#i made a homemade sticker of it and put it on my phone

[the-meme-monarch]

thought abt the little walking cup from the newsletter and got so happy i started to tear up. i believe it may be too late for me

good lird

[sakusaur]

hi i'm sick so i was wondering if you could write something about noel noa, julien loki (and maybe sae itoshi) where they take care of their girlfriend please ( i need fluff and cuddly)

hello anon! sorry to hear you’re feeling sick :( i hope this makes you feel better ❤️

how’d the boys take care of you when you’re sick

noel noa / julien loki / sae itoshi

sfw and fluff!

noel noa

immediately rushes home when he hears your raspy voice over the phone

drops practice and promises to make up for it to his coach and drops by the pharmacy to grab medication for you

when he sees you sick in bed, his heart aches so badly cause he knows how overworked you’ve been feeling and wished you didn’t push yourself so hard

cleans you up and makes porridge for you to eat before you take the medication

he’d quickly wash up and lay down in bed with you, cuddling you with your head on his chest and his arms around you like a bear

“you’d get sick too, silly,” you’d say and he will shake his head, pull you closer and say, “i don’t care unless you’d feel better.”

he kisses you on your forehead before you slowly go to sleep and he holds you through out the night

julien loki

like noel noa, he would immediately rush home

but instead, he would drop by the grocery to get ingredients to cook you his homemade recipe his mother taught him back in france

he quickly checks in on you, and starts cooking in the kitchen, occasionally walking back into your bedroom to see if you’re comfortable

you’re barely awake as he sits you up, and feeds you his remedy

“tastes good,”you mutter in between spoonfuls,”you made it?”

he smiles and cleans the side of your mouth if his thumb,”yeah i did, my mother taught me how to cook this when she was sick.”

you smile, looking at how soft his face turns when he talks about his mother back in france

once you’re done with your soup, he gives you your medication, tucks you in, and kisses you on your forehead before he heads back into the kitchen to clean up

sae itoshi

this boy PANICS when he hears that you’re sick

he panics cause he doesn’t know what to do

he’s tempted to call his mother to ask him what to do but he scowls, choosing to google instead

he grabs all the medication needed and made his way to your home immediately and starts fussing over you

“are you okay y/n? does that work? is it comfortable?” he asks as he puts a cool gel sticker on your forehead, hoping the fever would subside

“it is, thank you sae,” you smile at him as you watch his scrunched eyebrows relaxed.

at least you are still conscious to speak to him if not he’d consider carrying you to the hospital since he doesn’t trust himself

“alright, get some sleep now, i’ll get some food for you to eat when you wake up,” he brushes your hair away from your face as you lie down, leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek before he leaves your room.

[lauronk]

hi @freetobeyouandmichi-me love, thanks for the ask!

in my happy little streetlights world, by the time ellie miller is 18 and they’re celebrating christmas, they’ve got four years of figuring out traditions and they’ve got it pretty settled by now:

they do Christmas Eve dinner with tommy and maria and open their gifts to each other

maria (lovingly) coerces everyone into pajama sets for a picture. She got ellie’s size wrong the first year - she got the correct size but ellie likes them a size bigger for extra coziness - but has made sure to get it right every year since

(this is the year maria is pregnant with TJ, which they’d shared before Thanksgiving)

Christmas morning is just ellie and joel. He drinks coffee and she drinks cocoa (with an absurd amount of marshmallows), even when it’s 75 degrees out, because texas y’all

they do stockings first, just little knickknacks and funny gifts (one time they gave each other pet rocks, which they each still have). joel gives ellie scratch offs and then tries to claim a “purchasing fee” when she wins more than $5

The first Christmas joel went a little nuts on gifts (it’s a big deal, their first Christmas, sue him) but it made ellie a little uncomfortable because a) she only had like two things for him, both of which were homemade and b) she’s never really been on the receiving end of so much positive attention at the holidays. So joel makes sure to tone it down in subsequent years even when his brain is screaming at him to spoil the fuck out of her

they do just a couple gifts for each other now. this year it’s just little useful, thoughtful things: guitar strings and good quality art pencils and silly socks.

joel gives ellie the full charcoal art set she mentioned offhand one time over the phone, and ellie gives joel a new toolbox to replace the one that finally bit the dust (and she puts some silly mushroom stickers she found on Etsy on it)

after presents, it’s movie time

ellie gave up two years ago on arguing that Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie and now she watches it without complaint (and loves it, not that she can tell him that)

joel is more tired than he can say of the first two Home Alone movies but those are ellie’s picks, so they watch and he always finds himself laughing when the Wet Bandits step on ornaments and get hit with paint cans

(he says “why the hell’d you take your shoes off?” to ellie a lot and she automatically responds with “why the hell are you dressed like a chicken?”)

they stay in their pajamas all day, the ones maria got them this year, and eat leftovers from yesterdays dinner plus whatever candy they’ve accumulated

ellie always falls asleep by the end of Muppet Christmas Carol, like clockwork, head on a pillow on joel’s lap

ellie’s on break from school till the new year, and joel takes Christmas through New Year’s Day off so he and his employees can have a break. So it’s a week of lazy pajama days, visiting other friends, just enjoying occupying the same space before life starts up in earnest again and it goes back to quick hellos and goodbyes in the morning

anyway I just had a couple thoughts about it 😅

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

~tag game~

rules: reblog this and say “rest in peace [your OC], you would have loved…” then tag your pals!

Thank you to @1000punks for the tag, always a pleasure <3

[looks at OC amount] … Oh. Oh goodness. Athy are we really doing this.

Well, let me get my tags out of the way now, @spiderin-space and @nova-moshi because I love their characters.

@hefkerut cause I've seen them mentioned a few times and would love to know more.

I think in other cases, I don't know if they like being tagged or not, or don't know if they have OCs or not, so if you see this and want to OC ramble, say I tagged you, it's an honorary tag <3

Now, let's run through them, shall we? I'll try going alphabetically. You might want to sit down.

RIP Acolith, you would have loved Sakura festivals.

RIP Adamantine, you would have loved “gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss” posts.

RIP Adonis, you would have loved I'm Just Ken.

RIP Aged-Berry, you would have loved The Phantom of the Opera. And Tangled.

RIP Aikungi, you would have loved, nay, DEVOURED Naruto.

RIP Aldur, you would have loved drive in theatres.

RIP Amber, you would have loved candied insects.

RIP Ambrosia, you would have loved homemade beanies from Etsy.

RIP Anon, you would have loved the universal dislike of Anish Kapoor.

RIP Applesweet, you would have loved the fact that I gave you a different name, then forgot it. Girl I am so sorry. I'll work on it. You're still gonna be nicknamed that though.

RIP Arctic, you would have loved various authors dunking on J. K. Rowling.

RIP Arianna, you would have loved the song Dusk Till Dawn.

RIP Ash, you would have loved tone indicators.

RIP Ashlynn, you would have loved dry-clean services.

RIP Aspyn, you would have loved (and did, in fact, love) the Heathers musical.

RIP Astral Querie, you would have loved Lovebot.

RIP Astriel, you would have loved the MCR reunion tour.

RIP Athmoth, you would have loved the resurgence of bardcore, musical theatre, and the use of piano and music box in lo-fi.

RIP Bandit, you would have loved the choker section of Etsy.

RIP Bastion, you would have loved the video game you were inspired by: Bastion.

RIP Behemoth, you would have loved the memes about Ea-nāṣir

RIP Beregiso, you would have loved the fact that Dance Dance Revolution still has new games.

RIP Callie, you would have loved kites made in the shape of cute things like butterflies!!

RIP Caramel/Karma, you would have loved silly string.

RIP Cassandra, you would have loved Lacroix. I like my Lacroix the way I like Cassandra. I don't like Lacroix.

RIP Cat's Eye Apatite/Kat, you would have loved the increasing amount of pockets being put back in skirts/dresses.

RIP Celine, you would have loved Cheesecake Factory.

RIP Cinnabar, you would have loved girl in red.

RIP Chidimma, you would have loved and laughed your ass off at the “is it blue and black or white and gold” dress.

RIP Chuko, you would have loved Bubblegum Bitch by Marina and the Diamonds

RIP Claymin, you would have loved the amount of embroidery patterns you can find online.

RIP Creation/Pebbles, you would have loved the crab rave video.

RIP Cricket, you would have loved the Necronomicon.

RIP Culpin, you would have loved sorbet places.

RIP Cyan, you would have loved liquid glitter phone cases.

RIP Dahlia, you would have loved online gothic lolita shops.

RIP Danyacree, you would have loved tarot cards.

RIP Daphne, you would have loved 4D chess.

RIP Dawn, you would have loved the concept of ukulele apology songs, and then gone “wait, the first one was due to WHAT?!”

RIP Dayo, you would have loved Joshua Weissman's channel.

RIP Delphinium, you would have loved Pink. Possibly Halsey as well.

RIP Destruction, you would have also loved the crab rave video.

RIP Devil Wood Razoda/"Razzy", you would have loved Chicago (the musical)

RIP Dextropho, you would have loved prosthetic stickers.

RIP Dione, you would have loved Owl City.

RIP Dusk, you would have loved melatonin.

RIP Dushun, you would have loved temporary tattoos.

RIP E-302, you would have loved ENA

RIP Eden, you would have loved Troye Sivan.

RIP Eflores, you would have loved flower symbolism websites.

RIP Eko, you would have loved Amy Rose.

RIP Ellum, you would have loved sensory deprivation tanks.

RIP Eodel, you would have loved Post Modern Jukebox.

RIP Euphy, you would have loved the “FUCK YOU BALTIMORE” video.

RIP Fable, you would have loved remote jobs.

RIP Fate, you would have loved Dutch Bros.

RIP Fang, you you would have loved cybercore masks.

RIP Fiona, you would have loved online hair styling tutorials.

RIP Flaveo, you would have loved virgin cocktails.

RIP Fleur, you would have loved slam poetry gatherings. And Queer Eye.

RIP Gecko Gleeble, you would have loved learning to play Riptide and Soul Sister.

RIP Harper, you would have loved Weird Al.

RIP Hazel, you would have loved Studio Ghibli movies.

RIP Helios, you would have loved solar panels.

RIP Hemlocke, you would have loved the legalization of weed.

RIP Honeycomb, you would have loved Once Upon A Time. And Tangled.

RIP Hope, you would have loved cat ear headphones.

RIP Hyacinth, you would have loved community gardens and TeamTrees.

RIP Ilya, you would have loved Influence by Robert Cialdini.

RIP Incar, you would have loved Imagine Dragons.

RIP Inigo, you would have loved Lin Manuel Miranda.

RIP Iris, you would have loved Star Wars. Nnnnot so much the third trilogy.

RIP Jasmine, you would have loved Domino's.

RIP Jefferson, you would have loved the Hercule Poirot movies. Especially the last one, you'd get so much closure.

