#Clara only writes fic once a year

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Christmas in paradise

Summary: After a PR nightmare Clara "kidnaps" her client and best friend Dieter Bravo to a private luxury island to spend six weeks away from all the glitz and glam of Hollywood. Spending so much time together one on one might finally lead to confessions that will make them more than just friends...

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC named Clara

Wordcount: 10.8k

Rating: E

Warnings: friends to lovers, Dieter being involved in a PR Nightmare, humour, fluff, cooking, getting sober, feelings, kissing, skinny dipping, smut (protected sex, oral sex), happy end

A/N: With all those pics of Pedro on vacation coming out you would think I started writing this fic in the last couple days when actually, I started this fic in November 2023. This is my longest one shot yet, and I hope it does not disappoint!

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Full Masterlist // Dieter Bravo Masterlist

Clara’s days start early.

They always did. 

Her alarm woke her at 6 am (on good days), she got out of bed, took a shower and drank her first cup of coffee. Had breakfast on her way to the office where she drank her second cup. 

Then after 8-12 hours (sometimes 15 hour days) in her office dealing with her clients she made her way back home, getting take out on her way back. Where she would eat and then fall asleep in front of her TV.

Those were good days. Days Clara preferred. Sometimes she even got free days for herself where she could go and meet her friends (the few she still had) or get a massage at her favourite spa.

She once met Kate Walsh while in the spa and while Clara dealt with celebrities on the daily, thanks to the girlcrush she had on Kate she couldn’t even form a sentence to introduce herself. 

Good days were there. Occasionally. 

But… there were clients who made her life a little more… complicated. Which honestly was the part of her job she enjoyed up to a certain degree. 

That was what PR was for. Dealing with the outside perspective and well… scandals. 

She was married to her job which was why her actual husband, David, felt the need to search for someone who could…. Fulfil his needs more than Clara could. 

The divorce had been unpleasant. 

David and her had been highschool sweethearts, which meant there was no prenup. David had big plans back in college, wanting to open up his own law firm, and become a big name. And even though he was a law student the last thing both thought about at the age of 20 was signing a prenup. 

15 years later Clara came to regret that decision. While David was a more or less successful lawyer, her career had gone through the roof with her own PR Firm and office on the upper west side in New York and in downtown Los Angeles. 

David might have been the one who cheated on her and ended the marriage, but he made sure to take half of everything she owned with him when he left. And the worst part of it was, she didn’t even care. 

Instead on the evening after they had finalised their divorce she went out to dinner with a client of hers. 

Well… he was more like a best friend, yet definitely a client. Probably the most exhausting client she had, but one of her closest friends at the same time. 

Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Clara have known each other their whole life. 

They lived on the same street growing up.

They went to the same school 

They both moved to New York at the same time. 

But they only really got to know each other when Dieter was fired from his first manager after he was caught with well… his managers wife in the restroom of a restaurant. 

It was actually Clara’s mother who had called her and given her Dieter’s number. 

Clara signed Dieter as a client and he became like a…. Pimple that wouldn’t go away. In a very nice way. If pimples could be nice.

It was him who was there for her after the divorce. 

Sighing she rolled her head as she sat at her desk, her sixth coffee of the day cold in the mug that said “I’d rather be with Dieter Bravo” that he gifted her a couple years back as a Christmas gift. 

There was a knock on the door and she looked up, her assistant slowly stepping in with a sorry expression, a big bouquet of Peonies in her arms. 

Clara groaned loudly as her assistant set down the flowers in front of her. 

“When did they get delivered?” Clara asked.

“About fifteen minutes ago,” she said. Clara already felt the nerves fluttering in her belly. She never got flowers. The only person who sent flowers was Dieter when he fucked up. 

“Did… Is there any news out yet on what he’s done now?” Clara asked. Her assistant shook her head. 

“But this is… a big bouquet. Bigger than the last time and…”

“It’s my favourite flowers,” Clara sighed, glancing at the clock. 

It was after 5pm already. 

“He sent me flowers too,” her assistant said and Clara blinked at her, slowly. 

“And there’s also lemon sponge cake from the Magnolia Bakery outside….”

Clara took a deep breath, before she reached for her phone. 

“What did he do now?” Clara asked herself with a sigh. 

“I’m going to check all sources and stay in late,” her Assistant said. Clara smiled at her as she looked up. 

“Thank you. Order Pizza too. Whatever he had done now might end up with a night shift. You don’t have to stay though, you know that right?” Clara asked. 

“I know. But my girlfriend is out of town so… nothing else I have planned for tonight anyway.”

“You deserve a raise,” Clara winked.

“Wouldn’t say no to that. You want me to bring the cake in?”

“Let me call him first. Maybe I’ll need the cake to throw it at him when he gets here.”

Clara’s assistant laughed before she left her alone, her phone in her hand. 

Clara unlocked her phone, opening the contacts to search for Dieter’s name, her thump hovering over his name. 

He hadn’t called yet. 

Usually he would have at least tried to call her by now.

Taking a deep breath she pressed the dial button, bringing her phone up to her ear. 

Dieter was in panic mode.

And for Dieter to hit panic mode, he must have really fucked up. 

But this? This was not even entirely his fault? It happened at his house though which was more than enough. 

It also happened while he was in his house.

At his party. 

With way too many people around he didn’t even know. 

But the line of coke (or two) and some champagne made Dieter forget about how shitty he felt. 

It was high Dieter who fucked up. High Dieter did not think about sober Dieter having to deal with his shit.

Well, high and horny Dieter. Which was…. Daily Dieter. But coke high Dieter was different from weed high Dieter. 

And he was always horny really.

Anyways…

The news broke twenty minutes after he had gotten off the phone with Clara. 

“Senator O’Conelly overdosed at Dieter Bravo’s house party”

Which was something Clara could have handled. But then three hours later came:

“Exclusive: Senator O’Conelly’s wife was having sex with Dieter Bravo while the Senator overdosed”

Which…. Was harder to handle, but Clara was the best at her job, so she had a response prepared.

But then came:

“Leaked: Dieter Bravo’s Sextape”

Which wasn’t a first. It was just the first time he did not know he’d been filmed. Mostly because he was so high, he did not care. 

And this time it was in HD which made “Dieter Bravo Penis” the most googled topic for four days straight.

The senator had fucked Dieter so hard just before he overdosed, he still had bruises from his grip on his waist. Him fucking the senators very willing wife while said Senator overdosed was not Dieter’s fault though. 

And while his PR team tried to handle it, there was only so much they could do once the Senator’s wife gave a very tearful interview making Dieter the one who was responsible for putting the Senator in a coma. 

She conveniently left out how she had sniffed a line of coke herself while he was getting fucked by her husband. 

The only reason the news hadn’t broken earlier was because the Senator’s PR wanted to keep this under wraps but failed because someone on the party had taken photos. And that video.

Fucking Gen Z. Or… whatever. 

While there had been scandals around Dieter in the past, and a lot of them, the shit storm this one turned out to be, seemed not to end that soon. 

Of course the Senators PR Team pinned the whole story with him as the boogeyman. 

Dieter had a reputation so it wasn’t that hard. 

What was hard was him being forced to drop out of the HBO series he had signed because of the backlash. Or losing the Deal with Kit Kat. 

God the Kit Kat deal. He would be missing the weekly care packages. 

But the hardest was the disappointed look in Clara’s eyes whenever they face-timed. 

He could deal with almost everything, but Clara being disappointed? He couldn’t even explain why it was hitting him so hard, the one worded answers from her and the obviously acted smile she threw his way. 

Clara had become what he would call best friend. If he had friends.

She’s been with him through thick and thin (okay mostly because it was her job to fix his shit) but somewhere along the way the phone calls became more private than professional. He made sure to always have her favourite tea stocked at home for whenever she was in town and… something just wasn’t right when he wouldn’t hear from her every day. 

He’d taken a whole month off once she told him about her divorce and practically moved in with her. 

It was the last time he had been mostly clean. 

Apart from alcohol and weed, but that did not count anyway did it?

“We’re here Mister Bravo,” Dieter looked up at the driver, nodding once at him. 

Dieter had no idea where he would be going. He only got Clara’s message that a car would pick him up at 4:30 am and that she already instructed his PA to pack his suitcases. 

Maybe she was planning to kill him and frankly, he wouldn’t even blame her. What were the suitcases for then though?

Dieter got out of the car, finding himself already on the airfield of the small airport, the car close to a private jet. He saw two younger men carry his suitcases out of the car and put them into the trunk of the plane. 

Dieter looked up into the dark sky, taking a deep breath before he made his way towards the stairs leading into the plane. 

A grin sneaked to his face when he saw Clara sitting already cozied up into a deep blue blanket, her dark hair in a bun on top of her head. Her head turned towards him as she heard footsteps and she sighed exhausted, yet could not fight the smile. 

“One day you are going to be the death of me, Dieter Bravo,” she shook her head and got up to her feet, Dieter meeting her halfway to hug her close and kiss her cheek. She wanted to let go, but he kept his arms around her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Clara squeezed him. 

“I know you are,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

„You gonna throw me out of the plane over the ocean?“ He teased and she rolled her eyes. 

„Don’t give me any ideas,“ she scoffed. 

They both settled into their seats, taking their shoes off as the crew got through the routine of getting ready to take off. 

“So where are you kidnapping me to?” Dieter asked, pulling his glasses off. Clara looked at him. 

“You’re paying for this, so I don’t know if that counts as kidnapping.”

“True.”

“You have to get off the radar of the tabloids. And while I know I could just…. Make you stay at home or force you to another stay at a rehab clinic, I don't really trust you to just stay there by yourself. I know you too well,” she began. 

“So I booked you a 6 week stay on Gladden island. And I’ll be babysitting you.”

“On an island.”

“A tropical private island with 24 hour service.”

Dieter gave her a look. 

“Before you say anything, think about me having to put out a official statement about your penis. Again,” she raised her left eyebrow. 

“But it’s a nice looking penis,” he mumbled with a small pout and Clara groaned. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Six weeks. Private Island. Check.”

“No internet. No drugs. No hookers.”

Dieter pouted even more. 

“You know I’m a sex addict right?”

“Not diagnosed.”

“Dr. Google says otherwise.”

„Then I have a brain aneurysm since I’ve seen the video of you snorting coke of the cock of that senator,“ Clara grunted and Dieter winced.

„No sex, really?“ He whined. 

“I’m afraid it’s gonna be you and your hand from now on.”

“Would you want to have sex with…”

“Please do not finish that sentence. I have a vibrator that will take care of my physical needs and an iPad full of books for the rest, thank you very much.”

Dieter took a deep breath, closing his eyes to stop himself from picturing her with her vibrator, spread on a bed, working herself closer and closer…

“Dieter?”

He opened his eyes. 

“If you want to leave, you have to do it now. But if you walk out of his plane, I won’t be representing you anymore. I know I am getting paid for this but…. I can’t deal with scandals like this anymore.”

His heart squeezed in his chest at the look in her eyes. 

“I won’t leave. I think we both need some time apart from ourselves and our lives,” he said and she nodded before her eyes focused on her iPad. 

“Where exactly are we going?” Dieter asked. 

“Belize.”

Clara wasn't as exhausted as she thought she would be once they got to Belize. Dieter on the other hand looked like dead on heels. Or… Crocs.

His hair was unkempt, dark circles under his eyes after the 12 hour flight. 

The first thing he did was put on a cigarette, inhaling it like his lungs did not know how to work otherwise. 

Clara took off her sweater, revealing a pink top underneath. 

It was early afternoon in Belize and they weren’t even at their final destination yet. 

More than once she asked herself if spending so much time with Dieter without anyone else around would be a good idea. 

They were friends, of course. But they had never spent more than five days together and that was in a big city when they both could flee at any given point. 

Even in the time he had partially moved into her place they still got out to handle appointments or have dinner.

To flee the private island they’d have to wait for someone to pick them up by boat or helicopter. 

And then there was the drug problem. 

Frankly, Clara did not know how bad it was exactly. She was the last person to judge anyone and their life choices, but she was getting scared something would happen sooner or later to Dieter that would take him from her. 

Which was a strange way to think because he wasn’t hers in the first place. 

But he was a friend.

A good friend. 

Her… only good friend really and she wasn’t even sure if he knew her birthday. Then again he knew other things. 

Like her favourite flowers. And Pastries. And that she talked in her sleep. 

“I’m starving,” Dieter snapped her out of her internal whirlwind. She pulled her hand into her bag, searching for….

Dieter’s eyes lit up like a Christmas Tree at the big pack of Kit Kat’s she held up. 

“You know the way to my heart Clara honey bunny,” he grinned and she rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile. 

“You better share with me, Bravo,” she threw the package at him. 

“Nope,” he said and walked towards the car that was waiting for them already, their suitcases in the trunk .

This place was beautiful. 

The sun was setting when they got to the port, the sky in so many colours, she couldn’t wait to watch it everyday. 

Dieter was quiet beside her as he watched her watch the sunset. 

There was a soft smile on her lips, her eyes glistening. Maybe he could get some art supplies so he could paint her while they were on the island. 

She didn’t know that in a secluded corner of his studio at home there were some paintings of her that he painted, mostly after coming down from a high. When he felt lonely and vulnerable. 

He only had to think of her to feel a little lighter. A little more himself. 

Maybe this trip was the best idea she could have.

He needed some time away from all of… all of the people who called themselves his friends. 

When Dieter moved to LA almost 25 years ago he was young and full of hope and dreams. 

But the longer he stayed in LA and got into the industry and met more and more people, the more he changed.

Sometimes he wondered what 16 year old Dieter would think of the man he had become. 

Sure, he was a successful actor with an Oscar and some Emmy’s. Also a Golden Globe. And rumour had it the musical he just wrapped filming was on the road to get him another Golden Globe and maybe a Tony too. If he did not get kicked out of the Academy.

But… he couldn’t remember the last time he was 100% sober and clean on a set. 

Or when the last time was he really had fun on a movie set. 

He was getting older and his doctor was getting more and more concerned with the way he treated his body. 

But… it was easier to call his dealer and get some coke or LSD than to talk about his feelings to a therapist. 

It was easier to drink another glass of wine than tell his manager that no, he did not want to make another shitty cliff beasts movie. 

It was easier to get a groupie into his bed instead of finally acknowledging that he had been in love with someone for the last ten years without acting on it. 

Clara smiled at him as she turned her head, letting it fall against his shoulder. 

Dieter closed his eyes to just feel her so close. 

“I am going to be sleeping for the next 24 hours,” she mumbled and Dieter chuckled. 

“Think you can make it to bed or do I have to carry you from the boat to wherever you kidnapped me?” he teased. 

“Don’t want you to break your back, old man,” he could hear the smile in her voice and he dramatically rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll have you know I am working out now,” he said seriously. She looked up at him, suspicion in her eyes. 

“There better not be some kind of sex joke in there…”

“Hey, Cardio is very important. You should try it too,” Dieter grinned. She was about to answer him when someone called her name and she turned around.

“The boat is ready,” the man said. 

“How long until we get there?” she asked, pulling away from Dieter who definitely did not miss her warmth immediately. 

“About 40 minutes.”

Clara could see the island in the far distance. The last hues of sun had disappeared over the ocean some time ago and it was almost dark. 

Dieter was snoring next to her and she rolled her eyes to herself. 

There was a part of her that was scared of spending so much time with him. Not because they did not like each other. It was clearly the opposite. 

But…. frankly she did not know about how many drugs and things he consumed. She knew after Cliffbeasts he got more careful but apart from that? 

She had been with him at his Doctor’s appointment afterwards where the Doctor told him that he had been incredibly lucky and that he should take this near death experience as a wake up call. 

His heart was already suffering, even though only a little, but Dieter would turn 45 next year. 

And if he continued his life with the substances like this, there was a big chance he would not make it to 50. 

The thought of losing Dieter had put Clara in a state of fear and shock after. 

Yes, she was only his PR Manager. 

And a friend. 

Maybe a very good friend?

And maybe… maybe sometimes her feelings for him lingered on the verge to more but….

She had no right to tell him what to do. 

It was dark when they finally got to the island, leaving both Dieter and Clara so tired they just let them be shown their bedrooms only to fall asleep quickly after a refreshing shower. 

But while Clara stayed asleep throughout the night, Dieter woke up three hours later, unable to fall asleep again. 

So he put his boxer shorts on (remembering in the last moment that he wasn’t alone and Clara would probably appreciate not seeing his penis again so quickly, even though he kinda wished she would) and explored the villa. 

It was luxurious to say the least. 

He opened the extra large fridge in the kitchen, finding it stocked with all his favourites and some of Clara’s too. 

Where the fuck did she find this place?

His mind wouldn’t shut up so he focused on making something to eat. 

It was how Clara found him almost 4 hours later. The kitchen was in absolute chaos while Dieter had fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen island. Confusion replaced by amusement came to her as she watched the various dishes (or attempts) sitting on the counter. There was a very tasty looking chocolate cake right next to Dieter, his fork still stuck in it. 

Then there were pancakes (sweet with chocolate chips and savoury with bacon), some breakfast muffins too. 

She grabbed one, biting into it, surprised that it actually tasted good, though she should have known. He always had loved to cook. 

She jumped when an alarm went off and Dieter snapped awake, almost falling off his chair. 

“You’re awake! Finally!” he smiled, kissing her on the cheek, while he walked to the stove. 

“How long have you been awake?” Clara asked.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep. Made breakfast instead,” he put on the pink mittens, carefully taking out whatever he made. 

“For the whole week?” she asked and he shrugged. 

“No drugs means I have other cravings. And you don’t want to have sex so….. I am making food.”

“Is that… Lasagna?” you asked. 

“After my mama’s recipe,” he nodded proudly, setting the casserole down. 

“It smells delicious,” her mouth watered. 

“Grab a fork and get into it,” Dieter grinned. 

“It’s 7 am.”

“And?” he looked at her with raised eyebrows. 

Clara chuckled before she grabbed a fork. 

The first day was spent being very lazy, fighting off jet-lag and eating lasagna all day. Dieter told Clara that he had explored the house and might move into the private theatre.

They spend the whole afternoon in the private theatre watching Harry Potter and eating chocolate cake. Clare feel asleep during the second move, her head resting on Dieter’s shoulder. 

And Dieter watched her instead of the movie until he fell asleep too. 

Only to wake up shivering. 

He was sweating, not knowing if he was hot or cold. 

„You okay?“ Clara asked tiredly and Dieter closed his eyes. 

He was fidgeting, nervous. Usually he would take something now. Something to calm him down. 

But he was on a island in the middle of fucking nowhere and hadn’t had anything in almost 48 hours. Dieter closed his eyes, trying to calm his fast beating heart. 

„Wait here,“ Clara said before she got up. 

She knew what this was. 

Before leaving for this trip she had sat down with specialist in drug rehab who tried to explain everything that could happen once his body realised that it would be not getting a new fix. 

Doing this without medical assistance could be scary, but she wanted to help Dieter through it. She wanted him to get better. 

So she got some medication that would help him through it from the doctors. Only through the first couple of days. A doctor would visit them tomorrow and then every other day until Dieter would not need it anymore. 

Clara knew this could be hard. There was a reason that there were rehab centres and clinics for recovering drug addicts. And with Dieter already being in his forties and taking drugs for the, she guessed, at least twenty years…. She just hopped she could help him through this. 

Because she did not want to wake up one day to the news of him passing away from drugs. 

And so she had planned everything. 

Quickly getting through her luggage she grabbed one of the pills and walked back. Dieter was focused on the movie when she sat down next to him, his head turning towards her, his eyes glassy. She could see his hair clinging to his forehead, most likely due to the cold sweat. 

„I know you are probably going to hate me for a bit for bringing you here, but I just want you to know that I love you. And I want you to get better,“ Clara said and Dieter sighed. 

„I’m a real mess huh?“ He asked and Clara found herself smiling, reaching over to brush over his cheek. 

„You just need a little help sometimes. We all do,“ Clara said, before she gave him the pill she had gotten. 

„According to the doctors I spoke to this should help you with the withdrawal symptoms,“ she said and Dieter nodded, not even questioning her as he reached for the pill and swallowed it down. 

„Maybe I should just sleep through the next few days. I never got through more than five days before I quiet rehab,“ he said, disappointed and anxious. 

„Well, you’re stuck here for the next six weeks. With me. Maybe getting away from everything is gonna be what’s good for you in the end,“ Clara smiled before she laid down again next to him. 

The following week was a long one. 

Clara could see how Dieter was in pain but he never lashed out at her. He slept through most of the day, the doctor who came to visit them helping with infusions of vitamins and everything he needed when he was there.

Clara had taken to sleeping next to Dieter in his bed, wanting to be close in case he needed something. Or in case he got worse. 

More than once she found herself in Dieter’s arms when she woke up in the morning, his breath hitting the back of her neck in warm puffs. 

She knew he was a cuddler, and she was touch starved as hell so enjoyed it whenever it happened. 

