#Buster KeatonxReader

[melancholydamsel]

Sick//Buster KeatonXReader

The morning had met its peak, it was a gorgeous day, the sun shone brightly, and the birds tweeted sweetly.

A soft breeze blew through your bedroom window, causing a slight chill. You wriggled under the covers, bringing your quilt over your head with a groan. You laid there for a few more peaceful minutes before the breeze returned and snuck underneath your warm blanket.

In defeat, you threw the blanket off of yourself, groggily turning up to the clock to see the time. 10:23 A.M. You were shocked, for you had never had slept that long unless you were sick.

Speaking of sickness, you didn't feel too good as of now. You slapped your hand on your forehead, deciding if you should go back to bed or not.

After making the decision, you rolled out of bed, closed your window, and made your way to the kitchen.

Upon entering your kitchen, you were shocked to see a familiar, intruding face casually sitting at the kitchen table.

"Good mornin'," Buster greeted, looking down at his newspaper, and sipping what you could only guess was coffee.

Buster was a great friend of yours, who often show up uninvited, and would merely invite himself into your humble abode. You didn't mind his sudden appearances, most of the time you enjoyed it.

"Morning," you croaked, shuffling over to the cupboard to get a coffee cup.

"You don't sound too good," he pointed out, sitting the newspaper down and looking to you.

"I just woke up," you replied as you fixed your coffee, but as soon as you got your sentence out, you began coughing.

Buster hastily stood up from his seat and walked over to you. You looked up at him with tired eyes, tilting your head slightly. He placed his large hand on your forehead, checking your temperature.

"Are the results in, doc?" You questioned sarcastically.

He shook his head, "you're burning up," he said. "I think you need to lay back down.

"I just woke up, Buster!" You complained, taking a sip of your hot beverage.

"I know, I know. How 'bout'cha go lie down on the couch, babe? I'll see what I can do for you in the meantime," he argued, grabbing your hand and leading you to the living room.

You sighed in defeat. There was no arguing with this man, for you'd always lose. He sat you down on the couch, covering you with one of the blankets draped over the back of it.

"Even if you're not tired, sleepin' will help," he said, tucking you in securely as if he was a mother caring for a small child.

You huffed, snuggling into the couch pillow and shooing him away. He put his hands up in defense, walking out and back into the kitchen.

It had been a mere fifteen minutes later when he came back in to check on you. You were sound asleep, so he had decided to cook something pleasant for you, something to help you.

After an hour and a half later, you had been abruptly awoken by nothing apparent. You looked around, figuring Buster had left already. You stretched, kicking the covers off, and standing barefoot on the familiar cold floor. You waddled to the kitchen, the smell of a well-known food filled your nose, becoming stronger as you approached the kitchen. With your brows drawn together and your lips pressed tightly, you swung around the corner into the kitchen.

Buster was sitting at the table, his head resting in his palm, and snoring quite loudly. On the stovetop was a deep pot with a low fire underneath it, keeping it warm.

You looked at Buster and smiled- you'd be lying if you said you didn't love the man- or think he was at least a little cute, even with drool running down his chin.

You tip-toed over to the oven, peering over the rim of the pot to see what was inside. It appeared to be chicken noodle soup, smelled of it too. You grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred it, taking in the lovely smell of chicken and seasonings- which brought on a coughing fit. You tried to catch your breath, but when you did, your heart dropped when you realized you had awoken Buster. You heard him grumbled something as he rubbed his face.

"Oh! Buster, I'm sorry," you quickly apologized, though your words were barely audible due to the hoarseness in your voice.

Buster looked up at you and shook his head, "It's alright, I must've dozed off..." He trailed, standing up from his seat. "I made you soup- but it seems you've already discovered that."

You nodded, turning on your heel to grab two bowls out of the cupboard.

"I'd be delighted if you'd sit with me," you said, holding up one of the bowls in your hands. Buster shrugged and walked over to help you.

