#why must grease paint do this to me

[junk-flesh-pointy-ear]

corpse paint makes me so hot but my lips so dry

[jester-lover]

Blue Haired Boy

you play with Buggy's hair while the crew is away

Cw/ Fem! terms, food, fluff, whiny Buggy, OPLA! Buggy, he's just a head in this one lol

AN/ this is just me clowning around before getting my requests done, so not beta read.

Rolling over on the hammock for the fifth time, you grabbed at the thin pillow and shoved it off and onto the floor. Something about the situation was reminiscent of being stuffed into a wonton wrapper.

God, being the new girl sucks.

You thought the crew would have found some use for you, you were a jack-of-all-trades after all, but it seemed like there was only one role left to fulfill. And as the newest member of the crew, you were responsible for the more unsavory job.

“H-ello! I know you can hear me, broccoli hairrrr~”

Buggy’s singsongy tone reminded you of that very role, clown babysitter. Sighing as the throbbing headache in your temple mixed with the sharp pain in your back, you decided to stand up and get something done, anything that could distract you from your boredom.

The bag that held the clown’s head was on the kitchen table, much to Sanji’s chagrin. Other than the slight shaking and constant talking, he was an exemplary hostage.

As you walked closer to the bag, Buggy’s frantic ravings grew louder. Some empathetic little part of you felt bad for him, so you decided to use your better judgment and give him a little fresh air. That old sack must start to stink after a while.

As you open the bag and dump out the clown’s head, he immediately sprung up and winked at you dramatically. It was as if he was trying to max out his charisma.

“Why hello..~ You’re a new face, aren’t you?”

The deadpan look you tossed his way didn’t break his disposition, instead, it seemed to egg him on.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Buggy’s head tilted to the side before he smiled brightly.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl…”

That comment got a little chuckle out of you, and he seemingly beamed.

Gently picking him up by his head, near his ears where he wouldn’t be uncomfortable, you placed him on the kitchen counter and pulled out a small kitchen knife.

“You hungry?”

Twirling the knife in-between your fingers, you looked at him expectantly. You had always had a deep sense of domesticity towards your crew, and as he was a temporary companion, he would be receiving your support too.

“Where do you think the food would go?”

Another laugh erupted from you, this one was genuine and hearty, and Buggy’s head laughed along with you.

Good point, clown.”

You picked his head up again and brought him to your makeshift little corner of the ship, laying in your soft red hammock with Buggy on your stomach as you examined him. Your fingers slowly threaded through his hair and adjusted his bandana.

He furrowed his brows slightly, trying to discern what your motive was for the affectionate act. Something clicked in his head as he met your eyes.

“Hey! If you're gonna get all sweet with me, you could've bought me dinner first!”

Laugher came from you in droves, and the clown, clearly proud of himself, bounced a little in the air.

As you continued to fix and adjust his hair and bandana, Buggy got a little quieter, and if you looked really close, you could see a little flush on his cheeks and (what was present of) his neck.

“This hair…it’s all yours huh?”

Your fingers threaded through a particular knot in his ocean blue locks, and he sighed a little.

“Y-yeah! I mean, I don’t dye it or anything…”

A softer smile appeared on your face as you patted the top of his gorgeous hair, sure, it wasn’t the cleanest; but it was still beautiful. The blue hair complimented his eyes, and framed his face perfectly.

“It’s so thick and voluminous, you could easily grow it out.”

Buggy’s painted face reddened more at that comment, the blush was visible as his grease paint began pulling off.

His silence sort of astonished you, but it was short lived.

“You think that would look alright..?”

Before you could speak again, only to confirm his thoughts, his head lept upwards into the air dramatically.

“ABSOLUTELY IT WOULD! ANYTHING WOULD LOOK GREAT ON A HUNK LIKE ME!”

Your shared laughter echoed throughout the night, a verbal symbol of an amusingly unstable relationship between the two of you blossoming.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Kind of a dumb request but how about team DEFY + any girls you want with an s/o who somehow managed to build a mech straight out of Armored Core? Insanely maneuverable, loads of guns, can fly, etc and s/o built it in a garage with a box of scraps lol

(GFL/Genshin Impact) Task Force DEFY, Amber, Jean, Fischl, and Yoimiya's S/O building an Armored Core Mech

(Video Source: Pongsifu on YT) Luckily for you, I have been binging Armored Core 6 for the past month, and will hop on ANY request to talk/write about anything Mecha related.

12 stared at the giant 10 meter mechanical behemoth that had suddenly made its home inside Griffin's Hangar.

(AK-12) "...We didn't always have that, right?"

The machine's chest slowly opened and revealed a cockpit containing S/O, waving hello from the seat.

Apparently, they had constructed the mech out of spare parts lying around.

(AK-12) "Impressive...But, why exactly did Griffin have that many parts lying around? And how did you find guns that big?"

On the battlefield, she watches the mech fly around at almost breakneck speed, watching them zip around and eradicate one base after the other.

Kicking tanks and shooting helicopters out of the sky, it was far more effective to watch them fight instead of having to do anything.

(AK-12) "Hm. We'll be out of a job at this rate."

94 knew this was going to happen.

T-Dolls would only last so long on the battlefield before they were replaced by the next best thing.

However, she sure as hell wasn't expecting S/O of all people to surpass her, with a mech constructed out of junk parts no less.

It was honestly awe-inspiring what humans could engineer for the sole purpose of destruction.

And it was also physically impossible. Something that size should not be quad-wielding miniguns and moving that fast.

(AN-94) "...How has your machine not collapsed from the Earth's gravity?"

94 is more confused than anything.

15 was impressed more than anything.

She knew S/O was an engineer, but to construct a mech out of the parts they had was nothing short of a miracle and logic-defying technical prowess.

(AK-15) "How does your machine constantly reload the missiles while on the field? It is the only weapon you seem to have, and no one constructed missiles that large, even during World War 3."

She can't help but wonder why DEFY was even needed if Griffin had engineers like S/O around.

Well, at least S/O was on their side.

(RPK-16) "I wonder if humanity will wipe itself out faster with these new machines."

16 is fascinated by the human desire to make machines to wipe out life faster.

Granted, Griffin usually just fought Sangvis which consisted nothing of machines, but it would only be a matter of time until everyone else had their own version of S/O's mech.

And probably not one constructed out of junk either.

(RPK-16) "I must ask, S/O. How can you be in the cockpit of that thing and not reduce yourself to jelly? Surely the G-Force alone would kill you?"

Well, it's not the first thing that humans have done that confused her.

(Angelia) "Hmph. Why did they even bother calling us if they had you here? And could you have done that this entire time?"

Angelia is impressed and annoyed.

If S/O could create a hulking machine of death before, why did they only decide to do it now?

She both dreads and admired S/O's tenacity. To make such an effective machine out of junk took a hell of a lot of elbow grease.

Angelia doesn't question it, seeing that it's working alright so far, but she definitely wants to look into upgrading it.

(Angelia) "S/O, with me. We're painting DEFY's logo on it."

(Amber) "THAT IS SO COOL!"

Amber could create Baron Bunnies with a lot of yarn, but S/O could make a machine that dwarfed Ruin Guards with some random pieces of metal!

(Amber) "You have got to teach me how to do that! And lemme ride it too!"

Amber demands to fly with S/O, even though she can't go nearly as fast as they can.

She watches as S/O wipes out entire nests of monsters before leaping away with its mantis-like legs to the next location.

Honestly, it made her feel jealous.

(Amber) "Heeey, can I ask one of those for my birthday! I bet it'll make flying around Mondstadt a breeze!"

Though as the outrider, she kindly asks S/O not to park the giant machine weighing presumably hundreds of tons in the city.

For obvious reasons.

The color on Jean's skin fades when she heard Klee helped S/O build a brand new toy.

One that put her bombs to shame.

And seeing it park itself next to the cathedral, waving hello to her as she was standing at the entrance-

She was about ready to faint.

(Jean) "S/O! Get down from there right this instant!"

Jean gives S/O and Klee an earful for making such an absolute monstrosity that could potentially damage the land and city!

But seeing it in action and fast it disposed of a Hilichurl camp, it filled her with pride and dread.

Pride for her S/O's creative ingenuity, but absolute fear for what S/O and Klee could make next.

Especially considering how fast S/O's machine moved, and the weapons it had.

Where did Klee find the gunpowder for quad-cannons mounted on it?!

(Jean) "I pray that it won't blow up the city on accident..."

(Fischl) "...WHAT?!"

Fischl completely breaks character upon seeing the giant machine staring at her.

(Fischl) "How did...Why...?! Get down from there and tell me how this mechanical monstrosity came to be!"

(Oz) "You just want to ride the machine yourself, Mein-"

(Fischl) "SILENCE!"

...But yes, she constantly nags S/O to let their Prinzessin give the machine a try.

She finds it so friggin' cool, and desperately wants one of her own, in purple!

She watches with some kind of morbid satisfaction watching S/O's machine wipe out their enemies in electrical explosions.

(Fischl) "I hereby dub your steel horse…Raven, of the 621th star!"

(Oz) "…Why 621?"

Oh, that's where all of Yoimiya's spare fireworks have been going into.

(Yoimiya) "HOLY CRAP! What on earth did you make, S/O?!"

The machine seemed like it leapt from another world!

Especially with how fast it moved, honestly she was amazed S/O wasn't vomiting their guts out as soon as they exited.

While it seemed like it would do massive damage, instead they used it for something even better.

As the machine soared above the skies of Inazuma, the cannons on the arms and shoulders fired toward the moon, the starry night exploding into hundreds of beautiful colors!

They had transformed their machine into a firework powerhouse!

And with how fast it moved, it was able to provide a show from one island to another!

(Yoimiya) "Next festival, you're letting me ride with you! I want to see the work we've done up close!"

[raffe156]

All Ghillied up and nowhere to go

Pairing - Price X MC (Tank) F!reader

Summery - Price teaches Tank how to blend in…

A/N- Just a little nsfw Drabble for an anon ask, also don’t worry Breakaway state part 5 is still in the works 😘

Warnings - Smut (18+) Voyeurism, Language, Age gap Price (38) Tank (26) Dom!Price, Brat!Tank, Sir kink, praise kink, unsafe sex, p in v, knife play and cock warming if you squint like really hard!

✨As always comments and feedback welcome ✨

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank

Tags: @fanficandartgal @deadbranch @soapyghost @shuttlelauncher81 @a-littlebirdie @boomtowngirl @chb-7 @noxspellxbound @brewed-pangolin

Sorry if I missed anyone❤️

——————————————

“Why am I doing this again?” You rested your cheek on the butt of your rifle.

“For god sake….I’ve told you…you need to “blend” in better! You shift about too much!” Price was losing his patience with you now.

“….blend in better? I’m dressed in tall fucking grass and weeds…in tall fucking grass and weeds how much more do I need to blend in?!” You dropped your head resting your forehead on the cold ground. The wind whistled around you. You didn’t even know where Price was but the clarity of the comms meant he was close by. The training field was silent apart from the wind.

“We’ve been out here for ages now..the suns setting..I think I’m pretty undetectable, send Soap out to try an spot me…” your voice was mocking.

“How about I send Ghost out?”

“……”

“I’ll take that as a no then kid? Start crawling back to me” his voice gravelly over the comms

“…I don’t even know where you are…are we done, I feel like we are done? can’t I just stand up?” You lifted your head, pushing yourself up but just as your shoulder came level with the grass you felt a sharp shot hit it. It didn’t hurt but you felt it. You looked down at the little blue ball.

“Did you just shoot me?…with a BB gun?” You rolled the little ball between your finger an thumb. You turned your face towards the direction it had come from.

“Yeh…a warning shot because if I was the enemy that would of been a real bullet also I would of shot you in the head….get back down” you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

“Fuck sake…taking the piss now” you muttered under your breath…he wasn’t that close to hear that surely.

“I’m taking the piss? Your the one pissing about Tank…get your fucking arse out of the air and get your body down to the ground or I will shoot you again…” he sounded close now, an he would shoot you, but you never did know when to stop.

“Thought you liked my arse in the air sir? Said it’s one of your favourite sights…” you smirked.

“….you being funny sergeant? Because I will wipe that smirk off your face…” his voice was louder now, he was close.

“I’d like to see you try sir…” you were baiting him now.Silence. You scanned your surroundings he should be north west of you, unless…you heard a shift behind you,but before you could turn over you were dragged back by you ankle.

“I did warn you…” Price growled in your ear. He had pulled you right back to him. He was practically on top of you.

“Your all talk…John” you didn’t turn your head to look at him, suddenly you could feel him unclipping the straps to the lower half of your ghillie suit.

“What are you doing? Does the fresh air an grease paint do it for you?” You laughed, but your head was pushed down low to the ground your cheek in the dirt once again.

“Ah fuck…” it took you by surprise, but rough Price only made the odd appearance, you must of really wound him up. You heard the soft ching of a knife being unsheathed and your eyes flashed panic, had you wound him up that much?

“John…what are you doing?” You tried to turn your head towards him.

“Stay still….very still” He growled in your ear again, as he used his knife to cut the seam of your pants, his intentions made clear you relaxed your body as you felt him finish the job with his hand.

“You’re not wearing any knickers? Can’t say I’m surprised…” He licked his thumb and pressed it to your folds, it easily slipped inside, causing a slight moan from you.

“Well that wasn’t difficult was it? I think the fresh air an grease paint does it for you aswell kid…or is it the thought of your Captain fucking you in a field?” He peered over your face just enough for you to see his eyes, the dark camouflage paint making them stand out.

“Abit of both sir…” you could feel his thumb thrusting into you slowly, you were leaking all over his hand. Your head was getting fuzzy, you could no longer hear the wind or the birds, just the wet sounds of his thumb inside you and the sound of your heart beat as it drummed into the ground. You felt Price shift and remove his thumb. You let out a groan, you hoped he wasn’t just teasing you, you wouldn’t make it back to base.

“You ready to put your training to the test Tank?” he removed his hand from your head to pull his zipper down. You could feel the head of his cock at your entrance. You didn’t need to be told to lift your hips up, it made him chuckle.

“Good girl” Price huffed as he slid inside, your walls adjusting around him. He placed himself right ontop of you, the weight of him pushing you down fully flat. His cock buried deep inside. He completely covered you his head right next to yours. You expected him to start thrusting but no he lay completely still, his cock pulsing inside you. Before you could question him, he snaked his arm under yours to position your face upwards to look through the tall grass, you mouth fell open as soon as you clocked what he was showing you…Ghost an 4 rookies were 300feet away from you.

“Told you I’d send Ghost out…now let’s see if you can blend in an not get caught eh?” As he spoke he began thrusting, strong, fast thrusts at first, it made the coils in your stomach tighten with each one he was dragging at your walls. It made your eyes roll back, you had to slap your hand over your mouth if Ghost didn’t see you first he would of heard you.

