#and my cousin was just texting me to wish me a happy birthday

[graham--folger]

yall. wtf

[bradshawsbaby]

Sprinkles of Love

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: It's Bob's birthday and you want to do something special for him. The problem is that you've only been on two dates, and you can't get out of your head about making that first move.

Word Count: 6.6k

Author’s Note: Happy Birthday to my #1 Guy, Lewis Pullman! I thought we all deserved some sweet Bob fluff to celebrate!

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, featuring the jitters and nervousness that comes with a new relationship.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, your fingers itching to reach for it where it sat taunting you on the counter near the cash register.

Biting down on your lower lip, you peeked surreptitiously over your shoulder before finally picking it up, your finger hovering hesitantly over the green messages icon.

“Are you finally going to text him or are you just going to keep staring longingly at your phone all day?”

Your cousin’s teasing voice startled you, pulling you out of your silent reverie as you fumbled the phone, nearly dropping it to the floor in your haste to get a grip on it and shove it inside your apron pocket.

Alexandria just laughed in response, her dark eyes sparkling as she slid a tray of freshly baked oatmeal raisin cookies onto one of the display case shelves. Normally, you would have complimented her on how amazing they smelled, but given the knowing smirk she was sending your way, you stuck your tongue out at her instead.

“Stick your tongue out at me all you want,” she told you, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “But I know you, and I know how badly you want to text him. So why don’t you just do it already and save yourself all the torment?”

“Lexie,” you groaned, your phone suddenly feeling like a rock inside your pocket. Why did your cousin have to know you like the back of her hand?

You were saved from having to elaborate, however, when one of the timers dinged in the kitchen, signaling that the newest batch of muffins you and Lex had put in a little while ago was finished. She shot a pointed look in your direction, making it clear the conversation wasn’t over, before turning on her heel and going to take the muffins out of the oven.

Since it was the usual mid-morning lull and the only customers currently inside the bakery were a college student working on her laptop near the window and two elderly ladies enjoying conversation over scones and tea, you figured you should be both a good cousin and a good employee and go help Lexie in the back.

Despite the fact that you had already been working at the bakery for a few months now—ever since you had moved to San Diego—you still couldn’t help but be blown away whenever it hit you that your cousin had really accomplished the dream she’d been chasing since you were little girls. For as long as you could remember, Alexandria had been wanting to open up her very own bakery, a cozy little spot where people could come to read, hang out, and relax, all while enjoying some homemade treats and delicious coffee. It seemed like just yesterday that the two of you were playing with her Easy-Bake Oven, and now here she was—living the dream as a successful small business owner. You couldn’t have been more proud of her. Or more grateful that she’d given you both a job and a place to live when you’d decided to follow in her footsteps and make the move out to California.

Lex was like the big sister you never had. She gave the best advice and she knew you inside and out. Which was normally a good thing, but judging by the way she was looking at you from under her dark lashes, you knew today was going to be one of those days where she insisted on pushing you out of your comfort zone.

You sighed in exasperation as you helped her set the freshly baked orange cranberry muffins—a favorite among her loyal customers—on the cooling rack. “I wish I hadn’t even mentioned it. It’s not that big of a deal,” you insisted, supremely conscious of the weight of your phone pressing against your thigh as you worked.

“If it’s not that big of a deal, then why do you seem to be making it one?” Lexie replied with that razor-sharp wit of hers, winking when you shot her a dirty look over your shoulder.

“I’m not!” you insisted, although you knew that was a complete and total lie. You were being ridiculous and you knew it, but every time you even thought about sending him a message, your heart started pounding inside your chest and your palms got all gross and clammy.

Lex crossed her arms over her chest, throwing an exasperated look heavenward. “Babe, you’ve already been on two dates with him and he wants to take you out on another. Do you seriously think you’re going to send him running for the hills if you send him a text wishing him a happy birthday?”

When you heard it out loud, it did sound pretty stupid. He was such a great guy, so sweet and attentive and caring, and he had done nothing to indicate that he was losing interest or that he would be freaked out by such a simple message. But still…

“I do want to text him,” you confessed, biting your lip as you carried the empty muffin tray over to the large sink where your cousin washed all her baking supplies.

“So what’s holding you back?” Lexie asked, her voice gentler this time as she leaned her hip against the counter, clearly trying to understand. She’d seen your heart get broken enough times to know that you were much more cautious now when it came to entrusting it to other people.

You sighed softly, fiddling with the strings on your pink-and-white striped apron as you tried to put your feelings into words. “It’s just—we’ve only been on two dates. I mean, they were really amazing dates, but still. Only two. And our birthdays only came up once in passing on our first date. He never mentioned it again, even when he called the other night to ask me if I’d like to go out this weekend. So on the one hand, I do want to text him to wish him a happy birthday, but on the other hand, what if it weirds him out that I remembered? What if he thinks I’m some kind of obsessive stalker and gets the ick and then ghosts me?”

“For wishing him a happy birthday?” your cousin questioned skeptically, her eyebrows rising until they were practically touching the edges of her blunt bangs.

“I’ve been ghosted before for less,” you muttered in embarrassment, knowing that your love life was a disaster compared to your cousin, who had been with her soon-to-be-husband since high school.

Lex softened immediately, stepping beside you and wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders. “I know,” she murmured soothingly, rubbing your arm with a gentle hand. “But those guys were jerks who didn’t deserve you. From everything I know about this guy, he sounds so great. He seems like the kind of guy who would be happy that you remembered his birthday.”

Honestly, you couldn’t argue with her there.

Bob Floyd was unlike any man you’d ever met before. He was everything you’d ever hoped to find but had feared you never would, the kind of perfect that seemed too good to be true, the gentleman that you had thought existed only in fairytales.

It had been over a month now since he’d stepped off a storybook page and walked into your life.

You could still remember that afternoon so clearly. It was a Saturday, and the bakery had been surprisingly dead. Lexie had decided to run to the bank, leaving you in charge of things in her absence. You’d been rearranging some of the pastries in the display case when the bell over the front door chimed, signaling a customer.

Stepping up to the counter, the words of greeting died in your throat when one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen in your life approached, a shy smile stretching across his face.

“Hi,” he greeted you in a soft-spoken voice, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and yet you’d never seen a guy look better.

“Hi,” you echoed, your eyes widening as you got lost in a gaze as blue as the cornflowers that grew in your grandparents’ backyard.

The two of you just stared at each other for a couple minutes, neither of you saying anything, even as the air between you seemed to spark and hum with electricity.

“Um, I was, uh, hoping that you still had some cupcakes left. I know it’s a little later in the day and my neighbor who recommended this place said that you should always get here early, but, um, I have a little barbeque that I’m going to and I wanted to bring some dessert. I’m hopeless at making anything myself,” he rambled, his eyes crinkling as he laughed somewhat nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

It was only when he cleared his throat awkwardly a moment later that you realized you hadn’t yet responded to him.

“Oh! Cupcakes!” you exclaimed, your voice coming out a little louder and squeakier than you had intended. “Of course!” Running your hands down the front of your apron, you shook your head slightly to try to knock some sense into it. You walked over to the display case, indicating that he should come take a look. “Normally we’d already be sold out of a lot of these, but it’s been quieter today than usual, so we still have plenty left. I guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Seems like it,” he smiled, his blue eyes latching onto your face.

Something about the way he said it made your insides feel as gooey as the batter Lexie used to make her double chocolate fudge cake.

“How many cupcakes do you need?” you asked, working overtime to keep from getting flustered.

“I think two dozen should be fine,” he replied, his eyes roaming over the display case shelves. “Hmm, they all look so good, I wouldn’t know where to start. Do you have any recommendations?”

“The lemon zest cupcakes are really popular. So are the red velvet and the coconut cloud. Oh, and the German chocolate.” You laughed sheepishly. “Honestly, they’re all really good.”

He laughed in response, a small dimple appearing in his cheek that only further endeared him to you. “Which one is your favorite?” he asked, his voice so earnest it made your chest ache.

You didn’t even have to think about it. “The funfetti,” you told him, indicating the vanilla cupcakes baked with rainbow chips and topped with swirls of vanilla frosting and an extra dash of sprinkles.

“I’ll take a dozen funfetti cupcakes then. And you can surprise me with the other dozen,” he grinned, making you smile.

“I hope you and everyone at the barbeque enjoys,” you said after you finished ringing him up, sliding the two boxes of cupcakes towards him.

“I’m sure we will. This place comes highly recommended,” he replied with a smile. “Are you Lexie, the owner?”

“No, no, I’m her cousin,” you explained, introducing yourself by name.

“I’m Robert Floyd,” he said, holding out his hand to you. “But everyone calls me Bob.”

“Very nice to meet you, Bob,” you beamed, sliding your hand into his and shaking firmly. His hand was large and warm and calloused and it felt like yours had been made to fit inside it.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he murmured softly, holding onto your hand for another second or two before slowly releasing it. He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m sure I’ll be back again soon.”

“We serve really good coffee,” you said suddenly, desperate to find a reason to get him to come back. “And we open really early. You know, if you want to get some on your way to work.”

Bob’s beautiful blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you.” He picked up his boxes of cupcakes and turned towards the door. Before he left, he shot you one last smile that melted your insides. “See you around.”

After that, Bob Floyd had found plenty of reasons to stop by the bakery. The following Monday, he’d stopped by in the morning to grab coffee for him and his friends on his way to work. That was when you’d learned that he was a naval aviator stationed at North Island.

“You were right about those funfetti cupcakes,” he told you, patting his stomach with a grin. “I think I ate about half the box before I thought to share them with anyone else.”

Your eyes crinkled and you felt your skin grow warm as you smiled in response. “Good, I’m so glad.”

You made sure to slip a cupcake in with all his coffee orders, a gesture which he didn’t fail to notice, judging from the extra large tip he left in the jar.

“See you soon,” he smiled, balancing all that coffee in his large hands as he backed out of the bakery.

From then on, he was there practically every day, stopping in for coffee or for some cupcakes after work. He often picked up things for other people—his friends or his neighbor who had recommended the bakery to him. But for himself, he always stuck with the funfetti cupcakes.

“I know I should branch out and try something new,” he told you one day through a mouthful of sprinkles. “But I can’t help it—these are just so good.”

It had taken nearly two weeks for Bob to work up the nerve to finally ask you if you might be interested in getting dinner with him sometime. You’d had to bite your tongue to keep from immediately screaming, “YES!” in his face,

The two of you spent your first date at a gorgeous little seafood restaurant right on the water, and then went for a long walk on the beach afterwards. It was truly the best date you’d ever been on. Bob was a perfect gentleman, attentively listening to everything you had to say and making you feel as though he actually cared about what was important to you. He’d even draped his jacket over your shoulders as you walked by the water, noticing the way you were shivering slightly in the dress you’d worn. You had been hoping he would kiss you at the end of the night, but like the gentleman that he was, he’d simply brushed your cheek with his lips, asking in a hushed voice if you’d like to see him again.

You wanted that very much.

On your second date, Bob took you mini golfing, something you’d told him that you hadn’t done since you were a little girl. You didn’t think you’d ever laughed so much as you did that night, no matter how terrible you turned out to be at miniature golf. Just like on your first date, Bob walked you to your door at the end of the night, his hand resting on the small of your back as you turned to look up at him, your eyes begging him to give you a proper kiss goodnight.

He had to duck his head slightly as he leaned in closer, a lock of his honey-colored hair draping across his forehead as his gaze latched onto yours, your breath mingling as the two of you inched closer and closer.

It was a soft kiss, sweet and chaste. His lips just barely brushed against yours, sending a shock of electric currents up and down your spine. When he pulled back, the both of you were flushed and stammering.

“C-can I call you tomorrow?” he asked, still so shy even after two dates.

“I hope you do,” you whispered with a smile, squeezing his hand before slipping through your front door.

Faithful to his word, Bob had called you the next day. The two of you were supposed to be going out again this weekend.

But that brought you back to your current dilemma—his birthday. You knew you were being stupid about this. Texting him for his birthday wasn’t tantamount to a marriage proposal. It wasn’t like you were trying to throw him a surprise party or invite yourself over for cake. It was a text message for crying out loud. And even though it had only come up once, he had told you when his birthday was. It wasn’t like you had gone to North Island and asked to see his personnel file.

The truth was, you were just terrified of screwing things up. You’d gone on plenty of dates with guys who had seemed really nice, who you had really thought were into you, only to be ghosted or flat-out rejected. Deep down inside, you knew that Bob was different from all those other guys, but still—the thought of sending him running made your stomach twist into knots.

“Babe, you know what I’m going to say,” Lexie murmured, your cousin’s voice pulling you out of all your convoluted thoughts. “If you never take a risk, then nothing’s ever going to change. I know you’re nervous, but just go for it. The worst that happens—seriously, the worst case scenario—is that he ghosts you. But you know what? If he does that, then he wasn’t worth your time anyway. And if he doesn’t? Well, maybe he’ll start to fall even harder for the gorgeous girl who remembered his birthday.” She grinned, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Ugh, why do you always have to be right?” you grinned ruefully, pulling back from your cousin’s embrace and fiddling nervously with the scrunchie on your wrist.

