#// he thinks 'I got my husband a set of the worst married couple stories to sell myself as a good husband' is SO FUNNY

[furby-organist]

> "I'm very romantic!"

[chiaraswritings]

Hello can I ask a work from you? :) Maybe Batmom pranks Bruce and the boys (plus steph and cassie) where she goes in labor. By like just putting water on the floor. It’s super chaotic and they all end up slipping on it. She doesn’t tell them it’s a prank until their halfway to the hospital and it’s just super chaotic and funny. Tysm!

Batprank

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Pregnancy, water breaking, pranking, mentions of sexual intercourse, romantic scenes between a married couple. This is not suitable for younger readers. 18+.

Word Count: 2.5K words

Summary: Batmom!reader decides to try out a prank that she found on social media.

Author's Note: Great story idea, anon. Posting this ten minutes before leaving for work, I'm not even dressed yet. So if there are typos or mistakes I'll come back later and edit them out. Don't have bad time management, kids. I hope everyone reading is safe and well, and I hope you all enjoy.

Part Two

Sunday afternoons could only be described one way in this household. Long and lazy, sometimes excruciatingly so. I was scrolling on my favorite social media app again, watching short videos. If Bruce were laying with me, he'd say I was doom scrolling. He often discouraged the kids and I from this practice of scrolling through short videos for hours on end, but there was hardly anything else to do on an afternoon like this. 

I cradled my swollen stomach, one hand resting over my navel, the other propping my phone on the bed. Inside my womb, I could feel flutters of movement, vibrations moving through my stomach. Pausing the video I was watching, I looked down at my stomach. The baby I was carrying had woken and was pushing against the front of my tummy. "Ouch. I know you're just stretching, but you have to wait to come out, little one." I returned my attention to the video of directions on how to fold towels to look like birds. 

My thumb swiped mindlessly over the screen for several more minutes. My brain wasn't really processing anything of what I was seeing. I was mainly focused on the baby's movements, feeling her stretch and kick, thinking about the cradle that Dick and Jason had put together for their little sister several weeks before and how it would soon have a newborn in it. Thinking about the songs I was going to sing to her at night. Thinking about seeing Bruce hold her for the first time. 

After about ten recommended videos that didn't interest me, I got ready to close the app. I might as well do something more useful with my time. As I swiped to view one last video, the picture of a pregnant woman caught my eye. I watched with interest as she emptied a bottle of water onto the floor next to a flight of stairs, before keeling over clutching her stomach and calling a man's name, along with the news that her water had broken. Much to my amusement, her partner came rushing down the stairs, slipping on the water and sliding across the floor on his backside. I couldn't help but chuckle. It was a good prank, though probably staged, as most pranks on this app tend to be at some level. Would this actually work? I wondered to myself. I closed the app on my phone before pressing the power button to darken the screen. Standing up wasn't my favorite, but I wanted to go see what my husband was up to.

I moved down the stairs cautiously, using the handrail. Falling could damage the organs that kept the baby safe, which is why Bruce had suggested moving to a bedroom on the first floor until she arrived. We hadn't done that yet, but it wasn't the worst idea. Anything to keep little Ava safe. Or Emma. Or something. Over the last seven months, Bruce and I had both been advocating for our own choice of name for the baby. Not that it would matter once we were finally able to hold her in our arms. 

Once I had descended down the first flight of stairs, I happened to look back at the steps behind me. It reminded me of the short video I had watched a couple minutes before. I wondered again if the prank actually worked, or if it was staged. What the family's reactions would be if I pulled that sort-of-cruel prank on them. Chuckling at the thought, I started moving towards the entrance to the Batcave.

I followed the stairs down to the dark, cold cave that I had learned to love. After all, this was home to my husband's greatest passion, and I would never try to get in between him and what made him feel fulfilled. I smiled upon seeing my dearest at the Batcomputer. Bruce was fixated on the screen, hardly noticing when I ran my hands over his shoulders from behind, my arms wrapping around his neck. "Hi there."

He looked up, not startled, but he hadn't expected my presence. "You're supposed to be resting."

I pressed a kiss to his bristly cheek. "I got tired of resting."

He turned the chair to face me. His large hands ran over my stomach, trying to feel the movement of his child, but she had already gone back to sleep, it seemed. "Can you wake her up so I can feel her?"

I looked down at him, laughing. "How exactly do you propose I do that?" 

He glared at me, but I could see the smile in his eyes. "I don't know how you do that, I've never been pregnant before."

Chuckling, I pecked his lips. "I'd want to know if you had been." Turning my attention to the screen, I noticed the faces of several inmates that had escaped the nearby asylum recently. "Getting anywhere on the case?" 

Bruce stood before turning me so my back was to the computer before kissing my lips sweetly. "You're not allowed to think about anything stressful right now, do you understand?"

I chuckled, looking up into his pretty blue eyes. "My poor baby, are you stressed?"

"Maybe. Lots of things going on at the moment." My husband knelt in front of me, pressing gentle kisses to my stomach. "Thinking about the case, the pregnancy, the company, the kids, all of it all at once."

My fingers ran through his uncombed hair. "Don't worry, the baby will be here soon, and you can scratch pregnancy off your worry list."

His eyes met mine again as he gently kissed my stomach. "I'll have a baby to worry about then. You'll tell me right away when your water breaks, won't you?" 

Smiling, I took his face in my hands. "You'll be the first to know. After Ava and I, of course." 

Bruce's eyes narrowed playfully, and he stood up once again. "You mean Emma?"

I chuckled and pulled him down slightly to brush my nose against his, our lips not quite meeting. "I mean Ava." 

"You mean Emma," Bruce grinned, kissing me passionately, stroking my stomach with his thumbs. A giggle escaped my throat, but I didn't break the kiss. He moved his hands to my hips, his caresses moving to my sides. 

"I thought you guys promised not to have sex in the cave anymore?" Stephanie's voice cut through our kiss, causing me to jump and Bruce to turn his head to glare at her. 

"We are not having sex, though we still can at eight months," Bruce gave me a side glance. 

I returned the glance. "You try having sex with a nearly full-grown baby in your tummy. Give it a try, let's see how you like it."

"Fair enough," he muttered before pecking my lips. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes as she passed us. "Disgusting, don't talk about it in the cave anymore either."

I chuckled, giving the girl's shoulder a squeeze and my husband's cheek a kiss. "I'm heading back upstairs, sex talk averted." 

Feeling Bruce grab my hand, I turned my head back towards him. "You will tell me when you go into labor?"

Reassuringly squeezing his hand, I smiled. "I promise I will. But I'm pretty sure we have some time before that happens." 

I made my way up the stairs, leaving Bruce to grump about our moment being interrupted. When I reached the landing, I was greeted by Alfred, who offered me a tall glass of water. "You'll remember what the doctor said about water consumption, madam," he held it out to me, and I almost reluctantly accepted it. 

"I do remember, but I don't think I can consume much else after that wonderful lunch you prepared for us, Alfred." 

"Flattery gets you nowhere, miss. Drink it all." He stood there so expectantly, his gaze piercing me like a sharp knife. Hesitantly, I sipped from the glass. My words had been the honest truth, I was still full from lunch. At least finishing a small amount got Alfred to turn and head back towards the kitchen. 

I looked at the glass in my hand that was still nearly full. Finishing it completely would be too impossible a feat at the moment, but I didn't feel like pouring it down the drain. I thought once again of that short video, of the woman with her own bottle of water, and suddenly, I knew exactly what to do with the remaining water. 

...

I had successfully emptied the glass of water onto the floor, a puddle beneath my feet. I made sure to splash some on my clothes before stuffing the glass inside an indoor potted bush. Someone would find it later, I was sure. The prank had been set perfectly next to the staircase on the marble flooring. Observing the scene, I grinned. If this actually were to work... 

"Damian, go tell your father that my water broke!" I yelled up the stairs for the person I knew to be in his room. 

I saw his head pop around the corner, observing with narrowed eyes, already suspicious. He was always suspicious. But my staged scene was convincing enough. Holding back mirth, I watched as his eyes widened and he made four bounds down the thirty stairs before disappearing into the Batcave's entrance.

Before I could get my laughter out of my system, Bruce, Stephanie, Damian, and Tim were tripping over each other in their haste to be by my side. I clutched my stomach and groaned in mock agony.

"Mom!" I watched with amusement as Tim rushed to my side before falling victim to the puddle of water and slipping, falling and sliding across the floor on his backside. Stephanie, ignoring Tim's accident, was the first to arrive at my side, her enthusiasm clear.

"Is Emma coming?!" She put her hand on my stomach, trying to feel the movement of the baby. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly while acting like I was in pain. 

"You mean Ava is coming!" Bruce was about to scoop me into his arms, but instead, slipped in the puddle and landed next to Tim on the marble floor. I ignored my husband's groaning and decided to fight for the victory, while still clutching my stomach. 

"Ava? You really mean it?"

"Yes!" Bruce hastily picked himself up, but I could see his bruised ego underneath his concern and panic. Before I could ensure that my battle for my daughter's name was won, I was picked up and nearly dropped again as Bruce clumsily fought with the closet door that stored the delivery bag we had packed a month or two before. "Timothy, get the bag out of the closet!"

I covered my mouth to keep my laughter inside. Tim had been watching the scene with interest from the floor, but he snapped to attention to retrieve the bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jason rounding the corner, looking like he had just woken from a long slumber. 

"Wha's goin on?" His sleepy eyes weren't registering the display before him. 

"Your mother is about to give birth in our hallway!" My poor husband growled before marching with me to the entryway of the mansion. 

"Oh, congratu... huh?" Jason blinked at me. 

"Alfred! Where's the damn car!" Bruce was sweating at this point, but I was thoroughly amused. This prank actually worked.

"In the garage, sir, would you like me to fetch it for you?" Alfred, the only calm soul in the vicinity, called from the kitchen. 

"Yes! Right now!" 

Seconds later, I was being half carried, half hauled out the front door. A small crowd of our family members had gathered, trying to be as helpful as they could, but in reality it was simply Cassandra and Stephanie badgering Bruce with questions about when they could come see the baby, Tim slipping once again in the puddle, and Jason trying to get through to Dick's cell phone. It was when I was stuck in the back seat of the car like a bag full of golf clubs that I decided it was time to come clean. "Guys, I'm just kid-" 

I was cut off when Damian slid into the seat next to me with his beloved sword drawn. "Come on, Pennyworth, drive!" His words were intensified as he waved the sword in the air. 

"Damian, no, it was just a-"

"Damian, you put that away this instant!" Bruce cut me off once again. "You'll kill your sister before she's even born!" I could see Alfred giving us a side eye from the driver's seat.

"Bruce, Bruce, my water didn't even-" 

"Don't worry, one of the kids will clean it up, let's go!" He pushed Damian out of the seat and took his place before slamming the car door shut. 

Alfred glanced at us from the rearview mirror. "Yes sir, is the madam comfortable?"

"No I'm not comfortable!" I grabbed Bruce's hand, trying to get his focus as the car pulled out of the gates.  I noticed that the car was turning the opposite direction of the hospital. "Darling, I was-"

"I know it hurts, just hang on," he pressed a kiss to my cheek before proceeding to dial Dick's number on his cell phone. "Why isn't he picking up?!"

"It was a prank!" Laughing, I grabbed his face in my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Darling, darling, I was just kidding. It was a prank." 

His eyes were blank for a moment before the realization hit. "Are you ser... (Y/N)!" 

Chuckling, I pressed my lips to his forehead. "She's not coming yet, I just wanted to see if you'd fall for it."

"But of course I would... did... fall for it..." He grabbed my hand in mine before sighing and kissing the back of it. "Alfred, she pranked us."

"Yes, sir, she certainly did." I could see the butler's half amused glare from the mirror before the car came to a stop at a red light.

My husband pressed a kiss to my lips before giving me an unamused look. "We're naming her Emma, you've lost your naming rights."

I burst into laughter, returning the glare. "I am her mother, I have naming rights!"

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. "Not after that stunt. Don't you agree, Alfred?"

Alfred didn't respond to the question, but instead nodded at the shopping center next to the stoplight. "How convenient, we happen to be right next to the madam's favorite restaurant, shall we make a stop?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Bruce pressed a kiss to my cheek as the car pulled into the parking lot. "I'll get your usual and we can bring it home?" 

"Perfect indeed," I chuckled, still in shock that my prank had worked so well. I rested my hand on my stomach while my husband stepped out of the car. Watching him disappear into the doors of the restaurant, I looked over at Alfred. "This restaurant is nowhere near the hospital." 

"I do know that, madam." 

"And we were supposed to be going to the hospital." 

"Were we?"

"You knew?" 

Alfred turned in the driver's seat, holding up the empty water glass I had stored in the bush just minutes before, giving me a displeased glance. "I'd bury it a bit deeper next time, Miss (Y/N)." 

Part Two

[reblog-house]

A Little Catching Up

Written for Hermit-a-day-May, day 12: Friends of Hermits. Or: Lizzie! ALSO written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 252, "Spill The Tea"

Wc: 1000

Ao3: Here!

It’d been a while since Lizzie last saw her husband in person, since he joined Hermitcraft. Good. That meant she was able to focus on other stuff that was on her mind. And it’s not like they never spoke, anyway.

At first, they called every day, but now it was every week or so, and every time she did, he had another story to tell. Apparently, there was something about… clones of himself? A murder mystery? A murder mystery about the clones of himself? Honestly, she stopped trying to disentangle that thing. She was happy not understanding and just hearing her husband ramble.

And then, Joel got the idea of traveling together in his brain — ‘To get some inspiration for my base, Lizzie’ — and she was more than willing to indulge him.

It was nice, getting to catch up properly, to spend some time together, before they each had to go to their respective servers. It was a much needed trip, and they got to see some very wonderful builds. She may not be pulling inspiration from it for her own creations, but she’d be lying if she said seeing all the views didn’t revitalize her a little.

It’d been less than a week since they parted ways and Lizzie was boiling a pot of tea when her phone rang. It was Joel.

“Hey babe,” she greeted, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hey Lizzie, what are you doing right now?” He spoke very fast. “Because I want to tell you something weird and don’t want you to break something.”

“Eh, nothing special,” she said, and with her phone now supported by her shoulder, she picked up the kettle before it could whistle. “Hit me with it.”

“Remember how I told you Etho was obsessed with me?”

“Uh, duh.” She began pouring the liquid into her cup.

“Well, apparently there’s someone worse.”

“That’s possible?” She asked sarcastically. “Wow.”

“Lizzie. I came back to like seven love letters addressed to me, Lizzie. Seven anonymous love letters!”

Lizzie choked and her grip on the kettle got unsteady. It spilled a bit around the cup. “Oh, crap.” It could’ve fallen on her.

“I know, what the hell! And the worst part is, he was convinced we had something going on, because someone left a sign on his base pretending to be me!”

She openly laughed now, and set the kettle with a clank before the boiling water could drop on her. He continued his pleas.

“I’m married, Lizzie! To you! And when I told him I didn’t want anything to do with him that way, he sent me a poem. A poem, Lizzie!”

Lizzie was delighted. She picked the mug with both hands and walked to the living room with it as he spoke.

“Did he, now?” She sat back onto her favorite armchair and set the mug on the side table.

“And now!” He was quickly growing agitated. Not in a negative way. Joels needed some agitation for enrichment. An agitated Joel was a sign of a healthy husband. “The context is too complicated to explain, but now I’m stuck having to make an armor stand –”

“Oh, armor stands! Your shrine for me was adorable. And little you! Oh I could just squish his cheeks.”

“...Thank you Lizzie. Right. Now I have to make an armor stand of myself professing my love to him or whatever so he leaves me alone.”

“Ha! Oh Joel, only you.”

“Only me? Lizzie, have some compassion. I’m dying over here!”

“I don’t know…” She brought the mug to her face and checked the color. Still a couple more minutes before she could drink it. “That seems like a Joel problem to me.”

He groaned, and she could just imagine him covering his face with his hands in frustration. She loved seeing him suffer.

“Right, the worst wife. She doesn’t listen to my suffering. I’m doomed. I’m in pain and she doesn’t empathize.”

She laughed again. “Well, if I’m so horrible of a wife, I think it’s time to go, now! My tea will be ready any minute now.” And with the most cheerful of tones. “Bye Joel! Good luck with the number one fan!”

There was a little moment of silence, and when Joel spoke again, it was like he was a different person. All the acceleration left his voice and who remained was the man she’d know for most of her life, who she would take strolls along the beach with, who proposed to her, who she spent a wonderful time with on their most recent trip. 