“Who’s getting closer? You or Ghost?” Price whispered in your ear. It caused a shiver up your spine an made your walls contract around him. He slowed his thrusts right down almost painfully slow…two of the rookies were a few feet away, Ghost had gone east with the other two.

“Keep yah head still, it’s gone be close” he whispered lowering both his head and yours as the rookies walked right past you. The suspense was agonising, but your walls were still fluttering around Prices cock which only seem to get harder. When you were sure it was clear you moved your hips under him, desperate for any form of friction or movement, Price gave in his thrusts rampant an deep, you moans came out strangled and restrained but your orgasm was bliss as you panted for Price to cum inside you, he grit his teeth burying his head into your shoulder as he filled you to the brim.

“Ahhh ahh fuck…have they gone back to base?” You turned your head to look.

“Not all of em Ghost is still in range…wouldn’t surprise me if he’s spotted us…” Price grumbled.

He was right the 4 rookies had wandered far away, but Ghost hung back his body turned to your location…surely he hadn’t spotted you…

“You two done fucking around out here?”

[aerodaltonimperial]

katy i bet the inside of the bus is cold and lonely when all your friends have left and your opponent proved you wrong and you lost your belt in front of ten thousand people and you’re 2800 miles from home

All things considered, Jack didn't actually think the night could get worse until the bus doors slammed open with enough force to rattle the whole damn carriage beneath, and he's midway through tugging a new shirt one, one arm wiggling to find the right spot, so he's been good and thoroughly proven wrong. His heart flies up into his throat as every fear he's harbored for the past two years screams against his ears, but—

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jack demands.

Darby yanks the doors closed again once he's in, breathing hard and smelling of engine grease and burning motor oil, and then he slides around on his knees. "I gotta fucking hide."

"In my fucking bus?" It's a miracle Jack gets the shirt on after that, but his bones are gonna rattle out of his skin. "What do you mean you have to hide?"

Darby scoots back until his shoulders hit the wall. "They fucking came back."

"Who came back?"

Darby's eyes flicker up past the seat, to the windshield, which at this point, is mostly just reflecting the lamps the staff has on in the loading bay. There's really nowhere else to park this rig, 'cause it never fits into any of the spots, so Jack ends up just sort of angling it near where the big mack trucks unload. "Claudio and Pac."

"Why the fuck would I—" Jack stops and leans in, squinting. "Are you bleeding?"

"No one's gonna look for me here."

Jack huffs. "Yeah, 'cause I hate your guts. Claudio and Pac won't—"

"No, I mean no one will," Darby interrupts, drawing his knees in as his skull falls back and clunks against the metal wall. "There's no one here for you. No one's gonna come here."

And that... Jesus, that steals the air right out of Jack's lungs. Sure, Darby isn't even wrong, but it's far different thinking it and having someone put it to words like that, giving it life. He glares at Darby while the onslaught of all the shit he's spent the last hour trying to put to sea crashes into him, a tidal wave.

He must go silent for long enough that Darby notices, because the guy lifts his chin, regarding Jack a few feet away. "You lost tonight. You lost the belt."

"Yeah, well," Jack mumbles, throat thick. "Happens to everyone eventually."

Darby lifts his finger to his mouth, chewing on the skin near his thumbnail. It's red again; they're all painted red. They simmer in silence while outside, Jack catches the sound of footsteps passing near enough to echo. He doesn't even care if the Death Riders throw the back doors open and haul Darby out by his stupid pink coat, but Jack's breath catches anyway, involuntary.

Neither of them so much as twitches as the sound circles, pauses, and then, by some miracle, recedes again. Jack exhales in a somewhat rushed gasp. "What the fuck, Darby. What did you do?"

"Ran into their truck."

"With your face?"

Darby cracks a smile, and it seems genuine. "Ha. No, dumbass, with a car. What kinda fuckin' question is that?"

Jack shrugs. "Well, you hit the bus bumper with your forehead before, so it seemed like a logical jump."

"You hit my forehead with the bumper."

"Semantics." With the footsteps gone—and Jack doesn't even know if it was them or not, though it really doesn't matter—the tension has siphoned out of the interior. He stretches his legs out, wincing. He's gonna bruise the colors of the rainbow in the next few days. Then he sighs, looking at the red smeared across Darby's skin. "You're bleeding."

"Happens when your head bounces off the dashboard," Darby says.

"God, you're a dumb fuck," Jack grumbles, as he pushes up onto all fours and retrieves the first aid kit. There isn't much, but at least he's got antiseptic wipes. "I don't know how social Darwinism hasn't taken you out yet."

He ends up kneeling sort of half over, half across Darby's legs, and the guy doesn't push him off, so Jack thinks it's awkward, but acceptable. There's a lot more blood than he'd thought up close, so Jack gets started trying to clean up the worst of it streaked across Darby's forehead and temple.

"He was wearing his ring gear," Darby says, apropos of nothing.

"Who?"

"Pac."

Jack shakes his head. "So? What does that matter?"

"Everyone else was fully dressed," Darby says. "But Pac came out in his fuckin' ring gear, the little panties. That means he was riding in the truck the whole time, shirtless, with his fuckin' panties on. Just starin' at the god damn road while they all took their sweet ass time getting here, probably listening to some undecipherable German death metal." Darby's hands spread to either side. "Isn't that fuckin' weird?"

Jack can't help it. He fucking laughs, and he can't tell if he's pissed off about it or not. "You think Marina gave him some tittie-twisters in there while he was just chilling shirtless?"

"Dude, she's scarier than that fuckin' One Piece clown," Darby says, dead serious, "and she probably has nipple clamps in that fucking briefcase chained to her wrist."

And then they're both just gone. Giggling like schoolgirls as both of them try to shush the other one, and the only thing Jack can think about is Pac sitting stoicly in the driver's side of the Death Riders truck that Claudio has the AC blasting in while he's freezing his bare tits off. It's ridiculous. It's only funny because it's not actually funny, on account of the Death Riders doing a fantastic job of running through every person in the company who would tell them that ritualistic murder isn't exactly a great idea for boosting ticket sales if all the talent ends up dead, but Jack can't help it. The overwhelm of adrenaline loss and the hollow sensation sweeping through his stomach and the fact that he did think he was gonna be alone all night... it's too damn much.

It takes awhile for Jack to recognize that they're both just sort of staring at each other through it all; they've never really done this, been this close. Oh, sure, they've had their faces pressed against each other when they were trying to maim each other, but it never felt like this. Never... easy. Comfortable, in a way that shouldn't work at all but does.

Jack drops the hand holding the antiseptic wipe onto his thigh, mirth abruptly stolen. "Why'd you come here? I could have turned you right over to them."

"Yeah, but you didn't," Darby says, and runs his tongue along his bottom lip once, then twice. A bit of the blood must have caught there.

"Could still do it," Jack tries. "Could go out right now, call them back. Let 'em destroy you for the damage to their truck and dignity."

Darby leans forward. "Sure." He doesn't sound concerned, and he's leaning forward, and Jack ought to back away. "You could."

Jack lost the TNT belt tonight. He tried to prove a point, and he was wrong, and he lost the belt anyway. There's no one here to commiserate with because the Bucks fucked off without a good-bye and Okada disappeared in his fancy car. Danny is probably already gloating to the roster backstage with the belt in his hands, and Jack's here, in the back of his bus, kissing a guy he swore up and down he hated more than life itself.

He absolutely should not be doing this—shouldn't be prodding Darby's mouth open, shouldn't be slipping his tongue in across the corner, shouldn't be liking the way Darby sighs against him, the way the exhale echoes through his cheeks. But he lets it go for a little while, long enough for his thoughts to go hazy, before he draws back just enough to ask, "How hard did you hit your head?"

"So goddamn hard, man," Darby says, another laugh buried in there. So at least Darby has an excuse for this. Jack? He's gonna have to hope the defense of I'm experiencing what is probably an acute mental health crisis holds weight in court.

"Kissing me is a concussion symptom, I think," he murmurs.

Darby moves in to catch Jack's lip between his teeth. "Probably."

"Honestly, we should probably both go see medical," Jack whispers, because Darby tugging on his lip is doing way more for him than it should, and if he's going to have a full-on nervous breakdown, he thinks he shouldn't be operating any heavy machinery. It comes out muffled, on account of, well, Darby's mouth getting in the way.

"Okay," Darby groans, and clearly they aren't going to be going anywhere near medical, since Darby's hands slide out to find Jack's waist.

[nobedofroses]

October 22nd

pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!reader

warnings: fluff

words: 1.2k

a/n: Prompt for today is "Stop squirming, you’re gonna mess up your face paint!" from this list by @scealaiscoite. Funny and then soft and sweet Jackson blurb. A continuation of the first Joel blurb this month

Directory, previous Joel blurb, Day 21

🎃🎃🎃

“Stop squirming, you’re gonna mess up your face paint!” Ellie admonished Joel, grabbing his jaw and holding it in place. She went back to painting, her tongue sticking out between her lips in concentration. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, moving a hand to cover your mouth, but Ellie caught you. 

“Ah, ah, no touching! You cannot mess up my masterpiece.” 

“Sorry, sorry, I won’t,” you reassured her. 

“I thought I was your masterpiece,” Joel grumbled and you knew that even though he thought he was kidding, you and Ellie both knew he wasn’t really. 

Ellie huffed, rolling her eyes, “We’re all masterpieces, duh. All together, with Tommy, we’re going to be my magnum opus! That means greatest work, Joel.” 

It was his turn to roll his eyes, “Thanks, smartass.” 

An hour later, you, Joel, Tommy, and Ellie had arrived at the costume party (another one of the things the commune had decided to restart), finding yourselves among several other painted people. Since costume supplies were extremely rare to come by and didn’t have much use since they were cheaply made in the first place, everyone had decided to do a face painting-oriented costume party instead. And since your lives were scary enough, everyone had decided to stick to pop culture references from the past and animals for the most part. There were cows and giraffes and many cats as well as some superheroes and magical beings. 

About half of the adults had done face paint, and their choices were usually the ones that only other adults, or pop culture-obsessed history nerds like Ellie, could identify. Which is how she had chosen your group costume. 

“Oh hell yeah!” “Rock on!” 

“Can you do the thing?” You know, the ahhh thing?” someone asked Joel, probably not knowing who exactly they were talking to with the face paint. You were also all wearing black to add to the look. To your surprise, Joel stuck his tongue out as far as it could go and your eyes went wide. His tongue was a lot longer than you thought. And then he flicked it fluidly and suddenly it was very, very warm in the room. 

“Alright!” they exclaimed, heading back into the crowd, no doubt to tell someone else that they had just seen Kiss. 

Even the kids thought you looked cool because when were a demon, star child, space ace, and catman not cool? 

Ellie ran off to find her friends while you, Joel, and Tommy looked around for Maria who had helped organize the event. You found her running the food line and got food, sitting down to eat and talk with the promise of her joining you later. 

There was music for dancing, but mostly the kids were doing that, jumping and running around with their friends. So, there was mead and hard cider for the adults who weren’t working. The three of you each had a glass and were having conversation with each other but also whoever came up to discuss their favorite music growing up, sparked on by your face p

Maria came by after a while, but it was to get Tommy and Joel’s help with one of the mead kegs. They hurried off to help, apparently experts from their twenties and Maria sat down next to you. 

“Nice look, Space Ace,” she said with a smile. 

You started to say thanks but then thought of something, “Wait, why am I Space Ace?” 

“Well, I assume Ellie picked and she probably thought Joel would want to be the singer. And she’s told me before that Tommy has always reminded her of a cat. Then I guess since she’s a child—”

“No, I mean, how come “I’m part of the band and you’re not?” 

“Oh that,” Maria nodded. “Because I said no. I didn’t want that grease paint on my face for hours.” 

You couldn’t believe it and laughed out loud, “Ellie must think I’m a sucker. I guess I am one since all she did was ask.” 

“I’m sure it didn’t hurt that a certain Miller boy was part of the group too,” Maria commented, taking a swig of Tommy’s mead. She obviously didn’t mean her husband. When you didn’t respond, embarrassed, she said, “Listen girl, I know what it’s like holding a candle for one of the Miller boys. It isn’t easy, they’ve got issues from before and before they came to Jackson. But nobody loves like them. Nobody.” 

Before you could respond, Joel and Tommy were back, Tommy grabbing Maria to do some dancing now that the dancefloor was a little more clear with the kids getting sleepy. You and Joel sat together in comfortable silence for a while. 

You thought about all the time you had been spending with Joel for the last couple months. About how you had admired (and been attracted to) him long before that. About the feelings that were simmering within you and threatened to boil over every time you touched incidentally or he looked at you meaningfully with those big brown eyes of his. You groaned internally. How was it that you were falling in love with him and you hadn’t even kissed? 

You supposed that Maria’s advice to you hadn’t been for nothing. That she must think that Joel was feeling something for you too, but you didn’t know how much he felt. Was he just fond of you? Was it… a crush? Or was he falling for you too? 

Wondering about this while he sat right next to you made you feel like high school all over again, and the music and decorations didn’t help. Suddenly you were back at the prom, hoping your date would stop talking to his buddies and dance with you, hold you, something. 

The music changed to something slower, softer. Piano and violins and after a beat, you recognized it, smiling that whoever was djing must have put it on for your group. You turned to Joel to remark on the song, but he was standing in front of you, his hand out, “C’mon, we’ve gotta dance to our own song.” 

You placed your hand in his and let you pull you to standing and then close to him, his other hand guiding yours to his shoulder before moving down to your waist. The firmness of his big hand against you made you feel safe. 

As the lyrics of “Beth” started, Joel started to sway the two of you in time with the music. He was humming under his breath like he couldn’t help it and the rumble you felt as you pressed in close to him felt so good. 

The song went on and you couldn’t help but try and move closer and closer to him, until you breathed the same air, until you couldn’t see anything but him. Joel started singing softly, his voice sweet and soft with a bit of twang that made you feel all warm inside. Your eyes closed, just feeling the moment and this feeling between you, whatever it was. 

Just as the last verse started, Joel whispered your name and you looked at him, open. He didn’t say anything, just looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. His eyes drifted down to your lips and then back up at you again and suddenly you were the only two people in the world and he was kissing you and you were grabbing at his shirt to hold him close. 

It was only when the next song started, some 90s pop that was loud and uptempo that you pulled away from each other, realizing where you were. But it was hard to do anything but smile, especially when you saw the mess of black and white face paint around Joel’s mouth.

🎃🎃🎃

[warsamongthestars]

There's a whole heaping lot of nonsense in TBB, honestly, and its not even the good shit.

I mean, there's bits, but a bit ain't a scene or an episode, yeah?

