razadom

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

Marty McFly VS The Doc-pocalypse or smth like that idk

I put way too much effort into what was supposed to be a stupid doodle so uh. Have this Tumblr. I really don’t have a better explanation for this other than I got two more Doc Pop! Figures today, which leaves me with a growing army of 3 Docs and one singular Marty, and I keep laughing every time I look at them in my display case so here we have Marty dealing with multiple Docs from different times that have all somehow ended up in the garage in 1986. Four dimensional thinking has never been his strong suit, and trying to figure this out is not helping. He’s got two hours of sleep, a bajillion positive encouraging post-it notes from the Doc of the present telling him to sleep, hot chocolate, and four very enthusiastic Emmetts crowding the lab. Send help. And caffeine. And maybe Clara cause he’s not so sure he can keep them from blowing something up for much longer.

Picture of the inspiration under the cut :)

Behold, my growing Doc army and my one single Marty McFly left to deal with them

At least Marty has his tunes. That might help him stay a little sane

[johnslittlespoon]

all the actor/celebrity au posts lately combined with troye bringing ross on stage last night for one of your girls has got me thinking...

a musician x musician au where gale is a troye sivan–esque ultra–famous queer pop star, and john's the singer of a well known indie rock band, and he gets asked by gale's team to star in a music video similar to one of your girls...

to everyone who doesn't know him personally, gale feels like this untouchable pop star. he's been in the industry for years, one of those classic 'i used to make music in my bedroom in my small town' stories, working his ass off before finally a song of his blows up and gets traction and then it's such a fast rise to stardom that he doesn't have time to wrap his head around it.

he never gets used to it, but he doesn't get an ego from it; he still hangs out with the same group of friends he's had since high school, and his team does most of his social media posting for him, because it freaks him out having all that attention, as grateful as he is. he's not shy by any means, not like he was when he started out, but he's not the biggest fan of all the fanfare and interviews and being put on a pedestal and all that. he keeps himself pretty distant online, and that coupled with the diva/superstar energy in his music/projects gives him this air of being on another level– a rare type of star all around.

john has a similar story, the whole growing up on the internet thing, making music in his basement in high school with the friends he's now in a pretty popular indie rock band with, working tirelessly to make a name for him and his friends. but that's kinda where their similarities end.

because john is known for being an absolute shit–poster, a little fiend online, a running joke in his fandom that 'john doesn't know that he's famous', 'should someone remind him this isn't a finsta?' type of vibe. he feels so accessible and down to earth, and while he's just as level headed and humble about his celebrity status as gale is, he displays it by being more present and trying to show the human side of it all, vs gale trying to create distance between gale cleven and the gale persona the world knows.

the band is first and foremost john's thing, but as he's grown in popularity, he's of course gotten offers for other avenues here and there, and at the insistence of his manager he decides to agree to try out a modelling shoot one day. he's not naive; he's more than aware of all the comments going on about his looks, stumbles across more tiktok thirst trap edits of him sweaty and shirtless on stage than he can count, isn't all too sfw in some of his band's songs, either.

he finds it all funny, but he also is someone who will always jump on new opportunities/experiences, and he ends up having a good time modelling, and picks up more gigs as time goes on. this is how gale becomes aware of him, somewhat because gale does occasional modelling too, but mostly because he's worked with a lot of big fashion names for tours and videos, so his and john's circles occasionally crossover, though they never actually meet in person.

so then comes this music video shoot, one that gale's been agonizing over for months, planning every little detail and making sure everything is perfect. it's something that drives his manager (marge? <3 gotta include the angel in every au obvs) insane because gale's got so much on his plate as is, but he likes to be so hands on with his projects, and she knows by now there's no talking him out of that. and everything is going great, until the person who's meant to be starring opposite gale has to pull out last minute due to a scheduling conflict or personal emergency or something.

and the usually very collected and put together gale is freaking out. it's the day before the shoot, everyone involved has already travelled to be on location, choreography is set in stone– this is his nightmare scenario, never doing well in situations where he has a lack of control. it's half of what scares him so much about being as famous as he is, is that he doesn't have a lot of autonomy or control over his own image or how he's perceived in the public eye (and digging deeper into backstory, probably stems from wanting to take back control after a childhood filled with being controlled by family.)

but it's situations like these where he's reminded why marge is his manager and he isn't, because she leaps into action the moment they find out about the cancellation, calming gale down so they can put their heads together to find a replacement. they reach out to a few of the names they have connections to, but it's too short notice for all of them, so maybe marge even just resorts to going through the people gale follows on instagram, and stumbles across john's page. he's got a good rep in industry and has worked on less 'conventional' projects before, so marge shuts down gale's fretting over "would he be comfortable with something like this?" by telling him there's only one way to find out, and contacting john's manager.

john agrees before he even hears the full pitch, and he's just as keen afterwards (albeit a bit nervous because by no means is he a professional dancer), knowing it'll be good publicity, and curious to explore a more artsy/out there gig, but also curious about the illusive gale, who he'd been surprised to receive a follow from a few weeks back.

john is flown out that night to the city of the shoot location, barely having a few minutes to change and head to the rehearsal space, where he meets a very frazzled but very thankful gale for the first time.

maybe they both have some preconceived notions about each other, despite having mutual respect and no actual interactions; john probably expects gale to be a bit stand–offish or conceited given his high celebrity status, but finds gale's actually bashful and quiet and easygoing when the cameras are off (when they're on, it's like he flips a switch, slipping into this persona, exuding confidence and sexuality and it honestly blows john's mind to witness in person).

gale probably expects to john to be loud and abrasive based off his well known social media posts, maybe even a little uncomfortable around gale, who is openly queer, whereas john isn't– maybe john hasn't ever stated his sexuality, has never given much thought to it, it doesn't matter much to him. instead he finds john's actually a little shy, much less bravado than he'd anticipated, but very enthusiastic and eager to learn and get the choreo and everything else right, assuring gale repeatedly that he's down to do whatever is needed.

so the two of them rehearse till the early hours of the morning, john taking it as seriously as though it's his own project he's invested months into, and gale gains such admiration for his commitment and willingness to stick his neck out for a borderline stranger (even though he's obviously aware this is a big boost for john's career). john gains a newfound appreciation for gale's work ethic and how much effort goes into every little thing for a huge artist like him.

and inevitably... there is sexual tension during the rehearsals. they're both overtired and sweaty and it's such a strange situation to meet for like five minutes and then jump right into dancing together so intimately, having to shed any inhibitions and self consciousness, but it's a blessing in the sense that they have to get comfortable around each other so quickly. there's no room for modesty or shyness, and john is genuinely speechless at how gale puts business first, and after double checking that john isn't uncomfortable, how he has no qualms about physically directing john, moving him how he wants him.

it's hot to john, the way gale knows exactly what he wants and is so passionate about his vision, and he'd be lying if he said the combination of being starstruck and being lowkey manhandled isn't getting to his head a bit. which is a whole other thing to unpack, because aside from vague acknowledgement of some men being attractive/beautiful, he's never actually found himself flustered by one like this, and it catches him off guard. he stays professional, but he still can't help but let his naturally flirtatious/joking personality slip out as the night drags on; he's like that with everyone he works with or hangs out with, and he thinks it would be weirder if he wasn't like that with gale, like everyone else would somehow notice.

meanwhile gale is fighting his own demons because he's got a very sought–after, very hot, very straight man dropping everything for him and letting him puppeteer him, on top of being so stubborn that even though gale can tell he's exhausted, john's refusing to call it a night until gale does, and THEN as if all that's not enough, john's effortlessly witty and complimentary and flirty. and gale's not one to mix business and pleasure, so he's not even entertaining these emotions, but he can't help but feel flattered by it all, while also reminding himself that john probably doesn't swing that way.

basically they both are discovering they have competence kinks lmao, like objectively they both find the other attractive, but it's not like they aren't constantly surrounded by beautiful humans in their lines of work, so it's more so the emotional side/work ethic that gets them both flustered, coupled with the inherent sexuality of dancing with very little clothing, hands on sweaty skin and toned muscles. but neither of them act on it, too tired by the time they call it a night even if they'd wanted to, and then it's back to their respective hotels to get a few hours of sleep before the shoot.

john isn't called to be on location until mid afternoon, and when he wakes up to his phone ringing and glances at the time, he freaks out, thinking he's slept through the shoot or something because he'd expected to be called early in the morning. he's told that he didn't sleep through it, but he's disoriented until he shows up, when he's told that gale had moved things around, filming as many scenes as he could without him before john was needed for his part, so that john could get more rest. (john swoons. just a little.)

he gets swept up in the capable hands of hair and makeup and wardrobe in his own trailer, and he doesn't see gale until it's time to film, and when he does, he almost doesn't believe it's gale. the glam makeup, the long blonde wig, the form–fitting sheer black dress and heels– gale's pretty as is, but with his features accentuated like that, john doesn't even know what to do with himself, feels like he's going through a midlife crisis at the ripe age of 25. he'd known gale would be in some sort of getup for their choreo, but nothing could've prepared him for this.

it makes it even more endearing that gale seems so awkward about it when he greets john, clearly out of his comfort zone in the ensemble, but john knows there's no way gale doesn't know how stunning he is, it's not a lack of confidence that's making him awkward. john keeps it together, reminds himself to be professional. tells gale it was really sweet that he let him sleep in, that he didn't have to do that, to which gale waves him off like it's no big deal. and he compliments gale too as they walk onto set, tells him, "you look great, wow," tame as he can be, and gale tells him "could say the same for you," and john snorts, gesturing to his simple jeans and boots and lack of shirt, says "feeling a bit underdressed, actually," and it gets a laugh out of gale.

when the cameras are rolling, any of that visible discomfort or awkwardness in gale disappears like someone's snapped their fingers and rid him of it, movements fluid like water, not an ounce of anything other than confidence and power and sensuality seeping through as he commands the camera with his energy. despite his aching body, john's grateful they ran the routine into the ground last night to the point that it's nearly muscle memory, because it's hard to concentrate when gale's looking down at him through long faux–lashes and gloss–plumped lips, caressing his jaw, playing with his hair, the sway of his hips and roll of his waist beneath john's hands so mesmerizing, john's half convinced he's being serenaded by a siren.

the tension would be insane, but equally confusing because neither of them would be able to discern what's an act and what's not, or if it's all just an act, pushing and pulling at an invisible line but never quite stepping over it even once the shoot wraps, both for the sake of professionalism but also for fear of rejection.

maybe after it all, john's on his flight back home and realizes in the whirlwind of everything, he never got gale's number (has a moment of 'why would i need it? this was just a gig' lol okay yearner). john's not even sure at that point what/how he's feeling about gale, the conflicting emotions of feeling attraction to him while in borderline drag doing nothing to help the confusion, especially because he can't excuse the attraction as just that when he was feeling things during rehearsal in casual clothes too.

he knows he could easily ask his manager to reach out to gale's manager for his number, but then he gets in his head convincing himself that if gale had wanted to talk further, surely he would've asked for john's number, since gale has way more reason to be selective with his own with his status.

he doesn't realize that on the other end of things, gale's realizing he also never got john's number, only he's talking himself out of reaching out because he doesn't want to read into john's friendliness as something flirtatious when as far as he knows, john is straight, and this was likely just a job for john, as well as they seemed to get along.

cue miscommunication when one of them actually works up the courage to dm the other on instagram since they're mutuals– either john dms gale something simple, a 'thanks again for the opportunity', and because gale is never on his socials and gale's team doesn't check messages much, it's weeks before anyone clocks john's message, during which john becomes sure he's nothing more than a coworker to gale, which he understands but is sad about. or, gale dms john, but from a private account with an innocuous username that he has just for friends and family, and john never even opens it because the lack of profile picture and generic user blends in with all the other message requests he gets a day.

they only end up reconnecting when the music video actually drops, because obviously it breaks the internet, and john happens to be doing promo interviews and radio shows at the time for his band's new album and tour, so an interviewer of course asks him what the experience was like working on a set like that and working with gale. john gives a glowing review, goes out of his way to praise gale– "the nicest guy you'll ever meet, and the craziest work ethic i've ever witnessed firsthand in hollywood."

when the interviewer asks if john would ever consider working with him again, y'know, the classic question an interviewer has to ask so they can drum up clicks with a 'john egan hints at possible future project with gale cleven!' title, john lays it on thick the way he always does with a wink at the camera and a "he can call me up anytime," but then adds a serious "no, really, i would love to work with him again, he was great."

predictably, the people who are already losing their shit over the music video and making edits and fan theories about the two of them go even crazier, spam–tagging gale and his team in the comments of this interview post, which leads to it eventually making its way to gale, and gale then realizes that john hasn't been uninterested; he must've just not seen his message since surely he would've replied if he had (marge looks at him with so much disappointment when gale mentions his attempt to reach out– "gale, no one with that kind of following is going through dm requests from faceless, private instagram pages, you of all people should know this").

gale hasn't told marge about his possible feelings, but marge isn't dumb; she didn't stand on set for nearly 24 hours with her eagle–eyes and not notice the way gale had been looking at john. to anyone else, it might've just seemed like he was leaning into his persona, but marge has known gale for a long time, and she could tell it wasn't all him playing it up for the cameras.

so marge puts her manager–brain and best friend–brain together and decides that with all the hype surrounding the new song and video, the two of them being seen together in public and making a few posts together would be a great boost for both of them. but she knows gale will never go for it if she voices this to him, because he'd see it as using john for popularity; she reasons that if he doesn't know, it can't be using. so she reaches out to john's manager and figures out when they'll both be back in the same city, and relays her plan as if it's just business, asking for john's manager to let john know that gale will be in town the next week if he wants to set something up, and she gives the manager gale's number for john to contact.

when gale wakes up one morning to a 'hi, this is john! my manager passed on your number to me, hope that's okay. i was told you're in town next week? :)' and then 'egan. btw. lots of johns out there.' and then 'the music video guy.' (john, absolutely panicking on his end, worrying that gale might not even remember his name, not knowing gale's been stalking his socials and confusion–pining just as much as john has been doing the same.)

and then more miscommunication after they arrange to hang out, because john assumes this is just for publicity based on what his manager told him, and he understands, as much as he wishes they're hanging out properly. but gale assumes this is a genuine hangout, because john never says otherwise, until the end of the evening, when gale has to leave for a dinner event and john says "we better take those pics for the 'gram before we say goodbye, or the big guns'll have a fit."

and either gale masks his surprise and then disappointment and goes along with it, thinking maybe he missed a memo or misread things, and this conflict and miscommunication is dragged out even longer, or gale doesn't hide his confusion in time, and john is then equally confused, says "your manager didn't...?" and gale says "sorry, i didn't know; i guess i misread your texts," feeling stupid that he's been thinking the hangout is anything other than a pr stunt. and then there's the awkward "no! no– well, yeah, i was told that this was to promote the video, so i thought– i mean, i would've liked to hang anyway, i just didn't think you wanted to?" from john.

gale is slowly connecting the dots in his head and he's so embarrassed, but also relieved that he hasn't misread things and made a fool of himself. john looks on the verge jumping out of his skin as gale sits quietly, so gale puts him out of his misery, smiles and pushes his irritation about the incident down and says "i do want to, john. i think marge– it doesn't matter. it was a miscommunication, i guess." and all the tension evaporates out of john's body, and he lets out a laugh, and a "oh, thank god. fuck. i was about to walk into the street," and gale lets himself relax too, scoffing at john.

so they decide to have a redo the next week, since they both do feel obligated to take their stupid pictures now to please their teams (and the internet), and thus a tentative friendship is born, the two of them dancing around each other and around feelings because everything is confusing as is, let alone with the way their careers affect every aspect of their lives. so much slowburn, lots of john trying to figure his attraction out and gale keeping his walls up because the thought of literally becoming the person he's singing about in his music video is laughable, he doesn't wanna be strung around or used as an experiment for john.

and john respects this unspoken boundary and also appreciates that they can get to know each other as friends while he tries to stop freaking out every time he pictures him and gale doing less than platonic things. probably a whole lot of chaos on john's end with the absolute tornado that he is, ie: '4am 'am i gay' quizzes taken in the dark of his bunk on a tour bus, asking an openly queer friend from his band if his feelings toward gale are normal, rumours started by a fan that they saw john in a gay club after a show, etc.

because john doesn't do anything halfway– he's ready to literally go out and kiss men and explore his newfound feelings, not just to prove himself to gale, but to figure himself out, because he's terrified of hurting gale since john doesn't have the best track record with relationships. overthinks the shit out of everything and doesn't realize it's not that deep, that liking gale doesn't mean he's suddenly attracted to all men, that all gale wants is for john to be confident in himself and his feelings for him before pursuing anything.

there's a lot of back and forth and messiness and emotions stacked on top of their already crazy hectic schedules and lives, the theorizing and prying from fans and paparazzi, caution from management, but when they eventually have their point of no return moment and cross that line from friends to more, the chemistry is so intense that both of them feel stupid for dragging things out for so long.

when the initial new relationship shyness wears off, the sex is also insane, all the exploration and playfulness (and inevitability of the whole feminization thing coming back into play since that's what starts everything in the first place lol). they're barely able to keep their hands off each other, almost always spending the night at each other's places, stealing as much time as they can to make up for the time apart when there are tours or other events separating them.

they try to keep things private for a while, but with how active john is online, he slips up a good few times– tiktoks where a hat or something of gale's is accidentally left in the background, story posts where john's wearing one of gale's hoodies unthinkingly, mirror selfies where there's a mystery hand or leg in the background. the internet is torn, some convinced it's coincidence, some certain it's all a pr stunt to get people talking, some adamant that they're in a secret relationship. gale's never upset about it; they both just know how much things will change if they go public.

months are spent sneaking around, rarely going on public dates, the odd paparazzi shots still leaking out until it finally gets to the point that there's no point hiding things anymore, it's obvious that they're not just friends. they never actually announce it or make some relationship launch post; they just stop caring, and it's freeing and neither of them expect to be so affected by being able to publicly show affection for each other, but it's such a sweet thing and makes things feel so much more real.

john goes to gale's sold out arena shows and stares up at him in awe and can't believe that gale chooses him every day, and gale goes to john's band's high energy festival sets and watches his golden boy light up with joy every time he glances at him side stage and can't believe john chooses him too.

