#Buttercream Scenes

[bisayawa]

freckles & blades & helping hands

✎___ husband!diluc × spouse!reader

✎___ a/n: domestic fluff (literally just a soft scene of diluc shaving his scruff), i aged diluc up a bit i think. use of the pet name honey. somewhat inspired by @/mmmairon's art of beefy, gentle, kind diluc :> 730~ words, not proofread; art by ary scheffer.

"do you need any help?"

legs swinging on the counter top, you lean in & stare, eyes glazing over the handsome lines of your husband's face on the mirror. he has a few crow's feet near his temples. whenever you point it out, he'll always say the wrinkles are evidence of you, you who make him smile & laugh & chuckle until his stomach hurts. it's evidence of a life laughter, he'd say.

the sharp stipple of the razor cuts through the silence.

"no, honey," he says, turning his head & angling the blade to the scruff on his jaw. "it's alright."

the words are spoken softly. it was jarring a few years ago, hearing words of buttercream & sweetness come from a man such as diluc, hulking, dignified, broad-shouldered, almost always with a dour expression on his face.

there was a handsomeness to the gloom before. the sharpness of brows, the bite of his frowns, the particular wrinkle when he scrunches his nose... but you have to admit, the allure is multiplied tenfold when he's all honeyed & dewy-eyed, softer than a cloud.

"i could do it for you, you know?"

his eyes never leave the mirror.

"i still don't understand this... fixation you have," he angles his face in an almost-quarter turn. "i'm just shaving, hon. it's no event you have to witness."

"of course, it is." you lean a little closer. "it's like an unveiling. my husband is showing his true face, one without scruff or stubble."

"an unveiling― ?" his shoulders shake & he puts down the razor for a few moments, small bouts of giggles floating through the room.

he rights himself.

"behave. i'm never gonna finished in time." his stern voice is all for show. he's smiling as he says the words.

a beat passes.

"but isn't it though? they'll finally see all your face. happy wrinkles & all."

he's struggling to fix his lip into a line, unable to stop it from curling into a smile. he's repeating your last few words, mouthing them out as he brings down the razor.

the silence after then is sweet, filled with curious looks towards his face filled with foam & other little chuckles.

"so..." your voice cuts through.

"so...?"

"could i do it for you?"

he taps the razor on the marble sink, shucking hair & foam off the blade.

"you don't know how..." another swipe of the razor.

"you could teach me." tap tap.

"i've..." swipe. "already started." tap

"just the basics." swipe. "an impromptu lesson, yeah? against the grain & all that?"

"it's with the grain, honey."

"right, yeah... i knew that... so are you gonna teach me?"

"hm..."

"oh? usually it's a big, disapproving hrrrnn..."

"you've catalogued my grousing?"

"yup yup, because i am a good spouse who tends to the needs of my husband."

he laughs at that, quietly. another wrinkle on his temple.

"alright, alright... here..."

he gives the razor, grasping it in your hand. he's gentle, careful, righting your hold of the blade.

"okay... here's how it should be..." he guides your hand towards his cheek, speaking in soft murmurs. "just like how my father taught me. listen."

he pulls down, a swipe against his face. hair & foam give way for his pale skin.

"there. let the blade do the work, honey. don't push too harshly."

he makes another swipe, his hand still guiding yours.

"here, just like this." swipe swipe swipe. "you wanna try?"

your small palm finds the back of his neck, pulling him close. brows furrow in concentration as the razor anticipates the next swipe.

"careful, honey, okay?" the warmth of his hand leaves. "i trust you."

shaking fingers steel themselves. the blade goes still before landing on the softness of his skin. it coasts across his jaw, cold metal kissing warm flesh. the line is carved against the shaving foam, no longer obscuring his face.

the swipe is finished. the trust was not betrayed. the result of your work is there upon the blade, as patches of coarse hair & crisp shaving foam.

"how was that?" you murmur.

"wonderful." he's staring into your eyes, not at the razor like you expected. "would you like to keep going?"

"yes, please." you poke at his newly shaven jaw. "i've never noticed your little freckle here."

"i have a few." he pinches your nose. "let's keep going. maybe we can find a few more."

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Four

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Descriptions of past domestic violence, past abuse, past sexual assault, SANE exam. Death scene in relation to reader's job. Stalking. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Trauma. PTSD. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, nurse!reader. Comfort. Soft dads. Johnny is a shameless flirt.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday sweet Penny-“ 

Their baby shrieks at the crest in the song, smile shoving her plump cheeks upwards, little fists banging on her highchair tray. She has no idea what’s going on, Johnny imagines, but he knows she’s excited that everyone is singing to her, looking at her, celebrating her. “happy birthday to you!” She swings a hand forward, plunging into the buttercream icing of the cupcake, fingers digging in as much as she can. Johnny can't help but give her the biggest kiss he can manage while trying to dodge the flying food, and Simon laughs over his shoulder. 

“Atta girl.” Simon encourages, trying to peel the wrapper so she can get more in her mouth, icing and cake all over his fingers now too, and Johnny wanders for a second, imagining something certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s first birthday. 

“Can’t believe your kid is a year old.” Kyle says from behind him, two beers in his hand. “Feels like yesterday you were even tellin’ us she existed.” 

“Time is movin’ too fast.” Johnny agrees, taking a long sip as Simon pulls Pen from the highchair, white and blue icing all over her face, arms, and hands. Kyle is right, it is hard to believe it’s been a year, hard to believe that their baby is already one, growing up right before their eyes, taking her first steps, saying her first words. He knows it won’t be long until she’s really talking, running, riding a bike, going to school… thoughts of the future forming a lump in the back of his throat that sticks like taffy. 

Simon steps into his orbit with Penny in his arms, keeping her turned outwards away from his body, half tilted to avoid the sticky smear of icing that’s painted all over her. 

“What is it?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips against Johnny’s cheek, warm breath fanning over his skin. 

“Nothin’ ah-“ Penny babbles, head tipped back, gazing at him with wide, pretty eyes, and Johnny rubs a knuckle across her messy cheek. “she’s gettin’ so big. Feel like ‘m missing it, sometimes. Like I should be here.” Simon sighs. 

“Johnny-“ 

“I know, I know.” They made this decision, together. They chose what was best for their family, even though they both knew the distance, the time apart, would sting.  

“The option is always there if you want to swap. Though I think we both know you’d lose your head behind a desk.” He nods, but the longing lingers, and Simon reads him right through to his heart, like always. “After this next op, let’s sit down and talk about it. Maybe we can make some adjustments for next year.” 

“Ah love ye.” 

“I love you too.” He shifts Pen into his side, inclining his head towards her grubby hands. “Can you wash her up?” She reaches for him, trying to latch around his neck, and he rubs her back, cooing into her hair. 

“Whit happened to my precious bairn, eh? Where’d she go?” Pen giggles, fingers finding his nose, long strands of his hair with a tug, and he playfully lifts her, mouth against her tummy, blowing loud raspberries over her shirt that has her absolutely screaming with glee. 

“Da. Dadadada-“ she babbles at him. 

“C’mon wee lamb, let’s go get ye into some clean clothes.” 

There’s an envelope shoved under your front door.

The shitty carpet in the hallway is too high, threads jagged, so it sits a little crumpled, half wedged beneath the bottom and the floor.

It’s manilla. Letter sized. Stepping over it to get inside, you immediately notice the lack of postage. Or addressing. Or anything at all, that would signify that it had been delivered by proper authorities.

It’s from him. 

You know it is, even though you try to find any other rational reasoning, anything that could explain the mystery behind the envelope and how it got here.

You know. You know it’s probably a letter. Handwritten. Signed in perfect penmanship. You know it’s probably something foul, sick words twisted into terrifying sentences.

You kick it inside and let it sit there for a few minutes. You get changed, get into comfortable clothes, start your kettle. You wrap your sweater tight around your body and lean against your countertop, staring at the offensive tan-beige paper that lays in the middle of the floor.

It’s from him. 

He knows where you are. 

“That’s impossible.” You answer yourself aloud, fingers curled so tight into your palms that they make little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

Your illusion, delusion, of safety, anonymity, is easily washed away by the appearance of the envelope, and whatever lurks inside it.

It’s too soon. 

You didn’t make it.

It’s not a letter inside the envelope at all.

It’s a photo.

A photo of you, taken in harsh hospital lighting, dated over two years ago. It’s taken from the shoulders up, skin bare and exposed, fresh impact bruising around your neck, eye starting to swell, lip crusted with blood.

You remember this photo. You remember the awful experience of the SANE exam, the drive to the hospital that took over two hours because you had to go to another state, just in case.

You hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Your white eyelet blouse, one of your favorites, was splattered red, bright ruby dried a dark wine by the time you pulled into the little county hospital.

You remember the way it felt, to have your clothes put in a bag. To be handled by gloved fingers, with care and attention. The same way you had done for others before that day, and since.

“What’s your name?” your nurse had asked you, so cautiously, so kind. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She tried to promise, but you knew the truth. There was nowhere you could run, not a single place you could hide, where a shadow wouldn’t find you.

The girl, the woman, in the photo is the same person that looks back at you in the mirror every day, except now she’s buried beneath layers and layers of function, schedule, consistency. She’s silenced by distraction. By work.

By fear.

You flip it over with trembling hands, looking for the note or signature you know will be there. Like a greedy, starved pig; he cannot help himself. 

Found you. 

Bile rockets up your esophagus and into your mouth. How long will he toy with you this time?

“Hey, you okay?” Nia asks, frowning at you from her locker.

“Yeah, just slept like shit.” You roll your shoulders, emphasizing the half-truth. You really did sleep poorly, fragments of nightmares keeping you suspended in twilight sleep, clips of memories morphed into the snapping. bloodied jaw of a monster who reared their head every time your REM cycle started, and it shows. In your face, your posture, your skin. You look awful, the only thing really holding you together the resolve you have to push through, to get it together, to leave the envelope and its contents behind in your mind. You’re safer inside these walls above anywhere else, that you know is true. Your safety. Your sanctuary. Nothing can hurt you here. “You know how it is.” You add, and she chuckles.

“Tell me about it. Thought I was going to love overnights, but the sleep schedule is brutal.”

“You get used to it.” You assure her, the two of you making your way down the hall to the pit, and she shrugs.

“If you say so.”

You stand outside of two sixty-eight for too long. People pass you in the hallway, eyes curious, and you pretend to scroll through the tablet, decidedly trying to distract yourself from the dread that’s gathered like a sailor’s knot in the pit of your stomach.

You’re a professional. This behavior is definitely unprofessional. Get yourself together. 

You try, filling your lungs with a deep breath, but you can’t shake the shame, the mortification that is curdling in your stomach at the idea of facing Simon and Johnny after the code black situation last week.

“Go sit with Johnny.”

“Ye’re shaking, pretty girl.”

Will they be angry that you were so rattled? Could they tell? 

Your watch alarm beeps, and you uncurl your spine.

Buck up. 

You’re both anxious, and relieved, that Johnny is asleep when you finally step inside. Simon sits in his usual spot, paperback book’s spine split in the palm of his hand, and at first… he doesn’t even look up. Not until you clear your throat, and he startles in the chair, eyes snapping up to find yours. “Hi.” He frowns.

“What day is it?”

“Uh, it’s Wednesday?”

“I thought you start your week on Thursdays.” That makes your eyebrows raise, uncontained surprise filtering through you. He knows your schedule? Butterflies thrash in your stomach at the notion, something hot flooding your veins as you blink at him.

“I’m on OT.” You drift towards the other side of the bed, eyeing Johnny’s monitor before lifting the blanket to peek at his elevated leg. “How is he?”

“Uncomfortable. The burn debridement has been… difficult.”  You chew on the inside of your cheek. They better not be letting Simon even stand outside and watch that through the window, you think. You’ll have to follow up with whoever is on days.

“Healing burns can be a long and painful process.” You tell him, pulling back the blanket a little further. “I’ll be quick, try to let him get enough sleep as possible.”

“He’ll be sad he missed you.” Simon answers, still watching your every movement, eyes dark and focused above the black cloth mask. The intensity in them catches you off guard when you meet his gaze, hair on the back of your neck standing up straight, and you swallow.

“Well, I’ll still be here in the morning when he wakes so…” you trail off awkwardly, choosing to direct your attention to the scaffolding that’s supporting his femur and hip, checking his sutures for any redness or swelling.

“Do you work a lot of overtime?” Simon asks at the same as he leans forward to brush a stray lock of hair from Johnny’s forehead. The touch is so tender, so gentle, it makes your heart bleed inside your chest, blood warming beneath your skin, captivating your attention until he’s tearing his eyes away from Johnny, and latching onto yours with an expectant expression.

“Oh. Um. Sometimes?”

“Seems like a lot.” He comments, words lazily pulled from his lips, his tone soft, nearly a whisper. “Must make it difficult to spend time with your family, or partner.”

“Oh, I don’t have one of… those.” You immediately refute, pulling up short before the word those, embarrassment making your nose burn. Why are you telling him this? Why are you announcing to a stranger that you’re practically a recluse loner? 

Simon’s head tilts, and he looks like he’s about to say something but your tablet chimes, insistent and loud, signaling a vitals issue in another room.

“E-excuse me.” You stumble, and he nods, turning his attention back towards Johnny.

One… two… three… four…One… two… three… four… One… two-

The count in your head is second nature at this point, turning over and over after four as your arms, back and core start to scream, your breaths coming in shorter. Where the fuck is he? 

The count continues to roll on, lactic acid building up through your muscles, and you take another deep breath, as much as you can manage. The pain is familiar, it’s necessary, it’s a part of your job, but today, it’s burrowing itself beneath your skull, tugging and tearing at the memories that you’ve buried deep.

Pain. Gnarled and knotted strands of associations pull free from the confines of compartmentalization, stretching out across the front of your mind.

One… two… three… four…

You think about the photo. About being on your back, in a bed like this, lost inside the maze of a panic attack while the NP took photos between your legs. While they swabbed for DNA inside of you, under your fingernails, in your mouth. It’s funny how certain things can stick with you, the sound of the plastic bag crinkling as your bloodied clothes were shoved inside, how you can’t sleep on your back now, the way you counted the ceiling tiles over and over that day. One… two… three… four…

“How long has it been?” Nia asks from the other side of the bed, hand steadily squeezing the bag at the correct rate, still watching the monitor like a hawk.

“At least ten minutes.” You glance at the shade pulled over the window, grateful you remembered when you came running in here, the patient’s family standing just outside the door, holding their breath, hoping you’re in here bringing their beloved granny back, when in reality, you’re just traumatizing her body. You’ve already broken one of her ribs, and you’re worried if you keep going, her sternum will fracture too. It’s not fair. “Where the fuck is he?” you hiss between breaths, anger starting to heat your skin, irritation clear in your tone. This isn’t even your patient. Lazy, slacker, pompous ass, where the fu-

“How long has it been?” The nervous voice just inside the door calls, and your head snaps up.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. 

“Eleven minutes and twenty-two seconds. Where is Marshall?”

“He- he sent me.” You shake your head. Nia sighs.

“Have you pronounced before?”

“Um. No.”

“And where is Marshall?” You ask again, just to clarify, and the resident swallows.

“I uh, don’t know.” Normally, a resident’s first pronouncement would be supervised by their attending. But since this one’s attending is Marshall, a grade A prick that you can’t stand, it looks like he’ll be on his own.

“Great. Okay.” You take a huge breath, trying to flex your wrists without losing your position. “It’s been twelve minutes now, and no response. Do you want to check?” He nods, and you chew on the inside of your cheek when he doesn’t verbally respond. “I need you to say it out loud.”

