#just a quick silly thing to try and get back into the groove after two weeks hhh

[snarkspawn]

based ofc on this

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Snow Day

Pairings: Fiance!Travis Kelce x Fiance!Reader

Words: 1,095

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Even though you and Travis had only been engaged for a couple of months and living together for about a year, you finally felt comfortable in the NFL life. Travis’ schedule was always busy, even in the off season, so while you spent the first couple of months of your relationship missing him and sitting around waiting for him to come home, you had learned to enjoy the quiet and find your own groove.

You settled into your morning bath, something that you looked forward to after your 5AM workout. Kansas City winters were cruel to your skin, so you loved to be able to sink into the hot water, the temperature just shy of scalding hot. You slid down the tub, allowing your head to dunk under the water, a few bubbles leaving your lips. You emerged from the water when you could no longer hold your breath, the bubbles on the top of the water’s surface clinging to your face. The soap was burning your eyes, so you kept them closed, reaching for your towel to dab your face.

Your tranquility was quickly ruined by the sound of the door opening, Travis walking in drenched in sweat, the stench of his training lingering in the air. Your eyes shot open to the sight of Travis stripping down and stepping one of his long legs into the top between your thighs. You shifted to sit up, his move surprising you. “What are you doing?!” “What? Ow! Why is it so hot, are you trying to burn your skin off?” Travis winced as he settled into the water. “Again, I ask, what are you doing?” You looked at your fiancé, who was interrupting your personal time. “Practice was canceled, we’re expecting a snowstorm.” He leaned forward to dunk his head under the water, his nose grazing your knee as he did so. “No, I mean why are you in the tub, with me?”

“Oh, I missed you. We need to spend more time together.” Travis shrugged. You turned your body carefully, sitting in between Travis’ legs, resting your back against his chest. His big hands wrapped around your waist, taking his time to touch multiple places on your body that tickled you. “Hey! Watch the hands or your gonna get kicked out of the bath.” Travis kissed behind your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. “We’ve got the day together, what do you want to do?” You raked your hands through the water, only a few bubbles left on the surface as the water temperature dropped.

“I have a long to-do list today, a lot of boring things though.”, you told Travis. “Alright, I’ll just follow your lead.” You rolled your eyes, this was going to be an interesting day.

First on the list, laundry. Travis had offered to hire someone to clean the house including laundry, but you thought that was silly, especially since you worked from home. Between a professional athlete, and a woman with an enviable wardrobe, you two accumulated a lot of laundry. “I haven’t seen these before.” Travis held up a pair of completely lace panties, a new pair you had picked up last week. You snatched them out of his hand with a quickness. “I’m surprised you even recognize any of my underwear considering how quickly you rip them off me. I have to replace my underwear way more often than the average person!” Travis threw himself on the bed, landing on top of a pile of clean towels. “You wouldn’t have that problem if you stopped wearing underwear completely, like I suggested.”

Next on the list, facetiming your family. Your family adored Travis, and he felt like part of the family, but you usually used this mid-day call when Travis was working to gossip and catch up with your sisters. Travis pulled a chair up to your desk in your office as you turned on your computer. “This is going to be boring for you, you can go watch some game tape or something if you want,” you admitted as Travis pulled out his phone. “I’ve been taking notes on some of y’alls favorite TV shows so I can keep up with your conversation.” He scrolled through his notes app, showing you the names of characters, he had jotted down from ‘Real Housewives’. You gave him a peck on the cheek, beaming with pride that he had been paying attention.

Lunchtime rolled around and you had only gotten a third of a way through your to-do list. Your 6’5”, 280 lb. distraction kept stealing you away for makeout sessions on the couch and the bed, but you weren’t complaining. Travis insisted on taking care of lunch, so you used the time to send some work emails. The smell of potatoes peaked your attention, so you sauntered to the kitchen, Travis plating some steaks and roasted potatoes. “That smells amazing, baby.” You followed Travis into the dining room, sitting down to dig into the delicious meal. “How is the off season going?” Travis swallowed before answering. “Good, the team looks really good already. Everyone’s healthy.” “That’s good.” You shook your head up and down hoping you were convincing. Travis chuckled, sitting back in his chair. “It’s okay, baby.” You gave your fiancé pleading eyes. “I really am trying, babe, there are just so many terms to remember, and I still can’t tell the difference between rushing yards and whatever other yards there are.”

By the time the sun was starting to set you were satisfied that you had gotten as much done as you were going to in the day. You and Travis bundled up from head to toe in snow gear because the dogs needed to get their exercise. A walk around the neighborhood was going to have to suffice because the snow was already a foot high and a trip to the dog park was out of the question. The sound of snow crunching under your feet and heavy breaths as you trekked through the snow were all you could hear. You grabbed Travis’ hand, giving it a squeeze before you pulled him into the snow, him face planting into a pile atop the sidewalk. “Are you okay?” you asked in between giggles. “Can you at least help me up, traitor?” Travis reached out for your hand, and as soon as you grabbed he pulled you into the snow. He hovered above you before he pulled you in for a kiss, gentle and warming to your icy cold lips. “I love snow days”, you said to yourself.

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

Hold Me Tighter ||3||

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Peter and reader have a talk and Bucky overhears. 

Warnings: Swearing I think? A big of angst, fluff, Buck jumping to conclusions bc he’s a soft dummie...

A/N: Hej hej friends, it’s been a bit since i’ve posted something. My life has been wild and though i’ve been working on various things I have yet to complete said various things. Hopefully posting this gets me back into the groove. Please enjoy and give me feedback as its very much appreciated!! <3

