#Thanks you again to accept this big piece of Au

[sidekick-hero]

In Loving Memory

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 4, prompt: Angst with Happy Ending

Tags: Modern AU, rockstar Eddie, plane crash, HAPPY ENDING, minor character death

words: 3.3k | AO3 | mature

“Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington. My name is Elizabeth Quinn, and I’m part of the cabin crew today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. I hope you're enjoying your flight so far.”

Steve looks up at the owner of the soft voice to his right. It’s a young woman in a stewardess uniform with big brown eyes that instantly remind him of Eddie.

“Oh, hello. Uhm, yes, everything is fine, thank you.”

The stewardess smiles warmly. “I'm glad to hear that, sir. I wanted to discuss a situation we’re currently facing. As you may know, flights can sometimes be overbooked, and today we have a few more passengers than seats available in first class. We’re looking for a volunteer to move to another section of the plane. In exchange, we’re offering a significant compensation package, including a voucher for a future flight, a complimentary upgrade on your next trip, and a gift card for our in-flight shopping.”

She looks apologetic, and he can tell she hates asking him this. It’s not a particularly long flight, and he mostly booked first class because that’s what his father’s secretary always did for him the few times his parents had him fly to wherever they were. So giving up his seat for a four-hour flight doesn’t seem too bad.

“Yes, I can move to another section of the plane. That’s okay,” he tells the stewardess and is rewarded with a bright, genuine smile adorned with dimples. Another thing that reminds him of Eddie. He pushes the ache in his chest down and returns the friendly smile with one of his own.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Mr. Harrington. If you have any specific preferences or questions, please let me know. Your understanding and cooperation greatly help us ensure everyone has a comfortable flight.”

With that, she leads him to another part of the plane, presumably Economy class.

“This one right here, Mr. Harrington. It has extra legroom and is situated next to an emergency exit. I will make sure you have a pleasant flight with us. You can call me with the call button or find me at the front or back of the plane.”

Steve nods with another smile that falls as soon as she walks away to prepare for takeoff. His thoughts wander back to the reason he’s on a flight to LA today.

Eddie.

He still wonders if this is a good idea. When he bought the ticket to LA, he was sure of it. The panic that had constricted his throat had lessened as soon as he pulled up the website of the airline and he felt like he could breathe again for the first time when he got the confirmation mail.

It’s a long shot, he knows that. Surprising Eddie in LA after everything that happened but he hopes it’s a grand enough gesture that maybe Eddie will forget how much Steve has hurt him. Robin suggested to just call Eddie and apologize, explain to him why Steve was so reluctant to take the next step with him.

The truth is, Steve doesn’t think he could handle it when Eddie didn’t pick up the phone or just hangs up on him before he can say his piece. If Eddie decides that it’s too much for him, that Steve’s too much, too damaged, then be it. But he needs to see Eddie one last time, drink in those beloved doe eyes one more time.

Steve thinks about why he and Eddie fought the last time they saw each other. Growing up in a very conservative household, Steve always suspected he might like men as well as women, but he denied any attraction toward men because of what his parents might say. He knew they wouldn’t accept him.

He was 31 when he walked into a bar in Chicago with his best friend Robin and locked eyes with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Eddie was the first man he ever kissed, ever slept with. He couldn’t help himself, not when Eddie flirted with him, wooed him, and made him laugh with his whole body. Steve always assumed what they had was strictly physical, just some fun between two single guys.

But Eddie wanted more than that. He wanted a relationship with Steve.

Eddie had asked Steve to be his date on the red carpet in LA for the Grammy Awards. Eddie was actually nominated with his band, Corroded Coffin, and he wanted to show the world who he loved. But Steve was scared. Everybody would know he was in a relationship with another man. So he declined, and Eddie left Steve’s apartment heartbroken.

Steve can still see the look on Eddie’s face, the hurt in his eyes. It had shattered something inside him, but his fear was stronger. He had watched Eddie walk away, the love of his life slipping through his fingers because he was too afraid to hold on.

Steve’s thoughts are interrupted by the plane's PA system crackling to life, announcing their imminent takeoff. He leans back in his seat, staring out the window as the plane begins to taxi down the runway. The memory of Eddie's face, the pain in his eyes, is as vivid as ever.

He had tried to justify his fear, telling himself it was about protecting Eddie, about not wanting to put him through the scrutiny and judgment that would come from being seen with another man. But deep down, Steve knew it was about protecting himself. He was scared of what his parents would think, what the world would think.

As the plane ascends, Steve closes his eyes, replaying that last conversation with Eddie in his mind.

"Steve, I love you. I want us to be together, really together," Eddie had said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want you by my side at the Grammys. I want to show the world who I love."

Steve had felt his heart pound in his chest, a mix of fear and longing. "Eddie, I can't. You know how my parents are, how everyone will react. It's not that simple."

Eddie's eyes had filled with tears. "It is that simple, Steve. Either you love me enough to be with me, openly and proudly, or you don’t. I can’t keep hiding us. I can't keep hiding you."

Steve had stood there, silent and conflicted, as Eddie walked out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him had felt like the end of everything.

The plane levels off, and Steve opens his eyes, blinking back tears. He knows this trip to LA is a long shot, but he has to try. He has to make Eddie understand how much he means to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, opening the notes app. He starts typing, trying to find the right words to say when he sees Eddie.

The flight attendants come by with the beverage cart, and Steve looks up to see Elizabeth smiling at him. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Harrington?”

“Just some water, please,” Steve says, returning her smile.

As she hands him the bottle of water, she says softly, “It looks like you have a lot on your mind, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Steve looks up at her as he accepts the cup of water and finds that he actually wants to talk with someone about what he’s about to do. He needs someone to tell him that it’s going to work out.

“I do. I’m on my way to win back the man I’m in love with.”

There, he said it. He admitted that he was in love with another man and now he’s fighting the urge to hide, scared of her reaction. But he holds her gaze, heart pounding in his chest.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes softening, “that explains the look on your face. I think you’re very brave, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve takes a moment, contemplating how much to share. But he feels a strange sense of comfort in Elizabeth’s kind eyes.

“His name is Eddie,” Steve begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s kind, talented, and makes me laugh like no one else can. But I let my fear ruin everything between us.”

Elizabeth listens intently, her expression encouraging him to continue.

“We fought because he wanted us to go public, to be together openly. He wanted me to go with him to the Grammys, to be his date. But I was too scared of what my parents would think, what people would say. So, I said no. And he left,” Steve explains, his voice cracking.

Elizabeth nods, understanding in her eyes. “That sounds really hard, Steve. But it also sounds like you care a lot about him.”

“I do,” Steve says, his eyes filling with tears. “I love him more than anything. That’s why I’m going to LA. I need to tell him how sorry I am and that I’m ready to be with him, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Elizabeth places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It takes a lot of courage to admit when you’re wrong and to fight for what you love. Eddie is a very lucky man to be loved so much by you, Steve. I hope he sees that.”

Steve smiles, feeling a bit lighter. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I really hope he does.”

Elizabeth gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next passenger. Steve watches her go, feeling a much needed sense of hope. He’s made mistakes, let fear dictate his actions, but he’s ready to make things right.

About two hours into the flight, Steve decides to stretch his legs and walks up and down the narrow aisle. He passes families with little kids, an elderly couple working on a crossword puzzle together, and two young women chatting and laughing. It’s fascinating to see so many different lives intersecting in one place.

On his fifth lap, Elizabeth appears next to him, gently touching his arm.

“Steve, could you please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt?”

He looks at her, puzzled. “But the seatbelt signs are still off.”

“That’s true, but from experience, I know the signs could come on any minute. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before the aisle gets too crowded with everyone returning to their seats.”

Steve nods, appreciating the heads-up. “Thanks for letting me know.” He heads back to his seat.

As Steve settles in and fastens his seatbelt, the plane suddenly lurches violently. The cabin shakes with a gut-wrenching turbulence, hurling passengers and their belongings through the air. Panic erupts as screams fill the cabin, and Steve clings to his seat, trying to stay calm amid the chaos.

Elizabeth dashes down the aisle, her face pale and eyes wide. She spots Steve and rushes over, her voice barely audible over the cacophony. “Steve! Call Eddie! Now!”

Heart pounding, Steve scrambles for his phone. His hands tremble uncontrollably as he dials Eddie’s number. The turbulence makes it nearly impossible to hold the phone steady, but he manages to keep a grip.

The call connects, and Eddie’s voice comes through, thick with confusion and worry. “Steve?” He asks and then he must hear the chaos in the background because he immediately adds, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice cracks as he fights back tears. “I’m so sorry. I should have been braver. I should have been all in. I’m on this plane, and it’s really bad. I wanted to come to LA to talk to you. I wish I could have done all this in person. I wish I could kiss you one last time.”

Eddie’s voice trembles with desperation. “Steve, what’s happening? Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Steve’s eyes dart around the cabin, the plane shaking violently as alarms blare and panicked voices rise. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want this to be a goodbye, but I think it might be. I needed to tell you how much I regret being so scared, and I’m sorry for hurting you. I love you, Eddie. I should’ve told you when I had the chance.”

The turbulence worsens, and the plane begins a terrifying descent. The noise in the background grows louder and more intense. Eddie’s voice, filled with panic, tries to reach him. “Steve, stay with me! Please!”

But as the plane’s descent becomes more violent, the call goes eerily silent. Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as the only sound now is the relentless, chilling dial tone. Tears stream down his face as he grips the phone tightly.

Elizabeth returns to Steve’s side, her eyes filled with kindness and urgency. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, Steve. It’s going to be okay, but I need you to fight. For Eddie, okay?”

Steve nods, trying to steady himself amidst the chaos. He closes his eyes, focusing on Eddie’s voice and the love they shared, holding onto the hope that somehow, somehow, he’ll get another chance.

The last thing he hears is the deafening roar of something massive hitting the ground way too fast.

When Steve opens his eyes, he’s immediately overwhelmed by blinding light and searing pain. He groans, wishing for unconsciousness to take him away again so the agony would stop.

“Steve?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice pulls him from the sweet embrace of nothingness. The panic in Eddie’s voice is palpable, as if he’s on the verge of breaking down.

“’ddie?” Steve mumbles, his mouth feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton and his tongue heavy.

“Yes, I’m here, Stevie. I’m here.” Suddenly, Eddie’s beloved face appears above him, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Hi, baby.”

Steve manages a smile, the pain momentarily overshadowed by the sight of Eddie’s face. How he’s missed those eyes.

The thought brings Elizabeth back to his mind, the stewardess with the same eyes. Reality crashes back, and Steve gasps with the sudden realization that he should be dead.

“What… happened?” he croaks, his voice barely audible as his strength begins to wane.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, Stevie, but first we need to get your strength back. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake.” Eddie reaches for the call button next to Steve but stops to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was terrified of losing you.”

That’s the last thing Steve hears before darkness pulls him under once more.

The next time Steve wakes up, he feels a bit better. The pain is still there, but it’s dulled by the medication, making it manageable. He’s strong enough to talk more than just a few minutes, and he uses that strength to repeat to Eddie what he had said on the phone during the crash.

Eddie is holding Steve’s hand between his, his tear-streaked cheek resting gently on the back of Steve’s hand. His eyes are still red and puffy, but he speaks with a steady voice that is thick with emotion. “Steve, I could never just walk away from you. I knew you weren’t ready, even though it hurt. I planned to talk to you when I got back to Chicago, to tell you that I would wait for you, as long as I wouldn’t lose you. But when you called and I heard all that screaming… Fuck! I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up. The crash was bad—most of the front was completely destroyed. It’s a miracle you survived.”

Steve blinks, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. “How… How did I survive?”

Eddie’s gaze is intense as he searches Steve’s eyes. “From what they told me, you were supposed to be seated in the front, but you weren’t. No one could explain why. Your seat was right next to the emergency exit, so they got you out quickly. And you had your seatbelt fastened, which probably kept you from being thrown around too much. It’s almost like fate that you survived. Only twenty-three people made it.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he absorbs Eddie’s words. The thought weighs heavily on his chest: If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth’s warning, he might not have been so lucky. He’s sure she’s the reason he’s still here.

A flicker of concern crosses Steve’s face. “Elizabeth… she was a stewardess on the flight. She moved me to this seat, told me that first class was overbooked and asked if I’d be willing to switch. And she also made sure I fastened my seatbelt just before we started going down.”

Eddie’s eyes grow wide with shock. “But… they said on the news that casualties were below a hundred because first class wasn’t as full as usual. They said no one in that section survived.”

Steve’s heart pounds as he starts to realize the gravity of Elizabeth’s actions. “I need to find out if she survived, Eddie. She saved my life, and I need to thank her.”

Eddie’s eyes brighten with resolve. “We can do that, Stevie. I need to thank this woman, who saved the man I love. What’s her name? I’ll get Chrissy on it—she’ll find out in no time.”

Feeling his love for Eddie surge, Steve lets it overflow for the first time without restraint. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They share a long, tender look, like lovesick teenagers, before Steve remembers Eddie’s question. “Her name is Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s expression changes abruptly. All color drains from his face.

“What did you say her name is?”

“Elizabeth Quinn. Why, do you know her?”

Ignoring the question, Eddie asks, “What did she look like?”

Steve describes Elizabeth, including her big brown eyes that reminded him of Eddie’s—one reason he bonded with her almost instantly.

As Steve finishes, Eddie looks even paler. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone, navigates to an article from the airline, and hands it to Steve. The headline reads: “Airline Grieves Loss of Crew Members on Flight 731.” The article features a picture of a stewardess who looks just like Elizabeth. Her name is listed below the photo: Elizabeth Quinn.

Steve’s heart sinks as he reads the name. “That’s her. Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s voice trembles as he looks at Steve. “Elizabeth Quinn was my mom. She was a stewardess, and she died in a plane crash when I was eight.”

Steve’s eyes widen in shock. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I had no idea.”

Eddie’s eyes are glassy as he looks at Steve. “She was the best person I knew. She loved her job and loved helping people. And now it seems she came back to help two more people: me and you.”

Steve reaches out weakly, placing a hand on Eddie’s. “I wish I could have thanked her in person. But I did tell her about you—how funny, smart, and amazing you are. How much I love you. And I should have known, because you look just like her. The same kind eyes and dimples when you smile.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand, his voice breaking. “I’m glad you got to meet her. God, this is so crazy. I was so angry for so long that she left me. I know it’s unfair, but that’s how I felt. I miss her so much.”

“She knew you loved her. She made sure you wouldn’t lose another person you love, because she loves you too. Even if she’s no longer here, she’s still watching over you.”

“Over us, you mean. I’m pretty sure this means you’re part of the family now.”

Eddie still asks Chrissy to check the airline's list for Steve’s savior. He’s not surprised when Chrissy reports that there was no Elizabeth Quinn on that flight.

[peachesofteal]

That Ghost x Soap with their daughter art has me seriously fucked up (thanks @ethereal-night-fairy)

I can't stop thinking about Soap and Ghost trying to raise Bee on their own in the disco baby au after this ask from @mockerycrow.