“You can stop compressions.” You immediately wilt, stepping away from the side of the bed, the motion of Nia’s hand also slowing until it stops, and she slumps. Marshall’s resident physically checks for a pulse, listens for breath sounds and then finally, does a sternum rub, to no avail.

“Sh-should I…” they trail off, looking back down at the elderly woman in the bed. The deceased woman, whose family is waiting, desperately. You nod.

“Yes.” You tell the resident gently. You can tell he’s unsure, nervous even, and for a moment, you’re transported back to your first code, when you were a baby nurse, a terrified, bumbling mess that needed help, just like he does. And since Marshall is a piece of shit… “No pulse?” You ask, and they nod. “No breath sounds? No sound of a heartbeat?”

“None.” They answer you confidently, and you manage an encouraging smile.

“No response to painful stimuli, no reaction to the sternum rub?”

“Right. No.”

“Okay. So normally, you could also use a thumbnail to press into their nailbed, if you feel like you need it, if you’re not comfortable with the sternum rub, but-“

“No, no. I’m. Yeah. Okay.” They too, take a deep breath, and check their watch. “Time of d-death… twenty one forty five.”

“Great job.” You tell him, pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders. “Do you feel comfortable speaking with the family?” He blanches, and Nia’s work phone dings, signaling another patient’s needs. You sigh for the eightieth time tonight. “Okay. Come on, we’ll do it together.”

The supply closet welcomes you with open arms. It hides you in the low light of it’s forgotten space, and when you fall into the chair, your face drops into your palms, pressing so hard into them that you start to see stars. The curtain falls. The walls of your sanctuary start to feel frail. 

Found you, found you.

He found you. 

Get it together. Get yourself together. 

“Hey, there she is. Missed ye.” Johnny coos, eyes half shut, sleepy and sweet.

“Johnny.” Simon rumbles his name like a warning, one your patient doesn’t seem to heed, still blinking slowly at you with a sly look on his face.

“Had a dream about ye, pretty girl. Dreamt ye were at ho-“

“Alright.” Simon cuts him off, swiftly. Patients often have vivid, weird dreams when they’re all dosed up on medication, and it’s not the first time someone has slurred out some weird vision they’ve had of you in their sleep.

“Good morning to you too.” You quip, glancing at the catheter bag before putting your hands on your hips. “How are you feeling?”

“’m alright. Stomach hurts.” You frown.

“Can you tell me where the pain is?” He motions to his upper right, the area where his newly repaired liver is sitting, and you nod, pulling out your phone immediately to update his doctor. Could be nothing. Could be something. Not for you to determine, but you won’t let it go unnoticed, and you’ll make sure it’s top of mind during shift report. “Can I check your side?” You motion to where his burn is lightly wrapped, and he nods with a sheepish smile.

“Aye, sure can. Ye can take my clothes off anytime.” You roll your eyes, unbuttoning his gown at the shoulder, peeling the gauze away very slowly. The wound looks better than you were expecting, if you’re being honest, and it relieves some of the anxiety that curled up in the pit of your stomach after his admission of upper right quadrant pain. “Yer hands are warm, bun. Feels nice.” Bun? You opt to ignore it. Probably still a little floaty.

“Good, that’s… good. Better than them being icicles.” Your hand brushes across the center of his abdomen when you pull the rest of the dressing away, and he tenses, ab muscles becoming clearly defined, enough that you stall out for a second before turning away to grab fresh gauze for his wound care, hands just a little unsteady. “Oh, fuck.” You mutter when the pack slips, sliding halfway under the little table that’s along the wall, and you sigh, whirling away from both of them and bending at the waist to tiptoe your fingers across the floor until you feel the corner of crinkly plastic. “Gotcha!” When you straighten, turning back towards the bed, Johnny and Simon are staring at you, and there’s a glee filled smile on Johnny’s face, it’s presence both mischievous and beguiling, fingers of his good hand slowly rubbing circles into the inside of Simon’s forearm. “What?”

“Nothing. Ignore him.” Simon deadpans, and then shoots his partner a very serious look, one that nearly has you straightening like you’re in trouble.

“Ach.” Johnny huffs, stroking a gentle touch upwards across Simon’s jaw as you start to reapply his dressing, taking your time to ensure everything looks good and he’s comfortable. You smooth over it once you’re satisfied, checking for any precarious pieces of tape. “Ye take such good care o’ me.” Johnny murmurs, accent soft and scratchy. It’s decadent the way his voice sounds sometimes, enough to make your throat dry and the room feel too hot. “Got lucky, didnae we, Si?”

“Well, it’s m-my job.” You answer, trying not to look down at where his chest and stomach are still exposed, or get caught in the cerulean blue waves of his eyes. They’re such a stark contrast to the intense, velvety hue of Simon’s, the pointed focus of his gaze that’s able to stun you, throw you off kilter the same time Johnny’s makes you feel overheated, and lightheaded. Both of them together could drown you. Overwhelm you.

Balanced. A yin and a yang. 

Get it together. This is your patient and his partner, for gods sake. What is wrong with you? 

Something warms brushes along the skin of your knuckles, a fleeting touch, and when you look down, you see Johnny’s hand, two fingers barely stroking yours, the lightest touch catching your breath in your chest like time is slowing to a crawl, and you’re freezing along with it.

Everything goes quiet in your head.

Simon’s watching you, methodically studying you like he’s trying to decipher every twitch in your expression as Johnny’s fingertips move over your knuckles to the back of your hand, thumb slipping into your palm, blazing heat sparking beneath it.

What… what is happening? 

A phone vibrates. The noise snaps you free from your near statuesque state, and they both divert their attention to its screen. 

“They’re here.” Simon tells him, glancing at you before looking back to his partner. “Be good.” He warns, and Johnny rolls his eyes in response, but he looks almost… desperate now, eyes wide and anxious. 

“Hurry?” he asks, hopefully, Simon leaning down to press mask covered lips to his forehead, his eyes shuttering closed, deep breath passing between their two bodies.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’m really concerned about the pain in his upper right quadrant. I already sent a text, but if his doctor isn’t on this floor in the next hour, page him again.” The dayshifter nods, tapping a note into her phone. “And Marshall’s resident is practically unsupervised, so keep an eye out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You mention a few other things, details you noticed throughout your day, and she thanks you for the extra eye, sending you off with a parting wave into the cold, crisp morning, your mind already skipping over your commute to when you’ll be able to sink into your bed one last time.

You’re busy compiling a list as you wait for the elevator. Necessities, things you’ll need indefinitely as you bounce back and forth between a rotation of hotels and on-call rooms, all the usual stuff, clothes, toiletries, and all the important things that can’t be left behind, your birth certificate, passport, other things that could make or break you if lost.

Deep breath. You can do this. It’s not the first time. You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. 

The elevator dings. You take a step forward, not paying attention, and then pull up short when you see who’s getting out.

It’s Simon stepping towards you, with a baby girl in his arms. She’s situated on his hip, nestled into his side and for a second, you falter because… you recognize her. Or at least you think you do... she looks just like the little girl you saw last week.

“Um. Hi.” You blurt, failing to notice at first that he’s not alone, the man from the first night you met them, the one with the mustache standing behind the width of Simon’s body, his arm curled around the woman you saw last week. They step into view, and you give them all a polite smile, one you really hope doesn’t betray your confusion. 

“Hi,” he says your name next, says it so softly it feels tender, and then takes another step closer. “This is Penelope. Our daughter.” Oh. Oh.

They have a baby. A girl. They have a little girl. You don’t know why, but something inside you stumbles, melting into a frazzled, awkward mess, heart thumping in your chest. They have a baby, and Johnny almost died. They have a kid and he’s been trapped in this hospital, miserable in pain, missing his kid. “Pen, this is your Da’s favorite nurse.”

“Bunny.” The baby, Penelope, says, little finger stretching out towards your badge, which is facing outwards with the giant sparkly sticker. Simon chuckles, genuinely, masked lips pressing to her cheek, and you see a glimpse of a father, a protector, a provider. It makes you feel dizzy.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod like a robot, unable to really form a word with your tongue. “Alright baby girl. Let’s go see your Da, yeah?”

[wooahaes]

cake crumbles

pairing: non-idol!woozi x fem!reader

genre: fluff. established relationship au. some slight comfort.

warnings: anxious jihoon who just wants everything to go well. proposal mentions. food.

word count: 1.3k~

daisy's notes: he :( <3

“Okay. We can fix this. It’s not too late.” 

The only things holding Jihoon together right now was both Soonyoung and Vernon’s presence right now. But he hadn’t stopped staring at where your birthday cake had been dropped onto the floor, smashed into a mess of blue and white icing. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to clean up the mess in Soonyoung’s apartment. Soonyoung was on his knees now, tossing it into a bag to be disposed of properly once it was all done. It had all happened too quickly. One minute he’d been moving it to a different space on the counter, and the next he’d been lying on the floor, body aching from his slip, and the cake was destroyed. The little party he’d planned was hours away, and he’d ordered this cake specifically for you…

“I think grocery stores do plain buttercream cakes,” Vernon said, fingers covered in blue as he dropped another chunk of cake into the trash. “It’s not as special, but we can get them to write her name on it.”

“She likes those cakes,” Soonyoung nodded. “That’s what we did for my birthday last year.” 

Right, but those weren’t made for you. Jihoon had gone out of his way to slowly figure out what you’d love the most. He sighed, and moved to get paper towels to wet and clean up the remaining icing. “I don’t know. I wanted to get her something special…”

Vernon looked up. “It’s just her birthday. I know she’s special, but—”

Immediately, Soonyoung started to smack his arm. He shook his head, and Vernon slowly connected the dots.

“Oh.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh! Dude—Today?”

Jihoon quietly nodded, then stopped. “I mean—Not technically?” He sighed, leaning back. “I was going to ask her when we went home. It’ll be after midnight, so it’d be tomorrow, and—”

Vernon nodded. “Alright. Look,” he pushed himself off the floor. “I know some people. Maybe one of ‘em could help do us a favor.” 

Something inside of him seemed to crumple like tissue paper at how easily Vernon seemed to take charge right now.  That should be what he was doing. You were his girlfriend, his love, and yet he couldn’t seem to drag himself out of the spiralling thoughts that he’d fucked this all up. He knew what you would say now, though: that it was fine. That you didn’t need a birthday cake to be happy. But today needed to be perfect for you. You treated him with so much kindness, always so gentle but clear with how much you loved him. Jihoon wasn’t always the loudest with how much he loved the people in his life, but he hoped that his love was clear, too. This was supposed to be part of his big gesture, the thing that screamed to the skyline that he loved you wholeheartedly. The other part was the box still tucked away in his pants pocket, even now. He carried it with him most days, just in case he ever felt the inclination to forego his plans…

Maybe he should have. Then he wouldn’t be so stressed right now making sure everything went right. 

Vernon had already stepped away, calling someone to see what they could do on such short notice. Soonyoung, on the other hand, had helped him wipe up the remaining icing. The floor needed to be mopped soon anyway, and then the scene of the crime would be entirely taken care of. By the time it was all taken care of, Vernon already had a name and a place to go—which led to Soonyoung pushing Jihoon toward him, saying he could handle setting up the rest. 

He’d described as basic a cake as he could: vanilla, decorated with buttercream in blue and white, with maybe some flowers on it if the baker could swing it. All it needed to say was ‘Happy birthday’ and your name. The easiest thing that they could make, he would accept as long as it tasted good. With the order placed and a time given to pick it up, Jihoon stepped back out onto the street with Vernon at his heels.

“So…” He’d soon fallen into step beside him. “It’s not just about the cake, is it?”

Jihoon slowly nodded, tucking his hands into his pockets. Anything to look more casual instead of the nervous storm he was inside. “If I don’t make it right… Then I’m going to feel like I failed her.”

“You could literally show up with just a thing of Oreos and she’ll love you.” Vernon looked over. “It’s fine to be nervous, but I don’t think there’s anything you could do that could upset her.” 

“I know, but…”

Vernon bumped into him, just to get his attention back on him. “You two love each other a lot, dude. It’s gonna be alright.” 

Jihoon could only hope that it would be.

Hours passed quicker than Jihoon expected them to. He and Vernon had returned to Soonyoung’s apartment and helped him set up for your little birthday party. Seungcheol had thankfully agreed to drive the cake over, careful as he could be, while Jihoon had to return home to you. He’d fed you this plan to go out for a movie and then dinner, hand hovering over his pocket. The box was right there. Maybe it’d be better for him to leave it somewhere safe here, but he felt better carrying it on him. 

“Jihoony?” You had turned from where you were putting on an earring—one of the ones he bought you last year for Christmas. There’s a playful lift to your voice, smiling at him. “Everything okay?”

He nodded, making his way over to you. “Everything’s perfect,” he said. Yet the pit in his stomach didn’t seem to shrink at all. He had hoped that saying it aloud would do something, and yet…

You fastened the earring into place, and then reached forward to cup his face. “Jihoony.” You let out a long sigh. “I know.”

“You… know?”

“One,” you said, “Cheol accidentally let the party secret slip when I asked him if he wanted to join us for dinner. And two…” You shut your eyes for a moment. “Remember the other week when you came home exhausted from work? You changed, ate dinner, and then went straight to bed…”

Oh no. Oh no. He swore he had tucked the ring box into his bag after he drove home. “So, you…”

With a soft kiss against his lips, you leaned back. Your chapstick tasted like birthday cake, all too fitting for today. “Whenever you ask, I’m going to say yes.” 

Jihoon met your eyes. “Even if it’s tonight?”

“Maybe wait until we’re alone,” you said, as if he hadn’t always planned for that. “But yes,” you giggled. “Tonight included.”

Jihoon reached for your hands, taking them into his own. The words already started to pour out of him before he could even think twice, “I dropped your birthday cake earlier. We got a replacement, but it isn’t the one I ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.” 

Instead of saying anything else, all you did was step back as you laughed. He’d fallen in love with your laugh long ago, but hearing it now he swore he was falling in love with the sound all over again. When you faced him again, you were smiling harder than before, even more radiant this time.

“As long as I get to enjoy it with you,” you said, “I’m going to be happy.” 

All at once, his anxieties disappeared. He leaned in, lips brushing against yours for just a few seconds. He knew he would kiss you properly once the two of you were home again. But for now, he’d leave you with something fleeting, just to leave both of you wanting more. “Happy birthday,” he said for the second time today, hands resting at your waist. “I love you so much.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @bewoyewo

[vidavalor]

Why do you think Crowley didn't just get another apartment?

Hi! Thanks for the ask. I have French buttercream chocolate cake tonight. I know, right? It's amazing. *cuts you a slice*

To answer your question, I think we have to look at the whole thing with where Crowley parks The Bentley and when (in both seasons) and, also, the scenes that emphasize Crowley and Aziraphale avoiding being seen together anywhere in the mornings and what all this has to do with what he says is his living situation in S2.

Meta on Crowley "living in his car" in S2 under the cut.

For Crowley and Aziraphale, what has always been what *absolutely cannot happen* is Heaven/Hell figuring out that Crowley will stay in the bookshop until very, very late into the evening, as that is the one thing they'd have trouble justifying. If Crowley parked The Bentley in front of the bookshop in the afternoon/evening and it was still there at 7am the next morning, it would send a message to anyone watching that their relationship isn't just intelligence business, it's not just friendship...and it's not even really just sex. If Heaven/Hell saw The Bentley outside the bookshop all night often enough, they would assume that Crowley and Aziraphale are in a romantic relationship and this is the one thing that Crowley and Aziraphale do not want them to figure out. They can hatch a wild plan if they get caught to justify any of the rest of it and maybe get away with it but there's no way out if they get caught out being in love when they're supposed to be sworn enemies... so, if they want to spend time alone together in the privacy of the bookshop, how do they work around the problem of potentially being noticed? The show actually showed us subtly in S1 before a little more overtly in S2.