“Bye babe. It was nice talking to you. It’s… it’s been a strange few days. I think the trip made me realize how much I missed you.”

She melted a little and didn’t try to hide it in her voice. “Oh, Joel. I can imagine. I miss you too. It’s been three months now, since you joined. Can you believe that?”

“And yet it sometimes feels like the first week. Like I’m still very new to it all. It’s so strange. How has time passed that fast but also so slow?”

“Something only the ruler of Stratos would know.”

“What- that… doesn’t make any sense. Why would I from-”

“I love you Joel.”

“Love you too, Lizzie. Right, I have some projects to be working on. Not the stupid statue. I’ll postpone that as much as possible. Maybe one day I can sneak you in so you could see how my base is coming along. See how the trip has helped me”

“I would like that. Just be careful of Xisuma noticing me!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you in when he’s offline. Okay, bye now.”

“Bye!”

And like that, she ended the call.

It truly was nice to see him having fun on his new server and making new friends. If unwanted love letters counted as a new friend. She chuckled to herself. The situations that man got himself into, sometimes…

But she loved him all the same.

[allwaswell16]

— Established Relationship Fics —

A fic rec of One Direction established relationship fics as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

🧡 We Are Only Just Beginning by @afirethatcannotdie

(E, 129k, college) A college AU featuring lots of domestic sappiness, waffles, tattoos, late nights and early mornings, and above all, Louis and Harry against the world.

🧡 Demon and Immortal (series) by delsicle / @eeveedel

(E, 90k, supernatural) Harry is a demon and Louis is his eternal mate.

🧡 Peace Found With You by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(T, 34k, missing Harry) Louis was only a couple of days away from a weekend escape filled with sunshine, billowing sails, and his husband when he received a phone call that changed everything.

🧡 Swallow My Words by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(T, 32k, high school au) On top of balancing school work, family, and friends, Harry's lacrosse team is vying to win the state championship, he's not sure where he's going to college yet, and he has a secret boyfriend that no one can know about.

🧡 True Love's Gold by @alivingfire *

(E, 27k, canon) it takes a village to arrange a proposal, but that doesn't mean it's going to go as planned.

🧡 Lover Boy by @brightgolden

(E, 27k, secret relationship) Where Louis wants to tell everyone about his relationship with Harry, but his boyfriend clearly thinks otherwise.

🧡 Adore You by @creamcoffeelou *

(E, 23k, canon) A canon-compliant fic where Harry wants nothing more than to take care of Louis.

🧡 You Were Mine by @brightlyharry

(E, 20k, angst with a happy ending) Harry has ran out of ways to try to repair their broken marriage and Louis can't be bothered to even try. When the loneliness becomes too much, he joins a new social media app.

🧡 Dance Me (to the End of Love) by @phdmama

(E, 19k, proposal au) the story of how a simple proposal becomes a competition where no one loses in the end

🧡 Everything I Do by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 16k, proposal) the one where Harry finds a book of Elizabethan courtship rituals which sets in motion a series of events that can lead to only one conclusion.

🧡 I Wanna Feel (Your Love) by @infinitelymint *

(E, 15k, canon) Five moments in Louis and Harry’s life based on five of the biggest emotions: fear, sadness, love, anger and joy.

🧡 stop the world ('cause i wanna get off with you) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain *

(E, 12k, canon) Five times Louis and Harry get walked in on at the worst time, and one time Louis makes sure they don't.

🧡 head head heart by @turnyourankle *

(E, 11k, canon) After Dunkirk has wrapped filming, Harry struggles with his inability to reach subspace.

🧡 Do Not Disturb (kiss me beneath the milky twilight) by @sadaveniren *

(E, 7k, canon) Harry doesn't want to become a boring old married couple a year into their relationship and tries to spice up their sex life.

🧡 Take Me for a Spin by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird *

(E, 5k, canon) The night of the Pride of Britain Awards 2016. Louis goes to the ceremony and out to the club afterwards, but what is Harry up to?

🧡 For Your Eyes Only by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite *

(NR, 3k, canon) Harry and Louis had never broken the two-week rule before. When they did, we got If I Could Fly and Home.

🧡 Gonna Dress You Up In My Love by @fallinglikethis

(T, 3k, fluff) Harry decides to take up knitting. He's horrible at it.

🧡 Milk and Honey and You in the Morning by @haztobegood *

(E, 2k, canon) Louis blows the biggest, wettest raspberry across Harry's chest.

🧡 (marshmallow) fluff by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(G, 2k, kid fic) Harry and Louis spend a quiet(ish) morning at home with their kids.

—Rare Pairs—

🧡 Devoted by @nouies

(E, 5k, Louis/Alisson Becker) A collection of drabbles about Louis’ life as the housewife of a professional football player.

🧡 still, somehow by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 1k, Louis/Liam) Louis trims Liam's split ends.

[something-pithy]

Notes and an Update: What's in a Name?

Chapter 16 of an echo, a stain features Astarion doing what he does best -- feeling terror, spiraling and at the very least contemplating terrible choices as a result. lol.

SPOILERS FOR ACT 2 OF BG3 BELOW

Those of you who are mostly caught up on an echo, a stain know I love me a flashback (and now the rest of y'all know, too lol). There are two in this new chapter, one of which is set in the Shadow-Cursed lands after Astarion has confessed his initial intentions toward and current feelings/desires for Tav to Tav (post-Orthon confession). As a result of that conversation, they've put a pin in the sexual aspects of their relationship, but are still together romantically. Then, the Araj Moment happens (spoiler alert: nobody bit that heifer), Thaniel is reunited with Oliver, Halsin's... admiration of Tav is becoming more apparent, and Astarion is... yes! Spiraling!

I think that flashback speaks for itself, and I'll let y'all get what you will from when / where in the story it appears.

The OTHER flashback, which is much more brief, is about this Tav's name. Now, I'm not trying to make any secret of the fact that the Tav in this story and I have a lot in common in terms of ethnic backgrounds when you remove the high fantasy fake world element from Tav's lol. FIRST I want to say, I don't give a fuck. There is no shame in my game. Nobody comes for George R.R. Martin or Robert Jordan or J.R.R. (the Rs are for REALLY RACIST) Tolkein (don't @ me -- or do, go ahead and send me an ask if you really want to know my feels on that one looool) for writing about characters whose ethnic and cultural backgrounds are Western European / British.

Second of all, maybe I'm being unnecessarily defensive because I'm an old head who came up in a time when writing a self-insert character was like THE VERY WORST POSSIBLE THING YOU COULD DO AS A WRITER, but once again I don't give a fuck.

The lived experiences of ethnic minorities, people of mixed ethnic and cultural heritage (not fucking half-elves who most of the time are just people of the Caucasian persuasion with pointy ears and shorter lifespans than regular elves), first generation children of immigrants, and all manner of permutations of non-white, non-Western "others" are in extremely short supply in all forms of media / popular narratives in the Western world (shit honestly, it ain't just the West but that's another struggle for another day). This is especially true, from what I've experienced as a lifelong nerdalerd, in speculative fiction.

So yeah, I conceived my Tav as a mixed-race (kind of, she's all high elf, but mixed sun, moon, and sea because she's a motherfucking unicorn, come at me bro looool -- no, there are other reasons too but also she's a unicorn lol), mixed-ethnic-and-cultural-heritage person whose life choices are NOT aligned with a lot of the conventions and values of the cultures in which she was raised.

Because that story and perspective is wildly underrepresented in literature, mass media, speculative fiction, and fan fiction.

So here we are. loooool

Having said all that, I got a comment from my fucking delightful beta and queen of my soul, Komo, asking about the naming conventions I reference in this chapter (or their real-world analogues).

So for the notes part of this episode of "Notes and an Update," I'm going to quote part of the comment she left on AO3 about the story and my response, which adheres to my policy of "why say it in five words if you can say it in EIGHT MILLION." Let me know what you think!

NAMING CONVENTIONS IN AEAS

(FROM THE COMMENTS SECTION OF AN ECHO, A STAIN CHAPTER 16:)

Komo wrote:

I have so many questions about naming conventions, both from the corner of the world that Tav’s family hails from and BG proper. Like, in American and Japanese culture, women take their husband’s last names when heterosexual couples get married. In the States, there are exceptions to this rule, of course, with some women hyphenating. In China, women do not change their last names, but kids are almost always named after the father’s side (the old one child policy may have affected this, but the top 100 most common surnames make up 85% of the population anyways). If Tav and Astarion do end up together, would names be a thing they’d have to navigate? Astarion is such a possessive little yandere after all.

I wrote:

OK so this Tav's ethnic and cultural background, as we know, is mixed

(I'm not even getting into her racial background I just can't with fucking elvish loool and her families on both sides are far-enough removed from immersion in elven culture where I'm like LOOOOOOOOOOOOOL SEE YOU LATER TOLKEIN).

On her father's side, she's Zakharan / DnD-analogue MENA (Middle Eastern North African, with apologies to Said for the orientalism of the term Middle Eastern).

On her mother's side, Amnian / New Amnian / DnD-analogue Latina but -- oh lordt OK without getting into the complexities of codified colonial Spanish racism and colorism, that identity is complicated. Through a combination of executive decision-making about elves and race and how they interact with culture on the material plane (aka not in the Feywild) AND really leaning into the idea of cultural analogues in Toril / the Forgotten Realms, her Latina-analogue ethnicity comprises a mix of indigenous and colonizer racial/ethnic heritage.

(I also can't with how fucking convoluted figuring this out was, is, has been, will forever be looool.)

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, for the sake of brevity (looooooooooooooooool), we'll say Tav's full name results from the combination of her parents' names using Amnian/New Amnian (Spanish) naming conventions, BUT that means her full name (which is not even as long as it could be but is LONG) incorporates both Arabic naming conventions AND Spanish naming conventions that result in impressively / annoyingly long names loool.

In modern Spain, at least, when women marry, some don't even take their husband's name. But the kids' names are composites of parents' family names.

A Spanish child takes the surnames of both their father and mother. The structure is usually [father's surname] y [mother's surname] (though in modern Spain and Spanish-speaking countries a lot of people no longer use the "y"), but the main surname would be the father's surname. So for example, someone's full last name might be Juana Garcia y Martinez or Juana Garcia Martinez, but she might just go by Juana Garcia.

ALSO, especially for children of families of some kind of note / nobility when the dad's family was not as well-known as the mother's, this would include the composite names of both parents.

So Juana's name might be Juana [Garcia de Manzanilla (dad's composite surname)] y [Martinez de Hierro (mom's composite surname)].

So Juana Garcia de Manzanilla y Martinez de Hierro. And like, when people get real into it this can go back generations. Like, I don't even remember my mom's whole-ass name. looool.

NOW, Arabic names are composites, too, but incorporate the father's first name, the grandfather's first name, then the family name -- back in the day, they'd link these things with words that indicated the relationships. So for example, if Yemina's dad is Yusuf and HIS dad is Muhammad and their family name is Rashid, Yemina's name would then be Yemina bint/bin (daughter of) Yusuf ibn (son of) Muhammad al-(of the family) Rashid.

So Yemina bin Yusuf ibn Muhammad al-Rashid.

OK SO THERE'S ANOTHER COMPLICATION (aren't you glad you asked this question loooooooooooooooooooool): with regard to Spanish naming conventions, apparently this patrilineal thing hasn't always been the case and only came to be the norm around the mid-1700s. Before that, surname transmission was often matrilineal.

(This comes into play here because the year in BG3 is like, idk, 1492-98 or something? I forget whatever who cares it's before the mid-1700s and I'm just making it vaguely and very much not perfectly analogous with the time / calendar of the Western world because I don't have the bandwidth for anything else loooooooooool).

In this Tav's case, her mom ditched her dad and the kids were young enough at the time that she was able to, as a sign of DEEP FUCKING DISRESPECT TO HIM loooool, change their names to MATRILINEAL AMNIAN-STYLE COMPOSITE SURNAMES LOOOOOOOOOOOOL

(So for a while Tav's government name was Zeneida Nqa Tavares de la Torre de López Jimenez y bin Harun ibn Ishaq al-Jazairi loooool)

I mean this was like looooooooooooooool FUCKING PROFOUNDLY SCANDALOUSLY DISRESPECTFUL FOR HER TO DO TO A ZAKHARAN MAN especially one of SOME NOTE WHO WAS SELF-MADE

That shit was mad personal and a level of petty that mere mortals can only aspire to it was so deep

But TAV'S MOM DOES NOT PLAY

(Now, could she have just cut Tav's father's name out entirely? Sure, but 1) THAT MOTHERFUCKER IS NOT GETTING OUT OF CLAIMING THESE KIDS / PAYING CHILD SUPPORT esp if he ever got married again HER KIDS ARE THE FUCKING HEIRS AND HE AIN'T GON FORGET IT and 2) (possibly more importantly) FUCK HIS COUCH, PEOPLE ARE GONNA KNOW HE FUCKED AROUND AND FOUND OUT)

Even though he's deadass like "lol wtfever I don't give a fuck, I know what their real legal names are" and also this resulted in a protracted, multinational legal battle that was never actually resolved until each kid reached the age of majority and decided what their own legal name would be.

Ahem, anyway as a consequence of all this, Tav's full-ass, whole-ass, government name is:

Zeneida (first given name)

Nqa (middle given name)

bin Harun ibn Ishaq al-Jazairi (full Arabic/"Midani" patrilineal surname)

y (conjunction [means 'and'])

Tavares de la Torre de López Jimenez (mother's full surname)

So: Zeneida Nqa bin Harun ibn Ishaq al-Jazairi y Tavares de la Torre de López Jimenez

But as we know, she just goes by Zeneida Tavares, and she wasn't lying when she said on most docs it's just "Zeneida Nqa Jazairi Tavares."

Second...

tl;dr: Tavvy for short. Ms. Tavares if you nasty.

ALSO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL

If Tav and Astarion do end up together, Astarion better adjust them expectations, bc after all the drama that's existed around her name, he gonna have a hard time getting her to change it looool

Not to mention, she has a career based in part on people knowing who she is so... loooool

SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO IF THE STARS AND PLANETS EVER ALIGN FOR THEM / THEY EVER GET THEIR HEADS OUT OF ASSES

[justsavy]

Part 2:

I couldn’t stop thinking about you since the moment we had parted ways, but I couldn’t wait to get back to you. I had chose you. Without even making it across the world to give this other guy a chance, I had chose you. But I know I still needed to continue with my trip and go see him just to be sure I never had any “what ifs.” But now more than anything I wish in that moment I would’ve just chosen you and gave the other guy up, I was just worried that I might would regret it one day and honestly, I knew I was going to come back to you so it was more of just a matter of going to see a friend and hurry back to you.. that was until I got completely bombarded. It was a couple days in my trip when my ex husband took me paragliding, he still had yet to ask me to be his girlfriend so I wasn’t expecting or prepared for anything more. Jumping off the mountain with my entire life trusted in a parachute, was one of the most accelerating moments I had ever had in my life. It was the rush of a lifetime. My ex husband landed before I did, so when I landed, I stood up and turned around with s huge smile on my face until I look down and saw him on his knee with a ring in his hands asking me to marry him. My jaw drops and I’m in shock, paralyzed in a position with my hands over my mouth. I didn’t know what to feel, I couldn’t think. All these months I thought this guy was just stringing me along and telling me what I wanted to hear. I didn’t even cry I was so in shock. I really couldn’t believe it. It didn’t take long before I realized that this guy was more in love with me then I ever thought and that made me happy. I was overwhelmed with excitement that someone like him would want to spend his life with someone like me. I had barely know him half a year when he chose to spend his life with me, give me a commitment I had been longing for from you for years. I was texting and calling my friends and family because I was so excited to let them know that I was engaged to a man that they all loved and wanted me to be with. You didn’t even cross my mind until I so stupidly posted a picture of the ring on my Snapchat, forgetting I had you on there. You slid up on my story and congratulated me and my heart shattered. I had just met with you and told you how much I loved you and now I am throwing in your face that I just got engaged. Even though it wasn’t intentional, I just disrespected you in the worst way possible. I never got to tell you how sorry I was for that and I hope one day I will be able to tell you how fucked up that was of me to do and how I was dead set on coming back to you. Then life got really, really confusing. I didn’t know what to do, all I knew was someone wanted to marry me that I knew I could love and it only took him a couple months to decide that after meeting me vs the years of hell you put me through and didn’t choose me until you knew I was done. It shouldn’t of taken you completely losing me to choose me but it did. Which is why I chose him, because he never made me guess if he wanted to be with me or not, at least not in the beginning. We were engaged about a year and a half before we got married. That gave me plenty of time to process things and figure out the pros and cons. I had almost ended my engagement a couple of times but not because of you. I wanted to be the one to make decisions for myself without involving anyone else. After I got engaged and moved back to my home town, I enrolled in college there. My first semester there, I had a government class at 8am. Who the fuck takes a gov class at 8am? I didn’t want to be late on my first day so I got there about 15 minutes early. I walk in class and sit in the back at a table next to a girl that I don’t know, leaving the middle seat open. I look around and don’t see anyone I know so I try to make it look like I’m doing something important on my phone until I heard the words “oh shit” come out of your mouth with a chuckle behind it. I look up to see you smiling and laughing with one of your best friends, knowing y’all both just saw me.

