#the head looks a little softer than the rest because i took this picture mid-brushing haha

[too-much-plushes]

thrifted this (clearly well loved) bashful bunny, brushing their fur rn!!

[bombyxluna]

Headcannons of buff and huge mc? Pls i been needed this ;-;

This is such a cute request, thank you so much for it, anon! 

 I’m trying something kind of (?) new with the headcanons, they’re kind of like scenes instead of points! I hope that’s okay! 

Lucifer

Even though he had seen humans before on his travels to the human realm, he’d never before felt what he felt upon seeing you. Although he knew humans came in all different shapes and sizes, he’d never seen a human as tall and mighty as you stood. He was baffled, words scaping him in one of the rare occasions in which he was rendered speechless. For the first time in his eternal life, Lucifer wanted to be destroyed.

The first time you both had a proper conversation, he sat stiff and almost motionless, keeping as much poise as possible. It felt weird to you, how different demon’s mannerisms were and how they seemed to affect your interactions, but the glint in his eye, the way he looked at you… made your knees tremble in the best of ways.

Right now, though, as you sit together on your bed, tangled under the sheets, he’s open about the first impression he had of you, and how it still affects him. “You looked like a warrior angel, like something I didn’t know I missed until I’ve encountered it - the word ‘breathtaking’ doesn’t contain enough strength to express how I felt.” Even as you kiss, you know the feeling of warmth blooming in your chest will stay there. 

Mammon 

It’s no secret he’s into you, but when he asked you to go out with him, this is not what you had in mind. He sits across from a very pissed off looking demon - his arms are crossed and you’re standing behind him, doing your job as his newly attended bodyguard. Not that you have anything against protecting him, but oh how life enjoys mocking you sometimes.

The demon actually gets fussy, going as far as threatening both Mammon and you. Just one word from you, though, and she recoils, falling back on her chair and finally accepting whatever deal they were negotiating. Mammon beams, giving you the most enthusiastic thumbs up you’ve ever seen. It makes you squeal inside.

As you walk back to the dorm side by side, he stops you just before walking in. There’s a blush high on his cheek and he’s nervously rubbing at his arms. You’re left speechless as he thanks you for protecting him and, in a move much bolder than you would have expected, tells you how fucking hot that was. 

Satan

For some reason, he’s very open with you, and you end falling in a comfortable place around him. Spending the afternoons with him resting against your chest as he reads whatever book he’s chosen that week out loud became somewhat of a routine. You rest your chin on his shoulder, enjoying the way his chest vibrates in the slightest against your palm with every word.

It’s a little disorienting when one day he decides he must be the big spoon. With the chosen book in hand, you take a few moments to relax against him, but when you do it’s heavenly. Being bigger than most, you’ve previously fallen on the role of the bigger spoon in almost all of your relationships. This feels new, even though it is not. His warmth, the way his arms snake around your waist, his breathing on your neck, everything is too much. 

You manage to read as far as three chapters before he’s softly putting the book down, eyes meeting yours. You hold eye contact, lost in a moment that’s only yours, so profoundly perfect it almost feels as though you’re the characters in the book.

Asmodeus

Despite his reputation, you’ve always seen Asmo as more than just a sex-crazed demon. That took him by surprise at first, but he recomposed himself easily, going back to his usual flirting - to which you gladly retributed. The lingering touches he’d give you would stay with you all day long, a constant reminder of his hands on your muscles, caressing at the supple skin. But it was never anything more than that - a flirt here and there, a passing touch. Asmo is actually very respectable. 

So this is surprising. His stretched arms as he pouts, refusing to move lest you pick him up. It’s strange, and there are other students staring, but he keeps ground, glistening eyes teasing you. His smirk is what breaks your resolve and finally, you give him a piggyback all the way to the dorm. No one seems to really mind it, Asmo is really popular for certain reasons, after all, and you discover you don’t mind it, either. 

Now, he jumps up on your lap with every opportunity he gets, always wanting more of your touch. It’s comforting, his scent of roses and perfume has become something akin to home to you. He likes it too, whispering sweet nothings against your neck - often followed by quickly whispered moments of vulnerability that make you swear to always keep him close like this. Belphegor

At first, you took him for the rebellious little fucker his brother’s - with the exception of Beel - seeming painted him to be. As time passed, his walls came coming down one by one, until you’ve got a glimpse of his softer side, much to his chagrin. 

It works for him, however, as he drags you to his bedroom to watch tv. Getting on the bed is awkward, to say the least, but you make it work, keeping as much of a straight face as possible. Belphegor beams, which is rather uncharacteristic but so, so cute. He gets in and promptly cuddles up to you, burrowing his head on your neck. The tv is quickly forgotten as you become a mess of limbs on the bed - in what may have been the best nap of your life. 

You wake up to something scratching against your cheek. Blinking the daze of sleep away, you turn sideways to find Belphie’s tail cuddled up against your cheek. It tickles and you have to suppress a giggle, petting it. It’s weirdly responsive, even as its owner sleeps soundly next to you. You don’t really understand why Belphie has taken his demon form mid-sleep, but it makes you smile nonetheless, brushing some hair away to see the curled horns. A sound echoes through the room and you find Beel standing there, snapping pictures of the two of you on the bed. Through a smile, he tells you Belphie only takes on his demon form when he’s really comfortable.  Beelzebub

You two bonded easily since the start, over your mutual love for food and for the gym. You didn’t expect, however, to be awoken by a very excited looking Beel so early on a Saturday morning. He is grinning from ear to ear, barely containing his excitement as he all but jumps on top of you - you’re once again reminded of an overexcited puppy as you look at him. He tells you how gym had always been boring because he had to go along, it was impossible to get Belphie to join him, but now he has you :D!!!! If you want to, of course :(

As if you’d say no. Saturday morning gym was not in your plans at all, but his smile washes away any sleepiness from your body. You two walk together to the gym, stopping by the kitchen to pick up an actual ton of snacks - he gets hungry, and honestly, so do you. 

The workout is heavier than you might be used to, but it’s actually gratifying. And hey, you get to spend more time with Beel. Everyone’s a winner. Well, except for your thighs the next morning. But that’s okay because you found yourself waking up to an already half-eaten breakfast in bed - to his credit, waking you up was a nearly impossible thing to do, and the strongest arms you’ve ever felt engulfing you in a bear hug.  Levi

You always have fun with Levi. Even when he’s showing you the newest addition to his endless collection of trinkets and souvenirs and talking about how they’re now organized by collection, color, and alphabetical order. One of the figurines catches your eye, one you hadn’t really noticed before. You ask about, surprised to see him blush. 

He shyly tells you it’s one of his favorite characters from TSL: Lord of the Flies. He then complains to be unable to properly cosplay him, since his body type doesn’t fit the description. You watch his eyes light up as an idea clearly pops on his head. 

That’s how you find yourself dressed as the Lord of the Flies, being thoroughly directed by Levi on how to pose and act for the thousands of pictures and videos he intends on taking of you. You allow yourself some creative freedom after some shots, lewdly posing to get a reaction out of him. It works, and he is left a blushing mess desperately trying to grasp onto his camera for dear life. 

Masterlist

[summerstardust]

It Will Be Okay

Dhawan!Doctor x Reader 

Summary: After you receive heartbreaking news, The Doctor tries to cheer you up. Unsuccessfully at first.

Warnings: breakup, depression, and mentions of suicide/self harm --- please don’t read this if those subjects are triggering

Word Count: 3462

A/N: I selfishly wrote this for myself. I just need this because of some personal things going on in my life at the moment. But, I hope that you all enjoy it!