RIP Karuko, you would have loved the fireworks shows at Butchart Gardens.

RIP Kerinth, you would have loved Fire Emblem.

RIP Kirino, you would have loved the fact that the lesbian flag now has orange. And the internet's love of frogs.

RIP Lemming, you would have loved nature documentaries.

RIP Ladyfingers, you would have loved Epic the musical.

RIP Larth, you would have loved Dracula the Musical.

RIP Lamya, you would have loved Berrywitched.

RIP Lavender, you would have loved the concept of counting sheep.

RIP Lavender (yes, I have two of them), you would have loved mobiles.

RIP Locket, you would have loved popcorn machines.

RIP Lucastamine, you would have loved Dungeon Meshi.

RIP Mal, you would have loved 90s kpop.

RIP Maldue, you would have loved Renaissance Fairs.

RIP Marble Fondant, you would have loved Bob Ross.

RIP Maximus, you would have loved The Greatest Showman.

RIP Mayday, you would have loved rhythm games.

RIP Melody, you would have loved hyperpop.

RIP Monelia, you would have loved Mitski.

RIP Morose, you would have loved Wolfwalkers. And Turning Red. And the live-action The Little Mermaid…except for how they made Flounder look.

RIP Mysterium, you would have loved Vocaloid as a whole.

RIP Mythos, you would have loved The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

RIP Narcoma, you would have loved Poppy in her metal era.

RIP Naonë, you would have loved both Hades and Hades 2.

RIP Nym, you would have loved 60s love songs. And the British Baking Show.

RIP Nystil, you would have loved sparkle GIFs.

RIP Olivia, you would have loved dodie.

RIP Oliphant, you would have loved Skyrim.

RIP Opsys, you would have loved the Trouled Birds series.

RIP Othello Onyxus/Thello, you would have loved r/Piracy.

RIP Pallas, you would have loved Hollow Knight.

RIP Pale Bloodstone, you would have loved Hazbin Hotel.

RIP Palharine, you would have loved Celeste.

RIP Paprika, you would have loved pretzel places.

RIP Perlif, you would have loved Shape of You by Ed Sheeran.

RIP Petal, you would have loved both Frozen movies.

RIP Phantom, you would have loved dubstep.

RIP Phanny, you would have loved skydiving.

RIP Pidoth, you would have loved blumineck.

RIP Pietro, you would have loved the “jk…unless” meme.

RIP Popleir, you would have loved Mothman.

RIP Pyrlotarius, you would have loved Greek amphitheatres.

RIP Recedes, you would have loved The Princess Bride.

RIP Rowley, you would have loved r/nostupidquestions

RIP Royal Fondant, you would have loved Happy Tree Friends

RIP Serendipity, you would have loved the rising trend of girls who call themselves soft but are actually absolutely batshit.

RIP Silica, you would have loved Alec Benjamin.

RIP Sinistropho, you would have loved the Lockwood and Co books, but NOT the show.

RIP Skylar, you would have loved Barnes & Noble.

RIP Solaris, you would have loved Life is Strange. Even if it's not that good of a game, it's fun to play with friends, and has its moments.

RIP Streak, you would have loved drunk karaoke. Or really, just. Karaoke. You'll get there.

RIP Stidgeon, you would have loved horoscope newsletters.

RIP Summer River, you would have loved A Sound of Thunder.

RIP Song, you would have loved speedrunners.

RIP Tamia, you would have loved uquiz.

RIP Tanuki, you would have loved the Nintendo 3DS Eshop music.

RIP Tecwyn, you would have loved the increasing diversity of people in scientific fields. Especially trans women and furries.

RIP Tivity, you would have loved Animal Crossing.

RIP Venn, you would have loved Twilight, but not for the usual reasons people like Twilight.

RIP Venus, you would have loved the ever-rising appreciation for BUFF 👏 WOMEN 👏

RIP Victor, you would have loved Vaporwave.

RIP Victoria/Vicky, you would have loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer

RIP Vio, you would have loved the web-weaving tag on Tumblr.

RIP Vulciadis, you would have loved the continued existence of gospel music.

RIP Warwick, you would have loved 3d printing.

RIP Wester, you would have loved weather vanes.

RIP Wrath, you would have loved Burning Man.

RIP Withanix, you would have loved huge earrings.

RIP Wonwite, you would have loved “daily ___” blogs.

RIP Qwerty, you would have loved the Unipiper.

RIP Yintu, you would have loved the utter failure of NFT bros.

RIP Yulmix/Mimi, you would have loved the phrase “comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable”

RIP Yume, you would have loved “is the ___ video cute” blogs.

RIP Ziah, you would have loved the meme of giving Roombas knives.

RIP Zinnia, you would have loved the cottagecore side of the internet.

+ a few more but ohhh wow is this making Tumblr load slower.

[jjsanguine]

I took an Uber to a GP appointment that definitely could have been a phone call and always I feel like I'm dragging it calling anything about the COVID-19 pandemic dystopian but like damn. It's so dystopian that all the signs mentioning wearing a mask over your mouth and nose are still up and everyone just ignores then apart from people who are like, visibly wheezing from what is probably long COVID, me included.

For a while my twitter display name was « sunbleached rainbows in the bad timeline » because very very early in the pandemic everyone in the UK started using rainbows to represent support for NHS essential workers for some reason. During those days of empty streets basically every house had something like this in the front window

Or like, a crude child's drawing of a rainbow.

It would have been an almost touching display of solidarity if the NHS didn't already have associated colours (the blue and white) or if any of the workers had been getting paid extra or anything. People complain about the progress pride flag being ugly and cluttered but like if something of the like had been widespread at the time there wouldn't have been like a year where it was really hard to tell what any given area plastered with rainbows meant by that.

By summer all of those posters printed on cheap printer paper or made with coloured pencils had faded and yellowed sometimes to illegibility, because people just forgot them in their windows after that brief frenzy to put them up. The same way they kind of stopped giving a shit about the plight of the NHS or like, COVID in general. I don't remember when those rainbows started coming down, but they were faded for at least as long they were bright.

The homemade posters about wearing a mask were not pointing directly at the sun on account of mostly being inside buildings. The colour might have faded slightly but if you see one around classes are it's as legible as the day it was printed. Especially because a lot of the posters about mask wearing are made of durable vinyl. The mask mandate in the UK ended almost 2 years ago and I still see flyers and stickers about wearing masks everywhere. There was one on the side of the uber as I was going home, but the driver was unmasked.

Like I feel so crazy seeing everyone ignore how respiratory diseases just kind of weren't a thing for like 2 years because of masks the way they ignore how everyone has a cough now. Like it would make a little more sense if any evidence that everyone in the country pretty much used to wear them day in day out completely vanished into the ether like the concept of an NHS rainbow but it literally didn't. It's in black and white. It's just so, dystopian

[rommahh]

A pit stop to buc-ees has to be on the list for Harry as he goes to texas.

“Mmm…are we there yet?” You grumbled waking up to the sound of your boyfriend dressing at the end of the bed. He pulled a pair of blue shorts on with a packers hoodie.

“No baby, just stopping at a gas station to get food and use the restroom. Coming in?” He asks pulling on his famous fisherman hat. You sat up on the bed, nodding your head. Harry smiled at your adorable scrunched up face as you rubbed the crust out of your eyes.

He brushed his teeth while you put on one of your hoodies and shorts. He waited for you by the bus door as your brushed your teeth and made yourself somewhat presentable. Turning to him you gave him a cheeky smile to signal that you were ready to go.

“Ready princess?”

Ready was an understatement. When you think of pit stops you think of small dinky gas stations not full blown gas station malls.

“Buc-ees”

The bright red sign yelled at you as you walked hand in hand with your love. Your eyes were wide in shock looking at the large grills for sale outside of the store and the surplus of gas pumps that lined the store.

“Holy crap, Harry!” You whisper shouted trying to not disturb the other shoppers around you. Your nose was blessed with the smells of yummy baked goods and fresh grilled pork and bbq. Half of the store was Buc-ee’s merch including tshirts, bathing suits, stickers, and others, whereas the other half was the grocery part.

Holding onto Harry’s arm, you yanked him to the T-shirts gasping at all of the colors, sizes, and designs. Grabbing a large hot pink T-shirt with the beaver adorning the front.

“I want, Harry.” You said in admiration. Harry grabbed the shirt from you telling you to grab him a matching white one. You gave him a big smile before grabbing the shirt.

You both checked out the yummy food, Harry smelling from afar because of his pescatarian diet. You picked out a pulled pork sandwich. Harry found himself picking up a small basket for the things you were finding.

His heart swelled at how excited you were. This is why he brought you on tour. He wanted to experience all of these fun things with you, the love of his life. He wanted you to enjoy the small things like fancy gas stations while also enjoying lavish hotels and tourism spots.

Harry helped you pick out some baked treats. Some treats ranging from Mexican baked goodies to the normal American goodies you can buy anywhere. He didn’t miss the way you sneaked a homemade rice crispy treat bar into the cart. Harry found a package salad to eat along with an assorted pack of trail mix.

Before checking out, your eyes caught the title “beaver nuggets.” Straying away from the long line, you picked up the bag curious as to what beaver nuggets were.

“Bubby look!” Harry looked up from his phone to look at you. Raising his eyebrows, he nodded to acknowledge you.

“Beaver nuggets.” You raised the bag with an excited grin. Harry laughed at your childlike manner.

“What are beaver nuggets?”

“It looks like corn puffs or something but they’re sweet. Get?”

“Yeah we can share them with the rest of the band with the rest of our treats.”

“Yay!”

You tried paying for all of the things but Harry knocked you to the side with his hip muttering for you to go away.

Hands full of stuff, you both trampled onto the bus quickly to avoid any attention. You stripped of your shirt immediately as Harry sat on the couch of the bus. Harry’s eyes went wide at the sight of your braless chest, a blush burning his cheeks.

“Hey!” You snapped jokingly. You threw your hands out making the grabbing motion. Harry shook his head confused still in a trance. “My shirt silly!”

“Oh…yeah. Maybe I’ll hold onto this for a moment.” He murmured clutching the shirt to his chest still staring hard like a teenage boy. “…But I won’t because we have a full day ahead of us.”

You pulled the shirt in squealing at how cute it was. Harry changed into his shirt making you smile even more.

“Harry, baby?”

“Yes.” He replied

“We are ready to take on Texas.”

Taglist:

@evanjh

[bonny-kookoo]

Packed Love (BB AU!, JJK x Reader) 💜(🔪)(🔞)

🍱 Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (Bunny Boy AU!)

🍱 Genre: Yandere AU!(Although very minor mentions of it), fluff, slight mentions of smut at the end

🍱 Warnings: Look mom, I can write stuff that's not nasty! Its literally just pure fluff

🍱 Summary: Jeon Jungkook hated his birthday. But considering that his birth also meant he'd been able to meet you, it wasn't so bad, after all.

