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sweetdreamsofgelato · 2 years

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Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (You)

Summary: The title is pretty self-explanatory

Rating: T-M for language and innuendo, but this is a pretty tame bit of FLLLUUUUFFFFF

Word Count: 3242

Warnings/Content: RPF; Mild alcohol consumption; Adult language and mild sexual innuendo

A/N: Just a fun bit of silly fluff that I hope you all enjoy! I'm really sorry some of the images are fuzzy. It's pushing 1 in the morning and I've fiddled with them for so long that I'm going wonky-eyed and I can't be bothered to try to fix them. I hope they are readable though.

Unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own.

Reposting my works on any other sites or platforms is strictly prohibited (my official AO3 is linked in my master list). Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

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Henry threw open the double doors to the garden and Kal rocketed out. A small, satisfied smile stretched across Henry’s lips. He briefly watched Kal’s rollick around the grassy lawn before he returned inside, leaving the doors open to encourage the fresh spring air through the rental house.

It was the first day of Henry’s Holiday of Undetermined Length. The official title left much to be desired and was hardly alliterative enough for his tastes, but there it was. The most important thing was that he was taking some much needed time for himself after coming far too close to burnout for comfort.

Rental house halfway to the middle of nowhere: check. Gaming rig: check. Cupboards full of snacks and the numbers of every takeaway in the nearest villages: double check. Gym equipment locked away in a faraway garage to be out of sight and out of mind for the duration: absolutely. Let the rest and relaxation commence.

And so it did, and it was glorious.

He settled quickly into his new routine of lazy lie-ins, steady diet of favourite foods, and hours-long gaming sessions. All wrapped up in sweet, sweet solitude. To his credit, he did remember to bathe regularly and—when the weather was fine—he got out for some fresh air, exercise, and an occasional nap in the hammock on the back terrace. Whenever possible, he left the garden doors open and let Kal come and go as he pleased. (He made that mistake on a drizzly day only once. If he ever saw a mop again, it would be too soon.)

All in all, life slowed to a delightfully indulgent pace. All quiet on the Henry front.

That was until he received an unexpected guest.

Henry was mid-raid when the sound of Kal’s barking filtered in through the open windows. He mostly ignored it, assuming Kal had chased yet another squirrel up a tree. However, the barking continued and became increasingly more intense as the minutes passed.

A paranoid sort might be concerned that his location had been leaked, but he didn’t consider himself as such. He could count the number of people aware of his whereabouts on one hand, and they were all fiercely loyal. He hadn’t even been out and about where anyone could spot him and he was also on a social media blackout, so the likelihood of any adventurous paps was low.

Still, best to investigate.

Henry logged off and tossed his headphones down next to his rig. He stood and leisurely stretched the stiffness from his muscles as he pondered his desk. He refused to feel remorse as he pushed an objectively shameful number of empty crisp packets into the bin. Even less so as he gathered an armful of dirty glasses and plates destined for the dishwasher and deposited them in the kitchen on his way out into the garden.

Kal was running circles around the great, gnarled oak tree at the far end of the fenced garden, pausing only briefly here and there to prop his front paws up the large trunk before resuming his noisy revolutions around the base.

“If that squirrel is taunting you, then you likely deserve it,” Henry called out as he trekked toward the tree.

Kal stopped but barely registered Henry’s presence before carrying on with his mad, incessant barking.

“Lay off, Kal,” he said more sternly when he reached him.

Kal whined and impatiently rested on his haunches as Henry looked up into the branches and came face to face with a mildly harassed but mostly unimpressed calico.

“Well, hullo there,” said Henry. He reached up and it watched him with a cautious but curious eye. It gave Henry’s fingers a tentative smell before allowing him a few chin scratches. “You’re not what I expected.”

Henry fetched a garden chair to stand on and tried to get close enough to pull the animal down off the bough, or at the very least get a look at the tag on its collar, but it sidled out of reach before leaping away and scampering over the back fence.

“Can’t say I didn’t try to help,” he muttered as he listened to the jangle of the cat’s bell fade into the distance. He rested an arm on the branch and glanced down at Kal, who looked hopefully deserving of all manner of accolades and rewards. “Do us a favour and stop terrorising the local wildlife.”

Henry didn’t think much of it until a few days later when his raid was once again interrupted. This time he found Kal bounding the length of the side fence as the same calico ran back and forth across the tops of the wooden slats with preternatural balance. It stopped periodically to rest atop the larger support posts to stare down at Kal with a level of feigned indifference that was purely feline.

It let Henry close enough for some ear scratches, and as he ran his hand down its speckled neck, he noted the lack of collar this time.

“You’ve dispensed with the bell, I see.” The cat tetchily flicked its tail and disappeared over the side of the fence. Henry stretched over to try to see in which direction it went, but it was already long gone. “All the better for skulking about.”

On the third visit, Kal raced after a vaguely cat-shaped blur and nearly overturned the grill (whilst Henry was cooking up some choice steaks) and Henry had to ask, “Who’s terrorising who, hm?”

It jauntily capered away on a musical jingle.

And this was how it continued for weeks. He would find her (it was almost assuredly a female, or so Henry had learnt after a little internet research) in all sorts of places. Sunny window sills were a particular favourite if she was able to sneak in through an open door or window, but he also found her in flower pots, sometimes atop the kitchen cupboards, and once curled up in the hammock. That had been a close brush with disaster, as he only found her because he nearly sat on her.

He even awoke one night at the height of a particularly bad heat wave, absolutely certain that he was suffocating from the humidity, only to discover the cat sleeping on his chest. It wasn’t the soupy air that had choked him, but rather the cat’s tail.

Henry wasn’t even upset about it, and that’s when he knew he was getting attached. Even Kal had grown used to having her around and no longer chased the little devil up trees.

Henry eventually named her Trixie (short for Trixter) because he was never able to get a glimpse of her magically disappearing and reappearing tags. He’d noticed a pattern that she tended to stick around longer when she was sans collar. Less likely to be ratted out to her owner, he supposed. Based upon periodic replacements and her general good health, she obviously had an owner, or at the very least was cared for. Perhaps she belonged to a nearby farm or was simply a bored house cat in possession of an irrepressible urge for adventure.

When it was time to stock up on dog food, Henry drove to the nearest village high street. As he perused the small pet shop, he spied a toy mouse and threw it in his basket. The same with a bubbling drinking fountain, several boxes of tinned cat food and treats, and other feline essentials.

Oh, he was definitely attached.

At the till, the woman ringing up his purchase asked if he’d adopted a cat and looked quite perturbed when Henry said no.

“A local cat has taken a liking to my house,” he clarified.

The cashier paused then asked, “Calico cat? Looks like an inkpot upended on its head?”

Henry gave her a startled look. “Yes, actually.”

“You’ll be wanting this.” The woman picked up a business card from a stack next to her till and handed it to Henry.

Henry glanced at the card, the front of which read a single sentence in elegant script:

Have you seen my Arsehole?

He chuckled. On the back was a picture of Trixie, along with a phone number and email address.

On the drive home, the business card burned a hole in his pocket. He was conflicted. Obviously, the right thing to do was to contact the owner and let them know their beloved cat was holidaying at his house, but if he narked, perhaps the owner wouldn’t let her out anymore. On the other hand, the existence of the business card led him to believe that this was a fairly common occurrence. Henry was not the only one playing host to…

…Arsehole could not be her real name.

Henry felt a peculiar twinge of heartbreak but convinced himself that even though Trixie may get around, she obviously liked him best.

He then cursed to himself when he realised he’d completely forgotten to buy Kal’s food and drove back to the pet shop.

After finally returning home, he stuck the business card upon his fridge, and then made quick work of setting up the drinking fountain and other odds and ends. On his hunt for the perfect spot for the cosy cube, Trixie was nowhere to be found, so he set out a small dish of food in hopes of coaxing her out. That was if she was even around and not out adventuring with someone else.

The effort not to feel jealous was herculean.

Weeks went on, and the weather turned crisp and cool. Trixie kept on with her highly irregular schedule of visits and Henry kept ignoring the business card on his fridge. It wasn’t his fault that Trixie liked to hide in piles of leaves and jump out to startle Kal and it was also certainly not his fault that he enjoyed the ensuing spectacle. He very nearly binned the card, but his conscience inevitably won that battle.

The days grew darker and damper and as such he was no longer able to leave doors and windows open without the risk of suffering frozen bollocks.

Henry may or may not have built a heated cat shelter in the back garden.

He hammered the last nail and determined that he was definitely too attached.

Trixie found Henry’s lap one chilly evening when he was sat out on the back terrace sipping his second hot buttered rum, and he finally, after months and months, got a glimpse of the cat’s tags.

“Oh my god, your name really is Arsehole.”

Henry wasn’t sure if it was second-hand indignation or the rum that instigated the text exchange that followed.

He was laughing so hard he had to put what was left of his drink down lest he spilt it.

Henry (grinning like an absolute fool) needed a moment both to compose himself and decide if he was going to give his real name. Perhaps he'd simply eschewed human contact for a touch too long because it was dangerous how much he was already invested. Yes— it was just a short text exchange, and yes—he didn’t know your name and knew even less about your personal circumstances, but that didn’t stop the immediate connection on his end. From a security standpoint, it was a bad idea to get any more involved, but lying about something as simple as his name still felt morally objectionable.

He stewed a moment in his conflict; this was likely a mistake but he was doing it anyway.

This is how it continued every day for weeks. Amidst your good-natured, increasingly flirtatious raillery, Henry learnt that Trixie (he regularly campaigned for a name change, to no avail) was both infamous and beloved amongst the locals but unfortunately suffered from the chronic inability to stay within the bounds of home. She’d also developed the unfortunate skill of slipping out of her collar when getting into mischief, hence the business cards—in case Trixie happened upon someone who wasn’t already familiar with her, like Henry.

Apparently, she’d never pestered anyone as much or as long as Henry, and he was inordinately pleased by the revelation.

Your conversations became his favourite daily ritual and as the holidays drew closer, Henry knew he was in trouble. He woke and checked his messages with much anticipation, and with his morning coffee in his hand, he leisurely wandered and looked for Trixie. He was always disappointed when she wasn’t around, as it was today. Kal, having fully embraced her company, visibly missed his new playmate.

There was no denying Henry was really in the shit when he drummed his fingers on the kitchen worktop that frosty morning and seriously contemplated asking you to spend Christmas Eve with him. It was an absurd notion; the holiday wasn’t far off and surely you’d already have plans of your own. After hitting send with a shaky thumb, he was overcome by an overwhelming combination of embarrassment and foredoomed rejection and promptly shoved his mobile into his back pocket.

Henry distracted himself with a trip into town for some provisions. Enough for two, just in case. He was stringing up festive lights and decorations and nearly wobbled straight off the ladder in shock when he got a return text accepting his invitation.

Disbelief was quickly overcome by dread. Oh lord, how was he going to explain…well…him?

He’d exchanged names and other safe, nondescript personal details with you, but no photos. You’d never asked and he never dared, secretly fearing the consequences that would inevitably follow. Henry—rather futilely it felt at times—wanted a person to like him for who he was and not who he was, and wasn’t disappointed to leave out of it completely the ever-looming fame monster from which he was currently hiding.

The pitfalls of sentimentality. Remaining a hermetic gremlin would’ve been a more intelligent choice. He’d been down this road too many times to count and was never left better for it. Henry frowned at his phone; no time like the present to torpedo his chances.

At that point, Henry was frankly informed that unless he was a smarmy politician or a serial killer, he needn’t worry on your account. He idly scratched at the scruff on his jaw and mulled over telling you anyway, but perhaps the worry was just a nonsensical bit of self-sabotage on his part, so he let it lie.

Truthfully, the chemistry in the texting was off the charts and he was desperate to know if it was the same in person. He just didn’t want to ambush you with his celebrity, but if you were okay not knowing, then he was okay with leaving it a surprise. If just to humble himself, he clung to the possibility that he may not be recognised at all or at the very least, it wouldn’t matter.

The fateful evening arrived and he was an absolute mess. He wore the floorboards thin with his pacing. Restless energy had him straighten and re-straighten the star on top of his tree, stoke the fire for the umpteenth time, and—in a fit of undeniable madness, presumptuously hang a bit of mistletoe under the garden doorway, though he’d already thoroughly convinced himself at least two dozen times that you wouldn’t show.

As such, he nearly jumped out of his ugly holiday jumper (your suggestion for the evening’s dress code) when he finally heard a knock at the door.

Kal rushed past Henry’s legs, nearly tripping him in the process, and skittered across the entry hall. Henry bit back a colourful swear and lurched toward the door, wrangling Kal out from underfoot along the way. He composed himself and reached for the latch, then paused to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers. After a deep breath, he swung the door open and immediately came face to face with Trixie-Arsehole, held aloft and blocking his view of your face.

She was decked out in a cat-sized ugly jumper and brand new jingle bell collar around her neck. The cat let out an aggrieved meow that conveyed nothing short of utter embarrassment.

She wriggled in your grip and you leaned over to let her make her escape without plummeting to the floor. When you rose, Henry’s breath caught. He’d had no clue what to expect, and though he tried to envision what you might look like a million times over, nothing his mind produced came close to reality.

It made no sense, but you looked like home.

He was stunned, quite literally. Henry scrambled to collect himself, only to be hit with the same dread that had almost sabotaged him before. Your gazes locked for a stretch that felt like an eternity. Henry stood awkwardly and braced himself, searching your eyes for some flicker of recognition. A dawning of realisation.

The beginning of the end.

It never came. If you did recognise him, you mercifully gave no outward acknowledgement of it. Instead, you simply smiled, a kind and genuine thing, and Henry very nearly melted into the floor.

Trixie-Arsehole let out another disgruntled meow from the floor and brought Henry back to sense.

“I think she has a few opinions about her outfit,” he finally said.

“You know what they say about opinions. Like arseholes: everyone’s got one.”

“Except you,” Henry replied as he stepped to the side to let you in. The track of the conversation was already full of amusing promise. “You’ve got two if I recall. Perhaps three.” He pointed to your jumper; the front of the chunky knit, garish multi-fluro fair isle monstrosity was taken up by a large embroidered cat arse with an “x” under the tail.

“I do believe I never confirmed the actual number.”

“Well,” Henry said as he looked down at the cat with a lopside smile; she was dramatically flailing about in a vain attempt to wriggle out of her collar, all whilst Kal sat by and watched with rapt attention. “That’s a festive Arsehole if I’ve ever seen one.”

“I could say the same to you.”

He turned and gave you a curious look as he took your coat and hung it on a hook on the wall. His eyes followed your finger, which pointed toward his chest, and he let out a bark of laughter.

“Eye of Sauron,” he corrected, “Though I suppose he is very much an arsehole in a less literal sense.”

“Actually, it kind of looks like…” your voice trailed off.

Henry stopped in front of the full length mirror on the wall and took a moment to contemplate why you were at such a loss for words. After a moment it hit him, and he felt a blush bloom across his cheeks. “Ah yes, I see what you mean. Less arsehole and more…um…”

“I suppose it’s a good thing this isn’t a family event.”

“Who do you think gave me the jumper?”

You laughed and it flooded every crevice of his cynical, battered heart. Smoothed the jagged edges left by repeated disappointment and heartbreak. At that moment, he made it his mission to hear it as many times as possible.

And after losing yourselves in hours filled with rich food and drink and delightfully subversive conversation by the fire, and after you dragged him under that cheeky bit of mistletoe and kissed him senseless, he hoped to be privileged enough to hear that laughter and indulge in those kisses for a long time to come.

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The inspiration for Henry's jumper, in case anyone was curious

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x you #Henry Cavill RPF #RPF #sweetdreamsofgelato writes #fic: unexpected visitor

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pentechnics · 2 years

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OLAT Drabbles - Realizations

Ch. 7: Double Team

Summary: Din’s POV of the events at the diner, and the lovely evening that ensued afterwards.

Notes: I am once again thanking you all for being patient with me! Things have been busy, but I promise I've still been writing! Chapter 16 is well under way, along with chapter 5 of Latch and part 3 of A Strange Duet. In the meantime I hope you enjoy this requested drabble! Technically, the request was for the moment Din realized his feelings for Miss. Which I could've done as a standalone, but this was much more fun in my opinion! Now you have all the context! Thank you so much to the beautiful anon that sent this request; I'm sorry it took this long to finish it! And rest assured, every other requested OLAT drabble from Din's POV is in progress and will be posted in time.

So much love to all of you! I hope your holidays were warm and safe, and that the start of the new year has treated you well! ❤️

Taglist will be tagged in a reblog, and I will also include any applicable links there as well!

Din sat at the edge of the corner booth at the front of the diner, his colleagues chatting in high spirits around him.

Boba and Fennec insisted that he spend more time out of the house, that he take a break from being on constant watch. It’s not that easy a fix, he tried to tell them. Any step is a step towards it, they said. In the end he only agreed to it to get them off his back.

His colleagues weren’t difficult to get along with; on the contrary, they were all kind souls who welcomed him into the group with open arms, despite his aversion to hanging out with them. They’d even tried to pick a different venue in order to respect that he wouldn’t be eating. That consideration was enough to warm him up to spending an evening in their company.

He jumped into conversations every now and then, but mostly reverted to his age-old hobby of people-watching.

HIs view wasn’t the best from this seat; all he could see was a row of booths along the wall of the diner that led to the back, and a portion of the middle island bar. The other half of the diner was obscured. Various groups of people occupied the space, sharing words and laughs among platters of food and colorful drinks. One couple looked to be on a first date, given their awkward and flustered gestures. Din chuckled.

The way they looked at each other with a sense of wonder and anticipation in their eyes reminded him of you. Your eyes had a way of dancing under the light when you had a question, or when you were learning something new. Or they’d grow wide and shine brighter when you were asked a question, delighting in sharing your own knowledge with whoever was lucky enough to be basking in your light.

What he’d give to be talking to you in that moment.

When the group had their fill, the chatter slowly drew quieter among them.

“Well, I think I’m ready to call it a night,” one of his colleagues said. The rest began to agree.

Din let out a quiet sigh of relief. He’d have loved to leave sooner, but he couldn’t help feeling like it would’ve been rude to do so. And he didn’t want to piss anyone off on his first outing.

The group made its way to the door, Din bringing up the rear. But before he could reach for the handle, a clatter of silverware caught his attention.

When he turned around, there you were, holding a man by the wrist beside a booth near the back. A fire he’d never seen before raged in your expression, threatening to burn the poor soul kneeling before you to a crisp.

He said a quick goodbye to one of his coworkers and instinctively started making his way to you, but stopped short when he heard you both speaking.

“Let me go, you’re gonna break my arm!”

“Aw, don’t be like that, how about a smile?”

That sarcastic comment from you told him what he needed to know about the interaction. Anger boiled under his skin in your stead, his hands balling into fists. You proceeded to bend the man’s hand further in the wrong direction. He shrieked in pain as a venomous grin pulled at your lips. Din was frozen in place, as if the poison had radiated from you and paralyzed him.

His jaw dropped when you flung the man across the floor.

Kriff, he thought. He never would’ve underestimated you, but he definitely had reason not to now. Heat bloomed in his face while his brain tried to process what he was seeing.

Who the hell is this woman, he wondered, and why has she been hiding all this time?

When you caught sight of him, it was like the soft version of you he was familiar with popped back out from within. Your shocked expression grabbed a hold of his heart with no intention of letting go — you looked about as happy to be seeing him as he was to be seeing you.

“Uhh… hey,” you said.

Din took a breath and waved, not trusting his mouth to work properly just yet.

“I’m guessing you saw that,” you said with a chuckle. You looked almost embarrassed at the notion; it was cute.

“It was… impressive,” he said with a nod. “Though I am sorry it had to happen at all.”

“Eh,” you sighed, “this is a sanctuary, not a utopia. Some things just can’t be escaped.”

Your tone was so resigned to that reality, it was unnatural compared to what he’d learned about you thus far. But then again, tonight already made it clear that there was still so much left to discover.

“Oh, you think I’m gonna be scared because your boyfriend’s a Mandalorian?”

Boyfriend.

Din’s face burned hotter under its cover, his throat losing its last grip on moisture. You didn’t seem affected by the term, instead releasing a chuckle and telling the fool off for continuing to cast you aside. And you were absolutely right; even Din was aware that you were the more formidable one between you both in this moment.

He had to admit, this side of you was extremely attractive.

He stepped up beside you while the drunken man clung to any and all surfaces to hoist himself to his feet. The sight was pitiful, a fitting stage for the karma he was about to endure.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked.

“Double-team it?”

“Yep.”

Din grinned and invited you to take the first move. He stayed put and admired your finesse as you dodged the man’s hand and tripped him. As he screeched across the tile and landed at Din’s feet, Din let all of his frustrations from earlier flow freely through his veins. He grabbed the man’s scruffy collar and lifted him up until his beady eyes were leveled with his visor.

He didn’t miss the way your brows shot up, or the tiny twitch in your stance as you watched.

Good, he thought with a smirk.

He lifted the man even higher before turning him around and pinning him like a punching bag. Din’s grin only grew when you landed a beautiful punch right in the kisser, the man’s body falling limp in his grasp.

He tossed the man aside just as applause erupted around you both. He chuckled; everyone loves a show, in the end.

After you paid the bartender, Din held out his arm to you.

“Shall we?”

Your eyes darted between his visor and his arm, a bashful little smile pulling at your lips.

“... we shall.”

~~~~

“Thank you for your help. It was nice to have backup.”

The dark night was a stark contrast to the fluorescent lights eating up the diner, the white rays flowing out of the windows and onto the ground underneath your feet. Speeders and bikes crowded the parking lot, each one reflecting the light back at the diner’s outer wall.

“You definitely didn’t need it, though,” Din said.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t wanted.”

Din looked your way with a grin under his helmet. He hoped the small tilt he gave would be enough to convey it to you. It must’ve been, given the way you smiled back at him.

“So then, what were you doing around here tonight?”

“Some of the folks at work go out every week. Normally I can get out of it, but my housemates said I had to go this time. Something about not being a social recluse,” Din rolled his eyes as he recalled their words.

Your laugh had him soaring, but not as much as your touch.

It was just a tiny squeeze of the arm. From your little hand. But it was still enough to leave him breathless for a second. When your eyes met his, shyness glowing in your gaze, a strange sense of relief filled his system. You both dropped your arms.

A beat of silence passed while Din’s mind continued to race. He’d done his part, there wasn’t any more reason to stay near you.

But he wanted to.

“Listen, um,” he cleared his throat and itched at it, trying to slow down the racing thoughts in his mind. Why the hell was it so hot all of a sudden? “Do you have some time? Do you want to… uh…”

He dropped his gaze to the ground and desperately searched his brain for words. Any words. Any at all. But it was blank. He felt like a fish out of water, gasping for something to relieve him of this dry feeling.

“.... walk around?” you offered.

He sighed and looked back up to your grinning face, grateful that his overwhelming awkwardness didn’t seem to faze you.

You told him about your friend as the two of you made your way down the bustling sidewalk. Part of him hoped that friend was still around so he could do something about how she treated you.

“That friendship was doomed to failure, unfortunately.”

The ease at which you brushed it all off was unsettling. Were you used to this kind of interaction from people? Frustration pumped through Din’s system at the notion. Someone like you shouldn’t have to put up with anything like that.

“Even so, you don’t deserve bad treatment. Quite the contrary, actually.”

The look in your eyes made him want to cry. You seemed so fragile, like a hurt animal that had been given a warm touch for the first time. It had him questioning everything he thought he knew about you; was the person he’d talk with at school about Grogu fronting for someone else? Was the badass who just knocked out a grown man acting as a wall to protect that other person from more pain?

Din had no idea how many layers made you up. But he wanted nothing more than to meet your true self – the woman who shouldn’t have to be on guard as much as she is.

~~~~

The sight of an Ugnaught in the antique shop sent Din into a spiral of déja-vu.

He resembled Kuiil in many obvious ways, even down to the glint of wisdom in his eyes. But his voice was deeper, more clear, and his hair colored.

Din wasn’t much of a shopper, but seeing your eyes light up at the tiniest of relics was worth wandering around the tiny space, even if he did bump into a few shelves along the way. The pain and struggle that you’d been reliving outside had been tucked away once more.

The amulets didn’t impress him much when the two of you found them. Not until the Ugnaught divulged their story. One of love, heartbreak, and triumph over trauma. It struck a nerve with Din, sounding all too similar to the conflicting storm of emotions that came with his own life.

And what had the Ugnaught meant when he said ‘in time?’ It was quiet, but Din caught it, and each interpretation his mind conjured was more confusing than the last.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that story for the rest of your time there. The world was blurring away before his eyes, his mind only occupied with the tale. It was as if the amulets were calling out to him, trying to tell him something. And it felt as though the phantom spirit of the woman they used to belong to was beckoning him to come back.

Or maybe it was the spirit of the love she held for her wife.

The prospect sent a shiver down Din’s spine. It was all too cryptic for his liking. He was all too eager to leave the store.

“You two have a good night. I will see you again.”

And what the hell was that supposed to mean?

~~~

“Love the color.”

Din scoffed at your teasing. His speeder was a clean black all around, a cheaper machine with a presence that didn’t draw attention. Exactly what he looked for in his transport.

“It’s not flashy. That’s why I picked it.”

“Oh, I get it, you want to be the flashy one in comparison?”

He stared down at you, hands on his hips. Your adorable little laugh was the cherry on top of your words, your lighthearted demeanor making him want to retort with something clever that would leave you speechless.

Another time, perhaps.

“What color is yours, then?”

“If I had one, I think I’d want it to be green. Or maybe blue.”

Made sense. Both colors were cool and comforting, very fitting for you. It took a minute for Din to process the hypothetical portion of your statement, his head jerking back to you once it did.

“Wait, do you have a way to get home?”

Not what he expected, but he’d take the chance if it meant a little more time with you tonight.

“Let me drive you. It’s the least I can do.”

Teaching Grogu was your job, yes, but Din felt as though he still owed you the galaxy. Every little change in his little boy’s world as of late helped him deal with years of pain and struggle, and that was your doing.

Not to mention the ways in which you helped Din as well.

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but it’s really not necessary,” you said with a wave of your hand.

“Please,” he breathed, stepping up until he was right in front of you. “You’ve helped my son more than you know. Let me do this for you.”

The statement was incomplete. But it was all he could muster in that moment as his mind and heart continued to race. Your eyes sparkled with apprehension, their beautiful irises glistening in the dim light from the diner’s neon sign.

“I-I don't want to inconvenience you-“

“You’re not. I’d be honored.”

The hesitance in your gaze ebbed away into acceptance after a few tense moments, Din’s eyes unable to look away. Something else laced that look, like a hidden compartment in an otherwise accessible room. Din couldn’t pinpoint what it was, and the curiosity that came with considering what might be hiding there ate at him.

When you agreed and started to get settled on the speeder, Din couldn’t help being hyper aware of how close you were to him.

“Make sure you hang on to me,” he said.

As he got himself stationed and felt the tiny press of your hands on his sides, he bit down a chuckle. In a quick movement, he seized your wrists.

“You’ll fall off if you keep them there.”

He pulled you forward with a gentle tug, resting your palms on top of his stomach. His face grew warm from the contact, the presence of your hands somehow piercing through all the layers that separated his skin from yours and sending a pleasant tingle through his bloodstream.

But the hitch in your breath immediately melted his nerves, replacing them with the need to capitalize on the impact this was having on you.

“There we go,” his tone was light, almost jovial. Yours was shaky, with a nervous giggle that exposed your state of mind.

“Okay then, looks like you’re the teacher this time.”

“That’s right, Missy.”

He chuckled and sped off before you had a chance to respond. The image of what your face must look like — wide eyes, dropped jaw, raised brows — brought a grin to his face.

Din drove through the busy streets, relishing in the sensation of the world warping around you both. He kept tabs on your hand placement, making sure your grip stayed steady.

Time seemed to stand still. Your head relaxed against his back as he drove on, a deep breath escaping your lips. He had the sudden urge to return the gesture, to somehow get closer to you. It was a new feeling. One that Din liked.

In this moment, you were trusting him to protect you. You were letting yourself rest while he took over for you. It had him wondering how long you’d constantly had your guard up before this. The idea made him frown. He was grateful for this chance to share your burden, even if he didn’t fully understand what it was.

He hoped to get more chances to find out.

After a few minutes of driving, Din snapped himself out of his thoughts and took in the surroundings. The two of you were further out from downtown now, heading into more residential areas. But Din hadn’t a clue where to go. He pulled off to the side of the road and turned to address you.

“I’m sorry — I forgot to ask where you live.”

To his relief, you laughed. A deep, full laugh that ate up the air around you both. The sound of it gave him a pleasing wave of warmth.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” you said through your giggles. Din couldn’t help smiling.

After receiving proper directions, he set off through the night once more. The engine grew quieter as he got closer to the destination, partially due to the change in roads and partially to elongate his time with you.

He couldn’t explain it; there was something floating around you both. Something he had been relishing in for the past couple hours since leaving the diner with you. Something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

A tiny sound from you pulled him back to the present.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Oh nothing, I was just noticing the garden.”

He looked to the side to see a vast field of green, with a section fenced off for what looked like a large variety of plant life.

“Should we stop?” He asked, already pulling off to the side.

“We don’t have to, I just-“

He killed the engine. You released a soft sigh.

“It’s okay, I’m sure you want to get home to Grogu.”

“I have time,” He turned his head to the side to try and get a glimpse of you. “Show me.”

Your reluctance ebbed away once you led him into the path of lush greenery, pointing out various plants and talking about how your neighbors came together to care for the space. This type of communal care and participation reminded Din of his time on Sorgan.

A bush off to the side caught his eye; it had dark green leaves all over, with tiny white flowers that sprouted bright orange berries. He leaned down to get a closer look at them. Each berry was round and plump, as if they were about to burst. The orange stood out so sharply against the dark green leaves, like bulbs of lights illuminating the dark.

“Would you like to take some?” you asked, “they’re actually very tasty.”

“Oh no, that’s fine,” Din shook his head and stood straight once more. “I was just looking.”

You chuckled and plucked off a bunch anyway. Din’s muscles seized at the growing pile in your palm, a sense of guilt filling his senses.

“No, really, it’s okay-”

“Go on,” you held out your hand and gestured for him to put his out. “I insist.”

Din looked at you. Your smile was radiant, a glimmer of amusement shining in your eyes. With a sigh he opened his hand and watched each berry roll off your bare palm into his gloved one. He looked down at the little pile with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

He placed them in one of his belt pockets before following you further down the dirt path. A variety of vibrant flowers framed the walkway with their natural sheen, making your image glow.

Din was puzzled when you stopped in front of the one plant that stood dark among its colorful kin. You gazed at it with a sense of admiration, almost pride. Din tilted his head and took a closer look at it.

“What will it bloom into?”

“I’m not sure,” you said, “There’s no placard to identify it, and I’m not sure who planted it.”

Din stepped up to scan it, tapping the button at the side of his helmet. The screen before his eyes blinked to life as the scanner took a digital blueprint of the plant, processing it for a few long moments before returning with no results. Din leaned forward a bit more in an attempt to try triggering a different response, but with no luck.

Aside from being a bit annoyed at the gap in his database, Din dismissed the plant and continued down the path at your side. You stopped near the garden’s edge, a small sigh catching Din’s attention. You were looking up at the sky with pure awe.

“What a beautiful sight,” you said.

The glee in your voice had Din’s heart doing flips. He glanced at the twin moons before looking back at you, watching their glow outline your facial features in the most captivating way. It was as if you were absorbing their beauty, or perhaps they only looked beautiful because they were reflecting off of you.

Din could stare at you for ages.

“... Sure is,” he whispered.

The way you looked at him made his knees weak. Eyes wide and bright, smiling along with your lips, the ethereal glow of the night encasing you like a magic spell. Din took a deep breath and tried to memorize every detail of the moment.

The stars, the planets, the entire galaxy… They all paled in comparison to you.

A chain of thoughts began to flow in his mind; he glanced back towards the speeder bike.

You are better than the stars, he thought. Why not put them to shame by flying you among them? He turned back to you.

“Can I show you something?”

You nodded despite the confusion in your face. He ran off towards the bike.

He tore open the back compartment and took out his jetpack. He pulled at his cape with haste, a brim of annoyance framing his mind when it kept slipping out of his grasp. Once the jetpack was finally situated on his back, he made his way back to you, unable to keep down the grin on his face as he stretched a hand out your way.

“First off, I need to know if you trust me.”

Your face scrunched up as you considered his hand. This was a bit of a longshot, asking you to trust him without knowing what was coming next. He wouldn’t blame you if you said you didn’t.

After all, what had he really done to earn that from you?

Relief flew through his blood when you took his hand.

“I do,” you said.

“Good.”

He pulled you towards him and wrapped his arms around your middle, stifling a laugh brought on by your little gasp of surprise.

Despite this position being the essential reverse of how you both sat on the speeder bike, holding you close to him like this had Din’s heart thundering against his rib cage. He was worried it may burst. With a deep breath he refocused his attention to the task of flying and ensuring your comfort.

“Just relax,” he whispered, leaning in beside your ear. “Relax and hang on.”

Your hand clenched around his wrist, your back jolting against his chest. With a grin Din fired up the jetpack and plunged you both up into the night sky.

Your reactions tickled every nerve in his body. At first he was amused by your shock, but as the two of you rose higher and higher, Din’s resolve thinned out with the air. From your surprised squeals to giggling against his neck, he had to wonder if you were aware of the effect you were having on him.

He usually had no issue flying. No wariness of his attention, no distraction from the task at hand. But with you, the one-track mindset he would typically use had morphed into one with multiple forks, and in that moment, he was navigating them blind.

The way you looked up at him after taking in the view of the city below was the final nail in his coffin. Your eyes were alive with wonder and bliss, pure joy flooding from your gorgeous, carefree smile. Din couldn’t tear his eyes from you, and he couldn’t help feeling proud to be the cause of such a look.

Unfortunately, that pride was enough to completely dismantle his focus for one fleeting moment. Your frightened yelp called him back to the real world, where he was tipping downward. A minuscule ‘shit’ escaped his lips as he began to right himself once more.

“Sorry,” he said, “didn’t mean to do that.”

As embarrassment filled his gut, your laugh calmed his nerves once more. To make up for that moment Din sped up and held you tighter as he soared upward into a big loop. Your surprised sounds clung to his ears, and he continued to swirl about to inspire more of them.

“Show off!” you cried.

Din couldn’t help laughing. Your playful tone and obvious enjoyment of the situation were so amusing.

The gentle press of your back against his stomach with every huff of his laughter had him wanting to hold you even closer to him, to elongate this moment with you as long as he could.

Perhaps the two of you could sail among the stars like this forever.

~~~~

Din didn’t want to let go of you when he landed back on the ground.

You both stood still for a few moments, catching your breath as adrenaline continued to pump through the air. Din’s heart was hammering away, moments away from bursting through his beskar.

You were so warm against his stomach, he could only imagine what it would feel like if he weren’t wearing his cuirass. Gentle, soft, comforting, all-encompassing, much like the rest of you.

Once your breathing had calmed a bit, he gave you a small squeeze before reluctantly releasing you from his hold. Getting to see your wide grin when you turned around eased the burn in his chest.

“That was amazing,” you said, the moonlight shining in your brilliant eyes and illuminating your ecstatic expression. “Thank you so much for showing me.”

“You’re welcome,” Din said, his throat going dry all of a sudden.

He couldn’t help staring. Not only did the moonlight shimmer like a newly-formed nebula in your presence, but the backdrop of bright flowers created a silhouette around you, as if you were the source of the garden’s very livelihood and it would wilt within seconds without you.

Din was beginning to understand how that felt.

“I don’t want to keep you out much longer,” you started, “you’re probably eager to get home. I could just wa-”

Din wasted no time stepping up and tilting his head to stare down at you and cut off your words.

“Really?” he rasped.

Satisfaction simmered through his veins when you snapped your lips together and shook your head. He suppressed a chuckle and turned you towards the speeder bike.

“There we go,” he said, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back. The contact was minimal, yet he could feel your muscles tense the slightest bit under his gloves. Your warmth seeped back into him just as it had before, moving from his fingers directly to his heart.

“So, you just get to fly around whenever you want, then?” you asked after a few moments. “You can see the world like that at any given moment?”

“Pretty much,” Din said with a shrug. He glanced down to see you smiling at him.

“That’s awesome.”

He snickered. You were too cute; over time he’d gotten used to the birds-eye views his jetpack provided. Your fresh, wonder-filled perspective was a nice change of pace.

Din replaced his jetpack in the back of the bike and the two of you mounted it once more. You were quick to cling to him this time, your head already resting against his cape. Din took a deep breath and tried to focus on your directions instead of how his muscles melted under your touch.

