#i'd call it munchkin

[misotsukiiyeooo]

can you write something with dad! Vernon?? idk but I'd really love to see it

"Baby?"

Pairing: Dad!Chwe Vernon x Mom! F! Reader

A/N: Heyyy! So I did take into consideration that he is an older brother however, I wanted him to be a bit naive when it comes to younger kids. (he'd still be a great dad!)

Genre: Fluff (Hint of crack)

Word count: 4.1k

Synopsis: Vernon says many things, but one word recently caught your son's attention.

You come home from a quick trip to the store and notice Vernon sitting on the couch with your son, watching a cartoon.

When they hear the door close, they both turn to face you in unison. "You came back fast," Vernon remarks as he gets up to help you with the bags.

"Was I not supposed to? You boys looked like you were enjoying your alone time, huh?" You cross your arms, teasing him as he puts the groceries away.

Unable to hide his smile, he turns away. "Well, we did have to pause a very important show…" His sarcasm is relentless.

"Really? Is Spongebob that important?" you reply, amused. "Y/N, it's Spongebob." Vernon looks at you as if it’s the most evident thing ever.

“Yeah, baby, it’s Spongebob!” your son exclaims excitedly, a grin lighting up his face. His new vocabulary word catches you off guard, and you can’t help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity. “Baby?” you echo, trying to understand where he picked it up.

He nods enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I hear Daddy call people that on the phone all the time! Isn’t it funny?” He bursts into giggles, clearly amused by his use of the word.

Shifting your gaze to Vernon, You put your hand firmly on your hip, ready to confront him. He tries to focus on unpacking the groceries but can’t meet your eyes. “Oh, he does?” you say in an amused tone, watching Vernon gulp nervously.

“Yes, I hear him call you that too, but I don’t understand because you’re not even a baby! Daddy’s silly,” your son continues, still giggling. His laughter rings out as he looks from you to Vernon, clearly enjoying the playful moment—at least for him.

"We'll talk later," you say, glancing at Vernon. Then, you walk over to your son, who sits quietly, and take a seat beside him on the plush couch. "Listen," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "I know there might be times when you hear Daddy calling me—or whoever that word—but I need you to understand that you can't call me that, okay?" Your voice is soft and gentle, hoping to ease the confusion you're seeing in his little frown.

“Why not?” he asks, his big eyes searching yours for an explanation.

You take a deep breath, wanting to convey the importance of what you're about to say. “Because I'm your 'Mommy,' not your 'baby.'"

His face shifts into a thoughtful expression, and after a moment, he replies, "Okay… I won't call you that anymore." A smile breaks across your face, and you reach over to ruffle his hair affectionately.

You let him continue watching his show before turning back to Vernon. "Listen, babe. The only time I ever said the word 'baby' on the phone with anyone but you was when I was talking to an actual tiny human. Other than that, I only call you that."

You watch him patiently as he explains, "It's okay, Vernon. I understand; it just caught me off guard for a moment. But then I thought about it, and I knew you wouldn't do something like that." You give him a reassuring smile, your heart feeling warm.

"But you have to watch what you say now that our little munchkin is picking up on everything," you tease, glancing at your son who is giggling happily.

"Yeah, you’re right about that," Vernon chuckles, pulling you close and wrapping his arm around you as he enjoys the sight of your son’s cheerful smile.

Your son turns to face both of you, curiosity getting the best of him. "But…" He thinks for a moment, then asks innocently, "Why does Daddy call you that, Mommy?"

"Well… I'm not sure how to explain it, but—" Vernon cuts you off. "I call her that because she is my baby, the same way you're our baby." You cringe slightly at his wording.

Your son bursts into laughter. "What? Mommy's your baby? Daddy, I don’t think you understand how the family tree works… I learned about it in school yesterday. Want me to show you the paper?" Vernon is left speechless by your son's naive and unintentional fact-check.

You cover your mouth to hide your laughter, failing miserably. "You know what? Maybe I should review that paper with you…" Vernon takes your son's hand, and they both walk to get the paper. You can't help but laugh at his flushed face.

Reqs are open!!

Taglist!!

@jjunie-0 @honglynights @allieyaaa @bath1lda @black-swan-blog27

[rootedinrevisions]

Better Late Than Never

SUMMARY: After years of friendship and one too many broken promises, Glen realizes he might lose the person who means the most to him. As he works to prove he’s ready to be the man she deserves, she wrestles with whether to risk her heart on the one person who’s been there all along.

The actress named is an OC that I gave a random name to. She is not based on any real life actresses or any co-stars Glen has ever been asscoiated or worked with. Just a random OC for the purpose of the story.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in. I am so sorry it's taken literally months to get this written. I hope it's worth the wait and that you enjoy it!

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think! I love seeing your comments, reblogs, and thoughts/feedback on my writing!

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

TAGS: In Comments.

The smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee greeted you as you stepped into the cozy café, escaping the brisk December chill. The place was buzzing with holiday cheer—soft jazz versions of Christmas carols played in the background, and twinkling lights were strung across the windows. You tugged your scarf loose as your eyes scanned the room.

And then you saw him.

Glen was seated at a small table near the back, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he scrolled through his phone. His hair was messier than usual, a few strands falling onto his forehead, and he was dressed down in a flannel shirt and jeans, looking every bit like the guy you grew up with rather than the Hollywood star the rest of the world saw.

As if sensing your gaze, he looked up, and his face lit up with a grin that made your heart stutter. He stood, opening his arms wide.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite munchkin,” he teased, using the nickname he’d given you in high school.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face as you walked toward him. “Still holding on to that old nickname, huh?”

“Always.” His voice was warm, and before you could protest, he wrapped you in a bear hug, lifting you slightly off the ground. “Wouldn’t call you it if you weren’t so short.”

You laughed as he set you down, the sound muffled against his chest. “It’s good to see you,” you said, looking up at him once he released you.

“Good to see you too,” he replied, his smile softening as he held your gaze. “It’s been way too long.”

The two of you settled into your seats, the café’s warmth and the hum of conversation making it feel like no time had passed at all. Glen slid your drink across the table—a latte, just the way you liked it.

“You remembered?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course. You’re predictable,” he teased, winking. “Although I almost got you a peppermint mocha just to mess with you.”

“Ha, ha,” you said dryly, taking a sip of your drink. It was perfect, of course. “So, what brings you back to Austin? Don’t you have some big premiere to attend or a magazine spread to shoot?”

“Please,” Glen said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s Christmas. Had to come home for the holidays.”

“True,” you said, glancing out the window where people bustled by, their arms full of shopping bags and scarves wrapped tightly against the wind. “Austin does Christmas pretty well. Even without snow.”

Glen smirked. “You’re still holding out for that miracle snowstorm, huh?”

“A girl can dream,” you shot back with a grin.

The conversation drifted easily, filled with updates about his work, your job, and mutual friends. It wasn’t until you mentioned your upcoming birthday that his playful expression turned more serious.

“So,” you said, casually swirling the foam in your cup with your spoon, “my birthday’s in a couple of weeks. You still think you’ll be able to be here?”

His brow furrowed for a moment, as if the thought of missing it hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Of course I’ll be here. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Really?” you asked, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

Glen leaned forward, his expression earnest. “You’ve been there for every big moment in my life. There’s no way I’m skipping yours.”

A warmth spread through your chest, and you quickly glanced down at your drink to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “Well, in that case, you’re invited to my very fancy celebration.”

“Fancy, huh?” His lips quirked into a grin.

“Super fancy,” you said with a smirk. “We’re talking margaritas, tacos, maybe a dive bar. Real high-class stuff.”

Glen’s grin fell as his face scrunched up in mock horror. “Please don’t tell me we’re spending your birthday at that awful dive bar on South Congress.”

You burst out laughing. “What, you don’t miss sticky floors and karaoke with questionable sound systems?”

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m just saying, with a couple of phone calls, I could get us into literally any place in Austin. Rooftop bars, private clubs—your pick.”

You rolled your eyes. “And spend the night dodging people trying to take selfies with you? No, thanks. Besides, you know those fancy rooftop bars aren’t my style.”

Glen chuckled, his playful grin returning. “Fine, munchkin. Dive bars and tacos it is. But don’t come crying to me when someone tries to serenade you with a terrible rendition of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.’”

You smirked, raising your cup in a mock toast. “It wouldn’t be my birthday without it. Besides, it’s not about where we are. It’s about the people I’m with. My favorite people, to be specific.”

Glen pointed his spoon at you, smirking. “You really don’t have to keep buttering me up, you know. I already told you I’m coming. Whole weekend, no distractions. I’m all yours.”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into your expression. “No distractions, huh? Not even work?”

He held a hand to his chest in mock offense. “What kind of friend do you think I am? I told my team: no calls, no events. You get my undivided attention. Pinky promise.”

He held out his pinky, and you laughed despite yourself, hooking your own around his. His hand was warm, and the contact lingered just a little longer than necessary before he pulled away.

“You better not bail on me, Powell,” you warned playfully, but there was a faint edge to your voice.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his expression softening. “You’ve been there for me through every big moment in my life. I’m not missing yours.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and you quickly glanced down at your drink, trying to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. It wasn’t fair how easily he could make your heart skip a beat without even trying.

“Now, tell me about this party. How many people are we talking? And how many of them are single?” Glen said, flashing you a wink. 

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, you still put up with me.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you, laughing and teasing like you always had, but the thought lingered in the back of your mind: maybe, just maybe, you wanted more.

* * * * *

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Your room was a mess of clothes—sweaters, jeans, and dresses strewn across the bed in a chaotic attempt to find the perfect outfit. You stood in front of the mirror, holding up a navy blue dress, then tossed it onto the growing pile with a sigh.

“Too dressy,” you muttered to yourself, reaching for a soft cream sweater instead.

Dinner with Glen wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but still, you wanted to look nice. It wasn’t every day you got one-on-one time with him, especially since his life seemed to revolve around premieres, photoshoots, and packed schedules. Tonight, though—it was just supposed to be the two of you. A low-key dinner, catching up like old times.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen and saw Glen’s name pop up, a text notification lighting up the room. Smiling, you grabbed the phone, already anticipating something cheeky or playful.

Instead, your smile faltered as you read the message:

GLEN: Hey, I’m so sorry, but something came up, and I can’t make it to dinner tonight. I’ll definitely be there for the party tomorrow, though. Promise."

Your chest tightened, and you reread the text, hoping you’d somehow misunderstood. But there it was, plain as day. He wasn’t coming.

You sank down onto the edge of your bed, staring at the message. A flicker of disappointment stirred in your chest, and you tried to push it down. It wasn’t like he’d done this on purpose. Glen was busy—always busy. You knew that.

Still, tonight had felt different. It wasn’t just any dinner; it was the start of your birthday weekend, and it had been his idea to plan something special just the two of you to start the weekend off.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to respond. You didn’t want to come off as upset, even if you were. 

Finally, you typed: No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow!

You added a smiley face at the end, hoping it would mask the sting of disappointment.

Glen’s reply came almost instantly: Thanks for understanding. I owe you one. Tomorrow’s going to be amazing—I promise!

You set your phone down and exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the letdown. It wasn’t the end of the world. You still had tomorrow, and it wasn’t like you weren’t able to make other plans tonight. Maybe you’d text a friend and see if they wanted to grab a drink or hang out.

But even as you stood up and started putting the clothes back into your closet, the nagging feeling lingered. Glen had been your best friend since forever, and deep down, you’d hoped tonight would feel like old times again—just you and him, laughing over tacos and margaritas like nothing had changed.

As you finished hanging up the last of your clothes, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a text—just a notification from Instagram. You picked it up, your thumb mindlessly tapping the app out of habit.

The screen lit up with familiar photos from friends, coworkers, and influencers. You scrolled past a shot of someone’s latte art and a blurry concert video before something caught your eye.

It was Glen. The photo, posted by a good friend of Glen was unmistakable: Glen, standing in the corner of a lavish party, his arm casually slung around her. 

The caption read, "Celebrating with the one and only @GlenPowell  and the incomparable @AlannaNorris at her wrap party tonight! 🎬✨"

Your heart sank.

You tapped on the image, zooming in despite yourself. Glen looked every bit the part of Hollywood star—broad smile, hair perfectly tousled, a drink in hand. And then there was Alanna Norris, the co-star he’d been talking about for months. She looked just as radiant as she did on screen: long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing a dress that seemed to shimmer even in the dim lighting of the party.

Your thumb hovered over the screen as you stared, frozen.

“Seriously?” you whispered to yourself, the word sharp in the silence of your room.

You clicked over to Glen’s profile, hoping—praying—it wasn’t what it looked like. But there it was again, a short video he’d just posted to his story.

The camera panned across a glittering rooftop, strings of fairy lights glowing against the New York skyline. Glen’s laugh echoed in the background as he toasted with a group of people, Alanna sitting right beside him, leaning into his shoulder like they’d known each other forever.

Your stomach twisted.So this was what had "come up."

You locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed, the dull thud breaking the heavy silence in the room.

It wasn’t just the fact that he’d canceled on you for some Hollywood event. It was because it was her. Alanna, the gorgeous, talented, larger-than-life actress Glen had gushed about every chance he got. You’d listened to him talk about her on phone calls, how brilliant she was, how hilarious, how effortlessly cool.

And now, she wasn’t just a co-star. She was at the center of his world tonight.

You sank onto the bed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. It wasn’t like you could compete with someone like that. You were just... you. The girl Glen had known since middle school. The one who knew all his secrets, his quirks, his favorite stupid jokes. But suddenly, that didn’t feel like enough.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you rested your chin on them, trying to push the image out of your head. Tomorrow was your party. Tomorrow, Glen would be there, and everything would be fine.