:-)

lol this post was meant to just be the two lines above the cut but then i got to thinking about origin stories and whoops new au drabble because i'm a master at getting carried away!!

[angeart]

Boatem Circus.... Thoughts cycling through my head about your Wonderful au. These thoughts might not make sense but. You're cool!

I think what breaks me the most (at this moment) /pos is that Scar, when he built up the circus with his own two hands, after coming from wherever he had come from, had to teach himself how to bring salvation to others. How to show others safety and warmth and show them that things would be okay. He had to teach himself first how to take care of others. And then after elegy he realizes that everything he taught himself can be like- applied to him, too, because he's not alone anymore and the others are gonna show him and teach him and save him and it's so 🥹 love. Found family. Yummy.

(Also while I'm here 👉👈, am I allowed to ask who the very first person to join Scar's circus was or is that like spoilers-?) hope you have a lovely night and day

boatem circus!! 💕

you are so very right about scar. he didn't have other people show him kindness, but he still decided to extend it to others. he had to learn, and by doing so, he wasn't even aware he's teaching the others too!

and gosh when they turn it around on him 🥺 my heart.

found family!!! i love boatem circus crew found family so so so much.

you are allowed to ask! it's not a secret or a spoiler or anything! it just genuinely wasn't something i had figured out, but your question prompted me to go bug stiff and i think we got it now :3c ...

the order in which people joined the circus*:

scar > impulse > gem > jimmy > ren > pearl > cleo & doc (separately but at around the same time) > mumbo > joel > grian > [events of elegy] > skizz > tango > ???

... so. impulse. our beloved impulse was first.

he was running away from some people and he hid at where scar was building stuff. and scar came across him, with his typical "well hello there :J"

and impulse was scared! and he could've lashed out with fire in his fear. but— he didn't. (he is a teddy bear and genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone, ever.) (there might be a backstory buried there that makes elegy so much worse :3c just saying)

he wasn't used to people regarding him without fear. he wasn't used to being just... accepted. or to be allowed to stay anywhere. he actually fully expected that's what the rest of his life will be: endless wandering, being chased off, forever running away. and yet.

and yet.

scar offers him a place to stay. so easily. as if it didn't cost him anything.

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 17 / 31 * DAVE'S NIGHT OFF 」

March 3, 1986, Twin Pines Timeline(β)

Five months since Marty’s sudden disappearance. 

Linda doesn’t even have to pretend she doesn’t know exactly where she’ll find Dave when he’s not at home. If he’s not working, busting his ass taking whatever job that pays so he can keep funnelling it into the supplies to stock this cursed garage, he’s hunched over on the couch, buried up to his brain in papers that may as well be written in Greek for all he can read them. 

It’s the same place he spends most of his free time these days; surrounded by ghosts and a couple of Mom’s swiped bottles of vodka.

Not like she notices when a couple of them go missing. 

Dave once said he could hear Marty in here. Like he was still alive. Still here, because Marty’s not dead. He’s somewhere, God-only-knows, but he’s not dead because they only found one body in that parking lot and Marty had to be there because he was Doctor Brown’s fucking shadow—but since Marty’s body wasn’t there, just that truck and that poor dog—Einstein or Edison or whatever; some dead scientist—lying next to the body, according to the cops, that meant someone must have kidnapped him.

They're faint echoes, Linda, he'd said, three-quarters deep into a bottle, but he sounds happy.  

It sounds like bullshit, but it's far more than anything they have at the moment.

And it means, regardless of however tightly she has to wring her own heart to get even a single drop of hope out of it, there's a chance Marty is still alive. 

“How long have you been here today?” Dave pretends not to hear her. Or maybe he wilfully ignores her. Once, she knew how to tell. “Dave, face it. T—”  

“Shut the fuck up, Linda,” Dave snaps, and it takes every ounce of her resolve not to march up to him and slap him in the face for that. 

It’s grief that made him an asshole. It isn’t him. It has a way of burrowing into the deepest, most vulnerable parts of a person and poisoning them from the inside out until they were but shadows of their former selves. 

It’s already hollowed her out, stuffed her full of ice and made a cold, heartless bitch out of her until she was numb to the world. She figured that out when her mother’s broken sobs didn't spear her through the heart like they used to. As if it was her fault.

Why weren't you nicer to him that night?

That shouldn’t be an excuse. But she lets it be for Dave’s sake, and her own, because maybe, as fucking crazy as it sounds, they’ll just find that one in a million breakthrough scattered in the ramblings of a dead man. 

Who apparently claims he learned to leap through time. 

Some good that did him if it was true. He’s buried in Oak Park Cemetery, looking like Swiss cheese. Wasn’t time-travel supposed to help prevent exactly that?  

Maybe it could have saved Marty.  

Maybe it’s exactly what stole Marty away from them.  

“They’re going to tear this place down, Dave. In two weeks! T-w-o. And they’re not going to stop the bulldozers because you’re glued to that fucking couch. What good are you going to be dead? Do you know what that’s going to do to Mom?” She puts her hands on her hips and might have inwardly shuddered at how much she sounded like Mom if she had the energy.  

With Marty gone, she didn’t expect to be an older sister again. 

After a long, tense silence, she finally sighs. She didn’t come here to fight. “Did you eat anything today?” He’s swimming in his T-shirts now; they’re all but falling off his shoulders.  

Dave huffs, dragging his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Jen left about twenty minutes ago; she’s grabbing Chinese. You know, that place...where...”

Yeah. I know.

“I gave her some money. Then we’re gonna go back to this.” He spreads his arms, gesturing to the mess of paperwork that makes just as much sense as it did four and a half months ago.

“Are you staying?”

Linda says yes because a part of her, too, is trapped within these four walls.

[gaylittleguys]

hey guess who was reminded that killing time exists and is losing their mind about it again

[cerealmonster15]

I have to ask WHY on earth did they turn Flannery into a goldfish??? What did he do to them to make them want to Literally Curse Him??

man. thats a good question. let's see if i have an answer JFKLDSKFLJDS

i'll be real a lot of it was me kinda winging it improv style - i should probs clarify [im not sure how clear i am on artfight lol] that moooost of my non twst characters are like, from a roleplay thing my friend and i do in google docs together kfdsjfl so thats where flannerys from. and then sometimes, plotlines and characters stem from an idea on a whim - like originally i had an idea for flannery to be a lost prince that was turned into a fish by like, enemy hitmen or sometihing.

and tbh that makes more sense than family betrayal LOL but i thiiiiiiiiiink i swapped it to son of a politician and also an influencer [cries lol] because it fit the 'modern au' better. modern fantasy. whatever. also we do have a separate au googledoc universe that IS royalty themed so maybe one day he will be a missing prince there teehee

ok anyway sorry i havent answered your actual question i got distracted lol. so aside from half of it being me coming up with shit on the fly and being kind of bad at storytelling klsjfkdshf the IN UNIVERSE ANSWER is like, flannery kinda just doesnt have a good relationship with his family - his parents suck and flannerys not a "useful asset" and is also the product of infidelity. so it's like, he's not going to be a powerful politician or business guy, he's not good on camera, and also theres this unspoken secret of him being someone else's son <- i think my idea here was like, the father is Aware his wife was having an affair and that flannery isnt his kid but neither of them have Spoken Of It because blah blah keeping up appearances a divorce would be a scandal whatever. you know how it is with traditional family values 😒

and i think i have also just watched a lot of youtube videos covering family vlogger scandals/ also just regular vlogger scandals, and sometimes that shits just wild LOL so i was like ok. politician dad doesnt like or care about this kid, vlogger mom sees his disappearance as months worth of content to milk lol. so they hired someone to Get Rid Of Him - i cant remember if they... planned the fish part. maybe. i guess so? the plan tho was just have him turned into a fish that would probably get eaten and act like he got kidnapped or ran away and then announce hes dead later.

flannery's got an older brother that shows up at his school and is like, a clone of their mom, in that hes like "omg theres this GUY HERE who is PRETENDING to be my DEAD BROTHER i need to live stream this." and then something something their relation was proved and he pivoted immediately to "oh wowwww my poor sweet brother i cant BELIEVE our parents tried to cover you up like this wow i missed u so much let's be besties [lie]"

so anyway. there kind of isnt that a good reason besides drama + theyre in a magical setting and i thought it was fun LOL. flannery's one of my much newer characters so i havent had a lot of time to fully flesh out his character yet. he's a lil one note right now and i need to figure him out a bit more to make him,,,, actually interesting,,, but. 🫡

[fayes-fics]

Infatuation [drabble]

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Warnings: 18 + smut, minors DNI, workplace semi-public sex, vaginal sex (quickie), possessive/jealous Anthony.

One word prompt: Infatuation from @cinnamoodles. Thanks for this, my dear. Sorry that this is so very late in posting (like, umm, 6 weeks, oops - it got lost in the shuffle of my Google Docs, and I clean forgot I even wrote it, lol). 🧡

“Roberts was looking at you,” Anthony growls into your hair, gripping your waist possessively, his entire body pressed into your back as he walks you forward until your hips bump into the large conference table.  

The meeting ended only moments ago, his hands on you seconds after everyone else had left the room.

“He was not; stop being so bloody jealous,” you hiss back, even as you wiggle your skirt higher, needing him inside you immediately—burning wet and hot.

“Nothing turns you on more,” he accuses with pinpoint accuracy as the sound of the zip on his obscenely expensive, beautifully tailored trousers fills the air.

“Shut up,” you grouse back.

But it becomes a moan as he tugs your underwear aside and surges his cock into your dripping body, ready for him from the moment you sat down for the meeting, spending the last hour plagued by this very fantasy, clit swollen and throbbing, squirming in your chair. 

It's like a drug neither of you can, or indeed want, quit. Fucking hard and fast over this table every day after the morning meeting. People probably suspect something between you, but perhaps not this type of feral behaviour. 

“I'm firing Roberts,” he sniffs imperiously, even as his pace never wavers.

“No, you’re not. He's your best accountant, and you know it,” you counter, pushing back to meet his thrusts, eyes rolling with how damn good it feels.

“Fine. Then I'm moving him somewhere he can't see you. His infatuation is embarrassing,” he grumbles, leaning down over your back to press your whole torso into the table. “Besides… you are mine,” he punctuates the statement by curling a hand around your shoulder. 

The cold marble surface is a balm to your flushed forehead as he snaps his hips, your hands scrambling on the smooth surface, no purchase to be found. And, as your toes curl into your shoes for leverage and his other hand clamps over your mouth to muffle your cries, all you can think is there truly is nothing more thrilling than a possessive, jealous Viscount Bridgerton…

Taglist: none, as this is a short drabble.

[shuawonie]

with you.

pairing | yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre | pure fluff </3, babysitting au, established relationship au, non-idol au, comfort

word count | 5.6k

warnings | just jeonghan with kids :’), use of pet names (love, angel), kissing, mentions of pregnancy and having a child, cuteness everywhere, sneaky jeonghan, what should i say more- joshua as your brother and a dad ^^

summary: babysitting your brother’s daughter was always one of your favorite things to do. but you didn’t know that it might be even better if someone joins you, especially someone who you love the most.

a/n: here is a small drabble that has been rotting in my docs for so long already.. ㅠㅠ after watching TOO MANY (oops-) videos with jeonghan with kids i couldn’t stop myself… but hope you’ll enjoy it ! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡♡

“Gosh y/n, you’re literally an angel!”

Joshua, your brother, said enthusiastically as soon as he walked into your apartment.

Him, together with his wife were invited to a meeting with their old classmates, as it was already 10 years after their highschool graduation. However, the problem was that they couldn’t go there with their 3 years old daughter, Minji as they wouldn’t probably have that much time to give her the attention. Come on, after all they really wanted to meet their friends calmly, even though Minji wasn’t a big troublemaker.

So you decided to help your sibling, and for one day you volunteered to take care of the girl. You consulted everything with Miyoon, Joshua’s wife, so when your brother got to know that you’ll take care of Minji while they’ll be gone for a day, he was all over the moon as the problem of who they should leave their daughter with was giving him sleepless nights.

Your brother gently placed his 3 year old in your arms, kissing her cheek sweetly to which she let out a cute giggle. Miyoon was standing silently right next to Joshua. She was smiling lovely, while looking at her daughter and husband with such admiration shining in her eyes.

You chuckled, “Seriously! It's no problem for me. Spending time with this little sweetheart is pure pleasure, and taking care of her is hassle-free. Right, Minji?” the girl in your arms placed her head in the crook of your neck, while nodding gently.

Your brother cooed at Minji’s reaction and you laughed under your nose, while hugging the little girl closer to your body.

“I hope that she won’t cause any problems though.” Miyoon uttered, making you shift your eyes at her.

“If anything would happen, let us know immediately, and we’ll drive back to pick her up.” the girl added with Joshua nodding at her words, and you sent them a reassuring smile while affirming to them that you’ll call instantly if something happens.

“Minji mostly goes to sleep at 8 PM and if she’ll have any troubles with falling asleep, you can heat up some milk for her, she really likes it. But you can also read her a bedtime story or hum a song.” Joshua said in the doorway, and you placed the girl on the floor to run around your apartment with her favorite plushie in her hand.

She immediately ran up to your golden retriever, who was happily observing what’s happening the whole time.

You smiled at your brother with pity visible on your face, “Shua, please. It’s not my first time taking care of Minji.” you crossed your hands over your chest, “Seriously. You don’t have to worry about us.”

Miyoon chuckled as she watched how flustered Joshua got at your point. Then she gently patted his arm, “Babe, we need to get going. We still have around 2.5 hours to drive.” she muttered softly, and your brother nodded at her words while sending her his bright smile.

For the last time, Joshua and Miyoon thanked you, and (hesitantly) the two of them finally left your apartment, leaving you with Minji who was currently busy gently petting Seoli, your dog.

You watched her from the side for a bit, before you melted at her cutest behavior. Slowly, you approached them and Seoli immediately ran up to you, bringing Minji right after her. The girl gripped tightly around your leg, showing her gummy smile to you.

“Hi angel.” you crouched down, and poked Minji’s cheek to which the girl let out an adorable giggle. She wrapped her arms around your neck and hugged you tightly, making you smile widely.

“Please hold still, auntie! I’ll get the band-aid for you~” Minji melodized, and she ran quickly towards her pink backpack where she had all of her toys hidden, looking for the band-aid for you.

You two were in the middle of playing ‘doctor and patient’ and you sat on the couch, acting as if something happened on your cheek. Minji of course was the doctor, and she played as if she had to cure you.

Seoli, already tired after following everything you two did, was now laying on the fluffy carpet next to the sofa, silently observing both of you.

It was already 3 hours since Joshua and Miyoon left, and you were desperately trying to do anything with Minji until the time where you two would eat lunch, and then take a small nap.

So during this whole time, you already drew and coloured in Minji’s coloring books, played with her tiny animal figurines, played in a hairstylist, and had a small snack break.

But all of it was actually pretty much fun and you couldn’t complain. Minji was a really cute and happy child, which she probably got from her amazing father. However, she also got the softness and care that you could observe in the way of how she treated you as the ‘doctor’, from her sweet mother.

After a minute, Minji ran back to you with a pink colored band-aid that had smiley butterflies on it. She sat on the couch to get closer to you, and started sticking the band-aid to your cheek.

The girl was doing it with such patience and focus that it gave you an opportunity to look closer at her. And you immediately noticed how beautiful her eyes looked, as she had taken after Shua.

You were always jealous of your brother’s eyes as he was the one who got your mom’s eyes. Even though your eyes also looked similar to his, you also had a lot from your father.

The girl started to giggle as she was excited, and you couldn’t help but melt at her cutest behavior. And just as Minji was about to finish sticking the band-aid, the two of you twitched as you heard a voice in the room.

“Did I miraculously wake up in the future, and you’re playing with our little daughter?” your boyfriend’s still a little hoarse voice rang in your ears, immediately putting your heart in calm, bringing a warm smile to your lips. But you couldn’t stop blushing because of his statement.

“What? Hannie, no!” you chuckled at his words and added “This is literally my niece!” to which the boy pouted in disappointment because of the harsh reality (deep down, he really hoped that you would say yes).

“How are you, hm? Do you feel better?” you asked, smiling at him as the boy approached the two of you slowly, laying down on the couch while placing his head on your lap.

“Yup. I feel much better now, love.” Jeonghan replied smoothly, while getting comfortable on your lap.

Then he shifted his eyes on Minji, who was already observing him, curious about his sudden appearance. The boy smiled at her to which she smiled brightly, tilting her head to the side.

“I think you have a real patient here, Minji.” you chuckled under your nose, “Uncle Jeonghan had a biiiig~ headache this morning, so maybe you can take care of him now.” you started to gently play with Jeonghan’s dark hair.

It was really soft in the touch that you couldn’t stop yourself from playing with it, and starting to loosely braid it. Not as if Jeonghan minded you doing that.

The girl nodded happily while running again to her backpack, taking all of the needed supplies to play with Jeonghan.

“Should I be scared?” Jeonghan whispered to you with a playful smile on his lips, looking at the pink band-aid still stuck to your cheek.

“No, don’t worry.” you chuckled softly, glancing at Minji who was busy searching for her toys, “Doctor Hong is really gentle with her doings.” you added, and Jeonghan chuckled as you sent him a bright grin.

Not so long after, Minji joined you two again and Jeonghan was forced to (unfortunately) sit up from your lap as she started to play with him.

You observed all of this silently from the side, with a big smile on your face, and your heart growing with love. The way Jeonghan was playing with her, using his baby voice while speaking with her, and treating her gently as if she was the most fragile thing in the world was making it really hard for you not to fall in love with him even deeper — if that was even possible.

“Auntie!” Minji’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, to which you quickly moved your attention to her.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You have to give uncle Jeonghan a kiss.

You froze.

“W-what?” you stuttered, and the girl blinked at you with confusion.

“You have to give a kiss of love to uncle, so it will make him feel better! You know.. kiss of love! He said that his head still hurts..” Minji pouted, and looked at you with her shining, doe eyes.

Oh.. how could you refuse her?

So you looked at the main reason for your currently pink cheeks, and your eyes immediately locked with Jeonghan’s, dark one’s. His gaze was addicting for you. You could stare into it all day long.

But the way he was looking at you right now, with that smirk and playfulness dancing freely in his eyes, was making you feel really flustered.