You hadn’t known The Doctor for that long. Mid-March was when you met. You were strolling around an art museum that you hadn’t been to yet. You were on break for spring term and wanted to relax and get out of the house, taking a break from studying and catching up on university courses. Of course, work still needed to be done, so your trip to the museum, although relaxing, also involved finding an example of Greek myth depicted within a piece of artwork or an artifact. Though interesting in topic, you would much rather want to be around the museum with carefree joy instead of obtaining the information for that particular assignment. 

You decided to go through the museum chronologically. You did not care about the order of history when going to museums in previous journeys, you always went to your favourite era first, and also last if there was enough time available in the day, before retreating to the little shop by the entrance for a souvenir. However, you allowed the mandatory information taking for you course to reorganize your preferred schedule, completing your schoolwork as soon as possible and rushing off to the abstract artists of Europe section of the museum.

You stopped abruptly, with an audible gasp, in the middle of your tour when you ventured upon a painting by Vincent Van Gogh. You were unaware of this museum holding one in their collection. You sat down on a bench in front of the painting and just stared at it for a long time, occasionally taking some pictures to blend in with all of the other millennials and zoomers on their phone, but promptly returned to gawking at the unique brush strokes and style of your favourite painter.

“He’s really quite amazing, isn’t he?” The sudden voice behind you made you jump out of your state of calm. The man behind you quickly apologized for his intrusion and for scaring you, he explained, “I only wanted to talk to you. You are the only person here actually appreciating the art.” You questioned if he worked here, but he promptly, and quite wittedly, retorted, “If I worked here, I don’t think I would care much for art. Too monotonous and everyday, boring ol’ rat race, the art would soon embody, not the life and soul it actually captures.” 

To say he was strange was an understatement. He wore a long purple coat that matched his visible socks, knitted tie and even the argiles on his sweater vest. His smile was sweet, but cocky, like he knew that you were intrigued, but his eyes shone bright with warmth and curiosity, pupils, ever so slightly, dilated. Proving that he, too, was probably more intrigued than he should be by the mannerisms of a stranger.

One of the hands that was clasped behind his back moved swiftly out before you in a gesture of introduction. Accompanied with this subtle, yet dramatic, movement was the strange man in purple saying, “Hello! I’m The Doctor!” You tentatively accepted his hand, joking about how he does actually work here at the museum. He denied your statement, but smiled, eyeing you with big hopeful eyes. You didn’t understand why he was eyeing you until he glanced down at your still interlocked hands, then you remembered how you hadn’t introduced yourself yet.

“Y/N,” you practically shouted, growing annoyed with yourself, and continuing softer, “My name is Y/N Y/S.” 

“Y/N Y/S, what a lovely name! Absolutely marvelous!” You questioned if it was, you never thought your name to be that spectacular.

“Of course your name is marvelous! You are the one possessing that name, and you are marvelous, therefore, your name is also marvelous!” You smiled, but shook your head before looking away from him.

“I’m afraid that you must be mistaking me for someone else, I’m just a normal, everyday, boring human. Nothing marvelous about me.” You spoke with a happy-go-lucky tone, but your words were laced with sadness and self depreciation.

“I think everything about you is marvelous.” His eyes weren't lying and his smile was reassuring, but you could not understand his confidence.

“You’ve only just met me a few minutes ago, how could you possibly know anything about me? And how could anything you have found out about me result in you calling me marvelous, it just doesn’t add up, stranger.”

“Doctor. I’m The Doctor, not The Stranger, they're a completely different Timelord. And, I’ve discovered the most important thing about you.”

“Which is?” You tried to follow his ramble, but were unsuccessful.

“You study and empathize with the smallest things, understanding that they all pile up and congoine into one even bigger thing.”

“How do you figure that?” you continued to question, slightly scared that this stranger could understand your personality so well in such little time.

“Because, you have been staring at this one painting for almost half an hour, and the more you look at it, the more you are brought to tears by the depth of emotion conveyed in the work. You have been doing this, while every other person has been hastily moving from one painting to another, snapping pictures and moving on, like checking items off of a grocery list.” He looked around the room of meandering humans, wringing his hands, disgusted by their lack of want for discovery, but excited by the palpable tension of excitement he could feel within you. He could feel it, you were like him, a person wanting to run away and discover something new. “You, you are observant! I bet! I bet that if something were to change about this scenario in front of you, you would notice, where the other people here wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

“And if I do notice that change? What happens then?” 

“I’ll give you the opportunity to get away from all of this monotony. Human life is boring, not you.” You stared at him for a while, sceptical, but intrigued. You eventually said that you’ll bite and play his game. He immediately moved to cover your eyes with one hand, and gave an exhilarated “You ready?” You nodded and heard the man’s fingers snap before he removed the hand covering your eyes. You looked at him as if he was insane, but he nodded his head in the direction of the rest of the room, encouraging you to continue the game 

You promised to partake in. You rolled your eyes as you scanned the room, expecting no changes, but your face fell into disbelief when you saw a large blue police box sitting near one of the abstract sculptures in the center of the room. With your mouth agape, you watched as bystanders took in the new centerpiece, blissfully unaware of its magical appearance. You eventually moved forward to it, after the man nudged your shoulder, indicating that it was okay and this was not a hoax. You moved around it, circling it, every once in a while seeing the stranger's whimsical and curious eyes gadgeing your reaction.you were too afraid to touch it, scared that this was a new art piece and you would be sent to jail or would have to pay a fine for damaging the artwork. 

“Of she’s definitely a work of art, but she’s not a part of the museum. It's perfectly fine if you touch her.” For a moment, you wondered if he could read your mind, but you decided that that was impossible. To prove that he wasn’t lying, he leant up against the blue box, no one around reacting. You slowly brought your hand up to where it was level with the sign on the door that said “Pull to Open.” When you eventually touched the sign, the box let out a light hum, like the one a person would make if they had just eaten something delicious. You jumped back, and looked to the stranger to see if he heard the noise, but he only looked amused, with a sweet toothy grin reaching his eyes and a low chuckle falling from his lips. 

“Push it open.” He stated, regaining his composure over the situation. 

“But the sign says pull.” Another hum, more aggravated this time, emerged from the box. The man seemed to glare at the box, whispering “not now” in a tone he thought you couldn’t hear. When he noticed you staring, he readjusted his sweater vest and couched in awkwardness, but assured you that it was alright and that you should open the door. You did as he said, the box humming welcomingly again when you touched the door handle and pushed the door forward, despite the writing on the sign. The room was dark, pitch black as you stood in the doorway. The man behind you pushed you forward, gracefully and gently, but it still caught you off guard. You let out a string of yells and curses as the man closed the door behind the pair of you, seemingly locking you in.

“What do you think you are doing?! You can’t just lock me in here.” Your yelling was unanswered and eventually silenced by the light flicking on, showing a room much larger than the small box could have contained. What seemed to be a control panel took up the center of the room, large, glowing, purple, crystalline structures branching off of it and illuminating the room. There were a couple of cushioned chairs and sofas strewn about the upper deck around the console, and metal stairs lead up to a circular veranda level, completely covered in bookshelves and ladders to reach the tallest of shelves.

The stranger was smirking down at you, now stood by the console, leaning on it with his hip, his arms crossed in front of him.“This is the TARDIS.” he spoke, interrupting your curious looks around the place.”It stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. And I want you to travel with me. I told you I’d offer you a getaway.” His smirk grew with the last sentence, showing how proud he was of himself, and rightfully so, his prize for winning his little game was very impressive.