He drove slowly, listening to the faint sounds of your breathing binding together with the sounds from the bike. He watched house after house pass by until the number you mentioned came into view. He brought the bike to a stop on the curb and took in the scene.

A sweet little home sat there with a small yard and walkway up to the door. Native fauna flourished on each side with a small fence dividing your yard from your neighbors’. Natural, cozy, and alive. It was very you. He grinned and placed his hand over where yours were linked on his belly.

“Is this the right house?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet in case you were dozing. You stirred against him; he pushed away the instinct to tighten his hold on your hands, instead running his gloved thumb up and down the ridges of your fingers.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

You stayed put for a few long moments before giving his torso a small squeeze and retracting your arms. Din froze for a second; it was the tiniest gesture, but it seemed so intimate.

He liked it.

When he snapped back to the present and you returned the goggles he lent you, Din’s eyes caught a sight of red.

“What is that?” he asked.

His heart skipped a beat as he grabbed your hand to examine your knuckles. Dried blood decorated the two middle ones, hours of exposure to the air darkening its hue and making it stick to your skin. You let out a small laugh.

“I hadn’t even felt anything this whole time.”

“Does it hurt at all?” Din asked, fingers gently rubbing the skin around your wounds. A dull rage boiled underneath his concern; he was just about ready to teach that drunk bastard another lesson.

“No, it’s completely fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Din looked back up at your face, scanning your expression for any suppressed pain. You were like him: in order to not be burdensome, you didn’t ask for help. He was getting better at it, yes, but old habits were hard to break. He recognized it in you almost immediately, when you first took down Grogu’s drawing in your classroom for him to take home.

He wasn’t about to let you do that ever again. Especially if you were injured. He gave your hand a squeeze while you smiled at him.

“Yes,” you said, “I’m positive. And I’ll clean it up once I get inside.”

“Okay.”

Din nodded and closed his hands over yours, as if his gloves had some sort of healing magic that would make the mark disappear. His mind wandered back to Grogu, and how he used his powers to heal so many different injuries.

He was glad Grogu wasn’t here; these types of situations were the only ones that had him tempted to use his powers again. And it never ended well for his mental health.

Din’s attention returned to you when you spread your fingers onto his palm. Your beautiful smile had his heart racing all over again.

“Thank you. For the ride, for having my back-” you cut yourself off and sighed, your eyes peering deep into his visor and somehow finding his eyes behind them. It was like it wasn’t even there to begin with.

“For tonight. I had a wonderful time.”

“As did I,” Din breathed.

And he meant it. Too long had he gone without feeling so carefree. He liked the version of himself that you brought out already, but the night you two had just passed together seemed to unlock a whole new level for him.

“I guess going out with your coworkers isn’t so bad after all, huh?”

He let out a soft laugh. That was what led to this moment, after all. Maybe Boba and Fennec were onto something.

“Not if it turns out like this.”

The way your expression softened had Din’s smile growing. The bashful way you bit your lip and looked away made him want to pull you closer. He settled for running small circles over your hand, your muscles relaxing against his touch.

“Well then,” you started with a sigh. “Good night, Mr. Djarin.”

“Din.”

“Sorry?”

You seemed in a daze. Din bit down a laugh; all this time, and you hadn’t looked up his name in the school directory? There was something to be said about the level of respect you held for others’ privacy, but he couldn’t help the way it tickled him.

“My name. It’s Din.”

Your smile and little laugh could light up the entire galaxy. You looked as though he’d just trusted you with something sacred, something to be cherished and protected with one’s life. And he had no doubt in his mind that you would treat his name that way.

“Okay then,” you said, your eyes still staring into him. “Good night, Din.”

He’d gone too long without hearing the name his parents had given him be spoken. But then again, many of those years were spent in the company of those who didn’t deserve to breathe it. Hiding under the vague shell that ‘Mando’ provided became a habit, far too easy in comparison to the alternative.

But you? Din was convinced your voice was meant to say his name. Never before had it sounded so right.

After convincing you to let him see you in and watching you close your door, he let out a sigh and shook his head, gaze floating between your door and his lap.

The entire night played through in his mind, the sound of you saying his name playing on an endless loop. Each little touch, each conversation, each microscopic moment with you stacked up atop the others that had been accumulating since the moment you met and created a large, strong structure that Din never expected to see.

His head tilted back, eyes staring up to the vibrant sky above.

Was this real? Were you real? He chuckled again.

Din thought he knew what being in love felt like. But you’ve just thrown a wrench in it all.

This right here? This overwhelming suffocation of intrigue and satisfaction, of warmth and chills, of anticipation and anxiety? These overlapping sensations that seized his every nerve and took over his mind and body at the slightest provocation?

This is love.

