#grinning man birthday calendar

[phantom-of-notre-dame]

Grinning Man Birthday Calendar (2023)

Something I started in 2020 to send other Grinning Stans (or Grinners or Grinlets or whatever you prefer) as well as fans of L'homme Qui Rit and The Man Who Laughs warm wishes on their birthday. Cause I'd like to think we're all friends.

I'll add this post to my pinned and it will be reblogged a few days before the first birthday of any given month. Any other info is on my pinned post. Even though this will be the last year of the GMBC, reblogs would be appreciated as I still want everyone who has joined to feel celebrated. Thanks in advance!

[hayakawalove]

The Perfect Present

Summary: You and Satoru think of what to get Suguru for his birthday. What do you get a man who doesn't ask for much? (It's sex)

A/N: And if you look at your calendar, you'll see that the date is February 3rd (it's not) (pretend it is). Another poly satosugu fic for the books. I'm a bit worried my presentation of reader and Gojo's relationship is coming off bad... In all the fics I have for them, their relationship has a heavy emphasis on teasing each other and just being light. I hope it doesn't seem like I don't love him as much, or that he and reader don't like each other. Comments always appreciated!

CW: Smut, Polyamory, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Rough Oral Sex, Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Humiliation, Dom/sub, Masturbation, Come Swallowing, Nipple Play, Creampie, Dom Suguru, Sub Reader and Gojo, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 4,028

Credit to Benkeibear for the banner

A low clicking sound is the only noise in your living room. You have your feet kicked up on Satoru’s lap, the heat of his laptop resting on top of your shins. 

“What about a necklace?” You break the silence, fiddling with your shirt. 

Satoru hums, backing out of yet another online store. The two of you were looking for a birthday present for Suguru, a notoriously hard task. 

It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful. He was too grateful, that was the issue. He liked everything you got him, his face always breaking into a smile even if you bought him something he already had. This year you and Satoru wanted to get something he would love. 

“This is hard.” Satoru drops his head back. 

You look up towards him. His hair was messy as he kept tugging at it as he browsed the internet. Satoru looks back down and furrows his brows, rapidly clicking his mouse. 

“This is so annoying, I keep getting adverts that are basically soft porn.” 

You lift a brow at him, admiring his face. 

“They say ads are algorithmic. Maybe stop searching up soft porn and you won’t get them.” 

Satoru scowls at you, pinching your leg. You yelp and watch as he runs his fingers through his pale hair again. 

“I don’t look that stuff up, why would I need to? I have you and Suguru, my own personal porn stars.” 

Your lips twitch in response. You rarely got embarrassed by Satoru anymore, but occasionally he would say something that left you reeling. 

And he wasn’t really wrong. You did feel like a porn star for the two men at times, ready to perform for them at any given second. 

An idea pops in your head. 

“Satoru, what if we let Suguru do whatever he wants for a day?” 

Satoru grins and backs out of the page he’s on. 

