

It wasn’t the first time they’d joked about the others’ obsession with their romantic futures, because it was funny, that they were all so desperate for fiction to become fact. Maybe even a little concerning, given how Samara and Danyal didn’t hide how difficult pretending to be a couple could be for them.

But this time… Although Dany pulled the right muscles and had made the correct noise, it wasn’t quite as hilarious as it had seemed before.

Maybe after so long, the novelty had worn off. After all, from what Danyal could gather, the basis of Pixie, Ari and Raj’s argument was that Dany and Mara hadn’t been yelling at each other quite as much. The knowledge that they all held such low standards was… Depressing.

“It’s like they don’t hear me when I tell them how unhinged you are.” Dany said dryly, a second too late for it to be truly natural. Thankfully, Samara didn’t notice - she was eyeing up the inside of the jalebi box again, finding her next chosen piece. “What, no comeback? You’re going soft-”

“No.” Samara pointed warningly, making Dany grin. “I’m just too hungry to deal with your bullshit.”

“You always say that.”

“Well, after next week, you won’t need to hear it.”

… It were as if they tried to ignore the wedding, the more it appeared - and the more it did, the more Dany wanted to throw something at its mere mention. He knew Samara wasn’t trying to be abrasive, he did - as soon as she’d spoken, it was like she’d realised what she’d said. He knew that. But right now, right here, why couldn’t they just… Be normal? Spend time together? Friends did that. Friends spent time together.

And yes, in the past, Dany knew he’d been reluctant to use that term - but it was true. What else could she be? For him to know her so well, watch her so carefully? They were friends. In fact, it was likely that Mara was one of Dany’s… Better friends. She’d been the first person he’d spoken to when everything had started with Tara; and even now, Mara was civil with Tara for his sake during wedding preparations.

Fake fiancee, yes. Fake friend? Dany didn’t think so.

He just wanted to enjoy it. The two of them, being friends, without… Anything else. Why couldn’t he just be with his friend?

There was more silence. Danyal’s smile had faded, again, at the mention of the wedding - and Mara had suddenly found herself unable to look in his direction.

Dany needed to change the subject.

“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever told me your opinion on Divya.” Dany said her name slowly and deliberately, choosing to ignore how Samara immediately rolled her eyes. She refused to call Divya anything other than Divvy, no matter what Dany said - or where they were. Of course, Divya hadn’t been the first thing he would’ve chosen as a conversation starter… But, Dany realised, it was the truth. Samara, the extremely opinionated Samara, had never actually… Shared her thoughts on Dany’s ex. Bizarre, when one considered her role in her and Dany’s supposed reunion. “I mean, yes, you’ve given me non-verbal indications - like that-”

“You don’t need my opinion.” Mara stated clearly, sudden very business-like. Dany raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t really want it, so… Let’s not.”

Dany frowned, intrigued. Samara wasn’t even looking at him - and, again, Dany knew what that meant: that she was upset, very upset. You could always tell when her lips jutted out more - they went from natural pout to just… Accidental pout.

… But why?

“Why not?” He asked curiously - and, not giving it a second thought, plucked the small piece of jalebi that had been headed towards Mara’s mouth, and placed it in his own. It was a deliberately irritating gesture - one to distract Samara from whatever surge of negative feeling she was trying to fight against -, but also entirely natural for Dany to do. Regardless, Mara’s mouth fell open at his audacity. “You’re helping us get back together-”

Their eyes widened as they realised what he'd just said - and Mara, horrified at his carelessness, looked over to the driver… Who was obliviously humming along to the radio.

“How have you not told everyone our entire plan yet?” Mara asked incredulously. Dany sighed in relief. “Do you have no filter? You’re like a child-”

“Anyway - you’re… Helping out,” Dany said pointedly. Mara shook her head. He knew what she was thinking - what use was it being careful now? “- so you must have an opinion. I want to hear it.”

“And because His Highness so commands, we must all respond.” Mara muttered, rolling her eyes… But Dany hid his triumphant smirk as she shifted slightly in her seat to face him better. “Okay, first of all-” She snatched back the piece of jalebi, half of it gone to Dany’s mouth. The box, filled with whole other fresh pieces in her lap, lay ignored. “- I’m not a goddamn charity, and I’m not Cupid. I’m doing this for myself, your… Relationship,” If the word sounded dirty, it felt even worse, judging by Samara’s expression. Her voice dropped, protected from the driver by the upbeat item song he was listening to on the radio. “- is an added bonus and secondly,” She elbowed him gently. “You can want my opinion all you like, Danu, but it does happen to be one of the rare things your surname doesn’t make you entitled to.”

Dany didn’t react to the jibe about his surname - Mara made comments like that much too often for him to care. Plus, she got on with his father way too much for her to actually mean it.

No, it was the nickname - Danu - that made him grimace.

“I hate when you call me that.” He said, frowning. “You know only my Dad calls me that.”

“A, that was the point of me saying it, and B, since when did you hate it?” Mara snorted, pulling a fresh piece of jalebi from the box and biting into it.

Dany watched as a small piece fell, which she barely caught before it fell down her blouse and into a bra. Neither one of them hesitated - as soon as it was caught, Mara threw it, Dany catching it easily with his mouth.

“Six.” She said proudly. They kept a running score. Mara never warned him of when she was going to throw food, or what - their last running score had been twelve. They’d been defeated by a cherry tomato bouncing off’ve Dany’s nose and had had to start again.

Dany let the stickiness of the sugar melt on his tongue before speaking again.

“It’s different when you say it.” He told her. “I’ve had your tongue in my mouth-”

Mara stared at him in disbelief as Dany’s eyes went round again… And, as Dany turned to check on the driver, watched as he hastily glanced away upon catching Dany’s eye in the rear-view mirror. The radio station had been between songs.

“It’s fine, we’re engaged.” Dany shrugged, seeing Samara cringe. Dany suddenly smiled wickedly. “And I’ve also had Divya’s tongue in my mouth-” At least this time, he was quieter.

Not that it made a difference.

“That’s disgusting, Danyal-”

Dany placed a hand under his chin and stared at his fiancee with full, cheeky attention.

“Tell me how you feel about that.” He grinned, reverting out of his - Mara hated to admit it - perfect Urdu accent, into English.

It was because he knew he could be more irritating in English, she knew.

“You know my feelings about it!” She replied, in English too, staring at him with exasperation.

“But not why.” He persisted.

For a split second, it felt like their eyes lingered one each other’s for… Perhaps a bit more than they should have.

But then Samara looked away, rolling his eyes, and Dany rubbed his. He was probably just seeing things. It was so easy to irritate your eyes in this heat.

Realising she wasn't planning on sharing with the class anytime soon, Dany stole the new, larger piece of jalebi Mara had been holding - knowing exactly what buttons to press.

“Will you stop-” She snapped, going to elbow Dany in the ribs. He laughed, shifting in his seat and barely avoiding contact. “And I - fine, fine. Are you sure about this?”

It took him a second to respond - he’d been focused on the subtle, rosy flush making its way up Samara’s cheeks, thanks to the humidity; but they were on the motorway now, so to crack open the window meant conversational death. Dany considered putting on the air conditioning, but it always made her sneeze - and Dany was too interested in Samara’s answer to allow for any interruptions.

“Yes, I’m sure. What’s there to be sure about?” He shrugged.

Samara’s look of warning clearly indicated there was something.

It wasn’t like they’d never discussed Divya before. They had - at great length, in fact… Though, retrospectively, it had been Dany who had done the talking and Mara almost exclusively the listening.

Listening and pretending not to count to one hundred in her head, in a bid to stay calm.

Mara’s views on Divvy Kapoor were… Strong, to say the least. When Danyal had first recounted the tale of how he’d lost his virginity, and with an odd sort of fondness, Samara had found it a struggle to not throw herself (… or him) out of the nearest window, her reaction had been that… Visceral. He’d been fifteen, apparently.

… Her nails dug into the palm of her hands even thinking about it, sticky fingers and all.

“I think…” Dany was watching her with undivided attention and an odd sort of naivety that Mara didn’t want to ruin. At least, not as… Painfully as she usually might. She wanted to choose her words carefully, but she had to be honest. It had started off as a necessity - there were too many people desperate to find something wrong with their relationship, they couldn’t afford to keep secrets from one another -, but now it was habit. And one Samara quite liked.