TBBshow seems to run on the idea of that character interaction, conversation, quirks or just breathers, are all filler--that anything that isn't immediately serving the (immediate) plot is pointless.

And I'm gonna tell ya--that's a bit like serving pie without the filling. That's like serving bread crust because the soft light bits were "filler". That is like creating the aroma of frying eggs or onions--and then just serving a cup of the resulting grease instead.

Like, congrats, you know how to mid-max speed run 100%... in the wrong fucking medium.

If you're wondering by now, what I mean by heaping nonsense--its literally the Plot Pushy Bullshit. Congratulations, doing things that only forward the maiden plot, makes your story stupid. If I want something that is simply pure plot, I would pick up a Pre-Schooler's Naptime book.

There's a reason the strongest episodes in TBB are those that center around its main characters (That aren't Omega)--the Single Crosshair and Single Tech episodes, are the strongest episodes and stories, on show, because they rely on the development of their already strongly written characters.

When you sacrifice Character for Plot, you have effectively boiled something down to being a blank pawn on the board.

Too many fall under the idea that everything that isn't immediately action oriented plot, must be Filler, and I gotta tell ya pal, if you don't have the patience to reach the story at it strengths--the problem isn't the story, its PEBCAK.

( Part of it is the environment we've all been in. High pace information environments have this bad habit of destroying natural animal patience. Which means actually sitting yourself down, and learning how to watch paint dry is probably the best cure for it. )

Any writer can do character. In fact, for example, most fanfics are nothing but character driven.

The strongest shows out here, are all character driven.

... Star Wars OG, while it started with being driven by plot stocks, became character driven by the end.

Most of the Prequel Series is character driven (if too dialogue heavy... )

The whole TCWshow is character Driven, in fact, it turned the Clones from CGI Carboard cutout redshirts into a full blown implied culture of people.

( In fact, TCWshow is So character driven, they had to plot out why these characters would have to fail come Revenge of the Sith, because at the rate they were going, they were about to hit critical AU and solve Star Wars before the OG trilogy could )

So "Logically Following Plot" is just as bad as characters "Following Logical Actions at All Times". I cringed every time I saw TBB try to "logic" its plot out every episode (which honestly makes me think that AI was involved as some point, because it was almost dream-like how it tried to march to... a conclusion. Certainly none of the ones we got, but some imaginary conclusion. )

( It air and write during the Writer's Strikes, and a lot of Disney stuff was AI written as a result. Lookin' at you, Wish. )

ADDENDUM:

Folks keep saying "If they only had more time". DUDES. OVER THE GARDEN WALL, BY CARTOON NETWORK, WAS ONLY 10 EPISODES, MADE (Written, Voiced, Animated, All of it) IN UNDER A YEAR, WITH CHARACTER, SYMBOLISM, SECRETS AND AN ALL STAR CAST. I am tired of hearing about "Oh they needed more time". That's an excuse at this point. No they didn't, they need actual Talent and Skill and a Love for the Process.

[sasster]

Funny Business

You know what I never do? I never talk about my character's pasts.

Okay, that's a lie.

Anyway. :)

Have a baby young adult Vineno, as your official introduction to the man!

If you see any typos, no you didn't <3

[Oh yeah, google doc]

--

It’s grisly work, what purple bloods are comfortable doing to their fellow trolls. As he watches yet another body fall limp at the blow of a flailing club, Vineno thinks that this might be a far cry from the actual responsibilities of the highest of the land dwelling castes. To say nothing of the smell of blood thick in the air and the deafening sound of laughter and horrified screams. It’s enough to give the purple blood a headache that’ll last him the rest of the week.

Needless violence, needless noise.

As if his prayer were being answered, all at once the shouting from either side of the fiasco is gone. Silence and the smell of death are all that hang in the aftermath. Vineno, for his part, is less than impressed by the entire display.

“Let me get this straight,” he speaks slowly as he steps around the carnage left behind by the subjugglators seeking to indoctrinate him into their sect. “There’s no real rhyme or reason to it? Wrong place, wrong time?”

That’d always been a burning question of his, but he was fortunate enough to make it this far into his life without having to deal with clowns this up close and personal.

“Maybe if they were faster and stronger, they wouldn't have anything to worry about.” One replies with a grin.

A few others roar with laughter behind her.

“Just that simple, huh?”

“Yep. You in?”

It’s not logic that he felt particularly interested in arguing against.

Easy enough to follow.

Vineno shrugs. 

“Yeah, why not? It’s about time I did my part in the name of the Messiahs.”

The other purple bloods cheer, quite boisterously, in response.

They are simple creatures.

“Alright, that’s what I like to hear!” The leader, he guesses, manages above her troupe. “Now we just gotta get some paint on you and the Grand Sunderer will be happy to meet ya’!”

What a name.

“Good plan.”

There is an increase in the volume of whooping as greasy hands pull him into the group.

“New guy has to get the drinks!” Someone calls from the back, and Vineno feels himself smile.

How contagious, their mirth!

“Easy enough.”

–

Hours must have passed from the raid, to the securing of drinks, to the two pairs of hands that slather his face in grease paint.

The two artists above him discuss the best design to adorn him with, barely glancing down to get his input on the matter.

“How’d you make it a whole ten sweeps without finding yourself a troupe anyway?” One asks.

He shrugs.

“Not much of a talker, huh?”

“‘Least he’s cute!” The other, awfully bubbly, chimes in.

This is more socializing than he ever bargained for.

Finally, the finishing touches are being put on his face and he is shown a mirror.

It takes a lot for him to bite back the laughter their handiwork conjures; Two thick gray markings, in a sea of white, come down from the bridge of his nose and around his eyes, then they skew sharply down his cheeks toward his neck.

Pure artistry.

“Snakes! They’re like. Minimalist snakes.”

“I see.”

“Sunderer will love to see it, we promise!”

He couldn’t care less. He only nods in response.

“Alright, alright. Let's get you out there!”

And then those greasy hands are on him again, tugging him up and out of the room.

What a handsy group of people.

–

“Vineno! Welcome to the family, brother!” Calls who must be the Grand Sunderer as he is tugged along by the two trolls that did his makeup. The pageantry of this lot is almost entirely too much to suffer.

They stand by a table at the end of a great hall that must be stuffed with all of the clowns this church had to offer.

Even better.

“Just like that?”

“Of course! Unless the drinks are bad.” The Sunderer is a large and jovial spirit, but the thinly veiled threat is a bit heavy handed.

They’re never seen outside of their church walls. Why should they be when they have such a good troupe to subjugate the masses?

Such a hard mark.

Vineno says nothing as the leader that got him into this mess brings him to the head of the table where the grand highblood pushes one of the drinks the newcomer supplied forward.

“You first,” their smile goes nowhere. “No funny business, eh?”

He eyes the drink for a moment before securing his hand around the glass and knocking it all back in one go.

“I am a terrible clown, I don’t do funny business.” He says as he sets the glass back down.

“Ah, there’s plenty of time to fix that!” Sunderer declares as they chug down their own drink which gets another uproar in response.

The rest of the clowns start to drink their fill.

–

The drinking lasts well into the morning and the following evening. If he’d known that these clowns were going to drink themselves into their graves, he would not have bothered wasting all of those vials of his poisonous mixtures in their booze.

Each of those morons must’ve had four times the amount he intended to give. Mixed with alcohol?

That sounds fatal.

Vineno steps around the bodies, twitching in their stupors, as he douses the last of the church in the gasoline from his pack. They were having so much fun they never even realized he slipped away from their celebration to grab it.

Simple, simple creatures.

As he passes by, the Sunderer grabs hold of his ankle. The grasp is much more feeble than their stature implies they should be capable of.

He says nothing as he looks down at them.

“What did you do?”

“Mm?”

Their face contorts into something that must be anger.

Vineno shrugs and dumps the remainder of the canister directly onto their face.

“Supplied the drinks.” He says finally, flashing a grin that shows off his fangs as he pats around his pockets for the matches.

[dc-polls]

Part 18 - DC Madlib Adventure

Jason hesitated, but then shrugged. "Why not. What's the worst that could happen?"

He walked over to Bane's cell and unceremoniously shoved the butt end of a sandwich into his mouth. It was only a moment before Bane stirred to life with a cough, and in an instant he was up tearing apart the cage like it was nothing.

"AAUGHH! What have you done to me?" he shouted, breath heaving and muscles pulsing.

Tim put his hands up defensively. "Whoa, big guy. We didn't do jack. It's Cheetah that's been keeping you mind controlled and sedated. All we did was give you... well let's call it the means to seek justice."

"Cheetah. I remember."

With that, Bane turned away from the others and shape shifted himself into an even larger version of himself, then ran off.

Jason made an apathetic face. "Not very creative."

"Not at all," Tim agreed.

With Bane freed, the anteater ran over and bounced to and fro to get their attention. "Must hurry! Stop Cheetah!" it pipped.

Jason nodded and turned back into a bird, while Tim grew himself spidermonkey-like features and a prehensile tail. They took off into the park in the same direction as Bane, gliding and swinging their way to Cheetah's hideout.

Deep in the Haunted Mansion, Cheetah bent over the ancient recipe book, scouring it for more knowledge. She felt sure if she amassed enough powers she could get The Painting. She had surrounded herself with many foods and other questionably edible items all laid out on a table to work with. She has just picked up a jar of marmite when a loud crash came from above and an enormous hulk-like creature bared down on her.

It was Bane. He pinned her to the floor just in time for Jason and Tim to rush in. Cheetah tried to mind control them, but the effects of her power had already waned. It wasn't enough. She lashed at Bane, but Tim was quick to bind her hands before she could try anything else.

While the others made short work of her, Jason looked around and spotted the recipe book surrounded by other items on the table.

"Well, well Cheetah. Looks like you've been busy. Sure would be a shame if I ate the fruits of your labor wouldn't it?"

Next

[noirineverysense]

She was on the steps outside the building, tears rolling down her cheek, painting the pavement. Well, so much for that.

She had ended up not talking to Zak and Ash about her current assignment. She should just get on with it, face her fears. Tell the man of her nightmares that he had no effect on her anymore, no matter how much of a lie it would be.

Besides they’d probably say she shouldn’t do it. Because they knew she was a coward when it came to things like this. She can hardly breathe at the thought of walking into that tower, she can’t tell if she’s breathing at all.

“Rosie?”

She looks up at the familiar voice to see Marcy suddenly standing in front of her. She realises she must look a total mess, hunched over with mascara running.

Marcy’s eyes narrow,

“Are you alright? Did something happen?”

She wants to reply, she wants to say everything’s fine that she’s just overreacting. But all that is stuck in her throat as her heart hammers in her chest.

The other girl kneels in front of her and holds Rosie’s hand delicately between hers.

“Breathe. It’s alright.”

She tries to slow her breathing under Marcy’s instruction and quiet encouragements until her heart rate finally comes down.

“I’m fine.” Rosie says finally. “I’m just overreacting.”

Marcy’s brows furrow, “You’re too hard on yourself.”

Then she stands and Rosie suddenly notices the twigs in her hair and the mud on her oversized woollen jumper.

Marcy stretches out a hand, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

She pauses, trying to find the words to respond, but Marcy just gently pulls her up and starts to walk, letting Rosie trail behind her.

She should say she has a job to do. She should let go of the other girl’s hand.

She lets herself get led away.

-

Marcy drags her into a small takeaway shop, the glass of the windows was dirty, the fabric of the seats ripped and holes in the wall where she was sure mice would pop out of.

She hears Marcy rattle off an order and she just asks for the same. They take their seats and Rosie notices two men at a table on the other side staring at them. Despite both of their odd appearances that perhaps deserved to be stared at, Rosie found it quite rude regardless and sent a look a back. They turned away.

She felt good about that.

“So,” Marcy starts, not noticing the exchange at all. “Do you wanna talk or just want to eat?”

She wants to say that she’ll just eat but she thinks Marcy deserves a bit of an explanation.

“I just, my company sent me to interview a guy and I couldn’t. I know him and he- ". She breaks off, knowing if she went any further, she’d probably start sobbing again.

Marcy frowns, “So you didn’t go in.”

“Yeah.” She replies, her gaze drops to the table in shame.

“I’m proud of you.”

Rosie looks up at Marcy’s smile. But before she would say anything, their food arrives and Marcy’s smile widens.

The woman who wore an old grey uniform and cap sets their food down and she mutters a thank you. Rosie opens the box to find a cheeseburger and fries. She rips a part of the burger off with her fingers and puts it in her mouth. As she chews, grease falls out onto her lips and she cringes at the taste of overpowering salt. She decides to eat the fries instead. She looks up to see Marcy devouring the burger, sharp nails dug into the bread as she tore off shreds of meat with her teeth. They clearly had different tastes then.

She clears her throat and Marcy looks up.

“Why do you, err...” Rosie gestures vaguely at the state of Marcy’s hair and jumper who frowns in confusion before her eyes widen.

“Oh! I climbed a tree.”

“You look more like you had a fight with a tree.”

“Yeah but- "

“And the tree won.”

“Listen Rosie, I don’t appreciate this judgement.”

She huffs out a laugh and Marcy smiles back. “You should do it too.”

“What, fight a tree?”

“No, climb a tree. It’s good for you.”

Rosie scoffs.

“It is!” Marcy pushes, “I went up there and I could see for miles around, it felt like everything else was tiny compared to me. You should do it.”

“Why did you climb a tree?”

Marcy blinks, “Huh?”

“What made you think, ‘Oh I want to climb a tree today’?”

“Oh,” Marcy rubs the back of her neck, “I was pretty upset about something, then I saw a tree and before I knew it, I was halfway up.”

“Really?”

She shrugs, “Yeah, just did what I wanted to I guess.”

“What were you upset about?”

“Rosie, your journalist is showing.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She laughs. “It’s just- I couldn’t imagine just doing that without thinking.”

“Yeah, because you think too much about things. If you wanna climb a tree then do it. If you don’t want to enter a building then don’t. That’s all there is to it.”

Rosie sighs and finishes the rest of her drink. She puts her tray of half-eaten food together with the scraps of empty packaging from Marcy so the diner staff can collect it.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll just go home.”

“Sounds good! Say hi to Zak for me.”

They pull out of the booth and Marcy waves before disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

Rosie lets out a breath and starts to make her way home.

[jovialtorchlight]

Stranger Approaching You in a Bar

Stranger Approaching You in a Bar

“Wait a minute, I know you. Do you remember me? We were playing up on the railroad trestle, high up over the river, when my brother stepped on a paper wasp nest,”

You glance up from your craft IPA. It was a long shift, and you came to the familiar dive for a cold drink before heading home. The hefty man, unkempt, a bit wild looking, with a long red beard, picks up his can of PBR and saddles up next to you. Before you have a chance to respond, he keeps going.