Those first few nights when they're completely blindsided. Simon in a full blown shut down because he cannot process anything that's happening, emotions running him over at full speed because he's terrified of being a Dad, he's terrified of ruining a child, he's terrified of becoming his own Dad, he's terrified of not being good enough. He's afraid that Bee will grow up with a target on her back, that she will end up in danger or worse because of their profession. And he can't stop thinking about you. He can't stop thinking about how all they were trying to do was protect you when they left, how all they wanted was for you to be okay, to not have to wait, to not have to be emotionally tortured for how ever long they were going to be gone. How they didn't want you to have to bury them. He can't stop thinking about how he failed you. How he promised you he'd always take care of you, that they'd always be here, and when you needed it the most, they made decision to leave you. He cannot forgive himself. The thought that they did it to better your life has long gone out the window. He hires a PI to try to find you, with zero luck.

Johnny is the opposite of a shut down. He's in a free fall. He's feeling everything, all at once. He runs out onto the street after they read the note, sprinting down the block, searching every face for you. He holds Bee for the first time when he comes back, taking her out of the carrier because she's sitting in it, on the kitchen table while Simon stands three feet away, staring at her with his arms crossed. She's fussing, and Simon is frozen, and Johnny doesn't know what do so he just, holds her. He rocks her. He sings to her. It all comes somewhat naturally to him. He fluctuates between heartbreak and anger. He tortures himself by staring at Bee sleeping in her crib at night just so he can see something that somewhat resembles your face. He cries himself to sleep. He dreams about you. Simon overhears him telling Bee stories about you at bedtime, or bath time or meal times. Johnny tells Bee about how beautiful you are, how sweet and kind you are. He tells Bee how much they loved you, how they wished they had been there, how they made a really big mistake. Johnny scoops baby food into Bee's mouth, all while explaining to her that you worked at an art museum, and loved to paint. He describes your paintings to her at bath time, and puts Bee to sleep trying to hum lullabies of your favorite songs.

Time passes. They find Bee's medical records, they get her chart from the day she was born. She was three months old, when you left her at their doorstep. They read the physician's notes, about how Mum was alone, how Mum was given a long list of support resources for PPD. Johnny is distraught. Simon fears the worst.

Simon retires early, so he can be at home full time. There's a ceremony, small. Gaz and Price are there, along with Johnny and Bee, who watches her Dad accept some honor medal that he doesn't care about from a man in a fancy uniform. Simon lets her chew on it the whole way home, which Johnny hems and haws about, but Simon doesn't care. He doesn't need some shiny piece of metal. He has almost everything he wants or needs in life. Almost.

Simon learns how to be a Dad, and he becomes a pretty good one at that. He's the first one to make Bee giggle, one night after a nappy change and getting her into bedtime clothes, when he's letting her lay on the floor for her usual tummy time, and he groans when he gets down on his knees. She thinks it's hilarious, and he spends the next half an hour doing it over and over again, exaggerating the sound of his old knees just to see her face light up.

Johnny is a natural. He just already knows how to do it all. He's not nervous when he holds Bee, he's easy with it. Cradles her every which way, gets her to fall asleep anywhere. He can tell the difference between her hungry cry, her full nappy cry, her "I'm having feelings but I have no words" cry.

Bee gets croup right after she turns six months. Simon has a panic attack over it, and they both lay on the bathroom floor with her while it fills with steam, counting each breath her little lungs take.

Bee turns one. They have a birthday party. It's another small affair, but Price and Gaz come, along with a few others that live relatively close. She spends half the day curled up on Uncle Gaz because she cries ridiculously every time Johnny or Simon try to pull her away. Gaz gloats about it to Price non stop. They sing happy birthday, the guys "help" blow her candles out, and everyone watches Bee smash a vanilla cake overzealously and try to stuff as much of it into her mouth as possible. Price films the entire thing for Laswell.

Simon's phone rings, right after the cake. It's set to vibrate, and it startles him from his back pocket. When he glances at it, it's a number he doesn't recognize, which is even more strange. He moves away to accept the call, and Johnny gives him an odd look, but Simon waves him off. No sense in worrying him.

When he presses it to his ear and says hello, there's a sharp intake of breath... and then your voice. Saying his name.

"Simon?"

[caustinen]

Hollywood!AU Clegan....

How about John wins a major award (career changing recognition) and Gale's his plus one at the event, and John goes for a massive smooch when his name is announced and it becomes a viral meme? :') <3 <3

Hehee I ended up trying something bit different with the format of this one but I hope you like it, thank you for the lovely idea!! 🖤🤍

hollywood au! award season (drabble)

John’s lips are twitching into a smile despite his best efforts as he observes Gale staring at the front page of the newspaper in mild horror.

“That’s…” Gale bites his lip and stops talking, and John has to look the other way because the way his husband bites his lips together in a straight line is both funny and insanely cute. They have been out late partying and thus the morning has started even later. While Gale hasn’t had a drop of alcohol he looks a bit hungover from the lack of sleep alone, slower and softer than usual, somehow.

“You look like you’ve been in a fight.” That’s what he finally settles on, diplomatically, still staring at the half-page picture. John nods, controlling his expression, and smiling just as diplomatically. “Well, it did look like I was trying to wrestle you down right before, so…” Gale hides his face into his palms. “Don’t remind me,” he whines, ”it’s not funny! Look at your lip, John! You can see exactly where my teeth got caught, I can’t believe this is how you-.”

John takes the paper from his hand then. ”It’s really not so bad,” he says, ”and I really liked the piece that goes with it.” He grins, and when Gale still looks bothered he clears his throat and starts reading aloud.

“At the end of the night John Egan, 35, took home the best actor trophy for his widely acclaimed performance as Layne Cornell in worldwide hit ’I’m Only Sleeping’. Fondly nicknamed ’Hollywood's Sweetheart’ since early in his career, the star had been previously nominated twice, once in the supporting actor category and once for the main trophy, but last night’s triumph marked his first individual reward in the Academy Awards. The long awaited honor brough this well-respected peer a standing ovation, but the moment before receiving the awards was almost overshadowed by a sweet incident with his husband, Gale Cleven-Egan.

As the actor’s spouse was getting up to congratulate Egan for his accomplishment, the later in visible excitement leaned to give him an assumedly affectionate peck to the lips. A miscalculation of speed, however, almost toppled Cleven over to the benches behind them, taking Egan with him. Luckily no one was hurt and a roar of laughter around the couple covered for the mishap as Egan managed his affection before walking up to the stage to accept the esteemed award after making sure Cleven was standing on his two feet again.

Egan is known for his cheekiness, and he stayed true to his nature last night as well as he started his acceptance speech with “apologizing for being disheveled after his better half tried to take a bite of him.” As the cameras panned away from Cleven’s now meme-formatted face hidden in hands, Egan then thanked the film crew, emphasizing the amazing work of the art departments on the costumes and cinematography, both of which have also received awards this winter in Golden Globes and Brit Awards. He took time to name all heads of departments and fellow stars on the screen alike, a class act through and through.

For the fans of what netizens have affectionately coined “Clegan” in reference to the relationship of Egan and Cleven, the night’s big prize was surely in the final part of his speech, however, when the violins were about to start to play. “Nothing in life is ever achieved truly alone, and certainly nothing about my career would have been possible without my husband,” visibly touched Egan started his conclusions, “my dear Buck, thank you for your patience, your guidance, your companionship, and for your amazing body. Baby, this is for you as much as it is for me. Thank you for your time, enjoy the rest of your night!”

Egan has never been shy to show his affection for his significant other ever since the couple made their relationship public in 2022, shocking audiences around the world as it was announced Egan and Cleven had been in a secret relationship for years. Later that year they tied the knot, and while generally still keeping their love private, they are often spotted together in Egan’s professional events. Egan’s social media presence has become something of a shared internet joke as he often posts exclusively from his husband who seems different levels of unimpressed by his doings.

I’m Only Sleeping did well in box office as well as receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews from critics before now being the trophy magnet in the award season. It also received Oscars for best supporting performances by…”

John looks up from the paper. ”And so on and so on.” Gale’s expression has softened despite the blush on his face having deepened. Bucky is suddenly so overwhelmed by emotion he drops the paper to the table as he stands up to reach for his husband’s hand and pulls him up too. Gale instantly hides his face into his neck as he relaxes to the embrace, leaving John to press an admiring kiss to his golden locks.

They hug and sway for a little bit in silence as Gale gathers himself. ”… I just wish your lip wasn’t so swollen in the picture. Otherwise it was cute,” is eventually muttered against his t-shirt, making Bucky chuckle. ”That was my own fault. Not the first time you left teeth marks on me either.” Gale sighs and finally looks up to him, the experssion in his big eyes a mix of anguish and amusement. ”Why can’t we ever manage to be cool about anything?”

He makes a protesting sound in surprise as he’s spinned around and then ends up with his back against the fridge, a huge familiar body crowding him against it. ”I think we’re plenty cool,” Bucky says absentmindedly like he’s already moved on from it, ”did I ever tell you how incredibly sexy you look bed-warm and ruffled?” Gale looks at him, unimpressed. ”Well, you did specifically take time to thank my ’amazing body’ while accepting a goddamn Academy Award, so-”

Bucky leans back so he can take a good serious look at Gale, his hands on both sides of the fridge around his head. ”Doll,” he says, and oh, the blush is back, delicious, ”I’ve done most, if not all of my best work under the influence and inspiration of this body. How could I have not-”

Gale shuts him up with a kiss, and decides it’s time to test the performance of his critically acclaimed idiot on his own.

(Hope you liked it!! 💘)

(more of hollywood au)

[avonne-writes]

I’d love something abt how John learns abt gales father as they grow closer, whether it be thru stories/behaviors etc, I love everything you write tho so no pressure!!

This is a great ask! Thank you so much 🩷 I'm so sorry for keeping it for so long, I wanted to give it some thought and I kept delaying it.

Canon AU

Gale doesn’t talk about his background at all at first. The guys don’t even know where he’s from unless they ask. Sometimes, he drops comments about how a man ought to behave, usually in a dark or sarcastic tone, and he openly scoffs at being invested in sports teams, but that’s it.

As they grow closer, John learns Gale's nonverbal emotional cues, and knows how to identify when Gale is upset, scared or angry, even if it only lasts a moment. And when he reaches that point, that's when he realizes that some behaviours always get one of these hidden reactions out of Gale.

For example, it frightens him for a split second when the boys play-fight with their belts, or he gets irritated by drunken crowds. John starts to put it together that something left Gale with these instinctual reactions that still show even though he’s trying to cover them.

Eventually, when it’s just the two of them and the moment feels right, he broaches the subject.

I headcanon that Gale is in denial to himself about how his own childhood affected him - he’s purposefully lying to himself about its impact. He detaches his feelings from it. So he talks about terrible memories without emotion or with inappropriate emotion (e.g. amusement) and John doesn’t really know how to deal with it other than absorb them and try to comfort Gale even if he pretends he doesn’t need comfort.

And the heartbreaking thing is that I think Gale's denial would crack in the tender moments, when he and John are much closer (possibly in love already) and he feels loved and appreciated. That's when the emotions flood back into the memories, and John has to pick up the pieces.

In my HS AU

Similarly, Gale doesn’t talk about his family background. If he must, he picks out the good moments. So for all everyone knows, he’s a well-adjusted boy with regular, undivorced parents.

In the beginning of his relationship with Bucky, he lies a lot. About the reason why he’s super tired some days or about his mom picking him up after an outing with Bucky. He does this because he’s afraid to lose Bucky due to his shitty background.

Once Bucky notices that Gale is hiding something from him, he tries to get it out of him, and they have a big fight. They break up for a few days (this is all in 9th grade). Eventually, with Georgia's encouragement, Bucky tries again and he and Gale make up. On the bleachers by the soccer field, Gale tells him everything as it is.

From then on, Bucky tries to look out for Gale the best he can. Gale still doesn’t let him come around to the Clevens' house, but he tells Bucky more and more and leans on him for support during bad times (because it's not always bad).

However, when the thoughts in Gale's head turn really dark (pre-Broken Things), he keeps those secret again.

Gale doesn’t say it out loud that he was abused until he’s an adult. Accepting that fact is a huge milestone for him.

[bonefall]

So, your Clear Sky post is absolutely horrifying, but it was very needed, so thank you. What are your general thoughts on tackling his abuse for the AU? Like you've said, pretending he's a good guy is not the way to go, but are you planning on toning down *some* of the situations, just to give some of the cats a break? Clear Sky is a very realistic depiction of abusers, but that seems to come across even without victim number 25, yknow? I'm very curious about how you'd like to go about this.

My most recent big change was bringing Slash back into the fold, because I realized that it was actually a disservice to not address where DOTC's themes dip into Colonialism. It's a hard topic, and I'm still trying to work out the details, but I realized it was important.

With how BB!DOTC is such a MASSIVE overhaul, to properly address abuse and the ways it impacts you, ableism and its violence, and xenophobia broadly, a huge reworking of Slash belonged here too. He's one of the greatest examples of how badly WC demonizes non-Clanborn cats. I shouldn't dance around it.

That's what I need to do with Skystar.

MANY of his victims have happier endings than canon, though. Bumble is one of the most famous, bumped up into a major character and directly responsible for the formation of ThunderClan. Bright Storm is taking most of Gray Wing's roles. Birch and Alder are getting examined, with either a father who wants his kids back or Milkweed as the mate of Misty.

A lot of people will die because of him, even more will be hurt, but I see BB!DOTC as a story about victims and survivors.

Others might grab POVs here and there, but as a response to canon which I feel is Clear Sky's story told in many parts, I center this rewrite around Thunder Storm. The path of kindness he marches down, with love and with anger, and the people he helps.

So BB!Star Flower...

Previously I was playing her as ENTIRELY just manipulating Clear Sky. She was loyal to One Eye and trying to get at Skystar to bleed him dry for 8 lives to sacrifice; but connected to Thunderstar over recognizing him as a victim who deserves her idea of justice. So, she offers Thunderstar the final kill, so her father will be grateful to him and he'll get power AND the death of his abuser.

(When Thunderstar looks upon Skystar, pathetic and neutralized down to one life, he thinks about the collateral damage that will descend upon the forest if he accepts the deal. He decides that he has found the line between Justice and Justification. Of course he wants the power to make his enemies cower, protect his people, and eliminate Clear Sky so he never threatens them again; that's not the problem.

He can still do these things. He wouldn't NEED the power of a war god to do so.

But if One Eye returns, he will be endlessly hungry, ruthlessly dedicated to revenge, and set out to devour the whole forest. Everything would get worse, and even more people he loves would die. It's where his desire to destroy a monster would lead to him BECOMING one.)

Even on its face, it was previously missing an element. There's a step between "Starf decides to bring One Eye back" and "Starf offers Thunderstar the final kill" that was bare. This is the piece that was missing-- That she, herself, is trying to reach out to the only person who's ever really understood her.

But more importantly... I do feel this topic belongs here, in BB!DOTC. Abuse is a MAJOR theme. SKYSTAR is a monster already. He's harmed two wives in BB (Bright Storm and Falling Cry) and played toxic games with all three kits (Thunder Storm, Pale Sky, Tiger Sky).

And I'd avoid Star Flower being abused... why? Because it's uncomfortable to confront the pattern that Clear Sky displays? That in-canon, he tries to cut all his victims into the same ideal shape, from Storm to Thunder to Star Flower? ...it should be uncomfortable. Everything that I described in Clear Sky Is A Monster is rooted in the same desire for control, power, and punishment most abusive people share, he just happens to be a severe example.

Yes. That includes how he treats his child and romantic partners. The parallels that are drawn between Starf and Thunder are there because he wants power in the form of obedience. Starf replaces the son as a narrative award for his "growth" of not killing random people anymore for a while.

