#maybe i can finish it for lance's birthday though

[russellsppttemplates]

We'll figure out as we go (Lance Stroll)

A little peek into Lance's birthday celebrations

Note: english is not my first language. This is incredibly self indulgent, but the writer's block is still here and I have not been able to distract myself too much even though I have way too much free time (maybe another rant for another day), which means ruminating is a big part of my days. Also, let's pretend that the race calendar is a little different.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: f1 2023 season for AM, mentions wanting to start a family in the future, fertility issues, the tiniest suggestive smut

"Happy birthday, my love", you greeted Lance, your voice croaky from having just woken up. The bed was warm since you both planned to stay in for as long as you could before facing the outside world.

"Thank you, sweetheart", he mumbled back against your lips before kissing them, allowing himself to freely feel your skin against his palms as they travelled around your torso, "I love you".

Because of your schedules during the week, with you going to work pretty early and Lance's workout sessions also at the beggining of the day, these moments only really happened on the weekends he spent at home and whenever you travelled with him to watch him race from the paddock and not your usual spot on the sofa. So you decided to take it all in, even if you both had set an earlier alarm than usual and probably had the first room service request of the day.

"Part of me wants to go and race, but I'm also very, very tempted to stay here with you and celebrate", your boyfriend nudged, kissing your neck area before kissing all the way up to your lips, dissolving your smirk, "I don't think the team would be happy if you did that, and the fans, too, they're here to watch you, too", you reasoned, cupping his face and rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs.

"It seems keeping them happy has not been my strongest suit lately", he admitted, looking down slightly, "you're not responsible for anyone's happiness other than your own, Lance. Sure, you can help others feel happy, but it's not your responsibility", you smiled as he looked back up and into your eyes, "besides, it's your birthday, and after the race, we can go home and soak up eachother for a few days", you said, looking at the clock on the bedside table, "also, we have breakfast arriving any minute now", you kissed his cheek before you got up, heading to the bathroom to freshen up quickly.

When breakfast arrived at the door, you thanked the lovely employee and they set the plates and trays on the table, "we don't have a cake, but I'll make that one you really like when we're back home", you said, sitting in your boyfriend's lap as you enjoyed the plate of pancakes.

The race didn't go as planned, and with a double DNF, the whole team was feeling a little bit down, so after all of Lance's duties were taken care of, you went back to the hotel, packing the last few things into the suitcases and driving to the airport.

"I know you've had a way harder day than I've had, but I can't wait until I feel our bed", you cuddled closer to Lance once you were allowed to push the armrest between you upwards, "soon enough, you will", he kissed your forehead.

"I still can't believe I have you all to myself this week", he added, "I still have some things from work, they're just fine if I do them from home", you recalled, "but I couldn't agree more. I'm going to cling onto you like a limpet".

.

"Are you sure that we don't need anything else?", you asked again, "I have finished work for the day, I have time to bake something else", you added. "I know you like to cook, and that you wouldn't mind making dinner, but it's easier this way", Lance said, "you don't need to fuss around, and I get to have you for the rest of the day", he kissed your forehead, "right here with me".

The plan for the day was simple: after you finished your work assignments, you and Lance would spend the rest of the day basking in eachother's company and later Chloe and Scotty would join you for dinner provided by a caterer your boyfriend had arranged.

"How about we go on a walk? You said you wanted to do the trail the other day", you suggested, earning a nod as you both walked upstairs to grab what you needed. The previous rainy days called for stronger walking gear as the trail would be muddy, paired with a thick jumper and a puffy coat to protect you from the cold, "are you ready, darling?", Lance wondered seeing you walk to the door as you put your hood up, "didn't know I was going on a walk with the Michelin man", he teased you, kissing your cheek as he grabbed the keys from the bowl, opening the door for you.

Taking a walk had become one of your favourite outdoor activities with Lance since it was one of the fewer ones that didn't involve head protective gear or going at faster speeds than you liked, so you had grown acquainted to the trails and paths near where you lived, always wanting to explore them a little more and see what they had to offer. It quickly became your couple thing to do when you wanted a slow day, so whenever the weather allowed, you and Lance took that time to move your bodies as well as catching up, specially after double and triple headers.

"I really miss this quiet and calm whenever we're on the road", Lance began, "I love racing and travelling around the world to do it, but it's too loud sometimes". It was not a new confession or something you had never heard, and particularly with the season he and the team were having, you knew how much everything had gotten to him and how much he needed his safe place. For him, his safe place was somewhere he could be that was a little quieter, with friends and family and no other eyes prying around, and being with you, as he soon found out after you started dating. You had quickly become his safe person and he couldn't be more grateful.

"I get what you mean", you said, squeezing his hand that was laced in yours, "I spent last weekend with you and I've felt my social battery run low a couple of times", you admitted, "I love to watch you race, so I get what you mean", you stopped as he helped you across a big puddle, afraid you'd lose balance and fall, "but I'm glad you're also taking care of yourself. I'm very proud of you, Lance, in every way possible", you noted, seeing his blush and taking advantage of the fact that he was pulling you in slightly to fully face him and kiss his lips.

When you arrived back home, you and Lance went upstairs for a quick shower together, your boyfriend helping you wash your body after you grabbed a claw clip to secure as you did with him, the warm water and soft touches only stopping because soon the catering people would arrive to deliver the food.

When they knocked on the door, they quickly set the containers on the counter like you asked them too, explaining which ones contained what and a few instructions if you needed to heat them up and how to store them if there were leftovers. Thanking them one last time, Lance walked them to the door, coming back to the living room and helping you set the table.

"Your sister just texted me saying that Scotty is driving them here, they just left", you smiled, hugging Lance from the back first before he then turned to look at you, kissing your forehead, "thank you, for this and everything else, and before you go all 'I didn't even do anything' on me", he tutted, "I'm saying it because it is true, I would've gone mad if I didn't have you, so thank you for always being there for me. Here's to many more birthdays with you by my side", he kissed you, being interrupted by the door.

"Now, where's my girl Y/N?", you heard Chloe say, hearing her heels click against the wooden floor, "hey, gorgeous girl", you greeted her with a hug, "how have you been?", you asked, "same old, and you?".

"I've been good, busy with work and travelling with this one, but it's good busy", you smiled, tapping your boyfriend's back lightly before nudging him so you could hug Scotty, "has the older Stroll sibling been bugging you too much?", you wondered, "please, Y/N, I got the easier sibling, I should be the one asking you that", the snowboarder said, getting a giggle out of everyone before you headed to the dining room.

While you ate dinner, you took the opportunity to catch up with eacother, laughing and sharing recent and older memories as you enjoyed the food. By the time dessert was on the table, Chloe and Scotty gave Lance their present for him, "There's another bag, which is not a present for you", Chloe pointed out, grabbing the black paperbag from the sofa, "I like to think this is a collective... enjoyment for the night", she smiled, taking out a big brown book that, by the pages you could peek while it was still closed, looked like an old photo album.

"Mom found it when she was arranging space for the wedding photo album and she said that they messed up when they printed this one, so she had two copies. She gave me this so I could show you, too.", your sister in law smiled, opening it to reveal a picture of young Lance and Chloe hugging eachother.

"Oh, look! It's baby Lance!", you cooed, tracing your finger on a picture of Lance when he was probably no older than twelve months, laying down on what looked like a sun lounger. You could see Claire-Anne sitting by the end of it, attempting to get him to look at the camera even though he still looked at her, "That's one cute baby".

"He was a troublemaker though", Chloe chipped in, "not loads of times, I must admit, but he knew which buttons to push whenever he wanted to cause a tantrum", she defended, hugging her younger brother, "Oh, look! There's that one of when my tooth fell!".

Lance helped you move the plates and trays back to the kitchen so Scotty would have time to run back to the car and get the cake, allowing you to sing Happy Birthday to him and enjoy another slice of sweet and fluffy cake over a cup of wine.

"Lance probably wants another type of birthday celebrations", Scotty smirked, "and training ended me today, too, so maybe we could get going", he said, earning a nod from his wife, "me too, I'm exhausted", she got up, "thanks for dinner, guys", they said as you walked them to the door, not before swatting Scotty's arm, "you thought I didn't notice the comment?".

After leaving the downstairs area was somewhat tidy, you and Lance went upstairs to get redy for bed, "You know, the pictures just made me think about having a family of our own, little babies that look like you", you smiled, sitting next to him on the bed and nestling yourself on his chest, "I know it's not right now, but it got me thinking", you drew small random shapes on his skin.

"Me too, although I must admit I've seen your baby pictures and I'd be lying if I said that I don't imagine out kids with you chubby cheeks", he said, softly kissing the top of your head, "when the time comes, we will figure it out, okay?", he asked, already knowing where your mind was taking you. The diagnosis was a turning point, that was for sure, not only because you could finally put a pin on what was happening and that your discomfort was indeed caused by something, but because it came with uncertainties. For all you knew, it could either be something that would interfere only a little or it could put a serious dent in your fertility and how you and Lance would proceed to start your own family when the time came.

"We'll figure it out as we go, like we always do", you smiled, pushing him down on his back as you began kissing his jaw, "now, can I love on my handsome and wonderful boyfriend?".

[silentwillowwhisperer]

Loverboyyy!!

It’s Lance’s birthday!! You deserve the best of the best Sharpshooter! And how are we gonna celebrate? Klance fluff, of course! (I hope I finish this before midnight.)

(Just saying, Lance will always be the taller one to me. I might have said this before but it’s important.) ———————————————-

Lance lays in the darkness of his room, staring up at the ceiling.

The day had been full of Hunk hugs, gifts, and a whole lot of laughter. They’ve all been having a rough month with Galra attacks increasing frequency. Thankfully, there were no missions to interrupt their celebration.

But underneath the joy and comfort he’d been hiding the aching in his chest. Sure, he loves everyone on the ship as much as he loves his own family, but more than anything, he misses Keith. Keith is off on a blade mission somewhere across the universe. Lance almost feels guilty about his bitter feelings, knowing that Keith wanted to be there more than anything, but it’s hard when all he sees every time he closes his eyes are Keith’s own shining indigo irises and soft smile.

And also maybe his mullet too.

He’s cycling through these thoughts when there’s a muted knock at his door. It’s so quiet that Lance chalks it up to his imagination before it sounds again.

“Come in” he calls out, and a figure silhouetted by the hallway light steps in. Lance can see their wild hair and forearm-length dagger at their side.

“Keith? But you were on your mission!” Lance grins and hops up to hug his friend.

“I did, but I told Kolivan that I had something more important to attend. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

Lance just latches on tighter as his smile grows wider. He’s missed this, just the two of them existing together. After they got over their initial ‘rivalry,’ they had clicked.

Keith pulls away to grab something from his pocket. It’s a small box, only half as big as his hand. Lance grabs at it excitedly and tears away Keith’s failed attempt at wrapping paper. He slides the lid open to find a device almost like a phone. It’s not as big, though, and is slightly curved.

“It’s meant to go on the inside of your helmet.” Keith says, pointing to where Lance’s armor is hung up on the wall. “That way you can have direct communications to me. I know Kolivan always takes forever to transfer your messages to me.”

And what more could Lance want, really? Well, except for Keith staying in the castle instead if going back to the blade. That would be the greatest birthday gift, but he’ll take what he can get.

He immediately slips the device into his helmet for safekeeping, and then pulls out Pidge’s computer from under his pillow. (No, he did not steal it, he just borrowed it. Without asking.)

Keith settles into the spot next to him, curling into his side like an overgrown cat. As soon as Lance finds what he’s looking for, he hits plag and then wraps his arm around Keith.

They have a long night of movie marathons and snacks ahead of them, and Lance feels complete for the first time that day.

It can’t be so bad having Keith with the blade as long as they still have nights like this.

———————————-

Haha, I did it! Once again, happy birthday Lance!

[autisticlancemcclain]

Eighteen (Crazy) Ch. 7

The first thing they do when they get back to the Castle is plop their asses down to the kitchen and fucking devour some food goo. (Seriously, it’s borderline animalistic – they haven’t eaten in several hours, and it has been such a busy day – even the nasty food goo suddenly became the most delicious thing in the universe.)

After everyone has had a couple bowls, conversation starts to pick up, now that no one’s main focus is sustenance above all else. 

“Are there any more locations on the list?” Pidge asks. 

“One more!” Lance answers. “We’re gonna need to wormhole, I think. But it’s the last location, and so long as the galaxy is pretty quiet and calm we should be able to station there for a bit. I’m sure we’ll want to do some training tomorrow.”

Allura nods, grabbing her dishes and heading over to the sink. “Sounds like a plan. Is everyone ready to take off?” 

Various murmurs of agreement and one fully loaded dishwasher later, everyone sits safely buckled up in their stations on the bridge. Allura takes no time in wormholing (Keith has always wished the process would take a little longer, though. Not because he wants it to be more taxing on the Alteans, or anything, obviously, but the whole thing is just so cool and Keith would love to watch it for a little longer. Oh, well. Maybe he’ll get more information if he remembers to ask Coran, later – he always makes a mental note of it and forgets immediately), dropping them off in front of a new planet very quickly. 

“This is another really specific set of coordinates,” Lance explains. “We’ll need to take Blue again to get all the way there.”

On the walk back to Blue, Keith jogs ahead to catch up to Lance. Lance grins over at him immediately, setting off a flurry of butterflies in Keith’s stomach. (He hopes he never gets used to how Lance’s smile makes him feel.)

“You excited?” Keith asks, because there’s nothing he wants to talk about with Lance specifically, but he likes being near him. He itches to link their hands together, but he’s not yet sure that’s allowed. 

“Yeah! I’ve been having fun all day, but it got better when all of you guys joined in.” Lance does what Keith was too anxious to do – he reaches over, grabbing Keith’s left hand in his right, interlocking their fingers. He does it smoothly, in one motion. Practiced.

His hands are sweaty, though. And his ears are red.

Keith smiles.

“I’m glad,” Keith says softly, and they don’t say anything more. 

Lance squeezes their hands together once before letting go as he settles into the pilot’s chair in Blue’s cockpit, and the laser focus Keith had on their joined hands fades a little, and he can hear the rest of the team behind him for the first time since he left their bridge. They’re giggling, because of course they are. Keith rolls his eyes, but he can’t deny that their obvious support loosens some of the nervousness tangled in his chest. 