He stared at your door for another moment before driving off towards home, the relief and simultaneous weight of realization settling into his heart.

~~~~

Din didn’t register the short drive home. His body went into autopilot, weaving along the roads until he finally pulled the speeder bike to a stop in the driveway.

He sighed. Your image was seared into his mind’s eye, your voice still ringing in his ears as he made his way through the front door and into the house.

“There you are,” came a voice from within. Din tried not to groan as he began to remove his boots.

Moments later, Boba emerged in the entryway.

“Where’ve you been? The little man's already asleep. I didn’t think you’d be out this late.”

“Didn’t plan to be,” Din said.

He walked past Boba and made for the stairway, but Fennec stopped him short from her spot on the couch.

“So how was it?” she asked, “Still feel like being social is the worst?”

“Yeah, tell us how it went,” Boba said, “Had to be good if it kept you out this long.”

Din took a deep breath. He was in no mood for their games, not when his mind was so dense with sensation. He silently kept walking towards the stairs.

“Where did you all go?” Fennec asked.

“A diner.”

“Were you okay?”

“Yeah, they wanted to pick a different spot but I told them it was fine.”

Boba and Fennec were on Din’s heels with more questions as he made his way up the stairs.

“And? What else happened?” Boba asked.

Din stopped mid-step when the image of you dislocating that man’s arm resurfaced in his mind, the rest of his time with his coworkers forgotten.

“I…” he sighed. “I ran into Grogu’s teacher.”

The mood behind him instantly shifted.

“And?” Fennec sang, dragging out the ‘a.’

“How was that?” Boba added.

“Fine,” Din said with a resigned sigh, resuming his journey up the stairs.

Boba and Fennec continued to probe, Din giving them minor details about the diner fight in an attempt to ward them off. But they only got more invested. They went as far as to stand outside his bedroom door when he shut it, calling out to him while he shed his armor and flight suit. Din groaned into his hand; they were especially insufferable when it came to you.

He slipped off his helmet and washed his face. The cool water was a welcomed cleanser for his still heated face. He glanced in the mirror; thankfully, his cheeks weren’t too red. He didn’t want to give Boba or Fennec any more license to ask more questions.

When Din was changed and washed up, he drew up his determination and opened the door once more, his heavy eyes looking directly into both of theirs.

“We walked around and talked after leaving the diner, she showed me her community’s garden, then I drove her home. That’s. It.”

With that he shut the door again. Boba and Fennec went silent on the other side. Din sat on the edge of his bed with a huff, relief washing over him.

Moments later, he heard quiet murmuring.

“There’s no way something more didn’t happen,” Fennec said.

“How long before he admits it, do you think?” Boba asked.

“I give it two weeks.”

“Are you willing to put a wager on that?”

Din sighed. Damn those two, he thought to himself.

They went on and on, each of them throwing out different timelines and ideas of what Din would do or say, and when.

“I guess we just wait and see,” Boba said with a laugh. “This ought to be interesting.”

Just then, Din’s stomach began to voice its needs. He sighed and fell back onto his bed, resigned to the reality of being trapped in his room and unable to get food until Boba and Fennec were satisfied in their sleuthing.

His mind wandered back to you, the phantom sensation of your arms wrapping around him accompanying the image of your smiling face.

Din grinned and took a deep breath, the irritation melting away within seconds.

He had no idea what to do about his feelings just yet. But telling those two clowns wasn’t about to happen. Not yet.

For now, Din reasoned, he could just feel them. Let them encase him in their warmth, take away his stresses, and flood his mind with pleasant daydreams of what could happen with you next.

Boba was right about one thing: this will be an interesting development.

****

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #boba fett #fennec shand #drabbles #of love and time

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turtleedovee · 3 years

Text

Life Has a Funny Way of Working Out

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Chapter 2

Word Count: 3,111

Warnings: Cursing, abuse, angst, small descriptions of blood and bruises, shouting, breaking things (that’s about it but if you guys have anything else i’ll gladly add it to the list)

A/N: this is my first bucky fic ahh! idk if i’ve ever posted any fanfics on this blog before which is crazy. i was thinking of making a side blog but whatever it works here. this is gonna be a series of sorts. maybe three chapters, 4? we’ll see. reader is a female and has powers oOoOoo. i’ll post this on AO3 as well so check out my account on there too! i’ll reblog this post with the ao3 link once i publish it on there if you wanna leave kudos or see my other work 👀but anyways i’m done talking, i hope you enjoy! (not my gif)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You sighed at your boyfriend’s anger and frustration, you didn’t blame him of course, you had just told him you wanted to break up.

“Please just calm down and let’s talk about this-” You tapped the table lightly, signaling him to just take a seat because he wouldn’t stop pacing back and forth.

“No, I’m not gonna sit down, what the hell? Why are you doing this to me?” He ran his hand down his face; you were really hoping this wouldn’t turn into some big thing but life has a funny way of working out.

“We talked about this. You are constantly complaining about me not being around enough because you just want to hang out with me, which is sweet of you, but after thinking about it, I am not what you need right now, I can’t be an attentive girlfriend right now and you know why.” You tried to reason with him but he was still standing up, all jittery. You really did think about this long and hard; he was always upset about you being away on missions constantly but you had warned him about that the first time you both went on a date.

“Yeah, yeah whatever you save the fucking world, then why did you decide to put me through this if you knew you weren’t gonna be around.” He accused you.

“Wow.” You were starting to get upset, standing up you started defending yourself. “I told you what we were in for if we started dating, you told me you didn’t care and wanted to be with me either way. So you knew this was going to be difficult, now I’m giving you an out. You can go be with someone who will be there for you alright? I can’t be that for you and I’m sorry.” He scoffed and turned away from you, after a couple of seconds of silence he turned around and looked at you in shock.

“Oh my god.”

You shook your head confused. “What?”

“You’ve been cheating on me.”

“What!?” Now it was your turn to shout. You could not believe how and where he drew his conclusion.

“No yeah, yeah!” He shouted as if he was trying to convince himself of this. “You constantly hang around this boy’s clubs all the time and what? I’m supposed to believe you’re just going on missions?” He said stepping forward.

You scoffed, honestly amazed as to how he was trying to blame this on you. “Yes! I am away trying not to die constantly to save the world your ass is living in.” You shouted, you clenched your fist so angry as to how this was the same guy who brought you flowers after you came back from your first mission while you two were a couple.

“Oh so now this is my fault.” He waved his arms around, exasperated. “Honestly how am I supposed to believe you.”

“You’re supposed to believe me because I wouldn’t lie to you. Because we’re in a relationship, isn’t that what it’s all about? Trust? I can not believe we are having this conversation right now.” You stepped closer now, just tired of this whole evening.

“Well if you didn’t want to have this conversation maybe you shouldn’t have decided to dump me.” He yelled and then did the most childish thing you could think of: he punched your wall and made a hole in the column right next to the kitchen.

Now you were angry, mainly because you were going to have to pay to have that fixed, or else your landlady would never let you hear the end of it, but also because he was acting like a child. “I decided to end this relationship because I couldn’t be the girlfriend you wanted me to be. You are constantly bitching and moaning that I don’t give you enough attention while I’m out there busting my ass working tirelessly day and night trying to oh I don’t know, save the damn world you live in and you decide to just complain about how you don’t have anyone to watch a movie with you? Honestly dating you had been like having a second job, fuck you-” Suddenly he turned around and swung at you.

Not a slap, it was a punch. He hit you with his right hand and hit the left side of your face, you’ve always been told to expect punches and hits, hell, one of the first rules you learned was to always protect the face. But no training could ever prepare you for the person that you cared for most would decide to swing at you.

The impact was enough to turn you around and almost cause you to fall but the couch was on your right-hand side so as your body motioned to the right you instinctively reached out for the couch and balanced yourself.

You reached out to touch the spot where he hit and realized he broke some skin. As you removed your hand from the side of your face you realized that there was a little bit of blood. You didn’t look at him, trying to compose yourself and not explode.

Just breathe. Just breathe.

You should’ve used your powers

You reacted too slowly

Your powers could’ve stopped him

You should’ve broken up with him in public

He wouldn’t hit you in front of random strangers like he did now… right?

A million and one things ran through your head but finally, after an excruciating 5 seconds of silence, you spoke quietly. “Get out.”

He looked at you as if he was confused as to what you meant by that, but still, he did not move.

“I said get out. Now.” You turned to him, stared him dead in the eye, and pointed to the door. “We’re done. I want you to leave and never speak to me again.”

He shook his head and began to talk, “Babe, c’mon you know I didn’t mean it.” He started walking closer to you and reached out for your arm, but you were ready this time.

You lurched your arm forward and up, lifting the now terrified man in the air, he knew about your powers and what they could do, but you promised to never use them on him; now those promises meant nothing to you.

“I told you to leave. You refuse to listen so here is how this is going to go,” You tilted your head slightly to the right and lifted him up higher, he tried moving his arms but your powers kept them to the side of his body, “you are going to leave. I don’t ever want to see you again, don’t look for me, don’t talk to me, do not even breathe the same fucking air as me. And if I ever see you in my line of sight again, I will not hesitate to end you. Are we clear?” He just stayed there staring at you. “Oh, and I almost forgot.” Using your free hand you motioned it up and to the side, two keys coming out of his pocket and landing in your hand. It was the spare keys you gave him when you first moved to the apartment so that way he could wait for you until you got home. “I’ll be needing these back, thank you.” Putting them away safely in your pocket, now ensuring he won’t be able to get into your apartment complex again. “Now leave.” Once again using your free hand you waved and the door began to open inwards revealing the empty hall. You moved your hand that held him in place towards it and launched him forward, his back hitting the wall. The last thing you saw was him starting to get up but you didn’t give him much of a chance to do anything else until waved for the door to close. Finally letting out the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in, you ran for the door and double-locked it; turning around and resting your back against the door breathing heavily, you stayed there trying to wrap your head around what just happened.

This man was stubborn as hell and you hated him for that. He stayed at your door for god knows how long, occasionally weeping and saying he was sorry for what he did, begging you to let him back inside to talk it out, to bangs on the door and screams shouting things at you whether calling you a “slut” or saying that he straight-up hated you. You were starting to regret asking Fury to find you a complex that had no other tenants on the same floor because you knew by now someone would’ve heard and called to complain, but since the complex was four stories and you were in the building furthest from the staircase, no one could hear anything.

————————————————————————

He checked his phone for the third time in the last 5 minutes

Sent 1 hour ago

Shit…

He turned off his phone and threw his head back sighing. His partner now getting annoyed.

“Look man, don’t worry about it maybe she got just forgot or something,” Sam spoke, looking at Bucky who’s stare stayed unwavering at the ceiling.

“I don’t like it, Sam, she said she would text us once she finished breaking up with that douche bag.” Checking his phone once more, all that stared back was the 4 texts he had sent back to back constantly checking in. You had told him not to call but part of him itched to just hit the dial button and make sure you were okay.

“She’ll call us when she’s ready to talk, so just give her some space.” Sam tried to ease his nerves, but Bucky knew something was off, he felt it in his gut. It wasn’t like you to just not leave a message in case nothing happened.

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Bucky began to get up from the couch.

“Buck-” Sam warned.

“She said she was gonna text us once she finished dumping that guy, that was 3 hours ago and we haven’t heard anything from her. If it’s nothing then I’ll come back.” Bucky grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Sam only shook his head knowing he couldn’t stop him now.

“Fine, but be careful alright. If this guy is still there by the time you come I don’t think he’ll be very happy to see you.” Sam chuckled a little.

But Bucky rolled his eyes and headed out.

————————————————————————

He arrived at your apartment complex in a little under 15 minutes, trying really hard not to break any traffic laws. But it didn’t matter after what felt like forever he looked at the building now shrouded in darkness since the sun had set less than half an hour ago. He tried looking for your window to see any signs of people in there, not getting very far he decided to go up to your door and knock.

This building was not the most secure in the world. The front gate that led to every tenant space was left open so getting in was a breeze. After climbing a few sets of stairs he finally reached your door. The first thing he noticed was the dent on the wall that wasn’t there the last time he came to visit. He tried looking under the door to see any movement but all he saw was something dark standing in front of the door. But didn’t hear anyone speaking; so he just decided to knock quietly hoping you would answer and explain how you were just fine and how everything had gone well.

————————————————————————

Today couldn’t have been any worse

You heard another knock.

Dear fucking god can he not quit

It had been nearly 5 minutes since you heard the last knock and wanted to look to see if he was finally gone but something in your body told you not to move. You have never been this paralyzed in fear. You had gone through worse things before in your life as an Avenger but those guys were bad, they meant to do harm and had no reason to give you any false sense of security, but he did.

Knock knock knock

You couldn’t take it anymore. He had been at the door for over an hour and you just wanted to be left alone, so you got up created a ball of pure energy in your hand made solely out of anger, just ready to blast the ever-living shit out of him.

You began to open the door and started to wind your hand back ready to launch the ball of energy in his face, “I thought I told you to leave me the fu-”

“Woah Woah Woah-!” You heard a voice say, and when you actually looked at who it was you realized it wasn’t your now ex.

“Bucky?” You asked in disbelief, still ready to launch your hand forward at any second. He held his gloved hands above him to cover his face from being blasted right off. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to check up on you. You weren’t answering your messages so I got worried.” He said, slowly lowering his hands.

You followed his movement lowering your own raised hand and dispelled the energy ball, fading away just like your anger.

You sighed in relief. “Oh,” you started realizing that he could probably see the mark on your face so you slowly rested the left side of your face on the door, slightly flinching at the contact, not expecting it to hurt as much, you hoped Bucky didn’t notice. “Well, uh, everything is fine.” You told him, giving a small smile.

He tried looking inside, “You sure?”

“Yes I am very sure, it all went smoothly.” You knew lying was going to get you nowhere with him, he was pretty perceptive.

“Okay, so you wouldn’t mind letting me in?” He pressed on, he knew he was getting nowhere standing outside the door, while you were inside desperately trying to hide something.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, trying not to alert him of anything going wrong, but you knew if you told him he couldn’t come in he would suspect something and the last thing you wanted was for this to turn into something worse than it already was.

“Of course, come on in.” You opened the door gesturing to come in, already regretting your decision.

“So, who were you trying to blast?” Bucky asked as you let him in, he examined the living room, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. Your beige couch was slightly slanted forward but other than that everything else seemed to be in place, he did notice however, you having your back towards him, not making eye contact.

“Hmm?” You asked slightly distracted. “Oh, uh my neighbor’s kids, you know they keep running up and down the stairs and hallway.” You said, hoping he believed you, though you wouldn’t even believe your own lie given how shaky your voice was getting,

You cleared your throat, “Want some tea? I’m gonna make some right now.” Hoping a distraction would get you through this.

“No thank you I’m good, so uh, what did he say when you decided to break it off with him?” Bucky asked.

You weren’t ready to discuss this now, but what choice did you have, you could tell he was getting suspicious about something, so you just had to convince him it was nothing.

“Oh you know, he was upset obviously, but what’re you going to do.” You tried sounding nonchalant about the whole thing, you talked all the while putting water in the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. “He was upset but understood why I did it, and then uh, left.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Mhmm.” You spoke, the kettle starting to scream a little, grabbing your mug.

“So, if he just up and left without any struggle… then who made this hole in the wall?” Bucky asked as he tapped the wall with his knuckle.

Your fingers slipped and you dropped your mug, first hitting the counter then smashing into pieces on the floor, the screams of the kettle now almost piercing.

“Shit.” You whispered, for dropping the mug and completely forgetting about the hole he made right before he hit you.

“Woah, hey are you okay?” Bucky turned around and saw you on your knees trying to pick up the broken pieces of the mug you had just dropped.

You were at your tipping point. Everything felt like it was unraveling all at once, you tried picking up the broken pieces of the mug, hardly noticing your tears trickling down and hitting the floor.

Bucky turned off the stove to stop the screaming and went up to you, gently putting his hand on your back. “Hey don’t worry about it okay? It’s just a mug you didn’t mean to drop it.”

“No… no no no, I wasn’t careful enough, I should’ve been nicer and more careful, this is all my fault.” You muttered to yourself.

Bucky was starting to think that you weren’t talking about your mug. “Hey, look at me.” He spoke softly and gently lifted your chin and that’s when he first noticed the little bit of dried up blood that was on your left cheek and saw a bruise forming. “Oh god-”

You hated how he stared at you: pity, it was written in his eyes, you really didn’t want anybody to find out, especially him. Most of all, you were embarrassed, embarrassed with everything that happened and how you handled it all.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could say, trying really hard not to break down crying, but it got harder the longer you stayed there on the floor staring at the shattered mug.

“Hey it’s okay, come here.” He wrapped you in a tight hug and that was all it took to get you to release the fear, anger, and sadness that you’ve had bottled up for the last few hours.

And there you two were, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, silently crying into Bucky’s shoulder gently gripping his jacket to steady yourself. Bucky just stared at the shattered mug, a mixture of relief and sadness filling his head; glad he went to check up on you but angry and upset that you have been put through something that dick had caused, and he intended to make his sorry ass pay.

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #avengers #mcu #sam wilson #bucky barnes x you

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years

Text

Pegoryu week 2021 is here and I have two whole entries that are gonna be done on time! The rest will happen, I promise, they'll just be late.

Anyways! the fic is under the cut and the link is in the reblogs as per usual. Hope y'all enjoy!

“Man, y’know you don’t hafta let Ann bully you like that, right?” Ryuji whispered over to Akira and reached for the flower poking out of his hair. To his surprise, Aki actually batted his hand away with a huff and tucked the thing a little more tightly behind his ear.

“First off, I do have to let Ann bully me. And then I bully back. That’s just what our friendship is,” he explained, not bothering to lower his voice while the girls were off getting more drinks. Not that it woulda made much difference, he was a pretty quiet guy even when he was being obnoxious. Usually. Ryuji cringed as Aki noisily sipped the meltwater from the bottom of his glass and held up a second finger. “Second, I like flowers, thank you very much. And thirdly,” almost against his will, Ryuji’s eyes tracked the swipe of Akira’s tongue across his lower lip as it shifted the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other before he continued, “red’s my color.” Ryuji swallowed.

“Y-yeah. D’you gotta chew your straw like that, dude? It’s kinda... gross.” Gross. That was the word he was trying to hold onto in his brain with both damn hands. Gross. It was gross, dammit. The straw chewing and the obnoxious slurping were habits that usually grated on his brain worse than a Metaverse confusion-and-psychic-attack double whammy. Today, though? Today he barely noticed it, he was too distracted. Maybe it was the heat or the jet lag, or the fact that seeing all these American girls with bikinis and curves that made Ann look downright bland by comparison meant that his brain had glued itself into the gutter. The fact that he almost never saw Akira with his glasses off sure as hell wasn’t helping either, considering the damn things had to be for everyone else’s sake. Under the scruffy nerd look Akira Kurusu was as much of a damn pretty-boy as Yusuke Kitagawa or that asshole Akechi with those effin’ eyes. That was an objective fact that even a guy as straight as Ryuji could see. Hell, if it weren’t for the glasses he’d probably be Shujin’s favorite bad boy--regardless of which way any of the students swung--instead of Ryuji’s fellow delinquent outcast. This wasn’t news to him, but for some damn reason something was different today.

Today, some goddamn wire got crossed in Ryuji’s brain and he kinda wanted to beat its ass. Today, he’d lost track of how many times he’d caught himself staring at those stupidly long eyelashes that any of Ann’s coworkers would kill to have, and the way they cast soft shadows over those perfectly smooth cheeks. Or the way Akira’s usually dark grey eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight. Or how they’d crinkle just a little at the corners when he smiled that soft little hint of a smile that already did weird, mushy things to Ryuji’s guts on a normal day. Or the way his lips were just a little fuller than either of the girls’ were but just as soft-looking. Ryuji wondered if maybe he used some kind of lip balm or something, but one without any color. If it didn’t have any color, would it at least have a flavor--

...Anyways.

Ryuji had decided to blame it on that damn flower. Akira stared at him, a little confused, the straw still resting on his lower lip as he breathed out a quiet, “huh?” Then he glanced down at his mostly empty drink and then frowned sheepishly as the realization hit him. “Oh! Sorry, I know that drives you crazy.” Oh right, Ryuji had asked a question and had already forgotten. Akira set the glass on the table next to where Ann had given up and dropped the other hibiscus she’d been hellbent on putting in Ryuji’s hair. He had enough time to grimace at the sad, mangled end of the straw--and the thoughts his traitorous, overcooked brain conjured up about where it had just been--before Aki reached out, swiped the other flower, and tucked it next to the other behind his ear.

If Yusuke were there (because that was what Ryuji needed, more clueless pretty-boys punching holes in his sanity), he’d have his hands up in that finger-frame thing he always did when he was planning out a painting in his brain. The artist would be ready and raring to try and turn Akira into his latest masterpiece... that he’d end up bitching about not being good enough to capture right a week later. That wouldn’t be Yusuke’s fault though, Akira was just weird like that; in every picture of him he just looked like Some Dude, like a background character in his own life, Guy With Glasses #3 or something. But right now, right in front of Ryuji he looked… compelling, or some shit like that. Pretty as a damn painting that you couldn’t help but stare at for a while and contemplate your life, ‘cause that was easier than tryin’ to understand what was in front of you.

“Seriously, Aki?” Ryuji sighed at the second blossom now peeking out of Akira’s unruly frizz. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut, let Akira keep chewing on his damn straw and drive him crazy in the annoying way and not… whatever this was. It had to be the heat. Ryuji was secretly dying of heatstroke, that had to be it.

“Red. Is. My. Color.” Akira crossed his arms and pouted, and Ryuji had to bite back a laugh at how his best friend had puffed out his cheeks while he sulked. Cute, but a safe kind of cute. Like back at the buffet, in that open kind of way that made Ryuji wonder what Akira had been like as a little kid. That looked like his opening to get things back on track, back to something resembling their usual dynamic.

Ryuji cracked a grin and flicked the bottle that everyone had passed around earlier. “Yeah? That why you didn’t put any sunscreen on, you gonna be the first guy to pull off havin’ a sunburn?” Akira deflated slightly, then snatched the bottle off the table and-- Oh goddammit.

That had backfired spectacularly. Genius move, Sakamoto. You can’t quit ogling your best friend like some kinda weirdo, why don’t you convince him to oil himself up! That’ll help! Effin’ brilliant. Ryuji hastily turned around in his chair and fixed his eyes on the shoreline. He occupied himself with trying to guess how quickly he could sprint to the ocean, and for once he hoped that the water would be cold cold. The girls walking by, all dressed in bikinis that’d look small on skinny little Futaba and were probably held onto those insane curves with more wishful thinking than fabric, might as well have been invisible to him. Since he had apparently pissed off god or something, all he could think about was Akira, very intentionally just outside the edge of his vision, slathering his chest in sunscreen. His incredibly flat chest; if he’d at least had enough bulk on him to have pecs or something, that might have taken some of the sting out of his stupid brain fixating on his leader instead of any of the women who looked like they’d walked straight out of his dreams. Ryuji was gonna set those stupid flowers on fire when he got his hands on them.

He swallowed around a mouth that had gone dry and tried to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. At least, Ryuji sure as hell felt awkward, Akira was usually fine with a little quiet and didn’t seem bothered at the moment. Still, Ryuji had to do something before he went crazy. “Man, I thought Ann was impressive, but compared to these foreign ladies… eh.” Akira snorted somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure she appreciates the break from being leered at,” he deadpanned. “Do you not have anything better to do than check people out?”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped a little as he whipped back around to shoot Akira a dirty look. Sure, he’d felt pretty obvious, but he hadn’t actually been obvious about staring-- Wait. Aki meant the girls. False alarm, no need to panic. “Man, shut up. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t agree. Like, these ladies are massive, the girls back home don’t even compare!” Ryuji snapped. Someone had to be appreciating all these beach babes, otherwise what even was the point of staying out when it was so damn hot?

Akira actually paused and glanced over at Ryuji with a weird look on his face before he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not really interested, honestly.”

“Man, I am gonna rip that tongue outta your head!” Ryuji exclaimed. Seriously, all those lovely ladies going unappreciated had to be some kind of crime. An international one. It was probably too much to hope Ann or Makoto would be taking up the slack, wherever the hell they were. It was apparently definitely too much to hope that Akira would let that comment pass; even if he was quiet, the guy almost always needed the last word.

This time, it was muttered irritably under his breath. “Yeah why don’t you come take it, then?”

...What?

“What?!” Ryuji didn’t even bother turning around, he just broke down laughing. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

“You heard me,” Akira sounded serious, except for where the last word turned wobbly at the end. And then he dissolved into his own fit of laughter, snorting once before he continued, “I don’t even know, man. I just kinda blurted it out.” The two of them cracked up a little longer, glad to be back to something a little closer to normal--and Ryuji didn’t think Akira’s laugh was cute, it was quiet and dorky and weird, definitely not cute--before Aki caught his breath and then stretched. And sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You alright, man?” He may not have been able to see Akira’s face with the two of them sitting facing in opposite directions, but Ryuji still caught how his leader had winced when he tried to raise his arm over his head.

Akira nodded. “Slept weird on the plane.” He rolled his shoulder again, then tossed the sunscreen to Ryuji. “At the risk of putting you in tongue-ripping range, can I ask you to get my back?” Ryuji was already up and moving his chair behind Akira, always eager to help his best friend.

“Sure thing, dude.” He had the bottle open and hovering over his hand before his brain caught up to him. Wait. Shit. Bad idea, bad bad idea! If he’d gotten all weird about Akira doing this for himself, how was Ryuji gonna survive getting his own hands involved, especially now that he was thinking about it? But he’d already agreed and if he backed out now, Akira would ask why. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna explain that.

“Earth to Ryuji?” Akira turned his head to peek back at him and… Welp. Apparently this was just Ryuji’s life now. The image of Akira looking over one bare shoulder with those damn eyes just barely visible past the flower petals, his face a little bit pink from the sun overhead, and his lips all flushed and swollen--because, oh right, when Akira didn’t have something to chew on, he’d worry at his lips instead--was seared into Ryuji’s brain. Straight or not, that picture just lived in his head now. And apparently so did about half of his blood, mostly in his face. And the other half… Again, he wondered again how cold the water was. Act natural, Sakamoto.

“Uh, sorry dude. Bottle was stopped up, I got it now!” He laughed nervously as the bottle squirted into his palm with a loud ‘pbblblblt’. Definitely no awkwardness here, no sir. Just a totally normal assist with sunscreen between bros. He was fine. He definitely wasn’t red enough in the face to look sunburnt. Deep breath. He was cool.

...God, he was gonna throw those stupid hibiscuses into the ocean. Hell, from this angle, he could probably grab them and slam them into one of the mostly-empty drinks before Akira could stop him. And Aki wouldn’t want to put them back in his hair after they were all covered in sugar water, right? It was a flawless plan. Ryuji was a damn genius.

He was just gonna finish putting on the sunscreen first, ‘cause he was courteous like that. No sense in letting Akira get a weirdly shaped sunburn because he chased Ryuji down for a couple of damn flowers. That was definitely the only reason he was still rubbing his hands down (and down and down) Akira’s back. Smooth and pale and soft, but surprisingly well muscled underneath, Akira’d been holding out on him while they were training. And those damn dimples on his lower back. Had he been wearing his trunks that low a minute ago? Ugh. Ryuji would definitely be going for a swim after this. He winced as he ran his hands back up over Akira’s shoulders.

“Shit, Aki, I think I found that knot in your neck. No wonder you couldn’t do this yourself,” he muttered and dug his thumb gently into the muscle. Akira sucked in another breath through his teeth, but tipped his head forward and let Ryuji work. The damn thing was probably about the size of a ping pong ball, and Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every time Akira tensed up or hissed under his breath when Ryuji dug in a little too hard. And a lot guilty at the temptation to just bury his hands in his bro’s hair. But finally, after the longest two minutes of his life, the knot released and Akira…

Akira fucking groaned.

Ryuji was done. He reached out, snagged both of those stupid red flowers--and a little bit of Akira’s apparently insanely soft hair, oops--and stood up to walk away, ignoring his friend’s protests. The ocean could have both of the damn things, and Ryuji right along with them. He was done. Unfortunately Ann and Makoto had chosen that exact moment to return with fresh drinks, cutting off his escape route. Effin’ great.

“Aaannnnnn, Makotoooooo,” Akira whined as he draped himself dramatically over Ryuji’s shoulders, halfheartedly reaching out to try and reclaim the hibiscuses. “Ryuji deflowered meeee--” Makoto’s face fell into the most unimpressed look any of them had ever seen from her, Ann snorted loud enough that it sounded painful, Ryuji about jumped out of his skin with an indignant yelp that probably could have been heard back in Tokyo, and Akira continued whining undeterred, “--make him give it baaaack.”

Ann had doubled over cackling, and didn’t seem to care that she’d just sloshed about a quarter of one of their drinks onto the sand when she did. “I- I don’t- *snrk* I don’t think it w-works like tha-ha-ha-ha-at!” She managed despite howling with laughter so strong that it looked like she was gonna fall over. Makoto had set her two drinks down long enough to drop into one of the empty chairs and bury her face in her hands with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Why are you two like this?” She glanced up long enough to shoot that tired, unimpressed look up at Akira and Ryuji.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ryuji all but shouted as he shrugged Akira off of him and started stomping down towards the water, flowers still crushed in one fist. “This is all on him this time!”

God, Hawaii was off to one hell of a start.

#my writing #pegoryu #persona 5 #fun fact this is kind of a deleted scene from wingman #because apparently that's just 90% of what I write these days is wingman stuff #have I mentioned wingman y'all should read wingman

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stubbornness-and-spite · 3 years

Text

With Friends Like These...

Happy holidays! This is my gift for @sunflowerstalks for the Sanders Sides Gift Exchange @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Thank you @authorgirl0131 for beta reading!

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Remus-typical raunchiness, kissing, mild gore, mildly graphic injuries, mild angst, swearing

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort(emphasis on the comfort)

Characters: Janus, Patton, Roman, Logan, Remus, Virgil

Powers/Magic Focus List:

Janus- studies potions, has scales on half his body

Patton- fire powers, studies energy manipulation

Remus- witch, studies mind magic

Roman- witch, studies nature magic

Logan- alchemist

Virgil- hedgewitch, studies medicinal magic

Word Count: 5156

Summary: All Janus wanted was to have a nice dinner with Patton, but when you live with a crazy alchemist and a witch with a penchant for dramatics and your boyfriend is literally the hottest person in the room at any given moment, sometimes life gets in the way.

AO3 link in reblog - story continues under the cut

“Roman, Logan, I swear to god, if you’ve ruined the dinner I made for Patton in the five minutes I left the room, I will dismember you and use your remains for potions,” Janus snarled at the sight of smoke coming from the kitchen.

“Ummm,” a voice came from the kitchen. “Roman and Logan didn’t ruin anything?”

Janus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, walking into the kitchen blind, not wanting to see the disaster.

“Hi, Patton,” he said calmly. “You’re here early.” Janus opened his eyes to see a blushing Patton standing in front of a smoking stove.

“Hi, Janus,” Patton chirped. “I missed you!”

Janus sighed fondly, letting go of any pretense of frustration. “What did you do?”

Patton flushed. “I let myself in and saw that the kitchen was empty and the stove was off. I wanted to make sure the food stayed warm, so I tried to heat it up.”

“My stove is not complicated, Patton,” Janus sighed. “You could have just turned it on.”

“Yeah,” Patton admitted. “But I’ve been getting better at heating things myself! So I picked up the pan-”

“And torched dinner,” Janus finished.

“And torched dinner,” Patton agreed.

“Are you two lovebirds done trying to make the scalded remains of that monstrosity romantic?” Roman called from the doorway. Roman was one of Janus’s roommates and had been since their sophomore year of college. They both were suspiciously quiet about their freshman year roommates but no one had ever managed to piece together any of that mystery.

“I called my brother and he said we could go over there for dinner,” Roman said with a smirk. “Something about assuming that between the two of you, something was going to go wrong.”

Patton scowled good-naturedly. “Was that what he meant when he told me to keep my hands to myself when I left earlier?”

Janus slipped a gloved hand into Patton’s. “I assure you, it was not.”

“That wasn’t either,” Roman snapped with a grin, gesturing at their hands.

“Oh?” Patton asked, his eyes wide with faux innocence. “Did Remus mean I should put my hands on parts of your body that aren’t covered in heat-proof cloth? Because that would be very irresponsible.”

Janus stammered and almost swallowed his tongue as Patton dragged his fingers up Janus’s fire-resistant jacket and hovered them by the jacket’s collar where he could feel the burning heat scalding the wisps of hair on his neck and heating the scales on the left side of his face.

Roman coughed loudly. “I’m going over to Patton, Remus and Virgil’s place. You’re welcome to join me if you aren’t planning to do it in the kitchen. And if you do, make sure that you fully burn whatever you touch.” Roman looked over his shoulder into the hall and called. “Logan! It’s time to go unless you want to be reminded what charred snakeskin smells like!”

Logan coughed awkwardly as he left his room. “I would recommend we all vacate the premises as soon as possible,” he said, avoiding eye contact with all of them.

“Hi, Logan,” Patton said without turning away from Janus.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan replied curtly. “I would really recommend we leave quickly.”

Roman groaned. “What did you do this time, nerd?”

Logan flushed. “If we leave now, we won’t have to find out.”

“You want to leave a project without finding out what it does?” Janus asked incredulously, pulling away from Patton with concern. “What did you do?”

Logan’s hand drifted to cradle his right arm. “I had two reactions going at once. They were meant to work in tandem, but one rebounded and now the walls are screaming at me. The effects should subside enough for me to fix it by tomorrow.”

“Logan, take off your shirt,” Roman said firmly. Logan sputtered and stumbled back. “Take off your shirt,” Roman insisted.

Logan scowled and tried to pull his shirt over his head. He hissed in pain as it caught on his right arm. He tugged harder, not moving his arm, until he yanked it off, crying out as it jostled his arm.

“Eve and all her daughters, Logan,” Roman hissed. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day.” Logan’s right arm was mangled, the bone warped and the skin peeling and bubbling like it was being burned.

“I’m fine,” Logan growled. “Everything is intact. When the burning subsides I can fix it.”

Roman stepped over and put his hands on Logan’s shoulders. “You are not trying medical alchemy on yourself. I don’t care if you’ve done it before, you aren’t doing it again. We’re going to see Virgil and Remus and you’re going to let Virgil fix your arm.”

“I can deal with the active reaction,” Janus offered. “I’m not half as good as you, but I should be able to reverse it.”

“I can do it,” Logan insisted.

Janus shook his head. “If you weren’t dealing with a rebound, you probably could. But you are so I’ve got it.” He shrugged. “Besides,” he said, gesturing to the scaled half of his face. “My curse gives me a bit more natural protection than you. If you’re really worried, I’ll have Patton with me to siphon off any excess energy I can’t control.”

“You know I’d do that for you anytime too, right Lo?” Patton asked, frowning at Logan. “It’s a lot safer for me to be a conduit than you and having a living conduit gives you more control over your reactions.”

“I know,” Logan snapped. “I’m the one who’s actually studying alchemy. I’m perfectly capable of controlling my own reactions without your help.”

“Come on,” Roman cut in before anyone could get more heated. “Let’s head over to the others and worry about this later.”

“No,” Logan snarled, “We can worry about this now.” He twisted away from Roman and threw both of his arms down to his sides, ignoring how his mangled arm twitched. “I’m sick of you all thinking I’m incompetent. I make mistakes sometimes, we all do, but I know what I’m doing. I have worked too hard for you all to keep acting like I need you to hold my hands. I don’t need your pity and I don’t need your help.”

Roman lunged forward and grabbed Logan’s right wrist, both of them ignoring the tears welling up in Logan’s eyes.

“We’re not helping you because we pity you,” Roman growled. “We’re not helping you because we think you aren’t good enough by yourself. We’re helping you because you’re too smart for your own good and you worry us sick with how little you care about your own safety. We’re helping you because just because you can do it alone doesn’t mean that you have to. So please,” he sighed and dropped Logan’s wrist. “Please let us help you.”

Logan stared Roman down for all of three seconds before he dropped his eyes with a sigh, tentatively rubbing his right wrist. “Okay.”

Roman sighed in relief. “Thank you. And I’m sorry about grabbing your wrist. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, Roman,” Logan said softly. “It’s okay.” Logan bit his lip and without thinking, leaned up on his toes and kissed Roman.

Roman’s eyes widened and he froze, Logan’s lips shaking slightly against his. His hands drifted forward of their own accord and threaded into Logan’s hair, pulling him closer. Logan dug his nails into Roman’s back and clung to him for dear life.

After a moment they pulled apart and Roman chucked. “First kiss and I’ve already got you shirtless,” he quipped. He groaned suddenly. “Virgil is going to be so pissed that I kissed you first.”

Logan’s eyes flew open. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “I forgot you were dating Virgil.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Did you miss the part where I said he was going to be pissed that I kissed you first? I mean, if you’re only interested in me that’s fine, but Virgil and I have both been flirting with you for months.”

“Oh.”

“As sweet as this is,” Janus drawled from across the kitchen. “I would like to eat sometime tonight. Perhaps we can continue this with the raccoon actually present?”

Roman blushed. “Come on, let’s go.”

Roman, Logan, Patton, and Janus entered Remus, Virgil, and Patton’s apartment with all the grace of a herd of elephants. Remus popped his head out of the kitchen at the sound and grinned when he saw them.

“I thought I might be seeing you before tomorrow,” he crowed. “Did Pitter-Patton burn Double-D’s dinner or did the Ro-Lo tornado force you over here?”

Patton scowled lightly and swatted at Remus who batted his hand away with an oven mitt. “I burned it,” he said sullenly. “I thought I was getting better.”

“You are,” Remus said with a grin. “I don’t see any ash on you four so I assume the apartment is still standing.” He turned to yell towards the living room. “Hey Virgil, you owe me ten bucks!”

Patton and Roman made identical affronted noises.

“That’s not to say that the Roman and Logan tornado didn’t also force us out,” Janus said dryly. “Patton just managed to burn dinner first.”

“Dammit,” Remus muttered. “Hey Virgil, I also owe you ten bucks!” he called.

“Can we just say we both lost the bet and you should shut the fuck up?” came a muffled shout. “I’m studying!”

“While I am glad to shoulder the blame of any of my dear comrade’s actions,” Roman said with grace. Suddenly, he got a glint in his eye and smirked. “It was mostly Logan!” he yelped.

Logan tried to look intimidating, but his soft grin that hadn’t faded since they’d left the apartment ruined any efforts. So, he rolled his eyes and swatted Roman in the shoulder.

“Fuck!” Logan shouted, gripping the wall for support, tears welling up in his eyes. He’d smacked Roman with his right arm. His arm felt like it was pulsing along with his heartbeat and he swore he could see bone through his torn skin. Black veins started inching past his damaged forearm and up his bicep. “Oh, what did I do?” Logan hissed, finally managing to catch his breath. He stood up shakily and coughed, straightening his tie.

“My apologies,” he said, coughing to cover up a wince. “You were saying?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Remus cut in, eyes wide. “You need a doctor like now. At least let Virgil look at you if you won’t go to the damn hospital.”

Logan sighed. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m fine. And Virgil is busy studying.”

“Uh, no, I’m not.” Five sets of eyes swung over to the end of the hall where Virgil was standing, his couch and books abandoned. He flushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, I was pretending to study so Remus would leave me alone and not make me help cook,” he admitted. “That went out the door when you started screaming, L. What the hell happened?”

“My reaction rebounded,” Logan replied stiffly. “Despite my earlier refusal, I… could use some help.”

“Gotcha,” Virgil nodded. He gestured to the living room behind him with his head. “Come in here and lay down. Roman, come help me clear space.”

Roman nodded gravely and scurried into the room to clear off the couch so Logan could lie down right away.

“Left or right?” Virgil asked, digging through his bag and not looking at Logan.

“Right,” Logan replied curtly.

“Okay,” Virgil fell silent for a second. “Put your head closer to me so your right arm is open and your left is against the back of the couch. Roman, get him a pillow.”

Roman grabbed a pillow and Logan settled down on the couch. Meanwhile, Patton, Janus and Remus filed into the kitchen to finish dinner and to give the other three some space.

“Virgil,” Logan said quietly. “Thank you.”

Virgil brushed him off. “Shut up, nerd.” He flipped through a black leatherbound book that looked one wrong look away from falling apart. “Roman, look at me and pay attention.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Virgil scowled. “Look at me. I need you to grab something off of my ‘fuck up’ shelf and if you grab the wrong one and I don’t notice, we could kill him.”

“You never let anyone touch your ‘fuck up’ shelf.” Roman’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah, well,” Virgil muttered, not looking at anyone. “We’re on a time crunch.”

“We aren’t,” Logan protested.

“We are,” Virgil snapped. “Whatever you did didn’t just rebound, it cast something else inside your arm. There’s a good chance that it will eat your arm if I don’t get it out.” Virgil lifted his head and looked at Roman. “Roman, look at me. Go to my room. From the door, there’s a shelf on the left, the left, with bottles. Grab the one labeled “Logan” and the one labeled “Janus” and bring them here without opening them.”

Virgil turned to Logan without watching to see if Roman listened. “Okay, you are going to be completely honest with me about what hurts, how much, and where. I could do so much damage if I don’t take something into account or if I try to fix something that isn’t there.” Virgil knelt by Logan’s side. “What hurts?”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “My forearm is either numb or burning. I can’t tell. My upper arm feels like it’s being stabbed. I’m dizzy and feel like I might throw up but that might be because I kissed Roman and I’m terrified I ruined our friendship.”

Virgil stiffened. “You kissed Roman?”

“Yeah,” Logan admitted. “I kissed Roman.”

“Okay,” Virgil said haltingly. “After I fix your arm, can I kiss you too?”

Logan smiled. “I would like that.”

Logan stretched his arm and smiled. “It feels great,” he said. “Better than before.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Because you don’t take care of yourself, L. I don’t like having to use my ‘fuck up’ jars. Don’t make me do it again.”

Roman coughed from his chair across the room. “I have to ask. What is a ‘fuck up’ jar?”

Virgil smirked. “The ones I just used? Fixes for the most likely way each of you will fuck up. Logan’s was a quick fix for a reaction that rebounds. I used Janus’s because it looked like whatever L used for his components mixed with his arm and made a poison. The jars just have standard herbs and components, so I can tweak them to fit whatever actually happens.” He smirked. “The ones on the right are components for hexes, tailored to however each of you would want to fuck someone up.”

Roman gaped. “I see why you didn’t want me to get them confused.”

“Yeah,” Virgil snorted. He shook his head and grinned at Roman. “So, I heard you kissed Logan.”

Roman blushed. “I kissed Logan.”

“Was it good?” Virgil leered, ignoring Logan’s reddening face.

“So good,” Roman teased. “So very good.”

“What about you, L?” Virgil said, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Was kissing my boyfriend good?”

Logan stared at the ceiling. “I would rather not answer that question.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, softening. “How about this one? Can I kiss you?”

Logan sat up and turned to Virgil. “Please.”

“So…” Remus drawled. “Anyone wanna guess why they’re taking so long?”

“No,” Janus snapped before that conversation could go anywhere. He was sitting at the kitchen table and scowling. Remus was bustling around the stove, pots and pans bubbling cheerfully, with a pink apron that said ‘I like my butt rubbed and my pork pulled’ on it. Patton had been leaning on the counter, watching Remus, but he walked over to Janus and pulled up a chair next to him.

“Are you okay?” Patton asked.

“I’m fine,” Janus snarled.

Remus snorted without looking at them. “We know you well enough to know you’re not, Jan. What’s wrong?”

Janus huffed. “I hate this. I hate that we always end up here. I hate that I can never do something nice for my boyfriend, that you,” he jabbed a finger at Remus. “Always need to come running in to fix everything.”

“I’m really sorry I ruined your dinner, Janus,” Patton said softly.

Janus scoffed. “Patton, it was shit. I was in the bathroom trying to figure out an excuse to throw it out so we wouldn’t have to eat it before you showed up. I was ready to recruit Roman to just hex the entire kitchen and be done with it. I’m the one who always ruins things.”

“Do you think we care?” Remus cut in.

“Remus,” Patton chided.

“No, Patton,” Remus pushed. He turned around to face Janus. “I’m serious. Do you think either of us give a shit if you mess up? I love cooking for you two. I love spending time with you two. I can back off if you want me to, but I like coming in to rescue you. And Patton? Patton adores everything you do. If there was ever a person who genuinely meant ‘it’s the thought that counts,’ it would be Patton. We don’t care if you’re perfect. We lo-” he coughed. “Like you, the way you are, a lot.”

“Yeah,” Patton murmured. “We love you. A lot.”

Remus’s eyes dropped to the floor and he turned back to the stove.

“Hey, Janus,” Patton said, looking at Remus. “Can you give us a minute?”

Janus blinked. “Um, sure?”

“Okay,” Patton replied absentmindedly. He leaned over and kissed Janus on his scaly cheek. The scales sizzled slightly, but Janus didn’t flinch.

Janus swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly dry, and stepped out of the kitchen.

“Remus,” Patton started.

“Don’t,” Remus said firmly, not looking at Patton. “I’m sorry, okay? He doesn’t know and I won’t push. He loves you and he’s happy.”

“He loves you too,” Patton insisted. “He loves you too and…” he took a breath and steeled himself. “And so do I.” Remus turned around to look at Patton. “We love you too. Remus, you have to know that. You’re with us on ¾ of our dates and you’ve heard us complain about the ones when you aren’t there. We like you, Remus.”

“I like you both,” Remus admitted. “But I like you too much. I’m too much. It’s for the best.”

“Because you feel too intensely?” Patton asked sharply. “So do I. I burn things when I get mad. Janus has to wear gloves because touching me hurts him. We work with it and we will work with you. Do you want us?”

“I want…” Remus breathed. “So much. I want to let J and L experiment on me until I can put my mouth everywhere on you. I want to lick Janus’s scales. I want to never need a blanket again because you’re cuddling me and I’m drowning in my own sweat. I want to find out how Janus’s tongue feels. I want-”

“You,” Patton finished. “I can only make guesses for Janus, but Remus, I want you too.”

“Kiss me?” Remus asked breathlessly. Patton smiled helplessly and pointed at the ceiling, a flame flickering above his finger like a birthday candle.

“Sorry,” he said.

Remus shook his head, grinning widely. “No, it’s fine. I can’t feel pain right now, so we just have to be quick enough to not do lasting damage.” Patton’s brow furrowed and Remus laughed. “The oil was splattering so I did a quick hypnotic charm on myself so it wouldn’t bother me. It wears off in about an hour; I do them all the time.”

Patton’s pupils went wide. “You,” he breathed. “Are. So. Smart,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss pressed to Remus’s lips. “You’re smart and wonderful and-”

“Hot?” Remus teased.

“So hot,” Patton hissed, grabbing Remus’s neck and pulling him in for a searing kiss.

“We really should talk to Janus,” Remus said, licking his lips for any remaining taste of Patton.

Patton smiled, bemused. “Did you really think I would kiss you without talking to him first? We should but he probably already guessed.”

“Or,” came a voice from the doorway. “He got self-conscious wondering what you two were talking about and came back and decided to enjoy the show.”

“Hi, J,” Remus said quietly.

“Hi, Remus,” Janus responded. “Care to kiss me too?”

“Oh, hell yes,” he hissed, lunging across the room to throw himself into Janus’s arms. Janus caught him by the sides of his face and slammed their mouths together. Remus’s hands flew up to Janus’s and pulled off his gloves, reveling in the feeling of cold scales on his right and a warm, clammy hand on his left.

Remus pulled back for a second, smiling at the small whine that escaped Janus. “I love you,” he whispered, before crashing back into him.

By the time the six of them actually sat down to eat, they were all beaming with suspiciously red mouths.

“So,” Remus said with a glint in his eyes. “Are double dates going to be six people now?”

Janus cuffed him upside the head, but the sparkle in his eyes matched Remus’s and he was doing a terrible job of hiding his laugh. He sat down next to Remus and slipped off his gloves to eat. Remus snagged the left glove with a wink and sat down between Janus and Patton, sliding his newly gloved hand under the table.

“Maybe we should swap Janus out for Virgil,” Roman teased, smirking at his brother.

“Oooo!” Remus cheered gleefully, “I’d take that trade.”

“We’re not trading,” Virgil deadpanned. “Living with these two hazards to society, I would probably die of stress in a week.”

“Oh, you love us, Doctor Gloom,” Roman snapped goodnaturedly.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Doctor Do-the-Most.”

“As much as I would enjoy spending more time with Virgil,” Logan cut in. “I do rather enjoy living with Janus.”

“Relax, Sub-astute Teacher,” Roman groaned with a grin. “We’re not actually swapping roommates. Janus knows too many secrets for me to let him leave.”

“I was almost flattered, but then Roman opened his mouth and I remembered why I should have known better,” Janus deadpanned, not looking at any of them.

“You know you love me,” Roman taunted.

“Really?” Janus said, locking eyes with Roman. “I had thought the fact that your brother’s tongue has been in my mouth would make you less inclined to carry on our sordid affair.”

“But however shall I go on without it?” Roman faked a swoon. “It is the only excitement in my dull and pitiable life!”

“Alas,” Janus cried, swooning as well. “It cannot be, for as I am bound to my loves so are you to the bitchy raccoon who would punch my teeth out if we were ever to be amorous.”

“Bitchy racoon!” Virgil yelped indignantly.

Janus smirked. “You’re the one who assumed I was talking about you.”

“I love that you’re more upset that he called you a bitchy raccoon than that he said he was having an affair with your boyfriend,” Roman said, sitting up with a grin.

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, any excuse to punch Janus, but if you two really wanted to, I wouldn’t try and stop you.”

Janus coughed. “Well. This just got uncomfortably honest.”

“Yeah.” Roman winced.

“Sorry?” Virgil said hesitantly. “I mean, was I supposed to say I’d try to control your love life? Our relationship has never been like that.”

“You do know we’re joking, right?” Janus said suddenly. “I’m not interested in Roman. At all.”

Roman let out an affronted gasp and grinned. “Well, my ego had been irreversibly damaged, but same. Flirting with you is fun but I’m not interested in anything more than that.”

“Well, now I know that.” Virgil muttered.

“Did you really not know they were only joke-flirting?” Logan asked. “Roman doesn’t look at Janus the way he looks at you. Janus doesn’t look at Roman the way he looks at Remus and Patton.”

“How does Janus look at me?” Patton spoke up.

Janus flushed. “You don’t have to answer that-”

“Like you hung the moon,” Logan answered. “He looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars, like he’d learn how to hang them himself if it would make you smile.”

“How does he look at me?” Remus mumbled.

“Like looking at the sun,” Logan said without hesitating. “He looks at you like you like everything that is is because of you and if he looked too long he would burn up.”

“Where did that come from?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Logan’s eyes dropped. “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

“Well, now I have to ask,” Roman murmured. “What do you see when you look at me and Virgil? How do you look at us?”

Logan looked up and caught Roman’s eyes like he was the only person in the world. “I see someone who’s not afraid to try, who makes me be not afraid to try. I see someone who could stand next to galaxies and still shine brighter. I see someone was given countless opportunities to be selfish and chose to be kind. I see someone that I could picture myself falling in love with.”

He turned to Virgil, biting his lip. “I look at you and I see someone who took their fear and made it a strength. I see someone who is loyal to a fault, but strong, stubborn, and determined enough to be loyal anyway. I see someone who I could spend the rest of my life learning and still always find something new that makes you worth knowing. I see someone I could see myself falling in love with.”

“Oh my god,” Roman whispered to Virgil. “He’s perfect.”

Virgil barked a laugh, startled out of his trance. “We already knew that, Princey.”

Remus was sitting between Janus and Patton. He hadn’t eaten a bite because both of them had silently grabbed his hands at some point and there was absolutely no way in hell that he was letting go.

Patton squeezed his hand gently and he melted. Remus had been gone on Janus since about a week after they’d met in freshman year. Janus had sat down next to him in a basic introduction to potions class and immediately started complaining about his roommate. Remus still wasn’t sure if Janus had thought he was Roman and was too embarrassed to admit it after realizing his mistake or if Janus really just walked up to a stranger to complain about his roommate. Remus had, of course, taken his complaints as a challenge, to simultaneously be worse than the roommate and to terrorize the school into assigning Janus a new roommate. Remus liked to believe he had succeeded on both fronts, but considering Janus was now dating him, the first one was probably a failure.

Remus was very okay with being a failure in that particular venture. Janus was amazing.

Then there was Patton. Remus had hated Roman for introducing Patton and Janus because they had fallen for each other hard and fast. The day Janus started wearing heat resistant clothes and gloves everywhere was the day Remus decided that if he ever met Patton, he was going to steal his liver. Then this absolutely adorable little fireball with a smile like the sun waltzes into Remus’s psychology class, asks to sit next to him, and absconds with the remains of Remus’s heart. Remus would do anything for either one of them, including keep his silence. He let times hanging out with one of them become dates he third-wheeled on without saying anything; he made sure they ate and ate well, putting to use the skills he’d learned growing up with busy parents who always had time to make dinner but never time to make anything interesting; he listened to them gush about each other and only cried a little bit after he was alone. He took what they were willing to give him and enjoyed it, because they were happy and he loved seeing them happy; he was happy and it was enough.

But as always, then there was Patton, who saw too much and couldn’t stand by if he saw someone hurting. Remus was utterly terrified that they were just indulging him, that they felt guilty about his jealousy, but Remus wasn’t noble or chivalrous; he was selfish and, at least for now, he would take.

Patton had never been more scared in his life. He squeezed Remus’s hand and practically squealed when Remus squeezed his back. There were so many things that could go wrong, not the least of which was that the two of them would get tired of having a boyfriend that they could barely touch and leave him. Patton adored Janus and had practically swooned when he’d first talked to Remus. They were sweet and wonderful and perfect for each other. If that meant that they weren’t perfect for Patton, then he was pretty sure he loved them enough that he’d rather see them happy. But for now, Janus was smiling at him and Remus was holding his hand and as scared as he was about the future, Patton had never been happier.

Janus was feeling a lot of things. Mostly uncomfortable. He was still hung up on the short conversation he’d had with Virgil and Roman when they’d first sat down. It was no secret that Janus and Roman were close. Janus had only met Remus because he’d mixed him up with Roman in his frustration and by the time he’d noticed, he was enjoying Remus’s company. Janus had feelings for Roman, but they had only ever been platonic. Virgil, on the other hand, had been the subject of more romantic fantasies than Janus would care to admit. They’d been friends as kids, close in middle school, drifted apart in high school, and ended up at the same college. Except they’d done more than drift apart in high school. Janus developed a crush on Virgil and like the exceptionally smart 14 year old he was, he’d stopped hanging out with him and started being rude. Virgil eventually blew up on him their sophomore year, screaming painfully specific insults and obscenities in the middle of the cafeteria. They didn’t talk again until Roman tried to introduce them their freshman year of college. It had been awkward and they never really got close again, but they were back on speaking terms.

It still hurt, hearing Virgil remind him of exactly how badly he’d messed up. ‘Any excuse to punch Janus.’ In Janus’s opinion, any excuse for Virgil to punch Janus was probably fair.

Remus looked over at him, his mouth barely pinched and his brow slightly furrowed. He squeezed Janus’s hand.

Janus smiled and squeezed his hand back. He leaned over and dropped his head onto Remus’s shoulder.

“Love you,” Remus whispered into his hair.

Janus squeezed his hand. “You too.”

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quicksilversquared · 4 years

Text

The Wavering Peahen: Chapter 1

When Nathalie started feeling oddly ill again, both she and Gabriel were worried that the Peacock Miraculous might somehow (impossibly) be to blame again.

So naturally, they pick someone else to be the Peacock for a bit. You know, as a test subject. Except the new Peacock... doesn't exactly know that.

links in the reblog

Ever since Miracle Queen's akumatization, Gabriel Agreste had been feeling pretty optimistic about his now-improved chances of defeating the superheroes. While he had lost the box of Miraculous because of his poorly-thought-through gamble with Miracle Queen, he had made other gains.

He knew who Ladybug's backup teammates had been, and could use that against them should they show up again. He had gotten the digital copy of the Grimoire, which was- well, maybe it was only partially translated, and some things still seemed to be in code, but it had some pretty interesting information in it, like what powers the other Miraculous- the ones that he hadn't seen in action yet- had. And best of all, because of the Grimoire, he had gotten the Peacock Miraculous fixed and now Nathalie could join him on a much more regular basis without putting her own health at risk. He had figured that that should be enough for them to secure a victory within a week, or at most a month, if things went really badly.

It had been five months and the superheroes weren't giving any ground, standing solid as they fought akumas and sentimonsters alike. It. Was. Infuriating. And for a man like Gabriel, who wasn't particularly patient to start with...

Well, some days it felt like anything could set him off. They should have won by now, darn it. They were two adults up against two kids. Getting their Miraculous should have been like taking candy from a baby... and yet it wasn't.

Across the room, Nathalie coughed, pulling his attention away from the grimoire and the hints for the potion ingredients that still seemed to be listed in some sort of ridiculous code. Gabriel glanced over at her, and Nathalie gave him an apologetic grimace before returning to her work.

She had had this dratted cold for at least two months now, and no, it wasn't just him exaggerating out of annoyance. It had started small- just a small cough here and there and the occasional sneeze, or the need for her to finish a day early because she wasn't feeling well- and gotten gradually worse. He had hoped that she might have recovered at least a bit over the weekend, but instead she had come to work looking substantially worse than before.

While he had tolerated her coughing before- after all, she was helping him out with his mission and previously getting sick because of it- coughing from a common cold was simply annoying. It was grating and disruptive and kept pulling him out of his concentration. He hadn't said anything about it yet, of course- it was not, after all, Nathalie's fault, she didn't want to be sick- but it was annoying nonetheless.

Gabriel reached across the desk for his phone and ordered a large ginger-honey tea and a bag of cough drops for Nathalie. Maybe that would help quell her coughing.

Now, back to the grimoire... what on earth could they mean by tears of joy...?

Seven minutes later, the tea and cough drops arrived and were promptly delivered to Nathalie's desk. She murmured a quiet thank you. The chef nodded, then retreated from the room at once. As soon as the office door swung shut behind him, Gabriel could feel Nathalie's gaze slide to him.

"I take it you're annoyed by my coughing, sir?"