* * * * *

THE NEXT DAY

The next morning, the sound of your alarm pulled you from restless sleep. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, but the heaviness from last night hadn’t lifted. Today was supposed to be a good day—a celebration. You tried to focus on that as you showered and got dressed, slipping into a casual outfit for your plans with the girls.

By mid-morning, you were seated in a cozy pedicure chair at your favorite spa, surrounded by the laughter and chatter of your closest friends. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, and the soothing warmth of the foot soak should have been relaxing. Should have.

“You’re quiet today,” Maggie said, glancing at you over the top of her magazine. She was seated in the chair next to yours, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. “That’s not like you. What’s going on?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.”

“Uh-huh.” Maggie raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Girl, you’ve been off all morning,” your other friend Taylor chimed in from across the row, her toes painted a vibrant red. “Spill it. What’s wrong? Is it birthday stress?”

“It’s nothing, really,” you said, avoiding their eyes.

Maggie closed her magazine with a snap and leaned closer. “Liar. Something’s up, and we’re not letting you out of here until you tell us.”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. The last thing you wanted was to drag your friends into your Glen drama. But as the silence stretched, their expectant looks wore you down.

With a sigh, you finally admitted, “Glen canceled dinner last night.”

“What?” Maggie looked genuinely surprised. “Why?”

You bit your lip, debating how much to say. “He said something came up... but then I saw on Instagram that he was at a party for Alanna Norris.”

Taylor let out a low whistle. “Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, staring at the bubbling water swirling around your feet.

Maggie gave you a pointed look. “Wait. You’re upset because Glen ditched dinner, or because he ditched dinner for her?”

“I’m upset because he canceled, period,” you said quickly, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Maggie said again, her voice dripping with skepticism. “Come on, we’re not blind. You’ve been into Glen for years. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I’m not... It’s not like that.”

“Oh, please,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve had heart eyes for that man since high school. And now he’s a big-shot actor, and you’re still acting like he’s just your childhood best friend. It’s obvious to everyone but you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Maggie cut you off. “Look, we get it. You’re hurt. And yeah, him blowing off dinner for Alanna is a crappy move. But you know Glen—he wouldn’t miss your party for anything. He loves you, even if he’s too dumb to realize how he loves you.”

Taylor nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Don’t let this ruin your weekend. You’re amazing, and tonight’s about celebrating you. If Glen has half a brain, he’ll show up and spend the whole night groveling.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, grateful for their attempts to cheer you up. “Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime,” Maggie said, leaning back in her chair as the nail technician started painting her toes. “Now, let’s focus on the important stuff. What are you wearing tonight?”

The afternoon passed in a blur of laughter and pampering, and by the time you and the girls left the salon, your nails gleaming and your spirits lifted, the tension from earlier had eased. The golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the car windows as Maggie drove you all back to your place, the playlist of nostalgic throwbacks you’d put together for the weekend blaring through the speakers.

By the time you stepped through your front door, the mood had shifted to one of excited anticipation. The smell of vanilla candles filled your apartment, mingling with the faint scent of perfume and hair spray as you and the girls scattered to your respective corners to finish getting ready.

“Are you sure about this outfit?” you called from your room, stepping into the hallway in your dress. The shimmering fabric caught the light, hugging your figure just enough to make you feel elegant, but not over the top.

Taylor popped her head out of the bathroom, her lips lined perfectly in a bold red. “Girl, yes. You look amazing. Stop overthinking.”

Maggie appeared behind her, fluffing her curls. “She’s right. You’re the birthday girl—own it.”

You smiled, turning back to the mirror to smooth down the dress and fasten the delicate bracelet Maggie had given you earlier as a gift. The room buzzed with energy as you applied the final touches—adding a swipe of gloss to your lips, slipping into heels that clicked lightly against the hardwood floor, and making sure everything was just right.

As the clock ticked closer to party time, you took a deep breath and glanced at your friends. “Okay, how do I look?”

Taylor gave you an approving once-over. “Like a total knockout.”

“And like someone who’s about to have the best birthday ever,” Maggie added with a grin.

You laughed, feeling their support buoying you. Whatever happened tonight, one thing was certain: you wouldn’t face it alone.

* * * * *

The hum of conversation and clinking glasses surrounded you as you sat at the long table, margarita in hand, trying to match your friends’ enthusiasm. The restaurant was buzzing, its warm lighting casting a golden glow over the colorful decor. Everyone you invited had arrived, chatting and laughing, and the margaritas flowed freely. 

Everyone except for Glen.

You glanced at the empty seat next to you, the one you’d saved for him. Twenty minutes had passed since the reservation time, and while you’d tried to hold on to optimism, your patience was wearing thin.

The waiter approached again, balancing a notepad in one hand and a practiced smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or would you like a little more time?”

You hesitated, glancing at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time. The screen lit up with no new notifications, just the same string of unread messages you’d sent Glen earlier.

YOU: Hey, are you on your way? 

YOU: We’re already here! 

YOU: Everything okay?

With a sigh, you set the phone face down on the table and nodded to the waiter. “We’re ready to order.”

As everyone began calling out their selections, your mind wandered. Glen had canceled dinner with you last night, and now he was a no-show for your birthday dinner without even a text to explain. You tried to shake off the pang of disappointment creeping into your chest, but it lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder how much you really meant to him if he couldn’t be bothered to show up for this.

The waiter left with your table’s orders, but the mood around you was still light and cheerful—at least for everyone else. You swirled the straw in your margarita, staring at the melting ice as your friends chatted around you. 

You glanced down at your phone again, lighting up the screen. Still nothing. Your chest tightened with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

“Okay, that’s it,” Maggie said suddenly, pulling your attention away from your phone. She folded her arms, giving you a knowing look. “Hand it over.”

“What?” you blinked, startled.

“Your phone. Give it to me.” Maggie held out her hand, her expression leaving no room for argument.

You frowned, clutching your phone tighter. “Maggie, come on, I’m fine. I’m just—”

“Obsessing,” she interrupted. “You’re obsessing, and it’s driving you crazy. Glen’s not here, and if you spend the rest of the night staring at your phone, waiting for him to magically show up, you’re going to miss all the fun. So, hand it over.”

Taylor leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she watched you with an amused smile. “She’s got a point. You’re spiraling, babe.”

You let out a sigh, holding your phone against your chest. “He probably got caught up with something. You know how busy he is—he’s always working or—”

“Or going to parties for his co-stars,” Maggie cut in, her tone sharper than before. “Yeah, we know. And yet somehow, he still managed to ditch your birthday dinner. I’m sorry, but that’s not okay.”

Taylor raised her eyebrows, backing her up. “Mags is right. This isn’t about work, and you know it. You don’t need to make excuses for him.”

You hesitated, the sting of their words hitting harder than you expected. “I’m not making excuses,” you said quietly, though even you didn’t sound convinced.

“Babe, you are,” Maggie said, her tone softening slightly. “I get it, okay? You care about him. But he’s not here. And we are. So stop letting him ruin your night and let me take the damn phone.”

You bit your lip, glancing between Maggie’s outstretched hand and your phone. The last thing you wanted was to let Glen off the hook, but part of you still hoped he’d show up. That maybe he had a good reason for being late. That maybe—

“Mags is right,” Taylor said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh, crossing her arms in a way that said she wasn’t budging on this. “You need to forget about him for now. Besides, you know he’s going to show up tomorrow and flash that stupid grin of his, and you’ll forgive him in a second.”

The words hit harder than expected, and a small laugh escaped from the table, though it wasn’t as lighthearted as it should’ve been. Everyone was looking at you, their eyes full of sympathy, but the teasing tone only made you feel more exposed. Your face flushed, and you fiddled with the edge of your napkin, not wanting to meet their eyes.

“I don’t—” you started, but your voice wavered. 

You didn’t want to admit it out loud, but deep down, you knew Taylor was probably right. You’d forgiven him before. The way he could flash that charming smile, act like nothing happened, and suddenly, all would be forgiven. You hated that it worked on you, every time.

Maggie raised her eyebrows at you, a knowing smile on her face. “What? You think we don’t see it? Girl, you always forgive him.” She leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the table as she tilted her head, her tone softening a little. “You care about him, but right now, he's not here. And you deserve better than waiting around for someone who’s too busy to show up for you on your birthday.”

You didn’t have a response for that, not immediately. Part of you wanted to defend him, explain that there had to be a reason, but then you realized—he hadn’t even sent a text. Not a word, not a single message to let you know he was running late.

“You know, you’re right,” you said quietly, the sting of the truth washing over you like a cold wave. “I always forgive him, no matter how much he lets me down.” You forced a laugh, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

Maggie’s smile softened, and she nudged you gently with her shoulder. “Because you want to see the best in him. But right now? You need to let go and stop thinking about him. Just for tonight.”

Taylor, always the playful one, smirked and added, “Let’s be real here. He’s gonna show up tomorrow, all sorry and sweet, and you’re gonna melt, like you always do.” She winked.

That earned another small laugh from the rest of the table, but you felt your cheeks burn. You could feel the heat rise up your neck, the familiar twinge of embarrassment that always crept in when they were right.

“I’m not that predictable,” you mumbled, even though you knew it wasn’t true. Your friends had seen you with Glen enough times to know exactly how you’d react.

“You are, and it’s adorable,” Maggie said with a smirk. “But for now, let me take care of this for you.” Before you could protest, Maggie reached over and snatched your phone out of your hands with the speed of a ninja, tucking it safely into her purse before you even had a chance to stop her.

“Hey!” you protested, reaching out instinctively. “That’s mine!”

Maggie looked at you, her expression all business. “Not anymore, it’s not. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “We’re here to celebrate you, not him. So, no more phone checking, no more waiting around. Tonight is about you, birthday girl.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, a part of you appreciated her determination. The thought of not having that distraction tugging at you was oddly comforting.

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ll try to have fun. But if he doesn’t show up tomorrow—”

Maggie held up her hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry. We’ll deal with that when it comes. For now, focus on the people who are actually here, okay?”

Taylor raised her glass. “Exactly! We’re going to make sure you forget about him. For tonight, you get to be the center of attention.”

A slow smile crept across your face as you lifted your own glass. “I guess I can get on board with that.”

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics. But even as they joked around, you couldn’t help but wonder: Would you really be able to forget about him?

The night had shifted. After a couple of drinks, some terrible karaoke performances, and endless rounds of laughter that made your stomach ache, you finally felt yourself beginning to relax. 

The weight of Glen’s no-show was still there, lingering like a stubborn cloud, but your friends had done a good job of distracting you. You sat at the back of the dive bar in a cozy booth, the group of friends scattered around you, making the most of your birthday despite the slight disappointment that had marred the night.

“Okay, but if you’re telling me that was your best dance move, I might need to revoke your birthday privileges,” Taylor teased, nudging you with her elbow as she leaned back in the booth. She was a little tipsy now, her cheeks flushed and her grin wide. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll have you know that was art,” you teased back, rolling your eyes but feeling lighter than you had when you first arrived.

The night had gotten progressively easier to bear. It wasn’t the dinner with Glen you’d hoped for, but your friends were here, and you knew they wouldn’t let you wallow for long. You took another sip of your drink and leaned back, letting yourself enjoy the music, the chatter, and the familiar, laid-back vibe of the dive bar. It was the kind of place where time seemed to stand still, and no one cared what anyone else was doing.

Just as you were about to reply to another one of Taylor’s jokes, you noticed Maggie was starting to make her way to the bar, probably to grab another round. You were about to call out to her when your gaze shifted, locking onto a figure that made your heart skip.

Glen.

You could see him scanning the room, his tall frame immediately standing out from the crowd. He was wearing that familiar smirk, the one that made you feel both crazy and happy at the same time. Your stomach tightened, and even though you were trying to enjoy the night, the disappointment washed over you again.

But then, something unexpected happened. Maggie, who’d been walking toward the bar, paused as she caught sight of Glen. Without missing a beat, she took a few steps toward him, intercepting his path just before he could make it toward your table. You could see her arms cross, her posture shifting into one of those rare, no-nonsense stances she had when she was about to call someone out.

You couldn’t hear the conversation from across the room, but you could see the way Glen’s smile faltered as Maggie leaned in. Her body language was firm, her expression serious. Glen’s hands went up, trying to appease her, but Maggie wasn’t backing down.

After a few moments of what seemed like intense conversation, Maggie pointed over her shoulder toward your booth. Glen glanced over, his gaze immediately landing on you. His face softened, but Maggie quickly cut him off, saying something else before gesturing toward the door.

GLEN’S P.O.V.

Glen was halfway to the booth when something—or someone—stopped him cold. He turned to see Maggie, of all people, standing in his path, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She didn’t look pleased.

“Look, I get it,” he started, trying to brush past her with a smile, but she was having none of it.

“Do you?” Maggie’s voice was sharp, her tone cutting through the music and chatter of the bar. She didn’t give him an inch, holding her ground.

“Yeah,” he said, his smile faltering. He had hoped tonight would go smoother, but as soon as he bailed on dinner last night, he knew he was going to have to face this. “I know I messed up, okay? But it wasn’t like I didn’t want to be there—things just...came up.”

Maggie didn’t flinch, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “You know better than this, Glen,” she said, voice firm. “She’s been waiting for you, and you cancel on her, then don’t even bother to show up for her dinner tonight. You can’t just waltz in here like nothing happened.”

Glen’s gaze softened. He could feel his stomach twist with guilt. He should’ve been there for you—he knew that. But in the back of his mind, he was still rationalizing everything, trying to make it make sense. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I swear, I’ll make it right. Just—let me talk to her.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed further, and she leaned in, lowering her voice as if she wanted only him to hear. “She better have your full attention tonight, or you can turn around and leave. No excuses, no more half-assed apologies. She’s been let down enough by you already.” Glen opened his mouth to respond, but Maggie wasn’t finished. She jabbed a finger toward the door, a clear, no-nonsense gesture that left no room for negotiation. “You get it right tonight, or I’ll make sure she never gives you another chance.”