“I’m listening.” 

~~~

Your skin prickles in anticipation as your legs cramp below you. You were sitting on your knees, a dull pain beginning to take root in your muscles. The lingerie you were wearing was digging into your sides, the sensation mildly uncomfortable. You knew it was worth it though. You never wore lingerie for Suguru, so you were filled with excitement at how he would react. 

Satoru whines beside you, running his finger underneath the strap that bit into his chest. You told him he didn’t have to wear lingerie too, but he insisted. Wanted to match you, he said. 

“I’m home!” You hear Suguru’s voice call out. Butterflies fill your stomach as anxiety starts to take form in your stomach. 

You and Satoru were in your bedroom, waiting for Suguru to find you. Satoru was practically bouncing up and down in excitement. You can hear Suguru set down his backpack, before filling up a glass of water. 

What if he thought you looked stupid? 

You knew he wouldn’t, but the fear gnawed at you nonetheless. 

“Where are you guys?” Suguru asks, footsteps getting louder as he makes his way to the bedroom. 

You hold your breath as the door knob turns, revealing Suguru. His expression turns from confused to hazy as he notices what you’re wearing. 

“H-happy birthday Suguru.” You attempt to speak loudly, fingers digging into your thighs. 

“What do you think?” Satoru asks, his face lighting up in a smile. 

You notice Suguru’s fingers grip the cup tighter and you wonder for a second if the glass may shatter. 

“What do we have here?” Suguru questions, walking further into the room to set his glass down on the nightstand. 

He comes back around and stands in front of the two of you, head tilted to the side as he watches you. You feel like you’re being assessed, graded on your posture and by the stillness of your body. 

“It’s your birthday, we wanted to celebrate you.” You say meekly. 

Suguru lifts up a hand that you nuzzle into, your cheek smooshing against his palm. 

“Is that right?” He asks, lifting his other hand to caress Satoru’s face. 

Suguru leans forward to place a kiss on Satoru’s lips. The act is a bit aggressive, you’re able to see a wince form on Satoru’s face. You would think he hated the rough treatment if not for the low groan escaping his throat. 

When Suguru pulls back, Satoru’s face is tinged a dark pink. Anticipation begins to build up in your stomach, taking a physical form by leaking between your legs. Suguru turns his head to you, locking his lips against yours. He kisses you much softer, always bordering on the line of not enough. 

You wanted him to be rough with you. 

You wanted him to ruin you. 

He pulls away the second you feel your oxygen depleting. There are stars in his dark eyes, shining as his gaze flicks back and forth between you two. You can practically see his mind churning, thinking about what he wanted to do. 

Satoru’s panting beside you already and you almost feel sorry at the sad sight. It wasn’t about him tonight, but you wanted to help ease the ache between his legs. You knew he was feeling it, because you were feeling it too. 

“What am I going to do with you…” Suguru speaks under his breath. 

Satoru raises his hand, brushing it against the front of Suguru’s pants. He’s about to start unbuttoning them before Suguru grabs his wrist, fingers digging into Satoru’s pale skin. 

“I think you should ask first, don’t you?” 

The oxygen is sucked out from the air around you, and your throat immediately feels dry. Satoru is trembling beside you, probably from excitement. You couldn’t blame him. 

“Can we suck your cock?” Satoru asks. 

“I don’t think you asked politely enough. Try again.” Suguru looks unamused as he stares at Satoru.

Satoru whimpers before his hand falls limp in Suguru’s hold. 

“Can we please suck your cock, sir?” 

Suguru cracks a grin, releasing Satoru’s wrist. He’s immediately fumbling to unbuckle Suguru’s pants, the heat of the room rising. 

Satoru pulls Suguru’s pants down, eyes wide as he gazes upon the bulge. You were barely able to stay still at the sight. Satoru peels his underwear off, mouth dropping open once Suguru’s cock falls out. He places a lick at the bottom, dragging his tongue until he reaches the top. Suguru’s face remains neutral as he watches Satoru. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, scooting closer to the two. 

The heat radiating from Satoru was almost scorching your skin. When he pulls back, you’re able to see the saliva shining on Suguru’s cock in the low light. Irresistible. Satoru groans as he pushes his mouth all the way down, nose being met with a mess of curly black hair. Tonight wasn’t about you either, but you almost felt like it was. The sight of the two was almost too good to be true. 

You release a quiet whine, thighs shuffling beneath your body. You’re getting impatient now as you watch Satoru indulge himself. 

Suguru’s eye flick over to you and a coo slips from his lips. His large hand combs through the crown of your hair, the warmth of his palm seeping through your scalp. 

“I know baby, Satoru’s hogging all the fun, isn’t he?” 

Your brows furrow as your teeth dig in your lip, nodding up at Suguru. He coos once more before using his other hand, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair and yanking him off his cock. A gasp of air is released from his mouth as he winces, following the motion of Suguru’s hand so as to not cause more pain. 

“Good pets know how to share.” Suguru scolds. 

You wait for permission as you look up at Suguru. You can practically see the hearts swimming in his eyes, but they may just be a reflection of your own. 

“Take it.” Suguru says. 

You scoot forward and wrap your lips around Suguru’s cock, Satoru’s saliva mixing with yours. It’s a filthy sight, the way you look kneeling before Suguru. Satoru’s panting beside you, hair still being pulled by Suguru. 

You allow your tongue to slide down, caressing the sensitive skin on Suguru. He shows no emotion that may tell you he’s enjoying himself, but that only makes you want to try harder. Tears leak from your eyes as you force yourself down even more, the weight of his heavy cock causing your jaw to ache. 

Suguru’s eyes are cold and calculating as he watches you. There’s a pit growing in your stomach, the urge to make him come undone stronger than anything you had ever felt before. If it was Satoru in front of you, you would be gifted with a slurry of groans and curse words. They balanced each other out, you guess. 

“You guys got all pretty for me?” Suguru asks, eyes drawn to the way your lips were wrapped around him. 

Satoru has to speak up a bit louder than normal in order to talk above the sounds of you choking on Suguru. 

“Yes sir.” Satoru plays nice, face still wincing at the pain shooting through his head. 

You can’t breathe. You aren’t sure you want to, either. The lack of oxygen is going straight to your pussy, a throbbing beginning to start. Suguru must notice the twitching of your fingers. He notices everything. 

“Satoru, you wanna be a good boy for me?” 

“Depends-“ Satoru gasps as Suguru yanks his hair tighter. 

“Why don’t you get yourselves ready?” It’s not a question even though Suguru poses it as such. 

He releases Satoru and allows him to move closer to you. You feel the ghost of a kiss against your shoulder, Satoru’s lips brushing against your exposed skin. You break out in goosebumps as you thrust your mouth over Suguru’s cock, a mix of salty precum beginning to drip down your throat. 

Satoru’s hand glides over the skin of your thighs, parting them for you. Once his fingers make contact with your clothed clit, you jump, a moan muffled around Suguru. Suguru runs his hand through your hair, soothing you as you suck his cock. 

Satoru buries his middle finger in your slit, molding the lingerie to your dripping pussy. He rubs over it several times before pulling his finger back, sliding it in his mouth before hooking the fabric, easing his finger into you. The stretch is delicious as he dives his finger inside, thrusting in twice before sliding in another finger. As he does this, he uses his other hand to wrap around his cock, rubbing it through his garments. 

The two of you are moaning, filling the room with pornographic sounds. Suguru looks entranced as he watches you two. You wanted tonight to be for him, but it was starting to feel like you and Satoru were having the most fun. Then again, you felt as though Suguru got even more pleasure watching you both, controlling when and how you were getting off. 

Satoru pulls his cock out, tugging it at the same pace he finger fucked you. Satoru’s fingers slide against your sensitive walls, fucking you even though your tight pussy was practically holding him in place. You try to stop yourself from grinding against his hand, desperate to not appear any more pathetic than you already felt. Satoru’s cock is wet and hard, the sounds of his hand sliding down nearly echoing. 

Suguru’s lips are parted as he stares down at you. Something akin to pride blooms in your chest as you look up at him. 

“Is she ready?” Suguru asks, reaching up to let his hair fall down. 

Satoru’s brows are furrowed as he groans, reaching his fingers deep inside you. You dig your nails into Suguru’s thighs, craving for more. 

Suguru pulls back, releasing your mouth from him. You’re finally able to get fresh air, your throat already sore from the rough treatment. You heave as you look up at him, completely disregarding the obscene strings of saliva connecting you to his cock. 

“You look so pretty, don’t you baby?” Suguru says, leaning over to swipe the spit from your face. 

“Y-yes sir.” The only thing on your mind is him. How can you make him feel good?

Suguru coos and helps you to your feet. It’s borderline tortuous to have Satoru’s fingers slide out of you. He also winces in disappointment, popping the fingers in his mouth. You get on your hands and knees on the bed, shoving your ass out to signal how badly you needed contact. 

You can feel the burn of Suguru’s stare on your body, and you’re trembling with excitement. His large hand comes up to graze across your sensitive flesh, eliciting a soft groan. Suguru grips your ass and spreads it, sliding his cock between you before easing himself inside your pussy. 

Satoru’s fingers did warm you up, but you weren’t so sure it was enough. Your mouth drops open and your body tenses up, pussy almost pushing him back out. 

“Hey, hey, relax baby. You gotta loosen up for me. It’s my birthday, remember?” Suguru speaks. 

You whine and try to force your muscles to comply. The action gives Suguru the ability to slip in completely. 

“Fuck.” Suguru moans, digging his fingers in your ass. 

You aren’t able to see, but Satoru is standing next to Suguru, a frown plastered on his face. 

“What’s wrong Satoru?” Suguru appeases him. 

“I, I need-“ Satoru can’t get the words out, he’s grabbing his cock as he tries to figure out how to ask for what he wants. 

Suguru pulls back slightly, before shoving myself back in. You let out a sharp gasp and drop your face into the bed. 

“Why don’t you tell me what you need?” It sounds like a trap with the way Suguru asks it, his voice sickly sweet but his eyes dark. 

Suguru grabs Satoru’s cock, rubbing it a couple times as he stares at him. He paused his movements in you, his cock completely still as it rested deep inside you. You’re close to fucking yourself on him, your anticipation gripping you like a vice. Satoru’s breathing heavily behind you, his hand holding Suguru’s arm. 

“Need more, please.” Usually Satoru would fight back, but he was a pile of mush today. He must really want it bad. 

“Such a good boy today.” 

Suguru speaks, grinning as Satoru almost doubles over. Satoru lets out a groan, thrusting his hips forward to meet Suguru’s palm. Suguru starts to fuck into you at a leisurely pace, his cock grazing your sensitive walls. You try to remind yourself that it’s his birthday, that this isn’t for you, but your patience is waning. His cock is still keeping you stuffed, nearly full to the brim, but just like Satoru you wanted more. You wanted him to bring his hips back only to slam into you so hard you couldn’t breathe. 

“Why don’t you use the front, you’ll let him do that won’t you sweetheart?” The question is aimed at you, but it’s hard to respond with your mind being clouded with need. 

“Mhm.” Your face is smashed in the bed, as you breathe deeply trying to collect yourself. 

Suguru lets go of Satoru, watching as he stumbles to the bed. When he gets on top, he sits on his knees in front of you. Suguru reaches up and laces his hand through your hair, yanking it back to expose your face to Satoru. The action is painful, a low groan falling past your lips as you try to focus on Satoru. His face is bright red above you, his leaky tip inches from your lips. Your stomach twists at the sight, he looked so fucking good. You stick out your tongue, hoping it will distract you from the desire seeping in your core. 

“I’ve neglected you, I’m sorry.” Suguru murmurs, smoothing your ass with one hand. 

He pulls back and thrusts into you hard, jolting you forward. It was exactly what you needed. Satoru takes the opportunity to slide his cock in your mouth, moaning at the warmth that coats him. It’s getting hard to breathe between Suguru slamming into you, his pace slow but forceful, and Satoru’s cock filling up every inch of your mouth. If you listen closely enough, you’re able to hear Suguru’s soft moans behind you. Satoru’s precum is salty as it slides down your tongue. Suguru’s the one who sets the pace for you, his hand still gripping your head. He controls how your mouth moves, smirking to himself when he sees Satoru’s fingers twitch. 

Each time Suguru presses into you, his cock pushes against the sensitive spot in your walls that leaves you breathless. He knew your body like the back of his hand, his touch never failing to leave you reeling. You can hardly focus on Satoru’s cock, moans spilling from your lips at the way Suguru stretches you. Your jaw aches from keeping it open, tears beginning to well up in your eyes from the pain of Satoru’s cock nudging the back of your throat. You aren’t sure how much longer he’s going to last, his whimpers filling the room as he tosses his head back, his face almost completely pink. Suguru pushes your head down at a faster pace, breathless chuckles following once he hears you struggling for air. You swirl your tongue underneath Satoru’s cock, as your head bobs along his cock. 

“Suguru…” Satoru moans not your name, but the name of the man behind you. 

The name of the man who controls the two of you like puppets, created only for his pleasure. 

“Feel good?” Suguru asks, his face briefly pinching up. 

Satoru’s stomach is flexing above you, you can see it through the expensive lingerie that donned his body. 

“So, s-so good-“ Satoru’s precum is dribbling down your throat, and you have to continuously swallow. 

“I know, she’s perfect.” Suguru voice is almost muffled in your ears, your mind swimming. “You gonna cum?” 

“Yes, need to cum, need to-“ Satoru’s voice breaks off into a loud moan. 

He’s holding back, you can tell. 

“Oh you need to? You have a lot of needs today, don't you think that’s weird if you’re celebrating my birthday?” 

Your walls clench around Suguru at the harshness of his words. You hope he won’t point it out, you aren’t sure you could handle the humiliation from him right now. You might cum on the spot. 

“Please,” Satoru sobs. 

Suguru hums, his hands full of the flesh in front of him. He kneads your ass as he talks. 

“Please, please, Suguru I’m gonna!”

Suguru’s breathing picks up behind you. He’s getting off on this. He likes knowing Satoru needs him. He likes hearing him groan his name, even though he isn’t touching him. 

“Alright, alright.” Suguru slams your head all the way down, the action nearly bruising the back of your throat. 

Satoru moans loudly, his breathing stuttering as cum begins to shoot out into your mouth. You choke at first before you regain your barings. 

“Don’t swallow.” Suguru tells you. 

Suguru pulls you off Satoru’s cock once he sees Satoru regain composure. Suguru pulls you up until his toned chest is pressing into your sweaty back. He tilts your face towards his, digging his fingers into your jaw and pressing his lips against you. The cum leaks from the corner of your lips as Suguru laps it from your mouth, desperate for a taste of Satoru. His hips stop as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth. His breath is heavy as it mixes with yours. 

Suguru pulls back, admiring your face before pressing down on your back, shoving you into the bed. You yelp as he starts to thrust into you again, your walls sensitive from all the constant teasing. 

“Taste so f-fucking good Satoru.” Suguru moans, holding your hips as he fucks into you. 

Suguru’s pace is steady now that he’s able to fully focus on you. He reaches his hand around and slides his fingers onto your pussy, circling your clit. You moan into the bed as he presses into you. Overwhelming, Suguru was overwhelming. 

“Satoru, get under her.” 

The two men move your body until Satoru is laying beneath you, bright blues looking up as his hand caresses your face. You whimper as you look down at him. He leans up to press his lips against yours, silencing all your sounds. You try to force your body to remain stable on your two wobbly arms, but your body was feeling useless. His tongue slides against your bottom lip, diving in the second your mouth opens. He tangles it with yours, his eyes rolling back once he tastes the remnants of his cum. Satoru slides his hand down your body, grazing against your chest. His fingers take advantage of your hardened nipples as he pinches them. Suguru breathes in a sharp breath when your pussy clenches around him. 

Each part of your body was being stimulated by the two men, your senses nearly burning out from the pleasure. Satoru pulls away, looking up at you as he continues to tease your chest. His eyes are closely monitoring each of your reactions, lips parted as he watches. 

Suguru strokes your clit, speeding up once he starts fucking you faster. Moans were falling from your lips now that you were unrestricted. You knew you were going to cum soon, and it scared you knowing that the men would be able to keep this up for endless amounts of hours. 

“Good, s-so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You sob, forcing your eyes shut. 

Suguru slams into you, groaning at the intermittent squeezing of your walls. His cock is drenched in your lust, the lubrication making it all the more easier to thrust into you. 

Satoru continues to play with your nipples, switching between sliding his thumbs over them and pinching them. He’s mesmerized as he watches your face twist in pleasure, nearly jealous that Suguru’s the one who’s balls deep inside of you. 

Suguru’s circling your clit as he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge. He wants you to cum first. 

You let out a long moan as you tighten around Suguru, so much so that it’s hard for him to continue fucking you. You cum on his cock, Satoru refusing to stop touching you. You cum so hard you nearly black out, almost afraid that your arms would give out on you, causing you to fall onto Satoru. 

“Fuck, that’s it baby, come on.” Suguru murmurs, his breathing more labored. 

He pulls his fingers away once you settle down and reaches them forward to stick into Satoru’s mouth. You get a front row seat as Satoru licks Suguru’s fingers, groaning at the taste. Once he’s finished, Suguru leans back to hold onto you. His pace is irregular, letting you know that he was close. You stare into Satoru’s eyes, maintaining eye contact. Suguru pushes into you, his hips stuttering as he starts to cum. He isn’t as noisy as Satoru, but the sounds he makes still travel to your ears, the low moaning making your body melt. Suguru stays inside you for a couple of moments, wincing when he pulls out. He admires the cum filling your hole, looking around to find something to clean you up with. Satoru brushes your hair back and slides from underneath you, appreciating your trembling figure on the bed. 

Suguru cleans you up, carefully helping you lay down. 

“I love you.” Satoru grabs Suguru’s wrist, pressing his lips against his. 

“I love you too.” Suguru says. 

You look up at the two men, your bottom lip jutting out. Satoru chuckles and Suguru’s lips spread into a soft smile. 

“I love you too.” Satoru aims towards you. 

Suguru repeats the sentiment, your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. 

The two men make their way to the bed, and instead of sandwiching you in the middle, Satoru waits until Suguru lays down before he lays on his other side. 

“Can we sing to you now?” Satoru asks. 

“Please don’t.” 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak

If you would like to be added to my taglist for when I post please let me know

[pressureplus]

Hihii! Hope your all doing well

Could you please do human Sebastian Headcannons where it’s his or our birthday and writhed we get him something or we get him something?? My birthday was yesterday n I think this’ll be cute <3

Remember to take breaks <3

-💫

Hi! We're doing good, thank you for asking ❤️ (We get our breaks by taking turns making stuff, so don't worry too much about that)

It's a day late, but happy birthday, Anon! I hope it was a good one!

Birthday Wishes

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

Everything has to be perfect. As perfect as it can possibly be from a place like this.

He's made sure to send Y/N out on a supply run he's hoping is going to take quite a while, needing some extra time to prepare for something he's making out to be a big event.

As much as he hates sending his dumb little diver anywhere without either going with them or watching them, he's taken a great deal of caution in getting them supplied and assuring the halls were not active today... Sebastian has well enough ferryman tokens in stock to bribe and barter with should anything happen, worse case scenario.

Shaking his head, he attempts to get rid of those paranoid tendencies so he can finish hanging up the streamers. The bastard fish had been awfully mean to Y/N this morning trying to throw them off so they wouldn't catch any hints for the surprises he's planned. The experiment still is not the best with putting that guard down that's been built up so he can live down here, but he's been trying. Y/N has made him really want to try.

Part of him is still nervous about this, scared that once they get this gift and use it that they'll figure out that they don't want him. He's scared that they'll settle on the thought that they only wanted his company out of desperation, lingering on the idea a bit too long and decide to go find someone else. The anxiety has left his hands shaking a good portion of the morning.

But he has to trust them. They've earned that a few hundred times over for being patient with him for so long.

Sebastian has been preparing for this day for years, and in truth this was for himself at first. This was supposed to be for him. He worked for it, scavenged for it, fought, killed, and lived for it. He's been running this shop for so long it's all he knows anymore and it was always for this.

It wasn't until Y/N came along it stopped being for him and started being for the both of them.