By day eight Dieter began to feel better. 

„I can’t believe we’re on a private island and I haven’t even been out to the beach,“ he mumbled into his pillow, some true crime documentary on the tv in his room. Clara had made them some toast and eggs for breakfast which they ate in bed. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this lazy and relaxed. 

„We could just… go outside?“ She suggested, her head tilting towards the open sliding door that opened directly to the pool, private beach and the ocean. 

Dieter followed her line of view, contemplating what getting out of bed and onto the beach would entail. 

He still felt like shit. But not as bad as it had been the day before. Or the day before that. He didn’t know why but somehow it seemed…. Easier this time around. Getting off drugs. Dieter slept through most of it all, the withdrawal symptoms only really hard in the first couple of days. By now he just felt exhausted and wanted to lay in bed all day.

In bed with Clara around who smelled so damn good all the time. 

Meanwhile he couldn’t remember when he even took his last shower. 

Frowning he narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember. 

„You’re thinking this hard about going outside?“ Clara teased and he shook his head. 

„Thinking about when was the last time I took a shower,“ he grunted, before he smelled under his arms, shuddering. 

„It’s been…. Some time….“ She helped, looking at the TV with sucked in lips. He groaned theatrically before he took a deep breath and got out of bed. Yeah, no. He could smell himself and not in a good way. 

„I’m gonna…“ he moved his head towards the bedroom and Clara nodded. 

„I’ll meet you out at the beach after,“ she said, watching him disappear into his en suite bathroom, the door slipping closed behind him. 

She took a deep breath, hoping that the worst was behind them before she got out of bed and began to strip down the sheets to wash them. 

Once the sheets were in the washing machine she went into her room to put on her bathing suit and cover up, grabbing the sun lotion. Dieter was already outside when she walked the short path down to the beach. His bathing shorts were hanging low and she allowed herself to take in the broadness of his back in as he stared out at the ocean. 

„We’ve had this view since we got here?“ He asked as he felt Clara next to him. She hummed and he looked down at her. She had her hair up in a messy bun, her face free of any make up that she usually wore whenever they saw each other. 

Dieter always thought that she was beautiful. 

Had been since he was a child. 

The prettiest princess of all he used to say. 

He used to think they would get married someday. But somewhere along the way he got the offer he always dreamed off and moved from New York to LA and their calls got less and less until they stopped. It had only been his own stupidity that brought Clara back into his life and while she was his PR Manager, she was so much more. 

He didn’t think there was anyone left in his life who would have just taken him out of this toxic environment he found himself in back home just to help him, so he could get better. 

She genuinely cared about him and he wanted to find out if maybe, just maybe she cared more about him than just as a friend. 

Because Dieter had been in love with Clara since he was probably six years old, even though he only realised it around 10 years ago..

„You gonna help me with the sun screen and I help you?“ Clara asked, holding the bottle out. Dieter nodded with a small smile before they walked over to one of the numerous beach chairs and she sat down in front of him. 

„You feeling better after that shower?“ She asked and Dieter opened the bottle. Clara took off her cover up and Dieter swallowed harshly at the amount of skin in front of him he was about to touch. 

„Like a new person. I think…. I think I’m over the worst part,“ he said, squeezing the bottle to bring some of the sunscreen into one of his palms, rubbing it between both hands. 

„I still think about taking drugs all the time though,“ he confessed before he slowly brought his hands down on her back, feeling her jump. 

„Sorry,“ he hummed, beginning to rub the sunscreen into her skin. 

„I already looked for NA places in LA and in New York,“ she said and he found himself smiling. 

„Of course you did. Always prepared,“ he said with a smile and she looked over her shoulder at him with a small smile. 

„That’s what I get paid for,“ she winked before she turned her head back towards the ocean. He stilled for a moment, before he continued to rub the sunscreen in. 

„Is that… Is that the only reason why we’re here? Because of your job?“ He asked, anxious for her answer. She turned around then, sitting in front of him. 

„No. If you were any other client I would have quit back when that video of you your ex wife arguing went viral,“ she said and he sighed, letting his head fall down, chin against his chest. He felt her hand over his and he looked up at her. 

„I care about you and your life Dieter. I just want you to genuinely be happy,“ she said. 

„I don’t know what makes me genuinely happy,“ he whispered, feeling like a scared child. 

Her smile softened. 

„Maybe you’ll use this time away from everything to find happiness, then,“ she winked, before she grabbed the bottle of sunscreen. 

„And now turn around so I can put lotion on your back,“ she sassed and he chuckled before he turned around. 

„It rubs the lotion on it’s skinnnn,“ he said with a squeaky voice, gasping when he felt the cold lotion drip directly on his skin. 

„Do not test me, Bravo,“ Clara warned but he could hear the smile In her voice. 

It was the day after that he found the atelier on the other side of the villa. Clara was in a call for work and he ventured out, exploring the villa. 

It was a beautiful place of earth she had found. 

Earlier today the doctor had come to visit him and he was glad to find out that he was doing better. The doctor also agreed to help with a surprise for Clara which he would bring with him on his next check up which would be in four days. 

Now he found himself staring out at the ocean as he sat in front of the beginnings of a painting he started, his favourite muse already staring back at him from the canvas. 

Clara’s words of him using this time to find out what makes him happy echoed in his ear as he looked at it. 

It was her. It was always her. 

And maybe he took all these drugs to get over the pain and the feelings of never being good enough for her. 

Because what did he have to offer her? 

He had money, he had a career, he had awards. 

But Clara didn’t care about all of that. She cared about Dieter the person and he had no idea who that was anymore. 

Sighing he got up, making sure to close the door behind him as he ventured towards the kitchen. He could hear Clara talk in the living room just around the corner and he decided to cook something for her. 

What most people didn’t know about Dieter was that he loved to cook. 

He took one look into the fridge and decided to make some carbonara, with fresh pasta of course. He hummed to himself as he searched through the kitchen cabinets for the pasta maker. He knew it was somewhere. He had made the lasagna on the first day from scratch after all. 

As he cut the pancetta, the rest already prepared, the water heating up for the pasta he heard footsteps, looking up to find Clara walk into the big kitchen. 

„Whatcha making?“ She asked with a tired smile, sitting down at one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

„Carbonara,“ he smiled. 

He had a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, a white shirt beneath. She could see some paint on his shirt, her smile softening knowing he found the atelier she had set up for him in the house. 

He seemed… lighter. 

The far away look in his eyes was gone, replaced by brightness as he prepared their dinner. 

„Can I help?“ Clara asked and Dieter looked up at her with a warm smile and she felt butterflies in her belly. 

„I saw some garlic knots in the fridge. Maybe you can pop them in the oven?“ He asked. She nodded, getting up from her seat. She prepared the garlic knots, continuing to watch Dieter out of the corner of her eyes. He was roasting the pancetta, the kitchen filling with the smell of it. He walked past her, his hand resting on her hip as he reached for the cheese. 

Giving her a warm smile he got back to work. 

„Maybe you can teach me to cook while we’re here,“ Clara smiled and Dieter grinned. 

„Or I can just continue to cook for you. I like taking care of you,“ he said and Clara was glad her back was turned towards him, her face flushing. 

„And what about once we go home? I gotta go back to sad microwave dinners and take out?“ She asked as she sat back down on the kitchen island. 

„Or you gotta keep me around,“ he said with a wink and she smiled at him. 

„I don’t think my kitchen has been used for actual cooking since I bought the new apartment. It’s kinda lonely there to be honest,“ Clara sighed and Dieter looked up at her. 

„It’s the same with my place. It’s way too big to live there alone. Maybe we should move in together,“ he joked.

Clara’s lips twitched into a smile. 

„Oh yeah? You sure we wouldn’t kill each other within a week?“ She teased. 

„It’s been working just find here,“ he shrugged, his palms resting on the cool surface of the marble kitchen island, as he leaned towards her. 

„You have been asleep most of the time we’ve been here,“ she winked playfully. 

„So I’ll ask you again when we leave,“ he winked back and she chuckled. 

„Do that.“

„Where would we live?“ He asked later, food eaten and kitchen cleaned. Clara and him had made themselves a fruity cocktail before they walked outside, sitting down in the warm sand, listening to the ocean. The sun had almost set completely and with how far away they were from everything they could see the stars come out, more and more each minute. 

„Mhhhh…. Which one do you wanna hear? The realistic one or the one I would dream of?“ She asked, her head falling against his shoulder as she sat next to him. 

„The one you dream of,“ he said softly, his arm coming around her from behind, his hand resting in the sand next to her hip. 

„I always wanted to live close to the ocean. I’d love to be able to walk on to my little balcony of my very big bedroom and see and hear the ocean first thing in the morning. If we were to live together it would have to be somewhere far away from LA. Somewhere we you could relax and paint and where I could… find an actual hobby instead of working twenty hours a day. Maybe I could take cooking lessons. I like to cook, I am just terrible at it,“ she mused and Dieter smiled. 

„I’ll give you cooking lessons. I told you so,“ he mumbled. 

„But what when you have to work?“

„In this dream reality I don’t work. Honestly? Acting doesn’t make me as happy as it used to. So if we’re talking about dreams? I wouldn’t be an actor,“ he said and she looked up at him. 

„What would you do?“

He hummed, looking away from her and back towards the ocean. 

„Maybe I’d give art lessons to kids. We could set up a room in that dream house of yours for that, right?“ He teased and she agreed.

They continued to look out until the sun had fully set, the only light coming from the house behind them and from the stars above them. 

„Would you have someone live there with us? A boyfriend or husband?“ Dieter asked quietly after a while and looked down at her. She shook her head. 

„In my dream there is no one but you, Dieter,“ she whispered and Dieter felt his heart jump in his chest as one of her hands came to rest on his knee. 

„What about you?“ Clara asked and he took a deep breath, her head tilting up to look at him. Even though it was dark they were so close that she could see all of him. Instead of answering he, his head dipped lower, his nose brushing over hers. 

„I would really love to kiss you, Clara,“ he whispered and she shivered when she felt his breath brush over her skin. 

„Dream you or real you?“ She whispered back. 

„Both,“ he hummed and without any more words she closed the small distance between them, connecting their lips in a soft kiss.

It lasted only a few seconds but they both felt out of breath as they looked each other. 

„I’ve wanted to do that for years,“ he said and she sucked her bottom lip in as she sat herself up so she could get closer. 

„Why haven’t you?“ She asked.

„You were married and I was… am a mess,“ he shrugged with a awkward smile. 

„I can handle your mess,“ she winked and he grinned. 

„I know,“ he said before he leaned in again, kissing her with more eager now, his hands reaching for her, pulling her closer and Clara let him, climbing into his lap, her hands first on his shoulders then in his hair as they kissed, tongues playing with each other.

„I can’t believe I’m kissing you,“ he mumbled against her lips, making her giggle. 

„You imagined it before?“ She asked when they parted, her still in his lap, his arms around her. She had one of her hands in his hair, her other hand on his cheek. 

„Oh yeah. All the time. But I didn’t want to lose you as a friend, so I never made a move,“ he sighed.

„What changed?“ She asked, genuinely curious.

„I think I was getting tired of denying myself the one thing I always wanted,“ he said and her thumb brushed over his bottom lip. 

„Me?“ You whispered and he nodded, kissing her thumb.

„You make things… quiet. Like cocaine,“ he grinned and she rolled her eyes. 

„Do not compare me to the drug that almost killed you,“ she said with an eye roll. 

„Might get addicted to you,“ he mumbled, pulling her closer, kissing her jaw. 

„I think…. I could live with that,“ she whispered as she tilted her head down to kiss him again. 

When Clara woke up in the morning from that day on, it was in Dieter’s arms. 

And if Dieter wasn’t in bed, he was in his studio, painting away on canvases she wasn’t allowed to see yet. 

The last two weeks had been… interesting. 

She thought the switch from being just friend to… more than friends would be awkward but surprisingly both Dieter and her slipped into… whatever they were now easily. 

At the end of the day not much had changed. 

They were still best friends and loved each other. 

Now they only kissed and touched each other whenever they wanted. And they did that. A lot. 

She could hear the speedboat approaching outside, the doctor that came to see Dieter now only coming once a week when groceries and other things they needed were delivered to their little private island. 

She never in her wildest dreams thought that not only she would love to spend so much time with Dieter but she would not look forward to get back into their old lives. 

But that was still two weeks away. Two weeks, that would hopefully give both of them all the answers they were searching for not only for themselves, but on how their relationship would change once they had to leave their little cocoon. 

She heard Dieters before she saw them. 

His naked feet hitting the wooden floor as he walked towards the main entrance. Only in the last second he seemed to see her, his eyes softening and walking towards her, kissing her softly. 

„Can you stay in our room?“ He asked. 

Another recent change. While they hadn’t actually had sex yet, they had been sleeping in the same bed since the first time they kissed. It was…. So different than both of them had experienced in the past. 

While before Clara, even in the beginning when she was in love with another person, still cherished her own space at night, she basically was attached to Dieter the moment they got under the covers. Something Dieter welcomed with open arms, loving the way Clara felt against him every night. 

She frowned at his request though. 

„Why?“

A grin sneaked to his lips. 

„You trust me?“ Dieter asked, one of his hands on her hip, his other hand pushing her hair behind her ear. He looked excited, so she nodded. 

„Good,“ he kissed her again. 

„Then come and meet me in the living room after your next call,“ he said, having memorised her online meeting schedule by now. 

„Fine,“ she said, still a little suspicious, eyes narrowing playfully, before she turned around, taking one last look over her shoulder before she rounded the hallway, walking towards their bedroom where she had been working from since they gotten here. 

With a deep breath Dieter turned away, walking outside to see if anything was going according to plan. 

His doctor and two other men who were carrying various boxes approached and he hoped it was the surprise that had been delayed due to shipping problems.. 

„You got everything?“ Dieter asked and they all nodded. 

„Awesome. Could you just bring all these boxes into the living room?“ He asked and the two men already walked past him into the house, knowing their way around. 

„You look good, Mr. Bravo,“ his doctor said and Dieter took a deep breath, a smile on his lips. 

„I don’t think I have felt this good in twenty years,“ he said honestly. 

„That’s good. Now, I talked to your therapist after you gave me the contact details. Let’s talk?“ He asked and Dieter nodded, showing the man the way inside. 

Seconds after Clara’s last call ended, Dieter knocked on the door. 

He had spend the last two hours talking to his doctor and then, after he left setting up a call with his therapist back in LA. 

There were a lot of things Dieter would have to work through, hopefully with Clara by his side as his partner. He was getting anxious only thinking about not spending every single minute of the day with her but he knew life had to somehow carry on once they left here. 

So he would make the most out of the time they had left here, just the two of them. 

He hoped she would like the little surprise he had set up. 

When she opened the door her eyes widened before her hand flew to her mouth covering her mouth as she laughed. 

„Santa?“ She asked and Dieter grinned, his finger flipping the end of his Santa hat playfully. She couldn’t help but laugh when she noticed the matching swim shorts he also was wearing. 

Almost giddy he held up a mistletoe over his head and she snorted before she got on her tiptoes, her arms coming up to cross behind his neck, her lips pressing against his. 

He would never get tired of this. 

„Ready for your surprise?“ He hummed against her lips. 

„A surprise?“ She asked, eyes wide. He nodded. 

„Come,“ he kissed her again before he took her hand and pulled her towards the living room. 

Her lips parted in shock when she walked into the living room. 

It looked like a Christmas store had exploded in there. There was a fake tree half assembled in the corner, Three big boxes of what she thought were ornaments next to the couch. Strings of Christmas lights that Dieter must have started to unpack lay on the floor in a tangled mess and she could just almost see where he got frustrated before he just let them be. 

She felt his arms come around her from behind, his chest against her back, hugging her close, his chin resting on her shoulder. 

„I know how much you love Christmas. And it’s my fault you aren’t spending it in your Fever dream of apartment this year,“ he teased and she rolled her eyes. He had always teased her about her decorations. 

„So I wanted to do a little something for you. To show you how grateful I am that you never stop believing in me. Even when I don’t believe in myself anymore. And I… I really wanna change this time. I wanna stay sober, be healthier,“ he promised and kissed her cheek. 

„Dieter, this is too much…“ Clara mumbled, feeling the tears in her eyes. 

„It’s not enough. You’ve been dealing with my shit for almost twenty years on and off. Let me start to make it up to you,“ he mumbled against her ear, lips brushing over her skin. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

„Okay,“ she whispered. 

There was something magical about a lit Christmas tree when she could hear the ocean outside.

They had spent all afternoon decorating the tree, Christmas music blasting from the speakers. 

They had sang together (horribly), dance together (sillily), kissed each other breathless (both ready for more).

After they finished he told her that he hadn’t unpacked all the food that had been brought yet. It was when she was sorting through one of the boxes in the kitchen, Dieter also putting stuff away that she found the package of condoms. 

She hummed interested, Dieter looking up at her as she held the condoms up with a raised eyebrow and puckered lips. 

„You expecting company, Bravo?“ She asked, teasing him. 

„I expect nothing. But… I like to be prepared for every scenario,“ he said with a wink and Clara nodded slowly. 

„I know that you had a vasectomy before you got married, and you know I had my tubes tied like ten years ago, right?“

He walked over towards her, nodding. 

„I also know I haven’t had my blood tested in a while. So….“ He shrugged, his hands on the kitchen counter behind her, caging her in. 

„Would you like to have sex with me, Dieter?“ Clara whispered, her lips kissing up his chin with a smile that only widened when she heard him groan. 

„More than anything,“ he said, dipping this head so he could catch her lips in a deep kiss. 

„Tonight?“ You asked and he groaned against her lips, his body pressing against Clara’s and she could feel him. 

„Tonight,“ he nodded, kissing her once more before he took a step back and moved back towards the box he had been unpacking earlier. He smirked at her when he caught her eyes, still flushed and out of breath. 

And now she was sitting on the sofa, looking at the lit Christmas tree, with Dieter walking around, closing every window and door for the night before he came back to her, holding his hand out for her to take. 

They didn’t talk as he led her to their bedroom, closing the door behind him as she walked towards the bed. 

The thought that this could get awkward really quickly crossed her mind, but then Dieter was kissing her. Kissing her like he hadn’t before, his tongue playing with hers as he walked her towards the bed they had shared for weeks. 

He guided her onto the it, parting from her lips to look down at her as she slipped into the middle of the bed, her eyes undressing him and he smirked as he took his shirt off, loving the way Clara’s lips parted in appreciation 

Before he could talk himself out of it, he slipped the Santa shorts he was still wearing down his legs, leaving him standing completely naked in front of her. Clara’s eyes took him in before she got on her knees, crawling to the edge of the bed. 

She kissed up his chest, her fingertips running up this strong back, feeling him shiver. Dieter took a deep breath as his fingers found the fabric of the shirt she was still wearing, groaning once it was off and he could see her boobs.

„Fuck,“ he let his head fall back before he felt her hand in his hair, pulling him down against her lips. He wrapped his arms around her, wanting her closer, his hands exploring her body, one hand slipping beneath the leggings she was wearing. 

He would never get tired of feeling her skin beneath his fingertips. 

Dieter felt her lips twitch into a smile as he moaned, her fingers lightly scratching over his scalp. 

„Can I suck you cock baby?“ She asked and he nodded. 

„Never gotta ask. The answer will always be yes“ he grinned and she giggled as she began to kiss down his chest, one of her hand wrapping around his already leaking cock. 

„Noted,“ she hummed before she licked at the tip, making him almost jump. Her eyes never lost contact as she parted her lips and took him into her mouth, slowly, almost teasingly exploring every vein and ridge of his length. 

Dieter was pretty sure he was gonna die. 

Her mouth was heaven and when she began to bop her head? He had to try to remember the lines from the first play he was in to not cum immediately. 

And the noises she made? 

Fuck.

Clara felt the same, enjoying the weight of him in her mouth as she sucked him off, the moans that came out of his mouth going straight to her pussy. She loved the way he was holding her hair up, winking up at him. 

If only she had known how much she would enjoy having him moaning like that, she would have done this so much sooner. 

„Fuck… Stop… Stop or I’m gonna cum. And I wanna feel you first,“ he said, taking a step back, his cock falling out of her mouth. 

He helped her get out of her leggings before he pushed her down onto the bed, climbing onto it and kissing her. She parted her legs, crossing them behind his back when he was on top of her, loving the weight of him on her. 

She blindly searched for the package of condoms she had thrown onto her bedside table, humming when she found it. Dieter kissed down her jaw, her throat, kissing himself down towards her breasts, his lips closing around one of her nipples, his tongue playing it it. 

She whimpered, rolling her hips up, feeling the weight of his cock slipping through her folds. 

„Wanna eat your pussy,“ he mumbled against her skin and she shook her head. 

„Later. Wanna feel you first,“ she said, finally having one of the condoms out of the package holding it up. Dieter released her nipple with a wet plop as he sat himself up, reaching for the condom, opening the package. He made quick work of rolling it onto his cock. 