Part ||1||   Part ||2||

~~~~~~

“Do you have an ace?” 

“Nope, go fish,” 

“Do you have a crush on Bucky?” 

You almost drop your hand full of cards on the ground as the words leave the man's mouth. 

“Wha-Peter!” 

“What? It kinda looks obvious, on both sides, but it’s like you guys or holding back or something,” Peter shrugs nonchalantly as he plucks a card from the deck before laying down another set of matches. 

You pout, “Why are you so good at this game?” 

“Answer my question first,” He laughs lightly while playfully nudging your shoulder with his fist. 

You and Peter had been the ones left at the tower while the team was on their latest mission. You felt grateful for the company, or at least you did before he started asking questions while he taught you how to play various card games. The pair of you sat facing each other, legs crossed and knees almost touching as the deck of cards sat in the middle. 

“I dunno… Maybe?” You could feel the fire in your cheeks and ears as you answered, forgetting to ask if Pete had a card and taking straight from the deck instead. 

Peter smiled widely and set down the few cards he still had, putting his full attention on you, “That’s great, Y/n! I think he likes you too! Why haven’t you guys gotten together yet? You spend like every day with each other when Bucky isn’t on a mission. He even cooks for you all the time and I’ve never seen him do that with anyone-” 

“Peter, it's not like that. I’m pretty sure he just thinks of me as like… A charity case or something. He’s helped me a lot since I’ve gotten here but it was solely because he felt obligated too. Kind of like when you find a puppy on the street,” You set your cards down to the side as well, using your free hands to nervously tangle your fingers together. 

“That's ridiculous! Y/n he calls you pet names all the time, he carries you around, I even saw him kiss your cheek before he left!” Peter points an accusatory finger at you. 

Your eyes widen in shock and you stutter before responding, “Why are you paying so much attention to us? It’s weird how much you notice...And besides, lately he hasn’t really been the same. He tells me that he’s always busy with training or meetings or something, and I get that it happens, especially with what you guys do! But it just feels like he’s been avoiding me lately,” 

“The whole team has noticed! You guys have done almost everything but make it official,” The man sighs exasperatedly before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against yours, a silly habit the two of you developed for serious conversations, making you giggle a bit before pushing back, “You should talk with him about it dude,”

You keep your forehead pressed against Pete's, sighing quietly before responding, “I just think… If he doesn’t feel the same way, then everything is going to change. He won’t want to spend time with me anymore, or talk to me, he won’t wanna watch movies with me… He just- he won’t be able to think of me as more than just the silly mutant that’s been obsessed with him for as long as she’s known him,” Your face had scrunched up into a scowl as you thought about what life would be like without Bucky by your side. 

“Hey, hey, hey! He won’t do that, I promise. Bucky isn’t like that, he’d never just start to ignore you or think of you as some obsessed girl. It’s obvious he cares about you a lot, and I think it would be good for both of you to talk about it,” 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start-”

“Start with how you feel, put it all out in the open,” Pete says confidently.

“That’s crazy!”

“How is it crazy?” 

“I can’t just go up to him and say, ‘Hey I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been deeply enthralled and have wanted to be with you since the first time we met!’” 

Peter was about to respond, but a deep voice interrupted, “Y/n?”

You and Pete pull your heads apart and gape at the tall brunette standing in the doorway, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown and his eyes full of confusion. “Bucky I-” 

He puts a hand up before you can continue, “I um-I gotta go shower. Sorry I interrupted you guys,” 

You sat frozen on the floor as Bucky quickly made his exit, Peter switching his gaze between you and the now empty doorway. “Oh my god-” he muttered in absolute bewilderment.

“Wh-what just happened? What should I do? Oh my god he hates me! He’ll never speak to me again-” 

“No! No, no, no it’s fine! Just a misunderstanding! You need to go after him and clear it up,” Peter tells you, hurriedly standing up before grabbing your hands and helping you stand. “You need to tell him everything Y/n. *Everything.*” 

You nod your head in agreement, starting for the doorway, “Thanks pete, I’ll see you later,” 

Peter’s response doesn’t quite register as you quickly walk down the maze of hallways, trying to find the fastest possible route to Bucky’s room. Your heart felt like it was pounding hard enough to escape your chest. 

You let out a yelp as you suddenly hit a wall, “Oh hey kid, you seen Barnes yet? He was lookin for ya,” Tony’s hands are on each of your arms to steady you as he begins to ask how your week with Peter went. 

You can’t focus on any of his questions, solely focused on fixing the mess you had made. 

“Kid? You okay?” Tony steps closer to you, his overbearing father coming out as he reaches up to check your temperature, “hmm maybe we should get you to med, you feel a little hot,” 

“Tony I’m fine-” You try and back out of his grasp but he holds onto you firmly. 

“Hey if you’re gettin’ a fever we want to catch it quick-” 

“I don’t have a fever, please-” 

“C’mon, it’ll only take a minute,”

“Oh my god, goodbye!” You huff out before pushing Tony away from you and using your power to disappear from the hallway. 

Tony lets out an annoyed sigh, “If you get anyone else sick you’re the one who’s taking care of them!” he shouts into the empty space. 

You however, had already popped up outside of Bucky’s door, your hands clenched into fists of stress and nerves. Your right hand went to open the door but when you tried to twist the handle it didn’t budge. 

“Friday can you let me in?”

“Mr. Barnes has specified to not be bothered for the time being,” The AI responded simply. 

You let out a huff of frustration, “Okay well it’s either you unlock the door and let me in or I just pop up in there, so…”

There was a moment of silence before you heard the quiet click of the door unlocking, making you smile victoriously, “Thank you, Friday,” 

Bucky was still in the bathroom with the door closed when you had entered his room. You took a quick look around before deciding to sit on the bed and wait for him to be done. Your fingers began to tangle and pull at themselves in a stressful manner and you couldn’t help the tight feeling in your chest. It only got worse when you heard the running water turn off and the sound of Bucky drying and dressing himself. 

When Bucky opens the door, the both of you freeze in place, eyes locked on to each other for what felt like ages. 

Bucky is the first to break eye contact and move, “I thought I told Friday I didn’t want any visitors,” he mumbles quietly, going over to toss the damp towel in his hands into a laundry hamper.

“I uh- I told her I would just pop in anyways…” 

“Shouldn’t invade people's privacy like that, kid,” his cold tone made you cringe, “can’t start abusing your power like that,”

“Listen Bucky, I came here to explain-” 

“You don’t gotta explain anything to me. I saw what I saw, it’s not a big deal,” he interrupts you and avoids your eyes as he begins to unpack from his mission. 

“Except I think you might not understand entirely-” you begin only to be interrupted again. 

“No! No, I get it. Pete is a good kid, good morals, good background. I can see why you’d like him, it makes sense,” Bucky’s voice was clearly stressed as he spoke and it just made your chest tighten even more. 

“Bucky no-” 

“He’s closer to your age, you have a lot in common, spend a lot of time together…”

“Why is everyone interrupting me today?” you groan out in frustration before getting up off of the bed and walking over to the disgruntled man. 

You move to sit on the other side of the duffle bag he continues to empty, still avoiding your eyes. You let out a huff of annoyance and quickly grab hold of Bucky's hands, bringing them to a pause. 

“Kid, I gotta unpack-”

“No. Not until you let me say what I need to say. Without interrupting me,” You state firmly.

Bucky visibly clenches his jaw, giving you a small nod to continue, “You didn’t hear me say those words to Peter-” 

“Yes I di-” “What did I just say? No interruptions!” 

Bucky sighs, “Sorry,” 

You take another breath before restarting, “You didn’t hear me say those words to Peter. You heard me telling him about what I’d say to someone else,” 

Bucky’s face scrunches up in confusion as he replays your words in his head, trying to put the pieces together, but failing. “Who were you going to say-” 

“You! Ya big dummy. I was telling Peter what I would say to you,” You blurt out with a breath of exasperation. 

Bucky shook his head, as if to try and wake himself up from a daydream, “Are you serious?”

“Yes! Of course I am, Buck. I- Peter said that it would be good for the both of us if I admitted my true feelings for you, and I didn’t know what I would say, so he suggested that I just flat out tell you, and…” You trail off, hoping the older can figure out the rest on his own. 

“And that’s when I walked in? When you had figured out what exactly you’d say?” 

“More or less, yeah,” you answer quietly, giving Bucky’s hands a gentle squeeze to try and bring even more reassurance. 

“Why were you so close to each other?” You looked back up to Bucky, a smile gracing your features as his gaze finally met yours. 

“Because we were having a serious discussion. Isn’t that what everyone does?” You ask, brows slightly knit in confusion.

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head, “No I think that’s only you two,” 

“Oh…” 

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, mulling over what you’d like to say next and trying to organize your thoughts. When Bucky didn’t say anything for a while you decided to continue on, “So um...Do you maybe uh-maybe do you feel the same way? About me?”

Bucky doesn’t even wait a beat to answer, “Oh my god yes! Yes I’ve felt the same way for ages, doll!” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you take in the new information, “You have?”

Bucky nods his head, a smile on his face as he looks into your eyes, “Sweetheart I’ve been head over heels for you since I first caught you in midair,” he chuckles. 

You grin at Bucky and feel the familiar flickering of your powers take place, knowing your emotions were much too strong to stop it. Within the blink of an eye you had popped out of existence and popped right back up into Bucky’s lap, making him fall over in a huff of laughter. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into the softness of his hair, “What gives then you goof? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Bucky wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a tight squeeze, “Once you started gettin’ the hang of your powers and began training with the rest of the team, I dunno… It felt like you didn’t need me there for you anymore, I didn’t want to risk holding you back from making new friends and connections,” Your heart split in two hearing Bucky’s explanation.

You pull your face out of his lovely smelling hair and stare into the soldier's pretty blue eyes, “That’s silly Bubba. You would never hold me back! You’re the reason why I’m so comfortable around everyone now. You gave me the strength to get out of my comfort zone,” Bucky grinned at your words and shook his head, mentally chiding himself for being so foolish. 

“M’sorry lovie, I guess I got in my own head about everything. Almost messed it all up too because I got so upset when I saw you and Peter,” Your chest swelled with happiness when he calls you one of your favorite nicknames, knowing the two of you were back to normal. 

“It’s okay! I can understand why you thought what you did. But I promise I’ve only ever been deeply enthralled with you,” You laugh and push your forehead up against Bucky’s, making him let out a deep melody of chuckles. 

“Does this mean I don’t have to hold back anymore? I can love on you as much as I want?” Bucky pairs his question with an affectionate nuzzle in the crook of your neck before looking back up into your gleeful eyes. 

You giggle and brush your nose up against his as you nod your head, “You coulda done that before,” 

Bucky’s hands move from around your waist to your thighs, easily lifting the both of you up from the plush carpet, “M’never lettin’ you go ever again. Gonna hold on real tight, sweet girl.” 

You keep your arms wrapped around his neck and try to pull Bucky closer, burying your face back into the crook of his neck and breathing him in. He moves the two of you over to his bed and flops down onto it, pulling the both of you under the covers and tangling his legs with yours. The two of you stay like that for what feels like ages.

A perfectly content tangle of happiness and relief. 

[serenasoutherlyns]

Not a Summer Crush Part Two

a/n: enjoy part two I hope! any feedback will make me fall in love with you 12 times. this one features much hijinks!!

Part Two

Immediately after you hopped on your bike, you began to regret your most recent conversation, your tendency towards flights of spontaneity. It hit you that you had not only turned down drinks with Cabot and Novak's important friends, you had invited them to watch you get your boogie on with all of your airhead dance friends at a somewhat raggedy club in Brooklyn.

What. Had. You. Done.

With any luck, Alex would not mention anything to Casey and the two of them would go to whatever wine bar the other senior ADAs and fancy defense attorneys hung out at with Gillian Hardwicke and whoever else, tell them how weird you were being, and never look you in the eyes again. You tumbled into your apartment, raining papers, carabiners, chapsticks, and hair ties as you hung up your bag and helmet. You made especially sure to hang up the key to your bike lock because four times in the last month had seen you frantically biking back to your apartment for it and countless more had featured you searching through the jungle of tiny bowls full of coins and wires and keychains before you left. When you made it into your living room, two little hands wrapped around your leg, tripping you. Your fall was cushioned by your fluffy area rug, but you were startled enough to yell "fuck."

Leaving no time to spare, you heard a high-pitched voice behind you yell, "Auntie, that's a bad word!" You got up and scooped the little home invader into your arms.

"Léa," you said, "how did you get into my apartment?" The six-year-old giggled as you tickled her.

"I left Mr. Cuddles on your couch. Papa gave me the key."

"Well, did you find Mr. Cuddles?" You asked, and Léa held the teddy bear out for you.

"Yeah, I did, but then I heard you and I got so happy because Auntie is home!" You melted at that, grateful to have the girls in your life, without having children of your own.

"OK, sweet girl. Thank you for the welcome. Why don't we go surprise Papa?" You picked up the laughing kid and slung her over your shoulder, walking down the stairs to your best friend's apartment.

"Ash," you said as you opened the door. "I think I found an alien in my apartment. I don't know what it is but it's very silly." Léa protested, saying she was a girl and not an alien. You plopped the pile of giggles on the couch and greeted Ashley with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Are we still going out tonight? The babysitter's still coming?" Ashley was juggling the two-year-old and a pot of spaghetti at once, trying to get the girls fed so he could have a rare fun night out with you and the others.

"Yep, Emma is on her way right now. And we," he said as he took your hand, "are going to dance all night long." He turned you around in the kitchen, causing Yasmin to coo in his arms. "And you, my Meena-Beena, are going to be the best little dance prodigy in the world, aren't you?"

You took her from his arms and spun her around again, saying, "If I have anything to do with it, though, you're still going to college."

"Natch," Ashley agreed with you. The doorbell rang and Ophélie, the 12-year-old, raced to let the high school girl Ashley had hired to watch them in. Ashley explained where everything was to be found, then the two of you practically flew out of the door. You changed into more appropriate clothing at your place, then caught the subway. As you traveled, you broke the news to your best friend.

"Hey. So. I may have invited a couple newbies," you told him.

"Shouldn't be an issue, it's open night and there are going to be like, 20 teachers there."

"Right. Um. Yes. But."

"What, do you have a crush or something?" You hit him.

"No. But they are my supervisors."

"Both of them?" you nodded. "Well, it's a good way for them to get to know you I guess?" You laughed nervously.

"Hopefully, they don't even come," you said wishfully. Ashley changed the topic and the two of you rode the rest of the way without discussing Casey and Alex-- but they stayed in the back of your mind.

---

Casey walked into the darkened room first, holding Alex's pinky with her own, pulling her in behind. Casey had been reluctant at first, but now that the decision was made, she wasn't going to be bashful about the experience. Besides, she had danced before, unlike her wife. Alex's upbringing had been so very proper and protestant, about the only dancing she'd ever experienced was the waltz that she and her fellow wealthy little kids had been taught in cotillion, then told never to do again outside of a ballroom. Casey, on the other hand, had been raised around all types, and had gone to her fair share of swing nights as a kid. Still, nothing like the way everyone was moving in the little club. The band was on a small stage towards the back of the space, and the room was filled bursting with beautiful women wearing flowing sequined dresses and handsome men in crisp button-downs.

Standing just inside the doorway, Alex caught your form first. You were wearing your favorite dance outfit, a simple red crop top with a silver circle skirt. Your hair was secured in a casual bun. Your tall (and, curiously, male) partner's hand sat firmly pressed between your top and your skirt. She watched, transfixed (like many others there tonight, you were often the center of attention), as he lifted and spun you around, quickly and masterfully. What was most beautiful, though, was the unreserved grin that seemed stuck in its place, except when you lifted your head back and laughed after your partner whispered something in your ear. Alex and Casey made their way over to the bar and sat down with two mojitos (neither of their usual drinks, but half the people at the bar had them. It seemed fitting), and watched you whirl around with ease and clear pleasure. Casey thought she'd never seen you look so beautiful than right then, in your element, moving as naturally as anything.

"So," Casey remarked to her wife, "Either Ashley is a man or Haley's dancing with another partner."

"Or I heard it wrong," Alex offered.

"She's stunning, isn't she?" Casey said, a dreamy, captivated tone in her voice. Alex replied with a sigh and a hum.

The two women didn't get all too long to discuss you, though, before you saw them and came bouncing (Rita Calhoun doesn’t lie) to the bar, Ashley following close behind you.

"You two made it! Alex, Casey, meet my partner, Ashley Laurent. Ash, this is Casey Cabot Novak and Alexandra Novak Cabot, my esteemed supervisors from the DA's office." Alex reached out for a handshake, but Ashley made a "tsk" noise and pulled her in for two kisses on the cheek.

"We kiss on the cheek," he said, the smallest hint of his accent (French, Alex thought) showing through, then did the same for Casey. The way Casey comfortably returned it was adorable to you, as was how Alex tried her best despite her stiffness. You saw Casey rub her thumb along the back of Alex's hand in a calming motion, and without meaning to, you traced your left thumb over your right hand. "I've heard so much about you both," Ashley continued.

"All good things," you interjected with urgency, knowing Ashley's talent for embarrassing you in front of important people.

"Pleased to hear it," Casey said. You could tell that Alex was getting nervous, she had the same look on her face as she did before a difficult case. You felt a pang of guilt for having invited them, worried that you'd maybe pressured them into doing something they didn't want to do, or worse, that they'd come out of pity.

Ashley could tell you were overthinking and wanted to make it either worse (for his entertainment) or better (for your benefit). He took Casey's hand and told her, "You know, my partner here is one of the best dancers in the state. I'm sure she'd love to show you some of the ropes."

"Oh, Ash," you said, then turned to Casey, "Only if you want to. And he exaggerates my talents."

Alex spoke up, then, to say, "Not if what we saw earlier was any indication." You couldn't help but scrunch up your eyes and nose, flattered and flustered and a little embarrassed.

"I'd be happy to dance, Caroline, but I don't want to steal your partner, Ashley," said Casey.

"Nonsense," Ashley said, "besides, I need a break, the kids exhausted me today. I'll stay, keep this one company." You couldn't argue with him any longer, and as the band started up the next song, you took Casey's hand and led her onto the outer corner of the floor.

Your heart sped up when you noticed Casey's subtle signs of nervousness. "No need to worry, half the people in here have no idea what they're doing," you said. You placed your hand around her waist and put hers on your shoulder, keeping a friendly distance between the two of you. "The trick is pretending like you're confident, and people will think you are." Casey noticed the way your voice went up as you said it, like you knew how she was feeling quite well. "And I usually follow, not lead. So, I'm out of my comfort zone too."

You had no need to say the last thing, Casey thought, as you showed her the basic steps. "It's also, really, quite simple. When I step forward, you step back." She followed your lead. "Good! Yeah, that's exactly right," you told her. "I wouldn't even believe you were a beginner," you flattered her. It was a little choppy, but that didn't matter. As you felt her get into the groove of the movement, you let go of her waist and spun her under your other arm. She gasped, quietly.

"Now, the real key here is remembering to move your hips," you said, when you took her waist back in your arms. "You gotta let them guide you. You head should barely move up or down."

"I think you lost me there," Casey said.

"Here, feel," you replied, moving her free hand to your own hips. "Notice how I let them swing every time I move my feet?"

That seemed to work (though you saw a quick moment of an emotion you couldn't quite place wash over Casey), and she was soon dancing with relative ease for a newcomer. Of course, she was in good hands with you.

Alex watched the two of you as you led Casey along the floor. From work, Alex knew you were dedicated and thoughtful, but she'd always thought of you as shy and high-strung, despite your unguarded countenance. You had no problems in court, but outside of it, you would trip over your words, avert your glance at praise; you wore your insecurities on your sleeve. You were always vulnerable, too. More than once, she'd seen you get teary in your office or when speaking with a victim. You were never the first person to leave, and you took some of the most detailed (yet nearly illegible) notes she'd ever seen.

There was nothing shy about the way you moved, the way you showed Casey how to move herself. She found herself paying attention to the way your hips rolled to the music, how you never let Casey know when she stepped wrong. It put her at ease, knowing her wife was in good hands. Everything about you looked natural, comfortable, free.

"How long have you two been together?" she asked Ashley, sipping her drink (it was very minty). Part of her didn't want to know, but that part was overpowered by her curiosity.

"Ten years this fall. We met her first year at Stanford, at a ballroom rehearsal. She was so cute," Ashley said.

"Oh yeah?"

Ashley nodded emphatically, a nostalgic look in his eyes. "She grew up in a really intense studio. She was so strict about rules, and like, crazy competitive. I used to wind her up on purpose, messing with my technique to get a rise out of her."

"I really wouldn't've taken her for a big rule follower."

"It doesn't come naturally to her, but she got good at it," Ashley said. Alex thought he sounded proud of you, like something about you had come a long way. "She's so much more chilled out than she was at 17. But aren't we all?"

Alex was amused at the idea that anybody would call you “chill” and attempted to imagine what you would've been like at that age with little success. Then again, you kept surprising her. The way you seemed as you danced was very different to how you were at work.

"Now, tell me, Alex. Does she really have to put in all those hours? You don't seem like the kind of supervisor who completely disregards work-life balance."

She thought of how to reply to that, not wanting to get you in any hot water at home. Ashley was right. Now that she was older, married, and caretaker of a sizeable plant collection, Alex took a healthier approach to hours. She also remembered being your age and working every second that she could, every moment that it took to be as thorough as she could.

"No, she doesn't have to work so much," Alex ventured. "In fact, I'm not even technically in charge of her schedule. Everyone can choose how much they work, as long as they're meeting targets. Which, unfortunately, means that we sometimes get people who just do the bare minimum."