“Come on, y/n. You have to give me a kiss~” Jeonghan urged you, holding himself from laughing out loud because of how much he loved to tease you this way.

You knew that he was feeling fine now, and that his head didn’t hurt anymore. It was normal for Jeonghan that sometimes when he came home late after an exhausting day, the boy got headaches as soon as he woke up in the morning. That’s how you always made him stay in bed and sleep more, most of the time with you by his side.

But now, he was just using the fact that you had a soft spot for Minji (and also for him) so you couldn’t refuse her requests. And without any other choice left for you, slowly, you leaned closer and placed a sweet kiss on Jeonghan’s forehead. But just when you were about to pull back, his hands softly cupped your cheeks and attached his lips to yours, connecting you in a real kiss.

Quickly realizing what just happened, you pulled away from the boy, making him confused at your sudden change. Minji was squealing from happiness while jumping on the couch and hugging you tightly. Gently, you hit Jeonghan’s arm while trying to act as if you’re mad at him. The boy let out a giggle that made you smile even wider.

“Now I feel much better.” Jeonghan uttered, to which you snorted and rolled your eyes at his behavior, resting your chin on top of snuggling to you Minji.

“Are you ready, Ji?”

Jeonghan asked with a big smile shining on his lips, feeling as excited as the little girl who was currently jumping beside him. He was crouching in front of her while trying to help her put on her jacket and a fluffy hat with bear ears on the top.

You were tying your shoes as your lips curved into a soft smile. Your boyfriend was chasing after Minji through your apartment as just a second ago the girl stole his scarf. The sight of how Jeonghan was happy with your niece was making you chuckle, while feeling warm deep in your heart.

As the snow continued to fall throughout the day, you all decided to go on a walk and play for some time in the snow. Minji immediately accepted that idea, saying that she really wants to go out with her favorite (right after her parents) people, and see the snow.

“You guys can already leave, I’ll join you in a second.” you stated, and Jeonghan nodded at your words with a soft smile spreading on his lips.

He quickly tapped Minji’s head, shouting, “Tag, you’re it!”

Then he ran out from the apartment, just to have Minji running just behind him, screaming his name.

You decided to pack a snack for Minji in your bag in case she gets hungry, and also take warmer clothes for the three of you. You had no idea for how long you’re going to be out, and as it was already the middle of January, so the evenings were really cold.

That’s why you took a small, pastel pink hoodie from Minji’s bag with spare clothes that her lovely parents left for her, and two Jeonghan’s sweatshirts (one for him, and also one for you of course). Some hand warmers and you were ready to go.

Being in a relationship with Jeonghan for almost 5 years now (and 15 years in friendship), has taught you many things. For example, you should always watch your back, if he’s not planning to pull any of his stupid pranks on you (which you actually adored). Always watch his hand movements carefully, he will always try to cheat. Never let him in the kitchen or you want to get it burned down.

And also his really low cold tolerance. He could get cold really easily, so you always had to be one step ahead by having a hand warmer hidden somewhere in the pocket of your coat for him. His reaction was always the best as he always got shy when you sneaked the hot pack into his hand, ostensibly to hold his hand.

As you finished zipping your bag, you were finally done with packing all of the necessary things. You took your keys from the drawer and left the apartment, locking the door behind you.

When you left the building, Minji was clinging to Jeonghan’s arm, who was crouching, busy doing something. From this proximity you couldn’t really tell what they were doing, but as soon as you got closer, you noticed a stray cat sitting by them.

Jeonghan was petting its head gently, cooing at the cat while Minji was observing everything behind Jeonghan’s arm. A smile spread on your lips as you approached them.

“Only a minute without me, and you already found my replacement. You are so toxic, guys.” you chuckled, and the two of them raised their heads to look at you.

Jeonghan quickly sent you an ‘are-you-serious-right-now’ look, before getting up and gently kissing your cheek. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“And only a minute without me, and you’re already saying nonsense, love.” he uttered as he sent you a lazy smirk, cupping your face with his hands.

“I would have never replaced you.” Jeonghan left a sweet kiss on your lips, to which you quickly turned away when he pulled away from you, chuckling at your sudden reaction.

You hoped he wouldn't notice that rose blush which suddenly appeared on your cheeks. But you blamed it on the cold weather, not the fact that you got embarrassed. However, the butterflies in your stomach were saying the opposite.

Minji observed you the whole time, wearing a gummy smile. The hat which was falling over her eyes was making her look adorable. She was struggling to see anything, but Jeonghan was quick to notice it. He untangled himself from you, and fixed her hat with a small pat on her head and a baby-voiced coo.

Jeonghan as usually had to forget to take his own hat. The snowflakes that were gently falling down the sky rested on top of his dark hair strands. His cheeks were already tinted in light pink from the cold breeze, making him look even more breathtaking.

Quickly, you took out a hat with long bunny ears that you also decided to pack, and put it on Jeonghan’s head. Gosh, he looked so cute in it.

In the meantime, the stray cat ran away somewhere, and you decided to finally start your small stroll to the park that was located in your neighborhood.

Minji was quick to hold Jeonghan’s and your hands, ready to walk with you two by her sides. You had to walk much slower than usual because of her small steps, but you didn’t complain. The already setting sun looked alluring, with the pink and violet rays spreading on the sky.

Suddenly, the girl unhooked her hands, and ran straight towards the open area with lots of snow on it. She jumped into it, giggling, while taking the snow into her hands and throwing it above her. You followed right after her, playing together with the snow.

What you didn’t expect to happen next was a snowball hitting your arm. When you looked to the side, you quickly noticed the culprit, laughing soundly with a playful grin on his face.

“Come on, Minji,” you grasped her hand, “We have to win this battle.” a smirk spread over your lips as the little girl giggled in excitement.

And that’s how your snowball battle started. You couldn’t believe it but while playing, you suddenly felt as if you were 15 again, having a battle with your friends after you finished your classes. When Jeonghan and you were only friends, and when you never imagined that in the future you’ll fall for each other.

It’s obvious that at the end Jeonghan of course ended up winning against you two (you still question if he didn’t cheat while . But you didn’t really care about that. Him still being with you after all those years, smiling like a kid, having his best time with your beloved niece was more than enough to make you feel happy.

Hot chocolate tastes the best after playing in the snow. And you can’t disagree with that.

The three of you got back home 30 minutes after you finished the battle in the snow. Your clothes were all wet and Minji was already whining about how her legs hurt, so on the way back home Jeonghan gave her a piggy ride.

After changing into some fresh and most importantly dry clothes, Jeonghan was quick to suggest that you all should drink hot chocolate to warm up. Minji, having her uncle as the most amazing person after giving her a piggy ride home, begged you to make them hot chocolate.

And that’s how you ended up in this situation — Minji sitting on Jeonghan’s lap, snuggled into his chest. She was already done drinking her hot chocolate, watching a cartoon on the TV.

The boy kept stroking her hair gently, putting her into a deep sleep. Jeonghan’s warmth, together with the tiredness and soft sound of the programme they were watching, worked like a lullaby for Minji’s exhausted body.

You sat beside them, not being able to focus on anything else than the love of your life acting like your niece is his own child.

“Should we put her to her bed?” Jeonghan whispered after a while as he looked at you, his hand still on Minji’s head, hugging her closely.

“Yeah, I think so.” you replied softly, “She already fell asleep, so it’s even better.” you smiled, and the two of you got up from the couch as quietly as you could to not wake the little girl up.

When Jeonghan went to the guest room with Minji, you sent a short text to Joshua, saying that Minji is already sleeping and everything’s alright. You left your phone on the coffee table and went after Jeonghan to the guest’s room, stopping in the door frame. You leaned against it, observing how your boyfriend was gently tugging Minji to sleep.

When he finally noticed you standing behind him, he sent you a questioning look with a smile spreading over his lips. You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you headed to your bedroom. But on the way there, a pair of arms quickly sneaked over your waist.

You let out a squeak when the boy suddenly lifted you up, spinning you around. “Hannie, put me down!” you whispered firmly while laughing, as you didn’t want to wake Minji up.

“But I don’t want toooo~” he whined, keeping his face in the nape of your neck, but eventually the boy placed you back on the ground, turning you around to face him.

“You know..” you started, placing your arms around his neck, “I didn’t know that you’re that good at taking care of kids.”

“Oh please,” he laughed, “What am I not good at in the first place.”

“Hmm, I don’t think there is something like that.” you looked deeply into his eyes, which shone brightly in happiness and tenderness.

Jeonghan leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your nose before suddenly lifting you up in a bridal style, taking you to your bedroom (despite your protests).

He gently placed you on the bed as if you were the most fragile thing before showering your entire face and neck with butterfly kisses. Your giggles filled the room, enjoying your sweet time together.

It was already past midnight when Jeonghan came out of the bathroom. He had his hair still slightly damp after showering. You were laying in your bed, scrolling through social media. Joshua posted some photos from the gathering, and seeing your brother together with his wife, enjoying their time was making you feel really happy.

“What are you looking at?” Jeonghan asked suspiciously, observing how widely you smiled.

He dried his hair with a towel while standing at the end of the bed. But when you didn’t reply to him, the boy immediately pouted, annoyed that you’re paying more attention to something in your phone than him.

“Hello?” he said louder, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yes, sorry. Joshie posted photos from the gathering, and they look so happy together.” you explained in awe, showing him the pictures in your phone. Jeonghan only hummed in response, not really interested, while putting the towel aside.

You could immediately notice a shift in his behavior, so you put your phone on the bedside table. Jeonghan got under the bedsheets next to you, quickly pulling your body closer to him.

You looked at him worriedly, “Hannie, what’s wrong?” you asked, but the boy just snuggled closer to you. Gosh, he’s so clingy.

“Nothing, let’s just cuddle.” he muttered tiredly, quickly earning a chuckle which in a split of a second caused the corner of his lips to raise.

While being tangled in his protective arms, you talked about the day, how much you enjoyed it and how much you’d want to experience something like this once again. Jeonghan (being already half asleep) listened to your subdued voice, humming in agreement.

What you didn’t expect was to suddenly hear a faint knock on your door. Quickly, you straightened up on the bed, unfortunately hitting Jeonghan at the same time. You whispered a soft sorry as the woken up boy looked at you, pouting while massaging his jawline.

You got out of the bed, and approached the door. On the other side you found a teary-eyed Minji, gripping her plushie tightly in her hand. The bare sight made your heart swell immediately.

“Minji, baby, what happened?” you asked her as you crouched in front of her, bringing her close to you, “Did you have a nightmare?” you added, while hugging her to your body.

You could only hear Minji’s sniffs, “Y-yes.” she whispered, snuggling into the crook of your neck.

Trying to calm her down, you picked her up and you got back to the bed. Jeonghan was already sitting, observing you silently with worry written all over his face.

You sat on the edge of the bed, Minji sat on your laps while hugging you tightly. Her sniffles were already gone, but you kept stroking her back and swaying her shaking body. Jeonghan took some tissues from the bedside table, and shuffled closer to you on the bed, gently wiping Minji’s tears away.

When the girl was finally calmed down, you looked at her shiny and slightly red eyes, and smiled.

“Do you want to sleep with us tonight?” you asked.

Oh. If only you knew how Jeonghan’s heart skipped a beat when he heard you spoke those words. Through out the day, he actually started to feel more as if Minji was his own daughter, and seeing you, so gentle and careful with the little girl only confirmed his thoughts about you being his only one.

Minji nodded, and you quickly took her off your knees, placing her in the middle of the bed. As your bed was king size, there was no problem for you three to sleep together.

Jeonghan helped Minji lay down, bringing her plushie closer to her. You also got back under the sheets, laying down next to your niece.

As previously, your boyfriend started to stroke her head, and also between her eyes as he once read somewhere that gently stroking that place makes babies fall asleep faster. The whole time you were looking at Jeonghan, as he was focused on putting Minji to sleep.

Surprisingly, that advice which Jeonghan used turned out to be true, because soon later Minji was back in her sweet slumber, and you two could finally go to sleep.

You were still looking at him, and when your eyes met, you felt those butterflies in your stomach waking up again. You found Jeonghan handsome and very attractive almost every time. When he had his hair done perfectly, with his black shirt on and that stupid smirk. When he was helping you cook something, politely obeying your orders. And when he was completely focused during building his lego sets.

But this sight. Oh dear lord, please have some mercy.

Him in front of you, in the most natural circumstances ever, with his dark hair soft but slightly messy, his shirt falling down a bit too low while exposing one of his collarbones, laying in the same bed with you and being the same (or even more) exhausted than you. It felt different.

He was the most beautiful, the most attractive and the most handsome person you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“Angel, I know I’m handsome, but you don’t have to stare at me like that.” he commented with a smirk spreading on his lips.

You quickly got back out from that daze, “Oh shut up.” you whispered, while turning around in the bed, making him face your back.

“Good night, love.”

“Good night, Hannie.”

Just when you thought that nothing could look better than Jeonghan last night, you got your thinking changed once again.

Waking up in the morning with the sun’s light rays resting on the floor and walls of your bedroom, while laying next to your beloved boyfriend, and your niece cuddled up closely to him, officially became your new favorite sight ever.

They looked so fragile, so delicate and so adorable, while sleeping peacefully, that you couldn’t help but take some photos of them.

As soon as you got out of bed (and finished your mini photo session), you went through the new notifications. It was only 8 am, but you still got some throughout the night.

At around 7:30 am, Joshua sent you a text that they will eat breakfast now, and then try to leave around 9:00 am. So you still had 4 hours until they arrived.

After dressing yourself up as quietly as you could, you walked out of the room, closing the door behind you. You decided not to wake them up, but surprise them with breakfast.

You spent some time debating over what you should make, and if it should be savory or sweet, but you eventually chose to make sweet breakfast. Quickly, you began to make the batter for the waffles, also preparing coffee for Jeonghan and you while Seoli accompanied you. You of course didn’t forget to also give her food.

After some time, you were already making the waffles when a pair of arms suddenly sneaked around your waist, with the feeling of someone’s chin on your shoulder.

“You left the bed too early today,” Jeonghan’s still a little bit hoarse voice sounded right by your ear, as you were busy putting the done waffles on the plates, “You know I like to wake up and see your face as the first thing in the morning.”

“I know, I know, Hannie,” you laughed, pouring the batter into the waffle mold, “But I wanted to make a surprise for you two. Speaking of, where is Minji?” you asked, turning around to face Jeonghan.

Oh shit. He looked breath-taking.

“I helped with her morning toilet, and then we went to the living room. She is busy with her coloring books, but still kind of sleepy.” Jeonghan explained, and you nodded at his words.

The boy grabbed his cup of coffee, and took a sip before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek while saying thank you. You smiled back at him, finishing the waffles.

Soon, you took all of the waffles that you prepared, and placed them on the table. In the meanwhile, Jeonghan took out all of the toppings for the waffles, and went back to get Minji.

When you finally sat down, your boyfriend came into the kitchen with Minji holding his hand, and slowly walking towards you right by his side. As soon as she noticed the waffles on the table, she sprinted towards the chair and quickly got on top of it, already taking one of the waffles. Jeonghan joined right after her, and the three of you began to eat your breakfast.

The rest of the morning went really fast. Jeonghan dressed in something else than his pyjamas while you helped Minji to pick her outfit. Then you finally did your makeup, and the three of you just spent more time together.

You didn’t understand how it’s possible, that even with your tendency to have a low social battery, you didn’t feel tired or bored by your boyfriend and niece. It felt so natural now to have them around, that you just got used to it.

While Minji was playing with your dog, and Jeonghan was teaching her how to make Seoli do the tricks, you were busy thinking about how you actually can see your future like this.

Now, after yesterday, you were sure that you could picture your future with Jeonghan, and even see yourself as a mother. You were sure that the boy would be the best father, spoiling his kid while also pulling his stupid pranks on you with them.

But you were sure that with him it was possible.

A few hours later, a doorbell’s sound rang in your flat. Seoli immediately ran to bark at the person behind the door, but you were sure it was Shua with Miyoon. And you weren’t wrong. As soon as you opened the door you could see the young parents standing in front of you, greeting you happily as you kept Seoli from jumping on them.

Seconds later, Jeonghan came from behind the corner with Minji in his arms. She had her head pressed to his cheek, observing patiently who came over. And just when she saw her mommy and daddy, she grinned happily and wiggled in Jeonghan’s arms. The boy put her down, and she ran straightfully to her parents. They hugged their daughter closely, and Jeonghan joined your side, placing his arm over your waist.

“We hope she didn’t cause you any problems.” Miyoon uttered, patting the little girl’s head.

“No, not at all!” you quickly protested, “Minji is such an angel, we spent an amazing time together.” you leaned your head on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“She’s the cutest. I’m so jealous of your daughter.” Jeonghan commented, earning a laugh from everyone.

You handed Joshua all Minji’s things that they brought, and it was finally time to say goodbye.

“Nooo! I don’t wanna say goodbye!” Minji whined, while cuddling to your leg.

“Ji, baby, you’ve been with your aunt and uncle for a whole day. Now we have to go back to our house.” Joshua explained, “We have to let auntie and uncle get some rest.”

“But I love them so much..”

You couldn’t control the coo that left your lips as soon as the girl said how much she loved you and Jeonghan. Your boyfriend only smiled briefly, observing everything.

“You’ll see them soon again.” Miyoon took Minji’s hand, bringing her closer to her to put the hat on her head.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” you replied, while intertwining your pinky finger with hers, “You’ll probably see us earlier than you might think.”

“I can’t wait already!” she shouted enthusiastically, and for the last time Minji hugged you and Jeonghan tightly, and patted Seoli. Then, the young parents left your flat, leaving you two alone, again.

Suddenly, Jeonghan let out a groan which startled you by the sudden action.

He headed towards the living room, “I want to have a kid.” he whined, and you chuckled under your breath, following Jeonghan’s steps.

“You know, we still can have one in the future.” you answered, and the boy immediately turned around, looking at you with his eyes widened and his mouth parted a little bit. “Only if you want one.”

Jeonghan was quick to run up to you, and spin you around, while holding you tightly. Your giggles filled the room once again, being the prettiest melody to your boyfriend’s ears.

“Of course I do, my love.”