It was then that his eyes dropped between her legs, seeing her for the first time. He released almost a growl before he slipped one of his hands between her legs, his fingers slipping through her wet folds. 

She moaned when he brought his fingers to his lips to taste her. 

„Gonna have you for breakfast every day,“ he wiggled his brows and she chuckled. 

„Promises, promises,“ she teased, her foot behind him slowly dragging up his thigh, teasing him. 

„You’ll see,“ he winked before he got into position, his hand wrapped around his cock, teasing the tip of it through her folds, before he slowly pushed in. They both watched him enter her, slowly, Dieter wanting to give her time to get used to his thick length. 

„Fuck, Dieter,“ she whined and he looked up at her, her hands on her tits, eyes still fixed on where his cock was filling her. 

She finally looked up when he was fully inside of her, and then she smiled and he lost it, leaning down so his chest was against hers as he began to move. The first moan he heard from Clara as he thrusted almost enough to make him cum right then and there. 

Her hands where everywhere she could reach as he fucked her, and he made a mental note to have her ride him the next time so he could explore more of her. 

„You feel so good, Dee,“ she moaned „I’m so close already.“

„Me too, baby. What do you need? Want you to cum on my cock,“ he panted, still fucking her in deep strokes. 

Instead of answering, one of her hand sneaked down between her bodies, starting to circle her clit. 

And within minutes she came, clenching so hard around his length that within seconds after he came too, twitching inside of her as he spilled himself into the condom, only imagining how it would feel to fuck her without one. 

They looked at each other, both out of breath before he dropped down to kiss her, rolling her so she was on top of him, making her squeal against his lips before they both laughed. 

„I could really get used to this,“ she whispered against his lips. 

„I hope you do,“ he smiled, before he kissed her again. 

The amount of time they spend in bed from that first time increased. A lot. Though it was not just the bed. It was the couch, the kitchen counter, the pool, the floor….

Clara couldn’t remember ever having this much sex, not that she was complaining. 

Dieter knew what he was doing and she loved to be on the receiving and of it.

It was Christmas Eve today and she was laying by the pool, naked as the day she was born as she watched Dieter, equally naked walking towards her from the ocean. 

Dieter had made the very compelling point that since they were the only two people on an island with no people and especially paparazzi around that he wanted to enjoy it as much as possible. 

Of course he had asked if Clara would be okay with him hanging around naked. When she took her clothes off as an answer he had fucked her against the floor. 

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched him now, skin tanned and glistening with ocean water as he made his way towards her. 

Fuck, she was one lucky woman. 

„Put those bedroom eyes away, you already have me naked,“ he teased as he leaned down to kiss her softly, his cold hands squeezing her boobs with a grin, making her jump. She put her arms around him, deepening the kiss and Dieter moaned as he let himself get on top of her, cock already half hard. 

„You taste like the ocean,“ she whispered against his lips with a smile and felt him grin before he slowly kissed down her body. 

„Rather taste like your pussy,“ he winked before he got in between her legs and began to eat her out. 

She woke up to lips kissing up her back on Christmas morning. 

With a smile she turned on her back, finding Dieter resting with his head on one of his arms beside her, his other arm wrapped around her. 

„Merry Christmas, baby,“ he smiled and she smiled back tiredly. 

„Merry Christmas yourself,“ she whispered and he leaned in to kiss her softly. 

„I have something for you,“ he hummed and she raised her eyebrows, surprised. 

„You have?“ She asked and he nodded.

„Can I show you?“ He whispered and she nodded, letting him kiss her again before she let him led her out of bed.

There were colours everywhere. 

When she arranged to set up this room for him so he could paint it was a beige sad little office. She had FaceTimed with the realtor who was responsible for renting the property out and giving instructions how to change the interior of the room and what supplies to get. 

Clara hadn’t seen the room in all the time they had been here. 

This room was… it was 100% Dieter. She knew he had spent a lot of time in here, she just never imagined that he had painted so much. 

And so many versions of herself. 

In all colours she could imagine. 

He had spend all this time painting her?

She was already fighting tears within the first minute of stepping inside the room, Dieter’s hand still in hers as he watched her. 

„This is… This is beautiful,“ she whispered softly before she finally looked at him. 

„Still not doing you justice,“ he said and now she felt her tears run down her cheeks, before she wrapped her arms around Dieter, hugging him closely. 

„I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Dieter,“ she whispered when she looked up at him, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. 

„That’s good. Cause I know I’m in love with you,“ he whispered back before her kissed her. 

One Year later

Dieter had a smile on his lips as he looked up at the canvas hanging in the bright and new hallway. It was one of the pieces he had painted on their island last year, the first one he hung up in their home after the renovations had finally been finished. 

The last year had come with a lot of changes. Not just because him and Clara had made the decision to part ways professionally, but because the reason was so they could start their life as a couple. 

They both had made this decision, Dieter not wanting her having to deal with everything that he came with anymore. 

Not that there was much to take care of now that he had quit acting. 

Much to his surprise he had gotten the Golden Globe and another Oscar for his last project, so what more was there left to do for him professionally?

The last thing he had to promote would be coming up in march of the next year and after that he was ready to never see a red carpet again. He still didn’t know exactly what he would be doing now that he wasn’t acting anymore, but thankfully the investments he made and the way he had worked for the last twenty-five years gave him the freedom to take his time to find out. 

And then there was Clara. 

He was almost disgustingly in love with her (his sister’s words, not his) and there would be no stopping. 

It had taken only six weeks after the island for both of them to make the decision to move in together. 

And to their pure luck, while scrolling through Zillow listings one night when he had visited her in New York they had found their dream home. 

He never thought he would move to the Hamptons one day, yet here he was, in a big country style house with a wrap around porch and a private beach, living with the love of his life. 

With a smile he made his way downstairs, finding Clara in the kitchen, checking on the process of the dinner. They had invited family and friends for their first Christmas in their house together who would arrive later. 

They had both taken cooking lessons together in the last two months since they moved in and she loved taking her time to cook with him every day now. 

„Hey,“ he smiled and she looked up, giving him a sweet smile back. She had her hair up in a messy bun and was wearing one of his shirts. No make up. She was absolutely breathtaking.

Dieter walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. 

„Hey,“ she smiled back, turning her head to kiss his cheek. 

„Guests will be here in an hour,“ he said and she nodded.

„Just wanted to check before I go upstairs to get ready,“ she said and he nodded. He kissed her cheek, watching her hum as she stirred the soup in front of her. 

It was in that moment that he decided that he didn’t want to wait any longer, that he didn’t want to share this moment with anyone else later. 

His hand searched for the small box he had been carrying around with him for the last six months, the ring he designed for her inside, Clara still focused on the food as he dropped to one knee behind her, He reached for her hand, as he took a deep breath, smiling at the surprised gasp escaping her lips as she turned around. 

She said yes before he could even ask his question. 

[overtrred28]

Joining the club | Jen Beattie x reader

Summary; 2023 and the start of 2024 seem to have something in common already; everyone in the WOSO community seems to be getting engaged. And when you bring this up to your long term partner Jen, it seems she has nothing to say, or does she….

Pairings; Jen Beattie x famous!reader

Words; 2.5k

Warnings; pure fluff, swearing

A/N; It seems to be the season of getting engaged and even though I am way off getting engaged and very very single, I thought I would pretend and imagine that I was getting engaged to the one and only Jen Beattie. There is also a lack of Jen fics on here and I feel the need to write one for her. Enjoy!

First it was Steph and Dean all the way back in January. Lynn and Marley finally did it back in May. Then in June it was Emily and Kat, and Katrina and Clara just a few days after. Kristie and Sam finally revealed theirs from September after months of teasing. Chloe Kelly and Millie Bright got it within the same week, sharing photos with their partners around christmas. And finally a surprise from Ellie and Daan on the first day of a new year. 

It seemed 2023 and now 2024 was the time for engagements in the world of women’s football and you were quite caught up in all the news. 

“Oh my god babe, another one!” You let out a gasp as the post from Ellie and Daan popped up on your instagram feed, stopping your pre-dinner scrolling as you paused and assessed the picture. It was from a few days ago, and you were seeing it now because you had been away with Jen and her family, avoiding social media to spend time with them and only now catching up. 

“What?” Jen’s voice called from the kitchen, you jumping up from the couch with your phone and running quickly into the kitchen. 

“Look.” You aggressively shoved your phone into her face and she adjusted to the bright light as she tried to look at the photo. 

“Oh wow, congrats to them.” Jen smiled quickly before turning away and back to the food on the stove. You frowned at her quick response and disinterest at the post.

“Do you not think it’s funny?” You asked with a small laugh from beside her. 

“What is?” She asked whilst moving around the kitchen to find the rest of the ingredients for your dinner. 

“That everyone in the footballing world seems to be getting engaged at the moment?” You asked again and she didn’t respond with any excitement, again.

“Oh, guess I didn’t notice.” She shrugged and continued to stir the pot. You opened your mouth to talk again but she got there before you. “Could you grab me some bowls, love?” She asked while keeping her eyes on the pan. You paused for a second before grabbing two clean ones from the dishwasher and placing them next to her. “Thank you.” She smiled at you briefly before beginning to dish up the pasta that was now done. 

“You’re welcome.” You snapped out of your trance and silently moved to grab some glasses and the wine from the fridge. She waited for you to finish pouring your drinks before she grabbed both bowls and headed for the couch, you following close behind her. 

“What are we watching tonight, love?” Jen asked as she sat beside you on the couch, now both holding your dinner and the wine glasses on the coffee table. 

“I don’t mind, you pick.” You shrugged before taking a bite of your food and now it was her turn to frown at you, normally you always took control over what to watch together. 

“You okay?” Jen asked simply and you nodded silently while eating and staring at the screen in front of you. “ Okay, how about Bridgerton? We still haven’t finished season two.” She suggested and once again you nodded silently from beside her. 

You weren’t sure why you were feeling slightly off after Jen’s reaction to the post and your comments, but you still snuggled into her on the couch after finishing your pasta and wine.

The episode finished and you could feel the both of you drifting off after a long day. Jen had been back at training after winter break and your schedule had been hectic since returning from time off. You were an actress and your new movie was about to come out so all the promo shoots and interviews were now in full swing, though you were grateful it began in London so you could still go home to Jen every night.  

You met Jen a few years back at an event in London you had both been invited to, catching her eyes from the other side of the room and instantly knowing you had to go talk to her. You knew who each other were, an actress making her name in the world and a famous sports star who silently followed each other in their respective lines of work. One conversation and you knew there was something there, and so did she. You both knew it would be hard with your professions and the distance you would have at certain times, but you wanted to make it work, somehow keeping it from the public eye for two years before hard launching it on your anniversary and sending both sets of fans into a frenzy. 

“Ready for bed love?” Jen spoke softly into the dark living room, smoothing your hair softly. 

“Definitely.” You yawned and sat up, rubbing your tired eyes as Jen stood up and held a hand out for you. You smiled at the gesture and met your hand in hers, pulling yourself up and making your way to your bedroom together. You both had already showered when you got home earlier so all that was left to do was to brush your teeth together. 

Your night routine was almost the same every night, no matter what was going on in your separate lives, you always spent those last few minutes together before crawling into bed. So once you both finished in the bathroom, you hopped into bed on your chosen sides but made your way closer to the middle and each other, Jen opening her arms to you as you laid your head on her chest.

“Sorry I’ve been quiet, tired.” You mumbled into the darkness against Jen as she drew small circles against your back. 

“It’s okay, me too.” Jen looked down at you to meet your soft eyes. 

“I love you.” You smiled and snuggled into her chest once more, eyes drifting closed. 

“I love you too.” Jen placed a kiss against your head before closing her own eyes and drifting asleep. 

The topic of last night's conversation was mostly forgotten in the morning, or at least it wasn’t brought up again between you too. That didn’t mean it wasn’t brought up with different people. Jen arrived at training and as both Steph and Beth walked up to her, they could tell something was on her mind. 

“You alright there Jenny?” Steph bumped her shoulder as herself and Beth joined her sides. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” Jen nodded at them but went silent straight after. 

“You sure?” Beth dragged out her words and brought her face as she could to Jen’s, their height difference proving to be a little difficult.

“Yeah, just thinking.” Jen tried to brush them off again but these two were persistent and she knew she wasn’t going to get very far if she didn’t tell them. She stopped her walking and sighed before speaking. “Last night, Y/N brought up how it seems like everyone’s getting engaged at the moment, and I didn’t really say anything back. And then she seemed upset for the rest of the night, but she said she was just tired, which I know she has been, but I also think I might have upset her in some way.” She let out in almost one breath as Steph and Beth tried to process her words. 

“Well she’s not wrong, especially in the last few weeks.” Beth added with a shrug. 

“Do you think she’s ready?” Steph ignored Beth’s comment and looked at Jen.

“Well, I wasn’t sure before, but after last night I think she is.” Jen looked between the two of them. “Just the way she was talking about it and then when I didn’t really say anything…” She trailed off and looked down. 

“I think she’s ready.” Steph spoke with a smile. She had watched from the beginning of your relationship with Jen just how happy you were with one another, and how easy the relationship seemed even when spending time apart due to work. 

“Are you?” Beth asked sincerely, her and Steph awaiting Jen’s reply. Jen was silent for a few seconds, bringing her eyes back up to look at her best friends. 

“I bought the ring like 2 months ago.” She mumbled but they still heard it and instantly started beaming at the Scottish woman. 

“You sly little bastard.” Beth punched Jen’s arm softly as they began to walk again so that they wouldn’t be late for training. 

Throughout the whole day the three of them, mostly Steph and Beth, were coming up with ideas on how she should propose but Jen kept shooting them down. She wanted it to be private, special and a surprise, so anything that involved taking you out somewhere would instantly make you suspicious. 

While Jen had been conversing her thoughts and plans with her best friends at training, you were in your head all day thinking about last night. Which wasn’t really helping especially when you were trying to film press interviews all day and talk about your movie. 

You could have talked to your co-stars about it, after all they had become close friends while shooting and now being with each other everyday for promo, but the only person you really wanted to talk to was Jen; it was always Jen. 

Jen got home long before you, taking her time to deep clean the flat and cook dinner for you once again, knowing you would be exhausted from your long day of work. 

She didn’t hear you opening the door and making your way through the flat, she had been vacuuming with her headphones on and dancing around your bedroom. You stood in the doorway for a few minutes after spotting her, admiring her and waiting for her to see you. And when she did, boy did she get a fright. 

“Ah fuck!” Jen almost jumped out of her skin when she finally turned around and spotted you lurking in the doorway, using one hand to remove her headphones and the other to turn the vacuum off. “How long have you been standing there?” She dropped the vacuum and began to walk over to you. 

“A few minutes. I was admiring your hidden dance skills.” You smiled and stood up straighter, welcoming her into a hug like you do every day. “Hi.” You mumbled into her shoulder. 

“Hi love.” She pulled back and leaned in for a soft kiss. No matter how many times you kiss Jen, it feels like the very first time all over again, even after 4 years. “Busy day?” She asked as you parted, taking in your tired expression. 

“Busy day.” You nodded and smiled at her. “How was training?” You asked as you walked hand and hand to the kitchen. 

“Good, good to be back with the girls.” Jen smiled at you before letting go to retrieve dinner from the oven. You stood at the counter, simply watching her as she moved about wrapping up dinner. “Go put something on, I’ve got it.” Jen smiled and placed a kiss on your temple before ushering you to the lounge room.

“Okay bossy.” You laughed before making your way to the couch and switching the TV over to Netflix to finish the final episode of Bridgerton. You wait patiently for her on the couch, looking over your shoulder every few seconds to see if she is coming around the corner. 

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Jen is trying to hide her anxiety and nervousness as she plates up dinner and feels her pocket one more time. With two champagne glasses now full and a tray full of food she finally makes her way to you, letting out a final breath before entering the living room. 

“Dinner is served.” She places the tray down on the table and bows which makes you laugh. Your eyes fall on the glasses and you’re instantly confused. 

“What’s with the champagne? Decide the wine wasn’t good enough?” You joked and she let out a small laugh shaking her head. 

“Some nights are a little more special than the others.” She cryptically says and has you even more confused but you leave the comment alone and hit play on the remote. 

You eat dinner together while watching the episode, silently watching with a bit of commentary along the way before cuddling up after eating. The episode finishes and you can feel Jen’s heart beating particularly fast, her fingers are nervously playing with one another and she hasn’t spoken in a few minutes. You sit up silently and look at her, she doesn’t look at you. You’re about to fill the silence when she beats you to it. 

“You know how much I love you, right?.” Jen rushes out and leaves you slightly bewildered. 

“I know. I love you just as much.” You reply. “What’s wrong?” You bring your hand up to brush her hair back into her low bun. 

“I’m about to do something and I hope you don’t think it’s random and forced because it’s not and I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and I didn’t want to make a massive deal about it because it’s just you and me and that’s all that matters.” Jen speaks in one long breath and you need a second for your brain to catch up but before it can she’s pulling you up off the couch with her and standing in front of you. She holds your hands in hers and looks directly at you. 

“Wha-” Before you could even think about finishing your sentence, a giant gasp leaves your mouth at her next action. She drops down to one knee whilst still holding holding your hands, smiling up at you as tears well in your eyes. 

“My love, I could go on and on about how much I love you but you already know. There is no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with, no matter where it shall take us. So,” She let go of your hands, you bringing them up to your face and hers reaching down into her pocket. She fishes the small, black box out, opening it to reveal a sparkling ring and looks back up at you. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you-” 

“YES!” You interrupt her before she gets to finish causing her to laugh and shake her head. 

You just stand there admiring her as she gets up and removes the ring from the box. She brings your shaking left hand from your face and slides the ring on. Your jaw drops at the ring before you jump into her arms, causing her to react quickly and grab hold of your legs. “I love you so much Jen.” You cry into her shoulder as she holds you before you lift your head up, meeting your eyes with hers before pulling in for a kiss. 

The rest of the night is spent in one another's arms just admiring each other and talking softly with each other about the rest of your lives while wrapped up in your sheets.

yourinstagram and jbeattie91

yourinstagram we joined the club 💍

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stephcatley so happy for you! welcome to the club 😉

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THE END!

[bumblebeedrizzzle]

You Can’t Fool Me

In which Iruma gets injured for the first time in the demon realm.

This fic contains ✨tickling✨ so if that might bother you, then I suggest you keep scrolling!

A/N: I’m really happy with how this turned out!! I wanted to write some good old angst/comfort. I also felt like challenging myself to write what would happen if Azz was angry/frustrated with Iruma. I feel like it's a side of him we haven’t seen yet. Also, Iruma is generally a cheerful guy, but I feel like the inside of his brain must be a mess sometimes. He had a really hard life and still probably struggles with believing he deserves love (show him otherwise, everyone!). I feel like he would be quite reluctant to ask for/accept help since he’s so used to taking care of himself.

Also, LOL. This started because I wanted to write a princess carry scene. It wasn’t even meant to have any tickling. Then it became this. I’m not upset at all, just amused.

CW: Some cursing

Well, shit. Now he’d really done it. Iruma looked down at his ankle, already beginning to swell slightly, and sighed. It’d been a minute since he’d felt so human here. He stopped to think for a moment; he knew enough about the demon realm by now to know that weakness wasn’t something to go flaunting around. But then, he was used to taking care of himself from his time back on earth. There was no need to bother anyone; getting home by himself would be no issue. That left what to do after... Should he ask Opera or his Grandpa for help once he got back? It was only a sprained ankle, so he didn’t want to overthink things. After all, how many injuries had he patched up over the years back in the human world? He took another deep breath as he realized there was no point in making a deal out of such a minor injury. First he’d get home, then find some wraps, and take care of it. He’d be careful on his way to and from school and this would be over within a few days. Problem solved. Thank devils Clara and Azz hadn’t been here to witness his blunder... He had a feeling they might have overreacted some. Feeling satisfied that he’d worked through everything, he picked himself back up and began hobbling home.

• • •

Everything was fine. Everything was just fine. All he had to do was focus on the next step. Then another. That’s all there was to it. Or at least, that’s what Iruma was telling himself so he didn’t lose the will to walk and just sit down. For the past few days, he’d tried icing it, elevating it, and wrapping it. The whole nine yards. It had helped a little, but devils did the thing hurt. It hurt so bad. It didn’t seem to get any better either, only worse. It looked more swollen than before and he couldn’t put most of his weight on it. But he was stubborn and a little scared. He’d gotten through worse and now wasn’t the time to fold. Not to mention that the idea of missing school and not seeing his friends sounded so much worse.

He was currently walking to his next class with Azz. His attention was torn between staying focused on their conservation and focusing on his footing. It was just his luck that a rock would appear the moment he took to look up at Azz’s face. Before he knew it, he had stumbled and found himself falling forward.