[moodymelanist]

One Thousand Followers Celebration

okay I’m honestly kind of shook that we’re even here but thank you to everyone who’s a part of our little corner of the fandom. I love you all so so much and I’m so happy to be here ❤️ most people requested something cute and fluffy so here’s Cassian being drunk and and Nesta comes to get him. I hope you all enjoy!! 💘💘💘

feel free to read it on AO3 here too!

word count: 2975

—————

Nesta was halfway through her latest read when her phone started buzzing incessantly. It was just getting to the good part, where the main couple started to realize maybe there was something more between them than burning hatred, and she didn’t want to put it down. Frankly, it reminded her of her own love story, but she’d never admit that to anyone out loud.

She was forced to look away when her phone was vibrating so constantly with texts she thought someone was calling her. Sighing, she reached for her phone, unlocking it only to see her husband had sent her almost twenty messages.

Cassian, 11:52 PM

Nesta

Nes

I love yiu sooooo muche

Youe so pretty

I weish u were here

everyons laufghint at me but i miss u

wyd

nesssssssssss

are u ignoringme for a book agwain

:(

Swethearft<3

did i tell u i luv u td

wait its ok I ddid

i want a kiss when i see u ok

The remaining messages were a jumble of Spanish and English words mixed together, and while she had a working knowledge of Spanish, she didn’t know it well enough to even attempt to decipher what he was trying to tell her. Still, she couldn’t help but smile as she read through them all, affection blooming in her chest for her favorite person in the world.

Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel had gone out to their favorite bar for guys night, and Cassian was clearly drunk off his ass. It was really hard to keep a straight face with him normally, but when he was drunk, she thought it was one of the most adorable things she’d ever seen.

Nesta, 12:01 AM

I love you too, you big goofball

I’ll give you a kiss and a hug when I see you how’s that

Her phone was ringing within seconds, a picture of Cassian filling her screen before she answered.

“Hello?” she said, marking her page with a bookmark before closing it.

“Nesta!” Cassian exclaimed. She had to pull her phone from her ear for a moment, but she smiled again anyways.

“Hi, Cassian,” she replied, trying not to laugh. He was just so cute. “Are you having a good time?”

“Leave me alone, I’m talking to my wife,” he said, his voice sounding slightly further away. He must have been talking to Rhys or Azriel, but the way referred to her made her want to melt. They’d been together for years and married for just over one, but it still sent a thrill through her to hear him claim her out loud.

“Nes?” he said, his voice back to normal volume.

“I’m here,” she said, getting off the bed to begin looking for her shoes. He normally called her and started getting ridiculously affectionate when it was getting close for him to come home, so it was only a matter of time before he asked her to come get him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for my shoes,” she replied, spotting her boots on the floor. Leaning her phone against her ear, she bent down and put them on over her leggings before walking back to her dresser.

“Are you coming to find me?” he asked. She couldn’t help but smile at how excited he sounded by the prospect.

“Yes, baby.” Nesta hit speaker and put the phone down on their dresser as she took off the oversized shirt that she’d borrowed from him, slid a sports bra on, and put on a plain tee shirt over it.

“Oh thank God,” he said, and then dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “You’re much more fun than the dumbasses I’m with.”

She’d opened her mouth to reply, but then Cassian began talking to someone else nearby. “Tarquin! Fancy seeing you here! Are you still mad about your windows? Nes, I gotta go. Love you.”

It was a cool September evening, so Nesta grabbed a denim jacket before throwing her hair up into a bun and leaving their apartment. Once she got to her car, it was a short fifteen minutes to get to The Sidra. Thankfully there was ample street parking around the corner, and the bouncer let her in with a quick flash of her ID.

Nesta walked inside, spotting her husband and his friends immediately. They took up a ridiculous amount of space in one of the booths, and she couldn’t resist smiling as Cassian visibly brightened by her appearance.

“Nesta!” he shouted, grinning widely as she got closer. So much for subtlety, she supposed. She offered repeated apologies as she walked over to where he was sitting, but thankfully most of the people there seemed to think his behavior was too cute to be a serious nuisance.

Once she was next to the side of the booth he was sitting on, he pulled her in for a hug, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist and laying his head on her chest.

“Cassian,” she said at a normal volume, endlessly amused as he snuggled into her. She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head before turning to greet Rhys and Azriel, both of whom looked seconds away from breaking out laughing.

“Don’t you dare,” she told them, tightening her arms around Cassian as she gave his friends a look. They both hold their hands up in surrender, Azriel raising his beer at her before turning back to Rhys.

“I missed you,” Cassian said against her chest, his voice muffled. “So much.”

“Every minute without you was excruciating,” Nesta said, playing along. He looked up at her with a pout.

“Stop teasing me,” he told her. He was frowning slightly now. “I did miss you a lot, you know.”

“I’m sorry. You’re just so cute like this, it’s hard not to tease you a little bit.”

“Not as cute as you.” Cassian smiled up at her, pleased with himself. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes good-naturedly and let him tug her into his lap.

“Sorry to crash your guys’ night,” she said to Rhys and Azriel now that she was facing them.

“He’s not as much fun when he gets like this anyway,” Azriel replied, chuckling. “In his old age, he’s turned into a sappy drunk.”

“Hey! We’re the same age!” Cassian protested from behind her, tightening his grip around her waist. Azriel and Cassian had both turned thirty earlier this year, while Rhys’ birthday wasn’t until November. Nesta had turned twenty-eight back in April.

“Good thing I like sappy drunks,” she said, twisting around to face him. He gave his friends a smug look as she pressed a kiss to his warm cheek, his stubble scratching her face in a way she loved.

“You two are the worst,” Rhys groaned.

“Like you and my sister are any better,” Nesta shot back as she turned around. Feyre and Rhys had been together since their college days and had tied the knot once they’d both graduated.

“Speaking of her, I’d love to get back home to her,” he replied. He pulled out his phone and began texting, and Nesta guessed he was asking if she was still awake.

“I guess that’s it then, huh?” Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow at Nesta.

“I’m sure Gwyn is dying to see you too,” she teased, smiling softly at him. She and Emerie had colluded with Cassian and Rhys to set the pair up on a blind date last year, and everyone had been thrilled when they’d agreed to keep seeing each other.

“She has a performance tomorrow, so she’s probably already asleep,” Azriel answered, raising a hand to catch the closest server’s attention.

“I told you my wife was hot as fuck,” Cassian said suddenly, shifting to point wildly at Nesta as their server – a young woman named Nuala – came by to bring them the check.

“I’m thrilled,” she replied dryly, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Nesta. “He hasn’t shut up about you for the last half an hour, you know. Thank God he wasn’t making you up.”

“Thanks,” Nesta said, her lips twitching from trying to hold in her laughter. Rhys put down his card to pay for all of them, waving off Cassian and Azriel’s attempts to give him money for their share of the check. Within a few minutes, the four of them were getting out of their booth and beginning the walk to the exit.

Cassian immediately went for Nesta’s hand, intertwining their fingers before bringing their hands to his mouth so he could kiss the back of hers.

“That is so unhygienic,” she said, exasperated. “I haven’t washed my hands since I left our place.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, grinning at her. He kissed the back of her hand one more time before lowering their hands to swing them between the two of them as they kept walking.

“Who’s that guy glaring at you?” Nesta asked, noticing a tall Black guy staring Cassian down from a booth near the door. He had silver curls that stood out brightly against his dark skin, but he couldn’t have been much older than any of them. It had to have been natural, since his eyebrows and lashes were the same color.

“Oh, that’s Tarquin,” he replied, waving at Tarquin with a sheepish grin from where they stood. Tarquin flipped him off before turning back to his companions, who both shared the same dark skin and silvery hair.

“Why is he glaring at you? Do I need to talk to him?” Nesta asked, frowning. She was the only one allowed to glare at her husband like that.

“No sweetheart, it’s fine,” Cassian replied, laughing as they walked by the table. “It’s our inside joke. He threw a party senior year of college and I might have gotten drunk and broken a few windows in his house.”

“You what? Cassian, that’s not an inside joke.”

“It’s fine, Nes. I paid him back for it, but his parents were pissed. I’m banned from his neighborhood, actually.”

“That is not fine.”

“I might be drunk, but I know when I’m right,” Cassian said, just before walking right into the door. Azriel had accidentally let it swing behind him and Cassian hadn’t grabbed it in time, and it got him right in the face.

Nesta burst out laughing before she clapped her free hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Are you okay?”

“The love of my life just laughed at my pain,” he whined, yanking open the door. Azriel and Rhys were absolutely losing it on the other side, making it hard for Nesta to keep her composure in solidarity with Cassian.

“Let me see it,” she said once they were outside. Cassian had pressed his hand to the side of his face, but Nesta got him to move it with her free one. His cheek was red from the impact, but she was sure it’d be fine with some ice once they got back to their place.

“It’s not so bad,” she reassured him. It was hard to keep a straight face with his friends – mostly Rhys – still howling in the background, but she got on her toes to give him a kiss on his face.

“It still hurts,” he said, pouting at her. “Can I get another kiss?”

“You big baby,” she said, but she leaned in and kissed his cheek again. “That’s all you’re getting. When we get home, I’m putting ice on that.”

“I love it when you boss me around,” he said dreamily, letting her tug him past his friends. “It does things to me.”

“Please take him home,” Rhys called from behind them. Nesta flipped him off before Cassian could, earning another wide grin from him as they walked towards her car.

“Thanks for the best thing I’ve ever seen!” Azriel added, both of their laughter fading the farther Nesta and Cassian walked.

“They’re so mean,” Cassian grumbled as she dug into her pocket for the keys.

“You want me to yell at them? Hurt their feelings a little?” she offered, unlocking the doors.

“No,” he said, pouting again. He got into the passenger seat as Nesta walked around to the driver’s side, and he immediately reached for her hand once she sat down.

“I’d do it if you wanted me to,” she told him, shooting him an amused look before starting the car.

“Maybe a real kiss would make me feel better,” he suggested, leaning towards her and puckering his lips.

Nesta leaned in and brushed her lips against his, but he wasn’t having it. He cupped the back of her head as he deepened their kiss, warming her up inside from the cool September air.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Nesta said, pulling away even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. He huffed and pouted but thankfully put his seatbelt on.

It was a quick ride back to their building, and thankfully Cassian managed not to walk into any more doors on their way upstairs. He wrapped his arm around her as they got off the elevator, which Nesta thought was as much for balance as it was to hold her close.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” he said once they were back in their apartment. He immediately walked into the bedroom and flopped on their bed, somehow managing not to knock anything over or hit Nesta’s book.

“You’re welcome,” Nesta said back, taking the time to take off her jacket and shoes before walking to the freezer to grab a bag of frozen peas. She wrapped it in a paper towel before coming to lay next to him, taking down her bun so that her hair was down around her.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered, turning to look at her. His eyes lit up when he noticed her hair was down, and he reached over to play with it. She handed him the peas instead, making sure he pressed them to the side of his face.

“I thought I knew all your secrets,” she whispered back, smiling softly as she indulged him. She loved that she was the one who got to see him like this, that she was the first person he saw in the mornings and the last person he saw when he closed his eyes at night.

“You do,” he confirmed, pulling the peas away to smile at her. She gave him a disapproving look and he quickly put them back before continuing. “I love nights like these.”

“Why’s that?” she asked. She reached out to brush some of his loose waves away from his face so they didn’t get in the way of the peas.

“I never thought I would be as happy as I am right now,” Cassian said seriously. His other eye was blocked from the position of the peas, so Nesta just held the gaze of the one she could see as he moved his hand to cup her face.

Sometimes he would say things like this that made her feel like her heart was going to burst from how sweet he was. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shifted closer to her, and Nesta inhaled deeply at the lingering scent of his cologne. “I remember when you wouldn’t even say my name out loud. Now you’re here with me and my peas.”

She laughed before answering. “It was the peas that really sold me, you know. I should have written them into my vows.”

“And you’re telling jokes? Tonight must be my lucky night.”

“Shut up before I take the peas from you, Cassian.”

“You love me too much to do that, Nes.”

“Stop using my love for you against me. It’s unfair and you know it.”

“Never,” he said, running his thumb across her cheek. “I love you too much not to use every advantage I can get.”

“I taught you too well,” she said, smiling softly at him. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”

She turned to kiss his palm, as unhygienic as it was, and then got up and started changing into pajamas. He groaned as he rolled off the bed, stretching as he stood up to reveal a strip of golden-brown skin at his abdomen before walking towards their bathroom.

Nesta joined him to brush her teeth in another one of his oversized shirts and no pants. He finished first, squeezing her hip as he walked by her and went back into their bedroom. She quickly brushed through her hair and pulled it into a loose braid for sleep before turning off the light.

Cassian was waiting for her under the covers, laughing as he examined the back of her book. “Is there smut in this one?”

She rolled her eyes before grabbing it from him. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s a yes, then,” he said, grinning. She turned the lights off and put the book on her nightstand before she slid under the covers, snuggling up next to him anyway.

“I’ll let you know when I get to the juicy parts,” she grumbled eventually. He laughed under his breath, pulling her tighter against him as he maneuvered them so her back was to his chest as usual. His heart was beating its usual steady rhythm against her, a familiar baseline that let her know she was safe and everything was right in the world as long as she could curl up next to him every night.

“I love you,” she whispered, not sure if he was asleep yet. He could fall asleep anywhere, and ridiculously quickly at that; she wasn’t too proud to admit she was jealous.

“I love you, too,” he replied, tangling their legs together.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that.

tag list (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @live-the-fangirl-life​ | @nessiansimp | @bookologist | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @sayosdreams | @dealingdifferentdevils | @rowaelinismyotp | @arinbelle | @swankii-art-teacher | @angelicvoice19 | @teagoddess99 | @dontgetsalmonella | @champanheandluxxury | @chloepereyra | @bookstantrash | @houseofcalores | @lysakirova | @generalnesta | @gwynberdara | @sv0430 | @catplayinvioline | @julemmaes | @secretlovelybeauty | @flora-shadowshine | @imsointobooks | @sophilightwood | @lemonade-coolattas |

[honeyhenry]

Sweet as Pie

With some much needed time off, and excitement crisp in the air, you had flown over to Jersey with your husband Henry for Christmas to stay with his family, and they had been delighted to have you both back on his homeland. You settled in to Henry’s old room, unpacking all of the gifts you had brought for his family. You knew his nieces and nephews were going to love you even more when they saw what would be lying for them under the grand Christmas tree in the living room. Secretly, you were their favourite - not that they’d ever tell their poor Uncle Henry.

The large home is tidy, but scattered with family members in every room, all feeling at home in the place where Henry and his brothers grew up. You’d been able to catch up with the relatives you didn’t often see, and promise to spend some quality time together over the holidays.

It was so sweet to watch all the children’s faces light up on Christmas morning. You were glad that you and Henry could be spared an extra few moments in bed, being the only childless couple in the house. Yet moments later, Kal had leapt onto the bed - much to Henry’s annoyance; “down Kal, careful now” -  as soon as he had heard the pattering of his small friends’ feet out in the hallways. And what Kal wanted, you usually gave him.

Which is why, at 6.45am, Kal dragged you and in turn, dragged Henry down to the living room where the rest of the family sat, with the kids lit up like the Christmas tree that their plethora of presents laid under, grinning to their bleary eyed parents who’d barely had a wink of sleep on the cold winter morning.

“You’d think after 6 years it gets easier” you’d heard someone murmur, and so you’d decided to put the kettle on for those poor souls. Luckily for you, 45 minutes later, you’re able to snuggle back into bed with Henry, warming your feet on his legs to annoy him. You kiss the offended pout right off his face, before feeling his beefy arms wrap around your waist. It’s the last thing you had recalled, as you dozed off in his arms only seconds later, feeling his fingertips rub against your hip softly.