You had been traveling with The Doctor ever since, you couldn’t say no to his offer of traveling the universe, but roughly five months was not enough time to know an alien who lost track of how old they were. Something happened around late June, but you never told The Doctor. He found you crying in the TARDIS kitchen alone early one morning, phone still clasped in your hand. He wondered if you had been talking to someone and that’s why you were crying. If that was what was happening, he hated whoever they were for doing this to you. When you saw him standing in the doorway, you squeaked in fear, but jumped up and ran to him, hugging him very tightly. The two of you had only ever shared brief victory hugs before, nothing like this. But just as The Doctor started to enjoy the breathtakingly tight hug you were giving him, you ran off to your room, slamming and locking the door behind you. 

The Doctor had tried and failed to talk to you for a month. You would emerge from your room to eat, rarely, and to make cups of tea, almost always in the morning when you used to be asleep. But you never talked, waved, or even smiled at The Doctor anymore.

Eventually, he had convinced you to go on an adventure with him, thanks to the TARDIS helping him and preventing you from returning to your room on an excursion to the kitchen.  The Doctor knew, though, that you were not enjoying anything you were seeing, the curiosity and wonder had drained from your eyes. 

He took you to a beach where the waves would sound like a different song to whoever hears them, but you didn’t even change into a swimsuit. He took you to a mountainous relaxation resort where the staff would ski down the ranges singing show tunes and performing acrobatic routines, you didn’t even crack a smile. He even took you to a planet where it was only ever night time, he pointed out the stars and planets to you and told you stories of his past, but you would only hum noncommitedly. He thought that his openness would draw something, in turn, out of you.

The last stop was the largest multidimensional museum in existence, he thought, surly, this would work. Reminding you of the day you met him had to bring you back to your old self. So, The Doctor, ignoring your protests, dragged you through the museum, running past history, until you stopped in front of a Vincent Van Gogh painting, the same one you were looking at the museum when The Doctor first saw you. He was hopeful that this would brighten your mood, that he would look over and see you smiling and curious, but he saw no such thing. The Doctor saw the bland, emotionless face you were trying to wear confidently, as you had at every other venue, but he also saw the tears pooling in your eyes and the slight quiver of your lips. That was new. What hurt the most was how he saw how desperately you wanted to keep your facade in place, how desperately you didn’t want him to see how hurt you were. He wondered if he had done something wrong, something to cause this disconnect? 

The Doctor took you back to the TARDIS when you asked to leave the museum, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He did not wish to do it, but because you did not seem to be enjoying yourself, The Doctor was prepared to let you go. He opened the door for you and followed you into the TARDIS, trodding up to the console. He was about to offer to take you home, but you were already gone. The Doctor sighed, about to set the quardianted anyway, until the TARDIS beeped frantically, informing him to go to your room immediately.

The door to your room was slightly ajar, probably because of the TARDIS, just enough for The Doctor to see into your bedroom. You were pacing, holding a kitchen knife in one hand and beating your head repeatedly. Then you started screaming, “It was a simple adventure, Y/N, but you messed it up. You are always messing things up. The Doctor just wanted to cheer you up, and you couldn’t even fake it for a day! Maybe this is why no one loves you, Y/N. You can’t just let things go and celebrate what is actually before you! You saw The Doctor’s face, and you broke his hearts! Why can’t you just be happy, Y’N?! Why do you have to ruin everything that crosses your path! Everything would be easier and everyone would be happier if you didn’t exist!” You swung both of your fists down in rage, cutting the air. 

Behind you, The Doctor burst into your room, screaming a loud ‘no!’ You were too shocked to actually process anything, he clearly heard every word you said, and saw the knife in your hands. There was no going back from this. For all you knew, he was going to kick you out because of how you were behaving. He asked for the knife, calmly but sternly, his brown eyes growing dark in concern. You did as he said and moved to your bed, curling into a ball under your covers, trying to ignore The Doctor’s powerful eyes. He followed you , however, hugging you from behind, placing soft kisses on the side of your face and neck as you began to cry. The Doctor hushed your tears and dried your eyes as best he could from his position.  Eventually you stopped crying, curling into him further as The Doctor rested his head in the crook of your neck. After calming your breath, you spoke up, breaking the silence.

“My boyfriend broke up with me. That’s who I was on the phone with that night when you saw me crying.” The Doctor moved his head slightly to look at you, he didn’t know that you had a boyfriend. But this revelation colored that situation differently for him. His suspicions were correct, but he did not wish them to be. He hated how someone so close to you would hurt you like this.

“He broke up with you over the phone?” His tone was dangerous, you were almost afraid to answer, worried for how he would react.

“Yes,” you spoke tentatively. The Doctor’s arms tightened around you protectively, so you tried to explain the situation. “He said that he didn’t want to, and that he wished he could have done it in person but he was too busy.” This didn’t raise his opinion of your ex.

“Is there any way that the two of you could work it out?” He hoped that there wasn’t, from the very little he heard of this person, and seeing how you reacted to the breakup, The Doctor thought that you would be safer away from him.

“No, he said that his decision was final.” There was a long pause before The Doctor spoke again, trying to suppress his excitement over the fact that this negative person would be out of your life.

“What were you going to do with the knife?” He almost forgot about the knife.

“I don’t know, I would’ve probably hurt myself. I don’t even remember grabbing the thing. I think that I was just overwhelmed with emotions and I didn’t feel like I had any more options.”

“Have you hurt yourself before?” HIs tone was softer, hoping that you would feel more open in discussing a topic this sensitive.

“Not in over a year. I’ve had bouts like this every so often, but this one felt worse. I guess I just wanted to remove the hurt he caused by making myself feel something new. I know you were trying to do that before with all of the adventures, but I couldn’t focus on any of the good things. I could only think of how lonely he made me and how much I was disappointing you. I just feel so worthless!” You tried to bang your head against your hand again, but The Doctor stopped you, holding your fists tightly in his.

“You could never disappoint me. And you, most certainly, aren’t worthless, Y/N. Do you want to know why?” You played his game and asked why, how tightly he was holding you contrasting severely with the softness of his tone. It was strangely comforting and one of the most intimate moments you’ve ever experienced. 

“Because I chose you. Because you were the only one observant and empathetic enough to see and appreciate the simpler things. There are very few people like you. In fact, there is no one like you. You are completely unique within the cosmos, to do away with the magic you hold in your heart and soul, it would be a waste. A complete and utter tragedy to the whole of existence. And I know that I am not the person you probably want in this bed, but I will be here whenever you need. We can go on adventure, we can revisit those places from before so you don't feel as if you missed out on anything, and we can just sit and talk or hold each other. You’re not alone in this, Y/N. You have me, and it will take time, but everything will, one day, be okay.”

“Thank you, Doctor, I really don’t know where I would be without you. You’ve cared for me more than anyone.” You paused and pulled his arms tighter around your body before looking up at his face, “And don’t be so hard on yourself, Doctor. You are an ageless alien showing me the universe. No offence, but what does the emotionless ex boyfriend of mine have that you don't possess tenfold?” He blushed down at you, avoiding eye contact for a moment, then looking back. He turned you around in his arms so you were facing him and leant his forehead against yours. You talked for a few moments like this, eventually growing tired. The Doctor said that you should sleep and you wrapped your arms around him so he couldn’t leave. He chuckled and hugged you back, moving the blankets that had fallen down a bit tighter around your bodies. After you fell asleep, The Doctor kissed your forehead and rubbed your back, whispering promises to protect you and help you out of this dark period.

[chilling-seavey]

Nothing Revealed/Everything Denied - Chapter Eleven

A/N Long awaited.