“A big one. I remember looking at them, crawling all over, all over his bare chest and arms and legs, wriggling around, humming like they were electric, like they were waiting for something, some sign to start stinging.

We took to running. Wasps took to stinging. Brother got stung. Bad. Coroner said he had 200 stings, swollen on his bruised, broken body. Imagine that. 200 welts, still red and full of pus when they laid him out on the metal table,”

What the fuck, you think. How the fuck does he know--

“Oh yeah. Forgot. You didn’t see him die. Guess it hurt so bad he flung himself off the

bridge into the river. Heard him scream all the way down. I got stung a couple times. I don’t think you did, did ya? You got lucky. Jesus, we must have been ten years old.

Do you remember? When he was standing there, with the wasps, how the crows kept circling? Je-sus, it’s like they knew. He was crying, kept begging us to get the wasps off of him, but there wasn’t nothing we could do, right?”

There was. There was. Before Joey flung himself off the bridge, you could have picked him up. He was little, about seven years old, barely an armful. But you were scared, rooted in place. You froze.

You look back to the stranger, and are about to ask him who the fuck he is--some rando who heard about the deaths in some true crime podcast?

“Once the wasps got to stinging, it could have been us, right? When they found him, downriver ways, his waterlogged skin was blue and bloated and puffed and his eyes were swollen shut.

We couldn't have helped him none, right? Wow. What a trip running into you here, man. How you been, by the way?”

Billy. You think. Oh my fucking God, it’s Billy.

He leans across the bar, getting close to your face. As he gets closer, the air gets heavy, like you have to sip the oxygen through a straw.

You can see the rot deep set in his teeth, his scraggly red beard coated in grease. He’s wearing a ripped plaid flannel and jeans covered in paint and oil. His eyes, deep black, dart to yours. They’re magnetic, and you lock with them. You don’t try to avert his gaze, but if you tried, you would have failed.

“It should have been you,” he says, low. A chuckle rises like a belch from his stomach. Gas, bloat rising. You remember. Your eyes light up in realization. Panicked, irises bouncing around like ping pong balls in your pupils, unable to look away from the stranger. His skin darkens, turns blue even in the dim light of the bar. His skin inflates, like someone is pumping him with a tire inflator.

He grabs your arm, dead man’s grip, clammy, cold. A chunk of his red hair, dripping wet, coated with slime, like hair caught in the shower drain, plops onto the bar counter beside him. A chunk of black, necrotic skin slops off his arm and lands on your shoes with a wet slap.

The stench is unbearable. Swamp gas and rotting flesh, skin sloughing off of his body, shirt rapidly decaying, black mold lining the fabric, coated in discharge. His clutch is still firm on your arm.

He’s right, you think, trying to break eye contact. You remember. The wasps trailing behind. The pain, like getting stabbed with a hot butter knife. They seemed to want to swarm Billy. Like a cloud. The swarm of wasps, like a plague of locusts, closing in.

“Why?” the decomposing stranger asks and half his face slides off like butter in a pan. “Why did you trip me? Why didn’t you turn around and help?”

For the first time, you can speak. It comes out of your body involuntarily, like a yelp of pain.

“It should have been me,” you whimper. “It should have been me.”

“It’s not too late, friend,” Billy belches out. “May I?

You nod. It’s time for this to end.

Billy reaches, his hot dog, waterlogged fingers oozing black liquid. Two fingers gently touch your eyelids, pull them down, like a drawn curtain.

You’re on the bridge. Billy’s behind, a few paces. He’s screaming. The buzz is deafening. The paper wasps blot out the sky.

You have the raw, primal instinct to trip, to sacrifice Billy. The urge bubbles up. You pop it like a bubble.

You stop. Billy looks behind, not stopping.

The paper wasps swarm. A thousand hot knives. A freefall. Bones break as you hit the water.

Nothing after. Just bloated death.

[luveline]

a special friend, part two [Fred Weasley, George Weasley x reader]

tags: reader-insert, platonic relationships, friendship, can be read as romantic for either or both, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, dissociation, quiet reader, shy reader, sad reader

relationships: fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader

wordcount: 3.2k

read part one here

The common room was always so clean. The house-elves must work themselves half to death with effort, as you never saw a hair or speck of dust where there ought not to be one. The small refreshment table filled and refilled through every new day and the fireplace was always roaring on cold winter nights. It was especially cold that evening, and so the members of Gryffindor house benefited from a crackling fire and hot chocolate coming out of the ears.

You basked in the warmth of the flame, sitting cross-legged before it. A cup of hot chocolate cooled in between your hands, which were both laden with bandaids and germolene. Fred and George’s orders, of course. You were not to scratch, bite or mess in any detrimental way with your hands, arms or skin. If you did, you were to report to them for immediate bandaging.

At first, they’d simply been spelling each wound away. This had an opposite effect, as the freshly healed skin was perfect for picking whenever your mood turned - which was often. You found yourself blinded and basked in the light of being cared for by others, and although you may have preferred complete autonomy over your own body, you couldn’t say you minded the attentiveness of the twins. They’d made it their personal mission to prevent any self-harm, accidental or purposeful. You weren’t sure you even knew the difference half the time.

A quiet had settled over the room. It seemed as though each red and gold student was content to breathe in the smell of chestnut and pine in peaceful, companionable silence. You found yourself smiling kindly at each person who looked your way. You couldn’t imagine having done that before you had become acquainted with the twins.

Acquainted was a word you used to protect yourself. Friendly was too confident, too firm. You sometimes dreamt of horror stories where you, confident and comfortable, admitted how much you cared for them. In these dreams, they laughed in your face. Poked fun at your hope.

Of course, Fred and George weren’t cruel. If they felt that way, they certainly wouldn’t rub it in your face or make you feel embarrassed about it. But some shame never went away, and you carried it like an ever-burning torch.

Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, chills racked your spine at the thought. You pushed it from your head, attempting to think of anything else. You traced a pattern through the braided strands of the rug you were lazing upon, first the flames of a bonfire towering ten feet tall, then a mirror of the powdered sugar landscape outside.

Two warm bodies settled in the carpet on either side of you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders confidently. The floral scent of your perfume mingled with the strong scent of burning caramel and something woody, the signature fragrance of the Weasley twins.

George moved first, plonking a stuffed toy into your lap. He positioned the neck carefully so that the teddy bear was sat as comfortable as you were.

“For you,” said Fred.

“An early Christmas gift,” George added.

The bear was spotted unusually like some sort of hybrid creature. You wondered where they could possibly have acquired such an artefact.

“We saw him and thought of you,” they said together.

That was rich. And maybe correct. After all, it was a weird looking plushie and you weren’t exactly renowned for your normality. You didn’t say much, simply handing off your cold drink to George without so much as a sideways glance and brought the bear to your face. You grazed your nose against its brown stomach and inhaled, breathing in its clean scent.

Both twins were used to the general quietness that came with your presence and didn’t pressure any response. You knew you should’ve said thank you, or even smiled gratefully, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move the way you wanted. You placed your hand on each brothers leg and applied the barest amount of pressure, hoping it showed gratitude.

“Well, I’m starving.”

“I’m so glad you said so, my brother.”

“Yes, I’m craving something savory, Gred.”

“Something juicy, Forge.”

“Such as?”

You looked between them like a muggle attending a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth. They ran circles around you for their own enjoyment, you assumed, but maybe also to make you feel more included.

“Y/N, fancy a trek to the kitchens?”

Before you could say no, or yes, or make up your mind and decide what it was you wanted to do, your stomach growled. Fred grinned wickedly.

They ushered you out of the portrait hole and down the stairs without preamble, flanking your sides like bodyguards. You didn’t mind, taking time to smile at the castle ghosts and portraits as you went.

The twins shot each other looks when they thought you couldn’t see. One said, how do you think she is? Another said, I think she’s however you think she is. Both said, she seems okay today.

It would feel a little patronizing if it weren’t so foreign - to have people care about your well-being so deeply they made changes to their day to see you and went out of their way to make you feel good; you’d find it condescending if it wasn’t so delightful.

That is to say, you felt conflicted. Happy that somebody cared, ashamed that they also felt concerned. They worried over everything these days, what you ate and what classes you had and oh, ghostie, do you need help with that? Y/N, sweetheart, let me carry that for you, lest your arms grow too tired.

It was… nice. It was nice, even if it was painful. Sometimes, it reminded you why you didn’t allow yourself the pleasure of friendship in the first place.

You hummed to yourself. Making sound had become a little easier. You weren’t inclined to say a whole lot, but allowing yourself to be louder, to take up space, had come easier the longer you spent with them. Neither Fred nor George minded if you huffed after too many stairs or if you clicked gobstones together at the foot of their beds.

The song was one of those cheesy Christmas numbers you’d heard on the radio. It was warm and comforting, bringing tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much. George slipped into song with you easily, humming much more loudly and obnoxiously. Fred just grinned to himself, keeping dutiful watch of the corridors.

You bubbled like a shaken can of coke by the time you arrived at the painting that enclosed the kitchen doorway, feeling too happy for your own good. Despite feeling very hungry, not a lick of fatigue or unhappiness tinged your mood, though the fuzzy numbness of every day threatened your well-being if you stopped to think too long.

The door swung open obediently after your half-hearted tickle insisted upon by the boys.

“What do you feel like, Y/N, sweet or savoury? There’s bound to be something you’ll fancy,” George said.

You held in a grimace. There were lots of things you wanted to try, the kitchens smelled like so many amazing things. The cloying smells of jam and treacle and custard, the hearty scents of gravy and roast dinner. It was too bad, then, that most everything you ate tasted stale. For years, your tastebuds had been slacking. During your worst days, food held no taste at all, resulting in your decreased appetite.

A tingling began in your fingers. You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, how to convey that you didn’t really feel up to anything at all. You knew they would protest as they always did when you didn’t eat.

“Bread,” you managed. Bread was a safe choice. Dense enough to feel filling, easy to keep down, and bland to begin with.

Both boys were frowning but trying not to at your choice.

George moved forward, catching the attention of a harrowed looking house elf. They conversed with familiarity and soon you were being beckoned to a table that was relatively clear. Within minutes you were surrounded by bread, crusty rolls and sliced sourdough.

George casually nudged a bowl of tomato soup in your direction.

The surface shined with grease. It even had a swirl of cream and a sprig of basil afloat.

He looked at you, eyes pleading.

“You too,” you said.

This appeased him. The boys sat across from you with their own bowls, eating in the horrific way that teenage boys do. By the time they’d finished, you’d managed half of your own meal and two slices of bread. The nausea you experienced from just existing was starting to build, accompanied by the disappointment of your bland meal. You’d hoped an improved mood would help your appetite, but you still felt unsatisfied.

The boys grabbed a passing plate of tarts and ice cream.

Your good mood was wearing thin. You bit down on the tip of your thumb and stared at the grain of the table.

You bit down harder.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t do that,” Fred said, reaching forward as if to grab your hand. You pushed it under the table.

George pushed the plate of confectionary closer to you. “Chew on one of these instead, hm?”

You took it all back - this was patronising. Lovely and thoughtful and very, excruciatingly patronising.

You didn’t want to say no, or push it away, or eat anything else or even laugh it off. You wanted to do nothing. You lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes. You caught a murmur or two between them, though you couldn’t make out the words with your ear pressed so hard against the wood and the other covered by your falling hair. The table was smooth and cool under your skin.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps. A broad hand against your back.

“You’re like a steam train running out of coal sometimes.”

You knew he was hoping for a response, a joke, a sign you’d been cheered up.

Through slow blinks, you could make out his face. Endlessly amused and a little sad, framed by the candlelight. He was beautiful, you thought absently. They were both beautiful.

“You okay?” he said quietly.

“Mm,”

“Mm? Is mm a yes or a no?”

“Mm,”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing a soothing path up between your shoulder blades and down again. It would’ve been dizzying if you could think straight, it made the numbness a little woozy. You preened beneath his touch like a pleased cat, feeling the unhappiness melt just a little.

It was crazy how affection could make you feel better, even if it didn’t always solve the problem.

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “you’re going to kill me.”

Fred smiled. “How so?”

“You’re fattening me up like a lamb to slaughter.”

He didn’t quite laugh, huffing through his nose. He really was very handsome up close. His hair was curling at just below his ears, a lush auburn colour that complemented his pale, freckle adorned skin. His eyes were a heart-melting brown so that his pupils were lost. The look he gave you was searing like he knew exactly what you were thinking about him. Your ears were tinged with heat, cheeks filling with colour.

He retracted his hand.

“Wrap some of those up, Georgie. Ghostie needs her bed.”

“It shall be done, brother mine!”

You smiled despite yourself.

-

For your birthday, the twins had gifted you a simple necklace. The chain was silver, reaching to just below your collar bone. It had no charm or jewel. It was perfect.

It helped you sometimes when you felt out of it to run it between two fingers or tug it gently from left to right, feeling the chain links rolling behind your neck.

You’d tried that, among every other coping mechanism drilled into your head by George and Fred over the past few weeks. You drew circles were you wanted to scratch, put plasters over fingertips you wanted to pick at. You took big breaths and did the stretches George insisted on. You even tried getting a full night’s sleep - nothing worked.

It filled you with guilt. You felt as though you were letting them both down by struggling.

You stared out the window of the dormitory at the sky, moonlight spilling onto your skin and staining your clothes a gauzy silver. You’d read once that sometimes when the planets were in rotation, you could see them as though they were as close as the moon.

This didn’t seem right to you. How could Mars seem so close? It was an optical illusion. The planets revolved around the sun, but humans had once thought they revolved around Earth instead.

It must’ve been a very strange experience to realise you weren’t as important as you thought. The Earth was just the Earth, spinning and wobbling its path through space.

You shook your head, feeling lost. It was ridiculous to project your feelings on the solar system. But still, you couldn’t help but feel like, despite its inhabitants and its systems, the Earth was so lonely.

Your necklace began to grow cold until it was almost like ice against your skin. One of the twins, or maybe both, had charmed it to change temperature. Cold usually meant, ‘Ghostie, you awake?’

You cringed against the sensation. Why couldn’t they booty call you like normal young men, throwing stones at your window with a boom box? Or, for merlin’s sake, an owl?

You grumbled to yourself, throwing the fleece blanket from your body. You were hardly dressed for company in knickers and a tank top, so you threw on a grey zip-up jacket and a pair of pyjama shorts that were hardly any better than the knickers. Luckily the jacket hung past the shorts. You wanted to care that you were dressed scantily, really, but the boys wouldn’t care and you didn’t have it in you to find something else.

You trekked down the stairs, your trainer socks slippery against the well-worn wood. Fred stretched languidly in front of the fireplace, a pack of exploding snap cards and a mountain of chocolate frogs beside him whilst George was sitting much more straight-backed on the sofa.