Glen’s stomach dropped, the weight of Maggie’s words sinking in. He was used to being the charming, smooth-talking guy who could talk his way out of things. But this? This was different. Maggie wasn’t just looking out for her friend—she was looking out for someone who deserved better than his latest screw-up.

“Alright,” Glen said, nodding, his voice tight. “I get it.”

Maggie gave a single, sharp nod, satisfied, before turning on her heel. Glen watched her walk back to the table and, for the first time all night, felt the real pressure of the situation. He couldn’t screw this up again. Not with you. Not tonight.

He swallowed hard, steeling himself for what came next.

YOUR P.O.V. AGAIN

Maggie came back to your table just moments later, her face a mix of amusement and mild annoyance. 

“Well,” she said, dropping into the booth next to you, “he knows he’s going to have some explaining to do. But I think he got the message.”

You blinked at her, trying to mask the surge of conflicting emotions that had hit you all at once. “What did you say to him?”

Maggie took a long sip of her drink, not missing a beat. “Told him it’s not cool to bail on you like that, especially not when you’re trying to celebrate your birthday.”

You stared at her, a little wide-eyed, unsure if you should feel relieved or mad. Part of you felt grateful for Maggie’s boldness in standing up for you, but another part felt like you should’ve been the one to confront him. But that didn’t matter now.

“Well,” Taylor said from across the booth, glancing over at you with a grin, “at least he knows he has to earn his way back into the birthday girl’s good graces. If he’s smart, he’ll make tonight all about you. And then maybe he’ll show up tomorrow with a damn good explanation—and maybe a gift.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the weight in your chest starting to lighten. You weren’t sure what was going to happen with Glen. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to happen.

Glen took a deep breath, steeling himself as he made his way toward your booth. His heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing with a mix of regret and nervous anticipation. The guilt from the previous night was still fresh, but this—this was his chance to make things right.

As Glen neared the booth, your eyes locked onto his. You straightened your posture, resisting the urge to immediately brighten at the sight of him. Instead, you leaned back slightly, arms crossed, attempting to project an air of indifference.

"Decided to show up, huh?" you quipped, your tone light but edged with subtle annoyance.

Glen paused, his lips tugging into that familiar, crooked smile—the one that always seemed to chip away at your resolve. “Of course I did,” he replied smoothly, his voice warm but tinged with something softer, almost hesitant. “You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun without me, did you?”

You raised an eyebrow, determined not to let him off the hook so easily. “Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, your words casual but pointed. “I mean, you’re only—what? Several hours late?”

The flicker of guilt in his expression gave you a small sense of satisfaction, but before you could revel in it, Glen crossed the final steps to you and, without warning, wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug.

“Wait—Glen, I—” you started to protest, but the words dissolved as his arms tightened around you, pulling you against him. His embrace was warm, firm, and so familiar that it disarmed every wall you’d been trying to build in those few seconds. Despite yourself, you melted into him, your hands sliding up to rest against his back, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

The scent of him washed over you, and you felt your resolve crumble. There was a comfort in his presence, a steady reassurance that you didn’t realize how much you’d missed until now.

“I’m sorry,” Glen murmured, his voice low and close to your ear. “I shouldn’t have missed dinner. I shouldn’t have been late. That was on me, and I know I messed up.”

You wanted to stay annoyed, to hold onto the frustration that had simmered since the night before, but the sincerity in his tone—paired with the way his arms tightened around you like he couldn’t bear to let go—made it impossible.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. “I mean it,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve put my phone on Do Not Disturb. Tonight is all about you, and I’m not going to screw it up again. No distractions, no excuses. Just you.”

For a moment, you stared at him, torn between wanting to push him away and wanting to pull him closer. “You’ve got a lot to make up for,” you muttered, your voice lacking the bite you’d intended.

“I know. And I promise I will.” 

He gave you a quick squeeze before letting go, and you couldn’t help but feel the absence of his warmth as he stepped back, his smile now tinged with that boyish charm that always made it hard to stay mad at him.

With a small, tentative smile, you sat back down, Glen following suit as he slid into the booth beside you. His presence was comforting now, though the distance between the two of you would take some time to bridge fully.

It didn’t take long for your friends to start giving him a bit of a hard time, teasing him about how long it had taken him to show up. But he took it all in stride, shrugging with that playful grin of his that had always been hard to resist. He made light of the situation, joking that Maggie had given him a “talk” that was definitely more intimidating than any red carpet interview he’d ever done. The table erupted in laughter, and you couldn’t help but chuckle too.

Glen fit in like he’d always been a part of the group. He didn’t just charm you—he charmed everyone. Your friends, the boyfriends, the husbands—everyone seemed at ease with him, and for the first time tonight, you felt a bit of the tension dissolve. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good. You were starting to enjoy yourself again.

“You know,” Maggie said, her voice cutting through the chatter as she leaned toward you, “I never thought I’d see the day, but I think Glen’s actually winning me over.” Her teasing smile made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that there was something endearing about the way he was engaging with everyone.

Glen grinned, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Well, I aim to please,” he said smoothly, sending a wink Maggie’s way before turning to Taylor’s boyfriend, Lucas, who had just shared a funny story about a mishap at work. Glen jumped right into the conversation, laughing along with the group, and before long, the entire table was at ease, chatting, laughing, and passing around drinks.

As the evening progressed, your glass had been refilled a few times, and the warmth from the drinks had made you a little looser, more relaxed. But you could feel the buzz starting to hit you, the tipsy weight settling in, and you knew it was probably time to call it a night soon.

A voice from the other side of the table broke through your thoughts. “Another round, anyone?” Lucas asked, his hand raised toward the bartender.

You smiled but shook your head, giving a small chuckle. “I think I’m good for now,” you said, but your voice was a bit more playful than you intended. “I need to slow down if I’m getting myself home tonight.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Glen’s gaze snapped to you. His brow furrowed for a moment before his lips curled into a smirk. “Oh no, no, no,” he said, shaking his head as he placed his hand on your arm in a gentle but firm way. “Not happening. I’m not letting you drive after all that tequila. I’m driving you home tonight.”

Your eyes widened for a moment, surprised at his sudden offer. “You’re taking me home?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “

“Yeah, me.” Glen replied smoothly, his voice playful. “I’ll make sure you get home safe and sound.”

You glanced over at your friends, who were all nodding in agreement, clearly amused by Glen’s sudden shift into ‘knight in shining armor.’ You couldn’t help but smile a little, the warmth from the alcohol making the whole situation feel lighter.

“Alright, fine,” you said with a sigh, giving him a playful look.

The night had started winding down, the boisterous laughter and endless rounds of drinks giving way to softer conversations and a general sense of contentment. You leaned back in the booth, your cheeks warm from the tequila and the laughter that had filled the evening. The air in the bar felt a little heavier now, and you knew it was time to call it a night.

Maggie glanced at her phone and let out a low whistle. “Alright, it’s officially way past my bedtime,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “You’re lucky we love you, or I wouldn’t still be out at this hour.”

You grinned at her, your head buzzing just enough to make your movements feel slower. “I appreciate your sacrifice, Mags.”

One by one, your friends began gathering their things, exchanging hugs and goodbyes. Glen stood off to the side, his hands in his pockets, patiently waiting while you said your farewells.

Taylor, always the protective one, lingered a little longer. She turned toward Glen, her expression a mix of playful and serious. “You’d better take care of her, Hollywood” she said, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Glen raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin on his face. “I’ve got her.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes at him, clearly still skeptical, but you stepped in before she could say anything else. “Taylor, I’m fine. He’s fine. Stop trying to scare him.”

“I don’t scare that easily,” Glen quipped, but his tone was lighthearted, and even Taylor cracked a smile as she gave you one last hug.

With the goodbyes finally wrapped up, you turned back toward Glen, feeling a little unsteady on your feet as you grabbed your jacket.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said, your voice softer now, the buzz of the evening starting to settle into a tired warmth.

Glen didn’t say a word, just stepped closer and gently placed his arm around your shoulders. The gesture felt surprisingly natural, his hand resting lightly as he steered you toward the door. You could feel the heat of his touch through the fabric of your jacket, grounding you as the two of you walked out of the bar.

The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, and you breathed it in deeply, relishing the way it sobered you just slightly. Glen’s arm stayed firmly around you as he led you to his truck parked just down the block.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, glancing down at you, his voice soft against the quiet of the night.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I did,” you admitted, your voice a little hazy but sincere. “Even if you did crash the party.”

He chuckled, his grip on you tightening just slightly as if to steady you. “Is it crashing when I was invited?”

“It is when you show up late. Maggie had basically uninvited you, you know?”

Glen laughed softly, the sound warm and deep in the stillness of the night. “Maggie never liked me much anyway,” he teased. “Pretty sure she was just looking for an excuse.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “That’s because she thinks you’re too cocky for your own good.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, she’s not wrong. But if memory serves, you kind of like that about me.”

You snorted, pretending to be unimpressed, but your smile gave you away. “Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it.”

Glen stopped walking for a moment, pulling you gently to a halt as well. His hand slid from your arm to your lower back, steadying you as you swayed slightly on your feet. “Used to it, huh?” he murmured, his tone playfully skeptical. “Guess I’ll take that as a win.”

You glanced up at him, the soft glow of a streetlamp illuminating the curve of his jaw and the faint stubble dusting his skin. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you warned, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed the sharpness of your words.

He grinned, leaning in just enough to close the distance between you. “Too late.”

Before you could respond, he began walking again, his arm still snug around your waist. The rhythm of your steps fell into an easy cadence, and the quiet between you felt comforting rather than awkward.

As his truck came into view, Glen broke the silence. “So, Maggie’s got her opinions about me,” he said, his tone light but curious. “What about you? Think I’m too cocky for my own good?”

You glanced at him sideways, your expression caught somewhere between teasing and genuine. “I think you’re...” You trailed off, pretending to give it serious thought. “Complicated.”

“Complicated?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “That’s not exactly glowing praise.”

“It’s not an insult either,” you countered, shrugging.  “It just means you’ve got layers.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You make me sound like an onion.”

You laughed, your voice light and unguarded. “Maybe. But onions can be sweet, too.”

By the time you reached the truck, Glen had that playful smirk back on his face, but there was something softer in his gaze as he looked at you. He opened the passenger door, his hand brushing your arm lightly as he helped you climb in.

“Sweet, huh?” he murmured as you settled into the seat. “I’ll take that.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth blooming in your chest was impossible to ignore.

The truck came into view, and Glen pulled his arm away just long enough to open the passenger door for you. He held out his hand to help you climb in, his touch steady and warm.

“Alright,” he said once you were settled in. “Let’s get you home.”

You leaned back in the seat, your head resting lightly against the window as you watched him round the front of the truck to the driver’s side. There was something about the quiet way he moved, the care he took in making sure you were okay, that made the lingering frustration in your chest soften just a little more.

As the engine roared to life and the truck pulled away from the curb, you couldn’t help but glance over at him, a thousand thoughts swirling in your tequila-clouded mind. 

The hum of the truck’s engine filled the quiet as Glen drove through the mostly empty streets, the city lights casting faint shadows on your face. You felt the tequila working its way through your system, loosening your thoughts and your tongue. The warmth in your chest wasn’t just from the alcohol—it was Glen’s presence, steady and comforting, that made you feel safer than you wanted to admit.

You glanced over at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. “You know something?” you said softly, your words slurring ever so slightly.

“What’s that?” Glen asked, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning to the road.

“I think you might be my favorite person,” you admitted, leaning your head against the window and smiling to yourself. The words felt easy, natural, like they’d been sitting on the tip of your tongue for years.

Glen let out a low chuckle, glancing at you again with an amused expression. “Your favorite person, huh? That’s a big title to hand out. What about Maggie? Or Taylor?”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile stayed on your lips. “I’m serious,” you insisted, turning your head to look at him. “You’ve always been there for me. You show up when it matters. Well, except for last night.” The teasing lilt in your voice faltered at the end, the weight of your lingering disappointment creeping back in. 

Glen’s playful smirk softened, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “About last night—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “It’s... I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he said firmly, glancing at you again. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

You hesitated, your fingers twisting in your lap. The alcohol buzzed in your veins, giving you just enough courage to let the words slip out before you could stop them. “All I want is for you to look at me the way you look at her.”

Glen’s brows furrowed as he processed your words. “Her? What are you talking about?”

You huffed, leaning back against the seat and avoiding his gaze. “Alanna. Last night. You were looking at her like she hung the moon or something.”

His confusion deepened as he shook his head. “I wasn’t—wait, you saw those pictures? You think I—”

“Forget it,” you muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Glen said, his tone insistent now. He glanced at you, his voice softening. “Hey, talk to me. Please.”

You bit your lip, debating whether to keep the rest of it bottled up or just let it out. Before you could second-guess yourself, the words spilled out in a rush. “I love you, Glen.” The air in the truck seemed to still, your confession hanging heavily between you. You didn’t stop, the floodgates open now. “I love you, and I hate it. I hate that I feel this way because you’re... you’re the total package, Glen. And I’m just... me. You’re way out of my league, and it’s stupid, and I wish I didn’t feel this way, but I do.”

For a moment, Glen didn’t say anything, his silence deafening. Then, he let out a light laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, you’ve definitely had too much to drink. You’re just saying that because you’re tipsy.”

His attempt at brushing it off felt like a slap, and your chest tightened painfully. You laughed bitterly, though it sounded more like a choke. “Right. I’m just drunk.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that,” Glen said quickly, his tone shifting to concern.