This is only sidecontent! The full work can be found here:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Jungkook hated his birthday.

There was no easy way to put it. He was never really vocal about the date he had been born into this world, and always made sure that everyone around him knew he wasn't joking or compliment-fishing whenever he said he did not want anyone to even acknowledge his date of birth. No one really questioned it, figuring that the young boy had his issues for a reason; they didn't really pry. He kind of liked that about them.

However, now he wasn't alone anymore.

She knew from a look onto his ID-Card once at what exact day he'd been born, a pure accident. Otherwise she would've shamefully had to admit that it completely never crossed her mind. Her own birthday was something she forgot herself almost every year; so maybe that was why she was adamant to remember his.

When she showed up at his workplace, she couldn't spot him at all. To be fair however, she'd never visited him at all- she only remembered the place from a past visit when he'd forgotten something at work like his wallet or his phone charger. It sometimes happened, yet she'd never left the car during these small visits, always listening to Jungkook to stay behind.

"You lost?" A tall guy asked, surprisingly with no malicious intent in his voice whatsoever. He seemed friendly, curious on why she was there- well, she could see how it looked a bit weird to see a young girl dressed in a white summer dress at a dirty motor shop like this.

"I uh.. I'm looking for Jungkook?" She asked, and the guy smiled, nodding before he wiped his hand with a towel nearby, silently telling her to wait. She took the time to really look around for a moment, many machines and tools she had no clue where for what laying around, making her wonder if Jungkook knew how to use all of this. He was truly an amazing young guy- even though she was a bit biased, maybe. But whenever she asked him something, he seemed to have an explanation for it, no matter how weird or insignificant her questions seemed. She adjusted the small bag in her hand, the box containing some homemade cake and lunch for him suddenly feeling heavy. What if he didn't want anything? What if it tasted bad? Or what if she'd overstepped a boundary by coming here? She knew he didn't like that, so what if-

"Angel?" His voice asked, as he walked towards her with wide eyes, looking like he'd rushed all the way towards her as he stopped in front of her, checking if she was okay. "Everything alright? What're you doing here?" He asked, and she looked at the grinning guy behind Jungkook for a moment, his teasing eyes evident. Jungkook was ready to throw a comment his way, as he'd beat the young boy to it.

"Take a break romeo, but no funny business." He said, and someone else working underneath a car she hadn't noticed yet laughed at that, making her jump a bit. Jungkook led her outside, before opening a door to a small break room it seemed, lights flickering as they turned on with a bit of hesitation, probably due to age.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" He asked suddenly, as she shook her head, cheeks now dusted pink at the fact she had to come clear on her intentions now. She simply but the small cotton bag down, revealing the stacked lunch box. Sure, it was sadly not the most plain one, pastel blue and white with numerous stickers on it, but you didn't own anything else. You also had no idea what to really get him- since you didn't have a job, you didn't have much money. And buying him a present with his own money seemed.. weird. He simply looked at it, opening the boxes to reveal their contents; neatly placed and decorated with outmost care. Jungkooks eyes widened at the view, fresh scent hitting him as well as the warmth radiating off of the savory foods where his fingers touched the box, showing him that you'd just finished cooking, and went to bring it immediately. You'd dedicated time and effort into this, for him, for his birthday. He didn't even care at this point how you knew;

because for the first time, he felt happy receiving something for his birthday.

"I uhm.. if you don't like it I'm-" She started, yet couldn't finish as he'd leaned over, holding her cheek in his hand as he kissed her deeply, gratitude a prominent taste on his lips as his hand moved, now buried into her hair.

"Don't-" He started, pecking her lips once more before he chuckled. "Don't finish that sentence. I love it." He said, kissing her again as she giggled. "I love it. I love you. Thank you." He said, before finally letting her breathe, sitting down to eat.

Truth be told, he'd eat it even if it had tasted bad, just because she'd dedicated so much time and effort to making it, but he had to actually admit that it tasted absolutely amazing. It filled his soul with warmth in a way he hadn't been able to feel for a long time, making him almost teary eyed as he scarfed everything down.

He looked at her as she'd placed her elbows on the table, chin resting on her palms as she watched him with a fond smile. He smiled back, as he picked up a piece of meat with his chopsticks, holding it out to her lips as she tilted her head. "Open up Angel." He said, and she blushed a bit before parting her lips, letting him feed her as he smiled. "When did you even make this?" He asked, wondering since it was barely 12. She simple shrugged, as she spoke.

"I woke up right after you left for work, and then started right away." She said, and his eyes widened. He gets up at 5, and he knew for a fact that she hated to get up early. How pure and angelic could she really get? Jungkooks eyes softened as he picked up another piece of food, resting his own cheek now on his palm as he watched her take what he gave her without hesitation. So obedient. "I messed up the cake once, so I had to do it again." She said, and it was only now he noticed the red stripe on the back of her hand, something he'd first brushed off as maybe a simple mark from the way she'd carried something or whatever. But.. she'd gotten hurt? Because of him? She seemed to sense his uneasiness as she immediately tried to calm him. "Nothing bad happened though, it doesn't hurt at all- I'm just clumsy, thats all!" She said, and he nodded, deciding to leave it at that. He would keep an eye on her from now on though.

"I'm finishing my shift soon- do you want to stay here, or do you want to go home?" He asked, knowing her answer already. She still had her drivers license- she was technically free to take his car and come back later to pick him up, but ever since the accident, she'd refused to sit behind the steering wheel- much to his pleasure. He never liked the fact that she drove anyways. He could deal with her in the kitchen, he'd already made sure no Knife was too sharp anyways. So when she shook her head, he already had a plan for her. "Okay. My stuff is right there, where my Jacket is. You can stay here, I'll leave my phone with you. I'll hurry, and then we'll go home, alright?" He asked, and she looked at him innocently.

"Don't you want to go somewhere on your birthday?" She asked, and he closed the now empty food containers with a grin, before he leaned over, brushing some hair away from her face.

"Oh angel-" He said, voice low as his eyes stuck to her lips. "the only place I want to be after I finish here is between your legs."

[sunaswife]

What's in your suna collection if you dont mind me asking 👉👈

Hahaha I’m glad you asked 😼

*inhales*

Acrylic stand

Stickers (haven’t arrived yet)

2X Paintings

A mini notebook with his passport

A pin that I put on my Jean jacket. (It’s over my heart)

A homemade sticker that I keep on my clear phone case

Three prints of suna X knifey fan art that I keep in my car/wallet (two of them were made by @dinablossom 🥺💗 ily bitch)

I’m planning on making a Suna cardboard cutout of his exact height hehehehe

Also my credit card has a Suna cover

Also next week I’m ordering an Inarizaki washi tape 🥺👉👈 and Suna is on it looking cute as always

It’s not much but I have small suna things that I keep with me to help motivate me throughout the day

When they release a Suna nendroid imma buy that shit no 🧢

But I have more Haikyuu merch thats just my Suna collection lol

[survey--s]

39.

1. How many cars have you ever owned?   Four in total. The first I sold as I wasn’t using it, the second I ran into the ground, the third got totalled in an accident and I still have the fourth one.

2. Can you do math in your head well?   I can do the basics but I often like to check using a calculator just to make sure.

3. What's your least favourite chore to do around the house?   Emptying the bins and washing the dishes.

4. What's your favorite flavor of potato chip?   Sea salt and rosemary, cheddar cheese, paprika and salt and vinegar.

5. Do you ever read the weather forecast?   Yeah, I work outdoors and often have to change my walks around depending on what the weather is doing.

6. Do amusement park rides make you sick?   Yeah - I loved them a kid/teen but we went to Blackpool a few years ago and it was utterly unpleasant, lol.

7. Who is your favorite Star Wars character?   I’ve never seen any of the films, but I do quite like Yoda.

8. What kind of cheese do you put on your sandwiches?   Mozarella.

9. What radio station do you listen to the most?   Radio One, but I normally just plug my phone in and use that instead.

10.Who was the last person to give you a gift?   Susie - she made me a beautiful scarf and she got Archie his own stocking and some dog biscuits too :)

11. How old were you when you got your driver's license?   I was twenty nine.

12. What was the first thing you ever learned how to cook?   Pasta with homemade tomato sauce. My dad taught me and I still use the exact same recipe today, 25 years later lol.

13. Did you ever collect beanie babies?   I did indeed, I had quite a few actually, including some of the rare ones, but I think I left them in Suffolk as I’ve not seen them since.

14. When was the last time you got a haircut?   About six months ago.

15. Have you ever been to a bachelor/bachelorette party?   No.

16. How many people can you say you TRULY love?   I mean, my parents, my husband, my close friends...

17. Where are you most ticklish on your body?   My feet. I HATE people touching my feet.

18. Do you like kids?   If they’re well-behaved, sure.

19. Have you ever cheated on a test?   Just in-class ones. I’d never cheat on anything important, lol.

20. Is your next birthday coming up soon?   No, my birthday was two weeks ago.

21. Have you ever bailed anyone out of jail?   No.

22. What's the last board game you played?   Monopoly, I suppose.

23. Have you ever given someone a fake phone number?   Yeah, as a teenager.

24. Do you actually eat 3 meals a day?   No, I tend to have several snacks rather than meals.

25. Do you have any bumper stickers on your car?   No.

26. Do you leave good tips when you eat out at restaurants?   No, tips aren’t really a thing here. 

27. What's your favorite thing to eat at bbqs?   I love steak done on the BBQ.

28. Do you still own any VHS tapes?   We never did as we never owned a VHS player.

29. How many of your friends have you known for at least 5 years?   A few of them, but I’m not especially close with any of them anymore.

30. Are you superstitious?   Not at all.

31. What was your favorite book as a child?   Alice in Wonderland, the Faraway Tree series, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Owl who was Afraid of the Dark.

32. Have you lied to anyone in the last 24 hours?   I don’t think so.

33. What's the most expensive restaurant you've ever eaten at?   L’Enclume. My dad paid but it cost nearly £700 for three people - not including alcohol.

34. How many jobs have you had?   Six in total.

35. Are you keeping a secret from anyone right now?   No.

36. What's the smallest town you've ever visited?   I honestly couldn’t tell you, but there are a few places in Australia that were proper one pub towns lol.

37. If there was a real Jurassic Park, would you visit it?   Definitely.

38. Have you ever gone golfing?   Nope, just mini golf.

39. What's your favorite kind of soup?   Butternut squash, but I’m not a huge fan of soup in general.

40. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike?   I was about four or five, I think.

41. Do you know any sign language?   Nope.

42. If you became famous for something, what would it be?   I wouldn’t want to become famous for anything.

43. How many friends do you have that are married?   Most of my friends are married or engaged to be married.

44. Do you ever read the newspaper?   No. I just read the news online these days.

45. When you're having a bad day, how do you make yourself feel better?   Have a nap, cuddle with my pets, watch my favourite TV shows or films, eat my favourite foods.