"I'm sure Caroline isn't one of those people," Ashley said.

"She's not. She's one of the most productive and successful in the office. With the younger ones, for the first few years, they either take a while to get acclimated to the work and need babysitting, or they work too hard and need someone there to remind them to breathe." Alex felt bad that Ashley had clearly seen some element of stress in you that she failed to pick up on. She tucked that away as a conversation to have later. "I was like her. So was Casey. We both calmed down a little, but it took some quite, uh, extreme events."

Ashley, for all his disregard for the norms of conversation, knew when not to push people, and could see that Alex was feeling a bit on edge. "Would you like to dance the next one with me?" he asked, but Alex's eyes widened as she adamantly refused.

"I'm happy to just watch, you don't want to see me try."

Ashley wanted to push more, but he didn't want to risk alienating your boss, so he filled the space by telling embarrassing stories about you in college. When the band began winding down for their first break, the bartender played some pop over the stereo as the dancing crowd made their way to the bar to rehydrate. You and Casey returned to the booth where Ashley and Alex were sitting.

Casey slid in beside Alex, giving her a quick kiss. You sat next to Ashley, leaning your head on his shoulder. You let out a sigh.

"It's been a minute since you taught a newbie, Bug," Ashley said to you.

"Hardly," you replied, shooting him a glare for using your nickname from your college team. "Casey's very capable." You couldn't resist complimenting her, the way she smiled at you was too precious. "You were great," you directed at Casey.

"Please," she said, waving a hand at you and taking a sip of her mojito, watered down slightly by the melting ice. The four of you managed a very engaging conversation (thanks to your partner's valiant efforts) for the next couple minutes, until Ashley's phone rang.

"That is the babysitter. I'm so sorry ladies, I gotta take this." Everyone at the table took the opportunity to check their phones.

"Hi, Emma. Is everything ok? What happened? Is she running a fever? The thermometer is in the bathroom cabinet, can you check?"

You pushed your glass away and rubbed Ashley's shoulder, knowing how upset he got when any of his kids were in trouble.

"No, 99 isn't technically a fever, but you said she threw up? On Yasmin? Well, that's certainly gross. Um, no I wouldn't make you deal with that, here," his brow furrowed, and you started to pack up your things and his, surely you, too, would be going home to help. "Emma, I'm coming home now, should be 20 minutes or so. Léa's lovey is on her bed, if you get her that and wrap her up in a blanket on the couch, she should be OK. Ask Ophélie to entertain Yasmin and stay with Léa for me, can you? You're a gem, kid. OK, I'm leaving now, see you in 20." You started to get up with him, Casey and Alex looked concerned.

"Casey, Alex, I am so sorry to leave, but it was great to meet you two," he said.

"Léa was fine two hours ago when she attacked me," you said, addressing Ashley. "Alex, Casey, I'm sorry I got you two out here and have to leave so soon."

"What? No, you stay here, love." You opened your mouth to argue, but he insisted. "You have guests, and I'll be fine alone. Léa's always sick, and Phélie can watch the baby for me." You tried to help him again, but he wouldn't let you. You gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek goodbye, and he waved kindly to Alex and Casey as he hurriedly walked out the door.

When he was gone, you said to the other women, "I think he does too much. I work all the time. I wish I was there more to help." You played around with a straw wrapper as you talked (Alex noted, you seemed to fidget when you felt guilty).

"He seems like he's OK," Alex said, remembering how Ashley had expressed a similar sentiment to her earlier.

"Do you need to work fewer hours?" Casey asked, "because you're doing more than well."

You sighed as you thought of what to say. "Ashley's a wonderful father. No questions there. But I do think he puts too much pressure on himself."

"There's one thing you two have in common," said Alex. You only nodded in response, looking around the room. This was your happy place, and Casey and Alex somehow fit perfectly in it.

---

You all left the club right before the crowd started to die down. You were tired, and you knew Ashley would need a hug once the girls were in bed; plus, you could tell Alex and Casey were wearing out (you couldn't get Alex to dance, but you and Casey were on the floor together about half the night-- an old student of yours pulled you away from your table as the band began again, but you found Casey another partner for a few songs). As you rode home, your nerves were completely calmed. You realized that you had nothing to worry about in the first place and felt pleased at how the evening had turned out.

As soon as they reached their apartment, Alex took Casey's hands and kissed her, lightly at first, deepening when Casey parted her lips. Casey moaned, muffled, as Alex threaded her fingers through her hair and gave it the gentlest of tugs.

"We have a bed, Lex," Casey said, pulling away slightly.

Alex hummed against Casey's jaw. "You just look so beautiful tonight."

"I don't always?"

"Oh, you do. I just kind of can't believe how perfect you looked dancing."

"Well, you really have Caroline to thank for that one."

Alex made a sound that landed somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right," Alex said. "That's the thing."

"I know," Casey replied. "Too bad she's apparently both straight and taken."

Alex giggled. "I mean, how would that conversation even go."

Casey nodded in agreement, turned on her heels, and pulled Alex down the hall, pushing her onto their very fluffy bed.

"'Hey, I know I’m 15 years older than you, married to Casey, and we’re kind of your bosses, but do you want to have a threesome?'" Alex continued in a low tone of voice, comically seductive, running her hands under the hem of Casey's tank top, pulling her closer with the fabric.

Casey laughed into her collarbone, welcoming Alex's lips as she kissed down her chest.

---

The next week passed quietly. It was a two-case week for you, one of which ended in a plea bargain, giving you more free time than usual. Alex kept bringing you coffee, and you kept running with Casey, though the weather was beginning to be too hot to do so outside (Casey, who was raised spending summers with her grandmother in Georgia, didn't believe there was such a thing; but your poor bay-area body was not suited to temperatures much above 75°). Wednesday evening around 8:00, when you were working late, tying up the details of a sexual harassment case at Manhattan Arts High School, you knocked on Alex's office door, hoping she was still in and would be willing to give you some feedback.

You heard a noise from inside, an "mm-hmm" that you took to mean "come in." You didn't wait to open the door, thanks, again, to your already limited inhibitions and the focus you had when you got deep into a case like this.

It was slightly too soon.

You quickly turned around and all but ran away, apologizing with what felt like every word in the dictionary. That was it, you decided, you had to quit. It was a good run, you thought, but you now had no choice but to leave, change your identity, and move to Spain.

Or something. Why wasn't the door locked?

You made it back to your office, just down the hall. As you fretfully packed papers into your backpack, you heard the click of high heels approaching you, caught a glimpse of blonde hair through the window. Part of you wanted to hide under your desk, but you stayed standing, hoping that if you didn't move, she wouldn't see you (not unlike a child attempting to avoid a bee sting).

Alex tapped her knuckles on the glass in the door, not waiting for you to respond before she opened it and came in. You started to apologize again, but Alex held her hand (her distractingly pretty hand) up at you.

"I am very sorry," she said, "that you saw that. In our defense, we were only kissing, and you usually keep to yourself after about 6."

You had trouble making words come out of your head.

"Anyway, Casey feels horrible. So, I came to apologize and see what you needed."

You continued petrified, wondering how Alex wasn't livid. You noticed a deep red mark on her neck--You noticed her neck.

"Oh God, did we freak you out that much, Haley? It's ok, you didn't do anything wrong. We were the ones making out at work," she said, trying and failing to resist a smirk.

At that, you were able to break out of your overwhelmed silence.

"Uhm," you began, almost whispering. "It's the Manhattan Arts case."

Alex nodded. "That one's tough. That's why I gave it to you."

You nodded, suppressing a squeak.

"It is. I don't know what to do because the complainant is also a co-conspirator with the perpetrator in another case."

"Right. Why don't you come to my office, and we'll all look over it together?" Alex saw your expression fill with fear again, the same kitten-ish look she'd come to know and love. It was painfully cute. "You don't have to. But we do have leftover pad Thai." That was enough to convince you, though you were still taken aback and shaken up.

You went to Ashley's apartment first when you went home that night. He and Ramin (home from his business trip) were cuddled up together on the couch watching The Bachelor, the girls were long asleep. You greeted the men, slipped your shoes off, and padded into the living room, sliding onto the couch beside them. Ramin turned down the TV and slipped his free arm around your shoulders. Ten years of friendship between you and Ashley had made you more than comfortable with his husband, though you'd only known Ramin for four. You three didn't need words anymore, they could both tell when you were having a hard time. You were glad Ramin hadn't seen everything Ashley had-- while you weren't very skittish about sharing your personal life with the people close to you, you and Ashley had been there for one another's darkest moments.

Ramin patted your head, mussing your frizzy hair. "Wanna talk about it?" Ashley asked you, but you shook your head.

"Tea," you said.

"Fair enough," Ramin replied, amused, rising to put the kettle on. Ashley scooted over to give you a hug.

You were in a far better mood after a few pots of chamomile and a few episodes of The Bachelor when you went to bed that night (well, Thursday morning). You were still confused, though. Something in your core warmed up every time you closed your eyes, the image of Casey sitting in Alex's lap, her hair messy, their lips pressed against one another, was stuck in your head. You were still mortified, that was all.

---

Alex made good on her promise of drinks that Saturday. Things had smoothed over since Wednesday; she'd left a cookie and a note beside your coffee on Thursday morning that read: Consider this biscotti your olive branch, and, well, who could stay uncomfortable after that. As they left their apartment, Alex sent a text to their friends reminding them that they had a guest that night.

Alex: Everyone, Haley's coming out with us tonight.

Casey: That means best behavior. No being cruel.

Sophie: ...Rita.

Sophie: We were all thinking it.

Serena: ^

Rita: I'm a very sweet person!

Pippa: You made Gillian cry last week.

Rita: That sounds like a her problem.

Gillian: It kind of was.

Pippa: 💖

Casey: Just, be nice to her. Please?

Serena: We will!

Rita: Fine.

Satisfied, they walked the short distance to their regular bar. As they approached, they saw you standing outside, looking up the other direction of the sidewalk and fidgeting with your keys. Casey noticed what you were wearing first, a black A-line wrap dress that showed off your shoulders. Alex, on the other hand, noticed you were wearing your hair in its natural loopy curls when you usually straightened it.

The way the setting sunlight hit your face as you turned your head in their direction caused Alex's breath to hitch in her throat. The way you idly brushed your fingers along your neck as you tucked a curl behind your ear made Casey's mouth go dry. They shared a quick glance, their eyes talking for them, saying: we're in deep, aren't we?

The second you saw them coming towards you, you grinned wide and waved both hands, bouncing on your toes.

"Rita was right," Casey whispered to Alex, still out of earshot of you, "she's exactly like a bunny."

Alex squeezed Casey's hand tightly. You greeted them excitedly, resisting the urge to hug them both (where did that come from?) by holding your hands behind your back after you waved. They returned your greetings gracefully and led the way into their haunt, Casey, then Alex, then you.

Everyone else was already there, you were sure they must've gotten there before you. The bar wasn't quite what you expected; it had much more of a homey vibe than you thought it would. A mostly 30-something, professional-looking, crowd populated the place's tables, drinking mostly wine and whisky, talking over candlelit tables. You felt more at ease, now that you knew what you were getting into.

You were even more at ease when you realized that sat around the table you were approaching were all familiar faces. Honestly, if you had to pick which defense attorneys to spend an evening with, you could do much worse than Rita Calhoun and Sophie Devere. You knew Gillian would be there, and you were pleased to see Serena Southerlyn and Pippa Cox as well (you always admired the field of legal advocacy, you might've gone into it if the money wasn't even worse than prosecution. Pippa and Serena both clearly came from some amount of wealth-- you most certainly did not, and student loans called).

Pleasant hugs and hellos were shared around the table. Casey introduced you.

"Gillian, of course, you know ADA Haley, but for you others... Pippa, Serena, Rita, Sophie, this is Caroline Haley." Gillian raised her glass to you; Pippa gave a warm smile and a wave. Serena pulled out a chair for you, and you took it.

"Lovely to meet you, officially," said Sophie.

"We could use someone interesting," Rita added.

You had expected to feel anxious. You always did in social situations, and you had the Zoloft in your cabinet to prove it. And you did feel the familiar buzzing of worry in the back of your head. But something about the way Casey and Alex looked at one another and then at you made you feel safer than usual. It was a cozy, pleasant feeling.

Wait. Is that? Was it? No. Certainly not. Unless?

You let their conversations go on without chiming in much. Like you usually did when you met new people, you just watched and sipped your drink (gin and soda, your go-to. Serena had insisted on buying you a drink, Rita teased you for going with something so cliché but stopped after one jab. You'd seen Pippa give her a warning glare, thought you'd seen her squeeze her thigh as well, though that could just be your somewhat wonky eyesight). Noticing your anxiety, Alex gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder that made your stomach flip.

Eventually, at a lull in the talking, Alex turned her attention to you: "What's Ashley doing tonight, Caroline?"

Your expression lit up; you were always excited to brag about your best friend. "He's at the studio; he runs rehearsal on Saturday nights. His company is one of the best in the city." You could've said more, but you didn't want to ramble like you tended to when you were nervous.

"Oh. When do you teach? You're always at the office late." Alex asked.

You sighed. "I wish I had far more time than I do. I teach mostly workshops right now, one or two weekends a month." You saw everyone around the table react with some surprise.

"And you two didn't scare away the babysitter last week?" Casey added.

You chuckled in response. "I hope we didn't. The girls are usually very well-behaved, but poor Léa's always getting sick."

"How old are they, Caroline?" Pippa asked.

The only thing you loved more than bragging about Ashley was bragging about your nieces.

"Ophélie is 12, Léa is 6, and Yasmin is 2. I'm biased, but they're the brightest children on the planet."

The way you sounded when you spoke about the girls spun Casey's head. Alex had never wanted kids, and Casey had always been on the fence. But your clear pride had her feeling very drawn to you in that moment.

"Forgive me for saying," Sophie began, "But aren't you a little young to have a 12-year-old?"

"Or a 6-year-old, really," Gillian added. Alex wanted to say something, remind her well-meaning friends that, sometimes, people didn't want to discuss every detail of their personal lives with them, but she held back, knowing how composed you could be when you wanted. You paled, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"Oh, um," you said, "They aren't my kids, technically. Ophélie is Ashley's youngest sister, and Léa is Ramin's from his first marriage. Yasmin is Ashley and Ramin's only child together, but they have full custody of all three. But I've been in their lives since Ophélie was 4." You saw the confusion build on Casey's face, her brow furrowing like how it did when she was focused in on her notes.

"Who's Ramin?" She asked you.

"Ashley's husband?" You replied, "he didn't mention him to you? He usually can't wait to talk about him."

The subtle confusion turned to true befuddlement on the part of Alex and Casey, both.

"He didn't mention a husband," Alex said. "I actually assumed you two were together?" Casey nodded.The other attorneys watched with varying degrees of curiosity and chaotic joy. You swore you saw Rita cover a smile with her napkin.

You realized the place where things had gone wrong. "Oh, oh my gosh, I can absolutely see where you would get that impression if he didn't bring up Ramin. He was pretty out of it the other night."

"You said you'd meet him at home when he left, called him your partner, kissed him," Casey listed.

"He told me about your first date," Alex added. Their tones were humorously incredulous, teasing. You could feel your cheeks heating up. This hadn't happened in quite a while.

"Dance partner. We live on the first and second floors of the same building. And well, you know someone ten years, you build up affection?" you paused. "It's an easy mistake to make. Besides, did he tell you how said first date ended?"

"No, actually. You and Casey got back from the dance floor before he finished the story."

You hid your head in your hands for a moment. "Well, I'm glad he didn't, because I'm not sure I could've handled the mortification." Everyone at the table kept looking at you, expectantly. "It ended with me coming out to him, then crying into his shoulder about it. So, no second date."

"It's all good, Caroline," Serena said, helping your nerves. "I'm sure Alex just wasn't paying attention. She's like that."

Alex shot her a playful frown. You felt at ease, more comfortable and wanted to share more with the group.

"When Ophélie was in preschool, I used to take her to music class on the weekends. I was still a junior in college, so I would show up to these fancy Palo Alto mommy and me classes with my backpack full of textbooks," you told, reminiscing on your younger years with your niece. "I swear, every new session, I'd walk in and another one of my professors would be there with their kids, the looks on their faces were just so priceless." Nobody seemed bored of you yet, so you kept going. "That little girl is the reason I became a lawyer," you said, in a more serious tone.

"What do you mean by that?" Pippa asked, her passion for protecting kids showing through.

You took a deep breath, not having meant to get so deep tonight-- but you opened up whenever Casey or Alex was around.

"When Ashley sued for custody, he had just graduated and was working in the ensemble of a dance company. I was a couple years behind him, but we were super close, and I was there for every meeting and hearing." You tested the waters, looking around the table to see if anybody looked bored. Seeing no signs, you continued. "And I remember just thinking the attorney was just the coolest person on earth. She convinced a court that this 22-year-old contemporary dancer was more fit to raise a child than that child's wealthy mother. She would work on everything seemingly tirelessly... she eventually found a way to prove that emotional abuse was occurring in the birth mother's home and that Ophélie would be better off Ashley's. When he got custody of Ophélie, I knew I wanted to be like that attorney, prove the supposedly unprovable."

"Wow," Gillian said when you finished talking.

Rita gave you a raise of her eyebrows, said, "Well, you certainly are interesting."

Everyone looked at you like they were trying to figure you out. Casey seemed to be on the verge of tears, and you were holding back some of your own. You sipped your drink, still thinking about how proud you were of Ophélie and the other girls, how lucky you were to have them in your life. You knew it was time to change the subject.

"So, Serena," you said, "Casey told me you two used to play softball together back in the day?" The whole table erupted in laughter, apparently at Serena for being a terrible pitcher.

---

That night, while Casey and Alex dozed off holding one another, Casey murmured softly to Alex, "Baby, you know you'll always be enough for me, right?

"Of course," Alex replied, her voice sleepier than her wife's. "I love you, Case."

---

[djarinvibe]

Shooting Stars (Din Djarin x F!Reader) Pt. 1

A/N: Okay it’s finally here! I’m so excited for this fic, I’m also excited for y’all to read this fic.

Warnings: MODERN!AU, none

Words: 2.2K

Summary: A new professor has been hired at your work seemingly out of the blue.

Master List

September

Dust-filled rays of golden hues shone brightly throughout the large teachers lounge as you sat there, sipping your morning coffee. The room was empty, save for your sitting figure. You typically got to work early, liking the quietness of the space before the other professors and staff would arrive. It gave you time to wake up, as well as prep for the upcoming day. You would do it in your classroom, however, you shared it with the night school teacher and she doesn't leave until it’s time for your first class of the day.

The school you teach at is a community college, but only a two year institution. It’s quite small, one of the smallest in the state, due to how lowly populated the surrounding cities are. You enjoy it, it gives you a chance to form personal relationships easier. Plus the simpleness of a small town has always intrigued you. 

You moved to the low-populated city shortly after graduating and getting your bachelors degree just seven years ago. You got your job as the Film and Literature professor for both grades shortly after and wouldn’t change it for the world, having taught here for six years now. You love your students, and the curriculum, and you’ve also made friends with the other long-time staff. 

The school year just started, actually. You're only two weeks into the semester. The beginning of the year always had a bit of magic to it. Students actually want to be here and teachers aren't so crabby. There's a collective togetherness felt across the whole campus for the first month or so, it's the highlight of the year.

“Here again early?” The voice of your colleague startled you, prompting you to spill some coffee over the papers you’d been grading.

“Shit,” You muttered, quickly trying to dab away the liquid, “Uh, yeah, I always do.” You chuckled, shrugging away the situation. You looked up to see who’d entered the room and smiled, noting it was one of your close work friends, Omera. The woman has worked here for almost as long as you, having started two years after. She isn't a teacher, instead she works in the office as a secretary. Omera also has a ten year old daughter, and is an amazing single mother. You've met her child, Winta, a few times in the past. You two became friends quickly, finding out you had many things in common.

“I prefer the extra twenty-five minutes of sleep.” She chuckled lightly, padding over to the old coffee machine. You always made sure to brew a full pot, as you were usually the first person to make any. You nodded towards her with a quieted snort, rolling your eyes, before looking back down at the work in front of you.

“Oh, did you hear? Dean Karga hired a new Astronomy teacher.” She smirked, pouring the coffee into a cup as she leaned against the cabinets. “I got a peek of him after his interview,” She paused to throw away the stir stick and trot over, sitting at the small table to join you, “And he’s cute.”

“I didn’t hear,” You raised your brow, “We’re two weeks into the year, why hire him late? Is he new in town?” Your curiosity peaked as you gawked at the woman for answers. 

“I don’t know.” Omera shrugged, taking a sip of the hot liquid, “Could be. But anyways, the Dean is going to introduce him during the morning meeting.” 

“Oh maker, I remember when he did that with me.” You chuckled, shaking your head. Every new member of staff got introduced to the others by the Dean. Greef tries to be a comedian during, but it always ends up being an awkward stand up set with no laughter and scoffs of pity. 

“I guess we’ll see what happens.” Omera smirked, “Oh, and I heard he’s single.” She added with a tap to your arm. The woman knows that you haven't dated in a while; you just haven't been trying. 

“Oh, I don't know…” You trailed off, shaking your head. You didn't have time to think about that. You had more pressing things to worry about like your job, and...

“Just see how it plays out.” The secretary pleaded softly, prompting you to finally cave. She gave a small cheer of delight, her excitement rolling off her thin figure in waves.

-

It took another half an hour before most of the staff finally arrived, just in time. The morning meetings always took place twenty minutes before the starting bell, leaving enough room to cover current topics and get to your classroom.