He grabbed a spoon and gently took the dishes from you, "Go sit at the table. I'm the one who made it, so I'll be the one to serve it," he declared.

You raised your brows, deciding not to argue, and staggered over to the table, taking a seat at the farthest end. You had felt worse than what you did when you first woke up, your eyes burned, your nose ran, and your sore throat had worsened. You were nearly sure your eyes were bloodshot, and perhaps you were running a high fever since you couldn't get warm.

Buster returned to the table, two bowls in hand. He gave you yours and took a seat across from you with his.

"You didn't have to stay and do all this, ya know?" you said, pulling the bowl to yourself sheepishly.

He nodded. "But, I wanted to," he replied, stirring his soup.

You gave him one last glance before spooning in a mouthful of the soup, which to your surprise, was quite delicious.

"This is good!" you complimented, looking up at Buster with a tired smile. "You didn't use the can, did you?"

"No, no. It's home-made. My mother would make it, and my brother loved it," he responded proudly.

You nodded, turning your head down to focus on enjoying your soup, which was soothing your throat slowly, but surely.

After you had both finished your soups, you grabbed the bowls, and with small prance in your step, you set them by the sink.

"More preppy, are we?" Buster questioned.

"My throat isn't sore anymore, not really. But, I do still have a headache," you replied, twisting your lips into a pout.

Buster appeared to be in deep thought for a second. "How about we go into the living room? I'll hum you a lullaby," he voiced, tilting his head slightly.

You weren't sure if he was joking, and frankly, you hoped he wasn't.

"I suppose," you choked out.

Buster placed his hand on your back, walking you to the living room. When he sat on the couch, he pulled you down with him.

"I don't have an instrument, so you'll have to imagine something good," he joked.

You nodded with a smile, laying your head on his shoulder, and pulling the blanket over yourself. He placed his arm around you and softly hummed; "We Sat Beneath the Maple on the Hill," it was a sad, yet calming song.

His voice was deep, often sounded constrained, but as he hummed to you, it sounded like a heavenly choir of Angels meeting your ears. Your mind felt at peace, though, your head was far from ease. Between the warmth of the blanket, the weight of Buster's arm, and his angelic humming, your eyes soon drifted shut. Even as you dreamed, you could still hear Buster humming, but you weren't aware when it had stopped.

Not too long later, you jerked yourself awake. You were no longer leaning against Buster, instead, you were sunken into the back couch cushion, pillows, and blankets surrounding you. You raised yourself, yawning, and looking for Buster, who was, to your surprise, still beside you. He had his shoeless feet up on the table, his porkpie hat tilted on the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes, and his hands behind his head. A cheeky grin appeared on your face as you looked at him in awe. His chest would move as he inhaled and exhaled, he snored, albeit quietly, and certain parts of his body, like his foot, brows, or mouth would momentarily twitch as he dreamed. It seemed that after a day's work of taking care of you, he needed the rest himself. Instead of getting up, you scooted closer to him and wrapped the blanket around the both of you. You then rested your head once again, soon drifting off to sleep...

[melancholydamsel]

Fair//Buster KeatonXReader

Night had fallen for the stars and moon was shining brightly in the void-like sky. In the dark sky was a few cold clouds, but not enough to ruin the appearance of the glimmering balls of fire above. You weren't tired, but instead, bored. You leaned against the door on the passenger side, letting out a sigh. You could feel the sharp stare from the man beside you, but you decided not to make eye contact.

The man that sat behind the wheel, even though he was often a frightening driver, he was a man who had stolen your heart - yet, didn't know it - and drowned your feelings in all his glory. Out of all the riches in the world, you were the richest just to be sitting beside Buster Keaton. He was silly, handsome, and charming all in one. His talents were neverending, his voice was divine, his actions never had consequences, and he could wake up looking perfect - even with a hangover! Buster had stolen your heart, made your brain scrambled, and your body trembling just by a simple grin. He meant the world and more to you, even though, you hadn't any idea what he thought of you. He flirted with you more times than you could count, but then he would nudge you around as if you were a little sister or a long-lost friend. He confused you AND your feelings. You cleared your throat softly and rubbed your upper arm, continuing to keep your gaze out the small window. You heard Buster inhale to say something, yet he paused for a moment as if in deep thought.