------

The kitchen was bustling with about 10 bodies all completing their various tasks; cooking, washing, baking, roasting, timing and tasting. Well, you had kicked your husband out of the kitchen for sneaking a taste of your dessert before it was ready, chastising him out of the door. 

“You can either help properly or go and play with your siblings” you had bargained while he’d grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down like you were a pastry he was keen to ravish himself; “But who is going to compliment the chef?”

With that, you’d folded your arms across your chest, blushing at his words. The cheek of that man was not lost on you, and it still got you every single time. 

And you loved him for it.

------

The meal was a total success. A wonderful soup starter, followed by a small appetiser, and then the most magnificent turkey. Feeding over 20 people - now probably closer to 30 if you were to include the children who were growing up so quickly in front of your eyes - had proven to be difficult, but it was a challenge the family had clearly tackled before.

You had been so excited to prepare the desserts, and present your dish. However, halfway through the day, somewhere between the main course, watching your nephews with their new toys, and the dessert course of the delicious homemade Christmas feast, you’d fallen asleep on the sofa completely tuckered out. Your legs rested on Henry’s lap as he’d covered you with a hand-knitted blanket that he’d once slept with as a boy. Henry’s mother speaks up, careful not to wake you. She has a gleam in her eye, not that you or even Henry notice, too wrapped up in your own cozy sleepy bubble together by the fire.

“Dessert can wait” his mother says to the gaggle of children and adults swarming the living room, “go out and get some fresh air.”

She turns to the children, specifically.  “Do not disturb your Aunt, okay?”

------

Your cheeks are warm as the fire heats the living room, and after a particularly competitive game of rugby with his brothers, nieces, and nephews, Henry quietly checks on you. He had left the room earlier when you had shifted your legs slightly, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air himself. It had indeed been a long day. His brothers had questioned your tiredness briefly, making sure you were well. With the knowledge that you were simply sleepy, they had begun to joke that you obviously just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the Cavills - despite having married into the family for 2 years and been around for the holidays for 4. Henry had promised them that you were fine -  that you still weren’t used to the long trip back to the island for the holidays. 

Not exactly a fib, he’d thought.

Kal was laid beside you, loyal as ever, watching out for anyone who may disturb your rest, sending a rumbling growl towards anyone who approached. Except Henry. 

While checking on you now to make sure you were still comfortable and resting well, he smiled, taking a picture of you wrapped up cosily by the fire, at peace in his childhood home, completely at rest and ease with him and his closest relatives. Petting Kal softly, he thanks him for looking after his mama so well.

“So?”

His mother, he hears. She’s alone for once as there was no one rushing to check for updates on food, no enquiries about the house, or any funny stories woven into a ten minute tale from her grandchildren. She’s alone, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

Henry stands up straight. There’s nothing that can wipe the tremendously cheesy grin off of his face. He can’t even speak. Even after dessert had finished, you were the one who would be doing all the talking, the telling, the explaining.

“Mum-”

“Henry. She’s not ill. and i know you’re sensible enough to not be up the whole night with your wife...at least under my roof. So…?”

He looks over at your peaceful form, and then scratches his neck, blushing at being caught out, but also ecstatic that he can finally say something about it.

“She’s eleven weeks. We’re expecting a baby next summer”

With that, his mother almost leaps with joy over to her son, who she hugs closely despite the obvious height barrier. 

“Oh i knew it, I knew it! I’m so happy for you Henry, for you both. I thought, ‘She normally loves that bread for starter’, hm? Oh my boy! A father!”

With her proclamation, Henry finds that he has tears in his eyes as he holds his Mother close, finally glad that it’s not just a little secret between the two of you - well, the two of you and Kal, who had already been a stellar protector and big brother.

“We had planned to tell everyone after dessert…we’ve known for nearly 2 months and it’s been killing me that I couldn’t say. We’ve had to be so careful-“ 

“Henry?” he hears your quiet voice from across the room, as Kal’s collar jingles. He turns to see you sitting up from your nap with Kal booping his nose at your stomach. You’re scratching at his head, thanking him for being such a wonderful boy, while looking up at the two Cavills.

It takes less than a second for you to realise what is happening in front of you. Your jaw drops and louder than your previous call, you exclaim, “Henry you told her?”

“She worked it out! Practically forced it out of me.” he grins, holding his hands up as his Mother pretends to smack his arm.

You stand, watching not to step on Kal or any stray Legos that your nephews have left strewn across the floor, and walk over to hug her. She’s been so caring and kind since you’ve joined the family all those years ago, and you know that she will be an incredible Grandma to your little one. 

Breaking apart from the hug, you find Henry pulling you to him carefully, letting you melt into his side. Kissing your forehead he asks, for your ears only, “Good sleep? No pains? Sickness?” He has a small crease of worry between his brows and you always do your best to soften that small tense area with regular updates and sweet kisses.

“Yeah i’m okay honey” you reassure him, patting your stomach, “this ones growing up a storm in there”. 

And they really are. Henry’s mother cannot believe she’s seeing it, and mostly can’t believe she missed it. You’re already showing, but a large loose sweater -probably one of Henry’s old ones that has since become yours - over your dress, has hidden a sizeable roundness to your stomach that you were excited to finally show.

“How did I miss this!” Your mother-in-law gasps, causing you to grin, and Henry’s chest to puff with utter pride and excitement.

“I know it’s bordering on having too much to eat, but we’ve been hiding it for a couple weeks now. Doctor thinks that baby’s gonna be big. Just like their daddy.” You explain, giving your stomach another gentle rub, surprised to find Henry’s hand there on it already.

If you’d thought Kal was protective, Henry was another thing altogether.

He’s still grinning as you kiss him, before you pull away to speak more to his mother about all the details, especially when you’ll be coming over to Jersey again. Kai follows you closely, making sure you’re staying safe. He’s known that there’s something up with his mama, there has been for weeks, especially with the way his master looks after you now.

Henry, deciding to be sneaky while the two women in his life are currently distracted chatting, takes another taste of the dessert you made, now set out on the kitchen. The worst part is, he thinks he’s got away with it.

He realises he doesn’t the second you smack his hand from the dessert.

“Strike two Mr Cavill! Step away from the pie.”

“And if I don’t?” he raises an eyebrow, watching your reactions as you hold a butter knife in your hand trying to look at least vaguely threatening - failing miserably. “Maybe i’ll strike out tonight, hm?” he continues with that wonderfully mischievous glint in his eye, taking cautious steps towards you. “You look even sweeter than your pie with this little bump here. Maybe I’ll have a taste later after all.” 

Henry’s mother had not been right in her assumptions, for under her roof, you and Henry were not sensible at all.

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

please let me know what u think! i am v nervous to post but excited!!!

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married.  Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan.  And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

-

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

-

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

-

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

-

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

-

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”

[heliads]

Too Cold

Based on this request: “imagine with Bucky where you're on a mission in the mountains but due to the weather you need to stay in a little cabin for the night but it's terribly cold. He lights a fire but then he offers you his sweater. You're both getting closer (you have a crush as well on each other), so you kinda forget about the mission and just enjoy the time together as you also share a meaningful kiss?”

masterlist

“It’s going to be cold. Siberia, midwinter, ski resort? It’ll be freezing.” Bucky fixes you with an expecting gaze. You return the stare. “Buck, I’ve been on missions for years. I’ve trained and fought and killed in some of the worst places on the planet. I think I can handle a little snow.” Bucky shrugs. “I hope that’s true, because I’d like to focus on the mission, and being able to laugh at you for being wrong would distract me.”

You toss a glare his way. “You are a horrible friend.” Bucky just grins. “Maybe so.” You roll your eyes, then turn your attention back to the guidebooks and manila file folders strewn across the table in front of you. In less than 24 hours, you and Bucky will embark on a mission to ice-cold Siberia, posing as a pair of newlyweds at a ski resort. Such an elaborate scheme would usually never be a part of the Avengers’ repertoire, but the couple you’re investigating is so wily and tricky that you have no other choice.

The targets in question are a man and a woman, Sara and Henri Antonovich. They were noted members of HYDRA before the organization’s collapse, and their names are frequently listed among the visitors of certain Siberian military bases, especially ones containing Winter Soldiers. There have been rumored sightings of them around the area, and now you have proof that they’ll be staying at this particular resort in the hopes of meeting someone and making a deal. So, you and Bucky must go there as well, to catch them in the act.

The plane ride is uneventful, and you touch down in Siberia without too many worries. Bucky, already prepared to act the part of the dutiful husband, links your hand through his, leaning close as if to whisper a declaration of love. Instead, he tells you that a car is waiting, driven by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who will give you fake IDs and deliver you to your assigned rental cabin. Such is the romantic life of an undercover agent.

By the time you get there, you’re shivering. The car was cold, the journey up the icy walkway was cold, the time spent standing in the freezing winter air whilst you try to find your key was cold, and this cabin, unfortunately, is also cold. You walk through the door, hoping to find some last remnants of heating, but you are sorely disappointed. You walk briskly over to the thermostat, cranking it up and muttering something under your breath about stingy S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who wouldn’t even let you be warm in your own undercover house.

Bucky, noticing your arms wrapped tightly around you, grins. “What happened to your years of experience? Are they not helping you against the cold?” You make a face at his back, but Bucky does not see it and continues checking out some data file disguised as a paperback that he brought with him. 

You purse your lips together. It’s strange- you’ve known Bucky for a while now, long enough to consider him a friend. The two of you have these moments like companionship, just like now, with jokes being exchanged and laughter bubbling out. But then Bucky seems to remember something, and it’s like a switch is flipped. He stays quiet and doesn’t open his mouth for a long time after that. You’re not sure what he’s thinking about, or why he only seems to want to talk to you in small doses, but it still feels like an ever-growing thorn in your side.

Especially since you have the unfortunate habit of crushing on him. Of course you had to fall in love with the one guy who doesn’t feel the need to talk that much with you, but it wasn’t like you had that much of a choice. He just appeared in your life, with his slight smile and broken mind, and he made you feel like you were more than just a gun and a badge, a placard on a S.H.I.E.L.D. desk. He made you feel like a person, and you love him for it.

You walk over to the neat stone fireplace to light some tinder and heat this place up. You’ve never been the best with fires, and Bucky knows this, so he crouches beside you to arrange the kindling and begin the blaze. After what seems like only a couple of seconds, the spark catches and a pleasantly crackling fire appears in the fireplace. Bucky stands back, satisfied, while you hold up your hands to the warm glow, desperately trying to ward away the winter chill.

Bucky glances over at you one last time, then turns and silently disappears from the room. You bite your cheek, pretending it doesn’t hurt you that he already feels the need to leave. If he’s already sick of you after only a couple of minutes, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to come off as a loving couple. Maybe it’ll be easy for you, because you’re not entirely sure that you’ll be faking it, but you don’t know whether or not Bucky could ever look like he was in love with you.

Then he comes out of the room again, holding in his hands a thick wool sweater. He tosses it towards you, and you pick it up, slightly confused. “You look freezing. Might as well try to stay warm, right?” You beam at him, already slipping it on. “You’re the best. None of my sweaters are anywhere near this warm.” You run your hands over the thick weaving, already feeling better.

“Well, don’t thank me quite yet,” he says with a light smile, “because I’m making you go back outside again.” You stare at him, mouth hanging slightly open in outrage. “No, you’re not. I know you’re not.” Bucky grins. “Afraid so. I’ve received word that one of our supplies came in late, so they’ve dropped it off, pretending it’s just the postal service.”

You sigh dramatically, turning to grab your winter coat once again. “You are the meanest friend ever.” Bucky walks over next to you, taking his coat off the rack as well. “Husband. We’re supposed to be undercover, remember?” How could you not? You give him a sideways glance. “If we’re undercover, I feel like you shouldn’t keep bringing it up all the time.” Bucky, hiding his metal hand underneath a pair of thick winter gloves, just grins.

It is still freezing cold outside. Maybe even worse, if that’s possible. Yet you still walk down the snow-encrusted path to the brown-wrapped package waiting for the two of you, just because you and Bucky are loyal Avengers who have to get your stupid gear even though it’s going to give you both frostbite. On the walk back, though, you’re treated to something you didn’t expect at all. The neighbours are coming out of their cabin. What’s more, they just happen to be Sara and Henri Antonovich. The couple you two were sent here to investigate.

You can feel Bucky tensing just slightly beside you at the sight of them. So he’s noticed them too. They have also seen you by now, and you wait, heart pounding in your chest, to see if there’s some chance they’ll recognize you and know that they’ve been found out. Sara turns, sees you, starts walking over. This is it.

She smiles and holds out a hand. “My name is Sara, and this is my husband, Henri. Are you two also here for the skiing?” You plaster on a smile, shaking her hand. “Yes, we’d heard about all the good snow and wanted to see it for ourselves. I’m Y/N, and this is my husband, James.” Bucky smiles at her, and shakes hands with Henri. He’s careful not to use his metal arm lest he give everything away.

You stumble slightly in the snow, but Bucky’s already reached out and steadied you, arm wrapping around your waist. You glance up at him, mouthing a silent thank-you. Sara grins. “Well, aren’t you two the sweetest! Did you get married recently?” You turn back to her, ready to let out every last detail of the lie S.H.I.E.L.D. cooked up for you. “Yes, we did. I met James at work. I know you’re not supposed to date your coworkers and everything, but he was so kind that I just couldn’t help it. I never wanted to leave his side, and we’ve been together ever since. This was supposed to be our anniversary vacation.”

Sara beams. “That’s so wonderful! Well, it was nice to meet you. See you later at the mountains.” She waves goodbye, and the two of them head off to an awaiting car. You and Bucky traipse back inside your cabin, and the second the door closes behind you, you fix Bucky with a disbelieving stare. “Did that really just happen?” Bucky nods, jaw clenched. “That was definitely the Antonovichs. I think we’ve got our guys. It’s time to call in the reinforcements.”

Bucky can’t believe it. How is this mission almost over- it barely started! All he and Y/N were supposed to do was track down Sara and Henri. He had assumed that it would take several days, yet somehow S.H.I.E.L.D. had a stroke of luck and managed to book them a cabin right next door to the very pair they were searching for. Sara and Henri are surprisingly good at staying hidden, too- if Bucky hadn’t recognized their faces from the countless data sets and case files, he would have assumed that they were nothing but well-intentioned neighbours.

His eyes flicker towards Y/N, who’s currently standing in front of the fire to keep warm. He smiles in spite of himself when he sees that she’s still wearing his sweater. He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he suggested that the two of them go on this mission together- he can barely handle himself. He doesn’t know why he had to fall in love with the one girl who makes his mind freeze up and all his thoughts scatter to the wind, but it’s not like he had much of a choice. She’s just so amazing, so perfect- he can hardly think straight around her.

She, on the other hand, appears to be perfectly fine. His mind flashes back to that conversation with the Antonovichs, when she had told Sara all about their little ‘love story’. It almost hurt, in a way, to see how she was so believable when she said she loved him. If Bucky didn’t know better, he would almost think it was true. But it isn’t, of course. She’s just exceptionally good at pretending, and that’s all he’ll ever be to her, just another prop in a story. It would be better if he could remember that, but his heart still skips a beat when she turns back to him with a smile and an outstretched hand, gesturing for him to join her at the fire.

Once the appropriate calls to S.H.I.E.L.D. are placed and you know that the reinforcements are beginning their journey here, you allow yourself to relax and drift over to the fire once more. Bucky, like always, is hesitating on the fringes of the room, but you notice something different in his gaze this time. Maybe it’s just your hopeless heart deluding itself once again, but you almost think that he’s not avoiding you because he doesn’t like you, but for an altogether different reason. Maybe it’s because he likes you too much, and he’s just too afraid to lose you.

So you hold out a hand to him, and after a heartbeat, he joins you. He wraps his arm loosely around you, tilting his head to lean against yours and soak up the warm light of the fire. He speaks softly, his voice muffled as he presses his face gently against the top of your head. “Can’t believe our ski vacation is already over. It feels like we just got here.”