He was sure. Jeonghan was sure that he couldn’t wait no more, and that maybe it was the right time to take out that velvet box which he hid deeply in the drawer by the bed, and finally put it into use.

Because he knew one thing. That if he wanted to spend his entire life together with someone, then it had to be with you.

© shuawonie | 2024, all rights reserved.

reuploads and likes are highly appriciated ♡

[gabessquishytum]

Had an omegaverse AU idea that feels like it might feel at home in your inbox, so here we go...

Hob is a pretty chill alpha who is happy with all kinds of partners. That's how he ends up in bed with an omega who asks him if Hob might be okay with a special kink of him. The guy likes to act like an alpha, and to make the fantasy complete, Hob acts like an omega. The thing is, while Hob just went along with it, he really really likes it. Oops, kink acquired. Hob doesn't mind, but it's a hard one to do by himself or one he can find a partner for, so Hob goes to a professional instead.

Dream is said to be awesome with roleplay and weird kinks and Hob learns firsthand that it's true. Being with Dream is so much better than it was with the other guy, after all, he really is an alpha and he certainly has a way of making Hob feel like an omega. Over time, Hob gets so into it that he's happy to act like Dream's perfect little slut and he loves when Dream acts like he's breeding him, whispering in his ear how well Hob takes him and how he's going to fill him up with his come.

They have a lot of fun until Hob has to cancel their meeting over getting sick. He felt a little weird for a while, but now he begins to worry over his weird symptoms and almost loses his shit when the doc begins a line of questioning about his sex life to the point of asking if he might be pregnant. Like, he's an alpha, that doctor is insane.

Hob leaves, but when Dream asks how he's doing, he has to admit that he still doesn't know what's going on. When Hob talks about his weird doc, Dream suggests another doctor and offers to come along. That's how they end up in front of Lucienne, who tells Hob that he is indeed pregnant. Turns out that while he has a dick, he also has all the necessary organs to actually have a baby. The only reason he got away with it so far is that he presented as alpha.

Lucienne is actually quite interested how Hob managed to present as omega all of a sudden, and when Hob admits to his "little kink", it all makes sense. Since Hob was so into it and Dream did such a good job with the roleplay, he accidentally bitched Hob so well that they didn't even notice the change, and since they kept fucking like bunnies, they made an oopsie.

Imagine Hob finding out that from one moment to the other he's a pregnant omega because he really loved Dream's dirty talk and getting knotted over and over again by such a nice and hot alpha. Meanwhile, Dream is losing his mind because they can't be serious. Yes, he totally loved the idea of Hob being his perfect little omega but it was just pretend. There's no way Hob would want a messy whore like him as his baby daddy. Right?

This is SO GOOD. Kink acquisition + accidental pregnancy is such an excellent concept.

I'm fascinated by the changes that would happen both in and outside Hob’s body. Now that he knows what's happening to him, he is more easily able to observe his symptoms. Of course the pregnancy kind of heightens everything, but there's also other stuff. A subtle shift in both his appearance and his scent. Wider hips, a difference in weight distribution around his body. People begin to treat him slightly differently, too. In public, alphas hold doors open for him and offer to carry heavy items for him. Instead of avoiding him, young omegas see him as a safe space and will ask him for help in public settings. Hob doesn't expect the euphoria that all of these small things provide, but he truly does find himself living more happily. Being a pregnant omega is maybe exactly what he's wanted to be for his whole life, even if he didn't know it.

The only trouble is Dream. Hob is convinced that Dream doesn't want to have anything to do with him or the baby. He obviously must just see Hob as a particularly weird client. He's been particularly standoffish, almost cold, and Hob is devastated but resigned to the idea that he'll be a single parent. He keeps Dream informed about the baby throughout his pregnancy though, just in case!

They're both very stupid, honestly. They could totally be together, preparing for a happy life with their baby, but both of them have so little self esteem! Neither can believe that they'd be wanted. Lucienne is banging her head on her desk after every doctor's appointment (Dream attends every one with Hob) because she can see that they're so compatible!!! They're basically true mates!!! Dream’s dick was so magic that it changed Hob’s secondary gender, of course they're destined to be together!!!!!

I fully believe that in the late stages of his pregnancy Hob would snap, though. He's SO pregnant and hormonal and overwhelmed. He's only been an omega for 5 minutes and the adjustment is so hard. His patience wears thin and he eventually begs Dream to just give him and their baby a chance. He NEEDS his alpha. He NEEDS Dream to step up.

And Dream, bless him, doesn't have to be asked twice. He does such a good job of stepping up that he sends Hob into early labour by knotting him so thoroughly. That dick truly is magic! Ultimately it all works out fine - their baby is perfect, despite their unexpected entrance to the world. Hob is exhausted and delighted as he feeds his child. Dream will need to look for a new job, but he's never been more content.

Hob really was the omega that the universe made just for him.

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

Alright J I hate to ask but,

I just love the fact Marty is getting NO sleep with those Docs around

Sorry that I want to see more, but really there SO GOOD!!

(p.s maybe Marty could be ‘resting’ and something that the Doc’s did woke him up, something funny maybe, idk)

DO NOT APOLOGIZE!!!! HAVE YOU SEEN MY TAGS?? I LIVE FOR THE ENTHUSIASM!!

Also what a lovely idea! Oh Marty~!

Good luck fighting him on this one, Marty. He’s a dad now. He’s used to putting stubborn kids to bed. Not pictured (because I’m lazy and didn’t wanna pose that many ppl-) is 1931 Doc and 1955 Doc standing around a shattered beaker, multiple piles of flaming…something (paper, gel, idk), and a still lit Bunsen burner. You can kinda guess what happened from there-

Transcriptions and more silly under the cut :)

*honk shooo Marty Sleeping Position.jpg*

CRASH!

Marty: What blew up? Who’s on fire?

Doc (present 1986): Everything is fine, Marty, now go lay back down- 😅

Marty: But you’re literally-

Doc: I know.

Marty: And-

Doc: Back to bed.

This will be the vicious cycle that will repeat at least twice more before Marty gets a decent amount of sleep (which is thanks to Einstein finding the chaos and laying with the poor kid like the amazing dog he is) And yes, 1986 present Doc is the best at getting the stubborn teen to sleep because of his acquired dad skills, but that doesn’t mean the other Emmetts aren’t just as capable. 1955 Doc has had to get Marty to sleep multiple times during his week there, 2015 Doc is no different, and 1931 Emmett literally let Marty sleep in during the game because he seemed really tired so what makes you think he won’t find a way to help his friend sleep?? Marty is going to rest whether he likes it or not. This is not a question, but a fact.

I’ve been playing with other characters in my mind as well, because it won’t just be Marty forever. I think Jennifer gets dragged in when they remember Marty’s parents, and she’s called in to come grab him. Speaking of George and Lorraine, either they don’t find out at all or, if they’ve figured out time travel, they do and it’s chaotic. (If you wanna see how I think them finding out would go, there’s a link to my fic on @squoosh-the-floof-writes It’s called The Truth About Time Travel do read it) Then ofc there’s Clara and the boys. Clara stumbles in first, which is nothing short of entertaining as she somehow manages to effortlessly contain the chaos (“I know how your brain works, Emmett. This is just that times four”) The boys don’t bump into all of them at first, but rather I think they meet 1931 Doc first which is just all sorts of funny. Anyway more to come from this

KEEP ASKING QUESTIONS AND GIVING YOUR THOUGHTS I LIVE FOR IT

[ddejavvu]

today my doc shoe lace came undone and obviously i was thinking about that one 2014 era tumblr pic where the guy pics her foot up and ties her laces for her, like with her food on his knee 😌😌

and tbh i think this is SO james, like specifically, rugby!james !! he’s sooo sweaty and tired in his kit and you’re there in your little docs and cute outfit with a scarf and he doesn’t even entertain the idea that you should ever even consider tying your own lace UGH! he’s just so boyfriend

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

Your favorite part of James's rugby practices are when he's finished. That's not to say that you don't enjoy the hours of watching your sweaty boyfriend run rampant on a field, flexing his arms any chance he gets. But the best part by far is the hug he always tackles you in afterwards, sprinting across the field grass-stained and panting.

You stand in anticipation, watching as he starts his jog over the grass. He beelines towards you like always, and you count the seconds until you're in his arms.

Three, two, one- he stops. He falls to his knees, only mucking up his skin more with green sticky splotches.

"Hi, lovebug," He grins lazily at you, reaching for your foot, "Shoe's untied. Did y'know that?"

"Oh," You frown at the offending laces, "No, I did not."

"Well now you do," He grabs your ankle, pulling up on it so that you brace your foot on his knee.

His nimble fingers make quick work of your laces, yanking the shoe tighter around your foot. You hadn't noticed it's loosening, but it feels like a breath of fresh air to have the leather molded around your feet.

"There we go," He hums, popping a kiss to your knee before standing, "How are you, love?"

"Tired," You admit, falling into his embrace easily as he tugs you in by your shoulders, "I wanna go home."

"Yeah? Let's go, then." He grins, jamming a hand beneath your bum before you can stop him and scooping you off of your feet. You yelp at the sudden change of position, but you cling to his broad shoulders to stop yourself from falling.

"There you go," He croons, bumping his nose into yours as he lugs you across the field, "Now, I'm all for sleeping early tonight, but you've gotta let me shower first."

"You are stinky," You sniff at his collarbone, the stench of sweat clinging heavy to his skin.

"Oops!" He feigns dropping you, laughing when you shriek and cling tighter to him, "That's right, watch it sweetheart, or you'll be on your ass in the grass."

"Ass in the grass," You giggle, leaning in to kiss his flushed cheek, "Sorry for calling you stinky, Jamie."

"You're forgiven," He decides, gleaming at you, "But only if you can kiss me 20 more times before we reach the car."

"20- Hey!" You laugh incredulously as James breaks into a run, sprinting for the car, "No fair! One, two, three, four-fivesixseveneightnine-!"

[chelseeebe]

gasoline.

so this was supposed to be like a the bear au and then i just got carried away and now it’s just whatever the hell this is lmao it’s been sitting in my docs since july and i thought it finally needed to see the light of day :)

this is two parts in one bc i hate doing two seperate parts but it’s highlighted where p1 ends and p2 begins

wc: 12k+ oops

‎♡‧₊˚

Look, the sleazy, deteriorating walls of Frank’s had never been his idea of a dream. But flunking high school and a failed band had meant limited this is where he’d ended up. Running the line at the frankly failing restaurant was more like his idea of hell but it paid the bills and with a solid team of other degenerates, meant that it wasn’t all that bad. 

Well, that was until the devil incarnate came along. And by devil incarnate he means you. 

Eddie couldn’t grasp why someone of your stature would ever take a job at such a shitty restaurant, with your fancy knives and kitchen lingo that really meant nothing to him, why wouldn’t you look for something else? Something better?

You’d ended up here because… well, despite going to culinary school, getting the big job after you had graduated and doing everything by the book so to speak, you’d missed that burning passion that could only be found in the shittiest, dirtiest kitchens. 

Well that, and the fact you’d been let go. But that wasn’t relevant. 

“Honey, I’ve been here for years, I really don’t give a shit about anything you’ve gotta say,” flapping his arms around at your suggestion of maybe washing his hands when he got back in from smoking, “Helen never had a problem with it, so why do you?”

“First off, I have asked you not to call me honey or whatever other stupid pet name you wanna give me… it’s chef,” brows furrowed, the rest of the kitchen pretending not to listen to your latest bickering, “and secondly, Helen is gone, so whatever rules she implemented mean nothing now, okay? You wash your hands when you come back in or… or…” struggling to come up with a suitable punishment. 

“Or.. or what?” he mocks, turning to his colleagues for a little backup, “you gonna fire me? ‘Cause I’d love to see you try,” refusing to back down. 

It was the principle, you see. Eddie really would’ve had no issue with washing his hands if literally anyone other than you had asked. He was positively fuming that you had just flounced in here and started laying down a bunch of bullshit rules that no other soul had cared about in his five years working here. Not only that, you’d beaten him to the head chef role. He was certain that he was a shoe in the second Helen announced that she was moving on. Only to walk in one morning to your grinning face, your uniform crisply ironed and this certain energy only Eddie had seemed to sense.

You sigh, you never liked to be the first one to resign after an argument but Eddie was relentless and would’ve kept at it all day if you didn’t, “Just wash your hands.. chef,” it was entirely too busy to spend all day going back and forth with the man child. 

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he’s smirking now, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wanted you. 

“Please,” you frown, hand firmly on your hip as you stare back at him. You felt pathetic begging for the tiniest bit of respect in your damn kitchen but it was simply the only way to get him to cooperate. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” he goads, brushing against your shoulder as he makes his way to the sink, the rest of the kitchen is in complete silence, watching and waiting to see how this one would end. 

You readjust your collar, pressing your lips together in a firm line, choosing to ignore his childish remark. There would come a day that he’d regret every horrid thing he’d said to you and maybe that day wasn’t today but it would come and you could not wait. 

-

It’s another month of butting heads with the long-haired prick before things come totally to a head. His inability to just follow simple orders had you at wits end, because Eddie truly believed that he knew better. A suggestion to add thyme to the mash potatoes had caused all out war in the kitchen. 

“No, we add rosemary… not fuckin’ thyme,” he spits, aggressively stiring the pot, his back to you, guarding his precious dish from your grabby hands.

“And I’m saying to add both- actually no, I’m not saying, I’m telling,” grabbing the container of thyme and attempting to sprinkle it into the pan, “move out of the way, that’s an order.” 

“Oooo,” he mocks, knuckles turning white from his grip on the handle, “An order.. I’m so scared,” chuckling as he blocks you from reaching over his shoulder, “why d’you think you know better, huh? You don’t know shit about this restaurant, we’ve done it my way for years and that’s not gonna change now.” 

“Because I’m the fucking chef and I know better than you,” finally snapping at the man, slamming the container down onto the stainless steel countertop, “move. now,” you bark, widening your eyes as he twists around to meet yours, you could feel the disgust radiating from his glare. 

“No.” 

You huff, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fucking ponytail around your hand and slam his head into the worktop, “Step out chef,” a simple order that you thought was far more gracious than he deserved.

His mouth falls open, still gripping onto the now-overworked potatoes, “What the fuck?” frantically flailing for some comradery from his fellow workers, it seemed that they’d all fallen into place, no longer the bunch of grimy assholes he once knew. 

“Step out,” you persist, teeth gritted as you stand strong on your order, tilting your chin to meet his harrowing gaze. Eddie didn’t frighten you per say, but he was intimidating and if it came down to it, you probably weren’t going to be the one to win that fight. 

“Fuck this,” he exclaims, slamming the pan down onto the stove top with a loud bang before storming off out of the fire escape door, not before grabbing his cigarettes from the shelf you’d repeatedly told him not to keep them on. 

There’s now mash potato all over the hob that would probably need some extensive scrubbing and would ensure that your kitchen would absolutely reek of the stuff all night. If you could have it your way, you’d have made him scrub the entire oven with a dang toothbrush until you could see your face in the metal. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your cheeks burn as the rest of the kitchen watches on in utter amazement, even the old, hardened chefs had taken to your ways even if it had taken a little bit of pushing. There was no understanding as to why he couldn’t just listen, just shut up and get on with his job without trying to constantly argue and bite back. Maybe because you were a woman? You were younger than him? Or maybe it was simply because someone was finally up to the job of challenging him and he hated that fact. 

Whatever it was, it was getting on your last nerve. 

Eddie wasn’t by any means a bad chef, he was innovative and knew how to make shit taste good, he was just incapable of accepting that maybe his way of doing things wasn’t the only way. 

You smooth your clammy palms down your apron, nodding at Tina. A subtle way of telling her to carry on and take charge while you dealt with the pathetic man outside. 

The door slams as you step outside, looking around the dark alley for the man, following the trail of smoke to his slouched position around the corner. Now, this was the difficult part, you weren’t really looking to fire him but what choice did you have if he couldn’t just accept that you were his boss now. 

“Have you calmed down?” breaking the silence, fingernails pressed into your palm leaving tiny crescent moon indentations. 

You never were one for confrontation. 

He scoffs, refusing to look in your direction as he puffs on the cigarette, “I’m calm.. are you calm?”

Even now, he couldn’t just smile and nod, always had to say something else, “I’m calm,” swallowing the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, “do you want to work here?”  

“Nobody wants to work here, shit- even you don’t wanna be here,” chuckling to himself, smoke falling from his lips. 

“Yes I do. Do you? Because I can help you if you don’t, trust me I am not scared to just let you go.” 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, tossing the cigarette to the ground before finally meeting your gaze, “you’re firing me?” 

“No,” relaxing your shoulders, “but I need to know that you want to work here. That you aren’t going to keep arguing with me about stupid shit because I truly do not have the energy for it anymore,” watching as his expression falls, at a stretch you’d say he looks remorseful but that could very well just be the moonlight reflecting on his face, granting him more grace than he deserved. 

The alley falls into silence, the only sounds being that of the bustling city around you and Tina’s faint voice barking instructions inside the kitchen. 

His eyes avert to the concrete, with a pained expression he breaks the silence, “I do… wanna work here,” it’s like that tiny sentence caused him physical pain to get out. 

“Good,” you nod, his words may mean nothing but it’s a relief to finally hear that he gives somewhat of a shit about this place running smoothly, “Eddie, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a really good chef… but even the best chefs have to take orders sometimes and you are no exception to that.”

Eddie untenses his jaw for what must be the first time in ten years, that tiny bit of affirmation was exactly what he was looking for, “...thank you,” he turns his head towards yours, “I think you’re… you’re an okay chef,” the tiniest traces of a smile on his face as he pushes himself from the rough brick.

Your eyes roll instinctively but you’re not mad, for once, “get back inside,” waving him off towards the door without turning to look at him. 

Taking the moment to gather yourself and your thoughts. Who knew if Eddie had meant what he said or if it was even going to change anything but it had definitely meant something. It wasn’t a burning desire of yours to come in and be the new evil boss in fact, it was the very opposite of what you’d pictured. There just wasn’t much lee-way when you were given a team of stubborn assholes that had gotten far too used to slacking off. 

Frank’s could really become something if everyone wanted it and were willing to put in the effort required to get there. Sure, you probably weren’t going to earn a Michelin star but you were sure you could make it worthy of something. 