After all, they already knew pretty much everything about each other, and they definitely weren’t in positions to judge. It was… Nice, to be able to talk to somebody like that. And with this being their last trip together in Pakistan… And Dany giving her the courtesy of asking her opinion, as someone whose opinion he was interested in (and Dany was interested in very few opinions, beyond those of his family)… She wanted to do it properly. Kindly. For once.

“I think,” Samara began again. Dany nodded, waiting. “I think she’s a cradle-snatching piece of shit who continues to emotionally manipulate you into becoming a part of this family unit she’s convinced herself she doesn’t have, even though - and partly because - you’re part of that unit anyway.”

Shit. It had just rolled off the tongue, too.

… Well, she’d tried to be kind. Trying was the important thing, right?

Just because she found anything to do with Divya vaguely - nope, she was being kind again, she meant extraordinarily - pathetic, did not mean Samara didn’t listen. For some bizarro reason that Mara couldn’t understand, Divya felt… Resentful, at being the only adopted member of her family; and because of it, rejected Dany’s Uncle Jai and Aunt Lucky as her parents, convinced they saw her as some kind of charity case. She hated being a Kapoor, because she didn’t think she was one - not when it was a name she’d gained through adoption.

Now, the latter at least, Samara could have understood. It was a sick twist of irony that Samara knew that feeling by being - or pretending to be with - Danyal. She was a Zafar by extension, formalities pending, and treated as such. Even then, Samara’s understanding was limited. The Zafars weren’t her family, whereas Jai, Lucky and Raj Kapoor were Divvy’s - not to mention that Raj wasn’t even Lucky’s, but saw her as a mother anyway. Divya was a part of the Kapoor family unit. Dany had made that crystal clear, and she’d seen it herself. Samara, on the other hand, was just Danyal’s fake fiancee.

And to make matters worse? Divya deliberately kept her resentment away from public life, so that she could flout her family’s connections constantly - to make movies, for promotion, for her social life. That was - partly - why Samara found her so intolerable; and Mara was definitely more of a make pizza, not war kind of girl. Divvy Kapoor seemed almost inherently greedy, and used her insecurities to treat her family (and associated family members, Mara’s fiancee included) badly, but still demand more of them. As if they owed her something.

Mara simply couldn’t fathom it. If you felt like you didn’t belong, and didn’t want to feel like a charity case… Why make yourself one? Why fall to that low level of self-victimisation, something Samara couldn’t stand… Unless you were already a lying, unscrupulous, manipulative little bitch in the first place?

But she hadn’t thought it was kind to share that part out loud.

Mara had thought this all very quickly - and, only seconds after having spoken, she looked up at Danyal warily, expecting his rebuttal. Anything. A quick defence, an angry silence, an irritated comment. Something, because - of course - Divvy Kapoor was perfect and Dany Zafar was whipped.

But that isn’t what Samara got - in fact, it wasn’t even something she saw. Instead, Mara was surprised to find Dany looking…

Confused.

Confused and curious and something else that Mara didn’t know how to identify.

Dany knew he should be offended. After all, the entire reason he had initially agreed to this entire plan was for… Divya. He should be offended, pissed off that Mara could even say something like that.

But he wasn’t.

It was like someone had struck a bell somewhere in the back of his head when Samara had spoken and now, the tolls were slowly continuing to reverberate through his mind. It was dull and in the background, but it was there, a… Buzzing. One that wasn’t going away. Like it meant something.

One of Dany’s revision tips from university came from a study he’d read - that reading revision material before sleeping for the night, meant that the brain continued to process the information, and more efficiently, as the body rested. Dany trusted the method. It had gotten him through plenty of boring maths revision at Oxford.

As absolutely ridiculous as it sounded… Samara’s words… Felt like that. Like he was still processing, even though he was asleep.

He sounded like a madman.

“… Go on.” He encouraged, watching her carefully.

Mara stared at Dany in disbelief. He hated hearing negative things about Divvy - did he want them to argue?

But, realising this was her last opportunity to say what she truly felt… Mara selfishly went on.

“I think she doesn’t know what she wants, and she’s projecting that onto you.” Mara began delicately. Seeing no change in Dany’s expression, she felt slightly more confident. “I think that despite the very many flaws you have-” Samara was sure to emphasise the very. Just because she was holding Dany up to a higher standard than the likes of Divvy Kapoor… Well. Mara didn’t consider Divvy a particularly good benchmark for decency anyway, so it wasn’t really that much of a compliment. “- and I mean many… You deserve better. Your family deserves better.”

“My family?” Dany blinked. He was just… Listening, taking in the information. It was throwing Samara off. “What does this have to do with them?”

Mara winced slightly. How did she even begin to explain?

“This… Person Divvy paints herself to be, hard done by and lacking in a family unit? That’s me. I am that girl.” There was no pity in Mara’s voice - she was stating fact, not making some sort of emotional statement. They both knew it, too. “And anyone from that kind of situation, or anything even a little bit like it, would be grateful at how welcoming and loving and… Amazing your family are.” Samara shook her head, unable to hide her disdain. “Not trying to… Cut them out and demand a secret wedding, just because she’s jealous and wants to control you.”

Yes, Samara had wanted to be honest. But she hadn’t counted on being that honest.

She watched Dany as he turned to look out of the window, the jalebi both in her lap and her hand forgotten.

Dany watched the wide, grey road ahead of them, the buildings slowly becoming shinier and taller as they reached the inner city. He could still remember that stupid wedding. He could feel the itch of his clothes, the way his shoulders had been tense the entire team - how with each step he took towards Divya’s accusing eyes, he felt like he was dragging an anchor behind him.

It wasn’t exactly a fond memory.

“That’s a pretty strong opinion.” Danyal finally said.

Samara sighed.

“I don’t want to argue with you.” She told him - before almost shoving the largest piece of jalebi from the box into his hands. With a half-smile, Dany took it - he understood that Samara had… Difficulties, with putting apologies into words. “I answered the question you asked. But trust me, a girl like her should feel lucky to have a family like yours even know her name, for goodness sake.”

Dany said nothing, staring down at the jalebi. Already, it began to melt on his fingertips.

He hadn’t meant to say it - honestly, he hadn’t. He hadn’t even thought it. It just… Slipped out and maybe Samara was right - maybe it was because he had no filter, that it came out fully processed and with no warning.

“Do you feel lucky?”

Sentimentality was not an adequate enough explanation for this type of behaviour. Jet lag, maybe? Residual exhaustion from all of the travelling he’d done so far?

Mara’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, silently asking - what do you mean?

“About my family knowing your name.” Dany clarified. Mara looked… Surprised. “Do you feel lucky?”

Mara opened her mouth to speak - but at first, no words came out.

Dany watched curiously as Samara began to fidget, breaking off a small twig of jalebi and twirling it in her hands. Just for something to do, Dany took a bite of the piece she’d given him.

“That’s different.” She finally said. “I… That’s cultivated, it doesn’t count.”

“Cultivated or not, it’s still about your feelings.” Dany shrugged, suddenly very interested in the pattern of Mara’s tunic. He focused on the edge of her sleeve, a mix of turquoise, white and orange. “Maybe it should count. You appreciate my family. You feel lucky. We’re already seventy percent there.”

They didn’t move. Either one of them. The car kept moving, the radio kept playing, the driver kept humming along - but neither one of them moved. When Dany dared to glance up, for just a second, Mara’s eyes were focused on the jalebi box in front of her.

And then it was gone so quickly, that both of them could have easily doubted whether it had ever happened at all.

Samara forced a laugh.

“That’s not funny, even as a joke, Danyal, God.” She told him, avoiding his eyes - and even though Dany had started it, even though he’d just been… Making a point, yes, that was what it was, he couldn’t quite meet hers either. “The one stable thing in my life over the past few months has been knowing this wedding is going to be a trainwreck.” She muttered, shaking her head slightly.

“But it’d be so easy.” Dany sighed - and the tension in Mara’s shoulders just… Fell away, at hearing the humour in his voice. Of course there was humour in his voice. What else could it have been? “And seeing as you hate Divya so much, you’d be doing me a favour-”

Something in Samara’s head just snapped.

“Why don’t you do yourself a favour then, and get rid of her? Because I can’t remember the last time you sounded happy at hearing her name anyway.” She said sharply.

Dany’s eyes widened in bewilderment at the sudden… Venom in Samara’s voice.

They knew each other too well, and were both too stubborn, to not look at one another when they fought. Which was confusing, because they weren’t fighting, not technically - they were just… Speaking in code.