You nod in agreement. “Just when this cabin was starting to feel like home. Well, I guess there will always be more missions in the future. I suppose we just need to plan them out and make sure we get the best ones. You know, the ones where our targets are living next door so all we have to do is have a good time in the mountains.” Bucky chuckles softly. “If it’s all the same to you I wouldn’t mind doing something like this again.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly. “Another mission?” He shakes his head. “Another time alone. Like this, just the two of us.” When you don’t reply immediately, his gaze starts to close off, like he’s panicked that he opened up too far. What he doesn’t know is that your mind is spinning, trying to figure out what he means and if he loves you and how much you would love to spend another weekend or even a day with him. Then you beam up at him, and he relaxes again. “I would love that, Buck.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you used his nickname, or the warmth of the fire making everything seem far more comforting than usual, but Bucky finds the courage to lean down and kiss her. She smiles against his lips, and his hand creeps up to the back of her neck. When he finally breaks away, she looks positively radiant, so he kisses her again. The mission may be ending soon, and they may have to return to ordinary life, but at least in his moment, he has her at last.

[callabang]

Fic Rec: Recovery

assorted definitions of healing

All my ribbons and my medals and my trophies | Anonymous

Jeff leans in and rests their foreheads together. “It’s really gonna be fine. You’re a great player.”

Mike wants to snort, wants to yell at him because for the past fifteen days, that’s all Jeff’s been saying. Mike wants to ask him if he needs glasses. “Yeah,” He just says, around the lump in his throat.

notes: this one is tough & painful but the climax is one hundred percent worth it! mike and jeff’s relationship is beautifully written and the rock-solidness of it in the end of so powerful

Faster (series) | lightgetsin

"Okay," he says, "You know how when you're on a breakaway, and you've got a couple D-men on you? Like, right behind you. You can't see them, but you can feel them right there coming for you?" Jamie nods. "The only thing to do is to be faster than them." Tyler says. "You can't turn and look, you can't slow down. You've just . . . you've just got to skate harder. It's like that."

notes: a somewhat unorthodox but very poignant and real depiction of coping with past trauma, in a way that feels like an pitch-perfect characterization choice.

dig a hole, fill it up | inlovewithnight

Going up to the NHL was supposed to be a new start. Everything would be different there.

It wasn't quite that simple, but Aaron had help to figure it out. 

notes: really lovely and moving look at aftermath and healing. i love the dynamics between aaron and willie and megan, especially in relation to the age difference and the guidance and support they provide

I Will Weather the Storm | escherzo

“Stress fracture.” Boone sighs, scrubbing a hand through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Could be three months. Five, at worst.”

“Shit,” Ryan says. “No surgery though?”

“Nope. They don’t think so anyway. Got lucky there, eh?” Boone’s smile turns rueful. “As long as we don’t go stir-crazy being stuck here together all winter, I might be alright yet.”

notes: i read this fic for the first time on a friend’s recommendation and didn’t know who the characters were, but i will still blown away by the atmosphere and palpable feelings of care that suffuse this story

You're Still Picking Me Up | loochskywalker

Mitch is 26 when he retires from the NHL. His brain a jumbled mess of pieces that won't fit together no matter how many doctors try to make them. He was supposed to be great. He was supposed to be a legend.

Instead he goes to Vermont. Instead, he goes to see Matt Martin.

notes: a story of healing and acceptance all-around. i love the setting in this fic and the fact that both mitch and matt are healing in their own ways 

came around for a one night thing (and i never left) | whitchbhitch

Carter's thumb pauses on what should be just a fairly standard picture of some abs and a chest, a neck and head turned to the side, the picture cut out to just show his jawline. The guy looks good, built, like his muscle isn't just for show, thick in the waist and no defined abs, even though it's obvious he's very strong. That's all fine, but it doesn't explain what caught Carter's eye. The profile name is just one letter, J, and all the bio says is "here come dat boi !" It's the meme that does it.

(Or, Carter grows, heals, and gets his man.)

notes: this is part of a larger series but i think you can read this on its own! the depth of emotion in this one is especially good juxtaposed with the very hot sex scenes, and it deals with grief in a very real and active way

They Say Love Heals All Wounds | Deastar

“Geno? Are you okay? Physically,” Sid asks, which is good, because Zhenya doesn’t think he can put into words how he’s feeling emotionally. He imagines saying, The person I’ve loved for ten years finally took me to bed last night, but it turns out he didn’t want to, and now I can read his mind. No, thank you. “Feel fine,” Zhenya answers. “Even head feel fine.” And suddenly he realizes how fucking odd that is: he was concussed, and the room is brightly lit – he should be hiding under a blanket right now. He narrows his eyes and asks, “Sid, why head feel fine? What happen to concussion?” Sid takes a halting step closer to the bed and says, “Our bond, it’s—it’s a healing bond.” “Holy mother of God,” Zhenya breathes. So. They’re definitely not breaking the bond, then.

notes: i haven’t read this one in some time but it’s such a classic, both in terms of sid/geno and in terms of hrpf in general. a really unique premise feat. sid and geno actively working and healing together

so collect your scars and wear them well | addandsubtract

It’s been two months when Connor gets on a plane and flies to Arizona. He tells his parents, and they don’t like it at all, but he goes anyway. He has a cane, a strict PT schedule, and an ounce of pot cleverly hidden in his luggage. It’ll be warmer there. It’s January in Toronto, and he aches all the time.

notes: an incredible fic about relying on others and being kind to yourself

This Time Next Year | Oplopanax

Tyson Barrie, one of the very rare Omegas born only into ultra observant religious communities, finds himself pregnant after the death of his husband Gabriel Landeskog and to survive in 1870s Denver, must marry Nathan MacKinnon.

notes: i’ve rec’d this before, which makes sense because it’s so so good. an incredibly expansive fic about how people work through and make the best of some really tough situations 

puttin' on my shades (to cover up my eyes) | electrumqueen

The kid - McLeod - sways against Taylor's shoulder. “I want to go home,” he says.

“What you want is a glass of water and two Advil,” Taylor says. “Trust me on this, kid.”

“Okay,” the kid says. He hiccups.

notes: this fic was my inspiration for a recovery rec list! really painful and poignant, deals with a whole mess of complicated emotions amongst a whole mess of people. the relationships (romantic and platonic, past and present) in this are incredible 

[benka79]

Queer Subtext in "The Guest" (Korean Dorama)

Or... how I justed wanted to watch a Gen Supernatural show and ended up falling for it's Beautiful M/M love story.

I don't know if you watch korean doramas, I do. This time I was on Netflix with my husband looking for a supernatural show, after watching a couple of it, and we crashed into "The Guest".

This attempt of analysis of the queer Subtext will have some spoilers so, If you don't want to be spoiled, jus scroll down. But go watch this show. Hahahaha

Disclaimed that, let's go to the East Sea...

Pansexual Flag for CHOI YOON and gay flag for HWA PYOUNG.

First apparition of Father Choi YOON, walking down a dark alley. You will find by his right, against a closed business shutter, Pansexual Flag Colors. What a presentation card for a priest, and is so symbolically beautiful, because philosophically, the spiritual leader should have the ability to love every creature, no matter what. So it applies to the decision of the writers to make Yoon linked to that kind of love.

Then we have Pyung, the medium. This boy is very enthusiastic, but he has surrounding him his grandfather and his best friend asking him, almost continually, to find a girl and get married. The poor medium doesn't answer, and he looks annoyed each time they mention that.

In one opportunity his grandfather asks if there's something wrong with him, and the boy snorts slightly, avoids eye contact and says, frustrated "No, grandpa."

Jumping to another scene... Yoon and Hwa Pyung are in the car, and Pyung's best friend, the shaman, is alone in another car. While they're talking by the phone, we can see behind the shaman the pride flag colors. And now you will ask... Why? Well... There's this part of the dialogue between Pyung and the shaman, in which he asks why he has to be alone in the car and Yoon and Pyung are together in the other car... Ahem... Pyung hungs the phone without answering. And the scene cuts to the shaman, with the pride flag in the background. The shaman frowns confused.

Nothing to add here...

Heart broken

There's two opportunities in which Pyung shows how heartbroken he was... Because of Yoon and how the writers wrote it with romantic subtext.

The first time Pyung faced Park Han, the assamblywoman, Choi YOON got mad and tells the detective he won't work anymore with Hwa Pyung.

Scenes after this, we have a very sad Pyoung in the shaman house, and his friend notices his sadness and asks if he was dumped.

Pyung looks somewhere and he repeats: "Yeah, I was dumped..."

Who just had dumped our cute medium? Well... Our cute priest.

Another scene in which he is in a worst depressed shape, again, in his best friend's house, he mentioned, gloomy, that at least someone is bothering him... Why? What had just happened in this episode? Well, Choi YOON said to him he couldn't trust him.

The shaman, insightful as he was, says that he looks too sad those days. And when Choi YOON goes surprisingly to his house, the shaman asks the priest if Pyung's depression is because he is in love with the detective. Well, kind of. I can't be very specific with the dialogues because I watched it with spanish subtitles. But that was the idea they transmitted.

Always looking when the other is not looking. And the handsome priest...

And remember in the police station when Pyung called Yoon the handsome priest that gives advises to the congregation in front of the cop?

Gif credit @setsmaker

Another huge subtext is Yoon looking at Pyung when he's not looking and Pyung looking at Yoon when he's not looking. Always related to sad things of their last being revealed or called back. And why is this meaningful and it has to be taken as queer Subtext or romantic?

Kang Hil Young is their female detective friend. As a very insightful person, she notices the relationship between these two boys and in the scenes, she's always separated from them but also she's a kind of nexus. Because both boys talk with her, instead of talk with each other, as the stubborn and shy boys in love they're.

All the "stealing glances" scenes are centered between Pyung and Yoon. And less about Hil Young. This is written on propose to show Yoon and Pyung relationship is different to Pyung and Hil Young or Yoon and Hil Young relationships. Because the boys have this aura between them, this romantic tension always around them. That doesn't happen when they're with Him Young.

The precious one, the fight and the "Titanic like" scene.

Pyung will ask Hil Young to save Yoon instead of him. He is determined to give his life in exchange of the priest. He calls Yoon THE PRECIOUS LIFE THAT YOUR MOTHER SAVED, when he asks Hil Young to take care of Yoon. Why would a bro ask to his friend to take care of his bro? Why he didn't ask to this bro to take care of his friend instead? 🤔😜

Pyung always showing up at Yoon's place after a hard day? Why Yoon? Why not Hil Young's place too?

Also the scene of Pyung trying to hide a talisman but at the same time, sliding his hand with it inside of Yoon's pants and Yoon gay panic face yelling: 'What are you doing?' And Pyung insisting in puting that talisman inside Yoon's pants and then failing, frustrated because Yoon discovered it was a tasliman?

Gif set credit @achiara

Priceless... And gay.

The scene of the fight between Yoon and Pyung WAS HELLA DRAMATIC AND FULL OF ROMANTIC SUBTEXT!

First of all, we had that music playing while Yoon tried to force himself to believe Park Il do (the demon) was inside of Pyung, because if he wasn't... That's would mean the demon was possesing Father Yang, that was like a second father to our cute priest.

Second, both friends had UNSHED TEARS in their eyes.

Third: Pyung was too heartbroken to react.

Fourth, the Yoon ended up ON TOP OF HIM WITH HIS HAND ON HIS THROAT, that, my friends, was one of the most hot m/m scenes. They remained like that, not strangling, but just his hand holding his throat. Like... Yeah. Go get a room.

When they thought everything was finished. Pyung was staying in his town and called Hil Young asking her to bring his stuffs from his apartment. To which she replies 'why don't you ask Yoon?' And our shy medium replies "He's too busy."

So, Yoon and Pyung didn't call each other, but they both called Hil Young.

She asks Yoon to be nice with Pyung because PYUNG HAD ASKED HER TO TAKE CARE OF HIM INSTESD OF PYUNG. (Yeah, she confessed that to the priest)

And i suspect she told Yoon about Pyung asking her for his stuffs because the medium considered Yoon was TOO BUSY. Why? Because the scene in which Yoon shows up in Pyung's town to check the people that had been posseses, he calls Pyung.

Our cute medium goes immediately : BUY MEAT, I'M FEELING SICK, STAY TONIGHT TO SLEEP IN MY HOUSE, and what does reply the priest? I'LL THINK ABOUT IT. NOW I HAVE TO GO BECAUSE I'M TOO BUSY. And he hangs the phone smirking!!!! Translation?

'I'm too busy because you said I'm too busy to bring your stuffs! I thought you didn't want to see me and now you are too happy to see me!!?? Watch me flirt with you and show you I'm not that easy.

And also, the poor girl is so tired to be the third wheel...

When they said goodbye in the road, Hil Young goes inside the car but Yoon and Pyung were there... Trying to sound cool, and 'You did well's 'Yeah, you top's, like two dorks, while the female friend watched them as if she was saying COME ON!!! ARE YOU SERIOUS? At the end Pyung confessed he was about to give his life in exchange of Yoon's life... And shy priest just goes inside the car.

But everything goes to hell when Park Il Do posseses Pyung and tries to strangle Yoon.

What did our cute medium yell to the demon? 'Don't touch him! Don't you dare to touch him!"

Gif credit @knights-in-whumperland

Okay... Those are not words you would say for a not boyfriend bro.

Then... Scene in the water...

They-fucking-held-hands!!!!

Gif set credit @r-a-n-x-i-e

The scene is so romantic I showed my friend (who didn't watch the show) a gif and she said WTF IS THAT? TITANIC?

Because, yeah, hella gay. They hel hands and then... Pyung reacts and before pushing Yoon's hand to release him to the surface, he rubbed his freaking fingers!!!!!

Not to mention he wss carrying with the rosary the priest left in his hand under the water for one entire year even when he wasn't catholic!!! HE DID IT BECAUSE YOON GAVE IT TO HIM!

To Conclude:

The subtext of a queer love story was magnificencia displayed, but it was more beautiful to see how inncoents, and shy and cute these two were with each other. So if you wanna see a cute m/m love story plus friendship loyalty and action, watch this dorama. I plenty recommend it!

PS: I'm calling this ship PYOON!

Buenos Aires, February 19 2020, 00:15 AM

[thefledglingdm]

Umm can I request directors commentary for literally any Leopika fic you’ve written??? Love your stuff!

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

ahhahaha thank you so much! yes, absolutely! this is going to be long, because i have decided to do that scene in light of my life, pain of my ass. beware LONG BULLSHIT and spoilers below the cut!

ok to set the scene. i was TERRIFIED to write this part. because this is the climax, you know? we've had 150k words of build-up and emotional tension to this scene. while this has been a romantic story, this is the actual climax of the story. we've spent all this time in kurapika's head as he's dealt with his anxiety, his need for control, his fear of letting go. how he's changed as he's opened up his heart and his life to people outside. and finally he's actually working through all of his emotions and the progress he's made out loud, in front of everyone. and because he forgot about giving his speech until like five minutes before (sorry, kp), he is forced to speak from the heart.

For five agonizing seconds, Kurapika stood alone in the middle of a silent room. Above him, the string lights coalesced into a single shared point of soft white light that illuminated his space.

i so wish this could be adapted to, like, netflix or made into a movie. i put so much into this imagery. the play on light? the cinnamon topography? *chef's kiss* yes please netflix CALL ME.

Everyone in his life was staring at him expectantly, Pairo and Altair and Gon and Killua and Nanika and Alluka and Kalluto and his parents. And approximately a hundred other people on top of that, extended family on both sides, industry insiders, coworkers. All staring at him and waiting for him to say something amazing and powerful and deep about love and what did Kurapika know about love, anyway? He was a thirty-two year old trans man so terrified of his own emotions, so paralyzed by his fear of loss, that he did not figure out he was in love with his best friend until three weeks ago.

this is me screwing the knife in deeper for poor kurapika, sorry. this is so incredibly horrifying for a person with anxiety, as someone with anxiety. behold, the terrifying ordeal of being known.

Five seconds. Kurapika finally found Leorio standing near the back, leaning against the bar. He wondered if Leorio picked the same spot where they sat together the very first time they came here on purpose. Leorio sent him a wink and a thumbs-up.

the terrifying ordeal of being known and being so, so loved anyway. it was great to write in a way that showed leorio realized he was in love with kurapika first (indeed, realized that kurapika was in love with him before kurapika knew himself), because these little interactions shows so much how leorio is inviting and allowing kurapika to come to him on his own time. and supporting him the whole way, because they are friends!!!!

Breathe, Kurapika thought. Just breathe. It’s going to be okay.

this statement was not supposed to be a running theme/motif, but i'm super glad it did! i wrote it as a one-off line for melody, but then i was like, hang on, that's kinda good? every other time i write i'm like, hey, you could make a theme out of this!

“Um,” Kurapika started, his voice cracking. Christ, he sounded seventeen again. He cleared his throat.

my friends told me about how their voices changed and dropped on T. any trans person is stronger and more powerful than any us marine.