A cookie cutter is an effective tool because IT ONLY MAKES ONE SHAPE.

You know what's more uncomfortable? Reading canon!DOTC and seeing someone who hurt you reflected almost perfectly in the character the writers think did nothing wrong. Because of "good intentions" that were not there.

I will say though, just to be clear; I don't see a purpose in being more than PG-13 about serious topics for this project. I promise none of my intentions have changed. Nothing will be more graphic or gorey than canon WC-- just more intentional.

I'm keeping the sacrifice because it's dope. No one is taking this from me. Girl Moment: Killed her awful husband 8 times to count as 8 sacrifices and offered the last life to her buddy as a show of good will. How else do you make friends outside of high school

But I know now that Star Flower NEEDS to keep the canon fact she has very little agency, UNTIL that moment she snaps.

She's sacrificing one abuser to try and bring back a bigger, badder one, because in spite of everything, her father One Eye always made her feel safe. Even though he promised her off to Skystar, and expected her to be willing to die for him. She's followed every command, every order, past the death of his mortal vessel.

The first, and only, selfish choice she's ever made was in reaching out to Thunderstar to offer him the power of her father.

Thunderstar's Justice is a story about a Thunder Storm at the pinnacle of his arc, how the survivors of his Clan are settling into the new normal after the carnage of The First Battle, how Skystar's arrogance brings a violent god to the Forest... and the connection Thunderstar makes with the daughter of a monster.

[sungbeam]

𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 — teaser!

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, teaser warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, mentions of chemistry & physics

▷ projected release date. february 16th/17th hopefully!

▷ estimated wc. 24-26k ... maybe

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this can be read as a standalone, but there are multiple references to previous fics & i highly encourage u to read those; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: surprise 🦅 @justalildumpling approved btw

TEASER BELOW THE CUT (APPROX. 500 WORDS)

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's prevalent in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 3

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Memories Made by zjass06

"Hi! I'm Will! You're my new neighbour!" the blonde boy beams; Nico frowns in turn, peering curiously at this Will. "My ma' says not to talk to strangers," Nico replies as he sits himself upon the grass. Will plops himself down next to the dark haired boy, who giggles so purely it makes his smile contagious. "I'm not a stranger, I'm your neighbour! You live next to me now and we can be friends!" Or A few snippets of Nico’s life and how his friendship develops with Will, all within a much treasured treehouse.

childhood friends to lovers will ALWAYS be elite. to me. and the centrality of this treehouse in this fic is so fucking cute bc they absolutely are the type of nerds to have a treehouse they use well into their late teens lol

2. Mafia by @buoyantsaturn

Nico is the most terrifying mob boss in New York, and Will is his live-in doctor. A Mafia Au

MY FAVE SOLANGELO SERIES TBH. like is it toxic a little bit? yeah. did the second one make me squeamish? yeah. in the 6/7 years since its been posted, have i read it literally DOZENS of times?? you betcha. idk man theres something about the danger of it all. the insane mob boss and the doctor hes whipped for. SO SO much fun and so so so romantic

3. you stormed into the battlefield (of my heart) by fedyaism

“Doctor Solace,” he says, “would you be willing to tend to a foe?” Will blinks. (He had practically expected everything but this.) “I’m sorry?” “I need you to heal an enemy for me. Can you do that?” Grace asks in a tone that lets Will know that he wasn’t really asking. “An… an enemy, sir?” “Yes. I will send him to you.” “Of course, General.” (What else could he say?)

this ends ambiguously but i am Choosing to believe they find each other again and live happily ever after for ever and ever bc im a weenie. its just...man fuck the military and i got no fondness for war BUT this isnt real and ergo i can sigh dreamily at love that is inherently kind of tragic and all the more desperately beautiful for you, yknow??

4. It's a Process by @oh-hush-its-perfect

When Nico comes out to Hazel, she really isn't sure how to react. Of course, she loves her brother to pieces, but something is holding her back. It takes a while to get over old beliefs. It takes a while to become accepting. It takes Hazel a while indeed. A.K.A. Nico is gay and Hazel can't wrap her head around it.

contrary to what the summary may lead you to believe, hazel is NOT at all homophobic in this fic. in fact her number one goal at all times is to be supportive, even as she struggles, and you know what? thats more important i think. her love for her brother is so transparently obvious in this one, she spends like 8k words doing everything she can to make SURE she is loving and accepting!!! hazel i love you. also the campfire scene had me giggling fr

5. three times everyone thought they hated each other by lizamarri

and the one time everyone realized they didn't ~ ft. capture the flag, big three kids sparring, will healing nico and being sassy about it, and more. enjoy!

NOTHING hits as hard as flirt fighting. truly nothing. also 3+1s are my weakness i stg, theres just something about outside pov and the sheer clarity of how much they love each other and love driving each other up the wall lmfao

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[buckets-and-trees]

Navy, Navy, Navy...

You dropped this man in my askbox at the beginning of the week, and I knew I knew him, but it took me a couple of days to figure out exactly which Steve he was...

And then I realized he's absolutely Buck's Eleven Steve...

Collection: Buck's Eleven Title: Bookings and Rings Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x Female Reader Word Count: 650  Summary: Our first glimpse of Steve's girl in this AU. Can be read as a standalone, you only need to know Bucky and Steve are putting together a big heist job for New Year's Eve 1960.

Content Warnings: hints of 1960s societal views, movement toward smut at the end (fade to black)

Logistical Notes: Thank you @vonalyn for spiffing this up and making sure it was up to snuff. This ticks off my first box in my @the-slumberparty Bingo Card B4 "Proposal."

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You lock and close the door behind you, letting out a happy sigh. You’re home. You drop your keys on the table in the entry and step out of your heels, clutching them in one hand and your travel bag in the other, then make your way down the hall into the living room.

You pause and grin at the sight in front of you.

Steve is sitting in one of the armchairs, relaxed, reading the paper, the bright afternoon sun streaming in from the window behind him. You can tell he’s had a fresh haircut since you saw him last week. He’s in a brown tweed sport coat and black shirt. He always looks good.

“You’re home early,” you say.

“Is that a complaint?” he asks, returning your grin as he lowers the paper to look at you.

“Well, you’re also in my home, not your home.”

“Until you agree to call my home your home, sometimes I just can’t help myself when I want to see my girl.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but the grin is still on your face. “Good thing you’re handsome, Rogers.”

“And you know I’m good for other things, too,” he says as he folds up the paper and sets it aside. “Now come over here, tell me about your day. Where were you?”

You deposit your heels and your sleek blue Pan Am duffel on the couch, then sit on the coffee table in front of Steve. “Rio de Janeiro.”

“Long flight then, let me take care of my girl.” Steve gestures for you to rest your feet up on his thigh, and as you do, he immediately takes one of your stocking-clad feet in his strong hands and begins pressing his thumbs deeply into the sole. You moan and some of the tension in other parts of your body starts to melt away. Steve smiles at that. “Tell me about your day.”

You do. While you talk, he listens, asks a few questions, moves to rubbing out your other foot completely, and then starts working up your calves.

When you’ve caught him up on the relevant pieces of the things that have happened the past few days, shared the frustrations as well as the funny stories, you finally ask him, “What do you want – I get the foot rubs when you want something.”

“You’d get this regularly if you’d accept my ring, honey,” you open your mouth to protest, but he shakes his head and continues, “I know, I know, you’re not ready to give up your explorations.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But you remember I’ve always got that ring with me. You say the word and it’s yours.”

You lean forward and kiss him, then say, “I’m not saying no, I’m just saying not now.”

“I’ll take you everywhere you want to go.”

You lean back a little and tilt your head. “I know.” You rest your hand over his heart. “And I am yours… just not your wife yet.”

“Yet,” he echoes.

You laugh then kiss him again. It’s a long kiss this time, one that has him eventually pulling you into his lap, and your arms are wrapped tightly around each other, lips and tongues dedicated to nothing more than connecting and expressing the feelings between the two of you.  

It only ends when you’re both completely breathless.

“What do you need from me?”

“Two things… I need to get a team into Vegas. Can you book them in?”

“Sure, leave me the list of their names and departure cities before you leave, I’ll put them in.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“What else?”

He grins and his hand slips between your thighs, moving right up to your mound. “Let me take you to bed and give you more reasons to make it hard for you to hold out on finally becoming my wife.”

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[shadowqueenjude]

I am writing Feytamsand, so I thought I’d post this snippet for @polyacotarweek ! This is a continuation of my AU where when Rhysand dies in ACOWAR, the High Lord magic transfers to Nesta, and Rhysand has to contend with being powerless and titleless. Thanks to @achaotichuman who helped me with ideas for this part <3 (this is for day 1)

Needless to say, Rhysand was still in shock hours later.

Hybern was split into seven pieces. Each court in Prythian would help govern a section of Hybern and ensure everything returned to normal. Rhysand’s face burned with humiliation as Nesta swept past him, majestic in a silver gown, not even a glance at him. Once the center of attention, he now garnered as many looks as a servant. He clenched his fists and resisted the urge to bellow in frustration.

He had lost everything- everything- to that snake, who saw through all his bullshit somehow where even Feyre did not. Then again, Nesta and Elain were the educated ones, weren’t they? It made sense that Nesta would be the cunning one, not Feyre.

How could he endure? How could he live in the Night Court, knowing what he had lost, and to whom? Audacious, vicious Nesta, who Rhysand despised with all his heart and yet couldn’t help but dream of day in and day out. Along with a certain blonde back in Spring. He shut that out. You would think having a mate who had accepted the bond would stop these intrusive thoughts, but no. If anything, they only haunted him further.

It seemed he could never escape him. Even his mate was once his bride.

And his mate was also Nesta’s sister. God, he needed to stop thinking about her. How he wished to punish her for stealing his court. How he wished she’d destroy him instead.

God he wished his brain would shut the fuck up. “It’s not a big deal,” Feyre muttered. His mate-his fierce, beautiful mate- who knew nothing of the monster he was, who he’s somehow convinced to love him as he was, wretched and all. Because she didn’t know him. How evil he was. He’d used her like a toy, then manipulated her into believing it was for her own good. Nesta’s every glare was a reminder of how terrible he was. She made him think. She made him remember.

She drove him crazy.

Feyre, Mor, and Azriel surrounded him, assuring him they loved him no matter what, that he was their High Lord always, blah blah blah.

“Stop lying to me,” Rhysand bellowed. “You do not serve me anymore. I am nothing. You shall serve the new High Lady, should she deem it. I am powerless.”

“But you should-“ Azriel began.

Rhysand snarled at him. “You’re the one she’s least likely to keep around. You’re completely fucking useless.” Azriel rarely showed emotion, but Rhysand could’ve sworn his shadows swirled around him agitatedly. Rhysand didn’t give a shit.

He had just lost everything. He had the right to be angry. His whole life, he had been preparing for this. His whole life, he had been doing this. Maybe he wasn’t the best at his job, but it was all he knew. Now, he was useless in his own court. A waste of space.

Waste. Waste. Waste.

Rhysand shut out the voice. “Let’s see what our new ruler shall do,” he said bitterly.

Nesta walked out of the High Lord meeting some time later, looking radiant and queenly and everything Feyre never was and never would be. And Rhys felt like shit for even thinking it.

Elain and Lucien walked beside her, looking remarkably cozy despite Nesta’s vehement objections.

“Let’s go home,” Nesta said. She didn’t seem as smug as Rhysand had expected. He wished she was, so that he could sneer at her. Don’t act like you’re superior, he wanted to scream. You’re just as bad as me.

Nesta continued to ignore them, staring at Cassian instead. Rhysand tried not to be hurt at Cassian blatantly ignoring him and choosing to beam at Nesta instead. Cassian was his first. And now Nesta was taking him away from him. By the Cauldron, did he hate her.

Returning home was awkward, to say the least. Out of instinct, Rhysand walked towards the throne when Nesta gave him a look promising death, and Rhysand backed off. Right. An ordinary citizen. Rhysand burned with humiliation again. Nesta reclined onto the throne, crossing one leg over the other. She looked like she was born to sit there. Perhaps she was. Perhaps the Mother was just biding her time, letting him rule until Night’s true leader was born and ready to rule.

The thought didn’t sit well with him. Especially since Nesta was the first High Lady chosen in centuries.

“First order of business,” Nesta drawled, surveying the former Inner Circle. “Mor, pack your bags and get out of here. I have no use of you.” Mor glowered at Nesta and stomped out of the room.

“Azriel too. You’re the worst spy I’ve ever seen. Didn’t anyone tell you spies aren’t supposed to be well-known everywhere?” Azriel genuinely looked like he might cry, and Rhysand didn’t know whether to be amused or horrified that a 23 year old formerly human woman was the one reducing him to tears.

“Amren, you have no powers anymore, but because I like you, you can stick around.” Amren grinned and saluted her. “Rhysand, as much as I’d like to chuck you into the Court of Nightmares, you’re my sister’s husband, so I am offering the House of Wind to you and my sister. However, you shall have no place in my court.”

Rhysand grit his teeth. It was charity. Nesta clearly wanted to be around him as little as he wanted to be around her, yet she offered this for her sister’s sake. Might as well spare them both.

“I want nothing from you, and you want nothing from me. I think I shall save both of us some time and say that I’m determined to leave the Night Court.”

Feyre’s head whipped around to his. “Excuse me?” “You’re welcome to stay here, Feyre, if you want to dump your loser husband to whatever court he slithers off to.”

Feyre shook her head. “No…no of course I will go. I suppose he is right, we have no place here anymore.”

Nesta shook her head. “You will always have a place here, sister.”

“Wait. What about me?” Cassian asked, spreading his hands. Nesta surveyed him coolly, and Cassian audibly gulped at her unrelenting focus. “You can stay, I suppose. Make yourself useful as a bodyguard, or… what was your job?”

Cassian cleared his throat. “Commander of the Illyrian army.”

“Yes yes, you can keep doing that. Now, to get a new spymaster…”

Elain delicately cleared her throat. “Yes, you’re right Elain, we’ll talk about that later.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was just…what about Lucien?”

Lucien had been standing there, uncharacteristically silent, but now everyone turned to him. “What? I know Nesta’s keeping me around,” Lucien said. “Oh?” Azriel snapped, whirling back into the room, shadows swirling like a dark tornado. “What makes you so sure?”

Lucien smirked. “I’m indispensable. No one else here has any decent connections with any of the other courts. Yet here I am, with great connections to all.”

“Yes, Azriel, I’m keeping Lucien. Now quit whining and leave quietly, please,” Nesta said tiredly. Azriel angrily wiped away a tear as he walked out.

“Come on, Feyre, let’s get out of here,” Rhysand murmured to Feyre. She nodded, and together they strode out of the courtroom, watching as the Inner Circle that had stood for centuries shattered into pieces.

“Might I ask where you intend on taking us?” Feyre demanded, hands on her hips as she sent a simmering glare his way. When she did that, she looked so much like Nesta. Rhysand shut that out.

“I thought it was obvious. This is one place we are unneeded, but there’s another place where we are. Needed, that is.”

Feyre blinked. “You can’t be talking about-“

“What? His last words to you were, ‘be happy.’ I doubt he’s going to be an ass if you go over there now.”

Feyre shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re actually suggesting this.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yeah! Stay here!” Feyre threw up her hands. “You’re ridiculous.” She practically ran out of the room.