There's even a cake, and though he's still a bit concerned they're not going to like his less than stellar icing designs, he knows it's your favorite flavor so he's sure you won't hate it.

When he decides he's made it up nice enough and that he's brave enough to greet you, he makes his way back to his shop and sits waiting, trying not to mull over his choices, hoping that it will go well.

It doesn't take long, maybe another half hour at most, for his favorite person to stroll back in.

"Sebby! I'm home!" Y/N greets him first, going to set the small crate of goods down near the doorway.

"Took you long enough. Hard run?" He teases, reaching one of those big clawed hands down to ruffle their hair. Smile a little wider and eyes a little brighter, he can't deny he's excited.

"No! It was actually super easy! I didn't find even an ounce of data, though..." Seeming disappointed, they almost go to sulk before he catches them.

"No, no, I have made well enough for the week." He reaches under the desk and pulls out a messily wrapped box.

"Plus, it's your birthday, isn't it?" Sebastian grins.

It takes Y/N a long beat of silence to perk up, eyes sparkling under the outdated LEDs.

"It is! You remembered my birthday?" They snatch the present up and instinctually shake it.

"Ah, don't get too happy about it, I saw it on the calendar." The fishy man tries to play it off for longer, really dragging it out.

"I'd say happy birthday, but could it really be happy in the Blacksite?" He pokes, the snide jab not seeming to bring Y/N down at all.

"It is with you!" They give him a beaming grin and start to open their box.

Nearly choking, Sebastian feels his face heat up a bit and his heart stops in his chest. How is he not supposed to treasure his Y/N? How could anyone think they were anything less than amazing?

"Well, it is a special day nonetheless. You only get this old once." He adjusts his comment to match their mood, still reminding himself to soften up for them.

He's decorated it in their favorite colors, colorful streamers matching all the little things that's going to make it feel like a home.

"You got me a plushy?! Where'd you find one!?" Y/N tugs the stuffed toy out of the box and squeezes it, very clearly resembling their favorite mythical creature.

"Would you believe it was luck?" He chuckles, lying to them point blank. He'd made it by hand, but doesn't want the tears or teasing from you that would come with admitting that.

"Thank you so much, Sebastian! You're the best!" Y/N only continues to shine in the dimly lit shop.

"I've got something else for you. It's in the back." He places a hand on their waist to usher the former prisoner along towards the grand finale.

"Is it really gonna beat the plushie?" They joke and he snickers.

"I'd certainly hope so, it's your party." He uses another of his massive hands to cover your eyes and lead you out past the room, guiding your step up on a completely unfamiliar stair.

"Woah, is this a new room?" Y/N looks confused.

"Yep. It's your room now. We're still going to be sharing, but it's brand new." He hesitates for another few seconds.

Closing his own eyes, he tries to stay calm. Ripping that metaphorical bandaid off, his hands come away from them to let Y/N look around.

And Y/N finds themself in a submarine.

"You... Your deal went through. . ." They look around at the painstaking way he's furnished and decorated it.

"Yep. I got us a way out." He closes the door behind him and Y/N whips around to look at him.

"We're leaving!? WE'RE LEAVING TODAY?!" They look shaken, but more excited than he thinks he's ever seen before in his life.

The fear melts away watching the way they go and cheer, tossing their new plush onto the bed at the back of the vessel and laughing, already chattering about showing him the places they wanna go. If nothing he does ever goes right again his whole life, he's done good doing this.

Sebastian pulls another mischievous look and holds out the keys, barely catching their severely divided attention with the shiny new keyring.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hi,love ur stories 😍

I was wondering if u could do one based on 'I see the light' from tangled, where they meet at a mutual friends wedding or something, she was singing the song where she has the most melodiest voice and (charles, max or Pierre) somehow 'fall in love' at first sight of her along with her voice. Thx 😊😍

This was cute 💕 I hope you don't mind but I changed the setting a little bit.

Tangled Up In You || MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x singer!fem!reader Warnings: fluff, slight angst with his ex, more fluff WC: 2.2k

F1 Masterlist

Children were known to be resilient creatures that could adapt well to changes but Penelope had struggled to understand why her and her mother no longer lived with Max. It had been six months and still she asked where her ‘Maxie’ was and why he couldn’t come with them to their new home. 

So, it came as no surprise when she was asked who she wanted to invite to her 4th birthday party that Max was at the top of the list.

“...you don’t have to come, I can say you are busy-”

“No, I’ll be there, Kel,” Max interrupted as he put the call on speaker and added the event to his calendar. “Is P there? Can I talk to her?”

“Sorry, she’s with Daniil picking out her princess dress. The theme’s Disney, of course,” Kelly laughed softly before she sighed. “Are you sure you want to come, or are you just being nice?”

“I want to come. I miss our tea parties, and standing on tiny pieces of lego.”

The silence on the line lingered for a moment before she couldn’t help asking. “Do you miss me?” 

This time it was Max who sighed. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

He hung up before she could apologise again. Somehow she always turned a conversation back to their relationship, but that wasn’t something Max would ever entertain. If the man knew one thing from his life of racing it was how to move forward and when the three year relationship he had run its course he had taken time to reflect, just like those post-race debriefs, and planned to use it as a lesson learned for next time.

Kelly had overdone it as usual. 

The largest ballroom of Hôtel de Paris had been transformed into a set straight from Disney and filled with actresses dressed as Penelope’s favourites princesses. 

It was easy to spot P when Max walked in because her excited squeals were impossible to miss and he followed the sound to the front of the stage where she was jumping excitedly.

“Maxie!” she screamed, running and jumping at him trusting he would catch her.

“Happy Birthday, P,” he grinned as he lifted her up into a hug. “I can’t believe you are two years old already.”

“I’m four, silly!”

“No, that can’t be. You can’t possibly grow up that quickly.”

“I can! Have you seen my princesses? My favourite one isn’t here yet but mummy said she’s going to be here any minute.”

Max scanned the room for the princesses and saw the usual ones like Cinderella, Snow White and Aurora. “Is Rapunzel still your favourite then?”

Penelope nodded with a big toothy grin. “She’s so pretty. I want to be like her when I grow up.”

Max put her down carefully and straightened the tiara sitting on her perfectly styled hair. “You are already prettier than everyone here, P.”

“There you are,” Kelly greeted Max as she left another conversation to join them, kissing his cheeks twice just a little too close to the corners of his lips. “Just in time too. Sweetheart, look who’s here.”

Penelope screamed as she spotted Rapunzel taking the stage, a long golden braid adorned with flowers hanging all the way down her back. “It’s her, it’s really her,” P squealed as she squeezed Max’s hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Max was in a state of shock as his jaw fell slack. “She is.”

The lights of the stage dimmed until only a single spotlight cast a warm glow to her skin, the braiding of hair around her head appearing like a golden crown, or more accurately, a halo.

Max recognised the song in an instant, remembering the evenings spent on the couch watching Tangled, P dancing across the living room floor as she sang her little heart out. The memory brought a smile to his lips and it only grew wider as the angel on the stage began to sing.

You double checked the wig was held firmly by the pins and not a strand of hair was out of place before running your palms over the dress to make sure there wasn’t a single wrinkle on the pastel pink material. Satisfied you were ready, you hooked the small microphone and earpiece into place and nodded to the sound engineer to start the cue.

It was no difficult task to smile brightly as the music began and you twirled out onto the stage, you lived for these days. Seeing the excitement and joy your performances made the children who witnessed it brought joy to your life. Seeing their eyes widen and their jaws drop was what motivated you to channel even deeper and give your all to the act.

All those days watching from the windows All those years outside looking in All that time never even knowing Just how blind I've been

You spotted the birthday girl at the front of the crowd and plucked a bright flower from the braid, kneeling down to tuck it behind her ear. Her smile widened and she could hardly stand still as she trembled with excitement.

You waved a hand to the ceiling and the projector illuminated it with a thousand little glowing dots and a surprised gasp whispered across the largest crowd you had ever sung to.

Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight Now I'm here, suddenly I see Standing here, it's all so clear I'm where I'm meant to be

You smiled at the little girl once more before spinning on your toes beneath the twinkling lights, the tulle skirt billowing around you as if you were floating away with them.

Around the room, the other casted characters were turning on their lanterns and raising them into the air on near invisible strings. You could perform this set a thousand times and never tire of seeing the crowd's reactions to the lanterns floating into the night sky.

And at last I see the light And it's like the fog has lifted And at last I see the light And it's like the sky is new

You scanned the crowd while they were in a state of wonderment looking up, but there was one man who wasn’t. He still held the same unblinking look of awe but he could have been oblivious to the lights the way he was staring right back at you.

There was something about the look that almost knocked you off your feet as your stomach flipped and heat burned on your cheeks under the intensity. His eyes, a pale shade of blue, drew you closer to the edge of the stage and his foot lifted as if he were to follow.

And it's warm and real and bright And the world has somehow shifted

His lips moved like he knew the words by heart and you nearly missed the line as your heart skipped a beat. The rest of the crowd faded away as you knelt back where you had been and pulled another flower from your hair.

All at once everything looks different Now that I see you

He leaned forward and you tucked it behind his ear, your fingers grazing his jawline as you retreated. You were so absorbed by his shy smile and the blush highlighting his cheeks you didn’t notice the woman standing to the side of him. For a moment, before you caught yourself, it was only him that you sang to and only him that you saw.

“Please, please can I?” P begged her mother to go and see Rapunzel but after the breathtaking performance she had been in a mood and withdrew her hand from her daughter’s. 

“No, your cake is going to be coming out in a moment - I need to be here to show them where to put it.”

Tears welled along the four year old’s eyes and her bottom lip trembled before Max stepped in. “How about I take her?”

He had been watching the stage entrance for any sign of movement since her song had ended and it was hard to hide the disappointment when she didn’t return for another. He could still hear her voice and was busy committing it to memory in the hopes he could use the sweet, melodic sound to calm his racing mind when he lay awake alone at night.

Max couldn’t explain how utterly obsessed he had become or how he wished he knew what delicate perfume it was he had inhaled when she touched his face. He ran his hand along his jawline, following where her fingers had been under the guise of a scratch, and he was glad he had tidied his beard up for the event.

“Of course you would offer that,” Kelly bit back, pulling him from his thoughts as his hand fell away from his face. “Whatever, do as you want.”

Penelope understood the permission but missed the sarcasm and Max sighed to himself as he took P’s hand and made their way to the curtains that hid the makeshift backstage area.

“Rapunzel!” P squealed as she rushed forward, towing Max to keep up until she barrelled into the princesses legs and wrapped her arms around them. “I love you.”

You had almost begun to pull your wig off when you heard a little girl call out. You turned just in time to catch her as she grappled you into a hug and you laughed softly as you tucked her hair back behind her ear to see the flower you had given her.

“Aren’t you the sweetest little girl,” you giggled as you knelt down to her height and took in the sight of the man who followed her, his hands tucking into his dress pants. You drowned in the eyes that had held you captivated before tearing yours away and swallowing the disappointment that had crept up your throat. “I hope you are having the most magical birthday with your father.”

The birthday girl looked up at him with a laugh. “This is my Maxie.”

You tried to hide your confusion but he obviously saw it as he scratched the back of his neck, the material of the shirt he wore straining as his biceps tensed.

“Uh, I am, was, her step-dad,” he corrected as he gave the girl a small sad smile before offering his hand to you. “It’s just Max, or you can call me Maxie too, I guess, if you want.”

You smiled in amusement as you shook his hand, the touch lingering a little longer as neither of you made an effort to pull away.

“I’m Rapunzel,” you said as your eyes darted to Penelope.

“Right,” he chuckled and let his hand fall back to his side as he looked at her too. “Your cake might be waiting for you, P. Do you want to go check?”

“Can you come?” she asked you with big round eyes.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but Eugene has probably got himself into trouble without me, so I should really be going. But I must thank you, it was an absolute delight to celebrate your birthday with you. I love getting to spend time with a fellow princess.” You swung your braid over your shoulder and the sweet scent of the fresh flowers filled the air. “You can have as many as you like.”

It took all your concentration not to look at Max when that was what you really wanted to do, especially when he knelt beside you and helped Penelope to choose which flowers to take. His arm brushed against yours and you nearly lost your balance from the deep breath you took of his mouth watering cologne.

Eventually she was happy with the dozen bright blossoms she cradled in her arms and thanked you before rushing to take them back to her mother. “Come on, Maxie!” she called without looking back to see if he was following.

He rose with a sigh and you hissed as your head was tugged sharply by the pins. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured as he saw his watch had got caught in the braid. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, it actually happens more often than you would think.” You rubbed the back of your head where the pain was worst and double checked the birthday girl was gone. “I’m Y/N.”

He repeated it with a smile as he slipped the watch off his wrist to use both hands to untangle it from the golden threads. “Would you let me take you to dinner to apologise properly?”

If you were wearing your microphone it probably would have picked up the sound of your heart from how quickly it started pumping. There was no denying this attraction between you and you could see he was equally affected by it too.

“No, I told you it’s alright,” you started, taking his hand when his shoulder slumped crestfallen. “But, you can buy me dinner if you want to make it a date?”

A bright smile broke across his face and you couldn’t help smiling back knowing it was because of you. “Tonight?”

You nodded as you reached into the hidden pocket in the dress and passed him your phone to enter his number before he sent himself a message to get yours. “You might not recognise me without all this,” you joked as you started to pull the pins out of the wig and freed your natural hair.

He chuckled and shook his head as he found you even more beautiful than before. “There’s no mistaking those eyes, I would recognise them anywhere.”

[underthetree845]

(dazai osamu birthday post- 2024)

A Taste of Sunlight

Dazai Osamu/gn! Reader (oneshot)

cws: gn! reader (uses of 'bella(donna)') but gender not explicitly stated, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, ada dazai, ada reader, coworkers/friends to lovers, domestic love, domestic fluff, implied mutual pining, mentions of dazai's past suicide attempts, dazai's past spoilers, dazai's dark thoughts, dazai calling himself inhuman and undeserving, baking together, dazai's birthday, reader is dazai's safe space

wc: about 3.7k

summary: how will reader make dazai feel special on his birthday when he doesn't feel like he deserves to?

a/n: this turned out a little darker with dazai's thoughts than I thought it would, but i'm satisfied with how i wrapped things up! i know it's been awhile since i posted my own writing- burnout hit me pretty hard and it's been difficult to get back on my feet, but i knew i had to do something special for him (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

Ceilings, plaster. Can’t someone just make it move faster? Abandoned bottles of sake scattered on the tatami mat floor of his bedroom catch the light of the late morning sun as it creeps in through the curtains he keeps forgetting to close. Or rather, the curtains he can never bother to close on certain nights. He never forgets, not really. The dusty little fan in the corner of his room does little to break up the lingering staleness which hangs in the air. You should really open a window in here Dazai-kun, he heard your voice echo in the basement of his mind, Sunlight and fresh air are good for you. You were probably right. Sunlight and fresh air are good for you, everyone knows that. You somehow always are right about him. 

The sun had already found his skin that morning- or rather, the shield of cloth he uses to hide the vast nothingness underneath. The icky, inhuman blackness that he would never allow a creature like you to even brush with your fingertips. For the first time that day since observing the sun come up out his window with hollow eyes and a blank expression, Dazai sat up. Ignoring the slight ache in his head and soreness of his muscles, bandages seeming to be the only thing holding him together, Dazai arose from his futon and silently slumped to his kitchen to down a glass of water. Today was a pointless day. One that shouldn’t have happened at all. Probably one of the worst of Dazai’s life, save for a few particularly nightmarish ones. Nightmares. Maybe he’d wake up, wake up as somebody completely different; or as an old man, and realize that the countertop in front of him and fingers wrapped around the sturdy white mug in his grasp were all really from a time long gone. The mug’s black, dotted on eyes stared back up at him, Dazai’s own brown ones focused, the emotion behind them simply indescribable. Part of Dazai feared waking up too. Something light, something warm, managed to flicker in the cavern of his chest at the memory of the grin that had spread across your lips upon presenting him with the cat mug. A grin you only ever seemed to take on for his eyes. You, he should be ashamed of himself for allowing skin so pure to meet with his own bloody, bandaged hands. Muddled flesh that hardly ever got a taste of the sunlight which always seemed to bathe the surface of your skin. Dazai Osamu had always been a sinner, would it really make his eternal damnation that much worse if he decided to linger in your comforting embrace for a moment longer? 

Yes, today never should have happened. The first one so many years ago, and all the years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret that followed. The number taunted him from the calendar Kunikida had insisted he hang up on his wall, your support in the idea being the only reason he had gone through with it at all. 06 19. The nineteenth of June. June 19th. Definitely some sort of horrible mistake by the gods of this universe. If they even existed. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. Most things can be predicted- whether it be by pattern of behavior… calculated likelihood, or something else of the like. Dazai thought- and still did- that it would be tragically poetic if the date of birth and the date of death on a gravestone perfectly matched. Right down to the date of the month. Yes, a perfectly beautiful idea of a gravestone Dazai had tried a handful of times to make his own. He had the scars to prove it. Aside from empty ‘happy birthday’s from the other executives, there were only really two people in the mafia who placed any sort of importance on Dazai’s birthday.  None of that mattered now. Of course, in reality, all of it mattered. It was what led him here, to the light which now poured in through the window in the living room of his little apartment. In the almost two years Dazai had been employed at the Armed Detective Agency, he’d had one birthday. He was new enough in the office last year that the prospect of his colleagues doing anything to commemorate the event was not very keen. Such was his hope. He did get a lollipop from Ranpo and a ‘happy birthday’ from Kunikida; the blonde did not get on Dazai’s back over his paperwork for the whole day. That was, until you first stepped foot into the agency a few months into Dazai’s employment. Ironically, in spite of all the warm welcomes you received from his colleagues, the brunette found himself extremely suspicious of you. No one could possibly charm that many detectives with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile. Not just anyone could possibly hold that much warmth in their laughter and still have so much to share. That smile of yours. Dazai had ended many lives for many different reasons, despite having failed at cutting his own short so many times. Rarely did he ever spill blood to protect someone- much less because of some irrational, sentimental attachment. If not for his years in the mafia, it probably would have frightened Dazai to realize how easily he would watch the world burn if it meant that smile of yours would be safe. As it turns out, Dazai wasn’t entirely wrong. You weren’t just anyone- you were Name. You, who he didn’t deserve to even stand anywhere near. Who shouldn’t even bother buying someone like him some cat mug that made you think of him. He never knew he could be so emotionally attached to a piece of ceramic. But that was nothing compared to the way you made his head spin.  You would let out a giggle while calling him a flirt for the millionth time. You would share your umbrella with him on a rainy day, circle his birthday in a bright red marker on the little calendar sitting neatly on your desk. The desk right across from his. He’d pretend to not notice the glances you steal because he knows he’s far worse. Buying each other coffee on occasion- usual orders memorized. Experiencing such simple pleasures on a weekly basis- how could anyone have not expected Dazai to fall as hard as he did? 