When Crowley is going to come over for awhile-- and especially when it's going to mean that he's there into the evening-- he doesn't park The Bentley in front of the bookshop. He parks it in the vicinity but not too close-- around where it was when Aziraphale called him in 2.01. Two or so minutes' drive out, on a side street. (A two minute drive is a 15 or so minute walk so not that far but a bit away.) If he's coming to the shop alone, he'll probably use the side entrance to the bookshop but if he's been out with Aziraphale-- like he was in their 'fuck everything, the world is ending' lunch at The Ritz in 2008-- they'll walk back to the bookshop. If anyone notices Crowley entering it, it'll be during the day, right? While not ideal, it's innocuous enough. Aziraphale's bookshop is theoretically a business and is also an angelic embassy and Aziraphale could say that he's trying to turn Crowley to the light and make him into an informant if they were caught. Conversely, it couldn't hurt Crowley-- whose job, like Aziraphale's, is to spy on his counterpart-- to seem like he's gaming the corruptible angel and getting intel to further the demonic goals of Hell so he could say he's luring the angel to trusting him. Being in the bookshop during the day, during what are (for normal businesses lol) business hours, when the business is also an embassy, is one thing. It's the evening that's the problem for them. At that time of day, the bookshop is nothing but Aziraphale's residence and Crowley's presence during those hours becomes much riskier. So, how to get around that?

Here's them walking back to the bookshop from wherever Crowley's parked The Bentley on a side street after lunch in 2008/Eleven Years Ago in S1:

During lunch in 2008, they already planned for Crowley to come back to the bookshop with Aziraphale and since there's no plan for him to leave in any hurry, Crowley is already not parked in front of the bookshop so no one can recognize his car there late at night. This is practiced between them; they've been doing it for awhile by this point. They still are in S2, when we have several scenes of Crowley in The Bentley parked on a side street near the bookshop.

Since Crowley can't be seen then leaving the bookshop once the sun is up or it'd defeat the purpose of the car not being parked in front of it, whenever he comes over, he leaves the bookshop through the side door at some ungodly pre-dawn hour, walks to his car a few streets over (apparating into it would be suspicious to anyone who might have found it so he usually walks, looking like he was just out late causing demonic trouble), and then, in the past, would drive back to his apartment in Mayfair. That way, when the sun came up, anyone who might be watching his place would see The Bentley parked in front of it. Didn't see Crowley leave the bookshop from the afternoon? You must have missed him in a crowd on the sidewalk somewhere because there's his gorgeous, old, very recognizable car, parked in front of his place in Mayfair, gleaming in that early morning sun.

No one was ever the wiser to the fact that on some of these nights, Crowley was not home in his apartment or out raising hell all night but was actually in the bookshop nearly until dawn.

Is it kind of miserable for Crowley to have to leave every time in the middle of the night and for him and Aziraphale to never really know what it's like to wake up together? To never get to have breakfast and mornings together? Of course. But it keeps them safe so they deal with it. As a result, though, they have a thing about mornings.

In 1.01, when Crowley calls Aziraphale in the middle of the night and they both have separately learned of Armageddon, he tells Aziraphale that they "need to talk" and then they both, without further discussion, are at their bench in St. James' Park the next day. During their talk, they decide to go to lunch and go directly there, which means that they met up sometime around 11am-12pm. So even Crowley calling in the middle of the night and setting up the meeting in the park with their code phrase means that the time of the meeting is always predetermined to be at least 11am, no matter what they need to discuss. Even after learning of Armageddon beginning, they waited until almost lunch the next day to meet up and talk about it because they never want to be seen in public together in the earlier mornings. They're afraid of someone seeing them going for a walk or getting a coffee together before midday and thinking they spent the previous night together. Crowley is always gone from the bookshop before the sun starts to come up and they never meet before 11am in an effort to keep anyone from figuring out that they are often in the bookshop-- and Aziraphale's bed-- together through the early morning hours.

Which tends to make this, their first time getting breakfast even if Crowley knew it wasn't really that because Aziraphale's "problem voice" was on, even more hilarious...

Crowley's like I left you blissed out and half-asleep in your bed *four hours ago*, angel... how on Earth is there a 'naked man friend' in your bookshop right now? He knows that Shax told him there's something going on and that Aziraphale called with a problem but this is the only time of day they usually spend apart and they always do so if Aziraphale is going to cheat on him-- which he's not lol-- this is when he would and based on the fact that Aziraphale panics at Crowley thinking there's another guy in the bookshop and based on Crowley's wtf? face at hearing there is, these two aren't sleeping with anyone else anymore and have a monogamous thing, even if they probably sort of forgot to have a discussion about it. Crowley can tell from Aziraphale's reaction that there's some misunderstanding here and then just gets bemused about it but also about ready to kill whatever guy, naked or not, is causing Aziraphale problems, only to find out that it's, well, the guy who tried to kill them.

In 2.01, when Gabriel makes his rather noticeable arrival on Aziraphale's doorstep, it is the mid-part of the morning-- probably somewhere around 9am as Maggie was just getting ready to open her store for the day, Nina was still busy but her more immediate pre-work coffee rush seemed to be winding down, and Aziraphale was having his breakfast tea on yet another day that his shop was not opening lol. The most major character to miss Gabriel's arrival is, of course, Crowley. Crowley's meeting with Shax is just before/happening in tandem with Aziraphale at Maggie's shop and then Gabriel's arrival and actually opens the storyline in the present in S2. The point is that Crowley misses Gabriel's arrival because he is not in the bookshop in the early mornings, which is then something that is heavily emphasized through Crowley and Aziraphale's first scene of the season via Nina to not just be about this particular early morning but all mornings.

When Aziraphale calls Crowley and has him meet him in Give Me Coffee, Nina has never met Crowley before. Give Me Coffee is fifteen steps across the street from the bookshop and sells coffee, tea and baked goods and Nina doesn't know Crowley. Nina has been there running it since post-S1. She knows Aziraphale though and, until the morning of 2.01, she thought the old bookseller a confirmed bachelor. In the span of 20 minutes, he gets a naked man possible deliveroo strippergram on his doorstep in front of the whole neighborhood and then then this other hot-- and surprisingly clothed-- Ginger Goth guy shows up to meet him for coffee. Nina's best guess for why the bookseller and his Crowley have never come across the street to her shop before and seem like they've literally never gotten breakfast together while they also "go way back" and have chemistry and affection for one another for days is that they're having an affair. Nina correctly guesses that their relationship is a secret and applies the most logical presumption that a human without knowledge of Heaven/Hell could-- that it's infidelity, not that they could be murdered if they were found out-- because these two live in London Soho in the year 2023 but are still afraid of being found out.

So, all of this shows how there's no Crowley in the bookshop in the morning. Neither of them have ever slipped across the street to bring back coffee and croissants for two at 7am or gone over to Nina's together. Aziraphale has been to Give Me Coffee alone before. Crowley and The Bentley are always nowhere to be found near the bookshop at this hour, which is how Crowley missed Gabriel's arrival.

So what does this all have to do with why Crowley doesn't just get a new apartment ahead of S2?

When Hell showed up in the form of Shax to reclaim the place in Mayfair in which Crowley was living, it really left Crowley with two choices. He wasn't about to tell Aziraphale because Aziraphale would feel like he had to ask him to move in with him for real and it was too dangerous. They can't have that so why bring it up and hurt them more? The two choices Crowley felt he had were to either get a new apartment or to just keep on as he's been living because the truth is... he hadn't been home to Mayfair that much lately anyway.

Before, Crowley and Aziraphale would try to go some amount of time between seeing each other but after S1, maybe with some exceptions around the Covid lockdowns but definitely not since they were lifted, they just stopped bothering that much. They were already together on borrowed time with no idea how much time they had until Armageddon: Round Two would start and they just wanted to be together so they kept up their whole routine of Crowley out before dawn and no mornings but Crowley had been more or less living in the bookshop for awhile ahead of S2.

As Aziraphale says here:

Meaning: they live together. Crowley's there all the time. Aziraphale does not mind. It's been months of Crowley in the bookshop every night. Aziraphale loves it. He hates him having to leave in the middle of the night as he always does but they've settled into a little domestic thing the best they can with the situation they have. The line is also laden with innuendo, suggesting they're not always just up talking and listening to old records until 4am but are regularly, ya know, setting off some alarm bells in Heaven together. (Couple Aziraphale's innuendo in the "plenty of use" scene with why Crowley says Muriel needs to leave the bookshop when he says he wants to take Aziraphale to breakfast at The Ritz. "We need a little 'us time'" meant all amnesiac angels and assorted representatives of Heaven and Hell need to get the Someplace out of this bookshop right now so I can finally watch that angel eat some pancakes and then take him to bed in our bed without worrying about someone needing a hot chocolate in the middle of the night.)

Their level of domesticity is actually shown to be pretty cute with this bit:

This is the most living together thing ever because it's saying that Crowley is just frequently in the bookshop while Aziraphale is out now. He's not even just there to see him but he spends time there alone while Aziraphale goes to the bank for change for the four books he sells a month and to his appointment with his barber and all his other little errands. You know Crowley likes waiting inside because he likes having a little time alone in a place where he's safe and won't be disturbed but also really the whole little domestic bliss of Aziraphale coming back and being all "Crowley? There you are" and showing him what he got at the shops and such. It's the most normal married thing imaginable and feels like they really live together and Crowley loves every minute of it.

So Hell taking his place in Mayfair back leaves Crowley with two options because it's still too risky for him and Aziraphale to just full on live together entirely: he can get a new apartment or he can basically just keep living with Aziraphale for most of the day and then spend the mornings in The Bentley/out.

If he gets a new apartment, he'd have to actually go there sometimes. He'd have to be seen moving his stuff into it and he'd have to get a new bed and he'd have to spend nights there sometimes to prove he's living there. It couldn't be suspiciously close to Aziraphale's place, so now he's got to drive more in the early morning hours. He's been spending so much time with Aziraphale, the thought of sleeping alone and spending the evenings alone again, even for a few nights now and then, is depressing. It was miserable before and now he can't to back to it again and he doesn't think Aziraphale would want to, either. He also doesn't exactly know how to tell him he'd have to be away some nights again without hurting him. They've both been alone more often than not for most of their existences and Crowley can't do it anymore. There's also, though, that getting another apartment also doesn't do much to help keep Heaven & Hell from thinking he and Aziraphale are involved... but pretending he's living in his car just might.

The only being of Heaven or Hell still talking to either him or Aziraphale is Shax and Crowley has to keep meeting up with her to get information on what's going on there and try to get a sense of how much time he and Aziraphale might have before Round Two. If he tells Shax that he's living in his car, then it makes him look less close to Aziraphale. Everyone knows Aziraphale has a private residence upstairs in the bookshop and that, if he and Crowley were really close, he'd have offered for Crowley to stay with him if he lost his apartment... so what if Crowley can make Heaven & Hell think they aren't that close, they just teamed up to stop Armageddon? He's even homeless now and the angel won't give him a place to stay. He tells Shax to tell Hell's Finance Office to send his bills to his car and Shax actually bought it and said she tried. Shax has been reporting back to Hell that Crowley is living in his car, which is what Crowley wanted her to think was the case.

Let Hell think they've won over him and taken his place and left him living in his car on a side street, let Shax keep meeting him in the early morning hours in his car on that side street... so that none of them figure out that he's actually living in the bookshop with Aziraphale.

In the meantime, no new apartment means no more nights away from Aziraphale. No commute back to it after picking up The Bentley on the side street means more time he can be with Aziraphale before he has to slip away in the early morning. He can just keep going from the bookshop to his car a few streets away each morning like he has been and that's the funniest part of it to him. Hell thinks they left him homeless and abandoned him and, really, they just made it easier for him to hide from them the fact that he's living with the angel he loves. All he has to do is bullshit them and he's good at that.

Crowley talking about living in his car is basically this in attitude, on steroids:

His pre-S2 conversations with Shax were like... Fuck, Shax, the crick in my neck from *sleeping in my car*... if Hell's Finance Office wants to find me, they can send the bills *to my car*... Bastard angel owns half of Soho, probably why I can't find a place... tell Lord Beezlebub if they're looking for me, they can go fuck themselves but if they absolutely have to contact me, they can find me *in my car*...

...and three hours or so earlier from every one of those conversations, Crowley was actually curled up in bed with Aziraphale in the bookshop.

[rwrbmovie]

PRINCE HENRY GAY!

By Mark Lobatto

LATE LAST NIGHT, the private emails of Prince Henry were leaked on the popular internet site Reddit. The emails reveal graphic and intimate details of a relationship with Alex Claremont-Diaz, the son of President Claremont, who is currently running for re-election this year.

Prince Henry is third in line to the throne, behind his Mother, Princess Catherine, and his brother Prince Philip. Henry is often seen galavanting around with one beautiful girl after another, but these emails , these love letters, tell a very different story,

The first email is dated shortly after the royal wedding last year, when the pair infamously destroyed the nine-tiered wedding cake in front of the shocked wedding guests. Now known as "The Buttercream Summit", the incident caused many ruffled feather amongst the British Monarchy and Parliament alike. Ahead of President Claremont's trade deal discussions between the UK and US, the embarassing scene could have cost dearly in negotiations. The question is, what exactly was Henry and Alex's relationship at the time?

These shocking love letters tell of cross-continental flights and getaways, and details that leave us in no doubt whatsoever of the nature of their meetings. The Prince's letter to Alex are almost poetic, but he divulges insights into palace life. We have now been given quite a glimpse into what happened behind closed doors. He speaks of his relationship with Claremont-Diaz, and his sister Princess Beatrice in much detail and assigns memories and experiences with them to rooms in Buck-

Turn to Page 2

[mars-f4ndom-sp4c3]

Hugging Headcanons. || Ft: The Red Dragon Crew.

A/n: This has been in my drafts since uhh... July? Whoops. I scrolled down and saw that it was like. 95% complete and decided that I should finish it. Anyways, enjoy!

Hollyberry Cookie

She's the sort to hug without warning, as tightly as possible, and for as long as possible. No, you cannot escape until she sets you free. No, she is not fully conscious of her own strength. Wildberry Cookie has probably had to intervene to set you free at least once or twice before.

Despite her high status as both a queen and an Ancient, she does not stress formality hardly at all. Regardless of who you are, she will choose a hug over a handshake or formal greeting any day.

If you let her, she will pick you up. It does not matter if you are bigger than her. She will try, and unless you're for some reason slippery, she will succeed.

Yk that one scene with Dark Cacao where she kind of had him in a headlock? She probably does the same to others on occasion, just when she's feeling goofy, or if they're standoffish like DC is.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie

"Issss thisss some kind of trick, cookie?" - Bestie doesn't really recognize a gesture like that. They weren't exactly known to be the most peaceful before banding with Hollyberry Cookie, and thus didn't experience regular social things like a hug. How sad.

They would probably try to fight you if you hugged without warning. Trapping their arms like that? Bad idea. The great Greenish-Red Dragon can win any battle, regardless of disadvantages!

Oh, turns out Pitaya likes hugs quite a bit, once they get used to it. Have fun in the dirt, because they lean on you a little too much, unaware (or uncaring) that you can't quite support all their weight. Oh well, they don't care if they get dirty. If you really like laying in the dirt for some reason, try petting their hair while you're at it. Be warned, you will be staying there for quite a while.