Christian had lived in LA for nearly a year and only realized he had never been to Santa Monica Pier when Michelle commented in his livestream chat. Her comment took him by surprise; mostly because they hadn’t spoken outside of work in almost two weeks after their incredibly awkward interaction at the fittings and he couldn’t help his sudden pause as he processed her message.

“Uh…” Christian furrowed his eyebrows as he skimmed the chat as if it was a difficult question to answer, “No, I have never been Santa Monica Pier actually.”

He took a breath and forced himself onto the next message from his viewers, not wanting to be caught looking like an idiot when people were probably screen recording. He was mid-sentence when his phone buzzed on the desk beside him and he glanced down to see a text from Michelle.

Are you up to Santa Monica tonight?

“One…second…” he said softly to his stream before picking up and unlocking his phone.

To the viewers, he looked like he was in intense concentration, typing and re-typing furiously like he had received the most important news of the decade. But all he was trying to word out was a chill,

Sure. Sounds fun. I’ll pick you up at 6?

Great!

Christian couldn’t hold back his grin as he set his phone down again and turned back to his livestream, “Where were we?”

At 5:55, Christian was parked outside Michelle’s apartment. He was never one for being late – especially when it came to her – and he needed to get out of the house before Tyler came home anyway so he wasn’t harassed by his brother about spending too much time with his co-worker. Michelle came rushing out of her building in a white shirt and jeans with her brown hair pulled back in a bun. Christian couldn’t help but let his eyes just take her in as she approached the car and she shot him a smile as she climbed in, setting her bag on her lap.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Christian replied, trying not to sound too terribly awkward. It was as if in two weeks he forgot how to speak to her yet still had all these weird feelings that had only been growing in their time apart.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to the pier.” Michelle chuckled as she buckled her seatbelt and Christian pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah…me too.” Christian said through a soft breath, trying to stay focussed on the road as his two-handed grip on the steering wheel tightened. Michelle helped herself to his phone, his small smile giving her the go-ahead and she put on some music and turned up the volume.

Christian took their silent drive to the pier as a moment to collect his thoughts, trying not to overthink every little thing. It was easier, though, once they parked and they got out of the car to the view of the sunset and the bustling pier in the distance. Michelle pulled her phone from her pocket to snap a few pictures as they headed down the sidewalk towards the park.

“We should start with the roller coaster!” Michelle suggested, staring up at the rides in enticement as they waited in line for tickets.

Christian passed over his credit card to the lady at the booth and he paid for a full night of tickets.

“You didn’t have to buy mine.” Michelle tisked when he held out a stack to her.

“I wanted to.” Christian shrugged with a smile.

She thanked him, mirroring his grin, and they headed for the rides. The awkwardness easily melted away after their first round on the roller coaster; Christian screaming a bit louder than honestly necessary enough to have Michelle wheezing of laughter by the time they got off. He wouldn’t admit that he wasn’t actually scared, just desperate for something to break the slight tension.

“You always surprise me, Seavey.” Michelle laughed as they headed for the scrambler a bit of a ways away.

“Surprise you how?” Christian asked, smiling over at her.

“Just…whenever I think I know you, you surprise me.” Michelle shrugged, handing her ticket to the booth outside the ride and Christian did the same as they got in line.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I think so. Keeps you interesting.”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to be bored of me.” Christian shouted after her as they rushed into the ride and found their seats.

“You don’t get motion sick, right?” Michelle asked as the operator made sure they were buckled in.

“No. You?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” she shrugged.

Christian’s eyes went wide. 

“I’m kidding!” Michelle nudged him teasingly. “I’ve got the strongest stomach I know.”

“I can tell based on how you wrote an incredibly gory war film.” Christian scoffed.

Michelle only laughed and he glanced over at her sitting beside him in the small metal buggy, their arms and thighs brushing as the ride started and the dusk ocean air blew through her messy curls lightly, the lights from the park reflecting in her eyes enough to make looking away from her nearly impossible. That was until she was thrown against him by the force of the ride and he was pulled back into the moment, sharing in her laughter as she almost fell off the seat.

By the time their tickets were spent up – mostly at the games where Christian was determined to beat her at something – they headed to find something to eat.

“Here, you can have my bear.” Michelle offered, holding out the huge bear she won at their last game.

“I don’t want your pity gifts.” Christian huffed playfully.

“I won it for you. Now stop being such a whiner and accept him.” Michelle shoved the bear in his arms. “Look, he loves you.”

“Thanks.” Christian chuckled.

“Now, I’m buying dinner because you bought the tickets.”

“I’m not going to even try to argue that.”

“Good. Because you won’t win. You’re a smart man.”

Christian only smiled over at her as she ordered them each a slice of pizza and a drink. With dinner in hand, they found a spot to sit by the edge of the pier overlooking the ocean under the neon lights of the park.

“Wonder what would happen if I jumped right now.” Michelle looked over the edge.

“Uhm, please don’t.” Christian laughed. “You would probably die and then David will make so many changes to your manuscript.”

“Oh, that’s a cold threat.” Michelle gaped, turning back to her pizza.

They fell into silence for a moment as they ate.

“How are your final practices going?” Michelle asked, her voice much softer than it had been the rest of the night.

“Fine. Great. I’m looking forward to starting to shoot.” Christian said.

“Me too.” Michelle nodded. “Dean told me you’ve been showing great promise honestly. But I didn’t doubt it originally anyway since-“

“Dean?” Christian didn’t mean to cut her off but his mouth spoke before his brain could catch up.

Michelle glanced up at him almost shyly, “Yeah, he took me for dinner last week.”

“Oh. How was that?” Christian asked flatly.

“Really nice. He’s really sweet. He took me too this steakhouse downtown and we had a private room and everything.”

“Nice.” Christian said into his can of pop, letting his eyes wander out over the dark ocean.

“He and I went over my script with other that he’s worked on and he had so many compliments for me that I swear my face was bright red.” Michelle giggled lightly, pressing her hands to her cheeks like she was reliving it. “I really enjoyed his company.”

“Because he had money?”

“What?” Michelle frowned for a moment.

“Sorry.” Christian sighed, looking down at the bear that was sat on his lap. “We should go.”

He got up and threw out the paper plate and his can before starting down the pier for the parking lot, Michelle rushing after him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michelle grabbed his arm to slow him down and they fell to a stop near the railing.

Christian sighed deeply, licking his lips nervously as he stared out over the beach.

“I only went on the date with Dean because you made it obvious you didn’t like me back like that.”

Christian nearly broke his neck to look back at her at top speed, “Where’d you get that idea?”

“All the time.” Michelle said like it was obvious. “You kissed me at the party, drunk off your ass, and then never did it again. After that you avoided me like the plague. I figured you regretted it so…” Michelle shrugged. “I should be allowed to do to dinner with other people without you getting jealous and weird if you don’t like me like that.”

Christian sighed, pushing a hand through his hair before resting it on the railing, “That’s not it. I just…I don’t know how to balance this movie and…a relationship…with a co-worker.”

“So you don’t regret kissing me?”

“God, no!” Christian answered almost too quickly through his nervous laughter.

Michelle smacked his arm, “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

“I was scared!”

“You are scared of too much, Seavey. Life isn’t a game of Outlast.”

“Shut up.” Christian chuckled lightly, shooting her a small dimpled smile.

“I’m serious. This is my big break too and it’s important to both of us. I’m not going to let you start simping and fuck up your shot at fame here.”

“Simping? Oh my Lord.” Christian bit back a grin.