“It’s a gift,” she replied with a wink, turning to look over her shoulder when the bell over the front door chimed. “I’ve got it,” she told you, squeezing your arm before heading back out to the front.

That left you alone in the back kitchen, your phone burning a hole in your apron pocket and your heart hammering inside your chest.

“Okay, don’t be an idiot,” you murmured to yourself. As far as pep talks went, it was far from the most inspirational, but it did the job as you pulled your phone out. “It’s not too much too soon. It’s just a text,” you breathed out. “It’s just a text.”

Opening your messages, you found Bob’s name—he was right near the top after texting you just yesterday—and opened up your conversation thread, chewing on your bottom lip.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you tapped out a quick message that you hoped was short, sweet, and to the point and hit send.

Happy Birthday, Bob! I hope you have a wonderful day! 🥳🎉

You felt hot all over as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, your pulse stuttering in your veins as you wondered how long it would take him to see it. From what he had told you about his job, he often spent hours in the air each day, so chances were good he didn’t even have his phone on him right now.

You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and determined not to think about it. A task that was much easier said than done. But as you walked back out into the main part of the bakery, you found that a small crowd had formed, so you jumped into assisting your cousin behind the counter.

“Well?” Lexie asked under her breath as you helped her fill a couple boxes with a dozen cinnamon chip muffins.

“I sent it,” you murmured in reply, purposely avoiding her direct gaze. “But I haven’t heard anything back yet.”

As much as you had tried not to, you’d been compulsively checking your phone every five minutes.

Lex shrugged and waved it off. “It’s still early yet,” she said confidently, carrying the boxes over to the patiently waiting customer.

You threw yourself into various tasks around the bakery, anything that would keep your mind off your phone. You restocked the shelves in the display cases, organized the money in the cash register, wiped down the counters in the kitchen, scrubbed the baking pans, frosted cupcakes, replaced the coffee beans, and waited on any customers who walked in.

A couple of times, your phone buzzed in your pocket and your heart jumped into your throat, only to sink down to your stomach when you pulled it out and found that it was just an email notification or a text from your mom.

The longer you went without hearing from Bob, the harder you had to work to convince yourself that he wasn’t ignoring you.

No. He wasn’t ignoring you. Bob wasn’t like that. You were sure of it.

It was a little after noon, just when you’d taken a cup of coffee into the back for a short break, when you felt your phone buzz again, vibrating against your thigh through your apron. Swallowing nervously, you put your coffee down and reached into your pocket, a small gasp escaping you when you saw Bob’s name on the screen.

You could scarcely unlock your phone fast enough, opening up the text thread to read his reply.

Wow, you remembered! That means so much to me. Thank you! ☺️ Sorry it took me a little while to respond—we were doing some test flights, but I’m on my lunch break now and I’ll be on the ground for the rest of the day. How are you?

It took every ounce of self-restraint you had not to scream and jump up and down like a little girl. It felt like a boulder had been lifted off your shoulders. You hadn’t freaked him out! He hadn’t ghosted you! It was just like Lexie said—he was happy that you remembered.

Grinning like a fool, you leaned against the counter and typed out a response, not caring that your coffee was getting cold.

I’m doing great! Glad to hear you got some flying in on your special day ✈️ Doing anything to celebrate?

It was only after you had sent the message that you began to fret that it sounded like you were being nosy about his plans, or worse, trying to insert yourself into them.

But then Bob responded a minute later and put your worries to rest.

Nothing too fancy. My friends ordered lunch and got me a cake. They sang “Happy Birthday,” too, even though I begged them not to lol. I usually keep it pretty lowkey on my birthday.

You smiled as you wrote back, Was it a funfetti cake?

His next response came in no time at all, and it made your stomach flutter to imagine that he was focusing entirely on you and your conversation during his lunch break.

If only! It was really good, but I don’t think anything compares to those funfetti cupcakes 😋

At that moment, Lex walked into the back, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the huge smile plastered on your face. It felt like it was going to get permanently stuck there.

“Well, well, well,” she grinned, sidling up next to you. “Should I take that glowing smile to mean you finally heard back from your lieutenant?”

You ducked your head shyly, your cheeks growing warm. “He isn’t my lieutenant,” you insisted.

“Mhm, sure,” your cousin grinned, laughing loudly when you nudged her in the side. “So it worked out after all? He didn’t say you were a freaky stalker? I shouldn’t be expecting the police to burst down the door any minute?”

“Okay, okay,” you groaned, realizing how ridiculous you’d been behaving that morning. “You were right. It all worked out. He was very touched that I remembered his birthday,” you murmured, sheepishly scuffing your sneaker against the floor.

“I’ve gotta say it—told you so,” Lex smirked victoriously, wrapping her arms around you and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, feigning annoyance even as you grinned and returned your cousin’s hug. “You know, Bob was actually just texting me that his friends at work got him a cake, but that it just doesn’t compare to your funfetti cupcakes,” you told her with a proud smile.

“What can I say? They are pretty damn delicious,” she winked, her chest puffing up with pride. A sudden thought struck her as she looked at you. “Hey, what time does Bob get off from work?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Usually around six or seven, I think,” you told her, your brow wrinkling in confusion. “Why?”

“Hmm, perfect,” Lexie mused, tapping her chin as she glanced over her shoulder.

“What do you mean?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. Your older cousin was always plotting something.

“I mean that the bakery closes at five-thirty,” she said, as if you weren’t already well aware of that fact. When she realized that you weren’t exactly catching her drift, she went on, “Which means you could invite Bob over for a little after hours birthday treat if you’d like,” she grinned.

“Lex!” you gasped, scandalized.

Your cousin threw her head back laughing. “I didn’t mean that you should jump his bones in the middle of the bakery! I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t do that,” she chuckled teasingly. “I just meant you could surprise him with something sweet, on the house. Something we make here,” she added with a pointed look that made your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

“Oh,” you mumbled, nodding your head slowly. “Right. Of course.” You cleared your throat slightly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not! Anyone who makes my cousin this happy is welcome to free cupcakes anytime,” Lex said firmly, cupping your face in her hands and beaming at you.

“You’re the best,” you told her, throwing your arms around her and squeezing her in a tight hug. “I’ll text Bob now and see if he thinks he’ll be up for it.”

“If you’re the one asking, I’m sure he will be,” she winked, nudging you playfully before turning to go back to the front counter.

Once she was out of sight, you turned your attention back to your phone and bit your lip, trying to think of the best way to phrase what you wanted to ask him.

Speaking of funfetti cupcakes, any chance you’d want to swing by the bakery on your way home from work? We close at 5:30 today, but we make special after hours exceptions for our best customers 😉🧁

Was that stupid? That probably sounded stupid. Would he think that you were suggesting a quickie on the bakery floor the way you thought your cousin had been suggesting? Oh God, could you unsend that message before he got it?

I would love to! Is 6:45 too late?

This man didn’t cease to amaze you.

No, that’s perfect!

See you then ☺️

You tried your hardest to smother the smile that was threatening to completely overtake your face, but you couldn’t do it. This man gave you butterflies like you’d never experienced before in all your life, and the thought of getting to see him in just a few hours made you feel like you were going to burst from excitement and anticipation.

You didn’t even have to tell Lexie what Bob had said. The second she saw your face, she just smiled knowingly and told you, “I’ll be out of here by six.”

Time had never seemed to move so slowly as it did that day while you waited for closing time to finally come around. Lex observed your growing impatience with amusement, giving you as many odd jobs as she could to hopefully make the minutes go faster.

When the clock finally chimed five-thirty, you practically sprinted towards the door, locking it and flipping the closed sign around to ward off anyone who might have tried to stop by for a last minute treat.

“Good thing business is so good or I might get mad at you for scaring off customers,” Lexie teased.

True to her word, your cousin helped you clean up and then was heading out the door by six o’clock.

“Have so much fun,” she told you, blowing you a quick succession of air kisses. “And tell Bob happy birthday from me,” she added with a wink before slipping out the door.

With your cousin gone, that left you about forty-five minutes to finish getting ready before Bob arrived. You quickly set a playlist of classic 60s tunes to play softly through the speakers—you and Bob had discovered you had a similar taste in music about halfway through your first date—and then hurried into the bathroom to fix up your hair and apply a little bit of make-up. You usually didn’t bother with much when you were working, but you wanted to look nice for Bob.

Once you were done getting ready, you went into the back to get his little birthday treat set up—Lexie had made a fresh batch of funfetti cupcakes towards the end of the day just for the occasion. You had just finished placing one of the cupcakes on a small plate with a lace doily and inserting a candle into it when you heard a faint knock on the front door.

Your heart rate immediately began climbing as you ran your hands over the T-shirt and jeans you’d worn today, hoping you looked halfway presentable. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, you stepped out into the main part of the bakery and felt your legs instantly turn to Jell-O at the sight of Bob standing at the door, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. You’d only told him once in passing how much you loved them, and he had remembered.

Wow, that really did mean a lot.

“Hi,” you greeted him, standing in the open doorway and beaming up at him.

“Hi,” he echoed, that little dimple making an appearance as he smiled down at you. After a beat, he seemed to suddenly remember that he was holding the flowers in his hand. “Oh, these are for you,” he said, holding them out shyly.

“They’re beautiful, Bob,” you breathed out softly, accepting them with a smile and pressing them to your nose. “My favorite. You remembered.”

“Just like you remembered my birthday,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, but which you knew you felt just as much as he did.

The two of you stood there like that for a few moments, just gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling dreamily. Then you came to your senses.

“Come in, come in,” you told him, stepping out of the doorway so that he could enter and then closing the door behind him. “Gosh, these really are such beautiful flowers. That was so sweet of you. You didn’t have to get me anything. It is your birthday, after all,” you said, guiding him to a table in the center of the room.

“I wanted to,” Bob replied, taking a seat. He was still in his flight suit and he looked so handsome. “I’m happy that they made you smile.”

“It’s hard not to smile when I’m around you,” you told him, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could think twice about them. Your cheeks grew warm when you realized how vulnerable they were, and you buried your face in the bouquet once more.

Bob’s cheeks had grown rosy as well, and you noticed that his leg was bouncing nervously underneath the table. “I feel the same way,” he murmured softly.

You could have thrown your arms around him and kissed him right then and there, but then you recalled the actual reason why you had invited him over.

“I have a surprise for you,” you said suddenly, smiling brightly as you laid the bouquet of flowers down on the counter. “Wait right here and close your eyes,” you told him, waiting until he had done so before hurrying into the back and lighting the candle you’d tucked into his cupcake.

When you stepped back into the main room on quiet feet, you found that Bob was still patiently sitting with his eyes closed. Your heart swelled with deep affection—and was it possible something even deeper? You had never met anyone like him and you were certain you never would again.

It was at that moment that you realized “Be My Baby” by The Ronettes was currently playing through the speakers, as apropos a sign as you could imagine.

You cleared your throat slightly as you approached the table, the candle sparkling in front of your face as you brought it closer to the birthday boy.

“I know you said you weren’t a big fan of being serenaded with ‘Happy Birthday,’ so I’ll spare you my vocals,” you teased, setting the plate down in front of him. “But Happy Birthday, Bob.”

Opening his eyes, Bob glanced from your face down to the cupcake and then back up to you again. He seemed at a loss for words, his eyes growing wide behind his glasses.

“This is—this—thank you,” Bob finally said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

You smiled, sitting down beside him and gently resting your hand over his. “Blow out your candle before it melts into your cupcake,” you giggled.

He grinned at the sound of your laughter, leaning in closer to blow out the single candle, though he kept his eyes fixed on you the whole time.

“Lexie baked them fresh this afternoon. There’s a whole bunch more in the back that I’m going to be sending you home with,” you told him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his face lit up.

“What did I do to deserve all this? This is the best birthday present ever,” Bob chuckled, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing lightly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you murmured, glancing down at the table shyly. “The truth is, I was a little nervous to text you earlier.”

Bob looked surprised at your admission. “Why?” he asked, astonished.

You bit your lip and hesitated, but then decided to be honest. Like Lexie said, if you never took a risk, then you never got to see anything change. “I know this is going to sound so stupid, but I was worried you would think it was too much if I texted you for your birthday.”

“Too much?��� he repeated, his brow crinkling in obvious confusion.

“You know, just because you had only mentioned your birthday once. I thought maybe I would seem too desperate or clingy or something if I reached out. I thought it would freak you out,” you confessed. “I know that sounds pretty dumb when I say it out loud.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bob assured you, shaking his head slowly. “I know what you mean. To be honest, I think I’ve had that problem myself. Y’know, coming off too eager and scaring girls away,” he admitted, blushing as he ducked his head.

“Oh, Bob,” you murmured in understanding, lacing your fingers through his. With all the other things you two had in common, it shouldn’t have surprised you that a crappy dating history was something else you shared. “You could never scare me off,” you promised him.