-

Eddie had mostly kept to his word. Finally washing his hands and keeping his hair out of his face, even if you had had to nag at him a little. There wasn’t as much kick back as before. Sure, he’d roll his eyes and huff and puff but he’d actually do it. 

It’s another Saturday night, you’re not so busy but enough to keep you on your toes. Just longing for the moment you collapsed into your bed and didn’t have to think about this place until Monday morning. 

Eddie sidles up to where you’re working, going over the rota for the next two weeks. Weighing up if waking up at the ass crack of dawn was actually worth all this. 

“So I was thinking..” 

“Uh oh,” you add, snapping the book shut before turning to him, he’s hopeful. Well, that or he’s about to say the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Yeah great thanks.. so I was thinking, it’s getting warmer, right? I think we should put sandwiches on the menu, and not just boring old sandwiches.. like, like good ones,” his vocabulary is limited but you get what he means. 

You ponder for a moment, staring into his wide, optimistic eyes. It was a good idea to be fair to him, you just weren’t sure if you had the time to conjure up a whole new sandwich menu on top of everything else on your plate. 

“Okay, I actually think that’s a great idea,” you two were civil, not exactly the best buds but you think maybe now you could trust him. “If you can come up with some ideas and make them for me.. I’ll think about it.” 

His grin is infectious as it spreads across his face, “I got you… what are you thinking? Something with chicken or..” fishing for ideas. 

You throw your hands up, a shadow of a smile on your lips, “that is entirely up to you, okay?” 

He nods knowingly, slowly backing away, eager to get started on his first individual project since your arrival. 

“I’m trusting you with this!” you holler after him, getting back to the mess of a rota in front of you. 

“Yes boss,” he calls back from somewhere in the kitchen, “I mean chef,” catching himself. 

Your heart warms a little. Maybe your lectures hadn’t gone so unnoticed after all? 

-

No matter how hard you stare at the screen, willing for something to magically appear, it doesn’t. The line marker blinking at you, taunting you, pleading with you to just write something. Anything!

There’s a quiet wrapping of knuckles against the door causing your head to fly up, finding a surprisingly clean Eddie standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” spinning your chair slightly, “shit, sorry I forgot to say you’re good to go, I’ll see you tomorrow,” flashing him a tight lipped smile. 

“Oh no… most of ‘em have already gone,” vaguely motioning to the now empty kitchen, “uh… a few of us were gonna grab a drink and wondered if you’d wanna join us?” He resembles a shy child, fingers tapping along the battered door frame. 

“Oh!” you must’ve sounded shocked as his eyebrows travel up his forehead in surprise, getting invited out by your crew had just.. never really happened before, “I’m sorry, I actually can’t tonight,” pointing at the blank word document, “the menu is due next week and I uh- I have nothing but you guys have fun,” shooing him off. 

It was a Thursday night and you couldn’t think of anything worse than waking up tomorrow with a blinding hangover. 

“You need help with that menu shit? I mean, my sandwiches are a hit so.. maybe I could help?” placing his jacket on the old cabinet in the corner, prepared to help no matter what you replied. 

You’re not exactly in the position to say no to help at this point.. 

“I mean.. yeah, if you can think of six amazing, brilliant, showstopping new dishes then be my guest because I sure as shit can’t,” unintentionally coming off a little rude. 

It’s just frustrating, the first big step you were taking for this restaurant and you were still somehow managing to fuck it up

“Okay, what’ve you got?” he peers over your shoulder at the blank screen, “ah, right,” he sucks his teeth, “not great.” 

“No.. no it’s not,” slouching down the chair, “I’m completely fucked,” pushing the loose strands of hair from your forehead. 

“You’re not completely fucked- not yet,” dragging the spare chair around to the other side of the desk, “I’m sure we can think of something tonight,” pulling the laptop closer to him. 

You smile at him, grateful for his positivity even if it was fake. 

The pair of you throw some shoddy ideas back and forth for a half hour. None of them good enough to make it to the word document, instead getting scribbled onto a ripped out page from your notebook. 

“I am fucked, aren’t I?” you frown, rubbing your sleepy eyes. 

He chuckles softly, “nah.. there’s some good stuff here,” running his finger down the messy list. 

You feel completely vulnerable with him here, it might have been the lack of sleep or just the fact that you appreciated his presence so much but you foolishly begin to let your thoughts wander. 

“I just feel like I’m fuu-,” immediately regretting opening your mouth, “no, you know what? Doesn’t matter,” you look at the clock on the wall signalling that it had gone well past midnight, “you should get going, it’s late,” pretending to scroll on the still-bare document. 

“No, what were you gonna say?” 

You keep your eyes on the screen, tapping your foot against the leg of the chair, “I said it doesn’t matter.” 

“It obviously does,” he pushes, egging you on. 

You take a sharp intake of breath to signal that you weren’t willing to go any further with this. Why couldn’t he just fucking drop it?

“Oh my God, you started this conversation and now you don’t wanna finish it,” frustrated that it had seemed like you were finally beginning to seem like you were somewhat human, he grabs his discarded jacket, rolling his eyes as he starts to exit the office. 

“I’m scared I’m not doing a good job… you all obviously care about this place and I’ve just come in here and ruined it,” biting down onto your bottom lip, “and as much as you all pretend to like me, I know you don’t and- and that’s fine,” you shrug, exasperated with the weight of a thousand bricks hanging onto your shoulders, “I don’t care about being liked, I just want this restaurant to work but it feels like I can’t even do that,” slumping forward, confounded and slightly in shock that the first person you’d spilled all of this to was fucking Eddie.

“I do like you,” he says quietly, stopping in his tracks, throwing his jacket back down, “everyone does… you’re making this restaurant better,” rejoining you at the desk, “we’re all just stubborn and mean so no one’s told you but you’re doing good,” a reassuring smile overcoming his lips, his hand wavers, unsure of whether to reach out to touch your shoulder or if that was a step too far. 

He flops back into the chair and you offer him a genuine smile for his words. It was really all you could muster without starting to cry. Coming into an already established restaurant with new ideas and ways of working was never easy but to be met with such pushback from him had made it even harder. So to now have him say in front of you, telling you that what you’re doing is right, well it meant the world. 

“Thank you,” you mouth, blinking earnestly as you flip the laptop lid shut, it was too late and you were far too tired to even try to continue. “That really means a lot from you,” attempting to turn your vulnerability into a joke. 

“I mean it, though,”scooting closer on the chair, “I just enjoy arguing with you too much to admit it.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, that much was true, he definitely enjoyed getting under your hair and pissing you off as much as he could. 

“We should go, it’s super late and I’ve got all day tomorrow to do this,” sliding the pen into the pot, feeling his eyes still boring into the side of your face. 

You stand from your seat, expecting him to follow but he stays firmly planted in his chair. Hand reaching out to grab your wrist as you grab your bag. Jolting away as you’re not expecting the sudden contact. 

He swallows, standing up before deciding whether to just fuck it or if this was about to get him fired. You’re blissfully unaware that this internal battle was even happening until his hand is on your cheek, tilting your chin upwards before closing the distance between your bodies, smashing his lips to yours. 

Oh shit. 

It takes a second for your brain to process what was happening but you don’t.. dislike it. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee, sliding his tongue into your parted mouth with a quickness. 

Leaning into the kiss, your hands hesitantly coming to rest on his shoulders. You’re taken aback by how easy it feels, moving together just right. The small of your back crashes into the rigid desk, pulling you out of the kiss and back into reality. Staring back at his darkened eyes with a slight bemused expression. 

“No.. not here,” squeezing his shoulder. His hand paused on your shirt button, getting ahead of himself. Maybe you had found yourself wanting to fuck Eddie but not here. You weren’t that stupid. 

His hand falls, swinging to his side, “oh.. you didn’t- did I fuck up?” still mere inches from your face, so close in fact, you could feel his breath on your flushed cheek. 

“No.. no, I just..” deciding to just bite the bullet and go for it, “do you wanna go back to my apartment? It’s not far,” blinded by the haze of lust that was filling the small room to the brim. 

His eyes grow wide, realising exactly what you meant, buzzing with impatience and excitement. “Yes.. yeah I’d love to,” his plump lips still wet with the remnants of your mouth. 

You nod, letting go of his shoulder to gather your things, and yourself, before pulling him out of the restaurant. Eddie is more than willing to leave his van in the parking lot, jumping into your car with an primal eagerness. 

The car journey is quiet and you wonder if this maybe wasn’t the best idea. What would everyone at work say? Maybe they didn’t have to know? This could be a one time thing and you’ll both just never mention it again. Well, you hope anyway. 

You think your head might just burst the second he walks into your apartment, somewhere you had never expected Eddie to ever appear. 

You’re quick to continue the abandoned kiss, not giving him any opportunity to make wise cracks about your apartment. It somehow felt easier if it was just mindless sex where you didn’t speak. 

Guiding him towards your bedroom because the couch felt just a tad too casual. His hands are everywhere, sneaking underneath your blouse and then back down into the waistband of your pants. You shove him backwards onto your bed, clambering on top quickly so as to not give him a chance to start speaking or to do anything stupid. 

Eddie’s obviously not keen on giving you the higher ground, gripping onto your waist and flipping the both of you so that he led on top. He’s got this devilish grin on his face that is so smug, you just want to slap it off of him. You chase the taste of his mouth with yours, becoming accustomed to the mixture of cigarettes and mint. God, you hope this doesn’t become a regular thing. 

He pulls away from you to gawp down the space between your bodies, mouth hung open, gasping for breath while his fingers skillfully unbutton your pants, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips, “woah… when the hell d’you get that?” staring at the black ink covering your thigh, a rose curling around the length of your flesh. 

A dumb decision you’d made the first week of culinary school. You felt out of place alongside the other chefs who were absolutely covered in tattoos and felt the need to join them. Except, you hadn’t exactly thought about it and just went along with the first thing the dodgy artist had suggested. He’d also quite purposely left out just how much such a large piece would fucking hurt, especially for a first tattoo. 

You join him in looking down at it, curling your lips in disgust, “when I was like… eighteen, it’s ugly and I hate it so thank you,” continuing your task of getting his jacket off, ignoring the fact that he was still ogling the inking and slightly starting to regret your decision to bring him here. 

“It’s fucking sick, what are you talking about?” he’s smirking, running his fingers along the thick lining as your pants hang around your knees, “I thought you were like… boring,” finding the hem of your lacy underwear and tugging on it. 

Your lips hover above his, eyes hooded as you glare at him, “can you just shut up before I regret everything and make you leave?”

He nods instantaneously, connecting your lips with a quickness, shaking his jacket off of his arm and onto the floor with a thud. Repositioning his knees to either side of your thighs, you’d done a good job of getting your shirt half-off, his fingers fiddling with the rest of the buttons as you break from his lips, leaving wet kisses along his stubbly jawline. 

“Holy fuck, you’re joking?” his eyes just about popping out of his head as your pierced nipples spill out of your bra. Another spontaneous teenage decision you hadn’t got round to getting rid of yet. 

His hand is immediately drawn to your exposed breast, full of pure glee, “you’re a dark horse, you know that right?” thumb running over the erect nipple as you fumble with his tattered old belt. 

Your mouth opens to protest his ogling but is quickly replaced with a soft gasp, his thumb working miracles on the sensitive bud. Head falling back against the pillow when his lips replace his thumb, licking and sucking on your nipple with a wicked grin. 

“Shit,” you moan, his growing erection rutting against your core, “can you- please hurry up,” it sounds strangled coming from your throat, embarrassed that you’ve completely melted into a pile of putty beneath him. If you’d have known that his mouth could be put to such good use, maybe you’d have tried this earlier. 

Thankfully, he takes the hint, leaving one last kitten lick to your chest before rushing to get his pants down. Kicking them off to the side somewhere, the clunk of his belt buckle hitting your bed frame on the way down. 

“Oh baby, that all for me?” remarking on your absolutely sodden underwear, hurriedly pulling them down your thighs, before using the same hand to position himself at your dripping entrance. 

You’re too desperate to think of anything smart to say back, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d probably just start begging. 

His face mere inches from yours as he pushes himself inside, a groan from somewhere deep in his chest falls out, “Jesus Christ,” he stutters, willing himself not to cum right now. Sex is always better with someone you detested. Now why is that? 

Your arms loosely knot around his neck, intertwining your fingers with his hair, trying your utmost to hold eye contact as his hips begin to move. Slow at first, reaching the hilt before pulling back and sliding in, it’s excruciatingly slow and your legs tighten around his waist, begging for more. 

“Faster.. please Eddie,” whining as his pace quickens, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Yeah yeah.. yeah, say my name,” he blabbers, one hand sliding between your, thumb tapping against your swollen clit before rubbing tiny circles to the sensitive surface. 

“Shit,” you breathe, feeling incredibly full as his tip nudges against that soft, spongy spot. Your eyes squeeze shut, illuminated with an illustration of stars and white hot light. Your heart wasn’t eager to just adhere to his demands like that but shit, when he sounded this desperate, you couldn’t help it. 

Chanting his name like an oath in time with his thrusts. The filthy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, accompanying the strained groans coming from his throat. It was far too late and your neighbours could surely hear every single thing. 

“Fuck,” he breathes and you can feel his hips stutter, “you gonna cum for me? Huh?” dropping his forehead to rest against yours. 

Your thighs squeeze around his torso at the words, feeling yourself grow closer to your impending orgasm. His thumb still expertly rubbing your clit, slow but deep thrusts as he nears his own end. Your brain too hazy to think coherently about anything as you tighten around him, overcome with the blinding pleasure of your orgasm. 

“Yesyesyes,” you garble, trembling as you come undone completely, back arching from the mattress which brings your bodies impossibly close. Tugging gently on his curls as a means of encouragement, not that he needed it. 

“Ohhh fuck yeah.. shit,” unable to stop himself in time, spurting thick ropes of cum inside of you. You’re too fucked out to truly think about the implications yet, still gasping for air as he pumps his cock a few measly times before pulling out and sitting up on his knees. 

His wild hair stuck to his moist forehead as he looms above, trying to catch his own breath between your knees. “I’m so sorry.. you’re not.. you can’t get pregnant, can you?” one hand coming to rest on your thigh. 

Your eyes roll on their own, accelerating back to Earth at an insane pace, “no,” reshuffling so you laid comfortably on the pillow, “but you can’t do that again,” glaring up at him without any realisation as to what you just said. 

“Again?” his brows raise, still poised between your legs, “there’s a next time?” 

You huff, turning on your side, away from Eddie and his stupid doe eyes and that ridiculous smirk. Reaching down to grab a shirt from your bedside table while he chuckles to himself. 

Ashamedly, your heart skips a beat when he slides in behind you, pressing his body into yours. You were losing it, and embarrassingly quickly too. Ah fuck. 

-

A hand snaking around your waist pulls you from your sleep and for a brief moment you start to think someone had broken in and decided to crawl into bed with you. Until said hand creeps down to your hip and those lips you’d hung off last night press a small kiss to your shoulder. 

“Morning,” you grumble, placing your hand atop of his to stop it creeping into the waistband of your shorts.  

“Ah c’mon..” frowning against your back, “best way to start a long day.” 

“I have to get ready for work, so do you actually,” keeping your head firmly on the pillow, there were no real intentions of getting up. Not yet. 

“Hmm.. five minutes,” hand descending even with yours on top, his smirk evident, dripping through his words. You shudder as his hand reaches your cunt, leaning backwards into his chest, ever so slightly parting your legs. 

“Five minutes,” you agree, fully acknowledging that you were slipping into dangerous territory here. 

-

“Did you fuck Helen too?” you ask, not really wanting to know the answer but just having to know if you were right in your stereotyping. 

Every kitchen had one. The one that seemed to make their way around everyone eventually. You were sure Eddie was that one and you were the last on his hit list. 

“What? Helen was like fifty dude,” messing with the volume dial on the radio. 

“So? Did you?”

He’s silent for a second, throwing his hands into the air, “it was one time,” raging that you’d caught him out on such a baseless accusation. 

“I knew it,” nodding smugly to yourself, he most definitely has the aura of the kitchen bike and that was for sure. 

“Yeah but… you’re like actually hot and I know what you’re thinking but no, I am not a slut… it was once and we were drunk and that was it, so you can shut up,” deciding to turn the stereo off, not a fan of your choice of Taylor Swift records. 

“I’m like… actually hot?” mimicking his tone. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head, of course that’d be the only part of the sentence you picked up on, “hon, you don’t notice me pop a boner everytime we argue?”

Your face screws up, unsure of whether to take it as a compliment or if you should be speaking to HR, “wasn’t generally looking in that direction if I’m honest,” swinging round into the car park, just past Eddie’s abandoned van, “thanks though… I think,” smiling at him as you gather your things. 

“It was a compliment, by the way,” stepping out of your car, tapping the doors of his rusty old van before walking inside, going on and on about Peggy (his van) and how important she was to him. 

You’re not entirely paying attention as you walk into the kitchen, startled by the presence of somebody already clattering about in there. Eddie follows closely behind, just as confused as you that anybody sane would be here this early. 

“Hello?” you call out, rounding the corner to spot Marcus who had taken it upon himself to come in early to start prep, making a monumental mess of the counter. 

“Oh yeah, hey… I wanted to start now ‘cause I need to leave early- you two came in together?” perplexed by the sight of Eddie peering over your shoulder, the batter covered wooden spoon pointed at the pair of you. 

“Right… er- his van broke down last night and I said I’d give him a ride,” nodding at your obviously fabricated story, looking to Eddie for some back up. 

He nods along happily, “I’m gonna take a look at ‘er later, fingers crossed or you’ll be givin’ me rides all week,” slinking away into the locker room with a sly smirk on his face, thankfully hidden by the shoddy wall as he winks. 

“God forbid,” you quip back, scrunching up your nose as you leave the two of them and make your way to the office, throwing your bag onto the cluttered desk and collapsing onto the desk chair. 

You had to get this damn menu done by Friday or you were completely, utterly fucked. Already three days behind on the schedule, you’d be lucky if you even made it home tonight. Flinging the discarded laptop lid open to be met with the very much blank menu once again. An email pings through that makes your heart jump. It must’ve gone unseen when you were otherwise occupied last night. 

Hello,

I hope this email finds you well. 