“I’m cold,” you said, announcing your arrival. The redheads turned to look at you over their shoulders. Fred rolled his eyes at you and flicked his wand. The necklace slowly heated until it was pleasantly warm against your collarbones.

You clambered over the back of the sofa with little grace, folding your knees underneath you and leaning heavily against George’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“If I were a lesser man, I’d ask where your bottoms were, Y/L/N,” said Fred, shuffling the cards dexterously.

You raised your jacket wordlessly, exposing your bottoms.

“Wouldn’t you know, they were there the whole time.”

“You assumed the same as me, George.”

George didn’t reply, though his expression said he was similarly embarrassed.

“And do you always let girls you presume to be half-naked climb all over you?” you asked.

“So talkative,” George chastened.

“Don’t change the subject! I’m interested in the answer,” said Fred.

“Oh shove off! You insufferable tyrants.”

Ah, so he knows how it feels now, you thought. You looked up into his face, the line of his jaw.

You looked down at your legs, feeling fatigued. Smooth stretches of skin and fine hair interrupted only by thin white lines. The low light made them almost impossible to see. They shined like silver when you moved, caught by the light of a nearby candle. They felt a lifetime away now when a young you had used pins and quills and little carving knives to punish yourself for bad behaviour.

You traced a slightly thicker one with a pointed fingernail. You pushed it nastily into the scar, but it didn’t hurt.

You sighed.

Fred and George were half arguing about something you didn’t catch, Fred through a mouthful of chocolate.

It was hard, always being miserable. People often criticized the moody for ruining the mood, but it wasn’t as if you could choose how to be. You wanted to wake each day and be happy and entertaining and absurdly good-natured, like the twins. It was an abject cruelty, then, that every day you woke up and felt the immeasurable dread of continuing on another day. Not even magic could help you with that.

You rejected Fred’s offer to play, happy to sit and watch the boys play. You let yourself slide into the space George had vacated, curling into a tight ball. Your stomach hurt.

Godric, there was always something fucking wrong with you.

You were frustrated. The boys could tell. Their game of snap was stretched thin, and you knew it was your fault. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of singed hair, restless. You squirmed against the warm leather under your skin, feeling sticky and out of sorts.

You closed your eyes against the aching and slept.

You woke up crying.

Fred shifted in his sleep. He was leaning against your legs, his hair and face smushed into the leather beneath you. George was facedown in the carpet. You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any sound.

The clock on the wall read 4 minutes past 4 o’clock in the morning. You’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep.

You couldn’t remember what you’d been dreaming. Maybe somewhere familiar. Faces you recognized. It didn’t matter, only the feeling of being crushed by the air. You reached out without thinking, grabbing Fred’s shoulder.

He roused gracelessly, blinking through squinted eyes at you. A hard sob rocked you to the core, the feeling of breathlessness sinking deep into your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You couldn’t answer. You grasped for his arm, begging him to do something, to save you. You felt as though you were going to run out of air.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay. Let’s breathe, should we? Breathe with me.” He grabbed the hand you’d pushed over your mouth and brought it to his chest. You could feel him take a huge inhale and you tried your best to replicate it.

“Good! That’s good. You’re doing so well.” Another big breath, a long exhale.

“You feel that? The leather under you.” He grabbed your free hand and put it on the seat. “Feels weird, huh? Dimples and wrinkles.” He dragged your hand over the texture repeatedly.

A big breath.

Eventually, your breathing returned. The crying stayed.

“Don’t cry, ghost.”

You frowned. It was odd to be looking down at Fred instead of up. He pressed your hand tighter to his chest.

“Bad dream?”

“Don’t remember,” you whispered.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. I promise.”

George snored. Fred rolled his eyes. You laughed through the tears, blinking the last of them away.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You knew he was telling the truth.

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[dreadfutures]

Hello hello! For DWC, how about these lyrics for Morrigan/Halevune: "Forget your mother's eyes / Come here and touch me" (from I Don't Hate You by Kyla La Grange, which is just a fantastic Morrigan song in its entirety)

Random late night prompt fill.

Morrigan x Mahariel

-:-:-

It is almost a contradictory thought, but Morrigan feels that she most resembles her mother now, as she wears ball gowns and traverses the Empress's court. She stares at herself as she dresses each day and tries to pinpoint why, but she cannot.

Flemeth was old even when Morrigan was young, and life in the Wilds had clearly not been kind to her before that. Thinning gray hair clinging with grease to a wrinkled and spotted temple, lips drawn tight across old, crooked teeth--once Morrigan knew what beauty could be, she understood that her mother did not possess it. She could hardly imagine the Flemeth of legend, inspiring men to hoard her away like a trophy. And yet Morrigan knew it was true, and so Flemeth must once have been beautiful, no? And she had somehow conceived Morrigan, and all her unknown secret sisters, from mortal men. Something must have ensnared them.

And yet it is not in her youthful and raven beauty that Morrigan sees her mother. In reflections, she sees her own face and her own face alone, fine-boned, fierce, and usually frowning. Her hair is cleaner than her mother's may have ever been, and her skin dusted in rouge and her lips marked in dark, vivid paint. l She has grown pale in her years in hiding from her mother, both in the crossroads and in the Orlesian court. She seems delicate, and she cannot imagine Flemeth being delicate.

She wonders if Halevune notices. Does he see her mother, the monster, lurking behind her eyes? Does he fear what she may become in time?

Morrigan looks over her reflection's shoulder at the man who lounges in her bed. He is still bare from their night's activities; half asleep, his head lolls against his arm as he watches her dress.

"Forget your mother's eyes, vhenan," he scolds.

She startles. "Why do you presume--"

"Long ago, when we discovered the truth of her plans for you, I saw the same look upon your face. You did not believe you had wholly escaped," Hal said quietly, without looking away from her. Pale silver eyes pinned her through the unassuming curtain of his lashes. "You thought I did not notice how you gazed into the mirror I gave you."

She had been wholly convinced that he had not noticed--that he had not known the extent of her fears. Even now she feels the familiar reflex of anger swell at the accusation that she had felt anything at all in the aftermath of her mother's death.

But it isn't an accusation in Halevune's voice. And what is the use? She knows, and he knows, that he was right then as he is now.

"Come here and touch me," he drawls, breaking her from her spiral of clashing anger and discomfort. It is a distraction he offers, but also the potential for comfort that will not insult her. She can bury her face in his shoulder, or she can take him by the jaw and kiss him with all she is worth. He has always been so good at offering her the world in just a few words, ready to deliver whichever facet she finds less offensive--or whichever one she is brave enough to admit she needs.

This morning she is not so shaken that she does not smirk at the more engaging option ahead of her, and she turns to face him wholly. "You have excellent timing, Hero," she says pointedly. "What am I to do? I am laced and cinched and buttoned, and if I appear at Her Majesty's side with even a hair out of place, they will no doubt realize they have allowed a bog witch in their midst."

Halevune smirks into his elbow. "You are to come here, he says pointedly, "and let me take care of you."

[dandelionflower]

She tours alone

Marinette had gone to sleep right after finding a hidden path back to the manor, thank you, Culpa the kitty, and woke up feeling refreshed. Since today they were going to be touring the ballrooms, she elected to wear her ‘composers outfit,’ inspired by Nickolas Lafin, an incredible musician who lived in the manor.

Nickolas was primarily a conductor, but he often composed his own symphonies and gavots as well. Despite his incredible work, Lafin wasn’t much of a prominent character in the manor’s history and instead was reported to mainly follow his girlfriend, Anya, around. After Anya drowned, it was said that Nickolas spent all of his free time in the attic, until eventually, the boxes and trunks fell on top of him and killed him instantly.

Marinette had on a long blue coat with black and white music notes dotted along the bottom. Her shirt was crisp and black, matching her pants perfectly. She also had on a pair of rectangular earrings and red bowtie that matched Nickolas’ favorite.

After a quick breakfast where Marinette checked in on Allegra again, Grace picked them up to check out the ballroom. Adrien sidled up to her with his earnest smile and the two walked hand-in-hand next to Alya and Nino.

“Alya seems a bit shaken, is she okay?”

“She’s okay, just had an allergic reaction to the ice cream she got.”

Marinette looked at Alya again. She was leaning heavily into Nino’s side and was giving wary glares at any cup or water container she saw. She’d have to make sure she didn’t get dehydrated.

“...and here is the grand ballroom!” Grace pushed open the doors with a grin. “It’s a bit dusty since we haven’t exactly been hosting any parties lately, but with a little elbow grease it’ll be spectacular!”

Marinette looked at the dark, dusty room. Thick curtains covered the windows, but it allowed for a small sliver of light to illuminate the flecks dancing from the ceiling to the floor. Even in the faint lighting, she could tell that it was beautiful; all pastels and silvers and golds.

“What a dump.” Lila commented to Alix and Kim beside her. “Prince Ali’s ballroom is much better than this waste.”

“Actually,” Grace’s wide smile sharpened into something vengeful, “even in its current state, the Culpa ballroom is still considered one of the most lavish ballrooms in the world. Prince Ali’s ballroom isn’t even ranking.”

“I- ah well, it must have been remodeled since the last ranking.” Lila floundered, and after she looked at Adrien’s sympathetic face, Marinete almost felt bad for her.

Grace was looking casually at her phone. “Seems that the last ranking happened just a few days ago. That would have been when you were in Paris, correct?”

Almost.

“I guess I must have forgotten which ballroom I was thinking of.” Lila shrugged. “There’s been so many.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Grace mumbled with shrewd eyes. She perked back up. “Anyway! I was thinking, as your project for your visit, you can produce a replica of the infamous Ross ball. We can have people working with flowers, costumes, music, and guests.”

The class murmured their agreement already turning to their friends and discussing what they wanted to wear.

“Ooh! Can I wear a suit?” Rose bounced on her toes, hand waving.

“Of course! We have dozens of old clothes that could easily be refitted for you and everyone else! We just need a-”

“Designer!” Nino shouted, pointing down at Marinette’s head (tall people, disgusting). “We’ve got one right here!”

“Great!” Grace didn’t seem surprised at all, even though a teenage designer isn’t someone you meet every day. “Your main job will be refitting and redesigning all the costumes for your friends. That sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds great!” Rose’s suit would of course need to be a pink, but a faint floral print on it too would look beautiful. Making it period accurate would be tricky, but the internet had all kinds of references for suits and dresses.

“We’ll need people for all the other tasks I mentioned, but for now just look around the room and check out the closets for anything you may need for the ball.”

The four of them immediately gravitated to the closets at Alya’s behest and Adrien’s adventurous spirit. There were instruments of all kinds and colors; it was like a sculpture and Marinette felt all kinds of inspiration welling up in her.

“Not much in this room.” Alya remarked. “Let’s check the next.”

“I used to really like music.” Adrien said as he followed Nino and Alya out the door. “Still do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Marinette stayed behind, pulling out her phone to take a few pictures. A rustle from behind the cello caught her eye, and she glanced back at the open door. Another rustle, and she committed to it, stepping forwards to investigate.

“Meow.” Culpa was sitting prim on top of a drum. He was looking at the ground then at her like he just noticed another being was in the room.

“Culpa!” Her hands reached out to rub the cat’s ears, fingers vibrating with the feline’s contented purrs. “Hey, kitty. What’re you doing in here?”

Culpa offered no answer aside from leaning further into her hand and purring louder. She’d take it. After a few minutes more of petting, Culpa batted her hand away and moved towards the very back of the room, tucking into a thin passage she hadn’t noticed in the dark. When he realized there wasn’t a presence behind him, he turned around and mewled for her attention.

“Right, right. Coming.” She slipped her phone in her pocket and slipped into the passageway, which was just wide enough for her to stand comfortably in.

She followed Culpa’s flashing blue eyes through the tunnel until she stepped into a wider, well-lit hallway. Unlike the closet or the ballroom, the hall was absolutely pristine. Both of the walls were decorated with portraits, and Marinette took her time inspecting each one.

It was the Culpa family. Each one through the ages until it ended with the image Culpa showed the most attention to; Felix, eyes cold, unseeing on the canvas. Right next to it was a small framed photograph in black and white; Bridgette and Felix, laughing while leaning against each other.

She lifted the picture and smiled down at it. It was much better than the painting; it showed much more emotion. And that dress! Marinette could totally design a dress like that. It would look beautiful in pink.

“It’s a nice picture, isn’t it?” Allegra was standing in a doorway a bit behind her. She hadn’t noticed her come in.

“Yeah, they both look so… so happy. Why wasn’t this room a part of the tour?”

“We didn’t want people touching this part of the manor’s history.” She shrugged, walking forwards. “It just seemed right to keep it separate from the rest of it all.”

“Yeah, I get it.” This place seemed- sacred, in a way. She followed Allegra out of the hall and watched her lock the door.

“How’d you get in there anyway?”

“Oh, I found this cat and he led me through some passageway in the back of a closet.” She pointed over her shoulder to Culpa who… wasn’t there. “And he’s gone. That’s weird.”

“A passageway, huh? That’s cool.”

“I thought so too. Probably wasn’t the smartest idea to just go through it without telling anyone though, huh?”

“Probably not.” Allegra agreed

They walked a while longer before they were back at the ballroom. Alya and Nino were talking near one of the back doors that lead to the closets and looked up just as she walked in.

“Girl! Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over, come on! Adrien’s playing the piano.” Alya grabbed her and dragged her through the hall of closets. When she passed the one with the instruments, she glanced in, trying to catch a glance of the passage to show Alya.

She didn’t see anything at all.

.......

The rest

@merry-madness @calliopeia @drama-queen-supreme @kaydenth3gayden @mcheang @nomiegnome @never-say-donuts @vixen-uchiha @miracul0us-multishipper @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @chocolatecustarddanish @iwantswifttoblessmysoul @digitalmagpie @ilseofskadi @nerdy-and-a-little-birdy @minty-goose @nataladriana9 @aestheticnpoetic @constellation-king @animegirlweeb @persephonebutkore @ahalloweengirl @r0sebutch @marinettepotterandplagg @beelzzebop @akalovelymaybe @pleasefollowmeuwu @angelost4r @constancetruggle @speaknowtome @some-oxymoron @nerdy-scifi-birdy @purplesundaze @aestheticnpoetic @neptuningkai @2confused-2doanything @goggles-mcgee @grumpy-kitten-vixen @artemisdragona @lookatthestars1 @demonicbusiness @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @vice-artist

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Fresh Starts

Leah (Stardew) x Selectively Mute She/Her Reader

A/N: Thought I’d try something different with this one. Sorry if I didn’t detail the instances of sign language very well, or if they are a little off, I did try. Also Kel is an asshol in this when they show up so get ready for that. Robin is cool mom and Abigail is the friend who is always ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Also, time is so weird in Stardew? There are four season in a year but each season is like a month so a year is like four months. Time is scary. I hope you like it! Word Count: 8,943

~

“So, someone has finally taken up that old farmland,” Leah heard Gus say to Harvey as he fixed the good doctor a drink at the bar, “‘Heard Lewis and Robin talking about it outside of Pierre’s yesterday.”