Damn, was I always this clumsy?

He braced himself for pain, hoping it wouldn’t make his injury worse than it already was. This is fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.

“Iruma-sama!”

He didn’t hit the ground. He blinked, trying to process what had happened. He felt Azz’s arm was wrapped protectively around him, steadying him.

“T-thanks Azz-kun! Whoops, haha, silly me. Have to watch where I step...”

“Iruma-sama, are you alright? Are you tired? I could carry some things for you?”

Iruma took one look at Asmodeus’ worried face and gulped. I don’t want to make anyone worry about me. It’s fine. I’m fine.

“Nothing to worry about! Especially thanks to your reflexes,” he added.

“You may be able to fool others, but you cannot fool me, Iruma-sama.” Azz said seriously. “What is going on?” He still hadn’t let go.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about Azz-kun! Come on, let’s get going to class”, he said with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

He gently shrugged out of the demon’s grasp and took a tentative step forward. Then another and another. Asmodeus followed after a moment. As Iruma gained confidence, he began to walk faster, determined to prove to Azz that he was fine. Unfortunately, pure determination was not going to heal his ankle that fast. Within a minute, he managed to tweak his sprained ankle again.

“Guh!” he said, crumpling to the ground.

Iruma closed his eyes. This was so embarrassing... He didn’t want to see Azz’s reaction. While deep down he knew it would be fine, he was still scared. What if Azz laughed at him? Or called him weak?? His heart twisted painfully at the idea. Plus he’d just told the demon he was fine. I am fine. I’m...fine. He repeated the mantra to himself, as if that would make it come true. Iruma was so caught up in his ruminations, that he didn’t hear Azz approach. He only noticed when he felt a soft hand above his ankle; the injured one. He frantically tried to pull away, but Azz’s grip was as firm as it was gentle. He heard an audible gasp, which he knew there could only be one cause for. Shit. Even though he had it bandaged, Azz would still be able to see that it was purple and definitely swollen. Iruma reluctantly looked up into Azz’s worried eyes and immediately felt so, so guilty.

“Iruma-sama, why didn’t you tell me??”

He was having trouble looking into those eyes.

“I-it's not that big of a deal... just a sprained ankle...”

“What do you mean, not a big deal?? A paper-cut is not a big deal, Iruma-sama. A stubbed toe is not a big deal. Hells, a scratch wouldn’t be that big of a deal. A sprained ankle is. a. big. deal. This is a big deal! Look at how swollen it is!! And purple! When did you even injure it? Has it gotten better at all?!” Asmodeus’ voice steadily raised in volume.

“Just a couple days ago... I’ve been elevating and icing it after school. I didn’t want to miss class.. I wanted to see everyone... I didn’t want to appear weak...” his voice got quieter and quieter.

“I see you have neglected to answer the more important question. Has. it. gotten. better. or. worse.”

Iruma was silent.

“For devil’s sake, you shouldn’t even be walking on this; it will take even longer to heal!! What in the hells has gotten into you?”

Iruma screwed his eyes shut and tried his best to curl up into a ball. Not only had he failed to keep his injury hidden, but now Asmodeus was angry with him. He couldn’t even remember the last time that had happened..

He heard a sigh and suddenly Asmodeus spoke,

“Look, I do not want to be angry at you. I am.. not angry. But, I am frustrated, and a little hurt. Iruma-sama, how would you feel if you were in my place?”

Iruma’s heart throbbed painfully.

“I would.. be worried about you, of course.”

“Then please, you have to take better care of yourself. Do not treat yourself any differently than you would if I or Valec got injured. And it would not kill you to let us help you either.”

“But I can take care of myself just fine, Azz-kun!” he pleaded. “Look, it’s wrapped and I’ve been trying my best. I’ve gotten through much worse!”

Azz’s eyes widened at this. The frustration seemed to melt out of him, replaced with intense concern.

“What do you mean...?”

Iruma looked away as he said,

“I’m not used to receiving help from anyone! I don’t want to be a burden!”

“But, your grandfather..? And Opera-san..? Are you saying they don’t....? That they wouldn’t help..?”

“N-no! Of course not!” Iruma hurriedly said. “I... haven’t always lived with them, though.”

Asmodeus waited to see if Iruma would elaborate, but after several moments in silence decided that today was not the day he would hear about it. He pulled Iruma into a hug, careful not to disturb the injured ankle.

“Fine. I will not pry further today. Just.. understand that we care about you. We are here to help you.” He murmured into Iruma’s hair.

Asmodeus noticed the way Iruma’s shoulders relaxed at this, and it made him feel a bit more like he’d gotten through to his friend.

“All right, we need to get you to the school nurse.”

The shoulder tension was back immediately.

“Are you sure...? I thought it would make me seem weak?”

“Hells no, there’s a difference between sustaining an injury and just being weak. I do not know how you could even question something so obviously wrong. You? Weak? With your rank? It is absolutely absurd to even consider it. Now, let’s get going.”

Asmodeus gathered their things. Iruma moved to try to stand.

“What in the hells do you think you are you doing?”

Iruma tried to recall if he had ever heard Azz curse this much before.

“Um, trying to stand up?”

“On that ankle? I should think not,” Asmodeus scoffed. He returned with their bags on his back. With a quick motion, he swept his arms underneath Iruma’s knees and around his shoulders.

“Wah!?” Iruma spluttered. “A-Azz-kun?? W-what are you doing??”

“What does it look like, Iruma-sama? I am carrying you to the nurse’s office of course.”

“I-I must be heavy though! A-and you have the bags too?”

Asmodeus’ eyes flashed dangerously.

“Are you trying to imply that I am too weak?”

“N-no that isn't what I meant! I just don’t want to trouble you!”

“Trouble me? Please.”

“But… Azz-kun…,” Iruma stammered.

“Would you please stop squirming and just let me take care of you?!” Asmodeus huffed.

The magic word did its thing. Iruma was still very much embarrassed, and still wanted to protest but well... Asmodeus had said please. He never could say no to that.

“I-I suppose..”

“A simple thank you would suffice at a time like this, Iruma-sama. It is my greatest honor to support you in any way I can. Never doubt that.”

Iruma turned a few shades darker red and mumbled “thank you..”, but found himself still quietly fidgeting. It didn’t compare to the actual fight he’d been putting up a minute ago, but it was clearly irking Asmodeus. After a few more steps the demon said,

“If you want to squirm so badly Iruma-sama, shall I give you a reason to?”

Iruma looked up at Asmodeus’ deceivingly bright smile and shivered. His whole face screamed,

Danger!! Do not engage!!

But before Iruma could say anything at all, Azz slipped his fingers into Iruma’s armpit and began lightly scribbling. Seeing how Azz was also carrying him, and had a pretty tight grip, Iruma was totally stuck.

“Wahaha! W-wahahait Ahahahazz-kun! P-please! Hehe!”

“You’re lucky that I need to get you to the nurse’s office, or I think I would tickle you silly so you would never consider doing this again. My goodness, what am I going to do with you, Iruma-sama?”

“Pffft! I-I’m ehehe!! I’m sohohorry! I won’t do it ahahagain, p-promise!!”

Asmodeus seemed to consider this for a moment, then flashed his fangs in another blinding smile.

“Actually, no. I have decided. I will tickle you silly after your ankle has properly healed. Please prepare yourself, Iruma-sama.”

Iruma gulped. He felt flustered and embarrassed, but also a little giddy at the thought.

“For now though, I’ll just distract you with tickles until we get to the nurse’s office. Maybe that’ll stop these ridiculous notions that you’re bothering me from coming out of your mouth.”

“Ahahahazz-kuhuhun! Nohohoho!”

“Oh, Iruma-sama. You got yourself into this mess, you will just have to take it. Tickle tickle, you’ve got nowhere to run.”

“Nahahaha! P-plehehease s-stohop!”

“The tickling or the teasing?” Asmodeus asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“B-bohohoth! Eep! Ihihit tihihickles soho bahahad!”

“Hmmm, no. That doesn’t sound like my problem. Maybe you should have thought about this before you kept your injury from me, tried to walk it off, and implied I was too weak to carry you and our bags”

“B-buhuhut! I-I cahahahan’t mohohohove! EEK! Wahaha, it tickles!! Ihihihit tihihihickles!!”

“Does it now? A fascinating revelation, Iruma-sama.”

Iruma’s laughter went silent for a moment. Azz continued,

“At this rate, you’ll be lucky if I don’t carry you around the rest of today. And the next few days. We shall see what the nurse says. And no matter what, you will be going home in your grandfather’s carriage today.”

Iruma laughed and giggled the whole way to the nurse’s office, all worries of being perceived as weak completely gone. He went home in the carriage, at Asmodeus’ suggestion, and apologized to his Grandfather and Opera-san for keeping the injury from them. He resolved to work on letting his friends and family help him in the future. It was easier said than done, but whenever his resolve wavered, Asmodeus was there to give him a gentle, giggly reminder.

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 1.1

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which you pack your bags for paris, still unsure of whether or not you’ll return to london for anything other than the rest of your belongings, and anakin is forced to reach out to liz after she crosses another line.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.2k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Guilt had followed Anakin all week.

He talked to you for a good hour over the phone on Wednesday, and not once did he mention the fact that Liz had kissed him. He knew the longer he kept it from you, the worse it’ll be for him, but he was terrified of your reaction. 

Anakin had been faithful for nearly five years straight, and the one time he’s away from you for more than a few days he lets another girl get close to him. Close enough for him to break that streak in a single night. 

He knew that as soon as he told you, it could very well be over, and he never wanted to lose you, let alone because of something so out of character for him. 

Still, it wasn’t fair for you to be kept out of the loop, and though he hated to do it, he’d rather tell you in person. He could only hope that you saw it from his perspective, and how hard he’s been trying to get rid of her. 

Anakin was sitting on the couch, the passing scenery doing wonders at keeping his mind busy. He wanted to call you, but you told him that you needed to sort some things out today, and he’d just have to wait until you were able to talk. 

He had headphones on with the track Vinny and Theo had recorded during all the time Anakin spent with Liz, and he felt like the worst excuse of a friend and band member ever. 

They were actually trying to get music out while he just went out and partied. But he wouldn’t be doing that anymore. 

If one good thing came out of that whole club situation and the wake up call, it was that Anakin was finally inspired to write. Theo had come up with the idea to create a slower song rather than the loud and intense songs they’ve been playing for the last year and a half. He was sure it was because the bass player was feeling down a lot lately and needed a way to vent, and Anakin and Vinny were more than willing to agree to it. 

He listened to the track on repeat as he thought about possible lyrics, and Anakin was happy that Vinny had decided to try his luck with a piano. He played it for about four years before he switched to drums, but he clearly still knew how to play the string instrument as it sounded amazing through his headphones. 

Before long, he had a whole page done and was starting his second when Vinny emerged from the back of the bus. His hair was a mess, signaling to Anakin that he had just woken up from a nap. 

Anakin could probably use a few more hours of sleep, too, but he knew it would never come. He’d just end up tossing and turning and wasting time, so he didn’t even bother. 

Vinny sat down next to him with a huff, taking the notebook out of Anakin’s hands as he did so. Anakin scoffed at him, taking off his headphones and setting them aside as he turned to face his friend. “Is this for a new song?” Vinny asked with a yawn as he read over the page.

“Yeah,” Anakin answered, grabbing his phone and sending you a quick text. 

Vinny set the notebook aside after reading it over. “Sounds good,” he mumbled. “Glad to see you got your inspiration back.”

“Yeah, but at what cost,” Anakin muttered.

“Anakin, Y/n will understand,” he tried to reassure him, but probably knew that it was pointless as Anakin would continue to feel like shit until he knew for sure that he wouldn’t lose you because of the mistake he made with Liz.

So when he didn’t respond, Vinny just shook his head and stood back up. He rummaged around in the mini fridge before grabbing two water bottles and heading back to Clara, leaving Anakin to finish up the song he had titled ‘Falling’.

-

“I feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time,” you confessed as you sat on the grass in the Quad. “I completely messed up that last assignment. I didn’t even try.” 

Evan gave you a pointed look as he sipped from the straw of his smoothie. “You’re not wasting everyone’s time, Y/n,” he stated, making you roll your eyes. “I’m serious. Kenneth would’ve sent you running on the first day if he thought you were wasting his time.”

You shrug and look at different flights on your phone. “Maybe, but I still accused him of favoring me when he was literally just trying to be nice,” 

“Y/n,” Evan called out to you, making you look up. “You’re a good writer. You’re one of the best in the class, don’t think that you’re not. One bad piece doesn’t make you a bad writer, you know that.”

You shrug again, sipping on your own smoothie. “Yeah, I guess,” 

Evan set down his drink and moved closer to you. “I mean it. You’re going places…if you decide to stay, that is. While it’ll certainly give me a better chance at getting published, it’ll still suck to lose you. But if you’re no longer happy here, then you deserve to do something that does make you happy.”

You give him a smile and lean over to hug him quickly. “Thanks, Ev,” 

He returned the hug before standing up. “Are you coming to class today?” 

You think about it for a few seconds then shake your head. “No, I have some thinking to do,”

He nods and gives you a reassuring smile. “Okay, I’ll just see you later then,”

You nod back and watch as he makes his way to the building the class is in before pulling out your phone. 

Ani: I hope you’re having a better day today, baby. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I love you. 

The text brings a smile to your lips as you stand up and throw away your garbage as you reply to him.

So far so good. I can’t wait to see you, too, Ani. I love YOU.

You head in the opposite direction of your class, planning on going back to your room and packing your bag for Paris. Maybe you’d even start packing up to go back home. While Evan’s attempts at reassuring you were nice, you still didn’t feel confident in yourself anymore. 

Anakin had even tried to reassure you, but he also said that you didn’t have to force yourself to stay if it wasn’t what you wanted anymore, and to have that support from him had your head feeling clearer than it had in weeks. 

If all else failed, you still always had him, and that was enough for you to know that you’d be okay. 

You pack the essentials and set your bag down next to your desk before sitting down on your bed. Grabbing your phone, you begin to look through more flight options. There was one for three in the afternoon, meaning you’d be able to be in Paris by five thirty at the latest. You’d have to swing by class tomorrow to talk to Kenneth, and to possibly say goodbye to him. 

You really weren’t sure if you were going to come back for anything other than the rest of your belongings once Anakin and the guys leave France and you’d have to say goodbye again. Maybe you could just pack the rest of your things and meet him at the next location. You wouldn’t mind sharing that small bunk with him for the next two months, and you knew he wouldn’t mind either. 

Without another thought, you buy the ticket and set your phone down, pulling out your laptop and continuing to write the rough draft of your short story, despite your plans potentially dropping the class.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, and before you knew it, it was the next morning and you were packing last minute things and making sure you had your ticket ready. You set everything on your bed, excitement pulsing through you at the fact that you’d be seeing Anakin in less than nine hours.

His text had you feeling the happiest you’ve been all week, and you had shamelessly read it more than once. 

Ani: I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve missed you so much, princess.

He was the sweetest, and you were shaking with nerves at the thought of feeling his arms around you again after four weeks of zero physical contact.

You leave your dorm and make your way to class, well aware that it had ended at nine and it was now nearing ten. With a quick inhale, you enter the classroom and meet Kenneth’s eyes from across the room. He was sitting at his desk, his brow furrowed as he looked back down at the papers he was reading. “Miss Y/l/n,” he greeted in a monotone voice. “Glad to see you could make it to class today, though you are an hour late and the class is already over.”

Giving him a forced and embarrassed smile, you step into the room. “Yeah,” you trail off, playing with your fingers as you stand by the door. “I’m sorry I missed the last two classes, it’s just….I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

Kenneth didn’t look up from the papers as he said, “Well, you’ve certainly done a great job at trying to prove that,” 

Your face heats up and you look at the floor. “Yeah…I’m really sorry, Kenneth,” you murmur, glancing down at the A on your wrist. You feel the smallest bit of comfort from just looking at it, and you lift your head with a newfound confidence. “I didn’t mean to waste your time. That was the last thing I wanted to do.” 

That had your instructor looking up at you. He studied your face for a few seconds before sitting up in his chair. “You didn’t waste my time, Miss Y/l/n,” he stated. “In fact, I quite enjoyed reading your previous pieces, so I don’t know why you think you wasted anyone’s time.”

You shrug at him and avoid eye contact. You just needed to get through this, then you could go to the airport and be with Anakin again after a month of not seeing him. 

“I assume you came here to tell me that you’re dropping out?” Kenneth asks and you look over at him.

“Do you think I should?” You ask.

“That’s not up to me,” he says. “It’s your choice.”

You huff, “Do you think I’m…..good enough?”

Kenneth raises his brows. “Do I think you’re good enough?” He repeated your question and leaned back. “I think you’re a great writer, Miss Y/l/n, and it would be  unfortunate to lose you before I got to really see what you can do. But, it’s your decision, and I can’t make it for you.”

You give him a small smile and nod. “Right. I guess that’s a good answer,” 

He returns the smile before asking, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m….my boyfriend is performing at a few venues in Paris, so I’m going to meet him there,” you tell him. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be missing a few classes next week.”

Kenneth nods. “It might be best for you to take some time to figure out what you want to do,” he says. “If you decide to stay, there’s always a spot for you in my class, but if you want to go then I can’t stop you. But just know that one bad piece doesn’t make you a bad writer, and you shouldn’t let it have that much control over you.”

Your smile fades a bit at how similar his and Evan’s words are. Maybe they were right. “I’m trying,”

He shrugged, “That’s all you can do,” 

A few seconds pass before you nod. “Well, I should get going. I don’t want to be rushing to the airport,” 

“Before you go,” he called out to you just as you began to turn around. “I want you to know that, whatever you decide to do, I support you.”

That had a genuine smile forming on your lips. “Thank you, Kenneth, and I’m sorry for…everything,”

Then you were off. You headed back to your room to grab your bag, finding Evan leaning against the wall next to your door. Your look of surprise had him raising his brows, “What, you thought I was gonna let you leave without saying goodbye to me first? Especially since I might never see you again after this?”

You laugh and walk into his open arms. “I haven’t decided if I’m dropping the class or not, Ev,” you say and rest your head against his chest. “And I’d say goodbye to you before I left, anyway.” 

“How generous,” he teased and pulled away. His eyes flickered all over your face before he met your gaze. “Have fun, okay? Go spend time with your famous boyfriend, and don’t worry about anything else, alright? You deserve it.”

You smile and nod, “Okay,” you agree. “I’ll see you next week, Evan. Promise.”

He squinted his eyes at you. “You better,” he said back, giving you another smile before leaving. You grab your bag and look around your room one last time before setting down the note you had written to Bailey. She was still at her parents house since there was some family emergency, and you didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to her. 

You leave it on her bed before locking the door and ordering a ride to the airport, the stress of everything finally beginning to lift once you’re seated on the plane. 

-

Anakin could not stop pacing the length of the small hallway on the bus. 

He was shaking, he was so excited to see you. 

He couldn’t think about much else other than your sweet scent, your kind smile, your achingly pretty face, and the way your body fit perfectly against his own. He was craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He couldn’t believe he had gone a month without you.

Vinny was watching him with a tired expression, his arm draped over Clara’s shoulders as she slept next to him on the couch. “Dude,” he grunted after watching him pace a few more times. “What are you doing? Why are you pacing?”

Anakin flexed his fingers as he shrugged, passing by the brunet once again. “I can’t help it,” he answered. “I have to leave in less than half an hour to pick her up and bring her back here. Half an hour, Vin, then she’s here.”

Vinny let out a laugh of disbelief, glancing down at his sleeping girlfriend. “I hope she’s this excited to see me at some point in the future,” he muttered to himself as Anakin tried to calm himself down. 

“I missed her so much, Vin,”

“I know,”

“I can’t wait to see her,”

“I know, Anakin,”

“Please tell me that you and Clara are doing something tonight,” Anakin was powerless to stop the desperation from coming through in his voice.

Vinny smirked up at him, “Is that your way of asking if the bus will be empty tonight?”

“I need to be alone with her,” Anakin groaned. “I need it to be just the two of us, so we can talk. I need to clear a few things up with her.”

Vinny laughed. “I understand, man,” he said. “I’ll take Clara out for dinner or something and we’ll tour the Paris nightlife.”

Anakin gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” then he checked his phone and nearly dropped it when he saw Liz’s newest Instagram post. “Fuck.”

It was a close up picture of Anakin on stage a couple nights ago, his hair damp and his skin sweaty as he finished the last song of the set. He remembered feeling the high of that night, and he would’ve been happy to see that Liz had captured a photo of it, but right now all he felt was rage as he read the caption. 

elizaphotography: Thought you’d all enjoy a hot, up close and personal shot of the sexy lead singer of Screaming Whispers ;) 

She added a bunch of stupid hashtags and even tagged him, and Anakin wanted to throw his phone at the nearest wall. Vinny must’ve sensed the sudden change as he sat up a bit and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“She- I can’t fucking believe her,”

Vinny reached forward and grabbed his phone, his gaze hardening once he saw the post. “Wow, this bitch won’t quit,” he muttered, reading the caption over and over again. “She must think she’s invincible or some shit, because- what are you doing?”