The giggles taper out as they arrive at the final location, right in front of the mouth of the most massive caves Keith has ever seen. No one says anything for a few moments, just kind of taking it in – it’s several times the size of the Castle, at least, and it’s so dark that Blue’s powerful headlights don’t even make a dent. 

“Well, it’s a good thing our helmets have those light thingies,” Lance says, and he’s off before anyone can stop him. Keith doesn’t hesitate to scramble after him, much to Shiro’s exasperation. 

Lance waits for them at the mouth of the cave, tapping his foot impatiently. “It’s like you guys don’t even want to come,” he complains. 

A foam dart hits him in the nose before he even has the chance to finish his sentence. 

“Stop complaining about dumb things,” Pidge orders, holding a dinky little plastic gun at Lance. Lance looks so comically offended that Keith can’t help it and snorts heavily. 

“You just – shot! Me! On my birthday! Where did you even get – a fucking nerf gun! A goddamned real fucking dookie nerf gun! Why!” 

Keith wheezes, doubling over. He’s not the only one. 

“Oh, fuck you guys.” Keith doesn’t need to look up to know Lance is scowling. 

“Your – your face –” Pidge gasps. 

“I’m uninviting you to my birthday party. Y’all can go home. I’ll explore this cool cave by myself. Goodbye.”

Lance stomps off into the deep emptiness of the cave, thin frame quickly swallowed up by the darkness. 

“Aw, Lance, c’mon,” someone coos, but there’s no answer. 

“Lance?” Allura calls, a bit of an edge to her voice. 

Still no answer. 

“Lance?” Shiro yells, louder, and transparently anxious. 

Silence. 

Keith is the next to call out, jogging quickly into the cave. “Lance!”

He’s the first of the rest of the team to enter the cave, not that it matters – once he’s about three metres in, there’s a bend in the massive corridor, and he can’t see a damn thing. 

“Lance! Can you hear me? La –”

“Boo!”

Keith shrieks at the top of his lungs, desperately batting away the thing gripping his arms. He scrambled away a couple feet, hands flailing, heart pounding, before he registers the absolutely howling laughter ringing through the cavern. His face drops. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

“You – you screamed –”

He can’t see him, but Keith is certain the asshole Blue Paladin is just as hunched over as he was earlier. 

“Double fuck you,” he scowls, quickly messaging the rest of the team to inform them that Lance is fine, and simply a dick-for-brains. 

“Do – do you think –” Lance catches Keith eyes and starts wheezing all over again. This time, Keith really has to fight back his smile. “Do you think you could walk back out so I can scare you again?”

“I think you and I better get going before Shiro’s space Xanax wears off and he wraps your dumb ass in bubble wrap.”

“You’re right,” Lance whispers, teasing and conspiratory. His brown eyes shine darker than they’ve ever looked, in the dim light of their helmet lights. He grabs Keith’s hand again, fingers curling around Keith’s, and all of the pining and the nerves and the oh-my-God-does-he-like-me-back and realises – hey. This is Lance. Lance who is his friend, Lance who is funny and dramatic and playful and ridiculous.

Lance who is yanking him forward, yelling “Run!” at the top of his lungs, just as the rest of the team comes stumbling in somewhere behind them. 

Keith runs. How could he not? 

He and Lance sprint down the dark hallways of the cave, laughing and leaning into each other, barely missing running straight into walls every time there’s a bend. They lose the rest of the team easily, both of them easily ignoring the messages popping up every two seconds on their comms (it’s just Pidge texting ‘losers’ again and again). After what must be ten minutes of straight sprinting, Keith has to call it. 

“Hey, hey – hey. Longlegs. Cool it a minute, will you? I feel like my lungs are trying claw out of my chest.”

“Fine,” Lance sighs dramatically, flopping onto Keith. “I guess if you can’t keep up…”

Keith rolls his eyes. He is so not taking the bait for that one. He and Lance are pretty evenly matched in most places, and Keith can kick his ass in others, but Lance has got them all beat in the speed department. 

“How about those coordinates, huh?” he says instead. “You said they were specific?”

“Yes!” Lance says brightly. “I wonder what Future Me has kickin’ in a cave. I mean, caves are cool, but I wouldn’t usually seek them out, y’know? Well, I did when I was a kid, but time is spooky in caves and I was in there for nineteen hours once without realising so my family reported me missing –”

Lance swings their hands between them as they walk, chattering from story to story, fast as a whip. Keith soaks in every word, asking all the right questions at the right times. 

God, Keith loves him so much. 

“Hey, I think it’s starting to get a little brighter in here,” Keith comments. 

Lance hums. “Kinda like Blue’s cave. Remember that?”

“Yep. I specifically remember you driving me insane.”

“I’m very good at that. You’re easy to rile up.”

“Butthead.”

“Goober.”

“Boogerbrain.”

“Gooseface – woah.”

The slow brightening of the cave corridors suddenly makes sense – Lance’s coordinates have led them to a wide open space, sunlight somehow pouring in from everywhere, waterfall gently cascading down into a beautifully blue lake. 

Lance gasps loudly, taking in the scene with a dropped jaw, and then he whoops, quickly pulling up Allura’s contact on the comm. 

“Everyone! Get in here! There’s a waterfall!”

Before anyone on the team even has half a second to respond, he’s hanging up and laughing maniacally as he drags Keith to the lake. Keith pulls his hand free, stopping him.

“Last one in is on dish duty for a week,” he says, and before Lance can process he sprints off. 

“Hey! Not fair!”

But Lance is laughing again, too surprised to run properly, jumping in the lake right after Keith, armour and all. 

“You’re crazy,” he tells Keith. He grabs Keith’s face gently, looking into his eyes, pretending at seriousness. “It’s a condition. You will never be cured. Thoughts?”

“One,” Keith says. He carefully plucks off his helmet, then Lance’s, tossing them onto the dry ground. Then he mirrors Lance's position, hands on his cheek, pulling him close. He leans close, tilting his head slightly, hearing the faintest uptick of Lance’s breath as their lips get closer and closer –

Lance’s hand clamps over his mouth. 

“Wait,” he whispers. 

“Why,” Keith whispers back. Lance’s face is rosy, and he keeps smiling and glancing away. It’s so cute that Keith considers imploding. 

“It’s my birthday.”

“I’m aware, yes.”

“I take birthdays very seriously.”

“Yep. Fondly remembering the twelve layer cake you stressed baked for Hunk. You should get stressed more often when party planning.”

“Shut up. I’m making a point.”

Keith leans forward and tips their foreheads together, grinning openly now. “Then make it, Bluebell.”

“I’m just saying,” Lance huffs, “that if you kiss me, it will be very special.”

“That’s the idea.”

“And if you kiss me on my birthday, one of those things will be overshadowed. Both of those things are groundbreaking. They need their own days, you understand.”

“Alright,” Keith whispers. And because he can’t help himself, not when they’re so close, he presses a lingering kiss to Lance’s cheek. It makes him giggle. “I’ll kiss you tomorrow, then. Okay?”

“Okay. It’s a date.”

“Good.”

“Woah, Lance, you weren’t kidding!” 

At the sound of the rest of the team’s arrival – finally – Keith and Lance hold eye contact for the barest second, coming to a final agreement, and then immediately start their attack, trying their best to drown each other. The rest of the team joins in immediately, yelling and laughing and choking when someone forgets their strength and drowning nearly occurs. At one point, they decide to play chicken, Lance, Pidge, and Keith sitting on Hunk, Allura, and Shiro’s shoulder and trying to shove each other off, Coran refereeing. 

“Future Me nails it again,” Lance says, when they’re all drying off on the lake-bed. 

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. He reaches over and grabs Lance’s hand, squeezing three times in quick succession. “You did. 

[kayssweetdreams]

The Perfect Finale Ch5

Meanwhile, Back at the Bruno Mansion...

Kaylo walked down the steps of her home, each stair creaking with age as she slowly descended from her room. She would never admit it, but she was also scared about Prim's escape. She couldn't help but wonder who in their right mind would be that insane to help Prim of all people? And more importantly, why?

Her thoughts however were interrupted when she reached the bottom of the stairs, and saw most of the older members of her family staring at her. "Um...Mom? What's going on?" Kaylo asked, feeling a little scared at the situation. "Why don't you take a seat dear?" Krista said, waving her hand to a much larger chair that sat across from them. Still a little worried, Kaylo took her seat.

"Now Kaylo dear...you know that your birthday is coming up in a few days right?" Thea asked, a gentle smile on her face. Kaylo gave an uneasy nod "Um...Yes?" She said. "You do know that our family has a...interesting history connecting with Wonderworld right?" Thea asked again "Yeah...I do. Great Great Great, a few more greats Grandma Mirabella visited Wonderworld, and wrote a book detailing a lot of stuff from Wonderworld." Kaylo replied.

"Well. You should also know that on your Birthday, the next generation of our Family, which is you, is gonna inheret more of Mirabella's knowledge, which means that you are gonna know more about Wonderworld than what you originally saw from the first visit." Thea said. This piqued Kaylo's interest. More about Wonderworld? What's more to know? "However, you must know that this is the family secret. No one else can know about this. Not even your other friends." Thea said.

Kaylo was shocked. The others couldn't know about it? What could the secret possibly be?

Meanwhile, Back at the Montgomery Household...

"Before I ended up finding the theater that day, I had been a little suspicious about Prim's escape, I was off to see the maestros, but I stopped when I saw someone who sounded like they were talking to Madame Prim...when she was masquerading as Ka Lā." Aria said.

"But after the conversation was over and he noticed me and started following me." She said. The kids tensed up as Aria was explaining what happened. "I won't forget that his eyes...they had Wonderworld symbols in them, but I needed to lose him, so I went to the Balan Theater, but after I had gotten there and had lost him, I could hear him outside...he could actually SEE the theater. Even though it didn't seem like he needed it!" She said.

The kids gasped in horror "So this "person"... that you had never seen before, had ended up chasing you down to the theater that he could somehow see, WITHOUT needing to repair his heart?" Trisha Jane asked. "Yes. I was lucky that Balan and Lance intervined, but I'm still scared as to how he was able to see the theater. Only those that NEED the theater can see it." Aria said, worry in her eyes.

"Maybe they have been to Wonderworld before?" Rebecca suggested. "Or maybe they got kicked out of Wonderworld for not finishing the trials?" Leo added. "I don't know. But I do know one thing, he's not good news..." Aria said. "Well, let's just hope that we don't run into him while Prim is free." Mei said. "Yeah...and speaking of her. Be careful. Whoever her little 'friend' is, They might have it out for you now as well." Aria said.

"We will. See you around Aria." Emma said as the kids left the house. "See you kids around." Aria said, peeking out the door to see if anyone suspicious was around...just to be sure. The kids made sure to also be sure that Prim or whoever her accomplice was weren't around. They quickly made their way back to their homes just before the sun set...

But not without the same red smoke gain black eyes and glare at the group...

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Aria belongs to @shadowqueen402

[aimlessarchery]

from @viridescent-lance​

"Python! Happy birthday!" Forsyth bursts into Python's room without knocking. A common occurrence, though he's tried his best to temper it lest he intrude on something he'd like to unsee. Thankfully, Python is fully clothed and actually doing something productive, sharpening the whittling knife Forsyth had gifted him for his last birthday. It makes his heart swell a little. "I hope it's been a good one thus far. I apologize for being so late..."

Forsyth's been swamped with post-mission work, be it aftermath or catch-up. He's not one to shirk his work, but if he'd finished it a little more swiftly than normal, no one will be the wiser.

"I've come to deliver you your present, and perhaps to spend some time together?" The bottle of wine is very obvious in its shape even wrapped, but at least the archer's gloves aren't immediately guessable. Forsyth does feel a little forward, but this is something he wishes to do and he will allot himself this, especially on his partner's birthday!

"Looks like you've been popular today!" Gifts are strewn about the room, a dagger, several sets of arrows...and a beautiful, luxurious bouquet. Huh. Flowers? They're tucked away unceremoniously in the back of his room, but it's a fresh bouquet. Forsyth stifles a laugh at the thought of someone gifting Python flowers, of all things.

(Well, Forsyth did get him flowers, once, didn't he? These are exceedingly expensive, though, he can tell. And yet Python's thrown them in the back to be accidentally crushed later...)

"May I ask how you happened upon those flowers?" Forsyth picks them up carefully, making certain not to crush the blooms. They really are beautiful, and their colors seem almost perfectly aligned with Forsyth's armor, of all things.

To be quite honest, Python’s not used to his birthday being such an event. The majority of the gifts he’s received have been awkwardly deposited at his desk until he can determine where to store them. In the meantime, there’s a gift from last year to tend to. The knife that Forsyth had given him—he’d used it to carve through a bear, or at least he’d thought he had. Only the goddess knows what the hell he had actually been cutting into behind the veneer of Celephais’s illusions.

Whatever it was, it had still done a number on the blade. He scrapes it across a whetstone in an smooth, even rhythm—interrupted by the sharp staccato of his door being unceremoniously thrown open. "Crivens, Fors. You ever gonna learn how to knock?" He twists toward Forsyth in his chair with a sigh, knife still in hand. A glance is spared back toward the bouquet in question. "The flowers were from Caeda. She..." His eyes move back to Forsyth, and then to the shape of the gifts in his arms. One of them is difficult to discern, but the other is quite obvious. "...Awkward story, actually. I think I'd rather tell it over a glass of something, maybe." His eyebrows raise expectantly.

[shadowqueen402]

Kaylo's Special Birthday: Chapter 5

(Meanwhile in Timeville)

Trisha Jane, Mei, Rebecca, Marina, Debbie, Aria, Lora, and the twelve Inhabitants all gasped in awe. They had just received their invitations to Kaylo's surprise party. "I almost forgot!" Haoyu said. "Her birthday is coming up!"

"This is so exciting!" Cass said. "We have to start getting ready for her birthday!"

"I spoke with Mrs. Bruno after I got my invitation in the mail," Bruce said. "So far, she, Stefan, Balan, Lance, Emma, and Leo are setting up the chairs and all. We definitely need to head down to the theatre and see what we can do."

"Oh, let's not forget that we all have to buy Kaylo presents," Marina said. "Does anyone remember what she wanted for her birthday?"