“Is that so?” Harvey was tired from a long day at the clinic, but being ever polite, he humored Gus and rested fully against the bar stool.

“Mhmm, looks like the old man’s kin is finally gonna make something of it. A few years late though I must say, that place is well overgrown. It’s gonna take a lot more than a little elbow grease to spruce up that dump,” Gus chuckled good naturedly and handed Harvey his beer, “I wish them luck, whoever they are.”

“Bah!” Leah jumped in her seat tucked away in the corner. Pam must have been listening in too. “If they’re smart they’ll just sell the heap of trash to Joja. M’sure they’d get a pretty penny for it.” Pam spoke bitterly. Shane, who was also quite drunk at this point in the night, took the opportunity to add his two cents in and yell across the bar.

“Why would they get your daughter for selling out to Joja?”

“That’s not what I meant, dumbass!” Pam roared back, slamming her beer on the table with a loud thump.

Leah decided she’d call it a night then. Without Elliott to crack jokes with, the saloon could get real depressing real fast with Shane and Pam racing each other to see who would get alcohol poisoning first. Even Clint was just sad to watch. The poor man sitting hopefully, waiting for Emily to even just turn in his direction. Leah finished the rest of her beer and paid Gus, giving the man a sympathetic smile as he left to cut Shane off.

Leah shivered in the cool spring breeze as she walked along the river bank to her cottage and her thoughts wandered back to what Gus had been gossiping about.

“A new face around Stardew Valley, hm?” Leah mused, kicking a stray pebble in her path, watching it skip across the cobbled stone. “I guess I won’t be the town newbie anymore.” She smiled and turned to look in the direction of Marnie’s home, knowing that the farm was somewhere just beyond. As Leah turned the key to unlock the door of her small cottage, she wondered what changes this new resident might bring.

***

“Have you met our new resident farmer yet?” Leah heard Caroline ask Jodi as she walked across the town square.

“I suppose you could call it that,” Jodi laughed, “It was a very brief meeting to say the least.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one then,” Caroline sighed, putting a hand to her chest in relief, “I thought I had offended the girl somehow, she never said a word. She just walked into the shop and pointed to a few seeds she wanted to buy, then she handed Abigail, Pierre and I daffodils and went on her way. Not so much as a sound.” Caroline explained, still bewildered by the interaction.

“Sounds about right,” Jodi nodded, “She knocked on the front door and handed me a single clam. Which was nice I suppose, but so very odd. She gave Vincent a daffodil too,” Jodi smiled, “He was very pleased. I’m sure she would have given Sam something as well if he could wake up at a more reasonable time.”

“Oh, Leah! Good morning!” Caroline had caught her. Leah put on her most sociable smile and walked forward, greeting the two women.

“Good morning Caroline, Jodi.”

“Have you been visited by the farm fairy yet?” Jodi asked, chuckling along with Caroline.

“I’m afraid not.” Leah admitted. “Although Elliott says I am a bit difficult to track down at the best of times.” She laughed good naturedly.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll get you sooner or later. She seems to be on a mission to greet the whole town. If you can call it a greeting I suppose. I don’t even know her name.” Caroline realized.

“It’s (Y/n).”

The three women jumped and turned to a grinning Robin, walking up to them with her yoga mat swaddled under her arm.

“Her name is (Y/n). She’s quite the character, huh?”

“Robin, you helped Mayor Lewis move her in didn’t you? What can you tell us?” Jodi asked, looking for any crumb of information she could get on the mysterious girl.

“Not much to tell,” Robin shrugged, “Just a sweet kid wanting to get away from the pressures of the big city,” she sent a knowing look at Leah, “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Leah laughed politely, twisting a finger around the tail end of her braid as blush settled in her cheeks faintly.

“But why is she so... you know, quiet?” Caroline asked.

“Hm, well, she did give me her blessing to explain should it come up.” Robin took a moment to think of how to proceed, absently tapping her fingers against her mat. “(Y/n) is selectively mute. She has the ability to speak, but she’s just not comfortable enough to do so at this time. This move was a big decision for her, and she’s excited, but it’s just gonna take some time before she feels secure enough to communicate orally.”

“And how did you get all this information out of her?” Caroline wondered.

Robin secured her yoga mat between her thighs and presented both hands, pointing her index fingers outward and drew a couple large circles in the air with the tips of her extended fingers. “Sign language!” Robin grinned, before taking a hold of her mat once more.

“Oh how clever!” Jodi praised. “I wish I understood sign language.”

“I’d be happy to show you a few of the basics sometime. If you really need to ask (Y/n) something though she will have no problem writing out answers for you.” Robin informed. “Now, are we working out today or...”

“I completely forgot!” Caroline smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand, “Yes, let’s go. Poor Marnie is probably wondering where we are. Are you going to join us Leah?”

“I’ll pass, thanks. I’m heading to the beach to do some painting,” Leah explained, motioning to her bag.

“Alright, see you around!” Caroline, Jodi and Robin bid Leah goodbye and hurried to the general store.

Leah sighed, as much as she liked the people in this town they were so chatty. She could have been at the beach forever ago! Once she arrived, she saw Haley sunbathing. Not unusual, but as she kept walking closer to shore she saw Elliott splayed out over the sand laying on his stomach.

Leah rolled her eyes and walked over, playfully kicking the man’s arm, causing him to squint up at her.

“Is there some kind of new writing exercise I should know about?” She asked, playfully.

“I wish, this is simply writer’s block at its finest.” Elliott groaned. “That, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with this,” he sat up and produced a wild horseradish from his jacket pocket.

“Why do you have a horseradish in your pocket?”

“A girl I’ve never seen before in my life gave it to me. Then she took off before I could refuse. Didn’t even say a word.”

“She’s totally weird, but she did give me a daffodil so I guess she’s not that bad.” Haley called from her own spot in the sand.

“Has everyone met the new girl except me?” Leah wondered aloud.

“She’s been making rounds. I’m sure she’ll find you eventually.” Elliott said, resting his chin over his arms.

“You make her sound so ominous.” Leah laughed, lowering herself to the sand and taking out a sketch pad.

“A silent specter. A harbinger of-“

“Oh can it, drama queen,” Leah smirked, “so she gave you a horseradish, it’s not the end of the world. She was just trying to be nice.”

Elliott pursed his lips, propping his head up with one hand he turned the horseradish in the other offering it to Leah. “Do you want it? You’re all about foraging.”

“I mean, if you’re not going to use it sure. Put it in my bag.” Leah relented easily. Her eyes only leaving her paper to study the horizon for a moment, then continue to sketch.

Leah stayed on the beach with Elliott for a couple of hours, talking  sketching, and painting. Finally she stood and stretched, patting the sand off the back of her jeans. “I should get going. See you around.”

“See you.” Elliott nodded, splitting off from Leah to head over to his shack.

Leah hummed to herself as she walked through town, making her way past Jodi’s house and entered the Cindersnap Forest. As she rounded the corner of her cottage, she paused in her tracks. Observing a young woman staring at her door with dandelions in one hand and her other poised to knock on the weathered wood.

Leah flinched slightly, she had stepped on a twig, snapping it and alerting her visitor of her presence.

Startled eyes met Leah’s own and the farmer straightened from her previous position, stepping back from Leah’s door.

She smiled shyly, giving Leah a short, jaunty wave before gesturing between Leah and the cottage a moment. Then she stood still. An expectant look on her face.

Leah simply stared back, blinking before she registered the silent question. “Oh! Yes, I live here. That’s my house. You’re (Y/n), right? Robin told me about you, I’m Leah.” She smiled kindly, coming forward to offer (Y/n) her hand to shake.

Instead of grasping Leah’s hand, (Y/n) cupped it with her gloved hands, turning Leah’s hand palm up and placing the dandelions inside.

“Ah, thank you.” Leah chuckled, “These will make a great salad.”

(Y/n) nodded vigorously, then moved to make her exit. Leah wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she called out to (Y/n) before she could get too far.

“Wait, I um, it’s not much but I did take an intro to ASL course my freshman year of college so, I’m a bit limited but if you ever want to talk, you know...” Leah wished she could stop talking right now. Why had no one told her that the farmer was cute!? “So, yeah, you know,” Leah fumbled with her free hand, her fingers sat just underneath her chin before she sent them forward, “Thanks again.” She smiled nervously.

(Y/n) stared at her, dumbfounded. Then she released a short, sharp exhalation of air that was reminiscent of stuttered laughter and turned back to stand before Leah. (Y/n) made a timid approach and gingerly took Leah’s wrist, still hovering midair, and guided the hand back to rest on Leah’s chin, just below her lip. Leah stood still as stone as (Y/n) held it there for a second then extended the hand forward. She repeated the motion twice more before backing away and releasing Leah from her gloved grasp. The smell of earth and grass still clung to Leah’s nose even after (Y/n) had stepped back.

“Oh, I did it wrong, didn’t I?” Leah blushed, “Is there a big difference between the two?”

(Y/n) blew out a large breath of air and nodded. One of her gloved hands came up to cover the amused smile fighting against her lips.

“What did I say? Was is embarrassing? Yoba, I need to know,” Leah carefully set the dandelions at her feet and rummaged through her bag. Taking out her sketch pad and a pencil, she flipped to a clean page and presented the materials into the rough fabric of (Y/n)’s gloved hands, “Please, tell me.”

(Y/n) shot Leah a sympathetic smile, then she looked down at the paper and wrote quickly and concisely. She looked over her work, nodded to herself, then she handed the sketch book and pencil back to Leah before jogging of in the direction of her farm.

“Eh- Hey! Wait a minute!” Leah took a few strides after the farmer but quickly gave up, electing to look at the paper in her hand instead. “Maybe I’ll tell you some other time. Nice meeting you Leah, smiley face.” Leah read aloud to herself. She scoffed, but couldn’t stop the smile that had conquered her lips. She couldn’t wait to see (Y/n) again.

***

“Hey, Maru-“

“I think I have a feeling about what this is about, but just in case, please proceed.”

The next morning, Leah had made her way to the clinic to visit Maru and perhaps get the answers she was looking for. She had made the trek to (Y/n)’s farm first, but she wasn’t there. A little note hastily taped to the farmer’s door revealed that she was spending the day fishing in the mountains and wouldn’t be back until late at night.

“Maru, you know sign language like your mom, right?” Leah asked.

“Sure do. Seb and dad do too.” Maru nodded, leaning over the clinic counter. “But I’ve got to tell you that if you’re looking for the meaning of what you accidentally signed to (Y/n) last night, we were sworn to silence earlier this morning before (Y/n) went fishing. Sorry.” Maru smiled.

“Ugh,” Leah sighed, leaning her forehead against the counter. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Well, it’s really funny. Especially considering how chill you normally are and your kind disposition.”

“Yoba, I really need to know!” Leah groaned against the counter.

“Well my family can’t tell you. You’ll just have to wait to hear it from (Y/n),” Maru grinned and pushed away from the counter, “I have to prepare for Evelyn’s check up now so I’ll see you around Leah.”

“Yeah, bye.” Leah grumbled, watching Maru disappear into the back offices. “Well, there goes that plan.” She mumbled under her breath as she left the clinic.

Leah spent the rest of the day sculpting in her cottage. She spent hours getting lost in the chipping of the wood before finally going to bed.

***

It had been days since Leah last saw (Y/n) and if the farming life wasn’t so demanding, Leah would have been worried that she had deeply offended the farmer to the point that she was purposely avoiding her. Leah decided not to waste the time she had been presented with.

She approached Robin about sign language lessons, enough to get some basic phrases and words. She practiced the motions herself, perfecting them to allow for no mistakes. Although she knew (Y/n) could hear her just fine, she found it easier to retain the lessons this way. Not to mention that it was just a useful language to know.

“I’ve hardly seen you around. I was worried you stabbed yourself with your woodworking tools.” Elliott said as Leah came up to sit next to him in the saloon.

“And you didn’t think to come to check on me?” Leah looked at the writer incredulously.

“Nope.”

Leah punched Elliott’s arm and he laughed. Before long, Emily came by with their food and they ate comfortably.

“Would you look at that.” Elliot spoke, pointing in direction of the door as he swallowed another bite.

Leah turned to look, purple irises sparkling at the sight of (Y/n) lugging a large bag up to the bar. She watched Emily talk (Y/n)’s ear off, the poor farmer smiled uncomfortably while trying to divide her attention between her and Gus who had apparently requested a variety of fish.

“Wow, Robin said you were in trouble but you really are,” Elliott chuckled behind his beer, “You really lit up just now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Leah scoffed, still watching (Y/n) hand Gus fish after fish. It was almost comical how such an objectively small bag could hold so much.

“You can’t keep your eyes off her. I realize the dating pool in Stardew is small, but the girl just got here.”

“Elliott, stop!” Leah blushed, looking back down at her plate to stab at her salad.

“I’m just saying, you’re already taking sign language lessons for her you might want to dial it back a little bit. You wouldn’t want to come off as the obsessive type.”

“Oh! She’s leaving, should I offer to walk her home? I’m going to offer to walk her home.” Leah dug in her pocket and pulled out some gold, pushing it over to Elliott.

“What did I just say?” Elliott called after Leah, as she eagerly jogged to the exit to catch (Y/n) walking in the direction of the Cindersaps, perfect!

“(Y/n), good evening!” Leah called jogging up to the farmer only to have the farmer gasp and take several steps away from Leah, holding her hands out as a warning to not come any closer. “I’m sorry, I’m didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” Leah gasped, maybe Elliott was right.

(Y/n) shook her head, slowly taking a step back towards Leah, presenting her slightly soggy bag and waving her hand in front of her nose, scrunching her face as she did so.

Leah was sure the movement wasn’t an official ASL sign, but it did help get the point across and she giggled.

“What? Do you think you smell?”

Another nod and a look that seemed to say that she didn’t just think so, she knew so. She had been in the mines all morning and fishing at the beach all afternoon. She couldn’t wait to take a shower.

“It’s alright, I won’t judge you,” Leah smiled, “Are you heading home for the night? I’d be happy to walk with you since it’s so dark.”

(Y/n) took a moment to think about it before nodding shyly and motioning Leah closer. Leah happily obliged walking alongside the farmer into the Cindersap Forest. The walk was mostly silent, but that was to be expected nonetheless, Leah was having a great time. They had even found a couple of leeks along the way which (Y/n) had insisted Leah keep. All too soon, they reached the porch of the old farmhouse.

“You’re crops look great,” Leah complimented, looking for an excuse to stay even just a few minutes more, “really healthy. What all have you been growing? Are those potatoes and turnips?”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder as she unlocked her door. Her eyes focused on where Leah was pointing and nodded affirmingly.