"It is a bit disruptive, you have to admit," Gabriel told her, finally deciding to put a flag on the potion ingredients section (really, he could only puzzle out about half of them, it was ridiculous and Nooroo apparently had no idea what the infernal clues were referring to either) and move on. He was severely behind on his design work, so perhaps he would do that for a while. "So I came up with a potential solution for it. Is that a problem?"

"No." Nathalie considered her tea, then took a small sip and made a face. "Though I might have preferred to order my own tea. This one...is not a favorite of mine."

"It is what many people recommend online for a sore throat. I thought it would be best, considering how long this cough seems to be lingering."

Nathalie opened her mouth like she was going to comment on that, then clearly decided against it. A moment later, she smothered a yawn. "I suppose that makes sense."

Gabriel frowned. "Is your cold still not getting any better? It's been months."

"Not particularly. I haven't been congested, which is a relief. But-" She yawned widely again, then frowned. "And I've been sleeping fine! I don't know what the issue is."

"Well, maybe you should finish what you're doing and then take off for the day," Gabriel suggested, both because he was tired of the coughing and, well, if Nathalie was feeling poorly and coughing that much, then the smart thing for her to do would be to go home and not infect the rest of the house. If that was even possible, considering how long she had been feeling under the weather. "Get some rest, and come back when you're feeling better."

"And if there's an akuma attack?" Nathalie asked, straightening and frowning at him. "I don't want to be the reason you miss out on winning, simply because there wasn't a sentimonster there to assist."

"If you're awake and able to take a break to help from home, then that would be much appreciated," Gabriel decided after a moment's consideration. "Thank you."

"Of course, sir." Nathalie glanced back at her screen, did a few quick clicks, and then downed her entire cup of tea in one go. "I've come to a decent stopping point. Anything else can be finished at home."

"You're meant to be resting," Gabriel reminded her. "The work can wait. And the company does have plenty of secretaries, we can always assign some of your work to them. Actually- yes, if you're feeling up to it, it would be nice to get a list of what can be done by others. Then I can reassign those things right away and get them checked off before we get too far behind."

"I'll have an initial list done by the evening." Nathalie did a couple more clicks, then shut her computer and started gathering up her things. "Text me if you're going to akumatize someone, and what their powers are going to be. Then I can come up with a complimentary sentimonster. I can set up an alert on my phone so I won't miss it."

"Thank you." Gabriel watched as Nathalie packed up her computer, then rose to open the door for her. "Keep me updated on how you're feeling, okay? And don't push yourself too hard to come back early. You do better work when you're not ill."

"Of course." Nathalie nodded to him, then headed out the door. Gabriel watched her go for a moment, then turned and headed back to his work.

Maybe he really should spend the rest of the day focusing on his designing. After all, if Nathalie was sick, it was probably only a matter of time before he got ill as well. And Gabriel no longer designed when he was unwell, for- well, for a multitude of reasons.

(He had only just managed to get fully out from the shadow of the infamous Cold Medicine Dress of '02 recently. Misstepping and having a repeat of that particular incident would not reflect well on the company.)

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, it was better to be safe than sorry. Reaching for his phone again, Gabriel ordered an array of multivitamins for himself, plus a bottle of hand sanitizer for his desk. He also requested that the maid to come in early and wipe down Nathalie's work area, just in case.

Some might call it overkill. Gabriel was simply of the opinion that it was better to be proactive than reactive.

Five days later, and Nathalie was still feeling under the weather. She had even fainted later in the week, she admitted to Gabriel when he called to check in on her. And she swore that she had been resting properly and getting plenty of sleep.

"It's been really odd," she told him two days later, after dropping into the mansion to collect a few more things to work on from home. "I've not been congested or had a runny nose at all, and that- that's a hallmark of cold and flus, right? And there's not been a fever at all." She frowned, clearly reluctant to continue, but she forged on anyway. "It almost feels like- like a slow onset of- no, that can't be it. It's impossible, I shouldn't even think about it."

Gabriel frowned for a moment, about to snap at her to just spit it out, and then it hit him like a train. Tiredness, weakness, fainting, feeling sick but not congested or snotty at all- those were all things that they had seen before.

Like a slow onset of using the Peacock when it was broken.

He wouldn't want to say that out loud, either. That sort of possibility...

But he had fixed it!

"Nathalie, do you think..." Gabriel started, then trailed off, entirely unsure of what he wanted to say. The Peacock causing the problems should have been an impossibility, but- well, how were they meant to test that? Because they had to test it, before Nathalie got any sicker. "Perhaps we should hold off on any further involvement from the Peacock for the time being, and return the brooch to the safe? Just in case."

"But Ladybug and Chat Noir!" Nathalie protested. "And this could be a cold, but there was just some damage still from using the Peacock before and it's gotten snarled up in the cold? Or maybe it's just lingering effects that are rearing their head. Because you fixed the Peacock, it should be perfectly safe to use."

"I know, but we should test it." Gabriel didn't like the idea, either, considering that it meant no sentimonsters assisting him. He would double-wield, but Nooroo had told him that it wasn't the best idea. Besides, if something had gone wrong in the fixing, he didn't exactly want to risk his own health. Particularly if he was going to be going out to assist his akumas to try to tip the scales in his favor. "I wonder if a couple weeks without using the Peacock would be enough for us to draw a conclusion about if that's at the root of the problem, or if we might need longer."

Nathalie was frowning. "But sir, if we just go back to akuma-only attacks- right now, we still have the advantage. Ladybug and Chat Noir haven't managed to fully rebuild and retrain a backup team yet because we've kept up the pressure on them. If we let up on the pressure, that could let them catch back up. We have to keep up on the attacks."

"And I'll do that, with the akumas." Gabriel's mind was made up now. He couldn't risk having Nathalie getting sicker. Besides, what if it was something more serious, like- well, perhaps like cancer? He wasn't sure what signs of cancer were, really, but those kinds of symptoms seemed like the sort of thing that cancer would maybe cause. At this point, he honestly wasn't sure what was the worse option, cancer or the Peacock somehow malfunctioning again. "And I want you to go to the doctor and get tests run. We want to come at this from all angles. Maybe it is just a cold, but we want to be sure."

"I can have the tests run without giving up the Miraculous," Nathalie protested. "Wouldn't it make sense to at least check and see if there's something else going on before we jump the gun and take the Peacock off of the battlefield? And what if it's just a cold and I coincidentally get better after I'm not wearing it? There's no real way to test anything."

That was fair enough, Gabriel supposed. He tapped his lips, considering.

They could, of course, just go off of whether or not Nathalie got sick again once she resumed using the Peacock- assuming, of course, that her health improved after she took it off. But that would be putting her at risk again, and he didn't particularly want to do that. If they had another ally, they could always have that person use the Peacock while Nathalie recovered. If it made them ill, then he would simply have to lock it away, or attempt to do another fix on it.

Except- oh. He had almost forgotten, but technically they did have another person on their side! She wouldn't be his first choice in most circumstances, but the number of people who would actually go along with Hawkmoth's plans was limited and he couldn't be too picky.

"We can have our other ally test it," Gabriel announced grandly, quite pleased with himself for coming up with the plan. "Then I'll continue to have a Peacock by my side, and if they get sick, too, we'll know what the problem is."

Nathalie frowned, puzzled. "Another ally? Who? The Gorilla?"

"No, no, of course not!" Gabriel snapped, somewhat exasperated that she hadn't immediately caught on. Adrien's bodyguard was loyal to the family, sure, but not that loyal. He'd turn them into the authorities in a second if he found out about Gabriel and Nathalie being the city's supervillains. "Are you crazy? He would never support this. Think harder- the only person besides us who has willingly been akumatized!"

Nathalie only had to think for a moment, and then her eyes went wide. "Lila Rossi? But sir, isn't she, ah..." She tilted her head to the side, considering how to word her concerns. Gabriel chuckled.

"Spiteful? Petty? Childish? Perhaps. But she's also hell-bent on revenge against Ladybug at the moment, has no moral compass, and is very easy to manipulate. She wouldn't think twice about taking on a Miraculous and using it regularly." Gabriel was liking the idea more and more, really. If Lila got sick, it was really no skin off of his nose. Her use to him in her civilian form was starting to wear thin, and she was regularly gumming up the works in the photoshoots that she took part in. Her no longer being allowed to model due to health reasons would be a bonus, not a concern. "I would know who she is, she wouldn't know who I am, and if she tries to step out of line, I know who her mom is." He had an entire file folder on Mrs. Rossi and her ex-husband, plus some information on Lila's extended family. If she tried to take the Miraculous and run... well, he knew exactly where to look. "A few well-placed threats, and she would fall right back in line. She could take over the Peacock's duties for a month or two to give us the chance to figure out if your health has anything to do with the Miraculous."

"It seems risky," Nathalie commented after a moment. "I mean, I don't doubt that you'd be able to control her, at least in the long term. But what if she goes out and joins the fight? She's ruled by her emotions, it seems, and she might not think through the possible consequences." She snorted. "Actually, never mind might- she won't think through the consequences. Add in the fact that she'll only be able to be out for five minutes after she creates a sentimonster..."

"It's not ideal," Gabriel acknowledged. "But your health is important. This will allow us to ensure that the Peacock is safe to use going forward, while still providing me with some degree of backup."

Nathalie sighed, then very quickly slid into a nearby chair before she could collapse after her legs wobbled. "I suppose. I want to say that I'm just being paranoid, but this is just a little too similar for my comfort."

"It is. It's not just you." Gabriel tapped his fingers against his leg, trying to consider everything. He would bring the Miraculous over that evening, once dark had fallen. "Anything else to consider? You've dealt with Ms. Rossi more than I have."

"Just that she thinks that she's a master manipulator and will probably think that she's capable of tricking you," Nathalie warned after a minute's consideration. "Every time I talk with her, she has this look on her face that just screams that she thinks we're dancing to her tune. Something like that could be a liability. She could think that she can get away with more, unless you're very clear with her about how she doesn't fool you one bit from the start."

"True." Her delusions had to be very thoroughly stomped out. Perhaps he should record their entire interaction when he gave her the Peacock, just for blackmail purposes. One foot out of line, and he could get her in quite a lot of trouble. Working with a supervillain would not be taken lightly. "I'll do that. And if she decides to act out and cross Hawkmoth... well, she'll regret it."

Just like he had suspected, Lila had been all too willing to take over the Peacock duties. He hadn't told her why, other than Mayura was temporarily unavailable and unable to fight, but that wasn't information that she had to have. Perhaps she would have accepted despite the potential risks- Lila seemed hotheaded enough for that to be a very real possibility- but he wasn't willing to risk her turning him down.

Gabriel smiled to himself as he tucked away a copy of the recording of his visit to Lila away in a safe spot. He had her right where he wanted her, and if his read on her emotions was anything to go off of- which it was, his magic emotion detector was very reliable- then she wouldn't be acting out or attempting to double-cross him. Lila had promised to make it to every akuma battle that she could- she was very interested in seeing Ladybug's downfall, after all- and to exercise some common sense about what she could and couldn't handle, since Hawkmoth would be very displeased with her if she lost the Peacock... and besides, being unmasked as a supervillain in that way wouldn't go well for her, either. Being defeated and unmasked as an akuma didn't ever get anyone in trouble, but if she had had a Miraculous...

Lila had turned sheet-white at that thought. Clearly even she wasn't cocky enough to think that she would be able to get away with something like that.

All in all, it had gone pretty well, Gabriel thought. Soon enough, they should know if using the Peacock was still a problem, or if Nathalie could reclaim it. If it went well, and if they ever managed to get their hands on another Miraculous- one of the ones that the superheroes always pulled out as their backups- then they would have a third team member trained and waiting in the wings.

He truly hoped that it would go well. If it went really, really poorly... well, he might just end up regretting this whole thing.

#Miraculous Ladybug #my writing #The Wavering Peahen #new story new story

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kaiowut99 · 3 years

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Phew, finally finished re-finalizing my finalized GX stuff so far!

Over the last few weeks well I guess months--initially while I waited for some potential editing help for 65, then [once I canned the last fix I’d planned; sorry to those I may have slightly annoyed with my casual reblogs about it] just to get it all done while in Rome before double-releasing 65 and 66--I’ve been giving my scripts one final look-through to fix any consistency or formatting issues with my newer stuff (things like my starting to use “Fusion Undone” as De-Fusion’s translated name before accidentally going back to “Fusion Cancel” or turning “Miss Asuka” back to “Asuka-san” since I’d meant to use that whenever “Asuka-sama” was used, or the way I’d italicize contractions or capitalize things), and also to sort of go and do things I should’ve done initially (like translating Daitokuji’s nyas into meows, the logic being that it’s what we’d hear in English anyway; hopefully this is one that goes over well?). Basically just to cross them off my list so I don’t go back to them at all. The plan is also to work on new finalized MKV softsubs that I’ll release on NAC for those who’d like ‘em, since Zeratul (who’d provided them before) hasn’t in a long while, and once I do them for 1-66, they’ll be a thing going forward.

While I was at it, I applied some other animation/footage fixes to things I hadn’t picked up on in my initial finalizing run-through as I started doing them, or polished a couple that I did. Some might wonder “why put in the effort for quick shots or at all no one cares,” but as I’ve mentioned before, as someone who loves GX with some [I think good?] skills using Photoshop/video editing and an eye for detail, I figured if I have time to improve it for people (especially those who might notice the same errors I did) where the staff didn’t take the chance to do so on the DVDs (where they usually would), then why not? (I was actually inspired to do it by KaiserNeko doing the same for DBZ during DBZ Abridged.) The fixes I work on are done for both my hardsubs and the DVDRips I release with the scripts over on NAC, and there’s a thread there with the original DVDRips I work off of as well, in case anyone doesn’t like them (most/all of my finalized Season 1 scripts were re-timed for them by someone there, but I’ll take some time out to do it myself too now that I’ve re-finalized them), along with the CR subs which I’ve said should be shown love too. I’ll list these new fixes out below by each episode, for anyone super curious about the details; some are kind of interesting, lol. (Did my best to format it so it’s readable, too, lol.)

So, yeah--keep an eye out for the links to actually-final 1-64 on my stream masterpost to be updated along with 65 and 66 once I post them (probably tomorrow), I’ll be updating the links in my NAC thread to the hardsubs and scripts I’ve re-finalized along with any DVDRips updated with the fixes below, and as I get work going on 67+ (which I’ve started a bit of) I’ll work on batches of the softsub MKVs for folks. For people looking forward to my 65 and 66, really appreciate the patience the past couple of months; hoping to work on some double-releases to make up some time.

Extra-Final Fixes!

Episode 4 (Since I didn’t include a list of the previous fixes I’d worked on in the original release post, I’ll include those here in italics; the new ones here were mainly noticed as I worked on 66 given the flashback to Judai and Manjoume’s duel here--the edits were applied there first, then I went back and applied them here. The fixes I’d already done were applied to the flashback in 66 as needed.)

As Judai takes damage from Clayman’s destruction by VW-Tiger Catapult, Judai’s LP start counting down from 3808 and not 4000; I fixed it in Sony Vegas by masking in a LP counter starting from 4000 for a few frames.

As Judai prods Manjoume into choosing a card from his hand for A Hero Appears’s effect, Manjoume’s part of a split-screen has part of his blazer semi-faded for a frame; I corrected it by just duplicating a later frame.

As Judai’s LP take a hit from V-to-Z destroying Burstlady, there are four frames where the upper part of his Disk is missing the bottom part that extends out--but it shows up in the next frame, which also causes Judai’s Disk wrist grip to vanish for the rest of the shot before Shou’s split-screen comes on, as the parts of his arm for it are colored like his jacket sleeve. To fix the first issue, I used Photoshop to draw on that bottom part in that first frame, then masked it into the shot in Sony Vegas for the other three frames. The second issue I fixed by recoloring his sleeve to account for the wrist grip, then masking the edit into the shot while masking the little destroyed Solid Vision bits above the edit.

Had a few things going on here. First, after Manjoume mocks Judai being wide open just after the above, we have one of many recycled shots through the episode where Judai insists that he’s still got fight in him--the initial frame has Judai in the same position as edit #3 ends with his wrist grip missing, but it reappears as he moves to stand firm while the shading on the lefthand side of his Disk’s Cemetery slot is wonky for a couple of frames. Second, as Judai moves back into his initial position, that shading is normal but the wrist grip again disappears into his sleeve, and this time that bottom bit of his Disk’s upper part is colored as part of Judai’s sleeve, making his arm shorter. Third, as Judai moves to draw, the wrist grip reappears and that bottom part is now colored properly, but Judai’s arm isn’t extended like it was at the start of the shot. Finally, as Judai draws, the wrist grip is there but that whole part of his wrist is colored like it (no red noting the end of his jacket sleeve). I fixed the first issue by copying the wrist grip edit from #3 and copying the moving Cemetery slot shading from the second part here. The second issue was fixed once I again copied the wrist grip edit from #3, along with using the initial frame to mask in the correct Disk/forearm coloring. Then, I fixed the third issue by copying the rest of the area below the Disk’s bottom bit from the later shot in edit #7 below where it was colored correctly. I fixed the last issue by recoloring the first wrist grip curve into red for the end of Judai’s jacket sleeve for five frames.

As Manjoume’s V-to-Z aims directly at Judai, as he discards two to activate Evolutionary/Transcendant Wings, the Winged Kuriboh on his Disk is in Attack Mode when it’s in Defense on the field; I blanked its Monster Zone in Photoshop and then added a Winged Kuriboh proxy in AfterEffects correctly in Defense Mode.

As Judai swings his arm around telling Winged Kuriboh LV10 to “send all that energy right back” at Manjoume, the spot on his Disk where Winged Kuriboh LV10 appears for a few frames is colored like the Monster Zone it’s on; I just applied a Winged Kuriboh LV10 proxy above it for those frames.

Again, a few things here as we recycle the Judai shot in edit #4 (but he’s smiling so it’s different~). First, after Manjoume mocks Judai’s idea of him drawing a 1000-ATK-or-higher Monster to finish him, the initial frame of this shot is pulled from just before Judai moves to draw in edit #4 because the wrist grip is missing along with the bottom bit of his Disk being colored like his jacket. Then, as Judai moves to draw and grabs a card from his deck, as his Disk arm swings upward for a few frames, the wrist grip area is first 90% colored like his sleeve, with half of the first curve of it on his sleeve colored like the grip, before it’s fully colored like his sleeve for the other frames. Finally, as Judai fully draws and his Disk swings back to the bottom of the shot (recycling Judai’s position post-draw in edit #4), the wrist grip is gone, but also Judai’s undershirt is miscolored, part of the folds on Judai’s jacket sleeve near his elbow are colored like his Disk, and his Disk is miscolored or missing a few details compared to the earlier shot (like the bottom side of the blue LP orb being colored blue as well and not the Disk’s gray as before). I fixed the first issue by copying the fixed initial frame from edit #4, masking it in Vegas to just use the Disk/wrist grip area. The second issue was fixed as I recolored the wrist grip area such that the first curve was fully red and the rest was wrist-grip-colored for the three frames of Judai’s Disk arm going upward. I fixed the third issue by just masking in Judai’s Disk and arm (up to the edge of his wrist) from the earlier correctly-colored shot, while also masking in his correctly-colored undershirt.

As Judai summons Featherman--to Shou and Chronos’s surprise--and has him lunge at Manjoume for the finisher, the black faraway box that is Featherman on his Disk disappears as Shou and Chronos slide in on a split-screen, and it’s still gone as they slide back out. I fixed this in Vegas by just masking that black box on to stay longer, masking in Shou’s split-screen over it before and after it slides in.

Episode 8 (Original release post; as with episode 4′s, these new errors were mainly noticed as I worked on 66 given the flashback to Judai and Ryou’s duel here--the edits were applied there first, then I went back and applied them here. The fixes I made before were applied to the flashback in 66, as well.)

After Judai thinks about how well Ryou played his first move, he draws Fusion for his turn, but as he draws it, it’s a dark-orange rectangle in his hand; I added a Fusion proxy over it in AfterEffects for the quick 2-3 frames it’s in.

After Judai’s first hit on him, Ryou draws and Special-Summons another Cyber Dragon, but visually he’s playing a Monster in face-down Defense Mode on his second Monster Zone--we see this Cyber Dragon in Zone 3 a few shots later as he uses Revival of the Dead to bring back his first Cyber Dragon. The dub fixed this by making his Disk arm move such that Ryou’s hand lands on Zone 3, with the card in his hand a dubified Cyber Dragon, and I opted to work that into the footage here by masking their moving Disk over the original shot in Vegas, redoing the sky background behind it and masking in parts of Ryou and his hand to make it blend well while also adding some detail to the Disk in Photoshop to compensate for the slightly lower quality. Then, I replaced the dubified card with a Japanese Cyber Dragon proxy in AE. I worked on this in 66 first (as highlighted here), but I unfortunately couldn’t just copy that edit completely here, since the footage in 66 has a bit more brightness/contrast to it that I couldn’t dial down accurately to make it blend in to the darker footage here; this is definitely the kind of error that would normally be fixed on the Japanese DVDs, so why it wasn’t is a mystery.

As the screen zooms in on Judai after Ryou declares Cyber Twin’s attack, he’s missing Thunder Giant on his Disk’s third Monster Zone; I added a proxy onto it in AE and masked the red bulb on his Disk over it in Vegas. It’s tiny and a quick shot, but for consistency’s sake and all. (I’d previously only added that missing Thunder Giant as it zooms out while he activates A Hero Appears).

As Judai thinks about how Evolutionary Wings would evolve his Winged Kuriboh and the screen fades and zooms out to Bubbleman on his field, he’s missing Bubbleman on his Disk in his third Monster Zone. I added it in AE, then keyframed this zoom-out for it accordingly in Vegas.

Right after #4 above, as Judai notes that he can’t Normal-Summon again this turn, we see Mudballman--which he hasn’t summoned yet--in Defense Mode on his Disk. When I first fixed this, I put Bubbleman in its place, but accidentally in Defense Mode (given that he’s in Attack Mode right now), so I fixed my own correction by blanking the third Monster Zone Mudballman was on and slapping Bubbleman on in Attack Mode in AE, moving it along with Judai’s Disk. (Still not sure why the dub decided Mudballman = VW Catapult or something apparently lol)

Episode 10 (Original release post listing the original two fixes that were done)

After Mei draws out his Sanga thanks to Kyuu’s Dark Designator card, during the panning shot as Mei adds it to his hand (before they tell Judai and Shou they’ll enlighten them about Tag Dueling), the Defense-Mode Burstlady on Judai’s Disk is shown reversed; I just applied a proxy in AfterEffects on top of it so it was correctly shown with the name box facing left.

After summoning Steam Gyroid, as Shou notes that summoning Hyuga left Kyuu without a defending Monster, the above shot is recycled--this time, reversed so it pans from Shou to Judai, but also has Judai react to what Shou’s saying--and so is the error with Burstlady on his Disk. Again, just applied a proxy in AE to fix it, moving it as Judai moves his Disk.

As Shou looks down in disappointment after his Steam Gyroid’s attack ran into Hyuga’s effect, Judai turns to give him some words of encouragement, but as his Disk moves with him, we see the Defense-Mode Burstlady on his Disk again facing the wrong way. Just slapped a proxy on in AE and moved it as Burstlady’s Zone came into view.

After Gate Guardian destroys Shou’s Steam Gyroid, as Chronos watches on and notes Shou’s timidity vs Judai’s stubbornness while the two look on at the Meikyuu Brothers, we see the Defense-Mode Burstlady on Judai’s Disk facing the wrong way again. Fixed it by placing the proxy again in AE, then zooming it out accordingly as the shot zooms out.

After Mei sets a card and Judai prepares to draw for his turn, there’s a yellow rectangle where his Defense-Mode Burstlady should be. Applied a proxy in AE over it to fix the issue.

Episode 11 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Kyuu draws once Judai sets a card to end his turn using Spark Gun on Gate Guardian, the spot on his Disk where Defense Wall in Defense Mode would be has an Attack-Mode-shaped hole where you can see the blue of the stands behind him! I fixed it by making a Defense Wall proxy that I slapped on in Defense Mode in AfterEffects, moving it with his Disk. For the tail end of the shot where the Zone is fully visible, I also filled in the hole with the Zone color in Photoshop and then applied the proxy.

As Shou declares Gate Guardian the target of his Shield Crush, the card back for the one card in his hand is miscolored. I fixed it by redrawing the usual card back in Photoshop for the frames it’s in, Gaussian Blurring it so it blends in, before he turns and they’re out of the shot.

After Mei ends his turn having attacked Drillroid with Dark Guardian amused at Shou’s standing back up thanks to Judai, as Judai draws for his turn, his face-down card is miscolored. I recolored it in Photoshop for the few frames it’s in, working it into the footage in Vegas.

After Judai draws from Pot of Greed after the above, he goes on to activate Fusion Gate, but Sparkman on his Disk is reversed; I applied a proxy in AE facing upright, then keyframed it to the zoom-out here in Vegas.

As Judai realizes he’ll need to give up Skyscraper so Tempester can survive Dark Guardian’s attack, the Tempester card on his Disk is reversed; I applied a proxy in AE facing upright, then keyframed it to the zoom-out here in Vegas.

As Judai and Shou reel from the above attack once Kyuu ends his turn, Shou has a Normal Monster card where Drillroid would be on his Disk. I fixed it by slapping on a proxy in AE for the couple of frames it’s visible in before Shou moves his Disk so it’s not onscreen.

I polished my edit to Misawa to keep his sideburns still in episode 12 and added it to the equivalent shot in the preview here.

Episode 12 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As noted in 11′s #7, I polished my original fix to Misawa’s moving sideburns as a buffed-up Hell Soldier took out his Hydroggedon so it blended in more with the smoke and everything going on in the shot; looks better now.

As Manjoume declares Hell Burner’s attack on Misawa, there are two quick frames where it’s a yellow rectangle on his Disk; I applied a Hell Burner proxy in AE accordingly.

Episode 18 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Kagurazaka brings back Berfomet to take the hit from Thunder Giant and he starts his turn, as he activates Reincarnation of the Dead, there’s a quick frame where it shrinks in his hand as the shot zooms out--I fixed this by just duplicating the frame just before where it’s normal.

After Kagurazaka summons the Gazelle he added to his hand above, he then activates Swords of Sealing Light, but there’s a quick frame where it’s just a yellow shape in his hand. Easy fix by slapping a proxy in AE.

Episode 30 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Shou and Hayato realize they’re no longer being boiled alive, Hayato audibly asks, “Huh? Where are we?”, but his lips only move for the “Huh?” part of that as he lifts his head. To fix this, I used the couple of flaps as he lifts his head and tweaked/resized them so they would work after his head’s lifted, adjusted to fit his line.

Episode 31 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Chronos sets a card down after Camula brings out another Immortal Werewolf, Antique Gear Soldier on his Disk is shown as a Normal Monster Card; I originally fixed this by slapping on a proxy in AfterEffects while the shot was still, then keyframe-zooming it out in Vegas, but at the time, I didn’t account for Chronos’s swinging arm, so the card was superimposed over his hand for a frame or two as it swung over that Zone. I’ve masked his hand over my edit now, so that’s fixed.

Episode 38 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Judai summons Wildman in Defense Mode to start the duel and the lights suddenly go out (prompting the “duel of darkness/duel in the seas” mixup...), we see Wildman’s in Attack Mode on the field despite its Defense posture. I fixed it by applying a proxy there, then masking Wildman’s lower body and the shadow coming from his sheathed sword on top of it.

Episode 46 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Judai reminisces about the past year, he flashes back to his duel with Ryou in episode 8 and his Featherman being vaporized by Cyber Dragon; I added back the fix I did to Judai’s Disk in removing his destroyed Featherman for the few frames it’s onscreen. Because the flashback fades to white right then too, I also added a quick mostly-transparent layer of white over the blanked zone to replicate the start of the fade to white so it blended in.

As Judai then looks over at Shou and Hayato and he remembers his first encounters with them (a bit reanimated, too), there’s a quick frame where Hayato’s gritted-teeth mouth disappears before it closes into a line for his mouth. Fixed by just reusing a frame of his mouth in the same position and moved it into place in the panning shot.

Episode 51 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

As Ryou notes that Judai’s studied up on him by choosing to go second, Judai slides in on a split-screen, but the top of his hair’s miscolored. Fixed by recoloring it in Photoshop, then working it into the footage in Vegas by moving it into place as he slides in.

As Ryou uses Time Capsule to hide away his Fusion Undone/De-Fusion for later and Judai thinks back to his move in episode 8 leading to his activating Power Bond, I added back my fix to Ryou’s Disk to add on his missing two Cyber Dragons and the one Cyber Dragon in his hand, grayscaling it and adding visual noise to it to blend with the flashback.

Episode 54 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Chronos pins his hopes on Manjoume, as Gokaido draws for his turn, we see an error where his Disk apparently partially vanishes for two movement frames--it seems the animation staff forgot to put the background layer behind his Disk there or something, lol. I fixed this by actually filling in the rest of his Disk in Photoshop for those two frames, first by filling in the Disk itself and then painting on the rest of the Monster Zone at the edge of the frame, and then just added them to the video in Vegas.

Episode 59 (Original release post listing the original fixes that were done)

After Shining Flare Wingman returns while Ed explains Misfortune’s effect, of the D-Heroes on his Duel Disk, we see Diamondguy and Diehardguy reversed. I originally slapped on proxies for them positioned correctly in AfterEffects on the frame after the slow zoom-out stops, then in Vegas I used that frame to re-do the initial zoom-out, but while I usually add a slight blur to the proxies, I noticed that they were a bit too blurry as the zoom-out started. So I redid it and lightened the blur, while also touching up the bit as Misfortune’s light envelops Ed and his Disk so the light over them blends in more.

Episode 62 (Original release post, though I didn’t do any fixes before)

As Judai uses Dandylion’s effect to summon his two Fluff Tokens, Cocoon Dolphina--visually in Defense Mode on the field--is in Attack Mode on Judai’s Disk in the panning shot to them. I fixed it by first blanking the Zone in Photoshop, then placing a proxy in the Zone for one frame in AfterEffects before I re-panned that frame for the shot.

#subbing rambling #good to have gotten all that done #thought it'd be good to get that re-finalizing out of the way now #but yeah #main reason why i'd been away for most of the past few weeks #[along with work being a bit stressful as i caught up on stuff]#[you go on vacation for *one* week...]#anyway thanks for bearing with me lol

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darriness · 3 years

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Klaine Fic - You’ll Always Be The Home - Chapter 1

Author: darriness

Fic Summary: Everything is finally settled in Kurt and Blaine's life...right?

Rating: T

Link to: Prologue

Chapter Word Count: 3172

Chapter Summary: A wedding.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, or just read the prologue to this. Here’s chapter 1! As always thank you to my amazing beta @darrenismydarcy

AO3 Link

Four years is a long time. A lot can happen in four years. A lot can change. In one four year span for example, Kurt and Blaine met, became friends, became boyfriends, graduated high school, broke up, and got back together again.

In the four years since their reunion, Blaine and Kurt have moved in together, graduated college, gotten engaged, started careers, and planned a wedding.

But if you ask Kurt and Blaine? The past four years have felt like both a lifetime and a milli-second in equal measure.

Blaine adjusts his cuffs and fidgets with his lapels as he stands behind the rows of chairs in front of him. Before he can once again reach for his lapels, his hand is grabbed and he turns to smile sheepishly at Bethany.

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

Bethany smirks and squeezes the hand she has in her own, “You’re adorable.” Her eyes soften as Blaine’s eyes flit around the room, “I am so happy for you...you know that right?”

Blaine’s eyes train back on his little sister and he smiles, “I do know that.” He says, softly, squeezing her hand in return.

*Four Years Ago*

“Can I paint my room any colour I want?” Bethany asks as Blaine fumbles for with the keys in the lock.

“Hmm?” Blaine hums distracted as he tries not to drop the bags in his hands.

“I said, can I paint my room any colour I want?” Bethany repeats.

“Oh uh, I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Kurt, I guess.” Blaine responds, finally getting the key in the lock and opening the door to the small apartment for only the second time. He hasn’t been back since he and Kurt got back together and now he and Bethany are going to be living here.

Bethany sighs as she pushes past Blaine in the unrefined way of a 12-year-old who wants to be the first one in, “We live here now. Can’t you make the decision? Or are we going to have to ask Kurt for everything now?”

Blaine sighs as he drops the bags he’s been carrying just inside the door. The apartment is empty, Kurt is at class. The pair had decided it might be easier to move in when Kurt wasn’t home.

“Just…” He doesn’t know how to answer. He’s never lived with anyone beside his family which means he’s never moved into someone else’s house. He’s not sure what the ‘rules’ are, or even if there are any.

Bethany rolls her eyes and flops down on the couch, letting the backpack she had been carrying fall on the ground next to her, “You said this would be a good thing for us.” She says with a raised eyebrow.

“It is.” Blaine says with a surety he doesn’t really feel. He knows Bethany was fine with moving and happy that Kurt was back in their lives but she’s also twelve...who knows if this really makes her happy.

*Present Day*

Music starts to play and Blaine takes a deep breath as he realizes that’s his and Bethany’s cue to walk down the aisle. He feels Bethany shake his hand in hers and he looks over at her with a smile. She smiles back at him before the pair begin to slowly make their way down the aisle.

He tries not to look over the crowd but can’t help but cast his gaze quickly over the faces. Friends and family all with beaming faces but unlike the former that is a mixture of friends they have as a couple and separately, the latter is all Kurt’s. Blaine threads Bethany’s arm more tightly in his own and keeps walking with a polite smile on his face.

When he and Bethany are finally at the altar he lets go of her hand and takes his place in front of the officiant as she takes hers just behind him as his ‘best woman’. He reaches to fidget with his suit jacket one more time as the music changes to signal it’s Kurt’s turn to make the walk he and Bethany just made.

He turns, like the audience in front of him does, to look at the back of the room and takes a deep breath when he sees Kurt standing arm in arm with his father. He feels Bethany nudge him in the back and he would turn to look at her if he wasn’t so transfixed. He has a feeling she would be beaming at him and maybe winking, anyway.

*Three Years Ago*

Blaine gets home from class with a tired but happy sigh. He loves New York, he loves school, he loves everything about his life right now.

“Bethany I said no!” He hears Kurt say from the direction of the kitchen and pouts his lips thoughtfully, pausing as he takes off his scarf.

“You’re not my dad!” Bethany shouts back at Kurt and Blaine hisses in a breath.

There’s quiet for a moment and Blaine is wondering who is going to blow first. Since moving in, Bethany and Kurt’s relationship has changed slightly. They’ve gone from partners in crime, so to speak, to something more resembling father/daughter, or at the very least, caregiver/child. Blaine knows Kurt tries not to act that way but it’s unavoidable when living under the same roof. Blaine isn’t necessarily surprised but there have been times, like the one right now, when he wishes they could go back to the way they were before.

Finally, Bethany lets out an unintelligible growl and stomps off toward her bedroom, not even realizing Blaine is there when she huffs through the living room.

Kurt follows a moment later but at a slower pace and doesn’t appear to want to actually follow her as her bedroom door slams. He sighs when the slam happens and swings his gaze to Blaine - fixing him with a resigned expression.

“She wanted to take the subway, by herself I might add, to a concert in the park.” Kurt recounts.

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up, “Well, thank you for saying no.”

Now Kurt’s glance is slightly withering, “Of course I said no.” He says before sighing and looking back at Bethany’s door, “I honestly never imagined I’d be a parental figure to a teenager in my early 20s.”

It sounds more like he’s saying it to himself than Blaine but Blaine’s stomach still clenches with anxiety, “I’m so sorry, Kurt. I’ll talk to her.” He swallows thickly.

Kurt does a double take before he seems to realize what he said and he moves quickly to Blaine’s side and puts his arms around his waist and his forehead to his temple, “Hey, no. That’s not what I meant.” He says before sighing, “Just because I didn’t think my life would be this way doesn’t mean I don’t love it.” It’s Blaine’s turn to give Kurt a withering glance. Kurt shakes his arms around Blaine, “I’m serious! In a few minutes I’m going to go in there and talk with Annie and everything will be fine. Just because she and I fight now doesn’t mean I’m not happy with our life.”

The sincerity in Kurt’s voice makes Blaine breathe a little easier.

*Present Day*

When Kurt and his dad finally, after what feels like the longest walk down the aisle ever (definitely longer than Blaine and Bethany’s was), make it to the altar Blaine can barely contain himself. He tries to wait as patiently as possible for Kurt to hug his dad and then take his place in front of Blaine but the wait for that to happen feels almost as long as the walk did.

Finally, FINALLY, Kurt is smiling at Blaine and reaching forward to grab his hands. Blaine feels like he can truly breathe for the first time all day. He is so ready to marry this man.

*One Year Ago*

“Are you sure I can’t film this?” Bethany asks.

Blaine chuckles nervously, “No, you cannot film this! I’m already nervous enough as it is.”

Bethany smirks, “Yeah but don’t you want to remember this for all of eternity? I mean, unless he says no or you get a divorce or…”

“Annie!” Blaine exclaims, making Bethany giggle in a way she doesn’t usually do anymore. Blaine’s learning there are a lot of things 15-year-old girls ‘don’t do anymore’.

“He’s here!” Bethany squeals, pointing over Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine turns around in his seat to watch Kurt talk to the hostess before getting shown to the table where Blaine and Bethany currently sit. It’s a fancy restaurant where the hostess even pulls out Kurt’s chair for him before he sits down.

“Oh, thanks!” Kurt says with an amused chuckle at the gesture as he takes his seat, “Hey!” Kurt enthuses, reaching forward to grab Blaine’s hand and smiling at Bethany.

“Hey!” Blaine smiles back as Bethany waves.

“So, what’s the special occasion? I mean, not that I don’t love fine dining and a chance to wear one of my fancier outfits…” Kurt asks, looking back and forth between the siblings.

Blaine swallows. He had originally wanted to wait to do this until later in the meal but…

“Kurt,” He starts and he can feel Bethany’s eyes on him. She had also been under the impression this would come later and obviously understands the tone he’s using. Kurt seems to understand something big is coming too because he sits a little straighter and he tilts his head in interest. Blaine swallows one more time, “Kurt, when you came into our lives my only focus was Annie. And while I love her to death and have never for a second regretted becoming her primary caregiver...I wasn’t really living.” Kurt’s eyes have widened in seeming shock but he stays quiet, “And then you came into our lives and...everything got more colourful. You opened my eyes and my heart to a love I don’t think I could ever even imagine and I am so thankful to you for that.”

Blaine sends one more glance at Bethany who is beaming at him and nodding before he takes a deep breath and gets down on one knee. The tables closest to them are looking on but Blaine only has eyes for Kurt - who is currently staring down at him with wide glistening eyes.

“I love you more than words can say, Kurt, and you would make me the happiest man in the world if you would agree to become my husband.” He produces a velvet box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a platinum band with inset diamonds. Kurt gasps, “Kurt, will you marry me?”

Kurt is nodding before he even finishes speaking, “Yes.” He whispers breathlessly.

Kurt pulls Blaine to his feet and into a kiss as the tables closest to them begin to clap. The loudest cheers are, of course, from Bethany, who makes the pair laugh as she whoops and hollers.

*Present Day*

The ceremony is simple and yet perfect. They debated writing their own vows but decided, instead, to go the traditional route; saying ‘traditional’ words in a ‘non-traditional’ situation really appealed to both of them.

It turns out Blaine cries more than Kurt, but Bethany cries more than both of them to the point where Blaine pauses and asks the officiant to wait before turning and hugging Bethany to him for a brief moment. She cries into his shoulder and their photographer captures the moment forever.

When it comes to their first kiss as husbands, Kurt goes off script just a little bit and bends Blaine in a dip to press their lips together. The room cheers around them at the action and the pair come up laughing - Blaine slightly embarrassed but overjoyed, and Kurt exceedingly proud...and also slightly embarrassed.

As they walk back up the aisle hand-in-hand, they smile at their family and friends who are all beaming back at them.

*One Year Ago*

“Kurt, why are we still doing this? You’re already engaged!” Bethany exclaims as she helps Kurt move the coffee table.

Kurt grunts as he shifts the table into its final resting place against the wall and out of the way, “Because I have been planning this for weeks and Blaine deserves to be proposed to.”

Bethany smiles, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

It was no surprise that Bethany had been in on Blaine’s proposal but she had been surprised and ecstatic when Kurt had come to her the month before to enlist her help in his own proposal. Bethany had to keep both secrets for the month while inside she had been bubbling over with excitement.

Kurt takes a deep breath and looks around one more time, “So...is everything ready?”

Bethany also looks around before looking back at Kurt, “All we did was move the coffee table and put out champagne. You know, for someone as dramatic as you...this proposal is super low key.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, “Because this proposal is for Blaine.”

Bethany pouts her lips like she hadn’t thought of that before nodding, “Okay, that makes sense.”

They hear keys jingling in the hallway and both of them jump. Kurt shoos Bethany toward the door and she goes with a skip, making sure to wink at Kurt first.

She opens the door before Blaine can get his keys in and he looks up in surprise before smiling, “Thanks Annie.” He says.

Bethany rocks back and forth once, trying to contain her smile, before sweeping her arm into the apartment, “Right this way.”

Blaine quirks an eyebrow as he toes off his shoes, chuckling at the formal gesture, “What’s going on?”

“Would you just come?” Bethany asks with an eye roll, hooking her arm into Blaine’s and pulling him along.

When they get to the living room Kurt is standing where the coffee table usually sits. Blaine looks back and forth between the pair, “What’s going on?” He asks again.

“Blaine,” Kurt starts and Bethany unhooks her arm and shoves Blaine forward a little. When Blaine is standing in front of Kurt, Kurt grabs both of his hands in his own and continues, “You have brought so much into my life - love, laughter, joy,...Annie.” He winks at Bethany who is standing just behind Blaine and the teenager giggles softly before quieting, “And I know you already proposed to me and technically we’re already engaged but you deserved a proposal as much as I did.” He takes a deep breath and goes down on one knee. Blaine, inhales sharply and his eyes are already moist with tears, “You are the love of my life, you are my everything, and I would be forever grateful if you agreed to marry me.”

He opens a ring box to reveal a simple platinum band. Blaine stares at it for a long moment, silence ringing in the room before Bethany breaks in, “Would you mind saying yes? Kurt said I could have some champagne after.”

Blaine and Kurt chuckle from their position. Blaine shakes his head and bites his lips together as they quiet before kneeling on the ground in front of Kurt, “I will, of course, marry you.” He whispers before pulling Kurt into a kiss.

There is clapping this time, too, but only from Bethany as the pair pull apart and Kurt slips the ring onto Blaine’s finger. They beam at each other like they are the only two in the room before Bethany coughs behind them.

They chuckle again, “Did you really tell her she could have champagne?” Blaine whispers.

Kurt smirks, “One glass.” He says.

*Present Day*

“Bethany!” Blaine exclaims.

Bethany freezes with her glass halfway to her mouth and gives her brother a sheepish smile, “Uh….Kurt let me?”

Blaine rolls his eyes and holds up his index finger, “One.” He says as Bethany cheers and takes a sip of wine from her glass.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to be trouble with this whole drinking thing.” Blaine asks, leaning against the bar next to her. The reception has been raging for hours now, dinner long since over, and Blaine is slightly alcohol loose, a lot in love loose, and thoroughly enjoying himself.

Bethany rolls her eyes, “I’m not stupid.” She says and Blaine nods, leaving it at that for now.

“Wanna dance?” He asks, gesturing to the dance floor as a slower song plays over the speakers.

Bethany takes another sip of wine and jerks her head behind her, “Go dance with your husband. He told me half an hour ago that he’s sad you guys haven’t been able to dance as much together with all the entertaining and hosting. I’ll finish my wine and cut in later. Maybe after I ask Finn to dance.” She winks at him and Blaine chuckles as he scans the room for Kurt, who is looking at him from across the room where he’s talking to one of his relatives.

They smile at each other before Kurt pleads, wordlessly, with his eyes and Blaine chuckles before kissing Bethany’s cheek and heading over.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt.” He says when he’s close enough and Kurt’s relative coos at him, “I was wondering if I could steal my husband for a dance.”

The relative, who Blaine is sure he’s been introduced to but can’t remember her name to save his life, agrees easily and Blaine leads Kurt to the dance floor. They settle quickly into each other's arms and Kurt sighs in relief, “Thank you.” He breathes as they start to sway, “My Aunt Jenny is lovely if not a little...over the top.”

Blaine chuckles, “Well, that’s my job now. To save you from well meaning but exhausting relatives. It’s in the contract.”

Kurt’s face suddenly goes somber as they continue to sway and Blaine tilts his head slightly, “What’s wrong?”

Kurt sighs, “I just…” He pauses and cups Blaine’s cheek softly. Blaine looks at him curiously, “Are you upset your parents aren’t here? Were you...expecting them to show up?”

Blaine’s eyes widen in surprise slightly before he chuckles, “Well, considering we didn’t invite them, it would be very strange for them to show up now.”

Kurt sighs again, “Blaine…” He starts.

Blaine sobers before sighing himself and looking off to the side slightly. He notices Finn and Bethany dancing and smiles slightly before turning back to Kurt with one scrunched closed eye, “Maybe...part of me was hoping they might actually show up.”

Kurt’s heart breaks a little at the admission even though he’s the one who asked about it and he’d assumed that was going to be the answer. His heart breaks for Blaine who may never fully heal from the trauma of his past.

He puts his hands on either side of Blaine’s neck and leans in to kiss him softly. He can’t magically make everything okay for Blaine, but he can love him and remind him of how loved he really is.

He plans on spending the rest of his life making sure that happens.

#klaine #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #my loves #my stuff #you'll always be the home

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aminiatureworld · 4 years

Text

Connection

Ship: Geralt x Jaskier

Warnings: None

Premise: Jaskier calls Geralt out for his reticence on hand holding. Geralt is quick to deny this, but even quicker to prove the bard right, as well as prove to himself how much it matters.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the horrendous summary, but I actually quite like this fic. Also two thirds of it was written at midnight, so forgive me for any typos or odd shifts in tone, scene, etc. I realize most of my fanfiction is written between midnight and three am. Maybe I should fix that.

Ao3 link in reblog

“Tell me Geralt, what are your thoughts on hand holding?” Geralt’s head snapped up in confusion as he stared incredulously at his companion. Jaskier was perched on top of the room’s dresser, feet propped up on the windowsill. It seemed a particularly stupid way to sit to Geralt, but he’d long ago learned that the bard didn’t really care what Geralt saw as stupid, or perhaps Jakier did care and then made a concerted effort to do everyone one of those things, Geralt still hadn’t quite decided, having instead accepted that his companion was of a particularly odd, if vaguely endearing, nature. Now though Geralt was very sure the bard must be pulling his leg, perhaps in an effort to spark some new lyric to try on the disgruntled inn patrons, or perhaps out of sheer boredom. Shifting his weight slightly Geralt hoped that this conversation would be as short as possible, for sometimes it felt like a sprint to keep up with the odd, twisted conversational logic that Jaskier often took. Even the opening statement gave the Witcher pause, for who on the Continent thought actively of such things? Grunting he shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh c’mon!” Jaskier prodded, plinking a particularly pretty chord, though Geralt could tell one of strings was becoming a bit shredded; which one he had no idea of course, picking up on subtle things like off strings wasn’t the same as retaining a shred of musical knowledge that Jaskier, seemingly daily, tried to impart on Geralt. Now Jaskier almost looked the same way he did during his teaching attempts, slightly bemused, ready to whip out the chalkboard and textbooks. It was a bit unnerving, and Geralt looked down, not particularly looking forward to where this was going. He could hear the bard swing down and hit the floor, and looked up in time to see Jaskier sit crisscross on the small pile of boards that passed as a trunk-made-table, honestly did the bard know how to sit normally?

“Why,” Geralt stared at Jakier. “do you think of such odd things?”

“Why don’t you think of such normal things!” Jaskier cried out in return, beaming like a child who’d just proved himself right. “Honestly Geralt, who doesn’t think of such things? For someone so grouchy about any close contact, you don’t actually have any rules set out about it. Or any logic. I think I’ve washed your lovely body more often than our two palms have touched. Don’t you think that’s even a little odd.”

“Tch.” Geralt wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this, realizing that the bard was indeed right, Jaskier probably had touched Geralt’s hair more than his hands, but wasn’t quite willing to admit it, for doing so felt oddly like defeat, or perhaps it was just that Jaskier, when proven right, seemed never to shut up about it. Deciding that he’d rather just humor the bard than have this conversation, Geralt sighed and gestured for Jaskier’s hand. Jaskier needed no encouragement, quickly slapping his hand into the Witcher’s. It stung a bit, Geralt had realized that musician hands were quite calloused, and that Jaskier was unnervingly strong, about the second time they’d met, and even now he marveled at it. He squeezed the bard’s hand, thinking it was dry and warm, and oddly comfortable, before letting go. “Happy?” The bard shook his head.

“That won’t prove me wrong Geralt, and you know it. Anyone who has to do something to try to prove they’re right is only admitting failure. Nevertheless,” he patted Geralt on the shoulder, a familiar action, which originally caused Geralt exasperation, but now brought only a sense of fondness for their ritualistic banter, not that he’d admit that, not on his dying breath. Just as he’d never admit that, now that Jaskier brought it up, he realized he’d rather like to hold the bard’s hand more, well, he’d like to do a great deal more than that if he allowed himself to drift down that particular vein of thought, but he was buried approximately one hundred levels too deep in denial to cross that bridge. He could only imagine the months of gloating that would cause, or maybe there wouldn’t be gloating, but rather, a closer relationship, which scared Geralt even more, those close to him had bad track records for fate being kind on them after all. It was better just not to try and approach that bridge, much less cross it. With that thought in mind Geralt stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier exclaimed, flopping onto the bed where Geralt had been sitting moments ago.

“To get information, I want to know what exactly we’re looking for.”

“Wasn’t that it’s a kikimora well established?” Jaskier asked, laughter in his eyes. “Look Geralt, you don’t have to run away from this, I full believe in your ability to hold my hand, give it seven years and I’m sure you’ll have mastered it.”

“Tch.” Geralt grunted, rolling his eyes. Jaskier looked even more pleased, evidently the Witcher would have to say something or cede the board, not that this wasn’t already doing that. He looked for some sort of excuse. “This is for your sake, not mine. I don’t want to hear you complaining the whole way back if you accidentally stumble on it and get your doublet dirty or whatever.”

“Aww, you care.” Jaskier smiled, a smile which flipped something in Geralt’s stomach and made him want to return the gesture, every. damn. time. “Well, this is the price you pay for never revealing your big dark secrets to me, best of luck to you then, and remember you wouldn’t have to do this if you let me go with you.” Geralt barked out a half laugh, half snort.

“Never.” And with that he strode out and slammed the door. Standing for a moment he could hear the bard chuckling inside, he had a nice laugh that one, before focusing on his music. The familiar pizzing and strumming, a melody picked up here and dropped there, random words, some louder than others, escaping the bard’s mind into sound, it made Geralt feel some sort of happiness, to see someone so in their element and so happy. He was glad that Jaskier was happy. Wished he could share in the effusive sunlight of his companion. But to do would be to go down that path in his mind, and a second moon would appear in the sky before that happened.

Geralt came back from his expedition covered in black blood, and buzzed enough off of potions to feel completely overwhelmed by the bustling tavern, filled with sounds and smells and colors which seemed to knock into him like a wave. He stumbled his way towards a seat in the corner, head pounding in a myriad of different ways, as if being both smashed by a hammer and stabbed by a million needles. He felt too nauseous to ask for food or drink, worried he might cause a scene in the middle of high hours. Instead he leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and get the steel he’d need to make his way upstairs and, hopefully, into a bath.

Slowly he managed to pick his way through the wave of sound, trying to find some sort of lifeline. It was the busiest hours of the night, and Jaskier was in the middle of a performance, singing some sort of song about a highwayman leaving his lover with the promise of gold and riches. Right now the lover was despairing over his disappearance, and Geralt, having listened to this song many times before, reflected on the silliness of the song, for never in real life would a highwayman suddenly save his fair love, declaring that they’d be together in life and death. Still the song was mysterious and repetitive and softer than the usual fare, and Geralt found himself lifted up by it, by Jaskier’s voice, and the slight scratch the strings made when he lifted his hand from them, and for a moment the pain was beaten back by comfort and routine, and by a beautiful voice belonging to a beautiful bard, and, as if by magic, all seemed not overwhelming and gross and dirty, but pure and beautiful and calm.

The spell, of course, lasted not one second when Geralt made to move, and the nausea, pounding, and overwhelmed sensation slammed back into him like a wall. The Witcher gritted his teeth as he lurched up, determined to make it upstairs. His steps were sluggish and slow, and he marveled that if a monster were to come upon him now he’d probably be useless, for the potions were a double edge sword, and when the adrenaline left so did his focus, and the outside came crashing in, blocking out everything that made him good to fight. A feeling of frustration and uselessness came over him, and Geralt nearly slammed into one of the wooden beams. Immediately he could feel the noise shift, and cursed himself. Jaskier’s music had stopped, and Geralt looked up through his haze of discomfort to see the bard rushing to collect his coin, before hurtling towards Geralt. Looking at his companion, Jaskier called to the innkeeper behind the bar, asking for a tub to be brought up along with hot water, before draping Geralt over his shoulder. Geralt grunted, feeling slightly self-conscious, but now wasn’t truly the time to be batting away the bard’s help, and thus the Witcher leaned onto his companion’s shoulder, and allowed himself to be brought up to their room.

“Don’t sit on the bed.” Jaskier said, dumping the Witcher onto the trunk. “I don’t know if we’d be able to get clean sheets by tonight.” Taking off his now bloodied doublet, Jaskier placed his lute, which had been slung onto the front of his chest to keep it from being broken or dirtied, on the windowsill, before sitting down on the trunk next to Geralt. “Now, we wait. Bad round this time?” Geralt grunted in assent, and Jaskier nodded. “How you witchers manage it without companions I don’t know.”

Geralt, who was barely keeping upright, wanting nothing more than to sleep and blackout the truly horrendous head pain and waves of discomfort, dragged his hand towards Jaskier. The bard looked slightly confused, and Geralt grunted once more. “What, do you want something?” Jaskier laughed softly, it came out in a huffed, confused way. Slowly he entangled his fingers into his Witcher’s. “Is this it?” Geralt closed his eyes and hummed, not feeling altogether comfortable to confirm, both in fear of being sick and due to the small voice in his mind jeering him this was very foolish indeed. They kept like this for some time, until a knock on the door notified the pair that a bath was finally ready. Everything was brought in, and nothing was said as Jaskier stripped Geralt, shoved him into the tub, and helped the poor Witcher clean off, as well as preventing a drowning, for Geralt was truly bound and determined to sleep, come hell or high water, in this case the latter being more likely. Still, it was accomplished, and as Geralt stumbled onto the bed, he felt a tugging sense of gratitude and comfort, and something else. “Jaskier?” he called out.

“Yes Geralt?” Came the immediate reply, and Geralt smiled slightly to himself, comforted by the familiar reply, the constant presence.

“I ruined your doublet.” He could here a burst of laughter coming from the bard, all in a heap, a lovely soft sound, amplified by the after effects of the Witcher’s potions.

“That you did.” He heard the reply, heard the bard approach, surprisingly quiet and soft. A hand reached out and Geralt took it. It was warm and strong, calloused in the best way, a symbol of talent and tenacity and beauty. “Well. Perhaps it was Fate.” came a soft reply. Geralt smiled, and as he drifted to sleep, he considered that, though the night had been in many ways a debacle, he was glad that he had an anchor to keep him steady, a hand to guide him through the noise and lights and disorder, and if that remained the case, maybe the world wasn’t so great a cesspit as he thought it to be.

The squat village seemed even squatter from the main path, and as it disappeared into the distance Geralt looked back one last time, not because it was noteworthy in any way, but because it’d become some sort of habit after his leaving of Blaviken, you never knew when someone was going to turn an entire village on you, might as well enjoy an easy parting. It wasn’t something he told anyone, to bring it up was also to bring up a past he’d rather forget, but he still kept onto the tradition. Looking down he noticed Jaskier was smiling slightly, and for a moment Geralt wondered if he was going to bring it up, but instead the bard simply sighed and, kicking in a rock off the path, began to speak.

“So, I see that you didn’t shake hands with your business partner after claiming your sum.” A rush of relief and irritation accompanied the statement, and Geralt huffed, turning so his gaze went straight ahead. They’d not brought up the night of his job, a source of great relief and consternation for Geralt, and now, faced with the idea of talking about it, he realized that it was easier to theoretically be nonchalant and aloof than actually feign disinterest in a topic or event. “Geralttt.” Jaskier was evidently plunging straight ahead into this topic, “We need to talk about it someday. You need closeness! Contact! A friendly handshake every once in a while!”

“Why?” Geralt grumbled.

“Well because it’s not normal for a one night stand to be easier than a handshake. Besides,” he added, grinning mischievously, “I think you’d quite like holding hands, at least every once in a while.” Geralt shifted his weight and looked once more at the bard. Jaskier was looking quite smug, as always, but there seemed to be something behind it, some genuine worry or care, Geralt could tell in the slight way his shoulders were pushed back, the quiver in his smile and in his hands, which were being wrung together. It struck him as odd that anyone should care so much, but evidently Jaskier was one such person. And, though he didn’t like to admit it to himself or anyone else, Geralt did care about Jaskier being happy and content, even if it seemed like a silly reason to be so upset over. If Geralt didn’t care about it, why did Jaskier? Still, the bard could be persistent, and might as well humor him even if he wasn’t, after all, it was just hand holding. Even if it was something that Geralt rather not think about, or talk about. Even if it was easier to pretend he didn’t care.

Swinging off Roach, Geralt gripped the reins with one hand. The other reached out, and slow disentangled Jaskier’s right hand from his left. Looking straightforward again, Geralt grumbled; “There. Happy?”

“Mhmm.” The bard hummed in reply, and gave Geralt’s hand a squeeze. Geralt huffed slightly, but he had to admit, it was nice to hold hands, as if a small, quiet part inside of him was suddenly glad to be connected to someone, to be able to share such a mundane and human connection with another. It passed a spell over him, seemingly, and for a moment he was incredibly content.

“So, what about a kiss?” Jaskier’s playful voice broke through the reverie and Geralt’s stomach took a flip. He went to remove his hand, but Jaskier had a strong grip, and held on. “I’m kidding!” He assured, and laughed slightly. Geralt simply grunted, and tried to ignore the slight burning beneath his cheeks. Still he made no attempt to separate himself from Jaskier again, and, as they walked towards whatever new adventure was awaiting the pair, Geralt reflected that he was quite content where he was, and was grateful for the bard, and for whatever strange humor Fate had been in when linking the two together.

#sorry for such a long time between this and the last fic #to be fair I started a different fic #you can find that one on ao3 cause haven't finished it yet #fanfiction #the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher fanfic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #fanfic #still not much to tag

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thenewlarislynn · 4 years

Text

In The Spotlight

Chapter Two

Pairing: Actor!Loki x Reader

<First Chapter

Next Chapter>

Word Count: Approx. 1.2k