46. Do you still have your wisdom teeth?   I have two of them, the others have been removed

47. Did you have a swingset in your yard when you were a child?   No, I had a slide, a paddling pool and swingball set.

48. Have you ever played poker for money?   I don’t even know how to play poker to start with, lol.

49. You're making a fruit salad: what kinds of fruit do you put in it?   Pineapple, melon, grapes and strawberries.

50. What are the last 2 digits of your phone number?   93.

51. What's the scariest movie you've ever seen?   I don’t watch scary movies.

52. Do you eat your mac & cheese with a fork or a spoon?   With a fork.

53. Where did you have your first kiss?   On the primary school playing field.

54. When you were a kid, were you ever afraid of cooties?   No, they weren’t a thing here.

55. Do you ever go Christmas caroling in December? Nope. 

[teacupfulofstarshine]

but i make these high heels work

summary: roman has something new that he wants to try out, but he’s nervous about his family’s reactions. he needn’t be; they’ve always got his back. 

(OR: a birthday fic for roman sanders, set in my moxiety dad au)

a/n: i’m jumping on @notveryglittery‘s “giving the gay everything he wants” agenda. happy birthday roman sanders!!! 

cw: anxiety, mild angst, fear of homophobia

wordcount: ~1.8k

read it on ao3!! 

Roman carefully smooths his hands over the fabric spread out across his bed. He knows that no one else is awake yet. Not even Logan, who routinely wakes up early because apparently he can run on crumbs of sleep and nothing else. Not even Dad, the earliest riser out of all of them, since he doesn’t have any pressing appointments. No one is awake but Roman. 

He’d tossed and turned all night, barely snatching a few hours. He knows he’s going to regret that later, but he also knows that there’s nothing particularly important happening today, so Papa and Dad will be more lenient if he decides to nap. So, rather than waiting until later to roll out of bed, Roman gets up a good hour before anyone else. He makes his bed - properly, this time, pulling off the excess of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and tucking his thick quilt in. He never has the time or the willpower to make it in the mornings, but today. 

Well.

Today, he has anticipation thrumming in his chest like caught lightning, and he needs something to do with his hands. 

Roman showers, quietly. The bathroom is between his room and Logan’s, and there’s always the off chance that the water running will wake up his lightweight-sleeper brother. He holds his breath, keeping in all the melodies that usually bubble from his mouth in the shower, and is rewarded with no signs of wakefulness from his brother. 

He doesn’t bother to wash his hair, so he doesn’t have to worry about blow-drying his fluffy curls. Instead, he spritzes them with dry shampoo he stole from his Papa and combs through them with his fingers. It takes him about fifteen minutes to get them to just the right state of artfully tousled, but it still doesn’t waste nearly enough time. 

Which brings him to here, sitting cross-legged on his perfectly-made bed, staring at the fabric spread across his quilt. It’s plain, compared to what he usually wears, but he supposes that’s the trouble with borrowed clothing. Adding to all that, it’s not real clothing; it’s an old prop he’d salvaged from a box of costumes destined to be torn apart and repurposed. He kind of wishes he had the courage to ask Dad or Papa to take him to the mall to buy a proper one, but he’s never been that kind of brave. 

Roman fiddles with the hem of the skirt between his fingers. 

It’s red, at the very least, but not the proper shade of red. It’s garish and bright, like a firetruck, like a cartoon bloodstain. It comes down to about Roman’s knees, hanging in loose folds, and it’s not the most comfortable thing he’s ever worn, but he loves it. He loves the way the fabric feels when it swishes around his knees, he loves the way it flares out when he spins in circles, he loves the way it feels to smooth the fabric beneath him in a single fluid motion when he sits down. 

He’s terrified to wear it out of the comfort of his bedroom, but he figures that today, June first, the first day of pride month, is as good a day as any to come out of the closet. Roman sighs, curling his hands into loose fists on his thighs. 

His phone pings with a notification, and Roman almost falls off his bed as he scrambles forward to snatch his cell phone off his desk. He takes a moment to smile at his home screen photo before answering the message: it’s a picture of himself and Janus from last year’s pride festival. They’re wrapped in a rainbow flag like a cape, leaning their heads together and laughing. Janus has a genderqueer flag painted across his cheek, and Roman has rainbow star stickers across his nose and a rainbow bandanna tying back his hair. 

Roman thumbprints his phone open and checks his messages. It’s from Janus himself. 

[7:41 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): you’re going to do wonderfully, dearest. your family loves you, and they’ll support you no matter what. and even if they don’t, i support you no matter what. i love you <3 

Roman wiggles his feet back and forth eagerly in a gleeful stim as he taps out a response. 

[7:43 am] me: thank you, snove (snake love). ily2 <3 

[7:44 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): are you ever going to stop calling me snake-themed nicknames, beloved?

[7:44 am] me: sno (snake no) 

[7:46 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): i hate you <3 

[7:47 am] me: i snove (snake love) you too <3 <3 

*~*~*~*~*

Someone knocks on his door around 8:45. “Ro? Are you coming down to breakfast? I’m making pridecakes!” Dad calls. Roman’s stomach growls at the thought; every year, Dad makes multiple colors of homemade pancake batter and draws pride-flag pancakes on the griddle.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” Roman says. 

“Okay, kiddo!” 

Roman takes a deep breath. He slides off his bed and shimmies out of his pajama pants. Rummaging around in his drawers, he pulls out a white t-shirt with a swooping golden outline of the Disney castle on the front. Carefully, he steps into the puddle of skirt and tugs the red fabric up over his hips. It’s not a perfect fit, but it comes down to his knees. Roman studies himself in the full-length mirror on the inside of his closet. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he sighs, reaching for the rainbow bandana on his desk. He folds it and ties it to form a headband which he uses to push his bangs off his forehead. “It’s going to be okay. Dad and Papa aren’t going to hate you. Thomas and Logan aren’t going to hate you. It’s going to be okay.” 

Roman waits until he hears Logan and Thomas go downstairs before he leaves. He picks up his phone, glances at the photo of himself and Janus one more time, and then steps into the hallway. 

He lurks on the stairs for a moment, glancing into the kitchen. Logan is sleepily gnawing on a bagel slathered with jam. Papa is pouring coffee into a row of mugs while Thomas helps Dad with the pridecakes. Roman grips his skirt tightly in his hands, watching his family, and then he steps into the kitchen. 

“Morning.” 

“Good morn - oh!” Dad whirls around, holding a spatula which he quickly foists off onto Thomas. He hurries forward, taking Roman’s shoulders, eyes scanning up and down his outfit. “That’s new! Where’d you get it?” 

“It’s an old costume skirt,” Roman says. “Is that - am I - do you -”

Dad smiles, eyes crinkling up as he leans in to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I think you look wonderful, Roman. No matter what you choose to wear.” Roman smiles, hugging his dad tightly. He feels Dad reach up and press a hand into the back of his hair, rocking them back and forth a little as they hug. 

When Dad pulls away, Roman’s eyes jump up to Thomas. He grins, flashing a thumbs up, and Roman shakily offers one back. “Nice skirt,” Papa says, wrapping an arm around Roman’s shoulders and pulling him in. Roman feels Papa press a kiss to the top of his head, and he fights to keep himself from crying. 

Roman turns, looking at the only family member who hasn’t said anything yet. Logan is still placidly chewing his bagel, watching Roman with his typical calmness. “Logan?” Roman hates the way his voice shakes a little. “Do you like it?” 

Logan swallows and sets his bagel down. He scans over Roman’s outfit with a strange critical expression and says, “No. It looks completely wrong on you.” 

Roman’s heart sinks to the bottom of his chest. Logan stands up, scanning over Roman repeatedly, frowning as he stares at the skirt. “Logan,” Dad says warningly. 

Logan keeps talking. “That is the wrong color for your skin tone. It does not compliment the tan you always achieve in the summer months. The shape is unflattering on your body type, and the material is -” Logan reaches out and rubs the material between two fingers, shuddering. “- is entirely unpleasant. This skirt is completely wrong for you.” 

Roman recognizes the glint in his brother’s eye as he examines the skirt with a critical eye. It’s the way he looks at pieces of clothing that the theater department asks him to help tailor. “You would look much nicer in a circle or handkerchief style skirt. That red is hideous, you need a darker shade. I think that dark green would also look nice on you.” 

“You . . . aren’t mad about me wearing a skirt?” 

Logan blinks at him. “To quote that Avatar show you like so much, ‘Pants are an illusion and so is death.’ Gender is a social construct and clothing should not be dependent on the genitalia you were born with. I do not care if you wish to wear a skirt or not, Roman. Why would I care?” 

“I was nervous about wearing a skirt because I thought you would judge me.” Logan takes a few steps closer, offering a small smile, and Roman feels his heart start to swell and rise like a balloon.

“I was not judging you for wearing a skirt, Roman. If you would prefer to wear a skirt, I will support you, always. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I merely meant to offer my assistance because that skirt looks uncomfortable.” 

“It really is,” Roman sighs. “I stole it from a box of outgoing props.” 

“Go put comfortable clothes on,” Logan tells him. “I am going to the fabric store with Dad later today. I will take your measurements and you can come with us to find a fabric you like. I will make you a skirt that actually fits you.” 

“You’d do that for me?!” 

“Skirts are relatively simple garments to sew, provided you get the measurements correct. I cannot promise that it will be perfect, but I will work to make sure that it is comfortable and flattering on your form.” Roman bounces eagerly. “Can I hug you?” 

Logan tilts his head, considering. “Ten seconds,” he decides, which is more than enough time. Roman pulls his brother into a hug, feeling Logan’s hand flap back and forth against his bag as he happily stims. 

“I love you, Logan,” Roman says, squeezing him tightly. Logan hums at the pressure, pushing closer to his brother before leaning backwards to signal that he’s done being hugged. Roman lets him go, settling down at the table. He can change after breakfast. 

(Two weeks later, Roman comes downstairs in a dark red circle skirt embroidered with golden stars and detailing. Logan hums, flapping and rocking happily when he sees Roman twirl around and show off the way the skirt flares around his thighs. 

“It’s perfect, it’s perfect, I love it so much!” Roman squeals. “Thank you, Logan!” 

Logan flaps even more in response.) 

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 11

Title: Old Wounds

Warnings: none. But there’s always profanity, just an FYI

Tagging: @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @tragiclyhip​

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news,” Tyler announces, as he descends the stairs later in the evening, pausing at the front entrance to switch off the foyer light and lock the door and set the alarm before joining his wife in the living room. “Which do you want first?”