Rhysand slumped onto his bed. This was really happening. He knew he should just be happy he was alive, but he’d almost rather be dead. The humiliation he had suffered at the hands of the High Lords, especially Beron, was something he wouldn’t soon forget. And his life, his purpose, was gone. Reduced to little more than a commoner. He couldn’t even shapeshift his wings anymore; they were gone. Just another boring High Fae.

The tears came before he could stop them. He was glad Feyre wasn’t here to see. Glad Feyre hadn’t gone into his mind and seen how he wished he hadn’t been brought back. As much as he appreciated Feyre somehow convincing all the other High Lords to bring him back…he had been brought back to nothing.

Nesta came to wish Feyre a good journey. “You will be ok?” Feyre asked her. Nesta rolled her shoulders. Nerves. Rhysand had been so busy feeling sorry for himself that he didn’t even stop to think about how much pressure was on Nesta’s shoulders. “I think so. I have Lucien and Elain to help me. Will need to recruit a few others; your crew was rather incompetent. Sorry,” she added when Feyre winced. “But it’s true. Especially that Mor.” Nesta made a face of disgust. “Entitled blonde bimbo.”

When Nesta left, Feyre turned to Rhysand. “Are you ready for this?” she enquired, tilting her head curiously. “I should be asking you that question,” Rhysand muttered, shame flooding his veins. Nesta’s presence had again brought it up. Feyre snorted. “I’ve made my peace with him. You’re the one who still has a problem with him.”

A sign that in spite of Feyre’s physical transformation, she was still human. Subject to growth and change. Not like the Fae, who could hold grudges for centuries. Not at all like himself, in fact.

He could never forget Tamlin tearing his father to shreds in front of his eyes. Even if he had despised his father. Tamlin’s skin had glowed with a green aura of power, his claws so long and sharp he probably could’ve gutted Rhys with one swipe. Tamlin’s presence was so powerful that Rhysand had frozen in terror. He didn’t even notice the violet aura around himself.

“Leave,” he’d growled. His voice was lower and raspier than it had been before. “Before I kill you too.”

Rhysand had never understood how you could be so terrified yet so drawn to someone at the same time until that moment. He wanted to stare into Tamlin’s eyes forever, burning like freshly forged emeralds as they were. But Rhysand’s magic reacted where his body could not and winnowed him away from that place.

Clearly visceral magic had consequences, because Rhysand landed on the snowy, windy peak of an Illyrian mountain. He grunted as he fought against the wind resistance to pull out the clump of ice that had lodged itself into his hair. He spat out the half melted slushy water that had gone into his mouth when he fell face-flat onto the snow. Yet the cold of the physical atmosphere couldn’t compare to the cold of his heart.

Centuries onward, and Rhysand still didn’t know how to act around Tamlin. They had never gone beyond friendship; yet, Tamlin had once kissed him when he was drunk off faerie wine, which had led to a lot more. The next day, Tamlin had written it off as mild lapse of judgement. That’s what Rhys was to him; a fucking lapse of judgement.

It was why he had used Feyre under the mountain. He knew Tamlin cared for her. He wanted to piss him off, make him jealous. He wanted to remind him of what they could’ve had.

Perhaps they should stay here in Night, after all. Perhaps they-

But no. Rhysand had no use here. Nesta had made it perfectly clear she had no intention of allowing him to make any decisions in this court. And how long would it be until all the faeries who had despised him when he ruled came to kill him? He had no powers to protect himself now. Feyre was strong, but she could not hold off a riot should it come to their door.

No, they were better off in Spring. No riots coming his way there, at least.

Feyre said nothing to him as they entered Spring Court grounds. In better times, wards would keep out any High Lords from other courts from entering without express permission from the High Lord himself. But, he was no High Lord anymore, and Feyre with her magic of all seven courts, could enter any place.

Rhysand stared at the Spring Court manor, which had definitely seen better days. Sighing, he knocked on the door. A servant with bubblegum pink hair with skin resembling chlorophyll opened the door, gasping when she saw who it was.

“High Lord!” she called. “It is the High Lo-er, former High Lord of Night and the Cursebreaker.”

“Leave them to me, Amelia,” a calm voice said. The servant quickly scurried away. A huge hulking figure stood before them not a moment later.

Rhysand was accustomed to Cassian’s enormous body, so Tamlin’s size did not intimidate him…although he wished that simmering glare was aimed at someone else. “Rhysand. Feyre. What are you doing here?”

“We were kicked out of Night,” Rhysand said smoothly. Feyre sent him a look. “Ignore him, Tamlin. Actually, Rhysand decided to reject my sister’s offer of a beautiful home and go for a change in scenery.”

Tamlin snorted. “Of course he did. Ego can’t handle being bested by a human woman, Rhys?” Rhys. A nickname saved for those close to him. Rhysand ignored the pang of his heart. “I know the people will be coming after me now that I am no longer in power, plus I have no use there anymore. It has nothing to do with her.”

“Sure.” Tamlin grabbed Rhysand’s hand and dragged him inside. Feyre yelped in protest. “What are you doing, Tamlin? Leave him alone!” Tamlin ignored her, dragging him by the heels of his shoes. “TAMLIN! I SAID LET HIM GO!” Feyre’s skin lit up as she utilized Beron’s drop of fire, her eyes a stunning azure flame, and Rhysand stared at his mate in awe. “Wow,” he breathed. “No,” was Tamlin’s only response as he flung open the door to a room that showed evidence of once being an art gallery and shoved Rhysand against the walls. Rhysand reigned in his wince at the claws Tamlin pressed against his jugular.

“TAMLIN! I SAID LET. HIM. GO!” Feyre shrieked, stomping up to him. “You burn me, and he dies,” Tamlin said simply. Then he turned to Rhysand and snarled, “What the fuck are you doing here, really? Haven’t you ruined my life enough? I told Feyre to be happy, not that I want her anywhere near me. Especially not when she comes with you.”

Rhysand chuckled as well as he could while Tamlin’s claws still pressed into his throat, his other hand keeping him pinned to the wall. “This position seems awfully familiar,” Rhysand managed to sneer, in spite of the fear thrumming through his body. “It’s like nothing changed, hmm, Tamlin?”

“What do you mean, nothing has changed?” Feyre demanded. “You mean when you used to spar?”

It was Tamlin’s turn to smile. “You never told her?” Rhysand felt his skin go cold. Shit shit shit shit shit-

“Of course not. What a hit to your ego that would’ve been. That I rejected you, yet I fully intended on marrying a human girl, and humans are so far beneath you, right? Funny how you only took an interest in her after you realized I had interest in her. Jealous much, Rhysand?”

His skin burned with humiliation. “Please,” he croaked.

Tamlin’s smile turned cruel, animalistic. “Please what?” he said in a deceptively gentle voice.

“Please don’t make me go back to Night. The people despise me, they’ll kill me within the week.”

“And why not? Since I’m such a monster, and you’ve intruded on my territory, I should deal with you as a High Lord deals with all invaders.”

Those claws still brushed against his skin, threatening to torment him. Rhysand found his breaths evaded him. “Please,” he choked out.

Abruptly, those claws withdrew from him as well as the hand pinning him to the wall, and Rhysand’s knees nearly buckled. Tamlin’s grin widened. “Beg, and I’ll consider not sending you back to Night.” Oh this bastard was throwing his words right back in his face. But he had no choice. Slowly, Rhysand dropped to his knees. Utter humiliation-almost as bad as what he had suffered when Nesta had become High Lady. “Lower,” Tamlin crooned, pointing a finger at the ground. Rhysand’s mind screamed, but he bowed, his hair brushing the floor. “Lower.” Rhysand pressed his forehead to the floor, suddenly thinking death at the hands of the Night Court faeries would be better than this. At least that would be a swift end.

Perhaps Tamlin sensed the despair in his thoughts, for he pulled Rhysand up by his collar and patted his shoulder. “I would never turn away those in need of refuge,” Tamlin said somberly, and he walked away, leaving Feyre and Rhysand alone.

[saey707]

Crazy in Love

✿ Prompt: You're the only one on Kayn's mind ✿

♡ champion focus: kayn ♡ tw: mental illness ♡ Fem reader

Author's Note: I felt inspired by something I wrote with my best friend a while back! Note: this piece is going to be a modern au and the reader uses she/they pronouns! (๑>؂•̀๑) Please also take into account: what I write is not an absolute and entirely accurate depiction of schizophrenia. I wanted to try and aim for how Kayn perceives the world in accordance with his lore. Hope you enjoy!

Every day, after a long and hard day at school, Kayn made it his priority to see you. As worn and tuckered out as he was mentally and emotionally, Kayn somehow always found time to meet you outside of your classroom.

You studied in 2-A, the exact opposite end from where his classroom was in the school. While it was far, Kayn didn't mind the walk, so long as he got to see your radiant, smiling face. It was the one thing he looked forward to every single day!

Roughly turning the corner at the last turn in the hallway, Kayn clamored his way down the hall, huffing for air as he stood tall, slicking his hair back with his free hand and smoothening out the front of his uniform. He wouldn't want you to think he neglects his appearance!

"Babe??" He called out looking around the empty hallway. But, seeing how you weren't outside your classroom, he began to make his way before the 2-A sliding doors.

He heaved the door open, looking around the classroom with a great, excited grin on his face... "Babe?"

Kayn noticed your absence, and his smile turned into a confused pout. How strange... You weren't outside of the classroom... And you weren't inside either. You couldn't have possibly gone home early today either! That's irregular!

Sure, it has happened a number of times... He remembered when you explained to him you had matters at home you had to take care of. Not to mention, you were a part of multiple clubs at the school so they sometimes pulled you away for emergency meetings... But even then, you made time for him like he did for you!

Consumed in his own thoughts, it wasn't until Kayn felt a tap on his shoulder did he abruptly spin around. However, as he turned, his braid nearly smacked you in the face, Kayn sheepishly smiling.

Staring down at the top of your head, Kayn knew: It was you! He always found it endearing how much shorter you were compared to him...

Then again, Kayn was pretty big, compared to all of the other students at Ionia High, but that was only because he was adopted from a foreign country.

"You're here. Where were you? I thought you had something come up today." Kayn admitted, placing both of his hands on your arms.

"Sorry, baby," You apologized with an exasperated sigh, Kayn sinking into your touch when you placed your hand on his cheek, "I went to the vending machine to get us both a drink!"

Kayn watched as you reached into your bag, revealing a bottled tea for yourself and canned coffee for him.

"Thanks, but you didn't have to get me anything... I have money you know." He pointed out, nevertheless accepting the drink when you held it out to him.

"I know! I just thought you should have something special before your dad picks you up." You informed him, Kayn clutching the can with a nod. He would be sure to save it for when he gets home!

"Okay, but tomorrow I'm buying!" He declared, chuckling when he noticed you laughing delightedly at his decision.

For the next half an hour, Kayn was content to discuss your shared plans for your next date night, allowing you to go into great detail about what you wanted to do with him. At least this would give him something to look forward to during the weekend!

And eventually, Zed arrived to pick up Kayn, pulling open the sliding door to classroom 2-A, noticing his son sitting at a desk today. He knew if it wasn't a desk, Kayn was either curled up in a corner or sitting outside the classroom.

"Kayn? Are you alright?" He asked, Kayn turning around. While it delighted Zed to see how happy his son was, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel like something was... immensely wrong.

"Dad! You're here!" Zed smiled at the boy, striding over to him and touseling the young man's hair.

"What are you doing here all alone again? I was waiting in the car for you, but you never came down..." The older man inquired cautiously, placing his hand on Kayn's shoulder.

"Oh, my girlfriend just left... I was really hoping you could meet her today, but you're too late again." Kayn rambled with a pout, standing and passing his bag to his father's open arms. Before he could forget, he plucked up the can of coffee you gifted him.

"Oh? I'm sorry. I'll get you sooner tomorrow then."

Kayn hummed, walking out of classroom 2-A alongside his adoptive father, checking his phone with his free hand to see if you sent him a message. But, when he saw nothing but a reminder for him to take his medication, he slid the reminder off his lock screen and pocketed his phone.

Zed shot a nervous glance up at his boy, Kayn beaming and looking down at his... empty hands.

"Uh... So, don't forget that you have therapy today before we go to the dojo and train." Zed interjected, noticing how the boy wasn't listening to him.

"My girlfriend got me this canned coffee today... I think you'd like her." Kayn commented, Zed tiredly exhaling. "She must be really special to you."

"Dad, are you kidding? I'm crazy about her! She's always on my mind! She gives me things to look forward to and... I just feel so much better with her around..."

"You know you'd feel better if you took your medication..." Zed retorted, Kayn huffing and crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Yeah, but she's real. The both of us are real."

With how happy Kayn seemed, Zed really wished you were real.

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 15 END)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew (Ft. Others) & Reader Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior. Mild spoilers for Gear 6 iykyk. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, please do block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any variation of 'one piece yandere' that you feel is necessary.

Aside from AU romance endings with characters per request, this is the end! Marco and Luffy confirmed, btw. Now, I'm going to be playing Tears of the Kingdom so my responses will be slow lol

But thanks everyone for being here and enjoying this fic until now, expect it to be on AO3 soon!

Word Count: 2,043

It was a minor miracle that Ace’s little ship made it through the blast that rocked Banaro island. Likely because it was made to handle Ace’s normal fire-shenanigans. It didn’t exactly have room for three on it, but that’s only if you’re of the opinion that people need personal space. Something that, as someone who has been thoroughly grounded, you apparently didn’t need. Marco held you to his chest as he sat in front of the ‘bucket’ where Ace fueled the engine with his fire. You suspect that he was using his phoenix legs to hold into the sides but couldn’t confirm with your poor eyesight.

If he wasn’t partially transformed to hold you both in place it was impressive considering the breakneck speed Ace pushed the Striker at.

You drifted off several times only to find that you three were still traveling. It was only when you woke up starving that you saw Ace lean Striker towards a landmass.

“We’ve made really good time. This island has an optometrist so we can get you new glasses.” Marco spoke into your ear softly despite the wind whipping by you. Not feeling like fighting to be heard, you nodded your head.

Ace expertly pulled the boat up to the docks, tying it off and offering his hand for Marco and yourself. After well over a day at sea, you were a bit shaky but pleased to find you didn’t trip. The docks blurred into what you assumed to be a marketplace, both Marco and Ace finding a reason to keep a hand on you as they guided your path into a shop.

You were utterly relieved when you were handed a new pair of glasses after a few tests. The thick lenses shifting the impressionist blurs into sharp contrasting shapes once again.

Marco gave Ace a sly look.

“You know, I thought I saw the Thousand Sunny on the other side of the docks.” Marco mused, watching Ace’s face abruptly light up.

“We should go see them!” Ace looked at Marco in excitement. When he nodded in acceptance, Ace grabbed your hand and pulled you along eagerly. “You’ll finally get to meet my little brother properly! Lu’s got a great crew you know—his chef is top notch, I’m sure he won’t mind making us something to eat!”

You laughed, using your free hand to make sure your glasses didn’t bounce off your face so soon after getting them.

“Do you even know if they’re on board?!” You asked as Ace tore through the town in his rush.

“Eh, it’s fine! Luffy won’t mind if I drop by!” Ace proclaimed. You looked behind you to find Marco gone. Hopefully he decided to just fly there rather than fight to keep up through the crowds.

The Thousand Sunny was a pretty big ship with a cute lion’s head on the mast with a pointy mane like the sun. The gangplank was out so Ace just steamed up it with you in tow.