"I recall that Kaylo wanted some new summer dresses," Aria said. "She sent me pictures of which kind she would love to have." She pulled out her phone and showed everyone the two dresses; one was white with light pink sakura flower designs. The other one was light pink with cherries.

"Ooh, those are so cute!" Trisha Jane said. "I plan on getting her Mary Jane shoes that will go with those dresses."

"Kaylo once saw my dolphin necklace," Fiona said. "She thought it was so cute. I want to give her one!"

"There's a lot that we have to do," Rebecca said. "Let's first meet up with our friends in the Balan Theatre."

Everyone nodded and followed Rebecca.

(Meanwhile, somewhere in Timeville)

A young man who appeared to be in his early twenties glanced at the invitation that was in his hand. This man was names Jett. That was what he was simply called.

The moment he saw the invitation, he felt…something. Similar to how a person receiving something good for the very first time would feel.

He closed his eyes for the very first time. A cool smile slowly crept on his lips. "I shall happily attend this party," He said to himself. "I'll need to find out what I can do to make the party amazing."

Sticking the invitation into his pocket, Jett made his way to the one place he needed to go; The Balan Theatre. He hoped that he wouldn't arrive too late.

At the same time, Jett wondered what he should get Kaylo for her birthday. The possibilities were indeed endless.

(Meanwhile with Kaylo and Kimi)

The two sisters sat at the table, drinking milkshakes together. Though, Kaylo seemed to be thinking about something. Kimi took notice of this and decided to see what was wrong. "Big sis, are you alright?" Kimi asked.

"It's Mom and Dad," Kaylo said. "Something's up with them. Earlier, I asked if I could tag along when they told me they were visiting Balan and Lance, but they insisted that I take you somewhere. It's strange because they're usually fine with me tagging along."

"Maybe Balan and Lance had something really important to say?" Kimi asked. "Like…grownup talk, if that's what it's called…"

"Maybe…" Kaylo sighed before turning to Kimi. "Have you seen anything that might explain what's going on?"

Kimi shook her head. "Not that I know of. I've been busy with doing my hobbies. If something was actually bothering them, you'd be the first person that I would tell. But I can assure you that Mom and Dad are okay. If it makes you feel better, I can talk to them when they come home."

"Thanks, little sis." Kaylo smiled. "Let's finish up these milkshakes so we can go home."

Kimi nodded and the two finished their milkshakes. However, Kaylo did not notice the knowing smile on Kimi's face…

Kaylo, Kimi, Thea, and Stefan belong to @kayssweetdreams

Jett belongs to @jettthespeeddemon

Mei and Marina belong to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs @thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

Lora Jade belongs to @alex-frostwalker

Debbie belongs to @mayordebbie

Aria belongs to me.

[nitakoart]

Some sketches I did for practicing perspective and ended up looking okay. Kind of. If you ignore certain parts. *squints*

Twitter / Instagram

[vldkeith]

keithtober🔪🎃💢 week three: birthday🎉 or gay

keith decides that the best way to spend his birthday is driving around town and getting free food from restaurants. lance is perplexed, but supportive.

ko-fi | read on ao3

--

The moment Keith wakes up, he reaches over to his bedside table, turns off his alarm, and grabs the piece of paper he’d written up last night.

It’s do or die. Today is the only day he can accomplish this. The list of restaurants stares back at him, promising hours of commuting and awkward conversation.

Keith turns over and nudges Lance awake—not unkindly. Lance stirs a little bit, murmuring under his breath, and then opens his eyes blearily.

“What...Why are you awake? It’s early, it’s your—” Lance starts, cuts himself off, and then sits up in a sudden burst of wakefulness and energy. He’d gone to bed without his shirt on last night, and Keith allows himself a single moment of distraction, drinking in the always-pleasing sight of Lance’s smooth brown skin and chest. “It’s your birthday!” Lance finishes in a high-pitched, slightly panicked tone.

He turns to Keith, then, a broad smile stretching across his face, the sleepiness from before vanishing.

“Happy birthday, Keith!” he says, pulling Keith close for an unexpectedly strong hug, given he’s just woken up. Keith laughs, amused that Lance had worked himself up into excitement without him even having to do or say anything. It’s endearing, and sweet.

“Thanks,” Keith says, voice muffled from where his cheek is pressed into Lance’s shoulder. Lance squeezes him once more, and then lets go, giving him a sly smile.

Keith’s breath catches as Lance lays a hand low on his hip, tightening ever so slightly. “Want one of your gifts now? Since you woke us up so early…”

Lance starts sliding his hand down Keith’s body, and Keith swallows, momentarily torn. He shakes himself off, though; he’s got no time for this! He has a mission, and god damn him if he isn’t going to complete it this time.

Gently clasping his hands around Lance’s wandering one, Keith removes it from his person and shakes his head forlornly.

“I’d love to,” he begins emphatically, leaning forward to quickly kiss Lance’s cheek as he registers his confused expression, “but I got things to do today. And I’m hoping you’ll help me with them?”

Lance blinks and arches an eyebrow. “What kind of things?” he asks suspiciously.

In response, Keith brandishes his list of restaurants, grinning. “I made this list a few months ago. It’s every restaurant within a 20-mile radius of us that offers free food on peoples’ birthdays.”

Realization dawns on Lance’s face. “Wait,” he begins, disbelief etching itself into his tone, “you’re not seriously planning to—”

“Go to every one of these restaurants today and get my free shit?” Keith grins and folds the list up, slipping it into his pajama pocket. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m planning.”

There’s a light thump as Lance’s head lands back onto his pillow. “Oh my god,” he says with feeling. “You’re insane. Who wants to spend their birthday running around to a bunch of chain restaurants?”

“That feeling is exactly what they’re banking on!” Keith fully orients himself toward Lance, sitting cross-legged on the bed, eyes bright with conviction and determination. “These places reason that you’ll probably only go to one restaurant on your birthday, not all of them. So they don’t consider it an industry risk to offer this kind of thing in the first place.”

“I don’t think it really hurts any of these places to give you one free meal one day a year,” Lance points out skeptically. Keith huffs.

“Maybe not individually. But I’m still kind of getting one over on the restaurant chain industry as a whole, you know? These meals’ll last me days after today.”

Lance sighs and mutters, “If they don’t go bad first...”

Ignoring Lance’s silly concerns, Keith swings his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. “Well, I’m getting dressed,” he declares, standing up. His words are met with a loud, resounding groan from Lance. “I want you to come with me, but it’s your choice. Like, I’ll be mad if you don’t come, but it’s your choice.”

Keith suspects that the only reason Lance doesn’t throw a pillow at him as he makes his way to their shared closet is because it’s his birthday, if Lance’s murderous glare is anything to go by.

Within the next hour, however, Lance and Keith are climbing into Keith’s small, blazing red car. Keith’s always been convincing like that. Lance is still yawning sleepily in the passenger seat, though, and to be fair to him, it’s barely 9AM and Lance rarely gets up before 10 on his days off.

“Our first stop,” Keith declares, backing out of the parking lot, “is Starbucks. Think that’ll help you stop being so sleepy?”

Immediately, Lance lights up, and Keith can just hear him running through which Frappuccino he’s going to get in his head. He raises his eyebrows at Keith playfully first, though. “Really? You’re willing to go to Starbucks? Isn’t that a bit corporate for you?”

“I’m not actually giving them money,” Keith points out, and maybe because it’s a good argument or maybe because it’s Keith’s birthday, Lance doesn’t bother to respond. He merely rolls his eyes and takes out his phone, scrolling through the Starbucks app (one that Keith had recently downloaded, so yes, it actually exists somehow) and talking out loud about the pros and cons of Pumpkin Spice versus Caramel Frappuccino.

If Keith is being honest, he has no idea what to get at Starbucks. It’s not somewhere he goes regularly, mostly based on principle, but also just because their closest Starbucks is never on Keith’s way to anything. He could ask Lance, but their tastes in coffee are rather...different. Meaning, Lance does not have taste in coffee and instead has taste in vanilla syrup and milk with a little coffee added, while Keith actually does have taste in coffee because he drinks real coffee. Simple.

They pull up to the carbon-copy Starbucks building with its boxy stature and brown bricks and make their way inside, rubbing their hands together against the chill of the air. When they approach the counter, the barista smiles at them.

“Hi, what can I get started for you?” he says, and Keith takes a moment to appreciate the artful fall of his curly black hair across his forehead. He looks extremely fashionable.

Keith swallows. Is he about to look like a fucking idiot?

Thankfully, Lance steps in to order first. “Can I get a Pumpkin Spice Frappuccino, please?” he says, meeting the barista’s sleepy smile with a flashier one of his own. The barista gives him a weird look, huffs out a laugh, and then nods, inputting the item.

“Sure can. Anything for you?” He turns to Keith.

“Actually, uh...” Keith fumbles with his phone and opens up the Starbucks app, navigating to the “Rewards” section like he’s practiced. He turns the screen to the barista, who peers at it. “It’s my birthday? I get a free drink, I think.”

“Oh!” The barista nods quickly. “Happy birthday. In that case, let me finish up his transaction, then we can do yours.”

“Thanks.”

Lance gives Keith an encouraging smile before handing over his money, and Keith takes these last few seconds to anxiously stare at the menu, trying to decide what to order.

Finally, once Lance has gotten out of the way and Keith steps forward, he thinks he knows what to get.

“Can I get a Caramel Macchiato with...less sugar?”

The barista gives Keith a funny look. “Less sugar?”

Fuck. Keith falters, “Um, yeah...Do you not put sugar in your drinks?”

“We do, but—” The barista cuts himself off with a laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t come here often, do you?”

“How’d you guess?” Keith responds flatly, making the barista smile more. He clears his throat.

“I think I know what to get you. What size? Small, medium, large?”

“Large.”

The transaction goes smoothly after that, and Keith won’t deny the rush of satisfaction he gets when he doesn’t even have to take out his card or cash. Their drinks get to them in what seems to Keith to be record time, and he watches with only a slightly sick stomach as Lance excitedly sucks on his cold, milkshake-like drink.

“That’s not even coffee anymore,” he says, only a little judgmental. Lance snorts.

“It’s worse than you think. This is the cream version. There literally isn’t coffee in here at all.” Keith’s mouth falls open, and Lance cackles, swinging an arm around Keith and giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“You’re disgusting,” Keith mutters, scrubbing at his face.

He takes a sip of his coffee, and is pleasantly surprised—it’s not overly sweet at all! In fact, it’s actually pretty good. He tells Lance this, and Lance arches an eyebrow, unconvinced, and takes Keith’s cup to try it himself.

His face screws up in something akin to pain immediately after, and he lurches away from the cup as if it’s hurt him.

“What the fuck,” he says, turning the cup around with hateful eyes. “What did they—oh my god.” Lance shoves the cup in Keith’s face and points at the label. Keith only gets as far as his name before Lance is exclaiming, “There’s literally no vanilla in this, Keith.”

Keith has no idea what that means, but Lance’s horrified face tells him plainly that it’s not good or normal. He shrugs—if it tastes good, does it really matter?

The rest of the day goes much like that first trip to Starbucks. They hit up several different restaurants even before noon—Red Robin, Applebees, Chili’s, Chipotle, Noodles & Company, Qdoba, Steak N’ Shake, and Waffle House, to name a few. It’s a road trip of American staples, and as Keith looks through the mirror at his backseat, nearly overflowing with food already, he’s stricken with nerves and hesitantly asks Lance if he’s making a mistake.

“Oh,” Lance replies, waving a hand vaguely around and talking through a mouthful of (free) fries, “probably.”

Their next stop is Baskin Robins, wherein Lance somehow isn’t sugared-out enough from the Frappuccino to abstain from getting himself a birthday cake ice cream along with Keith’s—Keith decides to eat his that moment as well, so it won’t melt. The treat gives them both silly blue lips, and they both giggle and kiss in the car until the color is gone. Krispy Kreme, Longhorn Steakhouse (“Not as good as Texas Roadhouse,” Keith sniffs upon entry), and Jack in the Box are next, filling Keith’s car up even more. The smell of food begins to permeate the air to the point that Keith feels nauseous the second he sits back down at the wheel. Even Lance, who doesn’t let food-related illness bother him too much, looks a little green by the end of it.

Keith looks helplessly down at his crumpled list. They’re just barely over halfway through. He feels ill. His car is overflowing with food—free food, yes, but in the end just...food. Keith wonders if his appetite will ever return. The longer he spends doing this, the more he’s convinced it won’t.

“Hey, Keith...” Lance ventures as they’re driving to the next destination, Denny’s. “I know you wanted to do this, but...”

Keith groans. He knew this was coming. “It feels like losing to give up now, though...” he all but whines, sadly flipping on his turn signal. They’re only five minutes from Denny’s right now.

He hears rather than sees Lance shuffle in his seat. “What if I told you that I...have something we need to get to soon? So we should go home and get ready?”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “What is it?”

Lance sighs. “Oh, you know...” he begins, his voice doing that high-pitched thing it always does when he’s trying to avoid saying something, “just a, uh...reservation?”

Keith’s answering silence is brought by confusion, whereas Lance’s is coated with dread. It goes on long enough that Lance huffs out an “oh my god” and continues,

“Like…at a restaurant?”

Keith actually sits back further in his seat, though he manages to keep his eyes steadfastly on the road. “You...made us dinner reservations?” he asks calmly.

Lance nods. “At Sugiyama.”

Sugiyama. The best Japanese restaurant in town, the one he’d only been able to go to once before because Shiro had brought him and was willing to pay. It’s expensive, and delicious, and perfect for his birthday.

Damn Lance.

“Why the fuck would you let me do this if you had reservations for us at Sugiyama?”

“Well!” Lance’s hands fly out in front of him, and Keith can see him waving them around from the corner of his eye. “I just! You seemed really determined! I didn’t want to ruin that. Plus, it’s still free food!”

“Jesus Christ.” If Keith could, he’d slam his head into the steering wheel. As it is, though, he just turns into the nearest parking lot—a random church, go figure—puts the car in park, and finally turns to face Lance. “You are so annoying,” he says, and then pulls Lance in for a deep, indulgent kiss. “Thank you.”

When he’s released, Lance looks a little out of it, and he blinks several times before coming back to himself. Once he does, Keith sees his cheeks and ears begin to hue scarlet.