~~~

Morning light filtered through the apartment window and you blinked awake. Your head felt heavy and you sighed as you struggled to sit up. Yawning, you took a look around the room, trying to recall why you were in Meg’s apartment.

That was when everything came back in a flash. “Hey sleepyhead,” Meg called from the kitchen. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” you responded with a smile. “Thank you again, I’m sorry this was all so last minute. Everything happened all at once.”

“It’s alright,” she said soothingly. “I’m making pancakes for breakfast, why don’t you come in here and tell me all about it.”

Nodding, you stood up and walked into the kitchen. You could smell the sweet aroma of pancake batter and couldn’t help but grin. She knew what would make you feel better. “I hope you didn’t go to any trouble making these, you’ve already so much.”

“Oh nonsense! Besides, I was already up. You know how much I love my sunrise meditation.”

‘Of course she would get up early,‘ you thought to yourself, taking a seat at the table. That was so like her. “Well, where should I begin? The fight with my mother or the handsome stranger I almost cussed out?”

She smirked, “How about we start at the very beginning and then make our way to your new boyfriend.”

“Oh very funny,” you laughed. “But it all started yesterday afternoon, when I was looking for a job online. Evidently only job searching theatre companies is a crime in that house. My mom told me to start searching for a ‘real job’, and I told her that theatre could be a ‘real job’.”

“Technically if you’re being paid for goods or services anything is a real job,” Meg interjected.

“I pointed that out,” you nodded. “And that’s when she really lost it. Apparently I was being nothing but a good-for-nothing freeloader, and she was sick of it.” You looked down, trying to blink away the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

Although you could never explain it, you always sought your mother’s approval. After your dad left, you chased after support from the only parental figure you had left. That ended up being a bad decision. No matter what you tried, your mom shut you down. All she wanted for you was ‘the best’, or so she claimed. But she never asked what you thought was best. Sometimes it seemed she never really cared.

“Oh sweetie it’s alright, you know you can cry here.” Meg put a hand on your shoulder and you let the tears fall.

“I told her that I didn’t need her seal of approval on my career choice. That was when she told me to get out. Told me that I couldn’t come back until I had an actual career.”

“You don’t need her to be your only support system. I will always be here, no matter what road you take in life.”

Now there was no stopping the tears from falling, and you wiped them away quickly before whispering a quick, “Thank you.”

Meg placed a plate of pancakes in front of you, “I think that’s enough talking about her. Now, why don’t you tell me about this mysterious stranger who swept you off your feet.”

“More like almost swept me out of the parking lot,” you clarified with a light laugh. “Well, he was tall, with shoulder length black hair with these piercing eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were blue or green, but he was gorgeous. Anyways, he took my place at the only gas pump at the station.”

Shaking her head, she took a sip of coffee, “That’s such a jerk move. Did he at least apologize?”

“Not exactly,” you began, not sure how to explain the interaction you had with him. “He handed me fifty dollars and took off. It was weird, to say the least.”

“It’s always the handsome ones that think they can get away with whatever they want. But there’s something familiar…” Meg glanced at you and then looked down. “It’s probably nothing but,” her brow furrowed. “I feel like I know him. Or at least recognize him from somewhere. That description just reminds me of someone, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”

An alarm went off on her phone, causing you both to jump. “Sorry,” she laughed, silencing it, “I have to get to work. Although I can call off today if you want me to.”-

“No Meg, really, it’s fine. Besides, I need to try and do some job searching today. But, if you do happen to figure out anything about our mysterious stranger just text me,” you shot her a mischievous grin.

“Sure thing,” she gave you a quick hug before heading out the door.

With a sad smile, you finished the rest of your breakfast. As usual, it was delicious, making you feel a slight twinge of jealousy at her cooking skills. After placing the plates in the dishwasher, you pulled out your laptop.

“Alright,” you said to yourself. Time to find a job.”

Apparently finding a “real” job in the city wasn’t as easy you pictured. Fifteen job searches later, you almost felt like giving up. Sighing, you decided to take a personality test to find a career well-suited to you. Unsurprisingly, the result was Performing Arts. Of course it was.

Shaking your head, you pulled up the website for the local theatre. Although it wasn’t Broadway level, it was still a large company. It was unlikely you would find anything, but it was worth a try.

An advertisement for their upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet appeared, and you had to stifle a laugh. Sure, it’s a big name play, but it had been so overdone. Scanning the page, you tried to find a link for auditions. Finally, a small tab that read “Audition Today!’ caught your eye.

Clicking on the link, your heart seized. Apparently when they said “Audition Today” they meant it. There was an open workshop for paid extra roles and today was the final day. There was no harm in just looking into it, right?

The workshop began at 2, which gave you just less than four hours to get ready. Risking a glance in the mirror, you grimaced. You had some serious work to do.

Once you had your hair fixed the way you liked it, you moved onto makeup. You weren’t sure whether you would need full stage makeup or a natural look, so you opted for a mix. Basic makeup with a bold lip and hint more blush than usual. There, that should work.

Looking back at the page, you double checked the requirements. From what you saw, all you needed was a valid form of identification. That should be easy enough. Searching through your purse, you fumbled for your driver’s license.

Dumping everything out of your purse your heart raced. It wasn’t there. Your brain automatically jumped to the worst case scenario, that it was still at your mom’s place. Then you realized that wouldn’t be possible since you had it with you at the gas station.