“Yeah.” Michelle crossed her arms over her chest as he stared at her. “I only wanted you for a reason.”

They fell into silence a moment, sharing calm bashful smiles, before Christian slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. She tossed her arms around his shoulders to keep him close as they shared slow chasté kisses on the pier under the neon lights.

[amillionmillionvoices]

Hicsqueak watching hocus pocus

also for @fernwehexplorer - thank you darlings!  / part of the tattoo au series, so prob better to read at least the first chapter. 

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

Pippa glances over at Hecate mid-scene and sighs. This was her last ditch effort. She’s tried everything—Halloween she hadn’t found the least bit frightening; Halloweentown she’d spent castigating the children on their disobedience; she’d declared Casper an “atrocious oversimplification of spectres, The Nightmare Before Christmas had too much singing, and she’d shut off Goosebumps five minutes in and declared it a “juvenile eyesore.” 

They’re halfway through Hocus Pocus and Pippa can see Hecate trying desperately to keep her mouth shut. Pippa hadn’t been lying when she’d said it was her favorite Halloween movie, but still, she feels a bit bad for making Hecate sit through something she so clearly finds distasteful. 

She’s been trying to broaden Hecate’s horizons away from documentaries and nature specials, and had thought Halloween might be the perfect avenue: Hecate herself is practically a witch—the way she moves, her long hair, perpetually black outfits and black-painted nails. All she needs is a hat (when Pippa told her so, however, Hecate threw a strawberry at her head; Pippa had only grinned—”I’m surprised you didn’t levitate it”—and Hecate had glared and stewed until Pippa came over and kissed her cheek; it still makes her insides bubble, her knees go weak, the way Hecate softens at her touch, each and every time). 

And yet, she seems to detest Halloween with a vigor Pippa hasn’t seen before, and no amount of candy or movies or dancing into their room in nothing but cat ears on her head has convinced her otherwise. (Well, Pippa muses, watching Hecate glare at the television, the cat ears helped a little.) Pippa’s tried getting it out of her—the real reason behind her distaste for the holiday—but all she gets is a lecture on witch hunts and damaging stereotypes and misogynistic binaries. 

Still, it’s better than watching Hecate sit so still, so obviously annoyed and uncomfortable, and Pippa reaches over her for the remote, pausing the film. 

Hecate blinks. “Pippa?” 

“You hate it, don’t you?” 

She tries not to sound disappointed, but some of it must seep through because Hecate looks guilty, looks away. 

“It’s...entertaining.” 

“Liar,” Pippa mutters, and leans back into the sofa dramatically. “Go on. Let me have it.” 

Hecate sighs. “It’s positively patriarchal, Pippa,” she says, “the last thing children need is more reason to fear women, or to not take us seriously. Ignoring the fact that witches historically have been healers and midwives, not murderers, the fact that three seasoned witches are so incompetent as to let a child ruin their efforts—” 

Pippa laughs. She can’t help it. “Darling, it’s fiction.” 

Hecate sniffs. “It still sends a message.” 

“I think you’re reading too much into it.” Pippa cuts off Hecate’s protest by leaning her head against her shoulder and taking her hand, running her fingertips over Hecate’s palm in a way that makes her shiver, a way to tell her she isn’t angry, that they aren’t fighting. Hecate needs that, she’s noticed—little reassurances that their debates and bickering aren’t driving Pippa away. 

“As much as I detest pop culture, Pippa, it has its relevance.” 

Pippa glances up at her, curious. “So what message did you learn?” 

Hecate frowns, and Pippa tangles their fingers together and squeezes. 

“You’re a good actor, darling, but patriarchal constructs and the historiography of witches aren’t why you hate Halloween. At least, not the only reason.” 

She hasn’t asked so directly—has tried to let Hecate come to her if she chooses. But sometimes she thinks perhaps she should be more direct; if perhaps Hecate is merely waiting for the right question, waiting for someone to listen to her answer. 

Hecate stammers slightly, and Pippa brushes her thumb back and forth over her skin. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says, offering an out, “but you know you can, right?” 

She holds Hecate’s gaze, stares into dark eyes and hopes Hecate can see how much she cares; how much she wants to know her, know all of her; how much she’ll love her regardless. 

Hecate stares back, and Pippa doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until Hecate stands abruptly, and without a word, walks out of the room. Pippa frowns and follows her into her bedroom, unsure of whether or not to be affronted, and finds Hecate in her closet, the lights still off, but Pippa can make out the splashes of pink and blue—jeans and a fuzzy sweater she keeps here, along with a drawer filled with t-shirts and intimates and brightly colored socks—and it makes her smile each and every time. Hecate has a drawer similar at Pippa’s place, though they spend less time there—Pippa hasn’t slept there in days, stopping by to just grab whatever she needs, and it fills her with so much warmth, the giddiness of it. 

Hecate pushes aside a sea of black and unearths an ornate chest she keeps there, one Pippa has noticed but never asked about. She doesn’t ask now, as much as she wants to, tries to curb her impatience as Hecate retrieves something, a slender black book, square in shape. 

When she returns, and sits on the bed, Pippa follows, perching next to her, their thighs touching. Hecate pauses a moment, the book in her lap, and glances at Pippa—for reassurance, perhaps, so Pippa smiles softly and places a hand on Hecate’s knee encouragingly. 

Hecate nods, and opens the book, and it isn’t a book but an album, a photo album. The first page is a woman who looks so much like Hecate, but softer—her eyes are blue, her smile sweet and tired, and she’s holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. 

Pippa tries not to exhale too loudly. “Is that—?”

“My mother.”

Pippa squeezes her knee. She doesn’t know much about Hecate’s past, her family, but knows she doesn’t talk about it, or them, and hasn’t wanted to speculate as to why. 

Hecate flips the page, and there are more baby pictures, more photos of her mother, always soft, always smiling. There’s one with Hecate—at least, she thinks it’s Hecate—bundled up in the snow, chewing on a cardboard book, perched on her mother’s hip. 

Pippa watches as Hecate grows older, and by the time she’s three she’s dressed in blacks and greys and whites, stiff, uncomfortable looking dresses, her hair always pulled back. 

There are so many gaps - no birthday or holiday photos, and Pippa thinks of her own parents’ albums, stuffed to the brim and overflowing with family portraits and picnics and vacations.

She glances at Hecate, expects to see her somber but instead there’s a small, wistful smile pulling at her lips as she pauses on, what Pippa thinks, is the photograph she was looking for. Hecate tilts the album so she can see it better, and Pippa almost laughs. 

It’s Hecate, perhaps five or six, in front of a non-descript bungalow, holding her mother’s hand. Both of them are dressed as witches, in black dresses with black hats, Hecate with a small orange pumpkin pail. 

“My father wouldn’t let me go out on Halloween,” she says, though there’s no blame there, just fact, “but he was gone one year on business, and my mother took me trick-or-treating. I couldn’t keep the candy, but…”

“You look adorable,” Pippa says, and Hecate smirks. 

“We bought hats at a dollar store, and spent the whole evening going from house to house.”

She turns the page, and there’s another photo of Hecate, holding her overflowing pail, grinning; her mother crouched next to her, saying something. 

Pippa drinks in the photograph, something nagging.

“Hecate—“

“She died a few days after,” Hecate says, and Pippa feels her throat close, her chest tighten. “This was the last time we...the last time she was really with me. On Halloween.”

She feels horrible. Abruptly, achingly, horrible. She’s spent all of October cajoling Hecate into watching holiday films and bringing home pumpkins and showing her pictures on the internet of dogs in costumes and Hecate has let her, never said a word. 