He rubs at the back of his neck. “No problem. I was just saying because, you know, the reservation’s for five, and it’s three thirty now, so we should probably try to go home and get ready—”

Keith exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. We should. You’re still gonna help me put all this food away, right?”

“Of course!” Lance seems to be bouncing back, judging by the crinkles near his eyes and the smile on his (slightly red, oops) lips. “I still think this was worth it. You have so much free food now!”

“It’s worth it for my, like, mental satisfaction,” Keith replies airily, putting the car into reverse. “Don’t know if any of this food is actually good though.”

“We’re avoiding the only place I was really worried about. I don’t trust Denny’s,” Lance says, wrinkling his nose. “Reminds me of food goo too much.”

“As if.”

At least if Keith’s going to go through the ordeal of experiencing numerous fast food American cuisines today—even free ones—he’ll be able to end it off with something actually good.

☆ ☆ ☆

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEITH!!

[makkoskafanfic]

Happy Birthday Hashirama

Birthday drabble of 750 words, totally SFW, set in some vague AU where Madara didn’t leave the village and these two idiots do politics together, although they would rather be doing each other.

(I’m suddenly seeing a whole lot of Hashirama content on my dash as it’s already the 23rd October in Japan, and I’m not to be left behind!)

“I just wish they weren’t so hostile,” Hashirama said for the fifth time. Madara rolled his eyes. A massive boulder of earth and rock hit their shelter, but the Mokuton stood firm. 

 “Look,” he said in a reasonable voice, “I’ll just go and kill them. We can be at the Onsen by evening then.”

 “No,” Hashirama shook his head after the briefest of hesitation. “We are here to negotiate.”

 “Just imagine all that soothing, hot water waiting for us. The food. The sake. Our room where we could properly celebrate your birthday.” In the dim light that managed to seep into their wooden cocoon, he could clearly see Hashirama battling with temptation, before he shook his head again.

 “No.”

 Madara cursed and let his head drop back against the planks. The whole Mokuton construction was shaking as the Earth element users of Iwa tried to upturn it with a landslide jutsu. Hashirama concentrated a bit on digging in the roots further and making sure they stayed safe. It started to rain outside, beating harshly on the roof. It was a cold, miserable day, and Madara just wanted to finish and go somewhere warm. Like the hot water springs they planned to celebrate Hashirama’s birthday at.

 “It’s quite obvious they are not interested in what we want to say, Hashirama. We have been here for three days, and we planned one single afternoon. If these bastards want a fight, let's give them a fight.”

 “That’s not how the shinobi villages are supposed to work. We came here to make sure we have a treaty between Konoha and…”

“We’ll be here for weeks at this rate! All Iwa wants is our heads.”

 “I’m sorry,” Hashirama said and took his hand. “I thought we will finish here fast, then finally have some time just for the two of us. But I really don’t want to aggravate the animosity between our villages even further. There must be a way to get out of here and not leave a battlefield full of corpses behind. We are supposed to be over that.”

 Almost in spite of himself, Madara squeezed his hand. Hashirama was an idealist, and Madara, though he denied this with all his might, loved him for it. While it was his fault for not letting Madara just finish the treacherous bastards off when they first attacked them, Madara understood his reasons. Understood, even if I didn't really agree with them. There were just occasions in life when the situation called for a good, old fashioned bloodshed. 

 “I have an idea,” he said. “I’ll go and beat them up, but won’t kill them, how does that sound? Then you can come in, play the hero, and pretend to stop my finishing move, huh? Three in one - they get the punishment they deserve for their nerve of attacking us, nobody dies, and you will get the upper hand in getting a treaty beneficial for Konoha signed, having just saved their pitiful life and all that.”

 “Well, I don’t know…”

 A sharp, long stone lance erupted through the wooden walls of the shelter, sending splinters everywhere. It seemed Iwa found a weak spot. Hashirama stared for a long while at the intruding object, just mere inches from his face, while Madara felt the muscle under his left eye starting to twitch in annoyance, anger and impatience. 

 “Alright, let’s do this,” Hashirama said, turning back to him.

 “Thank the Gods, finally,” Madara stood up and cracked his joints. “Give me… ten minutes, maybe, before you come to intervene.” 

 “Do you really need ten minutes?”

“I deserve to have some fun with them.”

 “But no killing.”

“No killing, I promise.” He leaned down and kissed Hashirama. “This is your birthday present. Peace with bloody Iwagakure.”

 “Thank you,” Hashirama smiled up at him. “That’s the best present I can imagine… right after the night we will spend in the Onsen, of course.”

 Madara still had a fond smile on when he stepped out from the protection of the Mokuton shelter. He stretched, rearranged his expression into something more appropriate for battle and summoned his Susanoo. 

 The terrified screams from their opponents were music to his ears as he dashed towards them. As promised, he kept back from killing them, as Hashirama would have sulked about it for days and he really wanted them to have a good time at the hot springs and celebrate his Hokage’s birthday properly. 

 Ah, the sacrifices you made for love.

[dimitrescus-bitch]

Second (Laurel Lance x Reader)

You had always felt like you were second to somebody else your entire life. With your parents, your older brother had always been the favorite. With your siblings, it’d been the other one. Your big brother was closer with your younger sister and vice versa. Then you got older and you made a friend in Sara Lance. For once, you’d felt like maybe you weren’t somebody’s second choice. And then, Sara got pretty and popular. Oliver Queen started to give her attention and you faded into the background. And then, all of the sudden, both Oliver and Sara were gone. 

It was the first time in a long time that you truly had nobody. You were grieving and you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset about the right things. Sara had, in a way, cheated on you by going onto that boat with Oliver. She hadn’t promised to only be yours, but she had made you feel special and let you make her feel loved. And with that suppressed anger and grief over your relationship, you befriended Laurel. 

The two of you were there for each other. You fell for her and you fell hard. In your defense, you were young and she didn’t treat you like a second option. You were brought in, treated like you actually mattered. Laurel made sure that you were included, that you weren’t alone. And you could feel something between the two of you, which was when Tommy swooped in and stole Laurel’s heart. 

Then, Oliver came back and the heart-shattering grief you’d felt turned to red hot anger. Laurel pulled you away before you could do anything. Laurel protected you and even though she found herself a boyfriend, she still made sure you were fine. Tommy and Oliver started spending more time together and Laurel kept you a little closer. You were with her, the night Tommy died and the nights after when the world was too much for her to handle on her own. 

“Good morning,” Laurel said as she set a cup of coffee in front of you. She was dressed for work, but she didn’t seem in a hurry to go in. “I was thinking I could take you out for breakfast since I’m an awful cook?” 

“I can make us pancakes Laurel,” you offered and she shook her head. “Why not?” 

“Because it is your birthday silly.” The fact that Laurel had said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world struck a chord with you. Your birthday had never really been that big of a deal, even as a child. Sure, Laurel always made sure to do something with you, but now things were a bit different. You were living together, you were close friends, and sometimes the way that you’d look at each other, felt a lot more than friendly. “And you should relax today.” 

“You didn’t take your birthday off,” you pointed out. “So, I think I can make us pancakes.” 

“I wanna treat you today, please?” Laurel pouted and you couldn’t tell her no. “Today, you are my top priority, as long as you don’t mind coming into work with me briefly so I can sign off on something.” 

“Gimme a second to shower?” you asked and Laurel nodded. You set your coffee down and ran to take a shower. You quickly got ready, finished your cup of coffee, and then let Laurel drive you to her office. You waited in the car for less than three minutes before she came back, panting. “Did you run?” 

“I didn’t want to leave you waiting,” Laurel said with a smile that melted your heart a bit. It was weird, how much she cared about you sometimes. Well, she cared all the time, but there were times when you noticed a bit more. Laurel picked out a nice place for the two of you to eat breakfast. After, she took you to pick up a couple of things before you stopped at the movies and to see Felicity. 

Felicity and you hadn’t really had a lot in common and you didn’t like her when you met, but eventually you got to know each other. Oliver moved on with Felicity and Laurel and you started to grow a bit closer, so things worked out. Felicity had actually reached out to you one night when you were playing a game online, starting a weekly tradition of the two of you playing games together a couple nights. 

“You’re spoiling me,” you told Laurel as she drove you around a bit. “Why?” 

“Because of the things you don’t remember,” Laurel said and you raised an eyebrow at her. “One night, when I was broken up about Tommy and your sister was on TV with her new show, you drank yourself practically to death and told me that you’d never find someone like me because I didn’t treat you like a second place prize.” 

“You don’t, not even when other people should take your priority. You’ve always had time for me,” you said softly. 

“You’re worth my time. I thought Oliver was my soulmate once, then I thought it was Tommy. After all that, I thought I’d die alone with a bottle of wine and some cats. Now, I think that maybe there’s somebody who is perfect for me and all it took was realizing what I’m worth.” The look that Laurel was giving you made your heart flutter. “I’ll admit that my mind didn’t immediately go to you as being the love of my life, but there’s no way that you could ever come second to anybody else in the world for me. You, Y/n, are my number one and I love you.” 

[seeing-the-light]

TTS Gen Week Day 3: Protection

Note: Yes, I know this was yesterday’s prompt, I just ended up being too tired to finish it yesterday but I really liked where it was going, so here we are! Thanks @purplespacefairy for organizing this!

Something More Important Read on AO3

Edmund was upset, because today was supposed to have been special.

And it’d started off well enough. Ever since he’d informed the royal family in Corona that his son’s real birthday was approaching, they’d been nothing but willing to help him create the proper celebration. He could tell that their friend’s betrayal had been hard on Eugene and Rapunzel, but though it still cast shadows over everything, he could tell they were beginning to heal. That’d heartened him, particularly since he knew how far they’d come since it first happened. 

That moment when his son had stepped into the room, with shock that turned to confusion… for a moment, he could imagine what it might’ve been like to something like this for him every year, growing up, if they’d been together. He felt something warm bloom in his chest as Eugene looked to him for confirmation, even then – for a moment, they felt like a child’s eyes. He made his way in and looked around with a child’s excitement and wonder – and though Edmund was happy to see it, he couldn’t help being stabbed with guilt. Maybe he could’ve tried harder, maybe he could’ve sent his son something every year just so he knew he was remembered, even if that could’ve been dangerous and attracted unwanted attention. If only he’d-

A cold gust of wind had run through the room, then, startling him out of his thoughts. He didn’t have to look to recognize the aura of the moonstone. “Swell party,” She’d smirked. “I’m guessing my invitation got lost in the mail.” It’s not my kingdom, He’d had to remind himself, adamantly, as she entered the room, dragging Adira’s blade across the floor. Cassandra didn’t deserve to be holding that blade. He was a guest here, this wasn’t his castle, which meant he had to defer to the royal family’s judgement, even if a part of him wanted to strike her down the moment she entered for having the audacity to use this moment, this moment that was supposed to be special and his first chance he had to celebrate a birthday with his son, to engage in her sick drama. The anger only rumbled deeper, and stronger, when she patronized the princess, and called his son an ex-convict and a loser.

He noticed his son only corrected the ex-convict part, and that hurt Edmund in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

After she left, the whole atmosphere had changed. No one wanted to celebrate anymore, with her threat looming over them. And before he had the chance to say much of anything, Eugene and his friends had already whisked out of the room, likely to decide what their next move was. 

He couldn’t help feeling a twinge of regret. He wanted to be a part of his son’s life, especially on a day like this, but the last thing he wanted was to accidentally do something that’d push him further away. He didn’t think he could bear making any more mistakes, not when this was such a delicate situation and his son had finally started talking to him enough that he’d had to be careful not to mention this surprise birthday to him beforehand. 

So he waited. In fact, the next he heard from any of them, it was when the dispirited couple was walking through the castle’s hallways, on the way towards their bedrooms. “What happened, son?”

Eugene glanced over at Rapunzel, before looking back at his dad. “She took him.” He sounded defeated.

“Took who?” Edmund said, brow furrowing, concern entering his eyes. He didn’t have to ask who she was.

Eugene sighed, running a hand over his hair, but it was Rapunzel who answered. “Varian. He was translating the scroll, and we thought…“ Her voice trailed off, lapsing into silence.

Quirin’s son. “Then we must go after them at once!”

“We?” Eugene said, at the same time as Rapunzel said “See?” She crossed her arms. “He agrees with me.”

“You can’t be serious, son.” Edmund said, looking at both of them. “You said it yourself, earlier- with the scroll, and the moonstone, she could-“

Eugene looked at Rapunzel again, more out of concern than anything else – but she didn’t seem to be overly affected by the remark.  Then, he gave another sigh, “Listen, Dad… can we talk about this?” The implication was clear. Alone.

Edmund was silent for a moment, unsure whether he’d pressed too far, but then he nodded. (And maybe it wasn’t important, given the current circumstances, but he couldn’t help thinking of a time when Eugene could hardly stand being in the same room as him.) “Of course.”

As he waited, Eugene squeezed Rapunzel’s hand and leaned forward to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Sunshine. I’ll be by, later.”

Despite everything, Rapunzel smiled back. For a moment, the ring she hadn’t gotten to pull out weighed heavily in her bag.  “Happy Birthday, Eugene.”

With that, she moved down the hall to go up to her own bedroom. Eugene’s gaze lingered on her until she disappeared from view, before turning back to his dad.

“I’m sorry if I’m-“

“No, it’s fine.” Eugene said, putting his hands in his pockets, before turning to walk towards his room. “This is important.”

“I agree.” Edmund swallowed, before walking to keep pace with him. “All I’m saying is that you already know exactly how powerful it is, if she has the ability to harness its full potential-“

“But we don’t even know where she is.” He cut in, half because he just didn’t want his dad to start detailing everything CassAHNdra could possibly do, right now. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it. “It’s dark, and in the woods, there’s no telling what we might run into- look, I don’t feel good about leaving her with all of that power and Varian, either, but what she did today-“

“What did she do today?” Edmund asked, in a quieter tone. By now, they’d reached the door to his bedroom.

“Kicked me down a flight of stairs, for one.” Eugene muttered, as they entered, closing the door behind them. He found himself continuing before he could stop himself- and once he’d started, he found he didn’t want to stop. “Almost ran me over with a giant ball. Almost brought a giant metal machine down on us while I was dangling over a drop while holding onto a horse’s legs. So you know-“ He forced out a wry chuckle, trying to hide just how shaken he felt. “A normal Tuesday. And that part was just Lance and Max and I, Varian is-“

Cassandra had taken him. Now, there was no telling where she was. And he suspected that Varian wouldn’t just tell her what she wanted to know, which meant-

Which meant the kid was in a whole lot of danger.