It was still at the gas station. At least you hoped it was.

~~~

Taglist:

@chxrryycola

@greenbeansarelit

I haven't been feeling my best these past few days so this chapter is a bit shorter, sorry! Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Love you all! <3

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elodieunderglass · 5 years

Note

Hey Elodie. :) so I was reading your moss post and I had a question: you know those algae lights that they want to put everywhere? How does that work? If the CO2 goes to making biomass of a plant, how is algae so good at making O2 when there isn't a ton of it physically? I mean presumably it is pretty good at it cause afaik that's where the O2 on earth came from to begin with?

(in reference to my general grumpiness about people’s claims that moss sequesters more carbon than is physically possible)

To engage with this post, you’ll first need to know that photosynthetic organisms absorb carbon dioxide and break the molecule apart. Carbon dioxide consists of a carbon atom and two oxygen atoms. These organisms keep the carbon atom and release the two oxygen atoms. This is how plants turn carbon dioxide into oxygen. The carbon atom goes into their biomass. Right now, there is too much carbon dioxide in our atmosphere, caused by the burning of carbon, which reacts with oxygen when burned to form carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. This is making the atmosphere too hot. As our economies depend on burning carbon, people do not want to stop doing it. Many people are now interested in “absorbing the carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere” in order to survive on the planet. The problem is, as I point out, that the atoms of carbon have to go SOMEWHERE. Carbon dioxide doesn’t just magically turn into oxygen - the C atom is still there. And when plants break CO2 down, they need to do something with the carbon - they use it to grow. The C atom goes to making the biomass of the plant. If you see a product that claims to use plants to suck enormous amounts of CO2 out of the air (I argue) you should look for the biomass that it will produce. If you can’t see where the carbon went, it’s probably not real.

Anyway! Ah! It’s a good question! but there is a ton of algae physically! And it does make biomass! Lots of it! PLANETS FULL OF IT! It’s its best trick. And it grows very quickly, too. The fact that algae still produce a huge chunk of the oxygen we use today is a big clue to the fact that there is Really Quite A Lot of It. Anyone who has ever had an aquarium can attest to how quickly algae can increase its biomass. That’s where the carbon goes! Into the biomass! That’s where the oxygen comes from! It’s discarded as a product of all that growth! There’s a huge amount of it!

I’m just going to dump this whole quote from a relevant paper here:

There are several reasons for the greater biomass yields of algae versus land plants. Generally, algae have higher photosynthetic efficiency than land plants because of greater abilities to capture light and convert it to usable chemical energy (Melis 2009, Weyer et al. 2010). Under ideal growth conditions algae direct most of their energy into cell division (6- to 12-hour cycle), allowing for rapid biomass accumulation. Also, unlike plants, unicellular algae do not partition large amounts of biomass into supportive structures such as stems and roots* that are energetically expensive to produce and often difficult to harvest and process for biofuel production. In addition, algae have carbon-concentrating mechanisms that suppress photorespiration (Spalding 2008, Jansson and Northen 2010). With algae, all the biomass can be harvested at any time of the year, rather than seasonally. In contrast, only a portion of the total biomass of terrestrial crops (corn cob, soybean seed) is harvested once a year

* this means that instead of slowly growing into a more complicated structure, like plants do, algae just doubles and doubles and doubles. FYI, moss is a plant. algae is not. algae can casually double its mass even caring, and that’s where the carbon goes: literally into LITERALLY doubling the biomass, INCREDIBLY quickly. Moss will not. Moss will grow, become more complicated, and eventually flower - all quite slowly, in comparison.

Anyway, here is a picture from the paper, showing the Biomass. you can see exactly where the carbon is going. There is so much carbon being made here, they’re literally turning it into ... oil?

Yeah... oil. Algae fuel is considered to be a reasonable replacement for fossil fuels. (starting link here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Algae_fuel). Algae fuel is used as reliable gimmick in science fiction, as a renewable fuel that spaceships can generate as they go - the handwaving possibilities are endless: ‘ooh, here’s a thing that takes the waste breath of human crew and makes fuel and oxygen out of it. hurray!’

So you may be like, “oh Elodie, but surely burning carbon-based fuels contributes to climate change, because it releases CO2, so uhhhh why would you bother replacing fossil fuels with a slightly fresher version of the same product?”

and I’m like “YEAH I KNOW RIGHT? the argument is that because algae removes the CO2 from the air, and burning the oil releases the same amount of CO2, it’s argued that it’s a carbon-neutral fuel. the carbon goes in, the carbon goes out. The algae puts it into the atmosphere and it takes it back out. it’s always the same carbon.”

WHICH. THE MATH CHECKS OUT, BUT I DON’T LIKE IT. The argument for developing algae fuels is that the math works out as carbon-neutral, and that it reduces reliance on the oil industry and its geopolitics, as every nation on Earth can easily grow and refine their own oil. BUT I STILL DON’T LIKE IT.

Anyway, the trick here is to look for the biomass. In the diagram above, YOU CAN SEE WHERE IT IS. The carbon goes from the carbon dioxide into the algae, where it can be made into carbon-based fuel. The carbon is THERE. it is FOUND. The peer-reviewed, heavily researched industry is so confident in the math, and the carbon, and the physical laws of photosynthesis that algae can genuinely be called a carbon-neutral fuel. The carbon has been AUDITED. the mass is KNOWN.

So what about those “algae lamps that [THEY] want to put everywhere?” I know exactly what you’re talking about. They are glowing street lamp things full of algae and they have the amazing claim of “fixing as much carbon dioxide as 200 trees.”

Those appear to be bullshit. Sorry.

However, on Tumblr, you will find a lot of posts about the algae lamps. I know. I’ve seen them. And I really wanted to believe in them! I may have even reblogged one! But then I just couldn’t find any more evidence about them. And neither could these science bloggers who tried to track down ANY ANSWERS AT ALL in 2012, https://www.citylab.com/life/2012/04/streetlight-powered-algae-actually-possible/1854/ and again in 2015. https://www.zmescience.com/science/biology/the-green-algae-street-lamps-that-suck-up-co2/

The algae were reported on in 2012 and 2013 as a funky startup invention, but apparently, only one lamp was ever made. The inventor, an utterly obscure man known as Pierre Calleja, does not appear to have a scholarly record and his scientific qualifications are a bit murky. A few scientists appeared to have asked, “Since algae grows so quickly, what will you do when they overgrow the container/ block the light?” and “Anyone who has maintained an aquarium know that removing the algae - even if you want algae! is part of maintenance; won’t these require a huge amount of maintenance?” and there was no answer. There was definitely no peer-reviewed research. The claim of “fixing as much carbon as 200 trees” (by generating equivalent biomass) cannot be backed up because all of the actual materials have disappeared from the web. The TED talk he did is gone. The startup has vanished. The website is gone. Considering that it attracted millions of dollars of investments, that’s sad news for stakeholders, but normal for a startup based on an idea easily blocked by the question, “don’t you need to clean it.”

Calleja reappeared in the news in 2017, having left the lamp startup (the article has some explanations - apparently the issue was ‘finance people’) and now he wants to make vegetarian smoked salmon out of algae. https://thefishsite.com/articles/algae-can-spearhead-a-culinary-revolution So I think it’s fair to say that the lamps didn’t work and aren’t going anywhere and have disappointed a lot of people and wasted a lot of money. However, I like his new project better. It’s obvious where the biomass is going. It’s going into the fake meat! Carry on, Pierre!

“They” are not going to put them “everywhere” because there is no secret panel of “Them” who, like, Decide Things. There was one inventor, a few reporters who talked about him, no scientific research, no marketable product was ever created, and now the creator is trying to generate fish. Just because that post has 6 bajillion notes on Tumblr doesn’t mean it’s real.

(It’s a bit awkward because two of the science communicators who reported on the lamps are friends of mine, and I know that they simply reported on it in good faith as an interesting bit of pop news, based on the now-vanished TED talk. The tumblr post in the screencap claims its source as Jess’s 2012 snippet from the Grist, which was just meant to be a cheerful description of a cool Youtube video of Pierre Calleja’s TED talk... which has now vanished from the internet entirely. She wasn’t reporting on research, just pointing out a cool video. But yeah, the ‘‘‘‘‘source’‘‘‘‘‘‘ for the Tumblr post we’ve all seen is ... literally just my friend, mentioning a cool TED talk she saw. in 2012. Which is now gone. Because the startup folded with its tail between its legs. And people are using it as a ‘source’, which I don’t think is fair!)

#conservation and ecology #climate change #dark internet show me the forbidden biomass #kyidyl

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mypassionfortrash · 4 years

Text

Nothing Serious (Part Nine)

You join Roger in Montreux as Queen prepare to record their next album, and spend time exploring the city... and each other.

Pairing: Roger Taylor x f!reader Warnings: Filth, daddy kink, STRICTLY 18+ Notes: I forgot about this. Sorry. If you like this fic, please reblog it!

💫 CATCH UP HERE! 💫

Tags: @jennyggggrrr; @sarahgurl09; @sunshine112; @biscuit-barrel; @sitonmyhot-seatoflove; @jhoemazzellhoe; @justgivemethekeys; @qweenly; @picturepowderinabottle

You and Roger sat in the back of the car in stunned silence. You had your nosed pressed up against the glass, admiring the view of Lac Leman.

Roger admired you admiring the view.

From the snowy peaks of the alps on the French side, to the cobbled streets and cosy bars in Lausanne, Vevey and Clarens, you were positively enthralled on the journey from Geneva Airport to Montreux.

You and Roger didn’t even have to make proper, joined up conversation. All he had to do was listen to your awe struck outbursts, pointing out yet another feature he had probably seen many times before on his way to Mountain Studios. Every now and again, he’d give your fingers a supportive squeeze, letting you know that he heard you.

There was something about Montreux alone; above all the other towns you passed on your journey. Something magical. Something that you just couldn’t put your finger on. It made your fears disappear and your worries drift away; home felt like a distant memory. It soothed you with blue skies, and sprawling lake views, and mediterranean-looking buildings with pastel facades and ornate balconies.

“We’re almost there.”

You turned to Roger, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “This is more beautiful than you said.”

“We should go exploring later,” he said, brushing his fingers over your thigh. “There’s a lot of nice little bars and restaurants here. We’ll be staying a block away from the studio. Right about… here,” he said nodding towards a block of bright yellow apartments with stacks of generous balconies. To your right, they offered sprawling lake views against a backdrops of snow-tipped mountains. To your left, you had to crane your neck just to spy the top of the densely-populated hillside.

“Oh,” you sighed, admiring the building and all its exquisite views, “it’s stunning.”

“They really are. You can’t beat a bottle of wine and watching the sun set from up there.”

“It’s perfect for it,” you said, getting out of the car and opening the boot, much to your chauffeur’s dismay. “It’s fine, I’ve got this,” you told him, carting your luggage out and on to the pavement.

“She’s got it,” Roger laughed, taking his own suitcases. “Thank you.”

Standing at the door to the building, you and Roger exchanged excited glances and bolstering sighs, before linking your fingers together. Wandering into the lobby, the atmosphere struck you. It looked and smelled like money and excess and opulence, with shiny slate grey flooring and clean white walls. There were no chandeliers or gold trims. It was a modern kind of rich. A sickening, classy kind of rich. That you actually kind of liked.

A petite, brunette receptionist greeted you both: “Bonjour Monsieur Taylor. Et Madame.”

“Bonjour, Gaudine,” Roger said, wandering over to the desk. “Do you have my key?”

“Oui – voila!” she said, handing Roger the key. “We’ve cleaned the apartment and it’s ready for your stay. We have put champagne in your fridge and done a bit of shopping so that you have everything you need. If you need anything, just call.”

“Merci beaucoup, Gaudine,” Roger smiled, placing his hand at the small of your back and leading you towards the lift.

You pressed the button and the door slid open in a moment of slick convenience. When the pair of you got inside, you slumped against opposite sides of the compartment, swapping wild grins. You could tell from the way Roger’s eyes devoured every detail of your body that he was dreaming up everything he was going to do to you once you got to the flat.

Roger chewed his lip. His breath laboured. Pinpricks of desire seared from his chest to his cheeks, flushing him a delightful shade of pink. As the lift ascended, so did his need and his lust. And when the door finally pinged open, he grabbed your arm and hauled you down the corridor towards the flat.

Discarding your bags at the door, you pounced on him, sending his back flying against the wall.

But he was swift to take control, turning around and hiking your thighs up around his waist making you cling to him for dear life. “You didn’t put your knickers back on, did you?” he purred in your ear.

You were too busy undoing his jeans to answer him; his cock already stood at attention, thick, intimidating and ready to slip into the next available hole.

“You dirty girl.” Slipping his cock through your pink, swollen folds, Roger pushed into you.

Feverish and urgent, you ground your hips against his grasp as you gasped at being filled so deliciously again. The sharp, snappy rhythm he settled into made you clench around him.

“What are you Kitten?” Roger growled.

In the throes of delirium, you couldn’t find the words to respond to him. You could only bear to focus on his cock, pumping away at you. In deep, wet passes, he bottomed out inside you time and time again. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders, and his neck, and his hair to find something to cling on to to steady yourself. But he was all the support you needed with his body pressed tight against you. He was all over you.

His chin nestled into your neck, biting down on your skin, rougher and more ravenously with each thrust. “Touch yourself for me, Kitten,” he growled in your ear. “I want to feel that tight cunt of yours milking my cock when you come.”

If those words of his were enough to shoot sparks of bliss straight between your legs, then god knows what your fingers coupling with his efforts might do to you, you thought as you mindlessly started to draw circles over your clit. An almighty whine escaped you. So loud that you prayed the walls were thick enough to stop the neighbours hearing. And then another. And another. You had to fight to stifle them on Roger’s neck as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through your aching body as you tried to stay clinging to Roger. Quiet whimpers, of “yes Daddy,” or, “right there, Daddy,” were absorbed by the collar of his shirt. And that only made his movements more purposeful as you writhed uncontrollably.

“Good girl,” he coaxed. “Come for me, Kitten. Come for Daddy.”

You frantically rubbed and rubbed until your cunt milked Roger’s cock for every drop of cum he could fill you with.

Roger had to prop you up until you caught your breath and regained some semblance of control.

“You alright, darling?” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

“Yes, Daddy–Roger! Sorry,” you sighed, smoothing down your dress and clenching your thighs together.

Roger shook his head with a smirk. “We’ll be having more of than now we’re out here. And I love it when you get all awkward on me, Kitten,” he said, fixing your hair for you. “The bathroom’s there on your right. Clean yourself up and I’ll show you the rest of the flat.”

“Yeah,” you said dreamily, sauntering through to the bathroom. You locked the door behind you and eyed yourself in the mirror with a jolt of horror. Had you really walked through Geneva airport with your hair sticking up in all directions and your mascara caked underneath your eyes? Or the buttons on your dress all askew and misaligned? And those mysterious stains at the back? You clearly hadn’t done as good a job of cleaning yourself up on the plane as you thought you had. And why didn’t Roger tell you? “Fuck,” you laughed to yourself, dragging out a tuft of tissues and bending over the sink to get a better view of your misplaced makeup.

You swiped the tissues underneath your eyes, smearing the thick black gunk off your face. And then you turned your attention towards the rest of your body. Flying had a habit of drying out your skin and making you feel like the grossest thing on two legs; you could practically feel the slurry of germs that crawled all over your body.

In the corner of the room, by the back window that looked out on to the alpine view, stood a sparkling red bath tub. It called out to you, promising that you could be clean in no time.

“Roger!” you shouted.

You heard shuffling coming from outside the bathroom door. “Yes, Kitten?”

“Can you go through my bags and get me something nice to wear and my wash bag please?”

“Of course, darling.”

“Thanks,” you said, flicking off the lock on the door. Setting about throwing off your dress and your bra, you leaned over the tub and put the tap on, sending water cascading into it. Above the tub, there were columns of black and white shelves, stocked with all the expensive looking lotions and potions anyone could ever need. You saw one interesting looking jar, like something out of a sweet shop, bearing the label, ‘pine and patchouli bath salts.’ That would do. You grabbed the bottle and dumped a capful into the boiling hot water. And then went back to eying up the rest of Roger’s accoutrements.

It turned out he was a big fan of lavender and sage, too; you grabbed the soap and the lotion, not caring if they matched your bath salts. And then the bubble bath. How could you forget that? Throwing a generous splodge into the water, you looked down, like a witch admiring her brew, as the bubbles doubled.

“I see you’ve found my spa stash,” a voice from behind you chuckled.

You turned to find Roger laying out towels and a set of pyjamas on the bench at the bathroom door.

“Sorry, I needed something after that flight. I haven’t forgotten what you told me about what Steven Tyler gets up to in that plane.”

“Those salts are fantastic when my shoulders are acting up,” he commented with a nod towards the sweetie bottle.

“Do you want to join me, Daddy?” you asked. You felt emboldened again, running your hands up Roger’s chest, making sure you squeezed his aching shoulders. They were still tense, but surely not out of sexual frustration, you thought to yourself.

“Could do with a quick dunk,” Roger shrugged. He watched as your fingers unfastened the buttons on his shirt one by one. His voice shook from the contact. “Why don’t I get that lovely bottle of champagne from the fridge?”

“Be quick,” you warned, giving him a pat on his bare chest. “I’m not done with you yet, Daddy.”

Roger moved faster than you had ever seen him go, taking him all of thirty seconds to pluck the bottle of champagne from the fridge and locate a couple of glasses in the kitchen, before he returned to find you already sitting comfortably in the tub, stretching out your legs under a blanket of soft, heady bubbles.

“Do you want to do the honours, Kitten?” he asked, handing you the bottle.

“Don’t mind if I do, Daddy,” you purred, taking it from his grasp. You watched with your hand wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle as Roger shuffled out of the rest of his clothes, sporting the beginnings of yet another hard on, and stepped into the tub in front of you. You flicked your eyes to his as you bit your lip, sending a visible shiver through him. That raging confidence you had in the beginning was back with a vengeance and nothing was going to stop you from making your time in Montreux as memorable, and as debauched, as you could. “Ready, Daddy?”

Roger woke up in a pile of white silk sheets. The sheer curtain billowed into the room in smoky swathes in time to the cool lakeside breeze, wafting wisps for freshly brewed coffee into the room. He groaned, propping himself up on his elbows to take in the sight of the empty room. You were nowhere to be seen. The culprit for all of his aches and pains, bestowed upon him the night before, was gone. “Darling?” he groaned, sitting upright and scratching his chest. His head pounded and his vision hadn’t quite acclimatised to seeing daylight. “You there?”

Shuffling came from the balcony, then you peeked into the room. Only half of your body was visible to him, as you leaned against the door frame.

“Good morning, Daddy.”

Roger’s lips curled into a devilish smirk. The thoughts of everything you got up to on your first night together in Montreux raced through his brain so vividly that his hips got the message straight away. He tilted his head back and eyed you through his lashes as you stepped into the room. “Good morning, Kitten,” he purred.

Perching at the end of the bed, you dragged a hand up Roger’s leg over the sheets. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Sore,” he laughed, giving his shoulder a rub.

You pouted and pondered. “Let me get you a lovely big cup of coffee and I’ll help you work out all those aches and pains,” you said, continuing to massage Roger’s leg.

“That sounds lovely, darling, thank you.”

You wandered back through to the balcony and poured Roger some coffee. So enthralled by your surroundings, the cup almost overflowed. From the way the mid morning sun shimmered over the lake to the snowy peaks of the mountains. This was heaven. And it felt a million miles away from home – and Ibiza. You relished that feeling of giddy optimism as you carried the cup back through to the bedroom to find that Roger was missing.

“Where are you, Roggie?” you called, peering out into the hall.

“Brushing my teeth,” Roger responded through a mouthful of toothpaste. He spat so he could speak more clearly. “And making myself more presentable for you, my love.”

“Don’t be too long,” you grinned, settling down among the covers.

When he arrived back at the bedroom, he hobbled towards you, clutching his aching hip, and pressing at the small of his back. His hair was mussed and messy, and he wore nothing but a short, silk, tiger print robe. And his circular glasses sat daintily perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted, but that didn’t stop you from eagerly patting the space beside you and thrusting the cup of coffee into his hands to get started on the fun part of your morning.

You slunk behind him, wrapping your legs around his body and pressing your chest to his back, dragging the fine layer of material from his body. It slipped down his arms, leaving his top half completely naked under your touch.

Tension radiated from Roger’s body as he sank another mouthful of rich, black coffee to stifle his nerves.

Your fingertips pressed against either side of his back, where his shoulders met his neck and he moaned in bliss. “Sore there?” you asked.

“Mmm, I’m really showing my age, aren’t I?” he laughed.

“Lucky for you, I think there’s something about senior citizens I find particularly alluring,” you joked, working at the knots on his shoulders.

“Fat wallets?”

“Well, I mean, it helps. But fat something else,” you replied.

“God you’re filthy.”

“It’s your fault,” you said, rubbing his back extra hard to make him squeal.

Roger’s voice faltered, coming down from the bolt of pain, quickly succeeded by the loosening of one of the pressure points on his back. “Oh, why’s that?” he asked.

“I used to be an angel before I met you. And now? All I care about is private jets, champagne and getting shagged anywhere, anytime. How’s that for a change.”

Roger leaned back against you, pinning you between himself and the headboard as he looked up at you with his big tired doe eyes. “Well, for what it’s worth, I quite like the new you, Kitten.”

“Is that right?” you laughed, tickling your fingernails over his chest. “How’s your back feeling?”

“Much much better. I swear you’ve got magic hands.”

“And what’s on our agenda for today?”

“I was hoping I could show you around,” he smiled. “We’ve got a whole day before everyone else gets here. And we won’t have a moment to ourselves afterwards.” Then his voice descended into a naughty, mischievous whisper: “So I was hoping, if you’ll let me, we could make the most of it and be absolute heathens for the rest of the day.”

You placed a long, drawn out kiss to the top of Roger’s head and squeezed him tightly. “That sounds absolutely perfect. Especially the part about us being heathens. That suits us down to a tee, don’t you think, Daddy?”

“It really does, Kitten.”

“Well, I’m going to go and get myself ready,” you explained, untying the front of Roger’s robe to reveal his cock, resting against his stomach. Hard and fully erect. “And you can take care of that.”

“Can’t you do it for me?” Roger pouted. “That mouth of yours looks awfully tempting.”

“I’ll tell you what,” you began, “why don’t I let you know when you’re allowed to take care of it? See how long you last?”

“Oh you’re cruel,” he sighed, watching you slip off the bed and wander over to the wardrobe.

Searching through your clothes to find the optimal outfit to tease Roger in, you glanced over your shoulder. He was still sitting there, looking down at his cock, wondering whether he’d risk disobeying you. “I wonder what you’re like when you’re all needy,” you pondered.

“And what happens if I get myself off anyway?”

“I don’t think you want to know, Daddy. You’re right – I can be very, very cruel.”

Dressed and ready to face the day, you and Roger stepped out into the August sunshine. Midday wasn’t far around the corner and the sun bathed the promenade in a brilliant orange glow. Arm in arm, the pair of you strolled down towards the shimmering blue lake.

You turned your head as you walked, catching the smug grin plastered on Roger’s features. Moving closer to him, you purred in his ear. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself there, Roggie.”

“I’m out in my favourite town with the woman of my dreams. Why wouldn’t I be pleased with myself?” His voice was hushed, but jovial.

“I think you’ve been naughty, Daddy,” you whispered, leading Roger along the promenade towards the marketplace. “We can’t have that, can we?”

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked without so much as a flicker of fear or apprehension.

You chuckled, continuing to walk as your eyes darted from the revellers to the ornate facades on the lakefront buildings, letting the scenery brush against your sense of awareness, but never fully grasping it. Until, between a restaurant and a hotel, a cobbled alleyway caught your eye. You veered off your tranquil course, leading Roger towards the main road and away from the lake. “You’re going to be very sorry you disobeyed me once today’s over,” you cooed. The alleyway seemed to stretch up to the sky, spurring off into labyrinthine offshoots even darker and quieter than the next. Losing your breath about half way up the cobbled hill, you tugged Roger into an offshoot, pressing him against the wall. “You’re going to be so, so sorry, Daddy.”

Roger raised his eyebrows and scowled. “Just you try it, sweetheart.”

Palming at the bulge in Roger’s jeans with one hand, you pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and looked up at Roger.

He just let it happen. It was all he could do, staring up at the clear blue sky and chuckling to himself. In his mind, he had everything to be pleased about; he had earned himself a free handjob – maybe more if he played his cards right. But that was all he wanted.

The bustle of the promenade wasn’t far out of earshot and if he allowed you to allow him get too carried away, you risked being found out for the pair of perverts you really were. And he couldn’t let that happen.

But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. Undoing Roger’s jeans, you took his cock out; thick, hard and begging for your attention. Eyeing him up for any sign that he might be enjoying this, you pumped your hand over his length, gathering pace until you could hear each moist pass in your quiet alcove.

Roger sighed, jerking his hips into your grasp when your thumb brushed over the swollen tip. “Fuck,” he hissed, his lower lip clamped between his teeth.

“Enjoying this, Daddy?”

“Oh god, yes, Kitten. Keep going. Be quick.”

An evil flicker bolted through your eyes as you grinned up at him, relishing how worked up he became at nothing at all. “I’m gonna have to use my mouth. I know how much you love that,” you teased, sinking down on to your knees. The cobblestones were uncomfortable at best, but you’d only be in that position for a few minutes. And it’d be worth it, you thought, lapping at the underside of his shaft in lazy, wet strokes, groaning for effect. You felt the muscles in his thighs twinge when you grabbed them to steady yourself. And then his fingers, snaked their way through your hair. He wanted you to take him. To give him what he wanted there and then. But you were in control of this. Moving away from his cock with a pop of your lips and a clear thread of saliva tethering you to him, you got off your knees and wiped your chin.

Roger whined like a wounded animal. “You can’t leave me like this, Kitten!”

“Oh, but I can, Daddy. You didn’t do as you were told this morning,” you scolded, wandering back down the cobbled alleyway, leaving him scrambling to catch up.

“But,” Roger protested, shoving his engorged member back into his jeans, “it’s so fucking obvious. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. “Where to next?”

Roger’s mouth hung open for a moment, looking around. “We could take a boat to Chateau de Chillon?”

“Is it nice?” you asked, turning to him and placing your hand over your eyes to shield them from the rays.

“It’s gorgeous,” he blustered, leaning in to your ear. “Lots of places for you to finish sucking my cock without getting caught.”

“Whether or not you get to finish is up to me today, remember?” you scolded. “Now which way to the boats?”

Roger paled at how direct you were. How easily you took control. And how you somehow managed to turn his legs to mush with even the slightest telling off. He looked left and he looked right, and then he pointed to a jetty three blocks away. “It’s this way.”

You grabbed Roger’s arm and set off towards the small jetty of tourist boats, bobbing away in the water.

Roger’s efforts to conceal his raging hard-on didn’t go unnoticed by you. He attempted to walk behind you, hoping your handbag would hide his crotch. Then he tried grasping at the hem on his shirt, tugging it down only for it to ride up again. You could tell he was getting flustered, eager to sit down and finally cover the tent in his jeans by crossing his arms protectively over his front. In fact, when you boarded the shabby boat, you swore he had never looked so relieved.

You and Roger sat in silence on opposite sides, exchanging lustful glances the whole way there. Every so often, your gaze trailed down to his crotch, which he so desperately kept covered beneath his hands. You licked your lips and bit them for effect just so you could see your boyfriend squirm in front of a boat full of tourists.

All in all, the journey only took ten minutes but in Roger’s mind, it felt like an eternity. He didn’t care where, or how you did it, all he needed was release. He mentally kicked himself for disobeying you that morning.

Stepping off the boat and on to the wooden jetty, Roger practically dragged you in the direction of the ticket booth, paying for both of your tickets.

“Where to first, Daddy?” you asked innocently.

Roger scanned the courtyard for the one entrance he knew he could count on. His eyes lit up when he found it. “I know just the place, Kitten,” he said excitedly, striding on ahead of you.

You snorted at his eagerness as he took two steep stone steps at a time, descending into the dark bowels of the castle into a deserted cellar.

Roger paused, glancing around. “Let’s go this way,” he ordered, jabbing his finger into the darkness ahead of you both.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet so you can finish me off.”

“No chance,” you jibed.

Roger stopped dead and pushed you against the wall. In the darkness you could just about make out his shoulders rising and falling. “Why don’t we play a game then, darling?” he said, running his hand over your throat so tantalisingly it went straight to your core.

“I love games,” you mocked.

“First one to come today gets a punishment,” he purred, hiking up the hem of your dress. “I wonder how long you’ll last. Oh,” he paused, palming at your slit. “No knickers and a short little dress? I think you’re really trying to tease me.”

That submissive streak inside you simmered away under the surface. “I didn’t think I’d need them,” you sighed, spreading your legs for him. “Seeing how hard you get for me just gets me so wet. I’d have soaked right through them.”

Roger chuckled, and kissed your neck, lulling you into a false sense of security.

It made you wonder when the catch would come. You always suspected Roger had a sadistic streak in him, and you always wondered what it’d be like to push the limits of his happy-go-lucky nature. Maybe today was that day?

But he was so gentle, so careful. Caressing that sweet spot between your legs with feather light touches that earned stifled, breathless moans from you. Never once did his fingers move with any kind of intent, other than to draw you out for as long as possible. And he clearly adored it.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours as he continued to tease you until his fingers were completely coated in your slick. “I think you like this, Kitten,” he whispered.

“I really do, Daddy.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll let you come if you put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“You’re going to need to try harder,” you sassed.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said in a wicked tone.

Before you could choke out another sassy retort, Roger slipped two fingers inside you, curling them up against that one spot guaranteed to make you squeal his name. Then another finger joined them, stretching you out with squelching wet strokes that cut through the dark, quiet cellar. His fingers fucked you, while his thumb circled your clit in firm motions that ratcheted up the tension in your legs with every single round. “Tell me again how I need to try harder, Kitten?”

You grasped and clawed at his shoulders for stability in the throes of pure ecstasy. “Oh god, not here Daddy!”

Roger chuckled, burying his face against your neck to get better access to all the sensitive skin to drag his teeth over. “That’s what you get for teasing me, Kitten,” he whispered, his breath falling in hot feathery wisps on your skin. “Now, you can finish me here and now, or I can make you come and give you a nice punishment when we get back to the flat tonight.”

“I swear I’ll finish you,” you panted. “Please.”

Roger smirked, removing his fingers from your cunt, leaving them saturated. He pressed them to your lips. “Suck them clean,” he commanded, popping them into your mouth before your brain could register what was going on. “Hopefully this’ll teach you not to get mouthy with me.”

You hummed, wrapping your lips around each finger as he pumped them in and out of your mouth until they were all clean, wishing they were still buried in your dripping snatch. You swore your thighs were a mess by that point. But it didn’t matter. You had to let Roger believe that he was getting exactly what he wanted from you – it was all part of the plan.

You grabbed his hand and started wandering ahead, but Roger stayed firmly rooted to the spot.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“We need to find some privacy, Roger. We can’t do that right here,” you whispered.

“Can’t we?” Roger smirked, nodding towards a short wall in the dark recesses of the cellar. “Pretty sure that’s private enough.”

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. If it beat any more violently, it might have burst right out. You walked slowly behind the wall and got to your knees for the second time that day as Roger joined you, hastily tugging down his zipper and pulling out his cock.

Roger wasn’t planning on playing nice. Grabbing the back of your hair with one hand, while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, he looked down and smirked. “Now, be a good girl and open that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

Before you knew it, he had bottomed out; the tip pushing at the back of your throat. You gagged and spluttered and fumbled for something to steady yourself. You clung to Roger’s thighs for dear life. The pace he had set for you was utterly blistering. The kind of face fucking that instantly sent mascara cascading down your cheeks, and great, long strings of saliva dripping from your chin and on to your chest. The sounds of you gagging on his cock alone were disgustingly lewd; even concealed behind the tiny wall, if a rogue tourist happened upon the cellar, they’d hear the pair of you and know straight away what you were getting up to.

“Such a good little slut, aren’t you Kitten?” he sighed, thrusting into your mouth with reckless abandon and no consideration for the state of your hair, or your makeup. “I love girls who do as they’re told.”

The words pouring from his mouth were sheer filth and it went straight to your cunt. You couldn’t resist reaching down to get yourself off.

But then, Roger tugged you off his cock. Right before any kind of pleasure registered in your brain.

“I didn’t say you could come, did I, Kitten?” he scolded.

You were still panting, trying to suck some air into your lungs, relishing the brief reprieve he offered from his onslaught. Your brain was so cloudy that words weren’t on the agenda.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” he purred with a sadistic edge. “You get to play with that tight little cunt of yours, and I get to come wherever I like. How does that sound?”

“Sounds reasonable,” you sighed with a delirious smile, your hand returning to your torture, tense cunt. But Roger’s grip on the back of your head pulled your gaze right back up to him.

“There’s one other thing, though, Kitten. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed.

“Wherever I decide to come, you’re not allowed to clean it off until we’ve walked around the entire castle. So you better hope that mouth of yours pleases me, or it’ll be going on that beautiful face of yours.”

You moaned hearing those words. Was he really serious?

You didn’t care. You continued to play with yourself, dutifully opening your mouth to take his cock again.

“Can you imagine what everyone would think if they saw you with spunk dripping down your face, darling?” He groaned; he seemed to know the exact things to say to have you teetering on the edge in seconds flat. “Or maybe I could fuck you. You love feeling it drip down those thighs, don’t you, Kitten?”

Now that was an idea, you thought. Your eyes popped open with enthusiasm as you gave an approving mewl.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you Kitten?” he taunted, his cock hellbent on making your jaw ache. “Tell me how much you want it.”

Of course you couldn’t manage that. Words were impossible when you were gagged by that thick rod of his stuck down your throat. But that didn’t stop you trying, gurgling a comical, “Fuck me please Daddy,” through the unrelenting mouthful.

“So cute,” he teased. “I didn’t quite catch that, Kitten.”

“Oh my god,” you gurgled again, “please fuck me Daddy.”

Roger laughed, yanking you off his cock. He spoke to you like you were a gorgeous little simpleton – slowly, annunciating every syllable. “English, please, Kitten. Tell me again.”

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your hand working overtime between your thighs.

Then, panic set in. Roger wasn’t focusing on you anymore. Instead, he was busy looking around as the sound of footsteps grew closer. He quickly tucked himself back into his jeans and offered you a hand up.

Your stomach dropped with disappointment.

You quickly wiped the drool off your chin, and power walked out of the cellar and on to the next exhibit in the castle, red face and both of you so frustrated by each other’s teasing that you might have exploded just from walking and holding hands in awkward silence. “Where to next?” you asked him.

“Maybe we should try the armoury?” he sighed. “Might be a bit less busy.”

Clamouring up several flights of stone and wooden steps, you and Roger were horrified to find that the jewel in the crown of Montreux’s most famed tourist attractions in peak season was completely packed. Small children ran amuck in the armoury, enjoying the view and playing around with the wooden toy canons.

It was a sight that could’ve made you and Roger cry.

“Right! Back on the boat,” Roger ordered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his dark blue jeans and bolting down the wooden steps towards the courtyard.

You struggled to keep up with him as he walked down the stony path towards the jetty to catch the next boat back to Montreux.

“I can’t fucking believe that,” Roger complained. “I was so fucking ready to …”

“Shag my brains out?” you laughed.

Roger’s features changed from bitter frustration to mild agreement, and even, a small meek smile. “Yeah.”

“Where to next,” you began, draping your arm over his shoulder, “Daddy?”

He flicked his eyes over to you and with a devilish smirk, he made his suggestion. “There’s a really good bar on the promenade. And I don’t think they’d bat an eyelid about people shagging in their toilets.”

You laughed, slapping his chest as the boat set sail. You were so ready to give up on the game you were playing. “Haven’t we had enough near misses today?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Roger began, stepping on to the boat, “I thought we were doing the whole public sex thing now, because my girlfriend’s just realised she’s a bit of a freak!”

You plonked yourself down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I am, but sometimes, you have to make it about the soft stuff, you know?”

Roger raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I’m kidding! Where is this bar you were talking about? It better be good!”

“Drinks are on me, Kitten,” he said softly, patting your thigh.

You and Roger burst into the opulent bathroom at Funky Claude’s with the verve and roguish impatience of a pair of horny teenagers. You giggled, casting an eye over the decadent restroom to make sure no one was there, before bundling Roger into a stall.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you laughed, hiking your dress up around your hips and planting your hands firmly against the wall at the back of the cubicle.

“Me neither,” Roger responded. This was followed by the hasty unzipping of his jeans, for the third and hopefully final time that day. He spat on his fingers and dragged them over your cunt, still sensitive and glistening invitingly from the torture Roger had bestowed upon you at the castle.

You groaned as Roger eased into you. The way he stretched you tight around his girth and stilled for just a split second made you eagerly clench around him. It didn’t do much. But that was ok. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head when he finally began to move in tedious passes, every back and forth filled the tiny bathroom stall with slick sounds that would have given the game away, should someone have wandered in while you were mid rut.

Roger’s hips snapped into you with a jagged, purposeful intent, that made you curse and brace harder against the wall in front of you. He clung to your waist with his chest firmly glued to your back, hunching over you like an animal. “Such a tight cunt,” he moaned against your neck. “Touch it for me. Touch your cunt for me, Kitten.”

Those words made your entire body shudder with need. “You do it, Daddy,” you whined.

He chuckled and wrapped one hand around your throat. His free hand slipped between your thighs, seeking out the sensitive little nub he had taken so much pleasure in teasing so harshly before.

Your nails clawed at the wall as another wave ripped through your body. You cursed, loud and unchecked as Roger did his best to bring you to the edge as fast as possible.

But then, you heard the gentle swish of the swing doors to the bathroom. You and Roger stopped dead. His hand moved from your neck to your mouth and his lips pressed to your ear again. “Shhh,” he said, moving his cock painfully slow in. And out.

You blinked and looked around, as if somehow it would make your ears work a bit better in an attempt to track the person’s movements in the stall next to yours. You could hear them shuffle their jeans down. And you heard the stream of urine whizzing out of their bladder. And then their zipper. And a flush. And the taps.

All while Roger continued to fuck you so slowly it made you ache.

Nothing could prepare you for when the hand dryer roared to life. He moved at double the pace as when you were alone, pounding you like he was in heat; his fingers doing the same on your clit until your body convulsed and a loud, pleasure dripping moan escaped you, masked by your fellow bathroom goer drying their hands off after taking a piss.

When they finally left, Roger gave three sharp thrusts, punctuated by guttural grunts with his teeth planted in your shoulder. You could feel him dripping out of you as the pair of you stood there in silence, sandwiched together in your post romp comedown.

“Fuck,” you giggled, making his seed ooze down your thighs as you turned to him. “Can you believe we almost got caught?” Your cheeks burned with humiliation. “Do you think they realised?”

Roger shrugged, tucking his cock back into his tight blue jeans. “It was your idea, Kitten,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “And I for one, actually liked it.”

“That’s reassuring,” you quipped, balling up a wad of toilet paper.

Roger leaned back against the cubicle door and watched, mesmerised as you cleaned yourself up in front of him. Even for you, this was a new level of personal space invasion.

“Staying for drinks?” he asked casually.

You got up and flushed the toilet then turned to him with a wide grin. “Do you think the people out there realised the two of us just blasted in and shagged in their toilets?”

“It probably happens more than you might think,” he shrugged. He turned and unbolted the door, throwing a glance back at you over his shoulder. “You finish titivating yourself and I’ll get them in. They’ve got a great cocktail menu.”

“Will do,” you sighed, following him out of the cubicle and wandering over to the mirror. Mascara was caked around your lashline from Roger’s earlier efforts at putting your mouth to good use and your lipstick was smudged, leaving only your lipliner intact. Not only that but the blistering August sun had made your foundation cling to all those tiny lines on your face that you didn’t want to admit you had. You opened your bag and fished out your make up to try and fix the damage. Your hair would require a bit more effort. Roger loved it messy, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to bear being seen in a fancy place like this with a raging crow’s nest atop your head. And you weren’t even sure you packed a brush. Snapping the emergency hair tie you wore on your wrist, you reckoned that desperate times called for desperate measures, and scooped your hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to god that Roger wouldn’t get the wrong idea and get another boner for you to take care of tonight. Then you swiped on some lipstick, blended out your mascara and your foundation and blotted on some powder to take the shine off. It never ceased to amaze you the wonders that five minutes in a quiet bathroom could do as you puckered up your lips to blot the excess rouge off. You topped it all off with some perfume and you were good to go.

Roger waited patiently at the bar, seductively sucking an olive from a cocktail stick and eyeing the cocktail menu from over the frames of his glasses. His shirt sat askew and his hair stuck up in all directions, but somehow he fitted right in with the opulence of a place like this. You could tell he was a big deal. Sometimes, it took your breath away and made the butterflies resurface all over again, remembering that he was yours and no one else’s.

His eyes lit up when he saw you wander over to him from across the crowded room. Like two strangers on an awkward first date, unsure of how to approach each other. But pleased they had found themselves in the same place at the same time.

For some reason, putting one foot in front of the other was much more troublesome in this situation. Not from a day of wandering around Montreux, but from sheer nerves. Feeling your chest burn, you noticed all eyes in the room were on you; you ran your fingers through your ponytail, smoothed down your dress, and sucked your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck between them. Your heart thudded, wondering what exactly was wrong with you. Why were these people staring?

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a dump like this?” Roger smirked when you finally reached him.

“Fella done me wrong,” you joked, hoisting yourself up on the stool next to him. You stole an olive from the dish in front of him, and elbowed his side.

Roger scanned the room at the people who stared at you. Not looking at you, he smiled. “You’re a real head turner, darling.”

“That’s probably you…” you paused, thinking of your next move.

Why not go with it?

This was the perfect backdrop to the most perfect date you could imagine. Admiring Roger in the glow from the low-hanging lamps over the bar, you asked him your burning question. “Would you like some company for the night?”

Roger turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. He slapped his hand on your thigh and said, “Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, beautiful.”

He was playing along.

You scooted closer to him, peering over his shoulder to read the menu in his hands, laughing quietly at the names. “I like the sound of a ‘Money,’” you said, pointing to the page.

“I’m loving this ‘Let’s Dance’ one,” Roger replied. “You know, darling, I’m actually friends with Bowie.”

You knew this. You had seen David’s number pop up on Roger’s phone on numerous occasions, and the comments they’d leave on each others’ Instagram posts. But for the sake of going along with your perfect first date, you widened your eyes in shock. Over played, hammy, fake shock. “Really? What’s he like?”

“Oh he’s great. Peculiar guy. Cracking wardrobe.”

“So are you famous or something?” you pressed, beaming at him.

The bartender ducked between you and Roger – he looked like something out of a 1920’s speakeasy, complete with black armband, suspenders and a moustache. “Monsieur Taylor – que désirez-vous?”

Roger stumbled for a moment, with an um and an ah and then, in perfect French he ordered. “Je voudrais un Money, et pour la dame, une Let’s Dance s’il vous plait.”

“D’accord Monsieur.”

Something about Roger speaking French went straight to your legs; or rather, the spot between them. “You haven’t answered my question,” you prodded, looking visibly flustered by Roger’s linguistic prowess, and squeezing your thighs together for good measure.

“You could say that, darling,” he said, shovelling a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I’m the drummer in a rock band.”

“Oh so you’re a rockstar?” you cooed. “Will I have heard of you?”

“I don’t know, darling. Ever heard of Queen? We’re kind of a big deal,” he boasted in a charmingly modest fashion.

“So that’s where I’ve seen you!” you said with wide eyes. “Personally, I’ve always thought they were kind of shit.”

Roger didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead he did that thing he usually did, where he desperately moved his lips as his usually sharp and nimble brain played a game of catchup. It lasted a few awkward seconds where all you wanted to do was to break character and yell ‘kidding’ at him. But eventually, he changed the subject. “What brings you to Montreux, darling?” he asked, resting his head against his hand as he leaned on the bar and gazed adoringly at you.

“Just some bloke, really,” you sighed.

“Really? And here was me thinking I had a chance,” he pouted. “What’s your man like?”

You lowered your eyebrows and flashed him a smile that made him instantly wish he had never even asked that question. “Well,” you hummed, “he’s lovely. I met him on Tinder, and if you ask me, he’s far too old to be on there. But anyway, I let all that slide. Gave him a chance.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because he’s everything I could ever want. Shorter than I thought from his pictures, though. Still tall enough. Handsome. Great dress sense. He’s surprisingly intelligent, considering how beautiful he is. And, here’s the kicker. He has the most devilish, vile sense of humour I’ve ever encountered.”

“He sounds like a catch,” Roger sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He is. I’ve only been with him a short while and he’s completely changed my life for the better. I’m so much more confident because of him. But anyway, why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him and shuffling in your seat.

“A woman.”

“What’s she like?”

“Well, she’s the polar opposite of my ex wife and the kind of woman I should’ve married. So sensible and carefree at the same time. And she really makes me want to be better, you know? I never felt like I could have a life with my ex wife. But this girl. God, she’s got me thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ve missed the boat with all the settling down business. I hope not. Because she’s all I want.”

“And yet you’re in a fancy bar, buying a strange girl a very overpriced drink?” you asked with a wink.

“I think we’ve met before,” he sighed, closing his eyes ever so slightly.

“I think so too,” you said.

Roger turned his gaze towards the bartender, watching him as he made your drinks. You could barely hear the sounds that came out of his mouth. But his lips sure as hell looked like they were saying something important.

Like: “I love you.”

>> NEXT >>

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen

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prettyyoungtragedy · 5 years

Text

Written in the Stars (2)

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re the type of woman who is headstrong and fiercely independent. Heiress to a fortune and one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. Until you’re forced into witness protection. Your “Protection” turns out to be 220 pounds of dreamy, sassy, delightful Bucky Barnes. Whatever could go wrong?

Warnings: Swearing, if that's a warning these days.

A/N: Oh man, all the love for chapter one made me scream! I hope you like part 2, here’s Bucky being bossy, an annoyed reader and a little sassy humor for everyone! if ya wanna be kind and throw me a pretty comment and a reblog? I’ll love you forever.

This was generously Beta’d by my beta @suz-123 without whom I will never have any good ideas! thank you buddy!

Tags: Hit me up in my ASK box!

Links are being an asshole so you can find other chapters of this fic in my WIP masterlist in my bio!

“Think you can handle this?” Sam asked as he handed Bucky one of his handguns, watching his friend strap on his bulletproof vest. Bucky didn’t need it but it was better to be safe than sorry in this case, especially when Hydra was involved they probably had ways of bringing the Winter Soldier down.

“Yes, what do I look like? An amateur?” Bucky responded rolling his eyes at Sam’s incredulous question, taking the gun from his hand and holstering it to his hip.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Sam shoved Bucky’s shoulder slightly.

“I know, I’ll fine. It’ll be fine,” He gives Sam a reassuring smile. The pair were an odd couple but had become the support the other needed in hard times. It was weird sharing this unbreakable bond of friendship because of Steve, but it was a comfort to both of them knowing each had the others back. When they weren’t bickering incessantly with each other Sam and Bucky were a formidable force.

“What time is the meeting set for?” Sam gives Bucky the black box with the comms in them and waited as he placed it in his ear.

“Steve and I are meeting at the new apartment in an hour, I have to escort her there.”

“And she’s fine with moving apartments?”

“What do you think?” Bucky’s tone dripping with sarcasm,

Sam laughed and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, gripping it lightly. “That woman is going to eat you alive buddy,”

“Nah, women love me, it’ll be a walk in the park.”

Sam nods, “Well, good luck out there, man. This might not be President Ellis but she sure as shit is more important to us, right now.”

“Don’t need luck,” Bucky grinned at him as the two of them walked out of the weapons vault, he strutted a few feet in front of Sam before turning around to face him, “I am the fucking Winter Soldier.” He spreads his arms cockily as if he were showing off his grandeur.

This response makes Sam chortle with laughter, and shake his head at Bucky’s arrogance. He wasn’t wrong though, Bucky Barnes was part The Winter Soldier and part Avenger, he was a fucking machine.

~~~

It was barely seven in the morning when you hear the door to the safe house open, the rather shitty safe house that Nick Fury and his squad of morons had forced you to live in the past four days.

The soft creak of the wooden floors as their footfalls hit the hardwood. The alarm bells in your head going off and, immediately, you shot up out of the double bed and to your feet, ready to fight whoever was walking towards the bedroom door, not that you were any kind of fighter but if worst comes to worst, you’d be ready to get scrappy about it.

To say you were a little on edge because of the briefing yesterday wouldn’t be a lie. You were putting on this sarcastic brave face, but in fact, you had spent the entire night tossing and turning too afraid that if you close your eyes you wouldn't wake up the next morning.

So, when the bedroom door was flung open, it was only natural in your tired, sleep deprived state that you let out a scream of terror, only to come face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

“Well good morning to you, too.” He said amusement in his eyes as he took in your cowering figure which was now in a pathetic defensive stance.

“What the fucking fuck?!” You exclaimed at him, straightening up, trying to pick up the modicum of dignity you had left after that scream.

“I was testing you.” He shrugged.

“What the fuck kind of test was that?!”

“To see how quick your reflexes are in a panicked situation.”

You stared open mouthed at him for a moment, a million insults hurling through your mind which you wanted to shout at him, but, instead, you snap your mouth shut and glower at him. Folding your arms over your chest, you realized you were barely clad in a t-shirt and scanty shorts that had been given to you by some shield task force member, as you hadn’t been allowed to your apartment yet to get any of your clothes.

“Get dressed, we’re moving you to a secure location today.” He ordered completely ignoring the fact that you were giving him a death stare.

“Wait, what, when do I get to go home?” You rebutted, but Bucky doesn’t listen to you. He whirled around and marched out the bedroom shutting the door in your face. Once again, you are left stunned at just how rude this asshole was, you stared at the door open-mouthed and blinked rapidly, never in your life had you ever been ordered around and it was infuriating you.

You took a slow deep breath and clenched your fists at your side,

“Deep breaths,” You muttered to yourself, “You can’t kill him, he’s the reason you’re going to live through this shit show.”

One. Two. Three.

You exhaled deeply and opened your eyes, “You can kill him after.”

This thought seemed to make you gleeful, and suddenly you had an idea. If the Winter Soldier was going to be your bodyguard and make your life hard, you were going pull the exact same shit with him. Then and there you decided to be the most painful version of yourself just to see how far you could push your limits with him before he quit.

Grinning to yourself at your plan you made your way to the bathroom to get dressed.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, you stood in front of your protection detail. The Winter Soldier stands a few feet closer to you than the rest of them, he hands you a little ID with your picture printed on it, a watch that has a small sleek black screen on it and what looked like a phone.

“ID to get you in and out of the tower without hassle,” He pointed to it, “The watch is programmed with a tracking device and is connected to Stark servers as well as FRIDAY the Avengers personal AI, there’s a heart monitor, for proof of life and should your heartbeat drop or become erratic in any way it will alert your protection detail. Anything you need, touch your finger to the screen and it will assist you, like a personal assistant. Should I not be with you, there is a panic button and it will alert us of your danger.”

“Proof of life, like I’m a hostage. How fun.” You retorted. You waited as he slid the watch onto your wrist, and the screen flashed to life.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.” A female voice with an Irish lilt rang through the receiver of the watch startling you, slightly.

“Hi FRIDAY, configure the watch. It is on the subject, lock in the location and secure Astro mode.”

“Astro mode?” You piped up looking at Bucky.

“Highest security level.” He responded not looking at you, his gaze is fixed on the watch as he waited for it to configure.

“Configuration complete.” FRIDAY states and Bucky nodded.

Then he pointed to the sleek black phone like object in your hand, “Stark tech, no incoming call or text can get through without going through the security checks at the Avengers tower. All your contacts have been programmed in there and no one can trace the IP or caller ID on your phone. The only people with this number is myself, Steve Rogers and Director Fury, for safety reasons, of course, no one but me will call you.”

“Wait, why do I have to give up my phone? That is stupid.” You began to protest but the look Bucky gives you shuts you up instantly. Clearly, he isn’t in the mood for your shit, well, at least not yet.

He ignores your little outburst and then almost robotically turned away from you towards the three men that stood behind him, patiently waiting for him to finish giving you instructions.

“These three are handpicked by me for this assignment, each one of them has gone through stringent tests and background searches before being assigned to protect you. Should I not be around, the highest ranking officer will step in and take over protection detail.”

“Why wouldn’t you be around, I thought you were supposed to hover like an annoying shadow?” You interjected, sarcastically.

Bucky gives you a deadpan look and ignores your comment again, “For safety reasons, they will only be known to you by their code names.” He pointed to the blonde on the far right, he looked like he deadlifted buildings, “Agent 27; codename Achilles,”

Then pointed to the brunette with blue eyes and a grim face, “Agent 12; code name Arcas,”

Lastly, he pointed to the tallest of them all, broad-shouldered with a hard face, he looked like he never smiled. “Agent 8; codename Dionysus.”

“What’s with the Greek codenames?” You asked, genuinely curious why all their codenames were that of Greek mythology.

Before Bucky could answer you, however, his phone rang and he quickly answered it. A curt conversation over the line indicated to you that whoever was on the other end was telling him to hurry up because he muttered something along the lines of ‘Have some fucking patience’, before cutting the call.

“Let’s move.” He nodded curtly to the rest of the agents, they immediately dispersed and headed for the exit. You waited a moment before Bucky turned towards you, his expression is stoic and hard, and you sense an immediate shift in his attitude.

It was time to get to work.

“I have three golden rules, three rules for you to follow and we will be fine in every situation.” Bucky’s voice almost steely and robotic as he spoke, “Number one, I move, you move, doesn’t matter when or where, you listen to every instruction I give you, no arguments. You stay behind me at all times, there isn’t a moment when you’re ahead of me, unless, I specifically instruct you to be so. I am your human shield, you got it?”

“Oh good, a human shield. This should be fun.” Your snide answer goes unanswered by him as he continued.

“Number two, I am not here to fuck around, I’m not a pretty boy for you to show off to your high society friends, I am not in the field of playing games and entertaining your bullshit. My number one priority is keeping you alive, and if you act like an idiot, you die and I don’t need that on my resume.”

“You think you’re a pretty boy?” You barked out a laugh

“The prettiest,” He bit back before continuing, again, “Number three. Wherever you are, I am. You do not go anywhere without me. You have to piss? I am standing at the door. You have a check-up at the doctor? I am there. You need to blow your nose? I give you the tissue. Do you understand?”

“I mean this is a little excessive don’t you thi-”

“Do you understand.” He cuts you off in a demanding voice, your defiant eyes meet his and you glared at him.

The instructions seemed simple enough but the fact that he was going to control every aspect of your life was suddenly annoying you. He was right, everything you did he was going to have to be there for it and that didn’t sit well with you.

“I have a life you know, I can’t have you hovering around me when I go on dates and out with friends.”

“Well, in the interest of keeping you alive, you’re going to have to suck it up and deal with me hovering, sweetheart.” Bucky moved closer towards you, his steely eyes piercing into yours and as much as you want to fight his every command at that moment, the sensible side of your brain is telling you to shut up and listen to him, “Besides, you won’t be going on many dates in the coming months, believe me.”

“I mean you can try and stop me from living my life, but good luck with that,” You jeered back at him, folding your arms over your chest in defiance.

A look of shock skittered across his face for a moment before he reigns his emotions in, and that stoic expression settled over his face again. Bucky is about to say something to you but changes his mind and just shakes his head.

“Follow my every instruction when we leave,” He ordered you and you felt your nerves prickle at the demanding tone he used with you, but you remained silent, “I move, you move? Got it.”

“Yes Soldier, I got it. Relax.”

Bucky clenched his jaw at your response but chooses to ignore your sarcasm again, clearly, his resolve was resolute because you would have at least expected some kind of chirp back with all the sass you were giving him.