With the teachers lounge packed as tightly as could be, the Dean finally stepped into the space. Following behind him was, who you could only assume, the new Professor. You didn’t catch a great glimpse, as someone partially blocked your vision, but from what you saw you were intrigued.

“Alright, alright everyone.” Dean Karga’s voice dispelled the murmurs of the room, making it deafeningly quiet. The only sound you could hear was the chattering of students walking the halls outside. You glanced at Omera beside you, her eyes fixated on the new teacher next to the Dean. Scooting slightly until your view wasn't blocked, the mysterious man finally came into view.

You couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in your belly, the man in your vision causing them. The Dean’s words melted away, your head becoming fuzzy as you looked at the new teacher. He was handsome, to say the least. He donned a brunette mop of loose, curly hair, and stubble to match. He was broad, the light gray suit he donned only making him look more so. He stood with his hands on his hips, gaze scanning the room when he unsuspectedly locked sight with your own.

Time froze for a moment as his dark eyes peered, your heart gaining speed and your breath catching in unison. Though looking at each other in a crowded room, you felt as though you were the only two. You could've sworn he gave you a gentle nod and a grin, but it felt hazy.

When you finally blinked and looked down, you noted how warm your cheeks had gotten. You felt flustered, the hot rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins and warming up your cold hands. You kept your gaze on the floor ahead of you, trying to steady your racing heart. It was silly to be so flustered over a look, but you haven't experienced that in years.

“And this is our new Astronomy Professor, Din Djarin,” Karga’s words floated back in and you furrowed your brow, trying desperately to ignore the man beside him. The crowd murmured greetings towards the man in the light gray suit, and you felt Omera’s elbow poke your side. Looking towards her, she held a smug expression only fueling the heat in your cheeks. 

“Okay, first period is about to start. Better get you all to class.” The Dean’s voice echoed, and the room erupted with chatter as the herds began to clear out. You, flustered, grabbed your stack of papers and bag, ducking your head to exit silently. Getting to the safety of your classroom was all you cared about. 

--

The day surprisingly flew by, despite the whole meeting fiasco earlier that morning. Getting into the groove of class always caused the days to drift by without a blink. Plus, you tried to make the curriculum as engaging as possible to keep both you and your students interested.

After dismissing your last period of the day, you remained in the room working on the papers from the morning. The afternoon sunlight barred against the windows and lit the room brilliantly. That's one reason you loved your classroom; no matter the season, you always got sun. Plus, you’d hung several plants by the windows three years ago much to Dean Karga’s dismay. But it made the space feel less like a prison cell with its painted white brick walls and cold, tile floors.

A knock on the door filled the silence of the space, startling you slightly. After letting out a chuckle at your scare, you yelled for whomever to enter, knowing sometimes students will leave something behind. However, when the door clicked open and you looked up, your breath caught. 

“Hi,” The new professor's low voice echoed in the silence as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind. You cleared your throat, standing up from your desk and subconsciously straightening the fabric of your clothes. 

“H-Hi, you must be…?” You stuttered out the sentence, walking to the edge of your desk and leaning against the surface for support. Of course you know him, but you’d feel impolite not asking. The man trotted into your room til he stood only a few feet in front of you.

“Oh, uh Din, Din Djarin.” He spoke, sticking out a hand for you to shake. Complying, your much smaller hand became engulfed by his own as the two of you greeted the other. You were quick to introduce yourself, managing not to stutter as you spoke this time. The man repeated your name, the sound of it rolling off his lips like velvet. 

“Is there a reason you stopped by?” You questioned, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. His head tilted in question before he realized what you'd asked.

“Oh, Yes, I was just making a point to introduce myself to the staff personally. The Dean put on quite a show.” Din commented, shaking his head. You don't remember a thing about what Dean Karga had said during the whole meeting, only the vivid eye contact between you and the man in front of you, but you chuckled at his claim nonetheless. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” You smiled softly, studying the man's face. You couldn't help but notice a few minor scars across his warm skin, one tainting the bridge of his curved nose and another along his cheekbone. There was even a small one hiding on his chin, just showing from behind his stubble. 

It made you curious as to how an Astronomy Professor could get such things. Then again, people get scars in all types of weird ways. For example, you have a scar along your thigh that you got from a bike accident involving a hill and your chain catching. You were thirteen at the time.

“What do you teach?” The man questioned, his eyes looking around the room, no doubt trying to guess. The night teacher you shared the space with had put up some decor, but for the most part, the walls were bare of any guidance; aside from the several plants hanging by the window.

“Film and Literature. Have been for...” You paused to do the mental math, “Six years.”

“That’s a long time.” Din observed, nodding his head. You agreed with a slight chuckle, looking away and biting your lip. The man's eyes studied your face as you gazed elsewhere, enamored by your delicate features. Seeing you from across the teachers lounge had been burning in his mind all day. In fact, he had started going room to room for ‘introductions’ just to find you; It only took him seven classrooms.

“Well, I love it,” You shrugged, a smile taking over your face, “And what do you teach?” You finally looked back up at the man, your eyes greeting once again. The intimate contact caused such an anxious stir in your belly, but a welcomed stir. 

“Astronomy.” He responded with a nod, putting his hands onto his hips.

“A spaceman huh?” You questioned with a laugh, “I suck at science… hence why I am an Film and Literature teacher.” You gestured to the empty desked room. The man just chuckled along before you two fell into silence again. It didn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as before, your tension slowly melting away.

You haven't felt this way around someone for a long time. At least not since your college boyfriend over seven years ago, you dated for two years before you graduated and moved. You haven't really made an effort to since, not for any reason in particular, mostly just because you haven't found someone who made you feel special. Plus, it’s a small area and most of the men weren't available

“Well, I should let you get back to work.” Din spoke after a moment of wordless stares. His sentence was slow and hesitant, almost like he didn't want to leave.

“Oh yeah, I nearly forgot.” You stood up from leaning against your desk and chuckled, looking to the stack of papers on the surface.

The two of you began a slow pace towards the door, heads cast to the floor in shyness. Your sets of footsteps sounded against the tiled floor, filling the empty silence with an echoed click. When you reached the door, the man turned on his heels, nearly bumping into you.

“I'm in room 302 If you'd ever like to stop by?” The man’s statement was more spoken like a hopeful question.

“Okay, I’ll be sure to.” You bit your lip before giving him a gleeful smile, nodding your head. The man perked up at your response, giving you one last goodbye before stepping out of the room.

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

I know there are a few people who want to be tagged, but i lost your @’s! Please send an ask if you want to be added to the Shooting Stars tag list!

[hunnybadgerv]

Flufftober 2021 | Far Cry 5 | Tayen Quick/Sharky Bosahw

A ridiculous little fill for Flufftober 2021: "Sneaking Out Together"

Figured since it was his birthday, maybe I should try to celebrate Hope County's most infamous fire bug in a proper fashion. Sorry it is kind of silly and trite. Hopefully with more practice I'll find my groove again. But I do hope you enjoy this little scribble.

Sharky leaned back on his hands and let his body stretch out on the flannel blanket they had set out earlier in the afternoon. A sated smile curled beneath his moustache as he watched Tayen packing away the leftover food. She didn’t want the scent to announce their presence to anything feral or Peggie; he just studied her profile and how her hair fluttered around the soft curves of her face. When her dark eyes flitted in his direction, his smile widened.

“You look like the cat who ate the canary,” she teased.

He hummed. “Not yet,” he taunted, leaning forward and reaching out for her wrist. “But don’t worry, I saved room.”

She chuckled at him, but let him pull her toward him until his lips brushed over hers. “Yeah well, you’ll have to wait for the sun to set.”

The tip of his nose nuzzled hers between soft lingering kisses. “Since when are you so shy?”

Tayen leaned against him more fully, savoring the detour from more practical matters. “Not shy,” she assured him before his tongue slipped into her mouth again. Her hand tightened just above his chest, clenching at his trademark green sweatshirt. “Just—” she gasped. “Just don’t want to miss the show.”

“Show?” His curiosity got the better of him and he pulled away slightly, wanting to know more.

“Mmhmm.” It was all the answer she offered. Her other hand grazed his cheek as she kissed him hard.

The flick of her tongue against his upper lip redirected his interest keenly. Again he pulled her closer, his hands tugging at denim and flannel until her body covered his like the hottest blanket ever. The weight of her against him offered welcome comfort.

With a flick of his wrist, Sharky untucked her tank top and sneaked his hand beneath it. He pressed his palm against her ribs, squeezing and holding her tight against him. Their fervor went straight to his head. His free hand nestled in her hair and gave a gentle tug. When their kiss broke and her chin lifted, he dove right for her neck, nipping sharply before sucking a kiss over her pulse point. His lips skimmed lower as his hand crept higher.

Fingers and tongue converged at the low neckline of Tayen’s tanktop, as he plucked the cup of her bra down. Sharky nudged past the white fabric to suck her nipple into his mouth. Her hands cradled his head to her skin; her soft moans were music to his ears and spurred his brazenness.

“Best birthday ever,” he mumbled, pulling her into another kiss. Sharky, thinking he had taken the lead, tried to roll them over, but Tayen braced against the motion and quickly sat atop his hips. He held onto the hem of her shirt.

“It’s your birthday?” she asked.

He wrapped his fingers in the cotton of her tank top, giving her a little tug in an effort to get her close once more. “Yeah,” he said. He sat up and pressed against her neck. “That’s what this whole thing was. Right?”

Tayen just blinked at him like she was trying to decide what to say.

“Seriously?” Sharky asked, surprise overtaking his features.

It took a minute maybe two, though it felt like ten, but eventually, Tayen smirked. It spread into a smile, when he poked at her ribs and tickled her.

She managed to wriggle away and get back to her feet, laughing the whole time.

“So, you did know?” He draped his arm atop his raised knee.

“Addie told me,” she admitted.

“Almost had me thinking you were psychic or something.”

“Who says I’m not.”

Sharky chuckled for a moment, but it settled in the seriousness of her dark gaze. At least until she smiled again, waggling her eyebrows at him. “You’re just looking for trouble.”

“Maybe.” Tayen took as step back.

Her hint at retreat pulled him to his feet. She took another step; he mirrored it. Then she turned and bolted. Sharky knew it to be a game, so he gave chase. She stopped a few feet from the edge of the cliff, and he swallowed her up in a tight hug. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

“You’re extra playful tonight.”

“Thought I’d try to make it memorable.”

THe tip of his nose tickled against her cheek, before he pecked her. “Being with you is always memorable, Taye.”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning toward him.

Sharky nodded. “Yeah.” He brushed his thumb against her jawline as he stared into her deep dark eyes.

A chiming broke the solemnity of the moment. He knew it was her alarm, and hated the idea that his birthday picnic seemed to be at an end.

Tayen kissed him gently, then leaned against his shoulder while encouraging him to hold onto her more tightly. “Look,” she whispered, staring off over the edge of the cliff.

He hadn’t realized where they had picnicked that afternoon, at least not until he saw the little white building below them. Then he spotted a bright burning spark near the edge of the field brimming with white flowers. After a few seconds that spot of fire spread through the fields faster than seemed natural. When the flames neared the house, the gas tank nearby burst, exploding and taking half of the empty farmhouse with it.

“Happy birthday,” Tayen whispered against his cheek. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect,” he assured her, cupping her cheek and kissing her deeply. No one had ever blown anything up for him before. It touched the deepest reaches of his pyromaniac heart.

[sillyguyhotline]

Prompt: Sara, having voted for Shin to die, in the classroom (or lab?) taking Joe's dog keychain

“Alright, it looks like this room is all clear,” Sara spoke up, just loud enough to alert the two allies who were trailing behind her. Ranmaru, bandaged hands shoved lazily into his pockets, gave a quick nod, and Keiji scratched his neck in assent. 

She moved down the hallway, still rather cautious as to what traps could be sprung at a moment’s notice, finger poised carefully on the map. She couldn’t quite discern what kind of room was up ahead, and that only heightened her anxiety about what she was about to face… but nevertheless, she stepped a steady foot into the room.

Sitting before her was a painfully familiar sight, dredging up memories that, in any other circumstances, could have been fond. It was her old math classroom, without a doubt, the one she’d spent years sitting in with Joe sitting right beside her. She’d resented it once, because Ryoko wasn’t in the class with her and she was seated next to the most painfully cheerful person in their grade. 

Oh, how she’d feared receiving endless mockery from Joe or her other classmates; after all, Joe was so peppy, so lovely, and she’d spent her school years stewing quietly in the corner of the room. 

It felt silly to look back at those fears now, after how long Joe had been her best friend and after how many secrets and wonderful moments she’d entrusted him with. 

It felt even sillier to look back on those regrets now that he was gone. She’d been so sure that she would have all the time in the world to make amends for those fears of him, that she’d have all the time in the world to shake him awake when he dozed off in math class or to fall asleep on the school rooftop during lunch as he kept a watchful eye on her, knowing how badly she needed that sleep. 

Sara had been a very future-focused person, a stark contrast from her cheerful best friend, but he’d often shattered her intricate plans for university with his own proposals for how they’d live life after high school. Karaoke and doner kebabs every day, he’d suggest, or they could volunteer at the animal shelter.

“Imagine how much free time we’ll have when we’ve graduated,” Joe would daydream at lunch. “And we’ll have money, too! We can do whatever the hell we want, all day long, and nobody’s gonna be there to stop us.”

“You know, we’ll have to get a job in order to have money,” Sara would always counter, looking forward to the way his face would crinkle with disappointment at that response.

“Not necessarily,” Joe would say back, overdramatically raising his finger. “We could get a job play-testing things at the arcade and then we could spend our days doing that.”

Sara would roll her eyes and flick a chip crumb at him, and then the two of them would devolve into raucous laughter that couldn’t help but attract stares from their classmates. They’d taken the future so lightly, always believing that the only things laying ahead of them were university and work and retirement. They’d never once imagined a future that didn’t have the other in it. 

But, Sara realized as she stood paralyzed on the threshold of this relic from a past she’d never be able to return to, some futures simply aren’t meant to be. 

Had Joe come to that realization at any point, or had he died with peace in his heart? She couldn’t help but hope for the latter.

“Sara? You doin’ alright?” Keiji’s voice pierced through the room, and she glanced over her should to find him fixing her with a very concerned stare. She knew exactly what he was thinking, knew that it had probably taken him a mere glance around the room to realize what thoughts it was meant to bring. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave a confident nod, as much for her own sake as his, and stepped into the room. There was moonlight twinkling through the windows, almost a carbon copy of how the classroom had looked when she’d woken in it the night of the kidnapping. She’d always thought the school had looked a little odd in the darkness, a little too cold and empty for her tastes. Now, though, with the pang of loss still stinging through her brain, it seemed even colder and more unforgiving. 

She stepped carefully through the room, fingers gliding over each desk as she walked past, trying to memorize the sensation of the grooves of wood against her hands. Slowly, carefully, she approached her desk... and found that there was a bookbag neatly perched in the seat right behind hers.

His seat, his bookbag. 

“Hey, uh, you want me to check that out for you?” Ranmaru was quick to step forward and make the offer, face creased with worry. How much had he been told about the events of the game? Had he seen the portrait of the bloody boy in the same uniform as Sara’s and put two and two together? 

Sara hesitated, then… “yeah, go ahead.” 

Ranmaru nodded solemnly, then reached into the bag and rummaged around in it before pulling out a very familiar object. “What’s this? Some sort of… dog keychain?”

It was remarkable how different it felt to see the keychain without the plague of hallucinations constantly weighing on Sara’s shoulders. No more bloody apparitions stirring in Sara’s subconscious, no more nauseating guilt threatening to spill out. Just a heavy ache in her heart at the sight of all that was left of her best friend.

“Did this… did this belong to that Joe guy or somethin’?” Ranmaru gripped at the keychain a little tighter, turning it around in his hand to examine it, and there was a clench at Sara’s heart.

“Give me that, Ranmaru.” Keiji’s voice came out cold. “Sara, don’t look at it.”

“No… no, it’s fine.” Could they hear how raw her voice was? “I don’t have to deal with the hallucinations anymore. It’s alright.” 

The other two of her allies fell deadly silent, and she could only pray that they would listen to her. It was true that the real keychain was still nestled snugly in her pocket, close to her heart where nobody could ever hope to hurt him again… but this was Joe. Copy or not, she’d grown fond of seeing that keychain in Joe’s pocket, knowing that it was a symbol of all his affection for her.

He couldn’t carry the keychain to graduation anymore. It had fallen into the timeless garbage pile of shattered promises and futures that would never come to be. But she would do her best to make sure that she kept his promise alive, even if he couldn’t.

“Ranmaru… please give that to me. It’s very… very special to me.”

Hesitantly, Ranmaru handed the keychain over, and she was swift to pocket it. Perhaps she’d be able to give one to Ryoko, as cheap as it would seem, and they’d both be able to cherish their own individual remnants of their extinguished sunshine. 

“Can… can you guys leave the room for a bit? I know there’s more to explore, but… can I have a few minutes alone?” Her eyes were still fixated on the carefully-carved wood of the desk, refusing to meet theirs.

After a long, weighty pause, Keiji spoke up. “...Alright. But call out for help if anything happens. And don’t take too long. We still need to catch Midori, alright?”

“Alright.” 

She waited with bated breath until their solid, clicking footsteps faded away and the door fell shut behind them… and sat down at her desk. 

The silence of the room consumed her, broken only by the gentle whistle of automated wind pushing against the windows. They were far too underground, surely, for the night sky to be authentic, but even the quiet ambiance brought its own flavor of peace. Even in her own quiet solitude, she felt foolish tracing her fingers over the wood of the desk, wishing so stupidly that he might be there to listen to her. 

“Hey, Joe,” she spoke up quietly. “I know… I promised I wouldn’t cry over you. I know you’ve never liked to see me cry, I know it makes you miserable… I’m sorry. I hope, wherever you are, if you can even hear me right now, I haven’t made you miserable. I certainly hope you aren’t punching yourself.” She let out a quiet, heavy laugh. 

Oh, the burden was too much to bear, and she quickly reached for the dog keychain, the one she knew was real, the one snugly nestled up to her heart. She gazed into the beady eyes glinting in the moonlight, trying to reclaim her courage… and saw only his smile in that plastic one. 

Joe’s dopey, foolish smile, the smile that was such a perfect brand of stupid that only he’d managed to master it. The smile he’d given her whenever he’d told a good joke that managed to make her laugh, or when something genuinely good happened and he was practically bursting with joy in anticipation of telling her. 

She hated that the last time she’d seen that smile, it was bloodstained and heavy with exhaustion.

It was so foolish, that out of all of the things that could possibly still haunt her, his smile had done the trick. The clatter of the hairpin on the floor, the way she’d spun hoping upon hoping that maybe he was still alive, maybe she could salvage him and they could go home alive and happy… only to be greeted with that dumb, beautiful smile. Drained of life, eyes dull with the promise of death, mouth dripping blood, he’d beamed up at her with such happiness pushing against the pain… and then she’d watched him die, still smiling.

Stupid, stupid Joe Tazuna, who could smile even in the face of death if only so his best friend wouldn’t cry.

And she’d failed him.

She’d taken the hairpin, though, even blinded by tears and grief. It was just a bobby pin, one of the many he’d use to keep his hair up all day. She couldn’t begin to recount the amount of times she’d slept over at his house and watched him style his hair with gel and pins, grinning when he’d catch her eye in the mirror and wink at her. He’d always offered to style her hair, but she’d always refused, joking that she didn’t want her hair to look like his and giggling when he gasped in mock offense.

Now, though, her motions were slow as she closed her eyes and reached her hands up towards her head. Carefully, tenderly, she slipped the hairpin into her hair, tightly securing her braid. She could almost fool herself into thinking he was the one sitting behind her, doing her hair with such care and precision. 

“I miss you so much, Joe,” she said, eyes closed. “God, I miss you more than I’ve missed anything in the world. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get us out alive. I know… wherever you are, you’re probably happier. I guess this was just never meant to be, huh?” Her voice broke. “It hurts to sit here and know you’re not sitting behind me, to know you’re never gonna sit behind me again. I know you’re gone, and I know I shouldn’t be crying over me, I should be smiling so you’re happy.”

She wiped her tears away with her sleeve, staining it a darker blue. “We’ve broken so many promises, haven’t we? But… I’m going to get out alive, and I’m going to tell Ryoko what happened, and I’m going to carry this keychain to graduation. That’s one promise I refuse to break.”

The tears took over, then, but as she cried the room grew a little warmer. For a fleeting second, there was the phantom weight of a warm, bangle-wearing hand on her shoulder. As she stood up, though, it dissolved, leaving only the whisper of her words behind and the vague echos of affection in her ears. 

[flowerfan2]

Ok friends, I’m cracking up sitting here right now, because I just took a quick trip to get bagels, came inside with the bag of bagels in my hand, and then sat down to post today’s chapter before allowing myself the reward of eating breakfast... and this is how the first line of today’s chapter begin:

David comes into the house with a bag of bagels in one hand and a tray of hot beverages in the other...

I got iced coffee instead of hot, but still, I guess it was meant to be!  Hope you enjoy Chapter 15.  @perryavenue​ is going to recognize where I got my inspiration for this one...

David x Patrick, A03, 3k this chapter, 48k so far.  

Chapter 15

David comes into the house with a bag of bagels in one hand and a tray of hot beverages in the other, listening to see if Patrick is awake yet.  He was hoping to surprise him with breakfast in bed.  Unfortunately, sunny Saturday mornings mean long lines at the bagel place, and it all took a lot longer than he had hoped.