Tail wags. You can hear the thumping of their spiky tail hitting any nearby objects while they hold you close. They really hold onto you too. Not quite as tightly as Hollyberry, but you won't be going anywhere.

Royal Margarine Cookie

Haaave fun boosting his ego. Because that's exactly what hugging him will do. The fangirls envy you, they didn't get a chance to hug him! No fair!

Buttercream might also rest her head on your shoulder sometimes, since she's decided that she likes you. Occasionally she accidentally knocks you over since she doesn't know her own strength. (And tbh a dragon is heavy.)

There was one time after fighting the red dragon that he just sorta. Aggressively hugged you (in private of course.) He hadn't seen you since before Dragon City was set aflame, and he was worried for your well being. Please hug him tightly back. He might cry.

I dunno, I feel like he pets your hair too. His arms probably rest across your shoulders and he just can't help but want to pet you for some reason.

Tarte Tatin Cookie

No, she will not set the cannon down. You get side-hugged, fool. Congratulations.

She's used to doing that sort of picturesque side-hug thing since she doesn't like to not have her cannon in her hands at any point in time, and since it's the most convenient when someone wants to take a photo with her.

It takes a very special person and a very special occasion to get her to put it down for once (like when the magma dragon was slain). It is at that point that she will give you a proper hug.

Rests her chin on your head, arms are folded across your shoulders. You can tell how tired she is after hunting dragons all day just from her tired sigh and the way she sort of tiredly leans against you.

Snapdragon Cookie

You do not hug the baby. The baby hugs you. Or at least they try.

They will fly full speed at you and then you have to catch them, or be tackle-hugged to the floor. If you don't stop them in time, they will happily tumble to the floor with you, squealing all the while.

Their arms are a little too short to wrap all the way around your torso, but they can hug your neck just fine.

Honestly, their aggressive hugging behavior gets directed at anyone. Pitaya Dragon Cookie finds it hilarious when they tackle cookies to the ground for the sake of a hug. Stop encouraging them.

[sweet-evie]

The Best Surprise

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt 4 extras || pt

Content: Mentions of afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for said nameless OC. Also includes singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo, OOC Gojo (because he has parental dispositions and raising kids), Slight Angst (?), Satoru shenanigans in the extra scenes, and Shoko being happy for Dad!Gojo

A/N: Gojo’s baby daughter chronicles are back… I think. 😅

Never Grow Up pt 4

May 5, 2013

When Shoko stepped through the doors an hour ago, the first thing she noticed was the absence of her friend’s apartment’s sleek and contemporary interior design intertwined with the clutter of domestic life. 

Gojo (or should she say, the people he hired) had transformed the entire open-concept living space into a party venue decorated meticulously in celebration of his daughter’s first birthday.

Plastered all over what used to be a blank space across the dining table was a wall of streamer ribbons and balloons. Sizeable cardboard-cutout white and gold English letters artfully arranged to spell ‘Happy 1st Birthday, Satsuki!’ stood out. Pinned around it were various print-out pictures of Satsuki throughout her 1st year, ranging from the silliest solo shots to pictures of her with groups of people. And adjacent to the background was a buffet table laden with food for the party guests.

Shoko couldn’t say that she was surprised…

This was exactly the sort of thing Gojo would be into.

And that fact was never more apparent than the cheerful music blaring throughout the room, the party games that Gojo’s students enjoyed, and the dancing Sesame Street mascots hired to entertain the birthday girl.

The man looked like he was enjoying every second of it too — if his smiles and raucous laughter were anything to go by.

She hadn’t heard him or seen him like that in a long time…

Shoko would never claim to know Gojo as closely as his former lover or Geto did, but throughout the years, she had been a front-row observer to Gojo’s notable moments — from his fiendish grins with every antic he and Geto pulled to the haunting emptiness in his eyes when he lost people he treasured.

Perhaps now, she could add overflowing fatherly pride and joy to the list.

He was every inch the picture of a doting father to a bubbly baby girl. His mini-me was busy giggling and clapping and shrieking at the excitement while she stayed in Tsumiki’s arms, little pale head turning this way and that.

The better part of the event was spent playing party games while Gojo squandered away his money in the form of cash prizes, followed by everyone singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to a squealing Satsuki, before eventually winding down a little to enjoy the food and the beverages.

Shoko’s fingers twitched at her side, itching for the sweet relief of a cigarette between her fingers and the sensation of smoke filling her lungs, but unfortunately being part of a kid’s party meant the absence of alcohol or any other vice. There was something oddly comforting about being a stationary adult in the middle of a chaotic children’s party.

“So,” Gojo crooned as he sidled up next to her on the couch, “How’re you enjoying the party?”

“Could use some alcohol.”

He snorted at her joking response. “What kind of adult are you? Setting a horrible example for a child.”

“She’s a year old. She wouldn’t know what I’m saying, neither is she here.” Shoko sighed and let her gaze drift from the gaggle of Gojo’s students congregating around the gurgling toddler to Principal Yaga, Ijichi, and the other adult guests who conversed over plates piled high with food. 

The extravagance wasn’t lost on her.

When Gojo said he pulled out all the stops for this first birthday celebration, he really did.

Never mind the party decorations, the mascots, the prizes for the games, and the buffet. No practical parent concerned about budgeting would think of ordering a custom-made two-tier birthday cake slathered in white and gold buttercream frosting with gold leaves on it, and another smaller white and gold cake commissioned solely for its own destruction at a toddler’s lawless hands.

“Did you really have to get her a smash cake?”

Gojo followed her gaze, ethereal blue eyes landing on the image of his daughter on her playmat. The cake smashing and the happy birthday song was long done, but Satsuki wasn’t finished demolishing what was left of the dessert. His students cheered her on as the Fushiguro siblings stood by. Hell, even Megumi was taking pictures with Tsumiki’s phone.

“Why not? She’s clearly enjoying herself.” Gojo’s smile widened even further if that was possible, blue eyes peeking over the rims of his blackout glasses. “It’s also cute.”

It was hard to disagree. The once beautifully decorated cake had been reduced to a pile of chiffon crumbs covered in buttercream and scattered sugar flowers. “If you were any other person, I’d tell you to worry about the mess it’s making on your floor, but then again…” 

Shoko let her statement hang as she smirked at the mess around the playmat and the bits of frosted cake and confetti that clung to the baby’s head. Yeah, it was cute, but it couldn’t be easy to clean, right?

Gojo waved a flippant hand in her direction. “You sound like my mom… and Satsuki’s other grandmother.”

Right… The biological members of Satsuki’s family were all invited. It didn’t mean they all came though. There was no legal contract or binding ritual that ever officially tied Satoru to his deceased lover, so his relationship with his former girlfriend’s parents was only cordial enough to allow their presence in his daughter’s life. His former lover’s father didn’t want anything to do with Gojo and skipped this party, but the maternal grandmother was there. 

The drama that the situation implied was quite riveting — watching grandmothers going out of their way to avoid one another. Gojo’s apartment was spacious, but Shoko would wager it wasn’t enough space for the clan head’s mother.

The woman was spoiled to the luxuries that her massive estate afforded her.

As much as she cared about her friend, Gojo’s complicated family situation was a mess she did not want to be in the crossfire of.

“Speaking of grandmothers, how are they holding up?”

“No one’s fighting, so…” Gojo shrugged and trailed off.

“Looks like they’re doing a good job avoiding each other. I don’t know your mom like you do, but she looks like she’s taking it well.”

The clan head’s vigilant gaze drifted to his esteemed mother, engaged in a conversation with Principal Yaga. In the rare times Shoko had actually seen her, the woman had always been decked out in an outfit ensemble similar to Utahime’s — a tasteful mix of traditional garb and formal corporate attire. She had ditched that now though, in favor of a knee-length corporate A-line dress that looked like it belonged in a high-stakes wealthy family drama sitcom.

“Oh believe me, she’s being as polite as she can. I’d put the two of them in a room to see what happens again, but that’s a pain to deal with.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous, just curious.” Shoko spied the shit-eating grin unfurling on her friend’s face and she shook her head at him. 

“Curiosity killed the cat…”

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

“That never made sense to me.”

“It should, since you’re an expert at Reverse Cursed Technique and all. I would—”

“Gojo!” Tsumiki’s excited cry pierced through the music and through their conversation.

The collective expressions of eagerness and elation swept through the room of party guests as all heads turned at the sound of Tsumiki’s voice and towards the party’s center of attention: Satsuki on unsteady feet, wobbling where she stood without any support for once, placing one hesitant foot in front of the other.

And would you look at that?

A soft smile caused the corners of Shoko’s lips to turn up again. She tossed a quick glance at Gojo and found him bare-faced, blackout glasses tucked into the collar of his shirt as he marveled at his daughter’s determination.

It was nice watching Gojo bask in his paternal happiness, and that was a fact that shone as stark as the smile he sported as they watched one step turn to two, then three…

“Holy shit, she’s walking.”

=OoOoO=

“Holy shit, she’s walking.”

His own voice barely registered in his ears. Because holy shit holy shit holy shit, Satsuki was walking.

Previous experience taught him to not get too excited. For the last 2 months, his daughter had been steadily building up the strength in her legs in anticipation of taking her first steps. Shoko and Satsuki’s other pediatrician had both pointed out that she was an active baby. If she wasn’t babbling and talking a lot, she was rolling and crawling and most recently, she had been propping herself up on furniture — little feet pittering and pattering in place while she worked up the courage to let go and just try to walk.

But this… This was worlds different.

The months of tummy time and constantly switching positions had all culminated into this.

She was walking.

She was actually walking.

She’d taken four steps more than her usual combination of standing and falling.

Her party guests cheered her on, her grandmothers had rare smiles on their faces, and some of his students clapped enthusiastically to the unsteady rhythm of her walk. But Satoru, for all the power of his uncovered eyes, could only focus on the intense look of concentration on her tiny face, on her slightly wobbly legs, on her tiny feet slowly but surely approaching him, on the sound of her small voice as she mumbled, ‘Da-da’ under her breath.

And how could he not encourage her and coax her?

He’d left his place beside Shoko and knelt on the floor, placing himself directly in his daughter’s path, arms outstretched — ready to catch her the moment she would inevitably fall forward, icing-slathered face and hands and all.

The buttercream frosting could stain his expensive clothes for all he cared.

His baby was walking!

Two more unsteady steps before gravity won and a giggling baby girl tumbled into her father’s secure and steady arms.

With unrestrained pride and joy coursing through his veins, Satoru hopped to his feet with Satsuki between his hands, only stopping short of throwing her into the air to catch her again as he grinned and cooed unabashedly, peppering her chubby cheeks with playful kisses that made her squeal with laughter.

“You did it, Princess! That’s my little girl.”

 =OoOoO=

His baby girl’s first birthday party ended early in the evening. 

After leaving the after party cleanup to a crew he’d hired and entrusting Megumi and Tsumiki’s well-being to Satsuki’s nannies (even if the siblings were beyond capable of looking after themselves at this point), Satoru left the apartment with his daughter with nary a word to the children or his employees.

Still, he knew that they knew where he would be headed, and he was grateful that none of them brought it up.

He couldn’t let the day pass by without making one last and most special tribute.

To fill the silence that blanketed the entire cemetery, the sorcerer hummed a familiar nursery rhyme under his breath. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. One hand carried a bag of goodies, while the other held the back of his daughter’s head. She was nestled into the carrier that he’d strapped to his front, lulled to sleep by the steady thump of her father’s heartbeat and the excitement of a birthday party.

He had wanted her awake for this specific excursion, but there was no helping her own exhaustion.

Apparently new toys, smash cakes, and Sesame Street mascots provided the perfect combination to knock out a usually active toddler.

Perhaps the gentle breeze and the oddly tranquil atmosphere of a quiet cemetery also contributed to the languorous quality of the place.

Staying on the pathway lit by street lamps and moonlight, father and daughter arrived at last, and Satoru let a sad smile grace his lips as he crouched in front of the marbled stone under a pale weeping cherry blossom tree in full bloom.

With Satsuki safely tucked against the warmth of his body, Satoru carefully unloaded the duffel bag of most of its contents. A slice of the two-tier birthday cake, assorted kikufuku from the party, candles, incense, a bottle of water, and two small white-and-gold balloons. The fresh bouquet of seasonal flowers and carnations came last, lovingly placed beside a stuffed animal her parents probably left her.

A heavy sigh left his lips as he sat on the grass and gently brushed clammy fingers against the equally cold stone. Slipping his glasses off of his face, he tucked the lenses into the collar of his shirt as he let the power of his uncovered eyes take in every inch of detail on the marbled stone — from the tiniest chips to the worn-out spots and to places caked with small patches of moss.

Her final resting place…

If it had been up to him, he would have scattered her ashes somewhere more open — on mountaintops or by the sea; places she always loved visiting and often told him about. 

Sometimes it was hard to believe that a full year had finally passed.

One year since the arrival of his greatest blessing and the departure of his greatest love.

She would have loved planning and celebrating Satsuki’s first birthday.

She would have been here — smiling and laughing with the rest of them.

“Hey, Love.” Hoarse and quiet. He deliberately ignored the way his own voice sounded strange to his ears. “Our baby girl started walking today. She had fun smashing her first cake too.” 

Maybe he would have Tsumiki put together a digital photo album of that memorable occasion. She had managed to snag plenty of pictures and video footage — especially one where Satsuki took her first steps too, and it was cute… Way too cute. Satsuki’s mother would have loved to see that. The very thought took him back to quiet nights like this where he’d lain in bed beside the woman he loved and eagerly watched and listened as she stroked the gentle swell of her womb while fantasizing about the life Satsuki would live — the primary school her daughter would attend, the places they would visit, her first words, her inevitable temper tantrums, her toothy grins, her place in her father’s family.

She had loved her daughter before the girl was ever born.

It sucked that she never even got to hold their baby girl, never mind fulfilling all the dreams she had for their little princess.

Satsuki suddenly hiccuped in her sleep, drawing Satoru out of his musings. He was chuckling as he brushed the back of his fingers along her chubby cheek.

“She’s messy and funny and brilliant and everything you hoped she would be. It’s only been a year, but… she’ll only get better and better I’m sure. You are her mommy, after all. Party tired her out, so now she’s just sleeping.”

With a gentleness he often forgot that he had, Satoru stroked Satsuki’s hair, fondly twirling loose white curls around his fingers. Her hair wasn’t this long months ago. Tsumiki was fond of tying her hair into tiny pigtails now.

Already a year old… Where had the time gone? 

Satoru kissed the top of his daughter’s head and let his eyes wander over the grave marked with his Love’s name.

A fond yet bittersweet smile graced his lips once again. Losing his Love and being reminded of that loss will never not hurt. There was an empty space in his heart where she used to be, and though he would never delude himself into thinking he would ever be a whole person again, there was still some comfort and happiness and a greater sense of purpose to be had than just being the strongest when he knew someone well and truly needed him.

“Thank you for everything, Love. Thank you for bringing ‘Tsuki into the world for us.”

Maybe he would get to see his Love again someday.

But until then, he would love and care for their daughter just like he promised her.

[trickphotography2]

'tis the damn season | Chapter 4

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 6.5K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Chapter 3 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 4

A benefit of military training was that Jake could now fall asleep anywhere and under almost any circumstances. After months on a carrier listening to hops overhead, shaking his bed, collapsing into a steady twin-sized mattress wasn’t an issue. 

When he closed his eyes, he could only see Cece’s shocked expression after they’d kissed. But when he drifted off, he dreamed about holding her, pressing kisses to the nape of her neck as she decorated her cakes before lifting her onto the counter and standing between her knees. The unhurried kisses they’d share as she ran her fingers through his hair the way no one else seemed to be able to do. Her soft mo -  

“What are you doing?!” 