“It’s fine,” you said sharply, turning to stare out the window, your body stiff with regret. “Just take me home. Please.”

Glen opened his mouth to say something else, but the set line of your jaw and the way you refused to look at him made him think better of it. The rest of the drive was silent, the easy warmth from earlier replaced by a tense, aching quiet.

When Glen pulled into your driveway, you were already unbuckling your seatbelt and reaching for the door handle, eager to put some distance between you and the awkwardness still hanging in the air.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said quickly, your voice clipped as you stepped out of the truck. You didn’t wait for him to respond before heading toward your front door, your keys jingling in your shaky hand.

“Hey, wait up,” Glen called, catching up to you in a few long strides.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, fumbling with your keys. “You don’t need to come in. It’s late. You should go.”

Glen’s hand gently closed over yours, stilling your movements. “Hold on a second.”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to see the pity or confusion—or worse, the rejection—in his eyes.

“What?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You said you love me,” Glen said, his voice equally soft but steady. “Did you mean it?”

You let out a strained laugh, trying to tug your hand free. “Like you said, I’ve had too much to drink. Don’t read into it, okay?”

“Stop,” he said, his tone firmer now. He stepped closer, his presence warm and steady. “Don’t brush it off. I need to know. Did you mean it?”

Your throat tightened as tears prickled behind your eyes. You swallowed hard, shaking your head as if that could somehow make the whole moment disappear. But Glen wasn’t letting go—not of your hand, not of this conversation.

“Fine. Yes I meant it,” you finally bit out, your voice trembling. “I do love you. Happy now?” You felt the tears welling up, threatening to spill over as you stared down at the ground, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter, Glen. You don’t have to say anything. Just... let’s forget this, okay?”

Glen didn’t let you retreat. Instead, his hand tilted your chin up, gently forcing you to meet his eyes. His expression wasn’t one of pity or discomfort—it was something softer, something that made your breath catch.

“You think that’s a bad thing?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing lightly along your jaw.

You blinked, stunned by the question. “What?”

Glen took a small step closer, closing the space between you. “You think loving me is a bad thing?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t…I was scared you didn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

Your breath hitched as he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was so gentle, so tender, that it made your heart ache.

Impulsively, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Glen. But before your lips could meet, he gently stopped you, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders to keep you from leaning in further.

“Not like this,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You frowned, your cheeks flushing. “Why not?”

Glen chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly over your shoulder. “Because you’ve been drinking. And I don’t want our first kiss to be something you regret or something you can blame on tequila.”

You pouted, the alcohol in your system making your emotions harder to control. “I wouldn’t regret it.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said, his smile growing as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I want it to happen when you’re sober. When you’re completely sure about what you want.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

Glen laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, I’ve been told.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? Get some rest.”

You sighed, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. “Fine.”

“Goodnight, munchkin,” he said, his voice warm.

He took a few steps down the path toward his truck, hands shoved deep into his pockets. But something in the air stopped you, a shift in the quiet between you both that pulled you back.

“Glen?” Your voice came out more fragile than you intended, halting him in his tracks.

He turned, brows furrowing in mild confusion. “Yeah?”

You shifted your weight nervously, feeling the weight of the moment. “Would you... stay? I mean, just for tonight. On the couch,” you added, the words tumbling out faster than you'd meant.

His brow raised, caught off guard. Then a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, soft and understanding. “Are you sure?”

Heat rushed to your face, and you swallowed. “Yeah, I just—” you glanced down, unsure how to explain. “I’d feel better with you here. That’s all.”

He studied you for a moment, then took a step back toward you, his smile gentle but sincere. “Okay,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll stay.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, offering him a small, grateful smile.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Glen said as he put a hand on your back and guided you through the dimly lit hallway.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, your words a little slurred as you swayed on your feet. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Glen said with a teasing smile, but his tone was gentle, careful, as though he was holding back. “But humor me, okay?”

You reached your bedroom, and he paused just inside the doorway, his hand still warm at the small of your back. He lingered there for a moment, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Think you can manage, or do you need some help?”

You nodded, though your movements weren’t exactly graceful. A soft chuckle escaped Glen’s lips as he crouched down and carefully removed your shoes, setting them neatly to the side as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve got it,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and fumbling with your jacket, your fingers a little uncooperative.

“Uh-huh,” Glen replied, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes softened as he watched you struggle with the zipper for a moment before he stepped closer, his hands moving with a calm efficiency as he undid it and eased the jacket from your shoulders.

He straightened, giving you a pointed look. “Want to argue about this too, or can I just help you?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Glen’s grin widened, and he moved to pull back the blankets, gesturing for you to lie down. You sank into the mattress, the cool sheets pressing against your warm skin like a balm. His hands were gentle as he tucked the blanket around you, slow and deliberate, as though trying to make you feel as safe and comfortable as possible.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now.

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion of the night started to pull you under. “Thanks, Glen. For… everything.”

He lingered for a moment, his gaze soft, his eyes searching your face as if trying to memorize the moment. Then, his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, warm against your skin.

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

He straightened, his presence still warm in the room even as he moved toward the door. He pulled it halfway shut behind him, the sound almost imperceptible. You barely had time to notice before sleep claimed you, his presence lingering like a comforting weight, filling the quiet space with an unspoken promise.

* * * * *

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the cocoon of blankets wrapped snugly around you, a comfort you didn’t remember arranging for yourself. Blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, you took a moment to orient yourself. 

The events of the night before came rushing back in fragments—Your confession, Glen’s confession, your own vulnerability.

With a groan, you rolled onto your side, pressing your face into the pillow. Embarrassment washed over you in waves, but it was tempered by something softer: the memory of Glen tilting your chin, his thumb brushing your jaw, and his quiet admission that he’d been in love with you for a while.

Pushing yourself up, you padded out of your room, your footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. You froze when you reached the living room.

Glen was sprawled out on the couch, his long frame somehow folded in a way that almost looked comfortable. A blanket you vaguely recognized from the back of the closet was draped over him, and his face was soft with sleep, his features relaxed and boyish. His arm rested on his chest, rising and falling in time with his even breaths.

Your heart squeezed, a rush of warmth and affection flooding through you. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him, your lips curving into a small smile.

Shaking your head, you tore your gaze away and headed to the kitchen. You busied yourself with the coffee maker, the familiar routine grounding you as your thoughts raced.

The sound of footsteps made you glance over your shoulder. Glen appeared in the doorway, his hair adorably mussed and his eyes still heavy with sleep. He leaned against the doorframe, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gravelly.

“Morning,” you replied, turning back to the coffee maker. You focused on pouring two mugs, hoping the act would calm the sudden flutter in your chest.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with the weight of unspoken words. You handed him a mug, your fingers brushing his briefly, and he murmured a quiet thanks.

As you sipped your coffee, Glen set his down on the counter, crossing his arms as he leaned back against it. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and it made your stomach flip.

“So,” he began, his tone casual but his eyes serious, “are we going to talk about last night?”

You stiffened, your grip tightening around your mug. “What about it?” you asked, your voice a little too light, a little too forced.

Glen arched a brow. “You know what I’m talking about.”

You sighed, setting your mug down on the counter with a soft clink. “I think I made a fool of myself, and I’d rather just pretend it didn’t happen.”

His expression softened, and he took a step closer. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself.”

You avoided his gaze, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Look…I said a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have.”

“You mean the part where you said you love me?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Your head snapped up, your cheeks flushing. “Glen—”

“Because if you did mean it,” he interrupted, his tone earnest, “then we really need to talk about it.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to look away. “I... I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just—last night, it all came out. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Glen’s lips quirked into a small smile. “You seemed pretty clear to me.”

“Glen,” you said, exasperation creeping into your tone. “This is exactly what I was afraid of. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I can’t lose you. And I can already tell that things are different. You’re being all weird about it.”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly. “But we can’t just ignore this.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “What if this changes everything?”

Glen reached out, his fingers brushing yours. “Maybe it’s supposed to,” he said softly.

The honesty in his eyes, the quiet strength in his words—it made your chest ache. You wanted to believe him, to trust that taking this leap wouldn’t send you crashing to the ground.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “Let’s talk.”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face. “Good. Because there’s a lot I need to say.”

“Why don’t you start? What do I need to know about what you said last night?” He asked.

Your heart pounded as you scrambled for something coherent to say. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure if we needed to… I mean…”

Glen’s amused chuckle cut through your nervous rambling, and you looked up to see his familiar grin. His hazel green eyes softened as he stepped closer, plucking the mug from your hands and setting it on the counter.

“Hey,” he said gently, tilting his head to catch your gaze. “Relax. You’re overthinking this. It’s just me. Just talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I just don’t know if you—if we’re—”

Glen interrupted again, this time by pulling you into a warm, steady hug. His arms wrapped around you like they belonged there, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Okay let’s try something else. I meant everything I said last night,” he murmured, his voice low and steady near your ear. “Did you?”

“Yes.” You hesitated, your cheek pressed against his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your own. “But…where does that leave us?”

Glen pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. His expression was earnest, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something deeper, more serious.

“I’d like to see where this goes,” he said simply, his tone confident yet careful. “If you’re okay with that.”

Your chest tightened, warmth spreading through you like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I’d like that too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

A slow smile spread across Glen’s face, one that made your knees feel a little weaker. He reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Good,” he said softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. 

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in. You met him halfway, your lips finding his in a kiss that was both familiar and completely new. It wasn’t rushed or hesitant, just easy and natural, like it had always been meant to happen.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “So… does this mean you think you’re officially off the hook for last night?”

Glen chuckled, his hands sliding down to your waist. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m gonna have to work a little harder to earn full forgiveness.”

You smirked, your hands resting lightly on his chest. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for you, Glen.”

“And you’re lucky I plan on spending a lot of time making the last few days up to you,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes shining with sincerity.

Before you could come up with a witty reply, Glen’s expression shifted, the teasing glimmer in his eyes giving way to something more intense. He leaned in again, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips pressed to yours.

This kiss was different—deeper, more deliberate. Your heart skipped a beat as warmth bloomed in your chest. Without thinking, your arms lifted, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Glen’s hands slid to your waist, his touch firm yet careful, grounding you as he gently pulled you against him. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet kitchen, bathed in soft morning light.

When the kiss finally broke, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his as you both caught your breath. A faint smile tugged at Glen’s lips, and his thumb brushed lightly against your jaw.

As the morning light filtered through the kitchen window, the air between you felt lighter, filled with the promise of something new and exciting. Whatever came next, you had a feeling it was going to be worth the wait.

[elliesmainhoe]

Ellie Williams Headcanons: Pregnant!Reader

My Masterlist

Unbelievably soft for you.

All of your friends are shocked, because- Ellie is being.... Nice?

Carries your bags for you, and sits you on her horse whenever your feet get achey from walking too long.

Her foot massages are 🔛🔝

She tries to be supportive of you when you get overly emotional... She really does.

As soon as Ellie entered the house the sound of loud sobbing coming from your shared bedroom freaked her the fuck out.

"Fuck are you alright babe?" She asked as she quickly barged into the bedroom. Your form was hunched over, head in your hands as fat tears streamed down your face.

"I-" your voice trembled as you looked up to Ellie through your damp eyelashes. "The-the.. i- was reading my *hiccup* book" you sniffed "and the- the puppy died!!"

"Oh poor baby~" Ellie cooed as you sobbed, and she perched on the edge of the mattress allowing you to nuzzle your face in your neck. Her hand moved up and down your back, rubbing it in support. "I'm gonna go and get you some water, sit tight for me princess" she kissed your forehead and left the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her an amused smile slipped into her features. God, you were adorable.

Every time you ask for a new weird combination of food she tries it with you.

And she rates then lmao

Strawberries and salt 2/10, peanut butter and celery 6/10, popcorn and cereal 9/10.

So supportive. You can never be wrong. You are always correct always.

Has fallen off the bed due to how many pregnancy pillows on the bed. You cried because you felt guilty.

Shopping for baby clothes, toys and items with her 😍

"What about this one baby?" You called over to Ellie, showing her a blue baby onesie, covered in little red cartoon parrots.

"Nah- I prefer this one better. Fuck... I'd wear this." She laughed holding up a white onesie with little green dinosaurs all over it.

Goes to all your appointments with you for emotional support ✊

Just imagine the midwife pressing the ultrasound wand against your belly as Ellie sits with her jaw slacked as she stares in bewilderment at the moving picture displayed of your unborn child on the screen.

Ellie always lays with her head on your stomach, listening to the little heartbeat in there and giggling at the little kicks the baby gives her.

A warm hand rested on the swell of your pregnant stomach- comfortably moving in circles. The little munchkin occasionally moving and wiggling around at the feeling of her Mama's hand.

"She knows it's her mama Ells" you hum

"Aw do you know it's me little bean?" She spoke, asking the baby who kicked in reply.

"Your feisty kiddo, ain't ya?"

------------

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @prettypeoniesx @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm

Join my taglist here

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

The Epilogue

It starts off on a simple hot sunny day at the lake.

The kids are giggling and splashing water in each other's faces.

Dustin and Steve are off to the side getting the sandwiches ready. Steve is watching Eddie flip the boys into the water.

"I'm so glad we're all like this together. I never thought I'd even get you an Eddie into the same room."

"Well he's really changed a lot. Definitely since we were kids. I like being his friend, I think we're better for it." He finishes wrapping up the sandwich he's working on and ignores Dustin's eyes piercing into his skull. Behind him he hears another splash and some screaming.

"What."

"I didn't know you used to be friends."

"Friends? It's been a long time since I've been regarded as one of those."

"Be for real I didn't know you and Eddie used to hang out."

"Yeah we used to hang out all the time." Steve looks off into the distance wistfully.

"So what happened?"