Anakin had swiped his phone out of Vinny’s hand and clicked on Liz’s contact as he left the bus, hoping that the air would cool him off at least a little. It rang for a few seconds before the call connected, “Ah, I knew that would get your attention,”

“Back off, Liz,” Anakin rasped, leaning against the side of the bus as he felt his heartbeat quicken. “I mean it.”

“You’ve been avoiding me like the plague, Anakin,” she stated. “You’re acting like a prick. I thought we were friends.”

“You thought wrong,” he said and tried to take back control of his breathing. “Change that caption, or better yet, delete the entire fucking post.”

Liz hummed, “Thought I was allowed to post you? In fact, it’s on the contract that I get your image out there for the world to see,” she laughed. “Well, it says something like that, anyway.”

“I’m not joking, Liz,” he muttered under his breath, and her annoying voice had his body heating up in rage.

“I’m not joking either, Anakin,” she said back. “You led me on. I can claim that. Don’t piss me off, Anakin, or I’ll tell Y/n myself that you cheated on her.”

“I didn’t-”

“But you did,” she cut him off. “I’m living proof.”

“What do you want, Liz? Huh?” Anakin asked in frustration as he tugged on his hair. “Why do you insist on being such a-”

“A what, Anakin? What?” She pressed. “Call me anything other than my name, and I’ll message her right now.”

Anakin bit his tongue, holding back on calling her every bad name he could think of, because it really wouldn’t help much at all. “Keep her out of this,” he said as calmly as he could. He didn’t like her holding you over him like this when she had no fucking clue about anything involving yours and his relationship. She was just the fucking tour photographer, why did she think she had such an important role in his life? 

“Yeah,” she hummed. “Maybe I’ll do that.” 

Then she hung up and Anakin cursed under his breath as he opened the Instagram app. He deleted all the photos she took of him from his account, wanting nothing to do with her at all anymore. Sure, the photos were great and he actually liked them quite a lot, but he refused to be associated with her in any way. 

Before he got off the app, he clicked on Liz’s account and saw that she did actually change the caption, but it still didn’t settle the anger brewing within him. Without a second thought, he blocked her and pocketed his phone after calling a ride that would take him to the airport and to you.

-

They reunite soon :') (but is that a good thing?)

[thegildedbee]

Sherlock Fic Recs: Christmas Edition {2023}

❄️ Gather ~ ☃️ ☃️ ☃️ ~ 'round and 🎉 make 🎷merry🍹, all ye fic-loving fandom elves -- 'tis the season to shine a spotlight🕯️on Sherlockian Christmas fics!!! Here are some of my favorites -- I tried to pick ones that I haven't seen mentioned in recent lists that have been in my tumblr stream. Whether they're new to you, or just a reminder to re-visit faves, enjoy!!! ❄️ [In order of the year they were published.] ........................................................... 1. I'm Not His Date [2014] by objetpetita [ 17,029 words / T ] :: It all starts in a Boston coffee shop, where English professor Sherlock Holmes upends a visiting John Watson in a clever and fun "meet cute" (or "meet irritating-pompous-insufferable") in a whirlwind of Sherlockian proportions, and we're off to the races. There is a snowfight on the Common, Death Driving Miss Daisy: Lacan and Popular Culture, a Harry & Clara Christmas Eve wedding, witches, and a very boozy department party. It's as adorable as my favorite Christmas rom-com film, The Holiday. And it starts off with a corker of a first sentence: "It was morning, it was zero bloody degrees, everything around him was unfamiliar and American and cold, and John Watson was right on that inhuman precipice between still drunk and terribly hung over."

2. 5,687 (Approximately) [2015] by prettysailorsoldier [ 6,771 words / T ] :: Just a few years post-uni, Sherlock is enduring the agonies of a long-distance relationship with his boyfriend, who is on deployment in Afghanistan. During those times when John's on leave, the last people Sherlock wants to see are the idiots at the Met, so they've never caught sight of John and think he is a figment of Sherlock's imagination -- especially since he can't get home that Christmas. The set-up is sketched out with delightful fic flair, and the ending is not only sweet, but satisfyingly punitive [ c/o a very bamf John ]. The text messaging is some of my favorite writing in the Sherlock fandom -- their relationship in all of its multi-dimensionality comes through beautifully.

3. The 12 Truths of Christmas [2016] by @breath4soul [ 3,321 words / T ] :: This is a fic that has at its core the surfacing of unspoken emotional attraction betweenJohn and Sherlock via a very fun concept: “In place of some appalling or imbecilic gift inflicted upon me in the name of tradition on Christmas day, I propose that you provide me with one previously unknown fact about you for each day leading up to Christmas. 12 in total, John.” #9 has all the feels, and is a tour de force -- every time I re-read it it makes me break out in a smile, even though I know what's coming. Sherlock breaks out somewhat more: "Sherlock feels a flood of heat in several places at once. He stands up quickly and walks to his violin. He plays wild, erratic snaps of quick-paced music." The author has a whimsical and entirely understandable note to add: "You may fall in love with John reading this - I did." 4. The Romance Was There [2017] by @apliddell [ 4,011 words / G ] :: The author deserves an award for this being one of the best uses of Harry Watson in a fic, and of HW by Sherlock in a fic :-) 221B has never been cozier, Sherlock has never been more winsome, and John is a species type model of John in all of his clueless Johnness. The narrative dances along and sparkles and shines as seduction evolves, and Sherlock's rogueish charm is on full display. There's a poignant and endearing confessional letter, plus there's a Sherlock/Jeremy Brett reference that is absolute perfection in serving its role in helping the narrative quickstep the night away. 5. The Man in Aisle Ten [2020] by @blogstandbygo [ 1395 words / G ] :: Sherlock has several mysteries to unravel in the midst of Harrod's on Christmas Eve: what is the perfect gift for John? why is he having so much trouble identifying the perfect gift for John? and, incidentally, along the way to solving those, a local one. Luckily, Sherlock has Moira, master department store sleuth, to lead him to the solution. This fic is a small, perfect gift -- rather like the story's denouement --and is as witty as all of SBG's fics are. This is a veritable Peppermint Schnapps Hot Chocolate of a fic, warm, rich, sweet, delicious, tingly, and you'll find you reach the last bit much too fast, immediately requiring a refill. [ And there's a splendid podfic by @podfixx ! ]

..........................

*fic repost recruits, perhaps??? ❤️ @totallysilvergirl, @7-percent, @discordantwords, @helloliriels, @elwinglyre, @mydogwatson

[bootswiththefur565]

Dead Ends (CreepyPasta + Marble Hornets x OC)

Is blood truly thicker than water? Which is more important? If family anything more than individual's one shares genes with?

Clara Heart is a young adult girl that wasn't dealt with the best of cards. With humble beginnings, she starts a new life with her half sister. What happens when a friend from the past comes by offering strange opportunities?

This story is fan fiction and has romantic subplot. It contains themes of violence, gore, cursing, abusive relationships, sexual harassment, and plenty disorders. More tags will be added as the story continues. All characters belong to their rightful owners, the only ones I own are as follows: Clara Heart, Soraya Heart, and Jennifer O’Riely

Heads Up:

Hey! This isn't my first time writing, but it is my very first time posting anything. Please be patient with me while I learn through trial and error. I am open to criticism, I know I'll definitely need it, just please be polite. I am also dyslexic so I know this fic won't be perfect. This story has been on my mind forever now and I have been dying to put it in writing. I am creating this story with the help and influence from my cousin and we are both happy to share it with you.

Just to clear things up, I know that both Masky and Hoodie are from Marble Hornets and weren't proxies. In this story all of the events that took place in Marble Hornets are cannon. The things that I changed was the fact that Brian was brought back to life and eventually both Masky and Hoodie were dragged and brainwashed into becoming proxies.

I will add more to this chapter if necessary, sorry for yapping so much. Enjoy the story.

Chapter 1 Once met, never forgotten..

(Last heads up for the chapter, I picked the titles for chapters off of stoneletters.com)

Somewhere in West Virginia, off of route 52 was a quaint little dinner. Although today it was seen as a shelter from an unrelenting storm. Inside, the scent in the air was sickeningly sweet. Mindless chatter filled the space and waiters and waitresses buzzed about. Just because it was a rainy day does not mean that the old Walkman Diner wasn’t busy, it was always busy. The sticky checkered floor, the red booth seats, and the old, framed band posters came straight out of the 80’s. The diner had been frozen in time despite it being the early 2000’s.

The rain pelted the windows of the diner hard and people rushed in seeking shelter from the storm. In walked three individuals who looked worse for wear. The first man, was maybe around twenty two to twenty four years old. He was average height, maybe slightly taller than average. He wore a beige jacket with brown stripes on the sleeves and a blue hood peaking out. His black jeans were torn and looked washed out. His hair was brunette and had a slight curl to it. Although it was hard to tell due to it being soaked by the rain. His eyes were dark and he had slight stubble that lined the edge of his jaw. His skin was pale, so pale he almost looked grey. He looked relatively average other than the bandage that took up most of his left cheek. There was also a scar cutting through his left eye brow. His expression was tired looking, although every now and then he would quirk his head to the side or grimace.

On his left side was a much taller man who wore a pale yellow hoodie. His hair was hot toffee color and was a little on the shorter side. His eyes were a pretty hazel, and seemed to flick back and forth between his two companions. He seemed to be a little more fit then his counterpart’s more slender figure. He had a wider frame with broader shoulders. He wore a big smile on his face that revealed a little gap between his two front teeth. As he mentioned something to his pale friend his smile grew wider. He had a skinny, pencil mustache that had a slit in it right above his cupids bow. It was hard to miss. The man was maybe in his late twenties or early thirties.

On the right of the man with a bandaged face was a slightly stockier man. Her wore minuted orange jacket with his hands in it’s pockets. Underneath he wore a black T-shirt that went well with his dark blue jeans. His jaw was clenched and his chestnut gaze narrowed at the man in the yellow hoodie. His hair was black and he had noticeable side burns on his face. Ebony hair sweeping in front of his eyes, it looked damp. Like his yellow hoodie wearing counterpart, he was also maybe late twenties or early thirties.

Quickly seeing the new individuals, a young waitress briskly approached them, picking up three menus on her way over to them. She was average height and had brunette, wavy hair that was put up in a messy ponytail. Her overgrown curtain bangs bounced as she walked, her hips moved elegantly with each step. A tired smile pulled at her lips as her honey brown eyes glazed over the rain-soaked individuals.

“Hello,” she greeted, “Welcome to The Walkman diner. Will it just be the three of you?”

“Oh uh, yes!”, the man in the yellow hoodie answered with an excited politeness.

“Alrighty, just follow me.”, the waitress kept her tone soft and sweet as she led the men to a red booth near the entrance.

The pale man sat across from his two companions. The man in the yellow hoodie shared simple pleasantries with the brunette waitress before she left to go get their drinks.

“Tim, you already had two cups of coffee before we left this morning. Are you really going to have another one?”,the man in the yellow hoodie questioned with a small chuckle, he had a subtle southern undertone.

“Don’t piss me off Brian, it’s bad enough that we’re soaked from being outside.”,Tim stated begrudgingly as he shot Brian a scowl.

“And now we’re gonna enjoy some decent breakfast.. hopefully.” Brian countered with an joking tone as he spared a glance at the dirty checkered floor.

“If -FUCK- I find a -shitWHORE- b-band aide in muh-my food again, I’m gun-gonna smash -FUCK- her fuh-face in it.”, the pale man spoke with an unamused tone as his face rapidly turned to the side. The quick movement caused his neck to let out a popping sound.

The brunette’s jerky movements and random outbursts of cursing drew in the attention of others in the diner. Waiters and waitresses side-eyed him as they passed by. People seated close to the three men would not-so-subtly glance over. This caused Tim to meet the gaze of the nosy onlookers with a glare. The dark circles around his eyes and the scowl that sat upon his face conveyed his message all the better: Mind ‘yer fucking business.

“Don’t worry Toby this diner is in a much better area, plus it’s packed in here so it must mean the food is decent.”, Brian reasoned with what seemed like an ever present smile.

“Or people are just trying to get out of the rain.”,Tim mumbled from underneath his breath.

Soon enough the brunette waitress came back with their drinks. She set the hot coffee down by Tim, a water by Brian, and a glass of orange juice by Toby. Brian was the only one to say thank you, although the rudeness of the other two individuals didn’t seem to phase her. She was indeed a seasoned waitress. Briskly, she took out a tiny note pad and a red pen, ready to take their orders. Toby, ordered scrambled eggs with two hash browns and some toast. Brian ordered a full stack of pancakes while Tim ordered a western omelette. Once again, the waitress was off to go place their orders.

“She’s gonna spit in your food.”,Brian said with a hearty laugh as he took a sip of his water.

“I’d like to see her try.”,Tim shot back as he narrowed his chestnut eyes at the black coffee set before him.

Toby simply took a quick glance at the glass of orange juice set before him before picking up the glass and drinking about half of the cup. Shakily, he set the glass down on the table with a content sigh.

“For someone so worried about finding shit in their food, you really sucked down that OJ.”,Tim stated nonchalantly as he rose his cup of coffee to his lips, ready to take a sip.

Toby was ready to clap back with a snarky response, although a tic beat him to it. His face grimaced before his head once again turned to the side in a rapid manner. Once he recovered Brian had already started talking.

“Let’s refrain from being snappy towards one other, we’re gonna have to put up with each another for at least a month.”, Brian reasoned as he glanced at Toby before his hazel eyes landed on Tim.

“Better not be for a month, Aibell better wrangle up these new proxies and do it quick.”, Tim spoke, the unamused tone in his voice was evident now more than ever.

“She will, she knows one of them doesn’t she?”, Brian inquired with a raised brow.

“Yeah, -shitWHORE- sh-she wus-was in the ps-psych ward with -Watch the road- the ol-older one.”,the pale man said as he once again involuntarily grimaced.

“Aibell said she’ll be easy to convince, the younger one she wasn’t so sure about.”,Tim said as he took another sip of his coffee.

The brunette waitress came to the window by the kitchen and tapped her foot impatiently. It was rush hour and all the extra people in the diner made the place humid and hot. Her honey brown eyes would flick from the crowed diner booths to the kitchen window every couple of seconds.

“Bobby are any of my orders ready?”,she asked with a nervous tone, her brows nit with worry.

“Cool it Clarabelle.”, a middle aged man called back with a gravelly tone.

“Clara, it’s just Clara.”,Clara chastised as her eyes narrowed in the direction of the voice. Her frustration and impatience were bubbling to a head.

“With them thick thighs you could have convinced me that you were a cow.”,he teased as he let out a deep chuckle before continuing, “If your gonna look like one, I’ll name you after one.”

Clara rolled her honey brown eyes, a small frown tugged at her lips. The brunette was used to the unprofessional comments, especially from the cook, Bobby. She did have a slightly curvy figure, but nothing he said was anything she hadn’t heard one time or another. Finally, a man with a round face appeared through the kitchen opening, placing three plates of food on the counter. He had baby blue eyes and a balding head of greasy blonde hair. His nose was fairly large, and he often had a wide smile that revealed yellow, chipped teeth. A smile that he now presented to Clara.

“Better get moving Clarabelle, them people are hungry.”, he taunted in a southern tone before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Fuck you.”,the brunette snapped in a hushed tone as she grabbed the plates and placed them on a tray.

She walked back into the front of the diner, the humidity felt somehow worse then before. She flashed one of her fellow waitresses a quick smile as she passed by. The rain was still coming down heavy and her shift had just begun, it was going to be a long day.

[rose-of-pollux]

Back to the Future fic masterlist

The way my main BTTF fic timeline works, I operate on a fusion of the musical, movie trilogy, and Telltale game timelines; I take elements from each, and while my written version of Doc started out sounding like Christopher Lloyd, he's very much now heavily based on Roger Bart--I write out of timeline order, so just keep that in mind if Doc's voice isn't quite consistent from fic to fic.

I write Doc as very asexual, which was definitely the vibe that Roger gave him for the musical; subsequently, my backstory for Doc and his relationship with Clara differs greatly from the actual Part III, and I haven't quite figured out how Jules and Verne fit in--only that they just exist for now, and I'll figure their origins out later.

Lastly, I operate on the headcanon that, in the Lone Pine timeline, George and Lorraine remain good friends with Doc after 1955, initially because they think he's their link to "Calvin Klein," but eventually as true friends. This ultimately led to them asking Doc to be Marty's godfather--a role Doc takes very seriously and makes him even more protective of Marty than he was in Twin Pines.

And now, the fics themselves--I'm going to try to keep these in chronological order from Marty's POV (as best as possible, since, in a few of them, he isn't born yet); distinctions between Twin and Lone Pine timelines will be noted as such, and AUs will be listed separately--

Main Timeline-- Misunderstood (1931 Twin Pines) Miles to Go Before I Sleep (1945 Lone Pine) Stumbling Block (1949 Lone Pine) The Fork in the Road (1963 Lone Pine) Faded Ink (1968 Lone Pine) A Dark and Stormy Night (1973 Lone Pine) Is Anybody Home? (Twin Pines) Seeing Red (Twin Pines) True Blue (Twin Pines) Running Late (Twin Pines) Once in a Red Moon (Twin Pines) Lost and Found (Twin Pines) Reckless (Twin Pines) April, 1984, pt I (Twin Pines) April, 1984, pt II (Lone Pine) With Friends Like These (Twin Pines) Summertime Blues (Twin Pines) Back Down to Earth (Twin Pines) No Turning Back (Lone Pine) As I Lay Dying (Twin Pines) Morale Boost (1955) No Rest for the Weary (1955) At the Heart of the Paradox (Twin Pines becoming Lone Pine) Out of the Blue (Pt II, retconned since I'm doing something different) Cadence of Hill Valley: The Song of Time (musical-verse pt II; multichapter WIP) Cadence of Hill Valley: A Link to the Past (not written yet, musical-verse pt III) Sixty Seconds (pt III, may be retconned by the time I finish the Cadence series) All You Do Is Think (pt III, retconned due to the Cadence series) A Fragile Thing (Telltale game) Start From the Happy Ending (post-Telltale game) Unexpected Arrival (possible Telltale sequel, standalone for now) Haven't Heard that Before (post-canon) Faces of Family (post-canon) They Say that Time is a Healer (post-canon) Battle Scars (post-canon) Keep the Faith (post-canon, multichapter, complete) 'Cause I Might Not Make It Back (post-canon, multichapter, complete) Time Is Not Eternal (post-canon, multichapter, complete) Nothing's the Same (post-canon, multichapter, complete) Beat the Odds (post-canon, multichapter, complete) Close to Home (post-canon) You Can't Fight Fate (Or Can You?) (post-canon, multichapter, complete) The Impossible and the Improbable (post-canon) Seelie Wight (post-canon, multichapter, complete) The Ancient Relic (post-canon, 2015)

Ashen Pines AU Timeline (the Cold War goes hot in 1971, and when Hill Valley is incinerated by people looking for Doc and his knowledge of nuclear weapons, Doc goes on the run with the three-year-old orphan he just adopted--Marty McFly)-- Up In Smoke (oneshot) To Be Told You're No Good (oneshot) Nowhere to Turn (oneshot) A Moment of Peace (oneshot) Lessons Learned (oneshot) Teach Him a Lesson (oneshot) Injustice (oneshot) Don't Look Back (oneshot) I Can See the Fires Still Alight (oneshot) Fatherhood (oneshot) Vertigo (oneshot)

Other AU fics-- Audivi Famam Ilius (Fantasy AU) Shattered Dream (Turn Left AU) Life, Life (Frankenstein AU) Discord and Rhyme (Werewolf!Doc AU) Where the Sea Meets the Sky (Merboy!Marty AU) The Project Chronos Affair (Doc and Marty join U.N.C.L.E. AU)

[astriiformes]

hello!! this is kit. happy birthday!!! you don't have to answer all of these but

🎞️if you could change one scene from any of the movies, which one would you change and how?

⏲️what time period would you want marty to travel to and what would you want him to do? for fun or for something serious?

💫if you have any bttf related wips, here's the oppurtunity to ramble about them! (<-PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLSEPLSPEL)

Thank you!!

🎞️ - If you could change one scene from any of the movies, which one would you change and how?

Oof, just one scene is difficult, because the thing I'd like to change most would be how Jennifer's plot was handled in the second movie, and that requires a bit more overhauling. I think you could still make it better with a little tweaking though -- maybe she doesn't get knocked out and is simply told to stay watch the DeLorean, which still ends up being a problem when she tries to lure someone away from it, or something like that.