“For those of you who may not know, I’m Pairo’s brother. Kurapika. His older one, just to be clear.”

this is definitely something that has happened like a hundred times.

There was a smattering of chuckles around the room. He twisted to look at Pairo. “I’ve known Pairo since he was a toddler dragging a ragged, threadbare T-Rex plushie around behind him. I was there when he read his first chapter book on his own – Dino Hunter, of course – because he came bursting into my room at two o’clock in the morning to tell me about it.” Another round of laughter. “I was there when he got his first notebook, when he won his first writing contest, when he was published in his first magazine. I was the first person he told about liking boys instead of girls. I’ve watched him grow and learn and fall in love. And now Altair is part of our family, too.”

pairo and kurapika's lives as brothers were amazing. dino hunter is a reference to the book they both read in the manga that led to kurapika wanting to leave the kurta and explore the world.

i also thought that writing fit pairo well because it's a pretty accessible career for his eyes. he could type, he could enhance the screen and font when he needed, and he could do talk-to-type. one day i want to write a side-story of when pairo and altair met, because i have it perfectly formulated in my head and it's adorable.

Kurapika took a deep breath, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. He confessed, “To be perfectly honest, I was scared when Pairo asked me to do this, because I’ve run out of things to teach him. He’s run on ahead of me in life. Settled down, moved in with his boyfriend – now husband, congratulations on that by the way – and gotten married, while I’m perpetually single and living alone in my loft apartment with an absolutely spoiled monster of a cat. Stop laughing, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

emperor the cat was also not intended to be a character. i came up with him like, right before i started writing the chapter.

i think it was hard for kurapika to watch his brother fall in love and move on ahead in life. even if he was genuinely happy for them both. i had a conversation with a coworker a few months ago where we both talked about how we feel like we are "behind," even though we're both very accomplished. she felt like she was "behind" because i have a master's degree; i felt like i was "behind" because she was happily married and already had a child on the way (who is here and beautiful and perfect). and i imagine kurapika wondered if he was falling behind or missing something when he saw his brother succeed in love and business without really trying.

but there's no competition at all, of course. the world spins on, and we grow and change and find our place in our own time. there's no race.

The room quieted again. Kurapika went on, his eyes flicking over the crowd. He was starting to smile, too, now.

he's starting to realize this is okay, he's not going to mess up, he may actually have something worthwhile to say or share. he's getting more comfortable in all this.

“But I’m also a wedding planner – I know, ironic – and I’ve learned a lot about love from my clients. So if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to share some of those lessons now.”

No one from the back shouted at him to shut the fuck up, that he didn’t have a single clue what he was talking about, so he thought he was safe to carry on.

how funny would that have been??? like, it would have been fucked-up and humiliating, but in any other situation?? hilarious. just killua looking like that dude in mean girls being like HE DOESN'T EVEN GO HERE except it's like HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT LOVE IS.

He thought back to Light of My Life’s various couples, musing over their own rocky paths to the altar and the beautiful, fractured glimpses into their lives they gifted Kurapika and his team. What did they teach him? What did they teach his heart, that terrifying, terrified lump of meat frantically beating in his chest?

More than you think, his heart seemed to be telling him. Trust me; I will guide you through this. Trust me, trust me, trust me.

*"listen to your heart" plays in the background*

also like. trusting oneself and your perceptions and your feelings and your heart is so necessary. it's an important part of healing. and being honest with yourself and your feelings is part of a foundation for all healthy relationships, i think.

also i really like writing alliteratively. the play on words with "terrifying, terrified" was. inspired? terrifying, because kurapika for a long time feared his own heart and feelings, viewing them as a loss of control; and terrified, because his heart is afraid, too. and they are taking this leap together!

And Kurapika explained: “Love isn’t just found in eloquent professions or grand, romantic gestures. It’s supporting each other through your lowest, worst moments and coming out the other side stronger for it. It’s standing together, hand in hand, against the world. It’s in looking at someone simply existing in the world and seeing them as they are: good, beautiful, strong, intelligent, kind. It’s in your communication and your foundation and trusting that all good things will come together in time. It’s in the family that you build together. It’s in the work you each put in to get through the hard times. Together.”

me: yeah uh-huh jj you really did summarize the fic so far.

this is also where i started being sappy and thinking about love. friendly and romantic love. the love i've seen in my friends, the love i feel myself in my relationships.

There. That’s what his clients taught him. Menchi and Buhara; Morena and Theta; Pokkle and Ponzu; Knov and Morel; Knuckle and Shoot; Canary and Amane. But so many more people showed him what love was. He pictured Pairo and Altair on his couch, laughing at him and judging him and helping him put his own puzzle-piece heart together into something cohesive and beautiful. He smiled at his brothers and saw the way they were clutching each others hands, mouths beaming and eyes dewy.

they LOVE their brother so MUCH. their view of the outside looking in for the past year, watching kurapika fall in love, go soft, be happier than they've ever seen him.

He told them, “It’s in the way you can communicate in gestures and looks, and sometimes, without looking at all. It’s in banter and private jokes and finishing each other’s sentences. It’s in casual touches and... pouring their coffee before your own.”

my coffee is never as good as when my partner makes it. my honey-lemon tea is never as good as it is when my partner makes it. my jokes are never as funny as they are when my partner and i finish each other's sentences, build off of each other's quips. we can communicate across rooms with nothing but a look. these little signs of love are everywhere and expressed in so many tiny ways. these examples here are between people in romantic relationships, but these apply to platonic friendships as well.

His eyes swept the room and found Killua and Gon. Gon had his camera hefted onto one shoulder, and Killua stood behind him, arms around his waist and chin on his shoulder. “It’s on the first day you wake up and realize the way you look at the world has changed. The way you open your hands and your heart and give what you have, simply for the joy of being received.”

to love? transcendent. to be loved? incandescent. to love and know that it is valued and cherished and requited?

and this was a callback to killua talking about, of course, how he fell in love with gon like melting ice. like sinking into a bath. and this was also a quieter callback to how gon fell in love. because it wasn't just that he had/has so much love to give, but because for the first time in his life, he got to see it truly received. accepted.

Kurapika saw Killua’s breath catch and Gon’s hand flex over the fingers interlaced over his middle. Heedless of their surroundings and of the running camera, Gon twisted to kiss Killua on the mouth.

SMOOCHES ahahaha!

He turned his head back to Leorio. The man had not moved; indeed, he looked like he was nailed to the floor. His eyes were so intense as they watched him that Kurapika was almost surprised he had not yet burst into flame. Kurapika said, “It’s in the moment you see someone you’ve never met before, but you look at them and just know, to your core, that this is really going to be something.”

leorio realizing something is happening here. something huge is about to happen, is about to change. and he's trying so hard not to dare to hope it might be good. it might be everything.

A chorus of oohs went around the room. Even from this distance Kurapika saw the way Leorio’s face went red, and he ducked his chin, looking bashful and embarrassed.

leorio: holy shit holy shit holy SHIT IT'S HAPPENINGGGG

How was I such a fool before, Kurapika wondered, How was I so blind, so willfully ignorant and oblivious. How did it take me so long to realize you were talking about me. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I’m sorry I made you wait for so long.

this is important because it's not just kurapika realizing and accepting his feelings for leorio. this is kurapika's version of realizing that leorio feels the same for him. leorio is in love with him, too. and he's wondering how it was possible he was so scared and blind for so long. he fears he may have hurt leorio by holding off on this for so long, so he wants to be brave, take the leap, and see what they could be.

Kurapika did not want this man to wait another second. He did not want Leorio to spend another moment trapped in this limbo. So he confessed in the middle of a silent room in front of over a hundred people, “It's the first time you hear them laugh, and your entire world’s axis shifts beneath your feet.”

i remember the first time i met my partner. i remember the first time i looked at them and felt my world shift a little to the right. i remember falling in love and thinking that this one was unlike all the others. it was warm, golden, comforting.

Kurapika watched the confused frown on Leorio’s face when he heard that, amused by the almost puppyish tilt to his head as he considered it. He knew the moment Leorio realized what he meant when his eyes blew wide, amazed and awed and achingly soft. His lips parted.

gOD he is so CUTE. he's like oh hmm huh what does that mean

and then he remembers

i promise, he's not a huge dickwad!

and leorio laughing at gon's accidental gaffe and his sweet earnestness. and kurapika walking in. leorio realizing kurapika wanted to know him before they ever even met.

Kurapika made himself turn away from the arresting sight. “One of my favorite venues lately was the Roseview Ballroom downtown. Among its many beautiful, gaudy attractions are its murals depicting scenes from Shakespeare’s plays all across the ceiling. One is a famous quote from Twelfth Night: ‘journeys end in lovers meeting, every wise man’s son doth know.’ But the more I think about it, the less I agree.”

i'm such a WHORE for shakespeare, as any readers of mine will know. check out my modern college adaptation of much ado about nothing.

He turned to meet Pairo’s eyes again, repeating, “‘Journeys end in lovers meeting.’ But nothing is ending here. It’s just changing.”

life does not end when we start relationships! or when they end! or when we move, change jobs, graduate, go to school, drop out of school. happy endings in stories still aren't endings. the greatest constant in life is change.

“Because what I’ve learned in this job, Pairo and Altair, what nugget of wisdom I have to give you, is this. Love is looking at a world that can be terrifying, cold, capricious, and indifferent, and finding the person whose hand you want to hold through it all anyway. Because you want every laugh, every tear, every wrinkle, every spark of joy. Love is life’s greatest leap of faith, because you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But you know exactly who you want to spend all those tomorrows with.”

me finishing this: dammit i just wrote out my wedding vows.

Kurapika looked around the room again. At Gon and Killua; at Kalluto, Nanika, and Alluka; at his parents; at his brothers. At Leorio.

He concluded, “So you simply breathe. And you trust it will be okay.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when Kurapika dropped the microphone.

DAMN ME TOO THIS SHIT WAS GOOD TF?????? sorry my writing has peaked here.

[scullydubois]

that terror that keeps me brave: a sex education fic

hi, hello, now that I am riding high off the excitement of season three, i am finally gonna start publishing the sex education fic that I began writing in uhh...february! it primarily follows jean, maureen, and jakob as they deal with the ramifications of the season two finale. again, i started this months ago so it is not influenced by season three, and you can read it without watching that. it will focus on jean's pregnancy and maureen exploring her sexuality in the wake of her separation.

chapter one is under the cut! 1.5k, rated T. read it on ao3 here.

I:

Jean taps her pen absentmindedly against her soft leather notebook, misery on the faces of the couple in front of her. It’s a classic story: the once-adoring wife who has seen the dream crumble in front of her and her unshaven husband. Jean’s eyes train on him as he squirms in his seat.

“So, to clarify, you experienced a nocturnal emission from a dream about your co-worker, and then when Cecelia asked what the dream was about, you told her the truth.”

The man nods. Jean shifts her focus to the woman.

“And now, Cecelia, you are mad at him because you believe that he cheated on you.”

“Yes,” the wife squeaks. “He got off on another woman! Am I supposed to be okay with that?”

Jean pulls her lips into a poorly drawn line. “But you don’t have any other evidence of his cheating, correct? You’re using this dream as the sole reason for your accusation?”

“The dream is the cheating, there doesn’t need to be nothing more.”

Jean glances at the woman over her glasses. “Let’s ask Brian, shall we?” She crosses her legs, turning her attention warmly toward the poor man. “Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse or anything of the sort with this woman while you were awake?”

“No.” He shakes his head violently. “Never.”

“Would you ever do so?”

“No...Addison--that’s her name--is fine-looking, but I’m married and I love my wife. I would never do such a thing.”

Jean has seen her fair share of men who are bullshitting. Brian is not one. She closes her notebook. “See, Cecelia? You are the one he wants. Nocturnal emissions are involuntary physical responses to subconscious stimuli. Addison is Brian’s co-worker, which means he probably sees her quite often. This makes it more likely for her to turn up in his dreams. It’s neither an affront to you, nor a compliment to her.”

Cecelia pouts. “I just don’t feel right about it.”

Jean rests her glasses on the crown of her head. “This could easily have been you who had the dream about your co-worker, and what then? How would you feel if Brian were accusing you of something you couldn’t control?”

“I never have those nasty dreams,” Cecelia counters, scoffing. “Not even about my own husband.”

Jean can’t help but fight back a smirk. “Well, Cecelia, that may be an issue for another session.”

“Like hell it will be! I’m giving you money to tell me it’s okay for my husband to make love to another woman! What do I look like, a fool?”

Jean folds her hands over her lap. Nothing she hasn’t heard before.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Cecelia, but I’m glad you and Brian could come in and have this conversation today.” She exchanges a sympathetic look with Brian. “My ears are always open.”

“Thank you, Jean,” the man says, ushering his wife out of the office. “We’ll see you next time.”

And Jean’s sure they will, because they’ve had this exact session about five separate times. The only thing that ever changes is what woman features in Brian’s dream. Once, it was even Jean! Now that was a session. You’d think, by now, that Brian would just tell Cecelia that every dream is about her. The honest men are always the ones who can afford a little dishonesty.

This is what’s on Jean’s mind when she jaunts into the foyer and finds the most honest man she knows standing there like he’s waiting to be checked in. Grease streaks his clothes; he’s stopped by in between jobs.

“Jakob!” Her voice is taut and uncompromising.

“Jean!” His is cordial and languid. “That nice couple let me in, I hope it won’t be a problem.”

Jean shifts her weight onto one heel, stretching her free leg. “I have another session in a few minutes. You should go.”

“Such strict avoidance of an ex-partner is not healthy, you know. I’m sure they taught you that in therapy school.”

“And continuing to show up at your ex-partner’s home after they have indicated they do not wish to see you is called stalking.” Jean strides into the kitchen. His clunky footsteps follow her. “I didn’t need to go to ‘therapy school’ to learn that.”

“We didn’t have those kinds of laws in Sweden until very recently. It was viewed as an expression of fondness when I was growing up.”

“That’s a view universal to men around the world,” Jean retorts. “They can’t all be right.”

“I was let in here, remember?” Jakob points out. “I don’t believe that makes it possible to prosecute me for any crimes.”

“Well, if I see you grab a kitchen knife, I’m going to assume the worst.”

“If I touch a kitchen knife, you may arrest me.”

“Wonderful.” Jean starts the coffee pot and pulls her beloved honeycomb mug from the cabinet. Despite herself, she grabs another one and offers it to Jakob. “Coffee?”

“No thank you. I had my smoothie this morning.”

“Ah.” She should’ve known. She stands on her tip-toes to slide the rejected mug back on the shelf. When she turns around, her visitor is gone. This isn’t of particular concern to her, though it is rather strange.

She sets her mug beneath the coffee pot and lets it run. As the steamy liquid spews out, she surveys her kitchen. Following the trend of the day, curiosity gets the best of her. “Jakob?” she calls.

A familiar head pops out of the pantry. “You have not used your pan shelf.”

Jean takes her coffee and shuffles over. “No, I have not,” she confirms, mimicking his charmingly formal way of speaking.

“Is it not adequate?”

“I told you, I don’t need it.” She turns on her heel, gliding toward the table. “Now, can you get out of my pantry?”

With an amused smile on his face, Jakob slips out and shuts the door.

“How was the session?”

Jean casts a downward glance at him. “I’m not supposed to share--”

“My mistake.” Jakob sits down and settles his hands on the table, the epitome of patience. Jean feels a nagging tug in her stomach, and she can’t discern one potential cause from the other.

She sighs. Jakob’s eyes have always struck her as those belonging to a guard dog who’s sworn to protect. Their inability to deceive is a great comfort, and so different from most of the men she has known.

She presses the mug to her lips, drinking in the miracle roast that she has been meaning to cut back on. 200 milligrams per day, that’s the recommended maximum intake for expecting mothers. She’s keeping herself right at that.

It is hard to steel herself against Jakob when he looks at her with such genuine eyes, especially knowing that she can’t offer him the same.

She swallows her sip, sets the mug against the table. “Do you feel that a husband who’s having wet dreams about another woman is cheating?” She eyes Jakob like he’s one of her clients, someone she must pick apart.

Jakob eyes her in kind, deducing that this is not a trick, but an honest question. “Yes,” he responds in his frank tone. “That would be an emotional betrayal at least.”

Jean leans back in her chair. “Why do you say that?” She may as well have her notebook and pen in hand.