Lifting his head, he smiled at you and reached out slowly, his fingertips stirring a few wisps of your hair as he brushed your cheek lightly. “And you could never freak me out. It meant so much to me that you remembered my birthday. It made my whole day, in fact. Even more than the funfetti cupcakes,” he said, his eyes crinkling. He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, then added softly, “I remember everything about you.”

“You do?” you whispered, feeling a sudden surge of emotion well up in your throat.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your favorite movies, the fact that you like tomatoes but hate ketchup, the way you throw your head back when you laugh really loudly. Your favorite flowers. I remember it all.”

“Bob,” you breathed out, the tears brimming in your eyes as your gaze dropped from his eyes down to his mouth.

You weren’t really sure who moved first, but soon enough, Bob was holding you in his arms, your lips pressed together in a kiss that was much less chaste than your first one, but just as sweet. Your arms snaked around his neck, one hand burying itself in his soft hair, the other resting on the nape of his neck. He let out a soft groan in response, one of his large hands resting on your hip and the other splaying across your back, holding you close.

It was a kiss that was so much like Bob himself—gentle, kind, tender, sweet, affectionate, attentive. He didn’t demand more than you were willing to give, he didn’t try to take anything from you. He just wanted to make you feel how much he cared about you, wanted to make you feel special and cherished. And he did. You hoped more than anything that you were doing the same for him.

Because the truth was that you were already falling for Bob Floyd, and falling hard.

When the two of you finally pulled back—a mutually hesitant parting borne solely of the need for oxygen—you smiled breathlessly, closing your eyes as Bob rested his forehead against yours.

“Okay, maybe that was the best birthday present ever,” he chuckled quietly, his lips brushing against your temple.

“I think so, too, and it’s not even my birthday,” you grinned, resting your head against his shoulder. “Are you going to have your cupcake?” you asked, glancing down at where it sat on the plate, still untouched.

“Mhm,” Bob nodded, wrapping an arm around you and brushing his fingers up and down your arm. “But there actually is something I’d like to ask you first,” he said, suddenly sounding nervous.

Lifting your head, you looked up at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly looked so flustered.

“Of course. What is it?” you questioned, resting a hand on his arm.

“Well, all of this has been amazing,” he began, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. You had noticed they had a tendency to slide down when he was particularly nervous. “But there actually is one more thing that I’d really like for my birthday this year.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “What is it?”

Bob swallowed deeply and then looked directly into your eyes. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your lips parted as a little gasp of delighted surprise escaped you. It may have been Bob’s birthday, but it felt like you were the one being showered with gifts today.

“Oh, Bob, yes! Yes!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around him and pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Yes?” Bob repeated between kisses, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” you told him seriously, cupping his cheek in your hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed out, the term of endearment falling easily off his tongue in that adorable midwestern accent of his. He pulled you into his arms once more and kissed you soundly.

You giggled softly as you reached for the funfetti cupcake and removed the candle, holding it up for him to take a bite. “Happy Birthday, Bob.”

[scooburst]

Scoosletter

Heya. No update.

Am I okay: ?????

Things that happened: real fun hockey :D

Log: I’ve decided I’ll do literally whatever I can to have some freedom. But that’s without giving in, because if I gave in, id probably completely go insane and die. For example, tonight I’ve snuck my guitar into my room to play it once it’s one am and everyone’s asleep. I’ve had my switch for a week now, done a great job hiding it. I’ve been on tumblr and discord when told not to because goddamnit I miss you guys. But it’s okay. I mean what’re they gonna do, ground me? I’m already pretty much grounded. They know if they fully take my phone, I will have an anxiety attack. Not about the phone, about not having music to help me. Music is so amazing. Music is why I’m alive tbh. Not Christmas music. I hate Christmas music. Not all big on Christmas. Like I don’t mind it. It’s a fun day. It used to be. But last Christmas- I GAVE YOU MY HEARt, BUT THE VERY NEXT DAY, YOU GAVE IT AWAY- there was a huge argument and my family still is so split. I hate being in this family. There’s so much drama. I just wanna see my grandparents and my cousins. I don’t care about the drama. My friends family isn’t like that. I was so fucking happy when they agreed j was an honorary member of their family. I love them so much. I know my friend still has sadness and pain but I still want to be in their family so much more. I don’t care how big your holiday gatherings are because I don’t even know if I’ll get to stay for all of mine. Who knows when it might explode and my mom takes me storming out. Who knows if I have to open the presents at home and only be allowed to send a thank you text. I’m the vessel sending out the happy birthdays because of this shit. So yeah parents if you’ve got family drama fucking cope. Let your kid be free.

Idk. Judd a ramble.

Lyric: your gonna wish you believed me, god I wish I was happy, the fraying threads of recovery, crushing me from above and underneath, your gonna wish you believed me

- Cavetown, Ur Gonna Wish You Believed Me

Tags: @honey-bell-aint-well @skelpiescool @doubladescimitar @mydysfunctionallife

You know the drill. Wanna be tagged? Lmk

[sadfragilegirl]

A Valentine Birthday

For @mysticstarlightduck for @writeblrcafe Secret Valentine's Day Event. And yes, I'm your Secret Valentine. I hope Valentine's Day will be full of love for your family and friends.

This is also dedicated to those birthday celebrants who were born on Valentine's Day as well.

And lastly, one last thing: Happy Birthday to Jaehyun of the Kpop boy group NCT, who was born on Valentine's Day as well. Happy Birthday to our NCTzen's (offical fanclub name) Valentine Boy. ❤️

With love,

Queennie (@/sadfragilegirl)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I was born on Valentine's Day.

It's seriously true!

I was definitely born on the same date as Valentine's Day. Which means, I am going to celebrate 2 events in one day. It is such a rare thing when someone celebrate between a birthday and general holiday in one day, which is really cool.

Every year, I wore my very best clothes by the time the event is finally today and decorate the whole house filled with both Valentine's Day and Birthday themed decorations.

My mom is baking Valentine's Day cookies and a birthday cake. Every year of my birthday and Valentine's Day, she came up with new ideas on making new desserts. From chocolate truffles to black forest cake. From candy heart chocolate bark to red velvet cheesecake.

While my dad is cutting fresh flowers, including roses in pink and red to put it on a flower vase. Just like my mom, he also came up with new ideas to decorate the whole garden. From flower arrangements to bush sculptures. My dad also has a fruit and vegetable garden as well to make delicious party food.

My siblings? They are in charge of making Valentine themed arts and crafts. And every year of my birthday, they send me a wonderful and creative homemade birthday and Valentine's Day card.

And my friends, my cousins and my relatives from far away? They greeted me a "Happy Birthday and Happy Valentines Day" from text messages and E-Cards received by an Email. They sometimes send me physical cards too because I really missed the handwritten letters just like the old times.

I heard a knocking sound of the door. As I approached the door and opened it, it's my love of my life, which we've been in a relationship for a very long time, came for a visit.

"Happy Valentine's Day, honey", She sweetly said as she received a box of chocolates and a bouquet of different kinds of flowers.

"Thank you very much", I replied.

"But also..." She said when she showed me her homemade heart shaped strawberry cake, "Happy Birthday!"

"Wow, you made this cake for me? How thoughtful of you", I exclaimed with flustering cheeks glowing. How can my love of my life baked this cake so amazingly beautiful? Must be her hands that is full of work of art of a masterpiece.

Once my family and my love of my life are finally gathered at the dining table, we gave each other a toast and sang a Happy Birthday song to me. I even make a wish on those two Valentine's Day plus birthday cakes from a candle.

We also happily ate and chat together with all the food that my mom and my dad prepared.

When it's finally time to have my own moment, I clapped my hands as a call to pause for a while to my family.

"Mom, dad...And all of my siblings...I would like to make a big announcement to all of you."

"What is it, dear?" My mom asked.

"What kind of big announcement?" My dad asked curiously.

I turned to my love of my life and commanded, "Please place my hand onto yours."

And my love of my life ordered to do it with a gleam of a smile.

I pulled a small box from the pocket of my pants and said....

"All those long years we're been together, it's time to go to the road to forever."

I opened the box that inside is an engagement ring.

"Will you be my forever love of my life from eternity? For better and for worse? From achivements and downfalls? In sickness and in health? Till death to us part?"

My love of my life was surprised with tears brimming into her eyes and said, "Yes! Yes I will, my forever love!"

My entire family not only cheered but also cried because how my life has grown so fast after that announcements that I was going to get married with my love of my life after years we're been into a relationship for long years.

We embraced each other after I placed the engagement ring into her ring finger.

"Oh, sweetheart!" She exclaimed in tears of joy. "This is the best Valentine's Day gift ever!"

And with that, this is one of the best memories during the celebration of Valentine's Day and my birthday.

Valentine's Day and Birthday isn't about the gifts, flowers and chocolates, but also it is the time that to spread love and happiness to the people that I loved most in the whole wide world.

[thoselethalarts]

𝓚𝓪𝔃𝓾𝓸 𝓖𝓾𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓻𝓸 - 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂

(SSR) Birthday Suit Up (Part 3): “Happy Birthday!”

(Savanaclaw Dorm: Birthday Venue)

“Tell us a bit about your family.”

Kazuo: Oh, sure thing! Kazuo: Let’s see… my immediate family is just me, my mom, and my dad. I have grandparents on both side of the family, too, but we don’t live with either of them. Kazuo: My dad really wanted me to have siblings to grow up with when I was born, but my mom wasn’t having any of it. “One and done,” she says, “I don’t have the time to be taking care of any more than that.” Kazuo: I still think my dad wished I could have had a sibling to grow up with, but I had my cousins to grow up with too so I wasn’t ever really alone! Kazuo: My dad’s side of the family is really big, so I’ve got lots of cousins that I got to hang out with. They were basically like siblings to me. Kazuo: Some of my cousins actually lived next door to us when I was growing up, too, so they were more than a good enough replacement for siblings in my opinion.

Kazuo: Both of my parents work, and I used to walk home from school but I didn’t have a key to our front door yet, so when I got home I’d go next door and hang out with my cousins for a bit until they came home. Kazuo: One of them, my older cousin Joey, he’s the one that introduced me to a lot of video games that I still really like now. Like Dragon Quest, Final Fantasy, Kingdom Hearts… oh, and Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance, too! Kazuo: We don’t hang out a lot like we used to since we both work now, but I’m thankful I had him there for me when I was younger~

“You, Marcus, and Matt are all from the same hometown too, is that right?”

Kazuo: Oh yeah! We go back quite a ways~ Kazuo: We went to the same school together ages ago, but I didn’t really know them back then. We just happened to be in different friend groups and didn’t meet until our college years. Kazuo: The person I knew the best until then was a girl named Katia. Kazuo: She’s- uh… an old friend of mine. Kind of. Well, not really “kind of”, she was really my only friend for most of my elementary and high school years. Kazuo: Outside of my cousins I didn’t really have a lot of friends when I was younger. Everybody thought I was some freaky weirdo cuz I can see ghosts and they can’t. Kazuo: People would either think I was making things up because I was trying to scare them, or just because I was crazy. But she believed me. She was the only person that did. Kazuo: She said she could see them too, so we kinda bonded over that. Though, looking back, I’m not entirely sure if she was telling the truth about that or if she just made that up to make me feel better. Kazuo: We used to text every day, and we’d play games together and watch TV shows and movies together… it was nice. We were really good friends for, like, 11 years. Kazuo: We’re not really friends anymore though. Things kinda fell apart between us, to say the least. That I’d rather not get too much into.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Kazuo: Yeah… but it’s okay. I’m okay. And anyway, that doesn’t matter anymore cuz now I have new friends! Kazuo: Friends like Marcus, Matt, Aiden, and Annie… but also Xiang and Zachary! Now I’ve got way more friends than I know what to do with~ People that understand me, and actually care about me and my well-being. Kazuo: I’m really glad to have met them when I did. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, all thanks to them~

“Thank you for telling us your stories. Happy birthday again!”

/ End.

[grimfeywizard]

I just received the most well intentioned yet offensive text from my grandma: "it's [cousin's] bday! Wish him happy birthday and I'll send you money"

Ex fucking scuse me??

Do you think you can *buy* me?

I've stopped any direct communication with this guy 6 years ago for a reason! And it's not my fault he has no friends - he's 24 YEARS OLD FFS he's not a child to cater to

This fucking family istg

[musicismymoirail]

warnings: talks about family death and grief. just needed to get some thoughts out.

When my dad passed away, everyone gave me advice about grief and pain. About how it would hurt, and it'd keep hurting long after you’d think it would end. How it’ll ease up and then blindside you on some random Tuesday just because. And that was okay. It happens to everyone, and it’s okay to feel grief.

Except it doesn’t happen to everyone. It didn’t for me.

We had a complicated relationship. One of love. One of neglect. One of trauma. He never got over his demons and I’ve always accepted he was a well-meaning but deeply flawed man.