“I’m sorry,” she manages, tongue heavy in her mouth. “I’m so—”

Hecate shakes her head. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

Pippa shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have tried to force you. I shouldn’t have—”

Hecate cuts her off with a hand in her thigh. “You didn’t know. And…” Hecate pauses, her eyes still on the photograph. “It’s been… I generally ignore the whole affair, but sharing it with you has made it… tolerable,” she says, then, softly, “Better.” 

Pippa nods, her throat tight and eyes stinging and she doesn’t know what to say, beyond a hoarse, “I’m glad.” 

Hecate nods, one hand still on the book, the other on Pippa’s leg, and Pippa leans in closer, rests her head on Hecate’s shoulder as she stares down at the photograph, at Hecate’s mother, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind Hecate’s ear. She’s smiling, of course, but there’s something in her expression, something far away and melancholy that Pippa can’t place. It’s in Hecate’s eyes, too, despite her wide, childish grin, and Pippa wonders what happened; she doesn’t ask. 

Instead, she presses a kiss to Hecate’s shoulder before looking back at the photo, and for the first time, notices. Her eyes land on Hecate’s mother’s wrist, visible for the first time, the sleeve of her dress riding up, and there, blurred but so obvious, is a tattoo, a black outline of a small cat, so similar to the one Pippa had done their first real meeting. She gasps. 

Leans forward, confident she’s mistaken: but after she blinks it’s still here. Not as ornate as Hecate’s, not as detailed, but a similar silhouette, in the same place, and she can’t quite breathe.

“Hecate?”  

Hecate stiffens slightly, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t close the book, just trails a finger over the tattoo. 

“She got it before I was born. My father hated it, of course, but she refused to have it removed. She got it when she was 18, she said, after a childhood pet. I wanted… something similar.” 

“And you trusted me?” 

She doesn’t mean to sound incredulous, but she knows she does; knows, by the way Hecate closes the book and sets it aside on the bed, by the way she looks at her, expression unreadable for a long moment. 

“Yes,” she says finally. “I did.” And then, softer, “I do.” 

Pippa inhales sharply, stares at her, her beautiful face, her open expression, before she lurches forward and kisses her, a hand on her cheek and Hecate startles, then relaxes, opens her mouth under Pippa’s and kisses her back. It’s too much, and not enough, and Pippa nearly crawls into Hecate’s lap, wraps her arms around her as tight as she can, feels Hecate’s soft, careful hands hold her close, so gentle.

[chantillyxlacey]

First kiss for the ot3?

A three parter! I hope that it’s worth the wait lmao :’>

—Vivi and Lewis—

Falling in love with Lewis had been the easiest thing she’d ever done–so easy, in fact, that she’d completely failed to notice she’d done it until right this very second. Of course she loved him– he’d been her best friend for years now, along with Arthur– but when exactly had she tripped on romance and fallen headlong over heels?

They were on their third date, but they’d only now even realized it was dating that they had been doing for the past several weeks.

“Lewis… I think you’re my boyfriend now,” she’d said, baffled, and then they’d looked at each other and burst into laughter at how ridiculous they both were.

They had collapsed, weak with hilarity, against one another on the park bench where they’d taken a rest from their walk (their scenic, romantic walk for two, how had she not noticed, good lord!). It had taken them a while again to realize just how close their faces were, just how many places their bodies were touching.

“Vivi– may I kiss you?” His cheeks were dusted with red, his voice was so soft and warm and gentle, and so was his smile, and so were those eyes of his– Vivi’s heart nearly stopped mid-beat.

“Now that you’ve asked me like that, you have to,” she murmured, glad that her voice at least didn’t sound as astoundingly twitterpated as she felt. Though if she’d tried to speak again even that small saving grace for her dignity would have evaporated at his shy little laugh and the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners.

He leaned down to her and cradled her cheek oh so softly in his palm. For a long moment he hovered there with his breath playing over her lips, so close but not quite touching. She was unsure if he was hesitating or savoring the moment, but either way it was driving her near to distraction.

“Lew–” she said (maybe whined a little, who’s to say?), but was cut off when he finally closed that last little distance and laid his mouth on hers.

She’d had quite a few kisses in her day, and quite a few of them were far, far less chaste– but none of them made her feel quite like this– like glittering champagne and shy in a way that she’d never really been before.

After a long, shimmering moment he drew away slightly with a dreamy, dizzy-sounding sigh. Without even having to think about it Vivi reached up for his ascot, gently tugging him back down to close the distance between them once again.

“Don’t go anywhere just yet–” she murmured against his lips, and now she definitely sounded twitterpated and almost plaintive. Lewis hummed some formless noise, and luckily he sounded just as smitten as she did, so she didn’t have to be too embarrassed about it. He brushed the tips of their noses together and it took everything she had not to giggle at how cheesy and saccharine and wonderful this man was.

Lewis’ thumb rubbed a soft arc over her cheek and his other arm cradled her with a gentleness usually reserved for priceless treasures, and when he smiled into the second of what she hoped would be many, many, uncountable kisses, she just couldn’t help but smile back.

—Lewis and Arthur—

He came to in the back of the van, woozy and disoriented, and strangely… comfortable? It took him a moment to realize that this was because his head was propped in a lap.

“Lewis?” Arthur murmured.

“I’m here,” he replied, voice soft.

Arthur smiled, warm and unguarded. It had taken Lewis awhile to realize just how much he’d missed Arthur’s smiling like that– smiling at him. Since certain revelations between the three of them those smiles were becoming less and less rare, but their impact on Lewis’ heart didn’t seem ready to dim any time soon. “What happened?”

“Role reversal,” Arthur answered,  touch of wryness finding its way into the corner of his grin.

“Very funny, Kingsmen,” he said, failing to sound even remotely unamused. “Are you alright?”

“You know, I should be asking you that,” Arthur said, helping Lewis sit up. “That thing knocked you right back into your anchor with one good swing. We were worried.” A frown replaced that smile and Lewis tried not to feel too bereft about it. “Even after you came back out you didn’t wake up right away– Mystery insisted you were gonna be fine but we just didn’t want– yeah.”

Just didn’t want to lose you again, were the words Arthur hadn’t said.

“Well, Mystery was right. I feel fine– Not great, a little beat up, but definitely fine. I’m sure Mystery will be thrilled to be right.” He smiled at Arthur and was thrilled himself when Arthur’s own smile returned. “Where are Vivi and Mystery, anyway?”

“Magic hazmat cleanup. Her words, not mine. They said they’d be taking care of it for a couple of hours at most though, they shouldn’t be a whole lot longer.”

“And you didn’t want to leave me alone, even on Mystery’s word?” Lewis was touched, and charmed on top of it when Arthur flushed.

“Well, yeah, I–”

“Hey,” he said, and laid his hand over Arthur’s. “I know. I trust you.” God, it felt good for those words to come so easily again, and to mean it. How could he have ever not have trusted Arthur? Arthur who gently transferred bugs outside instead of swatting them and who had devoted weeks’ worth of sleepless nights to saving a hamster’s life. Who had protected him from older bullies as a child with a loyalty that was downright ferocious and had never wavered even after Lewis no longer needed protecting.

Who looked at him right now in this moment in a way that showed hearing those words had meant as much to him as saying them had to Lewis; who leaned forward and kissed him with a suddenness that suggested he wanted to just give into the impulse before he could manage to talk himself down.