David deposits the bagels on the counter, spotting Patrick sitting outside on the lanai.  Drinks in hand, he joins him at the table and leans over to give him a quick kiss.

“Successful trip?” Patrick asks, taking the lid off his tea and inhaling appreciatively.

“Mmm, yes.  I checked several of the bagels on the way home.  The French toast flavor is overrated, but they do an excellent marble rye.”

“Leave any for me?”

“Even I can’t eat a dozen bagels in half an hour.  Three, maybe, although that would still be a mistake.  There are plenty left for you to choose from.”

Patrick grins at him and leans back, putting his bare feet up on David’s lap.  David frowns.

“What, are foot rubs before coffee incorrect?”

David mock-glares at Patrick, even though he loves these silly call-backs to their history together.  “Bare feet outdoors is incorrect.”

“But there’s a swimming pool.”

“The pool is over there,” David waves his hand.  “You are here, sitting at a table, eating breakfast.  Not swimming.”

“Technically I was reading the news on my phone.  Not eating breakfast.”

“Keep antagonizing me and there won’t be any breakfast in your future, either.”

Patrick grins at him, then removes his feet from David’s lap and goes inside to retrieve the bagels, along with plates, cream cheese and lox.  Ordinarily David would insist on toasting his bagel, but these are so fresh and warm that they demand to be eaten immediately.  They busy themselves with their food for a few minutes, David moaning in appreciation, mostly just to watch Patrick react.

“So, I had an idea for what we could do today.”

“Is eating a pile of bagels and then taking a nap not good enough for you?”

Patrick chuckles.  “I was actually thinking of going kayaking.”

David nearly chokes on his food, and Patrick pats his back good-naturedly.  “Kayaking?”  He doesn’t screech, but it is a near thing.  “What about me, exactly, suggests that I would want to go kayaking?”

“Come on, David.  We’ve been sitting around here for weeks.  I did just get the all clear from the doctor.  It’ll be fun.”

David does not think for a minute that it will be fun, as kayaking will undoubtedly involve bugs, unstable vehicles, and the threat of drowning.  But Patrick has been beached, so to speak, ever since his injury, and David knows it has been weighing on him.

“I don’t suppose we could go on a nice, safe hike instead?”

Patrick laughs.  “We can do that another day.  I called a place about a half hour from here, they have two boats available this afternoon.  Just give it a try.  If you hate it, we won’t stay out long.”

Much to his surprise, David does not hate it.

They show up at the launching area in their swim trunks and shirts, David with his long-sleeved swim shirt on, and Patrick with some kind of sports related jersey.  Their guide makes them wear ugly life preservers, which ruin David’s look but do give him a bit of relief when it comes to his drowning concern.  After a short lesson, during which Patrick asks lots of excited questions and David tries valiantly to follow along, they each get into a kayak and are pushed out into the water.

The sun is shining rather enthusiastically, and David is glad that he has sunglasses on – he even made them stop along the way to buy a cheap pair, in case they wind up in the water.  Patrick bought a ridiculous strap that holds his on his head, and he’s got a ball cap on as well, so there’s not much to see of him except his lovely pale arms which David very much enjoyed slathering in sunscreen.

David pulls his attention away from Patrick and focuses on stroking his paddle through the water, trying to put the guide’s instructions into action.  Patrick stays near him, offering quiet corrections, and soon they both fall into a comfortable rhythm.

David knows that he’s in better shape now than he’s been in for most of his life.  Although running doesn’t do much for his upper body, at least he’s got stamina.  He tries to relax and enjoy it.  If he paddles just right, the kayak cuts through the water without very much effort on his part.  It’s kind of neat.  Soothing, even, almost like the way it feels when he gets into a groove on a run.

They aren’t out on the Gulf, as ocean kayaking is far beyond their skill level.  Instead, they are making their way down an inlet of some kind, a broad waterway with docks and houses on both sides.  Soon they are out in the bay, and Patrick directs them past a piling with an egret’s nest on top, over to a bristly bunch of trees at the water’s edge.

“These are mangroves,” Patrick says, indicating the dense tangle of scrubby looking trees with visible roots.  “They’ve adapted to living in salt water, extracting the fresh water they need.  Some of them push the salt out onto their leaves.  The leaves even taste salty.”

David doesn’t ask how Patrick knows this.  He’d just wind up watching him lick a leaf.

They paddle closer, and David can see into the clusters of plants, the roots and branches weaving together.

“Want to go through?”

David has no idea what Patrick is talking about, but he follows him as he kayaks around the edge of a cluster.  There’s an overhang, and what looks like a tunnel into the middle of the clump of mangroves.

“Are you serious?”  David asks under his breath, but Patrick is already nearing the entrance.

“Go slow,” Patrick says over his shoulder.  “Try not to point into them, and if you do get stuck, just grab on carefully and lever yourself off.  Remember not to overbalance.”

It’s a recipe for disaster, but David gently eases himself into the tunnel.  It’s cooler and dim inside, with branches and green leaves all around him.  It smells like low tide, musty and brackish.  The nose of his kayak gets hung up briefly as he turns too hard in one direction and for a brief moment it lists dangerously sideways, but he takes a breath and then uses his paddle to back up a bit and set himself on a straighter path.

He catches Patrick looking back at him, having executed some kind of fancy twisting maneuver so that he can see David.  “Nice paddling, David.”

They rest for a minute there, Patrick showing David how to move his paddle to make his kayak go sideways (“it’s like a figure eight”) with limited success.  Then Patrick spends some time pointing out to David the difference between the red, white, and black mangroves, which doesn’t make any sense because they are all clearly green.

David doesn’t argue with him.  It’s far too nice here, hidden among the curving branches with Patrick who is so clearly, uncomplicatedly happy.  David will wear an ugly life jacket and take his chances with the alligators anytime if it makes Patrick smile.

After they extract themselves from the mangroves, Patrick makes them paddle into the wind in order to reach a spot where they can pull up on to the beach.  It’s less pleasant than drifting in the trees, but it’s worth it when their kayaks land on a sandy shore.  Patrick jumps out of his boat first, pulling the bright orange monstrosity up out of the water, and then returns to help David get out of his without tumbling over, which David very much appreciates.  

They sit down and stretch their legs, Patrick continuing to chatter about the birds they saw on the way over, how he’s never seen so many of the pink ones (roseate spoonbills, they’re called, but Patrick likes to correct David, so he pretends he doesn’t remember), how they’re fortunate to see so many birds of some kind or another this time of year.

After a while David just pulls Patrick against him, and Patrick shuts up, kissing David with the taste of salt on his tongue.  They make out for a while, alone on the shore, their kayaks shifting slightly as the water laps against their sterns.  Patrick lies back on the sand and David hovers close, his elbow braced against the ground as his other hand slides Patrick’s sunglasses off so that he has more skin to kiss.

They can’t go too far, for obvious reasons, but it feels wonderful to kiss and cuddle in the sun.

Finally they sit up, a little shy, and Patrick takes David’s hand in his and squeezes it.

“Thanks for doing this today,” Patrick says, and David’s heart swells.  It’s not such a big deal, participating in an activity just because your partner asked you to.  And it really wasn’t a hardship.

“It’s fun,” he concedes.

“I didn’t think you’d agree to come.”  Patrick looks away, out across the water.

David puts a hand on Patrick’s chin and turns his face towards him, until his brown eyes are locked onto his own.  “You asked.”  There’s very little he wouldn’t do for Patrick.  He can’t quite say that out loud, but he doesn’t have to.  He thinks Patrick hears it anyway.  

That night David’s putting away the remains of their take-out (Thai food, purchased on the way back from their kayaking adventure) when Patrick dances over to him and presents him with a package.

“What’s this?  Aside from an already opened and poorly resealed cardboard box?”

“Open it and find out.”

Inside under the blue tissue paper is a menorah, a pretty silver-plated one with a leaf and branch design.  It can’t have been cheap.

“Patrick, you didn’t have to-”

“I always imagined getting you a nice menorah, when we finally had a place together.  I had seen this one online, and when I realized it was Hanukkah, well.  Here it is.”

David just stares at it for a moment, tongue-tied.

“Do you like it?”

He wraps his arms around Patrick and kisses him soundly.  “I love it.”

It’s actually the end of Hanukkah already, so they load up the menorah with the appropriate number of candles and David mumbles what he remembers of the blessings.  It’s a rather lovely moment on top of a particularly lovely day, and David has to take a minute to keep it from overwhelming him.

Patrick notices, of course, and wraps his arms around him from behind, his chin on David’s shoulder, and they breathe together for a while.  When David relaxes Patrick nuzzles his ear.  “Want to go to bed?”

David turns in Patrick’s arms, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the eager look on Patrick’s face.  “Someone’s having a good day.”

Patrick captures David’s lips in a kiss, hot and insistent, and when he pulls back David is breathing hard.  “Tell me you’re not.”

He shakes his head, happiness bubbling out of him.  “Can’t do it.”

They make it back to the bedroom just before clothes start to come off, and soon they are naked and wrapped around each other, hands skimming over heated skin.  Patrick seems to have a plan, he’s wound up and raring to go, and David loves it.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks as Patrick straddles him, holding his head in his hands and nipping along David’s jaw.

“I want you to fuck me,” Patrick says into the shell of David’s ear.  “Open me up like this, and then fuck me.”

A thrum of arousal pulses through David at Patrick’s words.  They’ve had a lot of sex over the past week, but Patrick hasn’t asked for this yet.  

Their initial attempts at penetrative sex hadn’t gone particularly smoothly, back when they first got together.  After a few mishaps they had ignored it for a while, content to turn each other on and get each other off in a variety of easier ways.  David was happy to introduce Patrick to the pleasures of a really excellent blow job, and Patrick was, as always, a quick study, finding that he loved to bring David to the edge and then tease him until he was reduced to a writhing, begging mess.

And David was always quick to reassure Patrick that penetrative sex wasn’t the only way to have sex, that no matter what he thought in the past, they could make each other happy in any way they were comfortable with.

But Patrick was nothing if not determined, and so eventually they made their way back to it, first Patrick tentatively pushing into David, and later, when Patrick was in just the right mood, Patrick asking for David to do the same for him.  

“You don’t have to like it,” David remembers saying to Patrick, one night when Patrick was feeling some combination of bad and nervous and embarrassed about the whole issue.  “It’s okay if you don’t want to do it.  It really is.”

At some point, though, something happened that changed Patrick’s mind.  David’s pretty sure it had to do more with Patrick’s headspace than anything else, his gradual letting go of heteronormativity and becoming more comfortable with his view of himself as queer, but his prostrate probably factored into it as well.  Afterwards Patrick clung to David like an octopus, both of them sweaty and blissed out.

“How do people not do this all the time?” Patrick asked, pressing his face into David’s neck.  “How can it feel so good?  Why didn’t you tell me?”

David had laughed and hugged Patrick tight, too caught up in his fiancé’s astonished joy to wonder how he was going to keep the attention of such an amazing man.  It had been a very good night.

Tonight was shaping up to be even better.

Patrick holds himself over David while David finds the lube, and lets out a low moan when David reaches down and starts to press at his hole.  David takes his time, circling gently, then increasing the pressure, all while Patrick moans and sways above him.

Patrick leans down to kiss him, his mouth open and trailing wetly down David’s jaw, catching on the stubble.  He’s got a hand on David’s chest, and then Patrick shifts so his mouth can continue its journey, finding one of David’s nipples and sucking hard.

“God, Patrick,” David whines, just holding on to Patrick’s hips while Patrick bites at one nipple and then the other, sending sparks of electricity through his body.  “Come here, let me-” David gets his fingers back where he wants them, and then he’s pressing inside, Patrick fucking his fingers.

“Ah – David – oh god, yes, there, oh-” Patrick pushes back against David’s fingers, rocking back and forth, hands grasping at David’s arm and his chest and then valiantly pulling at David’s cock, although his attention is understandably elsewhere.  “Ohhhh, David, now, please, fuck me now.”

“Like this, or…?”

Patrick slides off David’s fingers and stretches out on the bed, pulling David on top of him.  “Like this.  Please. Now.  Come on.”  

David’s helpless to resist, Patrick’s big eyes pleading with him, his hands running up and down David’s arms, grabbing at his ass, squirming underneath him like he can’t wait a moment more.

“Okay, baby, okay.  I’ve got you.”  And he does, lubing himself up with a few quick strokes, and then positioning himself carefully between Patrick’s quivering thighs, one hand bracing himself on the bed as he slides into Patrick’s tight heat.

“David,” Patrick moans, “oh, fuck, yes.”  He’s reaching for David, trying to pull him into a kiss, and it’s messy and breaks David’s rhythm and he doesn’t care, it’s so good, Patrick wanting him like this.  David’s heart is slamming against his chest in time with his thrusts, and Patrick is writhing underneath him.  The slick slide of their bodies feels so good, David doesn’t know how he can hold it all inside.

“Patrick, baby, I love you, I love you,” David pants out, heat pooling inside him, a familiar tightness building.  

“Come on, David, oh god, come on,” Patrick pleads roughly.

David’s hips are moving frantically now, his muscles burning.  He’s shaking, dripping sweat everywhere, and he’s close, he just needs to keep going a little longer, for Patrick, he can do it.  

“David, I’m so close, oh god, you can, David-” Patrick gets a hand on his own cock and pulls, and David feels him, feels him quaking and shivering.

David comes with a rush of sensation, light exploding behind his eyes.  Patrick is almost there too, and David gets a hand on him, both of their hands on Patrick’s cock, twisting together, over and over.  Suddenly Patrick’s back arches and his whole body convulses as he comes, head thrown back in ecstasy, a long whine falling from his open mouth.

David collapses next to Patrick on the bed, turning his head to press his face against Patrick’s shoulder.  Patrick drapes himself over David’s side, arm sliding over his back, nose digging into his collarbone.  They lie there until the aftershocks subside, and then some, not wanting to move.

“Gonna have to change the sheets,” David finally says.

“That’s the first thing you think about, at a time like this?”  Patrick teases, a shaky hand brushing David’s hair out of his face and onto his forehead.

“No, it’s not,” David says.  “But it’s the first thing I can say without blushing, and I don’t have the energy for that.”

“David,” Patrick says, pressing a kiss to David’s lips, then pulling back before David has a chance to enjoy it.  “Are you feeling things tonight?”

David snorts.  “I’m feeling quite a lot.  Seemed like you were, too.”

Patrick starts to hum <i>“Feeling Groovy”</i> and David can tell it’s coming, he can tell before Patrick even gets a whole phrase out, and he slaps a hand over Patrick’s mouth.

“For once could we finish up our lovemaking without a concert?”

Patrick is laughing against David’s hand, and he bites gently at the ball of his thumb.  “Do you really want me to stop?” he asks, his breath warm against David’s skin.

“No,” David confesses, too open to argue even about this, about Patrick’s awful love songs whispered in his ears at highly inappropriate times.  “I don’t want you to stop.  Don’t stop any of it.”

“Deal,” Patrick says, easing David’s hand away from his mouth and wrapping him in his arms.  David settles in, not caring anymore about sticky sheets and sweaty skin.  All of that can wait for tomorrow.  For now, he’s just going to focus on how wonderful it feels to drift off to sleep with the love of his life holding him close.

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 29, Part I

Buster had hoped that the picture would progress more smoothly back in Culver City. New York had been recreated on Lot Two in no time and was ready for filming by the time he returned to M-G-M on Monday the 30th. He was finding that even without the onerous script, however, he just couldn’t go back to the way he’d done things a few short months before.

When arrived on the set, he hadn’t wanted to get into the scenes of him and the girl right away. Instead, he pulled Bruckman aside and chewed over ways to lead the audience into the story, break the ice a little. Maybe a fussy grande dame carrying too much weight wanted a portrait of her little boy. Buster could see them in his head, the fat lady brushing the shoulders of the kid’s jacket, posing him just so. When she wasn’t looking, the scoundrel would stick out his tongue or thumb his nose. In the meantime, he—that is to say, the photographer—would be growing more and more frustrated with the boy. After being scolded by the lady, who wouldn’t hear that her perfect angel was monkeying around, he would finally take the portrait and show her the result. Upset, she’d blame the kid’s behavior on him. The conversation would get heated, drawing the attention of a drunk panhandler who would ask for his portrait to be done too. After all, his cup was full of pennies, wasn’t it? He could afford it. The lady would object. No, her boy was first in line. There’d be a yelling match between the two, the finely dressed fat woman and the ragged skinny drunk, followed by some shoving, in which Buster became collateral damage when the drunk ducked a punch. The hullabaloo would attract a crowd, and finally a policeman (giving Buster a suspicious look as though he was the cause of it all) would disperse the crowd. Buster would be left on the sidewalk, unpaid for his portrait of the kid and worse off than when he started.

This idea having occurred, he’d called to the crew to get him a fat lady, a kid, and someone who could play a drunk. They just looked at him like he had three heads.

“What’s the big idea?” he’d said.

“C’mere, I wanna word,” Sedgwick had said, frowning over the cigarette between his lips.

They’d gone around the corner until they were out of earshot, then the older man rounded on him. “What in the fuck was that?”

“What in the fuck was what?” said Buster, genuinely baffled.

“All the business of ‘Get me this, I want that.’ You made me look like a damned ass in front of my men.”

“How?” said Buster, astonished.

“By undermining my authority, that’s how. I’m the director. You barking orders makes me look like a spare prick.”

Buster had tried not to gape. He felt his own anger begin to rise. Wanting to keep the peace, though, he’d swallowed and said, “Well, I’m awful sorry. It’s nothing personal, honest, I just never worked another way. It won’t happen again, alright? You have my word.”

Sedgwick’s shoulders had relaxed somewhat and his expression softened. “Thanks. Look, I know it’s got to be tough to adjust, but we do things different. Just watch. You’ll see it’ll get taken care of.”

The scene didn’t get taken care of, despite Sedgwick’s assurances. Buster had stood back chain-smoking and watching calamity unfold. The kid was uncooperative, too green to be anything other than nervous in front of the camera. The fat lady couldn’t seem to understand that the camera couldn’t see the kid when she stood in front of him in all her overproportioned glory. The drunk couldn’t take direction at all, to the point that Buster suspected the drunkness wasn’t an act.

Finally, Sedgwick had thrown up his hands. “This is a disaster. Buster, line these god damn people up and get this fucking shot over with.”

Buster stubbed his cigarette out. “Me?”

Sedgwick had looked pained. “Yes, you. Who else?”

Feeling satisfied inside, Buster had taken over and soon had all parties in line and the scene rolling right along. In the days following, Sedgwick didn’t try to interfere with him and he didn’t try to interfere with Sedgwick, and they grew to like each other. A large man, he had a big appetite and liked to come over to Buster’s half of the bungalow to eat an elaborate lunch cooked up by Caruthers rather than patronize the studio cantine. Buster dubbed him Junior.

Even though Weingarten was up his ass about something every other day, shooting was going alright, too. Maybe it wasn’t the way he was used to working, but at least he’d gotten three-quarters of his control back and could dispense with things like jewel thieves and kidnappings.

As April gave way to May that week, he stayed overnight at the bungalow. On Wednesday he managed to sneak Nelly in. They had to forgo their usual activities beneath the sheets owing to her monthly visitor, but they had a nice dinner of roast lamb and potatoes and tried a few foxtrots in the front room, bumping into furniture because was hardly any room, then Nelly practiced her lines while he smoked and perused the latest pile of newspapers and magazines that Caruthers had left.

On Friday night, he drove back to the Villa. He arrived just in time for dinner, catching Natalie as she passed through the atrium.

“Hello, Nate,” he said. He’d just hung his coat and hat and kicked off his shoes.

“Oh, you’re back in time for dinner,” she said without a smile. He could tell by the way she said it that it was a question in disguise: Why haven’t you been home for dinner?

“Well sure, it’s Friday night. Ain’t filming tomorrow. I’m staying at the bungalow while we’re filming,” he added.  “Toldja that.”

“You didn’t,” she said, unsmiling. “You didn’t say you were staying at the bungalow this week.”

He considered his wife’s unhappy countenance and tried to remember if he’d called her on Monday. He’d had dinner with Sedgwick, then there was a bridge game and drinks with some of the M-G-M brass. Sam Goldwyn had been there. Or had that been Tuesday night? He couldn’t remember, and couldn’t remember calling her. “I thought I did. Honest. I got caught up in stuff, I guess,” he said.

“Oh, your card games?” she said, hand on her hip. She looked beautiful, all polish, poise, and elegance. “Maybe with that girl from your picture? Marceline?”

His eyes widened. “Marceline? You mean Marceline Day?” He knew he ought to be used to Natalie’s jealousy by now, but sometimes it flew at him out of the blue and smacked him straight in the face like that baseball last July. He’d hardly filmed a single scene with his newest leading lady, let alone entertained thoughts of seducing her.

“I simply find it incredible you’d forget to call me over a card game.”

“Well, it’s true whether you believe it and I said I’m sorry.” He reached for her arm. “C’mon, let’s not fight about silly stuff.”

“Oh, I agree it’s silly alright,” she said, brushing off his hand. “I didn’t make it so, you did.”

“Nate,” he said. “The kids. C’mon, they’re in the other room for Christ’s sakes.” In an attempt to extinguish the argument, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed both her cheeks in quick succession. “Please? You’ve got me tomorrow and Sunday. I’ll spend all that time with you. I’m all yours.”

Natalie grimaced. “I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon for Lake Tahoe. With Norma. Don’t tell me you forgot that too.”

“Of course I didn’t,” he lied. He had no recollection of her telling him about Lake Tahoe, though supposed it had been discussed in New York when he was listening with half an ear. “Let’s make the most of tonight then, and tomorrow morning.”

“We’re having veal for dinner,” she said, ignoring his offer.

“Good. I’m hungry.”

It wasn’t much of a truce, but he treated it like one and put his arm through hers and walked her to the dining room.

Natalie went to bed early that night complaining of a headache and was too preoccupied the next day buying new outfits for her trip with Norma to trouble with him. “I’m sorry, but it’s supposed to be warm and we’ve got to have some lighter dresses for the trip,” she’d said just before departing.

He tried to distract himself golfing with Tom Mix, but kept getting stuck on thoughts of his wife like a skip in a record. There had been a time when Nate had loved him and they’d gotten along, he could almost swear by it. He’d once spent hours with her mother and sisters, not resenting them for taking up Natalie’s time and attention. Rather, he had been glad to be in their midst even though Peg had never made a secret of the fact that she didn’t think him good enough for her middle daughter. It had been easy then to love the people who loved Natalie.