His funeral was sad, but not heart-breaking like people told me it would be. We made jokes and ate pizza outside of the funeral home. I sang Avocado, Baby off-key on the steps in between bites. Lots of people came, and it was nice to see.

The first year, all the holidays he loved and hated, I felt nothing too heavy. Life moved on and no heart-ending grief ever hit me the some way it hit everyone else every so often.

Years later, I only ever remember the anniversary of his death because my cousins still text me well wishes, and I feel like a dick and an awful child for forgetting. It should be important, engraved in my thoughts forever, but October is still the month our dog Duncan died in first in my mind, not the month my dad died.

Grief and pain skipped me, it feels, and I wonder why when people still give me advice and well-wishes, so many years later.

The one exception is my birthday, and barely that. It’s the first hour of my birthday. Because I always remember he’d try so hard to be the first one to text me happy birthday, being so so proud and bragging that he was first.

He never was, mind you. Wrae Ann typically won that race.

But I liked those messages. It was silly but sweet he’d wait up until midnight to 1am to text me. To be first. And still failing. Typical Joe.

And now, my first hour of birthday is only time I feel a bit sad. A bit sorrowful. Not soul-crushingly so, just sad enough to notice.

That sometimes I do miss my dad a bit.

It’ll be gone tomorrow when I wake up though, and I’ll once again feel sad than I don’t feel sadder too.

Grief is weird, and performative grief even more so.

[pinklily7749]

A day in the life (Jan 2023)

I had texted him to wish him a happy birthday and asked him if he had big plans. Instead he asked if I was doing anything Friday night. I told him I was going to buy ingredients for the hot pot and bao buns that I'd make for my cousins and sister on the weekend. I told him I can get the ingredients at lunch or the morning after so we agreed to meet on Friday night. There's always strange butterflies in my stomach every time we agree to plans.

I was ecstatic to finish work to go and see him. It feels different meeting him on a Friday rather during the week because it feels less rushed. We can  also ease into the weekend. It's nice to feel this kind of excitement over a man. I have now officially lost count of how many times we have met like this.

I love getting ready and making myself nice and deciding on an outfit. This sounds like I'm about to go on a date but I'm not even sure if I'm dating right now. What is dating in this decade?

It was a sunny day so it was a nice drive to his place. I love his area because it is by the seaside but may also be just biased because he is there. It took me through the city that day which was strange so I had to do a hook turn. I was eager to meet him.

When I buzz into his intercom and he answers and I love hearing his voice. He welcomed me into his apartment and often always ask if I'm hungry. I like how he always asks how I am! We went downstairs and ordered a pizza and he ran to a nearby wine store to get us a bottle of wine. It's nice being around him and sometimes I sneak a look at him and notice how good looking he is. It is like that crush feeling and I cannot stop this feeling.

We played a few rounds of Pandemic and the wine had definitely given me some giggles along the way. At one point he had reached over and tenderly held my face. It is these quiet moments that I remember more than anything else. We played the first game wrong so we played a few more rounds. It didn't matter because we were spending time together. Somehow I was nervous to look at him. I don't knew why I was feeling this way when I had been in his presence so many times before that? I guess he is a lot older which makes me extra extra nervous.

We ended up cuddling on the couch and I stayed over again.

I had to wake up early to go clean my house to prepare it to have people over but otherwise it would've been nice to eat breakfast together with him.

As much I want to downplay how meeting up, he gives me feelings and affections that I have never experienced before. I never knew these feelings and affections had been missing from my life. I don't know if I'm on the right path but I know for certain that this is the current path that I want. Life is what happens in the middle they say? Or was it life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

And just like that, I noticed I've just written a post living in the present moment with a man without bringing up the past. Maybe I'm recovering?

[ourceliumnetwork]

So.

So...

Either my dad finally really read the last thing I sent along, or he and mom are pissy because I'm only cutting off contact with the pair of them, and not my little sister. Regardless I finally have lost access to the old email address(es) as well as the family spotify subscription and I'm going to go ahead and assume the netflix access is gone as well. It only took him...2.5 weeks. Huh. Consistent.

Other than the consistent timing between when I state a boundary and when they test the boundary, the timing is....conspicuously suspicious.

You see, today is my little sister's birthday. And I sent her a happy birthday message. I have not sent any relevant messages to other family members yet this year, except for her and our cousin who shares the birthday, because i'm consistently bad at remembering birthdays except for like. a few. I'm doing steps to remember better but I'm just bad at it. I accidentally missed my aunt's birthday, but i deliberately skipped my mom's, and I wasn't going to do anything for dad's. I also hadn't done an iota for mother *or* father's day.

So maybe it was a little petty and strategic on my part to wish my sister Happy Birthday - but I sent it via normal text message. I had no reason to believe it would get back to my parents that I'd done it. And I doubt she realized that letting them know I was still in contact with *her* would piss them off enough to start the chain of removing me from the group family stuff. Like the email server.

The last time the two of them "checked" my boundary to make sure it was solid, I'd just unfriended them both on Facebook - not even blocking yet, just unfriending, and then all of the sudden messages from them very shortly thereafter. About 6 hours, actually.

Which is about how long it was between my sister acknowledging my message to her and when I started seeing my access getting removed from stuff.

Their patterns of behavior are unbelievably consistent, and frankly i'd be impressed if it wasn't always to my detriment.

Idk, I'm...hurt? I'm hurt. I mean I expected this to happen, which is why I spent a whole day going through all of my emails and accounts to double check what was assigned to which email address and changing it all as best I could. There were a couple things I couldn't figure out how to swap but like. At this point, there are other ways to get into contact with me, and frankly I just...can't care? not about that anyway.

It's more like...if this is what you were going to do, why didn't you do it right after I told you to fuck off? Why wait around? it's been posited that they likely thought they were holding some sort of power over me by being able to remove my access to those things but like...i already had alternatives? I already planned for this. I am 30 years old, and have access to all my own shit now (or access to other peoples' shit that they're willing to share with me), i don't actually like...need their help with those things?

Besides the fact that if I needed Help I would wait until the very last possible minute to ask for that help, because no one fucking helped me when i would ask before.

I don't know. I forgot I was doing this and stepped away and also started working on my resume so i can pay the like. 2 bills i have and get gas and maybe be able to buy myself nice things? idk.

i'm mad. i'm sad. i'm smad. i'm done. idk.

[ghoststarrr]

i MISS when we were just friends who just met, i would do anything and i mean ANYTHING to go back to that. we just met the other week, we exchanged our numbers not that long after and we texted every chance we got. he was the funniest guy ive met and even though ive known him for less than a month he was my favorite, he would always tell me about his crush and ask for advice knowing them, but would never tell me who they were (the crush was me and i knew all along). he would always get me gifts and talk to me whenever he could, he told me about everything.

it was my cousins birthday party and i was texting him, he asked me about his crush and i told him to ask them the first chance he got (which i regret since i now wish this lasted longer). he asked me out that night and asked me to be his girlfriend, and we were both so excited and happy.

i just want to know what i couldve done differently ? what couldve changed the outcome ? why did it end ? its driving me insane. you are such a confusing guy honestly, why are you so comfortable touching me like that but you get so nervous when i do the same ? why do you do everything you do ? god i just want you to tell me.

i wish that phase lasted longer. where we both knew we liked each other but were too scared to say anything and stayed friends, the constant flirting and mutual puppy love, the pretending to be oblivious about who his crush was, everyone except us realizing we both wanted to be together. all of that up until before our breakup, i want to go back to that.

[fireya-x]

family dinner

AO3 Link (for the full tag list) || masterlist

John Price x Reader

John asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for one night, to save himself from annoying questions from his family. Turns out, you're actually who he really wants.

[9k+ words]

cw: smut, piv sex, cowgirl, handjobs, come eating

Embossed golden script on cream white card paper - it was an invitation to his grandmothers' birthday party, alright. A subtle attempt at elegance from a woman who thought tea and a tin of biscuits solved most problems. John sighed.

He already knew the drill; his mother, every aunt and uncle, cousins and second cousins twice removed would be there, armed to the teeth with baby pictures and probing questions to make him wish he’d stayed in another country in some godforsaken warzone.

The phone ringing cut through John’s meager dinner of takeout curry, one of his favorites, when he was back in his flat for a short time leave. He picked it up and answered before checking, as he usually did, expecting it to be Laswell – but that voice wasn't Kate.

“Jonathan, my dear boy, did you receive the invitation?” His grandmother’s voice was a robust cackle for her age, a force of nature that kept her so fit at ninety.

“Just held it in my hands seconds ago, Nan.” 

“Ninety years young, can you believe it?”

“Never a dull moment,” he answered, picking at the takeaway container lid.

She laughed lightly, then cleared her throat. “Listen, dear. The caterer is extra fussy. Your opinion is special to me, you know that. It’s not like I get to plan this every day”

Here it comes.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m asking you what you want, John. I have everything else planned.” Of course she did. 

“It’s your birthday, Nan. I’ll eat anything,” he sighed. “Toffee pudding can’t be missing from any birthday, though.”

“Of course, that’s a must! Especially with you visiting! You’ve always loved it as a little boy. Now tell me, is your girl more a partial to fish or chicken?”

The fork clattered onto the styrofoam. John almost choked.

“You’ll be bringing someone, aren’t you?”

He should have said no. He should have clarified, for the thousandth time, that his occupation left no room for romantic walks on the beach and candlelit dinners. Maintaining relationships wasn’t something John did, especially when his job included more explosions than birthday candles on her birthday cake. And apparently, eliminating terrorists and global threats was not a suitable substitute for great-grandchildren.

But there was something in her voice. Hope? Excitement to finally see her grandson with a woman at his side? It was her 90th birthday, after all. Who knew how long John would have her still? Seeing him happy was the greatest gift he could give her, and he knew that.

John sighed. “Yes, I will bring someone.”

That she didn't squeal was unexpected, but he knew his mother was right there with her, listening to everything.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do? Try Tinder, maybe? How hard could it be to find a woman who’d go on a date with him? But John hated every single aspect of using his phone for anything other than texting and calling — and he gave up when the app asked him too many questions about himself.

That’s when he heard footsteps outside his apartment. He remembered that beautiful, chatty neighbor of his. You'd watched his flat and watered his plants a few times when he was deployed. You’d only met briefly, but given John’s sparsely decorated way of living, he wasn’t worried you would steal anything. But his grandmother's plants were something holy to him, and you kept them alive, and that made you a trustworthy person in his book.

And he would be lying if he didn't admit he'd stolen a glance at you here and there, always hidden in a hoodie or a way-too-big raincoat that obscured your figure, and something about it intrigued him.

Before his brain could even process what his feet were doing, he stumbled to the front door and opened it, revealing you, arms full of groceries, struggling to get the key into the door.

“Need help with that?” A low, grumbling voice startled you, and you almost dropped the bag full of fruits and veggies.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

John chuckled, then took the bag from you as if it was something he'd casually do all the time. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, putting the key in the lock. You took the bag from him and wanted to escape this awkward situation with your way-too-good-looking neighbor as fast as possible. But before you could close the door, he intervened.

“Hey, uh, I have a question.” John’s hand ran through his hair, a nervous gesture that betrayed his usual confidence.

“Yes?”

“I – I kinda promised my grandma that I’d bring a girlfriend to her 90th birthday party, and, well –”

“You don’t have one?” The question came out sounding more shocked than you intended. You were certain he had women lining up for him.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I don’t.” His gaze dropped to the floor for a fleeting moment, as if suddenly embarrassed by the admission. You tilted your head, looking at him expectantly.

“So, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend? What’s in it for me?”

“Free fancy food?” He smiled crookedly, and you were done for. How could you say no to that smile? The same smile that had been haunting your thoughts ever since he’d given you his keys to his apartment? Your heart was pounding.

“It’s a date,” you said, the words slipping out before you could overthink it. The relief that flooded his eyes made something inside you flutter.

“Thank you, I owe you one. Six p.m. on Friday, alright?”

“What should I wear?”

John wasn’t prepared for that question. And he didn’t mean to check you out – but he did. His eyes wandered from your boots, over your hips, up to your breasts – where his gaze lingered a second too long— and then to your face.

“It’s a garden dinner. I’m sure you’ll look nice in anything,” he said, the words feeling ridiculously inadequate the moment they left his lips.

“Very helpful, thanks.” He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, but you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’ll figure it out. Have a nice evening.”

You retreated to your apartment, leaning back against the closed door, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your heart was still pounding. Did John, your neighbor, ask you out? The same John who seemed so unapproachable, wrapped in that aura of intensity he always wore, who disappeared for weeks on end to go on “business trips” and returned with a deep shadow under those blue eyes? 

What did he even do when he disappeared? You'd never asked. Even when he'd given you his keys so you could look after his flat while he was gone, there was nothing that gave away what exactly he did or where he went.

The small conversations you’d shared had always been just that— small nothings, polite exchanges with your friendly neighbor. Still, those infrequent encounters always sent your stomach into a nervous frenzy. 