“Because he’s emotionally attached enough to this person to have those sorts of dreams.” It sounds completely sensible, Jean thinks, when he says it. And it makes her sound like a bitch for what she has to say, but a situation where she must leave her emotions out of the equation is exactly what she needs when it comes to him.

“Dreams occur in our subconscious, unbeknownst to our waking selves. We cannot plan them. And the physical response is involuntary. Nocturnal emissions happen without our intervention. He is neither choosing the subject of his dreams, nor is he choosing his sexual response to them. Therefore, no cheating is taking place.”

“So cheating is a choice then,” Jakob muses. The weight of this statement hangs between them. He searches Jean’s face for signs of apprehension.

She stiffens in her chair but holds firm. “Yes. It is.” She understands the implications of admitting this, and she hopes he does too. She has done him wrong, and the worst they can do is let it keep happening. Even this choice, though, does him wrong, and for that Jean is sorry.

The doorbell rings, no doubt the next sexual conundrum she must untangle. She slides her chair back, grabs her mug, and gives Jakob a look that’s almost apologetic.

He returns the look, his eyes both fire and ice. “Another pair whose relationship you will save.”

Jean breaks eye contact when she realizes he’s being serious, for that’s simply too sweet a thing for him to say. She walks him to the door, and it strikes her as all too familiar.

“Thank you for your help,” he utters when she opens the door to her clients. She sees what he’s doing and plays along.

“You’re welcome. See you next week.”

“Yes,” he says, fixated on her. “See you next week.”

[durotoswrites]

For the writing meme thingy: 🍄how do you get yourself in the mood to write? 🍑 do you/would you write smut? 📒 any fics planned?

🍄 How do you get yourself in the mood to write?

Getting in the mood to write and actually wanting to sit down and start writing are two very different things, but they're connected, so I'll explain both.

To set into “creative mode” it helps me to do these things:

Listen to music that makes me think of a character/situation in my story/stories. I've got playlists separated by character and pairing. Sometimes I also just work on curating those playlists for fun and get my brain going.

Bounce overall ideas off of my friends and husband/editor (but he's my best friend, too 💗)

Reread old chapters or recent ones and future snippets based on what I want to do.

Once I actually want to put words down, I get a little more strict with myself. I get distracted verrrry easily sometimes and I have to fight the urge to open a million more tabs when researching a small detail.

I move to instrumental music (I have playlists for different moods like “emotional”, “soft”, “sad”, etc. I usually listen to “soft” as a general soothing background sound, as I can get pretty dang emotional when I write, especially with the stuff I've been churning out lately.

So, yeah, I need tissues within reach if I get upset. (Wow, I'm not making this sound fun at all, lmao)

After sound has been established, I like to eat a snack (something with protein) because I can be under for hours, lol. Eat it and finish it. Otherwise, I get distracted.

I also like to have drinks available. I always have a bottle of water, but I also like having a hot cup of tea. I think it's the time of year for me to switch to cold barley tea.

I write while seated on a recliner with my feet up. I have my laptop on a lap desk and it's a pretty cozy setup.

I basically try to remove any excuse I have to get up once I start writing, because I am the worst procrastinator I know.

🍑Do you/would you write smut?

Heheh... heck yeah, I do. Waaaaay more than most people realize. Stuff I've actually posted? It's pretty limited. I posted a couple pieces (Let Me Love You and You're Like the Sunshine) a few years ago, but I've been practicing ever since. One of my planned stories literally has what I refer to as a “smut dump” in the draft where I've been experimenting with writing different moods. I like the intimate scenes to play a role in the overall plot or have it be a bonding experience.

Despite that, I do have a shameless Gray x Mary story I should just get out there that has zero plot, just two cuties in love. In my mind it's so naughty and kinky and I get flustered thinking about it (Mary is hot, okay?), but it's probably hella vanilla, lmao. I really am grateful that people have been really supportive about my writing smut despite what I usually write, and they've been so encouraging, too! I honestly feel like the smut I've posted is really stilted because I was so self-conscious about it. I don't feel like they are terrible for first attempts, but I have definitely grown more comfortable writing it.

Will The Shy Newcomer become explicit? I kinda really want it to, but I might separate the chapters for those who don't care for that content. Overall, I'd like to write more and post more, and I want to write more than just male x female smut as well. I have some of those in my planned pieces (more about them later).

📒 Any Fics Planned?

Firstly, I'm super tickled more than one person was interested in this. I copied the answer I wrote earlier.

Short answer: Yes. I also plan to bring more of my stories over from ffn to Ao3.

Long answer under the cut, heheh. I rambled quite a bit.

Ask me about my writing processes and stories!

I have so many WIPs that haven’t been touched in years that I’d like to finish, so new planned fics aren’t posted yet. Some of them have more adult themes than most of the stuff I’ve been writing, so I get flustered sharing them. I’ve been at a crossroads, as I feel that you can’t have growth without changing things up. On the other hand, I feel like a lot of my readers associate my works with a specific “wholesome” feel-good mood. It’s kinda nice to be known for something, although that might just be my ego talking, thinking that people recognize my work as a “type”.

Regardless, in the end, I feel growth is necessary.

I don’t want to leave a lot of unfinished WIPs waiting because they stress me out and I have too many of them already, so I’d like to have a bulk of my new stories with a good chunk written before I decide to post them.

Among those include:

A longfic featuring Pete’s farm in Forget-Me-Not Valley (A blend of HMDS with the FoMT plugin and AWL). It takes place in the same universe as The Shy Newcomer (Claire in Mineral Town) and there are a few overlapping moments, although Pete’s story starts first. Pete’s personality is verrry different from Claire’s, and his story was kind of supposed to be the yang to TSN’s yin. Pete’s best friends in his story are Ruby (not sure if I’m adding Tim yet), Nami, and Rock. Readers will be treated to a poorly-socialized pre-Mineral Town Cliff (if you think he was bad at the beginning of TSN, well… heh… he’s a wreck here).

Another planned unpublished story is a crossover of Harvest Moon and the movie “In This Corner of the World”, based on a manga of the same name by Fumiyo Kouno. It was written as a gift for a friend. I have the entire outline figured out and have slowly been filling it in. My friend asked for an AU where Claire and Cliff have an arranged marriage and live with his family in Akiyama, the hometown I had created for Cliff in The Shy Newcomer. I took the opportunity to expand the characters in his family. I have it written during the same time period and society as “In This Corner of the World”, but had decided to write a spreading disease as an allegory for war, but then COVID happened and some parts of it just got really hard to write. There are also a lot of sexually explicit content as Claire slowly grows and learns from her spouse that it’s okay to express what she wants despite sex being a taboo issue. If there’s enough interest in the story, I’ll post it, but I worry it’s a little too niche for there to be many people into it.

Pastor Carter and Doctor Trent are one of my favorite rare pair ships. I’ve had a partial draft for a story about them for a few years now, especially focusing on Trent growing up and acknowledging that he has an unhealthy addiction for things that he knows he can’t have. There are some more adult/sexual themes in this piece, too, including the main character lusting after a married woman (who also happens to be his patient) and some lemons. (Does anyone call it that anymore or is it just referred to as “smut” nowadays? Haha) I always feel so bad for neglecting the folks at the clinic in-game and wanted to write a piece that focused more on them, Trent specifically. It’s a multi-chap fic, but I don’t think I’m going to let it get as long as some of my other pieces.

I also really want to write a short romantic oneshot for every marriage candidate in Mineral Town, around 1,000 words each. So far, I have one for Cliff and one for Gray. I want to write Claire with everyone, because I think it would be fun to explore all the different personalities.

I have more installments planned for A Single Day, including a day in the life of the following characters, all with drafts in varying degrees of progress:

Anna

Doug

Nora (yes, I’m writing from the point of view of the cat living at the inn)

More to come – I think Lillia and Thomas would be especially interesting to explore

I do still have that Legend of Zelda Majora’s Mask piece I’ve been pondering where Link befriends the soul of the deku scrub child while possessed by the mask. I don’t have much written about it, but I really love the world of Majora’s Mask. Such a fun game.

I also think about the lead carpenter’s son in Ocarina of Time and that weird side quest involving the blue chicken and the son being lost to the forest. Then that unique-looking kokiri girl explaining that all who get taken in the lost woods become stalfos. Like, did the guy die? Was he sick? Did he want to die? There’s just so much going on there that would be fun to explore.

I also have played OMORI recently and have like… A LOT of feelings about it. I don’t know what I’d write, but I’m still damn impressed at how well the characters are developed in such a short game.

Other games I’ve had vague ideas about writing for include the following:

The Flame in the Flood: I’m thinking a survivalist/action story fleshing out Scout’s backstory a bit more and her thoughts as she’s traveling. I feel like she’s a very lonely person, but isn’t given the chance to really dwell on it.

Night In the Woods: I’d love to write more about Mae’s dreams and what they mean to her. She doesn’t really talk to anyone about them openly, so it’s really hard to tell her feelings about them in some regards. We know that she’s distressed about them, but I’d like to dive a little deeper. Do the nightmares end after the games does? What about Bea’s new nightmares?

Hades (Supergiant Games): I think it would be fun to write more about the events that take place before the game starts, like Zagreus’s duties in the house of Hades, and expand on the strained relationship with his father.

[a-sirens-melody]

i can’t believe it’s true, i get to love you

It’s finally here!! I’m so excited to share my first drakepad fic. Get ready for 5k words of absolute sap kjskhdg (I’ll reblog with the link to my ao3)

This is part of a series I’m developing too, Let’s Get Engaged! so there will be more of this au.

Enjoy!

***

“Uh, DW? Why are we parked across the street from Mr. McDee’s movie studio?” He heard Launchpad ask behind him. “I don't think W.A.N.D.A said there was any crime here.”

“I, um.” His hands were shaking. “I have something I want to show you.” He double checked the brakes of the Ratcatcher; he didn't need to crash his only ride into the wall as the Thunderquack was already in need of repairs. That sounded like something that would happen to Drake Mallard, not Darkwing Duck. He needed to be Darkwing Duck for just a little longer.

Patrol had been busy tonight, to the surprise of both partners. They'd had to foil seven house break ins, five robberies downtown (three of which had been at the mall), and even got dragged into breaking up a bar fight on the other side of St. Canard. That last one was an unexpected surprise, but at least the stench of alcohol and yelling about… sports? Mothers? Darkwing had no clue what it was even about. He wasn’t sure what higher power he had pleased, but he was grateful for the distraction from the precious cargo he had safely tucked away in his jacket pocket.

He had been planning this for one month, two weeks, and three days. Not that he's been counting or anything. The big moment was almost here, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Because tonight, Drake was going to propose to Launchpad.

They had talked about this before. Actually, Launchpad was the one to bring up marriage. A year ago, two years into their relationship, the pilot had very bluntly asked him, “so what do you think about marriage?” In that moment, Drake thought that all his head injuries acquired from three years of crime fighting had caught up to him and his brain was truly not working.

After recovering from his mini heart attack, the two discussed and came to the conclusion that both of them really liked the idea of becoming husbands. Loved it, actually. But neither was ready to handle all the planning and stress of a wedding yet. Hell, Launchpad had only been living with Drake and Gosalyn for a couple of months.

Still, that didn't stop Drake from imagining the scenario at least once a month. Launchpad kneeling down with a ring in a pretty box and scooping up Drake to kiss him. Drake getting on one knee instead and offering a golden or silver ring (he hadn't been sure, at first, what color would suit his beloved best) after an incredibly sappy speech. 

What was that he said before about planning for a month? Scratch that out. He'd been dreaming of the moment for a year, but started considering for real three months ago. He asked Launchpad again for his opinion on the matter, just to check that they were still on the same page, and almost died on the spot when his answer was now a confident “yes.” If they lived in a cartoon, Drake surely would have floated off the ground surrounded by tiny pink hearts.

He thought about any and all locations that marked a special milestone in their relationship. The movie studio where they first met, the tower where they constantly met on hero business, the McDuck Enterprises building where they found their first supervillains together and met his future daughter. In the end, the former won because it felt like that was the true start of them. Because of their meeting there, the events of the past three years occurred. That point in time marked the beginning of many changes in Drake's life.

He hadn't spent one month, two weeks, and three days scrambling for a location. That sounded utterly unromantic and incredibly unprepared. No, that was the amount of time he had spent finding the courage to actually ask.

Now the moment had finally arrived. And he was not backing down.

After making sure the motorcycle was properly parked, he hopped out and strode to Launchpad, offering a hand. His boyfriend still looked confused but smiled at the gesture and took it, getting out of the seat. “Such a gentleman.”

“I try.” Darkwing flashed a grin back. Thankfully, his hands had stopped shaking and his voice betrayed none of the frayed nerves within the valiant vigilante.

They continued to hold hands as they crossed the street. Once on the sidewalk, they looked up at the building. It had been closed for the night already, the lights dimmed and the only soul seen was a lone security guard on patrol.

“Man.” Darkwing was drawn out of his daydreams and looked over to Launchpad. “It's been a long time since I've seen this place. Brings back memories, huh?”

Darkwing hummed in agreement. For a while after the failure of Darkwing: First Darkness, the only memories he had of this place were bitter. It was here that his big break as an actor had literally gone up in flames before his very eyes. It was here that his idol Jim Starling, a man he had looked up to the moment he laid eyes on the first episode of Darkwing Duck, had tried to kill him only to be buried in the remains of the set in a sick sense of karma.

But after spending more time with Launchpad, he had grown to see it as a landmark of new beginnings in his life. He hadn't met the pilot here, but they really began to bond when Launchpad broke into his trailer. After trying not to damage several previous pieces of merch, they quit fighting each other and started playing with Drake’s action figures, of all things. As odd as the circumstances were, it was nice. Somewhere along the way, he told the other duck about what he personally called his origin story (yes, he knew it was nerdy, but it felt right and no one was going to make him stop).

And Launchpad didn't make fun of him or call him ridiculous for keeping a beat up lunchbox after all those years. No, he nodded his head and looked on in… admiration. Then he yelled out something about getting Jim to stop fighting Drake and talk together about how they could both fix the movie and. Well. They both knew how that went.

Demise of Darkwing aside, it was the first time in Drake’s life that he had felt completely understood. He didn't have to hide his love of Darkwing for fear of rejection, instead he was encouraged to geek out as much as he wished.

And when the rain machine stopped and the ashes of set pieces and the dream of a starry-eyed boy were all that remained, when Drake thought all hope was lost, what did Launchpad do? He told him to get back up. He convinced Drake that he could become Darkwing Duck for real. He even let Drake autograph his poster, an action which he'd dreamed of doing the moment he started acting.

Three years of what he would call his best (and first) romantic relationship, one alien invasion, one spirited little girl, and another found family full of feisty adventurers later, Drake wouldn't change the events of his life for anything. He’s tried so many times to tell Launchpad how much he appreciates him and the warmth and the love he’s brought, but it always feels like words are never enough. That doesn't mean he won't stop trying, though, as he said, “I knew coming here would change my life all those years ago. I'm so glad I was wrong.”

He snuck a peek at Launchpad and was pleasantly surprised to see his boyfriend blushing. “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Never thought the worst movie I'd ever seen could open the doors to the best years of my life.”

Darkwing choked and looked away again, cheek feathers turning pink. “I-I, uh. Yeah. Me too.” He squeezed his boyfriend's hand as he tried to regain his composure. When he succeeded, he began again the speech he had spent hours practicing and pacing in his room over. “I thought all I needed to make my life complete was a starring role in a big movie. That I could inspire other kids like me as a solo hero.” 

He faced Launchpad again, softly smiling. “But you. You crashed into my life,” he raised his hands here at Launchpad’s smirk, “pun not intended. You showed me that I could have a good family, I could surround myself with people that really loved me for who I was. Adopting Gosalyn, meeting the Ducks- I never would've done that if you hadn't pushed me to. Hell, I wouldn't even be Darkwing Duck without you.” He stepped closer and cupped the pilot’s cheek. “And, of course, you will always have a special place in my heart.”

Launchpad’s eyes widened and there was a faint hitch in his breath. “Drake, what are you saying?”

“Launchpad, I-” Just as he was about to reach in his pocket for the ring, Drake stopped.

He still had the mask on. He was still Darkwing Duck.

No, no, he couldn't propose like this. Sure, Launchpad knew Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard were one and the same and that it was still his boyfriend under the mask and ego but- but it was the principle of the thing, okay!?

He wanted to ask the love of his life to marry him in honesty and vulnerability. And to do that, he had to be Drake Mallard. He had to find somewhere more private.

“Wait.” Darkwing grabbed Launchpad's hand and began to run to the nearest alleyway. “I need to do this with no risk of being spotted.”