There had also been a time when Nate and him had talked about more than the children, kissed in more than a perfunctory way, and shared more than just a house and money. To this day he couldn’t understand why it wasn’t that way between them anymore, couldn’t remember when they’d begun to drift apart. He was pretty sure she had still loved him when they’d moved into the Villa. When had she stopped? Why had she stopped?

Tom would bring him back to reality at intervals, reminding him that it was his turn to put. He’d forget about Natalie for a couple minutes, but the needle would return to the beginning of the groove and he’d start worrying all over again. If only if he just—maybe if he just …

That night, he got roaringly drunk at Marion Davies’ party, not bothering to see Natalie off at the train station when she left late in the afternoon.

The Villa was vacant the following day, his sons having been kidnapped by Constance and all the servants but Caruthers dismissed until Monday. Their benevolent mistress had decided they could do with a little holiday as a treat. Tired of fretting about Natalie, he drank some black coffee to tame his headache and called Nelly afterward.

Note: I know you’re all sick of waiting, so I decided to publish Chapter 29 into two parts. The second part will likely be longer. Sorry I’m so busy, but 🤷‍♀️

[mysteira6]

FukaFlower - Visiting You

Summary:

Requested by Lil-flowie (on Wattpad).

Casting aside his fear to visit her… was a lot harder than he thought.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Prompt: “Flower gets hurt and is in the hospital. Fukase is worried for her.”

Hey there! It’s been a while. I still heckin love these two so don’t think that I’m gonna stop making these for a LONG time~ :3

Special one-shot this time because this was a request from my book on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy. ^^

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“She’s in room 17,”

He quickly nodded once in thanks. “Thanks,” He replied gratefully before turning away from the receptionist and looking back at the hallway. White-clad nurses typing away on wheelie monitors littered the hallway, along with the occasional visitor walking back and forth between visiting their loved ones and chatting with other doctors. The sterile scent in the room conjured images of medicine and machinery in his mind, almost coercing him to shrink into the size of a ball, curled up and shivering on the floor.

Fukase hated hospitals. He didn’t want to have a reason to visit such a place that reminded him too much of what he had been through. By instinct, his left hand swiftly raised to touch his face, his bandaged fingers swiping against the grooves along his cheeks.

Come on, Fukase. Stop thinking about that. You’re here to visit the one you love, not to mull over your… stuff.

After giving himself a solid nod of confidence, the red-haired boy began to make his way down the hall, his crimson eyes looking out for the double-digit label that indicated which room his partner was staying at. It wasn’t too long before he found it, standing before the door as if waiting to be let in.

He held tightly to the bag in his right hand, the antiseptic scent still annoying him. Here goes nothing.

A turn of the doorknob later and the boy walked into a small room with walls of beige, satin blue furniture consisting of a sofa and visitor chairs aligned neatly against each wall while a longer bed sat in the middle of it all. Laying on said bed and tucked behind pearl-coloured sheets was a petite figure with gorgeous violet eyes, her smooth curls of white moving along with a strand of black hair as she turned towards her visitor. It wasn’t long before a small smile adorned her face, and Fukase found it very difficult to turn away from her upon seeing her beautiful smile.

“Fukase!” She murmured gleefully, and though she tried to step out of bed to greet him properly, the girl was reminded of her slight impairment when she felt a sharp twinge from her right arm, the thick plaster cast wrapped around her forearm reminding her not to move too much to agitate her wound. With a heavy sigh to herself, she eventually shifted back to her original position, only watching as the redheaded boy quickly trotted to her side, dragging a visitor’s chair with him as he placed his paper bag on the bedside table.

“Hey Flo,” He started, heart still fluttering at the sight of his partner’s pure expression. “How are you?” He was internally praying that the unease in his head had not leaked out into the tone of his voice.

“Alright, I guess,” The patient in question replied, motioning to her cast. “I just don’t know why my manager made me stay in the hospital for a hairline fracture on my arm. I’m pretty sure Xin Hua and you can take care of me fine,”

Fukase felt his cheeks heat up at the comment. He did like taking care of her when she was sick, after all. “I’m sure they just don’t want their ‘superstar’ singer to get hurt a second time. Besides, they did mention that your treatment would be covered by them,”

“But the food here is so plain,” She protested, a pout forming on her lips. “I’d rather just make my own food at home, even if I’m gonna feel pain throughout the whole thing-”

“Now that’s when I gotta stop ya, Petals,” The redhead’s tone deepened as he continued. “You know what your doctor would say; don’t move that cast around too much or it’s gonna stay there forever,”

She huffed impatiently. “Okay, I guess you got a point, but it’s still pretty boring around here-”

She was cut off by a jovial laugh coming from the boy now sitting next to her, accompanied by the sight of a familiar marshmallow coloured doll popping out of his paper bag, soon stumbling out of the bag and hopping onto her bed, taking a seat next to her lying figure as Fukase’s laugh slowly died out. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” He asked cheerfully with a smirk on his face.

The girl’s cheeks turned satin pink. What was she thinking? Here, she was being visited by her loving and kind boyfriend and all she was doing was complaining to him. Some partner she was.

Hoping to ameliorate the situation, she smiled warmly at him. “Thanks for visiting,” She softly spoke, giving another smile to the little doll by her left hand, who had been patiently waiting for her to acknowledge its presence. “I know you’re pretty busy and all,”

Fukase let out a small chuckle. “Hah. If by ‘busy’, you mean that I have to handle being teased all day by the Kagamine twins about ‘my girl’ being in the hospital, then yeah, I guess I have been a little busy,”

Flower narrowed her eyes, speechless. Ever since she started dating Fukase, it seemed that those 14-year-olds’ attacks on them would never stop, not even when they were not seen together in public. Sometimes, the snow-haired teen wondered if they liked it when her defensive boyfriend would come running after those gremlins after they let out a few teasing words to them.

In reality, as his girlfriend chuckled to herself (he assumed that she was chuckling about his comment about the Kagamine twins), Fukase could slowly feel a lump slowly forming in his throat. It was this room, he realised; this room was far too familiar to him. The pale walls closing in on his figure, that damn sterile scent of surgical masks and IV drips wafting through his nose, the chilly air that blew by from the vent on the floor, sweeping across his skin and forming trails of goosebumps all over him-

It was probably a miracle that he hadn’t completely succumbed to his memories, that he hadn’t shriveled into the size of a ball while sitting on the hospital chair, that he had not started shaking while reaching out to hold Flower’s left hand that wasn’t wrapped in a cast-

Left hand.

It was… her left hand.

Left hand…

Left hand.

Left hand. Left hand. Left. Left. Left. Left. Left left left left-

“Fukase?”

Her distinctive, powerful voice sent him straight back to reality, his eyes blinking once, twice, before looking over to the person who had called his name. In his mindscape, those words kept repeating themselves, the noises of his past ringing in his ears despite the fact that she pierced through it all with her own voice. Only when he noticed the expression in her violet-hued irises did he realise why she called him.

She had noticed him. Noticed him experiencing a flashback. The redhead felt ashamed.

“You know, I’d ask if you’re okay,” She said sombrely, breaking the momentary silence between the both of them. “But knowing you, I kinda have an idea of how you’d respond. And if I’m right, it’s not really a good thing…” She added, drooping her head a little.

“Flo, I-”

“I know. You don’t like hospitals, right?” The moment she said that was when the boy on the chair finally gave in to the fear creeping on his back, his arms wrapping themselves around his chest as if shielding himself from an attacking foe. Though he kept his gaze on her, Flower knew that he wasn’t really ‘okay’ with this.

“I figured as much,” She sighed softly, hoping that he wouldn’t hear her. “I’m really sorry that I had to burden you to visit me while I’m here, Fukase,”

“You don’t have to apologise, Flower,” He hastily replied, though the slight falsetto in his voice spoke volumes of what was going through his head. “I mean, it’s not like you made the accident happen,”

“Yeah, but still,” Seeing her lover look at her with fearful eyes so different from his usual gaze made Flower curse at her predicament; all she wanted to do was to step out of bed and hold the boy in her embrace. Just like last time.

Instead, she only muttered. “If I had been more careful…”

“ … Even if you had, there’s no telling what else could have happened,”

Flower didn’t respond to that, only looking down at her arm wrapped in white, silently cursing at it until she heard the sound of a chair shifting closer to her bed. A quick turn presented her with the sight of the scarred-face boy having his face petted by the living doll from before, its chubby hands threading through the plastic barrier of the hospital bed and patting the human boy’s cheeks as if to make a funny face out of it.

Had Flower not known that this little doll, Point, was sort of a parental figure to her boyfriend, she would have been merely amused at this silly sight.

But since Flower did know about Point, she also could tell that Fukase was really trying to get over his trauma just to make her smile. It was a common trait between the two of them; whenever Fukase had the urge to make anyone happy, he’d usually perform humorous antics with that little white doll. Likewise, in the moments when he was the most vulnerable emotionally, Point would be there to remind Fukase that he was not alone in the world anymore. That he now had someone else to talk to when his mind was a mess.

After their mini-episode of making funny faces in front of her (and inciting a little giggle from her), the red-haired boy sported a small smile, the fear from earlier mostly dissipated from his eyes.

“Flower…” He started, leaning his head against the fencing by the hospital bed, the light from the windows reflecting off of his scarlet eyes. “You know you’re really important to me, right?”

“Y-yeah?”

“So… Don’t worry about me being afraid of… this place…” He slowly declared, his voice building up confidence as he went on. “I know I tend to be dramatic about it, but I promise you; I’ll be okay,”

“Are you sure?” The hesitation in her tone convinced Fukase to up his determination in his reply. “Yeah. I’m not trying to trick you this time; I’ll be fine,”

“Besides, seeing you and having you next to me…” As much as he tried to hide it, the red on his cheeks was obvious. “It helps me deal with the memory, so… don’t be too worried about me, alright?”

‘Seeing you and having you next to me’

They were such simple words and yet… Those alone were enough to wash all of the white-haired girl worries away.

“Oh! That reminds me,” The young boy stood up suddenly, turning to the paper bag he brought with him and pulling out a petite white box with a handle by the top. “Here, I got you something. And don’t worry, I asked Xin Hua about what you couldn’t eat, and this doesn’t qualify as any of your prohibited foods,”

As Fukase placed the box in front of her, he steadily undid the box’s paper lock, revealing a single triangular slice of vanilla cake, its three layers stuck together by white icing filled with red slices of fruit while the top layer was completely covered with another layer of white and three white rosettes. The singular conical red item placed on the top of the cake was the last thing Flower needed to identify what kind of treat her boyfriend had bought for her.

 “A strawberry cake,” She noted without any traces of astonishment in her voice. “Why am I not surprised?” Though she was shaking her head, there was a pensive smile inscribed on her lips.

“Oh, well if you don’t want it, more for me-”

“What, no! Of course I want it!”

“Oh, really?” A mischievous grin found its way to the cheeky redhead’s lips as he spoke. “Judging by the look on your face, I was starting to think that you didn’t like it. Or am I wrong?”

His girlfriend was about to facepalm herself with her right hand until she felt a tinge of pain that signalled her to use her left one instead. “You’re ridiculous. You wouldn’t buy that for me and bring it here if you thought that I wouldn’t want it, would you?”

“So you’re saying that I’m a good boyfriend?”

The girl paused, though it didn’t take too much pondering before she arrived at a conclusion. Between him mustering his guts to visit a hospital, the hotspot of his trauma, and pushing aside that trauma to admit how much she meant to him, Flower was convinced that this time, Fukase’s passing joke was true.

Knowing that, she heaved a relaxed sigh, reaching out to touch his bandaged hand briefly. The sudden contact cued him to glance at her, taking in the bright smile that adorned her face. “Yeah,” Flower murmured sweetly. “I think you are. A good boyfriend, I mean,”

Her cheeks turned satin pink as she added the last part of her sentence, an unusually bashful smile slowly creeping up her lips. The redhead could only look on at her, frozen and unmoving, only taking in how adorable she looked under the rays of sunlight seeping through the windows of the ward.

There was no way to stop Fukase from chuckling light-heartedly. “Wow,” He muttered, breathless. “I… didn’t think you’d actually say something so sappy,”

The girl shrugged. “Maybe it’s my meds?” She sheepishly teased. “I guess I’m just feeling a little… affectionate today,”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Fukase teased back with a smirk. “Seeing you trying to flirt is cute too,” Flower didn’t have any time to respond to that before Fukase turned his whole body to the patient lying on the bed, a white plate containing the vanilla-coloured slice of spongy cake in one hand while his other gripped tightly onto a small fork. “Seriously though, you want this cake?”

She beamed at the prospect of eating something sweet. “Of course,”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For the rest of the afternoon, the two teens stayed in that hospital room, sharing bites of a dessert that they both loved. Still, the sweetness from the delicious cake was nothing compared to their relationship.

A gentle, tender bond that was supported by their endless love and support for each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They... They be cute... QwQ

[redthreadoffate]

gee, thanks, karen [peter parker]

a repost, originally posted in my former writing blog

relationship: peter parker x stark!reader

warnings: swearing, none; mistakes here or there

request (anon): hello!! how about hoco stark!reader x peter where he goes to her lab and asks for her help to fix the suit bc karen isn’t working well lately and while they low key flirt and fix the suit, she puts on the mask to check everything and karen starts telling her how much peter likes her, and she dies inside bc she likes him too and they kiss? maybe ending with irondad or bucky interrupting and they are like :o

notes:   i was going to use the other character in the end but i realized continuity wouldn’t make sense but then i was like fuck that, but I finished it already anyways…second out of the two peter parker x reader fics, it’ll be awhile before i agree to make them again

summary: karen’s broken and peter asks y/n stark for help

You were quietly working in your lab, humming every now and then to a tune that would pop into your head every so and so.

You thanked your father for giving you your own lab in the Avengers compound. There were cameras everywhere on your floor and you knew that he would be watching your every move when he could. Sometimes, you would wave at one camera when you knew he was in the control room. It would never fail to make you giggle, and Tony would always comment that you are such a silly little girl for laughing at your own antics.

Sometimes, some of the team members would come over and ask for your help if Tony was busy. Or they were too lazy to think of solutions on their own. But hey, who’s complaining about helping them?

They would need help with their gadgets, sometimes for work or fighting, most of the time for their everyday use, like their cellphones and laptops, tablets and watches. You don’t mind. In fact, you enjoy it. It makes you feel useful in this compound filled with superheroes.

Your favorite to help out was Peter Parker. He was also a genius with technology, but sometimes he needed a hand with his suit and weapons. You loved helping him out with his webshooters since there were so many possibilities for it. You were even the one who helped your father create his current suit with the Karen interface.

And although Peter turned down the calling of being an Avenger, he would still come over from time to time, and you noticed it’s mostly just to talk to you.

That thought made you smile. You stuck out your tongue and giggled a little in giddiness.

You continued to type in some data in the paper you were writing on. As much as you loved the technology of your father, you still loved the old fashioned pen and paper. It was easier to overlay if needed. You wanted to see all the possible choices before you typed it in the database.

But you thought of Peter again and that tickled your body. “Oh, come on. He isn’t over Liz Allan yet, you silly. He’s still hungover, he can’t be into me that quick. Can he?” But you shake your head.

You’re pretty good at telling if someone liked someone, except of course, when it came to you. But you pretend you do anyway. You have yet to be proven wrong. You smile and nod your head slowly, twirling the pen in your hand with your fingers. “Looks like you’ve got your groove on, y/n Stark.”

“What was that?”

You turned around, surprised to see your father standing behind you. A device in hand and a hologram sticking out. “Hi, Dad.”

“You’ve got your what on, y/n?”

You giggled nervously. “Nothing. It’s nothing, Dad. I was just talking to myself.”

“No, I wanna hear what you said. You’ve got your what on, y/n Stark?”

You sighed in defeat. “My groove,” you said softly.

“I can’t hear you.”

“My groove,” you repeated louder.

“Your groove, huh?” Tony nodded his head. “Well, you know what you should have, y/n? Your homework.”

“Dad,” you whined. “I’ll do that later. I’m in the middle of a discovery here.”

“Oh really? What is it? The end of homework.”

You raised your pen in the air. “That will be my project!”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Just hurry so you can finish your homework. It’s a school day tomorrow, y/n. Remember that.”

You smiled sweetly. “Yes, Daddy.”

Tony left the room, leaving you alone.

You turned back to your paper and grit your teeth. So you lied about making a discovery. You were simply testing out some different designs for a suit you wanted to wear. It was very similar to the technology of your father’s but it had no name yet, you didn’t know what to call it, not even a working name.

You sit on the stool and tap the pen on the paper. “If I do this…then this happens, which, of course, I can’t let that happen. So I have to do this…but I have yet to figure out how this one works for it to be able to do that.” You sighed in frustration. “Okay, but if this does happen, which leads to this, then perhaps, just perhaps, it will reach my goal.”

You spin the chair around a few times until you get dizzy. “But we can’t say anything precise with just ‘perhaps’ can we? Oh, y/n, you gotta try a bit harder if you wanna reach the Tony Stark level.”

Finally, after about an hour, you decided that you’ve had enough. You shut down your lab and head to your room to do some homework. “See you tomorrow,” you said with a yawn. “To new discoveries!” You raise your balled fist in the air.

You’re in the middle of a math problem when someone knocks on your door. You groan, you like math and you were getting the answer to this certain number.

“Come in!” you called out, not bothering to look at the door. It was probably just your dad and you wanted him to see you concentrating.

“Hey, y/n.”

You looked up at the young voice. It was Peter Parker and he was holding his Spider-man mask in his hand. “Oh, Peter. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“When am I ever expected?” he snickered.

You smiled and laughed a little. “True.”

“Am I disturbing you?” he asked. He gestured toward your table and smiled. “You look like you’re doing some homework.”

“It’s no problem,” you said with a shrug. “It’s just math.”

“Which you absolutely love,” he responded with a cheery tone. He knew that was something you two had in common. “You hate it when you’re being interrupted when you do your math problems.”

You squint one eye. “That is true, too.” You looked at him for awhile before he raised his eyebrows. “Will you just let me finish this one math problem. I’m almost done, I swear. I just need a few digits to write. Sit.”

He laughed and nodded as he sat on the other chair. “There’s no need to explain, y/n. I’m the intruder and I interrupted you during your favorite subject. Go on, go on. Take as much time as you need.”

You smiled and half-jokingly said, “You say that and I’ll finish the whole homework.” Then you continued answering the number. After you’ve secretly finished answering one more number, you turned back to him and grinned. “Done! Now what did you want to talk about?”

“There’s something wrong with Karen,” he replied, holding up his mask.

“Oh no!” You exclaim, standing up and grabbing his mask. “Not Karen! What did you do, Peter Parker?”

He laughed nervously. “I may have fallen flat on my face.”

You looked at him immediately. Now that he mentioned it, his nose was a bit broken and he had a cut on his lip and some scratches along his face. “Are you okay?” you ask, although you know that it’s too late to ask that now. “Have you gone to the clinic?”

“I can’t go to my school’s infirmary or the hospital and mobile clinics,” he chuckled, “without being asked what had happened.”

“Why don’t you go to the one downstairs?”

He shrugged. “Can we fix Karen first?”

You sighed. “Okay, sure. Come on.”

The two of you left your room and walked over to your lab.

You tinker with the technology your father put in but you also recognize some of the pieces you’ve planted in the interface.

Peter did everything he could to help, in fact, there were moments wherein his mind thought of the better solutions. You weren’t undermining his brains, no, of course not, but you were also thinking of your own pride, you did put some of the tidbits that was the reason as to why Karen had come to life.

“You’re really good at this,” Peter said.

“Only because I want to impress you,” you replied. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Parker.”

“Only because a pretty girl is with me.”

You look at him with a smirk playing in your lips. “So how’s Liz Allan holding up?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think she hates me.”

“I would hate you, too. You know, if you told me you needed a rain check for our homecoming date when we’re in the homecoming dance.”

“Aw come on, I’d never do that to you, y/n. I like you.”

You laughed. “And I like you, too.” You shake your head. “Go to the clinic, Mr. Parker. We’re almost done with Karen.”

He sighed and patted his mask. “See you, girl.”

You snickered.

After a few minutes, you think Karen is doing okay. So you do the thing everyone would do to test it out, you wear the mask.

“Hello, y/n.”

“Oh, hello, Karen. I didn’t know you still remembered me.”

“I will always remember you, y/n. Peter thinks very highly of you.”

“He does?” you gasped.

“Yes. He would constantly talk about you, asking me if you’re okay. I would watch him talking to himself in the mirror, practicing how to ask you out. He likes you very much, y/n. And based on your facial reaction and heatwave, I can tell you like him, too.”

“Y/n!”

You unmasked yourself and see Peter with a red face. “I can explain,” you both said at the same time. “I like you!” Again, in unison.

Peter rushed towards you to give you a kiss. “I know Karen said I’ve been practicing,” he said against your lips, “please don’t watch those. Those are really embarrassing.”

“Your nose is still broken,” is all you can say, murmuring.

“I’ll go later,” he said.

You giggle. “There are cameras, we’ll get cau–”

“What is going on here?” Tony’s voice boomed.

“Oops,” you both say, a goofy smile on your faces.

[crumbling-cookie-imagines]

Could I get a Plum x Reader x Leek?

It was a bit strange, trying to get used to living with your two boyfriends. You used to just live alone so there was still the knee jerk reaction of your brain jumping to ‘oh this is death’ whenever there’s a noise during the night. It was usually just Leek making tea at midnight whenever he couldn’t sleep. Plum always woke up early to go for a run, way too early for you to wake up around the same time. 