Jake bolted upright at the sound of raised voices, feet hitting the floor before he was fully awake. Not pausing to grab his shirt, he ran from the bedroom and flew down the steps, jumping the last few as Ally yelled again.

“You inconsiderate b - ”

“Inconsiderate?! I’m helping!” Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Jake stared wide-eyed at the scene before him. 

“You’re ruining it!” The back door swung open as Mama stomped to clear the snow from her boots.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded. Cool hands brushed Jake’s bare skin, and he glanced down to see Cece trying to get past him. 

“What…” her exhausted voice cracked, taking in the scene before them.

The counter was littered with crumbs. Bowls of ganache and buttercream had knives resting on the rims. The macaron shells that Jake matched were scattered about, some with filling that spilled past the rims of the small cookies. A few cupcakes Cece had carefully decorated and boxed were sitting back on the cooling racks, icing swiped from the sides. 

And, standing there with flour artfully brushed on her cheeks with her phone set up on Cece’s tripod was Shayla. A red-faced Ally glared daggers at her from across the counter, one hand resting on her stomach while the other clenched into a tight fist. “You need the get the fuck out of here RIGHT NOW,” Ally snarled, “before I knock you on your ass, you selfish - ”

“Allison Rae Seresin,” Mama snapped, toeing off her boots and stepping inside. Her eyes quickly surveyed the damage, widening the more she took in. 

“Jake, you’re going to let her talk to me like that,” Shayla demanded, planting her hands on her hips. It took a minute for him to realize that she was wearing Cece’s discarded apron. 

“What were you thinking, Shayla?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice steady but unable to stop the anger from creeping in. His eyes darted to Cece, who stood silently beside him, a shaking hand pressed to her mouth. Shay’s gaze shifted from him to her, and he could have sworn something flashed in his fiancée’s eyes.

“I was just trying to help. I know you and Jake were up all night, and I’m going to tag you in the video so you’ll get plenty of viewers from it.”

“Y-you…I…” Cece stuttered before pressing her lips into a thin line. Jake could see the gleam of tears in her tired eyes and felt his heart break. But when he reached to touch her shoulder, she jerked away from him. The anger faded from Ally’s face as she turned to Cece. 

“I’m sure we can salvage some of it,” she said. Shaking her head, Cece forced a smile onto her wobbling lips.

“I-it’s fine. I can fix it. I…I just need to go to the store.” 

“Shayla will pay for the damages,” Mama said, glancing at the woman in question. When she opened her mouth to say something, Jake cut her off.

“Of course. I’ll go with you - ”

“No.” The word was loud in the near-silent kitchen, but Cece wouldn’t meet his gaze. 

“I’ll go,” Ally said, glancing at her watch. “I don’t have any appointments this morning, so I can help out - ” 

“No.” It was softer this time but just as firm. 

“Julie - ” Mama said softly, walking toward the trembling woman who took a step back. Her shoulder brushed Jake’s chest, but she took another quick step away when he reached to steady her. 

“Please don’t. I-I need to go. The ganache needs at least two hours to set b-before I can use it.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and brushed past him, working hard not to touch him before darting upstairs. 

“You fix this,” Mama ordered, hard eyes meeting his before following Cece upstairs.

“Get out of the kitchen,” Ally demanded.

“You can’t - ”

“In case you didn’t catch on,” she cut her off. “This is my family’s house. This is my future house. And just because my brother-in-law had the misfortune of knocking you up and putting that gaudy ring on your finger before any sense was knocked into his thick skull doesn’t give you any right to stand here until your last name is Seresin. So get. Out.”

“Jakey!” He scrubbed a hand down his face, turning to watch Cece barrel down the stairs and out the front door. 

The grocery store parking lot was empty when Julie parked in a spot closest to the door - it wouldn’t open for another fifteen minutes. With a sigh, she leaned the seat back and stared up at the car ceiling, willing away the tears that pricked her eyes. 

She was so tired. And hurt. And mad at herself. 

The idea of going back to the Seresin house - one of her safe havens - made her stomach twist with guilt and dread. A small part of her wanted to call Lucy to see if she could use her kitchen. Still, the rational part of her knew it would be a huge imposition to ask her best friend to give up her kitchen with two little ones running around, and she would never get the work done.

But working with Jake again couldn’t happen. Julie had let her guard down last night, lost in the nostalgia of spending time with the boy she’d loved and learning about the man he’d become. It had been too easy to slip back into the familiar, trading long-forgotten inside jokes and teasing one another. His warm laugh had kept her going, and she’d even trusted him enough to watch over things and take a short power nap on the couch. She’d been too comfortable with the casual touches they’d traded, his hands on her hips to gently move her out of the way to wash his hands or how his fingers had curled around hers when they high-fived when the macarons finally came out right. 

And when they’d kissed… it had felt like finally coming home. Like stepping into a hot shower after a long day, letting the warmth wrap around you and ease all of the tension from your body.

“Baby, I missed you.” 

Those words echoed through her head, bruising her heart. 

There were few things that Julie regretted in life, and leaving Jake in Virginia wasn’t one of them. For the first time, she had put herself first. She’d stood up for herself when he kept lying to her face. Julie needed time to figure out who she was when she wasn’t waiting for Jake Seresin to accomplish his goals. 

What she did regret, though, was ignoring his text message after running into him seven years ago. 

It had been a shock to see him two years after breaking off their engagement and moving back to Austin. Ally had texted her to ask for bar recommendations since she and Will were going to the Texas versus A&M rivalry game, and she’d given her favorite local spot. After spending hours in the sun, screaming for her team to kick the Aggie’s ass, she and her girlfriends had retreated to their watering hole to celebrate their win. The last thing she had expected was to see her ex-fiancé standing at the bar, the black Longhorn hat she’d bought him years before on his head as he ordered a beer. When his green eyes had lifted to find hers across the crowded room, she’d been pinned to the spot. 

The night had ended with them sneaking away from the group and fumbling with the bar bathroom door lock, unwilling to stop kissing long enough to secure it. She could taste beer and longing on his tongue, and she let herself get lost in the feeling of him and the nostalgia of the Spring Break nights that had ended just like this. Once the lock clicked into place, he backed her against the walls, his hands sliding under her burnt orange skirt as he mouthed at her breasts through her white t-shirt. Guiding her legs around his waist, he’d lifted her, pressing her against the wall while tugging her panties to the side. 

“I missed you,” he panted against her neck as he slid home. 

A month later found Julie in her apartment bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test on the sink. Jake had texted her a few times, and they’d even spent one night talking into the early hours. Still, ever since realizing her period was late, she had limited contact. Just that morning, he’d texted asking if she was alright. 

A small part of her wanted to tell him she might be pregnant. But the last time they’d been in this predicament, he’d made so many promises, and she wasn’t sure if she could do the same. The memory of sitting on the phone with him during their sophomore year of college, waiting for the timer to go off as he promised he would drop out of the Academy and move home, and enlist in the Navy rather than commission as an officer so he could take care of her and the baby, was too much. As much as she still loved Jake, Julie wasn’t sure she could promise to move back to Virginia if she was pregnant this time. Those two months had been a black hole of loneliness and depression, and she’d only clawed herself out of it by coming back to Austin. 

So when the test was negative, Julie promised it was over. And she kept that promise when she’d seen him in Magnolia the following year when she visited her daddy for Christmas. It had been hard to speed walk out of the store, ignoring Jake calling for her, but it was for the best.

And now… now he was engaged and had a baby on the way, exactly what he’d always wanted. 

And who was she to derail that? Even if the woman he chose to spend the rest of his life with was evil? That was his choice. There had to be something good in her if Jacob Thomas Seresin chose to spend the rest of his life with her. For all of his faults, Jake was a good man who would do anything for the people he loved. And if he loved Shayla, that had to mean something. So kissing him was now on the list of regrets.

It did mean that she needed to distance herself from the Seresins. As much as she loved them, it wasn’t fair to Jake, Shayla, or their baby for her to be around. Once she left Magnolia, it would be easier to separate herself. It would hurt to lose her family, but it was the right thing to do. The idea of this being her last Christmas with them was…a sob caught in Julie’s throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep it from escaping. She’d already promised to be Tyler’s godmother - she could still make sure to have a close relationship with the little boy while keeping his uncle at arm’s length.

The grocery store lights turned on. Sitting up, Julie took a few deep breaths, brushing away any tears that had escaped her tight control and ignoring the dark circles that seemed permanent these days. After gathering her purse and putting her coat back on, she exited the car and hurried across the parking lot, mentally reviewing her shopping list.

The tears started to escape again when she stood in the baking aisle, trying to find more than one bag of almond flour. There was no telling how many macarons she needed to redo, and only having a bag and a half made her anxious. 

“Jules?” Taking a step back from where she was moving bags of flour on the shelf, she looked up the aisle to see Drew smiling. It slowly faded as he took in her appearance, and he quickly walked toward her, his cart wheels rattling loudly. “Hey, everything alright?” 

Maybe it was the genuine concern in his voice or the way his brown eyes softened as they took her in. It could have been the familiar firehouse uniform that her daddy had worn or just the exhaustion of the last week, but Julie couldn’t fight the tears any longer. When the first sob escaped, she clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle it, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing the floor would open and swallow her whole. “Aw, honey,” Drew murmured, shifting his radio over his shoulder before tugging her into his arms. His blue fire jacket held the faintest whiff of smoke and muted cologne, and she found herself burying her face into his chest as she cried. 

Julie wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but Drew didn’t seem to mind her using him as support during her breakdown. Instead, he held her tightly, telling her it would be alright. That whatever was wrong, they would figure it out. And when her sobs dissolved into hiccups and sniffles, she pulled away and wiped at the dark spot she’d left on his uniform. “S-sorry,” she whispered. 

“It’s fine,” he replied, ducking to try and catch her eye when she wouldn’t look at him. “What’s wrong, Jules? Talk to me.”

“I-it’s just been a spectacularly shitty last few days.” 

“Yeah? What happened?” And that was how she found herself spilling everything to him - overextending herself between work and baking to try and block out the fact that this was the first Christmas without her daddy, not sleeping for more than a few hours per night over the last month, her oven going out, and waking up to find out that Shayla ruined a lot of the hard work she’d done overnight. “So let me get this straight, honey,” Drew said, brows furrowing. “You’ve been runnin’ yourself into the ground and not sleeping. And your oven went out, so you went to the Seresin’s. And your ex-fiancé’s new fiancée is a bitch who messed with the stuff that you need for the mayor’s party tonight?”   

“That’s the gist,” she nodded. A soft smile crossed his mouth as he brushed away her tears with his knuckle. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Drew had only been in Magnolia for about four years and hadn’t had a front-row seat to the saga of Jake and Julie that some folks in town still liked to gossip about. Gossips like Betty, who pushed her rattling cart past them, not even bothering to hide her curious stare. 

“Mornin’, Mrs. Roberts,” Drew said, tapping the bill of his cap.

“Mornin’,” Betty said. “Everythin’ alright, Julie?” 

“Peachy,” she lied, forcing a smile and trying to ignore that her face was probably red and splotchy. 

“Jules was just helpin’ me pick out the best stuff for pancakes. Gotta get back to the house and make sure we get one last good breakfast in before shift ends.” 

“Of course,” Betty said, glancing in their baskets. Her gaze caught on the dark blue spot on his jacket. Drew reached up and twisted the radio belt, so it covered the spot, hand resting on the radio to hide it further. 

“Merry Christmas,” Julie said, turning her back on Betty, reaching for a bag of all-purpose flour, and putting it into Drew’s cart. “You should do them from scratch rather than using the box stuff.”

“Right. Just figured it’d be easier for the rookie,” Drew said, turning his back on the older woman. The rattling of the wheels alerted them to her departure, and they both glanced over their shoulder to see her hurrying down the aisle. “Ten bucks says she calls someone from the parking lot.”

“Twenty says she calls someone before getting to the register,” Julie countered, reaching into his cart to retrieve the flour.

“You can leave that. What else do I need for pancakes from scratch?” 

“Baking powder, sugar, salt, milk, eggs, and butter. You sure you don’t want to go the easier boxed route?” 

“I have a feeling we’re gonna need a good breakfast to get through all the work we have to do.”

“I thought your shift ended soon. Expecting any fires?”

“You never know,” Drew grinned down at her. “I’ve been known to start a kitchen fire or two when trying to make something. Good thing there’ll be a professional on hand to supervise.” At her confused look, he shrugged. “Come use the kitchen at the firehouse.”

“I-I… Drew, that’s - ”

“We’ve got a huge kitchen, the guys can help out, and you won’t have to worry about seeing the bitchy fiancée or ex-fiancé.”

“All my stuff is at the Seresin’s place.” He shrugged again. 

“Not an issue. I can run over and grab it while you take a nap.” He held up a finger when she opened her mouth to say something. “Honey, I hope the next words out of your mouth are some form of ‘yes’ or ‘thank you,’ ‘cause I don’t think we have a whole lot of time to argue. I got one of those invitations to the mayor’s party, and I know that we’ve got about” - he glanced at his watch - “thirteen hours until the party starts, and I’m sure you want to be done before that. So we don’t have time. Unless you want to go back to the Seresin’s.”

Julie paused for a moment before speaking, “Thanks, Drew.”

Jake carefully wiped the paper towel over the macaron shell, removing as much of the ganache as possible before setting it aside. Shayla had only managed to make about forty of the cookies before getting caught, so even if he couldn’t salvage all of them, at least Cece wouldn’t be starting from scratch. It was the least he could do. 

After Cece had left and Ally kicked her out of the kitchen, Shayla stomped up to the guest bedroom. He reluctantly followed, finding her throwing things into her suitcase and demanding to leave. “I’m happy to drive you to the airport, but I’m not leaving,” Jake had said, crossing his arms over his chest. Shayla spun on her heel and glared at him, putting a hand on her stomach.

“You would abandon the mother of your child? On Christmas Eve?”

“If you want to go, that’s fine. And we can talk about this when I get home - and we are going to talk about this, Shayla.” 

“About what?!” she spat, throwing her hairdryer into the suitcase so hard that the attachment flew off. “For trying to help some little bumfuck creator wi - ”

“Stop!” It was rare for Jake to raise his voice to her, so it shocked Shayla into silence. “You have no idea how hard Cece worked last night. You had no right to do that.”

“Oh, because it’s precious ‘Cece’s,’” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Funny how everyone else calls her Julie, but you call her Cece. ‘Cause she’s just an ‘old family friend,’ right?” Cocking an eyebrow, she smirked. “We’re even, Jake.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw you.” Jake felt a jolt of panic and fought to keep his expression blank.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I saw you kiss her.” The smile that graced her face could only be described as vindictive as she rubbed her stomach. “We both screwed up, but we’re gonna put that behind us for the sake of our baby, right?” When he didn’t answer, too stunned to respond, she walked closer and cupped his cheek, guiding his hand to her stomach. “Right? Because we’re a family. And I forgive you - ”

“Shay - ”

“As long as you don’t see her again.” 

Gentle chiming woke Julie, and she blindly slapped for her phone to turn off the alarm. Her body ached for sleep, and she indulged by hitting the snooze button. Rolling onto her stomach, she buried her face into the pillow and inhaled an unfamiliar scent while tugging the blanket higher over her shoulders. 

There was a gentle rapping on the door, and Julie groaned when it opened. “Jules?” Drew said softly.

“ M up,” she grumbled, forcing one eye open. 

“I just wanted to let you know I’m back with your stuff. Did you want me to get the oven going?” 