Eugene looked out the window. He’d never admit it aloud, but he didn’t think he’d been properly scared of what lengths Cassandra might go to in order to get her way before today. The person who’d faced him hadn’t been his friend- it was someone who had no qualms about using his life as a pawn in her game.

Well, at least it wasn’t his first time in that situation.

Edmund’s eyes hardened as Eugene relayed this series of events. “I’m sorry all of that happened.” Maybe, if he’d insisted on being there instead of waiting here, he could’ve-

“Dad.” Eugene said, looking back at him. “You were saying your thoughts aloud again.” By now, he’d crossed his arms, but the way he was looking at Edmund... it seemed almost vaguely confused by the sentiment.

“Sorry.” Edmund responded. He only hesitated briefly, before continuing. “But if you go tomorrow, you must let me come along with you.”

“You?” If anything, the confusion only seemed to have grown. “No, it should be Rapunzel and Lance and I, if anything- the less people who are at risk, the better.”

“The less people you have, the easier it will be for her to overpower you.” Edmund pointed out.

Eugene shook his head, and for a moment, Edmund caught a glimmer of the same conviction that’d swayed him from what he’d thought was his purpose for decades. “I’m sure Rapunzel can take her.”

“You have to agree, though, that having someone else along couldn’t possibly-“

“Look, I’m touched. But we’ll be fine.”

“And what if you’re not-“

“Dad,” Eugene said, resisting the urge to sigh for the third time and trying to keep his frustration at bay. “I get that you’re upset because Cassandra stole the moonstone and you-“ 

”This isn’t about the moonstone, son.” Edmund said, in a low tone. Eugene must’ve looked confused – he was so sure he’d understood exactly what was bothering his father – because then the older man looked at him more directly, and said in an even quieter tone. “It’s about you.” 

Eugene blinked at him, stunned into silence at that statement. He didn’t know how to respond. People had tended to get upset at him time and time again throughout his life, but upset on his behalf? He hadn’t really encountered that until... well, Rapunzel. Which was much different from this. And his father had dedicated his life to protecting the moonstone, so he’d just assumed... 

Well, he’d definitely been quiet for too long. It was time to fill the silence with something witty, like he usually did. Something intelligent, that’d distract him from whatever the hell this new emotion he was feeling was.

”...What?” He found himself saying instead, stupidly.

“It’s about you.” Edmund repeated, still holding his gaze. 

Eugene blinked again, processing this, “…what,” He swallowed, realizing he was about to sound like an idiot again. “What do you mean? I mean, the moonstone is-“

“I lost everything because of the moonstone, son!” Edmund said abruptly, in rare burst of strong emotion. Eugene barely kept from flinching, startled by its force, even if he was equally surprised to realize he didn’t quite mind it. It didn’t scare him the way it had when they’d first met, at least. “In a different way from how she has.” Edmund continued, more softly, leaving no doubt as to who she was. “And now that ... something has brought us together again, whether you want to call it destiny or happenstance, I don’t want to-“ He gave a deep sigh, no longer meeting Eugene’s gaze. “I could not bear it happening a second time.”

You’re the reason it happened at all. He wanted to retort, but something held him back. The sentiment his dad was expressing seemed so... genuine and vulnerable, he wasn’t sure he had the heart to shoot it down, even if a part of him was still angry.

“And when she was saying all those things about you and your friends, I wanted to-“ Edmund’s hand clenched into a fist, taking the silence as an opportunity to continue. “You are many things, son, and I admit I don’t know what all of them are, and that is my fault. The weight of that decision is mine to bear for the rest of my life.” His voice was tinged with deep regret, as he finally raised his head to meet his son’s gaze again. “But a loser isn’t one of them. A loser would not manage to rise every time he was knocked down. A loser would not go out of his way to help even those who have wronged him. If being here has shown me anything, it’s how vibrant a life you’ve built for yourself, and how deep the connections you’ve forged run. Everyone practically jumped at the chance to throw you a party, after I-”

“...the party was your idea?” Eugene asked, in a small voice. Everything else he’d said was too overwhelming to process, right now, especially when he wasn’t properly sure how he even felt about the man standing in front of him. Besides, anything more, and his voice might start shaking, and the stinging in his eyes might turn into something more. He couldn’t afford that right now, even as he wondered at how... much it warmed him to be seen by someone relatively new to him.

“Well, Rapunzel took the idea and ran with it, of course.” He said, a somewhat endeared smile crossing his face.

“Of-of course.” Eugene realized he hadn’t been breathing, and released one, relaxing a little and unable to keep from giving a small smile. She had a way of doing that.

“But I wanted to commemorate this day in some way. So you could see that you are important - and to so many people, too.” His brow furrowed in frustration. “And then she-”

“That wasn’t your fault.” Eugene said, before he could continue. He wasn’t even sure why he said it, just knew that that wasn’t something he wanted his dad to blame himself for. Especially not after...all that. “Look, I’ll admit that I haven’t forgiven you for what you did, and what that meant for me growing up.” Rather than saying anything in protest, Edmund just nodded, bowing his head. Eugene swallowed, before reaching forward to put a hand on his father’s left shoulder. Edmund met his gaze. “But you’re trying, which is more than a lot of people would do. I can see that. And that still... means something.”

Edmund held his gaze for a long moment. To be honest, Eugene wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, in there. But then, without warning, he felt himself yanked into a strong hug. He gave a (very manly) yelp.

Edmund froze. “You’re injured. I didn’t even think about that, are you-”

Eugene’s breath had caught in his chest, but as it released, it bubbled forth in a laugh. “I’m fine, Dad. Just warn me next time.”

Edmund pulled him closer in relief (though more gently). “I make no promises.”

He gave a smaller chuckle in response to that, but just relaxed into the hug, in lieu of giving an actual response.

Edmund smiled. There was a long journey ahead, but every step was taking them somewhere, and it was more than worth it. For now, he was just glad to have this moment.

“Happy birthday, son.”

[undergrounddweller89]

(I was tipsy when I wrote this fell asleep finished the last bit when I woke up hope it isn't horrible more Walter Killian stuffs)

Walter came in late after finally having his first party, like real party.

Lance and Marcy had helped set up something for his birthday, it was a few days after it as spy buisness had kept them from finding the time to do so on the day, Walter's concentration was lack there of as he giggled stumbling through the door, obviously he'd been dropped off outside his house where his house mate lived with him, Tristan Mcford, he fumbled in the dark going to the kitchen, mmm he remembered he still had some cake in there...cake sounded sooooo good right now.

He opened the fridge door the soft glow filling the kitchen frowning at the empty space where the cake had been, he patted the shelf as if It'd make it appear.

He pouted oh yeah he'd eaten it at lunch...a snack bar would suffice instead.

In the door way stood a tall man, wearing nothing but a shirt and boxers , Killian had not gone to the party, loud events such as that made him uncomfortable, he was not one for socialising unless he had to, though Beckett was the exception, at least he knew not to talk to him until he'd had his morning coffee.

He leaned a shoulder against the frame watching Walter just giggle and search for the snack box, perhaps he should help him, he had wondered what the scientist would be like with a few drinks in him, it made him relax to know he was a giggly sort of drunk.

He walked over reaching up onto the top shelf, of course he'd put it up there without thought, he was pressed up against Walters back as he grabbed it off the shelf, it was just a moment of contact, he didn't know how to tell him how he felt...how did you tell a man as sweet as Beckett that you felt something for him, when you were someone who could kill with ease.

Walter turned around and looked up at him grinning, ohhh he could feel all of him and he liked it.

"Triiiistan, you look pretty in the moonlight."

Killian moved back, clearly seeing what was going through Becketts mind and he was not the type to have someone in this condition.

"That's the fridge light Beckett, you left it open."

He replied flatly.

Walter peeked around Killian, giggling,

"So it is, did I pull you out of there cause you look like a snack."

If Killian had been drinking something he might just have done a spit take or spat his drink from laughing.

"Walter you're inebriated, you should go to bed."

"Well if you lay down, I'll get into you then won't I."

Beckett winked, leaning forward and drawing invisible circles on Killian's chest.

Oh dear god Walter was a giggly horny drunk....he took Walters hand and shook his head

"No, I am not going to take advantage of you Beckett, you need to get to bed..."

Killian replied firmly, letting go of him and went to close the fridge door only to feel Walter wrap his arms around his waist and nuzzle against his back.

"Fine but only if you cuddle me to sleep, I demandeth the snuggles or I will find a way to remove your boxers."

Tristan stood up straight, what in the god damned hell of all being, this...this wasn't fair, he inwardly pouted because yes even reforming criminal master minds could pout when something they wanted was so close and yet circumstances made it so far.

His jaw clenched and he sighed

"Fine, but if you put your hands anywhere inappropriate Walter I will be putting you in your bed and locking my door."

"Yaaaay cuddles, mmm what do you like to drink Trillian?"

Walter asked still rubbing his cheek on Tristans back making contented sounds.

Oh yes he was indeed smashed.

"Walter, you literally just mixed up my alias with my name you need sleep...come on now, let's get you upstairs to beddy night night."

"Killian I told you not to say it like that."

Walter whined, gently headbutting Killians back, still not letting go of his waist.

"Yeah I know, but it's just too much fun teasing ya."

"You're a big meanie."

Beckett whined, lightly biting at him.

"Oi, now what did I say about no inappropriate touching."

Killian chuckled

"You still want that snack pack?"

"Yes I dooo."

Feeling Walters hands trying to go down he grabbed them

"Not that snack pack Walter, behave, I'm beginning to feel my virtue's at stake here."

He pulled out of his grasp and handed him the opened packet, Walter took it and huffed

"The only risk here is -

He took a bite and continued talking with his mouth full

"Is my virtue being in tact forever because you won't bend me over and take it."

Walters frustration was soon forgotten though as he cuddled up to Killian again.

Killian was internally flailing, screaming whatever you wanted to call it, how long had he felt this way, had he been missing the signs?

"Walter if you wake up feeling the same, sober where you have a clear mind and consent then I assure you I'll nail you more firmly to that bed than -"

Walter had reached up and started messing with Killian's hair

"You know you look good with messy hair, you want some?"

Killian's mind just stalled, he wasn't entirely sure if Walters mind had wandered because he was drunk or maybe changed his mind on wanting him to bed him, well if he had then at least he wouldn't need to worry about the cuddles Walter wanted, he leaned forward biting into the offered Marshmallow and rice treat, lips pressed against finger tips, he stole only fleeting moments like that where he was not so abrupt.

Killian shivered, it was cold in the kitchen at 2am after all

"Alright, we ate something, I'm tired, it's cold, bed's warm."

He took Walters hand and found the scientist very compliant as they went up the stairs, one of the reasons he'd agreed to the cuddles was because he was concerned the idiot might fall asleep in his own vomit if he were to bring it up in the middle of night and the idea of finding dead terrified him.

He stopped by his room and pulled a shirt out for Walter to wear then told him to get changed in the bathroom.

"Ooooo I always wanted to wear one of your shirts it'll be sooooo big on me, just like I know you'll be so big in-"

"Walter, bathroom get changed, piss and make sure to wash your hands."

Killian interrupted him, pinching the bridge of his nose, if they were in a relationship he'd help him change...he might still need to as Walter stared at him blankly as if everything he'd just said went right over his head, right well it was purely an innocent act of help, didn't need Beckett to make a mess all over the floor, he could only imagined how embarrased the young man would be in the morning if he remembered doing that.

He helped him remove his upper garments, Killian swiftly pulled the grey shirt over his head, looking away when Walter pulled down his pants, giggling

"You can look if you want you naughty man."

"No Beckett...not like this."

Mcford kept his gaze on the bathroom wall, thankful it was only the moonlight that lit up the room, he actually blushed, thee Killian, Tristan Mcford....robohand blushing at being called naughty in such a mischievous manner.

His robotic eye did flare though in brightness momentarily but thankfully and so very thankfully Walter had made it to toilet himself and even remembered to pull up the shirt, last thing he needed to deal with was a soaked shirt and having to give him a new one, he might actually tear Lance and Marcy a new one for leaving Walter like this.

Walter was clearly falling asleep now, Killian knew this because when he asked if he was done he heard a soft snoring and looked back to see Beckett leaning against the wall.

This wasn't the first time he had to handle a drunk man, he'd had friends on the team he'd lost who ended up like this.

He leaned forward and patted his face

"Come on Beckett, you'll get a stiff neck like that."

He grumbled, sighing as the younger man made a sound and sat up so abruptly he smacked his head on Killian's chin.

"Ooww I hit my head Killy..."

He leaned forward and rested on Killian pouting

"Kiss it better?"

Tristans nostrils flared, yes he was gonna kill Lance, Marcy politely though, a gentle man never made a mess of a woman's death...it was only a half threat he made privately perhaps if it'd been some months earlier he might have actually tried it.

"Fine."

He placed a quick kiss to his forehead

"There all better, now let's get your hands washed and put you to bed."

He managed to get that done without much hassle until Walter wrapped his arms around his neck and went all but limp

"Carry me, or I will sleep right here."

Killian was feeling a little done with this, not because he didn't want to, all he wanted to do was kiss him and tell him how endearing he was being, he didn't even argue he was tired and did want to get back to sleep, lifting him bridal style he carried Walter to his room, it seemed Walter was aware enough though to realise it was the wrong room and put a hand on the door frame looking at him

"Noooo that's my room, we gonna snuggle in yours rememberrr oh my god you're so pretty."

He giggled nuzzling Tristans cheek.

Why him, why did he have to be the one carrying the cute scientist at nearly three am, he would sneak out of the bed and sleep on the couch once Walter was asleep.

"You're an idiot Beckett at times I swear."

Killian retorted going down the hall to his room, he set Walter down who before he could even tell him not to take the left side of the bed had already settled into it.

"Mmmm comfy be comfier when you get in hurrrry need snuggle wuggles."

"I'll give you fucking snuggle wuggles in a minute."

Killian muttered under his breath, no he wasn't some huge softie, he could still feel aggravated, but when he looked down and saw Walter reaching out for him sleepily his annoyance melted away...alright maybe he was a little soft when it came to Beckett.