“LUFFY!” Ace screamed out, whipping his head around as Marco landed on deck with an indulgent smile. There was a crash somewhere below and thudding steps.

“ACE!” Straw Hat slammed open the door with a wide, excited grin.

“Stop BREAKING SHIT, LUFFY!” A woman screamed from below, quickly following her captain. Straw Hat wasn’t listening as he launched himself at Ace, arms stretching out and wrapping around his brother as he laughed. Ace gripped his brother’s red vest, swaying the two of them in loose circles.

“Did ya get ‘em? Did ya?!” Straw Hat asked childishly as a young woman with orange hair emerged from below, panting for breath from running.

“Sure did, Lu! See, I—We—Even rescued our crewmate.” You raised your hand and smiled.

“Sup.” Straw Hat’s eyes were wide as he finally noticed you were there.

“Eh?!? What happened to you?!” Straw Hat asked, arm stretching out to drag you in close. While you looked way better than before, you were still wrapped with bandages to keep your healing wounds from getting irritated from the high speeds of the Striker. Marco had been strangely dragging out the healing process—or possibly you were just that exhausted that your fruit didn’t properly share the powers just yet.

Straw Hat’s fruit still thrummed against your skin. A calling of the drums that resonated in your chest with that snappy, elastic taste that made you want to smile.

“Well, I got launched out of a sudden volcano and then hitched a ride in Mao’s mouth.” You explained, tolerating the gentle manhandling as Luffy squeezed you into the hug with Ace.

“Mao?” The young lady asked.

“Yeah. Mao. They might be here, actually. Baby~!” You called out shamelessly.

There was a deep, resonating call from the sea as Mao rose up. You squirmed free and ran to the side of the ship.

“Mmmmaaaoooo~! Maaooo~!” Mao called out, leaning down for gentle pets.

“Baby! Pretty baby, lookachu! Ahah~!” You laughed, stroking their nose as Straw Hat laughed behind you.

“Cool! Ace! You didn’t tell me they were friends with a sea king!” Straw Hat ran up and reached out his hand.

“L-Luffy!? Don’t get close to it! You don’t know if it’ll eat you! Can somebody talk sense into him!?”

You grabbed Straw Hat’s hand and gently placed it under Mao’s jaw.

“Mao’s a baby still, so their scales aren’t completely hardened yet. A little scratching right here feels nice cause that’s usually where they start shedding.” You explained softly, Straw Hat absolutely enraptured with a wide, beaming grin. He looked back at his brother.

“This is a baby?!” Ace shrugged his shoulders helplessly and you grinned.

“Yep! Sea Kings grow a lot before they reach maturity. It’s when they grow whiskers that you know they’re fully grown!” You declared.

“Wow! How do you know that?!” You chuckled, pushing up your glasses.

“My home island was near a sea king nest!” You laughed, “But they didn’t tend to go near the island, so we just knew by proxy.”

“I heard we had guests?” A blond man ducked his head out, catching sight of Ace before sighing. “I’ll fire up the stove. Two Ds… sheesh.”

“Join my crew!” Straw Hat asked with starry eyes. You saw Marco and Ace stiffen with Ace looking conflicted. You couldn’t help but laugh and smile wryly.

“No can do. I’m grounded. Sides, you guys aren’t ready for the Grand Line yet.” You tipped your head to the side, expanding your still sore senses. “You have two other devil fruit users that are pretty strong but it only gets harder from here on out. I can’t be a crutch.” You sighed.

Straw Hat pouted.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him with a bit of an indulgent smile. You get why Straw Hat was viewed as a rising star in piracy. But charisma would only get him so far.

“My devil fruit can influence other devil fruits. Make them stronger—or as I realized recently—negate them completely. You… tell you what, ask me again when you find the drums.” You poked his chest teasingly. Everyone looked confused. “…What is your devil fruit power?”

“I’m a rubber man!” Straw Hat declared.

You gave a soft, mysterious smile, finally giving into the impulse to ruffle his hair through his hat.

“Are you sure about that? Find the drums, Straw Hat, and then maybe I’ll join you.” You said. If he managed to find the limits of his devil fruit all on his own, he would probably not suffer the same hubris as your previous ‘partners’. Ace and Marco hadn’t despite being in close contact with you, after all.

Straw Hat huffed, face twisting with determination.

“Fine! I’ll find those drums, wherever they are, and then you’ll join my crew!”

Marco looked like he ate a lemon with Ace not much better, though oddly a little touched in spite of himself. Like he was proud but not sure of what.

--*--

The Moby Dick came into view rapidly with Ace whooping in joy, firing off sparks to let the crew know of your approach. There was, even over the wind, cheers as Ace pulled up close to the ship.

Ace swept you up into his arms and leapt up, planting his feet firmly on the railing as Marco sighed and followed suit. You laid in his arms awkwardly, thinking that this time was hardly any better than your first time on board.

Whitebeard laughed, grinning as Ace skipped over.

“We’re back, Oyaji!”

“Welcome home, my children.” You sighed, not surprised in the least as Ace sat on Whitebeard’s knee.

Whitebeard looked at you, taking in the mostly superfluous bandages.

“Surprisingly, it’s good to be back.” You grumbled without any heat.

Did it still weird you out? Absolutely. You don’t get what any of them saw in you that inspired such ferocity as to track you down across the Grand Line to get you back.

Whitebeard’s smile softened.

“I’m glad you all returned safely.” He murmured as someone stomped up to the main deck.

“You’re back!” Thatch cried out joyously, his usual chef ensemble swapped for loose pants and a shirt. Clearly, he was still on light duty as the nurses nearby scolded him for running. You elbowed Ace to let go and hopped down to the floor, aware that everyone was watching as you approached the suddenly nervous chef.

He glanced around for a hint of what was going on as you walked up to him. Then while he was still stiff with nerves, you wrapped your arms around his chest, gently patting his back.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Thatch.” You mumbled into his shirt. There was a high pitched cry as his arms locked around you, spinning you in circles.

“AH! AHHHH?! You did it! You used my name~!” Thatch cried out as several nurses protested to the vigorous movement, though on who’s behalf you weren’t sure.

You grinned.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Twin-Blade.” You said dryly, loud enough to be heard by everyone while hiding your smile. The effect was instant. His arms twitching as he nearly fell to his knees in mock-despair.

“Noooooo! My name! Use my name, damnit!”

You laughed, patting his back consolingly.

“Sure thing, Twin-Blade.”

“No!” Thatch barked, as the crew laughed at his plight.

While not what you imagined, life as a pirate wasn’t so bad if it meant feeling like this.

You considered your now bare wrist, no supportive cloth there to remind you of your past. What you hoped for in your future. Not quite freedom symbolized in marine-standard blue but consistency and a promise to support people. Nor a chain to remind you of your literal, more understandable imprisonment. You were free to put whatever you wanted there once they decided you didn’t need the bandages anymore.

And then? Well, it was a pretty good place for a tattoo… whenever you’re not grounded anymore and can slip away to get it done.

“…Hey, what does being grounded even look like?” You asked Thatch, Marco and Ace having avoided the subject. You assumed it was because they didn’t know either.

Thatch paused, looking over at his brothers and Whitebeard.

“…Nooooo mooooorrreeee… avoiding… parties?” Thatch guessed, receiving cheerful agreements all around. You couldn’t help but snort.

“You know, usually groundings means less of those.” You pointed out but Thatch nodded resolutely.

“Eating every meal!” Thatch added.

“I already did that?”

“More training!” Someone suggested.

“Okay, that makes sense but—”

“Hanging out with Oyaji!”

“Hey now! Don’t get ahead of yourself!” You barked, feeling ganged up on as more suggestions were added, Whitebeard doing nothing but adding to the chaos.

“Given names only.” He nodded and you sputtered.

“I’m not calling you Edward!” You huffed, craning your neck to glare back at him. He paused before smiling.

“That’s alright. Oyaji or Pops is fine with me.” You groaned, burying your face into Thatch chest as you fought the urge to laugh.

“Hey, you have to follow the rules. You’re still grounded.” Thatch teased.

“Does that mean I can stop when I’m not grounded?” You needled. Thatch letting out a bark of laughter.

“Hah! No.”

Why did you decide to stay again?

[bed-chemist]

❝i might just give you a bite.❞

part 1 of this fic

A/N: This is for my besties who don’t go out on Saturday nights but read fanfic in bed. Before we start this chapter, I will explain the AU a bit so it’s not confusing when you read this. The characters included will be mostly from TLOU2, so SPOILERS. Although there’s no outbreak, and it’s modern-day Joel, Sarah still dies. TLOU characters will be referenced (deaths, reasons they’re not around, etc.) The only person who is not the same age as they were at the end of TLOU are Joel and Tommy because I didn’t want to write a big age gap. They're still equally daddy tho. So characters: mainly TLOU 2, but Joel and Tommy are a bit younger. This also hasn't been edited, so ignore any mistakes. enjoy ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

Chapter Summary: the sweetest baker celebrates barbieween.

Chapter Warnings: death of parents (mentioned), death of a child (mentioned), language, alcohol and drugs (mentioned), slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), symptoms of anxiety and depression.

Key Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, Joel x Ellie x Reader, slow burn, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

⋆ word count: 6.3k ⋆

October 31st

Adding a final sugar bat wing to the specialty cupcake, I tuck a stay curl behind my ear with a huff. After 2 hours of baking and decorating, I decide it was time for a break. Taking my headphones off, I turn towards my neighbor’s little sister, Dina.

Dina's ponytail bounces as she bops around the front with her headphones in, making sure the bakery is ready to open in an hour. She’s only 15, but she’s been a massive help with the bakery. She works part-time shifts, but I’m paying her holiday pay for being here since 6 a.m. at her age. Waving my hand through the open window between the kitchen and the register, I grab her attention. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Do you want anything?” I ask.

Dina shakes her head and smiles. “No thanks,” she says.

I shuffle around the kitchen grabbing my things. “Okay, I’ll take you to school when I get back,” I accept her answer. Dina’s probably stuffed from me feeding her croissants and donuts this morning.

Dina beams, seemingly grateful she doesn’t have to take public transit today in the city. “Cool. Do you need help after 4?” she offers.

Shaking my head, I secure my bag on my shoulder. “No, Dina. Go out and have fun. There’s gotta be a party or whatever you young kids are doing these days,” I argue. No one I know should be working on my favorite holiday. It’s the best time of the year.

Dina’s nose crinkles and she leans on the counter. “I don’t really party,” she confessed.

Nodding, I think about the fact that Dina's sister is probably working the E.R. night shift tonight. “Do you want to come over tonight? I’m just handing out candy and probably watching a movie later,” I offer her someone to hang out with.

Dina happily nods, accepting the offer. After reminding her that I’ll text her sister, I turn the handle to the door. The cool autumn air nearly whips me in the face as I step out onto the small threshold. 

Staring down at my phone, I start to formulate the message to Talia. I only take two steps before I bump into a small figure. Setting my hands out on the tiny human’s shoulders, I look down and notice a brunette girl peering up at me. Her face twists in anger and she shrugs my hands off her shoulders. “Ow, fuck. Watch it,” She puts me in my place with so much attitude, it reminds me of myself when I was a kid.

Taking a deep breath, I try to compose myself. The younger version of me would’ve given her a piece of my mind, but it’s the best day in the world. Halloween. “I’m sorry, tiny human. I wasn’t paying attention,” I apologize and try to move past her to get coffee.

She steps in front of me again with her arms crossed. “Hey, I am not tiny,” she counters.

“Don’t take it personally. I call anyone under the age of 18 a tiny human,” I placate her.

She huffs before shifting a bit. “Well, now that your main concern should be avoiding a lawsuit, maybe you’ll hear me out,” she snips.

My head tilts in confusion at her statement. “Lawsuit? What do you mean lawsuit?” I ask in disbelief.

Her eyes roll in response to my question. “You know? I got hurt at your business & you discriminated against me. You should pay me or something,” she explains as if I should know this already.

I’ve spent enough time with tiny humans to know when one wants something from you. “Smart, but we’re on the sidewalk. It’s public property,” I break the news to her, gesturing to the cracked concrete beneath our feet.

The brunette teenager’s face turns red as her eyes dart down and then back up at me. “Shit, maybe I should’ve done this another way,” she thinks out loud.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I daydream about a vanilla latte with almond milk. “Look, I need some coffee. Can we walk and blackmail me at the same time?” I ask.

She gnaws on her bottom lip, shifting back on her heels. “Well that’s the thing…” she pauses and waits for my name.

“Ginny,” I inform her.

She nods, seemingly internalizing every syllable. “Ginny. I have a class in 30 minutes. My da–” she stops herself, cursing under her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut right and takes a deep breath. “Anyways, he forgot to pick up the order last night. It might be under my name or his,” she blurts before opening her eyes.

I usually don’t allow customers to pick up orders a day late but the kid looks like she’s going through it. “Okay, how about you come inside and we figure it out so you get to school on time,” I say.

Her face instantly softens and a smile replaces her frown. “Cool. Thanks, Ginny,” she replies.

I open the door, motioning for her to step into the shop ahead of me. “What’s your name?” I ask her.

She looks over her shoulder and watches as I lock the door. “Ellie,” she beams. 

Nodding, I start to walk with Ellie toward the back of the bakery. “Nice to meet you, Ellie,” I extend my hand and she shakes it.

When we get into the kitchen, Dina is sitting in the corner with her backpack at her feet. “That was fast,” she comments, ready to stand.

I motion for Dina to not get up with my hands. “I didn’t get coffee yet. Ignore us, I can handle this,” I chirp, breezing over to the iPad.

My fingers tap the screen looking for the list of pick-up orders. “Okay, let’s do this by process of elimination. What’s your last name so I can look you up?” I ask Ellie.

“Williams,” Ellie states clearly.

Typing the letters into the search box, I press enter. “Well your name isn’t in the system so let’s try his name next. Last name?” I try to move on to the next name.

“Miller,” Ellie replies.

Miller, that name sounds familiar. Miller, Miller, Miller. It’s on the tip of my tongue.

My brows twist as I try to place the name. “First name?” I finally give up and ask.

“Joel,” the name rolls off Ellie's tongue as sweet as lilies in May.

Shit. That’s why the name was so familiar. Maybe it’s not the same Joel. “Joel Miller? The chef?” I ask for clarification.

Ellie's brows furrow and she nods. “Yeah. Do you know him?” she counters.

Nodding, I click Chef Miller's order. “Yeah, I didn’t know he had a kid.” Not that’s it a bad thing. It makes him more attractive knowing he has the patience to be a support to a teenager.

Ellie rocks on her heels, looking over her shoulder at Dina. “Joel’s my adopted dad,” she mumbles.

“You don’t have to explain your relationship with him. I get it,” I chirp, turning to grab a box for the first half of the order. “It looks like you need 20 cookies. I haven’t put them out yet. Did you want to come to the rack and pick them out?” I ask Ellie, pointing to the back corner.

Ellie’s face lights up and she nods. “Fuck yeah. But I have to be quick. Art is first thing this morning,” she informs me.

“Let’s go, then,” I smile, waving her in my direction.

My eyes flood with tears as I weep in my office around 3 p.m. My body jolts when the office door slams open against the wall. “Ginny,” I hear my employee Grace start to say. I swivel towards my chair, wiping the tears from my face. “Woah. I’m sorry,” she apologizes with wide eyes. I understand, I probably look like a hot red mess right now.