He turned away from you and began to make his way out of the safehouse with you following closely behind him. It’s a quick trip down the elevator and into the lobby of the building where your usual car was waiting for you. You were a little relieved that not everything had changed, you still had the same driver and the same car.

Small victories. You thought.

For a moment you forgot that you were under supervision and walked a little faster, cutting in front of Bucky in an attempt to get to the car before him. It’s an innocent mistake on your part as you neared the freedom of being in a car and not cooped up in that safe house, but that moment of freedom is suddenly wrenched away as quickly as it arrived.

Bucky hand closes around your arm halting you just seconds before your hand touches the door to the lobby entrance. Whether he intended to or not, the force with which he stopped you from exiting startled you and you gasped in shock.

“What the-” You began to say but he cuts you off.

“Stay behind me, I said I move, you move. How am I supposed to protect you if you’re in front of me?” He snapped at you letting go of your arm.

“God fucking damn it, it’s like two meters to the car!” You exclaimed.

Bucky took a deep breath and steadied his temper. He was about two seconds away from yelling at you in the middle of the lobby, but he knew he couldn't, or Steve would punch the lights out of him for embarrassing the team and being unprofessional, also not with these many witnesses around. He stepped around you and pushed open the door, the cool morning air hitting his skin as it gusted into the lobby.

His eyes scanned the area from the entrance to the car, he takes in every detail he can, the pedestrians walking past, the other guests at the hotel moving around, talking to each other walking in and out, his eyes move like a hawk across the rooftops of the building for any signs of danger then when he was satisfied he stepped aside and gestured for you to start walking again.

You rolled your eyes at him and rather caustically walked out the lobby raising your hands in surrender as you approached the car. A hint of amusement hits him as he watched you walk over to the car and throw him a belligerent look before getting in loudly calling out to him,

“Oh, look, whatever shall I do, I made it to the car by myself.” You rolled your eyes at him so hard, Bucky could have sworn he heard them roll.

He shook his head and followed you, biting back the sudden smile that wanted to appear on his face from that display you had just put on.

Man, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

~~~

Bucky stood in the massive living room of your penthouse apartment in Manhattan, his eyes moving across the living space with quiet amazement. He had been around technological advances and Stark’s fancy lifestyle long enough to know luxury but this, this place was phenomenal.

The entire space looked like it belongs in a magazine, from the beige tones throughout the room, accented by creams and golds to the marble flooring and pillars that stood at the entrances to it.

There wasn’t a thing out of place, not a speck of dust anywhere. For a home, Bucky found it surprisingly cold, but the problem with it was there was too much open space which was like an invitation for anyone trying to get to you.

There were staff that worked for you, chefs, cleaning staff, a driver, people who picked up your clothes, bought them for you, your personal assistant, too many people and too many eyes for his liking.

He didn’t have time to screen every single person in your life, so he made an executive decision right then. The team would have to move you to a different safe house or keep you at the one you were at. It was just safer that way, and if push came to shove he would have Steve run background on everyone in your life before bringing you back here.

Of course, he knew this wasn’t going to sit well with you and a small part of him felt amused by the fact that you were probably going to throw a shitfit about it.

“Sergeant Barnes?” A voice brings his attention back to the people in front of him and he looked up at the person, it was one of the STRIKE members they’d brought here to fit in a new security system.

“What is it?” He replied,

“We are done setting up the system, would you like us to show her how it works?” The agent asked,

Bucky shook his head and took the tablet from his outstretched hand, “No, I’ll run through that with my team. Thanks.”

The agent gave him a polite nod before he walked away once more. Bucky scrolled through the system they’d installed throughout your apartment, it was one of Stark’s best security systems linked directly to FRIDAY. It was biometric so only the pre-approved list of persons could come and go without him knowing about it, but he still didn’t like this place.

Just then you walked into the living room and looked around for a moment before your eyes met his and you crossed your arms at the sight of him. Bucky smirked,

He annoyed you, good.

“So are they done wreaking havoc around my home?” You asked annoyance thick in your tone,

“Yes they are but don’t get comfortable yet, we’re going back to the safe house.”

“Wait what, why?”

“Because I have decided you won’t be staying here,”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, go pack your shit up.”

Bucky watched as your face turned from shocked to completely enraged, he was full well expecting a tantrum from you and that is exactly what he received. Amusement rippled through him as he watched you defiantly fold your arms over your chest and start yelling obscenities at him.

“Absofuckinglutely not! I refused to stay one more night in that crappy apartment in Brooklyn, I would much rather Hydra kill me then stay one more night in that hell hole.” You exclaimed dramatically, “I was promised protection not uprooting my entire fucking life to go live in Brooklyn for this trial, I will not leave, I refuse. You can go to hell,”

You were breathing heavily from anger when you were finally done yelling at him, all while Bucky just looked at you with a bored expression on his face.

“Are you done?” He asked,

“Not even close,”

“Okay well, then you can continue to yell at me once we’re in the car, let’s go.”

And before you could even say anything further, Bucky gripped your arm firmly but gently and began to haul you towards your bedroom to collect your things.

~~~

It was supposed to be business as usual but it felt like the furthest thing from it. You walked into your lab on Friday morning and were met with the sight of Bucky Barnes leaning against the wall, sunglasses on, one hand in the pocket of his black jeans and the other holding his phone in the other. Dark hair falling into his eyes as he frowned down at his phone.

“Why the fuck are you here?” You sighed walking up to him not bothering to say good morning or any other pleasantries for that matter.

Bucky looked up from his phone, an amused smile on his face, he tucked his dark hair behind his ear on one side and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Why, good morning sunshine.” He replied smoothly, amusement ripe in his voice.

“Again, why are you here?”

“I feel like you seem to be forgetting my instructions.” Bucky said pulling off his sunglasses and revealing those ridiculously blue eyes, “I said, I move, you move, but somehow this morning I show up to move you and, whaddya know? You’ve already left for the day, care to explain?”

There is clear sarcasm in his tone but also a hint of demand. He’s upset with you but isn’t showing it or trying not to at this point. You didn’t want to be escorted to work, not after the shit show last night when you had to run through the entire layout of your penthouse home with them only to have Bucky tell you that you will no longer be allowed to live there because there were too many entrance points.

Needless to say, you threw a shit fit, and stormed off, but, alas, were followed by the Winter Soldier who wordlessly put you in your car and drove you right back to the safehouse, kicking and screaming.

So this morning, you awoke earlier than usual, got dressed and slipped out of the safehouse, without any of the agents noticing. It actually amazed you how easily you got past them, clearly, they weren’t very good at their jobs.

Your whole life you had the freedom to come and go as you pleased and now that you had to hand over the reins of your life to someone else, it was frustrating you. Your every move was going to be monitored and someone beside you at all times, this wasn't the life you were used to.

“Jesus H. Christ, I just needed to feel normal for two seconds, okay. I can get myself to work safely.” You said irritably rubbing your forehead with your hand.

“No, you can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t get yourself to work safely because you don’t know what threats there are out there. I, on the other hand, do and seeing as it’s my job to get you places safely, I would appreciate a modicum of agreement here.”

“So would I.” You retorted stubbornly, “You have me cooped up in that shitty safehouse in Brooklyn, when my gorgeous Manhattan apartment is going to waste, deserted and dying without me in it.”

You watched him sigh and clench his jaw again, becoming frustrated with your defiance. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at you, a scowl on his handsome face, now.

“I am really trying to be patient here,” He said exasperatedly, “but you’re not making this easy, can you please just follow my instructions?”

“Fucking fuck, fine. But can I at least move out of that shitty apartment and into my home again? I hate that fucking place.”

Bucky lets out an exhale, the exasperation clear all over his face. “Fine, We will move you to a different location not your place but one better than what you’re at, also I take you to work and get you home every day, end of story.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him, walking into your lab. Bucky followed you, you watched as his eyes sweep the entirety of it before they settled back on you.

“I really don’t think you need to be here 24/7,” You sighed, “This whole situation is being made such a big deal of, I can take care of myself, you know.”

“This is not a game.” He replied moving to lean against one of the metal lab tables.

“I didn't say it was but I know what I have gotten myself into and I can handle it!”

“No one is saying you can’t, but, you need to take this seriously-”

“I am taking this seriously! You think I don’t know what’s at stake here?!” You were suddenly shouting at him, “I am uprooting my entire life for this god damn cause, I am going against my family for this cause, I know the seriousness of it all!”

“Then stop acting like a child and listen to me!” He shouts back and you fell silent. You weren't expecting him to yell back at you, and it kind of scared you. Bucky suddenly stood taller and his figure seemed to double in size as if he rose to his full height, and it was dominating.

“Get out, I need to work.” You muttered turning away from him so he wouldn’t see the sudden tears in your eyes. It was frustration and fear building up inside you and he wasn’t helping.

Bucky took a deep breath and reigned his anger in, he shouldn’t have yelled at you, but he doesn’t care right now. All he knows is he needs to keep you safe and if you are a belligerent asshole the entire time, it’s going to end up costing someone their life and he’d rather it was not you.

“I will be outside,” Bucky said in a steely voice before he turned sharply and marched out of your lab once more, leaving you alone with the silence, your thoughts and the panic now rising in your chest.

~~~

The lab felt like a safe little bubble as you lost yourself in your work. Hours ticked by before you noticed the ache in your stomach reminding you it was time to eat something. You glanced up at the clock and realized it was almost one in the afternoon, you also realized that you had left Bucky to wait outside for you not bothering to check up on him.

Why the fuck do you care? You had no idea but you felt a little guilty leaving the giant brick shithouse of a human to wait outside for you.

Grumbling under your breath about how stupid it was that you needed him to hover once again, you pulled off your lab coat and tossed it onto the table before walking out of your lab.

You half expected Bucky to be waiting for you right outside the door but to your surprise, he was not. A small part of you was disappointed that he wasn’t but you shoved that aside and quickly made your way toward the elevator, maybe he was going to let up on this ridiculous notion that he had to accompany you everywhere and you could have a peaceful lunch.

Hitting the elevator button repeatedly, you waited watching the orange light flash from floor to floor as it came up to you.

“Just so you know, repeatedly hitting the button doesn’t make the elevator go any faster.” A voice suddenly said beside you, it was close to your ear.

You whirled around, a strangled scream almost erupting from your throat as you slapped your hand over your mouth to avoid screaming. You were met with Bucky’s amused blue eyes and a smirk on his face.

“Motherfucker!”

“No, that would require me to sleep with someone's mother, of which I have not done so, yet. I think,”

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me!”

“I did not, you don’t have situational awareness.” He shrugged.

“I so do.”

“Oh, really? Tell me one thing you noticed that is out of place on this floor.”

You glared at him for a moment, why was he always challenging you, then your gaze swept across the length of the area. It was the reception area of this floor, bright green plants, glass walls, metal doors and signs leading to every lab. The smell of rubbing alcohol and sterilizing agents mixed in the air, with a hint of cherries from the floor cleaner.

There are a few people about, the security guard, Wallace, who as always there, the receptionist, Jody, who was on the phone, a few people sat in the reception area. Either waiting for someone or something, you notice nothing out of the ordinary.

“There’s nothing out of place…” You say it a little hesitant because you already know he's placed something that sets him on edge.

“Look again,” He orders and you follow his command eyes moving across the room again, “See the security? He’s not wearing his badge, why? That should be a red flag already if you didn’t know him. He could be anyone.”

“I know Wallace, he’s worked here for years.” You retorted.

“Beside the point. Now, look at the receptionist, she's not focused on her surroundings, isn't watching who's coming and going, how will she know who any of her guests are? The guy in the green jacket on the couch,” Bucky gestured towards him and you looked in that direction,”He’s carrying a firearm, but I can see his police badge from here which means he's law enforcement, but why is he here?”

“Cops come here all the time for forensics, when they need help or are short staffed.”

“Right, but have you seen him before?”

You looked at the man and shook your head slowly, “No.”

“And see the lady over by the water cooler, look at her nervousness, she’s not supposed to be here and her body language tells me that, immediately.”

You hadn’t picked up any of the things Bucky had just pointed out to you, and it amazed you just how keen his attention to detail was.

“Last but not least,” Bucky stepped a little closer to you just as the elevator dined on the landing, “You walked out of your lab, looked around the room, and never saw me when I was sitting right here.” He motioned towards one of the chairs near the elevator and you frowned.

How the hell had you not seen him, that was not possible.

“But I-” You began to say and he shakes his head.

“Situational awareness.” Was all he said before he gripped your by the elbow and guided you onto the elevator, “Where to?”

“Lobby, we’re getting lunch.”

A curt nod and he pushed the button, his hand remaining on your arm the entire ride down to the lobby and even as he helped you into the car.

~~~

“There’s a bagel stand right there!” Bucky exclaimed, pushing open the lobby door the two of you walk out onto the steps of the massive office building, the air outside is cool and crisp, a nice change to the spring heat for once.

“Well, I don’t eat cheap bagels from a stand, I eat croissants from Butter.” You snorted shaking your head at him,

“What the fuck is Butter?”

“It’s my lunch restaurant, and you’re taking me there.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

You crossed your arms defiantly and stood your ground in front of him. He’d already took your home from you and your freedom, he wasn’t going to take your lunch place from you now, too.

“Fucking hell,” Bucky muttered caving to your defiance.

~~~

“So, you got rid of my car.” You noted as the two of you walked into the restaurant you wanted to eat lunch at. Bucky tried to protest bringing you here, but you simply stated that if you didn't get lunch from this place you would have a full-scale meltdown in public and he would have to deal with it. To which he begrudgingly agreed even though he seemed tense the entire way there.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because the replacement is an armored car that can withstand the rounds of AR-15’s.”

You fell silent at that response, you weren’t expecting it or that he was prioritizing your safety at such a high level. As you walked towards the table near the window the usual spot you sat at Bucky stopped you. You frowned up at him and waited as he looked around the room, before steering you in a different direction.

“What are you doing? I want to sit there.” You protested.

“No, you can’t sit here.” He shook his head.

“James I want to sit there, I always sit there, it’s my table.”

“No. Look around, for fucks sake.”

You paused your argument for a moment and looked around with a frown, you clearly didn’t see what he saw.

“I don’t see anything.” You snapped.

“The exits are blocked from that area of the room, they are obstructed by the pillars. The window opens up the vulnerability of a sniper, and the area is raised, hazardous for quick escapes.”

Everything he had just pointed out was something you wouldn’t have even thought of, it made a little more sense why he was assigned to you, the man was like a robot when it came to safety.

“Situational awareness.” You said softly, realizing he was right.

“Situational awareness.” Bucky nodded, a pleased glint in his eyes when he sees you finally understand what he is trying to say.

“Alright, where are we sitting?” You asked.

Bucky gestured to a table nearby and walked you over, his hand on your back as he did so. The waitress comes over and hands you a menu she flashes Bucky a wide smile which he returns. Obviously, she blushes three shades of red and scurried off once more, you rolled your eyes at this. To be fair, he was really pretty.

Bucky took up a stance near the table not joining you, he crossed his arms over his massive chest, that broody look settling over his face once more as his eyes moved across the restaurant. You frowned at him,

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sit down, you idiot.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don't care, I don’t want to attract attention by having your 220-pound ass hovering around me.”

“It’s for safety.”

“Well, you look really stupid and people are starting to stare, so sit the fuck down.”

Bucky chuckled, an actual chuckle and this amazed you. Had you really gotten the grumpy Winter Soldier to chuckle?

He doesn't say anything, instead, he walked over, kicked back the chair and dropped down into it, beside you. Resting his hulking forearms on the table, he looks at you, pointedly.

“Better?”

“Much.” You replied unable to keep the amused smile off your face.

He shook his head and said nothing. Instead, he watches you with a playful glint in his eyes. He doesn’t know how, or why, but he finds himself having a glimmer of interest in you. Maybe he even liked you a little, it was all that defiance and sass, it just reminded him of small Stevie.

Boy, was he in trouble with this one.

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bodyguard!Bucky #bodyguard!au #Bodyguard fic #Bucky #The Winter soldier #Marvel au #marvel fanfiction #reader x bucky #sassy bucky

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eurynome827 · 5 years

Text

The Fair

Pairing: Hal Carter x Reader

Warnings: 18+ vague smut (this was a lot worse in my head)

Word Count: 1,675

A/N: I bought a dress. My brain went wild. This happened. Posting on mobile so if anything is bonkers I'll fix it tomorrow. (edit - I added word count and a “keep reading” the day after posting, so I’m sorry about all the reblogs without the keep reading! I had no idea it was that many words. Hal is very inspirational....)

BY CLICKING THE READ MORE LINK BELOW YOU AFFIRM THAT YOU ARE 18+ AND UNDERSTAND THAT THIS STORY CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT.

You finished buttoning up your brand new dress and smoothed your hands over the skirt as you appraised your reflection. It's the first new dress you've worn in a while and you are very pleased with yourself. You look perfect for the fair.

After kissing your mother good night and promising her that you won't be home late you bounce down the porch steps and head out down the path to the main road.

"Evenin', miss."

You turn your head toward his unmistakable voice. There he is, leaning against the door of his truck, his eyes watching your approach. You can't help rolling your eyes as you answer, "evening, Hal."

"Need a ride?" He asks, with a grin, and you roll your eyes again at his double meaning.

"No, thank you," you push your hair back off your shoulders and sidestep Hal, continuing past him as his eyes follow. "Susie and her father are picking me up. I'm sure I'll see you at the fair."

Your eyes are on the path ahead of you when he catches your attention again.

"New dress?"

You turn and curtsy a little, which brings a grin to his face. "Why yes, thank you for noticing." You ignore his wink, and continue to the main road.

Susie's father is waiting in the cab of his truck when you reach the road, and he waves at you as you hop up into the bed of the truck and hug your best friend. Hal's truck turns out onto the road towards town.

"You girls settled back there?"

"Yes, papa!" Susie answers.

Before he begins to drive, Susie's father has a question for you. "That Carter boy still working out for you and your mama?"

"Oh yes, sir. We're very lucky to have him working the farm."

You can hear the million unasked questions. No one need worry - you are more than capable of handling Hal Carter.

At the fair you can't help rolling your eyes again when you spot Hal volunteering in the kissing booth. "Color me unsurprised!"

"Gonna wait your turn?"

"I have better things to spend my money on!" You smiled at his answering wink and kept on walking, not sparing a glance back.

Susie shook her head at you. "I don't understand how you do it. He's SO handsome! Will you ever give him a chance?"

You shrugged. "I'd rather be the only one, than one of many."

By the time Hal caught up with you, it was your turn to volunteer at the church pie stand. He stood off to the side while you helped a few of the neighborhood ladies, and nodded politely at them as they passed by.

"Can I interest you in a pie?" You couldn't help smiling at your innuendo, especially as he answered you with his own smirk. One of Hal's hands reached out toward the skirt of your dress and gave it a little tug.

You giggled. "You get out of here before someone sees you talking to me!"

Hal winked again, and walked away.

After you hugged Susie goodnight and hopped out of the truck, you began the walk back to your house in the moonlight. The cicadas humming in the tall grass kept you company. You noticed Hal's truck parked in it's regular spot and smiled to yourself, veering off the path and heading closer to the barn. Sure enough, Hal was leaning against the wall of the barn, facing the path, waiting for you.

Each step carried you closer and brought you memories. When you let your guard down, you remembered all the other times.

The first time he kissed you, in the early morning before the sun was up as you desperately held on to the basket holding the eggs you'd collected.

The day your mother left you alone and went on a visit, and you had both been so eager to feel each other that you couldn't even make it to a bed and dropped to the floor just inside the front door.

When you had hoped that no one else would wander down to the swimming hole at dusk and you had held him tight with one arm, your bathing suit clutched in your other hand as Hal rutted up into you, floating in the cool water.

Endless nights in your room, both of you silent and terrified to wake your mother, blankets and pillows spread on the floor because he was too tall to fit in your tiny bed. Touching and tasting and feeling you all night until the rooster told him it was time to crawl back out of your window and get back to his room in the barn without being caught.

You approached your lover step by step, smiling at him in the moonlight until you were close enough for him to grab your skirt with both hands, tugging you close to him.

"Don't you rip my new dress," you whispered against Hal's lips and shivered when he licked against your bottom lip. You let out a shivered breath against his mouth.

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby. You look awful pretty."

"Stop sweet talking me and kiss me already."

He did as you requested, starting off slow. You were as always intoxicated by him, licking into his mouth and letting your fingers unbutton his shirt as quickly as you could. His skin was hot as you traced his muscles and you caught his gasp in your mouth. You began to unbutton your own dress but his hands pushed yours away to do the job himself, panting against your lips. Not wasting a moment of this stolen time you traced the lines at his hips. With your dress finally pushed open Hal turned to hold you against the barn wall, molding his hard body to your soft curves.

"Hal," moaning into his mouth, you begged, "don't make me wait."

"I got you, baby," he pushed his jeans and your undergarments down as fast as he could and you held on to his shoulders as he lifted you by the back of your thighs, "I got you."

When he pushed into you, hot and hard, your moans and whimpers were swallowed up in the sounds of cicadas and night birds. The heat of summer could barely compare to you and Hal racing to a sweet end against the barn wall.

"M'close, sweet girl," and you whined against his lips, feeling your walls tighten around him inside you and you bit his lip as you came in a hot rush, hard and out of breath. Hal pushed into you a few more times before pulling out and letting one of your legs down to the ground. You braced yourself between his chest and the wall, watching him pump his cock in his fist until he came over his fingers and onto your belly with a groan, his head falling to your shoulder and the other hand holding your thigh drawing little circles over your skin.

Both of you tried to take deep breaths, holding on to each other for dear life.

Gently he lowered your leg and you tried to maintain your balance. You watched him pull off his shirt to clean up your skin and then his hand. When he noticed you staring he winked at you. You bit your lip with a wicked little grin.

"Your body is a sin, Hal Carter."

"Well yours looks like heaven, baby."

You couldn't help your giggle, pulling Hal in for another kiss as he grasped your hips and brushed his thumbs along your ribs.

He made you so happy. But how long could this last? Sooner or later something would happen. Your secret would be discovered. You'd get pregnant and he would make an escape. Something, anything could ruin this bliss. This happiness had an expiration date.

As you pulled back from his lips you couldn't help but tease him. "So how many girls did you kiss in the kissing booth tonight?"

"Wasn't counting, could only think of you, baby."

"Sure, sure," you nipped at his lips, "I know you were true to me."

Hal pulled away from you to look at you fully in the moonlight. "You know I love you, right baby?"

"Of course." All of a sudden everything stuck in your throat. You remembered your excuse to Susie. You would rather be the only one, than one of many. Of course you knew you weren't the first.

It would be lovely to be the last.

Your fingers went to the buttons of your new dress. You were clumsy, and careless. When you realized you had skipped several buttons in your haste you unbuttoned everything to start over.

"Hey." Hal brushed his fingers over your cheek and you caught your breath and looked into his eyes. "I love you."

No matter what he felt from moment to moment, right now he loved you. It was shining from his eyes and radiating from his fingertips. You leaned up and kissed him softly.

"You'll come up tonight?" You asked him with a hopeful lilt to your voice as you attempted to button up your dress properly.

"Of course, baby." He fastened the button on his jeans and pulled you closer. "Need to take my time with you."

You kissed him again. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. Now you get inside, so I can get inside." Hal winked at you and pinched you at your waist and you jumped back out of his reach. With a giggle you checked the buttons down the front of your dress one more time, glanced back at Hal over your shoulder, and walked around the corner of the barn towards the house.

Your mother hadn't waited up for you. You walked through the dark house up to your bedroom and pushed your desk chair under the doorknob. You spread your blankets out on your floor. You unbuttoned your new dress and hung it up in your closet.

You opened your window, sat on your bed, and waited.

#hal carter #hal carter x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction

141 notes · View notes

uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Title: Sleeping Like Adults

Rating: T

Summary: For the first time in four years, Craig and Tweek get to sleep in the same room!

Ships: Creek with a few other minor ships

Other: For @thefabutrash for the @creekcrew‘s Secreek Santa event. I hope you like it! Happy Holidays! =D

Check the first reblog for the AO3 link

~~~~~~

Craig Tucker had never fancied himself a genius before, but as he plopped down in the back of the bus, he couldn't imagine himself anything less.

He pulled his bag into his lap, just to make sure he brought everything with him: toothbrush, pajamas, cell phone charger, a change of clothes, and most importantly, a new pack of correction tape and an ink pen.

Clyde slid into the seat next to him. He waited until the chaperone finished roll call and sat down before elbowing Clyde in the ribs.

"Did you get it?" Craig asked as the bus started forward.

Of course, Clyde got it. Why was Craig even asking? Clyde was his bro, helping bros share rooms with their boyfriends is part of the Bro Code, and Clyde swore by the Bro Code. There was no way Clyde didn’t get it!

Since Clyde's dad was the chaperone of their club trip, it would be super easy for him to get the rooming list. All Craig had to do was white out his roommate’s name and change their name to Tweek's! Once all was said an done, Clyde could just say he accidentally grabbed the sheet when they got to the hotel.

It was perfect!

Clyde laughed nervously, scratching his neck. "Ok, so, about that. I don't have it."

"What? Clyde, dude, that was your one job!" Craig cried. He looked around, hoping no one heard his outburst. If anyone did, they didn’t seem to care.

"I know, I know, but Dad didn't have the class list printed out." Clyde shook his head. "He has it on his phone -- Google Docs, I think."

Craig groaned, slumping back in the faux leather bus seat. "That was my only chance, Clyde!"

"I don't get why this is such a big deal, dude. You and Tweek have sleepovers all the time." Clyde took his phone from his pocket. "How's a hotel any different than the ones at your house?"

"It's different because our parents aren't there." Craig leaned his shoulder into the window. "Whenever we have a sleepover, our parents go out of their way to make sure we don't actually sleep in the same room anymore."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, I have to sleep in Tweek's guest room and Tweek has to sleep on the couch." Craig shut his eyes as his goal fell out of reach.

He and his boyfriend hadn't been allowed to sleep in the same room overnight since they were eleven, nearly four years ago. It didn't help the matter that both their parents were strict on them keeping the door open when they were together, either.

Clyde set a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, dude. Unless we can get my dad's phone, there is no way to change it."

Craig's eyes snapped open. He bolted up as Clyde continued, "Maybe next time we have a group sleepover at my house, you and Tweek can bum it in the guest room and--"

Craig slapped a hand over Clyde's mouth.

"Clyde, that's it." A sly grin spread across his face. "That's it! Help me get your dad's phone. If the document is on Google Docs, maybe I can edit it!"

The color drained from Clyde's face.

"What?!" He choked out. "Dude, I can't do that. It's not a piece of paper. It's my dad's phone! If I take it and mess with it, he'd kill me!"

Craig took hold of Clyde's arm in an iron grip. He fixed his unwavering gaze with Clyde's uneasy one.

"If you help me do this, I'll take the fall if we get caught," He promised. With a squeeze, Craig added, "And I'll let you have my dessert at lunch for the rest of the year."

Clyde squirmed in his seat and bit his lip. He looked away then groaned.

"Fine!" Clyde relented. "Fine, fine, fine! How do you plan on doing it?"

The moment Craig dropped his hand, Clyde started to rub his arm. It probably wasn't going to bruise, and even if it did, Clyde was still getting the better end of this deal. Everyone loved the brownies they got on Thursdays with their corn dogs.

"It's simple. The ride to the hotel is four hours, right? Go up to your dad at the first rest stop and ask if you can play on his phone. Just make something up, like yours ran out of battery,” Craig explained.

"How do you know he'll give me his phone?" Clyde asked, looking down at his smartphone.

"No offense, Clyde, but your dad is kind of a pushover." Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you pout like you always do, he'll let you borrow it. I'm sure."

"I don't pout," Clyde snapped. "I'm way too manly to pout."

Craig didn't try to correct any of the lies in that statement. Instead, he leaned back into the seat with a smirk.

Yes, for sure, Craig Tucker was a genius.

~~~~~

"Now, kids, settle down!" Mr. Donovan called over the shouting and yelling of the robotics club. He had to yell a few more times before everyone quieted enough that he could be heard.

Mr. Donovan pushed his glasses up. "Alright, kids, as you know the gardening club is also going to the museum this weekend, and since Kevin got on the wrong bus, we're going to wait at the rest stop for a few minutes so the garden club's bus can swing by and drop him off."

A few of the students groaned. Craig couldn't entirely blame them. The trip was already long and boring, waiting at a rest stop only prolonged the suffering.

The teacher sponsor of the robotics club pushed himself from his seat and sent a glare over the student, silencing any protests.

Mr. Donovan nodded approvingly. "Alright, now, everyone file out to use the restroom and stretch your legs."

Moments later, the robotics club had shuffled off the bus. Craig lifted himself up on his toes as he stretched.

"Ok, you ready?" Craig asked.

Clyde rolled his eyes. "Can a guy pee first?"

"No," Craig deadpanned. He reached into Clyde's jacket pocket and took his phone.

Ignoring Clyde's protests of "Hey! What the fuck?", Craig took the phone out of its case then turned it over to pull the back off. He pried out the battery before pocketing it.

As he reassembled the phone, he explained, "If your dad needs proof, you can press and hold the power button without it turning back on."

Clyde scrunched up his face as he took his phone back. "Fiiiiine." Spinning on his heels, he headed towards his dad.

Craig took a few steps towards a bench to casually sit and watch as his amazing plan came to fruition.

Mr. Donovan's head went up when Clyde called his name. He gave his full attention to his son while Clyde held up his phone and pointed.

Craig's heart skipped a beat when Mr. Donovan reached for the phone. If Mr. Donovan held Clyde's phone, he would feel the weight difference. Luckily, by some miracle, he stopped before he could touch it.

They talked for another few minutes before Clyde returned with a solemn look on his face.

"He says I'm just out of luck, and he'll look at it at the hotel." Clyde shook his head.

"Fuck!" Craig clenched his fists. "We have to get that phone, Clyde! Just let me think a minute..."

"Dude, maybe you should just give it up." Clyde shrugged. "Like I told you, next sleepover at my house, you can--"

Craig jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling. Plan A never works. That's just facts. Plan B, though, Plan B would be perfect!

He dug around in his pockets then held the contents in his palm. Craig flicked the pocket lint out of the pile then shoved the ink pen behind his ear.

He turned over the pack of Fruit Stripe gum he stole from his sister. With his braces, he technically wasn't supposed to chew this type of gum, but what his orthodontist didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Shoving the gum and the phone battery into Clyde's hands, Craig began to count his change out.

Disregarding the pennies, he had a grand total of fifty-five cents.

"Clyde, give me a dollar." Craig made a gimme motion with his hand.

"What? No! You have a wallet on the bus," Clyde said but took out his wallet anyway. He fished out a one dollar bill, which Craig snatched.

Without a word to Clyde, he dashed towards the vending machines. Of course, there was a line.

Craig tapped his foot impatiently as some sophomores he didn't know jabbered on about something he didn't care about.

What was taking them so long to buy a soda? Every second they wasted talking, was a second less Craig had for his plan! Didn't they know that the gardening club bus would be here soon?

A bottle made a thunking sound when it fell. Craig took a step forward, only for one of them to feed another dollar into the machine.

Craig and Tweek weren't in any of the same clubs this year. The pure coincidence that the science museum would hold both an exhibition on space age robotics and sustainable farming was a blessing from God that Craig didn't want to waste!

When he was only ten seconds away from pushing the sophomores out of the way, they finished. Still animatedly talking, they walked away with an arm full of soda each.

Craig rolled his eyes. "Finally." He muttered, just loud enough for the sophomore he was passing to hear. She shot him a dirty look, and Craig flipped her off. The sophomore scoffed but didn't try to pick a fight.

After smoothing out the dollar on the side of the machine a few times, Craig fed Washington’s visage into the dollar slot and pressed the Coke option.

Sold out.

Any of the drinks would work, so long as they were sticky and sugary, so he pressed the Diet Coke.

Sold Out.

Pepsi.

Sold out.

Diet Pepsi. Sprite. Double Dew.

Sold out. Sold out. Sold out.

The only option he had left was Gatorade and water.

Cursing those sophomores with every fiber of his being, Craig pressed the Gatorade option. This was the last drink that had sugar in it.

He braced himself, waiting.

Th-thunk!

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he knelt down to retrieve the cherry sports drink.

When he returned to Clyde, Craig had already cracked open the drink and chugged some of it.

Clyde frowned. "Not to poke holes in whatever your plan is, but I doubt electrolytes are going to help."

"It's not the electrolytes I need," Craig smirked. "I'm going to walk over and then 'accidentally' trip and spill this all over your dad's pants."

"You're going to what?" Clyde cried, only for Craig to elbow him in the stomach. He doubled over, clenching his middle.

"Quiet! Look, all you need to do is steal your dad's pants when he's changing them. It'll be easy."

Clyde looked up from his bent over position. "This is not a good plan, Craig!"

"Are you my bro or aren't you?" Craig narrowed his eyes.

After a heartbeat, Clyde muttered, "I'm your bro..."

"Good, now get ready." Craig nodded sharply. Clyde flashed a thumbs up before hobbling over to sit on the bench.

With a breath, Craig started towards Mr. Donovan. Luckily for him, Mr. Donovan was distracted, chatting with the teacher.

Honestly, this should have been Plan A. What was he even thinking with the original Plan A? Of course, Mr. Donovan wasn't going to give up his phone because Clyde's ‘broke’! Even if he did, he would have probably logged off all his apps.

Someone hip checked Craig, sending him stumbling to the side. The bottle fell from his hands. The rest of the liquid spilled over the concrete.

Craig stared, flabbergasted, as his Plan B flowed down a crack in the sidewalk towards the grass.

Someone snickered. Craig spun around, ready to fight. The sophomore he'd flipped off smirked at him before heading towards the rest of her friends.

Shaking, Craig took a step towards her. He was not above starting a fight in the middle of the public rest area.

Clyde came up then and caught his arm.

"Not worth it, dude," He said with a shake of the head.

"Fuck me!" Craig groaned. "Clyde, another dollar. Let me try again--"

The gardening club's bus pulled up before Clyde could pull out his wallet.

Clyde patted his back reassuringly.

"Sorry, man," He offered softly.

"Yeah," Craig heaved a sigh then straighten up. He shoved his disappointment down as he began to scan the crowd of garden club kids for his favorite shock of blond hair.

He spotted him hanging around Token. Before his club was called to their bus, he and Clyde hurried over.

"You can explain it all you want, I still don't get it." Token was saying.

"No, like, dude, agroforestry isn't hard; it's--Craig!" Tweek cut himself off, smiling.

"Hey, honey," Craig greeted, pulling Tweek into a half-hug. Tweek snaked his arm around Craig's waist and leaned against him as Craig held his fist out for Token, who bumped it.

"Hey, dudes," Token nodded to him and Clyde.

"Having fun learning about dirt?" Clyde teased. "This is what you get for being so whipped by your girlfriend."

Token rolled his eyes, but he didn't have a counter to that. The only reason he joined Garden Club was because Nichole asked him to.

From what Tweek had said, Token's thumb was 'averagely green'. Though he could tend to plants, he didn't care about doing it and spent most of his time sitting around or organizing the supplies.

"Clyde, how many times have you been on Bebe's beck and call during volleyball practice?" Craig snorted. He pitched up his voice to mock, "'Bring me my water, Clyde. Can you get my towel for me, sweetie? Go grab the ball, baby!'"

Token laughed into his hand while Clyde's face went red. Craig felt Tweek's shoulder shake in laughter just a little under his arm.

"Oh, screw you," Clyde snapped. "I'm going to find Kevin." With that, Clyde spun around to search the rest of the crowd.

"How's your ride going?" Tweek asked when Clyde disappeared.

"Boring," Craig admitted.

"We had a kid throw up," Token commented. "That's why we're late. We had to turn around, take him home, and get a new bus."

Craig cringed. "That's really gross."

"It kind of worked out, since we were able to pick up Kevin." Tweek pointed out.

The trio chatted for a few more minutes before Mr. Donovan called Craig’s name. "Craig, come get back on the bus. I need to do a headcount." He shouted.

Tweek pulled himself from Craig's side. "See you at the hotel, Craig." Tweek pressed a kiss to Craig's cheek.

Reminded of the hotel and their separate rooming, Craig fought to keep himself from deflating.

"Yeah, see you there." He waved before heading back towards his bus. As he crawled on and made his way towards the back seat, he noticed that sophomore girl sitting near the front. Her bag was half in the aisle.

With a smirk, Craig purposely stepped down hard on it. He heard a pencil snap but kept walking anyway. As tempting as it was to see if she noticed, he couldn't risk it looking like he did it intentionally.

He sat back down, leaning to look sullenly out the window until the rest of the bus hustled on, except for Clyde. Craig eyed the empty seat next to him with a frown. He hadn't hurt Clyde's ego that much, had he?

"Ok, roll call!" Mr. Donovan said, clearly not noticing his son wasn't on board. He patted his pockets. "Oh, uh, where is it?" Turning out his pockets, he furrowed his brow.

"Hey, kids," Mr. Donovan raised his voice. "Has anyone seen my phone? I swear I had--"

"Here it is, Dad!" Clyde held up Mr. Donovan's phone as he and Kevin climbed up the steps. "You left it on the bench outside."

"Oh, thank you, Clyde." His dad nodded, taking the phone.

Craig stared at Clyde with wide eyes as he came down the aisle to sit.

Clyde smiled proudly, reminding Craig of a puppy wishing to be praised.

"Who's your bro?"

"You are. You’re the best fucking bro ever!" Craig put his hand on Clyde's shoulder and shook him.

So what if Plan A failed, and Plan B was doomed before it could start?

Craig could always count on Plan Clyde to make it through to the end!