Esme glances up from the mountains of clean laundry that takes up residence at her feet and on the already cluttered coffee table. Laundry baskets of differing colours are scattered around the room. A larger one that consists of their clothing and smaller containers labelled with each of the kids’ names; the latter eventually being placed in intervals on the stairs in hopes they’ll be carried up to the corresponding rooms. For the most part, the kids are good at getting their assigned chores done. The littles enjoying a ‘sticker chart’ that signifies a treat or toy of their choosing when full, and the older ones satisfied with decent sized allowances. Despite an extremely healthy bank account and money constantly flowing in, they’re still expected to ‘tow the line’; being taught responsibility and learning skills that will help them become self reliant and well functioning adults.

She wrinkles her nose and scowls. “Depends. On a scale of one to ten, how bad IS the bad news?”

“Considering it’s our kids we’re talking about?” He drops heavily onto the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his right knee when he stretches his leg out and places his foot on the edge of the coffee table. The cold weather is aggravating it; causing the arthritis to flare up and bringing with it an incessant ache that seems to have burrowed into the bone. Two reconstructive surgeries and a host of complications later, it’s as good as that leg is going to get. Already told to be prepared for a third surgery before he hits sixty. If he makes it that far. “I don’t know. I guess a four? Five at the most?”

“So that means no broken bones, knocked out teeth, and no one is unconscious or bleeding. In other words, it’s a relatively tame night for our house. Still…” she tosses a pair of mismatched socks into Tanner’s basket. He’s particular; socks always scrunched into a ball, never matching, and his other clothes separated by colour yet not folded, preferring to do it himself once he takes the basket upstairs. “...tell me the good news first. It’s been a weird day.”

“The good news is that all the little ones are already asleep. Tanner’s on his way out but he’s sleeping in the tub in the boys’ bathroom again because TJ and Declan are being too loud. Not even the headphones and locking himself in his happy place were doing the trick. I tried.”

“Well, at least he finds ways to cope and make himself happy, I guess. The bad news?”

“Millie and Alannah are showing no signs of slowing down. So if you’re wanting to actually get some shut eye, you might want to camp out down here. It’s going to be a long ass night.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow Tanner’s headphones,” she says, then grins at him over her shoulder. “That should help fend off your snoring too.”

“It can’t be THAT bad. You’ve been sharing a bed with me for twelve and a half years. I notice you don’t ever head for the couch. You put up with it.”

“Do you know many times in the past twelve and a half years I’ve been tempted to smother you with a pillow? Many. Many. MANY times.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

“Mostly because I wouldn’t do well in jail. I’d never survive in there. And prison jumpsuit orange is NOT my colour.”

“And here I was thinking maybe I’ve survived because you just love me THAT much.”

“It plays a small part in it. But just a small one. Just so you know.”

“You’d miss me. If I wasn’t around.”

“Like a migraine,” she teases, and yelps when he lands a playful yet solid backhand on one of the cheeks of her ass. “That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are? Friends? That’s as far as we’ve come in twelve and a half years?”

“Friends with the best benefits,” she chides, and snags an unfolded towel from the pile of laundry on the floor and smacks him upside the head with it. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You wouldn’t suddenly want to find yourself facing an extremely long dry spell.”

“I’d be alright. I have three wank files on my phone now.”

“Three? What do you need three for? And how do you even have that many pictures of me in the first place? Are you sneaking them while I’m asleep? Because that’s just...creepy...if you are.”

“Bold of you to assume that it’s just pictures of you.”

She drops her chin to her chest and stares at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. I only need pictures of you. No one else. Well, there’s a couple of videos too, but…”

“I swear to God, if anyone ever goes into your phone and finds those? I will kill you. In the most brutal and painful way possible. Why do you need videos anyway?”

“Homemade porn. Best you can get.”

“You can’t watch regular porn like regular people?”

“I mean, I COULD. But I don’t want to. I want to watch you. Unleashing your inner porn star. Getting all freaky and kinky and shit. You should watch them with me. Be kind of hot, don’t think? Watch them and make a new one?”

“You’ve got issues. Serious issues.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my wife is a total MILF. That she looks all tiny and cute and innocent but is a freak in bed. You shouldn’t have been so eager and willing if you didn’t want me scooping you up at that quick.”

She smirks. “I thought you said I was a B plus?”

“You were. Until I got a hold of you. Now? Solid A plus, plus, PLUS.”

“So you’re finally admitting that you DID corrupt me. After twelve and a half years denying it.”

“I merely helped you build on your skills. Improve them. I was more than willing to let you experiment on me.”

“Mmmhmm. You know, I was a good girl until you got a hold of me.”

“Like fuck you were. Good girls do NOT bang a guy...for five days straight...that they barely know. Unprotected.”

“I admit, that was not one of my finer judgement calls. But I trusted you. You didn’t seem like the type that didn’t take precautions. I mean, looking like you do and having women in different ports all over the world? That was a given. But you didn’t strike me as the type that wanted kids all over the world. Or STD’s. I trusted you. For some reason.”

“You just wanted the dick. Admit it. You were willing to sacrifice all your morals and standards for it.”

“I will admit to no such things. You were just as into it as I was. You didn’t exactly turn sex down. You didn’t seem too concerned about the whole protection thing. How did you know I wasn’t some hoe crawling with Lord knows what? How’d you know you weren’t going to get the burn?”

“I trusted you. Against my better judgement.”

Smirking, she cocks her head to the side and regards him with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

“You were all cute and tiny and innocent looking. Boy did I learn. Quick.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have kept me around if I was TOO cute and innocent. I knew just enough to make you want it, yet still gave you a pretty clean slate to work with. You must be so proud of yourself. Corrupting me like you have. Moulding me into some freak in bed.”

“Babe, you had a freak inside of you, just took good dick to bring it out. You are some of my best work though. You didn’t turn out too bad.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“Aren’t you glad you went along with Nik’s fucked up idea? Was it not the best decision of your life?”

“I don’t know about the best,” she teases, and drops a load of clean wash in his lap. “But you’re on my top five list.”

“Well for what it’s worth, it’s definitely the best decision I ever made. And you have to admit, the whole lack of protection thing? It didn’t turn out too bad.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s turning into quite the hell beast. You know those hellhounds on Supernatural? Millie could be their ruler. In fact, they’d be scared of HER. Although I have figured it out. Why she’s been extra bitchy lately.”

“Please tell me it’s not boys. Bad enough we had one phone here. I don’t want to find out there’s more.”

“It’s not boys. Although…” she drops down onto the couch beside him. “...that will come soon enough. Puberty. It’s puberty.”

“Excuse me?”

“It hasn’t happened yet. The big event. She hasn’t gotten her period.”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“As uncomfortable as it makes you, we have to have it. Because it’s going to happen. Soon.”

“She’s eleven.”

“She’ll be twelve in March. I was just shy of twelve when I got mine.”

He turns his attention to the pile of laundry in his lap. “I do NOT want to hear this.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you. The mood swings? The skin breakouts? The fact she’s starting to develop and has already asked me to take her shopping for bras…”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m not listening to you. I refuse to listen to you.”

“...means that things are going to happen. Soon. And we need to be prepared. Especially you.”

“Why me? Why do I need to be more prepared than you?”

“Because I’ve had my period for almost thirty years. I’m obviously experienced in these things.”

“And I’ve lived with you for twelve of those thirty years. Who is the one that bears the brunt of the shit storm when you get all mean and moody and shit? Who’s the one that’s been bringing your bitchy ass chocolate and ice cream? Who’s the one that will massage your back and bring you a heating pad when the cramps are bad? Never mind that, who’s had to go to the store and buy you woman stuff?”

“You’ve been very good about it. But in all fairness, if you really think about it? I haven’t had my period that much since we’ve been together. You may have done all those very sweet and amazing things, but you’ve also gotten me pregnant with seven kids. In twelve years.”

“That is a very good point, actually.”

“All I’m saying is that things are going to happen. Soon. And I just want you to be prepared for it. I know it bothers you to think about it. Your baby girl growing up. But she is. Growing up. And she’s doing it very quickly. You need to step up your game and be ready for anything.”

“I really hate you right now.”

“Do you, Tyler? Do you REALLY?”

Leaning into her, he presses a kiss to her temple. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“I just want you to be prepared. In case it happens when I’m not home. So you know what to do.”

“You’re not leaving the house from here on out. Until she DOES get it.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure everything is in the house that you’ll need in case it does happen. I remember when Riley was going through puberty. My mom was totally useless. It was a disaster when I started mine. She would have been more than willing to just let me bleed all over the place. I had to stuff toilet paper in my underwear and steal money out of her purse so I could go to the store and get necessities.”

He grins. “My wife the felon.”

“So I made sure Riley would never have to go through that kind of humiliation. I made up this basket for her. Pads, tampons, a heating pad, chocolate bars, some pain killers. Everything she’d need. I’ll do that for Millie too. And I’ll put it somewhere where you can find it. So you’re ready if it happens and I’m not home.”

“Do we really have to keep talking about this?”

“Stick your head in the sand all you want, husband. It’s going to happen. Whether you like it or not. I know she’s your little girl. Your miracle baby. But she’s growing up. And it’s happening very fast and there’s nothing we can do to stop it, I’m not exactly happy about it either. This is all happening way too quick for my liking. Where the hell has the last twelve years gone? We’re going to have a teenager. Very soon.”

“Not to make things worse, but we’re going to have three in the house in just over two years.”

“You’re not helping. Seriously though. Where has that time gone? Some days it feels like we just met, don’t you think?”

“Now that I think about it, there are days you drive me as fucking nuts as you did that that first day in Dhaka.”

“Fuck you! I was cute and charming.”

“You were a pain in my ass.”

“But I was a CUTE pain in your ass. You can’t deny that.”

“You were something alright.”

“Look, just because you were having the feels for me and didn’t know how to handle it, that’s not my fault. And for the record, I would have been able to handle myself. In the market. If things went south.”

“Sure you would have. You would have been just fine. All five foot nothing and a hundred pounds of you.”

“Good things come in small packages. You didn’t need to watch me that closely.”

“Yes. I did. I very much did. You know what would have happened if Asif’s thugs got a hold of you? The end result would not have been pretty.”

“I think you use that as an excuse. I think you just wanted me that close because you WERE having feels for me.”

“I am neither going to admit OR deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve caught on to you. You can keep lying to yourself about your motives back then, but I know what you were up to. And it’s very sweet. That you wanted to keep me safe and sound because you had feels for me.”

“Do you want me to be totally honest?”

“Always.”

“I really just wanted to keep you close so I could look at your ass. And because I was hoping to get laid. I needed you to be safe and in one piece for that to happen.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I’m just saying. You want honesty? There’s your honesty. You were cute and had a wicked body and I was horny as fuck and wanted you to fix that. And boy, did you ever fix it.”

“And I'm still fixing it. Twelve and a half years later. You lucky bastard.”

“I am lucky.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Very lucky.”