Motioning with my hand for her to ignore me, I take a deep breath. “You’re okay, what did you need?” I ask.

She nods, shifting to lean on the other leg uncomfortably. “There’s a customer in the front saying he had an order but we can’t find it. Can you help us?” she asks.

Nodding, I stand from the chair. “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I chirp, trying my hardest to plaster on a fake smile. Grace gratefully takes this as a sufficient answer, turning on her heels to hurry back out to the front of the bakery.

My pink heels carry me over to the cabinet where I grab a pack of baby wipes. A sharp pain shoots up my soles as I shuffle over to the floor-length mirror in my office and I smooth my hands over my dress. My hair still looks perfect, which I'm grateful for. Grabbing some of the wipes, I try to clean my face as best as possible.

Once I deem my appearance acceptable, I toss the used wipes in the trash. The click of my shoes fills the back kitchen as I make my way up to the front. When I round the corner I see the back of a man with salt and pepper hair. “That’s the boss,” Chloé, another employee, says loudly over the noise in the large room.

My brain sparks, mentally preparing myself for the worst as the tall man slowly turns around. When I see his face, my tense body instantly relaxes. “Oh, Chef Miller. Hi,” I sigh and smile, genuinely this time.

Chef Miller looks me up and down while I close the large gap between us. My nose crinkles when I stop in front of him and he still hasn’t said anything. “Hi. I - um- I’m sorry,” he stammers.

Feeling confused, I break eye contact to look down at my outfit. There’s no flour on my costume but I’m suddenly feeling insecure. “Is everything alright?” I capture Chef Miller's chesnut irises again. 

Chef Miller inhales sharply, letting his arms fall to his side. “Mhm, just didn’t know you owned this place is all,” he informs me.

Thank fuck. I thought I had a booger front and center. I suddenly remember forgetting to call The Austin after Ellie came in, as promised. “Yeah, and shit. I meant to call your restaurant and tell you. Ellie came in earlier and I gave her the school order,” I try to ease his mind. 

Chef Miller lets out a heavy sigh, doubling over. “Oh lord. I forgot ‘em once and thought I forgot ‘em again. Been so busy at the resteraunt, I –” he cuts his rant short. The denim shirt seems to constrict and I notice his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

My eyes go wide and I step a little closer to the chef, putting my hand on his back. “Chef Miller, are you alright?” I ask.

Chef Miller nods with his face still towards the pink tile floor. “I’m fine. It’s just the cold air all of a sudden,” he lies and I feel the bass of his voice in my palm.

My hand instinctively rubs circles on his back. “Chef Mill-”

“Joel, sweetheart. Call me Joel,” Joel cuts me off.

“Joel,” I say, and the name almost feels foreign on my tongue. “Do you want to sit down for a second? Try a Halloween brownie?” I offer, hoping it’ll keep him from going down this continuous spiral.

Joel shakes his head and slowly starts to stand, straightening his back. “No, thank you. I don’t want to take up more of your time,” he acknowledges the long line of customers in the bakery.

Taking a step back, I clasp my hands in front of me. Something about Joel intrigues me, and I quickly think of an excuse to keep him in the shop. “How about you sit because you’re saving me from the joy of interacting with rude Halloween patrons,” I practically beg him.

He peers over his shoulder at the case with the sweet treats. His eyes return to mine with a gleam in them. “Okay, deal,” he agrees with a small smile.

Nodding, I feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Joel picks a booth to sit in while I scurry to grab him a brownie and a glass of water. When I get back to the booth, I’m out of breath from trying to function in the pink block heels. “Here, it’s on the house,” I suggest, pushing the items towards him.

Joel shakes his head, pulling out a 10-dollar bill. “This is all the cash I have on me but, I can offer two redo meals for the price of one,” he proposes, sliding the cash over towards me.

Shaking my head, I slide it back over towards Joel. “It’s not a big deal,” I argue.

“No, it is. You saved her from embarrassment. I should be tipping you 10 fold,” Joel contests, pushing it back across the table.

Getting frustrated, I reach out and push the cash back in his direction with finality. “Put it in the fucking tip jar. For Christ's sake, Joel. I don’t need it. My staff will split it at the end of the shift,” I declare trying to convince him I do not need the extra cash.

Joel looks down and grabs the cash, tucking it into his back pocket. “Fine,” he mutters under his breath. “So, how was she?” he asks a bit louder.

My head tilts in confusion. “What do you mean?” I ask for clarification.

Joel picks up the brownie, examining the spiderweb marshmallows covering the dessert. “I mean what was she like? Just trying to make sure she’s on the right track is all. Happy and everything,” he explains before taking a bite. 

My eyes squint as I study Joel chewing. Every muscle in his jaw flexes and he closes his eyes. “Mmmm, this is good,” he moans and I feel the color drain from my face. My stomach flutters and I try to force the bile back down my throat. 

It’s platonic, Imogen. Not even that. We’re acquaintances. “She reminds me of when I was a teenager. Didn’t think I’d ever meet someone that swears more than me,” I finally answer him.

Joel picks up the water, taking a sip of the cool liquid before setting it back on the table. “I told her no more goddamn swearing in public,” he complains.

Pursing my lips together, I try not to laugh at how ironic the scenario is. “Um, Joel,” I say, trying to fight a snicker while Joel takes another bite.

Joel's eyes flick up to mine and I almost crumble. He hums for me to continue while he chews.

Clearing my throat, I try to think of the best way to put this. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to tell him how to parent his kid. “If you want her not to swear in public, you have to lead by example,” I advise the mesmerizing man sitting across from me.

Joel instantly stops chewing and takes a big gulp. “Shit, you’re right,” he swears again and I stifle another giggle.

The desire to spend more time with Joel creeps up my spine once again. “Can I ask you something? And you can say no,” I start feeling a slight warmth in my chest.

Joel nods, wiping his mouth with a pink napkin. “Yeah, sure,” he confirms before going in for the last of the brownie.

My fingers tap the table beneath me, feeling anxious about what I’m going to suggest. “Did the two of you have plans tonight?” I investigate.

Joel takes a few moments to finish chewing while he shakes his head. “No. It’s Ellie’s first Halloween with me, too. I didn’t know what to do so I didn’t plan anything.” he addresses their plans.

A small smile creeps onto my lips. “Well, I’m closing the shop early. My neighbor’s little sister is coming over to hang out and watch a movie. You should bring Ellie by for a little while. Maybe they’ll end up being friends,” I ramble.

Joel’s face brightens as he processes the information. “I think that’d be good for her. I took off work and she should be out of school in an hour or two. I’ll get her fed and we’ll be on our way,” he voices before finishing the glass of water.

A few drops of water slip past his bottom lip onto Joel's beard, and I resist the craving to reach up and fix him. “Sounds good,” I note his plans while I slide out of the booth. “Look, I have to get back,” I tell him, seeing the line grow in size.

Joel nods and waves, following suit behind me. As I glide away, I feel something gnawing at my insides. He’s so worried about Ellie and I just want to reassure him. “Joel,” I grab his attention before he gets too far away from me.

He turns around to face me. “Yes, sweetheart?” Joel asks so kindly, I could melt butter on his words.

“You’re a really great dad. I mean, you’d have to be blind not to see that. She’s smart, beautiful, and healthy. I don’t know about happy but, what teenage girl is?” I sincerely express to him what I’ve observed already.

I can tell Joel’s trying his best when he gives me a half smile. “That’s sweet of you, darlin’,” he husks.

Shrugging, I try to push away the flush creeping into my cheeks. “It’s just the truth. And she loves you too, Joel,” I add.

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. His head hangs and he stares at the ground for a moment until a customer needs to pass his large frame to get out of the store.

Joel moves to the side, seemingly regaining his focus. “Thank you, fuck. I needed that,” he swears.

Smiling, I reach out and caress his arm. “I know. I’ll see you tonight,” I wink, spinning on my toes and floating away from the door.

“See you later, Ginny,” he returns the farewell, pulling open the door to my shop and exiting. The lingering smell of his cologne dances in my brain as I try to refocus on the current customers.

“Happy Halloween!” I cheer, scooping the last of the candy into small bags.

It’s always been my favorite holiday and this year, I’m dressed head to toe in pink as Baker Barbie. Once the rush of kids passes, I turn to join Dina in the booth next to the window. My heels click across the floors as I strut towards her. 

We opted out for pizza pickup after school and I let the closers handle shutting the store. She made quick work of packing her back at her sisters when we stopped by, having already picked out her Tinkerbell costume.

Just as I make it to the booth, I hear the doorbell jingle. “Hey, Ginny,” I hear a familiar voice.

Turning around, I face the short brunette girl dressed as Wednesday. “Oh! Hi, Ellie. I love your costume. Where’s your—“ I start to ask when my thoughts are cut short. Joel Miller grudgingly saunters into my bakery dressed in a black t-shirt that tightly hugs his body. 

Just like the first day we met, I felt my body start to heat up. “Look! I made him dress up as Ken since you don’t have one today,” Ellie proudly points to the pink ‘Ken’ lettering in the middle of Joel’s chest.

Blood rushes to my cheeks when I think about the possibility of us being together. Of him being my Ken. But I know it’s just my delusional thoughts.

My feet involuntarily move forward towards them so I’m not shouting across the bakery. “Oh that’s, well,” I stammer over my words trying to ease myself out of a bootleg Parent Trap. “You did a fantastic job with his costume,” I compliment her smoothly.

My legs almost give out when the corners of Joel’s mouth curve into a small smile. Ellie’s face lights up and she hits Joel in the chest lightly with the back of her hand. “See, Joel. She said you’re Kenough,” she jokes with him.

His brows knit together and he turns towards her, placing his hands on his hips. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he questions her.

Standing next to him, my hands slide under his arm, tugging him towards the booth in the back. “Don’t think about it too much,” I giggle, trying to ignore the electricity I feel beneath my palms.

His bicep is so muscular, that I find myself wondering if he could pick me up. I make a mental note to charge both vibrators so I can fantasize about him later tonight. “Cupcake?” I offer pointing to the case, trying to dust the dirty thoughts out of my head.

Joel relaxes under my touch and I use him to stabilize myself in the tall heels. “I’ve had ‘nough sugar for today,” he grunts. 

Tutting, I smile up at him. “Joel Miller, you can’t expect to come into a bakery and not get any sweetness in your life,” I challenge him. I can’t be upset though, he did try my brownie and my croissant earlier.

A small smirk creeps onto his lips. “Don’t think I have to eat anythin’ for that,” he flirts and my eyes nearly pop out of my head.

Shifting my attention to the teenagers awkwardly standing within a mile distance of each other, I try to form introductions. Dropping my grip on Joel’s arm, I cross the space to the booth. “Ellie, meet Dina. Dina, meet Ellie,” I babble, pointing back and forth between the girls.

“Dina is my neighbor,” I say for the two of them, but mostly for Joel's sake. The likelihood of the teenagers caring about our relationship is none. Sliding into the booth, I wave my hand inviting them to join us. Ellie softly smiles and she lifts her hand, awkwardly waving. “Hey. You look familiar,” she greets Dina.

Dina blushes, seemingly wanting to hide behind me. “Hi,” she mumbles.

A small girl dressed as a gymnast does a back walkover outside the window and my face twists. The city sidewalk is fucking disgusting. “Shit, shit, shit,” I hear Ellie start to panic.

My face is plastered with confusion as Dina scoots over toward me. “What’s her problem?” she whispers.

My face turns towards her and I shrug with my eyes wandering back to Ellie. She looks as though she’s about to crawl out of her skin.

Joel leans across the table and puts up his hand to cover his mouth from Ellie’s view. “She has an irrational fear of gymnasts,” he rasps lowly.

Nodding, I try to think of a way to peel Ellie away from the window. “Okay well. Dina, why don’t you and Ellie go grab some cider while Joel and I catch up,” I suggest.

Dina’s face turns red and she nods. My hands make contact with the cold table as I use it to slide out of the small booth. 

Ellie looks unsure of what to do. “Joel?” she looks up at him with nervousness and asks. 

“You’ll be fine,” Joel reassures her, following suit across from me and the girls disappear into the kitchen.

A smile creeps onto my face as I watch Joel awkwardly readjust his t-shirt. “So…” I start, pausing to awkwardly gnaw on my lip.

Joel seemingly notices how awkward I feel, leaning forward towards me. “How long have you owned this place?” he asks, tongue laced with curiosity.

Slouching a bit, I remember the reason why I started this career path. “A couple of years now. I opened it after my parents passed away,” I let him know.

His eyes dart down towards the table. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend you,” he apologizes.

I reach across the table and grab his calloused hands. “It’s okay. I wanted to do something I loved and so I found and bought this space a couple of months after,” I explain.

He doesn’t flinch and the heat radiates in my palms. “So it’s just you running things? No partner?” he inquires.

The realization that I just grabbed his hands hits me, and I drop them like they’re a hot potato. His nose crinkles and I think I catch a grimace from him. “No partner,” I answer.

He leans back into the pink pleather booth and the seat beneath him crinkles. “Wow, that’s impressive. The Austin would probably crumble,” he acknowledges. 

A giggle slips my lips. “Well, Daylight Bakery is not gunning for a Michelin Star,” I point out.

He tilts his head to the right and raises his eyebrow slightly. “You could do it,” he muses.

My left hand waves him off. “You flatter me. But can we stop talking about me? I’m getting embarrassed,” I express, feeling particularly vulnerable when talking about the success of my business.

Joel lifts a brow, looking at me with a surprised expression. “I thought Barbie doesn’t get embarrassed,” he points out.

Shaking my head, I smile at him. “She doesn’t… wait. You’ve seen The Barbie Movie?” I ask him. Honestly, I’m astonished.

He nods, brushing his hair back with his hand. “Mmmhm.  I do have a daughter,” he elaborates.

The urge to ask him about his situation with Ellie creeps up my back. I want to know how Chef Joel ended up adopting a teenager who swears like a sailor. “About that. I hate to be nosey but, I can’t help it. How did you end up adopting Ellie?” I blurt out the compulsive thought.

He grunts and my eyes wander down to his shoulders. His whole upper body looks tight and uncomfortable. “Long story. Had a daughter, Sarah. She passed a couple of years ago,” he starts, voice laced with sadness.

My face softens and I fight the urge to cry again for the millionth time today. I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a child. Worse than any pain known to man. “Oh, Joel. I’m so sorry,” I apologize. 

Sadness glows in his eyes and I feel the desire to jump across the table and embrace him. “It’s okay, I was able to grieve. Still grievin’,” he adds.

My head bobs up and down, processing the information. “Yeah. I totally get that,” I voice quietly.

I try to stay silent to allow him to continue if he feels like it. The air between us feels solum. “After she passed, I put all my energy into the restaurant. Ellie’s birth mother died givin’ birth to her, and her mom’s partner worked at The Austin,” he notes.

“Worked?” I question him. I assumed she was still working there. 

He rubs the scruff on his jaw and lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, she uh. She has an addiction. She was doing well for Ellie's whole life and then, somethin' happened and she relapsed. Asked if Ellie could stay with me for a while. Never came back,” he expands.

Shaking my head, I feel like a house is sitting on my heart. No one deserves to be left like that by someone they love. “That’s, wow. Poor girl,” I express sympathy for Ellie.

Joel shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Yeah. What was I supposed to do? Say no?” he chuckles, running his hands over his face.