"Hey, I know this trip is pretty far, but, lighten up, will ya'? Besides, I believe I see lights up ahead," Buster said. His voice was soft on the harsh silence, which brought indefinable amounts of joy to your ears. You looked over at him, smiling sheepishly.

"Lighten up? Why my legs are numb, Buster!" You spoke softly, proving to him you were nearly incapable of moving your legs. He pursed his lips together, having nothing to say in response. So far, you had found out, the only pleasant spot to be in a car is on top of a masculine man named Buster in the backseat. Quite fortunately, the two of you had been sleeping like that. What a way to drive you even closer to someone! As you two neared the town, bright lights and crowds of people came into view. But, that wasn't the exciting part. A Ferris wheel that stood over 100 feet high was spinning calmly as other various rides were full of shouting ladies.

"Won't you look at that?" Buster asked, eyeing the extraordinary scenery. Your mouth was slightly agape before both of your hands clasped onto Buster's upper arm. You leaned your head against his shoulder, eyeing him dreamily.

"Have I ever told you how much I adore you?" You questioned, blinking momentarily. Buster chuckled.

"I'll find a park." He said, catching onto your drift. You pulled away from him, clapping your hands together, a silent squeal escaping your lips.

"Thank you!" You squealed. You were in pure delight that Buster was kind enough to stop. Of course, he would probably enjoy frolicking around the fair too. When the car was parked, you swung the door open, jumping out and running to Buster. You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace and kissed his cheek. He stayed still for a moment but soon returned the hug with a sheepish chuckle. You took his large hand with your small one, dragging him along to the ticket booth. You came to a halt in front of the ticket booth, looking up at the man that sat inside.

"How much would six tickets cost?" You asked, fishing your wallet out of your skirt pocket. Buster gently pushed you aside and took out his wallet. You twisted your lips and eyed him angrily. Deciding not to argue, you stuffed your wallet back into your skirt.

"Thirty cents." The ticket man replied. Buster nodded, taking out three dimes and handing them to the man. The man bent down, grabbing out six tickets, and giving them to Buster. Buster quickly thanked the man, then handing you three of the tickets. You took the tickets gladly, grabbing his hand once again, and dragging him along the strip of various rides and games. As you two neared the milk can game, Buster looked down at you.

"Want a stuffed toy?" He questioned, pulling one of the tickets out of his pocket.

"You'd do that for me?" You said in awe, holding your hands together. He nodded, bringing you over to the game. He slid one of the tickets across the counter to the manager, who gave him a few sports balls. Buster bent down in a readied stance, holding his arm back, and making sure not to hit anyone in the process. You inched away slightly, giggling. Buster swung his arm forward, the first sports ball perfectly hitting the milk cans and knocking all of them down. You raised your brows and pursed your lips.

"Not too shabby." You commented, grinning ever so slightly. He went to throw another sports ball, to win a bigger stuffed toy for you, but you quickly stopped him.

"Don't get too carried away now, I don't want one bigger than I can carry." You said. Buster stared at you for a split second, before standing straight and handing the extra two sports ball back to the handler of the game.

"Don't need those two," he spoke. "The love just wants a small one."

You, being oblivious, shrugged off the fact that he had just called you "Love." Maybe you shouldn't have, but you did. And if you didn't, you would've turned into a tomato, undoubtfully. Buster reached up, grabbing one of the small stuffed teddy bears and handing it to you. You took it with pride.

"Thank you!" You chirped, hugging him. He returned the hug, patting your back.

"Can we go on the Ferris wheel now?" You questioned with hopeful eyes. Buster looked up at the tall, lighted Ferris wheel and shrugged.

