#i forgot the snaps on Littlest Purple's dress

[rimeswithpurple]

After four days of intense work, I finished the Wendy and Tinkerbell dresses! The girls were absolutely thrilled with them and their dresses were a hit with the other theater goers. In true hype-woman fashion, whenever Little Purple received a compliment on her dress she replied, "thank you! My mom made it!"

[platinumshawnn]

all i need is you | Tom Glynn-Carney

Request: Tom needs some love, I agree 100%! I feel like Tom is a big softie, so maybe you can do something about his girl trying to be the romantic one for once and organizing a picnic in the living room with candles, wine, soft music just to distract him from work and he is so impressed and happy! And then the night gets hot! ;) 

A/N: I know this asks for smut but I honestly just wasn’t really feeling it much for this one, so it’s more towards fluff than anything. Sorry. 

Word count: 1,697

 He was exhausted, she could see it. Even though he insisted everything was great, work was fine, easy and smashing it even, she could see how stressed he was lately; in the way his shoulders slouched, the deepened lines in his face, and in the bags underneath his eyes, sleeping on the couch, surrounded by scripts. Tom, after his spike of success with Dunkirk, had felt like he now had to keep taking it a step above, go over and beyond with every new project -- like he had to show himself up and do better every time and it was taking a toll on him. He seemed restless as he skimmed through script after script, even worrying his manager now, as he searched and dug for the ‘next big gig’, afraid of sizzling out as far as relevance went if he didn’t pick up the right role to come next. Tom had done a few auditions since but had yet to hear back, but it didn’t feel like just enough to him, he had tiredly admitted one night. He felt like he needed to get out there and work harder, open more doors to more opportunities that were promising instead of tiny little background roles that everybody would forget about by the time the credits rolled.

 Somehow though, even through his business and exhaustion, he never failed to upkeep the romantic persona; bringing home flowers he spotted on his way, surprising her with home cooked meals when she got home from a long day of work, hot baths with candles, never failing to remind her every day how much he loved her and how beautiful, wonderful, exquisite she was. He never forgot to remind her of her worth when she had poor days, always made time for her, even if it was only thirty minutes -- he always made the most of every minute he got from his hectic schedules to make her feel loved. And it warmed her heart. Reminded her exactly why she had fallen in love with him in the first place and it made her feel like a giddy seventeen year old again. She wouldn’t have changed anything about their story, their love, even if she could be stubborn and he too prideful, both as insistent on always being right and butting heads sometimes.

 She would change though, take away the pressure he felt, anxiety it gave him that he would be stuck only being known as the guy from Dunkirk and his career would never be able to move forward from that point on; like he would always be stuck, persistent towards trying to constantly prove to himself that he could do better, always go bigger, aim so much higher every time. She loved his ambitious personality and that he had goals, but sometimes he could become so worryingly hard on himself and it had actually made him sick a couple times before -- the poor blonde hunched over the toilet at four a.m., vomiting and red faced, letting out wails of complaint because he hated getting sick. It only usually lasted a few days before he realized he was being silly, did just as she knew he would -- pull himself together and prove his talent to the world and look damn good while doing so.

 Only this time, it stretched into weeks, he wasn’t sleeping well and he wasn’t eating too much; his face looked paler than usual and he seemed weakened by his exhaustion.

 Today had been a day full of meetings, interviews, he would film an audition tape for something new and she could only assume it would be one of those gruelingly long ones where he barely kept up, having to jot down almost everything said to him so he could run down the summary of what was said and done throughout the day so he could catch up and remember every important detail. She knew he would want to just order something in for dinner then fall right asleep by nine, dragging her into bed with him and lulling her to sleep with his body heat as his chest pressed to her back, arms around her waist -- though they would wake up on their own sides of the bed, him only tucked under just a sliver of the blanket because she hogged it in the night. The very thought of her poorly boyfriend made it hard to concentrate at work as she sat behind her desk, fidgeting with her pen and running around the office and away from her work every chance she could, her eyes glued to the clock. She wanted to go home and be there before him, she had decided when she could sense his lack of sleep catching up to him in the short, grumpy texts, complaining about little things around him that annoyed him. He was being hard on himself, over analyzing his every word and action.