My lips press together and my eyes capture his bloodshot ones. “No,” I murmur.

“Right. After a while, she just became mine I guess. She still reminds me I’m not her dad every once in a while,” he vents.

Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, I shift a bit in my seat. “Is it when you fight?” I query.

Joel looks away, staring off into space behind me in deep thought. “Mmmhm,” he recalls.

My body relaxes when he confirms my suspicions. “She’s just a regular teenager with teenage angst. She nearly said ‘my dad’ this morning,” I try to appeal to him.

His ears perk up and his eyebrows raise. “Really?” he nearly gasps.

My face twists and I look at him with confusion. Why would that be such a surprise to him? “Yeah,” I confirm.

His eyes gradually widen while he stares a hole through my soul. “Woah,” he breathes.

My head moves slightly to the right to make sure he’s still looking at me and not just processing. His gaze follows mine, so I continue, “Has she never said that before?”

Joel rubs the back of his neck. “No, not to me,” he grunts.

Nodding, I blink slowly. “Give her time,” I advise him.

A loud bang interrupts us and when I turn my head, I see Ellie scrambling out of the kitchen with Dina attached to her hip. “Joel, can we go watch a movie?” She asks pointing up towards the ceiling.

Joel’s brows furrow as his eyes follow her finger. “Why are you pointing up, kiddo?” He asks.

I lean across the table so I’m a little closer to Joel. “They’re asking if we can go watch it in my living room,” I elaborate to clear any confusion he may have.

Joel’s head turns in my direction. “You live above the bakery?” he digs.

“I do,” I reveal. It was easier for me to buy the whole building and split it into half residential than to buy two separate properties. Dina and her sister rent a condo in the building next door, so all 4 floors are mine.

“That’s convenient,” he comments toward me before turning his attention back to Ellie. “I don’t care, but it’s not my TV or my place. You’ll have to ask Ms. Scott,” he gives her permission, gesturing to me.

Ellie rocks back on her heels, rotating her body in my direction. “Ginny, can we watch the movie now?” she stammers, excitedly. 

“Ms. Scott, Ellie. Mind your manners,” Joel corrects Ellie.

I reach out, putting my hand on Joel’s forearm. “It’s fine, Joel. I told her to call me Ginny,” I state, hoping it’ll save Ellie from a lashing.

Before he can say anything, I remove my hand from his arm to grab my keys from the table. “Here, catch,” I chime, tossing Dina the keys. 

She successfully catches it, tugging Ellie towards the back with her free arm. “We’ll be up there in a second. No tequila, no weed, and no wine, Dina. I mean it,” I warn Dina.

“Buzzkill,” Dina grunts as they reach the pink double doors.

“Thanks, Gin– I mean, Ms. Scott,” Ellie beams over her shoulder.

“For fucks sake. Drop the Ms. Scott, Ellie,” I call back to her just as the doors close behind them, leaving me and Joel alone once again.

Fidgeting in my seat, I swallow my impulse to confess my crush to the southern gentleman. “Happy Halloween,” I cheer.

The stairs creek with each step we take down them as Ellie and I creep downstairs. Dina left a few minutes ago when Talia picked her up from work. The only ones left in the bakery are Joel, me, and Ellie. “Hey, Ginny. Can I ask you a favor?” Ellie breaks the comfortable silence.

I nod sleepy, praying my feet carry me back up the steps. I am not above sleeping in a bakery booth as opposed to climbing 3 flights of steps. “Mmm,” I hum for Ellie to continue.

Just a couple more steps, Imogen. “Can I come to the bakery after school, you know, just to hang out and sketch? Joel doesn’t get home till 11 pm most nights,” I hear her practically beg.

“Of course. Dina’s sister, Talia, is the same. That’s why she works the afternoon shifts,” I tell her.

I have no problem with her hanging out here in the afternoons. And besides, Dina and Ellie found out they go to the same school today. Why would I want to separate the budding friendship?

Ellie clears her throat, stopping once we get to the bottom of the steps. “Yeah…” she murmurs.

Suddenly, I’m wide awake. “Oh, you…” I start, searching her eyes unsure of how to phrase my words. “That's great, Ellie,” I attempt to telepathically communicate with her that as a queer child, she’s always safe with me.

Ellie’s eyes flicker with fear. “Please don’t tell Joel,” she quickly begs.

As if we spoke him into existence, Joel comes from around the corner at that moment. “Tell Joel what?” he interrogates us.

My breathing quickens and I feel sweat start to collect above my brow. There’s no fucking way I’m going to out Ellie to her dad, or anyone to anyone for that matter. “That she hates your steaks too,” I say as convincingly as possible.

Joel shrugs on his jacket, not bothering to adjust the fit. “Is that so?” he smirks.

Ellie shifts from one foot to the other. “Um, yeah. It’s shit, Joel. Sorry. I didn’t want to tell you,” Ellie rambles and I nudge her to stop talking. The more she talks, the more details we have to remember about this lie going forward. Fucking tiny humans.

Joel chuckles and I glide past Ellie to adjust his jacket for him. The air between us is electric when I tug his jacket up slightly. Ellie snickers, and I assume it's because I'm practically fluffing her father. Once I deem my styling of Chef Ken perfect, I flick on the lights in the bakery. “Maybe that’s what’s keepin’ me away from a star,” I hear Joel complain behind me.

When I turn around, Ellie is shrugging. “Maybe. Let’s go home,” she blurts, anxiously pulling her dad towards the door.

My feet shuffle across the floor in my slippers behind them. “Oh, Joel. Wait,” I call after them, attempting to catch up. “Ellie’s gonna hang at the bakery after school days and do homework. I can hire her next year if you want me to," I huff out of breath.

Joel’s smirk melts away and he turns towards the mini version of him. “Ellie,” he scolds her.

Ellie puts her hands up in defense. “What?” she asks.

Joel shakes his head with disapproval. “Ms. Scott’s very busy. I don’t think she’d appreciate havin' you here 5 out of the 7 days in a week,” he paints a picture of Ellie overstaying her welcome.

I don’t want her to ever feel like she can’t come here, especially after she was so vulnerable with me in the stairwell. “Actually, it’s fine. We have an empty wall right there,” I point to the blank canvas, ready to be explored. "Maybe you can paint something on that. Like a mural," I suggest.

Ellie’s jaw drops and she bounces slightly on her toes. “Holy shit! Really?” she buzzes.

Joel shifts, crossing his arms. “Ellie,” he repeats.

Ellie scoffs, looking at Joel as if she’s saying are you fucking kidding me? “I’m sorry. Holy fuck, really?!” she regurgitates with a worse swear word.

I smile at her excitement. “Really,” I whisper as if it’s the best-kept secret.

“Can it be space-themed?” Ellie counters.

Nodding, I try to imagine what a space-themed wall would look like. Maybe she can incorporate cupcakes. “It can be anything you want. Call it ‘Ellie’s Wall’ or something,” I encourage her.

Ellie nods, finally calming down a bit. “That’s awesome,” she marvels.

Ellie looks up at Joel with the worst puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. Not that it matters, because he’s crumbling by the second. “You can do it. Long as you’re on top of your schoolwork,” he permits her to spend time here.

Ellie smiles, moving closer to the door. “Okay, okay. I’m going before you take it back. Bye, Ginny,” she boasts confidently while yanking open the door.

I chuckle at her antics. “Bye, Ellie. See you tomorrow,” I bid her goodbye.

The door shuts behind us and a faint jingling sound enters the room. Joel steps closer to me, slightly trapping me in the small doorway. “So,” he starts, cutting himself off.

My eyes snap away from his to the floor. I can’t fucking look at him. Not when he’s this close looking good enough to eat. “So,” I murmur.

Joel bends down a little bit, forcing me to look back into his coffee-colored irises. “Thank you. For everything today,” he smiles, putting a hand over his chest.

God, I’m probably as red as a tomato. I want to sprint as far as I can away from this conversation. “You’re welcome,” I voice so low, it’s almost a whisper.

Joel reaches for the door handle right next to me. So he wasn’t trying to kiss me. “Guess, I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow when I pick up Ellie,” he smiles, opening up the door.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed but I try to push it to the back of my mind. We’re just acquaintances, Ginny. “Thanks for coming. I had a great holiday,” I squeek.

His mouth curves up into a smile. “So did I,” he chuckles, stepping out of the door.

My delusional brain grabs the door behind him before he pulls it shut. Maybe this is it. Maybe he has a crush too. “Goodnight, Joel,” I melodically bid him goodbye.

Joel smiles, awkwardly waving. “Goodnight,” he murmurs, pulling the door shut. 

Joel stands directly outside and peers through the window, pointing down at the lock. “Now,” he mouths, and I click the metal switch.

Shaking my head at his antics, I spin around to trek back upstairs. Once I’m in my living room, my feet drag across the floor to shut the window facing the street. I scratch my head when I hear two voices screaming at each other below. “You didn’t kiss her? What the hell, dude?” Ellie chews out Joel and my cheeks burn.

“Ellie, no questions,” I hear Joel snip at his daughter.

Curiosity killed the cat and Ellie, apparently. “Why didn’t you kiss h–”

“Damn it, Ellie. Shut up and get in the car,” I hear Joel grumble before a car door slams. I giggle, shutting my window and thanking the gods above for such a great Hallows Eve.

next part

[sunshades-frozen-sky-take-3]

So like, what are certain "policy changes" in Bloodclan since Mapleshade founded it? I don't know how to word it, but mainly, what differences are there between that one and the Scourge founded one in the og story?

Well lots of things change from canon in this au.

First, Mapleshade's kits don't die, Mapleshade thinks logically about that and decides to wait a bit for the storm to pass. Mapleshade nearly shows up at Riverclan's camp only to overhear Appledusk and Reedshine being lovey dovey, peaces out. Then here's where the real kicker starts.

She meets "Myler", who suggests she create a "clan" or whatever she called it, as he's interested in the clan cats and how they work, and offers her a fang studded collar after seeing her scare off a dog. She accepts, seeing as the street cats might harm her kits if she doesn't show them who's boss. She appoints "Myler", who as it turns out, is actually called Bone, as her deputy and she's happy. Until one day when her son Larch is caught stealing prey from riverclan, and is severely wounded by, you guessed it, Appledusk. Mapleshade finds out, and is peeved. She tries to heal him, but without medical help, he dies. Maple is devastated, and declared war on the clans. She knows that even though Bloodclan has numbers, that won't do very much against the leaders who have several lives.

so maple comes up with the best idea.

Destroy the moonstone.

No moonstone, no lives, right? So she and her Bloodclan warriors enter mothermouth, and she orders them to start hacking away at it. After a few hours, they start making big cracks in it, and eventually shatter it into pieces. Mapleshade grabs a shard as a souvenir ( this is important later).

The battle commences, and Bloodclan, now with the true numbers advantage is winning. They end up taking over the clans, now with all of their leaders dead. Maple is still upset with the loss of her son though, and now with the moonstone shattered, how will she see him again? Suprise! Turns out the shard she picked up still works, and her son appears to her and thanks her for avenging him. Maple surprisingly doesn't do much after that. Content with her kits and clan.

Eventually, scourge takes over, and Rusty is invited to the clan, But Rusty feels that there's something wrong in Bloodclan, and hears whispers from seemingly nowhere about how he must right the wrongs and "Save the clans", but, there's only one clan, right?

[arcsparkasriel]

Thanks to Gerdew on Twitter for making this commission for me! I dub this The Premise as this is the general premise of my AU Lofitale!

It truly was a bit of a shock when I gained my soul back and properly met my brother for the first time. It wasn't sprung on me quite like this but meeting Ralsei was still quite a shock. I never had any siblings except for Chara and I guess Frisk and Suzy now, but Ralsei is the one that I can say is related to me by blood. It's different.

When Frisk took my hand and escorted me through the Underground from that patch of flowers, I could feel myself come back. All of my memories and emotions came flooding back. That Flower no longer had a hold on me. He would always be there, but hopefully, with my family's help, Flowey will never resurface again.

As Frisk guided me towards the barrier, I could feel every piece of all seven souls fusing together to form my new one. It had a strange effect on my body. Quickly in a moment, as I reached the Judgement Hall, the years caught up with me. Gone was the scared, timid eight-year-old. Standing before Frisk was the lean, lanky teenager you see in the image above.

I was a little scared but, my new best friend Frisk assured me that everything would be ok. Down the dank hallways, up the narrow staircases, and across the brightly lit throne room we moved through. The place I once called home.

The courtyard where Frisk and I began our final battle was still there as if nothing happened. I gazed down upon the golden bed of flowers where I collapsed into dust on that fateful day. Wondering how different everyone's life might have been if I had refused to indulge in Chara's plan. All I could do now was step forward with my new family and brace for whatever the future would bring.

The sunset lit up the final passageway where the Barrier once had been. It was blinding. When my vision adjusted...there they all were. Standing just outside the mountain. Finally breathing the free air of the Surface. Mom, Dad, those Skeletons, Alphys, and Undyne standing there in a line. And next to Mom was...him.

His tiny white form made me choke up tears of joy for the first time in centuries. But my legs wouldn't move. A million voices in my head were screaming that I still didn't deserve this. Satisfaction, Happiness, Love. Everything that good people deserved. Things I felt like I shouldn't have. I was feeling lightheaded from how many emotions were overwhelming me.

Frisk, that wonderful, strange, impossible, determined kid just sighed and took my hand. Leading the way like he always did. It was a surreal feeling, having something or someone shorter than me, dragging me along. As we stepped into the light, however, I was focused on only one thing. All of those eyes suddenly turned to look at us.

It took them a few seconds to process what and who they were looking at, and an eternity longer to accept that it was real.

The reunion was tearful and joyous to say the least. Perhaps I will go into further detail in a future commission. They had no questions and needed none. Sans and I knew we would have to set aside time to talk later, but he was ok with what was happening.

That little boy, my brother, born in the darkness of the Ruins approached me. I knelt down to let him touch my face as we met properly for the first time.

"Howdy...Ralsei. I know this all may be strange for you. But I wanted to meet you. I'm Asriel. Your big brother."

Ralsei was silent for a moment but then beamed brighter than the sunset.

"I was wondering when you were gonna come back! It's wonderful to meet you, big brother!"

After that well, perhaps I'll get into another time. As the story of how Frisk reintroduced Monsterkind and met Clover's own Monster family are two big stories in of themselves.

[radiowallet]

Promise

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter gets a gift while away on location. WC: 1.9K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists, allusions to smut, and dirty talk. Mentions of food and drug use. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic in this one, besties.

A/N: We're back with more of these boys. What can I say? I am obsessed with their dynamic and as long as my broken brain keeps sending me ideas for them, I intend to keep writing them down. Big thanks to @magpie-to-the-morning and @jazzelsaur who are patient as patient can be while I barge into their DM's to screech about these two soft, vulnerable boys. I love you both.

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The bouquet had been delivered to set, the candy cotton pink petals hard to miss amidst the cranes and cameras and all the rest of the hardware it took to put a film in the can. Everyone had fawned over the flowers from the moment they arrived, their delicate shape a marvel beneath the heat of the Moroccan sun. 

But when the courier called out Dieter’s name, the room almost erupted, everything from squeals of elation to nosy questions being tossed his way. Dieter couldn’t help himself, cheeks warming and chest puffing, as he accepted the vase, the increased attention not only from the crew but also his fellow actors, stroking his ego in a way he couldn’t help but relish in. 