I just wanted to confirm that Joan will be in attendance on May 18th as per your invitation. She is looking forward to trying the new menu and will subsequently write a review expecting to be published on or around the 20th. 

Thank you, 

Imogen Smart, The Indianapolis Star

Oh shit oh fuck oh balls. 

It had slipped your mind that you’d even invited her along to try the new menu. What a colossal mistake this would turn out to be. 

Stupid, stupid girl. 

You’re slouched over the desk, head in your hands when Eddie creeps through the open door, startling you when he speaks, “you good?” making his way to the desk, leering down to look at the screen as if it was any of his business. 

“I really do not have time for you right now,” smoothing out your new-found forehead wrinkles. You never had time for his bullshit but you certainly did not have time for them now. 

“Eh, what the fuck? I was inside of you like three hours ago and now you’re being weird again?” 

“Shhh- shut up,” you whisper-shout, the chair rolling back as you stand rather ferociously, staring at the gap in the door and just praying that Marcus was too busy doing whatever the fuck he was doing to hear. 

“Jesus… chill out,” his hands are on your shoulders, soothing your nerves irregardless of how much you cared to admit it. 

You blink at him, cheeks burning, “I just- I have so much to do today, this critic is coming and I still haven’t finished the men-” 

Your sentence is rudely interrupted with his soft lips pressing against yours, caressing your cheek with his rough hand. It’s automatic, but you’re leaning into it, finding yourself gripping onto his bicep as he nudges you back towards the desk. It’s probably a good thing that your tailbone smacks into the sharp edge, pushing him from you as you come back to planet Earth. 

“Stop.. stop,” gently squeezing his arm, the other consoling your throbbing spine, “I need you out there today, okay? You’re gonna have to take charge, get shit done and do not bother me unless that kitchen is on fire or you’ve cut your arm off, okay?” lowering your head to meet his eyeline. 

“My arm? That’s a bit extreme,” deciding to turn your high stress situation into a joke. 

“Yes your arm, finger you can deal with, capiche?”

“Yes ma’am,” hand lingering on the small of your back, “you sure you’re good?” 

You exhale slowly and perhaps a tad too harshly snap, “yes.. I’m okay, now unless you have a brand new menu for me.. get out,” sweetening the blow with a sickly smile, motioning for him to leave. 

“Okay okay..” he begins walking to the door, “I’m in charge, right?” ever the opportunist. 

“Yes, but do not make me regret it,” flashing him a warning look. 

“Sweet,” winking at you as he slips out of the door, rubbing his hands together like the little demon he is. You roll your eyes but can’t deny the way your heart thuds with affection.

Whatever was blossoming had the potential to fuck up every single good thing you’d done for this place, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to at least see how far you could go before total chaos.

- p2

You had meant for it to be casual. Like a few times a month sorta thing. And yet somehow you’re sat with your head on Eddie’s shoulder, half asleep as the gory horror film he’d picked plays on. 

It had started that way, to be fair. After a stressful day or on a quick lunch break you’d catch him and pull him into the office. It’s no surprise really that it didn’t take long for the rest of the kitchen to catch on. 

But back to right now, you’re only supposed to be  resting your eyes as you lean into his shoulder. He smelt like kitchen, cigarettes and the new cologne you’d bought for him as his old one was quite frankly disgusting and had irritated your nose. He jolts upright when the screen flashes, knocking you from his shoulder and rudely pulling you out of your slumber. 

“You’re a prick,” you mumble, glowering in his direction before opting for the opposite side of the sofa, the side that wasn’t rude. 

He snorts but quickly realises that you are very serious and very much not happy, “I’m sorry.. come sleep on me again,” pleading with you, “or d’you wanna go to bed?” clicking the pause button on the remote. 

“I wanted to go to bed an hour ago,” grumbling into the cushion as he’d ignored your request and swore that you’d just love this new movie. You didn’t. It was fucking boring. 

“Okay okay, let’s go to bed,” he shuts the television off before standing from the couch, towering over your curled up body, “I’m not fuckin’ carrying you,” already wise to your tricks. 

You groan something incoherently, something deeply offensive to his entire bloodline, before pulling yourself from the couch. “You know, if we’d gone to bed when I’d asked, I would’ve let you put it in my ass,” shrugging innocently before leading the way to your bedroom. 

“Wait what? You didn’t say- I didn’t know that was an option!” speed-walking to catch up with you, incredibly eager to figure out if this offer was still on the table. 

It was not. 

“Yup, shame really.. you should probably listen to me more,” clambering into the unmade bed with the tiniest smirk on your face. 

He’s not far behind, leaping into your bed, “we can still do that though, right? It’s only..” glancing at your alarm clock, “..two” he doesn’t even sound sure of himself. 

“Nope,” pulling the blanket over your shoulders, purposely choosing to face the other way, “you missed your chance buddy.” 

-

Whoever had done the ordering (you) had royally fucked up and left tomatoes off of the list. So as a consequence of your stupidity, you were now in Bradley’s trying to balance ten packets of stupid fucking tomatoes in your arms. 

You’re not even looking where you're going, too focused on not dropping the damn horrid red things as you skulk through the store. It’s already too late when you bash the elbow of some innocent bystander, knocking multiple packets to the ground. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grumble, grabbing at the discarded fruits with your spare hand. 

The kind gentleman had already started to try and balance them back in your arms. You look up to thank the stranger to be met with a face you hadn’t seen since high school. 

“Steve Harrington? I- what the fuck?” you remark, clutching onto the produce so as to not cause another collapse. 

“Holy shit, it’s you,” he’s utterly dumbfounded, staring back at your face in amazement. 

You’re suddenly extremely aware of your dirty uniform and messy hair, eyeing his well pressed suit and just general put-togetherness. His hair still perfectly styled though just a bit shorter now. 

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you lived in Indiana anymore?” the last you’d heard of him, his father had sent him away to his office in New York, desperate for his son to have the life he never had. 

“Ah.. well, I do now, bit of a long story,” chuckling awkwardly as he takes the majority of your tomatoes to the counter, lightening the load. 

“Oh well, that’s cool..” you nod to the cashier who asks if you’d like a bag or multiple bags in your case, “I’d love to catch up but I’ve got a bit of a tomato crisis, uh..” digging in your pocket for the company card. 

“Yeah definitely… here let me,” he grabs one of the jam packed bags under his arm, “I’m gonna assume these aren’t all for you?” leading the way to the parking lot. 

“Oh no, I fucking hate tomatoes.. I messed up at work so it’s my job to fix it,” loading the bags into your dusty old car, “here, take my number and we can plan something.. it’s been so long,” grabbing for your phone in your apron. 

“I uh- I actually have your number,” he nods, not bothering to get his own phone out. 

“I’ve changed my number since high school, Steve.” 

“No, yeah I know.. I got it from Robin, I was s’posed to call you when I got back..” rubbing his thumb along his forehead and into his hair, “I’ll give you a call later and we can do something,” smiling softly as he closes your back door. 

“Oh, okay.. yes please call me, I- uh I really have to get back,” sliding into the driver's seat, fumbling with your keys, as you roll the window down to continue the conversation. 

“I will, I hope your tomato crisis.. gets better,” shrugging awkwardly as you start the engine. Wincing at his choice of words. 

“Me fucking too,” rolling your eyes as you pull off, not entirely registering what had just happened, focused on getting these stupid vegetables back to the restaurant. 

It’s not until an unknown number flashes up on your screen that you think about it again. He’d left it until you were right in the middle of stuffing dinner down your throat to call of course. 

“Hello?” you muffle into the phone, chewing on the lukewarm piece of chicken. 

“Hey! It’s Steve.. you said to call so.. I called,” he sounds nervous, like he was calling a stranger and not you. 

“Oh hey.. sorry I’m eating,” covering your mouth as you loudly swallow, “how are you?” 

“Yeah I’m good, hope your crisis turned out okay,” laughing into the receiver. 

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad.. thank you for your help, you saved me from squishing a ton of tomatoes.” 

“Of course,” he clears his throat, “would you wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? I take it you’re busy with your.. tomatoes but I’m free pretty much whenever.” 

“Yes.. yes erm-,” you set the phone onto loudspeaker and flit through the bookings for tomorrow, it wasn’t insanely busy and you were sure they would manage without you for an hour or so, “does ten sound good for you?” 

“Ten is perfect,” you can hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you there then, enjoy your dinner,” still sounding as awkward as ever. 

“Okay.. I’ll see you then, then,” making a mental note for tomorrow that you’d probably end up forgetting anyway. 

You end the call, locking your phone and finally giving all your attention to the cold plate of food in front of you. 

“Who was that?” Eddie appears out of nowhere, frowning as he walks into the office. 

“Hmm? Oh, my friend Steve,” devouring the chicken without a second thought as to why he was even questioning it. 

“Your friend? That you’re going for coffee with…?” 

“Were you listening to my conversation?” blinking up at him. 

“No.. I overheard you- don’t change the subject, you’re ditching work for a date?” he’s scowling, coming to perch on the desk. 

“It’s not a date,” you warn, prodding the fork into his rib, “he’s a friend from school and we’re catching up while it’s quiet tomorrow, is that okay with you?” shaking your head, not that you were genuinely asking for his approval. 

He narrows his eyes, “I suppose..” he takes the fork from your hand, helping himself to your dinner, “it’s just coffee?” asking tentatively as his greedy ass tucks in. 

“Oh my God yes, it’s just coffee,” he was incredibly jealous for someone who was not your boyfriend. 

“Okay okay.. sheesh, no need to get defensive.. date whoever you want,” shrugging as if he couldn’t care less. 

“You’re the one getting jealous, not my fault you never ask me to go for coffee.” 

“Because we spend every waking moment together anyway,” repetitively banging his heel into the desk, irritating you to no end. “But I’ll make sure to ask you to go for coffee from now on.. don’t want some loser taking my place.” 

You huff, pulling the plate away from his greedy hands, “are you done?” 

He shuffles backwards, still picking at your food despite your obvious attempts to get it away from him. “Okay okay.. I’m done.” 

Eddie, in fact, does not drop it. 

He’s still pouting when you climb into bed, sighing to himself like a pathetic old dog. Except now, he’d become desperate and slightly weird about it. Making all sorts of promises and hypothetical dates for you two to go on. 

“Why don’t we go for coffee tomorrow? I’ll even pay,” walking his fingers along your side. 

“Eddie please, can you stop? Who am I in bed with right now? Because it’s not Steve, I can tell you that,” exasperated by his incessant attempts to piss you off. 

“Okay.. okayy,” retiring this tired bit for the night at long last, “you’re still taking me to work, right?” settling his hand on your waist, cuddling into your back. 

“Yes, you bum,” switching the lamp off before setting your head on the pillow. 

“I’m not a bum,” feeling him frown against your back, “it’s not my fault you refuse to get in my van.” 

“It’s a death trap, I’d rather risk walking along the highway,” smiling into the darkness. 

“Yeah whatever, good night,” he mumbles, pretending to be pissed off until you feel the tiniest, sweetest kiss to your shoulder. 

-

You’re running late, as usual. Something about the bookings being fucked for tonight meaning you were either going to have a full restaurant or have absolutely no one show up. 

It didn’t matter to you, not right now anyway because you’re jogging along the sidewalk to get to the dang café before Steve thinks you’ve abandoned him.  

You’re huffing and puffing when you shove open the door, making a royal fool of yourself as anyone would believe you’ve just sprinted in a marathon to get here. 

Steve jolts up the second he hears the door go, giving you a small wave from his table in the corner. It’s a relief that he hadn’t just up and left considering you were fifteen minutes late. 

“I am so so sorry,” you say hurriedly, sliding into the other chair, “another crisis and obviously I’m the only one who’s capable of fixing things so..” you stop your rambling to look at him properly, “sorry- you don’t care, shit did you order?” 

He chuckles nervously, “yeah.. I didn’t know what you wanted so I didn’t get you anything,” he stands up, “what d’ya get?” 

“Uhh a cappuccino would be great.. thanks,” setting your bag down on the vacant chair beside you. 

You chat about nothing and everything for a while until Steve turns the conversation back to high school. Now, you and Steve had a weird relationship during high school; hung around the same group, had a massive crush on the guy and was pretty certain that he at least liked you too. It had just never amounted to anything. 

“I remember in school, you always used to cook shit for us.. it’s crazy that you’ve got your own restaurant now,” shaking his head in slight disbelief. 

You’d bring tupperware full to the brim with whatever random shit you’d cooked up the night before. Forcing your friends to eat it and share their opinions no matter how harsh they could be. 

“It’s not really my restaurant,” sipping the cappuccino he’d kindly bought, “I just run it and make sure it doesn’t burn down or go bankrupt,” laughing to yourself. 

“So it’s technically yours..” fingers fiddling around with the empty sugar packet, “I’ll have to come by sometime, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.” 

“I mean, I could probably get you in tomorrow.. if you wanted?” 

“Well yeah, that sounds great,” smiling earnestly across the table. 

“Great! I’ll text you the details later but you should definitely bring your wife, I’d love to meet her,” you vaguely remember seeing the extravagant wedding pictures on Facebook a few years back. 

You hadn’t paid much attention as to who he’d married just recalled noticing the absolutely gargantuan manor house in the back and how stunning her dress was. 

His smile fades and his mouth opens to speak but doesn’t manage to squeeze anything out. You get the feeling that that might have been the wrong thing to say. Immediately wanting to slide down your seat and hide under the table. 

Steve takes it well though, laughing softly, “Ah.. not anymore but uh- thank you for bringing that back up,” playfully shaking his head. 

“Oh no, oh my God.. I’m sorry,” grimacing because of your big fat mouth, “I thought I’d seen it on Facebook but maybe that wasn’t you.. oh fuck.” 

“No.. it probably was me, we just- yeah not anymore,” wiggling his empty hand in your direction, only just now are you noticing the lack of a ring. 

“I’m sorry,” smiling apologetically, “I’ve gotta ask though.. what happened?” 

He sits back in his chair, preparing for the absolute novel of a story he was about to tell, “well, my dad moved me to New York, wanted me to learn how to be a man or whatever,” waving his arms about, “and I met the love of my life- I thought I met the love of my life.. we got married and it was great for a little while but she..” he inhales, recalling the still bitter memories, “..obviously didn’t feel the same way,” you’re sat eager eyed, waiting for the real gossip, “she was fucking her boss.. whole time.” 

“Shittt…” baring your teeth in a pained expression, “that’s awful Steve, I’m so sorry,” gingerly patting his outstretched arm, “what a bitch.” 

He nods along, “yeah she is,” his fingers drum a rhythm into the table, “that’s why I’m back here… I’m sick of New York.” 

“God,” guilt rising into your chest for being the one to bring that back up, “at least you’re home now, right? Must be nice seeing everyone again,” your eyes flitting to your phone that had lit up for the umpteenth time. 

eds:) : when r u coming back?? 

eds:) : helloooo? 

eds:) : stop fucking ur boyfriend and come back 2 work 

eds:) : i’m being serious now we need u 

Steve follows your gaze to your phone screen, realising that you’d been sitting here for a while now and he’d just pulled you from your work to talk about his messy divorce. “Work?” 

You look back at him, “yeah.. I’m gonna have to run, but I’ll get you a table for tomorrow,” pushing your chair back, grabbing for your bag, “bring whoever.. I’ll text you the details!” offering him a small smile as you rush out of the busy cafe not bothering to wait for his reply. 

-

Eddie is just as irritating as expected when you get back, hanging off of your arm the second you walk in the door. 

“So, you just had coffee? You were gone a long time, man,” an attempt to play off his jealousy, though it was hardly working. 

“Don’t call me man, and yep, just coffee. Like I’ve said a hundred times before,” hanging up your bag and tying the apron around your waist. 

“Right.. he wasn’t tryna do anything though, was he? ‘Cause I can tell him straight if you need me to,” hanging around your ankles like a lost puppy dog. 

“He’s in the middle of a divorce. I don’t think you need to do anything, big boy,” gently patting his arm. 

“Ohh so that’s why he’s back and trying to fuck you now.. I get his game.” 

You turn to face him, sandwiched between his body and the rusty lockers, “will you just relax? Please,” running your hands down his chest. 

Eddie frowns slightly, but nods, “he’s got nothin’ on me anyway..” a silhouette of a smirk forming on his face, “you know who’s givin’ it to ya good,” planting his lips on yours before you get the chance to express your utter disgust. 

You’re smiling when he pulls back but push him away from you regardless, “do not ever say that shit to me again,” tightening the straps around your waist, walking away from the freak and into whatever hell awaits you in the kitchen.  

-

It’s not very surprising that Steve comes in alone, your heart aches a little seeing him sat at the table on his own. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is watching your face with a foul scowl on his. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you announce that you’re going to see how he is, practically snarling at the thought. 

He knows the dish in front of him is Steve’s order, he’d audibly criticised the fact that Steve had removed the mushrooms from his food, is he a fucking toddler or something? 

His eyes dart around the room, pursing his lips as he prepares to maybe just let the glob of spit fall out of his mouth and accidentally into Steve’s childish dinner. 

“Don’t,” Tina’s hand clamps over his mouth, stopping his despicable plans in motion. 

“I wasn’t actually gonna do it,” he protests, glowering at his co-worker. He definitely was going to do it and she knew it. 

“Leave him alone,” flashing him that universally understood look that tells him not to even dare, “can you blame her, though? Meow,” grinning as her eyes flicker to you and Steve through the tiny window. 

Eddie kisses the back of his teeth, whipping the dish towel at her, “ha ha very funny,” she’s desperate to rile him up as much as possible, taunting him with her mean quips. 

His eyes slide to the window, met with the image of you absolutely cracking up at something Steve had said. It was the kinda laugh he loved to force out of you, usually late at night when you were overly tired and a little hazy. Unheard by most people. It was a slight comfort to know that Steve definitely wasn’t that funny, he could almost bank on it. 

It’s like torture watching the pair of you interact for what feels like forever. Pulling his eyes away, deciding to go for a cigarette instead of putting himself through any more of that. 

The air outside is still, it’s getting colder again but it seemed like Indiana was still hanging onto the dregs of summer; the sky illuminated with streaks of pink and orange. Maybe that’s what he was doing? Desperately clawing to keep your thing alive all the while you were trying to wriggle out of it. 