The thing that broke him out of his trance were four soft knocks on the door. The same way you would knock on the wood of his desk to discreetly get his attention. Dazai was about to dismiss the four knocks as a phantom of his imagination before they sounded again, causing him to turn his head and peer at the door as if it had just grown a pair of wings and flown away. Before you could get the chance to knock again or ring his phone, Dazai ran a bandaged hand through his scruffy locks before brightening up his expression slightly and opening the door. And there you were- not unlike the sunlight which flooded in through the entryway, the first thing you did was send prickles of warmth into his skin and allow that smile of yours to glow. 

“Ah, Bella! I didn’t expect to see you here today,” Dazai greeted you with a singsong voice, “You’re looking as radiant as ever. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dazai held his mask up for the whole sixty seconds it took you to reply. In that time, your honeyed eyes scanned over the expanse of his face in a way only you could make so overwhelming. The grin on his lips, though meticulously crafted, failed to meet his eyes. He knew you could tell the moment your irises flickered with an emotion far too deep for Dazai to have the energy to explore. You somehow always were right about him.  It didn’t take much longer for you to ask if you could come in for a while, and Dazai accepted as if he’d ever have the strength to refuse. The fabric tote bag clunked with weight as you placed it on his kitchen counter, Dazai trailed behind you as if your torsos were connected by some invisible string. His eyes reminded you of a burnt black cat.

As far as cooking came, Dazai knew how to prepare a few basic things. How to scramble eggs, how to steam rice, how to use the microwave, how to open a can of crabs. It had always been too much of a nuisance to bother with anything more. The cigarettes and sake sustained him well enough. Even so, he found himself peering over your shoulder with dark, curious eyes as you unpacked several ingredients and laid them neatly on the counter.

“My my, did you go shopping for me? How thoughtful,” a small grin played on Dazai’s lips as he held up a tiny bottle of vanilla extract with an inspectful eye. Uncapping the bottle, he took a moment to inhale the scent, goosebumps rising underneath the bandages on the back of his neck at how much it reminded him of your usual shampoo.

“You like cheesecake, right?” you asked, voice a gentle breeze as you tilted your head in his direction. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. He paused momentarily, raising an eyebrow as you cleaned your hands in the sink. How you came to acquire such a fact was beyond him. Your fingers then reached out to preheat the oven, the one he usually didn’t spare so much as a glance. “I’ve only had the chance to taste it a handful of times, but I do have to admit, I’m a fan,” Dazai replied. You were smart enough to bring your own mixing bowls, pans, and stirring utensils. Sometimes he questioned how he ever allowed you to come to know him so well. “If you wanna help me, would you mind washing your hands first, please?” you requested, and Dazai didn’t even wait a moment before turning to the sink. 

You did a better job of filling his apartment with warmth and light than the sun ever could. From the way your shoes sat at the front door right next to his own to the way your perfume would linger around after you’d taken your leave. Your fingers would cup over his own as you demonstrated how to properly stir the ingredients together. He would internally curse the persistence of the butterfly in his chest when you commented on how pretty you thought his hands were. You made his sparsely decorated, thin-walled little apartment feel just a little more like a home. Dazai waited patiently with the batter in his arms as you pressed the buttery graham cracker crust firmly into the pan. If the universe were kind, he would have been allowed to stand there and take you in until the end of time. He knew he probably wouldn’t ever deserve to have someone like you in his life. Not the way your eyes softened when they met his, not the way you flushed so beautifully in response to his compliments and praise. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to give you as much as you deserve. He didn’t even come close to deserving the trust you must have had in him that evening on the metro, when you slept on the shoulder of his coat. Both of you missed your stops that day. How could anyone have expected him to have the heart to disturb you? They were the ones who whispered how he didn’t even have one.

Before he knew it, the cake was almost ready to be placed in the oven. Your fingers cupped his own once more as you helped him pour the batter evenly before scraping the last bit out with the blue silicone spatula from your bag. He spun the pan in a circle on the countertop to even the batter as you slipped a pair of well used oven mitts onto your hands. “Looks perfect,” you offered some gentle praise and he felt his heart soften. Once the batter had been slid into the warmth of the oven, you removed the floral print oven mitts from your hands and leaned against the counter with a sigh. Dazai’s eyes were drawn to the way your fingers were delicately folded in front of you, how soft your skin looked and how it might feel against his own. From the gentle curve of your lips to how your eyelashes brushed your cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed… he found himself at a loss. You always somehow seemed to dwindle him to a shadow of his former self, bring out sides of him he didn’t even know he had. Out of all the crimes Dazai had committed in his life, stealing your heart was by far the worst one. He didn’t think he’d be able to give your heart back if he tried, especially when you held his own so easily in the palm of your hand. “Have you had water today?” you voiced, finally turning to bless him with your gaze. “I drank some just before you came, actually,” Dazai replied, eyes briefly flickering over to the now empty cat mug sitting on the counter. “Would you care for something to drink yourself? What might suit your fancy, m’lady?” He cocked his head playfully. Your eyes regarded his thoughtfulness. A look far too fond for someone like him. Especially from someone like you. “Some water might be nice, thank you.” “You know I aim to please,” he nodded slightly, opening the fridge to get his pitcher.

A little while later, a timer went off on your phone, and Dazai tilted his head when you slid the oven mitts back on and set the cheesecake on the stovetop. “Isn’t it a bit too soon, Bella?” he inquired, leaning over your shoulder as you grabbed a little green bowl that had previously been set aside, “The center still looks a bit too mushy, doesn't it?” You hummed slightly, a pleased expression crossing your face. “Look at you, getting more adept at cooking already?” a soft grin played on your lips as you gave him an affectionate pat on his cheek. “I’m learning from the best,” Dazai replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “You’re right, it’s not quite done yet, but I’m adding the topping now so it can cook a little with the cheesecake at the very end,” you explained as you carefully poured the topping on, “It’s usually done this way. Makes it yummier.” It’s wrong, Dazai thinks, to indulge himself in your company like this. There are a million other better ways you could be spending your time. Not taking the time out of your day to come fan a flame already at the end of its wick. Even so, even if a part of Dazai might never allow himself to fully believe what you say when you tell him what kind of person he is in your precious eyes, nothing but being in your arms has ever felt so close to what others might describe as home.  Not where he grew up, not his shitty old shipping container or the mattress on its rotting floor. Not any of the places he would lie awake at night hoping to waste away or any of the many bottles of sake that have met his lips. They filled his stomach, flushed his skin, but left his chest cold, barren, empty. “Cherries are in season this time of year you know?” you said, sighing at the scent of the mashed up fruit and sugar bubbling in the pan in front of you. Combined with the warm scent of the cheesecake wafting from the oven, even Dazai, whose appetite usually didn’t amount to much at all, found his mouth beginning to water. “Are they?” he tilted his head with a fond smile, imagining what it might be like to get used to having you in his kitchen more often. What a dream it would be to have coming home mean coming home to you. You looked so perfect in his apartment it almost hurt. Whether you were curled up on the cushions of his couch, cross legged on the floor, or standing in front of the stove pouring some homemade cherry sauce over a freshly made cheesecake, he would take it all. Savor every last bit of the warmth and light with which you filled his apartment.  “Why don’t you open a window in here before we start eating?” you suggested, and Dazai let out a breath of resigned amusement. He stood from where he had been leaning against the countertop and strolled over to the living room. “Hm, Bella, don’t people usually eat cheesecake cold?” Dazai wondered, looking back at you for a moment as you grabbed a pair of forks from a drawer. “Yeah, they do,” you replied, placing two equally sized slices of cheesecake onto one of the plates from Dazai’s cabinet. He didn’t have to remind you where they were kept. “But personally I like eating it warm, I always have,” your lips curved up into a smile, “especially when it’s freshly baked. Makes it yummier.” “Huh, well I trust your opinion,” he offered a slight smile, returning to take a seat at the little round table just as the two plates were lowered. The cheesecake looked even more appetizing now that it had been neatly sliced and plated, but nothing made him want to eat it more than the fact that it had been prepared by the loveliest pair of hands he had ever met. 

Dazai took notice of the way you held your breath when he took his first bite; you shouldn’t have been so anxious for the approval from the likes of him, yet he found it hard to get himself to care when you looked so downright adorable while doing it. His eyelids slid shut for a brief moment, being sure to completely savor the mouthful before swallowing with a bob of his throat and finally meeting your gaze with his own. “Bella…” Dazai started, hands unmoving, voice lower than usual. You furrowed your brows when you couldn’t decipher his tone. “What is it? Is it okay?” you leaned forward, eyes searching his face for any sort of indication. “Do… do you not like it?” something pulled tight in your chest at the thought, your grip on your fork stiffened slightly, “It’s okay if you don’t, you can say so.” The following heartbeat of silence felt like it stretched on for an eternity. “Bella you’ve ruined me,” he sighed dramatically, slumping in his seat and placing the back of his hand on his forehead in exasperation, “How am I ever supposed to enjoy anyone else’s cheesecake ever again?” His heart nearly melted when you paired a blink with the slightest tilt of your head, he could see the wheels in your mind turning for answers. “So you… do like it?” you spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb whatever strange state of emotion Dazai was using to express his feelings about the cheesecake. “No, my Dear, I’m afraid ‘like’ isn’t nearly a strong enough word, not even close!” he suddenly sat up straight in his seat, “I love it so much, I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cheesecake ever again unless you make it for me.” Finally, Dazai gets his reward when a grin splits onto your lips. “Is that so?” you giggle when he cups your hands between his own and nods urgently. That smile of yours. “Absolutely. You’ve doomed me to a pathetic existence,” Dazai pretended to cringe in pain, “forever wandering in search of the joy I once experienced, never knowing if-” “...I’ll do it again,” you said, and his ears perked up. “Hmm? What was that? You’ll do what again?” he raised his eyebrows, satisfied with the flush now evident on your cheeks. “I’ll make you cheesecake for your next birthday, and the one after that, and any time you want some in between,” you smiled sweetly, and Dazai’s heart leapt at your sincerity. “Do you mean it?” his eyes seemed to light up slightly, matching the sparkle in your own. He squeezed your hands. 

There was a saying in the Port Mafia. ‘The biggest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.’ Whether they called him a demon prodigy or the black wraith or a dog of the mafia really made no difference. When the sun set, they would be the ones quivering at the barrel of his gun as he listened to their pleas with cold, dead eyes. Dazai has been called by many names throughout his life; most, he knew, were well deserved. Even when addressed by his own name, it was usually out of exasperation, irritation, unease, or something else of the like. People spat his name with the bitter bite of a cold rain, and he couldn’t even remember the last time someone uttered his given name very tenderly at all. It was dangerous, Dazai thought, how easily he could see himself growing used to being with you like this. Pathetic, how the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia was reduced to a shell of himself the moment you offered so much as a smile. The way you said his name made him seem like something precious; something worthy of getting to see that smile of yours, to have your eyes light up when they meet his. 

“Happy birthday, Osamu,” you said, and god your voice had never sounded sweeter. Yes, you’ve ruined him. Absolutely ruined him. Reduced him to a shadow of his former self with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile, and the worst of it all was that you didn’t even know it. You tore away all those layers of bandages, you reached out and touched something Dazai didn’t even know he had. Even as his heart bled, you would cradle it close to your chest, whisper sweet nothings that everything would be alright. Dazai found himself inclined to believe you. Perhaps the reason he seemed to be without a heart for all those years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret, was because it had been with you all along. 

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

a/n: thank you so much for reading! it means a lot- i hope you have a lovely day/night/morning/evening and remember to drink plenty of water! divider credit: (x) (x) tagging: @ringsofsaturnnnn

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'birthday cake' - logan howlett x wade wilson

summary: logan buys wade a cake for his birthday and tries to convince himself it doesn't mean anything. (900 words) tags: kinda fluffy, kinda angsty, set a year after the movie, references to losing the x-men, feelings realisation, animal metaphors for logan, cussing, logan x wade. a/n: happy birthday deadpool!

birthdays. running a calloused hand across his stubbled jaw, logan eyes the cakes in the bakery aisle with disgust. when's the last time he celebrated a birthday? not since. . .

well.

not since.

he's not sure why he's here. except he is. yet he won't admit it. can't admit he gives a damn about that stupid red leather-wearing freak. isn't that what he's doing right now, though? a birthday cake, an admission of sorts?

logan grumbles, a deep rumble in the back of his throat. why was this so hard? why couldn't he just pick up a cake and go? or better yet, forget about this whole damn thing and go home?

home.

a word that still feels so foreign in his mind, a long-lost concept that's only recently begun to take root again despite his best efforts to weed it out. that's the thing with wade, he's persistent. fuck, he's extremely fucking persistent to a highly annoying degree. but it's funny how the things we want to deny the most are the things that turn out to be the best for us in the end.

there's a unicorn cake that catches his eye. an imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of logan's lips, a reluctant grin quirking up without permission. he can't help it. "god damn it," he mutters, letting out a soft exhale that could possibly be perceived as a laugh.

it isn't too late. he could back out now, snuff the candles out and toss the cake so hard into the garbage can that it explodes on impact, leaving no evidence behind. that'd probably be the best thing to do. because what the fuck was this?

the unicorn cake sits on the dining room table, a few candles placed carefully (yet still somehow messily) into the pink icing, thoughtfully avoiding the unicorn decorations and rainbows.

logan shuffles nervously on his feet, hands clasped behind his back. he can already hear wade's annoying squealing in his ear, fussing and yelling and talking and just always fucking talking.

he'd made a deliberate effort to ignore all of wade's incessant reminders, 'it's my birthday month peanut, gotta be nice to me', 'i made sure to cancel everything on your very empty calendar for my birthday'. but in reality, logan had it memorised from the moment he learned the date.

a key enters the door, and logan stiffens up, then forces himself to relax in an attempt to look nonchalant. he looks anything but, head tilted down with dark eyes glued to the door - watching, waiting, anticipating.

"holy fuck balls that traffic is ridiculous!" wade whines, closing the door and rolling his neck as though he'd been worked to the bone, "i swear, it's like none of those careless fuckers know it's my birthday - can you believe that? i was thinking about getting a tattoo, the date on my forehead, y'know, so that when anyone asks they-"

wade stops, finally looking into the open room, eyes landing on the flicker of the candles. then to logan, eyes softening. "you. . . got me a cake?" wade whispers in the softest tone logan's ever heard from him, voice thick with emotion. it hits him unexpectedly.

logan puffs his chest out, "don't make a big deal outta it, bub." he says firmly, eyes straying from wade's gaze. feels like his eyes are boring into him, he doesn't like it. doesn't like the way wade looks at him, really looks at him. that kinda look is dangerous, could make a man believe he deserves to be forgiven for all he did or didn't do. could make a man believe that he's allowed happiness, however strange or unusual that source of happiness may be.

when logan's eyes trail back to meet wade's, he's already in front of him, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug as he rests his cheek against his broad chest. logan huffs, making a sound of disapproval initially, yet makes no effort to move or push him away. instead, he settles, allowing it.

he knows wade must hear his heartbeat, the fact that it's fluttering in his chest. but wade only squeezes his arms around him tighter in response.

for once, the merc with a mouth is silent, basking in this moment the other has allowed. he's almost in disbelief. to some, and hell, maybe even logan himself, it looked like. . . well, just a cake.

but it symbolised so much more than that.

if wade has had his hand outstretched all this time, approaching the skittish animal threatening to lash out in learned survival instincts - then this is the gentle nudge from the animal's snout into his palm. a curious, tentative step forward. a willingness to let someone in, let someone help.

and god, wade won't mess this up, won't disappoint, despite the fact that it's all he thought he was good for, for a long ass time. if logan's taught him anything, it's that life is so much more than what you boil yourself down to. it's what others see in you, too.

wade's eyes pop open when he feels logan's firm hands hesitantly rest upon his back, giving a gentle pat. he bites his tongue, a mirage of sex jokes slinging through his filth-riddled mind. perhaps in a way, that was his own defense mechanism, push him away with just enough jokes to keep him guessing.

but not today.

because today logan bought him a cake. the same day that logan realised that he's hopelessly, ridiculously, disgustingly, annoyingly. . . in love.

[matchadobo]

KIDD; it's the captain's birthday!

wc: 2453

summary: name prepared surprises for kidd's birthday, but unfortunately, it won't go as planned.

warning/s: fem reader, nsfw at the end 🔞

kidd woke up with the space beside him cold and empty. it was strange that he had all the blanket to himself and you weren't there to take it all from him. he shuffled through the mountain of pillows on his bed for you, blurry eyes scanning through the dimly lit room. he checked the bathroom and you weren't there either. so he opted to go outside where chaos ensued.

the crew members had stopped on their tracks from fishing out confettis and streamers from crates, looking at kidd like he intruded at his own ship. kidd was only wearing boxers but that wasn't the surprising bit. he had a scowl on his face and had a bedhead. but his presence that he had walked out that door made everyone turn pale.

"what the fuck are you guys doing?" he cocked a brow, eyeing each one of them to answer. "what? lost your voices or some shit?"

"you sure you don't need to sleep anymore, captain?" one member tried to salvage the situation, rubbing his hands together with a gentle expression as anxiety pooled through him.

"that's not what i asked, is it, rookie?" he got closer, bending down to the poor man's height who shivered at his proximity. "i wanna know where's name?"

there was total silence, no one wanted to speak and kidd was getting impatient. that is until, he heard a clang by the kitchen that followed your shriek afterward. kidd sauntered to the kitchen, had his mind straight to getting to you. the other crew members tried blocking him by the kitchen entrance, but one glare was enough to send them away despite their protests that you firmly instructed them to prevent him from entering.

kidd saw you entirely focused on decorating a cake with a piping bag. baking supplies were scattered on the countertop and on the floor. it was a mess. your hair and outfit was powdered up by what seems to be flour and your arms and apron had scattered stains of whipped cream. he didn't miss how your tongue peeked out from being way too concentrated at your craft.

his canines tugged at his lips as his smile slowly grew watching you. he crossed his arms leaning by the doorframe with the scared rookies at his feet. he waited for you to notice him but you were on your own world. so he made his way closer to you, leaning by the empty space of the table you were working on and crossing his arms. he glanced by the worn out calendar by the kitchen and saw that it was indeed his birthday. his heart swelled at the thought of you going an extra mile to even make a cake for him.