You rummaged through your closet, trying to find something that screamed “I'm a cool, collected woman who casually dates mysteriously handsome men ” without looking like you’d overdone it. A garden party could literally mean anything, especially since you knew nothing about his family. Were you supposed to pick a nice, flowing dress or stick with casual jeans and a shirt? You had no idea.

You stopped your mind from spiralling further. It wasn’t a real date. It was a fake date . 

What were you thinking, agreeing to this? You were doubting your own sanity — but then you remembered the crinkled corners of his eyes when he smiled, the warmth that radiated from him when he’d helped you with your groceries – saying “no” to him wasn’t even an option. There was something about him that drew you in, a gravitational pull you couldn’t resist, even if it meant playing pretend.

The sundress you wore – he couldn’t even pinpoint the colour, something soft and warm, summery, like the sky just before dusk – hugged your curves in all the right ways, the delicate straps showcasing the elegant line of your neck and collarbone. His gaze traced the gentle swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric, the way the skirt flowed over your hips, his mind already picturing how it would look bunched up around your waist when –

Fuck.

A wave of heat - he knew it so well, yet hadn’t felt it in what seemed like forever - crashed over him, settled deep in his gut, tightening his muscles, making his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably, desperately hoping you hadn’t noticed the way his pants suddenly felt about two sizes too small.

He’d usually never been one for flowery dresses and delicate gold jewellery like the earrings that decorated your ears. They clashed with the brutal reality of his world. But on you, it was devastating. You were an innocent, oblivious creature walking straight into his hardened, cynical world without even knowing it. And somehow, against all logic and years of self-preservation, he wanted to corrupt every part of you.

His gaze snapped to the flesh of your delicate thighs that left little to his imagination, those toned legs wrapped around his waist while he pulled you closer and –

Jesus fucking Christ, get a grip.

He forced himself to look away, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he’d pull a muscle.

This was his neighbour. You , who’d watered his plants, borrowed his toolbox, offered a smile whenever you met in the hallway. The one who’d agreed to this incredibly stupid idea. You were doing him a favour, for God’s sake.

“Ready?” He shoved the word out harsher than he’d intended, the sound completely alien to even his own ears. But before you could answer, he shut his door and ushered you towards the exit. He needed air. He’d preferred an ice bath, preferably yesterday.

You didn’t mind adapting to roles and play pretend at all, but as soon as you arrived at the estate, your confidence got humbled. The house was huge, and the driveway alone was already filled with floral arrangements and all sorts of birthday wishes – an enormous ninety made out of entirely blush pink roses and lavender decorated the front yard.

The garden party was in full swing already when you two arrived. The air buzzed with the sound of laughter and chatter, clinking glasses and the distant beat of a live band. John seemed oddly out of place in between the flowers and the brightly dressed guests, like a lone wolf who had been dragged to a tea party.

But as soon as you stepped further into the event, the warm air surrounding you, the scent of freshly cut grass and citrus, the smiling faces all around you, your anxiety about the whole thing lessened. 

“Don’t worry too much," John's arm brushed against yours as you navigated through the clusters of guests. He reached out to grab two drinks from a passing waiter’s tray. “The worst they could do is show you my childhood photos.”

He offered you a drink, and you took it from him, smiling. “Somehow, that’s not as reassuring as you think it is.” You earned yourself a deep chuckle that rumbled through his chest and did decidedly inappropriate things to your equilibrium.

When John took your free hand into his like it was the most normal thing in the world, you felt like this was going to be the easiest task. For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget you were living a lie.

Until dinner.

The seating arrangements were strategically orchestrated, it seemed, to maximize family bonding - or torture, you hadn’t decided which. You found yourself sitting between John, radiating a mix of polite restraint and his usual natural intensity that set your pulse racing, and a woman with the same kind eyes as him.

“This is my mother, Eleanor,” John had introduced her earlier, her smile so warm and welcoming you’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be playing a role. She seemed almost too impressed when you'd introduced yourself, as if she couldn't quite believe he was telling the truth about having a girlfriend. 

You'd prove them wrong, not for their sake, but for your own growing satisfaction at seeing John surprised.

You were no stranger to the barrage of questions about your single status and lack of a partner from your own family, so you knew how tiresome it could get. You braced yourself for a similar interrogation.

Across the table, John's grandma beamed at you with a delight that melted your heart. You understood then what this was all about for him — fulfilling his grandmother's wish to see him happy, settled.

On impulse, you reached out to grab John’s hand beside yours, your fingers threading through his, offering him a reassuring smile, pretending to bring out your best I-am-so-in-love look you could muster. 

He seemed taken aback, his entire body stiffening for a split second as if your touch were an electric shock. But then he recovered quickly, his fingers tightening around yours with a gentle pressure that sent goosebumps dancing up your arm. He raised your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your knuckles that lingered a heartbeat too long.

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze fixated on the curve of his lips, the way his beard scraped against your skin. Your stomach did a somersault, your senses flooded with a rush of longing that was as unexpected as it was undeniably thrilling.

“So,” John's aunt leaned across the table, her voice a bit too loud, as if intended to break the spell you’d fallen under. “What do you do?”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented, your gaze reluctantly leaving John’s hand and focusing on the plate of food a server had just placed before you. Shepherd's pie. But not just any shepherd’s pie. This looked like a culinary masterpiece compared to the frozen meals you were used to eating all the time.

“I work in healthcare,” you answered, your mouth already watering at the sight of the culinary heaven before you. “I’m an ER nurse.”

“Oh, wow,” his grandma chirped from across the table, her eyes twinkling with genuine interest. Her comment, however, was quickly drowned out by his aunt's next, slightly more probing, question.

“I'm amazed you two met with such busy schedules. To be fair,” she added with a sly smile directed at John, “I'm shocked Jonathan managed to find someone at all with his occupation .”

Your fork, laden with a generous portion of creamy mashed potatoes and perfectly seasoned mince, froze halfway to your mouth. Your earlier questions about the nature of John’s job came rushing back. What exactly did he do? You knew he was often away for extended periods, you even kept his plants from dying a slow death from time to time, but his reasons had always been vague. “Business trips,” he’d called them, with a shrug and that infuriatingly handsome smile.

“Right,” you managed, forcing a light laugh as you carefully set your fork back down, your appetite momentarily forgotten. “We make it work. We talk a lot on the phone."

“You do?” His mother, ever the perceptive one, turned to John, her brows raised in what you could only describe as disbelief. “How come you always tell us you can’t contact us?”

John cleared his throat and his hand reached for his beer, his fingers wrapping around the cold glass. “Kate makes some exceptions,” he explained, his gaze fixed on the drink.

Kate? Your mind scrambled for context, your internal “John’s-Life” file coming up short. “Kate” let him make exceptions? Who was Kate, and more importantly, what kind of job required someone to ask permission to make personal phone calls? And why did you feel jealous - you had absolutely no business to feel this way. 

“Who’s Kate?” You asked, reaching for your champagne flute, unable to hide the accusatory edge creeping into your voice.

“My boss . Sort of.” The golden liquid got caught halfway in your throat. First name basis with his boss? His family knew his boss? So many questions came up, and you were slowly starting to panic. You were supposed to be a believable girlfriend, but you were scared the mask was slipping away by the second. 

“Oh, right, Kate. Sorry, darling. You know how my weeks have been lately. It's a wonder I can remember my own name half the time.”

“She must be happy for you, too,” his mother commented, delicately spearing a piece of fish with a precision that made you suspect years of etiquette training lay beneath her impeccably polite facade. “Finding someone special, I mean. Might even spare her some of your, shall we say, moods .” She glanced at John, her eyebrows arched as if she was sharing a private joke with the entire table, except you.

Moods? You’d always found John to be quiet, reserved, perhaps a tad intimidating at times, but never moody. 

You glanced at John, who was pointedly studying his plate, the faintest hint of a flush creeping up his neck. You wouldn't have thought the man capable of embarrassment. It made him seem unexpectedly human, and somehow even more attractive.

You were about to ask for clarification when Nan seized the conversational reins. “So, darlings,” she asked, her gaze moving back and forth between you and John, her smile widening expectantly, “How long have you two known each other?”

“I think six months?” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips.

At the exact same moment, John declared, “Almost a year now,” his voice deep and steady, completely contradicting your rushed estimation.

You froze. The silence that descended upon the table was deafening. 

“Has it already been that long?” you exclaimed quickly, forcing a bright smile and injecting as much wonder and mock surprise into your voice as you could muster. You prayed that your sudden rush of amnesia would be enough to distract them from the giant, elephant-sized hole you’d just blown in your story. You reached over to slightly squeeze his hand. “I suppose time flies when you’re in love.”

You snuck a peek at John, expecting to see panic, maybe even annoyance, but what you found in his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He was watching you intensely. And that smile playing at the corner of his lips? It made something dangerous and delicious twist low in your belly.

“I believe that,” John’s grandma chimed in, her voice warm with the wisdom of nine decades lived. “You two are very lovely together.”

Eleanor nodded in agreement. “She’s good for you, Jonathan. Maybe having someone special to come home to will make those long missions away a little easier.”

"Speaking of which, how’s that new posting treating you, lad? Heard it’s a bit of a hot zone, eh?” John's uncle boomed across the table.

“It has its challenges,” John replied, taking a long sip of his beer as if to fortify himself for the inevitable round of inquiries. “But it’s good to be back in the field.”

You frowned. Field? Posting? What kind of job involved working in a “field”? And what exactly made it a “hot zone?” You felt more and more confused by the conversation, it was as if they spoke an entirely different language, a language riddled with code words and shared experiences you weren’t privy to.

“That I believe,” his uncle answered, also reaching for his beer as if to toast to a shared understanding. “Bet your rank will get you far, though.”

You felt John tense beside you, his hand tightening around yours, not letting go. His family's casual acceptance of his frequent — and apparently lengthy — disappearances made you increasingly curious. You knew by now he often travelled for work, but something about the way they spoke, the underlying thread of concern laced with pride, hinted at a world you were only just starting to glimpse.

“I imagine those long stretches apart must be difficult, darling,” John's aunt commented, her gaze fixed on you with a sympathy that only deepened your bewilderment. “But I’m sure you’re used to it by now, working in a hospital and all. Those long shifts must be a challenge, too.”

You smiled, still confused about what was going on—but you also saw an opportunity. It was time to take control of the narrative, to steer this conversation into a territory you could navigate — even if it meant bending the truth further than it had already been twisted.

“Speaking of long stretches,” you interjected, shooting John a look that was equal parts challenge and playful invitation. You’d gone from wanting to bolt to wanting to play this game, see how far you could push him, how convincingly you could both lie. “Remember that road trip we took last fall? The one where we got hopelessly lost in the Scottish Highlands and ended up sleeping in the car?”

As you spoke, you noticed that everyone else at the table had dived into their food, the initial round of introductions and polite inquiries fading into a comfortable murmur of conversation. Nan beamed at you both, her fork hovering over a generous slice of shepherd’s pie, her eyes twinkling with the quiet pleasure of seeing her grandson – even a pretend version of him – happy.

Beside you, John stiffened, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of surprise and what you could only interpret as wary amusement. “Ah, yes,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, like velvet draped over steel. “Scotland. Beautiful, isn’t it, love?”

“Beautiful?” you countered, tilting your head and letting out a soft laugh that you were fairly certain sounded far more genuine than it should have. You couldn’t help but admire his quick thinking, the way he effortlessly picked up on your cue and played along. “Those winding Highland roads. They were more treacherous than romantic, if I’m being honest. I was certain you were going to drive us straight off a cliff at least a dozen times.”

His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth that made something deep inside you melt a little. “I assure you, love, my driving is impeccable. You were simply distracted.” His gaze lingered on your face for a beat too long.

A delicious warmth flooded your cheeks. “Distracted? I seem to recall you being the one with wandering eyes," you countered, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you met his gaze head-on. You weren’t sure if the heightened awareness you felt buzzing between you was a product of the lies you were weaving or something more.

“That’s because you are quite the sight to behold, love,” he said, his voice husky, the words brushing against your senses like a caress.

You stared at him, your mind scrambling to process his words, their unexpected sincerity throwing you off balance. Had he just complemented you?

“You are—” He paused, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering on your chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. You held your breath, waiting, as the air thrummed with a sudden, unexpected intimacy.

“Breathtaking.”

What was he doing? you thought, your heart pounding. Was he still playing the part, or was there something more simmering beneath the surface? And why did the possibility excite you?

The air thickened, the sound of his family’s conversation fading into the background as the world seemed to shrink, the space between you charged with an energy that was impossible to ignore. You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh or lean across the table and kiss him senseless.

Just as you felt yourself leaning into that dangerous impulse, Eleanor cleared her throat delicately.

You both startled, like students caught whispering in the back of the classroom. John's cheeks, you noticed with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, were flushed a faint shade of pink. Even a man like John wasn't immune to a mother's watchful gaze.