He climbed in and wrapped an arm around him, letting him snuggle up to him, he stroked along his spine just from the neck and down between his shoulder blades, feeling him settle completely into asleep, Tristan found himself too relaxed now to move, sleep was beginning to find him to.

"I love you Walter Beckett."

He whispered softly, gently kissing the top of his head and burying his face into his hair, he was finally confessing for the first time to him in a moment he felt safe and thought Beckett wouldn't hear him, the warmth of just holding Walter made Tristan wonder if he'd gone to heaven.

Walter woke up barely for a moment asking him if he'd said something, Killian only chuckled affectionately

"I said good night Walter."

"Oh...good night..."

Beckett smiled against his neck and kissed it lightly

"Love you to."

And fell promptly back to sleep.

Killian however did not sleep a single wink that night.

Damn it.

[little-ligi]

sorry for yet another ask but i thought you might enjoy gwaine and lance arguing about whether or not lance told gwaine about a round table meeting, with merlin watching on in amusement:

‘I didn’t know there was a meeting,’ Gwaine indignantly responded.

‘I told you last week,’ Lancelot said, not looking up from his sketch.

‘You did no such thing!’

Lancelot still didn’t look up. ‘I did. It was after the training session where you were trying to get in my trousers discreetly for the whole thing. You dashed off and missed Arthur saying about the meeting today, so I came and found you and told you.’

‘No, you didn’t. You actually let me get in your trousers.’

Frowning, Lancelot looked up. His eyes darted over to Merlin, who shrugged – he’d been busy making jokes with Gwen for the whole session and had then gone with Arthur to see Uther afterwards so would be no help at all. ‘Yeah, after I told you about the meeting.’

Now Gwaine looked towards Merlin, who pulled a face at him. ‘I don’t know why you’re both looking at me; I wasn’t even there.’

‘You weren’t?’ the two knights said in unison.

‘No, though I am flattered that you think I’m constantly there.’

Gwaine’s gaze darted back towards Lancelot. ‘Actually, now I think about it, you might have mentioned it—’

Lancelot went back to his artwork. ‘Thank you.’

‘Ah, ah, don’t get up on your high horse just yet,’ Gwaine continued. ‘If I remember rightly, you came in and started saying: “Gwaine, there’s a me—Ahh.”’

Merlin’s brow furrowed. ‘What happened at the end?’

'Oh, I got in his trousers,’ Gwaine grinned.

Lancelot’s face was burning. ‘Alright, maybe I didn’t get all the words out.’

‘No, but you got a lot else out,’ Gwaine remarked.

‘Hearing you, but not listening,’ Lancelot mumbled, aggressively pressing the charcoal to the paper.

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 OH MY GOD, LIT, YOU SPOIL ME SO MUCH!!!! IS IT MY BIRTHDAY AND CHRISTMAS ALL AT ONCE???

I absolutely ADORE this snippet soooooooo much!!! It is utterly fantastic and I love you more than words can describe for sending it to me!!! Thank you!!! You are the best!! 💕💕💕💕💕💕 Also, you never ever have to say sorry for sending me asks, I looove asks and messages (particularly ones with lovely gwaincelot (and merwaincelot) content 😁😁😁)

Let me just finish incoherently screaming....

Every single detail here is perfect!!! Lancelot sketching. Gwaine not paying attention to anything Arthur said because he was too busy trying to get into Lancelot’s trousers 😉😉 THEM BOTH JUST THINKING MERLIN IS CONSTANTLY THERE!!! Gwaine happily teasing Lancelot about not getting all the words out but GETTING A LOT ELSE OUT!! 😂😂 Lancelot’s last line... *chef's kiss*

You are wonderful and amazing and I love this so much! You write fluff just as beautifully as you do angst!! Thank you again for sending it to me!!! 💕💕💕💕

[ultraglittercat]

Drabble 135

Meeting The Baby

Everyone in Corona was excited. After months of anticipation, the Royal baby was finally born at the end of February. Nigel had won the birthday pool and was exceedingly smug about it.

“C'mon, let us see the baby!” Lance pleaded as he and his friends lined up in the hallway.

“You mean the baby whose birth I predicted?” Nigel gloated.

“Yes, that baby! What other baby could it be?!” Lance was frustrated.

Nigel consulted a scroll. “I'm sorry, you're not on the list.” he said.

“What?!” exclaimed Kiera and Catalina.

“There must be a mistake. We're definitely on the list.” Varian tried to be hopeful.

“Let me see about it!” Lance snatched the scroll from Nigel's hands and was dismayed when he saw the only names were foreign dignitaries. “I don't believe it. We have just as much right to see the baby as these nobodies!”

“Those nobodies are of Royal pedigree.” Nigel smirked.

“And what are we, mutts?” snarled Kiera.

“If the description fits...” murmured Nigel.

Kiera moved to tackle him and had to be forcibly held back by Lance.

Varian sighed. “I bet Frederic made that list.” he grumbled.

“King Father Frederic. Get it right.” corrected Nigel. “He may have abdicated the throne, but he's certainly of higher standing than you, and I am proud to carry out his orders.”

All four of them glared at Nigel. Kiera was still squirming and Catalina was starting to shift into a wolf. Things might have gotten ugly if a tired-looking Eugene hadn't poked his head into the hallway.

“Lance! Girls! Varian! Did you come to see my son?” Eugene said happily.

“We were trying to.” Varian shot Nigel a dark look.

“Well, come on in. Rapunzel and baby Bastion are in the nursery. I gotta warn you, he's a pretty loud crier.” Eugene chuckled.

“It's okay. We got used to crying children when we lived in the orphanage. We won't mind.” Lance assured him. Eugene beckoned and the group followed him into the nursery, Kiera stomping on Nigel's foot as she walked past.

Rapunzel was seated in a rocking chair, holding baby Bastion and humming.

“Sunshine, I brought visitors!” Eugene announced.

“Shh-hh. Not so loud, honey. He's nearly asleep.” Rapunzel whispered.

“Oh, did we come at a bad time?” Catalina worried.

“Not at all, newborns just sleep a lot. This is baby Bastion or Bas for short.” Rapunzel introduced everyone to her tiny bundle of joy. Bas had dark brown hair and eyes, like his father, but he had his mother's freckles. He was unbelievably cute and the girls squealed with delight.

“He looks just like Eugene, except for the nose.” Kiera teased.

“Ha ha. I'll have you know he's just as handsome as I was at that age.” Eugene bragged.

“How would you know if you were a handsome baby? You don't even remember what you were like back then!” Kiera argued.

“I remember him. He was nearly as good looking as me.” Lance recalled.

“And nearly as bald.” joked Kiera and everyone laughed.

“He looks cute.” said Catalina.

“He looks smart, too. Did you see him turn towards us?” Varian noted with excitement.

“He's a wonderful baby.” Rapunzel cooed. “It was worth every minute of my pregnancy to meet you, my sweet baby Bas.” She kissed the baby's forehead and Bas gurgled.

“When can we hold the baby?” Catalina asked.

“In another week. Right now, I'm being extra careful with him.” Rapunzel answered.

“I've barely held him. It's hard waiting, though.” Eugene said.

“But this first week is very important for the mother-child bond. I know, I've read the books.” Rapunzel replied.

“If Eugene's being patient, we will be too.” Lance said.

“Thank you. I promise, you'll all get to hold him soon.” Rapunzel spoke reassuringly. “I'm going to put him to bed in a minute, but you can all come up and brush his cheek if you like. Gentle touches make him happy.”

The group nodded, and one by one they went up to meet Bas. After Lance, who was last in line, finished greeting the baby, Rapunzel carried Bas to his crib and carefully put him down for a nap.

“He's a nice, healthy baby. You did good, Eugene.” praised Lance.

“Why are you complimenting him? I thought Rapunzel had the baby.” puzzled Kiera.

Lance looked a little uncomfortable. “I'll, uh, tell you later Angry.” he replied.

“You might want to give the girls one of the baby books. We've got several you can borrow.” offered Eugene.

“Yeah, I think we'll need them. Thanks.” said Lance.

“I wouldn't mind borrowing a book, too.” added Varian.

“It was wonderful seeing you guys. Until now, Bas had only meet my parents and some of the castle staff. He'll be meeting his Grandpa Edmund soon, when he comes to visit from Umbra, the revamped Dark Kingdom.” Rapunzel smiled.

“We just have to make sure he's careful with the baby. You know how excitable my Dad is.” chuckled Eugene.

“Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine.” Rapunzel said, yawning slightly.

“Sounds like you're ready for a nap, too. You should get some rest, it's a lot of work being a parent, but very rewarding.” Lance told her.

“It really is.” Eugene and Rapunzel agreed.

“We'll come back next week, and maybe we can hold the baby then.” said Varian.

“Yes, he should be big enough then.” Rapunzel judged.

“Okay, everyone. Time to let mother and son rest.” Eugene ushered them out of the nursery, and handed baby books to everyone as a parting gift. Varian was pleased that his book was the most scientific, the other books were geared more towards introducing children and teens to babies. With a good book, the week would go by quickly and soon they'd be able to see Bas again.

The End

Bastion's name comes from the original Disney plans to name the hero character that, instead of Flynn/Eugene. I just borrowed the concept for the baby's name. He's adorable. :)

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, sunflowerslyf!

Happy Birthday, @sunflowerslyf​! We hope you’re having a wonderful day so far, and that the quarantine situation isn’t cramping your party style too much! To keep your party going, @ally147writes​ has written a story just for you!

AN: Happy Birthday @sunflowerslyf! I’ve actually had this drabble kicking in my unfinished folder for... I don’t know, about two years now? Thank you for giving me the reason I needed to finally finish it off!

Rated M for language, and maybe possible TW for spiders...

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

The scream curdles his soul, piercing enough to lance straight through him to rend his heart in two.

 “Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

 He sprints from the kitchen, the bowl of half-mixed pancake batter toppling to the ground with a mighty crash. Fuck it. He’ll clean it up later. Or maybe never. Who knows — hell, who cares? A door slams somewhere and a disjointed knock thumps on his front door, but he ignores it. It sounds a million miles away, anyway. Whoever it is can damn well wait.

“Sophie?” he calls as he darts through the apartment’s narrow hallways, knocking framed prints off the walls where he falls into them. He tries to calm his breaths, but he only ends up gasping. He swallows back the rising bile and calls out again, “Sophie? Where are you?”

 “B-bathroom!” his daughter warbles back.

 His mind races through every possibility as he stumbles towards the bathroom: she slipped; she broke her arm; she’s bleeding out on the edge of the tub; she’s somehow managed to bring the railing of the shower down, glass and all, even though she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach it.

 He turns the narrow corner and throws the bathroom door open. There, he finds his daughter pressed tight against the sink, her tiny face blotched all different shades of red, stained with tear tracks that don’t look like they’re stopping anytime soon.

 “Soph?” he asks, crouching before her. His hands go to her cheeks, checking every inch of her over for wounds, marks, any indication of anything that might have happened. So far, nothing. No graze, scratch, or cut. “Bunny?” he whispers, brushing her wispy blonde fringe from her face. “What’s wrong? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

 “Spider,” she cries, loud enough to ring sharp in his ears. “Huge.”

 “Spider?” He pulls back, frowning. Granted, his daughter isn’t the most adventurous little girl that’s ever graced the planet, but a spider? She’s had more adverse reactions to moths. “Where?”

 She points a trembling finger towards the bathtub, where a pile of towels lay in a twisted heap. “Under there.”

 He glances between the towels and the corner where Sophie is now trying to melt into the wall.

 He reaches into the tub, grasps the towels in a great handful, lifts them, and —

 “Holy shit!”

 It’s the size of a rodent. Maybe bigger, brown-black with beady little eyes that glow in the bathroom’s fluorescent light and nasty, fuzzy legs. Peeta leaps back and lands flat on his ass as it scuttles from one side of the tub to the other with audible little taps on the plastic.

 Fuck that.

 Fuck. That.

 “Daddy!” Sophie screeches as she tugs at his sleeve. “Get rid of it!”

 “I know, Soph, I know. I just…” He lets out a ragged breath, hurls the towels back into the tub and herds Sophie out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. He leans against the door and lets out a long, low breath. How the hell did a spider that size make its way to their twelfth-story walk-up, anyway?

 “You were right, Soph.” He swallows, lets out another huge breath. “Huge spider.”

 “You gonna get rid of it?”

 “It’s bigger than my hands,” he says, holding one up. Damn, he’s shaking now. He shoves it back in his pocket and curls it into a tight fist, like he could bop the spider out of existence. “And I don’t think we have any cups big enough to catch it. I don’t even know how to catch it.”

 Sophie sniffs, wiping her snotty nose across the back of her pyjama-clad arm. He’s about to admonish her when her next words steal the wind from his sails:

 “What about Miss Katniss?”

 “Katniss?” He coughs, maybe a little too quickly, but the subtleties (or lack thereof) of his on-going crush on their neighbour are lost on his little girl.

 He clears his throat and goes on, less like a moron, he hopes, “What, uh… what about Miss Katniss?”

 Sophie shrugs. “She collects bugs and stuff. I saw when she watched me last time.”

 “She does study bugs and stuff,” Peeta confirms. Having a dedicated entomologist as a neighbour might have freaked him out of she wasn’t so perfect. “But I don’t know if she likes massive spiders, too.”

 Another frantic knock rattles against his front door. Right… there’s someone there.

 “Hold that thought, Bunny.”

 He takes Sophie’s hand and together they leave the spider and the bathroom far, far behind. The knocks bleed together into one long, constant thump.

 “I’m coming,” he calls as they near, but the knocks don’t slow. He sighs and nudges Sophie over to kitchen table, where her pencils and crayons are still strewn about even though he asked her a thousand times to tidy them up before dinner.

 He tugs the door open and just about falls over again at the sight before him.

 “Katniss?”

 “Peeta!” she exclaims, her hand braced high against the doorframe. “I don’t… I heard screaming, and — is everything all right?”

 “Uh…” He wipes a hand across his forehead, and it comes away damp with sweat. “Fine, I think.”

 “Fine?” She quirks a brow at him. “What’s going on?”

 “Uh, you don’t know how to catch spiders, do you?”

 She blinks at him. “Spiders?”