"ugh, what is it? i asked those ruffians to not let anyone in-" when you finally take your eyes off the nearly finished cake, you saw kidd with a cocky grin on his face. you looked up at him with a shit-scared face.

"hm? what's that? why did you stop, bunny? come on i wanna see how it turns out." he said with a teasing tone, gesturing to the cake.

"h-how-" he saw how your expression shifted and he kinda panicked. you pouted, shoulders dropping as you tossed the piping bag by the table. "those idiots had one job." you sighed, disappointed as you crossed your arms. "well, it's kinda my fault for sleeping in."

"hey what's got you so down, lovebug? you gonna stop makin' this?" he walked in front of you, bending down to your level as he pointed at the cake behind you.

"you're a big party pooper you know...!" you avoided his gaze, hiding your flushed face by your palms. "you're not supposed to wake up until 10 or something."

"can't help it if you're not cuddlin' me or stealin' the damn blanket. plus, crew's too loud." he pulled you in for a hug, hand placed at the back of your head. "come on, ain't ya finishin' your calligraphy? this shit's gold." he peeked behind you at the top of the cake adorned with flowers made from fondant, some edible pearls that contrasted the black icing, and the red lettering that spelled 'happy birthday to the coolest captain' in intricate calligraphy and 'hubby' written in little font with a heart. you couldn't see it, but he had to bite his lip to prevent himself from smiling so hard cuz his heart did a thing.

"you givin' up on me? alright, lemme take over. i think i can make a better lookin' one than you can."

with his last phrase, you suddenly pulled away, looking at him with the most offended glare. your hands loosen around his waist, pushing him away and escaping his grasp. "shut up! this is gonna be fire just you wait!"

so he sat on a stool and watch you decorate with much attention. mission success for him. he knows how to push your buttons and he really wanted to see you finish what you did for him. plus, he loves getting you riled up. he adored how your brows furrowed and the little noises you did when you almost screw up. you'd ask him to look at some little designs you do, he'd glance over and tell you it's cute but he ain't even looking at the cake, he's looking at you. he admires how you make everything look pretty. how some of the strands of your hair fall down your face amidst the bun. how beads of sweat form in your temples and he reaches over to wipe it off.

"there! 's all done." you stuck the candles by the cake and lit them with a lighter. you held up it for him and gave him a big smile, proud of your craft. "happy birthday, kidd!"

kidd took a moment to look at you. you were on your pajamas; panties and a silk, short-sleeved button up that looked too stained with the black and red frostings. your hair was too disheveled but the brightness of your smile made up for it, kidd liked you with messy, bedhead anyways. your eyes were tired but they still found a way to smile. you were so bright and so beautiful even if you just got out of bed and already sweated from working too hard. so he's happy that you were the first one to greet him happy birthday today.

he blew the candles with only one wish in mind after looking at you. he planted a kiss atop your head before grabbing a plate and knife. "let's slice 'er up and dig in."

kidd let you sit on his lap, letting you feed him the cake while you also munch on some yourself. he praised how well you did for the cake, urging you to get seconds. he'd eat the whole cake, not leaving anything left for the crew.

he'd reach over to kiss you, the frosting interspersing on your tongues. "thanks, baby." he mumbled through your lips, smiling. you'd comb on his locks while he presses your torso to his.

"that's not all my surprises though, you wouldn't figure this out."

"really, now?" he tugged on your bottom lip. "i can't wait for the surprise during the night." he planted a kiss on your jaw.

"come on, come on. let's get some breakfast!" you got off his lap, pulling his arm to lead him to the deck.

you took kidd to the decorated deck. red, black, and gold ballons scattered on the floor. colorful streamers and flaglets adorning the railings. a round table stood by the middle with two chairs. "what is this?" kidd asked, shimmying through the ballons and streamers that blocked his way as you led him.

"just sit your ass down, kidd." you sat him down and took a seat yourself.

you gestured to the assigned waiter, a.k.a. the kidd pirates' rookies you bullied into agreeing to be the butler for the foods, only to do the signal for about three fucking times kidd started laughing at how silly you looked. you looked back, seeing the group of men who were supposed to be your butlers to be drunk as hell, stumbling over themselves or lying on the floor. they must've drank last night, you haven't had the chance to check on them this morning since you were a mess yourself.

"love, i-it's okay, we can just-" kidd intervened, seeing how stress you are becoming.

"no...!" you promptly responded, finally facing him. "i'll just get them myself." you stood up, walking back in shame. good thing killer was there to help you bring food to the table.

after that disaster, kidd was fondly waiting and ready to start eating with you. fortunately, kidd lightened up the mood by cracking up some jokes here and there. well, he wanted to see you laugh a lot on his birthday. that's what he wished for.

you two spent the day singing and drinking with the crew. playing games with everyone to pass time. having a huge boodle fight. and chewing up the rookies who fucked up earlier.

until the evening came and everyone was either cleaning up or flat out drunk. you and kidd are already in his quarters as you donned a lacey lingerie in red. kidd was waiting by the edge of his bed, legs spread as he took in the sight of you.

"come 'ere, tiger." he bit his lip, doing the 'come' motion on his hands. you made your way toward him, teasing by walking slowly, keeping eye contact, your hands tracing your body from your hips to your chest. when he finally had you in his grasp, the door busted open.

"c-captain! th-there's fire!-" a daring rookie had bursted out of the door, he seems to be in real panic since he wasn't fazed by the glare of the both of you until he finished his sentence.

"what?" kidd answered, pissed at the interruption. "this better be fuckin' serious or i'll throw you overboard." he stood up while you grab your robe to cover yourself up.

"start talking." you crossed your arms, the blush on the boy's face was evident by the sound of you.

"h-heat-san and wire-san are washing up but... suddenly there was fire." he stuttered, nervously sweating under both of your gazes.

"there was fire when they're...washing up?" kidd repeated, puzzled at the fucked up statement. both of you rushed to the kitchen and there was indeed fire. the entire wall was burning and simmering in flames, heat must've been so drunk. kidd slapped the back of heat's head, asking him what the fuck he was doing while you stand disappointed in the corner.

since it looked like kidd had it under control, you sighed and silently went by the bow of the ship. your heart was heavy and you were so sad that today was full of fuck ups. your cake surprise was blown, the romantic breakfast was a bust, and the sexy time was interrupted. you couldn't even make kidd's day romantic and magical. you leaned by the railings, staring at the sea as you let tears flow by your eyes.

kidd soon took notice of your absence so he immediately went on his way to find you.

"hey." he called out, knowing that you're already crying from the way you were hunched over and your shoulders were shaking. he placed an arm around you, rubbing your shoulders as you rested your head on his chest.

"i'm sorry." you mumbled with wet cheeks and quivering lips. "this day was supposed to be special, but everything i planned for was a disaster."

"don'tcha worry about it, sweetness. you can always make it up to me later, with no clothes on." he squeezed your cheek, winking afterward. "but in all seriousness, i had fun today. it's all because you were there." he rubbed the tears off your eyes, kissing your forehead afterward. "the cake, the breakfast, and god the way you looked in that lingerie. it was the first birthday that i was entirely grateful for this day cuz you made me feel really, really special. aye?" he held your cheek with his hand, earnestly looking through your eyes. "you're the greatest fuckin' present i have ever received, you know that?"

"romance looks good on you, kidd." you smiled, tiptoeing to kiss his cheek. his snowy skin soon being flushed from your gesture.

"aye." he tucked strands of hair by your ear. "but you know what else will look good on me? you." he instantly carried you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and carried you to his quarters. "let's fuck until daylight cuz that's what the birthday boy wants."

he started off by leaving lip marks on your thighs, biting, kissing, and licking the plump flesh while he was carrying you. he plopped you down the bed, his golden eyes teemed with desired as it peeked through his crimson locks. he slid your panties down with his teeth, his breath tickling your skin, and tossed them somewhere on the floor. he slithered his tongue down the crevice of your folds, his metal arm held your neck in a firm grip while his human arm played with your mounds. he eagerly sucked and nibbled on your folds, spreading them deftly. he elicited vulgar moans from you, moans that would make the crewmates from the other room sweat coldly. he loved the way you pulled on his hair as you screamed for more.

he then lied on his back by the bed, arm at the back of his head as he watched you bounce yourself on his length. his hard, girthy length spreading your cunt as you struggle to sit on it. your back was facing him, ass on full display for him to play with. it was his favorite position after all.

he savored how you periodically looked back at him with that helpless expression, lost in ecstacy and pain. how your pants were in rhythm with his grunts as he relishes on your tight warmth. so when you mutter that you're close, looking back with a pleading gaze as your cunt felt numb and your rear was red from his handprints, he felt himself release inside, not being able to hold back from the literal dream that was before him.

"fuck, sorry, i couldn't hold it b-"

"you're lucky my period just finished." you joked, smiling at him. "besides, it's your birthday. i'd consider it."

once you came, he planted a kiss on your shoulder before hugging you by your waist, tightly basking in your warmth and touch. "sun's still down." he bit his lip, anticipating your reaction.

"you're lucky it's your birthday."

waaaahh it's my baby's birthday!! 🌷i just rushed this during the 6th oml 😩 nsfw ver coming soon i promise!!

[dollishbabess]

NOW WHAT THE HELL DOES SHE LIKE?! ── .✦ dollish

A/n: um so MY BIRTHDYA IS SOON IN DEC 7TH

I need gift ideas for myself!

Jason paced back and forth in his room, the faint glow of his phone illuminating his furrowed brow. The calendar on the wall read your birthday date a day that struck both excitement and dread into his heart. It was your birthday, and he had nothing planned. Nothing at all. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he had developed when stressed. “What do I even get her?” he muttered to himself, glancing at the stack of gift ideas he had written down. It was a pitiful collection of random thoughts a cute sweater, a fancy coffee maker, a book he thought you might like none of which felt right. He wanted something special, something that would show just how much you meant to him. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and texted your best friend, Emily. *Hey, do you have any ideas for Y/N’s birthday gift?* Moments later, his screen lit up with a reply *I’m not giving away any spoilers, but you should totally think outside the box!* “What does that even mean?” he groaned, tossing his phone onto the bed. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of ideas swirling in his head. He decided to reach out to another friend, Mark, who had a reputation for giving great advice. *Need your help, man. What should I get Y/N for her birthday?* Mark responded quickly, *You know her better than anyone. Just think about what she loves!* Jason felt frustration bubbling up inside him. “If only it were that simple!” he shouted into the empty room. He thought about how you always lit up when talking about your favorite things art, nature, those quirky little cafes you both loved exploring. Each memory brought a smile to his face but also heightened the pressure of finding the perfect gift. He glanced around his room, his mind racing. A weekend getaway? A heartfelt handwritten letter? A piece of jewelry? But then, he thought about how much you loved experiences over material things. “Maybe I can plan a special day,” he considered, pacing once more. “But what would that even look like?” Jason finally sat down at his desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. He started to jot down ideas, hoping something would click. A picnic at the park? A visit to that art exhibit you had mentioned? But then he worried would it be enough? Would you love it? As he wrote, his mind drifted back to all the times you had shared laughter and joy together. He wanted to encapsulate that feeling, something that would resonate with your shared memories. His heart began to race as an idea struck him, a day dedicated to you. He could take you to all your favorite places starting with brunch at that little café, followed by a stroll through the art gallery, and wrapping up with a sunset picnic in the park. It was perfect. It was thoughtful. It was all about you. Without hesitation, he texted Emily again. *How about a personalized day out for Y/N’s birthday?* To his surprise, Emily replied almost instantly, *Now that sounds like a great idea!* Jason couldn’t help but grin. With renewed energy, he planned every detail, each location carefully chosen to reflect your interests and passions. He marked his calendar, counting down the days until he could show you just how much you meant to him. On your birthday, as you both laid on the blanket under the vibrant sky, surrounded by delicious food and laughter, Jason realized that it wasn’t just about the gift. It was about the effort, the thought that went into making you feel celebrated and cherished. Watching your eyes sparkle with joy was the best reward he could have asked for. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, Jason knew he had given you something truly special an unforgettable day filled with the kind of love and friendship that only deepens with time.

── .✦ made by @dollishbabess

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part five —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3.5k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. lowkey cannibalism implication. reader menstruates. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I’m really going for the slow burn sorry

The days are difficult to keep track of.

You don’t have a calendar. Instead, you begin making mental markers of events in your head. 29 days since you left your old camp. 22 days since Ghost nearly killed you. 10 days since your face became the potential meal for another human. 

10 days since Blue disobeyed her skull-faced father. 

He hasn’t sent you away yet. You figure the two of you are in the clear. Still, you have found yourself avoiding his dark stare even more than before. 

“Don’t worry,” Blue had told you the second night she came to gently anoint your arm. “I was careful about it. I memorized the way the tube was in the kit, and I’m putting it back exaaaactly the same. I used to sneak some extra Nutella from our storage and Ghost only caught me in the beginning. I’ve gotten better at sneaking past him, okay?”

All you could do was cling to the little piece of trust you shared with her. Ten days later, the memory of it has now congealed into a thick, baby-pink scar, just like the one beneath your ribs. The pain has softened to tenderness. You used your knife to clip off the stitches. 

This morning, the usual soft-tailed alarm wakes you up. A bright grin hovers above your head. 

“Special day today,” Blue announces. Lazily, you rub your eyes. Yesterday was the first day you managed to kill a deer. You hung the meat up over a fire to smoke it for preservation. For once, the feeling of a stuffed stomach sang you into a deep sleep.

“What?” you ask, blinking away your slumber as you touch a hand over your abdomen. You can still feel where last night’s dinner is nestled.  

“It’s my birthday,” she says. Grim flutters over your arm as she sits down beside you. Naturally, your legs move over to allow just the right amount of space for her. You’ve grown used to this guest in your shed. 

“Your birthday?” You sit up. “What day is it today?” 

“February 19th,” she recites. Of course. Ghost probably keeps track. 

Then, her hand slips something into your palm. Something small, hard, and wrapped in plastic. You flicker your gaze to the smuggled good— a little sweet. When you look back at her, she sheepishly reveals to you the other three she has in her pocket. 

“I’m only allowed to have four on my birthday,” she explains. “Thought you would want one to celebrate.” 

“Thanks.” Your lips etch up at the corner. “Happy birthday.” 

Even tiny offerings like this can make you nervous. They aren’t nearly as lucrative or important as antiseptic. In the hall where their bedroom doors and the bathroom are, you’ve spotted a fourth door at the end where they dip in and out for stored food. They have nonperishables. Their rabbits will always breed. Ghost can always hunt. But pharmacies won’t restock their shelves. 

Still, you instinctively crane your head forward to peek out the door of your shed, searching for her father’s shadow.

Blue notices. 

“He’s making breakfast. Don’t worry.” Then, under her breath, she adds: “Besides... it is mine to give if I want to."

You pop it in your mouth. 

“Fuck— wow,” you sputter, and Blue giggles. The sugary taste is even stranger than the fullness in your gut. You can’t remember the last time you ate anything that wasn’t stale, foraged, or killed. 

Here in the small shed, the two of you suck on your candies for a quiet moment before breakfast. The pretty snow outside has melted, but the Northern air remains cold and bleak. Bare soil and scattered twigs lay under your boots when you finally head to the cabin. 

Despite your fat dinner from the night before, you indulge in an equally heavy breakfast of smoked venison. Your body still has some catching up to do. Ghost and Blue’s breakfast consists of Grim’s sister, apparently. She gives at least three apologies to him for it.

You’re not sure what Ghost manages for Blue’s birthday. You can’t recall how you celebrated that last birthday of yours - the one before the world ended. You never bothered celebrating anymore of them after that even though Paul used to keep his own calendar going. It seemed pointless. When your nephew was still alive, you tried putting effort into his. You’d find a twig for each of his years and stick them in the ground for him to blow the flames off of. You would make a little crown for him out of flowers. It was enough to make his eyes light up, even if only for a day.

But he died at age seven. Then, there were no more birthdays celebrated. 

To your surprise, Ghost fishes something out of his pocket after breakfast. Metal that clanks and sings. Car keys.

So it really is a vehicle back there?

“C’mon, kid. Get your coat.” 

“She’s coming, too, right?” Blue’s eyes flicker to you as she stands from the table. 

Come where? 

The masked joints of Ghost’s jaw clench with a spark of irritation. Avoiding him has been easy. He usually doesn’t talk to you, anyway. Your interactions have been kept to asking him for rags and soap to bathe with and him watching you braid Blue’s hair.

But now he gives you a brief stare and mumbles plainly, “Thought we might just put her in the trench while we’re gone.”

An audible, sharp breath floods your ribs.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Blue is quick to assure you with an uneasy smile before she gives him a pointed look. “It is my birthday and I am inviting her, okay?”

This is one where Ghost doesn’t put up a fight. 

So it is today that you see what resides under the tarp behind their cabin. Ghost lifts it back to reveal a faded-black pickup truck. Your irritation from the sight only swells when you see that there is a kayak in the truck bed. Another part of his emergency plan, maybe? What doesn't he have?

Ghost opens the door, lowers the front seat, and sends you to the back. Blue gets the passenger side. 

As her father wraps around the hood to get in, Blue looks over the seat and chimes, “Cool, huh?” You nod. “It’s only for emergencies, you know. But we go for little drives sometimes so it doesn’t stop working. Right, Ghost?” 

He hums a low response as he sits in front of the wheel. 

You touch your hands over the cracked leather seat beneath you. The inside smells like faded bourbon and ash. You notice an old cigarette tray in the front. This feels like a snapshot of Ghost’s old life, perhaps the one outside of the military. Maybe whatever version of him used to drive this car actually used his real name and wore an exposed face. Maybe he used to put an infant-version of Blue in a carseat in the back. For the first time, a small wonder of who else could have sat in here with the two of them - the parent that is missing - touches your brain, but you are quick to swallow it. That history isn’t worth the risk that could come from asking about it.

The engine awakens with a few coughs and you notice that the reader on the dash indicates that the fuel is just below full. What you are finally willing to pry about forms as a question under your breath.

“How did you get all this?”

Dark eyes flick to meet your gaze in the rear-view mirror. Swallowing, you hold his stare for only a moment before Blue is the one to answer you. 

“Ghost knew about everything before the rest of the world,” she explains, furrowing her brows. “I thought I told you that already.” 

“What?”

“You know,” she waves a hand around, “Military? Special Air Service? He knew.”

You didn’t even think of that. The rest of you knew nothing and suffered. Ghost knew ahead of time and could prepare. 

He stops her from continuing by giving a gentle nudge to her shoulder. “Gonna pick out the music or am I doing it?” 

You shake away the thoughts. Your ears perk up. Music?

“No.” Blue instantly flies her hands to the glove compartment where a small stash of CDs slips out. “I’m picking! It’s my birthday.” 

It is almost dizzying, how unfamiliar this is to you. Adrenaline, hunger, grief— you understand these well. Listening to the CD that Blue pops in the tray as Ghost starts driving? This is weird. You don’t know what it is you feel. Loud drums and sharp guitars fill your ears along with the hum of the truck. The tires slowly snap over twigs on the ground. Blue merrily sings - screams, even - along to the song. Can you remember it? You search through the crevices of your brain. Of course. Nirvana.