He’s harshly pulled out of his self-pitying cloud, “Eddie?” you call out of the door, bounding over to where he was slouched against the brick wall, “thank you for doing that.. he said it’s great,” your toothy grin making an appearance. 

Eddie grunts something in response, trying desperately not to think of you smiling at Steve like that. 

“What? You okay? Why’re you being weird?” 

“I’m not being weird,” he shrugs, lying through his teeth. He couldn’t help it, his heart twisting and contorting with every mention of that prick's name. 

“Yes you are,” sighing softly, “you’re actually jealous? I thought you were just joking,” stepping toward him as he throws the cigarette to the floor. 

His eyes eventually find yours, “I’m not.. jealous,” curling his finger into the bow of your apron strap, using it to pull you in, “I don’t get jealous,” another blatant lie. 

“Mhm is that right?” you giggle, his behaviour over the past few days had proven that statement to be false. Wrapping your arms around his waist as your cheek begins to rest on his chest. 

Desperately trying to convince himself that this is a sign. That if you’d really wanted to, you’d be in there, doing this with Steve. But you’re not. You’re here. You’re clinging onto him and everything is fine. 

-

The door handle at the front of the store rattles a couple times before whoever is behind it gives up and knocks, you all look at each other slightly confused before Eddie takes the plunge and goes to answer. You’re standing behind the counter with a guarded expression, not prepared for whatever crazy was trying to get in at stupid o’clock in the morning. 

Steve is standing behind the open door with an apologetic smile, holding up a takeaway cup obviously bought for you. Eddie is less than thrilled, skulking back into the kitchen with the most horrendous scowl plastered on his face. 

“I’m sorry.. I should’ve text first,” kicking the door shut behind him, offering out the warm cup for you to take. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, “yeah.. that would’ve been a good idea, thank you though,” gladly taking his offering. 

“I just wanted to say thank you for last night, I didn’t catch you before I left so thought I’d stop by,” sipping on his own coffee, poised in the middle of the restaurant floor. 

Eddie’s stood leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the front of house, arms crossed against his chest. Disapproving glare set solidly on Steve. 

“Yeah absolutely, I’m glad you liked it,” smiling fondly at the man, sipping appreciatively on your cappuccino. 

“I uh- I have a question for you,” his eyes flit to Eddie who was still stood with his eyes narrowed, scowling, “in private.. if that’s alright?” 

You spin to look at Eddie, nodding towards the back, “I’ll meet you in my office in a minute,” shooing him off, “please.” 

He snarls back at you, looking back over his shoulder to shoot daggers into Steve before eventually disappearing into the kitchen. For someone acting so jealous, you’d think you’d have been in a committed relationship for years. 

Rolling your eyes as you trundle closer to Steve, “ignore him.” 

“He a handful?” 

“Mm and a mouthful sometimes,” perching on one of the tables, totally oblivious to your innuendo. 

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, blinking ferociously as you finally catch on. 

“Oh no- I just meant he’s like.. rude,” stumbling over your words, cheeks beginning to burn. 

“I know what you meant,” Steve assures, though he looked a little flustered himself. 

Your eyes squeeze shut, “just continue,” rolling your hand, desperate for him to forget you’d opened your mouth.

He clears his throat, “so I was talking to my buddy.. he owns Garson’s in the city and he was saying there’s a spot opening for a sous,” glancing at you, “I just mentioned your name and I’ll give you his number but he said he’d love to meet you,” his mouth twitching into a smile. 

Well, that was not at all what you were expecting.  

In fact, it was a massive curveball ball that you’d not rehearsed a response to. 

Garson’s was insane, they’d just earned their first star and everybody who was anybody was trying to get a reservation. It would be career defining to even stage there. 

“Oh wow… Steve I actually don’t know how to reply to that,” placing your coffee onto the table in fear of dropping it on the floor. 

“Well obviously think about it, I’ll text you his details later, he seemed pretty eager to get someone in so.. don’t take too long,” drumming his fingers onto the table. 

“Yeah.. right, holy shit,” you remark, trying to take it all in. It’s unclear what to even say to him in this situation, thank you seemed too small but slathering his face in kisses was probably a step too far. 

“I gotta go, let me know what you decide,” his smile honest and genuine as he grabs his coffee and heads to the door. 

Just before he slips out, you jump back into action, “thank you!” beaming with pure unadulterated joy. 

He nods, disappearing into the street as the door slams shut behind him. 

You can barely contain yourself, practically skipping through the kitchen to go and find Eddie who you were absolutely certain was not going to share the same level of excitement you possessed. 

“What’s got you so happy? He ask you out on a real date finally?” turning up his nose without you saying a word. 

“Noo..” you chime in, still riding the high, kicking the door shut behind you, traipsing over to rest your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, “so.. Steve said there’s a position going in Garson’s and it’s basically mine if I want it..” struggling to contain your grin. 

His hands falter, brushing down your sides to now hang limp beside him, “what?” Unsure if what he had heard had been correct. 

“There’s a job at Garson’s and it’s basically mine.. isn’t that great?” grabbing at the back of his neck. You were expecting a little more happiness than this, you can’t lie. 

He looks almost offended. Features screwed up in pure confusion, as if you’d insulted his mother. “So you’re leaving? Some fancy job pops up from your fancy pants boyfriend and you’re suddenly abandoning us?” 

“Wha- no? I’m not abandoning anybody,” removing your arms from his shoulder, “this is an opportunity to actually do something with my career, show everyone what I’m capable of,” you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just pretend to be happy for you. 

He stands up, the chair making a god-awful noise behind him, “so you get to come in here, change everything and then jump ship as soon as something better comes along?” eyes that once looked at you with pure adoration now full of disgust. 

You’re gobsmacked. Utterly speechless that he was acting like such a petulant jerk. You hadn’t seen this side of him since that night so many months ago in this very office. 

“Eddie, what has got into you? This is good news! You didn’t expect me to stay here forever, did you?” 

“I don’t know,” exasperated, “I just didn’t expect you to run to the next best thing so soon,” he looks venomous, mean. 

“I’m not! He’s my friend and he’s helping me out.. why are you being like this?” he may as well have torn your heart from your chest and stomped on it in front of you. 

Eddie scoffs, running a hand over his mouth, “your friend… who you haven’t spoken to in years suddenly has this great new job for you and has absolutely no ulterior motive? Ha, right.” 

It finally clicks in your brain, he doesn’t really give a shit whether you stay or go. This was about hating Steve and being a jealous loser despite still not asking you to be his girlfriend. 

“That’s what this is about? You think Steve.. what? That he wants to fuck me? You’re pathetic, do you know that?” 

“It’s not about that,” raising his voice, chest puffed out. This was the Eddie you’d met and hated six months ago. You were sure you’d never have to deal with that prick again. “I don’t.. I don’t care what or who you do, I just think you’re a traitor and I don’t want anything to do with someone like that.” 

Your face falls, blinking rapidly as the tears prick in your eyes. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat. He could be an evil prick when he wanted to be and before, it never would’ve upset you this much. But now it felt personal, like you’d let him in only for him to use everything you’d told him against you. 

“Get out,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction at least, waiting until the door is slammed in your face to let them fall. 

Humiliated and utterly pathetic as you flop into the chair, letting the tears fall free. 

If he was trying to convince you to stay, then he’d failed. Majorly. 

-

You’re hidden in the office for the remainder of the day. Courtesy of Eddie’s horrible words. 

And he’s just a ray of sunshine in the kitchen. Clattering about as he drops pans, recklessly launching knives and utensils onto the counter. 

Marcus has had enough of his tantrum, tapping on his shoulder, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” steering Eddie towards the back alley. 

He slides down the brick wall, cigarette poised between his lips while Marcus mouths something to the rest of the beady eyed staff. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Marcus asks, he’s genuine but stern. Has talked the boy down a multitude of times but this seemed different. 

“She’s fucking leaving..” blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth, “some stuck up restaurant that dickhead Steve got her into.. that’s what’s wrong with me.” 

Marcus’ mouth opens but doesn’t speak, deciding to get down to Eddie’s level, perching next to him on the floor, “and why’s that made you so angry? She break up with you as well or somethin’?” struggling to understand why he cares so much. 

“No,” Eddie glowers at the floor, “you can’t break up if you’re not together. I’m just.. I’m pissed off, she came in here.. changed everything and now she gets to just move on like it’s nothing.” 

Poor Marcus is trying to piece it all together in his head. Settling on the only sensible conclusion that maybe whatever was going on between you and him was perhaps a hell of a lot deeper than either of you were admitting. 

“So.. you’re pissed that she made this shithole better? You sure that’s it?” questioning the validity of Eddie’s anger. 

“What’re you tryna say?” Eddie snaps, gritting his teeth together. How dare Marcus not believe his incredibly flimsy words? 

“That you’re not really angry ‘cause she’s moving on, you’re pissed because of this new guy and you think he’s.. he’s gonna take your spot or something? I can see right through you bro,” clapping his hand emphatically on Eddie’s shoulder, having caught him red handed. 

Eddie glares at the man, snarling but unable to respond. Because he was right. Eddie is a pathetic, insecure loser who can’t bring himself to just admit to you that he was jealous of Steve. It was easier for him to just make you hate him than to be honest with you about how he felt, at least that way you didn’t have the opportunity to shut him down. You couldn’t reject him if you didn’t know. 

“You’re gonna fuck this up forever if you keep acting like this,” Marcus sighs, getting up from the floor, “get in there and apologise or you’ll just push her right into his arms and I really don’t wanna deal with you if that happens,” flashing him a stern but well-meaning glare before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

His eyes squeeze shut, and as much as he didn’t want to hear that, he knew he was right. Self-sabotage had always been his forte except this time he was truly terrified of the possibility of losing you. And he wasn’t going to let that happen.  

-

There’s a quiet knock on your office door and you’re just about prepared to bite the head off of whoever dares to disturb you. 

“Come in,” you bark, dropping the pen onto the desk in frustration. 

A very meek Eddie peeks around the door, testing the waters to decide if it’s safe to fully come in without you throwing something at him.

Nothing collides with his head so he pushes the door open, holding onto a plate of pasta he’d made especially for you. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, still deciding on the right words to say. 

“You haven’t eaten all day..” he decides on, gingerly placing the plate in front of you on the desk, “you don’t have to eat it but don’t throw it away,” stepping back from the desk with extreme caution. 

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting the kind gesture, blinking at the delicious food in front of you. “Can I have a fork..?” 

“Shit yes I got one,” digging in his apron pocket for the utensil, laying it down next to the plate gently. 

“Thank you,” you nod, poking your fork into the food. It is delicious and it was still warm which is an even better bonus. 

He smiles slightly, “I wanted to say.. I’m sorry for being an asshole, you should..” trailing off into silence, swallowing the lump in his throat, “you should go for it, it’s a great opportunity,” reassuring himself even if he didn’t quite believe it. 

You chew slowly, apprehensive about his sudden change in attitude. This surely hadn’t been a conclusion he’d reached on his own and you wonder just who in the kitchen had given him a pep talk before sending him in here. You appreciated it nonetheless. As weird and complicated as you guys were, you weren’t quite ready to give it up already. 

“Really?” you look up, trying to gauge his reaction. It was evident that he was putting on a brave front and he still had some apprehensions about it all but for you he was willing to ignore them. 

Your heart swells. Which makes you feel a little sick. In a good way though, well, you think so anyway. 

“Yeah.. you’re a great chef and you deserve better than this shithole,” one side of his mouth twisting into a smile. The words are heavy and difficult to get out, but they’re true. He means it and would really do anything to ensure you were happy. Even if it did mean swallowing his pride and letting you follow that douchebag Steve. 

You stand from your chair, rushing over to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you..” resting your chin on his shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist, placing a soft kiss upon your forehead. 

He was going to miss these little moments the most, he thinks. Shaking his head slightly when his mind flits to the thought of you in some other kitchen doing this with someone other than him. 

“You want some food? Don’t wanna eat this whole thing myself,” pulling away from his grip, motioning back towards your desk. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” masking the ache in his heart with a sloppy grin. 

If his uncle had taught him anything, it was that you had to make sacrifices for the people you loved. Or thought you loved. Whatever. 

-

It doesn’t take long for Steve to show his stupid little face again and it irks Eddie to know that you were probably texting with him this entire time. Getting excited about this new position with another man. Blergh. It was knocking him sick. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder to give Eddie a small glance, smiling ever so tenderly as you disappear into your office. That should be enough confirmation that he truly had nothing to worry about. It was just a job. Oh God, what if you find someone else to bicker with? Look what had happened to you two. 

That sicky feeling returns and he wants to bolt. But he doesn’t, he’s big and brave and instead chooses to focus on finely dicing some onions until you reemerge from your office. Whenever the fuck that would be. 

It must be a whole half an hour before Steve walks through the kitchen, giving Eddie a sly pat on the back on the way out. Smug prick. He just grips the knife tighter, waiting for you to confirm that you’d be gone next week and that he should really start moving on before you left. 

“Ed’s can I talk to you outside?” your voice snaps him out of his pity party, giving the rest of the crew what looked like a sympathetic smile, you’d tell all of them the bad news later. 

He knew this was it. You were about to lay it all bare, tell him it’s okay, maybe we can still be friends? I hope you understand but I have to go and work at this fancy restaurant with my fancy high school boyfriend, sorry! 

Reluctantly walking into the alley way, the alley way you’d shared many sneaky kisses, reassuring words and that one time you’d got carried away and almost gave him a hand job right then and there. It was painful, the once comforting aura of the brick walls had since vanished. 

He’s already bracing for the worst, keeping his back to you as he walks further down the path. It’s the only way he could be sure that he wouldn’t end up begging on his knees for you to stay. And even then he couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen. 

“Will you look at me?” your voice echoing through his veins. 

He does, turning on his heel excruciatingly slow. Bottom lip starting to sting as his teeth cut into the skin. 

“When are you going?” solemn and miserable, honestly trying his hardest not to start pleading with you. 

“Never,” shaking your head, “I’m staying here,” feeling incredibly smug. You looked it too, nose scrunched up as you grin at him. 

Fuck. He’s not even sure if he’s heard that right. But the blood rushes back through his body and he almost crumbles, falling to his knees to thank whichever being up there had answered his prayers. The glum look he’d seemed to possess had vanished, grinning like a fucking maniac as he bounds over to you. One minute you’re on the floor and the next you’re being spun around, his arms almost crushing you. 

“What? Why’d you change your mind? I- fuck I’m so happy,” setting you back on solid ground, much to your relief. 

“Well, the thing is.. there’s this guy who works here, he’s a bit of an asshole but for some reason I really like him and he’s convinced me to stay,” fingers digging into his biceps, still afraid that you might become airborne at any moment. 

There’s not time to catch your breath before he’s crashing his lips into yours with great force, sending you flying backwards against the wall. His hands grabbing at anything he could touch, travelling the length of your body to brace your cheeks. Keeping you steady, making sure this was actually real. Christ, he thinks he loves you. 

Scrap that, he’s fucking certain that he loves you. 

[canarydarity]

(Happy Team Rancher week!! :D this is for today, the last day, AU fest. this is an au that I've had on the back burner for a while, but its for a ya book series I read in middle school and absolutely adore, and so I'm really glad I was able to finish this scene up and get it out here for the event!! The very basic premise is that Tango, Impulse, Skizz, and Etho are students at a teenage spy school. On their first ever field training mission, Tango meets Jimmy. Exceedingly, exceptionally normal Jimmy. Enjoy :) <3)

Hermitville looked as if every store-front was painted neatly on wooden slats and propped up from behind by a 2-by-4, its display perfectly weathered and distressed to look as if you could turn the cardboard handle and walk through the door of a family-run business, 75 years strong. But the fact was that you actually could do that—these were real stores in a real town, no matter how striking their resemblance to the set of every small-town-America movie in the world, ready to be broken down and disposed of to make room for the next.

The phenomenon was always made worse by how little Tango actually entered the town despite living 12 miles down the road from it. Its existence was just close enough to feel, parsable from the air like the scent of rain off asphalt, and simultaneously far enough to be alien to him, made all that much weirder by its small town charm, suffocatingly mundane and unconditionally normal. No strings, no contingencies, no Christmas dinners interrupted by last minute covert missions to foreign embassies. 

There were string-lights hanging between the lamp-posts, it was cute. Tango felt unbelievably itchy. 

The comm in his ear crackled. “How ya doing up there, Legacy?” 

Skizz sounded like he was enjoying himself entirely too much. It made Tango grumble a little under his breath, not caring if it was loud enough for the comm to pick up or not. Maybe if he was lucky, the others would attribute it to static. 

Or maybe they’d attribute it to Etho, giving he whined back, “I hate that code name.”

“Okay, Prodigy.” Tango cut in, knowing Etho would hate that one equally as much if not more. What could he say, he gets bitchier when he’s grumpy, and wandering around in the cold stuck in the state of perpetually failing his first CoveOps mission was certainly doing it for him. 

“Tang—”

Maybe he went a little too hard, though, if he got Etho to break protocol and use his real name over what technically counted as a confidential communications outlet. Oops.

“Tango,” Impulse interrupted—not overly-peeved enough at his friend to use his real name, just equally as hopeless when it came to CoveOps to the point he likely forgot they were supposed to be using code names in the first place. “Where are you, I lost you again.” 

Tango didn’t have to turn around and face the direction he’d last seen Impulse to be able to picture the frown that he absolutely wore. Besides, that would give up his cover, and staying hidden—unmemorable, ignorable, unnoticeable, any of those were fine—was just about the only field trait Tango had. 

“Over by the bank, Impy.”

“Well, wave your arms or something.”

Tango nodded at an old lady who was walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of him, glaring like they were in a store and Tango was sweating carrying too large and heavy a bag as he suspiciously made his way toward the door. She glared harder at his attempt of being polite and turned her head away as they passed one another by. Tango just really couldn’t get enough of that small town charm. 

When she was behind him he dropped the grin and responded, “That kind of defeats the purpose, now doesn’t it?” 

What could’ve been a break of static but was probably Impulse groaning cut through the comm and Tango winced. At least he was good at getting passed by, he imagined Impulse was failing to do even that at the moment. “Well, how am I supposed to follow you following Doc if—”

“He’s flipping,” Etho cut in, and Tango didn’t glance to the left at the park where Doc—their certifiably batshit insane countries of the world professor—was currently using every trick he’d ever been taught on how to lose a tail; not that he knew he was being tailed, he was just that vigilant. Constantly. Cause that was how every normal and well-adjusted person lived their life. 