I guess that still modifies more like two scenes, but you get the idea! Anything to make her feel like she's got a little more agency. Because I like her a lot and it bothers me that the BttF movies aren't even that terrible at writing women (Lorraine and Clara are both really interesting characters!), but sidelined her anyways.

⏲️- What time period would you want Marty to travel to and what would you want him to do? For fun or for something serious?

Already answered this one but since there are plenty of time periods to choose from I will simply pick another. As someone who studies the history of science, I think that Doc and Marty could get up to some peak shenanigans in Enlightenment-era America (thinking late 18th and early 19th century here) when everyone was obsessed with the phenomena of electricity. I want to unleash Doc Brown on the people that thought lightning rods defied the will of God.

💫- If you have any BttF related WIPs, here's the opportunity to ramble about them!

OH BOY DO I

So, four years ago I started a diptych of stories I am yet to finish but that are some of the fics nearest and dearest to my heart, surrounding the idea of Marty being transgender. (I once called them my love-letter to transmasculinity, which is a little dramatic, but genuinely a bit how I feel about them)

The first is from Doc's perspective, and deals with the fact that, when Marty was first born, the version of him who'd been visited by 17 year-old Marty back in 1955 must've had an absolute heart attack at first. It features a very confused Doc and (eventually) a younger Marty figuring some important things out about himself, and is probably about half-written at uh. Almost 9k words.

The second, companion piece is from Marty's perspective, and set post-trilogy, dealing with him navigating questions of identity as someone who is trans and who now grew up in a different timeline. It follows his relationships with the important people in his life, his dueling existential crises, and the isolating feeling that maybe there's no one who understands you in the entire world -- and the relief that comes from learning that you're wrong.

I've done a truly monster amount of research for these fics--including having a librarian friend help me track down digitized historical documents during lockdown back in 2020--and am contemplating diving into the historical queer archive where I currently work for a second round, though we'll see what I can find. Regardless, I really want to finally finish these stories now that I've circled back around to having a lot of Back to the Future feelings again.

(Also to show the BttF fandom that I'm a much better writer when I'm not churning out only-mildly-edited 1-2k fics every day for a writing challenge, rip, although I'm honored people have been enjoying those ones, too! Just, you know. I can do better.)

[graciegoeskrazy]

so if Matty’s daughter is Matilda…

what about George’s stepdaughter and Ross’s daughter!!!👀👀👀👀👀

also would u be open to writing them at once? im just wondering no pressure obvs.

Ohhhhh I’ve had this answered for like a year lemme cook. I always use these names while writing and rereading tbh. I’ve just always had these in my head but I assumed everyone would hate that they have names???? Which I totally understand btw! Matilda has been the only names character so far but that was only been for like 2 fics. Anywhoooo. One person asked for this so this is my excuse to finally post it. This has Mattys daughter, mattys stepdaughter, George’s stepdaughter, and Ross’s daughter.

I’ve only written once very briefly for mattys daughter with Charlis daughter but I don’t think I would do one with alllllll of them. I don’t think my brain can take that responsibility.

Okay so here u go.

Matilda George Moss-Healy

Okay so as seen in "she's begging you to stay stay" Matilda's mother, Florence, named her after her father. Her intention was to have her nickname be "Matty" as a way of secretly being close to the father she never knew (until now) but everyone, including Florence herself, just ended up calling her "Tilly." "George" is obviously from George who was Florence's childhood best friend. When Matty gained legal custody of Matilda she gained his last name so it was "Moss-Healy" Matty offered to change it back to just "Moss" but she liked the way she had his name while still having a piece of her mother. In public or on Instagram though...she proudly puts her name down as "Matilda Healy."

Clara Leigh Bechtel-Healy

Clara is a name Gabby always had in mind for her children for when she got older. But when she got pregnant unexpectedly, it was the first name to come to mind. Leigh comes from Gabby's middle name, and they both took up the "Healy" name when Matty and her mom get married.

Emma May Aitchison-Daniel

“Emma May” was a combo Charli had loved since the beginning of her pregnancy. Even before she found out she was having a girl. She would call her by both names all the time. Even when she wasn’t in trouble which is what most parents tended to reserve the middle name for. Charli took “Daniel” as her last name when she got married and Emma did the same when George adopted her 2 months later. Emma and Clara have never taken their biological fathers last names.

Maise Eloise Macdonald

Ross was going back and forth on a couple of first name options but once he laid his eyes on her he decided “Maise” was the winner. It was just a name he liked but “Eloise” was actually suggested by Adam. They were all sat in the hospital taking turns holding and saying hi to little maise for the first time and they were also trying to help Ross come up with a middle name. Adam said “Eloise” out on nowhere and the room went silent. Ross knew it was the one.

[scover-va]

I need to know more about Michael's mom... Is she a cool mom?

SHE IS A VERY COOL MOM janet afton you will always be famous. to me

Im taking this as a chance to finally ramble abt her anyways so Janet's core inspo when designing her was to avoid 2 key things. Don't make her like Immortal & Th Restless's Clara (due to clara representing michael, not mrs afton, so i wanted to avoid that), and don't base her too heavily off of Ballora. I still have ties to Ballora's character (a music-based theme, blue-centric colour palette, im sure there were more basic ideas but everything else is more hc than themes to keep up) due to my hc thingy of each Funtime having ties to William's wife + kids, but yknow.

But yeah. Funky lady who played bass guitar + did backup vocals in a band during her high school and college years. Literally her and William dating can be summed up by "Seriously, what do you see in that guy?!" "He makes me laugh." bc she was and is WAY out of his goddamn league. Not just bc of the whole serial killer thing he was just an even bigger loser in college. Normal people dont develop a crush on a woman after she nearly breaks your nose and makes you bleed, William /j

But yeah uhh. I also dont like the idea of her being absent or neglectful purely because I got way too attached to her (i was originally gonna do that just to make things easy for myself but. Pretty lady,,, I am a very simple lesbian what can i say) so like. She obviously wasnt the greatest, most fantastic mom to ever exist given she was kinda maybe sorta well aware William was making some weird fucking clowns, but like. Hey. She tried. Also side note my reasoning for her being absent during the whole. Yknow. '83 event (and just evan's bday in general) is bc Evan + Elizabeth are twins and Elizabeth demanded a girls-only trip for her bday, and Janet promised Evan she'd do something just as special for him when she got back. That never happened bc he died lmao loser /j

But yeah uhh. Shes got a lot of regrets. Wishes she coulda done a lot of things better. Kinda dies with those regrets. Ive seen people say that one of fnaf's charms is that no character is 100% good and i LOVE that, and wanted to keep it up with Janet. Good mom and overall a good person, however made some bad decisions along the way and whatnot.

Im still working out specifics (ive been slowly working on a lil private fic abt her and william meeting + their early relationship) but uhhh. Minor notes that dont get their own paragraphs is that William sampled her voice for Ballora so yay easy voice claim, she had an on and off relationship with her band's lead singer (her name's Bev), her birth name is actually Janice Schmidt but if you call her Janice she'll knock at least 2 of ur teeth out, she's a runaway teen and got adopted by this older couple bc her home life kinda sucked (idk specifics yet), and also girlie has an extensive criminal record of minor angsty teen type charges. Also teen Mike dying his hair and then 2020's Michael's hairstyle are both kinda references to Janet's hair because he wnated to look less like his father. Thats all ty. No read more bc you WILL look at my mrs afton post, boy /j

Actually no theres more that im remembering as i write the tags and edit a few details. Back to her and William because god im insane about them. So for starters it. Well i was gonna say Janet was def the first to flirt but i think William definitely developed a crush first and they only kept talking bc of said crush so its kinda up for debate. Anyways yeah at first it was a HUGE sorta like "Well he's funny especially when I fluster him so this can be just a fun lil thing" but because they chatted more they def kinda like. Clicked more. William was a huge fan of listening to her music (from. a distance. he looked kinda like a creep but at least janet only misinterpreted it once) but like *specifically* janet he didnt give a fucking shit abt the rest of the band. Uhh. They had their first run-in and janet kinda. Well. Punched him in the nose before he cleared up that he is NOT a pervert or anything weird like that (bc a guy that looks older than he is staring from a distance when there is a clear crowd he could join kinda gave janet the Wrong idea), then they later bumped into each other in the hall and chatted for a bit, then they kinda just kept "accidentally" running into one another. Uhhh. Some cigaerette-themed flirting and a house party later, yay dating :] can you tell where the current cut-off of the fic is /j Also idk how to put this down properly but they are both runaways and can kinda. Get that vibe from one another. Literally Michael is like some fucked up abomination of the both of them between the troubled past + weird situationship thing + runaway stuff + a lot of minor details that arent important rn. I just. Yeah Janet means the world to me go thru her tag on my blog for some art. Not all of my janet art is posted but the non-posted stuff is all concept work/doodles or just. Shit im too embarrassed to post lmao. Anyways NOW im done ty for reading

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

(from my main but this is variousqueerthings): am really enjoying reading your analyses of amy -- I definitely felt more resonance with her on this last Big watch I did, when I could disconnect the way she would at times be underserved by the writing, from what was actually going on in her story, and it's fun going from there to reading deeper analysis that picks on those threads even further

I don't know if this refers to only my straight analyses I've posted on this blog, the rambling rants I've done in the tags of other people's posts, or my fics (someone once called a fic of mine an "eloquent rant" and sometimes I feel like that's a great way to describe the more "character-study"-esque of my fics), but either way thanks! I actually had my own reevaluation of Amy Pond as a character when I got back into Doctor Who this year thanks to various other blogs/others analyses (shout out to @saint-eleventh, @thefiresofpompeii, @spoofymcgee, @ameliapondmd, and plenty of others, including you, @variousqueerthings, with your rewatch series). The first time around, when I watching Doctor Who as a freshman in high school, I couldn't pick apart the Moffatisms from the foundation of a very compelling character full of fascinating contradictions and unabiding faith and a desperate loneliness that connects so well with Eleven's. (I also, full admission, hadn't gotten the shift between how companions were written in Davies' era v. Moffat's, with the companion's arc being as integral to the story during 9 and 10 v. during 11's- though I am also now realizing the mistakes that Davies made, especially with his handling of Martha and other black characters.) Now, though, I can ride with the fairytale vibes of Season Five, which has steadily risen through my season rankings, and can also appreciate the push-and-pull of Amy Pond.

I hate love triangles but looking at Rory and the Doctor now as embodying the themes of domesticity/growing up/stagnation v. travelling/danger/curiosity and the way that the narrative constantly tries to shove Amy into the former (literally making her a wife, a womb, a mother, a vessel, stripping away her agency at every turn) makes it all the clearer how Amy, whenever given the chance, turns to the TARDIS. She doesn't want Rory to die in Amy's Choice but chooses him by choosing the TARDIS and life with the Doctor. Her biggest act of agency in the show is demanding the Doctor show up at her wedding, literally yanking him into existence and demanding that he prove to the world that her faith in him was never mad, was always the most sane thing in the world. Even at the end of the God Complex, when she should hate him more than anything, she still believes in him (and frankly, he believes in her. Eleven and Amy are each other's gods as much as they are each other's best friends).

I think that Eleven and Amy are made for each other in the same way that Nine/Rose, Ten/Martha, and Twelve/Clara are made for each other, to believe in each other, to change each other, to make each other's stories full. I love Donna&Ten, Clara&Eleven, and Bill&Twelve as much as anyone else does (I seriously adore all of these dynamics), but you can't tell the Doctors' stories and arcs without the first set of pairings I mentioned. And realizing that about Amy and Eleven and the effect they had on each other (the fact that after eight hundred years without her, she is still the last face he sees before he regenerates, the fact that she can literally remember him from nonexistence) really made me realize the potential and impact of her run as a companion/their dynamic this go 'round. I think that's the great thing about a show that runs for this long and with so many doctor&companion pairings- you are constantly going to bump up against these relationships that transcend friendship and romance and go into world-shattering, character-arc-altering, often-verging-on-codependent dynamics that impact both sides for the rest of their lives.

[bubblywhores]

Honkai star rail fic! Clara and Svarogs father daughter relationship and how they first met! :D

be nice i kinda didn’t know what to write towards the end but i still really tried pls enjoy

The air in the Belobog’s underworld had always kept the same smell; musk and sweat, miners often jabbed that the smell had altered over time into their blood and tears as well. This particular night in Belobog’s underworld the smell had worsened between the cold damp air and the musk. It felt like it was consuming everyone, the cold sweat rushing down their foreheads, the little warmth, nothing could be felt as overworked vagrants and miners sat. no one fought, no one argued, just sat and for the most part they had sat in silence trying not to let the cold consume them. Some people blamed these conditions on Svarog and as

Wildfire had been attempting to make negotiations for months trying to make Svarog listen and reason with them but nothing was working. it seemed as if everyone was at their breaking points.

With all of that being said, all that could be heard from a distance was sniffling. That wasn’t unusual. Kids always cried from various things such as getting hurt or just simply missing a parent. Svarog calculated all problems and tried to find the most logical solution. That is what he always did. in this case it would’ve been to find who was making that noise.

Svarog’s metal clanked as he walked people who once held conversations quickly quieted down only watching as he walked. Some people rushed away as subtlety as possible but Svarog knew.

Taking his last few steps before reaching the girl she looked up he figured she would’ve ran away but she smiled.

Svarog didn’t calculate that.

The young girl's white hair laid atop her head messily and her eyes shined brightly.

“i’m clara!” she declared excitedly. Svarog knelt on one knee. “Where are your parents Clara?” he asked. The girl for just a moment frowned while she looked for the words Svarog understood everything. “It is okay.” he spoke his voice sounded softer? At least to Clara maybe to the others he still sounded terrifying.

Svarog watched Clara the young girl, already in his head he found out who her parents were and how they were MIA he looked into her further at this point in time and she would be about 8 years old. The girls sniffles brought him back to the matter at hand. “You are sick. your temperature has reached 101 degrees with no medical attention your condition will worsen.”

Clara looked down as he spoke like a child would look down as their parents ‘scolded’ them. “i’m sorry,” she muttered. Another thing that wasn’t in Svarog's calculations. “Why are you apologizing? there is no need.” Clara looked up at him with teary eyes. Svarog wasn’t having this. He lifted Clara up walking somewhere, to someone. “I am Svarog.” was all he had said. Clara’s mood changed significantly and she seemed more at ease as Svarog carried her away.

Reaching Boulder town everyone seemed to have tensed and whispers started floating around.

“What is he doing here…”

“Who is that girl?”

“…what is he gonna do?”

“ Will he listen to wildfire now??”

Clara looked at Svarog. he was a robot so he didn’t care for other’s opinions but Clara couldn’t help but feel bad.

“It's okay Mr. Svarog,” she leaned in to whisper. The young girl’s temperature rose again but by then he had gotten where he needed to be. Outside of the clinic waited Natasha and Oleg. the two commanding officers for wildfire aka the people who wanted to return to the overworld.

“This is Clara, she seeks medical attention and she needs treatment.”

Natasha stood maybe in disbelief that Svarog brought young Clara to them.

Natasha was a good doctor Svarog trusted her to take care of Clara but…

“you will still be here when i am

all better right mr svarog?”

Svarog thought for a moment before answering, this girl Svarog wanted to protect her from the harsh realities. looking down he finally answered.

“i will be here when you are all better now

let the doctor help you clara.” the young girl smiled, taking Natasha's hand.

as they walked into her office he heard them speaking.

“Hello clara i am natasha”

“Hello miss Natasha,” the girl said. Her voice sounded very calm.

Some days Svarog would replay that memory in his head. The day he met what humans would call a child. his child. Clara was like his daughter. He taught her how to live and how to do tasks. He saw her joy for robots and how she always wanted to help everyone.

his treasured gift.

“replay memory 2235678.” Svarog spoke as Clara slept in the next room over. a father’s love for his daughter ! robot or not.

i kinda got lazy at the end but still please enjoy!!

[kaidynsarell]

Chapter 7- Of Sepia and Crumpled Parchment

🖤🦉🖤🦉🖤🦉🖤🦉🖤🦉🖤🦉🖤🦉🖤

Pairings-Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating-This story is rated overall 🔞(Ch 7 is SFW)

Tags-Grief and Angst.

The full chapter can be found below the cut (3k words)

Ongoing Fic

Chapters 1-10 can be found on WP and AO3

Monday, 12 September, 1892

Morning came with an abruptness that ricocheted against her bones and left her aching and delirious with sleep or, rather, the lack thereof.  Clara drug herself, unceremoniously, from under the nest of blankets she'd all but lived in since Saturday and tried with what experience told her would be little success to restrain the mess of long white blonde waves that insisted on an air of unruliness on a good day and otherwise left her with a snarled, untamable mess.

Today was not one of the good days.

With her brusque departure from the Sallow home two days prior, Clara had stalked down to the dungeons and, exhausted, had flung her body into the sea of green blankets.  She'd buried herself so deep she was swallowed in darkness and lost to the unfathomable depths-drowned in that tenuous space between sleep and waking where thoughts melt with dreams and become indistinguishable.

She'd stayed like that, curled below her bedding and only woken fully to the quick patter of Grace's annoyingly perky footsteps and the tap of porcelain on wood before the footsteps retreated, and  Clara was once again left alone.

She had known what she would find when she pulled back the curtains, and still, she ground her teeth at the sight of that damned delicate tea cup with its soft pink flowers.  Peonies, like the ones she had shared with her grandmother,  though these were a machine-printed stencil, not intricately hand-painted as Beatrice's had been.  The severe lack of brushstrokes and the monotonously uniformed edges offered enough evidence.  Too sharp and repetitive to be natural.  A mockery.  And anger had taken the cup and hurled it against the stone wall, the tea spilling in an arc of sepia to soak into the collection of emerald patterned rugs that tried, and frequently failed to protect their feet from the chilling cold of the dungeon stone floors.

The teacup hadn't shattered on impact.  Clara should have expected the unbreakable charm.  Instead, it merely clattered against the stone and fell with a dull thump to the rug below, which had only angered her further.  The satisfaction of seeing it shattered, ripped away.  But anger was bitter and resentful, and it wove up through her chest and coiled around the fingers clenched white against her pillow.  The same one that had heard her screams since the end of Fifth year, and she'd pressed it over her face and slumped back to the mattress with a furious groan.

She'd not heard another word from Sebastian or Anne all weekend, and Ominis she'd only glimpsed in passing before she'd scurried back up to her dorm, resigned to becoming a hermit who snapped at passers-by from behind her bedhangings.

Even as she'd sanctioned herself away, she'd kept the proteon charmed parchment with her, her fingers too often brushing along the rough edges or tapping across the surface.

But the parchment never rippled under her fingers. No new messy scrawl. No new flecks of onyx freckled over the beige with the furious intensity at which Sebastian wrote.

She cursed the part of herself that had expected him to write.

And she cursed the part of herself that had wanted him to more.

><><><><><

Clara did not climb her way to the Great Hall and Breakfast for the first time since the start of term because she was almost certain Sebastian would be there.  Nor did she look for him among the bustling throng of students-not that he was difficult to spot with the small crowd gathered around the far end of the Slytherin table.

The twin's unexpected return had not gone unnoticed.

She'd been close with most of the group at one point, but she'd not spoken to any of them in several months.  Not even to Natsai or Poppy, whose shared adventures in Fifth year had brought her closer to them than most.  But what she had once thought of as unshakable friendship had slowly faded to that of acquaintance and then only ever to concerned glances across classrooms and smiles that lingered between worry and cautious optimism as they passed each other in the halls.  The same smiles that waited for her acceptance and those she could still only half-heartedly return.

The distance wasn't their fault.  Clara knew they'd reached out-both of them, even Natty, who had dutifully ignored her mother's strict instructions to limit her interactions with Clara after the incident with Harlow.

She still had the unanswered letters saved-the ones she had read and cherished and simultaneously been unable to summon the energy to write back.

The longer time went on; the more guilt had dug its sharp corners under the flimsy attempts she'd made at her own forgiveness.  Ripped it open and clawed at the sweet sincerity of the pages.  Now, she kept the letters tucked away, unable to look at them or their senders without the weight of it pressing between every breath.

But there they stood within the group of students crowded around the twins. 

The twins.

How strange it was to think it.

Stranger still to see them seated together.

It hadn't been so long ago that Anne had questioned if she would ever want to see her brother again. And not for the first time in the days since dissapperating away from the Sallow home, Clara wondered exactly how softened Anne had actually become to her brother's crimes.

Seeing them now, seated side by side, one could almost think they'd never fallen apart.   That the string that had bound their souls from birth had never unraveled.  Never frayed so far as to see Sebastian begging her to let him in and  Anne refusing to say his name. 

So mirrored were their mannerisms and their laughter so synchronous.  Even their smiles quirked up on different sides as though pieces of a whole.  Only the subtle pauses in Sebastian's exuberant charisma and the careful way he still watched his sister as though if his gaze didn't hold her delicately enough, she might vanish before his eyes offered any hint of the year they'd spent distanced from each other.  