"Well, we grew up. I grew up and Eddie grew up and we both grew into different people and Eddie didn't like how different we ended up being. It happens all the time. We didn't have monsters to bond us like you guys."

"Well that sucks, maybe you guys will reconnect as strong as you used to be."

Steve rustles Dustin's hair much to his complaint.

"We'll be fine champ, we're doing well now aren't we?"

"Yeah Stevie we are." They both spin around at the sound of Eddie's voice. He's giving them a confused look. Squinting his eyes at Steve like he doesn't know how to feel.

---

A long time ago

"Do you want to be friends?"

"Why?"

"I think you're cool."

"No you don't you just think I'm cool cause I'm in 4th grade and you're only in the baby 3rd grade class."

"Am not!"

"You are!"

"UGH...I'm Steve by the way."

"Eddie."

Middle school

"Steve there's something wrong with me."

"Don't be ridiculous Eddie, whatever it is we'll fix it."

"This can't be fixed."

"Dude just spit it out I won't get mad!"

"Ok...I have a crush...on a boy."

Eddie's eyes are welling up with tears.

"Hey it's ok Eds." Steve walks closer to him, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.

"I won't judge you."

"Really?"

"Yeah! So what if you like boys I'll kick anyone's ass who says anything bad. You're still my best friend that's never going to change." He wraps Eddie up in the tightest hug he can muster.

"I love you Steve."

"I love you too Eds."

Before high school

"I just don't know why you're being like this!"

"What Steve? You can't believe I'm mad at you for blowing me off for your other friends?!"

"I wasn't blowing you off! I had basketball practice! Tommy's mom just drove me home dude it's not as crazy as you think it is."

"Oh really?!"

"Yeah! If anything you're being crazy!"

"Oh! If that's how it's gonna be then we don't need to be friends anymore."

Eddie's stomps off. So angry he doesn't hear Steve calling back out to him. The next time they interact, Tommy is pushing Eddie into a locker.

When Steve called Jonathan Byers a queer he remembers the promise he made to Eddie and promptly throws up afterwards.

When Robin comes out to Steve on the bathroom floor he thinks he has a second chance to prove himself. When she ends up being better than he imagines he is so thankful.

God he misses Eddie.

---

"Me and Stevie boy can pack up the car don't worry munchkins."

The two try to pick everything up but Eddie gets progressively angrier by the second. Steve is trying to figure out why he has personal beef with a cooler.

When they reach the car Eddie tries to shove everything in the trunk but it all falls apart.

"What's wrong."

"Me? Nothing, why?" he hastily folds the towels again, shoving them back in.

"Well...you're all huffy."

He spins around, his face getting closer, red with anger.

"You wanna know what my problem is?! I can't believe you told him that like I was the one to break things off, like you ever missed me, like you never hated me!"

"That's ridiculous! I've never hated you! You hated me!"

"No! You're the one who changed. You made the final decision!"

"Yeah because you pushed me away."

"You didn't fight me on it."

"I fought you everyday. Everyday I thought of you. Everyday with the name calling and the lockers, I was trying to get your attention."

"You think I wasn't? You think I stand on tables for fun?!"

"...it's all been a misunderstanding?"

The two stare at each other not even daring to blink.

"We wasted so much time, we could fix that, that is if you still want me"

"I never went a day without thinking of you."

he gets shy, his face darker than his sunburn.

"I know you've changed, I've dealt with that but a part of me still thinks you hate me. For what I am. What you'll hold against me. I don't know if I can handle being friends with you with that fear in my heart."

"I'd never. Ever. Do anything. Besides," Steve flicks his hair back. "Birds of a feather and all that." The blush on his cheeks is high and getting darker by the second.

"The what?"

"I'm uh kind of bisexual."

"Kind of?"

"Definitely. Definitely bisexual."

"Oh."

"Right um...so you won't have any problems from me. I hope that won't be a problem for you."

"No! Never! I'm just...surprised."

"Yeah you would be," Steve grumbles.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

----

Steve is sleeping in his bed when he feels something wrong. His eyes shoot open and he spots a figure standing over his body.

"Jesus Christ!" He shoots out of bed and is ready to grab his weapon when he registers who's in front of him.

"Eddie?" He says softly. "What're you doing here? You had a gig tonight, how did you get in my house? Why are you in my room-"

"Steve." Eddie's face is golden. The moon is reflecting into his eyes, shining so bright. He looks so happy, like he's going to cry. His smile is so bright.

"Steve. I got it."

"You go it?"

"The record deal. I got it."

Steve runs at him and Eddie catches him. Of course he did. He always will.

"Oh my god oh my god," he mutters into his shoulder. Eddie's arms are squeezing his waist tighter. "I'm so proud of you oh my god."

"Steve. I have to tell you something, that's what I came here to say."

"What's going on Eds? You never sound this serious." Eddie lets go of him and sits him down on the edge of the bed. Eddie lingers closer to the door like he's ready to make an exit.

"The recording studio is in Chicago."

"Oh."

"I leave in a week."

"Oh."

"I want you to go with me."

"What?"

Steve feels confusion run through him but he's not complaining. He'd follow Eddie anywhere.

"Yes! Ok! Let's go!"

Eddie smiles but it looks like it's causing him pain.

"There's a condition to you coming with me." He comes closer to Steve but still keeps his distance. "You need to know the truth before you agree to leave everything behind."

"What's going on Eds?"

"Ever since we were kids I've been in love with you. Big. Gay. Feelings. I want to hold you and kiss you and start a life with you. I know you're bi but that doesn't mean you'd be into me, especially considering our history. I was going to keep it a secret, never tell you, but it's not fair for you to be with me and not know my true intentions. I understand if you don't want to speak to me anymore but I'll do anything to keep our friendship. I've tried to forget you but have you met you? You're unforgettable. You're too damn loveable." He chuckles at that, eyes darting at every corner of the room.

"Eddie..."

"I understand-"

"Come here please."

"Um...no."

"Edddiiie," Steve whines. He stands and grabs Eddie's hands and drags him back to his bed laying him down. He crawls on top of him and tucks his head into Eddie's neck.

"I am very confused right now Steve."

"Thank you for telling me, I understand how scary that can be to share your feelings. The only thing is I can't believe you don't see how I feel!" He props his head up until their noses are touching. "I love you you idiot. I've been in love with you since forever. Of course I want to start a life with you and whatever else you wanted-"

"Kissing. I wanted kissing."

"And you'll get it."

Steve giggles into his mouth and the two kiss for what feels like forever. They finally break apart and keep their foreheads touching.

"So...Chicago?"

"Chicago."

-----

Eddie's suit jacket is grabbed and he's thrown into a bathroom stall.

"Oh my god I can't believe you did that."

"Steve how did you even get back here? Bribed a guard. He knew who I was anyway, congratulated me on having such a loving partner." He ends the sentence smashing their lips together shoving Eddie against the wall.

"Mmm well," Eddie pulls away. "I didn't know the next time I'd win a Grammy I wanted to make it count."

"Eddie you confessed your love for me and came out in your speech that was something...something so special. God all I wanted was to see you, be near you. I couldn't go another second not being by your side."

"A bathroom stall was the closest you could get huh?" He smirks.

Steve smirks, sinking to his knees. "What? It's not good enough for you?"

"Nope! It's perfect! Absolutely perfect sweetheart no complaints here.

----

"You want to marry...me?"

"Yeah baby why wouldn't I?"

"I- I...yes! Ok! Yes!"

----

It ends on a simple hot sunny day

seventy years later

"Hello everyone, my husband lived a long successful life. You may know him as the lead guitarist for the many bands he's been apart of during his long career. You knew him as Eddie Munson rockstar but I knew him as much more. I knew him as my love. My husband. An uncle to our little gremlins little gremlins. A friend to all. A supporter of all. He passed away yesterday from natural causes. I was asked by his Manger how I wanted to handle this and I knew I had to do it."

There are tears in his eyes as he stares down the camera but a small smile on his lips.

"He lives on through our friends and family. Through those who have watched him grow. Through his awards and his fans. Through his charity work. Most importantly he lives through his love. He loved so much. So hard. Everthing had meaning to him. Everything had purpose." He wipes a stray tear away.

"I'll see you soon my love."

The final epilougue is the next day, for the sweethearts could not live long without the other. They had already been making up for the time they did not know each other, for they time they spent ignoring each other. They couldn't spend another minute apart.

[bruciemilf]

One of the HCs I like reading on are the batkids forgetting they're adopted and not blood related (except Damian) to Bruce. Or with one another. so they'll comment on the physical features they share.

"you're just mad I got Bruce's hairline and shiny hair while you're aging at an incredible speed you're gonna sport the Lex Luther look in a MONTH, IF I'm being generous"

"I have Bruce's eyes. Look into my eyes. Disappointment."

"If you shared this bone structure, I too, would be jealous."

"How does it feel knowing I got all the good genes? You can never reach these heights. Literally. I will remove this chair and you'll be stuck on the counter forever. Try explaining to Alfred why you are dirtying the surfaces he just cleaned, munchkin."

"I've been afforded the ability to have flawless skin in any situation, what can you say?" etc..

& each other, because sometimes the sibling experience is being repulsed at being called the same or even using it to be a shithead to other siblings

someone: sorry, i mistook you for [other batkid]. You guys just look the same from the back. my bad

both batkids in question: *yelling profanities and defending why they do not share similarities*("they're balding!" "Do you see that posture!? I would never!" "Only a fool would say something so stupid and appalling. Get your eyes checked." "Now listen here motherfucker—" "YOU COMPARED ME TO THAT THING?!")

-

batkid, trying to provoke two others: you guys basically have the same face, a literal copy and paste, I'd be mad too lmaoo

*batcave turns into shambles*

-

"this is a dimples-only selfie, please get out" "perfect eyebrow gang too bad yours are a tragedy"

-

And of course those habits they picked up from Bruce or one of their siblings and how sweet it is. someone has to do a double-take because that was trippy. I just love those HCs. Sorry some of these I tried to make funny, but I couldn't think of much just the concept 😭😭

.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Rules: Either: choose one of your published fics (or a WIP if you'd prefer), create a moodboard for it and share it along with a snippet. Or: Create a moodboard for your fave episode of the show, fave character, or a fic someone else has written that you love, and share it with some sentences about why it's a fave! (and tag people!)

I was tagged by @nine-one-wanton @typicalopposite and @sunnywithachanceofbi

From my Mpreg Amnesia fic:

"Don't Forget to Remember me, Baby"

Snippet from Chapter 3

****

Tommy opened the front door, and Buck felt a bit bewildered. This house felt like a home, more than anywhere he'd ever lived before.

"Feels kind of awkward to ask since we bought the place together, but how about a tour?" Tommy offered.

"I'd like that," Buck said. Suddenly a blurry picture began to form in his mind. It was like the word 'tour' had shaken loose a memory.

"Tour...you gave me a tour of...of Harbor station," Buck stammered.

"Yeah," Tommy said softly, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, I did. You called me up after the hurrican rescue and wanted me to show you around Air Support."

"I..." Buck pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to grasp the fading image. "I remember feeling really nervous...like I had butterflies. But it's fuzzy. Like looking through foggy glass."

"That's okay," Tommy said quickly, not wanting to pressure him. "That's really good, Buck. The doctor said memories might come back in pieces like this."

Buck nodded, then winced as the baby gave a particularly strong kick. "I think someone wants to get on with the house tour."

"They're so bossy. They get that from you," Tommy chuckled, then caught himself. "I mean...sorry, did I overstep?"

"No, I like that you know things about me," Buck said softly. "It makes me feel a little more comfortable, if that makes sense."

"Yeah?" Tommy asked, visibly relieved. "Because there's so much I want to tell you, but I don't want to push too hard or make you feel pressured."

"Maybe..." Buck considered carefully, "maybe you could just share things naturally? Like you just did. When something reminds you of a memory or a habit or something about us. It might help me piece things together."

"I can do that," Tommy said with a soft smile. "So, shall we start the tour? Kitchen's this way - and yes, that fancy coffee maker was your idea. Though you haven't been able to use it much lately since the smell of coffee's been making you queasy."

"Do you cook?" Buck asked curiously.

"I'm not a terrible cook, but the kitchen is kind of your domain," Tommy said. "You love to use me as your guinea pig to experiment with new recipes. Although no chicken currently. Our little munchkin doesn't seem to be a big fan."

****

I think most people have already been tagged but I'll throw out a few NP tags

@laundryandtaxesworld @ladyeyrewrites @xtarmanderx @cosyvelvetorchid @quintessenceofdust88 @sad-girl-hours23

[orangepanic]

Voices in the Night

Ikki couldn't sleep. The moon was too bright and there was a hummingbird moth that kept tap tap tapping at her window and her head was too full of thoughts. So up she went, using a cushion of air to glide down the hallways so her mother wouldn't hear her steps and be cross.

Once outside the moon was even brighter, like a big wheel of sky bison cheese. Ikki couldn't see the hummingbird moth though. What she did see was a butt. A butt with dangly legs hanging out of one of the open windows.

"Hello, Mr. Butt!" she chirped. There was a yelp and then a man tumbled out into the bush. When he stood he had sticks in his spiky brown hair. "Oh, hi Mako," she corrected.

"Shh!" Mako pressed his finger to his lips like a teacher. His face was all red and his shirt was unbuttoned. "I was only, um, looking for... yeah." Then he took off running across the grass.

"Bye Mako!" Ikki whispered, waving. He was funny. No wonder Korra liked him.

She turned and walked the other way around the residence. A lot of people had been staying on the island lately to help her dad with what to do after those scary Equalists and making a new council and stuff, so she wasn't surprised to see a flickering light on in one of the detached residences.

"I'd never leave you unsatisfied," said a low voice, followed by a wet sucking sound. "Until tomorrow then." The flickering light bounced a bit until it was outside, where it resolved into a tiny flame carried in the hand of a young man Ikki had known all her life.