“It’s weird.” She turns her attention back to folding the laundry at her feet. “Sometimes it DOES seem like it was just yesterday. Where DID the time go? How did we end up old enough to have a pre-teen? I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel old enough for that.”

“The way my body is? I feel old enough to have a kid in college, never mind becoming a teenager. Which leads me to the other bad news.”

“Oh God…” Esme groans. “...there’s more?”

“These?” He reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. “Don’t do shit anymore. I can see up close, but I can’t see fuck all far away. You know what that means?”

“Your eyesight is shit. Which I’ve been telling you for the last three years. Is it just your right eye?”

“That one’s worse.” It’s a mixture of things. The knife that Nathan had dug into his face -the sharp blade cutting deep and causing problems with the surrounding nerves- and the multitude of concussions suffered over the years. The last one five years ago had been the tipping point; causing permanent and extensive damage to the optic nerve. “ But they’re both shit.”

“When we get home you’ll have to call and schedule an eye appointment. And while you’re at it, you should call and get that hearing test done.”

“I don’t need one done. I know my hearing is fucked.”

“Fucked or not, you need one. So you know what you’re dealing with. You might need a hearing aid.”

“That’s a huge ‘fuck no’ from me.”

“I know it makes you feel old; glasses and hearing aids and arthritis and all the aches and pains. But you ARE getting close to fifty. And you’ve had a hard life. There’s been a lot of damage done. Isn’t it better to get on top of those things? So they don’t get worse? I just want you to have a good life. I want you to be around for a long while. And if that means you have to wear glasses on a permanent basis and get a hearing aid…”

“I’m sorry. Are you talking? I couldn’t hear you. It’s my old age.”

“It’s not old age. You’re just an asshole. Always have been, always will be. But you’re my asshole and I want to keep you around. And I know YOU want to stick around. Especially for your kids. So do it for them? Get your eyes and your hearing tested. Please? Because we love you, you insufferable, stubborn pain in my ass. And us loving you? That’s not going to change because you need help hearing and seeing.”

“I’ll be ugly as fuck. If I have to wear glasses all the time.”

“It’s impossible for you to be ugly. In fact…” she plucks the glasses from his hand and slips them onto his face. “...I think you’re quite sexy in them.”

“You know, you’re not half bad looking when I can actually see.”

She laughs and shoves him back against the couch. “You’re a total dick.”

“Fuck you, you love me.”

“I do. Despite my better judgement and the warnings from friends and family.”

Smirking, he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; speaking with the tips of their noses pressed together and lips mere inches apart. “Why are you so mean to me? You’re always so mean.”

“I know. You have it so rough. I am the worst wife EVER. I’m horrible. Just horrible. How you put up with me defies all logic.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It’s my cross to bear.”

“You poor bastard,” she laughs, a palm coming to rest on the side of his face when he kisses her. Long and slow and sweet, followed by a series of small pecks and then concluded with the press of his lips against her forehead; her eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It’s always been one of her favorite things; those feathery kisses placed on her brow and the weight of his hand on the back of her neck and the warmth of his body so close to hers. It’s sweet and it’s pure; intimacy at its most basic and innocent of levels. And her smile widens when a calloused fingertip softly traces the slope of her nose and his lips press against the tip. “You and your freckles.”

“Well technically, they’re YOUR freckles.”

“You’re staring at them aren’t you.”

“Not staring. Admiring.”

“Admiring what? They’re ugly.”

“They’re adorable. And you’re beautiful.” He presses a kiss to each corner of her mouth, hand smoothing wayward strands of hair away from the sides of her face and neck.

Her eyes flutter open. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. How you’re looking at me right now. Just so...I don’t know...I don’t know how to describe it. But you always do it. Your face changes. So does the colour of your eyes. It’s like you’re looking at me for the very first time all over again. Even though you’ve seen me nearly every day for the last twelve and a half years. Yet you still do it. Look at me like that. Like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe to me you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe all I see is you. Maybe because everything that is amazing and perfect in my life is because of you. All this? A place like this? My kids? Us? None of that would exist if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t stuck around on that bridge…”

“But I did. I DID stick around. And if it happened a thousand times, I would make the exact same decision. No hesitations. I did the right thing. No one can ever tell me different.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you put your ass on the line for a guy that was a complete and utter fucking mess.”

“Well I guess I just saw the potential,” she chides, and then kisses him; fingernails lightly scraping along the bottom of his hairline “You know what I really want right now?”

“I’m hoping you’re going to say sex, but I have a sneaky feeling that’s not it.”

“Leftover Chinese food. And my last chocolate croissant.”

“And then sex?”

Laying a hand on the side of his head, she pulls him closer; placing a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and then grinning against his ear. “Maybe.”

*****

An hour later they sit in the sunroom; the remnants of a late night meal on the coffee table, the area illuminated by strings of multi-colored Christmas lights lining each pane of glass and the soft glow given off by the space heater. It’s the kind of quiet and relaxation that is extremely rare to find especially during the holiday season; one that comes only when everything on your ‘to do list’ has been checked off. It’s a relief to have it all done; every last minute gift snagged, almost all the wrapping relegated to a very accommodating and willing Desi, fridges and freezers stocked and the house fully decorated both inside and out.

It had been a learning process; getting comfortable with celebrating the season while still harbouring painful childhood trauma and the memories of six Christmases with his first child. But Esme had made it easier; never pushing him to ‘get into the spirit’ and knowing what lines shouldn’t be crossing and learning to step back when the trauma of the past would begin to fester. Seeing her enjoyment of the holiday had helped; the excitement she shows over something as simple as a walk or a drive to look at other peoples’ lights, the joy she gets in buying things for the kids and keeping the magic alive and seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning. And he’d come around a little bit at a time; a distaste for the holiday becoming more bearable as the years went on and eventually being replaced with actual enjoyment and appreciation. And now that the hard work is done, it’s time to relish in accomplishment; a quiet house and the ambiance and the press of her head against his chest and the feel of her hair as it slowly slips through his fingers. He’d gladly stay there all the night; away from the giggles and chatter that drift down from their daughter’s room, lulled to sleep by the familiar weight of his wife’s body against his and the warmth that radiates from her. Nothing sexual about it; just quiet, soft intimacy in its purest form.

His eyes flicker open when he feels her move away; head lifting from the back of the couch and as her hair slips from between his fingers. “You okay?”

She gives a sheepish, almost nervous smile. “We need to talk.”

“So no, you’re not.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m okay.”

“Babe, nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk’.”

“Everything’s fine. The kids are good, I’m good, we’re good. Just something has been eating at me all day and I wasn’t even going to bring it up but I just know it’s going to keep me up all night if I don’t get it out.”

“How bad is this thing that’s been eating at you? Because the way you said ‘we need to talk’...”

“It’s not bad. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, it’s maybe a three. A four. At the most.”

“Okay. What is it? What’s going on?”

“Before I tell you…” she turns her body to face him. “.... there’s some other things I need to say. First, I want you to promise you won’t get upset.”

“It’s obviously worse than a four if you think it’s going to upset me. It takes a lot; for you to piss me off.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘pissing you off’. Just I can totally see why you might take it the wrong way and get defensive. And there’s no reason for you to be. Defensive.”

“It’s not about the job is it? Because we already talked about that and I already said I would stay home. Or at least if I did have to go somewhere, I’d stay completely behind the scenes. So if it’s about that…”

“It’s not about the job. That’s water under the bridge. We dealt with it. And may I add, we dealt with that very well. EXTREMELY well. You didn’t get worked up and we didn’t fight and that’s a big thing for us. A huge thing. And that’s a REALLY nice change; it shows we’re a lot stronger now.”

“So if it’s not about the job…”

“I need you to promise. That you won’t get upset. That you won’t get defensive even though it might seem like you need to be.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my shit together.”

“Second, I need you to know that I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And you ARE the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hands down. You’re an amazing husband and an even more amazing father and I couldn’t have asked for a better dad for my kids. And I appreciate you so much. Everything you do for us. For our family. How you care for us and provide for us and…”

“As nice as it is to hear all this, you’re rambling. And while I normally find that cute, it’s actually really unnerving right now. So maybe just spit it out? What’s going on? Why are you so edge? What’s got you all worked up?”

“Okay. I’m just going to ask and hope for the best. Just remember, there’s no reason to get defensive and I’m NOT accusing you of anything. It might seem like I am, but I’m not. I promise.”

“Are you going to get it out sometime today or…?”

“How friendly were you? To that neighbour the other day?”

“What neighbour?”

“The new one. The single mom. At the park. Natalie. The tall blond who looks like Sephora threw up on her face? Remember her?”

“What about her?”

“How friendly WERE you with her?”

He can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“You said you talked to her. What did you talk about?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking. I’m not just asking to ask. I knew you met her and I know you talked to her and…”

“And what? What ARE you trying to ask? Because you said I shouldn’t get defensive and it seems like maybe I should. ARE you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m not. I am not accusing of anything. I know you, Tyler. I know your heart. I know you love me and that you’d never, EVER cheat on me. So I am not accusing you of that. I never would.”

“So then what the fuck? What do you mean how friendly was I? When have you known me to be friendly with ANYONE? Especially people I don’t know. Are you suggesting I did something? Because that is totally it, Esme. I fucked her...in the dead of winter...in public...with my son twenty feet away. Is that what you WANT to hear?”

“No! God no. And that’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I just want to know. What you talked to her about. That’s it.”

“Why? What the hell does it matter? You’re always on my ass about how I should be more social and make an effort to meet people. Now all of a sudden you’re changing your mind? ‘Cause you’re worried about some neighbour? What the hell…?”

“Hear me out, please,” she begs, and takes both of his hands in hers. “This isn’t about me being neurotic and my self esteem issues and my weirdness about other women.”

“Seriously? Because that’s EXACTLY what this is about. This happens every fucking time we go somewhere. You get all worked up because you think women are paying attention to me. Because you think all these housewives and mothers are so thirsty they’d actually give a fuck about me. You think way too highly of me.”

“Okay, first off, no I don’t. You happen to be incredibly attractive. The blue eyes? The smile? The body? The whole vibe you’ve got going on? The resting bitch face? The tattoos and the scars and the whole intimidation factor? It’s very sexy. Whether you realize it or not. And I know you can’t help it. You’re just naturally beautiful. I’m not blaming you for that. But I do have a reason. For being the way I am. For having the issues I do.”

“Yeah, your brain is fucked up. Just as much as mine is.”

“You may not see it...all the women that check you out and thirst over you...but I do. All the time. But we’re not talking about the soccer park or the school yard. We’re talking about the park. And Natalie. The pretty single mom.”

“She’s not pretty. I don’t think she’s pretty.”

“Are you blind? You must be. Your eyes must be worse than my thought.”

“She’s not pretty. Not to me. She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. In fact, your type used to be anything that walked with a wiggle.”