Maybe some would be embarrassed at the sheer honesty in that one single thought but Dieter found peace in the sentiment. Hell, he was an actor. What else was there to say other than the truth in validation, hoping that enough of the attention could one day fix the broken pieces inside his heart. 

“One of your many admirers sending you flowers now, Bravo?” A well-meaning production assistant asks in passing. 

“Something like that,” he hums, taking care to tuck the card into his pocket for later. 

After that, the flowers find a place on the craft service table, and if an extra take or two is needed because Dieter’s eye line strays just a tad too far left no one makes mention of it.

The day is called just as the last of the light is lost, the sun setting far behind the rows and rows of beautiful blue houses. There’s an offer for drinks and dinner brandied about, a few cast and crew breaking away. Dieter quietly bows out, and again, if anyone notices the once infamous party boy choosing a quiet night in over a raucous night out, not a word is said. 

Once back in his hotel room, Dieter is instantly restless, the flowers moving from room to room, the vase twisted left, then right, then right again. Self-doubt starts to dig at the base of his spine, the very beginning of a panic attack creeping up his back, tight and hot and painful, a wicked whisper telling him he should have just gone out, damn all and any consequences. There is only a bouquet of pink peonies in this hotel room to keep the loneliness at bay tonight, and not for the first time, Dieter feels the icy cold fear that he’ll forget all he has waiting for him back home.  

He does his best to ignore it, breathing slowly around the rubber band across his chest, counting each second with the tick of his fingers. One, two, three, four, in. Five, six, seven, eight, out. Twice more is enough to chase the feeling away, giving Dieter the space he needs to finally breathe fully, his head clearing just enough to ground him back to the moment. The blossoms finally find a home right beside his bed, the low light of the bedroom illuminating the pretty pink petals, and only then does he actually start to settle down for good. He fishes the card from his back pocket, dragging his thumb across the seal.

It’s nothing remarkable; a white envelope, only his first initial scratched across the front. But it’s enough to have his cheeks warming all over again, the tip of his nail finally piercing through the thick paper. The card is equally unassuming, but when he opens it up, the words are anything but. 

Dieter reads it over once, then twice, then one more time for good measure, lips moving along with the lines, one promise after another infused to each and every one. It’s enough to have him scrambling for his phone, dialing with shaky hands and a breathless laugh. It only rings once before it clicks over. 

“Hey, baby.”

“The flowers…” Dieter starts, his mind racing faster than he can manage to speak, any sort of coherency lost at the sound of Marcus Moreno’s soft baritone on the other end of the line. 

“They were too much.”

“No! Fuck no!” Dieter is quick to cut the other man off, refusing to let him think that for even a second.  “No, sweet boy. I love them!”

Marcus would do this from time to time, doubt himself and his place by Dieter’s side. It always brings him back to the moment in that lavish hotel room, Marcus’s warm breath painted across his cheek, lips bruised and fingers grasping, when the heroic had admitted that most couldn’t handle it. To this day Dieter can’t help but wonder if he was maybe talking about more than just superpowers.

He thinks maybe Marcus doesn’t realize. That he doesn’t see what it means to possess a heart so big. Bigger than anyone deserved, the weight of it nearly dragging him down, away from the light and into the shadows. The very ones he tries so hard to protect the world from. And Dieter knew that when the man fell, he fell fast. Fully. All of him hanging out on a precarious line, waiting for the other inevitable shoe to drop. 

Dieter wishes he could figure out a way to convince him that both of his feet were firmly planted on the ground. 

There’s a beat of silence and he swears he can hear the words neither of them dare to say. Not yet. Not with things so new. But he can feel them. Always feel them. With each kiss Marcus pressed into his skin, every drag of his fingertips, each scrape of his teeth, there was the promise of an affection too great to imagine. It was there, on the tip of the other man’s tongue, quietly unspoken but still so very very present.

“I love them,” the actor says again, determined to make his point stick this time. 

Marcus hums, and Dieter can almost picture him then and there as if he was sitting beside him on the 1000 thread count duvet in Morocco instead of miles and miles away, in an empty apartment, his only plans for the night a crappy tv dinner. He could chide the heroic, remind him to have fun, take more chances, but that’s a sticky subject all its own. 

It had been a running theme of the last few months of their lives, the two of them stealing what little time together they could. Marcus would plan, meticulously, weekends away explained under the guise of training or intel or some other bullshit excuse. Dieter would make a stink to his manager on those days, stomping his feet and demanding a mental health break. Maybe it was the fact that he returned from those weekends brighter and lighter than ever before, but Marissa never fought him too hard. 

They would lose track of the hours as easily as they lost themselves in the other, tangled sheets and broken sleep bookending their pleasure. The give and take between them deepened with each weekend that rolled around. Dieter delighted in Marcus’s company, preening beneath the wonder of having him all to himself. The way his whole heart became the center of the universe, genuine affection and care feeling better than any late night or black out bender. 

Marcus would watch Dieter paint, only a sheet around his waist as his eyes traced the curves and colors inspired by his own tender touch. And Dieter would marvel at the bend of the other man’s form, following his steps to the gym, his own eyes wide as twin blades cut through open air. They stayed in. Always in. The pair of them forgoing even ordering in, digging through Dieter’s freezer in search of mini pizza bagels and knock-off taquitos rather than risk breaking the peace of their privacy. 

And if he showed up to the set of the big budget action movie with his belly still soft, it hardly mattered. His heart was full, his mind at peace, and even as the director rolled his eyes, all Dieter could see was Marcus dropping to his knees, nuzzling into the patch of coarse hair smattered across the swell of his stomach, before swallowing him down to the base. 

Those days gave them both something to cling to when life and work and reality would push them back to opposite sides of the country. Memories they could remember in the between, when it was only phone calls and FaceTimes the touch of their own hand to chase away the anxieties hiding around the corner.  

Dieter learned in great detail how to coax those little whines from the heroic, memorizing the ragged sound of his cries as he whispered all manner of filth into the crease of his skin. Marcus matched the energy in kind, splitting up inside the actor, lips on his throat and hands in his hair. Dieter called him sweet boy and Marcus declared him his whole sky, a promise of more following every goodbye. 

And Marcus always keeps his promises. 

When it came time to leave for Morocco, six months of loneliness looming in the distance and one awkward farewell party behind them, Dieter did his best to remind Marcus to not linger in his solitude. It would be too easy for him to fall back on old habits; long nights on rooftops chased by haggard days in the gym, but Dieter hoped the hero would make time to tend to his heart in ways he had forgone for so long. 

Marcus took care to meet Dieter where he stood, urging him to hold onto every word he ever said, his whole heart following Dieter, even when he physically could not. The actor clung to the sentiment, doing his best to remember every weekend spent wrapped around the other man. He held onto every ripple of pleasure and each drip of afterglow. 

Dieter shakes his head, refocusing on the present, even as he wishes for all the little things he so desperately wanted here and not there. Plush lips and dimpled cheeks, brown eyes wide as he nods and quietly accepts the truth in Dieter’s words. 

“I’m glad.”

The silence is back, but more of a comfort now, the blend of their breath lulling the last of the sun and sand and stress away from Dieter’s heart. His eyes are heavy in the best way, his fingers loose where they curl around the phone, still matched to the curve of his cheek. 

“You should shower, Dee. Then sleep,” Marcus prompts, his voice somehow even softer. 

“Mmm, jerk off with me first,” he half whines, free hand already pulling at the threadbare sweats he had worn from set. 

There’s a chuckle, low and sweet and steady, one that Dieter has learned means a promise is about to be made. 

“I’m at the office now, mi cielo, but call me when you wake up and we will.”

It’s enough for now, Marcus’s gentle voice in his ear and the catch of pink petals in the low light, giving Dieter the push he needs to let sleep find him. In a few hours' time he’ll wake up, his stomach empty and his neck sore, but the fresh scent of peonies and an aching promise have something else curling deep inside his belly. And when he dials, the answer comes on the first ring. 

After all, Marcus always keeps his promise. 

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[softquietsteadylove]

I’m here to say I’m happy you’re back and hopefully feeling better! I have a little prompt, nothing extensive but I’m missing TMTL au lately and would love to see some sweet family time 🥹

"Happy Valentine Mum!"

"Thank you, Darling," Thena laughed, receiving her ever-growing-six-year-old in her arms and accepting his loving embrace. She nuzzled his temple, kissing as he laughed. "How was your valentine's day?"

"We made cards!" Druig exclaimed far too loudly for the front hall of their little house. He held out a red heart, cut with jagged edged scissors to give it a pointy edge.

"That's," Thena paused, examining the glittery glue dripping from it, "lovely."

"This is all the blood," Druig pointed out. "'Cuz yer heart's beatin' in your body, so it'd be gross when you pull it out."

Thena smiled at the cute and grotesque gesture. Unfortunately, it was very 'Druig' of him to think of something like that. "That's very thoughtful of you, Darling. Did you exchange cards with your friends?"

Druig nodded dutifully, although the only friend he really held any fondness for was Makkari. "Everyone gave out cards. Some of 'em had candy!"

Thena was very aware that the tradition was to attach a cheap piece of sweet confection to each equally cheap card. She hadn't particularly wanted to participate in that tradition, and when she asked Druig if that was okay his only response was that he just wanted the candy for himself anyway.

"Did you eat it all already?"

"No, Mum," her sweet little angel replied, shining his big blue eyes at her. Thena just stared at him. He sighed, "I ate half of 'em. But I shared with Kari!"

She supposed she could be thankful that he had been honest with her. He relaxed his posture as she smoothed down his hair, "that's very nice that you shared with her, Darling. Did you make her a card?"

Druig nodded again. He had indeed made a card just for his best - and in many ways only - friend, unlike the garbage he had given everyone else out of obligation (his mother's words, not his!). "I drew a cheetah, and it said 'you're even faster than this!' on it!"

Thena pressed a kiss to the top of Druig's head before standing again, "that's lovely, Darling."

"I made one for Miss Ajak too," he continued as she helped him out of his laced up boots. "But I didn't know what to say so I just wrote 'Valentine' on it."

"I'm sure she'll think that's very sweet," Thena assured him.

"Kari made you one too!"

Thena blinked as the card was shoved in her face. Luckily it wasn't as sharply pointed as her son's. It was also a violent shade of red, but at least it wasn't dripping with viscera.

Her student had drawn some butterflies around the edges, and then a picture of a little ballerina with dark braids, and a taller ballerina with yellow hair. A charming couple of arrows pointed out who was whom, in case Thena needed help identifying them. Her eyes watered.

"You like it?"

Thena sniffled, kissing Druig's forehead, "tell her I absolutely love it, Darling. I'll put it right up next to yours above my desk, hm?"

"'Kay," Druig shrugged, no longer concerned with it. "Mister Dad has something for you too."

And with that, Druig was more interested with the promise of the living room and probably turning on the tv before he was told not to.

Thena tilted her head as Gil finally came through the front door as well, shuffling in with a bundle of something behind his back. "Oh, he does, does he?"

"I told him to come in first, help warm you up," he chuckled, letting her lean against his chest as she got up on her toes to kiss him. "Hey."

"Hey," she greeted, although it came out as more of a sigh. She stepped back, letting him in away from the door. "How were classes?"

"Well, valentine's isn't really a day when you get things done," he chuckled, fidgeting and kicking off his shoes. "Too much chocolate, too many questions. You mostly make crafts, and cards, and try to discourage asking where babies come from."

"I see," Thena pressed her lips together to try and resist laughing. She kept trying to see what was behind him, but he was holding it up high enough to that his broad shoulders did quite a fine job of keeping it from her. "Gil?"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, leaning in for one more kiss before pulling out a full bouquet of roses, varying in colour from sheer white to pink to deep red. "Uh, I didn't know if you would really want to do anything, but-"

Thena swiped the flowers from him, burying her nose in their scent. It wasn't that she was a huge flowers lover, nor did she dislike them. But she couldn't remember a time when she received a bouquet that wasn't for work purposes.

"Okay, good to know," Gil smiled, putting his hand on her shoulder as she admired them. "Happy valentine's, Angel."

Thena happily leaned in to let him kiss her cheek, still starry eyed from receiving her gift. "Gil, they're beautiful!"

"Second only to you," the charmer corrected as he pried one of her hands away from them.

"Don't tell me you had these with you all day," she blinked at the idea of him trying to navigate the teacher's lounge with them.

"No, I scheduled a pickup for them this afternoon, but I ordered them basically at the start of february," he laughed, pulling her down the front hall and out of the view of the living room. "In case you did want to do something...I wanted it to be special."

Thena melted into the kiss as he held both her cheeks to tip her head just so. She held the flowers out, unwilling to let them get squished as Gil held her waist against him. She moaned quietly, savouring the real, proper kiss stolen even while Druig was in the house.

"So?" Gil pulled away with eager eyes, "how'd I do?"

"It's by far the best gift I've gotten for this particular occasion," she stated factually before burying her nose in her roses again.

"Sorry hon, but that's not a very high bar," Gil snorted, moving back to his work satchel. "And there's more where those came from, but that'll be for, uh, tonight."

Thena buried her blushing in the flowers as well. "I could have asked Ajak to have the kids over."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Gil whispered, "it's a school night anyway. We'll keep it lowkey."

Thena nodded, accepting another little kiss.

"Besides," he winked at her, "I got you another present. I don't know what you were thinking of."

"Hush," she attempted to chide her very jovial partner as he moved into the living room. She followed immediately scooping the tv remote out of Druig's hands.

"Hey!" he whined.

"One hour, and if it's now then it's not before bed," she dictated firmly.

"Yes, Mum," Druig grumbled obediently, although he made himself completely dead weight in Gil's grasp as he was moved from off the floor - as close to the tv as he could get - to the couch with them.

"Come on, buddy, don't you wanna tell Mum about what we did today?" Gil attempted to encourage the boy to sociallise just a little.

"You're gonna tell her anyway," Druig shrugged, in both a humorous and precocious statement. He looked down at his outstretched feet, with his socks with sharks on the bottoms. "Did you give Mum the butterflies?"

"Butterflies?" Thena asked with a faint frown.

Gil shook his head, assuring her that no winged insects would be part of her gift. "Uh, what butterflies, kiddo?"

"You said you were gettin' something for Mum. I thought it'd be butterflies," Druig elaborated, but not to the betterment of either adult's understanding. He looked up at Gil. "Mum once told Miss Ajak that you gave her butterflies--I thought you were gonna get s'more."

Gil looked up at Thena, who closed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling as the embarrassment washed over her. Not that Gil didn't know that in a general sense, but she didn't need such a clear example to be given.

Gil just chuckled, "not this time, buddy. I was getting flowers for Mum."

"Okay," Druig shrugged, looking at his mother now. "What's for dinner?"

She smiled down at her son, preferring that over looking her lover in the eye after that particular fact was revealed. "Delivery."

"Pizza?!"

Thena just sighed and nodded, Druig already holding out a grabby little paw for her phone to select what he liked. She looked up at Gil sheepishly, "my gift to you was that I wouldn't do the cooking, but you wouldn't have to either."

"Sounds good to me," he grinned, leaning over to kiss her above Druig's head. Although when he pulled away, he stayed closely hovering, "I give you butterflies, huh?"

Thena huffed, looking away as her embarrassment worsened.

"For what it's worth," he scooched closer, jostling Druig slightly between them just so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders, "you give me butterflies, too."