"Hi, Iroh!" she called. "Can't sleep, too?"

Iroh jumped like someone had blown air up his pants. The flame in his hand winked out. When his eyes finally settled on her she saw him sag in apparent relief.

"What are you doing out of bed, munchkin?" he asked quietly, jogging over. "It's late."

"There was a moon and a hummingbird moth and Iroh, what are all those red smudges all over your mouth? Were you kissing? Oh it'd be so romantic! Who were you kissing, Iroh? Was it a princess? Are you gonna make her a princess? Where's your belt? Are---"

Iroh clapped a hand over her mouth and steered her back in the direction of the house. "I wasn't here," he whispered in her ear. "There's extra candy in it for you tomorrow if you can remember that."

"Mwhf frn nu---" Iroh released the hand over her mouth. "Okay, goodnight General Not Here, I like rock candy, the apple ones, and I hope it was good kissing and that you go home and have good dreams about your princess where you get married and I'm invited and you fly away on a dragon together into the sunset and have lots of babies."

Iroh rubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, blushing. "Go to bed."

Ikki waved at his back and started back to the front door. The idea of candy made her remember there were leftover sweet buns in the kitchen which no one could tell her she couldn't have if they were asleep.

Suddenly a dark shape detached itself from the shadows of one of the far buildings. Ikki stopped in her tracks. There were no more Equalists, her father said, and no bad guys coming to get them. Still, something about the way this person moved screamed "bad guy" all the same. He wasn't walking so much as slinking. A slinky bad guy slinking away from who knew what badness.

Ikki opened herself and sent a jet of air at the man's back. He stumbled with a grunt and wheeled on her and he was old! Old like her daddy was old, with wrinkles and bushy eyebrows and a stripe of white down the middle of his gray hair like a skunk bear.

"What are you doing, kid?" he growled.

"We don't want any Equalists," Ikki said firmly, hands on her hips.

The big man's posture relaxed. Then, of all things, he laughed.

"Me, neither, kid," he said. "I hate those buggers."

Ikki snorted. Buggers. Like bugs. "So why are you slinking?"

"Visiting an old friend," he said. He rubbed at the corner of his mouth and smiled. "We're getting reacquainted. I like doing that on your island. It's fun for me. Do you know what irony is?"

Ikki did. "It's what auntie Lin bends."

A grin cracked across the man's craggy face. "She sure does bend alright," he said. Then he shook his head with a sharp laugh and started off in the direction of the ferry. Ikki wondered if he was going to meet Mako and Iroh for something. Maybe they were having a tea party.

[totoochristianwolff]

HIII. I am going to watch Toto Wolff (team principal of Mercedes F1 team) | Armchair Expert with Dax Shepard and thought I'd do a little 'live' post of parts that stuck out to me (all personal so I might miss a lot of it) (this is also going to be LONGGG 😂)

The first thing that I already love is how comfortable the whole vibe is between Dax, Monica & Toto. Dax & Monica are the kind of ppl who can make anyone feel comfortable in their presence. I love how casual the talk between them is to start because it lets you know that; although this is going to be a 'deep dive' sort of podcast episode, there won't be any sort of uncomfortableness when it comes to those deeper topics/areas.

I LOVE DAX, because you can tell he did his research on Toto. He talks about how he only discovered the day of the filming that Toto isn't actually Austrian, his mother is Polish and his father was Romanian. He goes onto ask Toto whether his parents grew up in Austria, which leads to a really insightful dive into Toto's parents' lives and their own backstories.

I LOVE HOW MUCH DAX LOVES SUSIE (who he got to speak w on the phone quickly as she called Toto during the episode)

I always find it incredibly admirable when Toto shares the hardships of his childhood as well as the turmoil he felt when it came to his ill father for so many years of his young life.

He speaks about the guilty feeling he had after his father died for feeling that it was 'better for all of us, something he says he only managed to process in the last few years.

Dax makes a good point about how he was a kid at the time and Toto responds with: "yeah, so you can't, in a way, analyze the feelings in a way you could if you were an adult" and SO REAAAL.

Toto talks about his mother, who is now 79 and not well, and the forgiveness he gives her for 'not being a good mother' because "I know how difficult it was to be at home and to see the suffering" which I think speaks of the empathy he possesses within himself.

Jumping to the part I'm listening to right now and Toto is talking about how "Many people don't want to go to a psychiatrist because they fear losing their ability. Artists, writers, people that have a lot of creativity that don't want to go sort out their mental problems, don't want to go on medication because they believe it is the fuel of their creativity". imma be honest, I felt CALLED OUT w this part as someone who's always seen their mental instability as the thing that fuels their creativity 🙃

Toto telling Monica she's "very attractive" askdhsldj I LOVE THAT FOR HERRR!!! But also, what a fucking sweetheart Toto is 😭

They get onto the topic of how Toto got into motorsports and his 2009 record comes into conversation. I always die @ when he recalls how Niki Lauda talked to him about it and told him: "why do you do this? this is so stupid, so dangerous, nobody cares what you're doing on the Nürburgring" 😂 Toto then admits he was in a bit of a midlife crisis 😂

When speaking about the crash, he recalls unplugging his radio and getting out of the car but has no recollection after that.

The way Toto handles 'passion' and the expectation society puts on young ppl with his children is honestly wonderful. He's spoken often about it before but he reiterates how he finds it important to just let his children 'be', to let them follow their own paths and expectations. He finds it important to remind them, "Don't look at me. This is my 52nd chapter, this is your 23rd,".

Toto calling munchies "munchkins" 😂

Dax and Toto relating to both being 'string beans' as teenagers 😂

Dax asks Toto about whether he identifies with being handsome and "when people tell you that you're handsome, do you accept that's reality or do you still think 'ehhh you're confused?" Toto responds with, "I think you're confused". WHATTT?!?! SIR?!?! BE SERIOUS FOR A SECOND!!!

Toto talks about when he's at home with Susie and they're doing stupid posing in front of the mirror and how she tells him, "That's really turning me off. Don't do that" 😂

His son, Benedict ringing and the conversation Dax has with him as Toto shared earlier on that Benedict is studying at USC.

"I'm asleep when I'm asleep, I'm awake when I'm awake" BIG MOOD TOTO 😂

This was an absolutely BLESSED podcast episode w Toto. Not only did we get such a diverse mix of conversations but it was also nearly an hour & a half long!!! I really loved watching this episode bc it gave us such a beautiful insight into Toto's life, career and mind. I highly recommend giving it a watch whether you're a Toto fan or not bc there truly is so much wonderful stuff to learn from it ❤️

[mags6422]

It Happened One November - Part 14

Part 13 | 0 | Part 15

The next couple weeks go by for Steve like a blur. 

On days he doesn't have basketball, he picks up Dustin after school and they drive around their quadrant of the town, compass out and looking for anything suspicious. They never find anything so mostly they just talk, or more accurately, Dustin talks a mile a minute about school, or DnD, or whatever his latest curiosity voyage is and Steve just listens, offering some advice and sarcasm in equal measures where he can. The Snow Ball is coming up and Dustin is nervous, asking Steve all sorts of questions about what he should wear and how to style his hair.  Sometimes when they finish, Steve will round up the rest of the munchkins who have been forgiven by their parents (El and Mike are still on lock down, though for very different reasons) and take them to the arcade for a couple hours or to the diner for milkshakes. 

It's nice, spending time with the kids for all they insist on calling him mom (“then stop acting like a mom if you don't like it!” “Shut up and put your seatbelt on” “yes, mom”). There's a part of Steve that's just a little on edge until he can see them all and know that they are all safe. He's looking forward to El and Mike being free so he can regularly have all his kids in one place and finally relax a little. 

Once, while Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler are out running errands, Steve manages to smuggle all the rugrats out to Hopper's cabin for a playdate with El. The girl was ecstatic, bouncing from one friend to the next and even sat with Steve for a half hour explaining all the booby traps and warning systems Hopper had placed around the cabin so he could come back later.

“If you want.” She was adorably shy when she wasn't facing down demogorgons.

Steve reached out and ruffled her hair, back to loose curls now without the grease slicking it back. “Of course I want to, I'll come by again next week, maybe bring you some actual food instead of this TV dinner shit Hop has been feeding you.” 

“I'd like that.” And shit, her soft smile at the suggestion guaranteed Steve's attendance every Sunday thereafter for lunch where Steve brought a bunch of ingredients and taught her how to make something new every time. 

School was a mixed bag of good and bad. Nancy and Jonathan were officially dating now and listening to the whispers as he walked down the hall with them was never fun but at least they were able to stay friends. Thank god for that or Steve would be failing three classes without Nancy's help by now.  It still hurt, a little, to sit across from the two of them at lunch. Every time Nancy laughed at one of Jonathan's jokes or they stared a little too long into each other's eyes it ached, but not as much as he was expecting it to. Not as much as it would hurt if he didn't also find himself getting lost in someone else's eyes himself. 

Billy didn't always sit with them at lunch, hell he wasn't even there half the time. But the days he did, he always sat next to Steve, taking up way more space than he logically should with his knee pressed into Steve's thigh or his arm draped across the back of Steve's chair, bumping elbows as they ate and jostling him with his shoulder when he told a joke. 

It was intoxicating. 

The closest he could relate to how it felt to be around Billy was last year when he was pursuing Nancy. He's constantly aware of the other boy, finding reasons to be in his space, the way it was hard to look away when his eyes snagged on him at lunch, in the halls, at practice.  But it was also completely different to that because back then, Steve was very much the predator and now he sometimes felt more like the prey. 

It was especially noticeable at basketball practice. Coach always made sure the two of them were on opposite sides in scrimmages to make the teams even and Billy was always all over him. Not that he wasn't before, but now Steve was aware of him in a way he never had been before. In a way that had him leaning into the block instead of away. Surprisingly, it helped his game, made him want to get closer for his own blocks instead of trying to get away. Steve always knew when he made a good play, offence or defense, by the way Billy's eyes would darken, like he wanted to eat Steve alive.

They are electric together on the court against Brentwood. Steve has never been so aware of a teammate before, so in tune with their body and able to predict their next move, positioning himself to assist. The two of them dominate the court, beating the other team 102 to 67. 

They kiss for the second time that night, in the locker room after the rest of the boys have left. It's hot and sweaty and desperate, both boys still high on their victory and Steve has his head thrown back, Billy sucking and biting at his neck, fingers toying with his waistband before a distant door slamming has them both jumping back.

But it's their Saturday afternoon training that is the highlight of Steve's week. Every weekend, Steve collects Billy and sometimes Max and they get four hours of uninterrupted time together.  On the days they have Max, they usually pick up a few of the gremlins as well, usually Dustin and Lucas. Dustin and Max don't have any interest in basketball but Lucas will usually play with them for an hour or so while they teach him different shots and plays before going back to his friends.  Often they go for a run through the woods which they do make the kids join them on (“why do we have to do this again?!” “So you can outrun the next monster, dickhead!”). This usually devolves into games of tag through the trees. 

It's while they are playing tag on their own that they have their third kiss. Billy has gotten tired of Steve always one step ahead of him, nimbly jumping out of the way (“you gotta quit smoking if you wanna keep up!” “fuck off, mom!”) and just tackles him to the ground.  The two are laughing, leaves in their hair as they wrestle until Billy finally pins him, wrists held over his head and Steve laughing too hard to really struggle.  Billy's giggles taper off and he's looking at Steve like he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“You're beautiful,” he whispers and leans down to brush a soft kiss over his jaw, his cheek and then finally his lips. “Most beautiful thing in this whole goddamn town.”  Steve surges up into the kiss, tugging against the hold on his wrists, not really trying to escape, just enjoying the pressure. 

Kissing Billy is so different from kissing girls. Then, Steve was always the instigator, the one making all the moves, setting the pace. Now, it's a conversation, a give and take. Sometimes it's whispers in the dark, sometimes it's a shouting match, but it's always a push and pull that thrills Steve, makes his breath catch and his toes curl.  This kiss begins as small talk in the halls before it starts to gather momentum. Billy changes his hold so he can pin both wrists with one hand, the other moving to the back of his neck so he can pull Steve in, deepening the kiss. 

Steve moans into the other boy's mouth, shuffling his hips until he can slot one of his thighs between Billy's, giving them both something to grind into. The sound Billy makes at the first roll of Steve's hips sets his nerves on fire, urging him on as he flips them both.  Billy gasps into his mouth as Steve grinds down against his hips, Billy dropping a hand to his ass to spur him on. Steve balanced his weight on one elbow, sinking the other hand into the blonds curls, plundering his mouth and sucking on his tongue. 

Billy gasps out a laugh as Steve moves to nibbling on his ear, tonguing the sensitive skin just below and then moving down his throat, pausing every time a spot makes the other boy twitch. “Shit, pretty boy, for once the rumours are true.” The blond gasps again and slips a hand up the back of his shirt to splay across his back. 

“Rumours?” Steve doesn't pause in his exploration, pushing aside the cut out collar of Billy's work out tank as his other hand skates down the exposed sides, making the boy shiver in his hold. His hips never stop their slow grinding roll. 

“King Steve has the most talented tongue in the county.” Billy thrusts up hard to meet him on the next roll, making them both groan at the contact. 

Steve abandoned the hickey he had been working on, safe on his collar bone where his shirt would cover it, and grins down at him. “Oh baby, I'm just getting started,” he purrs and then dives right back in, twisting their tongues together, pulling out every little trick he had ever learned, making note of which ones got the best reactions. 

Billy was a livewire underneath him, all biting teeth, rough hands and taunt muscles. Their basketball shorts were doing very little to hide how much both boys were enjoying themselves and wasn't that a heady thing? To feel exactly how much he was affecting the other boy. 