Sometimes you stay up late enough that when Plum walks out of the bedroom and you two make eye contact you feel as if he’s silently judging you. I mean, he probably is, and you end up going to bed after you kiss him for good luck- not like he needs luck though you just wanted an excuse to kiss him before he got back and got on your ass about health. It really just meant he cared about you though, even if it ended up becoming a bit lecture-ish and he seemed a little bit angry. He was never angry at you though, that was a thing. He sounded angry in general or at least serious.

Leek meanwhile slept in most of the time, waking up after Plum already came back and took a shower. Whenever he was awake there was a kettle on and you chalked it up to magic or something. Either way, he had tea with him a lot. Sometimes he’d forget he had tea in another room and get another mug, so there was tea all around the apartment really. He’d drink the cold and bitter tea anyways though, always making a comment along the lines of “oh dare me to drink this?” before chugging it. You never dared him. You figured it was the same reason you gave Plum kisses for ‘good luck,’ he just needed the excuse to act a bit silly. 

Plum and Leek surprisingly didn’t argue seriously that much, though they liked to argue over stupid things for shits and giggles- like if plants deserved the same rights as animals. There’s also the one argument over what kind of water was better; the kitchen tap or the bathroom tap. Things like that really. Nothing of importance.

Today though you bought some easy to make cake mix and the plan was cupcakes. Emphasis on plan though. Half way through making it you realized you had no icing, so you paused your mixing to send a quick text to Plum asking if it was too strange for him to pick up some icing. He responded rather quick strangely enough for being on a run, but he replied ‘sure’ and ‘want a specific colour or should I just get white?’

You picked white since you could mix the colours yourself. Typing a quick ‘thanks love’ and ‘xoxo’ you put your phone on the counter once more. You went back to mixing after that, and the rest of the process went smoothly and without distractions. At least, until the cupcakes were in the oven.

With the timer on and ticking away, you started to clean the dishes used. You had the time and it wasn’t like you were going to reuse them at all whilst they were dirty. You got into the zone, a groove if you will, with your cleaning. Unfortunately before you could finish cleaning you got thrown off your groove by a pair of arms wrapping around your waist.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Leek!” You yelp, jumping at the contact.

“I knocked.” He hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I didn’t hear you.” 

“I figured… What are you making?”

You smiled faintly as Leek pulled you away from the sink so you faced him. “Cupcakes. Plum’s getting icing for them.”

“Oh?” Leek smiled faintly, kissing your forehead. “This early?”

“This early.” You nod, giggling.

“Is it okay if I put a kettle on or do you need the whole area cleared out?”

“You can put a kettle on,” you smile, “I just need to finish cleaning up.”

“Let me help.” Leek kissed your forehead again, “it’s the least I can do before Plum shows up.”

You nodded hesitantly, pulling out of Leek’s hug and going back over to the sink as Leek grabbed a cloth and went ahead and cleaned to countertop. It took a few minutes but in the end everything got cleaned up faster than anticipated. Now the two of you were just chilling as you waited for the kettle to boil, the cupcakes to cook, and Plum to get back home.

A few more minutes passed and now you and Leek were drinking tea on the couch while a TV show played in the background. The door creaked open, causing you and Leek to glance at each other before getting up as quietly as possible.

Plum was closing the door behind him before the two of you ran up and hugged him, nearly causing the poor boy to topple over from the sudden weight change. Plum laughed brightly at that, causing the two of you to grin.

“Stop! I’m so sweaty!”

“No!” Leek giggled, “get hugged!”

“Our saviour has arrived!” You couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“Yeah I have your icing sweetheart,” Plum chuckled, rolling his eyes, “but seriously, I need to go shower if you two are going to hug me it’s hot as hell outside.”

[florence-is-gay]

I made a ship fanfic for florence’s oc and mine. Have it.

“Hey, Lulu! Wake up!”

Lumine slowly opened her eyes, to see Bottle grinning ear to ear at her.

“What is it BB?” She said, leaning up from her bed to stare at her lover.

“As you know, its been raining for quite a long bit, and i was bored in the middle of the night. I was then reminded of this tv show where the main characters tried golfing when it was raining, and basically-“ He sat down onto Lumine’s bed as she saw that Bottle made an entire mini golf course inside of their house.

“-I couldnt sleep and was bored so i made this, simply put.” Bottle said, extending his arm to express the vast quantity of mini golf he made.

Lumine was still trying to wake up, but was impressed at what bottle had made. “I love it, honey!” She said, proceeding it with a stifled yawn.

“Thanks! I also made you some breakfast because i still had some free time after i finished the golf course.” He said, hugging Lumine with one hand and grabbing a plate of hash browns and bacon with another. “Now eat up, because i honestly want to try and play some mini golf because im exited to see how someone else would think of this!”

“It looks great from what i can see! Lumine said, as she quickly kissed bottle.

Lumine, still slightly tired, took a bit of time to eat her food, but scarfed it down once she woke up a bit more. It was honestly a tad bit burnt, but she didnt mind. Bottle made this stuff for her out of love and she didnt care if it wasnt perfect. Love already made it perfect.

When she was done eating, she gently placed her food on her bed and got up. As she was about to leave their room, though, Bottle suddenly opened the door, seeming even more giddy and exited than before.

“Lulu, guess what?”

With a quick chuckle, lumine answered with an over enthusiastic “What, honey?”

“We didnt have golf stuff so i bought us some, and i also got us-“ Bottle, out of flair, did a spinning backflip, and landed in a completely new outfit. He was now wearing a plaid sweater, white and green, with a white beret instead of his normal stereotypical pirate hat. Also in Bottle’s hands laid a set of clothes as well, in very much magenta colors.

“-Golf clothes!” He said, with as much flair as he possibly could.

Lumine couldn’t help but giggle at what was going on. The rain had been going on for days now, and it wasnt giving her the best of sleep, so waking up to a gift of fun, some amazing food, and what looks to be an amazing new set of clothes was the uplift that she needed.

“Aw, that you so much BB!” She picked up the clothes from bottle, and stuck them under her armpit. “Ill go change into these right away, hehe!” She said with another giggle.

She closed the door and changed as quickly as she could. When Lumine walked out, she was wearing a magenta and pink sweater, with a lopsided cyan beret and some dark magenta jeans (that were a bit too tight for her liking.)

“Im ready to play some golf, honey!” She said, with a little hop.

Bottle was sitting in a nearby chair as lumine walked out, and him seeing her also in a full golf outfit made him practically jump with joy. He quickly skipped over, and actually picked up lumine to hug her. He slowly started spinning in place as he spoke. “How does it fit, honey?”

“The pants are a little tight but other than that it feels perfect! I love it! The sweater is super soft and the beret is adorable!” She said, nuzzling her nose against his.

“Wonderful!” Bottle gently put lumine down and then turned to look at almost a dozen minigolf courses around their house, and with a voice full of pride and excitement, said to lumine, “Now, lets play some golf, honey!”

Bottle quickly ran over to one of the smaller courses, labeled with a small red flag with the number ‘1’ on it. He pulled out a golf club with a lime green handle and a shorter club with a magenta handle, and handed the latter to lumine. He then set a golf ball down in a little groove on the track, signifying where the ball should lay on first putt.

“Honey, you get first shot, but dont swing the club, just gently hit the ball, ok?” He brought lumine over, perpendicular to the ball, and got behind her to help her prepare her shot.

Lumine gives a nice, effective swing, and brings the ball fairly close to the hole (which was just a very shortly cut plastic cup, mind you) for her first putt. Bottle then brings out his own ball, and swings it, hitting lumine’s and knocking both of them into the hole at the same time.

“We both got a hole in one, honey! Nice shot!” Lumine said to Bottle, hugging him tight.

“Yeah! You honestly did great yourself, too!” He said, patting lumine gently on the head. “Now, lets move to the next one!” He said, running over to the next course.

None of the mini golf courses were particularly hard, but they were an absolute joy to observe. Each one had its own interesting and unique style, and just knowing it was all made by bottle, and it was all just for the two of them, was an amazing experience that lumine would absolutely never forget.

Hole after hole they progressed, and by the time they were halfway through it, lumine had actually gained an impressive lead, but Bottle was not angry in any way, which surprised Lumine. Bottle could be a bit of a hothead at times, and considering how mini golf normally went for her and her family, she was surprised he hadnt completely freaked out. Even though he was still losing hard, he was complimenting Lumine’s work, still trying his hardest, and was as cool as a cucumber. She then decided that it could be fun to lightly tease bottle.

As he was preparing his next swing, lumine kissed him on the cheek and gently said, “I love you so much BB.” This legitimately startled bottle, and he swung completely away from his target, with the ball slamming into the nearby wall. The two stared at the ball for a moment, but then bursted out laughing. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, but please dont say it when i was about to putt.” He said, turning to Lumine and kissing her.

“No~ hehe.” Lumine said as they stoped kissing, booping his nose with her own.

“Well, that might cause some problems if i dont... *punish it.*” Bottle said, turning to Lumine with a slightly silly expression. He then quickly and suddenly picked her up and started tickling the crap out of her, dousing her in kisses for good measure.

“Is this enough punishment for you to rethink what you did?” Bottle said, still tickling lumine.

“Mh... mhm-“ Lumine barely mustered saying before laughing as hard as she could.

“Good enough for me.” Bottle said, putting her down.

As the game progressed, every hole one of them would then always try to mess with their partner, sometimes with a kiss, sometimes with a little spook, but the other would always get “punished” in the end with kisses and tickles.

Soon enough though, they reached the last hole. It wasnt flashy or very decorative at all, compared to the others. All it was was a small golf strip, leading up to a golf hole with a small machine behind it.

“You go first, honey.” Bottle said, nudging her to the spot.

Lumine walked up to the hole and placed down her ball.

“Are you sure this is the last hole, honey? All of the others were incredibly high quality and super adorable, but this doesnt seem all that interesting.”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” Bottle said, reassuringly.

Lumine hit the ball and it swept in instantaneously. As lumine went to pick it up, however, the small machine started whirring to life. It slowly started speaking, and it was obvious that it was just recording Bottle’s voice.

“Well, that was a game of golf, wasnt it? I bet i loved it almost as much as i love you.” The machine spoke. “... on the topic of love. This is actually, as can be considered, the anniversary of our first ‘date,’ back when we fell from that giant tree and landed in a cloud of cotton candy. Ive been honestly preparing to make something for this day for ages now, and im glad that you played enough mini golf to get to the prize. Now, if you could, turn around.”

Lumine slowly turned, and was surprised to see Bottle on one knee, holding out a platinum ring.

Bottle spoke with a quiver in his voice, almost as if he was afraid that he would ruin the moment. “Well, i bet this is surprising.” Lumine stared bottle directly in his eyes, and almost started crying at the sight.

“Honey, i... i thought about it for a long time. I wanted to bring it up, but was secretly planning to save it for this moment. My feelings for you have gone far deeper than you know, and in expressing them now, and i honestly think, your ring finger could be the perfect thing to fill this hole-in-one.” Bottle said, gesturing to the ring.

Lumine slowly picked up the ring, almost as if it was fake. But it wasnt fake, and the thought crashed down onto her in an instant. She gripped the ring as hard as she could as she ran over to hug bottle as tightly as possible.

“Yes.” She said, practically crying as feelings of love washed over her like tsunamis.

Bottle didnt say a word, but slowly picked up lumine, walked her over to her bed, and set her down. Lumine didnt want to let go of him, though, so bottle climbed into bed with her, as she hugged him tight. They both went to bed, with the house being covered in golf things, with their clothes still on, and their bodies wrapped together tighter than a vice.

“Thank you.” Lumine was able to mumble, saying as she slowly reached up to kiss bottle.

“You’re welcome.”

I will have y'all know that I cried when I read this at 2am.

It's freaking wonderful and I love it 😍💕

[firewoodfigs]

we might be made of scars, but we’ll be alright

read on ao3 | song: miho fukuhara, let it out 

For @royaiweek day 3: old wounds - thank you mods!! 💕 y’all are amazing ✨ 

(a/n: it’s my first time trying out the “5+1 things” tag, and I thought I’d experiment with another writing style again xD feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated! <3) 

“This one had it coming, this one found a vein This one was an accident, but never gave me pain This one was my father's, and this one you can't see This one had me scared to death But I guess I should be glad I'm not dead” - Stone Sour, Made of Scars

i.

Lieutenant Hawkeye traces the long scar on the back of her calf idly as she changes out of her military uniform. It’s coloured a faded, nostalgic pink, and it reminds her of the innocent childhood that she shares with the Colonel.

She’d gotten it from a bad fall when she was only twelve, and her father’s apprentice had been terribly worried when he witnessed her limping back home. He had rushed over immediately with a first aid kit in hand, before propping her gently on the couch as he pleaded with her to let him take care of it.

It was hard to say no to such an earnest face like his. Having already suffered enough from the long walk back home, Riza wanted nothing more than to rest at that point. Eventually, she relented, though with a hint of distrust.  

Because they weren’t even friends then, and what business did he have being so nice -?

“It might hurt,” Roy whispered before dabbing the damp gauze pad on her wound.

Hydrogen peroxide on open wounds, of course, stung like hell. But for every wince, every grimace, he’d responded with a soft apology, whispering soothing platitudes as he worked on the gaping wound meticulously to avoid causing her further pain.

It was the first time Riza had felt a touch so tender and kind.

Even then, his compassion hadn’t stopped there. After he was done with the bandages he had practically ordered her to bed and appointed himself as head chef despite her objections.

“You can’t be moving around like that,” he said, ushering her into her room while lending his shoulder for support. He had helped her - much to her abashment, and much to his amusement - onto her bed, before commanding her to stay put while he prepared dinner. She obliged reluctantly, fiddling with her blanket while waiting for him.

Not too long after, he came back with a bowl of hot stew and a delighted, affable smile.

“Thank you, Mister Mustang,” she said shyly.

Roy frowned. “Please don’t call me that. Just… just call me Roy?”

She politely refused, telling him that it would be terribly inappropriate to do so, but something between them had changed. Any tension that might have existed previously was beginning to dissolve, and Riza was starting to treat him less like the plague.

Sensing this, Roy continued to stay by her side despite her proverbial disinclination for small talk, hoping to finally befriend the introverted blonde.

Over dinner, then, he’d regaled her with tales of his unfortunate misadventures with alchemy when he first started out and silly jokes that he often made with his sisters. In turn, she had reciprocated with reserved laughters and hunting mishaps of her own and a budding trust.

In the end, the injury became an insignia of when her loneliness ended, and when their friendship started.

ii.

Then, of course, there were the scars on her back that contained deadly secrets, prolix poems and meaningless apologies. To an alchemist, the intricate, complex array might have been beautiful. A transfiguration of sorts, even.  

To Riza, though, it was nothing but disfiguration in its purest, most unadulterated form. Engraved within were memories of pain and abuse and estrangement, and she would have honestly appreciated being able to live without a daily reminder of those.

He had known he was dying, even before Roy returned from the military, and had called this his parting gift. To her, to an apprentice worthy of its power, to the world. Donatio mortis causa.  

Riza thought it was the furthest thing from a present - it was her father’s curse to her, and it would haunt her even after his death.

And when he’d finally passed… Riza had been terrified to show it to Roy.

It wasn’t so much that she didn’t trust him, but - would anger consume him at the realisation that her father had done this to her? God forbid - would he think of her as ugly, marred? Would he still think of her as desirable?

But he was the chosen one; the one that her father had deemed worthy of learning flame alchemy. Ultimately, her desire to assist his goals, his wonderful dreams and ambitions for the future and for the country had outweighed whatever trivialities that might have deterred her from doing so.

With trembling hands, thus, she had unbuttoned her cardigan to reveal the array to him. He’d been speechless. There was a silence that lingered in the thin, dusty air of the Hawkeye manor, but before it could persist he had crossed the distance between them in two long strides.

“Riza,” he whispered. Her hands weren’t the only ones trembling - his hands were, too. She felt it when he rested them on the planes on her back, tracing the grooves of her spine reverently, affectionately.

The trembling hadn’t stopped even when he circled his arms around her waist to bring her into a warm embrace. He had whispered apologies onto her shoulder, then. Blamed himself for not being there to stop his teacher, her father, from doing this to her, for leaving her alone to deal with this. It was a sincere apology, unlike the ones inscribed onto her skin.

Suddenly, the weight on her back had felt a little lighter - perhaps from a burden shared, or from his sweet reassurances.

Either way, Riza remembers it as the night where her trust in him had developed into full bloom.

iii.

Eventually, though, Riza comes to learn that psychological wounds ached more than physical ones. The latter was temporary, but the former - hell, they were indelible, inescapable. This much was heavily reinforced, at least, by the horrors of war that they had encountered during their time in Ishval.

She’d told her superior officer that a gun was good, because it didn’t leave the feeling of a person dying in her hands. It was a partial lie. One that she was willing to let slip from her mouth placidly if it meant that she could be by his side and utilise her gun as a tool for protection, rather than murder and war and genocide.

Because no matter how much she scrubbed her hands after in the sink, she realised that she could never wash away the red on her hands. While the distance between her and her unfortunate victims meant that blood had never fallen on her hands, the entire experience had stained her soul a deep crimson.

It warped her heart; her conscience and morality, and it was a burden that she - no, they - would carry to their graves.

Nonetheless, Riza finds herself sending a short prayer of thanks to any god willing to hear from a wretched sinner like her as she stares at Roy’s peaceful sleeping form. Dreamless slumbers like these were uncommon for the Flame Alchemist, the Hero of Ishval, but it seemed like they were getting increasingly frequent as they progressed along further with the project after the Promised Day.

(Of course, neither of them had come to forgive themselves entirely. They probably never would - for their burdens and sins and iniquities still remained, and would linger on to their very last breaths.)

But their work of atonement and reparation had assuaged their consciences somewhat, even if only marginally. Roy, most of all, deserved this brief respite. He’d been working himself to the bone ever since he regained his vision, and she found herself having to play the role of babysitter less and less.

Riza allows a subtle smile to cross her stern features as she drapes his coat over his tired frame before returning to her paperwork.

iv.

After the war came the burns on her back. They’re splattered across her upper back in irregular splotches of pink; etched with guilt and reluctance and self-reproach.

To say that asking Roy to burn her back was difficult would be a gross understatement. He had already endured enough, and to ask him to use the power bestowed upon him to burn even more skin was akin to putting him through another round of purgatory.

Riza was disinclined to repeat his suffering, but she needed it. Desperately. She couldn’t bear the thought of creating another Flame Alchemist, and the array was literally a back-breaking burden. She’d begged him once, twice before he relented. Very unwillingly.

They’d gone back together to Tobha to do it, back to the now-decrepit Hawkeye estate that held an eerie resemblance to a haunted mansion. In some ways, it was poetically fitting - ending it where it had first begun. The estate bore apparitions of their innocence, their childhood memories, but now it would bear the ghost of flame alchemy as well.

Riza came to learn, then, that whatever she’d conceived of as pain from having hydrogen peroxide dab at an open wound paled in comparison to fire searing her skin. It took all of her willpower to not scream, but she withheld the urge to do so. Even if it meant biting her lips, digging her nails into her palms until they bled.

Like he had once done when they were children, Roy was quick to come to her aid. He came with water ice-cold and embraces lovingly-warm; painkillers and repeated apologies and constant reassurances.

Riza manages to respond to all of this with reminders of forgiveness through her pain. Because for the first time since the needle had met her skin, since the war, she’d felt free. Liberated.

Libera me.  

Roy had allowed her to be Riza Hawkeye - her own person, her own being - instead of just the bearer of a lethal, fatal secret that could kill thousands. Despite how much it pained them both to burn her back, she's never been more grateful.

Had she murmured her thanks, her apologies? Riza’s not quite sure. The memories after are a blur. She only remembers passing out in Roy’s arms and the tender, apologetic kiss on her forehead before unconsciousness had dawned upon her like a comforting blanket to stave away the unbearable pain.

The cold water falling on her skin in the shower reminds her of his warmth after the flames had died down. Riza can’t help but laugh slightly at the distant memory.

It’s ironic - Roy lives up to his moniker for reasons more than one.

v. / vi.

But none of the scars she’s sustained throughout her life can compare to the ones they’d gotten from The Promised Day.

The only comfort through all the hell they had endured was probably the fact that they were now lumped together in the same hospital room. Nonetheless, the quiet solitude of night-time is filled with unspoken apologies and unshed tears. It’s unbearable. Roy can feel the guilt radiating off every fibre of her being despite his blindness, despite the distance separating them -

- and so he orders his subordinate to come over.

Hesitantly, Riza complies. She crawls into his bed cautiously, careful not to jostle the wounds on his hands. They mark her failure. Roy was nearly killed before her very eyes, and she’d been powerless to stop it as the sword pierced through his palms. She wants to cry, wants to wail out loud and mourn for his loss of sight, for how useless she had been in the face of it all -

- but her vocal cords are strained. The only thing that escapes her throat is a soundless sob. Riza forces herself to hold in her tears - you don’t deserve to cry, no, stop - but Roy knows. He knows her like the back of his hand, and so even if she’s temporarily mute he can already hear what she’s going to say; even if he’s blind he can see the tears beginning to glimmer in her ochre eyes.

With a bandaged hand he carefully finds her face and caresses it tenderly. “It’s not your fault, Riza,” he whispers.

There’s a wetness to her cheeks now, like it’s raining. “Please don’t blame yourself,” he murmurs. “If anything, all the fault’s mine.”