“Yeah, I’m no farmer but I love foraging. I’ve got a few really good books about wild foods and where to find them and when. It’s kind of like a scavenger hunt.” Leah grinned.

“Mhmm.”

It was quiet, a little strained, but the small hum of agreement almost sent Leah into cardiac arrest. She sounded so sweet! Leah’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how widely she was smiling.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. So, I’ll see you around?”

(Y/n) looked like she wanted to say something, but settled for a simple nod, fiddling with the gardening gloves she had taken off. Leah smiled softly, watching how the farmer intently eyed the fabric twisting in her hands.

“Feel free to drop by the cottage whenever it suits you. I’ll leave the door open!” Leah added, waving over her shoulder as she turned to walk away. (Y/n) beamed, looking a bit more lively as she waved back.

Leah turned her back on the house and walked back to her cottage in the Cindersaps with a skip in her step and a painfully large smile on her face. Although it was already late, she prepared a new block of wood for sculpting. Her new muse had granted her a vision for a grand project and had the potential to be one of her greatest works yet.

***

“Kel, I told you to stop calling me. I’m not coming back to the city, we are through.” Leah frowned, her hand gripped the phone receiver so tightly that she could hear the plastic giving slightly under the pressure.

She was so focused on combating Kel’s useless bargains that she hadn’t noticed the timid farmer show herself in, looking at Leah’s tense shoulders and back with concern. (Y/n) flinched as Leah cut off Kel to speak again, her voice low and stern.

“There is nothing you could say, nothing you could offer me, that would make me come back. Move on, and please, for the last time, do not call me again.” Leah slammed the phone down on its perch. Pressing her palms into her eyes she let out a frustrated groan, slowly positioning her hands to rub at her temples to combat the headache she felt coming on.

Then she heard the door creak.

Leah quickly turned around just in time to see (Y/n) looking back at her with wide eyes and lips pursed thin as if she had been caught witnessing an event she had no business seeing. Which was partially true, but Leah had told her a week beforehand that she could drop by anytime.

“(Y/n), what a pleasant surprise!” Leah grimaced, watching (Y/n) flinch and look down sheepishly at her feet. One had managed to retreat back out the door before being caught and it was slowly joined by the intruding foot, so (Y/n) was fully outside again. Leah shook her head and calmly approached the farmer.

“Please don’t leave, I’m the one who told you to come let yourself in whenever. I’m sorry you had to hear all of that.” Leah was worried, watching (Y/n) linger in the doorway. Her shoulders relaxed when (Y/n) cautiously came back inside and closed the door behind her.

(Y/n) stood in the entryway and looked over Leah, her eyes filled heavily with concern. She raised a hand, pointing to Leah before signing the letters ‘o’ and ‘k’.

“I’m okay. I’m just,” Leah fumbled for the right words, “mad, sad? Exhausted.”

(Y/n) made another gesture, shaping her fingers into a ‘hang loose’-esque sign. Her curled fingers meeting her chin. She lowered the hand momentarily to give it a controlled shake before bringing it back up into the starting position.

“What’s wrong?” Leah mumbled, making sure she understood. (Y/n) nodded. “I just got a phone call from someone I didn’t want to talk to is all,” Leah sighed, “They’re an ex of mine. The person who called.” Leah disclosed, rubbing the back of her neck, agitated.

(Y/n) signed again, but Leah didn’t quite catch it that time so she motioned (Y/n) over to her dining nook and sat her down with some paper and a pencil. The farmer seemed a bit unwilling to write it out, feeling like it was more insensitive somehow but with a little prodding from Leah, she gave in.

“Was it a bad break up...” Leah read aloud. She sat back in her chair and carefully chose her words. “Sometimes it feels like we’re still breaking up,” Leah chuckled wryly, “Kel, my ex, didn’t like me perusing art. They didn’t think I could make a living out of it and wanted me to waste away at some office job and well, I didn’t want that. They weren’t respectful or supportive of my dreams, so I left. They call me a lot though, to try to convince me to come back to the city... that I won’t make it as an artist. That I can’t be happy without them. It really is exhausting and the worst part is, I worry that they’re right.” Leah released a shuddering breath, “I haven’t sold a single piece. I don’t really even know how to start. I can sustain myself on what I have in my savings account for only so long.”

(Y/n) covered Leah’s hand with her own, squeezing it. Leah marveled at how soft it was in comparison to her own, especially since it was the hand of a farmer. Perhaps the gloves (Y/n) always wore had more practical uses rather than simply being worn for aesthetic’s sake. Leah chanced a look at (Y/n)’s face and was caught off guard by the determined fire blazing in her eyes. Then Leah’s attention was brought back to the table as (Y/n) furiously scratched the pencil against the paper and forcefully pushed her newly composed message in front of the sculptor, her other hand still rooted over Leah’s.

Leah read over the note and felt her heart ache with appreciative warmth. ‘You were brave enough to know what you wanted and even though it wasn’t easy, you went for it. That in itself is an amazing accomplishment that you should not take lightly. Your dream is not unfounded either, I’ve seen some of your sketches and paintings and I think you are very talented. Once you figure out how to put yourself out there you’ll have people begging you to take their money.’

Leah sniffed and smiled at (Y/n) appreciatively, turning her hand to reciprocate (Y/n)’s strong, yet gentle hold on her. “Thank you, (Y/n). I just wish I knew how to start.”

(Y/n) tapped her chin with the pencil as she thought. When she had an idea, she pulled the paper back to herself and wrote a suggestion.

“An art show? Oh, I don’t know (Y/n). It hardly seems possible.”

(Y/n) shook her head in disagreement and wrote more.

“You really think the town would want to help? Are you sure you want to help? You’ve got enough on your plate already with how busy the farm keeps you. I don’t want to impose.”

(Y/n) looked as if she had something to say, her throat bobbed and her lips twitched, but in the end she settled for the paper again, still too anxious to speak. After Leah had read the reply, she felt (Y/n)’s thumb rub against her knuckles and looked up. (Y/n) nodded, her expression serious. She wanted to help Leah with this.

“Thank you, (Y/n)!” Leah sniffled, holding back tears. She launched herself into (Y/n)’s arms and hugged the surprised farmer close. “Thank you so much!”

(Y/n) slowly returned the hug, smoothing one of her hands over Leah’s back in comforting motions. It was a bit of an awkward position with (Y/n) still sitting at the table and Leah hovering over her, but it felt nice.

“Sorry,” Leah chuckled after a moment, leaning back and wiping a stray tear from her eye, “I kind of caught you off guard with that didn’t I?”

(Y/n) shrugged and smiled good naturedly. A look came over her face as if she just remembered something and she stood up to grab her bag from the cottage entryway. She grinned when she found what she was looking for and made her way back to Leah, holding out a brown paper package to her.

“For me?” Leah asked. (Y/n) nodded and gestured for her to take it. Leah carefully unwrapped it and gasped. “(Y/n), is this goat cheese? I love this, how did you know?”

(Y/n) raised her hand, signing the letters ‘E’ ‘L’ ‘L’ ‘I’ ‘O’ ‘T’ ‘T’.

“Elliott hm?” Leah laughed, “I’m glad you two are getting along after the horseradish debacle.”

(Y/n) crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. She wasn’t looking back on the memory fondly.

“Hey, I’m with you on this one. He was being an ass. How could you have known he hated horseradish.”

(Y/n) nodded in agreement, one of her hands reaching out as if to say, ‘exactly’. She then noticed the time on Leah’s clock and signed that she had to go.

“I see.” Leah smiled sadly, trying not to let her disappointment shine through. “Good bye then, and (Y/n),” Leah signed ‘thank you’, very mindful of the position of her hands this time around, “seriously thank you for everything.”

(Y/n) beamed, giving Leah a thumbs up before heading out the door.

***

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Leah kept mumbling to herself while watching her fellow Pelican Townies set up her creations in the town square. There were already some tourists looking around and Leah felt her nerves fraying.

“Hang in there, kid. Everything looks great. Don’t worry so much.” Robin snuck up on Leah, making her jump. “It’s a beautiful summer day, don’t forget to enjoy it.”

“I’m trying, Robin. It’s just so much.” Leah said, nervously playing with her sleeve. Robin noticed Elliott walking up and motioned him to help deal with the artist while she went to help Demetrius move a heavy wooden sculpture.

“Come on now, Leah. Too late to back out now.” Elliott grinned, thumping her back. “(Y/n) seems especially excited by how things are progressing.”

Leah chanced a glance at (Y/n) and Maru putting up paintings between signing each other excitedly. The scene warmed her heart and her shoulders relaxed a bit.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try.”

“Great, now let’s go woo some tourists.” Elliott said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What? Elliott, no!” Leah shook her head.

“Not like that,” Elliott laughed, “I know your heart belongs to someone else. I just meant,” he looks around before whispering in Leah’s ear, “woo them out of their money.”

Leah laughed and pushed Elliott away. “Alright, you focus on the wooing and I’ll focus on explaining my thought processes.”

“That doesn’t sound as fun, but okay, this is your day.”

As Elliot and Leah made their way across the square, an unwelcome guest watched them from afar. Their blood boiled as they saw Leah pause at the makeshift painting gallery to give the farmer’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

***

“I can’t believe we sold so many!” Leah spoke in ecstatic disbelief as she waved at the last car she and (Y/n) had just loaded a heavy wooden sculpture into before it drove away. “This is crazy!”

(Y/n) wore a smile that matched Leah’s, happy to watch the sculptor bouncing in place. When Leah finally stilled, still giddy, she took both of (Y/n)’s hands in hers. Once again free of the gloves, the hands were pleasantly soft against her own and she relished in the feeling.

“(Y/n) I know it’s kind of late, but I have something I want to give to you. I left it at my house so I’m going to go get it. I’ll meet you at the farm, is that alright?”

(Y/n) stared at Leah, her curiosity piqued. She nodded, easily giving Leah the answer she was hoping for.

“Great! I’ll be there soon!” With one last squeeze of the farmer’s hands, she was off. (Y/n) heard the crack of a twig, but when she turned to investigate, nothing stood out so she made her way back to her farm to wait for Leah.

When Leah came up to the porch, (Y/n) had to do a double take at the big wooden statue she was lugging along. With one last huff of air, Leah placed the statue at the base of the steps and grinned up at (Y/n), wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

“Thanks for waiting. It was a little more ah, heavy, than I expected.” Leah laughed sheepishly. “Come take a look.”

(Y/n) stepped off the porch and circled the piece, taking in every detail. Leah felt nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach while she watched the farmer scrutinize the work and cleared her throat.

“I started working on it in the spring. I also incorporated some of that driftwood you gave me a few weeks ago. Anyway, I made it with you in mind. It’s called, ‘How I Feel about (Y/n)’ and I’d be honored if you would accept it as a gift for everything you’ve done for me.” Leah stared at her feet as she spoke, too embarrassed to keep her eyes on (Y/n) while she spoke. Then a pair of boots joined, hands came up to clasp her own, pulling the conjoined grasp into her line of vision and coaxing her to look up into (Y/n)’s eyes.

“It’s wonderful.”

At that moment, Leah thought her heart must have been beating so hard that it was affecting her hearing.

“Hh... huh?” Leah asked, rather dumbly.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly, took a deep breath, and whispered, “It’s wonderful, Leah. Thank you.”

Leah looked absolutely awestruck, purple irises shone with excitement and she laughed, pulling (Y/n) into a tight embrace.

“I’m glad you like it.” Leah sniffled, resting her face in (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Leah?” (Y/n) wrapped her arms around the artist, it was only one word, her name, but Leah heard the concern in the farmer’s tone.

“I’m okay. I’m just happy,” Leah sniffled again, “I’m happy you felt comfortable enough with me to speak to me.”

“Me too.” (Y/n) whispered, holding Leah tighter.

The pair found it difficult when they had to part ways for the night, but they were equally excited over how their relationship was developing, looking forward to spending more time together over the summer.

***

“Come on, just a little further...” Leah coached herself. She was reaching for a piece of fruit hanging from a branch just out of her reach.

She had planned a picnic with (Y/n) for this afternoon. She had already set up under the big old tree near the pond and as she waited for (Y/n) to finish up with her crops and animals for the morning, when she spotted the unusual fruit. Now she was jumping and stretching for the fruit just out of reach.

“Almost— Ah!” Leah struggled to balance herself in the air, swiveling her head to peak over her shoulder, she saw (Y/n) looking up at her with a mischievous grin. Leah rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the side of her lips. She turned back to the task at hand and grabbed the fruit, motioning (Y/n) to put her back down.

“Show off.” Leah scoffed, lightly punching (Y/n)’s shoulder. “You wanna try a bite?”

“Yes, please.” (Y/n)’s cheeks heated when Leah pressed the fruit to her lips. She took a bite of the offering, savoring the taste. “It’s so sweet.” She said, amazed.

“Right?” Leah smiled, “It’s rare to get fruit from this tree. Usually all the animals snap it all up as soon as they’re ripe, but it seems they miss some from time to time. How is everything with the farm this morning?”

“All is well,” (Y/n) nodded as the pair made themselves comfortable on the blanket Leah had set up, “I would have been here sooner but the goats kept standing in front of my cheese and mayo machines, the chicken coup too. Made it a little difficult.” (Y/n) disclosed. “Which reminds me,” she rummaged through her bag, “goat cheese salads.”

“Mmm, this looks heavenly. Thank you for making these.” Leah said, eagerly stirring in some vinaigrette into the generous fresh salad.

“No problem. Selling my harvest is nice, but it feels so much more rewarding enjoying it like this.” (Y/n) informed, mixing her own salad.

“I can imagine,” Leah hummed and leaned her back fully against the trunk of the tree, “Ah, it’s such a lovely day for this.”

“Mhmm.”

They ate the rest of their meal in peaceful silence, listening to the birds sing and the fish leap, the breeze rustling the trees and grass around them. It was tranquil, it was perfect.

“Hey, Leah,” (Y/n) spoke, breaking the silence.

“Yes?” Leah asked, turning her gaze away from the sketch pad she had brought out.

“It’s almost Fall you know, we’ve known each other for nearly two whole seasons. Half a year, it’s crazy, right?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, doesn’t it?” Leah giggled, “What made you think of that?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you something. Don’t feel like you have to answer one way or the other, but...” (Y/n) paused, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Hey, it’s okay (Y/n). You can tell me anything. Sign it out if you want to.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just nervous,” (Y/n) turned to her bag and pulled out a lovely bouquet of flowers, “Leah, would you maybe consider being my girlfriend?“

“Yes!” Leah enveloped (Y/n) in a tackle like hug that sent them both to fully meet the ground, accidentally crushing the flowers between their bodies, “Oops, sorry,” Leah wiggled the flowers out from under her to look at them more closely, “these are lovely, (Y/n). I didn’t know Pierre had these in yet.”