Clara shifted her boots against the worn flagstone, determined to find a seat at the opposite end of the table.  As if on cue, Sebastian looked up and over the crowd.  It was almost criminal how quickly he spotted her from across the Great Hall.   Before she could fully shuffle away and pretend she'd not noticed him, Anne, too, had seen her and began waving her over, and Clara couldn't bring herself to deny the other woman.

She pushed herself through the small crowd and sat across from Ominis.

It was the furthest seat from Sebastian, and Clara could still see the little disruption at the corner of his mouth where he'd pulled his bottom lip in and worried it between his teeth.  He was still looking at her-his eyes just as dark and unyielding as they had been days prior as he regarded her from three seats down.  Too long, and she became acutely aware of how disheveled he must think she was.  The quick glance she'd thrown to the bathroom mirror that morning had seen her undereyes still bruised and bagged with stress and her perpetually messy hair only partially tied in a loose knot at the back of her skull,  the hairs that had refused to be restrained falling in haphazard curls around her face. 

He opened his mouth as though to say something.  The unspoken tipped to the edge of his lips and lingered at the precipice between thought and speech.  

Clara looked away before the words could come to fruition and decided the rough swirls of woodgrain on the surface of the table were particularly interesting.

She didn't want to talk to him.

Only the peripheral glimpse of a black and crimson blur barreling into Sebastian spared her need to continue blatantly avoiding the interaction.  At the same time, the muttered " Ooof, Hi!"  from the end of the table snapped her attention unwittingly back to him.

A small boy with a mess of dark curls had launched himself at the older Slytherin.  His arms wound so tightly around his neck that Sebastian almost appeared in danger of death by constriction before the small Gryffindor pulled back and beamed up at him.

" You're really back!  I thought they were all trying to trick me, but it's really you.  Can I tell everyone you'll be back at Crossed Wands?  The next match is in just a few days.  Everyone'll be thrilled!"

Lucan bounced so eagerly on the balls of his feet Clara wondered briefly if muggle photographs of him would appear only as muted blur of vertical lines.

Sebastian's attempt at a smile fell flat.  Small.  Apologetic.  More a poorly altered grimace than anything else. " Ah... look, I'm really sorry, but I can't do it this year.....  You know, N.E.W.T's and all."

" What? " The younger boy's face fell.  All bouncing halted.  The balloon in his chest deflated, and the entirety of his small, thirteen-year-old body sagged.  "But-but you weren't here last year, and everyone was so excited when they saw you'd come back.  It hasn't been the same."

" I wish I could, Lucan.  I really do... but I can't..... I've already missed a whole year, and there's-"

Sebastian's stumbled rush of words died midsentence.  Faltered off the edge of his tongue and fell uselessly to the flagstones below as the Gryffindor's face twisted.  Still too innocent or, perhaps, brave enough not to have learned how to hide the hurt that contorted his features.

Anne swiveled her head to the side and shot an incredulous look at her brother, who seemed barely to notice, his attention still focused on the younger boy.

Anne wasn't the only one, and for several long seconds, the steady hum and murmur of the small crowd gathered around the twins fell eerily quiet.  Contented murmurs melted to furtive whispers until the flurry of screeches and the flap of wings overhead announced the arrival of the morning post, and the steady cacophony of noise saw the little crowd disbanded.

Lucan shuffled away without a backward glance.  Sebastian didn't look over at her again.  Just down at his half-eaten oatmeal, he pushed it around with his spoon, and her stubborn ignored the little sinking feeling in her stomach.

Clara didn't wait for an owl to land in front of her.  The morning post had long since become primarily uneventful for her.  Once upon a time, she might have received small packages of homemade pastries tied with thrifted ribbons from her grandmother or the occasional box of peppermint toads from Professor Fig, who'd been the one to introduce her to the candies and knew her affinity for them.  But she'd failed to save either of them in the end, and anyone else who might have written to her had given up when she'd failed to return their last several letters.

Instead, she added a generous helping of sliced strawberries to her bowl of oatmeal in an attempt to make the bland beige mush edible.  It proved futile.   Maybe she would just pick the strawberries out and nibble those instead. She was never particularly hungry in the mornings anyway.

Two seats down, another student had spread open a copy of the Daily Prophet deposited by a flustered-looking tawny owl.  She could just make out a few glimpses of a small article tucked at the corner of the page closest to her.

Unidentified sources claim a recent attack near Mauranweem to be the work of the Dark wizards formerly associated ...

.....  Authorities have declined to comment further on the matter and...

Following the mysterious death of their confirmed leader, Victor Rookwood...

Clara forced herself to look away.  Back at the pattern of woodgrain, the hardened knot at the center, the swirled contrast of dark and light.  Fingernails dug crescents to scarlet against her palms.  She couldn't think about that right now.

She didn't need to look up to feel  Sebastian watching her again, and for once, she found herself grateful for the alarming screech of the overly large and equally stuffy black eagle owl that had settled in front of Ominis.  With all its distinguished haughtiness, the bird may as well have announced itself as royalty.  Clara could've sworn the pompous thing puffed out its chest as it extended a single leg and dropped a crisp envelope into the blond's lap.

Beneath the bright morning sunlight of the enchanted ceiling, the embossed Gaunt crest was impossible to miss.

The letter was opened, and the thin, slanted writing was converted to braille with a practiced flick of his wand before Clara could try to make out a single sentence from across the table.  Ominis's fingers hadn't even made it past the third line of raised dots when he crumpled the parchment into an uncharacteristically messy ball.  It was stuffed into his satchel so quickly that Clara almost missed the near-white-knuckled grip he'd held over the document.

Anne tipped her head to him and muttered something.  What?  Clara couldn't distinguish between the quietude of her voice and the discordant clamor of conversation that ricocheted between the stone walls.  An ever-present testament to the incredible acoustics of the space.  Had she been a director of music, she might have been thrilled, but as it was thwarting her attempts at eavesdropping,  she only found it irksome.

If Ominis had anything more to say, he didn't voice it.   Just tipped his nose toward Anne and shook his head.  The movement was almost minuscule.  Just the slightest twitch of his head, and Clara wasn't certain which of their mouths had pressed into a thinner line.

          ><><><><><

Clara was still picking the strawberries out of the lump of beige mush in her bowl when Professor Sharp approached them from the staff table.

With his shoulder-length black hair, lined face, and perpetual scowl, he held the air of a man who'd seen far too much at too young an age.  Even the severity of his limp and rumors of how he'd received it only served to add to the gruff persona of the battered war hero.  Aside from his lectures, Clara had never known him to be a man of many words, and he handed each of the twins a square of parchment with little more than a nod before turning away.

Class schedules, given the way Anne glanced over it and slid it into her bag. 

But where Anne had already tucked her schedule away, Sebastian was staring so intently at the document clenched in his fingers Clara wouldn't have been surprised if it burst into flames.  Brows crushed together, and his eyes darted in a harried pattern from top to bottom.  Lingering and scrunching at the same spot each time as though struggling to grasp the meaning of a word, and if he were only to read the entire document enough times he might glean some further understanding.  The pattern repeated with an almost frenzied fervor until his gaze finally snapped up to the already retreating limp of the older man.

" Professor, there's been a mistake with my schedule."

The man only turned halfway, more a glance over his shoulder.  " I assure you, there's been no mistake."

" I don't...I can't-" Sebastian didn't resist when Anne tugged the list from his fingers and flattened it over the table to read.  "- I've not completed  an O. W. L. Surely that means-"

"An exception has been made in this case."

"But-"

"There will be no changes made to that schedule-"  The potions master turned fully.   "- and I expect an Outstanding on that particular N.E.W.T.  You and I both know you can achieve that. "

"But, Sir!  I-"

"The decision is final, Mr. Sallow."

Sebastian held the man's gaze.  His stubborn defiance etched through the fare of his nostrils and the subtle clench of his jaw.  Clara watched the exchange.  A series of micro-expressions she had no hope of fully comprehending.  The twitch of the professor's mouth, the slight furrow of his brow, the infinitesimal tilt of Sebastian's head.    Finally, Professor Sharp raised his eyebrows, and whatever silent argument had passed between them, it seemed Sebastian had lost because his shoulders slumped, and he turned his head back to the table to glare at the offending document, still flattened over the worn wood.

She couldn't see the parchment properly with the way his arms were positioned, and curiosity begged the question.  Coiled it to the tip of her tongue and pressed its feet to the starting blocks until the stubborn that had made its home in avoiding Sebastian latched firm hands around curiosity's eager form, and the question crumpled against her teeth.

The hand he drug down his face pulled at his features.  " I don't believe this....I'm not going.   I don't care-"

Anne's fingers settled against his forearm. " It's in a different classroom now, Sebbie.  You won't have to go in there."

"I know that."  The words were flattened and strained.  So quiet  Clara barely heard him above the din of chatter surrounding them.

Anne didn't say anything else, just squeezed his arm and leaned back against Ominis. 

Clara didn't immediately look away when he glanced at her again. The enchanted sunlight had ignited threads of auburn in his curls and the flickers of honeyed gold across his eyes.

For a second, it seemed he might say something to her.  Part of her almost hoped he would. 

And just for a moment, she could almost imagine him as that same freckled boy she'd known before.  The one who had captured petals between his fingers and pressed their pigment to her soul.  The boy who had wished on fallen eyelashes and shooting stars.

The shift was subtle.  Just a tilt of his head and the flickers of gold vanished as quickly as they'd come. 

Or maybe they'd never been there.  Just a reflection of the candlelight.

Only an imitation of what she'd once known. 

A mockery. 

And anger's hot coils ignited around the place she kept her stubborn and pulled her gaze back to the pattern of the wood grain.

There was only a sharp exhale and the unmistakable sound of crumpling parchment before a half-muttered "I'll see you in Charms."

Clara looked up only in time to watch Sebastian's retreating form as he strode from the great hall without a backward glance.

[ssparksflyy]

Hiii! Would it be ok if I requested some Jason Grace x reader hcs? Maybe like Jason was having a terrible day (like to the point of tears) and reader comforting him? Thank you in advance if you decide to write this!

(Ps: I love how you write Jason sm agejzejetjfj)

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

i'll catch you, i'll catch you‧₊˚✩彡

pairing: jason grace x gn!reader warning(s): sad jason :( word count: 1.2k a/n: hi! tysm for requesting <33 sorry it took me a minute to get this out, whenever i had motivation to write, i couldnt, but then when i could, i didnt have motivation?? idk. also ik u said hcs but i wanted to turn this into a regular fic so i hope u dont mind, enjoy!

if there was one thing jason had perfected over the years, it was hiding his emotions.

from a young age, jason was shoved into a role of leadership. he knew that if he wanted to be trusted and taken seriously as a leader, he couldn't show any sign of vulnerability.

he knew that he gave others hope, that they looked up to him. in times of despair, he was their saving grace. jason was always the shoulder somebody could cry on if they needed to.

so it happened naturally. he was always too busy to care for his feelings. and it wasn't like anybody truly cared or noticed if his smile wasn't as bright anyway.

while out and about with others, jason was always happiest guy you'd ever meet. while alone, he was a wreck. he could only push down his emotions so far for so long.

often times jason was haunted by grief. haunted by those he couldn't save in battle. people always thought they never got to him, but really, they ate him alive. he always asked himself what he did to deserve to live while others didn't.

other times he was just so tired. some days were better than others, but those days that didn't go as planned left jason feeling exhausted.

today was one of those days. everything about today just wasn't going to well for jason, and now, in the dead of night, he was able to go back and replay his day.

as jason lay sprawled out on his bed, he felt tears brimming in his eyes. he took his glasses off and placed them on his bedside table. he just wanted to curl up into a little ball and disappear.

once the tears started, they didn't want to stop. his tears fell like the raindrops racing down his window. lightning struck as a sob escaped his lips.

jason lay in a fetal position, facing his wall. he felt his eyes begin to droop, tired from a long day and crying, but quickly sprang open when he heard quick knocks on his window.

he quickly snapped up to check who it was, jumping out of his bed. he quickly sniffled and wiped his face as he walked over to the other side of his cabin, over to the window.

you stood outside his window with an umbrella, a smile on your face.

jason returned a smile before opening his window. he hadn't expected to see you tonight, but he was glad you were here.

you quickly climbed in through the window and landed with a small thump. you quickly closed your umbrella and leaned it against the wall.

"hey" you said, breathlessly. that window had no right to be so hard to climb through.

"hey, didn't think you'd be stopping by tonight" jason replied, with a small smile.

"i know, i wasn't gonna, sorry. but i couldn't sleep and i just got an update on the whole clara situation," you said quickly, as your smile disappeared and was replaced with a confused look on your face, "are you ok? your eyes and nose are looking a little red."

you stepped a little closer to jason and cupped his cheek with your hand. he was unable to meet your eyes as he slowly placed his hands on your hips.

"yea, no im fine!" jason said, an obviously fake laugh escaping his lips, "i was, um.. doing weed."

"seriosly? 'doing weed?'" jason thought, cringing at his words.

you too cringed at his response. "jason.. hun, you don't 'do weed', you smoke it. and it leaves a smell. the cabin smells normal. seriously, what going on? you know you can tell me anything."

jason let out a small sigh and continued to look down, refusing to meet your eyes. he wanted to tell you how he was feeling, he knew he could trust you. he loved you and you had always been there for him during difficult times, so why was it so hard for him to talk to you about his feelings?

he felt a sob building in his throat. he bit his lower lip in attempt to keep it in, but couldn't help it. when the sob escaped from his lips, so did the tears from his eyes. his grip tightened on your waist as he pulled you in closer.

you stood there, stunned for a second, but quickly recuperated. you hugged jason back tightly. he placed his head in the crook of your neck, and every time he let a sob out, your heart began to ache even more. you had no idea he felt anything like this. to you, jason was always shining like a diamond. you should've known diamonds were made from pressure.

you stood there holding jason until his sobs stopped. he took a step back as he lifted his head up from your neck and sniffled as he said, "'m sorry-"

you stopped him with a shake of your head, "no, there's nothing for you to be sorry about, im sorry i didn't know how you were feeling."

tears were still streaming down his face, and his eyes were red and puffy. you took his hand and led him over to his bed. you sat down crisscrossed on his bed, and he sat across from you, your knees touching each other.

you held his hand up to your lips and placed a small kiss on his knuckles. jason remained silent, allowing you to lead his every move.

"do you want to talk about it?" you asked softly.

jason nodded his head slowly and let out a shaky breath before saying, "i guess, i-" he paused for a second before continuing, "i just get kind of tired of being the person everyone looks up to. and i know, that may sound bad, but sometimes i just want a break, you know? and i feel like i can't get that because everybody is looking up to me."

you nodded your head, showing him you were listening.

"overtime it just builds up, i guess. most times im fine, but i dont know, sometimes, like now, it just hits me. straight punch to the face." he said, making his spare hand into a fist and making a small and soft punch motion, "a-and i just get so overwhelmed."

a few more tears slipped from his eyes as he squeezed your hand. his eyes unable to meet yours once again.

you squeezed his hand back and raised your spare hand to his face to cup it. you leaned forward and kissed away the tears that fell from his eyes. soon, they stopped falling.

you sat back down. "thank you for telling me, lightning." you whispered, "im sorry you have to go through that, i wish i had known. next time you feel overwhelmed, you know you can tell me."

you found your other hand softly playing with his hair. you knew it calmed him down, based on the way his shoulders relaxed and he leaned into your touch, you knew it was working.

"let me know anytime you want to talk about something, okay? i love you, jason" you said, softly.

jason leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips, "thank you, (name), i love you too" he whispered.

a/n pt2: hello again! tysm for reading, i hope u enjoyed !! just wanted to say that requests are closed rn but will be open again once i catch up! have a good day / night ! go watch the shrek musical rn

peace from manhattan

percy jackson

[professorsaber]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

No one tagged me for this, but I saw it posted by @walker-lister and wanted to jump on board.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

20

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

94,345

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Doctor Who (so far only the Twelfth Doctor [but caveat under question 14]) and Back to the Future.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Portraits of a Romance (Doctor Who)

Loose Ends and Loose Memories (Back to the Future)

The Post-Game Wrap Up (Back to the Future)

r/ThePinheads: Guys, Marty McFLy really *is* a time traveller!!! (Back to the Future)

Their Song Is Almost Over (Doctor Who)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try! I love getting them, so it seems polite if nothing else. But on occasion I don’t have the time and then the notification gets buried in other emails and I forget to.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

“Their Song Is Almost Over” ends with both Clara and the Doctor dying after 20,000+ years together, which is probably the closest I’ve come. I suffer from major depression and so nothing I write has a negative/angsty ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Honestly I feel like I could say “Their Song Is Almost Over”! Clara and the Doctor have 20,000+ years together and an afterlife together, to boot. In the same continuity is also “That She May Find Her True Love First,” in which Clara reunites with the (original, non-canon, female) Fifteenth Doctor a few centuries after breaking up with her predecessor.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Once, on a fic I posted on FF.net and not AO3, someone just wrote “FAIL.”

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’ve only written smut once—"I Need You, Now More Than Ever". To quote the summary, “Escaping a planet after a ‘date’ where everything went horribly wrong, the Doctor and Clara find comfort in each other.” So hurt/comfort with sex. There was a four-year gap between me writing it and posting it.

I might do something smutty for Marty/Jennifer one day, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not anymore. The stuff I did as a kid was sorta a massive crossover between just about everything I was interested in, but I wrote little that could be called “fics.” Most of it was me and my friends doing what you call LARPing when you’re an adult. The universes involved a shitton of original characters on top of at least Pokemon, Sonic the Hedgehog, Star Trek, Animorphs, Men in Black, and Honey I Shrunk the Kids: The Series (when I could sneak it in).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really, though I’ve taken part in a Discord server game that involves writing a fic one line at a time. (Results here.)

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

The only ship I’ve ever actively shipped shipped is Whouffaldi, AKA Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswald. All my DW fics involve them, though bits involve either Thirteen with Clara or later, original Doctors with Clara.

I have a soft spot for Marty/Jennifer in BTTF as well. That’s mainly the reason I’ve never been able to get through the “Marty gets permanently stranded in time” fics out there.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh dear god. First, none of them are posted—I strongly believe in posting only finished works. But in all probability I’d say I’m never gonna finish the Mire AU, a Whouffaldi AU that I wrote about 22,500 words for. It was supposed to be a preemptive fix-it for “Face the Raven,” but I later decided that I wanted my Whouffaldi fics to have Clara become a Time Lady instead of using the Mire kit.

Two BTTF ones—Meet the Family and Psychology 135—have been on the drafting board about ten years but are much, much more likely to be finished.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Shit, this is hard! I’ve been told though that I’m good at characterization, and also that I weave in just enough background detail to make it all seem real. So I’m going with that.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I spend far too much time on pointless background detail that I can’t fit into the story, I have difficulty finishing anything (especially of great length), and I think my descriptions can be too bland.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

In one of my BTTF fics just a few days ago, I decided that something Doc said was actually from his German grandfather, so I went to our Discord server and asked two German users for a translation. If there weren’t German speakers on our server, I might have used Google Translate and then double-checked with Wiktionary, but in all probability I’d have not done it at all.

BTW, it’s “Ein gesundes Maß an Neugierde ist immer etwas Gutes.”

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This is a complicated question, as you could say I wrote “fanfics” before I was aware of fanfiction or fandom as concepts (see question 10). In high school, c. 2005, I finished a Transformers: Beast Wars fic but never posted it, but I still think that’s the first.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I might also have to say “Their Song Is Almost Over”! To quote another one of these asks I did, “ wrote it in a single sitting, it’s epic in scope, [and] it gives a ship that got an at-best bittersweet ending in canon a gloriously happy ending.”

For BTTF, I’m not sure really. Perhaps “Moving Day”? Because I accomplished so much in such a brief space (compared to my previous BTTF fics), and I loved focusing on Jennifer.

Tagging @bg-sparrow, @daryfromthefuture, @synthsays, @mythical-bookworm, and anyone else who wants to do it!

[claramarla]

Connections

Pairing: Victor Nikiforov/Yuri Katsuki Word Count: 4200+ Rating: M Summary: Yuri's days are connected by the music that plays throughout them.

Excerpt:

Yuri’s itching to thread his hand through Victor’s fingers again. He settles for stuffing his hands between his knees and biting the inside of his cheek.

Later, he thinks. But that reprimand doesn’t do anything to douse the high giddiness he’s been swallowing down since he got off the plane and tracked down Victor outside of customs.

Oh, he thinks, with something like wonder etching onto his heart, I’m excited.

Here on tumblr, and on Ao3 

There isn’t snow the first day Yuri arrives in Russia. Instead, a fog hangs low on the ground, smudging out views of the water under the bridges they pass in Victor’s car.

It snowed when Victor came to Japan. It would be fitting if it snowed again now, considering the month.