A car horn echoing through the trees has them both tensing up, reminding them that they are out in the open, not even that far from the tree line. 

“Shit, get off.” Billy roughly shoves him off so he lands on his back in the leaves with a soft oof. When he looks over, Billy has an arm thrown over his eyes, taking deep breaths and fisting his other hand in the dirt. 

“Sorry,” he offered, not really sure what else to say, “was that not… good?” 

“We can't keep doing this.” 

Steve's heart drops down into his feet. “Oh,” and he hates how small his voice is. Hates the feeling in his gut right now. “I'll uh, I'll just take you home then, if you want?” 

“Why the fuck would I want that?” Billy still isn't looking at him. Shit. What did he do wrong? He had thought things were going well! Cleary he had thought wrong, even if he couldn't see where he had fucked it all up.

“Uh… because you're breaking up with me?” Steve thought that was pretty clear.

“What?!” Now Billy sits up real fast, whipping his head around to face him as Steve also sits up, hugging one of his knees close. It feels very weird to be having this talk with a boner but here we are. 

“You said ‘we can't keep doing this’, sounds like a break up speech to me.” 

Billy scrambles across the space between them and suddenly Billy is fisting his shirt in his hand, face twisted in rage. “Fuck you, Harrington! You can't break up with me! We haven't even gone on a date yet!”

“I'm not breaking up with you! You're breaking up with me!” What the hell is happening?

“Why the fuck would I break up with you?” He hissed in Steve's ear, and once again he felt the shift in the air from violence to lust (the two were never far apart with him) as Billy licked a wet stripe up the side of his throat, a shiver running down his spine. 

“You - you just said -” 

“I said ‘we can't keep doing this’ as in, sucking face out where other people can see us. Demogorgons aren't the only bad thing out there, pretty boy.” Billy shoves Steve down and away and he winces as he scrapes his forearm on a rock. “Fuck, do I have to spell this out for you?” 

What? “Apparently! Cause I don't know what you want!”

“Don't you watch the news man? You ever hear of a fag bash? We can't be doing this shit where people can see!” 

God this whole conversation has been an emotional rollercoaster. On the one hand, Steve's heart was elated because Billy wasn't trying to break things off, he was looking out for them. On the other hand, he needed to look out for them because they were not safe, and probably never would be if they wanted to keep doing this. “Do you… do you really think people would… do that?” 

The darkness in the other boy's eyes has nothing to do with lust as he meets Steve's worried gaze. “I know for a fact that there is at least one person in this town who would bash both our skulls in if they caught us so much as hold hands. And there are probably a lot of people who feel that way.” 

Something in the way the other boy was talking caught his attention, made him question, “has that… has that happened to you?”

Billy opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling in a nod. “It's why we moved here.” 

Jesus… “Can you tell me?” 

“Look, all you need to know is that if we keep doing this, it's a colossally bad idea. It's the kind of thing that gets people killed. If we do this, we'll have to lie to everyone, even people we don't think will hurt us. The more times a secret is said out loud, the more chances that someone will hear. That's just facts.” 

Steve lets it sit in his head for a while. Was this something that he really wanted? Was the way that Billy made him feel worth all the danger and secrecy that would come with being with him? It wasn't like he had much of a reputation to uphold anymore but he knew that things could get a lot worse. 

Dimly, he remembered what happened about five years ago when Rod Gibson got caught by his wife with some guy he had met up in the city. He had lost his job and no one else would hire him, he wasn't allowed back at church and his wife took everything in the divorce. Last he heard Rod Gibson had moved to Boston and his kids still didn't talk to him.  If they were found out, Steve knew he could expect the same treatment or worse. Hell, for all he knew worse had happened to Rod and his parents just didn't tell him about it. He had only been 12 at the time.

But… when he looked at Billy, he knew immediately what his answer would be. 

What the hell, he had wanted to get out of this town for years now anyway. Steve let his best panty dropping smirk spread across his lips and tossed in a cocky wink for good measure.

“What's one more life threatening secret between boyfriends, eh dear?” 

The quiet joy in Billy's answering smile was worth anything that happened hereafter. “Boyfriends?”

“Boyfriends.”

Read the whole series on AO3

Part 13 | 0 | Part 15

[a-bit-too-silly]

Would you maybe do a drabble about regressed Logan being fussy about having to take a bath, maybe with CG Wade?

of course! I decided to have a bit of an inconsistent narrator cus Wade talks right to the reader sometimes. Hope this is alright! :]

🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

If there's one thing Logan *isn't* known for, it's his cleanliness. He takes care of himself most of the time. He's half good at that don't get this twisted, dear reader. But.. well, he's not particularly neat. We'll put it that way.

When he's big he's always getting covered in sweat, grime, blood, ash, he's really the type to roll around in mud like a dog if he thinks it'll make him feel better. 'Feral' is a good word to describe him, even when he's not gone into one of his berserker rages. But when he's little, it's.. yeah, it's the same story. Maybe a bit less blood and no ash since I wouldn't- ehh... *nobody* would let that little guy smoke anything. Not even his beloved cigars. Thankfully he's found some other ways to satiate that oral fixation of his, even if it does mean the occasional bite on the arm every now and then.

Regardless of what he decides to sink those little chompers into, he still manages to get himself coated in just about everything he comes across.

Mud? Oh-ho, definitely. No use in putting him in his raincoat and boots since he'd prefer to stomp around in every puddle barefoot anyway.

Food? You know it. You could be feeding him as neatly as possible only to turn your back for a moment and find some mashed avocado in his eyebrow.

Dust from the floor? Yep. Paint? Sure. Crayons? Somehow, yeah. Blue fur from Kurt? Mhm. Don't get me started on the jam incident. That sweet honey badger found his way into the cabinets.. the evidence of that massacre still stains those poor porous countertops.

I'll hand it to him, he's talented.

Unfortunately... bath time is his worst enemy. Maybe it has something to do with the experimentation, that'd make the most sense. Maybe it's his tendency to sink. Maybe he just prefers to be a stinky little gremlin. It's not exactly my place to ask. He's often too little or too tired to stay standing long enough for a shower, and sponge baths aren't really an option.

With background info out of the way, let's get back to the problem at hand.

-

"Cmon peanut, I made sure to put in the bubbles you like! They're yellow!" Wade says with a small gesture towards the tub. "Al! Tell him they're yellow!"

"You really think I'd be more convincing than you?" She calls from the other room almost incredulously. - oh, right. *Blind* Al.. yeah.. maybe not the best at identifying colors. - Wade looks out the door of the bathroom in the general direction of where Al is seated, minding her business.

"See? Al likes how yellow they are." He says in spite of everything, "Do you want to get in the tub now, munchkin?"

"no. No bat-time." Logan, as little as he is right now, scowls. It doesn't have the intended effect, but Wade lets out a dramatic groan anyway. Toddlers.. can't be reasoned with.

"Unfortunately not how this works, kiddo." Wade says, crouching down next to the tub where Logan has firmly planted himself against the tile. He's no longer wearing his top, seeing as it was an unfortunate bystander to some sticky pancakes and cubed meats. All chopped up nice and small so Logan wouldn't choke but big enough that he could chew on em a decent bit.

"Don' need ta." The adamantium boned toddler huffs in response, "'m not dirty."

"no, but you are sticky, kiddo. And you were playing outside with Storm earlier so I bet you got a bit icky there too." This only makes Logan's scowl firmer. The once little pout growing in such a way that makes Wade's heart ache. If it weren't for the fact that Al would definitely nag him about Logan's sticky fingers, face, chest, shoulders... Logan's general *stickiness*, he doubts he'd ever manage to get the rascal to ever bathe.

"Papa get in first." He said firmly, pointing to the tub like he's the one calling the shots. Which he is. Wade is a weak weak man for his grumpy little guy. "'n no dunking."

'Dunking' in this case stands for dipping the little guy's head under water. Wade would never, but it gets mentioned at least once per bath time. Upon hearing the statement, Wade throws up his hand in a solemn oath.

"Scouts honor." Now, Wade has never been a boy scout, but he's also never been one for hurting kids so the promise still stands. With that, he slips out of his slippers and rolls his sweatpants up to his knees so he hopefully won't get too soaked, and he sits down on the edge of the tub. The water in the tub isn't too deep, only reaching up to around the middle of Wade's calf, with another few inches on top of thick yellowy foam from the bath bomb Logan relished in watching dissolve.

Still reluctant, Logan watches as Wade sits on the edge of the tub for a while. And Wade lets him. It's a slow process, always is, but after a few minutes of pouty glaring Logan tugs off the last of his clothes then clambers up into the tub with a bit of help from Wade. Just to ensure he doesn't slip. The water is still nicely warm despite the slow process, maintained by frequent touchups of hot water and lifting up the plug to let out the cold.

"Good job, peanut." Wade says softly as he grabs an old cup, bright red in color and decorated with a variety of stickers, and starts to ladle water over Logan's shoulders. He's learned the hard way that Logan has the 'if my head gets wet in a dry room I will shake until it's dry' reflex, so hair washing stays until the end.

Logan is quiet and stiff, letting out the occasional whine despite himself. Seems he's on the silent treatment side of the spectrum rather than the 'giving a cat a bath' side. It's almost worse, but Wade knows he'll perk back up once things are done.

So he starts to gently scrub the sticky syrup and dirt from Logan's hands, meeting his eye as best he can. His little one is sulking, lip still pouted out, eyes downcast and sad.

"Bath time is no fun, I know, my sour faced friend." Wade sighs, "anything that could make it better, bubbie?"

Logan stays quiet for a while, only moving when Wade needs to reach somewhere to clean. "No."

"mmm." Wade mumbles, taking the removable showerhead off of its holder so he can quickly rinse off Logan, getting his hair and rinsing off the soap. "Just a moment.."

"done?"

"Yep. All done, honeybun." He says as he stands up to grab a towel from the shelf, that earns him some grabby hands and a desperate search for 'uppies'. Which he gladly satisfies after bundling him up in a towel. Yeah, I can pick him up. Adamantium skeletoned 300+ pound toddler? No biggie. "Let's get you in some jammies and maybe you can convince Nana Al to let you put on a movie. That sound good, bubsicle?"

Logan nestles his head into the crook of Wade's neck and nods a little, his limbs clinging to Wade like a koala clings to a tree. He's really not used to being picked up, regardless of how much he asks for it.

"And then Papa pool is gonna make some chicken nuggets and fries and we're gonna forget all about that icky horrible bath." Wade continues as he carries Logan to the bedroom, patting his back occasionally.

"Dino shapes?" Logan asks quietly.

"Oh, definitely. That makes em more nutritious." Wade scoffs, pulling out a pair of comfortable flannel pants and a T-shirt that still manages to be baggy even on Logan's broad frame. The faded pattern still clearly reads 'Bambi' with the titular character looking up at a butterfly while sitting in a bed of flowers. It's a favorite of his, and maybe Wade has been messing with continuity to make sure it never wears out. Maybe. Come on, every one needs their recognizable outfits!

Logan dresses himself with only a touch of help with the socks. Then he does that silly toddler walk, the one where its more stomps than normal footfalls, off towards Al with Wade following close behind.

[bunnies-and-sunshine]

Bunny spay and neuter day!

Naomi:  OPEN THIS DOOR, little human!

Amos:  [munching] This is a really good papaya bite.

Mr. Giraffe:  I'm just here for the photo op.

Amos:  Um, I think there must be some mistake...the door's closed and I'm out of papaya bites.

Naomi:  I'm gonna wreck this carrier if you don't let me out!

Mr. Giraffe, Esq.:  As your legal counsel, Naomi, I'd strongly advise against committing any acts of vandalism.  Especially if it's being recorded by the property owner, like right now.

Just dropped the little munchkins off at the vet.  They'll keep me updated on how Amos and Naomi are doing and I'll let you all know as soon as I can.

EDIT: 2:53pm Just got a call from Amos and Naomi's vet that they're both out of surgery and are recovering well. Everything went well and I'll be able to pick them up at 5pm today! :)

EDIT-EDIT: 8:56pm Everybun is back in their own large cage to limit them jumping around and potentially injuring themselves. Amos was eating a bit on his own around 5:30pm when I was able to bring them home. Both accepted a papaya bite and cranberry once I got them settled (usually, that helps them realize they're hungry). Naomi just started eating some romaine, so that's a relief (the tech said she is stubborn and kept spitting out the critical care they tried to feed her)! Poor Amos is looking sad because he was cleaning and realized that he's missing something he had this morning.

[theglasscat]

you are the only person whose opinion I want to hear about Wicked movie when you've seen it. signed, someone who just got out of the movie theater (I also have a lore question but will spoil nothing if you're not seeing it/haven't seen it)

I literally saw this as I was watching the end credits in the theater omg

I went in 90% blind. How do you go in blind when you've read the books and seen/listened the musical? Ignore all press releases, ads, and especially the Down the Yellow Brick Pod patreon group chat. I knew the beats and my low bar was at Oz The Great and Powerful, which is one bar below NBC's Emerald City. All I asked was that it understood the musical/book point and it's relation to other Oz media and it DELIVERED SO WELL. Sometimes in Oz media I go "so is this in my headcanon of Oz time or its own bubble universe" AND THIS ONE WAS IN MY HEADCANON.

The sets were superb, the costumes were superb, the dancing was superb I swear to god I dreamt about the Dancing Through Life choreography on the eve of my Saturn Return. I am not a singing expert and have historically inadvertently loved bad musical singing but I LIKED IT TOO.

My only complaint was how CG the monkey transformation sequence was for all its practical set pieces otherwise (I also know Maguire's monkey lore diverges from the Baum books but all Maguire/Baum divergence I accept long ago). Can you imagine if Henson Creature Shop was brought in just for one brutal stop mo/computer enhanced animatronic moment to add some Return to Oz/39 flying monkey terror? It would have been superb.