“I - ” she yawned, slowly sitting up. “Can do it.”

“Watch your eyes.” After pausing to let her cover them, Drew flipped on the room light. Squinting at the sudden brightness, she caught the fond look he gave her at the sight of her sleeping in one of his shirts and pair of sweats before schooling his expression. “Coffee’s ready whenever you are.” 

“Did… did they say anything when you got to the house?”

“Well,” he said, leaning against the doorframe and scratching his chin, fingers rasping against the stubble. “Mrs. Seresin wanted to make sure you were alright. Mrs. Roberts called her to let her know about… uh… you were upset.” 

“Well, at least we know who she called in the dairy section,” she sighed, rolling her eyes - Drew had handed her a crisp $20 bill after checking out. 

“Yeah. Didn’t see Mr. Seresin or Will, but I met Jake.” Julie gripped the mattress, somewhat dreading what he would report.

“And?”

“He, uh…” Drew scratched the back of his neck. “Wanted me to tell you that he tried to save as many cookies as possible. And that he’s sorry.” 

“Any sightings of the wicked witch of the West Coast?” she asked, pushing to her feet. The floor was cold, and she quickly shoved her feet into her sneakers. 

“Thankfully, no,” he chuckled, stepping aside as she neared. “I can grab my shampoo and stuff if you want to jump in the shower before starting.

“You trying to politely say I’m lookin’ rough?” Julie teased.

“I’d never say that about a beautiful woman.” Blushing, she dropped her gaze and shook her head. 

“Daddy told me about the water pressure here. I’ll wait ‘til I get home.” With a nod, Drew tilted his head toward the kitchen.

“I just tossed your clothes in the dryer, so they’ll be done soon. And I may have stashed some of the leftover bacon for you.” 

Stepping into the main room, Julie was greeted with a round of hellos from the firefighters on shift. She quickly made the rounds, hugging some oldtimers who had worked with her daddy and trading smiles with the rest. In a town as small as Magnolia, she regularly saw them at the store or work and - except for a few - had gone to school with them. Drew handed her a coffee mug when she stepped away from a conversation with Travis, whose wife wanted a cake for their fifth wedding anniversary. 

“Let’s see the damage,” Julie sighed, glancing at the tray of paired macaron shells. She quickly spotted the damaged ones, even with Jake trying to salvage them. A handful were cracked, and the silver cookies were stained with chocolate. All told it looked like she would maybe have to do four trays - much less than expected. Thankfully, it looked like Shayla had only messed with six cupcakes, which had been extras, so she didn’t need to touch those. Mentally revising her to-do list while sipping coffee, Julie realized that she would have plenty of time to finish all the work, even with testing the new oven. 

“What’s the plan, boss?” Drew asked, leaning against the counter and watching her. 

“I’ll whip up some macarons to test the oven, make some royal icing for the cookie kit, and decorate the macarons. The ganache should be set by then, and my stuff will be up to room temp for the buttercream. I can fill macarons pretty quickly, and after that, it’s boxing and doing the sugar cookies.” 

Which was exactly what she did. It only took three rounds of tests to get the macarons right, by which time she had an audience sitting around the kitchen. Drew, who had been observing from the table while doing some paperwork, put them to work after raiding the EMT truck for gloves. They quickly assembled her packaging and placed her advertisement stickers on the cupcake boxes. After doing a small drizzle of icing on the macaron shells to make it look like the Christmas bulbs had a cap, she stood back and laughed as they doused them with edible spray glitter. 

With their permission - which she enthusiastically received - Julie set up her tripod and filmed. And it was the most she laughed in a long time. As much as the guys were messing around, they ensured their assigned tasks were done. Given how much counter space there was, she made the sugar cookie dough while the macarons dried before baking. Once rolled, there was some good-natured shoving to see who would get to cut out the cookies while Julie worked on filling the macarons. Drew volunteered to package them, his arm brushing against hers when he reached for one of the finished cookies.

Somehow - miraculously - everything was done by 3:00PM. The guys were already off shift but stayed back to help her finish up, and the second shift also joined in. When she started to plan on moving everything to her car, they helped her wash and pack her equipment but insisted on her coming back to get the baked goods before the party so she wouldn’t have to repack the car again in a couple of hours. 

“I’ll come by,” Drew offered. “Gonna be headed to the party anyways, so I can help you set up. And then maybe you’d like to stick around with me?” 

So, just before 4:00PM, Julie trudged back into her apartment, collapsed into bed after setting an alarm, and quickly passed out. 

“Get up,” Will said, throwing open the door to Jake’s bedroom. “We’re goin’ out.” Lowering his phone, Jake looked at his older brother and sighed.

“Don’t feel like it.”

“I wasn’t asking, squirt. Get your ass up and get in the truck.” Rolling his eyes, Jake shifted onto his side, turning his back to his brother.

“Later, Will. I’m - ” A hand clamped around his ankle and tugged. Caught off-guard, he scrambled to catch the mattress as Will pulled him onto the floor in a tangle of blankets and limbs. Hands on his hips, his older brother glared down at him.

“Get your fuckin’ shoes on. We’re goin’ to get a beer.” 

Which was how the Seresin boys found themselves at Mikey’s on Christmas Eve, staring one another down over a beer while country versions of Christmas classics played on the jukebox. The bar was moderately full of folks catching up, those - like Jake - who had moved away from Magnolia and came back for the holidays, greeting those who had chosen to stay behind. He’d seen more people from high school tonight than since graduation when he and Cece had snuck out to a field party. That night, he’d slipped his class ring on her finger, promising they would get married as soon as he graduated from the Academy, celebrating their commitment in the backseat of his truck. After too much to drink, they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms in his truck bed and woken to multiple missed calls from her daddy. Mr. Ryan had tried to ground Cece, only for her to put her foot down that she was an adult and wouldn’t miss time with Jake the last few weeks he was home. 

After catching up with another former classmate, Will took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and pushed his glass away. “Jake.”

“Why do I feel I’m not going to like what you have to say?”A smile tugged at the corner of Will’s mouth before he schooled his expression.

“‘Cause you can be moderately intelligent when you’re not thinkin’ with your dick. But yeah, you’re not gonna like it. We need to talk about Shayla.”

“My fiancée? Jake asked, sipping his beer and raising an eyebrow.

“Not many other Shayla’s around here,” his brother shrugged and sighed. “Ally told me about what happened this morning, and I’m sure Mama told Pops.” 

“She has. You saw the way he looked at her at dinner.” It had been a tense affair, with Ally choosing to stay home rather than join while Mama kept her answers clipped when asked anything. Will and Pops had carried on the conversation, and Pops had pointedly told Shayla to put her phone away when she tried to film them eating. Jake had taken it from her and put it in his pocket, only returning it when the meal was over. When Will grabbed a plate of leftovers to take home for his wife, Pops stopped him to ask if Ally would be joining them for breakfast, to which Will said he wasn’t sure. Jake had caught the irritated look that Mama had thrown at Shayla.

Will nodded, crossing his arms over the table. “Yeah. She’s not making it easy, especially doing that to Julie.” Jake took a sip of his beer to avoid giving his brother more reason to hate her. If he found out that Shayla had done it intentionally to hurt Cece for his mistake, there would be no coming back from that. 

“She’s… not comfortable here. She’s not like this when we’re home.” Raising an eyebrow, Will gave his brother an unimpressed look. “She’s not. Shay is...complicated.” 

“So uncomplicate it for me. Why are you with her? Other” - he cut Jake off when he opened his mouth - “than because she’s pregnant.” 

“I love her.” The words sounded hollow even to his own ears. “She’s…she’s…”

Sitting up, Will counted on his fingers. “Ally’s the love of my life. She’s funny, smart as hell, feisty as shit, protective of the people she loves, and is one of the most caring people I’ve met.” Holding up his hand, he sighed. “Five things about the woman I love in less than 30 seconds. It’s not a trick question. 

“Shayla’s funny in her own way,” Jake said, holding up his thumb. “She can be caring. Um…She’s good at what she does, and her fans love her.” 

“And time,” Will said, glancing at his watch. “Just for comparison's sake, if I’d asked you that question about Julie back when you were together, would you have been able to answer it?”

Jake gave his brother a flat stare. “It’s easy to say good things about someone you’ve loved since seventh grade.”

“Should be even easier to say it about the woman you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with.” 

“What do you want me to say, Will?” Jake demanded. “That I don’t want to be with my fiancée? That I wish I hadn’t been stupid and slept with her one more time before breaking up? Because I’m not going to say that. Not about the woman who is having my baby.” 

“Ja - ”

“I’m going to marry her. We’re going to be a family, and we’re just going to have to…figure out how to…” 

“Be happy?”

“I am happy,” he snapped. 

“Then maybe tell that to your face.” It had been years since his last bar fight, but it took everything in Jake not to deck his big brother. Scowling down at his beer, he forced himself to take a deep breath. And then another. Sighing, Will shook his head. “I’m not tryin’ to piss you off. But you don’t have to marry her just ‘cause she’s pregnant.” 

“If Ally’d gotten pregnant when you were dating, you would have married her.” 

“You’re right. I would have married her because I love Ally, and we already talked about it. But if you think that stubborn woman woulda let me marry her out of some sense of obligation, you don’t know my wife.” 

“It’s not…” Jake ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “I have an obligation. And I’m not willing to risk not being part of my kid’s life just because…”

“You don’t love their mother?”

“I’m having trouble trusting her,” he finished, glaring at the other man. “If I don’t marry her, I might not have access to them.”

“You can set up a custody arrangement if you need to,” Will suggested.

“But I’d still miss a lot. And what happens if I get orders? No court is going to make her move so I can be close to them. I only get to see my kid grow up if I marry Shayla.” 

The doors opened, letting in a cold blast of air, and Jake sat up as Cece stumbled in laughing, snow dusting her hair and shoulders. She turned, looking up at the man he recognized from earlier at the house, who grinned back at her and nodded toward the bar. Taking his hand, she led them through the crowd, taking up a vacated spot. 

Will followed his gaze as Jake watched him help Cece take her coat off, folding it over his arm. She wore a tight green dress that clung to her curves and a pair of black tights, snow coating her black boots. Jake's grip tightened on his glass when the guy reached up to brush the snow from her hair. And then his view was obscured as Will shifted to block them. “If you’re set on marrying Shayla, maybe you shouldn’t look at your ex like that,” he said gently. Jake forced his gaze down onto his beer. 

“How long’s that been going on?”

“Ally said that Drew’s asked her out a couple times. He’s a good guy - worked with her Pops and was there for her when he…But I think this is the first time they’ve gone out.” Jake’s eyes shot up when he heard her laugh, watching Cece tap her beer glass against his. Plucking a pretzel rod from the dish before him, he crushed it to dust over a napkin, tracking the two as they retreated to a table. Drew pulled out her chair and pushed it in before draping her jacket over the back. 

“He deserve her?” Will lifted his beer, pausing for a moment before taking a sip. 

“Jake, you gotta let her go. It’s not fair to you or her or Shayla.” 

“Easier said than done,” Jake muttered. His brother glanced over at the two of them and sighed. 

“I don’t see it going anywhere. Julie talked to Mama and Pops about looking after the house when she leaves if she doesn’t sell it, and I don’t see her staying for someone.” Jake let out a sad huff, downing half of his beer. 

“Yeah, she tends to not do that.” 

“Don’t start that shit,” Will said, his tone sharp. The brothers traded a look before the younger shrugged. 

“She’s the one that left.”

“After she waited for your dumb ass for years, and you lied to her.”

“What? I didn’t - ”

“Let her know you were deploying?” Jake froze, eyes darting from Will to Cece and back again. 

“What?” Wills’ eyebrow rose. 

“Julie found out you were leaving after she moved up to Virginia. You didn’t know?” Dread pooled in Jake’s stomach as he looked back at the woman he’d loved for most of his life. He’d tried to figure out what had been the breaking point for them for so long, but he’d never… 

It had been the hardest secret for him to keep when they’d planned for her to move. Once he’d gotten his orders, Jake called Cece and told her they were Virginia-bound. It wasn’t until he was in processing into the unit that he found out they were scheduled to head to the Middle East six months later for seven months. By then, she’d already given her notice at work and packed up her apartment. He had gotten approval to fly to Austin and drive the 23 hours back to Virginia Beach with her. 

There had been so many times during that drive that he could have told her, but he didn’t. He let himself enjoy getting so much uninterrupted time together, laughing and getting to know her again. And, once they got to their new home, he wanted to let her settle in. There was plenty of time to let her know. 

But then his hours got longer as they prepared to deploy. It was his first time going into combat, and - even with all the training he’d gotten in flight school and TOPGUN - he was worried. And he couldn’t talk about it because Cece didn’t know he was leaving. So he went out with the guys to the bar and spoke to some older pilots, trying to get advice from them about flying in a warzone. At home, he tried to avoid talking about the wedding. Cece wanted to plan it so badly, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wouldn’t be there to do everything a groom was supposed to do. 

Four months. Jake had to let her know, but as the days ticked by, he found it harder and harder to say anything. The minute he told her, he knew she would be crushed. So he waited for the right time, but there never seemed to be one. And he watched as little by little she shut down as she struggled to find a job and a group of friends. But things only worsened after they went on a beach day with some of the other junior officers. He’d hoped that she could make friends with the other spouses and they could help her find her footing. Then she’d asked him that fucking question.

“If I said I wanted to get married today, what would you say?”

He’d known that he couldn’t marry her without telling her. That it wouldn’t be fair to her. But he didn’t want to lose her.

And in the end, that’s exactly what happened. 

Jake watched Cece follow Drew onto the small dance floor, laughing as he spun her before pulling her in close. Her hand rested on his shoulder as they swayed to Please Come Home for Christmas, his hand spanning her lower back. They were too far away for him to hear what they were saying, but he could see she was giving him that sleepy, happy smile she’d gifted him so many times. 

And then Drew looked up and said something, and Cece did as well. Jake followed their gaze and saw they were dancing under a sprig of mistletoe. Cece’s smile turned shy, and he could see her blushing. He said something, and Jake watched her nod.

Drew spun Cece again before pulling her back in, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. She dropped his hand, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him again, his hands wrapping around her hips and tugging her closer.

Jake stood up, hitting the table and making Will’s beer slosh over the rim. Ignoring his brother’s curse, he yanked his jacket from the back of his chair and stormed toward the door. Snow pelted his face as he stomped down the street to the truck, forcing away the memory of his first kiss under the mistletoe at the Winter Formal with the woman he’d once thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. 

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

Author's Note: A huge thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for letting me run so much of this chapter past her while writing, and helping flesh out some of the story points. You're the best!

Taglist: @mamachasesmayhem; @buckysteveloki-me; @fanficfandomlove; @maeleeme; @djs8891; @kmc1989; @justenoughmadness; @shanimallina87; @lynnevanss; @dempy; @emilyoflanternhill; @midnightmagpiemama; @sordidfairytale; @vivalas-vega; @eloquentdreamer; @roosterforme; @mizzzpink; @memoriesat30; @dizzybee03; @itsdesiree86; @yuckosworld; @sorchathered; @boisewaffles

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please comment below. I do check that readers are 18+

[indulgentandidiotic]

TWST w/ an MC Who Bakes Them Homemade Sweets! (Housewardens excluding Leona)

Warnings: Mentions/implications of DISORDERED EATING in Riddle and Azul's parts.

GN! Reader

Synopsis: You bake them sweets!

.~

Riddle Rosehearts:

    * Riddle is a huge fan of sweets! Especially tarts, custards, and all things strawberry~ !!