“I’ve had a type for the last twelve and a half years. If you want to call it having a ‘type’. You. You’re the only one that matters to me. You’re the only woman that I give a shit about. You might as well be the only one that exists on the entire fucking planet. All I want is you. That’s it. So what the fuck…?”

“She showed up here today. Asking for you.”

“Who did?”

Esme sighs in exasperation. “Natalie. The neighbour.”

“She came here?”

“And asked for you. She came calling on another woman’s husband. You don’t find that at least a little bit strange? That she would do that? That she would show up on our doorstep looking for you? You don’t find that even a little weird?”

“I find it a lot weird. I don’t know why she’d come here. I wasn’t THAT nice. It was small talk. Nothing more than that. I was my usual pleasant self.”

“Well, you certainly made an impression on her. Enough that she felt comfortable coming here. And talking to your daughter AND your wife. Let me just say, her social etiquette needs some work. She’s not as charming and witty as she thinks she is. Her people skills are a tad rusty.”

“What did she want?”

“To talk to you. To give you her cookie.”

He chuckles. “Is that a code language for…?”

“No. She literally brought you cookies. That she made for you.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme’s eyes narrow.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Probably not the best time to make one, mind you.”

“Oatmeal raisin if you need to know ALL the details.”

“Worst cookie EVER. You don’t know betrayal until you bite into one thinking it’s chocolate chip and you find out it’s THAT.”

“I’m pretty sure she was also offering up HER cookie. On a silver platter.”

“And if she was? Who the fuck cares? I don’t want anything from her. I talked to her at the park. Welcomed her to the neighbourhood. That was it. Everything else is on her. If she read too much into it, that’s her problem. Not mine. I made small talk and that was it. And you know how much I hate small talk.”

“I know YOU didn’t do anything. I know you. I know who you are and what you’re like. I wasn’t suggesting that you made a move on her or led her on or anything like that. You know that, right? That I’m not accusing you of anything?”

“I know you’re not. But it does seem like you are.”

“I know. And I don’t mean for it to sound that way. It just upset me. Her showing up here. Asking for you. That is so many shades of wrong. Why would someone do that?”

“Why would a man follow someone’s wife home from the post office? Someone’s noticeably pregnant wife.”

“That’s NOT the same thing.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s worse. You were pregnant with my kid. You told him you were married. And he still followed you home.”

“And you took care of it. You scared the shit out of him. Knocked him on his ass. All’s well that ends well.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it. The fact some fucking asshole followed my wife home. You say I don’t notice things? How come you never notice all the men that pay attention to you? I notice it. Why don’t you?”

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

“It happens all the fucking time. And some of them are actually brave enough to be right out there with it. That takes a lot of balls; being that bold in front of someone’s husband. You think I like THAT? When men check you out?”

“You never say anything. You never act like it’s bothering you. If it does, why don’t you just say something?”

“Because I trust you. Because I’m secure. When it comes to knowing how you feel about me. I don’t see these guys as competition. A pain in the ass. But not competition.”

“That’s because they’re not. I don’t give a shit about any of them. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I am perfectly happy with you. I love the way things are. With you. None of them matter to me.”

“Then why does it bother you what other women do? Why does it bother you so much? You don’t trust me?”

“What? No. I do. I DO trust you. You are not the problem. They are.”

“That doesn’t make ANY sense. How can they be a problem when I won’t let them be? I don’t give a fuck about any of them. How can they cause issues if I won’t let them? What do you think they’re going to do, Me? You can’t steal someone away unless they WANT to be. And you know what? As much as you drive me fucking insane, I am perfectly happy where I am. With who I have.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Being around that. Those women. You don’t…”

“I DO know what it’s like. Guys check you out all the time. Do you see me going all neurotic about it?”

“Well, being neurotic IS my thing,” she sheepishly admits.

“This needs to stop. You being like this. It has been twelve and a half years of this, Me. And it’s tiring. I love you. And I have to tell you until my very last breath that I love you and I don’t want anyone else, I’ll do it. But it doesn’t mean it it doesn’t grate on my fucking nerves.”

“You knew I was like this. You knew my issues. Going into things. If they pissed you off THAT bad…”

“They don’t piss me off. Is it annoying, yes? Can I live with it? Also a yes. I will put up with it. Until my dying day. Because I love you. But I would give anything to put an end to it.”

“I can’t help it. Being like this. I’m not you, Tyler. You’re secure and you’re confident and you’re able to just ignore other men.”

“Because I trust you.”

“And I trust YOU. You are NOT the problem. And I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. Me worrying about other women when I know for a fact you’d never cheat on me. But I do. Worry about them.”

“Why? Tell me why you worry about them? What do you think they’re going to do, Esme? Tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“That is NOT an acceptable answer for anyone over six. Try again.”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I’m thinking. But you don’t hear what they say. The women at the soccer park on the school yard. I do. I hear it. I hear them talking about how ugly and plain and boring looking I am and how they can’t understand why someone like you would be with someone like me,” she struggles to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “They don’t hide it, Tyler. They don’t talk about these things in secret. They make sure I hear it. And you know what? It hurts. A lot. And if I tell you something hurts me, you don’t have the right to tell me it doesn’t.”

“I’m not doing that, babe. I’m not saying it shouldn’t hurt you. And I’m sorry. That it does. That you hear stuff like that.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. You can’t help what they say.”

“Do you want me to say something? To them? The next time I pick the kids up? Because I will. I’m not shy when it comes to telling people off. You know that. And when it comes to protecting you…”

“It would just make things worse. I can just hear them now. Talking about what a cry baby I am and how you deserve a real woman. Don’t say anything. It’ll just set them off. Things are bad enough as they are.”

“Why don’t you tell them to fuck off? You usually don’t back away from shit like that.”

“Because that’s our kids’ school and we’ve been on the principal’s shit list before and I don’t want to make things hard on our kids. But it does bother me. Hearing that stuff. And it DOES hurt.”

“But it shouldn’t. That’s what I’m saying. Just let go in one ear and out the other. Who gives a fuck what they think? What does it matter? I love you. I have always loved you. I always WILL love you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Isn’t that enough? What I think? Why isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know. I want it to be. And I know it should be. I know you love me. I’ve never doubted that. Not even during those six months. Even then, I knew you did. You just needed to get your shit together. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I don’t why I’m like this. Why I can’t get past it. I think I’m getting better and then something happens and it’s back to square one.”

“Your mom fucked you up. So did Mark. You went through a lot of shit. Especially with him. But I’m not Mark, Esme.”

“I know. I know you’re not.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not sure you do.”

The tears come freely now; body trembling with the force of the emotions that accompany them. And he places a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him; a forearm across the small of her back as her body presses tightly against his and her arms immediately circle his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs against his shoulder. “I never meant to make you feel that way. Like I was comparing you to him.”

“I know.” One hand repeatedly strokes his hair, the other settling at the small of her back. “I know you didn’t.”

“Because you’re NOT him. You’re nothing like him. And I’ve never thought you are. I’m sorry, Tyler. For making you that feel that way. I never meant it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Me. He fucked you up. Badly. I’m just the guy that came after. The one that has to try and clean up his mess. And if it takes the rest of my life to do that? Then I’ll deal with it. I can’t make it better. I can’t take it all away; make it like it never happened. I wish I could.”

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be crazy and neurotic and a freaking mess.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’re a beautiful mess.”

She manages a small laugh. “I don’t know what to do. To make this better. To make ME better. And it’s not fair to you. To have to deal with this shit.”

“I’ve brought more shit to the table than you have. And you’ve always dealt with it. I figure it’s the least I can do. Put up with your crap.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. I just can’t. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me. And it shouldn’t be up to you to do it.”

“You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my kids. I love you. It’s what we do. Help each other. Fix one another. You’re not in this by yourself.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get you past all this.”

“What if we can’t? What if it CAN’T be fixed?”

“Then we live it. I spent the rest of my life constantly reassuring you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love you and think you’re the most beautiful in the world. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll take one for the team.”

“You’re so generous,” she chides. “Always so willing to sacrifice yourself.”

“Well, we do crazy shit for love. When we get home, you should go and talk to Doctor Klein. Tell him what’s going on. How you’ve been feeling. If anyone can figure shit out, it’s him.”

“You’ll come with me, right? I think you should. Come with me.”

“You know I will. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She pulls away to look at him, sitting back at her heels. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he declares, and lays his hands on the sides of her face and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears.

“I know all snotty nose and puffy eyed isn’t my best look, but maybe we could have sex now?”

He grins. “Maybe. Would it make you feel better?”

She nods. “Being worshipped ALWAYS makes me feel better.”

“What can I say? I’m always willing to cheer you up. Besides, your body’s a temple, babe. It deserves to be worshipped.”

“It’s a temple, alright. Ancient and crumbling. Probably haunted.”

“It’s beautiful,” his hands move to the front of the plaid shirt she wears; enormous and baggy on her tiny frame. “And sexy.”

“Even after seven kids?”

His fingers tend to opening the buttons on the shirt. “ESPECIALLY after seven kids.”

“You always have the right thing to say. Your sweet talking is improving.”

“I thought you preferred dirty talk?”

“I do. Dirty talk is my favourite. Especially YOUR dirty talk. That voice? That accent? I’m wet just thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” With a playful smirk, he forcibly shoves her onto her back; a palm on either side of her head as outstretched arms brace his much heavier and bulkier frame. “In that case, shut up and let me fuck you.”

[plutowrites]

Heloo!! If I can rn, I wish to participate in the Valentine event pls👌 I really like eren from AOT, my pronouns are she/her and Im the type of person that is sleepy, introverted and a sometimes a crybaby lol, but excited to hang out with loved ones! I also love painting, cheesecake and my love languages ( yeah I cant choose one :p ) are cuddling like a koala in private and holding hands while trying to make the person laugh in public. And thats about it lmfao. ^^' Sorry if it too much lol. Also, could it be with Ponytail! Eren pls? Have a good day! :))

Hi! This was my first time writing for Eren and I gotta thank my luv @chubbybunny111 for giving me such amazing ideas!! Anyways I hope you enjoy cutie. Happy Valentine’s day! ♡♡♡

Random Headcanons

Eren loves cuddling you 24/7, there’s really nothing more that he wants than to be held by you

LITTLE SPOON LITTLE SPOON LITTLE SPOON

He also loves ranting to you about anything and everything while you two cuddle

Eren melts in your arms whenever you pull his hair out of his ponytail and run your fingers through it, he loves how gentle you are with him

When the two of you first got together, Eren didn’t know how sensitive you were and the first time you cried in front of him he didn’t think you were being serious at all and just laughed in your face

When he realizes you were actually crying, he was absolutely MORTIFIED with himself and he got so so worried about you

“Babe? Did I say something? Was it something I did?”

After a while he starts to learn how to deal with you crying and he’s just so gentle with you

He’ll grab your face in his hands and squish your cheeks until you smile again

I feel like Eren is really big on texting, this man will constantly be texting you all the time (see below image)

He’ll see something that reminds him of you and he’s snapping a pic of it right then and there and sending it to you immediately!