It is a short drive. 

Ghost’s gloved hand lazily steers the wheel through a routine path in the trees. He must follow the same one every time they do this. Blue rolls down the window and sticks her head out so the light wind can dance with her hair.

She feels safer to look at. She always does. She is the one who wants you here; he probably brought you only because he doesn’t trust you alone at their camp. So your eyes settle on Blue. Your fingers thoughtlessly slip under the sleeve of your shirt and pick at the healed scar on your arm. You watch her beam and act like the child she is. You listen to the music. You don’t know when you will ever get the chance to again.

The drive only lasts two songs. Ghost may have to get the car going a bit, but he is not willing to waste precious fuel. He goes in a few circles before driving to the pond. He helps Blue out. He almost forgets to lower the seat for you. Blue has to remind him with a hissed "Dad" and a tug on his hand. 

The pond is quiet and all liquid now. There hasn’t been another growling visitor here since the one Ghost killed. You’re not sure what he did with the corpse of the man, but it was gone shortly after that day. 

Ghost lifts Blue up into the truck bed, right next to the kayak. You find a tree stump to sit on a few paces away. He slips out two cans from his pockets— you squint and make out tuna and peaches. They must be favorites of hers saved for her birthday because she eats them all by herself. 

“Eleven, huh?” Ghost leans against the side of the truck as she snacks. He pretends you aren’t there. He ruffles her hair. “Big year, kid. Feel different?”

“Not yet,” she says with her mouth full. Her porcelain cheeks flush as she looks at him. “Did you feel different at eleven?”

“Can’t remember,” Ghost mutters lowly, but you can hear him. You try not to look. “Long time ago.”

"Soooo long ago, huh?" she smirks. "Old man."

"Come off it," he says, but amusement hides under the gravel of his voice. "Don't call me that."

"Why?" she pokes further. There is room for it here. He is not scolding. Her voice turns hushed. "Do I have to respect my elders?"

"Bloody fuckin' hell," he groans.

He makes a move to take away her canned peaches. Blue holds it up and scoots away. Ghost could still get it if he wanted. He's not really trying.

You decide to look at the dirt before either of them catches your staring, but when their bickering ceases, Blue points a question in your direction.

“Hey... Do you remember being eleven?”

You lift your head up, suddenly thrown off. You feel two sets of eyes on you now as your brain searches for some answer, knowing well that it is one Ghost will hear.

You can barely remember what Nirvana sounds like. Age eleven? The memories are stored in fragments under all the mud. Your old school. Your sister. Your friends. That house in Norbury. The yard where you stopped playing in the dirt because you suddenly grew interested in boys, instead. You try to fit all the pieces together, but it doesn't feel like you who lived through it all.

“I remember…” you rub one hand over the dry knuckles of the other and fight the brief moisture that threatens your eyes. You are not willing for Ghost to see a tear slip.

“I do remember feeling different.”

That is all you say.

After some more of their banter and the quick drive back to camp, Blue stands up against the tree she likes to play in. You never noticed until now, but there are little knife marks in the bark— five of them. Ghost adds another. It is quite a bit higher than the previous year’s. 

Along with her dinner that night, she sucks on the last two of her candies. You try to be present as she talks about the memories from her past five birthdays— all basically the same as today. She doesn’t mention any of the ones from her previous life.

But your mind drifts as you listen.

You keep thinking about Ghost’s truck. You think of all he has— their medicine, changes of clothes, guns and ammo. You don’t have these things. At your old camp, you had the bare necessities. Paul managed to get the most commonly-used antibiotics and some alcohol to clean wounds. But you didn’t have time to grab any of it during your escape.

You don’t know how long you will be here and you don’t know what the future looks like for you, but you know you can’t risk Blue sneaking you more medicine. Ghost might not notice a little ointment missing from a tube, but too much and he will. God forbid you ever need antibiotics. Taking pills from a bottle? He definitely has the exact numbers memorized. 

It is not until his cockney accent rumbles low that you are grounded back in the present.  

“Want your gift now?”

When Blue eagerly nods, he stands from the table and leaves, only to return with something in his hand covered in a scrap of cloth. Another bout of curiosity finds you.  What could he possibly gift her? You watch Blue lift up the cloth to reveal a handmade, wooden figurine.

She exhales a smile. She doesn’t seem too surprised by it but is still elated, taking the gift in her hands and smoothing her finger over the whittled shape.

It’s a squirrel. You can see it better as she looks over it. A squirrel with two circles carved around the eyes. A pair of glasses?

“He’s perfect,” she tells her behemoth of a father, who bends down to her level and strokes her hair. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Just how I imagined him.”

This is the final tradition you learn about today. The wooden squirrel is part of a collection, she explains. You’ve never been inside Blue’s bedroom. You are not allowed, of course. But she shyly admits that she has her own village going on in there and that more wooden residents are added on each birthday and holiday. She seems hesitant to tell you too much about them in the same way she was hesitant for you to hear Ghost call her Baby Blue.

The eleven-year-old brave enough to rebel nibbles her lip as she speaks, clutching her gift.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you find yourself quietly saying, looking between her and Ghost. “We all have things we like to keep to ourselves. You don't have to tell me, you know."

You feel his thick presence, the way he seems to stifle the room even in the lull of these moments where the reality of your stay here can be ignored. You give a small smile, just for her, anyway.

“It sounds cool, though," you add.

She blushes and slips away to put the squirrel in her room.

And then the last piece of Blue’s birthday is not a tradition. Instead, it is all you have to offer to this girl who has your back. 

You do her hair.

You try for something a little different this time. 

Half-up with two smaller braids that join together.

As usual, dark eyes watch from the couch.

That whole deer feeds you for more than just a week.

Despite this, you decide to go out into the forest and practice your aim. You recall how your failed shot at that man’s head resulted in snarling teeth snapping at your flesh - you want to get better. Each day, a new tree stands victim to your practicing arrows. You have to carve some more of them with the knife Ghost gave you to replace the ones that break from penetrating the tough bark. 

You feel like you own more strength now.

A pillow to sleep on, bountiful protein, and properly healed wounds have offered some back to you. You don’t feel so fatigued. Your thoughts seem easier to find. You have a new marker to make the days feel less blurred together— Blue's birthday.

It must be March 1st today, then.

When you decide your practice is done for the afternoon, you make it back to camp. You ask Ghost for a wash rag to clear your skin of the cold sweat that has collected. He is preoccupied with a game of Monopoly with Blue but begrudgingly retrieves one for you. Though, it is thoughtlessly tossed to your face. Blue apologizes on his behalf. 

You don’t have it in you to care.

Because today is the first day your gaze doesn't pry away when it finds your reflection in the mirror. The face that stares back at you - the one he threw the rag at - is one you think you can recognize. The cheekbones do not stand as angular and lean. Your lips have some color and fat to them. Not as much as Blue’s rosy pink ones, but some. 

It is also the first day that an old friend returns to you. When you glide the damp rag between your thighs, blood collects. Except for this time, it is not incited by a caltrop or knife. You don’t panic with the thought of how it will be patched up and stitched and kept clean. Rather, you almost groan with the realization of what you need to ask of Ghost. 

The hunger and stress of fleeing led you to almost forget about it. Your period is definitely weeks late, but now it is here again. Perhaps, another piece of health your body has been given back. 

With wet hair and your dirty clothes shucked back on, you find the two of them still on the rug. They have moved on to Battleship. 

“Ghost.”

Both of them look at you. Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you dig your nails into your palms. 

“I need another rag.”

“What for?” His voice arrives in an edged drawl. “Just bathed, didn’t you?”

“Are you okay?” chimes Blue, frowning. She sits up. 

“I’m fine,” you say slowly. “I just need another one.” You meet the clouded eyes you prefer to renounce, set behind the more frightening skull this time. “A dry one.”

Although Blue’s nose remains scrunched in confusion, he seems to understand.

Wordlessly, Ghost finds you another. This rag is not offered to your face. Instead, he murmurs a “here” under his breath and gives it to your hands. In this brief exchange, you detect the familiar heat that is emitted from his brawny form. It is so different from the bucket of cold water you just bathed with.

Despite the enigma and tension, there is some of Ghost you understand. He is willing to give you small things. A rag for your period. A little bit of thread for your stitches. An outdoor shed to sleep in. A pillow and blanket they don’t even use.

What he is not willing to give is anything that he deems too valuable, and anything he decides poses a risk. His trust included. 

This is why you must find a way to take care of yourself. So it is today, with your body showing you signs of its regained health, that you decide you finally need to figure out the journey to get supplies of your own.

taglist: @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09 @spikespiegell @littlezarp @rebel-soldat @4headkissess @mckenzieriley69 @moxxiestar @palomaxaxaxa @msjaeger @galacticstxrdust @anubiseqq @l-0-v-3-r-z @kakashiislut @a-queen-blr @random0lover @hehatesmati @ghost-with-a-teacup @konigbabe

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

Tenth Drink Free- Chapter 2

Chapter 2/10- Star Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet

{1}

Second chapter let’s fucking goooooo In this one I’m gonna delve more into Dew’s mind, his backstory, and his (frankly awful) mental health. Oh and he’s going to jork his peanits in the shower. Warning for mentions of/allusions to self-harm and self-destructive behavior.

“You seem excited.” Rain remarks, draping himself over the back of the couch with a smug grin. Dew looks up from his cereal to glare at him.

“What gave you that impression?” He asks.

“You’re up before 10, you don’t have anything on your calendar for today, and you’ve got the closing shift tonight. There must be something going on that you’re excited for.” Rain counts off on his fingers. “Ooooh, have you got a date?”

(Read the rest below or on AO3)

“Why do you care?” Dew grumbles. “Looking for gossip? Wondering if I’m still single?”

“Oh, I know you’re still single. I’m just checking in on you. As a friend.” Rain bats his stupidly long eyelashes at Dew. “What’s so important that it got you out of bed at the ungodly hour of 9:24 in the morning?”

Dew knew the reason, he’d spent most of his afternoon and evening the previous day agonizing over Big Sexy like a schoolkid with a crush. He’d analyzed every word of their short conversation and picked apart every glance, trying to glean whatever subtext he could from it. THEN he’d had a particularly exciting dream that woke him up at 6. After about 45 minutes of vigorously jerking it, he’d given it a rest after his third orgasm. At that point he was too awake to go back to sleep so he’d just busied himself with various little tasks until he got hungry enough to venture out.

“Fucked my sleep schedule.” He shrugs.

“At least you fucked something.” Rain remarks, turning back around and plopping himself back on the couch. “I’m getting ready for class.”

“Well good for you. Enjoy your boring-ass lecture, I’ll be here writing music and playing video games.” Dew sniffs.

“Enjoy that, I guess. Hope you like that coffee shop.” Rain snips back.

The words stung a bit, even though they’re nothing Dew hadn’t heard- or thought -before. He’d escaped his small town by bus on his eighteenth birthday with his guitar and just enough money to get by for a few months. By the grace of some god, Rain was looking for a roommate in the area he ended up in.

He’d managed to get a job at Cloudy Skies by borderline begging Cumulus to hire him at his interview. It wasn’t entirely manipulation, he’d had a long day and had been rejected from five jobs in the past week. It was nearing the end of the month and his portion of rent was due soon and he was afraid he’d be forced to sell his beloved guitar. He couldn’t help breaking down when Cumulus asked about his lack of past employment. He still felt guilty for it, even though it was six years ago.

He doesn’t realize how deafening his silence was until Rain’s head pops up from behind the back of the couch again.

“I’m sorry.” The other man says softly. “I didn’t mean-“

“You’re fine.” Dew reassures him. “It’s… well, you know. A bit sore.”

“That’s fair. Sorry for bringing it up.” Rain sighs sheepishly. Dew just nods and returns his attention to his cereal.

He’d like to go to college, get a degree in music or music education, but he’s broke. His job pays enough to cover rent and groceries and medication but that doesn’t leave much left over to pay for any classes. Student loans aren’t much of an option for him either, he doesn’t have much credit and being in debt stresses him out severely. He’s scared he’ll be stuck working customer service his entire life, a starving artist overlooked by everyone.

The texture of soggy cereal in his mouth almost makes him gag. He gets up from the table and puts his bowl in the sink, heading back to his room.

The rest of the morning passes normally once Dew cheers himself up again. He even manages to snag the pedal he was after (granted, for a little more than what he’d limited himself to spend, but whatever). He then celebrates by parking himself on the living room couch with a family sized bag of Takis and a controller and dedicates the next few hours to Resident Evil.

Eventually Dew gets bored and wanders back to his room to get dressed for work. He finds himself actually caring about his outfit for once. He settles on celestial-patterned skinny jeans and a black and red button-up shirt. He’s even compelled to slap on some eyeliner.

He realizes halfway through the eyeliner application process that he might be doing this in case he sees Aether again. He groans, drops his makeup pencil on the desk, and leans back to stare at the ceiling. He was too old to be having a crush. He had more important things to worry about. He wasn’t in high school anymore, putting on his best “pastor’s daughter” act and fluttering his eyelashes at the football team captain. That guy turned out to be an asshole anyway.

“Come on.” Dew grumbles. “You are a grown ass man.” He knows the drill- be infatuated by someone for a few weeks, create an idea of what they’re like in his head, finally push down his self-loathing enough to talk to them, and be disappointed by how they actually are. It’s happened too many times to count. It’d only turned out positively once- with Rain. They’d fucked a few times but decided to stay as friends, much to Dew’s relief.

He picks up the pencil again and finishes his makeup. He almost doesn’t want to see Aether again. He’d just be disappointed and go home and sulk in bed and give Rain another reason to tease him.

But he has bills to pay and a six-stringed child to care for. So he hauls his ass to Cloudy Skies, clocks in, and parks himself behind the register. He just has to get through a 5-hour shift. He can do five hours, that’s like three runthroughs of his favorite playlist.

“Hi D-dew!” Aeon chirps with a wave. Dew gives them a nod and a brief smile as he passes them in the kitchen. Aeon’s the most recent hire, a bright-eyed (well, in only one eye, the other was blind) 20-year-old computer science student working part-time. Dew doesn’t like change so he wasn’t a fan of Aeon to begin with, but they’ve grown on him. They’re like him- a weird kid trying to carve out a safe place in a scary world. He’d taken them under his wing as soon as he’d gotten used to having another person in the shop. He’d almost torn Swiss a new asshole the only time he dared to mock their stutter.

Dew glances around to make sure Cirrus wasn’t around and pops in one of his shitty wireless earbuds. Some music would make his shift a tiny bit more bearable. The opening notes of Toxicity filter through the tinny speaker of the earbud and he sighs with relief.

The afternoon crowd of students begin to flood into the shop and he’s quickly busy making drinks and heating up pastries. Sunny joins him behind the counter to help, thankfully.

He’s so busy with work that he doesn’t notice Aether has entered until he’s staring at that glorious chest with- dear lord, his shirt is unbuttoned an absolutely slutty amount.

”Hey, what can I get fOr you?” Dew’s voice cracks and he inwardly cringes.

”Hi, can I have a, um-“ Aether looks down at his hand. Dew sees smudged purple ink creeping over the side of his palm. “Cold brew with hazelnut syrup? Large, please.”

The same thing as last time- Dew’s own recommendation. His heart flutters. Stop it.

He grabs a large cold cup and jots down the order- and Aether’s name- before punching it into the register. “Yep. Anything else?”

”That’s it, thank you.” Aether smiles and Dew notices his crooked teeth. Fucking adorable. Jesus, stop it. You’re on the clock. 

“That’s $5.06.” Dew manages to get out. He takes the cash Aether hands over, along with the punch card. The hole punch today is a star. The heart-shaped hole from last time taunts him.

”I’ll have that right out for you.” He tells Aether as he hands the card over and slides the cup into the queue waiting to be filled. He allows his eyes to linger for a second on Aether’s absolutely perfect ass as he leaves before he turns to serve the next customer.

Between taking orders and making drinks, Dew sneaks glances over at where Aether’s decided to sit. He’s pulled out a laptop covered in stickers and seems to be studying. He’s wearing glasses, much to Dew’s delight (followed by annoyance) and his brows are slightly furrowed. Goddamnit. Out of all the people to have a puppy crush on it had to be a customer. Fucking amazing, thank you brain.

When Dew ventures into the back to take his break, he’s cut off by a very smug-looking Swiss leaning against the counter.

”So.” The man starts. “Sunny told me you have a crush.”

”Well, she’d be wrong. I don’t have crushes.” Dew ducks under his arm and makes a beeline for the back door. How did she know already? What the actual fuck?

”If you say so.” Swiss shrugs. Dew slams the back door before he can continue.

He eyes the brick wall, wondering if it’s worth it to punch. He’s gotta get his annoyance out somehow before he snaps at someone. He settles for kicking it instead. It only relieves his tension a little bit.

Dew digs his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and sparks one up. The acrid smell calms him despite burning his nostrils. He hates the taste and smell of cigarettes but at least it’s something he can rely on to calm him. Vaping just doesn’t bring the same satisfaction- he’s tried. He knows he’s gotta quit but he’d just turn to other bad habits to replace it. He’s convinced himself it’s a form of harm reduction.

Dew grinds his teeth together. He’s thinking about his emotions again. He can’t afford to sink into self-pity again. He needs to pull himself together before he starts crying. He hasn’t cried in years and he’s not about to start now. Especially not at work.

His cig is only half-finished but he stubs it out anyway and heads back inside. A glass of water and a mint rinse the taste out of his mouth and he takes his place at the big industrial sink in the kitchen for dish duty. He’s glad he doesn’t have to interact with customers for the rest of his shift. As much as he’d like to ogle Aether, it’s probably best if he takes his mind off him.

He scrubs pans and mugs and plates and utensils and baking tools until his forearms burn and turns up his music. He estimates his playlist has cycled through about two and a half times by the time Sunny taps him out at the sink.

“Stop spreading gossip about me.” He tells her, a bit harsher than he intended it to be. “Swiss is gonna be on my case for months, you know how he is.”

“Maybe you should get off your ass and ask him out. It’s the big guy, button up shirt, nice piercings, right?” Sunny grins at him and flutters her eyelashes. “He’s hot. Might have to make a move if you don’t.”

Dew sighs. “I don’t have a crush. Yeah, he’s hot, but I’ve got no desire to date him,” He hisses under his breath. The little lovesick voice in his head wails at the thought of Aether going out with someone else.

“Sounds like someone who’s got a crush…” She whispers back and winks at him. “Cir wants you to clear the pastry counter, by the way. Enjoy the view.”

Dew doesn’t dignify that last remark with an answer, only takes his earbuds out and walks over to Cirrus at the other end of the kitchen. She looks up from jotting notes on her clipboard and rubs her eyes.

“Hey Dew. Could you do me a favor and empty out the glass display?” She asks while stifling a yawn. “Sorry. Long day.”

“Understandable. I’ll get right on that.” Dew gives her a two-finger salute, which she returns. His spirits lifted somewhat at the prospect of first dibs on the leftover treats, he trots back out behind the counter.

Aeon sits at the stool behind the register, sneakily tapping away at their phone. Dew bumps them with his shoulder as he passes.

“Careful. Cirrus’ll give you an earful if she sees you on your phone,” he mutters. “I swear, she acts like an overbearing mother sometimes.”

“I know. I w-would have put it away if I’d-d heard her footst-steps.” Aeon shoots him a conspiratorial grin. Dew blinks.

“You’ve memorized her footsteps?” He asks, somewhat amazed. “In three weeks of being here?”

Aeon shrugs. “I’m good at-t patterns.” They turn back down to their phone and resume tapping. Dew sneaks a peek at their screen and sees they’re filling out a Sudoku puzzle with frightening speed. He shrugs and lets them be.

The pastry display is picked clean, only a few crescent rolls and a lone muffin remain. Dew picks them out with tongs and places them on a plate. On habit he glances over to the corner where Aether sat- and still sits, to his surprise. He seems to be taking a break from studying, instead leaning back in his chair and reading a book.