 Though it took a few tries, and looking under the hood of her car to make sure everything was still in place, her old car had started up eventually; taking the back roads to get home in fear of taking the main street and his old Betsy deciding to shut off on her like it had done the past few months, just barely surviving but surely not the safest alternative. Sometimes Tom had complained and begged her to just take a taxi or the bus, even offered to get her something newer, safer, but she always refused because it had been the first thing she had herself bought all on her own when she first moved out; and in her mind, it got her home and around (most times), that’s all that mattered. She was home and it hadn’t caused her any issues, other than her lock acting up a bit as she tried to lock up before heading inside, huffing and blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes as she closed the front door behind her.

 “Tom?” She called out, no reply heard as she shrugged off her coat after setting her purse down beside the door. She kicked off her heels and sighed in relief to be out of them before padding down the hallway, already untucking her blouse from her skirt as she stopped in the doorway. Sure enough, the blonde male was knocked out in bed, hidden under the covers, pretty close to face down as he softly breathed. He had to have been really warm because his cheeks were flushed pink, still dressed as socked feet peeked out from under the blanket. She didn’t want to disturb him but she couldn’t deny herself a minute of just admiring the sight of him, relaxed and stress free, a small smile being brought to her face.

 She changed into something a little more comfortable before quietly leaving the room and turning the light off in her path, closing the door as she disappeared down the hall. Her eyes had caught the time on the stove, hands smoothing out her shirt while she entered the kitchen, gaze flickering back towards the hallway where she knew just at the other end, Tom was asleep. She opened the freezer and dragged out the package of frozen chicken breast, placing it down on the counter.

 Tired, confused eyes still dazed as he stumbled down the hall were the first thing she saw; aside from the serious case of bed hair when he stopped in the doorway of the living room, rubbing the inner corner of his eye. (Y/N) had just finished lighting one of the many candles around the room when she snapped up at the sound of his approach, frozen like a deer caught in headlights as she waited for him to say something. He yawned and looked around at her little setup, a thin blanket laid out in the middle of the living room, two plates with chicken, vegetables, and potatoes with each a glass of wine placed across from one another and surrounded by candles as she placed her lighter down.

 Her eyes flickered towards the little purple flowers awkwardly sitting in the middle of the blanket, hands nervously shoving into her back pockets. “I...I stole the flowers from the neighbor on our right.” She admitted, Tom’s eyes flickering between them and her face, still not entirely awake.

 He sleepily smiled, “So what is this? I’m dating a criminal now?” He groggily asked, starting to walk towards the blanket. “What is all this?” He asked, looking around.

 “I just figured,” She drifted, circling a bit and standing on his left as she turned and looked around too, “since you’ve been so busy lately, I know you’ve been really stressed and yet you still go out of your way to be all romantic and brighten my day with the littlest gestures and reminders, I’d try and give that back. I’m obviously not as practiced at cooking but I...yeah. I know it’s no fancy, five star place” She explained, his head turning to look over at her. He suddenly reached out and grabbed her left hand, lifting it and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

 “Hey, no. It looks and smells really good. I don’t care. This is perfect.” He said, his voice softening. “Thank you.”

 She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, grinning. “Of course.” She replied, pulling gently to signal to sit. “Here, sit, let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

 With a laugh, he complied, the two each taking their own spot, sat across from one another and picking up the cutlery. He carefully eyed the food as he did, her actions paused to watch his reaction as he cut into the chicken and took his first bite, chewing a few moments before he coughed slightly and grabbed his glass of wine.

 “What is it?” His girlfriend asked, wide eyed.

 He shook his head, “Nothing. Nothing. It’s-” He coughed again, setting his glass down. “It’s great. It’s just…”

 “What?”

 “It’s super fucking dry, oh my god.” He coughed, laughing as she then laughed, reaching for his plate, embarrassed. “No, I’m still eating it! Get out of here!”