Which was dumb, because it was a code that neither one of them could understand.

It was messed up. Samara knew that. And she felt… Strange, like someone had her throat in a vice, at how Dany was looking at her. Like she’d just slapped him. Like she’d said something he hadn’t even thought of before - and it was irritating, how… Innocent he looked, with his fluffy dark hair threatening to fall in front of his wide brown eyes, because this was serious. She just… Didn’t know why.

“And anyway,” She coughed, her voice immediately softer than before. “I wouldn’t be doing you a favour. I’d be teaching you a lesson. You’re Danyal Zafar, you’re used to having everything you want. Not everyone is willing to be that disposable.”

It was meant to come out as teasing - confident, cocky almost. Instead, it just came out as… Feeble. And more telling than Mara was comfortable with.

Sensing Mara’s discomfort, Dany almost felt ashamed. He didn’t want her to feel… Bad. He was making himself feel bad and that was always low on his list of priorities. Why was everything becoming so… Difficult?

Friends. They were… Friends. He just wanted to enjoy being with his friend.

“I’m still confused about why you think Divya is worth so little.”

Samara smiled - slightly out of disbelief, and slightly out of thankfulness. It was a crappy subject change, but at least it was one.

“Of course you are.” Mara sighed, shaking her head.

“She has issues, just like everyone else.” Dany continued, his eyes watching Samara’s every move. He didn’t know… Why he was so obsessed with having Mara’s opinion, but suddenly it mattered. A lot. Especially with the wedding so close. “That doesn’t necessarily warrant being called a piece of shit-”

Unbeknownst to many, Samara had a small fuse in head - one that didn’t allow her mouth to override her brain whenever Divvy’s name was mentioned. It worked extremely well, and Samara often thought Dany needed one. Her fuse got used more often that she would have liked, but it did a good job and Mara was proud of it.

But in that moment… It blew.

“What if it had been Zarina? Or Tara?” She demanded, turning to face him. Dany raised his eyebrows, meeting Samara’s eyes - the same ones he’d been admiring earlier - and finding them wide and angry. “No, in fact - not even them. Someone not even as close to you, what if it had been me?”

“I don’t understand-”

“If I told you,” Mara began, slow and impatient all at the same time. “That I’d lost my virginity at fifteen, to a man who was turning twenty, a man my family had trusted to keep me safe one night, what would you say to me, Danyal?” If Danyal had looked as if he’d been slapped earlier… Now he looked as if he’d been punched square in the jaw. But Mara was on a roll now, so she didn’t wait for his response - no. She ploughed on, because she was sick of this, sick of having to bite back the words she wanted to say the most. “If I told you that this twenty year old had seduced me in my bed, got on top of me and slept with me, what would you say? If it were me?”

Dany was immediately furious; at her implication, and the image she’d planted in his mind. She could see it, right alongside indignation and disgust.

But that was her entire point! Because she didn’t even matter to him, and that was the reaction he felt. Why couldn’t he see it the other way?

“I…” Dany was speechless. Genuinely speechless, not electively so like normal, because he simply couldn’t be bothered. For the first time ever, Dany didn’t have anything to say. But Mara still stared at him, eyebrows raised, because she knew he was ridiculous enough to try. “No. No, I mean - I - it’s… Different-”

“Why? Because you’re a boy?” Mara scoffed. She physically had to turn away from him for a moment, to try and compose herself. Was he deliberately being obtuse? Probably not. No, it was probably Divvy’s sharp claws still embedded in him. When Mara rounded back to him, Dany couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked so furious. Her cheeks were almost red from it. “Tell me, what’s the legal age of consent in the UK? Or the US, for that matter?”

Dany faltered.

“I… I- that doesn’t matter -”

“Or India? Or right here, in Pakistan?” She continued, relentless. Dany was… Too stunned, and too angry at what she was suggesting, to say anything more than he already had. “Let me tell you - the age of sexual consent in England is sixteen. In New York, it’s seventeen, in Pakistan it’s illegal outside of marriage and-” Mara laughed, a cold, dry sound. “- married to her you are not and in India, it’s eighteen.” Realising the insinuation, Dany’s eyes widened. “You were fifteen-”

“Stop.” Dany warned. “It is not what you’re - it was the day before she was turning twenty-one, that’s legally within the accepted four year age gap in the States and I gave consent-”

“Danyal.” Mara groaned, covering her face with her hands. Didn’t he see it? Why couldn’t he see it?! “Look - did you just hear yourself? Doesn’t you even having to know that prove there’s something wrong?!”

Dany was shaking his head before she’d even finished. No. No. She was twisting things. He’d had to ask! She’d warned him before, about asking for her opinion, but no, he’d gone ahead and asked anyway. And if she hated Divvy so much, why hadn’t she said something before?! That was all this was. Mara hating Divya…

From her perspective, it’s not hard to understand why.

He really hated that little voice.

“You’re making out it was something - something sordid.” Dany tried to explain. “It isn’t, it wasn’t-”

Samara took a deep breath. Maybe if she explained herself. Maybe if she was calmer, gentler…

Oh, who was she kidding? Subtle hadn’t gotten anyone anywhere!

“Dany. You are a British citizen. I am a British citizen. That means British law applies, whether it happened in the States or not-” Dany looked out of the window, still shaking his head. She yanked on his arm for his attention - and given the filthy glare she received, she knew it had worked. “She was over the age of majority. You were under the age of consent, it doesn’t matter where it happened, it was immoral and illegal-”

“Not in the States!”

So far, they argument - whilst heated - had been quiet. After all, nobody else knew of Divya and Dany’s affair - and it wasn’t exactly something they wanted shared.

But now, Mara’s voice rose.

“You’re worth more, for God’s sake!” She shouted - and, seeing the driver’s eyes flicker towards her reflection in the mirror, she deflated as Dany tensed. She - this was why she hadn’t wanted to speak. Because she’d known it would come down to this, what she’d been thinking ever since Dany had told her the story of how he’d lost virginity, and now that she was saying it all out loud, she couldn’t stop until he understood. “Did the legal technicalities with Zarina-”

“Don’t, Samara.” Dany warned. “Don’t even-”

“What happened to your sister was vile.” Samara continued, more gently this time - but Dany’s jaw suddenly clenched so hard, that Mara worried he was going to break his own teeth. “Wrong and awful and vile - and the legal technicalities of her case don’t change that!”

“If anyone thought something as screwed up as what you’re implying, they would tell me. Ari would tell me-”

“Dany, I didn’t mean-”

“- but maybe because you’re not used to having a family, you don’t understand that.” Dany spat.

He regretted it the moment he said it.

Helplessly, Dany watched as Samara glanced away, chewing on her lip. He hadn’t - he wasn’t - he didn’t like anyone bringing up what had happened to Ari, she knew that! And he knew she wasn’t - she hadn’t - Dany knew she wasn’t saying that Ari saw the same thing, Mara wouldn’t cause trouble between them and they weren’t even together, but…

It just - it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true! It couldn’t… It wasn’t true, it didn’t make sense, and Dany had just - he’d wanted her to stop talking about it. He hadn’t meant to be… Vicious.

“That isn’t fair.” She finally said softly, looking down at the jalebi box. Dany at least had the grace to look ashamed. “Not to me, and not to her. If Zarina knew what had really happened between you and Divya, how young you were - how can you expect her to have told you? She can’t even talk about what happened to herself, and I don’t-” Mara sighed, shaking her head. Dany forced down the lump in his throat. Samara had… Called Divya by her proper name. That had made her sound so… Serious. “And I don’t blame her, not at all, but how can you sit here and act like if she knew the truth, she could just tell you? Her big brother, that something similar may have happened to him?”

“Nothing like that happened to me.” Dany said warningly - before sighing. “I’m - I shouldn't have said what I said-”

But Samara was already moving on to the next thing - and Dany felt guilt settle on his shoulders, heavy and unforgiving. She was just… Dany knew she was trying to help. She was still trying to help. He just didn’t want to think about it.

Usually, thinking about something Samara had said would mean it made sense.

“Fine. Let’s forget I ever brought up Ari. I mean, it’s not like I’m right anyway, because otherwise Ari would know the truth about how you and Divvy got together in the first place.” Mara said sarcastically. Dany rolled his eyes. So much for his apology. “What about Kabir?”

“What about him?” Dany asked tiredly.