As if to reinforce his point, his fingers make their way down - to her jaw, and then to the dressing on her neck. A sigh escapes his lips as he traces the scar underneath, remorse and regret dripping from his fingertips. 

“No -” Riza croaks. Not your fault, Roy.  

“If it’s not my fault, then how could it ever be yours?”

She’s silent again. There’s so much she wants to say - I’m so sorry, Roy, I should have been there, should have done something, can you ever forgive me, I was so afraid to lose you - but the wound renders it impossible.

Regardless, they’ve always had a knack for understanding each other, even without words or eye signals.

He searches for her face again, using it to guide his lips to her forehead. “Not your fault,” Roy says once more for added emphasis. His voice is louder than a whisper this time. It’s filled with conviction and relief and affection, and in their close proximity he can’t help but press a chaste kiss on her messy fringe.

“I was so afraid of losing you, Riza. Nothing scared me more than seeing you bleed on the ground, watching you almost… almost dying.”

They’re both crying uncontrollably now.

“But you’re alive, and that’s all that matters. I might never get my sight back, but I have the Hawk’s Eye with me,” he manages to quip through his sobs. “With you by my side, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, Riza. As long as we’re together.”

Riza manages a slight nod under his chapped lips, before reaching for his hand to place a gentle kiss on it. It’s a soothing salve to the dull ache underneath and a promise, a vow. I’ll always be with you, Roy.  

Roy retracts his hand to wrap his arms around her, pulling her body to his chest in a tight, haphazard embrace. Riza feels his heart beating against hers, all life and strength and fervor, and she thinks he’s right.

“We’ll be alright, Riza. I promise.”

[patrickstargang]

A Date With Destiny (Owl House fic)

Chapter 1: A Big Confession

Chapter 2: Dating Advice from the Owl Lady

Chapter 3: A Little Help From My Friends

Chapter 4: What I Really Wanted

Final Chapter: Goodnight

It was getting near the end of the day, and Willow and Gus were about to make their way back home from hanging out with Luz and Amity.

“Thanks for spell practice Luz,” said Willow. “I feel like we’re ready for the test now.”

Luz waved her hand smiling.

“Don’t mention it! See you guys tomorrow!”

Amity came to the door to wave them goodbye. It seems that the hard feelings between her and Willow had really become a newfound friendship.

But it also seems that some of the uneasiness after escaping Emperor Belos has mostly passed. There was still the chance of something to break the peace, but for now, it seemed like things were going back to normal. Or at least what was normal for the Boiling Isles.

Amity was now off the crutches and able to move around like normal, which helped her to get back into the groove of working on creating better abominations. But she's also been visiting Luz much more now that her leg was healed.

She thought that seeing her more would make her less flustered, but in its place, there seemed to be a different kind of anxiety. She's been thinking of a way to tell Luz who she really feels about her, but it never seemed to be the right moment. Or she never had the right words at the moment.

But she decided that today was going to be the day.

“Hey Amity, you okay?” said Luz.

Amity realized her mind was starting to trail off and that she was still standing at the door even though Luz was now sitting on the couch. She spun around, trying her best not to act strange but failing amazingly.

“What, yeah no I’m great!”

Luz looked suspicious at first but then she just smiled.

“Got something on your mind?”

Amity stiffened. Luz was on to her, she just knew it. She had no real evidence for it, but she just knew it.

“Well…… more like someone, I guess?”

Luz’s eyes widened in interest. Her smile turned into a smirk as she tapped her fingers in a slightly mischievous fashion.

“Ooooooooo, you don’t say? Let me guess, is it a crush?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Amity made her way over to the couch and sat herself down. Luz inched herself closer to Amity, interested to get the details.

“So, who is this mystery crush you have? Is it someone cool?”

“Well, she's cool to me…”

Luz was now fixated, listening intently to her. It was nerve-wracking to Amity, she didn’t want to mess this up and how close Luz was to her felt like being looked at under a microscope.

There was a brief silence, but comfortable silence. Luz nodded, letting her know to continue describing this “mystery girl”.

“Well, she's someone who helped me in a lot of ways. She's someone who really helped me to become a better person than I was before I met her. I didn’t really like her at first but she's really won me over. She's kind, outgoing, braver than I’ll probably ever be.” Amity chuckled lightly. “She can also be a bit silly sometimes.”

Luz still kept the same face, still waiting for a name she might recognize. Amity’s anxiety grew, it was obvious she would have to be a bit more direct in her description.

“Well, um…. She has brown hair, brown eyes. She's always wearing a hoodie with cat ears. Um…..she has white shoes.”

Luz was still smiling blankly. Amity was trying everything she could to keep together but it was no use.

“Luz, it's YOU!!!” she yelled while throwing her hands up in astonishment.

Luz just sat there for a few seconds with the same expression on her face, but then it changed to quick realization in a flash.

“Wait, you mean ME?”

It took a while for Amity to react too, mostly out of sheer disbelief at how oblivious Luz was. A part of her thought to reconsider these feelings, that is until she saw her goofy surprised face.

“Yes, of course, I mean you!”

Luz’s eyes widened again. Amity wasn’t sure if she was excited or just didn’t know to feel. For once it was hard to tell. There was a long silence between the two. Amity started to get worried that she went too far, but then Luz finally spoke.

“No ones ever had a crush on me before….”

Amity didn’t know if that was a rejection or not. She just sat there unsure of what to say.

“Look, I'm sorry,” Amity said softly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Just… forget I ever said anythi-”

Just then, Luz gave Amity a surprise hug. It was a tighter hug than usual. It still wasn’t a confirmation, but it was starting to put Amity at ease.

“How do you expect me to forget that?”

“Wait, so you're not weirded out at all?”

Luz finally pulled away to face Amity. She giggled at how surprised her response was.

“Of course not! I mean, I’ve sort of admired you for a while, not just because you're a great witch but…. because you seemed like a really cool person. Why do you think I was always trying to be your friend even though you kept being so grouchy?”

Now it was Amity’s turn to be truly shocked. She thought there might have be some hesitation in how Luz handled this, she even feared the possibility of rejection. But in typical Luz fashion, there wasn’t even time for second thoughts. That was how she knew her feelings were genuine.

Amity’s shock quickly turned into a giddy, joyful energy. An energy that she would not be caught dead with her old friends. It felt like letting go of a tremendous weight off her shoulders. She began to laugh for a while but then took a quick breath.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to tell you that…..”

“Have you really been that afraid to tell me?”

“I don’t know, I was just scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way. We’ve just been good friends for a while now and I didn’t want to ruin that….”

Amity’s face became serious again, but it didn’t last long as Luz reached out placing a palm on top of her hand. Her smile was practically disarming as if it took away any bad thoughts that plagued Amity’s mind and replaced it with this fuzzy feeling.

“You're not ruining anything. And you’ve been a great friend to me, but you don’t have to hide that from me anymore.”

Amity smiled again, feeling the relief come back again. And it gave her the courage to ask the next big question.

“Well, would...you want to hang out after school?”

Just then, Luz’s sly smirk returned in full force.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“.......Yes, that is exactly what I am asking you.”

And like clockwork Luz had the sudden realization just a little bit too late, with her smirk changing into surprise.

“Oh…...well then yes, I’d love to!”

They both laughed at the whole exchange. All of the uncertainty in Amity had faded away, it seemed that this might actually work out. There was still some hurdles for the future, what would her parents think about her being with a human. But that didn’t matter now.

She had always thought that Luz was unbelievably oblivious, she tried to drop hints but it seemed like she just had to be direct to get to her. But then she also realized how oblivious she was, to think that Luz wouldn’t accept her feelings.

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

It was almost dark out, which meant it was time for Amity to head back home. She waved back to Luz as she walked out the door with a calm smile.

“See you tomorrow…” Amity said warmly.

“Same to you!”

They both waved to each other for a brief moment before Luz finally closed the door. Luckily Hooty was asleep so Amity avoided a possible pestering.

She took a deep breath. An immense warm feeling rested in her chest. The feeling was hard to contain as she did a little jump, her heart racing faster than before. It was like her whole body was overwhelmed with relief and excitement. But a twinge of panic came to her as something crossed her mind.

“I’ve never been on a date before. How does dating work? What should I do?”

But little did she know, Luz was panicking even more on the other side of that door.

[hellfirenacht]

The Convention Fic Chapter 2

Note: I’m so humbled and overwhelmed by the amount of love that the first chapter got. Thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs! 

First Chapter

((Gamer Beej picture by @edgy-drama-queen​))

Months Earlier 

You laid in your bed, huddled under a hundred covers. Beside you, a mountain of used tissue and a few discarded empty bottle of assorted flavors of Gatorade. Your brain felt muddled and your nose wouldn’t stop running, every part of your seemed to ache as you scrolled through Twitch, trying to find anything that would keep your attention. You were sure that once you did settle on something, you’d be able to comfortable space out, but while you still had the strength to be picky. 

The small cold that you had woken up with had steadily gotten stronger through the day. It was now in full swing, and completely kicking your ass. It was two in the morning, and after sleeping on and off all day you were awake (for better or worse). You wanted something easy to watch, or at least entertaining enough to keep your mind from thinking about how everything ached, or how your nose was chapped from blowing it all day. 

BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE (LIVE)

The thumbnail was simple, and it looked like it had just started. There wasn’t much of a description but you found yourself clicking anyway. Once loaded, you were mildly surprised at what you saw; a man looking to be in his early thirties, with green-ish hair (possibly copying Jack...?), scruffy face, and way too close to the camera. 

“Is this- can you guys see me? Say my name three times if you can’t see me!” the man said messing with the camera. You set your laptop to the side and laid down so that you could type with one hand and watch at the same time. You mumbled his name three times as requested, even though you could see him. 

“It’s showtime, gamers!” he said. “I don’t have anything planned for tonight so let’s just boot up steam and play what seems like fun!”

You watched for the next ten minutes as he scrolled through his steam library and picked out a clicker game. 

“Apparently all you do in this game is click your mouse over and over to kill monsters.” he said. “Doesn’t sound too exciting but I’m more in the mood to talk to all of you!”

You glanced at the viewer count in the corner, there were barely 10 people, wait, 9 people in the chat. However, the way that he talked it was as though he was talking to thousands of people. 

As he played his clicker game he asked questions to the chat, he seemed to have a gimmick where he acted like he was dead or a demon or something; you honestly couldn’t tell which in your half-dead state yourself. The few times you participated in the chat, you just responded with simple yes or no answers to his questions.

As the night went on and you continued to doze in and out of sleep, Beej continued to talk. He talked about his friends Barb and Adam (“They turn me on!”), and someone named Lydia (“She’s my best friend!”). At one point you think you caught sight of a blond woman and managed to type out “hi Barb.” which surprisingly got caught his eye. 

“Wow, two words from BlankFace!” He laughed. “That’s a new record! HEY BARB MY FRIEND SAYS HI!” 

Friend? Sure, why not. You couldn’t help but smile as he continued rambling about the time that he tried to teach them how to be scary. It was a silly story, but it made you fall back asleep for a bit more. 

It was nearly six in the morning when you cracked your eyes open again, surprised to see that the stream was still going. Though by this point, you were the only one left in the stream. He wasn’t talking anymore, having switched over to Minecraft and was running around with TNT blowing stuff up. 

“Hi” you managed to type, and a few seconds later he smiled. 

“Heya there BlankFace!” he said. “Thought you died there for a few hours!” 

“almost” then “sick” was your response. 

“Wait, if you’re sick, shouldn’t you be asleep or in bed?” he asked, frowning into the camera. 

You thought for a second, on how to respond to this man who you barely knew, and yet already knew way too much about. (Though at this point, you weren’t quite sure what part of the stream was real and what part was a fever dream). Why had you stuck around for this long on the stream? You knew the answer, and decided to be honest. 

“Lonely” 

He stopped playing for a moment, looking at the word that had appeared on his screen. If your face hadn’t already felt too warm from the fever, you would probably feel embarrassed by your honesty. 

“You want me to keep talking or just keep playing?” he asked, the energy in his voice softened slightly. 

“Yes.” was the last thing you typed out before falling asleep again. 

Friday (Morning)

“It’s showtime, gamers!” Beetlejuice yelled into the camera that he had shoved in your hands. “It’s day 1 of the con and I’m down here with everyone’s favorite BeetleMod! Hey babes say hi to everyone!” just as quickly as he had given you the camera, it was now being snatched out of your hands and pointed at you.

You weren’t sure how much you wanted to be on camera at the moment, being so exhausted already but you knew it’d be easier to go along with it for right now. “Hey guys! I made it to the con!” you said. 

“Alright, enough of the eye-candy.” Beej said, handing you back the camera. “It’s 2 in the morning-”

“Three.” you corrected. 

“Time means nothing when you’re dead.” he replied. “It’s really fucking late and we’re down here in the arcade with a bunch of imported games that aren’t on the computer so we’re gonna play some and our favorite mod here is gonna help me out.”

“I’ll kick your ass at DDR.” you said. 

“Oh, is that a challenge?” he asked, smirking at the camera. “We’ll see about that.”

“Bring it on, bug boy.” you replied. 

The two of you made your way to the DDR machine, and spent the next 20 minutes waiting in line to play. Even in the middle of the night and so early in the convention, it was surprisingly crowded in the arcade. The basement lights were off, save for a few flood lights along the walls and the glow of the many different arcade machines. There was something surreal about standing next to Beej under the neon lights. His green hair seemed to glow even more, and you wondered if there was some glow-in-the-dark hair gel that he used. He often used a multicolored ring light  to convey emotion, but as you waited and talked to him, for a moment, you could believe that his hair could change colors so easily. 

“How do you get your hair to do that?” you asked, looking up at him. 

“Do what, babes?”

“The color change thing. It looks like your hair is almost glowing.” at your words, you could have sworn it glowed brighter. Though that could also just be because of the games flashing around you. 

“I’m a demon, that’s how we work!” he replied, faking offence. “I thought my best mod would have known that by now.” 

“You know, the camera’s off.” you said. “You don’t have to keep putting on a show for my sake.”

He looked at you for a moment, his fake offence shifting to an emotion you tried to grasp; embarrassment maybe? Surprise? Maybe a mixture? He shook it off quickly though and wrapped his arm around your shoulders again. 

“No show here, doll.” he said with a smirk, and your heart jumped in your chest at the new nickname. “I am 100% demon.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I thought you were ‘the ghost with the most.’” 

“I am!” he pouted. 

“So are you dead or are you a demon?” you questioned. “You’ve never been fully clear on that.”

“I’m dead on the inside.”

“Oh, same.” 

The two of you laughed and his arm stayed around your shoulders until the two of you were up next. From what you knew about him, he was a very physically affectionate man. On stream, he wasn’t one to hesitate hugging and smooching whoever happened to be on camera with him. Beej had no problem hugging Lydia or kissing Adam on the lips. It led to a lot of questions about his sexuality and relationship status. When asked, he said his sexuality was “yes” and that he was happily dating the Maitlands, which Adam and Barbara denied every time. 

Anyone who dared make any inappropriate comment about him and Lydia would be banned on site; a job that you had to do more times than you wanted to admit. Disgusting. 

Still, even though you were sure that the physical contact was only as a friend as you watched the last pair of dancers do their three rounds of DDR you allowed your mind to wander a bit. You imagined for a moment what it would be like if this weekend was one long date between the two of you. Would he use more nicknames? Would he introduce you to people as his partner? What if the two of you were sharing a room and there was only one bed-

“Looks like we’re up, got the camera ready?” He asked, hopping onto the small stage. You made quick work of getting the camera back on and setting it on the slightly busted tri-pod that Beej had produced from his bag. After making sure the angle was right, you hopped on next to him, taking the right pad. 

Before the two of you had made your way to the front of the line you had agreed to a few rules for this game. It was best 2 out of 3, and you would both be playing on normal mode.

“You pick the first song.” he said.

You scrolled through the easy songs first, needing a warmup. When was the last time you had played this game properly? It seemed like so long ago that you had a chance to play. 

The first song was an easy song that you remembered from your younger nerd days. It took you a second to get into the rhythm of it but halfway through you had found your groove to a degree. 

You won the first round, and the two of you smiled at each other before he picked the next song, a little harder this time but you felt more or less confidant. 

The beat of the song rattled your insides as you pounded onto the metal stage with your sneakers. You focused as hard as you could on the screen, trying to keep your feet where they needed to be when it was time to stomp. This round was a little harder, and more taxing on you. Though you won the second round, you were nearly doubled over panting. 

“Looks like you win, doll.” Beej said, looking at the screen. 

“Yeah but we still got one more round. Go ahead, I’ll let you pick.” you offered, being a gracious winner. 

He immediately stomped on the hardest song of the game. 

“Oh geeze, are we really doing this?” you asked with breathless laughter, standing up again. 

He looked around, almost as if to make sure that no one was paying attention. “I think it’d just be a fun challenge.” he shrugged. 

The fast music started up again, and you found it near impossible to have your eyes focus on the arrows that were flying across your screen. Though the first two songs had provided enough of a challenge, this one was near impossible to keep up with. You lost track of your feet and within thirty seconds you were hit with that game over screen. 

You glanced over at Beej, surprised that he was still going. He wasn’t perfect by any means but he was still somehow not losing. Your eyes glanced down as his legs, blurry with the speed he was dancing at and you rubbed your eyes, feeling like something was wrong. You really must be way more tired than you thought, because for a few seconds you would have sworn that Beej had three legs. 

Still, even if he did have three legs that didn’t help him win the final round. Though he lasted a good minute in the level, it wasn’t enough to win. The game over screen flashed and he was booed off the stage by the imaginary crowd. 

“That... was really impressive.” you said, grabbing the camera again as the two of you moved out of the way for the next set of dancers. “How did you move your legs that fast?!”

He winked at you. “Trade secret, doll.” he replied. “Once you’re a true DDR master, then you’ll know.”

“Dude, I kicked your ass though.” you replied, following him towards the next row of games. “Shit, did you let me win?!” you demanded. 

“Hey watch your language!” he teased. “You’re a mod you gotta set a good example for the kids!”

“What kids, most of your streams are marked 18+.” 

“18+? In my-”

“Good Christian Discord server?!” you both finished at the same time, laughing at the dumb inside joke. 

That’s how the next few hours went with you and Beej. You walked around the arcade, playing games, roasting each other, and giving your opinions on the games. When you weren’t filming him, you were filming the general area getting some good b roll footage of the night. You were constantly swapping between looking at him through the lense and looking at him in front of you. It seemed so unreal that he was actually there and talking to you and touching you in person. 

You secretly hoped this weekend would never end. 

The battery in the camera died around 6 in the morning, and you let out a long yawn as you helped pack it back up. 

“I’m exhausted.” you said, feeling yourself hit a wall. “I’m gonna head back to bed soon and crash. What time is the... thingy?”

“The what?” Beej asked, amused. 

“The thingy you wanted to do tonight. The Friday surprise... thingy.” Oh yeah, your brain no longer existed. 

“Don’t worry about it, you just go get some res- hey, woah!” he jumped slightly and held you upright as you wobbled against him. “Are you okay?”

“...Sleepy...” you mumbled into the hoodie. 

“Okay, what’s your room number, I’m taking you back. I don’t need my favorite mod passing out on the escalators and getting shredded to pieces.” he said, holding you tight against his side. 

“4130.” you mumbled, too tired to disagree and say you could make it yourself. 

You held onto him as he led you through the small crowd of people that were just waking up or also headed to bed. He felt both warm and cool at the same time with your head against his shoulder. The cloudiness of your brain reminded you of the first time you had watched his streams months and months ago. 

“HOPE UR FEELING BETTR!” the message in your inbox said the next day. You almost forgot that you had attempted to watch a stream last night and had confessed that you were sick and lonely. 

“I am, thanks!” you replied. You still mostly felt like crap, but you were conscious enough to at least reply to the message the streamer left. 

“IF UR STILL LONLEY U SHULD JOIN MY GROUP CHAT!!!!” 

You managed to open the door to the hotel room and immediately dropped your badge, your bag, and your pants in that order. 

“Nice undies, doll.” Beej snickered, not even hiding the fact that he was looking you over, and that’s when you realized what you had done. “And here I thought I was gonna have to buy you dinner first.” 

You attempted to hide your embarrassment as you went to your bag and dug out a pair of sleep shorts. “Shhhhhhh....” you whispered, pulling them on. “You didn’t see anything.” 

“Right, I totally didn’t see you lead me up to your hotel room, invite me in, and drop your pants.” he replied, still smirking at you. “If that’s the reward I get just for walking your home, I can’t wait to see what happens after our date tonight!” 

“...Date?” you suddenly felt a little more alert as your head jerked towards him. “Tonight is a date?” you asked again and you saw Beej’s face suddenly turn to panick as well. 

“Hey, you’re really tired I’m gonna let you go now get some rest and text me when you wake up. Later, doll!” he said very fast and quickly left. You wanted to run after him, and demand an explanation for what was going on, but you were still too tired. You had barely slept in the last two days out of excitement and nerves. 

‘This is a problem for Afternoon Me.’ you decided, crawling into bed and rearranging the pillows the way you liked. The blackout curtains blocked the rising of the sun and you felt a mild twinge of mourning for the breakfast pass for the hotel that would go unused today. Sleep came easily and quickly as the last thoughts that passed through your brain were of Beej’s arms holding you close. 

“Looks like we’re getting more people in the group chat lately.” you said over voice chat. 

“Do you wanna be a mod?” he asked you to your surprise. “You could help make rules and stuff and make sure no one says anything inappropriate about Lydia. Or Adam. Only I’m allowed to say inappropriate stuff about Adam.” 

“I’d love to!” 

Next Chapter