~~~~

Of the brilliant ideas Tweek had ever had, drinking an entire gallon of Arizona sweet tea on the two hour ride was not one of them.

Honestly, the whole idea of bringing the jug of tea instead of his thermos of coffee had been on his dad’s prompting that Tweek should ‘slow down’ on the coffee drinking. His parents claimed it was ‘for his health,’ but Tweek knew that was a lie.

They still hadn’t gotten over Tweek using some of their special roast last week. He didn’t even get to drink any before they saw him making it and got mad!

That was how Tweek ended up with a gallon of tea instead — a gallon he’d absentmindedly down not even halfway to the rest stop.

He had been sitting on a bladder that was about to burst for the last hour. Then when they did finally stop, Craig tracked him down before he could make it to the restroom.

The whole time they were talking with Token and Clyde, Tweek felt his eyes floating a little higher. He nearly shouted out in relief when Mr. Donovan called Craig back to his bus.

Tweek washed his hands in the rest stop sink. The whole place smelled a little too strongly of cheap soap and lemon cleaner. Something that strong smelling could only be covering up something that smelled even worse.

Tweek had little desire to find out what that smell was, so he forwent drying his hands to instead hurry out the door.

He nearly barreled into Kevin.

"Oh, sorry, Tweek!" Kevin said as he bobbed around him into the restroom.

Standing just outside the door, Clyde leaned against the wall, playing on a phone, but not his own. Clyde's phone case had glittery football and baseball stickers Bebe put on it. The one he had was just plain silver.

"Clyde?" Tweek turned his head a bit to the side.

Clyde jumped. "Ah, Tweek, hey, man, what's up?"

"Shouldn't you be heading towards your bus?" Tweek asked.

"Yeah, just waiting for Kevin." Clyde shoved the phone into his pocket. "He didn't have fifteen minutes to dick around like we had."

It had been a stroke of luck that right as they returned to the bus barn at the high school, Kevin's mom pulled up. Apparently, he overslept.

"Oh, right, I guess that's true." Tweek nodded.

Clyde twiddled with his thumbs a moment, humming to himself. He held back a smile, and that made Tweek uneasy.

"What?" Tweek wrung his hands in his shirt.

Clyde was about to burst when he finally blurted out, "You and Craig share a room at the hotel!"

"W-what?!" Tweek choked on the word.

"Yeah, dude. I guess the teachers didn't know you were boyfriends or something." He cheekily elbowed him in the ribs. "Lucky duck, aren't you?"

Before Tweek could reply, Kevin exited the restroom.

"Come on, Clyde, we have to hurry back to the bus." Kevin grabbed Clyde's arm.

"Right." Clyde nodded. To Tweek, he teased, "Don't have too much fun later tonight." He punctuated his tease with a wink before letting Kevin drag him towards the bus.

Tweek watched, suddenly frozen to the ground, as Kevin and Clyde made their way to their bus.

The bus rumbled to life, the door shut, and pulled out of the parking lot before Tweek melted. The moment he could move his feet again, he dashed across the grass to the playground.

Nichole sat at the top of a jungle gym that was much too small for a high school student while Token leaned against it.

Tweek wasted no time darting up to Token, grabbing his shoulders, and screaming into his chest.

"Holy shit, Token! Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!" Tweek panted. His eyes darted around in panic.

"W-Wow, Tweek, dude," Token furrowed his brows, "calm down."

Tweek turned a quick glare towards him. Token knew fully well that telling him to 'calm down' didn't help! It just made Tweek realize how much he was panicking more than before!

Nichole slid off the jungle gym. She set a hand on Tweek's shoulders.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Clyde, He--!! The teachers fucked up, and, and, and!" Tweek grabbed his hair. "The teachers assigned Craig and me to the same room!"

Token's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Lucky." He turned a flirty smile to Nichole. "Think they messed up with us, too?"

Nichole rolled her eyes, clearly unamused, and turned her attention back to Tweek.

"If that makes you uncomfortable, you can ask a teacher to change it, Tweek," She offered. "Or why not tell Craig you're not ok with it?"

"That's the thing!" Tweek squeezed his voice out through his clenched throat. "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I'm totally fine with sleeping in the same room as him."

Token crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you freaking out? It's not excitement. I know that much."

Tweek began to fiddle with his buttons. This was embarrassing! Why did the teachers have to do this to him? Did the robotic club teacher hate him that much? Or was it his teacher sponsor?

He swallowed the lump in his throat before looking around. There was no one in earshot, but he gestured everyone to move closer anyway.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise, on your l-lives," Tweek held out both his pinkies as added insurance. Token and Nichole each wrapped a pinkie around his and shook on it.

"We won't tell. What is it?" Nichole prompted.

"It's just, well, Craig and I, we haven't slept in the same room since we were little kids!" Tweek almost smiled at the memories of late night fart sounds and bad jokes. "That's the thing though: we were little kids. Craig's getting his full driver's license next year and my parents have hired me for real at the shop. We're adults."

Tweek chewed his lip a moment. "It's different now, and, uh, I-I want it to be different, you know? It's not just another kiddie, platonic sleep over anymore."

Nichole clasped her hands over her heart. "Oh, Tweek, that's so sweet and romantic!"

Token snorted a chuckle. "Wait, so you want to sleep sleep with Craig? Like sex? On a school trip? Tweek, you wild animal."

Red painted Tweek's face. He sputtered before finding his words. "No! No! No! No! I don't mean it like that! I mean--"

Nichole gently shoved Token's shoulder. He took a step to the side, more to humor her than succumbing to her strength.

"No, he means he wants to sleep in the same bed as Craig like adults do, like our parents do." She smiled at Tweek. "Right?"

"Y-yes! That's what I mean," He nodded, then pointed to Token. "I'm worried that Craig will take it like Token did if I ask though. I don't want him to think I'm a pervert or a creep."

"He's not going to think that, Tweek." Token shook his head. "If he does, just explain it to him."

"Then he'll think I changed my story when I made him uncomfortable, which will make it even more uncomfortable."

Tweek winced at the thought. He couldn't have 'sex-crazed' add to the list of adjectives he knew Craig thought of him as.

It took him months to remove 'musophobe' from that list when Tweek shrieked after a mouse ran across his toes in Craig's basement. It wasn't even fair to claim he's afraid of mice. It was a big mouse and ran across his bare feet! Anyone would scream.

Nichole screwed her face up in thought. "Then why don't you make it where he asks you?" Her eyes sparkled. "Yeah, do that!"

"How?" Both Tweek and Token asked. The former in a tone of interest and the latter in a tone of dubiousness.

She shrugged. "I don't know, um...drop the temperature? If it's cold in your room, he might ask to snuggle in bed, and if you two just so happen to fall asleep, well, that's just how it goes, right?"

Token shook his head. "Nichole, you have to know how silly--"

"That's perfect!" Tweek grabbed her shoulders before pulling her into a hug. "Nichole, you're so smart!"

She patted his back and nodded contently. "Thank you."

Token opened his mouth, then shut it, shaking his head without a word.

~~~~~

Tweek was excited now that he had a plan of attack. When they got back on the bus, he and Nichole brained stormed more ideas to freeze Craig into Tweek's arms.

First, he would see how low he could get the thermostat to go. Since the plan for dinner was to walk across the street from the hotel to the buffet, the room would have plenty of time to get nice and chilly. If Tweek made sure to get back to the room first, he could turn it back up to normal temperature. He'd shut the vents after that, so no warm air could get in.

Then it would be romantic snuggling the rest of the night!

If all else failed, he still had that gallon bottle from his tea. All he needed to do was refill it when they got there. If it 'accidentally' spilled on one of their beds later that night, the other would undoubtedly be a gentleman and offer to share the remaining bed.

It was a foolproof plan!

A half hour to the hotel, Tweek's phone buzzed.

"We're in the same room at the hotel," Craig wrote. "If the teacher asks, we had a fight and broke up. act bitter about it, otherwise, they might separate us."

Tweek frowned. Clyde told him the teachers forgot they were dating. Why would they remember now? Unless one of the other students ratted them out. He could see that.

Some of the girls in the robotics club gave the kind of vibe like they would throw anyone to the lions at the first chance.

"What did we fight about this time?" Tweek texted back. "Was it 'Michael' again?" He smiled to himself, ending the text with a wink emote.

A moment later, Craig replied, "If you don't let that die, then we really will have a fight." His text ended with three fist emoji. Before Tweek could even open his keyboard, another message came.

This one said, "jk jk. idk. something that doesn't make me look like a dick this time. why don't we fight over stripe? you're being a bad dad and overfeeding him or something."

Tweek didn't like the idea of this fake fight painting him as a bad pet parent, but considering Craig still got flack over their fight in fourth grade, maybe it was only fair.

"ok. I'm letting Token and Nichole know though. Love you!" Tweek tried to look annoyed as he sent a string of kiss faces and hearts. If there was one thing Tweek had become really good at since he and Craig started dating, it was acting.

He huffed, throwing his hand up in the air.

"That bastard!" Tweek cried out just loud enough the other club members around him would hear, but not the teacher.

"How dare he!" Tweek continued, leaning across the aisle to Token. "Look at what Craig said! Me? A bad pet parent! I'm the fucking best parent Stripe has!"

Token raised an eyebrow but took the phone. He rolled his eyes, turning the screen enough for Nichole to read. Nichole chuckled but sent Tweek a small nod. She would play along with this.

"Fuck him! We're through!" Tweek took his phone back. "How do you change your relationship status on Facebook? Under ‘about’ right? I'm not letting him say those things about me."

The other students turned in their seat or scooted closer to the aisle. Gossip hounds, most of them. Usually, Tweek couldn't stand his personal info getting around like this, but the grapevine of whispers would reach up to the teacher and chaperone faster this way.

Craig had already started vague posting about him.

Along with a picture of a fat, plushy guinea pig, Craig posted, "This is what SOME PEOPLE think a guinea pig should look like! Rolly polly and one treat from a heart attack! #badpetparent"

It took all of Tweek's composure not to laugh. Between the two of them, Craig was the one who usually gave Stripe one too many treats.

For the rest of the bus ride, Craig and Tweek made snide comments and jabs about the other on social media. Honestly, he was having fun with it. None of what they said to each other was particularly true, or really that bad, but the rumor mill had already worked its magic.

According to posts shown to him by Nichole and Token, Tweek had broken Craig's heart and curb stomped it by attempting to take full custody of Stripe from him. At least one tweet said they were going to court about it.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the robotics bus was already parked. Even in the dim evening light, the antics and excitement of the other club shown through the windows. A paper airplane launched out one of the rear windows and crashed against Tweek's window.

Tweek squinted to try and make out anyone he knew, but the closest he came was thinking he saw the top of Craig's hat.

"Alright, students," the teacher clapped her hands, stealing his attention "We're all going to head to the lobby. Take your bags. I'm not walking everyone back and forth to the bus."

Tweek shouldered his backpack on and stood. When he passed the teacher on his way off the bus, she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tweek, I want you to know if you ever need to talk, I'm here." She smiled softly. "I know how hard it is to lose a pet to careless actions."

Tweek stared at her a moment before her words clicked. "Oh! Um, thank you, ma'am." He tried to sound downtrodden.

So their 'break up' had already turned to manslaughter. Great. Crowd control was going to be a pain in the ass after all this was said and done.

The robotics club fell silent when Tweek came into the lobby. Some eyed him with distrust, and others with pity. Clyde avoided looking at him, and Craig fixed him with a faux dirty look before flipping him the bird.

Anyone who didn't know Craig well could tell there was no malice in this gesture, but Tweek pretended he was offended and threw him a middle finger right back.

Craig shoved his hands in his pocket and scowled to the side, all the while holding back a smile. Tweek thought it was simply adorable. He made a note to tell him that and watch Craig get flustered about it later.

"Alright, is everyone off the bus?" One of the teachers shouted, and the crowd of students quieted. "Alright, so, when I call your name, come up and get your room key."

She reached held her tablet to her face as she read. One by one the students walked up. There were a few groans and whines, a couple of cheers, but no one seemed too opposed to their rooming assignments.

Then the teacher called out Craig's name.

"Craig Tucker, Room 203." She held up his key. "You're rooming with...oh, um, T-Tweek Tweak."

A group gasp nearly sucked all the air from the lobby. Tweek squared his shoulders and marched up along with Craig.

Mr. Donovan and the garden club teacher exchanged looks, while the robotics teacher couldn't care less.

She started, "I don't know how they got...um--maybe we should switch them with--"

"I'm fine with it." Craig snapped, snatching a key card off the table. "Unlike some people, I am a responsible adult who is in complete control of his emotions."

"Bullshi--I mean, I am too!" Tweek grabbed the other card from the teacher. "You just stay on your side of the room, you gay jerk."

"Don't call names, Tweek. It's immature," Craig scoffed.

"It's not immature if it's all true," Tweek grumbled. Before the teacher or Mr. Donovan could reply, they both stormed off back into the crowd.

~~~~~

Tweek wasn't sure how they pulled that off, exactly, but none of the adults tried to take their keys away from them or make them switch rooms.

At this point, Tweek narrowed it down to either the adults didn't know how to deal with this situation between two men or didn't want to get dragged into their drama. Either way, Tweek wasn't going to complain.

Still scowling, Tweek unlocked their door. With a sneer in his voice, he held the door and said, "After you, Mr. Mature."

"Thank you," Craig spat back, all fake venom.

Mr. Donovan grabbed the door handle, standing between the two. He forced a nervous smile. "Um, if you boys need anything," Mr. Donovan said. "I'm in the room right next door."

"Don't worry, sir." Craig frowned. "We can handle ourselves. Or, I can anyway."

"Yeah," Tweek took a breath, "don't worry at all."

Mr. Donovan didn't look any more relaxed but nodded anyway.

The moment after Tweek shut the door then threw his bag on the bed, Craig grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug.

"Everyone hates you now," Craig stated matter-of-factly, "for being a guinea pig murderer." He kissed his forehead.

"We'll have to post a picture together with Stripe when we get home." Tweek chuckled. "Proof of my innocence."

Craig squeezed him once, then took a step back. "I need to brush my teeth. Clyde dared me to eat a Jolly Rancher we found on the floor of the bus."

Tweek winced. "Was it completely worth it?"

Craig shrugged. "I got fifteen dollars and ten minutes picking candy out of my braces since I accidentally crunch down, so half-and-half."

"You're disgusting, Craig Tucker," Tweek teased.

Craig took his hat off and chucked it at his face. "If it hadn't been grape - flavored, you would have done it, too."

Tweek gave Craig that as truth with a slight nod before shoving his hat over his head.

When Craig left for the bathroom, Tweek dove into action. He spun around and darted towards the thermal unit under the window.

Stooping down, he fiddled with the controls. The unit wasn't complicated, so it only took a minute or two to lower the temperature setting from a cozy seventy-five to a chilly fifty.

He bounced to his feet and spun around. Twisting the tassels of Craig's hat, he wandered to the bathroom. Craig leaned over the counter to the mirror, picking at his braces. He ran his tongue over his front teeth before sticking his mouth under the faucet to take a drink.

"Get it all?" Tweek asked.

Craig held up a finger as he swished the water around in his mouth then spit.

"Probably not, but at least my mouth doesn't taste like bus floor anymore." He held out his hand. "Gimme back my hat."

Tweek reached up to pull the hat from his head. A smirk played on his lips, and he strode forward and threw it on Craig's head. With a tug, he pulled him down to press a kiss to his lips.

Craig chuckled. "Damn, hope we get over this fight soon."

~~~~~

The buffet was nothing special, just an average all you can eat joint. On their second trip up, Clyde loaded up on more enchiladas than could possibly be healthy, while Craig had taken a more Italian root with a plateful of pasta and pizza.

They sat together in at a table in the back with Token. From their vantage point, they could people watch and mock almost all of the other restaurant goers and had quick access to the dessert bar.

Token took one look at Clyde’s plate and rolled his eyes.

"Didn't your dad tell you to eat something healthy?" Token made a point to stab up some zucchini.

"This is plenty healthy," Clyde replied. "The sauce has tomatoes. Cheese is a dairy product. Grain in the tortilla, and chicken is protein. All the food groups are there."

Without fighting Clyde’s logic, he turned towards Craig. "Ok, so how are you and," he jerked his head towards Tweek, “doing?”

A gaggle of girls surrounded Tweek, cooing over him and comforting him, including the ones who took all the sodas earlier that day. Somehow half the girls on the trip got it in their heads the whole 'fight' was Craig's fault and Tweek was an innocent victim in it all.

Tweek himself looked incredibly uncomfortable, picking at his chicken breast. One of the girls reached out to mess with his hair and Craig tensed. Tweek didn't like people touching him for no reason, much less stroking his hair like that.

Luckily, Nichole reached up and grabbed the girl's hand with a frown. Craig made a note to thank her for that later.

He poked at his pasta without spinning the fork. "We're fine," Craig answered.

Token hummed. "Ok. Actually, can I ask you a question since you and Tweek are sharing a room?"

"Shoot." Craig took a drink of his cola.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?" Token asked, a little too bluntly.

Craig choked on his drink. He beat his chest, panting. Clyde burst into laughter, bits of enchilada flying across the table. In response, Token crouched over his food, protecting his plate with his arms.

"Token, what the fuck, man?" Craig gasped. "Shit, dude, fuck! You can't ask stuff like that in public!"

Token shrugged, straightening back up.

Clyde wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So is that a no? You'd just leave Tweek by himself? Guess it's a good thing you two broke up."

Craig took his fork, stabbed one of Token's zucchini slices, and dropped it on top of Clyde's enchiladas. Clyde hurried to remove the offending squash before it contaminated his meal.

Craig pointed his fork at Token. "Ok, why did you ask that?" He lowered his fork and leaned closer. "Did...Did Tweek say he wanted to do that?"

Token chuckled. "What? No. I was just wondering. You two are sharing a room, after all."

Craig reached up and tugged at his hat. He was glad it covered his ears. They were burning with embarrassment. This was not public restaurant talk. This was beanbag chair, playing video games in someone's room talk.

At least if they were in someone's room, Craig could chuck a pillow at Token and loudly tell him to fuck off.

"It's none of your business what Tweek and I do--if we were still together." Craig spun his fork in his pasta. "Which we're not because he's a huge dick and a bad parent to Stripe."

Token opened his mouth, only to have Clyde interrupt him before he started.

"Ok, ok, ok, screw Craig for a minute here. We both know the answer is 'yes', no matter what he says." Clyde reached across to grab Token's hand. "The real question is if you would say yes if I asked you." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Token snorted a laugh. "Of course, Clyde. What are best bros for?"

Clyde raised his fist up to pump it down, only to slam his elbow down on the rim of his plate. The enchiladas flew off the plate.

Red sauce, tortilla, and ground beef splattered against Craig's shirt. Out of instinct, Craig moved back, only to knock his drink forward so it splashed down onto his pants.

"Clyde!" Craig roared, holding his shirt from his body.

"Sorry!" Clyde grabbed a napkin and moved forward to wipe some of the beef off, but Craig slapped his hand down.

Without a word, Craig sulked over to the table with the teachers and chaperones. As he did, he passed the table with Tweek and all the girls. Some of the girls glared at him and some snickered. Tweek, on the other hand, looked shocked and worried.

"Hey, can I head back?" Craig interrupted whatever the teachers were saying. The adults looked up.

"What happened?" The robotics teacher asked.

"Dropped a plate," Craig muttered.

Even though it was all Clyde's fault, he didn't want to get him in trouble for screwing around. Craig would find some other way to have his revenge. For now, he'd let Clyde sweat about when his retribution would come.

Mr. Donovan scooted his chair back. "Of course, Craig. I'll walk you back over and--"

"Mr. Donovan?"

Craig looked over his shoulder to see Tweek walking up.

"Are you heading back? Can I come?" Tweek tugged at his sleeves, looking to the side. "I, uh, I forgot to take my medication this morning, and my anxiety finally caught up with me in such a crowded place."

As added emphasis, he wrapped his arms around himself and twitched.

Craig nearly reached out but stopped himself. For one, they were still 'fighting' and for two, He was pretty sure that was all a lie.

Tweek never forgot to take his medication. He had no less than three alarms to remind himself. It would not surprise Craig at all if Tweek was just using this as an excuse to get away from all the people fawning over him.

Craig caught Tweek's eye for just a second, then muttered, loud enough to be heard by the teachers, "He probably doesn't trust me not to mess with his stuff."

Tweek pretended to grit his teeth. "Please. I'm finished eating."

The adults talked for a moment before Mr. Donovan nodded. After getting a to-go box for Craig and Mr. Donovan's food, the three made their way back to the hotel.

~~~~~~

Craig tossed his shirt into the sink and turned on the hot water. He could try to scrub the sauce off with the complimentary soap but doubted it would do much. Though he liked the shirt well enough, it wasn't a favorite. So if he failed, there wouldn't be that big of a loss.

"Here."

Craig turned to see Tweek in the doorway, holding something out.

"What is it?" Craig stepped over and took it from his hand. He turned the pen-shaped object over in his palm. It was one of those Tide To-Go Pens.

A snorted laugh escaped him. He wasn't surprised at all. Tweek was the only boy Craig knew who would bring something like this with him on a school trip.

He wondered if Tweek brought a sweater with him, too. The hotel room was polar cold. Craig could probably suffer with it, but he didn’t like the idea of Tweek freezing overnight.

Hopefully he could just crank up the thermostat to remendy the situation.

"Thanks, dude," Craig said as he turned to work on the shirt. Tweek leaned against the door frame, watching with interest as Craig worked.

After a while, Craig removed as much of the stain as he could. Luckily, it wasn't too noticeable. As long as his mother never saw it, it was all good. No harm, no foul.

Holding the shirt triumphantly up, he spun around.

"Ta-da!"

Tweek snickered but indulged him with a small round of applause. Craig bobbed his head proudly in a faux bow before tossing the shirt over the towel rack to dry.

"I think I'll take a quick shower. I can still feel the soda sticking to me through my PJs," Craig announced. With a smirk, he added coyly, "Don't go messing with my stuff, got it, Mr. Tweak?"

Tweek's shoulders shook. "I'm way too mature to be that petty, Mr. Tucker."

The two burst into giggles. Tweek started to leave, but Craig followed behind him. He walked past their beds towards the window unit. When he got out of the shower, he’d rather not have all the water freeze to his body.

"Thought so," Craig muttered after crouching down. "Whoever had our room before us left this on fifty." He readjusted the temperature back up to a cozy seventy-five.

“Oh, that’s why it’s so cold?” Tweek rubbed his arm. “I hadn’t even thought to check it.”

“Yeah, well, at least we won’t turn into popsicles overnight.”

Tweek grinned at him. There was something a little off about it, but Craig didn’t comment. With how his luck was going this evening, Tweek probably figured Craig thought he was stupid for not noticing.

Craig put his hand on Tweek’s arm, over his knuckles. He explained, “It must have been programmed to kick on while we were out. I didn’t notice until we got back how cold it was.”

Tweek looked down at Craig’s hand, then up at him. He nodded then smiled. The off feeling about this smile dissolved instantly.

With a squeeze of his hand, Craig then left Tweek to take his shower.

Craig’s chest well with pride at the accomplishment as he shut the door. How many people could pacify Tweek’s worries with a few correctly-chosen and reassuring words?

Dang, did Craig like Tweek’s smile. Really, he just liked Tweek over all. Their relationship might have started on less than stellar terms, but by now, Craig had a hard time imagining his life without Tweek in it. It was asilly thought, Craig knew, but maybe they'd get married one day.

Craig stiffened as Token's question rang in his head again.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?"

He tried to force the idea out of his thoughts but failed miserably. That was a topic he hadn't sunk too much thought into. Sex seemed like a distant concept, more of a late-night thought experiment than a something that would actually happen.

After all, it took them nearly a year and a half of dating to share the most chaste kiss ever, and Tweek still puked from nerves on Craig's shoes a second later. Sex was way too big of a leap! Even if Tweek could get over his nerves this time, Craig knew he couldn't do it.

When they were older, maybe, but...

Craig groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why did Token even ask that? Tweek had to have made him do it, right? A question like that was way too out of the blue for Token to ask it any other time!

He ran his hands through his hair before slapping them down on the sink.

If Tweek wanted to know if Craig was interested in sleeping with him, it would be best to come out in the open and say he wasn't! His boyfriend might be disappointed, but Tweek would have to just respect his decision.

Spinning on his heels, Craig marched out the door. He needed to do this before his confidence wore off.

"Tweek, we need--the fuck?"

Tweek stared at him, eyes like a deer in the headlights. In his hand, he had his jug of water held over Craig's bed. A thin trickle poured onto the covers.

"Don't be mad!" Tweek cried, pulling the jug to his chest. "I can explain, I promise!"

"Then explain. We're not really fighting! You're taking your acting too far!" Craig rushed over to tear the jug from his hands. His bed didn't look too wet. He could probably just pull the sheets off or sleep in the recliner in the corner.

"No, that's not--uh, shit, Craig--!" Tweek wrung his hands together. "Don't be mad! Don't be mad! I, I just..." His shoulders shook and his head dropped.

Craig adjusted the jug to one hand, reaching out with the other, when Tweek's head shot up and he bursted out, "Do you want to sleep with me tonight!?"

So Tweek did get Token to ask Craig! He knew it!

Craig stumbled back. His face was already feeling hot. All of the confidence Craig had seconds ago vanished into thin air when faced with the actual question.

"Tweek, we c-ca-can't!" Craig sputtered. "For one, you, we, uh, need things for that and for two I’m not comfortable with it right now! I don’t want to sleep--"

"Not like that!" Tweek's face was just as red as Craig's, if not more so. He grabbed his shoulders, shaking his head so fast that Craig worried he might break his neck.

"I don't mean it like se—urk—like making l-love," Tweek forced out. "I mean like married people. Normal sleeping, but in the same bed. Same way parents do."

Craig looked down at the jug. Tweek followed his eyes. He snatched it back, his face somehow burning even more.

"I...I wanted to force you to ask to share a bed with me," Tweek admitted. "I was going to chill you into it, but you turned the heat back up."

Craig tried to keep a straight face as Tweek explain but failed almost instantly. His shoulders scrunched and his chin fell to his chest. His cheeks puffed out as he tried to hold back his laughter.

He peeked up at Tweek. Tweek clenched his hand around the jug handle, eyes wide and confused.

"Dude, no offense, did you get this idea from a bad fanfiction?" He snorted into his hand. "Freezing me into your bed? Really? That was the best idea you could come up with before jumping straight to dumping water on my mattress?"

Tweek looked down at the jug, then back up at Craig, before a smile spread across his face. He chuckled, taking a step back to set the jug on the bedside table.

"Shit, now that you say it like that, it's a horrible idea, isn't it?" He shook his head. "At least Nichole's heart was in the right place."

"It was her idea? That explains...never mind." Craig plopped back onto the bed. He patted the seat next to him. Tweek slipped down beside him. Craig eyed the space between them then scooted closer until their sides touch.

"Sooooo, Tweek," Craig slipped his hand around behind Tweek and lean against him, "Do you wanna sleep together? Tonight? Like adults?" He got face to face with Tweek and winked.

Tweek stiffened up a heartbeat, then relaxed. Before Craig could comprehend what Tweek was doing, Tweek pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, I'd really like that."

A fond, soft feeling welled up in Craig's chest. The feeling spread through his body. He clung to it as Tweek wrapped him in a warm hug. They wouldn't even need blankets if he kept this feeling around.

“Craig, wanna look at the fallout of our ‘break up’ on Twitter?” Tweek offered after a moment. “Some of the girls at the table with me were saying some pretty out there things. Apparently, someone wants to call the FBI out on you.”

Craig glanced over his shoulder towards the bathroom door. He really should get back and take his shower, but this would only take a few minutes. They’d be done before too long.

Of course, ‘before too long’ stretched from a couple minutes to an hour of scrolling through their friends and followers’ feeds on Twitter and Facebook. Nothing could hold back their snickers and snorts as they each took turns reading the more and more outrageous ideas the rumor mill churned out.

As Craig sat in the recliner chair and Tweek laid on his bed, a knocking came from the door.

"Boys? Boys?" Mr. Donovan called through the door.

Craig scrambled out of the recliner, nearly tripping over his legs. He darted over and pushed Tweek down against the bed.

Craig hissed, "Pretend to be asleep, ok? I have a plan."

"Um, why--I mean ok?" Tweek clambered to pull the covers over his body as Craig hurried towards the door. As he passed the bathroom door, a wall of steam hit his face.

Swearing to himself, Craig darted inside and twisted the shower off. Taking a breath and smoothing out his hair, Craig unlocked the door and peeked out.

"Yes?"

"It'll be time to turn off the lights in about fifteen minutes. I'm going around giving everyone their warning." Mr. Donovan told him. He furrowed his brow, looking over Craig into the room. "Where is Tweek? Are you two alright?"

Craig's face fell into a cringe.

"Ugh, yeah, I guess. He went to sleep, like, right, when we got back. I'm going to bed after I take a shower."

"'After'? I heard the shower start a while ago." Mr. Donovan frowned.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I..." Craig wracked his brain a moment then quickly said, "I went in to wash my shirt, and when I left to go get my other shirt, Tweek slipped in and took a shower himself."

"You said he went to bed right after you two got back," Mr. Donovan pointed out.

Shit! Craig felt a sweat start across his skin.

From inside the room came the sound of a bed creaking. Tweek came up from behind Craig, a blanket covering his clothes.

"What's going on? Are we in trouble?" Tweek asked around a yawn. He sent a glare to Craig. "Was he tattling on me for taking a five minutes shower while he was trying to wash his stupid shirt? I thought he was done. I just woke back up, and showers help calm me down! He was the one who chased me out before I could turn the water off. The wasted water bill is all on him!"

Craig rolled his eyes, about to snap something back at Tweek, when Mr. Donovan interrupted.

"No, Tweek, no one is in trouble. You both have fifteen minutes before lights out, alright?"

Craig sighed internally. Thank God, Mr. Donovan seemed to have bought Tweek's lie.

"Yessir," Craig bobbed his head.

"I already was out before someone went to complain," Tweek muttered, turning on his heels and marching back towards his bed.

Mr. Donovan shook his head. "Fifteen minutes, boys." And with that, he left.

Craig shut and locked the door before slumping down, letting out his internal sigh. That was close, too close. Tweek's acting and quick thinking saved them once again.

~~~~

In the fifteen minutes before lights out, Tweek changed out of his clothes into his PJs and Craig took a quick shower to remove as much of the remaining red sauce and soda as he could. They hit the lights moments before one of the teachers made his rounds to tell everyone to go to bed.

Tweek pulled the covers up to his chin. His eyes flicked towards the digital clock on the bed stand. The plan was simple. After another fifteen minutes, he would sneak over to Craig's bed.

His stomach twisted. They were really going to do this, weren't they? Sleep in the same bed, not as platonic friends or as children, but as romantic adults.

What if he messed up? What if he rolled over and accidentally pushed Craig off the bed? What if Craig couldn't get comfortable with Tweek next to him and wasn't able to sleep?

This was just like their first kiss all over again!

No, he needed to calm down. Go to his calm mind space and breathe. It was just sleeping. It's not possible to mess up sleeping. This wasn't like the kiss where a thousand things could go wrong. He and Craig were going to snuggle up and sleep — and Tweek was not going to puke.

This was all just nervous excitement. He wanted this. He'd wanted this for a while now since he came to the conclusion that they weren't kids anymore.

This was the most adult part of a relationship they could do. This was what married people did. He and Craig skipped sex and went straight to something more deeply romantic!

As Tweek wondered how Craig thought about marriage, the fifteenth minute ticked by. The moment the digit on the clock changed, Craig shuffled around in his bed.

"Tweek, it's time," Craig whispered.

Tweek nodded, though he knew Craig couldn't see it, and began to crawl out from the covers. He padded the two steps between their beds before leaning down to grope the covers.

When he finally found the end of the blanket, he lifted it and slid under.

"Comfy?" Craig asked.

"Um, y-yeah!" Tweek rested his head against the pillow. "So, this is it, huh? Sleeping in the same bed, like adults."

"Not really," Craig replied.

"Huh? What are we doing wrong? We really like each other, and we're sleeping, together, in the same bed. That's exactly like adults do." Tweek chewed his lip. What was he forgetting?

Craig scooted closer to Tweek then rolled around so his back was towards him. Finally, he pressed his back against Tweek's front.

"Now, put your arms around me. This is how adults sleep." Craig muttered.

Tweek did as he was told and put an arm over Craig's side.

"What do I do with my other arm?" Tweek asked. "Sleep on it, or do I put it around your shoulders, or, um..." He tried to move his arm up to maneuver it under the pillow, only to clunk Craig in the head with his elbow.

As Tweek stammered apologies, Craig grunted in pain. Craig shifted away to the other side of the bed.

Tweek's heart pounded in his chest. Great! They weren't even asleep yet and he'd messed it up!

The bed groaned as Craig reached off the side for his phone. He clicked it on, nearly blinding them both, before setting it between them.

"Maybe that's a little too advanced for the first time," Craig stated flatly. "You want to just, like, sleep face-to-face?"

Tweek wished Craig's phone would turn off so his boyfriend couldn't see the embarrassment on his face as he nodded. Craig didn't look annoyed about taking a hit to the head. If anything, he looked just as apprehensive as Tweek felt. That settled some of Tweek’s nerves, at least.

Tweek smiled at him, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Night, Craig." Tweek murmured against his skin.

"Um, yeah, night." Craig smiled but refused to meet Tweek's eyes as he clicked off the phone. With how brightly both their cheeks were burning, it was a wonder that the room went back to being just as dark as before.

They lapsed into silence. Nothing but the humming of the thermal unit and their breathing filled the room.

So, this was it. This was what sleeping with his boyfriend was like. He'd laid down next to Craig before, but this was different. They weren't just watching a movie or trying to finish homework. This was deep and romantic and very mature!

Tweek focused on Craig's breathing as it began to slow. No doubt Craig would be asleep soon. Would it be alright if Tweek reached out and pulled Craig to his chest while he slept? Was that allowed, or would it be weird? Maybe he could just set his hand over Craig's side again or maybe--

A pair of cold feet pressed against his ankles, and Tweek bit back a yelp. Craig's toes pinched Tweek's legs, tugging unpleasantly at his leg hair, until his feet moved until they were under Tweek.

Craig muttered contently, "Warm..."

Tweek swallowed down a sharp, "No, cold actually!" and instead just let it slide. Part of being in a mature, adult relationship was making compromises, after all.

~~~~~~

Craig's cheerful alarm woke them early the next morning. Sometime during the night, they had become a tangled mess of teenage limbs, so it took Craig a bit to snake his arm out from around Tweek.

He turned off the alarm as Tweek yawned. Before he could stop him, Tweek snuggled closer, burying his nose against Craig's chest.

"We need to get up," Craig told him.

"Nooooo," Tweek whined back. "I just got comfortable."

"You weren't comfortable the rest of the night?" Craig teased. Tweek wouldn't have fallen asleep if he didn't feel safe and comfortable. That's just how Tweek was. They both knew it.

Though, Craig was inclined to agree. Last night was one of the better nights of sleep he's had in a while. Tweek was practically a human furnace, not to mention softer than the pillows themselves. When Craig had to pee halfway through the night, he'd ran to the bathroom and back so he wouldn't miss a second of Tweek's deep, comforting breathing.

Tweek turned his head up to fix Craig with a mildly annoyed expression. "Only when you weren't trying to freeze me with your feet. I'm getting you fuzzy socks for next time, man."

Craig raised an eyebrow, smirking. "There's going to be a 'next time'?"

Tweek nodded. "Well, yeah. If you want there to be."

With a laugh, Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek, pulling him close. Of course, there would have to be a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that...

#south park #secreeksanta #creek #Craig Tucker #tweek tweak #sp creek #fanfiction #one-shot #thefabutrash

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