“He didn’t, I planted them.” (Y/n) clarified, smiling up at Leah who still hovered over her, giggling.

“Of course you did, you’re so sweet.”

“I try.”

“Are you kidding me!”

Leah and (Y/n) quickly turned to face the disturbance, scrambling to sit up from their compromising position. Leah felt her stomach twist with discomfort seeing Kel of all people marching up to them, absolutely fuming.

“Seriously, what the hell, Leah?” Kel yelled, their hands clenched into tight fists as they closed in, making yard after yard disappear between them.

“No, more like what the hell, Kel? I broke up with you seasons ago. What are you even doing in Pelican Town?” Leah retorted angrily, as (Y/n) helped her to her feet. Kel watched the motion and ground their teeth.

They were already dangerously close to crossing the threshold of the blanket and that small display was enough to send them stomping over the edge.

“I came for you, obviously! I’ve been slumming it in that dusty old saloon since your art show, waiting to talk to you! Now I find you sucking face with some country bumpkin nobody!” They seethed, stepping even closer into Leah’s personal space until (Y/n) pulled Leah back behind her, making Kel even more incensed. “You stay out of this. I’m talking to Leah!”

(Y/n) held strong, stuck between the harsh obscenities attacking her from the front and the loving affirmations defending her from behind. She held her arm out, willing Kel to stay back as she slowly started to guide Leah back in the direction of town for help. Kel ignored the warning and followed after them.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? You think you’re being some kind of hero right now?” Kel seethed.

(Y/n) stayed silent, she had gone mute again and who would blame her in the face of such a tense situation? She was so very uncomfortable, scared even, but she continued on passed Marnie’s since she knew the woman wasn’t home at this time and she sure wasn’t going to expose Jas to this. Jodi’s house was their next best bet.

“Hey, you obviously want to start something here. You’ve got something to say to me?” Kel continued forward.

“Kel, leave us alone!” Leah commanded, “It’s over, it’s been over, go home!”

“You think you’re too good to talk to me?” Kel yelled, ignoring Leah. “She’s just a whore. She just latched onto the first warm body she could find after her little meltdown. You’re not special.”

(Y/n) froze stiffly in place, Leah felt the muscles on her shoulders tense so she tried to pull on her arm to keep her moving.

“Ignore them, (Y/n). Let’s focus on getting to town, okay?” Leah pleaded. But (Y/n) gently pushed off Leah’s hands and took a step towards Kel with a cold glare. Leah stepped to stand beside (Y/n)’s side, nervous that a more serious confrontation was about to unfold.

“Well?” Kel spat.

(Y/n) crossed her arms, turning her head to look at Leah. The look on her face was all the communication Leah needed to understand. It was definitely a, ‘they better back off or I’m going to knock them off their block’ face. Leah had never known (Y/n) to be particularly violent, but with all the time she spent in the mines, she had no doubt that she could take care of herself.

Leah gasped when Kel suddenly roared, lunging forward. Apparently they had not liked how (Y/n) and Leah had been paying attention to each other rather than themself. Kel had rocketed forward and aimed to punch (Y/n) hard over her cheek, however, at the last moment, Leah pushed her aside and took the blow for her.

(Y/n) inhaled sharply and caught Leah as she stumbled back, noticing how blood immediately began gushing from Leah’s now broken nose.

“Ow- AH!” Leah cried, her hands muffled her voice since she had covered her nose and mouth.

It only took a second for (Y/n) to return the favor to Kel’s stunned face. She punched them fast and hard over their cheek, but Kel was quick to fight back and now it was a full out brawl.

“What’s going on, we heard yelling— holy shit!”

Leah turned away from the fight to see Sam, Seb, and Abigail running up on the scene.

“(Y/n)’s throwing hands!” Abigail yelled, sounding way more excited than worried.

“Leah are you okay? What’s going on?” Sebastian asked, noting the concerning amount of blood running down Leah’s arms and the front of her shirt.

“Don’t worry about me, stop them!” Leah winced, taking one hand away from her face to motion to her ex and her new girlfriend still going at each other.

“Damn, Abi! Go get your dad and Harvey too by the looks of it!” Sam yelled, he seemed to be looking for an opening to push the fighters apart.

“Are you kidding? You get my dad, I’m getting in on this!” Abigail cheered and ran up to jump on Kel’s back like she was at a rodeo while (Y/n) landed a good hit on Kel’s stomach. “Nice punch, (Y/n)!”

“Oh Yoba, Sam, start running.” Seb suggested, trying to help Leah with her nose. He was no Maru, but even he knew how to set a broken nose. Especially within the first couple weeks of Sam taking up skateboarding.

“Right!” Sam ran off back into town screaming. A few tense minutes later and Pierre, Caroline, Robin, Elliott, Maru and Harvey came running behind Sam to break up the fight.

“Abigail, stop!” Pierre huffed, pulling off his daughter and passing her off to his wife, “I taught you what I did to defend yourself, not to lash out like a wild animal!” He grunted, pulling Kel into his grasp and trapping their arms behind their back with Elliott coming up to assist.

“Come on dad, I was helping a friend! What’s the big deal?” Abi groaned, while her mom fretted over her, looking for injuries.

“Easy there kid, it’s over.” Robin coaxed (Y/n), pulling her back. The farmer slumped over in the carpenter’s hold, breathing heavily.

“Is (Y/n) okay? Ah!” Leah hissed as Harvey touched up her nose, giving her a nasal spray before wedging a couple wads of tissue up her nostrils.

“Sorry, Leah.” Harvey sympathized, “Maru is going to check up on her now.”

“What about me?” Kel hissed. Pierre had them resting on their knees. They looked really roughed up. A black eye was already forming and scratches and bruises littered their skin, they were also holding their stomach rather tightly.

“You’ll just have to wait a minute.” Elliott frowned, staring down at the stranger with contempt.

“Don’t you have any police officers in this backwater town? I’ll sue every one of you for withholding care to someone who is obviously hurt!” Kel threatened, grinding their teeth.

“Oh, the police are coming alright!”  Caroline spoke indignantly. “You are in no position to be asking for anything right now, bringing violence to our community, you should be ashamed!”

“(Y/n) can you look up for me, please.” Maru asked, carefully tilting (Y/n)’s chin up. (Y/n) sucked in a breath when Maru touched her bruised jaw a tad to hard. “Sorry, Your jaw is bruised pretty badly. Your bottom lip split too. How is your vision?”

(Y/n) shook her head and winced, cradling her head in her hands.

“Okay, possible concussion. We’ll need to observe her at the clinic.” Maru said.

“Alright, come on bruiser,” Robin grunted, heaving (Y/n) to her feet, “Sebbie, help me walk her into town please.”

“Sure mom.” Seb took (Y/n)’s other side.

(Y/n) patted Robin’s arm, motioning her to wait. She slowly turned to Kel and leaned more heavily against Seb as she freed her other arm from Robin to snap her fingers aggressively, looking for Kel’s attention. Once Kel looked up at her, sneering from their spot in the dirt, (Y/n) turned briefly to make sure Leah was watching. When she saw that she was, she smiled as if to say, ‘watch this,’ and turned back to Kel. (Y/n) brought her flat, angled hand below her chin and sent it forward in the direction of Kel’s confused, but no less, pissed face.

“Oh ho! (Y/n) is such a badass!” Abigail laughed.

“Abi, since when do you know sign language?” Sam asked, clearly confused.

“I don’t, but I’ve spent enough time searching curses in different languages to know that was totally a ‘fuck you’. Personally I think a middle finger approach would have been an appropriate classic myself but whatever.” Abigail shrugged.

“Abigail, language!” Caroline scolded.

“Sorry mom.”

“Alright, you’ve had your fun. Clinic, now.” Robin tried to hold in a laugh as she repositioned (Y/n)’s arm over her shoulder. Then she and Seb began walking (Y/n) back into town.

Leah made to follow, but as they were leaving, the police from the the next town over had arrived and they needed her statements as a witness. Never mind that she was covered in her own blood and her girlfriend was being dragged away to the clinic with a concussion. Once the officers were satisfied, they took Kel away with promises to be back for (Y/n)’s statement and to see if any charges would be made. For now they were just going to take Kel back to a hospital in Zuzu City since they may have broken a rib or two in the fight. After that, they were going to be free to go.

Leah wasn’t too worried. She didn’t think Kel would come back after the beating (Y/n) and Abigail gave them. She watched the police car drive out of Cindersaps, taking her disgruntled ex away.

“Leah, I’m sure you want to get to the clinic but you should really clean up first.” Caroline had said patting the younger woman’s back. “(Y/n) will be fine.”

“Yeah, Harvey and Maru got her. Take some time to process.” Elliott smiled.

Leah could only nod tiredly. She trudged over to her cottage to shower and change. She still couldn’t believe how quickly things got out of hand. She looked at her bandaged nose in the mirror, hissing when she gingerly touched the bridge of it. She was wary of Seb setting it himself, but Harvey said he had gone a great job. Once she was physically put back together, Leah quickly made her way to the clinic.

“Where is she?” She asked immediately upon arriving. She sounded a little congested thanks to her clogged nose, but she was easily understood. Robin was still in the waiting room and filled her in.

“Harvey and Maru are talking her through concussion care. She’s okay, but I don’t think she’ll be allowed to work for awhile.”

“Oh no,” Leah sat down, resting her elbows on her knees and covered her eyes with her hands, “This is all my fault.”

“Aw, don’t say that sweetheart. You know that’s not true.” Robin frowned, taking a seat beside her, “(Y/n) would hate to hear you think like that.”

“(Y/n) loves her farm! If she can’t maintain the upkeep...” Leah continued, teary eyed, only to be silenced by Robin.

“I’m going to stop you right there. Nothing is going to happen to the farm. Abi, Sam, and even Seb already told (Y/n) in no uncertain terms that they were going to pitch in while she recovers. Everything is going to be taken care of.” Robin assured.

“Still none of this would have happened if-“

“If you hadn’t broken up with your ex? Moved to Pelican Town? Got a crush? Leah, you can’t punish yourself for moving on with your life. You’re allowed to be happy.” Robin chided gently. “It was hard for me and Sebastian’s father to see eye to eye at the best of times. Now I have Demetrius and although he can be a bit annoying sometimes with his tomato bullshit, not a day goes by that I’m not grateful I took that first step because I love him.” Robin smiled.

Leah’s nose hurt like hell as she tried to carefully wipe the tears from her eyes and Robin rubbed her back affectionately. Once Leah had calmed down, Robin stood and stretched.

“She’s been wondering where you are. The doc is keeping her for overnight observation, but your welcome to stay with her. I on the other hand, am apparently too old for this much excitement and need to go home.”

“Thank you Robin, for talking to me.”

“Anytime,” Robin grinned, “now go get her.”

Leah made her way into the back area of the clinic and nearly ran up to Harvey, Maru, and (Y/n). (Y/n) was signing to Maru while she relayed the information to Harvey as he examined (Y/n)’s well being.

(Y/n) was relieved to see Leah and eagerly motioned her to come sit on the edge of the bed she was sitting in which Leah did happily.

“Leah, how’s the nose?” Harvey asked while he finished up (Y/n)’s chart.

“It’s fine. Just, really sore and tingly.”

“So not fine.” Maru chuckled. “I’ll get you some pain meds.”

“Ah, thanks Maru.” Leah smiled sheepishly.

“Well, Ms. (Y/n),” Harvey sighed, turning his attention back to the farmer, “you and I are in for a long night. I’ll be waking you up every hour to check your pupils to see if your condition changes at all.” Harvey stood and stretched, “Ms. Leah, feel welcome to stay as long as you like. It can’t hurt to keep an extra pair of eyes on her.”

“I could stay overtime, Harvey.” Maru said as she came back with two pills and a glass of water for Leah.

“I seem to recall you talking about a time sensitive experiment this morning.” Harvey recalled, making Maru smack the side of her head. “You’re right! I got to go now! Good night everyone!” Maru called behind her as she rushed out to the waiting room then out of the building.

“I’m going to take the first of my many naps lined up for tonight. I’ll see you ladies in about an hour. Try to get some rest.” Harvey said before leaving to walk up the stairs to his apartment.

Finally Leah and (Y/n) were alone again. (Y/n) sunk down into the covers and sighed deeply. She turned to face Leah, concerning the sculptor by how small she looked.

“You’re not too upset with me, are you?” (Y/n) asked, surprising Leah.

“I’m not upset with you. Why would I be upset with you?”

“I just beat the crap out a person. Sure they are your ex, but you cared about them at some point so it must have been hard to watch. I can’t imagine what you must think of me now.” (Y/n) whispered, she was so quiet Leah had to lean closer and even then she was straining to hear.

“(Y/n), I like you. Nothing that happened today changed how much I like you. It certainly didn’t make me like you any less,” Leah rested her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek, “Kel made their choice when they decided to come to Pelican Town and confront us. I wish it hadn’t gone down the way it did, but that’s not our fault. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay too. I was worried.”

“I wish we could start this day all over,” Leah moaned, “First day as official girlfriends and we get into a fist fight.”

(Y/n) laughed lightly, closing her eyes to combat the pain that came from her jostling. “Abigail thought it was a pretty great date activity.”

“She would think that.” Leah rolled her eyes, “she also eats rocks.”

“Well, think about it this way. Until I’m allowed to take up all my farming duties again, you can do whatever you want with me.”

“Whatever I want, hmm?” Leah tapped her lips with her index finger, “would it be to forward if me to ask for a kiss?”

“You may, just be careful with my split lip. I won’t be able to explain what happened to Harvey if you make it worse.” (Y/n) said.

“One gentle kiss, coming right up.” Leah wiggled on the bed’s stiff hospital sheets until she laid face to face with (Y/n). Their lips met in a soft brushing that was almost ghost like, but rather than leaving them with a chill, warmth bloomed between them.

“Wow.” (Y/n) grinned.

“If you thought that was good, wait until I can get more involved with it.”

“So confident. I like it.” (Y/n) squinted, “could you turn the light off? It’s really starting to hurt my eyes.”

“Of course.” Leah got up and switched off the half the lights to keep their side of the room in darkness but allow Harvey to still be able to see when he came back.

“Now come cuddle, please.” (Y/n) asked sleepily reaching her arms out.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Leah kicked off her boots and shimmied under the sheets to join (Y/n) and wrapped her arms around her. Leah let the exhaustion of the day roll over her and she had nearly let sleep claim her before her eyes shot open and she propped herself up on her elbow to lean over (Y/n).

“Did I really sign a ‘fuck you’ when we first met?!” She asked, appalled.

(Y/n)’s response was to laugh sleepily into Leah’s chest.