“Those rolls are delicious, dear,” Eleanor commented, and turned to you, her tone light but her eyes sharp with amusement. “Why don't you have one?” 

You reached for a roll, suddenly starving, the earlier tension dissolving into a relieved chuckle as you caught John's eyes. He winked at you, a playful glint in his blue eyes. You winked back, feeling a warmth spread through you caused by the man sitting beside you, a man who, despite your best efforts to resist, was quickly becoming more than just a convenient prop in this game of play pretend.

You'd managed to escape the clutches of the dinner table without completely blowing your cover, even when, at some points, you weren’t so sure how nobody saw right through you. But then came the real challenge — mingling. The party had moved inside the house, and you were separated from John. 

You silently cursed yourself for agreeing to this whole fabricated scenario. What if you told completely different stories to his relatives? What if someone asked you about his work, for God’s sake?

Glasses of port in hand, John’s extended family seemed very determined to catch up on months’ worth of news in one evening. You did your best to smile politely at every occasion, your inner monologue continuously reminding you to simply not say anything stupid.

Suddenly, a very chipper and well-dressed woman intruded on your personal space, waving her phone in front of your face. “You must be John’s girl!” she exclaimed, and before you could even answer, she swiped through numerous photos. “Look at her – isn't she adorable!”

You leaned in, attempting to make eye contact with the child in the photos while subtly taking a step back, her perfume a bit overwhelming. “Absolutely adorable,” you agreed, putting on a wide grin, and the woman beamed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what children you and John will bring into this world. Aren’t they the greatest thing?”

Children? Your smile faltered. You opened your mouth to respond, to stammer out some vague response about “one step at a time”, but before you could even get a word out, the woman had moved on, already excitedly showing off her offspring to the next unsuspecting relative. 

Note to self: Avoid eye contact with anyone holding a baby photo, you thought, your internal panic rising. This whole “fake girlfriend” thing was rapidly becoming a high-stakes obstacle course, and you weren’t sure you were agile enough to navigate it without falling flat on your face.

You were trying to reach John, a plate of sticky toffee pudding on your plate, wanting to show off that you were going to try his favorite dessert – when a booming voice cut through the chatter, catching your attention. “There he is!” A tall, older man with curly hair approached John and shook his hand with a force that could crush granite. “That last mission you pulled off? Absolute textbook. A captain leading his own task force? The old man would be bloody proud.”

John’s posture stiffened ever so slightly. “Cheers, uncle,” he responded, raising his glass, his gaze darting towards you for the briefest of moments.

Mission? Captain? Task force?

The people around you, completely oblivious to your internal meltdown, continued chatting, casually dropping words like “deployment,” “classified,” “weapons,” and all other sorts of military jargon as if they were discussing the weather.

Suddenly, everything fell into place.

All those late-night departures, when you heard heavy footsteps echo through your shared hallway; the vague explanations about “work trips” when you met him outside your apartment; those calls he received at odd hours, his voice tight, his tone clipped, echoing through your shared walls; those calls that always seemed to coincide with a breaking news report or some global crisis. John, your sweet, infuriatingly attractive, seemingly normal neighbor – was leading a deadly task force.

Not that it was any of your business what he did. He owed you nothing.

Then why did this feel like such a blow? That he didn’t tell you beforehand, throwing you into the midst of his family who were clearly all about that life, and leaving you in the dark, making a complete idiot of yourself?

You had been looking forward to trying the famous dessert all evening, but suddenly, your appetite completely vanished. The plate that you held suddenly felt as appealing as cold porridge.

“Everything alright, love?” John approached, noticing the shift in your mood.

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. “Peachy,” you replied. “Just, fascinating, hearing everyone’s stories.” You stabbed the pudding with your spoon, not sure where the feelings of anger came from.

You shoved the plate into his chest, forcing him to take it from you. “I just need some air.” You turned and made your way towards his Nan’s beautiful rose garden.

He’d lied to you.

Well, maybe not lied, exactly. Maybe it was the sudden awareness of the danger that shadowed his every move, who he really was, who he was compared to you.

You had every right to feel foolish, to even agree to such a stupid idea. But betrayal? You had no idea where it came from, it seemed like an overreach for a situation that had been, from the beginning, just a constructed lie.

Stepping out into the cool of the garden, you breathed a sigh of relief. The scent of flowers seemed to calm your racing mind a little, a welcome contrast to all the voices you just escaped. You found your way to a small bench underneath an old oak tree, sinking onto the cool wood, straightening your dress doing so.

You didn’t hear John approach, but then again, stealth was probably part of his many talents. You didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified.

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, stopping right next to you, an arm leaning on the backrest of the bench.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, frustrated by all these emotions you were feeling. “Well, the food is excellent, your grandma is adorable, and I haven’t witnessed any international incidents first-hand - yet. So that’s a win, I guess?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, a welcome contrast to the tension that had been knotting your stomach ever since you’d pieced together the things about his life. You’d grown accustomed to that sound, to the way it rumbled deep in his chest, unexpectedly gentle for a man who, apparently, spent his days navigating a world far removed from yours.

He shifted slightly, settling beside you on the bench. You felt the heat radiating off him in the cool air of the evening, an awareness that lingered even though he wasn’t touching you.

“Look,” he began, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, a gesture that was strangely endearing on a man who usually was so confident. “My life –” He gestured vaguely towards the party, the house. The unspoken explanation – “ my life is a full-blown, military-grade soap opera ” – hung in the air between you.

“You know,” you interrupted him, turning to face him. “A little heads-up about what you do would have been nice. Especially that it’s such an important thing in your family.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t fair to throw you into that without a warning. I guess because it’s so normal to me, I just completely forgot about it.”

“I’m a nurse, I don’t really specialize in disarming bombs or whatever it is your uncles like to do for fun.”

He laughed then, a full, hearty laugh, that made your heart flutter faster in your chest.

“It’s not funny.” You said, looking away. “And I know I have absolutely no right to feel – ” you struggled to find the right word. 

“To feel –?” he prompted, leaning a little closer.

“Disappointed,” you breathed. “It’s silly, I just felt like I was left out of inside jokes during dinner. I tried so hard to not let this lie slip, but it could have been so much easier if I had known.” You took a deep breath. “So, while I was keeping your plants alive," you added, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice, "You were out there doing what exactly? Neutralizing threats? Saving the world? I missed that chapter in the ‘Good Neighbor Handbook.’”

You couldn’t help the edge that crept into your voice. At first, it had just been a fun little game, a chance to play dress-up and enjoy delicious food. But now, now it felt different. You were, suddenly, uncomfortably aware of just how much you didn’t know about the man sitting beside you. 

The silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the gentle chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves overhead. John stared at you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“You probably think I am a complete idiot,” you continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, a jumble of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher. “I'm sorry, I'm being absolutely dramatic –”

The words died on your lips as his hands shot out, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a touch that was both possessive and unexpectedly tender. His gaze held yours captive, those blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. And then, without a word, without warning, his mouth crashed down on yours.

His lips were hard, demanding, hungry, devouring yours as if he couldn’t get close enough, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, unyielding dance. 

It was primal, raw, untamed. It was the kind of kiss that stripped away the pretence, obliterated the boundaries, and left you gasping for air, your mind reeling, your body aching for something you couldn’t name but craved with every fibre of your being.

Time seemed to stand still — the garden, the party, the lie — it all faded away. There was only the feel of his lips on yours, the light scrape of his beard against your skin. The taste of him was intoxicating, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves.

Eventually, he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours in the night air. His hands lingered, resting on your face, slightly tracing the lines of your jawline. His gaze was wild, eyes dark and burning into you with an intensity that made you want to melt into a puddle.

You stared back, your mind racing. This was the moment the lines blurred. There had been something there — you felt it. It was more than pretend, more than just playing a game. Desire. Interest. Even though you felt like you no longer knew this man at all, you wanted to get to know him all over again. Taste him, touch him — you blinked, trying to collect your thoughts.

“Would you prefer to leave?” John's hand, still warm from its possessive grip on your face, gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture both intimate and oddly reassuring.

You shook your head. “It’s your grandma's birthday. You can’t just leave because I feel uncomfortable.”

“I think we’ve both had enough of the party for one night,” he murmured, a quick smile flashing across his face. “I’m going to let her know you aren’t feeling too well. Alright?”

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your cheek, then, with a low rumble, he whispered in your ear, “Wait here.”

In front of both your apartment doors, the silence was an awkwardly long stretch. It felt like you were both trying to understand what had just happened, unsure where to begin.

“So, um,” he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you found strangely endearing. “Thank you for coming.”

You nodded and smiled, “Of course. It was nice to get the dust off this dress again.”

He leaned towards you slowly, and your breath hitched. For one heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you again – would he? Was what happened in the garden just an impulsive decision?

But he hesitated, the moment frozen, and there was something indecisive happening between you. But you didn’t mean to push, neither did he.

He cleared his throat and finally spoke. “Good night,” he said, his words careful, as if he were holding back from saying something else.

“Good night,” you echoed, your voice barely a whisper. The small hope that you'd taste him one more time evaporated.

You turned, your hand reaching for your door, keys almost to the lock, when strong hands grabbed you, spinning you around in a dizzying motion. Before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours again — silencing all those unspoken doubts and hesitations.

This was real. You felt it; your heart screamed it; the way his mouth was devouring yours, displaying a hunger and desire that shouted it from the rooftops.

Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on for dear life, as his tongue traced the seam of your lips with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. You felt the rumble of his groan against your mouth as he backed you against your apartment door, his body moulding against yours as if he was starving for the feel of you. You were breathless, lost in the heat of his touch, the way his hands roamed your back and finally settled on the curve of your ass.

You realized then that you had always dreamed of kissing this man, silently, secretly, whenever his eyes lingered on yours for a beat too long right there in the hallway. You’d always dismissed those fantasies as wishful thinking, but clearly, he’d been wanting the same.

You heard a click as the lock on your door was turned, and you felt as his hand fumbled with the doorknob behind your back – all while his lips were still on yours, occasionally wandering to kiss your jaw and giving you an opportunity to breathe. He cursed under his breath, and before you even processed what was happening, he shouldered the door open and pushed both of you back into the darkness of your apartment.

The familiar space of your home was suddenly transformed, and John's touch was the compass guiding you. He didn't release you, keeping you close to his body as if you might slip away. With a smooth movement, he shoved the door shut, tossing your keys somewhere onto the floor.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up flush against him, the gasp that escaped your lips quickly swallowed by his next kiss. He carried you, your legs wrapped around his waist, until he reached your couch, where he gently laid you down, his body hovering over yours, his eyes devouring you, making you feel incredibly vulnerable.

The sofa dipped as he planted his knees left and right next to your legs, and he leaned to hover over you. You were both breathing hard, the only sound in the silent room. The only light illuminating you was the sliver of moonlight spilling through the window above.

“Is this still pretend?” you managed to whisper, your voice a shaky breath.

His eyes locked onto yours, the slight smirk on his face sending a thrill to your core. His hands moved to your hips, deliberately grinding them against his groin. You gasped as you felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against you, hyperaware of the thin fabric separating your most intimate parts.

“Fuck, no,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. He moved his hips again, his hands slowly but intentionally pushing up your dress.

Your skin felt like it was on fire; your head was spinning. 

One of his hands moved up to the line of your dress, and with a rumble in his throat, he pulled the fabric aside, exposing the swell of your breasts to his hungry gaze.

His pupils dilated, his eyes dark and intense, as he stared at you like a starving man presented with a banquet. You'd never been so incredibly turned on, no man had ever made you feel this way— John’s simple gesture of delicately tracing the skin around your nipples made you moan so loudly you immediately threw a hand over your mouth, slightly embarrassed.

“No, let me hear it all. You sing so beautifully, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand gently moving yours away, his touch a mixture of possessiveness and unexpected tenderness.

"John,” you breathed, your voice a shaky sigh.

“This bloody dress,” he groaned. “Wanted to rip it off you the second I saw you standing at my door.” His voice was raw, unfiltered – gone was the nice, gentle neighbor; this was the Captain coming through, the darker, more commanding side of him that should have scared you, but only served to intensify the desire swirling inside you. You wanted to know all about the man he left behind as soon as he stepped into this building.

“Every fuckin' time I saw you in the hallway, those quick hellos were never enough,” he confessed, one hand tightening on your hip, the other slowly trailing down your skin beneath the hem of your dress. His touch was agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that made you lose your mind. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words were so honest, it caught you off guard completely. It must have shown on your face right then, because he smiled in return. “Never thought I’d stand a chance," he admitted. "You always seemed out of reach.”

You frowned. “Out of reach?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Figured I’d never stand a chance against the queue of blokes lining up at your door.”

“John, what? A queue, for me?” You laughed, your disbelief genuine, gesturing towards yourself.

He sighed, sitting up, his fingers playing with the lace trim of your panties as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re beautiful, and tonight, I learned it’s inside and out. You're you, and that's fuckin’ wonderful."