Instead, Tango kept walking the way he’d been going, stopped to look both directions before crossing the street, approached the closest vendor and bought himself the first thing on the menu without stopping to look at what it was. 

Why on Earth Professor Beef thought the best way to ease them into the field of Covert Operations was to assign them to tail their most paranoid and least sane staff member was beyond him. He could imagine what Beef would say if Tango dared question this decision of his out loud: well you don’t have to get it, you just have to do it. Yipee, he was so glad to be taking this course. 

He couldn’t look for Doc, so he looked for Etho instead. He scanned the street, the sidewalk—hell, even the rooftops—but there was no sign of him. He was that good. 

Show-off, Tango thought as the vendor whistled to get his attention and he turned back with a smile and a thanks accepting a corndog. Nice. 

Tango headed off again, this time towards the park, the direction Doc had been going in, presumably, before he’d flipped. He saw Skizz amidst a sea of letterman jackets, smiling and laughing and miming throwing something with his hands; the crowd he’d accrued laughed with him, boys of all shapes and sizes slapping each other on the arm and guffawing over a guy they would all swear later that they’d had to have had a class with at some point. 

Their methods were different, but it was undeniable—mission one, and Skizz and Etho were good at this. They’d all known they would be. 

Tango wandered around for a while longer, ate his corndog and listened to the chatter of his fellow operatives over the comms, always keeping their updates on Doc’s position in mind and staying busy as he steered clear enough as to not get noticed but close enough he could keep his options open should an opportunity arise. 

In theory, the mission was simple: what soft drink did Professor Doc like to drink with his funnel cake at the Hermitville fall carnival? In practice, it was a lot harder than it looked. They’d all been students of Doc’s for almost 5 years, and while this meant they might know him well enough to predict his patterns in what was maybe a reasonable way, it also meant he knew them well enough to call out their first and last name if he spotted them—and to skip the questioning portion of the interrogation in favor of going directly into doling out detentions. 

This was their professor who used a trusted—and highly confidential—surgeon to give him a new face before the start of every school year for the sake of avoiding some long list of threats still interested in apprehending him that he constantly alludes to but never explains. And Beef wanted them to tail him. It’s not like they had any chance to succeed. And Tango was missing Below Deck for this.

The carnival was beginning to thin out, slowly, by the time anything interesting had begun to happen—at least to Tango. The square had one of those large metal things that looked like a lamp-post but actually had a giant clock in the center, and based on the last time he’d seen it and his impeccable internal clock, it could only be nine-fifteen p.m. It was like this place couldn’t get any more boring if it tried. Tango couldn’t stand it. Tango was jealous. 

He was cutting through the alley behind the town’s lonely diner, heading towards Skizz’s last known location, and was about to throw a line out over the almost eerily empty silence of his comm when Skizz spoke first. Something about the sound of his voice nagged at Tango, and it occurred to him before he opened his mouth to respond that he’d heard Skizz speak out loud, not directly in his ear. 

A second later, and it wasn’t just Skizz. At the first raise of Doc’s voice, Tango stopped walking and leaned as hard as he could into the brick. “I don’t even want to know how you got out and—actually, how did you get out?”

Tango only spent a moment questioning whether or not he was about to make a mistake before he leaned towards the edge of the alley until he could get enough of a picture of what was going on. Doc’s back was to him—thank god—but Skizz and Impulse were done for, the two of them sitting on a bench before their increasingly irate professor. Skizz was at his most diplomatic, sitting still and face severe with the kind of look that said I am listening to you and I understand. Impulse was cringing so hard at the having-been-caught that his left eye looked swollen shut.

Skizz raised one of his hands to halt Doc’s tirade—a risky move, but if anyone could pull it off it was Skizz. “Professor, if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what!” Tango winced with his friends in solidarity, even though he wasn’t the one getting reamed. “You’ve been following me for thirty minutes, which means you have to be—wait,” Doc said, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Wait a minute—where’s Beef?”

Tango watched as Skizz and Impulse—spies in training, yes, but still teenage boys at heart—shared a look with each other that gave away exactly what Doc needed to know. Skizz said: “Why I don’t know what you could mean, Professor, we were just—”

“Oh you—” From behind, Tango watched Doc shake his head to cut Skizz off, and then he did something kind of miraculous: he turned and tossed something—something shining and made of brown glass, something suspiciously bottle shaped—into the closest trash can. “Go on, now. Back, back to where you came from.” 

Tango stared at the garbage that couldn’t be more than twenty feet from him, even as Doc herded two of his best friends off of the bench and on into the night, the vague direction of the mansion; in his peripheral Skizz turned to glance at Doc and open his mouth, one more attempt at reason, before Doc departed one more and I’ll be giving you an extra credit assignment to really complain about. 

Tango honestly wasn’t even sure they were out of sight by the time he left the wall and the relative safety of the alleyway, not even considering the risk as somewhere inside he reeled at the thought it couldn't possibly be this easy. As he crossed the street, half of him expected to get scruffed by the back of his shirt and dragged all the way to his dorm, the other half expected to look inside and find the bottle to already be gone, even though his eyes hadn’t left the can, and for Etho to wander out of some shadow with it already in his hand. But the street was blessedly, amazingly quiet the whole time Tango made his way over. 

The garbage can was mostly empty even though the town had just had a carnival—because of course it was, towns like this probably didn’t produce any trash at all, Tango should’ve goddamn known—meaning Tango had to brace one of his arms on the lip of the metal can and hop slightly with his other arm outstretched to grab the bottle and pull it safely out of the trash. 

The condensation had made the paper labeling start to peel away in places, but the brand was still, for the most part, entirely legible—their mission was complete, and by Tango no less. He couldn’t wait to get back and rub it in Etho’s face. 

Tango tossed the bottle in the air and caught it, mood turning around for the first time all night—not even the 12 mile walk home in the dark could daunt him now. 

He turned around to begin his trek and found himself instead frozen immediately to the spot. 

There was a boy. 

Across the street, paused in the middle of the sidewalk and staring right at him, was a boy. And he’d seen Tango. 

Tango, whose only natural talent in CoveOps was going unnoticed. Tango, whose codename was cipher, after a joke Impulse made about his tendency for hiding in plain sight. Tango, who’d just rooted around in the garbage for someone else’s trash. 

The boy stopped to look both ways before crossing the street, even though it was now almost 9:30 pm and seemingly passed town curfew by how empty it’d gotten. There were no cars by sight nor by sound on this road or any of the surrounding blocks, but the boy looked to his right, then his left, then his right again before stepping off the concrete and onto the asphalt. There was even a moment of pause when his foot touched down on the road, and a slight furrow to his brow that had Tango imagining him thinking but there’s no crosswalk here! 

A better spy might’ve done something else—found the closest out, used the perfect excuse or expertly timed joke—but Tango just stood there, and watched the boy approach. 

“Hi there,” he said, a slight Virginia twang to his words that really drove home the all-American look about him, the swoopy blonde hair and lithe but athletic build—perfect for winning throws at football games or moral-gathering posters of government propaganda. 

“Do you….dig through trash cans often?” The prom king illusion shattered immediately as the boy cringed and shook his head, descriptive adjectives like polished becoming more awkward, perfect turning into endearing. “No—that sounded rude, I’m so sorry, I meant it as more of a joke, really…an unfunny one, I guess.” The rounder part of his cheeks pooled, filled deeply with blush. 

Tango opened his mouth, unsure what he planned to say, but then the boy went, “Oh my gosh, not that I judge that—or, well, maybe a little. But I—I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t, that’s wrong and, and—“ he paused abruptly, his head clearly moving faster than his mouth, the level of disaster that was this conversation running away from him and seeming far worse than it was when it’d started. 

“There are nicer trash cans, even,” He said when he opened his mouth again, and Tango nearly lost his mind, turned his laugh into a cough and wondered if all exceedingly normal people were so…cute. “Closer to the center of town. I can…show you where those are instead, if you prefer?” 

Tango couldn’t help his smirk. “You offering to take me on a tour of the nicer trash cans in town?” 

“I—“ Tango watched the boy's face buffer as all the things he just said caught up to him, and he looked down, bashful. After a moment, he smoothed out the embarrassment like wrinkles on fresh sheets and looked back up at Tango confidence renewed. “That or a milkshake, maybe?” 

The boat had stopped rocking, they’d made it to solid land, and the conversation righted itself and worked its way towards something normal—or at least, what Tango thought normal was supposed to look like. He’d never been asked something so simple as would he like to get a milkshake with a cute and utterly mundane boy. 

Things that Tango most definitely was not. His cover, on the other hand…

Right, his cover. In a logical and completely sane move, Tango blurted out, “I have a cat.” 

The boy blinked a blink that pushed his whole head back an inch from its force. “Ex…cuse me?” 

“I have a cat,” Tango repeated, begging his brain to fill him in on the rest of the reasoning behind why he said this particular thing at this particular moment. Were cats deathly allergic to milkshakes, or something? Well, screw his imaginary cat, Tango wasn’t! 

He said: “She…likes to play with bottles. I kinda grab them whenever I can.”

“Etho!” He added, and then mentally slapped himself upside the head. This was precisely why he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near field work. “That’s my cat’s name, yup! Mhm, so, I’d take you up on that, but—“

“But you have to get back to your cat?” The boy said, his cheek bunched under one of his eyes like he wanted to believe that but had heard one-too-many a ridiculous excuse before and wasn’t quite sure. 

“Exactly.” Tango let out a breath. Jesus Christmas this was hard—where the hell was Skizz when Tango needed him? Oh, right. This was not at all how the night was supposed to go.

Conversation lapsed, but Tango failed to notice his opportunity for an out. The spy in him knew deep down that this was his chance to leave, to apologize for the lack of a milkshake and laugh off the fumble that was their interaction and begin his long walk back to school, knowing by the time the boy god home he’d forget all about having met Tango at all; the teenager in him stared at the freckle at the inner corner of the boys left eye. 

“Sorry, you’re new around here, aren’t you?” 

Tango continued staring. This was the third time the boy had apologized. 

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve lived here…all my life?” His voice lilted higher at the end, almost like he was posing a question rather than making his case. “Everyone here has lived here all their life and I’ve…never seen you before.”

Tango has too, in a way. Home was a complicated concept for a spy; he may not be one yet, but his parents were—he knew enough to understand. It wasn’t like his childhood went untouched from the transient nature of spy work, a suitcase and go-bag always ready by the door. Even if he was the one being left and not the one doing the leaving, Tango knew flexible, he knew inconsistent. 

For years his most stable constant had been school, his mom in the headmasters office, Skizz Impulse and Etho. Where was home but here? 

He couldn’t say that, that wasn’t the cover. After years of being told I’ll be back soon with no indication of when soon was and little clarification of back from where and absolutely zero certainty that was something that could be promised, Tango resented lying. He wasn’t meant to be forming covers—he was meant to be locked in a lab somewhere, but one term of CoveOps at the start of sophomore year was a requirement. A requirement Tango would have to get through. 

Tango had never seen the boy before either. He didn’t know how to respond. 

“But, hey, I guess I’ll be seeing you around? At school?”

“No!”

The word was short and sweet, one syllable, something if the rampant apologizing was any indication the boy had not insignificant experience hearing. But his head tilted on the axis of his chin, lilting higher into the air and away from the middle of his chest—the dog that thought it’d heard a word it knew and was trying to determine if it was of the good or bad variety. “…No?”

Tango cringed. Probably visibly. “I’m…homeschooled,” was the lie, this time. 

“Oh, alright,” Tango hoped the drop in his tone was disappointment and not disbelief. He hoped the boy blessedly naive of the ways Tango was being false and not incorrectly assuming him indifferent to their chance encounter. 

Unwilling to bet on the chance and deeply reluctant to do what he knew a good spy should—remembering too many holidays gone remiss, and birthdays of the ill-get-you-next-year variety—Tango said, “I’ll be around, though.” 

The boy brightened, one of those artificial lamps that mimics sunlight where sunlight doesn’t reach, from darkness to light in mere seconds—like it was simple, easy. Ill so readily forgotten. 

“Good,” the word was delivered with an amicable nod. “Better get home to Etho, then.”

There was a moment of pause as Tango prepared to exclaim Etho?!? Suddenly in fear that he’d somehow found the one normal boy who wasn’t normal at all and was actually some sort of enemy spy, Tango accidentally blubbering his way through giving up national secrets he didn’t even know he knew—and then he remembered what he named his fake cat. 

“Right! Etho, yes…right, gotta get back to,” —had he given his fake cat pronouns?!— “yup! Okay, bye then.” 

Tango turned with great effort, his eyes shut and the rational part of his brain begging him to get a grip, his hands clasped tightly around the slightly icky with condensation bottle of soda that he’d come here to claim and by some miracle had. He hadn’t gotten more than a step or two away before the boy called, “Hey, what’s your name?” 

And Tango made possibly the stupidest decision of the night—despite all the competition, that’s pretty impressive, he knows—and called back, “Tango.”

“It was nice to meet you Tango!”

Tango smiled over his shoulder at the boy, walking backwards down the road he’d been so cautious to cross before, wanton joy on his face and something Tango didn’t dare to name, hands in his pockets. “You too,” Tango laughed. 

“My name’s Jimmy, by the way!”

The comm in his ear crackled to life after too long staying suspiciously silent before Tango could do anything about that, and he heard what he knew to be Etho saying, “Cipher, meet me at the corner of Pine and Cherry.” 

The sobering bucket of ice water dumped on your head after a particularly rough all-nighter, Tango felt his nerves wake up one by one; his spine was suddenly straighter and everything a little more on edge than it’d been a few minutes ago. He resisted the urge to scan the roofs and the streets and the shadows. He ignored the shame that said he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t have been; he kind of already knew that, but something in him also wished this had just been for him. Bye Jimmy, Tango thought in reply before saying, “Yeah man, on my way.”

Forget milkshakes and normal boys, Tango had some bragging to do. Other than to resent lying, if there was anything being the child of spies taught him, it was how to mask disappointment. 

He turned the corner toward Etho without looking back. 

[party-tower-au]

you guys voted for us to post about fake tower! so heres a sneak peek - some works in progress in order of completion ^_>^ way back when this au was first made (march 2023), i had only made fakes of noise and noisette !! sal made a fake pizzahead, who you'll be seeing soon ... anyway i realized i never made fakes for any of the other characters (oops) so these are what i've come up with now - besides noise, this is just an alternate design for him i'm thinking ill post about each character individually before compiling all the lore into a google doc at the end, but we'll see what works best - jeb

[johnslittlespoon]

SO. MUCH. curtbuckbucky nightclub au brainrot below the cut, thanks to whoever this insane anon is. you kept my brain so entertained while i was ill, i'm still feeling bonkers about these oh my goddd?? ur messages were so long (/fond LMFAO) that screenshotting them looked janky, so i copied and pasted them into a doc to make it easier to format, i hope that's alright <33

my original nightclub au post for context

this is gonna be such a wall of screenshots (IT'S LIKE 9K WORDS BTWN THE BOTH OF US OOPS i'm not fuckin proofreading it's pure drabble so sorry) but listen this au has been eating away at me so bad too i'm so glad to know it's got someone else in a chokehold as well because it's done smth to my brain and soul

anon is the lovely purple colour and i'm the black text to make for easier reading lol <3

HIII yeahh idk what to say about this LMFAOAO this is so fucked... when the au brainworm hits, it HITS. i don't get to decide what i want to hyperfixate on and brainrot over unfortunately but i sure wish i did </3 i cannot let myself get this carried away in future brainrot posts bc this took SO LONG and it was a nightmare to organize the screenshots and probably so annoying to try and read like this 😭

like genuinely ik i say this every time i get carried away with a brainrot/drabble but i need to make these shorter because it takes me so long to write so i make like no progress in my ask box 💀 but ykw i had fun so <33 eventually i'll write a fic for this au but leaving!bikeriders is gonna be my next chaptered wip after i finish yad(iym) i think :-)

alright that's all, will legit be in awe if anyone swipes thru all of these but if u do i hope the curtbuckbucky brainworms get u too xoxo

[guqin-and-flute]

ALRIGHT. I've decided. I have officially moved Holding Me Holding You to my finished 3zun AU documents! 🌈✨🎉

Narratively, I'm too pleased with the full circleness of this last chapter to have this be anything but the end of this particular fic. The comfort--THE IMMEDIATE, NOT REALLY TIME SKIPPED COMFORT, I PROMISE YOU I'M FIXING IT--will now be in the next fic because it will structurally be different and serve a different narrative purpose in the overarching story.

I hope no one feels bait and switched by me having labeled this as hurt/comfort initially as the comfort doesn't really balance it, but I'll try to rectify the tags on Ao3 to reflect the journey the fic took!

I'm SO fucking happy and proud that I finished my first long form, multi chapter fic. It's a goal I've struggled to achieve my whole writing life (which started in like 2nd grade). I have honestly never officially finished a long term writing project. I wasn't sure I could do it (mostly for ADHD reasons but also others, as well). So closing this off here is proof to myself that I CAN. It took uhhh several years but I can!

I may look back and be less than happy with pacing or structure, sooner or later, but what's important to me right now is the proof that I did it.

The comfort and Nieyao meeting A-Fu fic will be set at most a week later (as A-Yao and Da-ge will get moving pretty quick once they hear the news that oops they have a son) and will be a multi perspective, h/c, what-happens-next fic. It will have some angst because it's 3zun (and middays 3zun, at that) but nowhere NEAR the level of Holding Me Holding You. I mean for it to be a softer recovery, where are we at now fic.(Also probably much shorter but I know better than to promise THAT anymore 😭)

Thank you so much for all of your continued support and love of this AU! Your tags, your comments, your asks, your theories, art, and ideas are all huge boosts to keeping me going. The fact that you read and like it at all is still so, so awesome to me.

I intend to finish my streak of finishing long form chapter docs and this is the first step of doing it, which is oddly healing from past internal narratives I've assumed about myself and my abilities. I'm gonna finish what I have planned in these AUs, damnit!!

So thank you for coming along with me this far and I hope to see you at the finish line! ❤️