“If Kabir told you a girl, the night of her twenty-first birthday, slept with him when he was fifteen years old…” Seeing the driver glance at them in the mirror, Samara rolled her eyes and shuffled over slightly, so that she and Dany were now sitting side-by-side. Dany avoided her gaze, feeling… Uncomfortable at Mara’s words, focusing on the contrast of her bright tunic next to his plain one instead. The worst part was that Mara didn’t even seem angry, or venomous. Just… Desperate for him to understand. “Yeah, okay, you’d pat him on the back, toxic masculinity for the win, but - look at me, Danyal- are you honestly telling me that, in that situation, something wouldn’t feel off to you? That you wouldn’t want that person as far away from Kabir as possible?”

When Mara had told him to look at her, it had been more than a command - she’d made it happen, using her knuckles to softly tilt his head to face her. She’d avoided the stickiness of her hands - Dany knew it had just been practicality -, but it had been a surprisingly soft gesture, given their current moods.

And because of that, and the sentimentality drenching the Pakistani air and Danyal’s stupid jet lag and his weird stomach twists - all of his justifications for Samara’s argument flew away. He couldn’t even remember what they were. Because her knuckles, soft and brushing his chin - clean-shaven, for seeing her -, and the way she was looking at him, desperate for him to understand and… So concerned - his guard took a definite hit.

She knew him. She knew him more than he’d ever wanted to give her credit for - because of course she was right. The thought of Kabir being in that position put a foul taste on Dany’s tongue - one made even worse, for knowing how much it would bother Mara to say it out loud. She and Kabir were like schoolchildren when they were together - he was easily the closest of Dany’s siblings to her. She was struggling to even talk about it.

Dany sighed silently to himself.

“And what difference does it make to you, if someone takes advantage of me?” Dany asked quietly, causing the mood to… Shift. It didn’t help that it was said in Urdu; a predominantly formal language, one often reserved for poetry and romance and consequently laced in meaning, even when there had been little meant beyond the surface. Consciously, anyway. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re only doing this for yourself, remember?”

“If someone takes advantage of you, you deserve to know about it. And Danyal Zafar or not, you’ve earned that right from me.”

Surprise flickered across Dany’s face… As embarrassment flickered over Mara’s.

“I shouldn’t have said that in Urdu.” Mara mumbled, more to herself than Dany - and Dany couldn’t help but stare, as her eyes flickered downwards in confusion.

“Why?” Dany asked impatiently. Samara stared up at him warily. “Sounds like you mean it more?”

It came out more scathing than Dany had intended.

“I’ve made my point. If you choose to ignore it, then that’s your problem.” Samara finally said quietly, feeling… Odd, at how she was being watched. Dany felt odd to be watching. What was it he was looking for, exactly? The secrets of the universe, hidden away on her face?

Something like that.

That voice… Was really getting on his last nerve.

Danyal watched as Mara searched his face, trying to understand - before her eyes fell to her knuckles, still resting lightly underneath his chin… And turning a deep pink.

Before Dany had the chance to say anything, she’d all but thrown herself back to her seat on the other side of the car.

“How far are we?” She called out to the driver, not looking in Dany’s direction. He turned to look out of his window, alarm bells ringing in his mind. What had just happened? Under the pretence of resting his chin in his hand, Dany rubbed where Samara’s knuckles had been, as it had begun to tingle.

“Not long, ma’am.” The driver replied. Right now, Dany could barely remember his own name - let alone the driver’s. What was going on with him? “Ten minutes, max.”

Dany glanced at Samara, in order to gauge her reaction; but there was a lack of one, as Samara simply nodded, and, with a polite smile, turned to face the view out of her own window. They were in the city now - wide grey roads up ahead, with flower boxes planted between the lanes and lush, mountain greenery looming up ahead.

The white box sat between them and, from the corner of his eye, Dany saw Samara slowly suck the sugar from her fingers, lost in thought.

She looked tense. Dany certainly felt it.

Turning fully back to the window, Dany tried to… Digest Samara’s words. Without their argument to distract him, he was slightly concerned to find himself… Fine. Relaxed, almost.

Bizarre as it was to think, there had been something… Genuine about Samara’s argument, something kind. Honest. But that was her all over - completely unafraid to tell him the truth, regardless of whether or not he wanted to hear it. So long as she knew it would help, Mara always told him the truth - and being Danyal Zafar meant that, often, the truth was substituted for flattery.

There were few people who were confident enough in their relationships with Danyal to be so honest - but they were the few that Dany valued the most, as his closest and dearest friends.

It felt… Good, to know Samara was a part of that group. A pleasant surprise.

Great to know you noticed just in time to help her disappear.

Dany frowned.

He and Samara didn’t talk for the rest of the journey.

. . .

Danyal and Samara’s office, the one they spoke about with such affection, was the Pakistan Monument; a towering structure, designed to look like a blooming flower from an aerial view, with each petal carved with the nation’s history. The Monument was part of a larger complex, including a museum, gardens and a large terrace made of marble that overlooked the city in its entirety - including the Margalla Hills in the distance, the beginning of the Himalayan foothills.

Even as a little boy, Dany had always loved those hills. Beyond them began India - and so, in an odd sort of way, those hills represented home to Danyal more than any one country.

Dany had taken Mara to the Monument for the first time - during their first family trip, when they’d ran out on everyone and almost caused her aunt’s head to explode. Like most people who considered a large city home, despite her many trips back, Samara had never been to the Monument - after all, it was a tourist attraction. All residents of any city took tourist attractions for granted. But Dany had been aghast at that entire way of thinking, and insisted on righting such a terrible wrong.

To thank him for it, Mara had taken the Zafars out for some of the best barbecue in the city, out on the hills. Mara and Dany had sat on opposite ends of the table, smiling triumphantly at each other, as their families had laughed and joked, Islamabad basking in the warmth of endless twinkling lights beneath them.

Standing out on the furthermost point of the terrace, the both of them looked out to the hills, remembering that same night.

If Samara could go back, would she? Would she have tried to tell herself it was all a bad idea? Was it?

And Dany wondered whether the heaviness in his chest at remembering such a fond memory was caused by some sort of altitude sickness.

Shaking his head to himself, Dany stepped forward.

“Ah, thank you.” Mara sighed happily, taking one of the sticks of a pistachio ice cream - called kulfi - happily. “Okay. The plan, from the top.”

“Is that really necessary?” Dany asked boredly, leaning against one of the many arches that decorated the terrace’s edge, removing focus from the silver security bar. “We’ve been over the plan at least a thousand times by now-”

“Then going over it again will be as automatic as breathing.” Mara said sweetly.

Danyal sighed.

“You have your final fitting this evening.” Dany began, an expression of intense disinterest displayed clearly on his face. “Ari will arrive tomorrow and you’ll all spend time together, before Annie and Ari leave for London the day after. By then, Raj and I will be in Vegas with the rest of the boys and by the time everyone has arrived there, you’ll be flying down to London for your hen-”

Mara shook her head through a mouthful of ice cream. “Not hen, bridal shower.” She corrected. Dany raised an eyebrow. Did it matter? “Pixie says hen gives off the wrong impression for someone as fancy as the Zafars’ first daughter-in-law.”

“And she actually said the word fancy?”

Mara waved her hand at him. “I’m paraphrasing. And make sure I give you the rings before you leave tomorrow. Carry on.”

“We have the business brunch with my parents’ board members on Wednesday morning, and the big, formal mehndi in the evening-”

“The one where we sit and look pretty and in love for all of the people that didn’t make the final guest list.” Mara smirked, nodding to herself. “Lucky them. Don’t forget my mehndi is on-”

“The Friday… And take off is Saturday night.” Dany finished, glancing over at Samara. All of a sudden, she was studying the view with a significant amount of interest. Happy for a distraction, Dany shrugged his… Watchfulness off. “Hey, you have more pistachios than me. Sharing is caring-”

Happy to have something distract them both, Dany quickly went to grab Mara’s ice cream… Only for Samara to hold onto it, staring up at him with indignation, until the ice cream swayed - and hit Danyal on the nose.

“That was not what I was expecting.” Dany muttered, too stunned to move.

… And that was when Samara started to laugh.

Dany’s warm smile was automatic - and as he touched where the already-melting ice cream had left its mark, Samara’s laughter went from loud to hysterical. It was infectious.

There was relief in Dany’s chuckle, too - because this, this felt ordinary. They sniped and teased at each other, and then they laughed about it, and then it was business as usual. And repeat.

Not after next week.