"Looks fun. Unless you're scared of heights." He teased, tapping your shoulder. You shook your head, grabbing his hand once again.

You were having fun and were completely unknown to the fact that every time you held his hand, he shivered slightly, and would sometimes even smile. Friends do that, do they not? You calmly walked over to the Ferris wheel, handing the handler two tickets. Buster went to grab himself one, but you put your hand up to stop him.

"You spent yours on that toy of mine, so I'll get this." You said, tipping your head. You two took your seats in one of the large booths, sitting beside each other. As the ride started, you latched onto his arm and took a deep breath.

"You're afraid of heights." He pointed out, pulling you closer. You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"I am not." You argued. But, instead of pulling away from him, you leaned into him, sighing softly. You felt comfortable as he rubbed circles into your upper arm. You had never felt any happier. Maybe the whole "Going to the other side of the universe for a single film that'll only make a small amount of dough" was worth it. Maybe both you and Buster deserved this time together.

Maybe you two spending time together would bring you both closer, and maybe your future will be bright, with an incredible lover. Or maybe you're over-thinking the entire thoughts were quickly interrupted by Buster clearing his throat. You blinked, looking up at him, grinning, then looking back at your surroundings. You were now stopped on the top, the beautiful view rendering you breathless.

"This town is certainly beautiful." You commented, staring in awe at the scene of a thousand lights, small buildings, and trees

"You can get a scene more beautiful than this by looking in the mirror." He said, staring into the distance of the town. Your eyes widened as you blushed and turned your head down.

- After a few hours of riding fair rides and having silly fun, it had grown darker, as your stomach had grown hungrier. You and Buster had stopped at one of the booths to get a funnel cake and lemonades. You two had decided to split the funnel cake since neither of you would be able to eat one alone. The two of you were sitting on the curb, free from the crowd. Not too far from where you sat was a bandstand. Soft 1920s jazz played as women and men dances around. You would have got up to dance, but as your feet were killing you, you couldn't take the chance to make a fool of yourself. Buster had brought up the conversation topic of where to stay tonight, for you weren't going to let him drive in the dark, though he tried persuading you.

"I refuse to let you drive in the dark, Buster. You almost gave me a heart attack last night." You said blankly, stuffing a piece of funnel cake into your mouth. Buster grinned slightly, taking a sip of his drink and turning to you.

"But, you didn't have a heart attack," he pointed out. "Therefore, fair and square, my driving isn't that bad." You inhaled. "If I have to drive, I will." You said flatly, poking your chest out superiorly. Buster laughed, looking up at you with a crooked toothy grin.

"Come on! You'll kill us both- and bystanders!" He exclaimed, putting his hand up. You laugh, mumbling; "I'm not that bad" Under your breath. Without you noticing, Buster had scooted closer to you, nearly too close. Normally, he minded personal space, but when you turned your head, the both of you was nose-to-nose. You gasped softly, your face turning red quickly.

"Tonight's been fun, yeah?" Buster asked, his eyes half-lidded and his voice darker than before.

"Y-yeah?" You answered, stuttering and blushing like a mad man.

"Well, babe, how about we seal it with a kiss?" He questioned, his brown orbs staring into your own colorful ones. You gulped. This was your time, and you were too embarrassed to take the chances. Luckily, Buster understood your body language well enough to lean in and seal the yearning kiss. You obliviously gasped into the kiss, closing your eyes and kissing back. He placed his hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer- only for you to push him away.

"There're kids around, Keaton!" You whisper-yelled. Buster chuckled half-heartedly, eyeing his surroundings, then turning his attention back to you.

"I was thinking about booking a hotel anyways," Buster said, patting your thigh. Your eyes widened and your face turned red.

"Wait, tonight? Here? Don't get any naughty ideas you rascal." You uttered, pointing your index finger at him.

"Come on, you like it." He purred. You sighed helplessly.

"I do and I hate IT, but love YOU." You replied, kissing his nose.

"I love you too, sweets."

He... Loved you.