It was a lot more awkward than Lewis had pictured their first being in all the daydreams that he’d only recently started allowing himself to have again. But Arthur’s mouth was soft and warm and even if this kiss wasn’t perfect, it was still perfect for what it was:

A new, fresh start, or a symbol of it at least. They’d do it right this time; no more secrets, no more silence, no more hiding from what they wanted for fear of losing what they already had. Lewis cupped his palm around the base of Arthur’s skull as that first kiss slid smoothly into a second and Arthur looped one arm around his neck to pull him closer.

—Vivi and Arthur—

They’d at least brought an umbrella on their movie date because they had been expecting it to rain by the time they’d be walking home.What they hadn’t expected was for the sky to open up like it was raring itself up for a flood of biblical proportions. The rain came down in blows that had basically murdered their poor umbrella via blunt force trauma and forced them under the awning of Tempo’s only florist shop for shelter.

“At least it’s warm,” Arthur laughed, futilely pawing back his wet hair from his forehead once again. A stray bead of water slid down the line of his jaw and Vivi’s eyes followed its path nearly all the way to his chin before he swiped it away. He noticed her staring and the corner of his mouth crooked up shyly.

God, but Vivi wanted to kiss him. She’d been wanting to kiss Arthur for such a long time now– both in general and on this night in particular, and it was still a little hard to wrap her head around the fact that now she could. She could right now, even.

In fact…

She set the poor umbrella’s corpse on the ground and stepped to him, propping her forearms on his shoulders and beaming up at him.

“Can I help you?” he laughed, mimicking to near perfection how she habitually said it, and suddenly something about the moment shifted in a way that nearly made Vivi’s heart stop.

“Come down here for a second, would you?” She’d been going for jaunty flirtation, but her voice came out much softer, almost breathless. He went a very appealing shade of pink as he appeared to undergo the same shift of gravity that she had.

When he’d leaned down into her range she caught his mouth delicately at first– the last thing she wanted was to spook him even though pretty much the first thing she wanted was to devour him because even that cautious, careful brush of lips lit her up inside like a Christmas tree.

There was a moment when she drew back and they just stared at one another. Arthur’s eyes were wide and pupil-blown dark and shining, and he swallowed.

And then that moment was over and they all but dove back at each other.

Vivi had always thought the whole ‘passionate first kiss in the rain’ scenario was overwrought and cliche as hell but somehow this was the exact perfect way for it to go for them. And really, she thought as Arthur’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him so that the heat of his body soaked through the faint chill of their wet clothes; didn’t they deserve a little over-the-top romance, after everything it had taken to get them here?

So she clutched closer and leaned into this kiss that had gone graceless and a little sloppy with just how long it had been waited for, and she savored the quiet little noises in his throat and the silky texture of his mouth and how she could taste the faint echo of movie theater popcorn on his breath, and the way his heart hammered behind his ribs in a rhythm that perfectly complemented her own.

[kaliori]

Bookends, Part 10

The typical morning on the Ghost dawned quiet and dim, with the same caf, the same holos, the same steel interior. Everything was gray or brown, down to the black caf in each crewmember’s mug. The morning after he professed his love for Hera, Kanan had a much more colorful outlook on life. He downplayed it as much as he could to toe the line of proper behavior on the ship. He even let Hera leave her quarters first, when he really wanted to walk with her hand in hand, pull out her chair, pour her caf, shower her with Malreaux roses, among other nauseating gestures.

She greeted him with a smile and a salutation, much better than the previous weeks of strained relations. When he settled down next to her for caf and holo viewing, he couldn’t help himself. He went to put his arm around Hera’s shoulder and got as far as her upper arm before she blocked the gesture. She refused by gently guiding his hand down to rest in his lap. His eyes flicked over to Zeb, who was already seated when Kanan came in and nodded his greeting before going back to his drink and the holonews.

Kanan accepted what Hera gave him. It wasn’t the time or the place. Until it was. With Zeb occupied and Kanan conceded to withholding, Hera surprised the hell out of him with her hand on his knee under the table, rising higher up his leg, slowly moving up the inseam of his work trousers. Another quick, sneaky look, this time to his other side where Hera sat, her other hand on her mug while her free hand worked her way up to his zipper. She gave it a quick little tug, not enough to move it down, then pulled her hand back up above the table to grip her mug in both hands.

“We have a lot of work to catch up on,” she told her crew after finishing off the caf with a big gulp. “It’s good to have you back, Kanan.” She departed to get started on the day’s work and left Kanan with fewer answers about her than before.

Hera was usually the subject of the thoughts in the back of his mind throughout the day: during work, before falling asleep, after waking up, sometimes even during meditation. He and Zeb spent most of their day schlepping heavy pieces of scrap metal promised to a droid repair shop on Tebru. Hera helped them sort through the materials in the cargo hold, informing them she owed the proprietor a long overdue favor. “I’ve never seen anyone so happy about a pile of rusted junk,” she said.

Hard labor wasn’t enough to push Hera out of his mind. He barely heard what Zeb had to say, when they weren’t grunting and breathing heavy through hefting the irregular, unwieldy shapes of metal. Something about challenging him to holochess after their evening meal, maybe. Kanan couldn’t get past Hera shutting him down in one beat and in the next being unable to keep her hands to herself. It annoyed him as much as it turned him on. So much had changed for them, literally overnight. And yet, more of the same as he continued his fight for her attention.

Kanan avoided both Hera and Zeb during the mid-day break. He chose to stay with the scraps in the cargo hold. His water jug and an impossible amount of dust from the old dirty parts were his only companions as he pondered his current state. He rested with his back propped up against a bulkhead and tilted his head up with his eyes closed. He could meditate anywhere and at any time. He had to master that skill as a man on the run, first as a teenager all the way through to adulthood. Meditation didn’t provide answers about Hera. Loving her was a brand new ballgame, much more than what he had in the past with anyone else. With no frame of reference for love and what came along with it, he knew one thing: he had a lot more to give than copping a feel under the breakfast table.

The remainder of the work day crawled by. Metal sorted and delivered to Hera’s merchant friend with a smile and hug between the two, and a small bag disappearing into Hera’s oversized cloak wrapped up the day’s job. Kanan would know the clacking of credits together anywhere. “I thought you said you owed him a favor,” he said to Hera as she folded her cloak on board the Ghost.

“I did,” she said, fixing her eyes on him. “But he owed me money and we were broke.” She swiped her hand on his chest to brush away leftover rust debris from working in the cargo hold. He welcomed her touch every time, even if it was just to clean him up a bit. His hand fit over her smaller hand almost entirely as he pressed hers to his chest. If he hadn’t been a walking dust cloud, he would have swept her up in his arms. She wriggled out of his grip after only a few seconds.

At least this time she didn’t snap back at him. She just shook her head briefly and told him to get cleaned up. Kanan added up the score from everything that happened over the last night and day as he freshened up. Hera’s reluctance around him still hurt, almost as much as the cut he opened up on his jawline when shaving the extra beard growth. He looked himself over in the mirror, pressing down on the cut to curb the bleeding. Thankful to be back in the land of the living after the nightmare near Laramus base, Kanan did not give in to complacency. He’d taken his lumps to get to Hera. The symbolic knick stood for more of the same in his future if it meant being with her.

In Kanan’s absence, Hera had avoided looking over at the vacant co-pilot’s chair while flying. The picture of the seat without Kanan started a swirl of worry and despair in the pit of her stomach. Something in her smile showed bittersweet when Kanan took his regular place beside her. “What,” he asked. “I clean up nice, don’t I?”

Hera had to admit he was right. In clean clothes with a trimmed beard, he was back to his vibrant self and handsome as ever. Since he put everything on the table, she could let her looks linger over him. As long as she’d set a course and nobody else was watching. Chopper had a pesky habit for snooping. She wasn’t about to submit to the judgement of an astromech droid.