The thought was sudden, and intrusive enough, for Dany to stop laughing - not that Samara seemed to notice.

Dany watched, feeling… Dull on the inside, as the thought echoed in his mind. Mara was holding onto the safety bar to stay upright, and every time she looked up at Dany, she burst into a fresh set of giggles.

“You are - you are honestly - such a mess-” She wheezed, laughing so hard… That the ice cream fell to the floor with a soft splat, setting Mara off to the point where no sound left her mouth. Dany laughed too - but this time, purely because it was so fun to watch her laugh. “Oh my - oh my God, Danyal, come here- ”

That stupid, goofy smile still on his face, Dany leant down slightly as Samara stepped forwards, resting her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. The puddle of rapidly melting kulfi lay forgotten behind her.

“Try not to cause an accident with this one.” She snickered, nodding to Dany’s own.

It had been automatic - when Mara had closed the space between them, Dany’s hand had fallen to the small of her back, steadying her. There wasn’t anything… Special about it. Even now, as Mara used the tips of her fingers to gently begin dabbing away at the runaway dessert, still grinning… It was normal for Mara to be so close. Dany, or Mara for that matter, didn’t even think about it. It was normal for them to have so little space between them.

Would it be normal if I kissed her right now?

It had come out of nowhere - but before Dany even had time to process the thought, he was down the rabbit hole.

Immediately, he felt irritated at himself - and even more irritatingly, not for thinking something so… Unnecessary. No. He felt irritated because… He should have already known what it was like to kiss her. They’d done it enough times.

It was another tool in their box, something else to use as part of their charade as time had worn on. It was only the first time that had been… Odd. Dany had made the first move, proving a point to one of Samara’s obnoxious dancer friends who clearly liked her too much, and Samara, although clearly shocked at first, had quickly played along. That was all Dany could really remember.

It must have been pleasant. He wouldn’t have kept kissing her, or managed to make it so convincing, if that weren’t the case, right? He just… Hadn’t noticed.

Whenever they’d had to pull out a kiss for show - a proper kiss, not a quick peck on the cheek every now and then -… Well, Dany knew Mara had nice breath - and whatever she wore on her lips was never too sticky, or seemed to smudge too much over the two of them. She was really good at… Reading him, in terms of what kind of kiss they were meant to be having or what point it was meant to prove, but they were a good team like that anyway.

But beyond the pragmatics… Dany couldn’t think of much else.

As Mara opened her mouth to speak, Dany could only hear a strange… Roaring in his ears and his heart hammered at his chest, so hard that Dany was sure, if he looked down at his tunic, he’d see it. Her lips, pink and damp from the ice cream, brushed against each other… And Dany realised, as if he’d known it all along (when he really hadn’t), that those lips were addictive - because he wouldn’t have found reasons to keep kissing them if they weren’t.

She was addictive.

I’m getting too close. A voice in his head warned, and this time, it was very much Dany in control of it. Jump ship before you’re in over your head.

He was right. Of course he was. This thought process was… A runaway thought, yes, but not a good one. Dany was logical, practical, and practically speaking, entertaining such thoughts when feeling sentimental and potentially - potentially - … Nervous about next week’s performance was… Counterproductive.

Dany knew that. He did. The problem was that, despite knowing that, he still couldn’t drag his eyes away Samara’s mouth.

And worst of all, it seemed as if she was completely oblivious.

Dany landed back on Earth with a crash.

“- see you now, an entire mountain of rumours would just tremble.” Mara waggled her eyebrows mischievously, using the pad of her thumb to remove the last of the ice cream splatters from the corner of Danyal’s mouth. Nodding to herself, pleased with her handiwork, Mara absent-mindedly sucked the ice cream away. “There, all fixed, you’re welcome.”

He’d already been thinking about kissing her. Now he was mentally tripping over himself, at seeing Samara’s fingers, which had been in contact so easily with his mouth, being in contact with her own.

Realising that he was… Sinking, Dany subtly glanced around. The Monument was a popular spot for picnics, and Danyal spotted a family a small way away, including a young couple - Dany guessed early thirties -, smiling in his and Mara’s direction.

He knew what they were thinking - that he and Mara, with him pulling her close and Mara’s engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight, were newlyweds. And normally, Dany would have warned Samara that they had an audience - but he didn’t.

And there was no constant buzzing in his head, either. He felt weirdly… Quiet, with one hand on Samara’s back and the other - he couldn’t even remember how it had gotten there - on her waist. Calm. Like all of the background noise in his head that he was used to, along with the added buzz that had come from their previous conversation… Didn’t exist. He was just… There. Present. Holding her close and feeling a bit gormless, as Samara nattered away obliviously.

What the Hell did that mean?

“- isn't she? Danyal?” He jerked back to the present, immediately paranoid, as Mara slapped him lightly on the cheek. What had he missed? Had she noticed him staring? It was no secret that they both found the other at least passably attractive, but staring like an idiot at her mouth was something a little more difficult to explain. In fact, even internally, the overwhelming urge to just… Kiss her was fucking weird. Mara, finally seeing Dany’s pupils refocusing, sighed. “Divvy, we’re talking about Divvy. Do I have your attention now? She is going to do what we want her to next week, isn't she?”

She then stepped away from him, back behind the melting kulfi, to look up at him properly - and Dany suddenly felt irritated at how he'd had to hide how his hands had hovered in the space where Mara’s body had been just moments before.

Dany’s irritation quickly became more frustrated, as Dany realised the question. What was with Mara’s… Obsession today? He was sick of talking about Divya, of her somehow being the focal point in nearly every conversation he and Samara had had so far.

… And yes, whilst Dany acknowledged there was an argument for the fact that, as the wedding approached, Divya - as part of the reason for the whole fake wedding thing was happening - was a necessary talking point… Why wasn't it enough for Dany to say he had everything under control?

He was sick of it, sick of discussing the same plan over and over again -

Sick of Divya.

Did that voice in his head come with a mute button?

“We’re not talking about this again.” Dany said firmly, shaking his head - not that, of course, it made any difference.

“It’s a valid question!” Mara protested, slightly offended by how… Casual he was being. Almost a year’s worth of scheming and manipulation was resting on Divvy Kapoor’s weak, pathetic little shoulders - Samara had every right to be concerned! “What if she doesn't fall for it? What if she doesn't get the hint about you wanting her to prove her love on the actual wedding day? We can't afford for her to mess this up, you're already going to have to be so careful with how you speak to her-”

Turning to stare down at the grey mess of winding roads beneath them, Dany clenched his jaw.

“I've told you, it's under control. She lives her life by a script, feeling as if her life is actually important enough to be dramatic in real life is enough to have her drooling.”

The bitterness in Dany’s voice took them both by surprise - and as a surprised silence fell between them, Dany tried to ignore how Mara’s eyes had widened at it. Hell, even he was surprised. He didn't just sound bitter. He sounded… Pissed.

They were discussing the final part of their plan - the part that only they knew about, the most delicate piece.

Throughout their fake relationship, Dany and Mara had methodically left a trail of breadcrumbs for Divya to pick up on. It was the most manipulative part of their plan, and possibly the cruellest - because it relied on Danyal’s intimate knowledge of Divya’s insecurities, and Samara’s ability to operate them.

It was Mara’s superpower, the power of which impressed Dany regularly. The action was always so simple; a look of uncertainty on Dany’s face, a frown on Mara’s, always perfectly timed so that Divya would always be the only one to see it, even across a crowded room. It wasn't even basic jealousy tactics - it was tailored so specifically to Divya’s personality, and her ego requiring Danyal to be unhappy with anyone who wasn't her, that it was... Impossible to be replicated.

It wasn't exactly a credit to Divya’s character - but it was an attest to Mara’s skill, and had, during Mara’s first demonstration, made Dany embarrassed to be so stuck in love with someone as… Easily played as Divya.

Not that Danyal was in a position to judge, of course. He was the idiot who had fallen in love with her.

Really?

But this time, Dany was too busy inside of his own thoughts to be irritated by that voice again. Their trail of breadcrumbs had led Divya to this moment - when, with the wedding looming ahead, her confidence in Dany’s love for her was suddenly quite shaken.

Divya, still playing her supposed sisterly role - something quite… Sickening, given Mara’s comments earlier -, would watch as the events leading up the wedding and unfolded - and she'd snap.