 He glances back through his apartment and shudders, as though the spider’s grown opposable thumbs and managed the bathroom door on its own. “There’s, uh… a disgustingly big one in my bathtub. Those screams you heard? Our shock and terror.”

 “Ah.” She smiles, and he swears the world stops for a moment. “How big?”

 “Bigger than my hand.”

 “Sounds like a flamethrower might be a better bet.”

 “And burn down the entire apartment building?”

 “Everyone will understand when you explain. You do have large hands, after all.”

 He blushes, but so does she so it’s not as awkward as he thought it would be. She smiles at him again, just the barest little quirk of her lips, and it’s enough to send his heart into overdrive.

 “Hi, Miss Katniss,” Sophie pipes up, like a hot knife straight through the moment, whatever the moment was.

 “Hello, Miss Sophie,” Katniss calls back. She steps past him, pausing by the dinner table. He shuts the door behind her and tries to play it cool. Whatever that means.

 “You gonna catch the spider?”

 “I’m gonna try. Do you have a box I can use?”

 Without missing a beat, Sophie grabs the shoebox holding her colouring supplies and dumps them out over the table. Peeta swallows a cry. That table is mahogany!

 “Will this be okay?” she asks, blinking innocently.

 “I think it’ll work just fine,” Katniss says solemnly.

 She takes the box. Peeta gestures for her to follow him down the hall, where they come to a stop before the closed bathroom door. Peeta leans his forehead against it and sighs.

 “Good luck.”

 Katniss lets out a huffy sort of laugh. “You’re gonna have to move out of the way if you want me to get rid of it.”

 He sighs again and steps to the side. “May God or whatever else you pray to be with you in this difficult time.”

 She snorts. “I don’t need any of that.”

 She inches the door open, shoots him a quick, lightning kind of grin, and shuts it behind her. He presses his ear against the door and listens…

 There’s a clatter and a great, “Ah-hah!”, before she reopens the door with the box held tight in her hands.

 “Oh, my God,” he breathes. “You caught it?”

 “Yeah. Wasn’t a problem. She’s definitely big, but she’s pretty docile, actually.”

 “You’re a lifesaver.”

 She smirks. “Not exactly. This lady might deliver a nasty bite, but she’s not a venomous sort.”

 “What will you do with it?”

 “There’s some nice forest behind the university where I work. I’ll let her out there tomorrow.”

 He runs a hand through his hair and snags it on a wild tangle at the back. Hmm. Attractive.

 “How can I repay you?”

 “Well…” she starts slowly. “You could take me to dinner sometime, if you wanted?”

 Something in his brain short-circuits. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

 Her cheeks flush. “Oh, God, have I read this all wrong?” She shakes her head and hugs the spider box closer to her chest. “This is humiliating,” she mutters.

 “No!” he yells. “You didn’t read anything wrong, I just… no, I mean yes — I mean, I would love to take you out for dinner sometime.”

  “Or I could have dinner here, with Sophie, too,” she offers, “if you can’t find a sitter.”

 “No offense to my daughter, but for our first date, I’d rather it just be us.”

 She smiles, and his brain breaks again. “Yeah, I think I’d like that, too.”

 There’s this sweet moment where they’re just staring at each other with the dopiest smiles on their faces. Peeta hasn’t felt like this in… ever, he doesn’t think. Never has he ever had this stupid romance movie moment in real life, but he reckons he could get used to it, and pretty fast, too, if Katniss is going to be the one he’s sharing it with.

 If only she gets that fucking spider out of his house right now.

[rosegoldannie]

Living a lie

A Rowaelin Angsty/fluffy Hollywood!Au fic with a happy ending.

Also I had an idea for a quarantine TOG or ACOTAR fic. Comment which couple I should write it about! Also on a side note, my birthday was a few days ago, and now I’m 16!

Masterlist

They were living a lie.

In public, they were loving, and affectionate, and the couple that absolutely everyone wanted to be. They would walk down the street, Rowan’s hand around her waist, and smile for the cameras. She would smile, kiss him, and gush over her husband, how he was everything she could ever want. How their life was a blissful paradise.

Home was a nightmare. A neverending nightmare. They fought constantly, never able to go more than a few hours, maybe a few days if they really, really tried, without some form of an argument. And that was exactly where Aelin found herself yet again, fighting back tears, on her birthday no less. Reaching for her favorite eyeshadow, she contemplated how she, a twenty-three year old, found herself near-sobbing at the thought of attending her first major movie premier. Near sobbing, and not with joy.

Her emerald gown was set across her bed. Yes, her bed. Recently, they had been fighting so much that she couldn’t stand sleeping in the same room as her husband, but had been totally unwilling to stay with a friend. Something about the finality of that set her stomach turning. As if it were announcing to the world - because one way or another, if she spent the night at a friend’s, the whole world would know - that their marriage was over.

As she finished up her makeup, a single tear slipped out, which she quickly swept away, not having the patience to touch up the ever so slightly smudged makeup. She stood, making her way over to the bed, where that damn dress lay waiting . The gown whispered cooly against her arms, sliding smoothly over her skin. She sighed, almost wanting to forgo the entire event, and spend the night with her dog, a pint of ice cream, and maybe, just maybe, her husband.

There was a slight knock, then- “Can I come in?”

Aelin sighed through her nose, some strange sense of dread settling further in her gut, and turning the roasted salmon she’d had for lunch to lead. “Yeah.”

Her husband slipped through the doorway, and her jaw nearly dropped. Those pine eyes which were almost always so very cold were warm,and  gentle, and brimming with love. He was in sweats, and clutching a bouquet of sunflowers, a box of chocolate, and a small, velvet box. “Happy birthday, Ace.” He murmured. On any other day, Aelin would have sobbed, and thrown herself into his arms absolutely showering him with kisses and sweet murmurs, because by the gods, Rowan Ellys Whitethorn, who rarely remembered what day of the week it was, let alone the date, had remembered her birthday, and all of her favorite things. But this wasn’t any other day. And she didn’t jump into his arms.

“What the hell are you wearing?” She rasped through the tightness in her throat.

Rowan blinked, the warmth in those green eyes cooling ever so slightly, as mild panic filled them. “What? Were we going out tonight?” 

A sense of panic washed over her. “Yes! My premier? We have to leave in twenty minutes!” Some small part of her roared that this was why they fought: He didn’t listen to her. Didn’t hear her. She had been raving about how excited she was for this for weeks. He knew how much this night meant to her, and yet… he still forgot.

His face visibly fell as he placed the gifts on her bedside table, and slipped from the room. All the while murmuring that he would be ready to go soon. She nodded, telling herself that she trusted him enough to pick out his own suit, which was most definitely not a way of avoiding having to see his tattoo, and everything it promised and implied. Even though she couldn’t avoid it totally, as it weaved and snaked its way up the side of his face. But still. The most painful part was hidden under his clothes. For her eyes only, he had murmured in her ears years prior, whilst they were intertwined between the sheets and so irrevocably in love. Oh, where had the passion gone? The heat? The love?

Twenty minutes later, they were in the throes of yet another screaming match. 

“If you had told me before hand, maybe-”

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Rowan. You have all your shit organized. There’s no way you could fuck up this badly on accident.”

“And? Did you forget I’m colorblind?” She flinched, and he paused for a moment before continuing. “Did you forget because it isn’t something in your phone?” Again, she flinched. Because he was right; she had forgotten that he was colorblind and she was an awful person for it.

Regardless, those gold-ringed Ashryver eyes hardened. “There is absolutely no way this is an accident.” She held his gaze as she gestured to his black shirt, green tie and jacket, and black pants. While he’d definitely had worse red-carpet outfits, she was still upset. Partly because this was her first premier in which she was the sole star, and partly because of a word that had been whipping around in her mind for days.

“Alright, fine! I was trying to match your dress but I ran out of clean clothes.” He snapped. Something small cracked in his voice, and there was such desperation that she had to clench her eyes shut.

When she finally opened her eyes, she forged ahead and prayed. “Ro, we have to talk about it. This isn’t fair to either of us.” Rowan inhaled, and she waited for the barrage of pleas and promises, but they never came. He only sighed, clenched his jaw, and nodded. And something within her cracked, something ancient and primordial which had long lain dormant within her, roaring that he couldn’t just give up.

But they weren’t what everyone thought.

The entire world thought they were perfect.

The entirety of their families thought they were blissfully in love. Even Aedion.

But they were miserable.

She - truly - didn’t know who said it, only that during one of their fights a week prior, someone had screamed at the other that if things were truly so awful, then they should file for divorce. And for the last week, it had been the only thing on her mind. She was young, young enough to find love again-

Aelin damn near gagged at the thought, unable to even look at her husband for several long moments, even as a metallic, revolting taste remained in her mouth for a long while. “Are you happy? Like this?”

The driver of their limousine called back that they would be arriving soon, and they chorsed back their thanks.

He at last semi-met her gaze. “Am I happy?” He repeated, as if not totally processing the words. “I’m not unhappy.” He murmured, eyes trailing over her, over the shoulders exposed by her gown, to her lips painted a dark red, to her jewelry. His pine-green eyes trailed down to her hand, and the blood drained from his face. “Your ring….”

Confusion lanced through her, until she followed his gaze. To her empty ring finger, a band of pale skin where that silver and emerald wedding band always sat. To where she had forgotten to put it back on after her shower. Then the panic set in, a thousand different scenarios playing out in her mind. What actually occurred was so, so much worse.

Somehow, he paled even more, then clenched his eyes shut. A single tear slid down his cheek, which her fingers itched to wipe away, as their limousine pulled to a stop in front of a mob of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. Silently, she begged him to yell or scream, or beg her for another chance. Anything at all, any show of emotion. All he did was let out a soft, “Oh.”

Her panic rose, as she internally begged him to meet her eyes. “Ro, please.” She pleaded, her small voice cracking on the last word.

Those eyes snapped open, and her heart clenched at how utterly unable to read the boundless emotions swimming in them she was. “No.” He murmured, gently taking her hand, and pushing open the door. “We’ll talk about this at home. Tonight is your night.”

And so their masks slipped into place, even as her chest tightened to the point of pain. Together, they weaved through the crowds towards the red carpet. Arm in arm, ever the perfect couple. They even paused to pose for the paparazzi, Rowan wrapping an arm around her waist, and pressing a seemingly sweet kiss to her forehead. But she felt it for what it was: a goodbye, and an apology. Her heart began to crack.

Then they were pulled apart, and it could have been her imagination, but it seemed as if he seemed eager to be away from her. Nevertheless, she was whisked away by a reporter, who was shoving a microphone in her face, and a camera flashed brightly behind him. “Mrs. Whitethorn, how does it feel to be the star of your own movie?”

“Amazing,” She answered robotically, “it feels like a dream.”

“And are there any mini-Whitethorns on their way to us?” He teased, shoving that damn microphone further into her face.

And suddenly she was nineteen again, wrapped up in Rowan’s hoodie, curled up in his lap in their favorite armchair, back in their crappy, old apartment with the leaky faucets and drains that never really drained. 

“What do you think of children?” He murmured, nestling his face into her neck.

Aelin pulled back, giving him a coy smile, even as her gut erupted in butterflies, and a warm feeling seeped through her every limb. “I absolutely detest the idea.”

Rowan pouted, eyes pleading with her teasingly. “Oh really, and why is that?”

Grinning devilishly, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Because I already have a man-child of my own, whom I love very much.” She then pressed another kiss to his soft, precious lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Groaning, he pulled her impossibly closer, and she adjusted her position so that she straddled him, and plunged her fingers into his hair. Rowan’s strong hands trailed up and down her thighs, exposed by her athletic shorts that she wore purly to torment him.

After a long while, he reluctantly pulled back, his eyes serious. “In all honesty, what do you think of having children? With me?”

Again, she grinned, and again she attacked his lips. “I’d love them.”

She was pulled out of her reverie by a gentle arm snaking around her middle from behind, a chiseled chin coming to rest on her shoulder. Almost instantly, tears welled in her eyes for a multitude of reasons. When was the last time she had even considered that day? And how so very much she wanted children, with no one but the man wrapped around her. Her face flushed. And she prayed that Rowan didn’t notice, or if he did, that he thought it was simply from the constantly flashing.

Rowan smiled deeply, but his eyes remained sad on a level only she could see. “No, I’m afraid not.

The reporter sighed, then proceeded to hammer them with more questions, until they finally made a respectful exit and rushed into the theatre. And now, curled up unceremoniously in the plush chairs in front of that giant screen, she felt as if she might be sick.

And then the movie began.

There was one scene - only one - that she could barely stomach watching. It was when her love interest, played by Dorian Havilliard, was brutally whipped, as her character screamed in the background. It was all too similar to the worst night of her life, where she had watched her best friend had been so brutally killed. How she had been locked in a small, lightless room for weeks, listening helplessly as Sam was-

It was as if he had sensed her distress, for she had never truly told him what had occurred those weeks she had been missing from school, that his warm, gentle hand came to cautiously rest over hers. And when she didn’t push him away, he slowly drew their intertwined hands into his lap, to fully enclose her small, nimble hand in both of his. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. It had been so long, and yet he still remembered

Once it had passed, Aelin breathed a sigh of relief, as her favorite scene was coming up, in which she - as Liliana - got to leap off a cliff, and soar through the air after escaping her captors. That scene had been such fun to film. Smiling, she thought back to the day she had filmed that, and had returned home so happy and excited that she and Rowan had actually had a pleasant evening, in which she had told him all of the details of the film. 

Slowly, she glanced over to Rowan under her lashes, and was surprised to see him staring awestruck at the screen, tears rolling freely down his tattooed face. And it was as if the fog which had been clouding her mind, her eyes for months…. It was if that fog had lifted, and she saw him. She truly saw him.

Pride, love and awe were abundant in his incredible eyes.

And she simply couldn’t help but to press a kiss to his hands.

Rowan jerked slightly, his head whirling towards her, his handsome features comically surprised and confused. Aelin cracked a smile, and snuggled into his side. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her and it felt like coming home.

And as the movie carried on, she allowed her mind to wander, back to their most recent fights in which that wretched word had been flung.

“I never see you.” He spat, pinning her in place with a livid glare.

“I come home every night, I made sure that-”

“You stay here, but I never see you. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”

She crossed her arms and huffed.