Maybe they left all the snow back in Hasetsu, and only brought warmth with them. But that’s the type of thought that makes his stomach squirm with embarrassment and redirect his gaze out the window.

Yuri’s itching to thread his hand through Victor’s fingers again. He settles for stuffing his hands between his knees and biting the inside of his cheek.

Later, he thinks. But that reprimand doesn’t do anything to douse the high giddiness he’s been swallowing down since he got off the plane and tracked down Victor outside of customs.

Oh, he thinks, with something like wonder etching onto his heart, I’m excited.

Victor keeps shooting quick glances his way, and it’s easy to notice how pleased he is to see both Makkachin and Yuri after more than a few days apart.

“You must be tired,” he says, and Yuri’s considers the time. It’s about 4am in Japan right now.

He shrugs, “Not really. I slept during both flights.”

Feeling a little coy, he adds, “I’ll probably be awake all night.”

Victor sends him a smile that’s too flirtatious for its own right, and says, “What a coincidence, I will too.”

Yuri bites the inside of his cheek again.

Bon Jovi is currently testing the capacity of Yuri’s speakers on his laptop from where it sits on the bedroom floor. Livin’ On A Prayer fills the room in a way that makes him feel nostalgic for college.

His music taste is… eclectic, at best. He doesn’t really know genres the way some of his friends do. Mari’s room used to mirror Yuri’s own walls when they were younger, when posters that came in magazines were coveted. Her walls had been covered in odes to rockstars that were huge in the 2000’s.

Yuri had been too busy taping up posters of long haired athletes to care much about JRock at the time.

Phichit loved music with the same experimental openness he approached everything else, dropping folders of 80s and 90s American ballads onto Yuri’s laptop as an act of friendship in their first year together. There was a weekend where all they watched were MGM musicals, listening to Debbie Reynolds, and watching Fred Astaire dance while Yuri felt a reverent burning itch to transfer those step sequences to the ice.

Victor’s taste in music-

“If you want, we can connect my speakers to your laptop.”

Yuri jumps at the voice and drops the hanger he was threading through his shirt. It hits the floor with a clack, plastic on hardwood.

Victor’s leaning against the door, his hair still messed from the cold wind outside.

“You scared me,” says Yuri as he bends for the hanger. He just realises now how his music being played this loudly is suddenly something he’s embarrassed by.

“I’m sorry, I’ll turn it down,” he says, and quickly reaches for his laptop. Presses the volume button fast enough to transmit a Morse code of anxiety. “I didn’t think you’d be back for another half hour.”

“You can leave it on,” soothes Victor. When Yuri looks over he sees him smoothing hands over his hair, taming it back from its windswept tangles. Victor doesn’t like to wear hats in the winter. They leave his hair crackling and hovering with static.

Unfortunately, the next thing he decides to do is help Yuri unpack. He picks the first thing he can reach for out of one of the boxes. “What’s this?” he asks, looking down at a picture frame, as if Yuri could answer the question without actually seeing the subject.

He prays it’s not some poster of Victor his mother had decided to frame and shove in with the rest of his belongings. Or worse, a poster of himself, like the kind plastering the walls of Hasetsu’s train station. He gets off the floor and walks over.

“Oh,” and then flushes with mild annoyance. “It’s my degree. My mom wanted me to hang it up before. I guess she bought a frame for it.”

Victor turns to him, practically glowing.

“I’m not hanging it up.” Yuri quickly amends. He’s proud of his schooling, and he enjoyed it for the most part, but hanging up your own degree wasn’t something he found comfort or humility in.

“Then I’ll hang it up.” Victor says with some bolster of pride. “I’ll put it next to our medals.”

Yuri makes a choking noise of embarrassment at the idea of his lonely degree hanging next to Victors wall of medals and trophies. Eight Grand Prix gold medals, and a Bachelors from Wayne State University.

Victor is rich.

How rich he was didn’t necessarily surprise Yuri anymore. Spending longer than a few hours together back when they’d crashed into each other’s lives (the second time) made everyone in Yutopia aware of just how well the other half lived.

Yuri had taken the time to explain why they were hand washing the dishes when Victor nodded at the broken appliance next to them. “Why not just buy a new dishwasher?” he asked. Yuri just stared.

Living with him in his own bachelor’s apartment brought that awareness to the surface once again. Victor’s housecleaner came on Wednesdays. Half of his clothing had ‘dry clean only’ on the tag. He owned three cars.

Yuri once bought half his groceries at the dollar store during college.

“Alexa, play track 14,” Victor says. The speaker on the kitchen counter lights up and Victor’s newest choreography experiment plays.

They breathe each other’s program music. Yuri enjoys the routine sound of it in the apartment when it’s still fresh and something exciting to listen to. He watches Victor run through choreography from his spot on the couch; watches the expressions that pass his face, the lay of his arms, the tilt of his shoulders.

Tomorrow, or maybe next week, Victor will ask him to run through some of the routine, to see it in its fruition on the ice in front of him.

Right now it’s easier for Victor to dance across their hardwood floor in socks.

“Alexa, Pause,” he says. Then, “Rewind 20 seconds,” before he does the same steps again. He transitions this time with a deep lunge, brushing the tips of his fingers along the hardwood.

“I like that bit,” says Yuri, transfixed.

Victor turns his head and his expression softens.

“Who’s it for?” asks Yuri, straightening a little.

Victor lips curl up at the edges. He places his finger to his lips and hums. “Hmm? Would you be surprised if I told you?” he teases.

Yuri sighs, incredibly fond.  They’re caught like that for a few seconds, just staring at each other, matching smiles softening for the other.

Victor cracks first, “You’re so handsome when y-“

“Alexa,” Yuri interrupts, “Play ‘Late Night Jazz’ playlist on Spotify.”

He stands up to hold Victor close, just to see the light pinking of his ears up close. Victor’s biting down his own smile.

Yuri’s not a romantic. At least, he’s not sure if he is. But, little actions like these, bridging the distance between them so they sway slowly to trumpet playing, leaning closer to Victor… Yuri presses his face into the shoulder of Victor’s shirt, smelling laundry detergent and dog. What would he have done if he’d given up this opportunity in Barcelona?

They dance together next to the living room coffee table for the next twenty minutes.

Victor’s taste in music is just as dramatic as he is. It almost matches the taste that teenage Yuri imagined Victor would have: a playboy with a Hugh Hefner bachelor’s pad with soft opera music in the background.

Well, matching a playboy persona to a man who rolls around the floor and coo’s endearments to his dog doesn’t seem to fit. And Victor’s apartment is actually smaller than Yuri ever would have expected. It’s modern, and filled with…an interesting theme of décor.

But Victor’s taste in music is exactly what teenage Yuri had imagined, filled with operas and old jazz, soft ballads from tenors and aching reprises from movie scores.

Yuri and Makkachin come home to Nessun Dorma blaring from the radio on the television. Makkachin’s already dancing around Yuri’s legs, waiting for his leash to be unhooked. Apparently, none of this fazes him.

“Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,” belts Victor from the kitchenette. He had skated to this in 2005, back when he could use songs about disappearing into history, name forgotten.

“Il nome mio nessun saprà, No! NO!”

“Whose name?” mutters Yuri. He puts his coat in the closet. He’s cold, and wet from the sleet outside. Victor was destined to have three stadiums and a shopping mall named after him. No one would forget his name.

Warm arms circle around his waist, and a kiss is pressed behind his ear when he turns his head.

“Mine, won’t you take it?”

And it’s both the cheesiest and most annoying line Yuri’s heard, but he flushes anyway. He loves the idea that he’s the one who gets to keep Victor; loves the idea that he’s the one who will get to wear his name. Victor knows this, and slides little facets of Yuri’s possessive nature back to him like they’re gifts that cost Victor nothing to give. Like he’s not aware that it makes Yuri shiver from his neck to the base of his spine and want to drop to his knees no matter where they are.

Yuri’s going to destroy himself one day thinking of all the things Victor’s willing to give him through no struggle at all.

“Lilia and Yakov have been arguing lately,” Yuri Plisetsky admits quietly one day. The way he says it, as if he’s hiding a secret from the empty ice, eyes looking anywhere but at the only other person in front of him-

It hits Yuri in the chest, and lodges tight in his throat, his jaw.

The rink is empty save for the zamboni which is circling around the first half of the rink. The arena speakers have come back to life in preparation for the novice classes that would take place in half an hour, pushing out Russian and American pop.

Yuri Plisetsky looks lost.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Yuri asks. He’d be eating it alone in Victor’s house anyway. Victor’s currently hosting double hours at the gym, studios, rinks, physios, in order to get both himself and his student on the podium in time for World’s. He wouldn’t be home until late.

There’s tension present in Yurio’s jaw. ‘Don’t pity me’ it says.

Yuri smiles. The pride Yurio exhibits feels like a little like navigating a field of landmines sometimes. There’s almost ten years between them, but he doesn’t remember being this proud at Yurio’s age. Then again, Victor’s 28 and he’s still this proud.

“Okay,” Yurio mumbles eventually, and slides off the bench they were sharing. “I need to pick up some homework first.”

Yuri nods along.

“I’m only speaking Russian once I get there!” Yurio threatens.

Trial by fire, thinks Yuri, and prays he can remember enough vocabulary to make conversation better than a toddler.

He can’t, but Yurio speaks slower and lets Yuri respond in English.

  “Oh!” says Victor, abandoning his coat on the nearest chair. “Yurio!” he sings out in acknowledgment. Yurio sends him a look of impetuousness from the kitchenette table, but says nothing of the nickname.

“Makkachin,” Victor coo’s and bends to pay attention to the dog jumping and snuffling around his legs. What follows is a verse of Russian that Yuri can barely pick apart sentences from. “Good boy,” and “Did you miss me?” and “Taking care of the home.” Makkachin loves it and wiggles around on the floor.

“There’s broccoli, carrots and rice in the fridge” says Yuri. He’s surrounded by Yurio’s homework and an answer card, checking over his calculations.

“Thank you,” is accompanied by a hand at the small of his back and a body draped over the back of his chair. Victor’s looking down at Yurio’s physics text books, and then back at Yuri with a confused expression like he doesn’t understand where this fits in with the fiancé he knows and loves.

“You’re really a nerd, Katsuki-kun” teases Victor, in Japanese.

Yuri sticks with English, “I have a bachelor’s of science. What do you have?”

Yurio snorts from across the table, “You’re marrying an idiot, Katsudon.”

“I’ll be a trophy Husband,” Victor says, not at all ashamed.

  “Yakov and Lilia are fighting,” says Yuri, when it’s just the two of them. The movie on tv is being played at low volume, subtitles in English present for Yuri.

“Mm,” mumbles Victor, and he angles his face further into Yuri’s neck, presses straighter behind him on the couch until there’s a long line of Victor Nikiforov touching Yuri’s side.

“They’re not. They’re thinking of getting back together.”

“Yurio thinks they are,” whispers Yuri.

“Yurio is 15. Do you know what I was doing when I was 15?”

Yes, thinks Yuri. Out loud he says, “Tell me?”

“Living with Yakov and Lilia,” Victor says, and smiles against Yuri’s neck. Yuri almost rolls his eyes.

“They were fighting then, and they divorced when I was 17. This is different.”

“Did they always fight?” asks Yuri, and shifts on the couch so he can look up at Victor, whose hands have been maddeningly tracing lines up and down his thigh.

“No, but there are some people who yell when they want someone to understand them.”

“Oh,” says Yuri. And then a moment of silence stretches out between them while Yuri gives Victor a significant stare.

“What?” asks Victor.

“Nothing,” Yuri dismisses. Victor has always been yelled at a lot by Yakov, and now, to a lesser extent, Lilia.

“Yuri~” whines Victor, and tucks his smiling face back into Yuri’s shoulder.

Yuri wakes up with a headache. He wants to fall back asleep, but drags himself up with a resolve he finds every morning.

Two glasses of water later, he takes Makkachin out for his walk, and comes back with his head pounding with every heartbeat. He swallows a pill that Victor assures him is for headaches, helps with the breakfast dishes, and then pulls Victor out of the door for morning rink time.

By the time they reach the bridge, his headache has slipped away, and has been replaced by a flushed warm fogginess that settles right through his body.

Back in Hasetsu, he’d seen Victor step onto the ice still drunk from the night before. At nationals, Yurio had skated with his nose red and dripping, hissing and sniffling as he sat in the kiss and cry.

Yuri’s practiced through worse. He’s skated on next to no sleep, learned new step sequences while suffering from spring colds before.

He’s pulling himself through his stretches with Victor by his side, folds his body over to reach his toes, leans his warm cheek against the cool flooring of the change room, and thinks, this would be a nice place to take a nap.

Victor leans over his stretched back to land a kiss at his shoulder, and asks if his headache is okay. Yuri tries not to evaporate into a feverish cloud.

  “Yuri,” calls Victor from the boards. He’s skated over to where his notebook lays open, and is flipping through it.  Yuri picks himself off the ice and glides closer.

So far they’ve just been going through combination jumps, and Yuri has been drilled for the past 10 minutes on take offs alone. One of Yuri’s Phichit-gifted playlists is playing. Background noise actually helps him keep his head clear, and Victor adores the idea of Yuri having a playlist with both Bruce Springsteen and songs from Top Hat.

Weekday dawns are their private time on the ice, something Yuri appreciates with a reverence because it allows him to warm up, fall down, and be impatient with Victor’s particular brand of coaching cheer without a large audience. There’s no doubt that this private time was negotiated as one of conditions that determined Victor returning to competition - probably arranged in an iron exchange between Yakov and Victor while he was still in Japan. He’s never seen a coach and student relationship like how Yakov and Victor work with each other – full of stubbornness and respect. But he’s never seen another skater quite like Victor either.

“-see the same thing as last week, then I won’t let you do it in competition.” Victor’s smiling as he finishes, and Yuri realises he’s just spent the last 40 seconds staring without listening to a single word.

He shakes his head to focus, “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

Victor pauses. He levels Yuri with a serious expression, and then leans fractionally closer.

“What are you worrying about?” he asks patiently.

Yuri leans away. ”Oh. No,” he corrects. “I think I’m sick.”

Victor hums in thought, and raises a hand to Yuri’s forehead. Yuri doesn’t stop him, and also doesn’t point out that he’d be cool anyway after half an hour in an open rink.

“I feel fine,” he insists, “I just have a bit of a headache, and my head feels foggy.”

He knows as soon as he’s said it that he should have kept that last part to himself. Victor’s expression turns from attentive coach to concerned partner faster than a quad loop rotation.

  Eventually he goes home after ignoring Victor’s insistence for another solid 20 minutes.

He climbs onto the couch, convinced he’ll spend the next hour cycling through social media, emails and whatsapp. It’s only when he’s reading through his third email that the wave hits him, and he puts down his phone, and drops to sleep.

His dreams are filled with feverish strangeness, and the melody of Victor’s short program on sickening repeat.

He wakes up briefly to the sound of keys and the front door opening, but falls back under before Victor’s done taking off his boots.

He wakes up some time later to a hand combing through his hair, and a weight next to him on the couch.

“I brought home some soup,” Victor says softly, and Yuri notices a bowl of it on the table in front of them.

His headache has returned and he grinds a palm into his forehead in retaliation of the thumping.

“What time is it?” he grumbles, trying to push the sleep from his limbs.

“Almost 1 o’clock,” says Victor, meaning he’d slept for almost four hours. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

Yuri’s eyes are closed, savoring the coolness as Victor presses his hand against his face.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” he says. Taking a day or two off is probably okay for him. Taking Victor away from training for more than one day is not negotiable, in Yuri’s mind. He’s prepared to spend the next five days on the couch if he can avoid that.

Victor doesn’t seem to care.

“Oh, I’m definitely going to get sick.” He says it with the same cadence he usually saves for “Oh, I’m definitely going to kiss you,” when they talk about future competitions together.

Yuri considers that they routinely share a bed, and spend the remaining 60% of their day within six feet of each other. Thinks about how Worlds is only 5 weeks away and concludes fuck.

“I’ve already warned Yakov,” says Victor, completely unaware of the anxiety building next to him.

“Victor, nooo.”

  Victor gets sick on day three, despite Yuri’s continued isolation on the couch. He’d gone back to light training after the second day himself, but had disinfected the apartment within an inch of its life while home. Victor ruined all his efforts by hanging around to comb his fingers through Yuri’s hair.

He also found immense joy asking Yuri questions when the fever made his answers jumbled and whiny.

“Please get drunk more often,” he laughs, right after Yuri had swatted him with away with a long, and heavily accented, “Victooooooor.”

Luckily, by then, they’d bought enough medicine for cold and fever relief that they were capable of acting like normal functioning adults. Well, to each of their extents.

They haven’t slept together for over a week. Between their fevers, and catching up on their schedules, they’d fallen into bed earlier each night, practically comatose from cold remedies.

Yuri wakes up hours before dawn feeling coiled tight in the best way: confident and languid, stretched next to Victor. The clock on the bedside table reads 4:28 am. He slides closer, presses his whole body along Victor’s back, and mouths at the back of his neck.

“Mn,” Victor mumbles, “Yuri, I have to get up in an hour,” and then, “Ohhh,” quietly, as he wakes up a bit more.

Yuri uses the moment to wrap his arm around Victor’s chest and pull them closer. The cotton of his own nightshirt is riding up and he can feel the warmth of Victor’s back against his abdomen as the other stretches out, pliant under his arm.

Victor’s hand reaches back and finds Yuri’s hip, slides under the elastic of his pajama pants. He keeps it there, warm against Yuri’s skin, encouraging, and lets out an appreciative hum when Yuri kisses up to the line of his jaw.

Victor isn’t secretive about loving the feel of Yuri pressed to his back. He loves being the little spoon, loves the feel of Yuri rocking into him slow while holding a hand around his chest and breathing damp on his shoulder.

Which isn’t an issue, but Yuri loves seeing Victor on top of him. Can barely breathe when Victor presses him into the mattress, fucking into him with deep thrusts while Yuri pulls at the sheets around them, desperately trying not to come in the first five minutes.

“Ah,” gasps Victor, as Yuri drops his hand from his stomach to the band of his sleep pants. The hand gripping at his hip tenses. Victor arches back and grinds against Yuri, makes another tight noise at the hardness he feels.

It’s slow, and dark, and Yuri’s determined to appreciate Victor’s body in all the ways he finds himself shy of doing during the daylight.

He’s kissing a spot high on Victor’s jawline when Victor’s ankle tangles against his. Toes tug down against the hem of his pants. “Take these off?” Victor asks, breathless.

Yuri manoeuvres away for just a few seconds in order to shuffle out of his pants and shirt, pushing them off the bed and onto the floor.

He returns to press back up against Victor, and licks a long line across the man’s shoulder.

Victor leans back against his body, and shudders from head to toe at the bare feeling of Yuri behind him. His breath is coming uneven as he rocks back into the hardness against his ass.

Yuri returns to trailing his fingertips along the skin just above Victor’s waistband, which has been steadily sliding lower with each roll backward of his hips.

“Ah, Yuri,” breathes Victor, as Yuri pushes down the bottoms of his pajamas to grasp his cock.  He stretches out in an arch, grinds back against Yuri’s hard-on. It’s dark in the room, but Yuri can hear the sound of fingers grabbing at sheets.

If Yuri had to consider it, living privately together would be one of his own non-negotiable conditions for returning to competition. Only this had been constructed silently over long weeks where they could do nothing but breathe heavily against bedsheets in Hasetsu, trying to keep quiet, and the drawn out nights in hotel rooms, where neither of them got sleep.

Luckily, this condition was never something they’d had to negotiate for.

He leaves Victor again, briefly, to reach for the lube under the bed. Uses it to slick between Victor’s thighs and ass before smearing the rest on a firm stroke up Victor’s cock. Victor’s shaking at the stimulation, voice cracking over small sounds, and kicking his pajama bottoms the rest of the way off, lost in the blankets.

Yuri kisses along Victor’s shoulders. His hand is pulling long tight strokes up Victor’s cock. He rests his forehead against the back of other’s neck and thinks, tonight I want to give him a blowjob in the shower.

When he slides his cock between the cheeks of Victor’s ass, he hears a moan that’s hastily bitten down.

A quiet “Mn,” escapes Yuri’s throat, unable to catch his reaction when Victor so clearly loves this. “Ohh,” he breathes.

They rock together like that, using the dark of the room to map each other out with hands and strained noises. By the time Victor comes, he’s whispering soft “oh, oh, oh”s into the sheets and digging his fingers into Yuri’s hip again, goading him to grind harder between his thighs.

Yuri’s practically laying over him by then, toes digging into the mattress, breathing hot pants against the side of Victor’s neck before he spills between one sharp thrust and the next.

“I love you so much,” says Victor, with a bone deep exhaustion that just spells how fucked out he is.

Yuri huffs out a laugh and kisses his cheek, still trying to catch his own breath.

They’re interrupted by the switch of the radio alarm playing classical music.