The rest was simple, in Dany’s mind - she would approach him, he knew, insisting he was making a mistake and generally attempting to get into his head. Dany would rebuff her - and, accusing her of the mindless jealousy she'd always so easily accused of him, hinting at an unspoken ultimatum. Do something about it - forget everything you've ever cared about, except this -, or watch me walk away, forever knowing that you destroyed your own happiness.

Mara had been surprised when Danyal had suggested that as the plan’s ending. Dany thought it rather fitting. After all, it was the exact same ultimatum that Divya had given him.

And so that was their plan - to let Divya unravel on the day of the wedding, causing chaos in her wake. Dany wasn't sure on the exact details - she'd either approach him before the ceremony itself, one last time to beg him not to go through with it, or simply assume to know Dany’s mind as she always had and interject before all of their guests -, but it didn't matter. It was the one part of the plan that Dany felt comfortable leaving slightly to chance… Because no matter what the method, the result remained the same. It was just a matter of which way the equation was balanced.

Dany’s knowledge of statistics was the source of his confidence. But his knowledge was not shared - which was why Mara continued to freak out about whether someone as “flaky as a derogatory adjective” - and that was a direct quote - could be relied on.

It was an annoying fear at the best of times, especially when you considered that Samara’s entire, successful plan so far had relied on logically assessing and manipulating Divya’s weaknesses. But Mara was quickly reminding him that fear was an illogical thing.

Dany couldn't relate.

“But…” Mara winced as Dany groaned. “I’m just saying, what if something has changed? What if she suddenly… Wakes up and realises that, actually, it’s kind of weird that she's this obsessive over you and should, actually, move on with her life-”

Dany couldn't hear anymore.

“So what if she does?” He snapped - and Mara physically jerked back at the sudden change in mood. “Are you worried you're suddenly going to have to marry me out of pity?”

Mara shook her head - slowly at first, and then quicker, as if offended by the mere suggestion.

Well, that made two of them.

“No, no, of course not-”

“Then what are you worried about?” Dany demanded. A small part of his brain - currently tied up somewhere, clearly - wondered what the Hell was wrong with him today. Samara was just nervous, and didn't she have a right to be? If his mood swings were anything to go by, it was a mutual feeling. So why was he being such a… Prat?

Dany genuinely didn't have a clue. Nerves didn't seem to be an adequate answer, and it wasn't like Dany had had the opportunity to think about Mara’s earlier comments and become offended. He'd been fine a few seconds ago!

Maybe you just care…

Dany finally felt grateful for that stupid voice - because, of course, that had to be it! Samara was his friend and she was… Working herself into a frenzy, over something that couldn't be helped. It was frustrating him, was all. That had to be it. They were meant to be enjoying their downtime, and they couldn't, because Mara was worried about Divya. He just wanted Mara to relax while she still could - before the lead-up to the wedding got really crazy.

Still… Knowing why he was so irritable didn't make Dany feel better. Since when did he stress out so much? Being an asshole wasn't going to make Mara feel better, or himself.

Much to his own surprise, Dany realised that maybe the voice of his subconscious had made a valid point. He was being neurotic, caring for his friend’s feelings like this.

It was probably guilt! Yes, that had to be it! He felt guilty because as much as Samara insisted she was doing this for herself, it was still Divya that she was stressing over. Dany’s ex. The ex who had influenced their entire plan, who they'd both had to work harder for.

Now Danyal felt better. It was still… Incredibly unreasonable of him, but at least it made sense. As long as things made sense, Danyal could make peace with it.

But that only furthered his point - that the voice telling him to take a step back, the sane voice, was right.

He couldn't take responsibility for everyone's feelings at once. That wasn't practical - and that was his job, to be the practical one.

Anyway, Dany knew for a fact that Samara was finishing up her period. That wouldn’t be helping. The first couple of times that PMS had affected her moods, Dany had taken note - and now, all it took was a simple calculation in his head.

Dany immediately felt calmer - more in control. He had understood the problem. He could come up with a solution, one that actually rather suited him. He almost felt silly, for being so confused before.

Dany had been so lost in his own thoughts, that he’d forgot his rudeness.

“Is this what it’s going to be like?” Samara asked quietly - and Dany turned, eyebrows raised, at the sudden sadness in her voice. “Our friendship, after the wedding?”

He paused, sure he’d misheard.

“… What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about whenever I say something, or offer my opinion on whatever’s going on with you, you just shut me down.” Mara retorted, somewhat incredulous at Dany’s confusion. “You’re going to be a dismissive little shit, only with more of an audience, just because I’ll be your annoying ex?”

It slipped out before he could help it - and in fairness, and not for the first time in their conversation thus far, it came out a lot more abrasive than Dany had intended.

“Why would I be out with you in public after the wedding?” Seeing how Mara’s mouth fell open, Dany shrugged. “What?”

“What?” She repeated incredulously - and Dany stared as Mara crossed her arms angrily over her chest, her eyes flashing with anger. “What is it with you today, Danyal? Why are you being such a prick?”

Dany raised one, indignant eyebrow.

“A prick? Are you serious?” Dany scoffed - and just like that, all of the reasoning and internal debate he’d tried to so carefully cultivate… Disappeared up in smoke. He was being the prick? He was trying to make things better, easier and it was like every time he got closer to that goal, Mara deliberately tried to antagonise him. “What do you think is going to happen next week, Samara? After you run out of the wedding, Bollywood style, the week after that people are going to carry on seeing us hanging out in the park?”

“We both know that if there’s anyone running out of weddings Bollywood style, Danyal, it’s you, not me.” Mara retorted bitingly, her response immediate. “And - how dare you throw that in my face?! We agreed it’s the smartest thing for me to do - what, I’m meant to pretend to be dumped on the day of my wedding and then stand around and applaud as you marry the person you’ve dumped me for?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly as Dany stood to his full height, looking irritated. Well, if it was a fight he’d been after…

“Yes, and you conveniently left out the part about how much it’d kill you to stand there and applaud, when we first talked about it it-”

“What difference does that make?” Samara interrupted, frowning. “Literally - what difference does that make? None. It doesn’t. You’re being a douchebag.”

“It makes all of the difference!” Dany burst, causing Mara to scoff. Dany struggled to find the words. “I - you - it’s all about intent, it’s a matter of intent, you can’t ask for a round of applause for something when your intentions when doing it were different from the start-”

“When did I ask for applause? This is exactly my point, you’re not even listening to me-”

“You’re not listening to yourself-”

“Is this because of what I said about her earlier?” Mara demanded. The words on Dany’s tongue died - and although he told himself it was because he was struggling to find more, out of frustration at her… Wilful ignorance, that stupid voice told him it wasn’t. That, and to shut up and listen. And, you know, stop being a douchebag. “About… Divya? I wasn’t trying to upset you-”

But Dany wasn’t listening anymore, because she’d done it again - Mara had called Divya by her name. Not Divvy. Not your ex. And Dany suddenly felt like a popped balloon because… For God’s sake, what had they even been arguing about?

Mara was right. He was being a prick. And a douchebag.

It was just all so… Insane. Illogical! Dany had never had a temper, not ever. Everyone said he took after his father. The only time Danyal cared about his reputation was when it was somehow linked to business - other than that, he didn’t care. He didn’t need to. Being Danyal Zafar came with too many benefits and positive associations to care about a small a price as other people’s opinions.

But God, Samara got under his skin. And that didn’t make sense either, because only his loved ones, his real inner-circle, had the power to do that - and with the wedding looming, Dany had been forced to realise that Samara didn’t fall into that category.

Which made the whole temper predicament a million times more confusing.

“You don’t need to apologise.” Dany sighed, deflating and rubbing his face, leaning against the safety bar again.

It took him a moment to realise Mara was staring - or, more accurately, glaring. Her eyes looked lighter in this light, and they always seemed to shine more when she was angry - even if Dany knew, like so many other things to do with the… Infuriating girl standing in front of him, it didn’t make sense.

“I’m not.”

They stared at each other for a moment - Mara’s eyes slightly narrowed and angry, Dany’s irritated and assessing - … And just… Stopped. They agreed to stop.

Dany looked back up to the Hills as Samara sighed loudly, shaking her head slightly.

He didn’t allow himself to think before speaking. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d go through with it.

“We should stop talking. From as soon as I leave for Vegas.”

Dany kept his eyes trained on the hills - he focused on one of the lower slopes, the tree peaks looking darker from this distance -, as Mara stared up at him in surprise.