“How are you feeling,” she asked after Kanan had settled into his chair and refrained from quipping something else ridiculous back to her. She could have answered that question herself after spending the night with him and watching him lug heavy scrap metal around all day. He was fine, in more ways than one.

Kanan bit back the automatic response, the one that would assure her he was better than ever, but he couldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore either. Every time she put her hands on him, her touch lingered long after she left him behind. Her warmer temperature and softer skin were just surface delights. She set his entire world on fire from the very beginning on Gorse, and the flame only grew from there. With nowhere else to go, he took a leap of faith on her, despite the uncertainty of her being there to catch him.

“I want to talk about us,” he said. His search for the right words felt like an agonizing eternity, matched only by Hera’s reticence to answer.

“I mean, are you hurt,” she said finally, in a quiet voice. She wouldn’t look at him for any amount of credits in the world. Her cheeks flushed and her pulse jumped a few hundred beats in seconds.

“I am hurt,” he said. “I just want to be close to you and--”

She pushed out a sigh so heavy she nearly clouded the windshield in front of her. “I can’t do this,” she said. Stonewalling him, but she stayed in the captain’s chair. It was an opening and he had to take it. For himself, and for her.

“Hera, just give me ten damn minutes,” he said. He’d never spoken to her in such a harsh manner. They’d had fights and bickered and exchanged heated words, but this was the first time he’d slipped and cussed at her. Even a mild curse was enough to throw her off. She looked over at him for a moment, his hands out in front of him in an emphatic pleading gesture. If the cockpit were big enough, he would have been on his knees in front of her.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you and I want to be with you and that’s it.”

“Kanan, I told you we can’t do this here,” she said.

“What? Is is because of Zeb?” She shook her head, but Kanan was already off to the races. “Hey, Zeb,” he called behind the cockpit.

“Yeah?” Zeb’s voice came from somewhere behind a bulkhead.

“Can you give us some privacy? Hera and I need to talk about a few things.” She gave him a look that blared you have got to me kidding me as he and Zeb shouted back and forth.

“All right,” Zeb said. “I’ll go count bolts with Chopper.” Kanan let for a few silent seconds go by before he turned back to Hera. “Now it’s just you and me.”

“So then, talk,” she said. She flipped the autopilot switch on, a symbolic gesture that told Kanan he had her attention, as much as she resisted the conversation she knew was coming. From the time she woke up alone in her bed after screwing Kanan, she had a sinking feeling she’d end up screwing herself. Feelings were a son of a bitch.

“I have been talking,” he said. “I’m the one doing all the talking here. I don’t know anything about how you feel. You come into my room in the middle of the night to fuck and then you leave. You want to feel me up under the coffee table but you won’t even let me hold your hand. I know I put a lot on you by saying the love thing but I don’t want or expect anything extra from you. I don’t need you to say you love me back. I just want to know that you could love a guy like me.”

With her arms crossed tight over her chest and body sunk back into the pilot’s chair, she looked smaller to him. Like she was a lothcat trying to flatten itself to avoid danger. “I didn’t bring you here for that,” she said.

“Hold on, now,” he said. “You didn’t bring me anywhere. I came here because you invited me. That’s the problem. You think about us separately. It’s you and me, never you and me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He sighed and readjusted himself in the chair. “I’m worried that you’ll never be able to make room for me in your life. Not just the guy you fly around the galaxy with. Someone to share your life with.”

She shook her head again. “You know what my life is about,” she said. “And you knew it when you came on board.”

“But don’t you want more than that?” His words and the nakedly earnest look in his eyes made a breath catch in her throat.

“I don’t think about it,” she said in a thick voice, like she was fighting tears.

“That’s total Bantha shit,” he said. “I see so much more when you look at me. You light up when you’re around me. Well, when I’m not pissing you off.”

“You’re pretty good at that.” The tears shone in her eyes but didn’t fall. There was no pink blanket to comfort her. Kanan knew what he had to do.

“It’s a lot to ask of you,” he said. “It’s a lot to ask of me, too. I have no idea what I’m doing. I had to unlearn 15 years of Jedi training just to figure out what to do with myself around a woman. I’m still trying to figure out the feelings part.” Now he felt the hot mist stinging in his eyes. “I do know that I can’t wait for another gang to beat the shit out of me to bring us closer again. If we’re going to be together it’s because we’re working this out. Together.”

“I’m really scared,” she whispered. “I’ve never said that out loud to anyone, ever. I just put my head down and keep going.” She looked over at him and he waved her to join him in the chair. She didn’t move. He could feel her energy changing by the minute as they traded what they hid deep inside their hearts. She was almost there. “Out of everyone I’ve met, I thought you would understand the most.”

“I get it,” he said. “I know you. It’s why I fell in love with you. I’m trying to tell you I’ll take you and everything that comes with it.”

“Kanan,” she said, exhaling a shaky breath. “I do love you. I never meant to make you doubt it. I just don’t know what to do with it.”

“Hell if I know, love,” he said. “I want us to figure it out together.” She bit her lip and hugged her arms closer to her chest. “Will you just get over here already?”

“Almost,” she said.

“You’re thinking about how being with me could comprise the mission,” he said.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly sharp. “I told you not to use the Force on me.”

He shrugged. “I swear to you, I’m not doing it on purpose,” he said. “It’s not something I can turn off. I can’t help but pick up on your energy right now. You’re practically on fire over there.” She tried to glare at him but the heavy emotions in the cramped cockpit turned her mean expression softer. “I don’t need the Force to know what’s important to you. I just know you now.”

“What do you think you know about me?” She’d asked the same question at the bar near Laramus. This time, it wasn’t an accusatory jab back at him. He was making a play for her heart; he needed to move the ball closer to the goal.

“I know that you’re strong and powerful and independent,” he said. “I know you don’t need me. I know you’re not looking for a boyfriend. Now I know that you love me.” He shrugged again.

“Kanan,” she said, much softer now. “It’s hard for me to think about things I want. But I want you.” What she’d said in their late night liaisons and clandestine touches finally came clear to him. “I can’t make promises--”

“I don’t need promises,” he said. “Here’s what I want. I want to wake up next to you, pour your caf in the morning, pull out your chair, hold your hand...and I need to know the story about the lamp.”

When she laughed the tears finally escaped from her eyes. “Damn,” she said, swiping at the tears coursing down her cheeks.

“I need to make a promise to you,” Kanan said. “I’m not going anywhere. For as long as you’ll have me, I’m right here.” Now he had her attention. She focused on him and let the tears fall in silence. “If I leave, I’m coming back. Or I’m taking you with me. You took me as I was, when I was a godforsaken mess. You got me.”

That was what it took to get her out of the pilot’s chair. She settled into his lap and into his embrace. Her tears dribbled down his neck as he pulled her closer. “Don’t tell anyone,” she said.

“About the crying,” he asked.

“Any of it,” she said. “It’s nobody’s business.”

He reached out a cautious hand to comfort her, remembering her warnings about lekku. It took an enormous amount of restraint for him to pat one lek. He must have done something right, because she burrowed into the crook between his arm and chest to get even closer to him. What a profound streak of luck for a formerly calamitous vagabond. He finally said all the right things, made all the right moves, and got the girl. He knew better than to let up now. He had promises to keep to her on top of dismantling the Empire piecemeal. Everything he asked for would come at a price. It would have to be paid another day. He handed the rest of his day and night over to Hera.

“You got it, love.”