Dew opens the warmer on the countertop and slides the muffin inside. He adds one of the crescent rolls after some consideration and shuts the machine. The few minutes it takes to warm up the pastries are spent wiping down counters and collecting tools to be washed.

He returns from the kitchen and slides the baked goods from the warmer onto a plate. He hesitates, takes a deep breath, and walks out into the seating area.

Aether looks up as he approaches, pushing his glasses up to his forehead with a tired smile.

“We’re closing in around twenty minutes.” Dew lowers his voice a bit, glancing at the few other people in the shop. “Thought you might want some leftover snacks. Don’t tell anyone.” He smiles and sets the plate next to Aether’s laptop.

“Oh, awesome. I was just wondering what I was gonna have for dinner.” The man smiles with those adorable crooked teeth. “Thanks for the heads up. And the food.”

“‘Course.” Dew smiles back, stomach doing flips. He sneaks a peek at Aether’s book- it’s a well-worn paperback with… two shirtless men on the cover. Well, that answered the question on whether he liked men or not. Dew actually had a chance.

He walks away to notify the other stragglers and wipe down tables. Aether only leaves five minutes before closing, waving at Dew as he did. Goddamnit he’s cute.

Dew has another cigarette on his way home to try to clear his head. He knows Rain hates the smell of smoke but he’ll shower as soon as he gets home.

The front door squeals as Dew enters the apartment, making him wince. He kicks his boots off, drops his bag, and makes his way to his room. Rain’s door is closed so he’s either gaming or jerking off. Dew fights the urge to just collapse on his bed. He knows he’ll never get up that way, and he’d rather not have aching ribs tomorrow from over-binding.

So he grabs his sleeping shirt and fresh underwear and drags himself to the bathroom. He’s out of makeup remover so he just rubs his eyes with a damp cotton pad until his eyeliner is gone. It leaves the skin raw and he winces.

The hot shower water soothes him. He closes his eyes as he massages shampoo into his hair and allows his mind to drift. It immediately goes to Big Sexy. He’s too tired to resist it- fantasizing would probably get the silly crush out of his system faster anyway.

He imagines Aether’s hands in his hair, combing through it gently as they kiss. How warm his lips would be, the scratch of his beard scruff against his neck, his large hands holding Dew’s waist, squeezing his chest, pushing his thighs open-

“Haaaaah…” Dew leans against the shower wall and tips his head back to avoid the spray. His hands explore his body- not as big as Aether’s, but he can pretend. His hand finally dips between his legs to find himself already slick and ready.

He pushes his middle and ring fingers into his cunt with a gasp. “Aether…” He pumps them in and out, imagining the bigger man’s fingers instead. The fingers of his other hand pet over his clit as he imagines Aether’s tongue in their place. Dark blue eyes look up at him through long brown eyelashes, fingers curling right up into that perfect spot, a low chuckle as Dew whines.

He imagines Aether pulling back and he whines again. “Noooooo…” Fantasy-Aether just grins, uses those big hands to flip him onto his stomach, and eases his cock into him. Dew adds two more fingers, moaning at the stretch. “Aeth- oh my god-“

Fantasy-Aether fucks him hard and deep, groaning unspeakably sexy things in Dew’s ear. Dew cums hard, thighs shaking as he clenches and flutters around his fingers. He sinks to his knees and braces his hand on the side of the bathtub as he rides out his orgasm.

“Fuck…” Dew mumbles as he washes off his hands in the now- lukewarm water. He’s embarrassed now- he just jerked off to a customer. He hasn’t technically done anything wrong, he’s free to crank it to whatever his dick desires, but he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to look Aether in the eyes for a good week. Incredibly awkward.

He gets out of the shower, dries off, and changes into pajamas. ‘Pajamas’ is pushing it though, it’s one of those T-shirts with three wolves superimposed over a full moon and forest that’s four sizes too big and boxers.

Dew returns to his room, hair still wrapped up in a towel, and collapses into bed. He’s tired from having emotions all the time. It makes him have to think about his life and if he does that too much he starts to spiral. A therapist would probably tell him to start thinking about his emotions and to stop smoking, but he doesn’t have a therapist. He’s fine as is, as long as he takes his meds. He pays too much for them anyway, he’s not gonna shell out another hundred a week for someone with a degree to tell him to breathe.

There he goes, spiraling again. Dew punches his pillow in frustration. As he rolls onto his back his eyes fall on the notebook on the floor next to his guitar.

He hasn’t journaled in years. The idea makes him want to laugh but… if he can get his thoughts out of his head and onto paper maybe they’ll leave him the fuck alone.

Dew drags himself out of bed and settles on the floor with the notebook. He chews on the cap of the pen tucked into the wire spine and hesitantly touches the tip of the pen to the page.

The next thing he knows he’s filled three pages, front and back. His handwriting is messier than usual- almost illegible- and he can barely remember what he wrote. Probably for the best.

Tearing the pages out of the notebook, Dew crumples them up and reels his arm back to toss them into his garbage can. He hesitates.

Instead, he opens one of his dresser drawers and shoves the wadded paper way into the back. It finds a home among his holey socks and empty deodorant sticks (he really should throw those out). He shoves the drawer closed a little harder than he really needs to. It feels good.

He takes his hair out of the towel and tosses it across the room. He’s too tired to put it into its usual braid, he doesn’t care if it’s frizzy tomorrow. Finally, Dew crawls under the covers with his hair still damp and goes to sleep.

Drop a kudos and comment on AO3!

[phantom-of-notre-dame]

Birthday roundup

Happy new year, everyone! Since this is the last year I'll be doing the Grinning Man Birthday Calendar, I wanted to make a new masterpost for everyone who is currently participating (the list can also be found on my pinned post)

January

31: @confusionisakindofhome

February

11: @bunchips

22: @g0ldenglider

March

4: @ladytrelaw

6: @phantom-of-notre-dame (hey look it me)

26: @lesbiansagainsttheatre

April

4: @weraiseourcups

18: @prince-lee25

May

2: @prince-grinpayne

5: @seagllinnit

10: @aneroticbreakfastdance

[no June birthdays]

July

14: @leatherfaceapologist

30: @ta-divchyna

August

25: @maxe-murderer

September

@lordxgrinnyxboy

October

@osricandhisshrunkenhand

November

@dammitradar

December

17: @ratcarney

21: @permanentreverie

30: @castledock

As I have said earlier I am no longer accepting new entries but if you would like to withdraw your name just send me an ask or DM. Thank you to everyone who first supported this idea 2.5 years ago.

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝒢ℰ𝒯 𝒰𝒫!

༉‧₊˚. 𝓈𝓎𝓃ℴ𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: it’s reiner’s special day! what better way to start his morning than by treating him to a sweet surprise?

༉‧₊˚. 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈: ( 1k+ words of . . . ) reiner braun x fem!reader, slight fluff, nsfw/smut, modern au, fem!reader (black coded), established relationship, consented somnophilia, oral (m. receiving), use of pet names (ex. sugar, baby, honey, mama), lowercase intended, all characters are adults, explicit language, minors shoo!

༉‧₊˚. 𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇: happy birthday to reiner fuckin’ braun, my favorite man in the whole wide world!!! he deserves a million big fat wet kisses and a billion more hugs. i can only convert my love for him into a smutty little drabble, so here we have it! (title’s kinda-sorta inspired by new jean’s song ‘cause it was on replay while i wrote this . . .) just wanted to put out something sweet for papa reiner’s big day, hope y’all enjoy! 🎀

the calendar’s graced with the change of a new month– the first of august.

today’s particularly special; reiner turning a year older. the sheets of your shared bed rustle about as you make attempts to stretch, but you’re stilled by the weight of reiner— particularly his extended arm strewn over your hip. it’s futile to try and move, especially when your husband sleeps like a log.

it’s amusing to observe his stillness; your drowsy eyes fixate on reiner in what you can only call pure adoration. beside you he rests, the breadth of his naked chest rising and falling in tandem with every puff of air that comes and goes. wispy fringes of blonde fall across his forehead, slightly outgrown as it’s been a good month or more since his last haircut. reiner’s generally furrowed expression is now easy and light, with his lips parted in the slightest to release subtle snores. even in a haze of sleep, he looks nothing short of ethereal.

you wonder what you could do to start his day memorably; breakfast in bed isn't even an option, considering that reiner might wind up spilling orange juice and breadcrumbs on the covers.

still, you intend to spoil him however you can, so you opt on waking him in the best way imaginable– a lovingly nasty blowjob. he’d mentioned it a couple nights back, how he wouldn’t mind if he arose to the sight of you sucking him off. carefully, you slink out from his hold and delve beneath the sheets, pressing chaste kisses wherever you can manage to reach. the brush of your lips aren’t enough to move him. reiner doesn’t wake, not just yet.

with limber movements, you continue to work your way further down, dragging off his plaid-print boxers until you’ve gained enough access. there his cock lies, soft against the thick expanse of his left thigh. he’s girthy, even without any stimuli. reiner’s always had some width to him, though he’s softer right now— easier to take into your mouth. your plush lips separate, eagerly so, trapping his dusty-pink tip between them. your head lowers, easing inch by inch into your pliant mouth. a tiny groan escapes him, and you pause. he tosses left, but remains at rest.

reiner doesn’t yet know how doting you’re being; lathering him in wet kisses and spit-smeared kitten licks, curious to see how much it’ll move him. saliva seeps past your mouth, down your chin and makes a mess of his now-twitching shaft. you know how much he’d love such a view.

the bob of your head is lax and controlled, suckling his cockhead until it pulses on your tongue— growing bigger and hotter until he eventually awakens. reiner squints at the beams of sun that pour into the room, rolling his muscular neck around to loosen any stubborn fatigue. his hair’s cutely tousled, golden eyes hooded with sleep. he displays a dazed half-grin, one that proves he’s currently unaware, but fuck, does he like whatever it is he’s feeling.

“ooh— g’mornin’, baby,” a dozy reiner manages to rasp out. the low bass of his voice channels from deep in his throat, and the addition of sleepiness atop it makes you throb. reiner peels the milk-white covers away, gladdened by the sight of you between his legs, as vulgar as it may be. his sizeable palm reaches for your face, caressing with gentility.

“happy birthday, rei,” you mumble out, a sliver of spit tethering your puffy lips to his big cock. it takes him a moment to register your words; he’d been much too focused on how nicely your mouth felt wrapped around him.

“that’s today already, huh?” he recalls amidst an eye-watering yawn. it’s ridiculous to think that he almost forgot his own damn birthday . . . it’s just that you’re working him so well, the pleasure must be dumbing him down. at times, you think you take his birthday more seriously than he does himself.

“i booked us a reservation for later tonight, baby. it’s at that steakhouse you like,” while sweetly carrying on with conversation, your unoccupied hand curls around his dick. each stroke is firm and well-paced, with just the right amount of pressure to make reiner shudder. “mm, t-that sounds nice, sugar,” he’s choking on his words already. soon enough, he’ll reach his limit. you dip your head back down with a sense of resolve, hoping to pry a good and thorough orgasm out of him.

you moan around him, and his toes curl against the duvet. your cheeks hollow, going faster as a means of prompting him closer to ecstasy. those pretty eyes of yours shining so earnestly, peering up at him with such a strong aim to please might just be the very thing that ruins him completely.

reiner allows his thumb to run across your cheek, though the motion’s done a little shakier than normal. you can't blame him much; he’s hardly able to stay composed when you’ve got the entirety of his cock shoved down your throat. “you’re so good to me, honey,” reiner groans out. his voice drops a bit, sounds a little fainter. you can’t tell whether it’s the doing of his impending orgasm or sheer gratitude. “— always so fuckin’ good to me.”

your tongue traces down a protruding vein and swirls around the base of him. you can feel his twitching grow all the more rapid, with each passing second.

“gonna cum?” you coo to him, receiving the hasty nod of his head in response. “mhm . . . keep going, mama, please,” is his low whine, and you’re quick to comply. today, he’s getting whatever his heart desires. your mouth runs hot against him, and you bring a hand to tug at his girthy underside. suctioning lips, touchy hands— it’s the merging of both that undoes him. breathless moans and profanities flow, and he just can’t help but throw his head back at how lewdly you’re drinking up his cum, sucking him dry. you swallow all he has to offer, leaving not a droplet to go to waste.

a hefty sigh escapes him. you crawl your way up his broad frame, making abode upon his chest with your face to his pecs. you crack a smile over the fervent hammering of his heart’s rhythm against your ear.

“love you so much,” reiner says in a breezy whisper. he cranes his neck downwards to present a kiss to you. smoothly, his lips slide against yours, colliding effortlessly. he can taste remnants of himself on your tongue.

“and i love you,” your manicured fingertips dance along his collarbone. from the angle you’re admiring him in, reiner appears serene. happy, better put.

‘fucked out’ is certainly a good look on the birthday boy.

[rrking]

Some General BG HCs

Me and my wifey often discuss Astarion things in real life, and there are a few that I thought I would share.

Spoiler warning⚠

Astarion

Random knowledge bank. Meeting your parents for the first time and your dad wants to talk about history? Ask Astarion, if he doesn't just know, he remembers.

Enjoys going to the library. Does not enjoy the rabble who also enjoy the library. You have to explain to him over and over about library cards and infrared scanners so he doesn't just nope out and steal the book. Also gets annoyed when books from his time are revised.

Don't want to touch the raw meat packaging? No worries, Astarion will lick it up for you. Imagine him leant against the kitchen counter sucking up the blood from that piece of paper at the bottom of the mince. (A wifey thought)

On the subject of blood, if you cut your finger in the house he will be licking that up for you with a leering grin. Dragging it out so he can watch how you roll your eyes at him.

Comes in late, as usual, but this time after taking out every fucking goose or pigeon in the local area. The council are unhappy. Astarion is ecstatic. Word of a bird plague is sweeping through the borough. You are not happy with Astarion. Astarion doesn't care about the council until they put your council tax up.

Glares out of the window at kids playing but won't admit they're kind of cute. Especially glarey when kids come to the door trick or treating. Bonus points if they're dressed as vampires... Maybe he'll compliment them. "Darlings, look at your adorable little capes! Does your mother know you lot are prancing around dressed like monsters?" Will absolutely deny any niceties when you look at him knowingly, a smirk appearing on your lips as you notice the bucket of sweets he's holding, still excited after giving the children far more than they needed. or asked for.

Moans and groans when you watch vampire films. "Darling, turn that nonsense off, would you? Were you curious about vampires, you have one right here."

Groans even more when you watch law and order style programs, particularly court ones. Bad memories. "And why did he not get the death sentence?!"

Serial social media meme stealer.

Always creeps up behind you when you are looking in the mirror, ready to scare you. Or shag you, you be the judge.

Gale

Want chippy but don't want to get up or wait for an order? Blink. Gale will blink there and back. What's faster than Uber Eats? Going via the Astral Plane.

100000% will make you a brew if you ask :) He turns up with your favourite mug and your drink exactly the way you like it.

The type of man to run you a hot bath ready when you get in from work or if you've had a hard day just because.

Definitely discovers Nivea for Men.

Remembers things like birthdays and anniversaries.

Sees shiny things and wonders if they're infused with the weave. Gazing through the jewellery shop window.

Suffers through Harry Potter at Christmas wondering where all the elegant wizards are.

Started a thing where you leave post it notes for one another with sweet nothings on. Today as you're walking past the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, you spot a new post it note. This one is pink and bares Gale's graceful handwriting. It reads: "My most special one, everyday I wake up next to you I feel luckier than the last. Have a great day x" Such devoted notes leave you feeling warm inside.

Halsin

Prefers to buy 'living herbs' than ground jar ones because NATURE.

Is that person who goes past an adult shop and says loudly "let's go inside!"

Definitely gets stuck in garden chairs and the like due to being so massive. Don't get this man in a smart car.

Stands up at barbecues if the chair is too small. It probably is.

Literally has to be told to avoid the bear story to others because they will not understand but tells it anyway if he gets too drunk.

Actually finds it quite difficult to adapt to modern society almost more than Lae'zel.

If you live in the countryside, Halsin definitely finds it a little easier, but if you live in the city he is constantly asking questions. The thing that catches his eye today is a statue above the bank door - a lion with a key in his mouth. "Does that petrified displacer beast not wish to return to the wilderness?" "Halsin, that is a statue of a lion with a key in it's mouth." "...Oh. Why does it guard a key?" You look at him curiously, unsure of how to answer such an innocent question. "It's just HSBC's thing... I don't actually know."

Struggles to find clothes that actually fit.

Will share you a meme you tagged him in and never truly understand the new technology.

Totally enjoys long walks and feeding ducks. Eats all of the bread.

Tries to speak to the animals at the zoo. (Wifey)

Incosolably weeps at nature programs. Very confused when you try to explain that nature has to take it's course for them to film.

First thought upon seeing CGI animals dancing and talking : "IT'S A DRUID!"

Votes Green Party.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel struggles the most to integrate into modern society.

She takes up some form of fighting WWE and does not understand why the fighters don't actually hurt each other.

She complains about this after making absolute bank of course. "Ch'k! These istik talk about fighting for glory - Yet they simply roughhouse for pitiful coin." "Yeah, but look at how famous you are, Lae'zel..." Rollin', rollin', all my bitches rollin'.

Hates ood in Doctor Who for obvious reasons. "Tsk'va, ghaik!"

Wifey came up with 'Bae'zel'.

Karlach

Believes stupid spam emails you have to send onto others. (Wifey thought of this)

Shares that post of the missing dog on the other side of the world who was found 3 years ago.

Discovers TikTok, only shares animal videos and smashes TikTok dances.

Discovers aircon. 🥺

Discovers hot wing challenges... Excels at said hot wing challenges. and collects all the t shirts for winning food challenges.

Shadowheart

Posts things on Facebook like 'Shar/Selune keeps me in check. Like, share and comment 'Praise be to Shar/Selune' if she keeps you in check." Definitely gets flamed by the others.

Ends up with cute hobbies like paper quilling and crafts. Makes things for you. "You've really improved your crochet, Shadowheart! What is this one called?" Gives him a simple name like Bob or Clyde and puts him with the rest, cramming the mantle with them.

[seoulmatez]

୨♡୧ SEPTEMBER 9TH — itoshi rin x reader. sfw. fluff. happiest birthday to my forever boy! can't believe i've been obsessed with him for a year ❤︎

september ninth. you’ve made a habit of circling the date on your calendar—drawing party hats and flying scribbles of confetti on it—for the past couple of years now. you make a big deal of the day but the man you’re celebrating doesn’t share the sentiment.

if anyone walking down the street beside you two looked at rin, they’d never guess that it was his birthday. there’s no excitement radiating off of him, not even a hint of a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. as far as he seems to be concerned, today is just another day.

rin has never been big on his birthday but you do find it a little strange that he hasn’t mentioned the occasion once since you met up with him this morning. you have an excuse for neglecting to tell him happy birthday earlier in the day, having planned a small surprise for the man who claims to hate them, though, you’d like to be sure it won’t interfere with a prior engagement of his.

“what are you doing when you get home?” you nudge rin’s shoulder with your own to punctuate the question. you hope it comes off as a casual conversation starter rather than an attempt at prodding for information.

“don’t know.” he usually ignores your antics, though this time rin mirrors your action, gently bumping his shoulder against yours. your lips twitch with a threatening smile at the rare reciprocation. “probably just eat dinner and watch a movie.”

it sounds like his typical routine when the two of you part ways for the evening. on one hand, that clears you to go through with your plans. on the other hand, it feeds your growing curiosity. has he really been navigating today as though there was nothing even relatively special about it?  

again, you try not to give away too much by pushing the issue while still learning more. “nothing else?”

“no.” his feet continue on their path but the man turns his head slightly to look at you. teal eyes bore into yours like they’re looking beyond the surface, deep into your mind. it’s difficult to tell if he’s onto you. “should i be doing anything more?”

you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. “i guess not.” 