Rowan pursed his lips. “So you are avoiding me, then.” He shook his head, eyes lingering on the fireplace behind her, rather than actually on her. “Can I ask why?”

Aelin shifted slightly. “Because I’m tired of fighting with you.”

“Really?” He scoffed, those chiseled features hardening. “Then why do you find fault with every damn thing I do?”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.” He hissed. “When I went to pick you up from the set last week, you refused to come home.”

“Because I had a meeting.”

“That you didn’t tell me about. I had told you I wanted to spend the evening together.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yes I did, Aelin. You were just on your phone.”

“And? I’m busy, Rowan.”

“Yeah.” Rowan huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t I know it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re always on your phone! You don’t listen to me!”

Fury began to set her blood boiling. “Oh, I don’t listen to you?” She shouted, face growing redder with each passing second. “You don’t hear a thing I say! It’s like I’m married to a brick wall.”

“You’re really comparing me to a brick wall? Are you serious, Aelin? You downright refuse to even be in the same room as me. You refuse to communicate with me. Hell, half the time you refuse to even acknowledge that I exist! Let alone the fact that I’m your husband.” Hesitation shone in his eyes for a brief moment before dissipating. “Half the time I wonder if growing up in Terrassen really did turn your heart into ice.”

Aelin could barely school her face into neutrality. “If you really feel that way, then maybe you shouldn’t have proposed to me.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“So then you agree. We shouldn’t have gotten married.”

“No. No we shouldn’t have. It was a mistake.”

“Finally we agree on something.”

“Finally.”

Well. Since we both agree, I guess that means getting a divorce.”

“I guess it does.”

Suddenly she was blinking rapidly against the bright lights that now illuminated the luxurious theatre, as the credits began rolling across the screen. And the very first name upon that lengthy list was her own, scrawled in her cursive-printed combination handwriting that had so annoyed and upset her middle and high school teachers.

There was a loud, high-pitched squeal as a flurry of arms, legs, tulle, fluffy skirts and red-golden hair came flying at her, clambering down over the rows of velvety seats to wrap her thin arms around her and bury that scarred, adorable face in Aelin’s impeccably styled hair. And following close behind were several of Aelin’s close friends.

“Hello, Evangeline.” She chuckled, hugging the little girl back with equal fervor.

“You were amazing!” The girl squealed, beaming from ear to ear.

“Aww, thank you. You’re too sweet.”

“She’s right, Ace.” A deep voice murmured from behind.

Aelin whirled, after setting Evangeline safely down, to see Aedion. Clad in a crisp tuxedo, his hair brushed, and for once in something other than a hasty man-bun. “You made it!” She squeaked, throwing herself into her older brother’s arms. 

Once they separated, he was grinning. “Of course! I couldn’t miss your first premier.” Then his grin turned positively sneaky. “And I brought friends.” Then out stepped Lysandra and Elide, and Aelin saw her friend’s boyfriend off conversing with Sartaq and Dorian.

The three women shrieked in joy, instantly wrapping themselves into a clustered hug. After only a second, Elide let out a squeak, as she didn’t even come up to either woman’s shoulder, and they leaned down to include her.

After they had at last pulled apart, Nesryn, Manon and Yrene came up to introduce themselves, followed by their respective partners. Once Aelin had introduced them to her childhood friends, and had established a flowing conversation, she looked around for her husband, the urge to speak with him nearly overwhelming.

Mild panic began to fill her when she didn’t see him anywhere in the theatre, so she excused herself and rushed as quickly as her stilettos and dress would allow. Bursting through the thick door, Aelin scanned the foyer for that telltale green suit jacket and white hair, but again, she didn’t see it anywhere. And again, she rushed as quickly as she could into the lobby of the theatre, once again scanning the crowds, but once again she didn’t find him.

That mild panic quickly rose and filled her, blurring her crappy vision - worsened by the fact that she had forgotten to put her contacts back in after her shower -  and filled her eyes with tears. Quickly, she wiped them away and smudged her makeup, and rushed out of the lobby, into the cool night air, where hundreds of paparazzi instantly began snapping countless pictures of her.

Stumbling backwards, she rushed back into the lobby, and rushed for the back entrance, tumbling out towards the garbage cans. By now, her hair had come out of its beautiful waves and was now a messy, unkempt rats nest. 

Any inhibitions she had gave way when she leaned against the slimy, brick wall and slid down to the ground, burying her face in her knees as the hot, hopeless tears began to freely slide down her cheeks. Her dress caught on a chip in the bricks, and ripped, exposing a portion of her scarred back. A new wave of tears began, and she tugged at her hair.

What had she done? How had she let him believe that she didn’t love him, that she truly wanted a divorce? And who could blame him, she had been a total bitch. She had yelled at him for his greatest insecurity, the one thing he was self conscious about. And all because he hadn’t worn what she wanted. And that was after he had brought her everything he knew she loved, because the man who would forget his own name had remembered her birthday, and had tried to make it special for her, because he loved her. And she had yelled at him.

So, really, was it so surprising that he had left? He had seen her empty ring finger, and thought that she was leaving him, that she truly did want a divorce. But…. she didn't though.  Sure, things weren’t great, but… there was no one person responsible for it. At one point, they had simply stopped communicating, and simply expected the other to know or do things that they had no way of knowing.

She had stopped truly communicating with him, but Rowan had kept trying to reach her, and each time she had shut him down and berated him for it. And so, he had stopped trying.

Letting out a high whimper, Aelin wrapped her arms around herself as the chilly air soon seeped into her bones. Yet another wave of hot tears streamed down her face, but she again swiped them away, rubbing viciously at her eyes. When she pulled her hands back, she found that they were smeared with a mixture of eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner, and Aelin knew that she most likely looked like a sleep deprived raccoon. Sighing, she used the hem of her dress as a tissue and again wiped at her eyes. 

Overhead, the clouds rumbled ominously and rain began pelletting the ground around her. Again, Aelin sighed, and stood slowly, making to walk towards the street so she could order a taxi-

She froze. A taxi to where? Home? If Rowan was really leaving, he most likely was back at the house, packing her things. If she made it home, she could talk to him, convince him…. Convince him of what? That she deserved him? That she deserved a second chance? After everything that had happened, did she really even deserve a second chance? All she had done recently was find fault with every single thing he did, and make him unhappy. He deserved so much more than her.

But…. he had promised her. He had promised that no matter what happened, he would always love her. And he had meant it, because he had stayed by her side, failed audition after failed audition. Hell, he had even been the one to suggest that they move out to california once she had finally landed a role.

Sighing, Aelin hung her head as a painful revelation came over her: that she didn’t deserve a second chance. He deserved someone who wouldn’t close themselves off and leave him alone. He deserved someone who knew his insecurities and didn’t hold them against him when he made a mistake. He deserved someone else, someone better. Someone who wasn’t her.

The light drizzle became a full-fledged rainstorm, and she turned, making to go back to her corner, where she would be sheltered from the rain behind that rancid garbage can, but her stiletto gave a sharp crack, and she tripped into a puddle, soaking her dress.

She cursed, drawing her foot closer, to inspect the damage. The heel of her shoe had snapped clear off, her dress had begun to rip at the seam and was now soaked and stained with garbage, and her leg was now splattered with mud.

Cursing, Aelin stumbled back over to where she had spent the previous several hours: behind the dumpster.

No sooner had she resumed her earlier position, the door flew open, and she retreated further behind the dumpster, curling into a small ball. Whoever had come through that door stomped around for a good while, and then the door creaked open again.

Then she heard a sharp gasp, and her head jerked up.

Rowan, looking as dishevelled as she had ever seen him, was crouched before her, his tie completely undone and the top several buttons of his now wrinkled shirt unbuttoned. “Aelin,” He murmured, leaning forward to put his suit jacket around her. “What the hell-”

She interrupted him by throwing herself into his arms. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” She whimpered. “This is all my fault, I should never have shut you out, and I promise that if you choose to give me a second chance I’ll do better.”

“Whoa-whoa what?” He pulled back slightly, brushing the knotted hair from her face, and wiping away some dirt on her cheekbone. “What do you mean? This isn’t your fault, and why the hell are you out here?”

“I-I thought you had left, because… Fuck, Rowan we’ve been fighting so much, and…. And last week we all but said we were going to get a divorce, and all I’ve done for the last I don’t know how long is yell at you, and earlier when you saw I didn’t have my wedding ring on, I thought that you thought that was me saying that we’re done, but I promise that I don’t want that and if you’d only let me explain that I forgot to put it back on after my shower. But if you’ve already decided that we’re done, I promise that I’ll respect that and you’ll never have to see or hear from me again.”

Slowly, she watched him process what she had said, as he scanned her face. “Aelin… no. No, I don’t want this to be over, and of course I’ll give you another chance. That goes without saying. I know how busy you’ve been, and I’ve tried to be supportive, but I know that I’ve been distant. I had wanted to tell you that if you were willing to give me another chance, I’d be everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Silver began lining her eyes, and she pulled his jacket tighter around her to ward off the chill. “Rowan, I love you. You never have to ask for a second chance. You’ll always have it, no matter what.” Her cheeks reddened, and she found it hard to look at him. “Because, Ro, I…. you’re it for me.”

In less than a second, he had pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping himself around her. Hot tears began to dampen what little of her gown hadn’t already been soaked, but she didn’t care, because Rowan was here, and he still cared.

When he at last pulled back, his eyes were red and puffy. “You’re it for me too, Aelin. You’ve always been it for me.” With that, Rowan leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cold lips. After only a few moments, he made to pull back, but she gripped his shirt, and pulled him back to her, and she pressed her lips to his.

And as his arms wrapped around her, she knew she was home. With his lips moving sweetly against hers, it was as if they were seventeen, and sharing a kiss behind the bleachers at a highschool dance.

Once they had finally parted, she couldn’t help the words that tumbled out of her mouth. “You still love me, right Ro?”

Confusion filled his gaze. “Of course.”

“But then….why did you leave me?”

“What? I would never leave you.”

“Yes, you did. After the movie, I was looking for you and you were gone. I looked everywhere.”

“After the…? Aelin,” He smiled sweetly, cupping her cheek, “after the movie I went to the bathroom. I never purposefully left you. I’d never do that.”

She blinked. “So you’re saying I’ve been out here for no reason?”

Rowan grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You always did have a dramatic flare. It’s part of why I love you.”

Humming, she leaned into him. “I missed you.”

Another kiss was pressed to the crown of her head. “I missed you too, love.”

It wasn’t easy, and it most definitely didn’t happen overnight, and their fight in the limousine wasn’t their last, but they rebuilt their relationship. It took a lot of counseling, a lot of tears, a lot of talking, and a lot of patience, but, well over a year later, they were once again happy and in love. Some days were better than others, and it was by no means perfect. But they were happy.

Balancing work and their personal life wasn’t easy, and there were still many times that one person accidentally began shutting down communication with the other, but they now made a point to spend time together, and to schedule weekends off so that they could relax. Another improvement was that Aelin was no longer sleeping in the guest room. 

Only a few weeks after her premier, she and Rowan had decided to move into another house, as they both agreed that it would be too difficult to repair their marriage in the house that had some so close to destroying it.

Now in a new house in the suburbs, Aelin felt as if they had been gifted with a fresh start, and another chance together.

Several months later, nearly two years after her premier, as they were wrapped together under warm sheets and in each other's arms, buttery sunlight streaming in through the large windows, with her head tucked under his chin, she smiled a secret smile, her thoughts drifting to the growing secret within her belly, whose existence she would soon reveal to her husband. But for now, she roused him gently from his light slumber. “Ro. Ro, wake up. I want to tell you something.”

“Mnggh.” 

She could simply grin, and attempt to rouse him again. “Please, it’s important.”

One green eye slipped open. “Wa’sit?” He slurred, pulling her closer.

Bracing her elbows on his bare chest, she traced his collarbone with her fingertip. “I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and...I’ve come to a decision.”

Now he was awake. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his free hand, he met her happy gaze. “What do you mean?” He murmured, fingers combing sweetly through her hair.

Resting her chin in her hands, she gazed into his eyes. “So….I’ve been thinking that even though we’ve talked about it, and you’re completely fine with my acting career…”

“Mmhmm…” He hummed, smiling slightly.

“I’ve decided that I’m going to retire early, and get a real job.”

His eyes widened comically. “What?! B-but you love acting! Why-what… I’d never want you…. Aelin, you can’t! You-this is your dream job.” He sputtered, holding her gaze, and searching.

She cupped his cheek and brushed his bottom lip with her thumb. Trying to convey just how much she loved him with that gesture. “It’s my decision, Rowan. I decided to retire because I don’t like the strain it puts on our relationship.” Her husband began to protest, but she quickly silenced him. “No one made me do this. And, yeah, I know we’ve worked out ways to work through the stress my job puts on us, but… I don’t like it. I hate how we almost have to put on a facade for the paparazzi, and how absolutely everything we do is criticized and judged, and…” She took a deep breath, leading his hand to press against her stomach. “I don’t want our kids to grow up in the spotlight, where they’ll have no privacy be constantly scrutinized. I just...that’s not the life I want for them.”

Slowly, realization dawned on him, and he broke into a joyful grin, tears filling his eyes as he pressed a second hand to her belly. “Aelin, sweetheart, are...are you?”

She grinned from ear to ear, nodding her head vigorously. Rowan immediately wrapped her into a tight, loving hug and kissed her until their lips were numb and their stomachs roared for breakfast.

Comment, reblog or send an ask if you want to be added to my general tags list!

tag list: @sailorsassley @whiskeybusiness1776 @mad-scientist-pyromaniac @la7sorcellerie @dayanna-hatter@mis-lil-red @aelinfeyreisa @bamchickawowow @togswiftie @teresa-1121 @hizqueen4life @aelinchocolatelover @smexyminion@rowaelin-cressworth @illyrianbeauty @angelofmusic81 @rosesandglass @blackjacks-donuts @highlordrhysie @ame223 @sleeping-and-books @seducemewithyourbookcolection @high-lady-rhys @clumsybookworm18  @westofmoon @giorgia-the-trashpanda @burritowithfeels @happily-emma-after @awkward-avocado-s @fanfic-masterpost-site @tonypetersteve @msalazar3 @bookish-beans​ @terrasen-assassin​ @tntwme​ @lovemollywho​