    * So, if you ever came up to him bearing desserts of this nature, he’d be ecstatic! Though, if you gave him sweets briefly after his overblot incident, I imagine the extremely strong influence his mother had on him may make him a bit reluctant about accepting them (I’m still haunted by that scene where she described the nutritional contents of Riddle’s “birthday cake”. He doesn’t need to hear that!!!)

    * Another thought that comes to mind… Perhaps Riddle has had a fairly weird relationship with food. Is it possible that shortly after Riddle enrolled at NRC, he had trouble deciding what would be best to eat? Would he have also been tempted or uncomfortable watching other people enjoy eating whatever they wanted, along with seeing the abundant presence of sweets in the area? How did he manage Unbirthday Parties up to this point when mostly all they served were candies, pastries, cakes, and sweets?

    * Though, if you gave him sweets a significant while after his overblot, when he has gotten significantly better, I imagine he’d still be very happy and grateful, but less apprehensive about accepting your kind gesture.

    ** Rushing around the room, you hurriedly scooped the whipped cream into the piping bag from the mixer and grabbed your dessert box and ribbon at the edge of the counter- squeezing the cream onto the smooth top of the custard tart and carefully positioning the fresh strawberries upon the fluffy cream. Then, you sprinkled a light dusting of powdered sugar on top, thus making this strawberry tart sweet enough to give someone diabetes.

         And after boxing and tying the tart up in a shiny red ribbon, you flew out of the Ramshackle kitchen and through the front door and sprinted towards Heartslabyul. …

    *** Riddle looked to you in surprise. Really? That beautiful tart is for him, you say?

     * “Th- thank you, Y/N! This looks absolutely delicious. Oh? You made it yourself?! My, that’s amazing.” Riddle graced you with a small smile, gazing at the tart lovingly. You think you might’ve even seen a few tears well up in his eyes…

       Suffice to say, Riddle was extremely happy with your thoughtful gift and praised you endlessly on the taste. It was as if you imbued magic into the tart to make it sparkle in the light and taste heavenly. Honestly, you think the only other time you’ve seen him smile this hard is when he ranked #1 in every single one of his classes a while back.

      … Sometimes… Riddle requests you to help tr*y out with baking for the Unbirthday Parties. Between you and me, I think Riddle asks this because he likes your sweets better than tr*y’s. And though tr*y is kinda mid, you agree. I mean, how could one ever say no to Riddle?

.~

Azul Ashengrotto:

    * Why…. Why would you do this to him…. He’s trying to keep track of his calorie intake, isn’t he?

    * So, you and Azul often have study sessions together. Both of you are very smart and wonderful individuals, and you…. being the angelic lovely soul that you are, like to bring snacks to those sessions. Cue you baking perfect macarons of varying shades for normal study days, piping buttercream frosting onto fluffy cupcakes for testing weeks, and making soft and warm mini waffles for early morning sessions.

    * Azul… absolutely adores you, he does! You’re nice to him, you listen to him, you help him out, and you genuinely want to spend time with him! But… and while he loves your sweets, as well, you’re really just breaking his dieting.

    * Depending on how much he eats of your scrumpdiddliumptious treats and his mood, he either feels like treating today as a cheat day/deserved dessert or as a crime against his body.

    * Though, because it’s you, perhaps he can eat a little more. You are a good baker. .. Maybe you should work at the Mostro Lounge. Here, Azul’ll sign a deal with you~!

    ** “Are you ready for today’s session?” Azul asked, smirking at you as he plopped a hot stack of papers, books, and study guides onto one of the Mostro Lounge tables. Eyeing the stack wearily and warily, you nodded, also setting your ‘stack’ of sweets onto the table.

      You two were studying for the semester exam later that week, and with Grim’s grades, you were sure to get the highest score you could to prevent your average from getting pulled down by Grim.

     ** As you sat down at the table and got out your pen and notebook, you picked up one of the rich chocolate cupcakes from your stack. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Azul grimace. With a mouthful of delicious, moist, fluffy cake, you asked Azul if he wanted any- and with a shake of his head, he replied, "Oh no. I couldn’t.”

     ** You: “Why not?”

     ** Azuzu: “You know, I- I just don’t think that much sugar’s good for me…”

    *** And with that, your eyes lit up. “Well, Azul… I actually tried some new recipes that reduced the sugar and calorie amounts. And besides, it’s scientifically proven that eating sweets increases focus. I know even you can’t get perfect grades without studying, so why not increase your studying power with a snack?”

         Azul stared at you. “You tried a new recipe?”

        “Yeah! Especially for you! I know you like sweets, and I know you can be pretty conscious about calories and stuff.. so I… I just wanted to help you be able to eat a lot of yummy stuff without worrying as much about sugar and things…”

         At this point Azul wasn’t looking at you anymore. From this angle you could maybe see a faint blush and ghost of a smile as Azul looked at his open textbook. And… possibly with a slight quiver in his voice, you heard Azul ask… “You did this for me?”

         You rolled your eyes, a soft smile threatening to show on your beautiful face. “Of course Azul! I like you. I want to make you happy.”

        Silence… Then Azul took a deep breath and put on his best client-winning smile. “Well, thank you, Y/N!” And with a much softer smile… One you might’ve mistook for being genuine if you didn’t know any better, “I really appreciate it.”

       ** You: “Well then, let’s get to stuffing our faces and studying till our brains fall out!!”

       ** Cue you two finishing the whole basket of macarons you baked, and Azul’s mood increasing exponentially. 

.~

Vil Schoenheit:

    * Oh, you’re another one of his fans, yes? Well, Vil will accept your lovely box of homemade chocolates and apple ‘n spice cupcakes with a heart-stopping smile! … And then turn to give it to some lucky Pomefiore soul once you’re gone.

    * Well? Can you blame him? This man is on a strict diet after Rook told him his jawline looked a tad fatter last week. There’s no way he’s going to indulge in some sweets! Not even if he wants to.

    * But… if you’re not just one of his fans…. If he knows you and you two are on good terms, why… Well, maybe he’ll indulge just this once… Oh. OH! OH SEVENS ABOVE!! Dear me, are you a master chef or something?!

    * Vil is astounded! You bake better than tr*y!!! Now, whenever Vil sees you in the halls he has to physically restrain himself from walking over to see if you’ve baked anything new.

    * And if you’ve managed to find a to-die-for recipe that has reduced sugar and calories and all that good stuff? Well, Vil is done for. He’s done. Congrats! He is your man now.

.~

Kalim Al-Asim:

    * This man is a tricky one, for sure. On one hand, your sweets do look delicious, but… he’s had bad experiences with others’ food in the past. The only one he trusts is Jamil!!!

    * Though, perhaps if you get Jamil to approve your food, then maybe Kalim will try it! And if he does? Whoo, boy, Kalim will love you forever! 

    * Seriously!! Your treats are amazing!!! They taste so good! And there’s so much variety! There’s the way way too sweet ones (which Kalim loves), the ones that are savory, the ones that are mild…. You make cakes, and pastries, and gelatins, and ice creams….!

    * If you ever start a bakery or try to sell your goods, Kalim will be sure to help you! He’ so grateful you gave him good food and didn’t try to poison him, it’s the least he can do!

.~

Idia Shroud:

    * Is very confused? Why are you giving him candy? Wait! You made this YOURSELF???!! Then why are you giving it to him?! Give this masterpiece to someone better!!!

    * Haha jk lol, but seriously. I think Idia would be touched that you thought him special enough to give him a gift. And homemade, no less! He’ll remember this day forever~ Maybe he’ll find you approachable enough after this event to ask you for more candy, eh?

    * He might even cry and giggle and scream into his pillow while he kicks his feet in the air, who knows.??

.~

Malleus Draconia:

    * Child of Man. One is very touched that thou chesen to grace thyself with the gift of ‘baked goods’. One shall cherish this gift till mine’s last beat of the heart.

    * You heard the man. He loves your gift! Many people are afraid of him, though all he wants is friends. So why wouldn’t he be ecstatic when you decide to show him some love and give him the priceless gift of homemade sweets? 

    * Perhaps you’ll gift him more treats in the future? But even if you don’t, Malleus is sure to stick by you. You’re one of the first to approach him, and for that he is grateful. After this event, I’m sure he’d want to know more about you, and become true friends. Sebek is probably jealous of you, though, so watch out….

.~

**They got progressively shorter as it went on. Sorry :( And a special apology to Leona likers.

**I know Vil also has a slight weird relationship with food, but I wrote this at a time when I didn't know that, and I'm too lazy to rewrite things. Maybe in the future I'll do him and Leona justice.

[thewolvesof1998]

Hiiii Wolf 💕💕💕

Buck and Christopher are baking Christmas cookies!

-how many are they making?

-what kinds are they making?

-what do they end up doing with them all?

And anything you can think of to describe the scene!

Have fun with it!! ☺️

Hi Saturn 🪐 !!!

I'm going to use this as my Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

Oh okay, so this sent me down a rabbit hole of sugar cookies and the types of frosting and now I'm going to have to bake some. So I had my first and only ever sugar cookie when I was in Ohio in March. It was sooooo fucking good and I'm pretty sure it was buttercream icing because it was so light and fluffy. I also love making white chocolate butter cream icing so I'm excited to make sugar cookies with it.

Anyways, your questions!

Buck and Chris are making Christmas cookies for Chris's class, maybe they're having a bake sale or maybe it's just to spread some holiday cheer, either way, they are making so many cookies, that the trays are spread out all over Eddie's kitchen. Here are Buck's inspiration photos (because of course he made a Pinterest board for it):

And just image him and Chris making all of these cookies:

And here's a snippet from Someone to be Gentle (which already had a cookie baking scene and I might have already posted most of this so if you've read this before no you haven't):

When Eddie walks in the front door of his house it's to the smell of freshly baked cookies and the sound of his kid cackling like he’s done something cheeky and he knows he’s going to get away with it because, as Buck says, ‘Look at that face, how could you be mad at him?’.  Eddie follows the sound, can hear the timber of Buck’s laugh join and harmonise until it’s a cacophony that feels like it’s rubbing aloe on his therapy raw soul. He rounds the corner into his living room and is standing in the door of his kitchen taking in the chaotic sense. There are trays, so many trays, of sugar cookies, half are iced in shades of green and white, the others laid bare. Chris still has his back to Eddie, head tilted back in laughter but Eddie can see Buck, can see the green icing smeared across his cheek and the fake look of outrage on his face that is betrayed by the laughter falling from his lips.  A far too familiar ache rips through his chest, his breath catches and eyes start to burn with tears that have become so common lately that he’s surprised they haven’t left permanent marks on his cheeks. He ducks away, not wanting his darkness to mar their happiness any more than it already has. He slumps down onto the couch, head already in his hands trying to push the tears back into his eyes as if that would erase the fact that they were ever there.  A hand lands on his shoulder, it stretches from scar to shoulder blade, “Eddie?” “I’m good, I’m fine,” He says without looking up, his voice all crackly with emotion. He senses more than sees Buck sit down opposite him, the coffee table creaking under his weight, Eddie always in tune with every movement Buck makes. His hand never breaks contact, the warmth and steadiness of his palm in sharp contrast to how Eddie’s shaking like a leaf.  “You know it’s okay if you're not fine,” Buck pauses as if he’s gathering his thoughts or courage, “You don’t always have to be strong with me, I’m not going to judge you or-or run away, Eddie.” Eddie shakes his head, “You don’t want this, it’s messy, I’m a mess,” as if to emphasise the point he wipes away snot with the edge of his sleeve.  “Of course I do, we’re partners,” Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Bucks, his edges are a blur because of the tears but his cheeks are flushed pink as they usually do when Buck’s on a passionate roll, “best friends, I-I want the bad as well as the good, I want to be there when you’re at your worst, let me have your back.” A sob tears out of his chest, it sounds an awful lot like Buck’s name. And he’s not sure if he’s folding forward or if Buck’s reeling him but his arms are around Eddie, holding him close to his chest and something snaps within him. His fingers twist into Buck’s shirt as he cries into his shoulder soaking the material with tears and snot in a way he hasn’t done since he was a little kid crying in his mother’s arms, before the ‘you have to be the man of the house’, before he learnt it was bad to show weakness. And he knows that's not true, been teaching his own son it’s not but it’s so much easier to be kind to others than it is yourself. 

The poem it's based on

first snippet second snippet

tagging people for Tease Tidbit Tuesday: @wikiangela @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @smilingbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1 @princehattric @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

[iheartyvesss]

save a horse | j. miller preview

and all the ladies say,

“save a horse, ride a cowboy!”

cowboy!joel x black coded!southern!reader (anybody can still read, only hairstyles are specified)

warnings: js sweet ole girl dad joel, small bits of flirting, tommy’s a flirt and joel doesn’t like it, and joel is a lil awkward but we love him!!!

wc? 1.5k (this a preview y’all!)

if any lingo is wrong you’re fuckin lying because i’m a texan born and bred RAGHHHH 🦅🇺🇸

moving to austin from dallas with your dead best friend’s daughter wasn’t on your 2002 bingo card. ellie was precious to you for a number of reasons, her fiery attitude and brown eyes that reminded you of your best friend. it all hurt you, but this little girl came first. her safety came first.

“ellie! babe, c’mon now, you gotta at least unpack your room.” the teen looked up at you over the book that was barely propped up on her chest. ellie scrunched her face at you, “i am aunty, just give me a second. the house isn’t goin’ anywhere, i’ll be just fine.” you sighed heavily, leaning on the archway of her door. ellie’s been pretty normal, but you don’t think it’s normal for her to be normal.

she’s lost her mother, you cried for days after losing yours. you remember that feeling of emptiness; not being able to believe the woman who gave birth to you was gone. you purse your lips instead, sighing in a more gentle manner before moving closer to ellie. “c’mon, up! let’s go. we’re baking and meeting our neighbors.” ellie groaned but let you take her hands, whining when you pulled her all the way up out of the bed.

“promise not to run from me and i’ll make you the red velvet brownies you like.” you squished her cheeks in your hands while grinning from ear to ear. you knew your niece couldn’t resist them, even if she was mad at you for making her assist. ellie whined in your grip, squirming around to get your hands away from her cheeks. “fine! fine! oh my god those stupid nails hurt, aunty. jesus fuck.”

her response is a hit to the back of her head, “ow.” you snort as you make your way out of the room, tying your soft locs up into a ponytail. “then watch your mouth, sugar. hurry on downstairs when you’re done. i already started the oven.” did you lie about beginning to bake to get ellie to come out of the hole that was her bare room? yes. and you are very proud that it worked.

you’re barely tying your apron back around your waist when ellie’s loud stomps come down the stairs of your new house. she fakes a frown before smiling at the aroma of chocolate and strawberries, hints of vanilla stretching across the entire first floor. you pretend not to see the scene that unfolded in front of you, instead turning to your buttercream frosting that you were mixing. “ellie baby, can you get the pie shells out for me? poke holes in the bottom with the fork then sit them in the oven for a bit. you know the drill, sweet pea.” she hums in response, yanking her little apron off of it’s hook and tying it around her body.

ellie’s practically sliding around the kitchen in her black and red polka dot socks, having the time of her life racing no one in the space of the kitchen. you laugh at her antics, gesturing for her to come over to you, “come ‘nd taste the frosting, let me know if it’s too sweet or no.” she practically scrambles to you, taking the spoon from your hand. “umm, ‘s alright. it needs more vanilla and a little more powdered sugar.”