You shook your head in disbelief. His words made your entire body tremble.  He wasn’t just looking at your body; he was seeing you. And it felt extraordinary.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a longing that mirrored your own. “I kept thinking about what you were hiding underneath those baggy clothes,” he confessed, his voice a husky whisper, his fingers slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He felt you shy away from him a little, a smirk on his face stole your breath, as he pushed your legs apart with his calloused hands. “Like I said, so beautiful.” He whispered, his voice so rough with what you could only describe as lust. It made you shiver.

“You know,” you whispered, “The funny thing is, I thought exactly the same.”

“What do you mean?” You watched as he slowly ran a hand along your thighs. A ragged breath escaped your lungs, and you struggled to continue speaking.

“You’re incredible – there’s no way you didn’t have someone to –”

“To what?” he asked, suddenly stopping his movements, his gaze intense. “Willing to take a chance on a bloke who doesn’t know a thing about flowers or romantic dinners? Who spends more time on planes than in his own flat? Whose idea of a good time involves dodging bullets and disarming explosives?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head.

He was being so completely honest with you, so vulnerable, it sent a sharp pang through your chest. He was seeing you – the real you, hidden beneath the baggy clothes and carefully constructed walls – and for the first time that night, you were truly seeing him . John, who looked like he could bench-press a small car, who radiated an aura of danger as naturally as he breathed. 

He wasn’t some playboy who brought women home every other night, like you’d assumed. He could have any woman he wanted – and yet, here he was, his gaze tracing every inch of your naked body.

He liked you. He’d thought about you.

It felt surreal.

“Best decision I’ve made in a long time,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Asking you, I mean. Thinking I could never have you, and now –”

You held your breath, anticipation coiling in your stomach. “Now what?” you whispered.

“You’re mine.” He growled, and before your brain could even process what happened, his mouth was on your clit, kissing and sucking like he finally got to taste that delicious meal he was promised. 

“Oh god–!” you moaned, your hands instinctively gripping his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. He moaned, and the vibration of it against your skin made your legs twitch uncontrollably.

John’s touch was relentless, his tongue swirling against your most sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you that were unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You arched against him, your hips bucking involuntarily, craving more of the delicious friction that was driving you to the edge of madness.

He seemed to sense your desperation, the way your body was begging for something more. He pulled back, his gaze meeting yours, his eyes dark with a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified you. His hand replaced his tongue, fingers gently caressing your sensitive clit. “Look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ hot.”

“John,” you breathed, you were speaking without any control over it.

“What do you need, love?” he asked, his voice thick with lust, his hand never ceasing its tormenting, exquisite torture against your aching core.

“I – I need –” You couldn't form the words. Your mind was blank, and your body was trembling with need that eclipsed all rational thought.

He seemed to understand, his gaze softening, a knowing smile curving his lips. He rose slightly, his hands moving towards the belt buckle, groaning as he released himself from the confines of his trousers.

He stepped out of his pants, the sound of fabric hitting the floor echoing in the sudden silence. His shirt followed shortly after, and you were captivated. His body was hard, sculpted muscle, his arousal straining against the fabric of his boxers, proof of the desire you'd awakened within him.

You watched, mesmerized, as he slowly peeled off his boxers, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached down, fisting himself, and your breath hitched at the sight.

“Still think you’re not attractive to me, love? Look what you’re doing to me,” he let his thumb slowly run over the head of his length, spreading the drop of pre-come that formed there, and he must have known it was teasing you, driving you mad. “Tell me what you want,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth to speak, to voice the desire that was burning through you with the force of a supernova, but the words caught in your throat. All you could manage was a whimper as your fingers were digging into the cushions, hips arching upwards, instinctively seeking out friction you craved.

You felt like if you couldn't have him, you might die.

“Uh-uh.” His hand reached forward to grab the soft flesh of your tits, one after the other, and his thumb brushed a teasing circle around your nipples, the pressure increasing just enough to make you gasp. "I said, tell me what you want.”

“You,” you confessed, the words torn from your very soul. “For God's sake, I fucking need you.”

John's gaze intensified, his eyes dark, and the corner of his mouth twitched, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. He loomed over you like a predator about to claim his prey. With a growl, he leaned down, pressing his mouth on yours, and you could feel his erection pressing between your folds.

One of his hands shot out, cupping the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you captive. 

“You’re going to get everything you need, love,” he breathed, and followed by his promise, he entered you in a deliberately slow movement, almost torturous. He moaned, so raw and primal, it made you clench around him, and your entire body ignited as he filled you completely. His size, his heat, the intensity of the sensation – it sent your senses into overdrive, causing you to dig your nails into his back.

“Ohhh fuck,” you moaned, your voice a breathless whisper, lost in a world of sensation he'd created with his touch.

He paused, holding himself perfectly still within you, savoring the feel of your body clenching around him and the soft moans escaping your lips.

You whimpered, arching your hips up instinctively, desperate for more, aching for him to erase every thought, every doubt, every worry, with the overwhelming pleasure that throbbed between you.

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down your spine, and then he moved. Slowly at first, deliberately drawing out the sensation, his hips rocking against yours, each thrust a slow, agonizingly delicious torture that had you clinging to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your nails leaving trails of fire on his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice tight with need as he buried himself deeper. “You're so fucking tight – so fucking wet.”

But even in the haze of pleasure, a primal instinct took over. He needed more. He rolled you both over, shifting his weight so that you were straddling his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your core aligned perfectly with his arousal. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he reached for the hem of your dress, his fingers working quickly, impatiently, to free you from the loosely hanging fabric.

“Now,” his hands found your hips, guiding you closer, his thumbs stroking the sensitive flesh. “Ride me, love.”

You looked down at him, at the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes, the way his chest heaved with each ragged breath, and a surge of confidence, of pure, unadulterated lust, washed over you. You began to move, supporting your weight against him by running your hands through the light fur that dusted his chest. 

His hands dug deeper into your skin as you increased the pace, moving faster, harder, riding his cock wildly, completely lost in the pleasure.

Every movement sent jolts of pleasure through you. He watched you, his gaze never leaving your face, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as if he were hanging onto your every move.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice thick with approval. “Like that, love. Ride me hard.”

His words were a primal command, a challenge that sent a thrill through you, making you even bolder, even more daring. You leaned forward and kissed him, biting his lip, drawing a groan from him that resonated deep in your core.

He tasted of salt and desire, the scent of his arousal filling your senses, making you wild. His hands were guiding your movements, matching your intensity, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge of release.

With each thrust, you felt the coil of pleasure tighten inside you, building towards a crescendo that threatened to shatter you both. You moved faster, harder, your body driven by an instinct as old as time itself. His touch was a brand, marking you as his, and the possessive hunger in his eyes as you rode him, almost send you over the edge alone.

He was groaning now, his words a jumble of incoherent pleas and praises, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggled to maintain control. You felt him tense, the muscles in his thighs and arms bunching beneath your touch, and you knew the storm was about to break.

“Don’t stop,” his voice was raw with need, his gaze burning into you as if he wanted to sear this moment into his soul. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you shatter."

And with one final, earth-shattering thrust, you did.

A shudder ripped through you, a wave of pleasure so intense it stole your breath away. Your walls clenched around him, a thousand tiny sparks of sensation exploding behind your eyelids. Your name tumbled from his lips, a breathless groan, as he held you tighter. You cried out, the sound swallowed by his eager mouth as he captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, leaving you trembling, weak, utterly undone.

After you came down from your high, you watched him intently as he was also struggling on the edge of release. Driven by need and desire, you slowly let his cock slip out of you. He made a sound that sounded animalistic, a groan, low and deep in his chest, an expression of frustration. Your hand moved instantly, your fingers finding his length, circling him, stroking him with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm. Your fingertips traced a feather-light path up the underside of his shaft, lingering at the sensitive ridge just below the head before gliding back down to the base, your thumb brushing teasingly against the swollen vein that pulsed with his arousal.

His head fell back against the cushions, his eyes closed, a ragged breath escaping his lips as you continued to tease him, your touch the only cure for his aching need. You watched him, mesmerized by the play of muscle beneath your hand, the raw power he embodied even at that moment of vulnerability.

“I can't –” His fingers dug into the cushions, his body tensing as if fighting against the tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him.

You smiled. The power thrumming between you was intoxicating, addictive. “Can’t what, John?” you whispered, leaning in, your lips trailing a teasing path along the hard planes of his stomach. “Can’t hold back anymore?”

His answer was a strangled groan. His body went rigid, and the wave of pleasure that followed was written all over his face. His hand shot out, not to stop you, but to grip your wrist. His fingers tightened around it, his control started slipping, shattering, as his release washed over him.

You whispered small praises, and watched, fascinated, as his release spurted over your hand in hot, pulsing bursts. His hips were stuttering, his cock, hard, thick in your grasp, throbbed, and the remnants of his release felt warm against your skin. He was completely at your mercy.

You’d never felt this bold, this empowered, this reckless. Before you could overthink it, you raised your hand to your mouth and licked his come off of your fingers.

Your wish to taste him, it couldn’t get any more him than this. Salt, sweat, and something so uniquely his. It made your walls clench around nothing, sending a new wave of excitement through you.

John’s gaze snapped to yours, his eyes wide, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring in their depths as he watched you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and reached out, his hand resting on your neck, his thumb slowly stroking along your pulse. “You’re something else, you know that, love?”

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. The sudden awareness of your actions, the intimacy of the moment, sent a wave of shyness washing over you. “I, uh,” you trailed off, averting your gaze, unable to meet the intensity burning in his eyes. Your cheeks burned, and you wanted to hide.

John’s hand shifted, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Don't shy away from me now, sweetheart,” he murmured and softly ran his thumbs over your lips. “Not after that.”

“That was –” You struggled to find the words, your thoughts were a mess. “I've never –”

“Never?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, the scent of him filling your senses, making you dizzy.

“Never been that bold,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to his lips, their fullness suddenly a source of endless fascination. “Or wanted someone so intensely.”

A dark smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with triumph and something that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Good,” he growled, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Because you're mine now, love. And I'm not about to let you forget it.”

And then, before you could protest – not that you had any intention of doing so – his lips crashed down on yours. It wasn’t gentle. This kiss was a possession, a claiming, a wildfire consuming everything in its path. His hand shot out to grab your neck, holding you close to him.

This really wasn't pretend anymore.

[kodiescove]

When I've talked about how it sucks having a birthday on a holiday (today is my birthday, July 4th, "America's independence day") I get retorts like "well yeah but at least it's not on/near CHRISTMAS cause EVERYONE celebrates Christmas EVERYWHERE"

And, firstly, not at all true. Only Christian dominant countries celebrate Christmas

And, secondly, this.... this doesn't change the fact that I live in the USA, and because I am disabled am not allowed to immigrate(emigrate?) To another country? That, like, I am a hostage in the good ol USA, and that no matter who I complain to, whether it be friends or family, when I talk about how shitty it is that on my birthday, even as a child, everyone would rather celebrate AMERICA than they would celebrate me? That everyone else gets to be showered with love and affection and gifts because they weren't born on a holiday, but I've just been ignored on the one day a year I'm told is supposed to be *about me* because my country happened to fight a war and win?

And like they hear how shitty I feel about this, hiw it's made me feel, how jealous I am that they get to have parties and have all their friends love on them and celebrate their birthdays and they go "I'm so sorry that must be so shitty"(when they're not telling me to be grateful I wasn't born on Christmas) and yet... and yet when it comes around time for my birthday, and I text them to try and make plans for my birthday, it's always "sorry I'm going to a fourth of July party :)" and I watch as they always post on their other friends timelines, wishing them a happy birthday, and there they are, forgetting I exist on my birthday because, well, it's the fourth of July! America's birthday is more important than MY birthday

So any time some stranger here's that my birthday is the fourth of July and goes "oh! That must be so awesome! Everyone's celebrating your birthday :)" all I can think about is how I grew up watching my cousins have both sides of their family come to their birthday parties and get mountains of gifts, get showered in love, get all the affirmations a person deserves on their birthday, while it was usually just... me and my parents, or my parents taking me to a relatives fourth of July party, telling me that it wad MY BIRTHDAY PARTY, but instead NO ONE KNEW it was my birthday, and I got no gifts, no cake. And now as an adult, I can't get my friends to celebrate with me, even though I hear multiple times a year how they're out celebrating some other friends birthday.

"Sorry, I'm going to a fourth of July party on the fourth"-doesn't even text me happy birthday-

[purplesurveys]

1868

Lasts

1. Last Beverage? A chocnut latte. I appreciate how baristas have figured out a way to incorporate chocnut into coffee. Mine even came with chunks 🥺

2. Last Phone Call? This afternoon at the mall when I needed to coordinate with my mom on where to meet up again, since we split so I could pick up something from the grocery and for her to do some shopping.

3. Last Text Message? My cousin, since I needed him to pass a message to my grandma.

4. Last Song You Listened To? Cuff It by Beyonce.

5. Last Time You Cried? Yesterday evening when I watched a video of one of those dog photographers who stop people on the street – the video I came across revolved around a deaf dog, and I started crying when I heard his owners talk about them and how he makes them happy.