Oscar Diggs' characterization, called by name, was 10/10 just Jeff Goldblum as a charlatan pretending to be Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka. The poppy sleeping bit, the hard-core lore map, the desert's edge where any other musical heroine would be singing on an ocean cliff. This movie KNEW ITS OZ. "But the Munchkins aren't wearing blue" well one that's to connect this to the 39 film and because THIS IS AN INTEGRATED OZ THEY ARE MIXING COLORS AND SIGNIFICANTLY THERE ARE ONLY 5 COLOR SCHEMES THE ENSEMBLE ARE WEARING and also THAT SPECIFIC ENSEMBLE IS A DYING VILLAGE AT A HUB OF TEXTILE IMPORT AND EXPORT WHICH CHECKS OFF MY NEED FOR TEXTILE WORK TO BE PRESENT IN A FANTASY WORLD IN THE WHOLE FIRST SCENE

so yes I adored it, for a whole slew of other reasons I also felt seen by it a movie and it is so rare a movie I am seeing sees me back. This was one for the undiagnosed neurodivergent girls who had an affinity with Elphaba in the 2010s, this one was for the girls who wrote this comic the morning before, unknowing that Elphaba would find strength in accepting her emotional inner child at the film's climax:

This is a movie that saw me in this moment I'm at so I'm sooo biased.

Also this felt like a movie movie. My dad said "Did it feel like seeing Wizard of Oz for the first time?" and to be honest, yes? Wizard of Oz for the first time and also the world I have played in and lived in for 18 years now in high def color? I also was by myself in the second row to the screen, chair leaned way back to see everything, and absolutely overstimulated by feeling like I could walk right into my favorite fantasy world. I paid $13 to see a 2.5 hour musical and tbh? I got my money's worth.

What is your lore question???? I'd love to answer!!! Yes Boq SHOULD BE ALIVE TO GREET DOROTHY ON HER FIRST NIGHT IN MUNCHKINLAND but Maguire reflects this in the book and the stage musical mushes Boq and Nick Chopper together, but as two witches get mushed together to make Glinda in the 39 film it's sorta in character. Oz is not for the hard-core facts and continuity, it's about archetypes with similar traits and feelings.

[zorosleftmantit101]

One Piece Characters as Discord Shenanagins

Characters: Variouse One Piece characters

A/N: Links to the discord at the bottom, come join and chat

C/W: NSFW, talk about racism and homaphobia, Swearing, death, violence, general shit post,

Tumblr quote of the day:

"Let me shove my fist up your ass and call it a day" - Honeybezz local server whore

Luffy: Just call me Lord Of Queefs

Law: No.

Sanji: *Gasps* "Oh my god munchkins I can't belive god would do this to our women" *clecnes fist till knucles turn white while shaking in anger* "I - I- J- just" *tears pouring down face* I'll make the pain go away *dry heaving* "casue I'm experinced in pain since everyone leaves me.." *has truma flashbacks* "I just wan't to let youknow that I understand the pain of childbirth since i'be been kicked in the nutz" *deep breath* "ok im gonna go to the gym now and yell racial slurs at gay people" *gallops off into the sunset*

Robin: You guys can't let me leave for two seconds

Luffy: Uhhh

Chopper: Mummy I drank all the bleach on the counter :(

luffy: nwo sowwy mummy 💕🥺🤞

Sabo: when I find you i'm WWE style slamming you into the ground

Ace: It's so prepy in here

Buggy: I'm force feeding you dildos till you stop breath..

Shanks: My prefered way to go, either this or radiation poising from eating mercury

Crocodile: Actually I'm gonna fill you with sand untill all your holes are closed

Buggy: Then can we put me in an oven so it to turns into glass, then I can be a human vase.

Buggy: OOO that rhymes just called me Kanye West

Crocodile: I despise you with every fibere, every atom, every MOLECULE of my being.

Buggy: *Giggles*

Crocodile: 'SHUTTAP"

Zoro: Only if Sanji was still here with us fligh high my little Akuma

Sanji: Bye bye little butterfly I say, slicing open Zoro's throat 🥺🥺

Zoro: I dont wipe my ass, I like to let it crust so I can peel it like dried paint

Nami: ZORO THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE A UTI

Kid: Thigh ass or boobs

Law: Liver

Kid: I'm gonna feed you to the sharks

Robin: That dick that makes you go crazy

Nami: The dick that smiles back

Robin: If I had a dick I'd peg yall

Nami: PEG ME ANYWAY

Join server

at any point if the link says expired check my most recent post to see if theirs a newer one or DM me

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

Hold the Line pt 6.

They set up the basement into a battle station. Eddie hasn't left her side. He's been murmering sentiments the entire time she's discussed her thoughts. Her headache is brewing and she can't even see the light anymore.

"Alright I think that's enough for today." Steve crosses the room and wraps an arm around her. "Time for a break."

"Oh yeah? What kind of break?"

Eddie gets a wicked grin on his face. "Arcade."

There's shouts of agreement until Lydia says "Bowling?" The room erupts in cheers.

"Good idea munchkin." He sends a sweet smile her way. "Well you heard our time traveler! To the vehicles!" The kids start whooping while running outside.

----

"He's really great isn't he?" Lydia watches as Eddie bowls a perfect strike but falls over his feet as he does it. He falls down but lifts his head to look at Steve and Lydia. He gives them a small wave smiling bashfully.

"Yeah he is." Steve says it with a dumb smile on his face. His voice sounds like pure sugar.

"Oh my god! You like him!" Lydia grabs his arms excitedly.

"No!" Steve tries to deny. "I just- think he's neat."

Lydia's face is deadpanned. "Sure pal."

"Oh god!" Steve drags his hands over his face. "You hate me don't you. I'm hitting on your dad. Oh that sounds so gross. I just- I mean- look at him!" He points at Eddie. Eddie currently has nacho cheese around his face and is making weird noises at Dustin.

"He's a loser." Lydia states.

"Yeah~" Steve has a stupid smile on his face.

"God this is amazing. I thought this would end worse."

"What?"

Lydia looks at him with an inquisitive stare. "Can I talk to you alone?"

"Um well-"

"Please?"

They walk over to the bathrooms, Lydia pulls him into a family stall and they sit on the horribly patterned tile.

"Oh man I have had one of these kind of talks in awhile." Steve stated. Stretching his arms above his head.

"Huh?"

"Well Rob and I-"

"My Aunt Robin?"

"Yeah- hey why do you call her Aunt? Is everyone an aunt or an uncle? What do you call me?"

Lydia starts to tear up a little.

"I call you dad."

Steve turns a bit pale. "What?" He asks. He sounds almost hopeful.

Lydia hides behind her knees, tucked in so tight she looks like a ball. "That's what I had to talk to you about...I'm your daughter."

His breath hitches.

"What."

"We're not getting anywhere with this let me explain. I'm your biological daughter." Her head snaps up, gaze sharp. "I was born out of love, that's what you'd tell me. You wanted a family so bad you made your own. You, me,...Eddie"

"Oh my god."

"...yeah...and Robin technically. It was insane that she carried me for 9 months and then her and Nancy raised me."

"WHAT!"

"Well they didn't get together until after..."

"After what?"

"After...you died."

"Oh. So it's me then."

"Yeah. I'd do anything for you you know?"

Steve grabs her arms, pulling her into him. She's snuffling into his shoulder.

"How old w-"

"I was five."

"You...grew up without me. I missed it all. I missed your wedding oh my god."

"Hey...so did I." She shrugs and Steve shoves her a little.

"Quit it."

"Well it's true! Plus I know it's not your fault. It's what had to be done. I...I know you loved me."

Steve can't stop the tears streaming from his face. "It'll be different now. I won't leave you. Ever again."

They stay bundled together for awhile until there's a knock on the door. Eddie peeks his head in.

"You guys ok? The kids are ready to leave."

"Yeah, yeah." Lydia pushes herself up and walks past Eddie. "Let's go."

Eddie peers at Steve on the floor a confused wrinkle between his eyebrows. "You ok Harrington?"

Steve looks like he's glowing. "Yeah." His smile is so bright. When Eddie turns to leave he shouts at him. "So, me and you huh?"

Eddie freezes and pivots around again to face him. He matches his look with a glowing smile of his own. "Yeah...me and you sweetheart."

-----

AN: the streak continues!

Please interact with his post! :)

We're getting to the good stuff but I'm so tired I wrote a little more fluff into a short chapter.

Tag: @tinyplanet95 @bookworm0690 @jaytriesstrangerthings

[abracadav-r]

so recently i've been workshopping what felyn's classes would likely be in 5e, modern, post-spellplague. while attempts were made to teach her arcane magic by zee, i don't think they stuck. i also don't think she's investing much in her rogue levels anymore.

while i don't really know what an "acceptable" level range would be for a 500 year old drow who's been pretty active. something like divine disciple would've worked in 3.5 but there's not really a version of that now. it's kinda wild to me that jax is considered at CR15 (21 Skirmisher in 4e) and quenthel at CR22. admittedly, this does mean that it would take roughly 60 player levels for jax to be an even challenge for them, and 88 for her. it's a lot, but feels a bit esoteric in ways compared to the older editions of the game. like it makes it inversely sort of hard to assign class levels to npcs.

all of that said, i think that felyn, in terms of 5th edition rules, would be invested into rogue far enough to unlock the scout archetype, cleric in the trickery domain with the highest investment (though she may have recently switched to war). i'd probably consider the homebrew for bringing the travel domain to 5e, since that was her chosen domain in 3e since it vibed best with her spell spheres in 2e.

initially, in 2e, darkmasks were unarmored and unable to multiclass and need to know the blindfighting and alertness feats. there wasn't much difficulty in meeting the stat or other requirements, assuming you were playing a cleric to their god's portfolio. then in 3e, it didn't require feats anymore, but ranks in the skills hide, move silently, pick pocket, and wilderness lore. it instead required daylight adaptation and stealthy. i figure the 5 levels she sank into that in 3rd edition are what became the rogue levels she has now

what i think is new and i'm still deliberating on is her turning toward what is called a crusader in 2e. i think as of her god's "death" it's something she turned toward when faced with the instability of magic as a force in her life. in 2e they were a cleric of a war god (which vhae is) that didn't get turn undead (which she doesn't). plus the spells like "lighten load" and "easy march" suit her role. but there's no close analog to that in 5th edition, really.

so, as a player character i think she'd roughly be something like war cleric 16/scout 4/blackguard (treachery paladin) 7 (blindfighting). feats like alert. not too munchkin, but a fairly acceptable build that adds some useful features to cleric for flavor and remains true to her character through the years. she can do everything she's supposed to do following the will of her god over the years as a darkmask with this combination, with her own additional spice added with the "cull the herd", "treacherous strike" and "poison strike" as an homage to the 2e darkmask poisoned dagger. she's not really the sort of blackguard it describes, but she WOULD delight in doing things like using her aura to foment backstabbing against lolthite enemies.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded - A Non-Canon April Fools Story

Picture, if you will, the formidable members of Blue-Team, Spartans who've faced down the worst the galaxy has to offer, now brought to a standstill by...well, let's call it an unexpected anomaly.

Enter stage left: a pint-sized Master Chief, replete with those iconic green armor plates shrunken down to toddler size, and—because the universe apparently has a sense of humor—a pair of fuzzy cat ears affixed to his helmet. If you're thinking this sounds like something out of a fever dream, congratulations, you're not alone.

Kelly-087, whose reflexes are so sharp she could probably dodge lightning, can't seem to move. She's caught in the tractor beam of cuteness emanating from mini-Chief. Linda-058, who can hit a bullseye without breaking a sweat, has her sniper rifle pointed at the ground, her usual laser focus redirected to the miniature spectacle before her.

Then, from the depths of the comically oversized helmet, comes a voice. It's like Master Chief's if you ran it through a "cute" filter and then decided, for good measure, to throw grammar and syntax out the window. "Me hungy. Tummy go brrrr," declares mini-Chief, patting his armored belly with the seriousness of a soldier, yet sounding more like he's auditioning for a role in a children's TV show.

Kelly's stoic facade crumbles like a cookie in the grasp of our mini hero. "Is he... did he just say he's hungry?" she asks, disbelief wrestling with amusement in her voice.Linda, eyes softening, chuckles. "Yeah, I think we've got a hungry mini on our hands. Never thought I'd see the day," she admits, finding joy in the sheer absurdity of the moment.

This is where Fred-104, the epitome of leadership and the guy who probably reads manuals for fun, steps in. Even he can't ignore the bizarre cuteness of their miniature comrade. "Team, we've got a mission," he declares with a gravitas that feels slightly ridiculous given the context. "Operation: Feed Munchkin Chief is a go."

As Fred reaches down, those tiny Spartan hands—looking more suited for playing with action figures than being one—latch onto his finger. "Fwed, foodies, pwease?" mini-Chief implores, gazing up with eyes that could probably convince a grunt to lay down its arms.

Kelly snorts, the sound a mix of disbelief and delight. "Foodies? Seriously, are we really doing this?" Yet, the smile tugging at her lips betrays her tough exterior.

Linda, already scrolling through her mental catalog of snacks suitable for their pint-sized leader, nods with enthusiasm usually reserved for planning sniper nests. "Oh, we're doing it. Let's rustle up a feast worthy of a...well, a very small supersoldier," she suggests, her sniper's poise giving way to mischief.

And so, the members of Blue-Team, these paragons of strength and strategy, find themselves embroiled in a new kind of mission. It's one that involves less sneaking and shooting and more...snack preparation.

@jellotherelol, @makowrites, @empresskadia, @pelgraine, @caffeineyum.