“Um. What are you doing now?” His partner asked as he shoved themselves into the dark, quiet alley between what looked like a jewelry store and a hair salon. Launchpad looked confused and- wait, were those tears?

Shit, shit, shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen! That wasn't part of the plan! “Honey! No no no, don't cry, I just wanted-” Scolding himself, he tore off his hat and mask. There. Now Drake Mallard could take out his ring and propose and hopefully calm his partner down. “I wanted to ask if-”

He reached his hand into his pocket and froze.

There was nothing there.

Frantically, he searched his other pocket and checked both of them again. His heart sank as he came up empty handed, and he remembered where the ring was.

He hid the box in one of the boxes of smoke bombs earlier that day. In his panic to get out onto the streets and running through his plan and his words ninety nine times, he must've forgotten to take it with him.

Which meant that his fool-proof proposal plan was no longer fool-proof.

“Dammit!” Drake hissed, angry tears forming. He could've kicked the wall, but he didn't want to scare LP. He tried to ignore the hot shame simmering inside him as he covered his face with his hand. “God, I'm sorry, sunshine, I left something-”

“Drake?” Launchpad's voice was hushed and gentle, the complete opposite of Drake's current mental state.

Drake shushed the voices in his head and looked up.

Launchpad was giving him a soft, knowing smile and his eyes were still watery but he didn't look sad. Actually, he looked thrilled. “Are you... asking me to marry you?”

Even if his original plans were ruined, Drake was still going to see this through. So he took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, met his boyfriend's gaze, and said, “yeah. Yeah, I am. At least, I tried to.” He pinched his fingers in between his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Would've helped if I hadn't forgotten the ring. You deserve a romantic proposal, and I somehow failed at the bare minimum.” He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“Hey. You didn't fail at the bare minimum.” Launchpad was standing closer now, determination in his gaze. “You took me to the place that marks the beginning of our friendship and gave a really sweet speech about how I've made your life better. The fact that you don't have a ring to give me doesn't make that any less meaningful.”

“God.” Drake shuddered, relief flooding his body. He'd been so caught up in his setback that his actions earlier had completely slipped his mind. Launchpad was right. The ring wasn't the most important part; the proposal itself was. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Launchpad pressed his beak to the top of his head in a kiss, and Drake soon felt a familiar pair of warm arms snake around him. “I love you too, babe.”

For a few minutes, neither spoke and simply basked in the presence of their lover. Drake found himself processing the past few minutes more and discovered another realization.

He hadn't gotten a clear answer yet.

He was strongly tempted to bury his head further into Launchpad's chest, but he had another important question. Plus, if he had to ask more than once, he would run the risk of dying on the spot from sheer suspense. “Um, so. I didn't screw up my proposal to you.” Launchpad gave a comforting hum as Drake lifted his face to make eye contact once again. “And it made you happy, but. You didn't really answer my question. So. Launchpad, will you marry me?”

His smile was brighter than the sun. “Yes!” His hands drifted up to Drake's side and picked him up. His fiancé- fiancé, oh god, it's real now, not just a dream- threw him three inches into the air, laughing. Drake smiled and joined in, then cupped his hands around Launchpad's face and pulled him into a kiss once he was safe again in his arms.

Drake heard Launchpad sigh and felt his partner tighten his arms around his waist. Drake opened his beak, deepening the kiss. Launchpad made a pleased hum before doing the same, and Drake's mind went pleasantly blank.

It felt like hours had passed by the time Launchpad pulled away. Drake bit back a whine and lowered his hands to wrap around his fiancé’s neck.

“Okay, as much as I want to keep kissing you, we should probably go back to the tower. I don't think either of us is gonna be able to focus on patrol anyways.” Launchpad flashed a small smirk, but his eyes were still sparkling. “Also, you need to put your mask back on. It would be really unromantic if someone found your secret identity out,” he added, as fleeting as an afterthought.

Drake let out a small laugh. “You're right, that would totally kill the mood. Could you let me down, please?” He was gently lowered to the ground at that and took Launchpad's hand again. “Oh! Also!” He had gotten carried away in the moment, but there was another good reason to go back to the tower. “Your ring is there.”

“Did you hide it and then forget to get it back out when you were getting ready to go on patrol?” Launchpad guessed.

“Yup.” They started walking back to the Ratcatcher, swinging their clasped hands back and forth. Drake felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of his shoulders. He did it! And Launchpad said yes! Even if it wasn't exactly perfect, he would remember tonight as one of the best nights of his life.

His fiancé suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Wait. I forgot to tell you something.”

Drake turned to face him. Something about that statement made him wary. “What?”

His figurative feathers were smoothed over when Launchpad smiled again. “You're not the only one who was planning to propose.”

Drake's entire face went red, and as he could faintly hear the other duck say, “I'll show you when we get back”, amidst his stuttering.

“You're gonna be the death of me someday, LP, did you know that?” Drake sighed when he had stopped bi panicking. He scrubbed his face with his hand and walked over to the motorcycle, hopping on.

“Better me than a supervillain.” He heard Launchpad walk over and get on behind him, felt strong arms wrap around him in anticipation. “Besides, you love me,” was whispered in his ear.

“Okay, we're going now,” Drake choked out. He was definitely blushing again. He turned on the motorcycle and pulled out onto the road. 

With that, they sped off into the night.

***

Once he parked the Ratcatcher, Drake practically scrambled off and sprinted to the pile of boxes in the far right corner labeled Smoke Bombs! Do NOT Touch!! Launchpad was right behind him, chuckling under his breath.

“Which one, which one…” He muttered under his breath, looking for the one with the marker he had put on it. A minute later, he found a box with a large black X on its side. “Ah ha!”

He stuck his hand in the box…

And immediately set off a few smoke bombs.

“Okay, note to self,” Drake said, coughing, “don’t hide your engagement ring with little delicate spheres full of smoke.” He waved one hand around to clear the air and used the other to very gently pry the ring box out.

“Tada!” He opened it to show Launchpad the dark purple ring he had chosen. “Your ring.”

“No way!”

“Um. What?” Okay, definitely not the reaction he was expecting. He tried not to let his nerves get the best of him again. “Is it the wrong shade? Or would you rather have a normal ring?”

“Huh? Oh, no! It’s beautiful!” Launchpad rushed to reassure him. “I just think it’s kinda funny.”

What? How was this funny? “Launchpad, you’re not making any sense.”

“Here, I’ll show you!” Launchpad pulled a similar back velvet box out of the pocket on his left sleeve. He flipped it open to reveal a ring small enough to fit Drake’s ring finger.

A ring that was the exact same purple as Launchpad’s.

“We got the same ring!” They exclaimed at the same time, meeting each other’s gaze and giggling.

“Oh my god. What kind of soulmate magic is this?” Drake couldn’t believe it. This felt like the sort of thing that only happened in fairy tales or really cheesy rom coms. “Hold on a second. Is this what you were doing that one time you said you were picking up lunch?”

“Yeah.” Launchpad said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure how to explain a trip to the jewelry store without giving it away. Plus, it was a pretty spur of the moment thing. You know how bad I am at lying.”

Drake chuckled. “You said you were on your way to Hamburger Hippo at ten am. I was definitely confused. Why purple, though?”

“Gold and silver didn’t feel like they fit you, and I wanted a ring that would represent something special to both of us. So, the first thing that came to mind was Darkwing Duck! ‘Cause you love it as much as I do, maybe even more, and it’s what we bonded over first and you’re Darkwing Duck, so. It felt right.”

Drake could relate to that. As fun as ring shopping had been, it hadn't started out as the easiest task on his list. Launchpad didn't strike Drake as much of a jewelry person. He had never seen Launchpad wear any jewelry casually, and the fanciest thing his work uniform required was a tie. Even on the few occasions his partner wore a suit, the cufflinks had been provided.

There was a slight blush on his fiancé's cheeks and his hands flapped as he rambled, and Drake felt positively smitten. Again, what kind of soulmate magic was this? It had to be magic; what other explanation could there possibly be for the way they seemed to think as one? “That’s so sweet of you, LP. Actually, I got your ring for the exact same reason. Except for you being Darkwing, ‘cause. You know. You’re my partner.”

“And you’re my Darkwing.” Launchpad whispered, gazing with the softest eyes and his words pulled Drake under a tidal wave of emotions. His Darkwing, his Darkwing, his Darkwing-

“You sap.” Just as he thought he was done crying. He wiped away tears. His face hurt from smiling so wide and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Launchpad grinned just as widely. “Neither can I. Before we go back home, though, can I ask you one more thing? Two, actually.”

Drake took a deep breath and nodded, fanning his face.

“I know you asked me first, but I really wanted to ask you and I’ve got my ring so-” Launchpad was bouncing up and down on his tiptoes, running his hands over the zipper of his jacket. He looked like a puppy, all frantic energy and big hopeful eyes. “Can I ask too? Please?”

Drake laughed and nodded. “Of course, sunshine.”

“Yes!” With that, Launchpad cleared his throat and got down on one knee. “Drake, you’re so special to me. You’re the first partner I’ve had that really understood me. That loves my favorite show as much as I do, and knows what it’s like to build your personality around it. You’ve been there for me in the best and worst times, and you’ve given me the best adventure I could’ve asked for: living my childhood dream with someone I love and that loves me in the same way. You already know my answer, but I need to know-

“Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Launchpad. Yes.” His heart felt like it was going to burst. God, it was really happening. This was better than any lovestruck dream he had conjured in the past year. Drake ran over to the other duck and flung his arms around his waist. He was once again surrounded by strong warm arms and sighed happily.

“We did it. We’re gonna get married.” He could hear Launchpad’s voice rumble low in his chest. “Can we have a Darkwing Duck themed wedding?”

“Oh my god, yes!” Drake pulled his head back up, eyes sparkling. “We could totally coordinate our suits and the decorations and the cake, oh my god, we’re gonna get to eat wedding cake together, and-” He paused his rambling as a realization struck him. “Hold on. Is it gonna look weird if I have a wedding themed after myself?”

“I mean.” Launchpad blinked. “We’re both talking about the TV show Darkwing Duck, right?” Drake nodded. “Then, I think it’s fine. If anyone comes that doesn’t know you’re also Darkwing Duck, they’ll probably think of it as an obsessed fanboy thing. And everyone that does know, will probably understand.” He squeezed Drake’s hand with a grin. “It’s our wedding.”

“Our wedding,” Drake echoed. Oh my god. They were having a wedding. Together! Because they were getting married to each other! He started flapping his hands to try to let out some of his pent up joy. “Our wedding! Oh my gosh, we need to tell people! And send invitations and start writing our vows but I don’t know if that’s something you have to do separately or you can coordinate somehow and-”

“We’ll have plenty of time to get all that sorted out,” Launchpad responded, taking a hold of Drake’s beak and tilting his head up to look at him. His eyes were warm. “But, sweetheart, it’s almost three am and I don’t know if anything’s even open. I’m excited too, but you gotta take a deep breath.”

Drake did just that. “Right, right. Don’t need to pass out before we get home. That would also kill the mood.”

Launchpad chuckled. “Shall we?” He gestured to the open foyer.

“Wait, wait, one last thing!” Drake’s gaze had caught Launchpad’s hand and there was still a certain something missing. Something he had already forgotten once, and he was not going to make that same mistake again. His partner jumped a bit at his sudden outburst, and smiled in apology. “Sorry, this really is the last thing, I promise. Do you want me to put on your ring for you?”

Launchpad’s eyes widened. “Right, rings. We should be wearing them.” He smiled back, gaze drifting to Drake’s left hand. “Can I put yours on, too?”

“Of course.”

And finally, after months of dreaming and pacing and purchasing, Drake took the hand of the love of his life and slipped on his ring. Launchpad did the same, and Drake could hardly breathe. They held their hands up to the light, admiring the way the rings sparkled.

“So why is it that you’re supposed to put your engagement ring on your left hand?” Launchpad tilted his head to view his ring from a different angle. “Is it for protection?”

“I’ve heard it’s because your left hand is closer to your heart.” Drake explained. He saw Launchpad compare the distance from his hands and his chest, brow furrowed.

“But. How’d they figure it out? I can’t tell which one is closer!”

“Maybe they made it up to sound sappy. I don’t really get it, either.”

“Huh. That’s weird. Anyways,” Launchpad shook his head and offered his hand out. “Shall we go, then?”

Drake giggled and took his hand. “Yes, we shall.”

***

When they arrived at home, the stars were still shining. Drake would always be thankful for the shortcut built into their house in Duckburg. When he and Launchpad had decided to move in together, the most difficult decision had been choosing where exactly they wanted to live. Drake didn't want to leave St. Canard without a hero to protect it, and Launchpad didn't want to move away from his job and his family.

Fortunately, his pilot worked for the richest man alive who had no intentions of letting Launchpad leave if he didn't want to. With Scrooge’s money, they had a secret tunnel constructed that led from their house to Darkwing Tower accessible via two blue chairs in the living room. Travel was instantaneous, so Drake didn't have to give up his city and Launchpad didn't have to give up his job (it also meant he could come on patrols without sacrificing so much sleep. In the early days, Launchpad barely got any sleep driving for six hours total back and forth every night. It was scary to Drake how dedicated his partner was sometimes. Endearing, yes, but scary all the same).

He was going to try to stay quiet as he entered the house, he really was since he was expecting to find Gosalyn asleep in her room. It was a school night, so she should have been asleep.

Sleeping, however, was not what she was doing when he found his fourteen year old daughter awake on the couch in the living room. She was spread out, feet kicked up on one of the arms and scrolling through her phone. The second she heard the chairs activate, however, her eyes darted over to her fathers and dropped the device and scrambled over.

“Dad! Papa! How was patrol tonight?” Her eyes glittered with excitement. She always loved to hear about their patrols whenever she couldn't go. Which was often because she had school on weekdays and needed her sleep. Sleep that she was currently not getting for reasons possibly not unknown to Drake.

He arched an eyebrow. “It was fine. Only had a few robberies to stop, but you probably knew it was a quiet night. Speaking of which,” he crossed his arms. “It's three am on a Thursday. What are you doing out of bed and still awake?”

“I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd wait for you guys. And I can see,” her eyes landed on his ring, grin growing wider, “that tonight wasn't as uneventful as you said. Not in the sense of crime fighting, anyway.”

She turned to Launchpad and asked, “so how mad was he that you beat him to it?” He started to explain but Drake cut in with some squawking of his own.

“What do you mean, ‘beat him to it’!? How did you even know he was planning to propose too?” He finally asked, pointing a finger at Gos.

“Oh, I asked her if I could marry you.” Launchpad answered. “‘Cause, she's your family and I wanted her to know.” He seemed shy all of a sudden, blushing slightly and twisting his own ring.

Somehow, Drake felt his heart swell with even more love as his breath caught in his throat. “Oh. That. Makes sense. And that's. That's really sweet of you, LP. Oh my god, I'm so happy I'm gonna marry you.”

His fiancé grinned back, silly and sweet. “Me too, babe.”

The moment was interrupted by their daughter gagging and rolling her eyes. She still had a slight smile on her face, though. “God, go get a room. Anyways!” She clapped her hands and turned back to Launchpad. “You didn't answer my question. Did he fling a smoke bomb at you or something?”

“Hey!”

“No, but he did set some off on accident…”

As they explained the events of earlier that night, Gosalyn listened with rapt attention. She only interjected twice, both times, “I told you so,” and both directed at Drake (she had caught him pacing in the kitchen one day and demanded an explanation, to which he told her everything. She told him he had nothing to worry about as “you guys are so in love, it's sickening sometimes”). When they were done, she asked if they had any ideas for the wedding yet. Ignoring their clear choice for overall theme, the answer was no, so they brainstormed possible locations and the beginning of what was sure to be a very long guest list. By the time Gos brought up food, it was four thirty.

At that point, Drake declared that it was too early for this and said they should all go to bed. Gosalyn didn't argue, as the wedding talk had finally tired her out.

They tucked her into bed, kissed her cheek, and said goodnight. Launchpad was already in their bedroom and Drake was following him when Gosalyn spoke up.

“Dad?”

He turned around. “Yeah, sweetie?”

She met his eyes and gave him a soft smile. “I'm really happy for you.”

He smiled back. “Thanks.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Gosalyn.”

He and his fiancé didn't get much sleep. They spent the rest of the night talking in hushed whispers, showering each other in soft kisses, or simply holding one another.

Because they said yes.

And that small word opened a new door, one they were both thrilled to walk through.

Together.