Have You Ever

6. Dated Someone Twice? Mhm.

7. Been Cheated on? No, at least I don't think I was.

8. Kissed Someone And Regretted It? A few times.

9. Lost someone special? Yes.

10. Been Depressed? Yes. I had it worst at age 12, then again from 19 to 22.

11. Been Drunk? I have, yeah.

List Three Favorite Colors: I'm going to guess my answers to this will count as #12 to #14 because there isn't any on this survey? Hahaha let's go with purple for 12, pastel pink for 13, and sky blue for 14.

This Year Have You:

15. Made New Friends? Not really. I've come across new co-workers but I wouldn't call them friends.

16. Fallen Out Of Love? I have not felt in love in nearly half a decade.

17. Laughed until You Cried? Yes, for sure.

18. Met Someone Who Changed You? Nah.

19. Found Out Who Your True Friends Were? Well that already happened a while back, not necessarily just this year.

20. Found Out Someone Was Talking About You? Sure.

21. Kissed anyone on your friends list? Nope.

22. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life? Like on Facebook? All of them. I never add anyone I don't know.

23. Do you have any pets? I have two dogs and they're my best friends.

24. What did you do for your last birthday? I took a nap for most of the afternoon then brought my family out for dinner at my favorite buffet. Angela and Hans also surprised me by coming over in the evening and we talked well until midnight.

25. What time did you wake up today? Around 9 AM.

26. What were you doing at midnight last night? Watching Bon Voyage.

27. Name something you CANNOT wait for? Jin getting discharged from the military. I can't believe 547 days have passed just like that?

28. Last time you saw your father? January. I will be seeing him again this Saturday though :)

29. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life? I wish I've done a better job networking so that looking for future job options wouldn't be such a bitch.

30. What are you listening to right now? BTS trying to make fire on Bon Voyage 4.

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom? I'm pretty sure I have.

32. What’s getting on your nerves right now? My back hurting.

33. What is your real name? Hi, I'm Robyn!

34. Zodiac Sign? Taurus.

35. Male or Female? Female.

36. Elementary School? Nah.

37. Middle School? Nope.

38. High School? Nope, but what I can tell you is I attended the same school from kinder to high school. Our schools here are not divided into levels.

39. Hair Color? It's naturally black, but right now it's dyed purple.

40. Long or short hair? I have short hair for now as I finally recently had it trimmed from my waist up to my collarbones.

41. Height? I'm 5'1".

42. Do you have a crush on someone? Nope.

43. What do you like about yourself? I like that I'm competitive because it's basically means that I've always wanted to be the best at everything. I know I'm not and won't be, but it helps form the drive to do the best I possibly could.

44. Piercings? I have on each earlobe.

45. Tattoos? None.

46. Righty or Lefty? Right handed.

Firsts

47. Surgery? Never had any.

48. Piercing? Earlobes, as a baby.

49. Tattoo? Don't have any.

50. Best Friend? Kaye but tbh it was so short-lived. We were 4 and we were only friends for a year lmao. My first real best friend would be Angela.

51. Sport you joined? Swimming.

52. Pet? Goldfish.

53. Vacation you remembered? My family regularly took us to water parks or would book a hotel room on the weekends when I was suuuuper young, but what I would count as the first real vacation we ever had was when we went to Boracay. I was 11 and it was my first plane ride, and I was shaking and had my eyes closed for like 80% of the 1-hour flight. I was also clueless enough to think the Philippines had different timezones, and by the time we landed I innocently asked my parents what time it was there, hehehe.

54. Concert? Paramore in 2013, when I was 15. It was loads of fun but I was also kind of pettily mad at them because the show was held just a couple of weeks before they released Self-Titled, so we missed all of that.

55. Crush? Like real-life crush, ...probably Andi.

56. Alcoholic Drink? It was a glass of margarita.

Right Now

57. Eating? Continued from...who knows when I took this last, lmao. Last weekend maybe? I'm not eating anything as I take this, but I had a cheeseburger and Kitkat frappe from Wendy's earlier this evening. Those two were the last things I had.

58. Drinking? Water.

59. I’m about to… Finish this then maybe take another one, as I wasn't able to take surveys all week.

60. Listening to… mono, Joon's mixtape. seoul is currently playing.

61. Waiting for… Jin to come back. Just 17 days left :)

Your Future

62. Want kids? Not part of the plan anymore.

63. Want to get married? I've learned to be fine on my own.

64. Careers in mind? I love the industry I'm in; it's just a matter of reaching bigger things from here.

Which Is Better with the opposite/same sex

65. Lips or Eyes? Lips.

66. Hugs or Kisses? Kisses, I guess. I'm not affectionate, but I do prefer those more.

67. Shorter or Taller? Taller, because I'm kind of short as it is heh.

68. Older or Younger? Older.

69. Romantic or Spontaneous? Spontaneous can be romantic too, so I'd pick that.

70. Nice stomach or Nice arms? Arms.

71. Tattoos or Piercings? I don't really have a preference.

72. Sensitive or Loud? About...?

74. Trouble Maker or Hesitant? Hesitant. I hate bad influences lol

Have You Ever (2)

75. Kissed a stranger? Have not.

76. Drank hard liquor? Sure. Those days are far behind me now lol, but yeah I used to.

77. Lost glasses/contacts? Would be very stupid of me to lose my glasses as I practically need them to function haha. So no this hasn't happened, but I have broken my glasses before – I've sat on them, stepped on them, leaned on them too much etc I can be pretty reckless lol which is stupid in its own right.

79. Broken someone’s heart? I'm sure I have.

80. Had your heart broken? Yes.

81. Been arrested? Nope. I've been pulled over for traffic violations but that's the worst it's ever reached.

82. Turned someone down? Yes.

83. Cried when someone died? Of course.

84. Liked a friend that is the same sex? Mhm.

Do You Believe In

85. Yourself? I do now. I'm the only one I have, so I kind of have to start with myself haha.

86. Miracles? No.

87. Love at first sight? Not really.

88. Heaven? No.

89. Santa Claus? Well, no. Even as a kid I couldn't buy it. Why can he never show up, and why do I always need to be asleep for him to come over? it frustrated my 5 year old self more than it probably should've hahaha.

90. Kissing on the first date? I mean, sure, whatever. Do whatever feels natural.

91. Angels? Nope.

92. Sex before marriage? Yes.

93. Life on other planets? 100%.

94. Life after death? Reincarnation can be a cool concept but I personally think that when someone die, that is It for them. So no.

95. Only being with one person forever? It happens for some people, so yes. Doesn't mean I believe it applies to all.

Answer Truthfully

96. Is there one person you want to be with right now? No, I'm okay on my own and have been for a while now.

97. Had more than one boyfriend/girlfrend at one time? Never.

98. Do you believe it’s possible to remain faithful forever? Yes.

99. What’s the one thing you cannot live without? Phone.

100. What’s one secret you have that not many people know? It's not really a secret, but maybe the fact that I play table tennis and can play it pretty well? LOL the topic never comes up and there's almost always never a table tennis table anywhere, so I never get to talk about it or show it.

[thesiouxzy]

A big thank you to those of you who have taken time to wish me a happy birthday here & via text. You have already made my birthday a special day 🥰

Since unfortunately world peace isn’t a possibility, for my birthday this year I’d like my CFS cured, the ability to teleport like in Star Trek (I’d save so much money on airfare & rideshares!) And lastly & most importantly, I’d like to obtain the ability to stop time & then resume it like Evie in the 80s show Out of this World. In addition to stopping time, I'd also like to the add the ability to roll my pointer fingers forward or backwards & be able to rewind or advance time, tapping my pointer finger tips together to get back to the present time 👉🏼👈🏼

Just a few little somethings 😉 Is Cousin Eddie around? He made Clark’s Christmas wish come true, maybe he can help with my birthday wishes 🤔😁

[orange3yeball]

Dream Journal 31/12/23 (Happy New Year!!!)

I’m in my childhood home. Everyone’s there, my parents, siblings, grandparents, and even all my millions of tías, tíos, and cousins are present. It’s framed as a family gathering celebration, like someone’s birthday party. The sun is setting, just barely a blotch of orange in the sky.

The air is purple, burgundy, and orange. I’m standing in the kitchen, the normally white walls are now burgundy because of shading and the room is only lit up but the warm stove light. I’m slightly panicked, although my family is busy socializing. I look out the window to see one of my tías laughing with others in the backyard. I think “Why isn’t anyone getting ready? They will be here soon!” I climb up the countertops and make my way to the top of the fridge to hide. I lay down at the back of it and arrange the cereal boxes and tub of sugar to my advantage. The party gets quiet, everyone assumes their hiding places. Then, i hear them; groaning into the room. The zombies are coming. I don’t dare look back, too afraid to blow my cover. I worry that my butt is sticking out as i had laid down with my knees bent and shins touching the floor. I wanted to fully lay down flat to hide this, but couldn’t because the fridge wasn’t as long as my body. I compromised and did a half bent half laid down position. It seemed to work, as I wasn’t caught.

Next scene, same dream. The zombies are gone for now, but they will come back later. The only people at the house now are my immediate family, my grandpa, and my cousins. I walk down the halls to my room. The room is normally magenta with white accents but randomly it was orange and had white accents. I go to my drawer and get a bat. It’s plain and black. I test it out by hitting the air for a bit. “It’s okay, it will work, but i wish i had something heavier and better,” I think. I walk to my brother, who’s in the computer room that strangely had the same furniture and layout as the second living room, and ask him “Do you still have the American tape bat that you took away from me that one time?” He doesn’t appear to have heard or understood the question, and he ignores me. I simply decide to walk away, and think “i will just find it myself.” The room turns into the normal layout of the computer room; the white walls turning beige and the fake wooden floor turns into white tiles. I look at the floor and find pool noodles and toy guns. Not what I’m looking for, but right next to a pool noodle is a bat. The bat is black with a red pattern on it, although I can’t make out the pattern. It looks like some type of text. I test the bat out and i come to the same conclusion as the last. “Kinda heavier, but not by much.” Then, on the ground, i see another bat. This one is very long and it’s translucent green. I think “oh yeah! I’m definitely going to use this one!” I drop the other one and use the long one. I swing it around happily, before i rethink my decision. “Hmmm. Actually, this may not be the best. It’s long and it’s inconvenient. And it’s also pretty light for such a long bat.” I decide to go back and switch to the one i had previously.

The end

[ohmymessymind]

let the grass grow over me - 10.19.23

there's nothing to fill this void.

i tried being vulnerable.

i know to most it will sound stupid

but posting my brother's suicide on Facebook was a big deal for me.

and it got comments.

a few people even texted me

'i'm so sorry, let me know if you need anything!'

it was as if they all copied and pasted the same thing.

i don't mean to sound so ungrateful

i did appreciate their messages.

but

it's made the silence since then feel so loud.

no one has checked in

and that hurts me so much.

maybe everyone assumes i need space

or i must be with family

or i must have friends i can count on.

I have no one.

my aunt and my cousins

we are not close.

maybe for moments in time but

I am not her daughter

or their sister

they don’t call me 

or text me.

it's a rare occasion if they even remember to wish me 'happy birthday'

i do not cross their minds

like they cross mine.

anytime I have seen my aunt

or my cousins

it's because I reached out

i checked in.

i made the effort.

it's so tiresome.

it makes me feel like I don’t matter

or at least

matter as much.

why don’t I cross anyone's mind?

'thinking of you,'

that's my love language.

which is really sad when you consider

how rare it is to have someone tell me that.

i have always felt forgettable.

replaceable.

not enough.

how can people not know I am hurting?

my brother killed himself

what hurts more than that?

I’m not going to text people and tell them I’m struggling.

that's so embarrassing.

when they aren’t even thinking of me.

doesn't seem reasonable to force anyone to.

maybe I am being selfish

but it just feels like 

no one in my life, and I mean no one 

is in the situation I’m in,

understands how it feels

to be this alone.

everyone has at least someone.

'we all need somebody to lean on.'

i have my dog

and lately it makes me so sad

and so scared

knowing i can't

i won't

live without her.

she’s all I have left.

I’ve lost so many things

my parents, my borther

friends

my entire career.

money. 

I’m drowning in debt

I could be homeless at any point

and that’s still not enough to motivate me.

i'm not at rock bottom, i live there.

everything else is just a distraction.

i am at war with the thoughts in my head.

i am desperately clinging onto hope

knowing i don't have any left.

hope dies last.

i never thought i'd run out.

but i have.

deep down,

i know i'm not going to make it.

my life has been too tragic

i will not survive.

i'm scared to die but

i'm more scared to 'live,'

or keep doing whatever it is that i'm calling 'living'

I don’t have a plan

I just know it will happen.

and life will move on. 

as it does. 

as it always has.

and i will just be an unmarked headstone

and the grass will grow over me.