“What-” Mara paused. “Wait, what do you-”

“We started talking to each other out of necessity, but now it’s become habit. We need to get used to not talking to each other anymore.” Dany almost looked down at her - but he stopped himself, just in time, and kept his eyes on the view. They didn’t move, looking, but barely seeing. “That’s how things will be after the-” For some reason, the word wedding caught in his throat. Next to him, Mara was frozen too, looking up at him with an expression he wouldn’t allow himself to see. “- next week.”

Dany didn’t move. Not even his knuckles - white from how hard they were gripping the safety bar - as the skin stretched over the bone; and next to him, Samara didn’t either, Dany barely being able to see from the corner of his eye that she was still staring up at him.

They heard the picnickers talking and laughing and eating; the traffic below; the sounds of bells on anklets ringing and the rustle of shoes against marble, of the breeze.

But they didn’t move.

In fact, as the minutes wore on, Danyal wondered if he’d spoken at all. If Mara had heard. In fact, it was just as Dany opened his mouth to… Say something, to check, something, when Samara finally spoke.

“Okay.” She said quietly - and when Dany stared down at her, his jaw clenching at the answer he’d thought would make him feel better to hear, Mara wasn’t looking at him, either. Her eyes were trained on nothingness behind him - a part of the marble floor. “Fine, yes, if that’s what you think. It… Makes sense.”

“It makes sense.” Dany repeated, a fresh wave of irritating, unidentified emotion itching at the back of his neck. It sounded more like a convincing.

It happened again. That… Pause.

This time, it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“We should go.” Mara sighed, turning away. Dany’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There’s a lot to get done before next week - and you have your flight tomorrow.”

“We have time-” Dany muttered, checking his watch - but Samara shook her head, looking out to the view Dany had been so interested in just moments before.

“No, let’s go.” She echoed. “We’re done here.”

Dany watched as, without a second thought, Mara began to walk away.

Dany looked out to the city one more time - and slowly uncurled his fingers from the railing, feeling them ache slightly as they stretched. He was almost grateful - it was… Easier, to think about.

“Bye, office.” Dany muttered, frowning as his chest felt heavy - and following Samara out of their favourite place, for the last time.

*

They didn’t speak for the rest of their journey. Hell, neither one of them said much for the rest of the day - but with Dany, it was just… Less noticeable, with nobody there to question him. During her fitting with Pixie, Mara blamed jet-lag - and to her knowledge, it was.

Dany dropped by Mara’s uncle’s place, a modest white mansion at the base of the hills, in the morning, to pick up the rings.

By the time Samara had handed them over - and turned away for just a second, to reply to the maid asking after Danyal’s breakfast-, she could already hear the slam of the car door.

She sighed heavily to herself, pulling her shawl closer around her as she watched the car drive away. Danyal didn’t seem to look back.

“Guess we’re starting early.” Mara muttered to herself - before turning away, and doing the exact same thing.

[you-got-a-crush]

Request- Paired Up

manimariah88: Hey I was wondering if you could do an imagine where you and your crush get paired up to work on a school project and you’re not really friends. At first, the crush acts a little reluctant to work with you until you guys start talking more and find out you have a lot in common and then it’s all fluffy and cute from there lol

✨Of course! I added some more plot to it to make it more interesting and the fluff might be a bit lacking, but I hope you guys like it! Keep sending in requests and asks!✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The way the back of his head looked today was amazing, absolutely dazzling. His hair mas slightly messed up in the back and I desperately wanted to run my hands through it mess it up even more. Just like every day there he was, distracting me like always. He had his hand resting perfectly against his cheeks and even from behind him I could picture his face smushed against his fingers. I bet I could draw the back of his head from memory from how much I find myself admiring it. Sure, it’s only the back, and sure, this doesn’t match the frontal view, but at this point anything at all can give my stomach butterflies. “Y/N! Are you paying attention back there?” My head snapped up just in time to see the entire class’s eyes on mine. There was an awkward pause, and the teacher at the front of the room gazed at me expectantly, a small smile starting to spread. I bet he just loved watching students suffer. “Um… Uh… Yeah?” Suddenly C/N turned around and joined the class’s stare down. He threw me a sympathetic look that made me both blush and want to say something more but it also made me want to sink into the floor and never show up to school again. “Ahem? Can you answer the question I just asked?” “Uh….” I scanned the class for any help, but sadly there was none, some kids were even laughing. Kill me now. I could tell that C/N’s soft eyes were still on me, “…I’m sorry, I can’t,” Some of the kids burst out laughing at my discomfort. Well I’m sorry if the teacher decided to call on me, it ain’t my fault if I’m distracted by a certain someone. “The question was, ‘what’s your favorite color?’,” my teacher replied, stifling a laugh. “Make sure to pay attention in class next time Y/N instead of oogling at boys,” I felt my face go beet red, some of the kids let out little ‘ooh’s or ‘get rekt’s. You know how before I said I wanted the ground to swallow me up? It felt like that, but times ten. As the class continued and the other student turned back around to face the teacher, I looked up through my eyelashes to see C/N still looking, the sympathetic look turned even softer and more pitying. That was probably the worst part, I don’t want him to pity me, I want to have deep conversations and sleeping under the stars with him. I want He must have seen me as some sort of wounded animal, and what if he knew that I was staring at him? The teacher just said any boy, but he could be suspicious. Thank god it’s the last period. “Okay class, this next project I’ll be picking your partners, so sorry C/N and C/F/N, you can’t be partners.” A series of groans littered the classroom, including my own. I just want to go home and take a nap is that all a girl can ask? I already have homework up to my neck and I can’t take on another project. Let’s just hope I can ride this one through. The teacher started talking again, relishing in the sadness the assigned partners brought the students, “This project will have to be done over the weekend, and must compare three evening television news programs and how they show bias, framing, and whether they are reliable to the public. This project can be a paper, a poster, a presentation, whatever. Here’s the rubric,” he said, picking up a stack of rubrics and throwing gem on the nearest desk, “the rest of the requirements are stated there.” “Now, the partners,” the teacher seemed to take forever in strutting to his desk, loading up his computer, and pulling up the spreadsheet in which he had payed out partner for each person, while doing this he added, “I grouped people together whom I thought share similar grades and have similar understanding of the unit so that the work load ends up being as equal as possible,” Suddenly the spreadsheet popped up onto the smartboard at the front of the room and my eyes were quick to analyze and spot where my name was. I looked and scanned farther and farther downwards and noticed that at the very end off as my name, and I didn’t have a partner. Yes! Now I can just do everything last minute and not let anyone down by doing the bare minimum! Until I saw C/N’s hand raise. Oh no. “Um, excuse me, I can’t find my name anywhere on there,” no no no no no. “Oh that’s okay, you can just work with Y/N since she’s alone,” Shit. Great. Wonderful. Ugh. As people started gathering their stuff and grabbing rubrics I watched as C/N without even glancing at me, slowly rose, took two rubrics from the front, and made his way over to my seat in the back. I stared, still stuck in panic mode, as he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of my desk, straddling the back of the chair. A few seconds went by where neither of us said anything, and believe me, it was extremely awkward. I wanted so badly to say something, anything, but I felt frozen in place. Why do I have to be so awkward? He suddenly cleared his throat, “So, what were you thinking of doing for the project? It doesn’t matter to me at all,” “Um, well it doesn’t matter to me either. Are you any good at drawing?” Oh jeez, what if he isn’t? Am I making him feel bad? Oh no he already hates me, he probably is wishing he had anyone else for a partner. Oh my gosh why do I have to- “Yeah I’m pretty good, you?” Smooth moves Y/N. “I was just thinking, if we are both pretty good at drawing and all that kind of stuff, then we could just do a poster?” “That’s a good idea,” a small toothy smile crept onto his face, and the same echoed onto me. Alright this is going better than expected. “So, do you want to come over to my house after school so we can get it done? I don’t think it’s going to be too hard of a project, just watch a bunch of TV and talk about it,” I laughed, but on the inside I was low key freaking out. “Oh, yeah, I’ll text my parents and see if it alright, but yeah,” “Cool, I’ll grab some poster paper on the way out, but I have a bunch of craft stuff at my house so don’t worry about all of that, my mom is obsessed with that kind of stuff,” “That’s good,” I have a light laugh and my nerves from before began to cease, just talking with him about small things made me feel calmer and more relaxed, like I could say anything I wanted to and talk for hours. “So, what television stations were you thinking on watching to compare against?” “Well, I really like to watch BBC Evening News so that can be one of them,” My face immediately lit up, “Oh me too! I don’t like watching any of the other evening news stations because I feel like they’re all way too biased anyways. I’d rather get the right info than just my own opinions echoing back to me,” “Same!” Well at least now I know we have one thing in common, which was a great thing. After we figured out which other news programs to watch for the assignment, we started finding the definitions for all of the vocab words we needed to use and planning out what the poster was going to looks like. It was all just light banter or talking about the project, to someone else it might just seem like any normal conversation, but to me it felt surreal, like it was only me and him left in the room. Everyone else drowned out by the soft and careful edges of C/N’s words, even just one words filling my senses with an indescribable melody full of feeling. At least, to me. We were both working quietly for about a minute before I looked up to catch C/N staring at me. Instead of quickly looking away like I usually would, I kept looking into his eyes, waiting for him to say something. “I’m really sorry what happened to you before, I mean, that whole thing with Mr, T/N, I hate when he picks on students like that,” “Thanks, but I don’t need any pity, I wasn’t paying attention and I should’ve seen it coming,” “No, it’s not right for him to do that, and to you of all people. Don’t make excuses for yourself, it was a dick move on his part, not yours.” “It’s really fine, you don’t have to stick up for me like that,” “I want to, not everyone in this world is as mean as he is,” I was speechless, my mouth agape, not able to form any words. Sure, I didn’t want him to pity me, and sure, I didn’t want him to see me as this small animal that needed to be taken care of, but his words. His words held meaning, and his face didn’t just hold sympathy it held actual care, like he could’ve felt the pain and embarrassment that I did in that moment. But I was probably over exaggerating, like usual. “Well thank you, it means a lot, especially for someone like me who can’t get a word in edgewise,” “No problemo mi amiga,” he gave me some awkward finger guns which I of course laughed at, and the conversation then returned back to the project, but I couldn’t help like I saw him in a different light. Like, before I only liked him from his outward looks and sense of humor during class, but now I saw that he had a deeper personality than that. A personality that I wanted to know even more about. “Oh and by the way,” I looked up again from my work, and saw his face dripping with cockiness and the previous toothy grin was replaced with a smirk, “I knew you were ‘oogling’ at me, I’m just mad that you haven’t caught me ever ‘oogling’ at you yet,” What?! The bell rang before I was able to reply, and he got up and gave a little wave before turning out of the classroom. What the hell? Did he just say what I thought he said? On the way out of the room he took one last sly glance back at me before accidentally running into the trash can positioned at the door. So much for looking badass. I tried to cover my laugh but it still could be heard as I too stood up and collected my belongings, C/N’s face was cherry red and was the last thing I saw before he dashed in a hurry out the door. Wait, am I forgetting something? Oh yeah, I forgot to ask where C/N lived. I ran out of the classroom door after him calling his name with a giant grin stretched across my face. Suddenly I thanked God that the ground didn’t swallow me up, since now I had the opportunity of a lifetime.