a moment passes before you’re no longer the subject of his gaze, his eyes looking forward once more. a tiny sigh of relief pushes past your lips, like his stare was a heavy weight that was lifted off your shoulders. “hey, can i join you for the movie?”

“knock yourself out.”

you grin at his words, though you didn’t think he’d decline your request. rin may seem outwardly unfriendly but, deep down, he has a soft spot and you’re one of the few people capable of reaching it. you’re about to tease him about the juxtaposition between his cold delivery and its underlying kindness when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

you and rin are stopped at the crosswalk waiting for the light to signal your turn when you pull out your phone. the screen lights up with a photo of the two of you; you with your tongue stuck out and rin holding up bunny ears behind your head. just looking at it brings back memories of the day and how much of a hassle it was to get rin to pose with you. despite his resilience, it worked out in your favor in the end and gave you your favorite picture with him to date.

you quickly remember why you brought your phone out, eyes dragging down the screen to read the notification banner. it’s a text reminder that the gift you ordered for rin is ready. you’ve been anxiously awaiting the message all day, hoping it wouldn’t arrive when he was looking at your phone. you discreetly glance up at him to see if he caught a glimpse of it, but his eyes are carefully watching the crosswalk lights.

“shoot, i forgot i have to go pick something up,” you blurt out, shoving your phone back into your pocket. your announcement gains rin’s attention and his eyebrow quirks in question. you don’t quell his curiosity, instead pointing your thumb over your shoulder in the direction you’ll be heading. “i’ll be over your place after—don’t start the movie without me!”

rin watches you rush off. he doesn’t have much time to wonder about how odd you’ve been acting before the crowd of pedestrians around him begins to move and he’s carried away with it.

you severely underestimated how hard it would be to single-handedly pull off a surprise party for someone you spend practically every waking moment with. there isn’t enough time in the day for everything you need to do. the sporting goods store and bakery are farther apart than you anticipated and it’s only after you’ve retrieved rin’s gift and cake that you realize you don’t have wrapping paper or candles. by the time you’re on your way home to prepare everything, the sun is beginning to set.

“all done!” you clap your hands together before resting them on your hips as you survey your work. the cake is still safely packed away in its box, a small pack of candles sitting on top of it. the present you bought for rin is neatly wrapped in the owl-patterned paper you couldn’t resist getting when you first saw it in the store. 

you’re sure you look a little frazzled after running around to put everything together but if you take the time to freshen up, you’ll be even later arriving at rin's place than you had originally planned. and, in all honesty, you’re too excited to wait any longer. rin surely won’t care if a few hairs are out of place on your head.

with that final thought, you gather up everything and start on your way to his apartment.

the knock pattern rin has come to associate with you sounds from the foyer, indicating your arrival. he was almost sure you had gotten caught up with whatever you ran off for earlier as it’s much later than he was expecting you. still, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that his heart felt lighter in his chest upon hearing the familiar noise.

there’s a snarky comment on the tip of his tongue when he reaches the door, though it dies there when he’s met with your image after pulling the door open.

with a smile that reaches your eyes, you hold up the cake carton by its handle and exclaim, “happy birthday!”

rin stands silent, still, before you. if it weren’t for his somewhat parted lips and slightly raised eyebrows, you’d think he didn’t hear you. something about the look of surprise written on his face cements your sneaking suspicions from earlier.

“oh my god.” you lower the cake to your side, brow furrowing with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. rin has never been big on his birthday but you didn’t think he cared this little about it. “did you seriously forget that it’s your birthday?”

rin presses his lips together and relaxes his eyebrows, returning to his usual, calm expression. it’s true, today’s date slipped his mind. he isn’t sure why you’re making a big deal out of it, though. because all he can think is, “it’s not like it’s anything sp—”

“ah-ah-ah! don’t you dare finish that sentence.” if you could hold up a finger to shush him, you would. your hands are full at the moment so you settle for letting yourself in, gently pushing past rin and haphazardly kicking your shoes off. your eyes meet his as you look over your shoulder. “there’s still a few hours left in the day so we’re spending the rest of it celebrating.”

you leave little room for argument and while rin isn’t particularly excited by the idea of his birthday, he’s willing to play nice—only because you put so much thought into it. so, without resistance, he closes the door and follows you over to the couch.

you’ve set everything on his coffee table by the time he plops down next to you. his eyes are drawn to the rectangular box wrapped in the paper printed with cartoon owls. you must notice his lingering gaze because when you speak up, you tell him, “go ahead, open it.”

rin’s movements feel slow and awkward as he reaches for the present. if he had to guess why, he’d put his money on the fact that you’re watching him so intently. the box is weighty in his hands. his fingers carefully peel up the tape in an attempt to preserve your wrapping efforts. the name of a brand rin recognizes is revealed once he gets past the decorative wrap. he lifts the box’s lid and beneath the thin tissue paper he pushes past is a pair of cleats—the exact pair he’s been thinking about upgrading to for a while now.

“you always have the tab open on your laptop so i figured i’d just buy them for you,” your voice sounds from beside him. rin turns his head to face you and is met with your sparkling smile. leave it to you to be so attentive. he supposes you always have been, but something about your show of it now makes his cheeks warm up. to hide the impending pink sure to blossom on his face, he turns to set the shoebox behind him.

when the warmth subsides and rin is sure you won’t have any reason to poke fun at him, he meets your gaze once again. “thank you. i appreciate it.”

you nod, a small smile still tugging at your lips. rin’s voice sounds the same as it always does; neutral, maybe even aloof, but you know he means his words. 

“okay, time for cake,” you announce, repositioning yourself on the floor and reaching out to open the box. pressing down the flaps reveals the bright green matcha cake topped with fluffy cream and fresh strawberries. “could you get a knife and some plates, please?”

rin nods and makes his way to the kitchen while you begin to strategically place the candles atop the dessert. once you finish your simple design—a little smiley face, you use the light he keeps on the coffee table for his scented candles to light the ones on his cake. right on time, rin returns. he sets the dishes beside the box and takes a seat next to you on the carpet.

“happy birthday, rin,” you tell him again, deciding to spare him the embarrassment he would most certainly feel if you chose to sing. “make a wish.”

in the past, rin would simply blow out the candles to satisfy the crowd—no wish involved. he’s always found the tradition a little childish but now, looking at the enthusiastic expression you wear, there is something that rin really wants. maybe it’s silly to leave it up to something so baseless as a birthday wish, but rin still thinks the thought before blowing out the flames. 

you clap and cheer at his action which earns a real, genuine smile from rin. it encourages you to ask, “gonna tell me what you wished for?”

he shakes his head. “isn’t that against the rules?”

“you got me,” you admit through a laugh, carefully grabbing the knife to cut rin a piece of cake. as you slice out a triangle, you go on. “well, whatever it was, i hope it was good. you shouldn’t waste a birthday wish.”

rin still isn’t entirely convinced of the magic of birthday wishes, but if there is any validity behind it, he definitely didn’t put it to waste. because he wished to spend his next birthday the same way—with you.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[honeybadgercomeback]

Come Back, Be Here (Part One) | DR3

Five years pass in the blink of an eye and you’ve sacrificed so much to support the man you love. But you can’t keep doing it. When you make the decision to end things you have to carry through to find who you are again.

AN: Part two will be up in the next couple of days. If you’d like to be notified leave a comment and I’ll tag you!

Warnings: heavy angst, breakups, lying.

—

The day you made your decision was really just the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was more hotel rooms, more planes, more lines added to your flight tracking app. You’d travelled around the world more than twice already in the year and it was only August.

You’d end up at yet another race track where you’d had your photo taken more times than you could count. Those professional photos that you were never happy with got posted to instagram accounts run by people who claimed they knew who you were and what you stood for. To yet more flights and more frequent flier miles than you ever thought anyone could have. Planning flights based on airline rather than price to keep earning them, your permanent status just increasing. First class tickets you never could afford to every location, sitting in airline lounges and smiling when people came up to Daniel to wish him luck or ask for a photo.

And every few months you got dressed up for one event or another. A gala, a charity, some sponsor party because everyone wanted to see “Daniel Ricciardo’s other half”. Getting dressed up in a dress you didn’t buy and jewellery that was loaned to you by designers. Standing on a red carpet with your fiancé’s arm around you as he gave that familiar wide grin and you played the fawning date.

You hated every single moment of it, and you didn’t know when you’d started hating it.

It was all for Daniel, and you loved him so you did everything that was asked. You did the busy days and the ridiculous travel. Ignored the hate comments on every single photo you posted on your instagram account - even a photo of the cake you’d baked for a friend’s birthday got comments about how it didn’t look good. You used Twitter Circles and Close Friends judiciously on social media, all of your accounts with that familiar blue tick because you were a “public figure”.

Instead of taking the first choice job you wanted to have you’d declined it because it was in an office five days a week. You’d taken the one you didn’t want as much because it was flexible work and you could do it from anywhere in the world so you got to travel with Dan. You made it to every race on the calendar with him, a fixture in the back of the garage of whatever team he was racing with. You’d wear his merch and have headphones on to listen to the team radio as he raced. Wherever he went, you followed because you were The Ricciardos and of course you were there. The engagement ring that had been on your left hand for eighteen months just proved it.

But you still saw what people said whenever you were in the paddock. How people made snide comments about your job because you were always there, and if you weren’t in McLaren hospitality waiting on Dan you were in Red Bull with Kelly. You were friendly with the other wives and girlfriends of drivers, you’d been there the second longest now. You were the one who was at every race, and when women came for the first time with their now public relationship you were the one who welcomed them to the chaos. And set up the new whatsapp groups whenever they were needed. You blamed Pierre for how many you needed most of the time really.

It was you and Kelly as the focal point of the group. Your partners were best friends, you got along and knew what was going on, it was a natural fit. You could put the smile on and grin and hug, helping everyone keep their head up high. When a crash happened you’d seek out whoever needed comfort and remind them of the safety that was there now. It fit you well.

But you were drowning in it.

August was supposed to be the summer break but Dan was in Woking for yet more McLaren meetings. He’d told you it was normal, part of the organisation for the third year of his contract. You were plugged into the paddock gossip, you knew what was being said, how people talked about your fiancé. The way people talked about how Dan was getting what was coming to him, a new young Australian taking over from the washed out one. The way Blake looked at you sadly, as if he was barely biting his tongue, every time someone mentioned contracts or gossip.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be in love, be loved. Racing would always be Daniel’s first love but you could fit in there somewhere with him. Be a priority for him. Except you weren’t his priority anymore. The fact that your fifth anniversary came and went without him acknowledging it or even texting you a hello. That was the crystal clear moment that whatever you wanted was not a priority compared to his career, and you deserved better than that. You deserved to be more than an afterthought.

Once the decision was made it was easy to organise moving out. Finding an apartment in Nice was the first thing to do and it was shockingly easy. Monaco was out, the streets too small and filled with memories. Once you were settled in an apartment you could look at a new job or new country, but away from the principality was enough for now. Then it was packing up your life.

Most of your belongings were presents from Daniel. It had become his habit to try pay for everything, the income disparities clear between you. It was with the kindest of intentions but had become a gilded cage that you couldn’t escape. You didn’t know who you yourself were anymore. You didn’t know how to be anyone except F1 WAG. Daniel Ricciardo’s fiancée. The woman with so many gossip column inches it felt wrong. The Daily Mail had a category for your name at this point and that was never who you wanted to be. You’d lost yourself and you needed to find yourself again.

You got the train to Nice and signed your month to month lease for a furnished apartment. It was unusual to have one, but the letting agent recognised your face and accepted it without a moment’s thought. Once it was signed your next stop was to rent a car to bring your belongings to the small apartment.

It was simple and you had a plan. Pack your boxes of your belongings, put them in the car, drive. It took two trips to get most of them over, the final set sitting there until you decided to leave for the final time.

You had to tell Daniel in person. He deserved to have his heart broken in front of you, rather than by phone or text. He was good and loyal and he wasn’t a bad guy, this just didn’t work anymore. He deserved someone who could support him fully. It wasn’t something you could keep doing.

You sat in the living room after getting the text that he’d landed in Nice, knowing that this was the last time. You weren’t going to see him again and that hurt. You were leaving for good and never coming back here. Your engagement ring was in the green leather jewellers box he’d proposed with, sitting on what had been your bedside locker. Taking it off your finger and pushing it into the velvet cushion was when you’d shed your first tear. It was small and neat and exactly what you’d wanted, and you’d loved it from the moment he flipped the box open. Asses online had said it wasn’t enough for a millionaire’s fiancée, that you obviously didn’t mean much to him.

You didn’t want the ring or the money. You wanted Daniel. But you couldn’t have him in a way that would make you both happy.

“I’m home!” His voice echoed around the living room as he arrived in, dropping bags on the floor and you pulled him in for a hug. This was the last one you’d share and doing this when you knew things weren’t good for him professionally hurt but you had to. You couldn’t lose more of yourself.

“Hey. How was the factory?”

“Good. We need to talk about some of my—“

“Dan, I know.” He stopped still at your words. “But we need to talk about something else.”

“I’ve got a couple of offers on the table, and we’ll be—“

“Daniel.” Your voice was soft and he stared at you. His brown eyes opened wide and it felt like he was properly seeing you for the first time in what felt like years. He looked like that Daniel you’d fallen in love with in 2017, a Red Bull star with a wide smile and wild curls. You hadn’t know what you were jumping into when you danced with the man in the nightclub and went home with him. You couldn’t have guessed how your life would change. That the next five years would be the best and worst of your life and he made the highs even higher but the lows so much lower. He made everything better and worse at the same time. He took you in fully and you could tell when his eyes caught the missing jewellery.

“Where’s your ring? Were…were you robbed? What’s going on?” They were halfhearted questions as you shook your head and the reality began to sink into him.

“You know as well as I do that this isn’t working. And I’m so sorry things are ending now. But we…it’s the wrong time for us. I can’t love you the way you need and you can’t support me the way that I need. I’m sorry.”

He looked at you for a solid minute in the silence, it was as if you could see his heart break.

“But we love each other?” That it was a question cut you like a knife.

“I don’t think it’s enough. I’m not enough for you.” It was those words that made his face crumble and you took a step back, looking down at the tiled floor. You couldn’t cry. You were the one hurting him, you didn’t get to cry in front of him.”

“You are. I swear you’re enough. You’re more than enough.”

“Be happy, Daniel Ricciardo. Be happy.”

All you wanted to do was squeeze his hand and take the pain away but you couldn’t. Instead you slipped past him in your worn out sneakers and left through the front door, closing it with a gentle click.

The routine to leave the building was practiced. A few steps to the elevator, down the floors, and out. Except this time you were going to the parking garage in the basement to get the rental car and leave, and for the first time in so long someone else got into the elevator a few floors below what had been yours.

“Hey, I haven’t…is everything ok?” Max looked at your tear streaked face as you blinked back the worst ones, wiping your face roughly with your hand.

“Will you look after him for me? He’s gonna need you now.” It took a few moments for your words to sink in as he stared at you.

“What happened? Did you have a fight? You know he’ll be down in a minute to fix whatever he did, he loves you.”

“I ended things.” The shock on his face was clear as the doors shut to bring you both down. “I ended things about two minutes ago, and he’ll need his friends. I know I’ve no right to ask this, but please. Look after him for me.”

“You can work this out. Come up to ours, stay with us for a night. Think this over.”

“Max I have. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. He forgot our anniversary and that was the final thing. He deserves someone who can support him the way he needs, and that’s not me right now. He deserves to be happy. I can’t help him be happy. Just please. You and Seb and Estie can help him. I can’t.”

You’d arrived in the garage and Max watched you step out of the elevator with him, heading to the small hatchback that stood out in the area filled with sports cars.

“Where are you going?”

“I got an apartment. I’m going to find out who I am. It’ll be worth it.”

You didn’t expect the Dutchman to wrap you in a hug but he pulled you close, squeezing for a moment before letting go.

“If you need anything. Day or night, no matter where in the world I am, you call ok? You’re like a sister to me, call me whenever you need. And Kelly will be in touch soon to see you, P is gonna miss her aunt.”

“I will.” It was a bare faced lie but it made him look lighter so you told it easily. As far as you were concerned you weren’t going to see them again.

Once you made it into Nice and parked you picked up your phone, pulling up the Find my iPhone app. It took far too few swipes to hide your location from Dan and Kelly, making sure they couldn’t see you. Once you did that you went into the WAG WhatsApp, this one entitled “oh god they’re home for two weeks what’s this chaos”. It took little time to set Kelly as an admin and then leave the chat with a waving emoji and a red heart.

The very last thing to do was to go into an Orange shop and get a new SIM card with a new number. You snapped the old SIM between your fingertips to get rid of it. It was over. You had your new fresh start but it didn’t feel like one.

Part Two

Tags: @vroomvroommbtch

[pellaaearien]

Soft retired!Dream headcannon:

I always imagined it was Death who brings him to Hob first, just shows up on his doorstep with a wildly disoriented former anthropomorphized personification, and a huge wild grin, chirping “I NEVER GET TO DO THIS THE OTHER WAY AROUND, THIS IS FUN!”

And that sticks in Hob’s head. He remembers once on a lark asking Dream when his birthday was, and Dream just stared at him for a solid minute and said, eventually, “Calendars were several eons away from being invented, at the time” and that was that. But then one morning, exactly one year from the day that Death knocked on Hob’s door, Dream shuffles out of their bedroom in his pajamas to find Hob, and his sister, balloons (black and silver), a birthday banner taped to the living room wall (black and silver, though Matthew begged to buy the pastel one that said HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY TO OUR BIG BOY), and a cake in the middle of the table (dark chocolate, raspberry filling). Matthew lands on his head and squawks “SURPRISE!!”

Once Dream wakes up enough to process what the hell is going on, he has to spend a good five minutes trying not to cry into Hob’s jumper. All he manages to say at first is, “You have informed me more than once that I cannot eat cake for breakfast.”

Matthew caws indignantly, “It’s your birthday, man! You can do anything you want!”

And Dream looks up at Hob, smoldering, and says, “Anything?”

(Death: Oi! Okay Dream, wait till everyone goes home to play with your present!

Matthew: OH EW QUIT IT!!!)

Let Dream play with his toys he's just a baby!

HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY TO OUR BIG BOY has me cackling I'd want that just to see Dream's face lmao

Tbh I love the idea of Hob giving Dream a birthday, either on the anniversary of his retirement, or on World Dream Day (September 25) I always have a soft spot for immortal/eldritch beings who've never had a birthday get bullied into a day that celebrates them 🥹

Thank you for this delightful image I've been blessed ❤️