“ugh, my little baking champion thank you so much!” you kiss the side of her head and get back to work, letting her get back to her own job that you’d provided her with. she laughed softly at your comment before she went back to her previous job of poking holes in your pie crusts. it’s not long before you’re pulling brownies and cookies out of your oven, letting them cook before icing the cookies with such carefulness that it makes ellie laugh.

you allow ellie to scoop the apple pie mixture into the pie shells before she settles them back in after placing the lattice on top of all three pies you’d made. you wait around another hour to let the pies settle and pack everything up, letting ellie hold the cookies whilst you grab one of the pies. “ellie do i look okay?” you mumble to her, turning slightly in front of the mirror on the wall near your front door. she snorts, covering it up with a cough. “you look fine aunty. what? you wanna date the neighbors?”

“absolutely n- ellie!” your face heats but you don’t say much else, instead opening the door for your niece since her hands were more full than yours. you do look fine though. your little sundress you wore for the drive down here from dallas was a soft blue with light pink flowers patterned on it along with complimentary white sandals. it complimented your skin well, enhancing the glow of it against the sun. your soft locs were still in a ponytail from your baking, and you’d had your lashes done shortly before you moved. you were particularly satisfied with the lip combo you’d mustered up before you left; a pretty brown liner with a pink filler. perfect.

ellie sets the cookies down on the floor in the bottom of your backseat, and you follow suit by sitting the pie on top of the containers. the both of you climb into the car once you’re positive everything is in order and won’t fall over or anything of the sort. the drive to the next set of land isn’t far, maybe 5 minutes, and you get a chance to truly take in the beauty of the countryside in austin.

when you pull up, you notice that your neighbors seem to be leaving the house just as you drive up. there’s two older men and a little girl, and you can only assume she’s one of the men’s daughter. your eyes trail over the taller one, though. he’s buffer than the shorter one and has a full beard. your ‘thing’ for beards was really tempting you with this one. he was clearly older than you as if that helped your attraction, but you purse your lips and relax your shoulders. no need to be weird in front of the new neighbors already.

you park quickly, biting down on your lip to hold any final nervous remarks your niece could possibly make fun of you for. ellie grabs the pie since she’s already on the side, setting it on top of the car and grabbing the cookies. you hum a soft ‘thank you’ to her before grabbing the pie and making your way towards your neighbors.

“excuse me?” your voice is saccharine to joel’s ears, and he damn near gets whiplash trying to turn to see who’s voice he’s hearing. “are you the millers?” you follow up despite a lack of response from the older man. you smile sweetly and gesture for ellie to come towards you. joel nods dumbly, swallowing hard before stepping forward to greet you. the girl that you mentioned earlier, who looked a little older than ellie, giggled at her dad (uncle?), and skipped her way next to him.

“i- uhm- we- damn.” joel stuttered terribly, rubbing a hand over his face before sighing heavily. sarah giggles before speaking up for her stunned father. “hi!! i’m sarah miller, this is my dad joel and my uncle tommy.” she smiled brightly at the two of you, curls bouncing as she spoke. tommy nodded from next to sarah, sticking his hand out for you to shake. “hi, darlin’! i’m tommy, nice to see a new pretty face ‘round here.” you feel your smile widen a bit, flattered by the younger miller’s words. you reach your hand out to meet his, but tommy turns it in his hand and presses a kiss to the back of yours.

joel’s stare practically burns through the two of you.

“cute.” is all you say, gently taking your hand back to pull ellie towards you. “i’m (name) (last name) and this is my niece ellie williams. we just moved into the house a few minutes down the road and wanted to properly greet everyone. i come bearing gifts, of course, but i can put ‘em back until you guys come back if i have to?” joel shakes his head, smiling at the thought you’d clearly put into the baked goods. “no, that’s fine sugar. we were jus’ goin’ to get some groceries.” his hand brushes yours briefly as he takes the pie, and you feel electricity shoot up your spine. oh you want him.

“me ‘n ellie can go ahead and head out and let you three get to it. we’re sorry to interrupt, but i hope we could come back over some time just to hang out or for anything else.” joel’s eyebrows shoot up at the end of your question but if he caught onto anything he didn’t say much. “’course. thank you again for the cookies ‘n pie. real sweet of you to make ‘em, sugar.” you bite down on your lip to hide the smile threatening to appear on your lips. ellie laughs beside you, tugging on your arm after she’s handed off the cookies. you glance back up at him briefly before nodding your head towards the car, sending your niece towards it.

“no problem, cowboy.”

[simplyclary]

3 Months of History, Huh?

Dang, it's been three months since the release of this cake-filled phenomenon of a movie? Wow, time does fly when you are having fun.

By fun, I mean the experience of getting to rewatch this movie and getting to reread the book multiple times and not getting tired of it because of the beauty of both the original written art and its screen adaptation.

Red, White & Royal Blue is something else. I could talk about what I love about this movie all day. The story, the characters, the casting, everything is just amazing and is worth every minute of my time. To know that it's been three months since the release and people are still watching it is shall I say, historical? Like it's really something special.

Also, to know that the cast can FINALLY share BTS photos and videos from the set due to the strike being over in time for the three-month anniversary is a special thing. Waking up to see photos from Taylor, Nicholas, Rachel, Aneesh, Thomas, Ellie and the rest of the people from the movie has been lovely and I will continue to await more photos and videos from them (Taylor can finally release all the Tiktok drafts he probably has haha!).

To keep this short, simple and sweet as buttercream frosting, this story will always hold a special place in my heart. What started as a curiosity turned into the best discovery that I have made in 2023. This film gives me nothing but comfort and happiness every time I watch it. The happy butterflies are always there.

One thing's for sure, this movie will continue to make history.

Now, a humble request: can Amazon Prime unlock the deleted scenes vault and release at least like one deleted scene for the 3 month anniversary? Please.

[ashleyfableblack]

With a gust of green flame Queen Chrysalis Sparkle appeared in the disaster-zone that was the West Tower royal laboratory of her wife. "Twilight? I-"

"Honeybug! Thank you for coming home early."

A wide-eyed Queen Twilight cautiously prodded at the hissing spider with a pair of tongs. It lunged and snapped at them with its chelicerae. It backed away from her, it's forelimbs raised in a threatening pose. As it sideled sideways, looking for an opening in Twilight's defenses she maneuvered the tongs like a shield.

A concerned Chrysalis regarded the scene with a raised eyebrow. "That is a Green Widow."

Twilight continued her defensive dance with the irate arachnid. "Correct!"

Chrysalis looked from the hissing creature to Twilight and back. "And why is it here in your laboratory with it's acidic spittle and venomous bite which could even kill an alicorn, like my wife?" Her horn crackled with a whisp of green flame. She drew close to her pony wife, ready to interpose herself.

"I know you're concerned, honeybug." Twilight quickly attempted to reassure her. "I'm fine- WOOP!" She ducked as a thin spray of grey mist shot past her shoulder. It's impact left a smoking buckshot pattern on the nearby bookshelf.

Chrysalis pursed her lips, her fangs scraping against the chitin in worry. "I see." In a gust of green changeling flames she created an invisible shield around Twilight.

"The potency of the green widow's venom is legendary and it's precisely why this one is here. Green widow bites in the Whitetail woods are rare but they have a very high mortality rate. I need to retrieve a sample of its venom to continue our local hospital's research into developing a viable antivenom. This little fellow was volunteered by our local wildlife wranglers for the process. Normally Fluttershy would be handling this but she's come down with the ponypox."

The spider kicked a few of the broken tongue depressors out of its way. With an angry chomp it hefted up the tattered remains of a plush doll, made to resemble the buttercream pegasus and flung it at Twilight. "I'm afraid this little fellah is not in any mood to cooperate."

"Why do you have a little plushie of her?"

"Discord left it here after our last tea-time." She traded knowing eyes with her wife and shrugged. "I didn't ask. Anyways, I was hoping you could help with this moody little guy, with your people's knowledge of the creatures of the deep woods, I theorized you might have an insight to its behavior or at least be able to hypnotize it momentarily."

Chrysalis chuckled. "I'm so glad you had the good sense to ask for my help." She kissed her wife's horn and gave it a playful nip with her fangs. "But mesmerizing it with my enchanting gaze won't be necessary, beloved."

Chrysalis turned to the spider and made a series of clicks and whispered hisses. The furious arachnid set down the beaker it had hefted overhead, prepared to hurl at Twilight. The two hissed and spat back and forth for a moment as Twilight watched in wide-eyed surprise. They were communicating. She was still learning just how helpful it was to have a wife who had literally been almost every species of creature in the world.

"You speak its language?" Her brow furrowed. "It has a language?"

The creature angrily stomped it's forelimbs as Chrysalis nodded. Occasionally it pointed at Twilight and made a particularly disgusted sound, slapping its pedipalps together.

Chrysalis sighed. "Yes. Of a sort. Most sapient beings do." There was a slight tinge of irritation to her words.

"Chrysalis!" Twilight used her magic to retrieve a pencil and note tablet from a nearby desk, excited to record this new knowledge. "This is incredible! Equestrian science knows so little about the green widow!" She hadn't even considered this discovery. "Ooooo! What did it say?"

"Well, for starters, Her name is Miss Mugglywumpus. She does not appreciate being snatched from her burrow and she is very offended by your eyelashes."

Twilight blinked. "My… eyelashes?" The spider hissed and reared up again.

"Yes." Chrysalis looked back to the angry spider. "You've been fluttering them at her in a very rude threat display."

Twilight lifted a tiny mirror to examine herself, suddenly very self-conscious. Normally she was very proud of the inky black cilia which framed her almond-shaped violet eyes. Chrysalis often complimented her on their "come-hither" quality. She supposed they might resemble antennae or some other form of limb to the right perspective.

Her changeling wife continued. "Not only that but your aggressive blinking has been signaling very crass remarks about her hygiene, the size of her abdomen and capacity to spawn a respectably-sized brood."

"I WHAT?!"

Chrysalis motioned to the creature with her serpentine eyes. It glared up at Twilight with all 8 of its crimson peepers. Fangs glistening, forelimbs folded across it's thorax. If there was any expression in a spider's body-language which might indicate it had been the recipient of a potent yo-mama slam, this looked to be about right.

Twilight gave a dejected sigh as Chrysalis placed a consoling hoof across her withers.

She had expected today to be quite eventful. However, as Rainbow Dash might say, she did not have 'sparking a first-contact disaster with her face' on her bingo card today.

[indigoire]

I literally have become that crazy person that watches the wedding scene in Impossible Birds (s2e1) every day now. Name a line more raw than "Demon? I'm the fuckin' Devil." All while looking at this congregation with those big ol' brown eyes. And then the reveal of his bloodthirsty crew with "...and these are the kids," is absolutely stunning. No notes.

Oh and then while everyone is getting their stabbing on (and doing it with such style btw), Ed's just calmly collecting the wedding cake toppers and sampling the buttercream frosting with his sword. All while "Strawberry Letter 23" plays in the bg.

Listen, he may be on every wanted poster in the Caribbean, but his atrocities are done with such style.

[rwrbmovie]

BTS of #RWRBMovie: cakegate

From Collider:

ML: "It was hundreds of extras, it was cake, it was a vision, it was choreography through space, and it was a lot of dialogue. That was three days of me, just gritting my teeth. I can’t tell you that I had fun on those three days. I knew that I had to get it right, in so many different ways. But I had a great team, and I had Nick and Taylor, and we got through those days. When people see the movie, you don’t see all the real effort that went into that filming that scene."

From AV Club:

The entire wedding reception scene took three days to shoot on location at the Royal Naval College in London (which served as the setting for the receiving line) and Goldsmiths’ Hall in the city’s financial district (where the reception takes place). But López began preparing for it long before he got to the set. Together with production designer Miren Marañón, he tested the physics of bringing down the cake using models and filming smaller cakes in motion to see how they would fall. “We were really scientific about it,” he says. “Would it slide? Would it tumble? Is it sort of like a tree coming down or does it break apart? What we decided was that actually what happens is not necessarily Alex knocks over the cake, Alex breaks the table, which then sends it over. We realized that it was a question of a cascading series of events leading to the cake falling on them.” Taylor Zakhar Perez, who plays Alex, and Nicholas Galitzine, who plays Henry, were both game for anything when it came to the physicality of the scene. To help block the sequence for maximum comedic effect, López brought on theater director Cal McCrystal, who had previously worked as a physical comedy consultant on the Paddington films. The actors rehearsed with McCrystal to get each beat of the scene right before Alex is knocked into the table, which was rigged with hydraulics to make it collapse on cue. The crew spent a day and a half filming the reception before it came time to tackle the cake scene. There were two cakes created for the scene, a fake one made of foam and latex that could not only hold up under the lights for long periods of time but safely be dropped on the actors without injuring them, and a real one made of sponge and buttercream frosting to dump on them once they hit the ground. “We shot the scene many times with the fake one coming down, just this big cake coming down on top of them,” López says. “We shot it from all different angles. Then we reached the point of no return and we had to drop actual cake on them.”

That’s where the fun part came in. The crew brought in several white industrial “buckets of buttercream” frosting and chunks of real cake to throw on top of the actors. “We set up three cameras, and my production designer and I carefully lined up the shot. And I counted to three and we tossed the cake into their faces.” The cast and crew had planned to film the scene multiple times, and there was time built into the shooting schedule for the actors to shower and change into clean costumes in between takes, a process that could potentially take up to an hour. But, according to López, in the end it wasn’t necessary. “That first take we hit the bullseye. And I went back to look at it with my director of photography and my producers, and I’m looking at it and I’m like, we have it. Let’s move on. Let’s not waste our time. One take of hitting their faces, and then we just got the rest of it.” López describes the mood on set that day as “very, very focused” but there was still a sense that they were creating something special. It turned out to be one of his favorite days on set. Even the background players, many of whom were themselves in the cake splash zone, erupted in applause once it was finished. “The boys were in a very good mood, which helped. But I think, for an actor, it’s like the ultimate fantasy, right? As a kid, you want to be in an enormous food fight. And then here they are getting paid to be covered in cake. So yeah, it was the most technical bit of filmmaking we had to do on this movie. That said, everybody, for as focused as they were, everybody was in a very good mood that day. And it must be said that we had a lot of fun.”

From EW:

In the film's opening sequence, Galitzine's Henry and Taylor Zakhar Perez's Alex, the First Son of the United States, create an international incident after a spat leads them to crash into and destroy a royal wedding cake. In the process, they both become utterly covered in cake and frosting. But Galitzine didn't find it so bad. "You would get quite peckish throughout the day," he tells EW in an interview conducted prior to the SAG-AFTRA strike. "The fact that you could just have a snack peeling off your body, you can have a little nibble there, was super convenient." Things got even messier when the crew tried to turn the sequence into a food fight. "A lot of the crew were very keen to get involved and throw cake at us in the second half when the cake's already hit us," says Galitzine. "But it was a really fun experience getting to work within that physical comedy space, very slapstick with icing on the suit, then the whiskey being used to dab the suit, and the cake coming down on top of us." Galitzine could, at least, clean up relatively quickly once they wrapped — the English estate where they were filming had a shower upstairs that the cast could access. "Afterwards, I went and stood in the shower for a good half an hour," he says, with a laugh. But he still couldn't escape the cake. "Even that evening and the next morning, I'd find something in my ear or behind my ears, and be like, 'What is that?'" he explains. "And it was bits of icing. I didn't eat those."

From CineMagna:

NG: The cake dropping scene was probably one of the most fun scenes to film. It was just such a couple days. First of all, I just love being with the rest of the cast. It’s just mostly been Taylor and me throughout the entire process, but when you get to really spend time with the other actors, it’s just so much fun, the group of us together. There was so much pomp within this room. We had about 200 extras dressed to the nines, and just the act of this cake falling on top of us is just a very bizarre day at work that most people don’t get to experience.