[thoseoverwatchimagines]

[SFW] Reader has an over protective cat

Genji Shimada

A lifetime of spiritual training under Mondatta himself could not have prepared Genji for this war he'd been waging. The terms were amicable, no physical violence, no underhanded tactics. Each side fought for their greatest love, neither party relenting. The cyborg was determined to conquer and reign supreme. His sworn enemy responded with cool indifference, imagined wrath hidden under a fluffy exterior. Of course it was no surprise Genji was crouched behind your loveseat, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Oh God... What are you up to now?" Genji was vigilant. Not a muscle moved without purpose. "Can't we just watch the movie without you getting all weird about Mr. Whiskers?" He looked at you, considering the proposal briefly before slithering to the left side of the couch.

"Dearest, nothing about this is weird. Great men have fought greater battles in the name of love." He peeked over the arm rest. The target was a black cat with emerald green eyes. It looked lazily at the cyborg mask spying from behind a throw pillow. Genji scowled. "Go ahead and start the movie. The end is nigh." You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the right side cushion. Mr. Whiskers meowed approvingly and stretched his paws, claws extending in the most benign way conceivable. "The fiend reveals his weapons!"

"Yeah. Sure. So am I eating all this popcorn by myself?" Genji made a horrified gasp, "My love please! You know I love popcorn..." God he was adorable when he wanted to be. You watched him affectionately. He sat on the armrest and tried to slide onto the cushion beside you. The cat naturally oblidged and took up his space on your lap. Genji puffed up with pride, charging rapidly towards the fall. "Wonderful. Glad you could make it. Now take the cat while I grab something to drink."

You put the cat directly in Genji's lap and the reason for these antics was clear. The ninja cyborg had a fear of cats! He stiffened up, arms tight to his sides, craning his neck as far from your beloved pet as possible. He tried to ask you to hurry but all that came out was a strangled groan. Mr. Whiskers licked at the metallic chestplate absentmindedly. You laughed wickedly from the kitchen. Why not enjoy having control while it lasted? Genji would have his time later on tonight.

Jesse McCree

"Darlin' you know I love you, but if that cat doesn't stop hissin' we're gonna have a big problemo." As if she heard the vulgar cowboy, Cruella snarled in defiance. An aptly named black and white American long hair was primed to attack. Jesse blew a cloud of smoke in her direction. "I ain't done nothin' to it! Why's it hate me so darn much? And why won't you lock it in the bedroom when I come over?" You frantically tried to soothe both beasts in the room. Words of comfort were cooed to the cat. She looked up at you as if to warn you of what was coming.

"I'm not locking my cat in the bedroom. She was here before you." McCree chewed angrily on his cigar, obviously hurt by that remark. You placed yourself between the two and wrapped your arms around him. He did not return the favor. "C'mon baby! I'll make it worth your while. I promise." You kissed his cheek, neck, collarbone, and back up to those taut lips. He seemed to soften under your touch.

"I'm not tryin' to make you choose. For all I know you'd pick the damn cat. I just want to spend time with you without worrying about my eyes getting clawed out. Is that too much for a man to ask?" Cruella certainly thought so. She was having none of this canoodling and began to pace back and forth around your feet. You tried to shoo her away to no avail. McCree cursed and pulled away from your embrace. "Listen, why don't you get this figured out and call me later? I'm heading home."

The cat sat smugly at your feet and watched him walk through the kitchen door. "Jesse please don't go! I love you! We haven't seen each other in a week. Stay with me?" He heaved a great sigh before pulling a chair out from the table and sitting. "Fine. But I will not be caught dead in the same room as that mangy animal." You frowned, growing tired of all this drama. "If you're going to pout like that then fine. I'll put the cat in the bedroom. But you'd better fuck me in every other room of this house I swear to God. I won't hear another word about it!" The cowboy looked over his shoulder with a smirk. "I'm not one to let a lady down. I just hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into."

Hanzo Shimada

Hanzo was never one to complain. Not even when his time with you was being hampered by an emotionally distraught kitten. The little thing had just been adopted from the shelter and couldn't stand being away from you. Tonight was date night and you'd cooked a delicious meal for your man. Conversation was difficult, however, with incessant mewling from under the table. The nameless kitten pawed at your leg. Hanzo watched with feigned disinterest as you picked up the furball and held it to your chest.

"I'm sorry hun. Maybe he's hungry too. Let me just fill his bowl." Hanzo tightened his grip on the fork and took a long swig of wine. Once the kitten was distracted by fresh food, you returned to your seat at the dinner table. "Is there something wrong?" The archer shook his head curtly. "No. Nothing at all. Thank you for this romantic evening." You could always tell he was lying when he strung more than three words together. "Hanzo," you inquired, "Are you being honest with me?" Rhetorical, of course. He stared hard into his place, considering how to respond.

"It is difficult for me to leave Overwatch and visit you. I do not appreciate being second best to a cat. If that is how you feel, I will--"

"You are the most important thing in the world to me. I love you more than words can express. I'm sorry the kitten is so needy but... Is it really bothering you so much?" He seemed to recoil in shame. "You will always be my first priority, Hanzo. I need you to know that." It amazed you that a man so cool and confident in the heat of battle could be shaken by a cute little kitten. A small chuckle broke the tension that had formed. "Why don't you help me pick a name for him? That way he's your cat too!"

Hanzo seemed confused but eager. "Tora is a fitting title. He will grow to be your guardian. A mighty tiger for my princess." And then the impossible happened. Tora, now full of food, pattered over to the stoic man and rubbed up against his leg. Hanzo reached down and cradled the baby in his arms. "Tora indeed."