He gets a bit flustered when you randomly grab onto his hand in public when the two of you are walking together but don’t get me wrong, he LOVES it

Eren would never be the first one to let go either

He loves how well you deal with his little occasional tantrums too

He’ll be so pissed over something that is so miniscule and you’ll just pull on his shirt to bring him closer to you and plant a kiss on his cheek and he’ll just be like woah...do that again!!!

How Eren asks you to be his valentine

He spends all day working on a homemade card for you decorated with stickers, glitter glue, and hearts!! The end result looks like if a Michael’s store threw up on a piece of paper LMAO

He was so proud of himself too when he finally showed you! He just holds it out to you with the biggest smile on his face like ~yup i made it~

Go through Eren’s search history on his phone and you’ll see “Cute ideas for Valentine’s day” OR “What do good boyfriends do on Valentine's day?”

This man is such an adorable himbo and he’s soft for you

How Eren spends Valentine’s day with you

As for the actual v’day, he creates a cute little picnic for the two of you filled with all your favourite foods and a whole ass charcuterie board (this man totally stole this idea off of pinterest) but forgets it’s still winter? There’s snow on the ground? The two of you have to eat in his car but you don’t care, he’s intentions were so pure and sweet

He put so much effort into it, and despite it not going perfectly to plan, it was still one of the best days ever!

[amazingorangedangantrash]

Give us the list of gifts!! I’m curious to know what they would give,,

You got it chief!

(Sorry this is a tad late, life has been kicking my butt lately-)

• Chiaki- probably a game or something like that. Most likely a multiplayer, and a promise for the two of them to play it together sometime. She might bring his switch or smth if she knows he'll be there a long time and get bored.

• Hajime- his underwear unlike everyone else, a relatively normal gift, like chocolates or something. they're orange flavoured He'd probably also be the one bringing him general stuff, like a change of clothes and all that.

• Nagito- also his underwear honestly, Nagito is one rich hoe so you know whatever he brings is going to be extremely high quality (especially for his beloved symbol of hope!). It's mentioned in UDG that Makoto likes trendy things, so maybe something he knows Makoto's had his eye on for a while now, but couldn't quite afford.

• Peko- honestly, Peko has zero experience in gift-giving, and probably turns to Fuyuhiko for help. Little does she know, he also has no fucking clue-

• Fuyuhiko- the guy has no idea how to give casual gifts. Makoto just wakes up one day and there's a newly crafted authentic sword embellished with the Kuzuryu clan name lying in the corner wrapped in silk, and he's just like... 'thanks... ig-'

• Jokes aside, he'd probably give him a nice watch or suit- guy's gotta look good when he confronts his rivals attends school.

• Nekomaru- hmm. He's a pretty sporty person, so maybe a tracksuit or gym clothes? Or no- maybe a nice planner/to do list to scribble in. (To Makoto's surprise, it's actually very pretty, and even handmade!)

• Akane- we all know the way to Akane's heart, and it's food- she'd probably bring him a lot of snacks and stuff, especially whatever's his favourite (maybe a bit too much... well, it's not like he minds sharing. Although, maybe that was her plan all along...)

• Ibuki- she'd bring along some CDs and music he likes/she thinks he'd like. It's the perfect opportunity to get him to listen to some of her reccomendations! Also, here's a cute idea- she brings her guitar and sings to/with him in his room.

• Mikan- Mikan is most likely the one actually looking after Makoto, but I guess if she'd had to gift something, it might be some cute stationary? (*looks at Mr stapler-*). I feel like she'd want to give something handmade, like cookies, but she's a bit clumsy and wouldn't be able to make it.

• Teruteru- ok teruteru would DEFINITELY give homemade snacks and stuff. He'd for sure insist on making Makoto's meals (in exchange for helping him with uh... changing his bandages-)

• Sonia- she might realise that Makoto is likely to get bored, and leave him some of her favourite reading material (unfortunately for him, said material is occult magazines, the current issue of which is centred upon a haunting at a hospital... he doesn't sleep well that night-)

• Gundham- isn't it sweet to imagine Gundham might actually leave one of his animal friends to keep Makoto company (even moreso if it's one of the Dark Devas- ahhh that level of trust)- or as he'd say, to "keep watch over him".

• Hiyoko- knowing Hiyoko, she'd probably leave a LOT of sweets. Most likely the traditional japanese kind too, though, there's a fair share of gummies and chewy sweets too.

• Mahiru- she has quite an eye for pretty things, so I think she'd leave some rather nice flowers, maybe in resin, like a bookmark or table decoration. Or, maybe she'd leave some polaroids to remind him of how much they all appreciate him.

• Kazuichi- a television. But not the hospital kind, oh no, this one he built specially for his bud. And maybe some other little gadgets here and there. (Also some coconut water, cause, he just likes it man-)

• Twogami- he'd.. probably copy Byakuya tbh *wheeze*

• Ryouta- a copy of a particular anime that he knows Makoto will like/cheer him up (I'm looking at you, *insert your favourite comfort anime series/movie here*)

Class 78

• Byakuya- knowing this guy, he'll buy whatever's expensive- he might even leave some of that pricey coffee because he "cant stand to see Makoto drinking that commoner crap anymore-" (insert that scene from ouran high school host club here-). Although... i cant remember but i think it was mentioned that he likes flowers? He might leave those.

• Kyoko- she actually likes some pretty feminine things, like perfume and cherry blossoms. I can see her leaving one of those really nice pens/journals. Or a set of some nice lotions/stuff like that.

• Aoi- donuts, duh. (She really likes cute stuff too, so maybe some adorable erasers!)

• Sakura- don't let her appearance as a wannabe jojo character fool you! she likes some delicate things. She might leave a rather beautiful charm, as a token of her friendship. Due to her practicality, I can also see her leaving vitamins and health supplements to make sure Makoto recovers quick!

• Yasuhiro- he's pretty superstitious, so alongside some nice scented candles (pine tree and summer berries, to be specific, to match Makoto's 'vibes') to clear the air, he'd leave some good luck charms to keep away any um- 'ill-intentioned spirits'.

• Toko- she definitely likes receiving very girly gifts, but I don't know if she'd feel very secure about giving them? Maybe she'd give him a signed copy of one of her books- maybe even a personal one she wasn't really planning on publishing...

• Genocide Jill (or however you call her idk)- JILL PUT DOWN THE SCISSORS- JILL- N O-

• she gave him a coupon for a haircut. That's... considerate (he'll let his hair grow to his feet before he lets her scissors anywhere near his neck-)

• Hifumi- 'please,,, please let this be a normal, completely safe for work piece of storytelling', Makoto thinks, as he opens the doujinshi, already perturbed by the... *ahem* somewhat suggestive cover.

(It is not safe for work)

• Celeste- a rather aesthetic pair of red and black glittery dice, and playing cards. (He finds that the dice are loaded and the cards are slightly uneven). I also like to think she might leave him some high quality tea and a set- (as a tea lover myself I'd definitely appreciate that as a gift hehe)

• Chihiro- they also like cute things! They'd definitely leave a totally adorable set of charms or something (I'm thinking of those ones that you'd hang from your phone), or pretty flower stickers for a laptop. Maybe a handmade gift too!

• Kiyotaka- he's that guy who brings the homework most likely something practical, like a scarf or coasters, y'know, that kind of stuff?

• Mondo- an entire motorcycle maybe- maybe just a leather jacket for now...

• Sayaka- he likes pop music, and I'd imagine he likes hers too (maybe not as much as his sister tho adjajsaisb-). She'd give him an album of covers she'd made, since she knows he likes her voice- all his favourite songs.

• Leon- a signed baseball. Makoto's the only one he's confided in about wanting to go back to baseball about, so he gives him a signed one as a token of appreciation.

• Mukuro- a confession letter. Mukuro has no idea what to give. Her love language is bullets and weapons and oh wait a minute.

• "Is... is this an actual gun-?"

• Junko- chocolates. Yup. That's it. They're just chocolates. Promise. 100% dairy-filled, ethically produced, got-em-on-sale chocolates.

• (And they may or may not be lined with Carolina reaper pepper extract-)

Bonus:

• Izuru- literally all of these but handmade and 200 times better because he's an actual god-

(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8a/df/ca/8adfcaa6bc7579f028bf5d0b34583dd5.jpg)

[lovelyirony]

prompt: “this story’s getting old/the homewrecker with a heart of gold” w/ tony going through his town bicycle phase?

Tony would like to announce that his cardio game is off the charts. He’s pretty sure he’s going to live until he’s 112 and he’ll still look better than Linda down the street. 

But the fact of the matter is, it is time to slow down and find someone that he likes and will support his endeavor to play mind games on the PTA board. 

In moves a man named Jim Rhodes. His arms are defined, he cooks, and he greets Tony wearing an apron and has flour on it. So he bakes for real and doesn’t rely on store-bought goods. (Neither does Tony, this is a good sign.) 

The only problem: Tony has been branded The Neighborhood Whore (trademark pending). He helped market it, by the way. Put it on his address stickers when he mails things. He regrettably has used those stickers on official bills. 

But he brings his best homemade dinner, which is lasagna, made-from-scratch garlic bread, and he also brings dessert. 

“Thank you so much,” Rhodey says, taking the pan from him. “I’ve been moving in, and I really didn’t want to resort to going out to eat or getting one of those frozen dinners.” 

“Any time,” Tony says, smiling in that soft way that makes most he wants to sleep with a little weak at the knees. “I’m Tony, you’ve either probably heard about me from the moms or you will.” 

“I’ll look forward to making my own judgments,” he says. “Call me Rhodey. I’ll see you around.” 

Over the following three weeks, Tony observes Rhodey’s behaviors: 

6:00 a.m. is a brisk run or walk around the neighborhood, lingering at the mailboxes to make sure everyone that gets a newspapers has it and delivers it to the front. 

(Tony starts getting the newspaper. Harley’s having a collage phase.) 

7:00 a.m. is when there’s movement for breakfast, although Tony’s busy waking Peter and Harley up, with more focus on Harley because the kid sleeps like a fucking tank. 

7:45 is when Harley and Peter are driven to school. 

A month in, Rhodey needs a favor. He has a meeting that he can’t miss at 3:45 p.m., and this coincides with picking up Lila. He doesn’t know anyone well enough to trust them with Lila, but–

“Just have Tony pick me up,” Lila says. “You know I’m friends with Peter.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Rhodey asks. “Because I could try to postpone it–” 

“It’ll be fine,” Lila says. “It’ll give you a chance to go over and finally talk to him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking out the kitchen window.” 

“It’s a nice window!” Rhodey says defensively. “Not my fault the view is Tony’s kitchen.” 

“View,” Lila snorts. “Go look up his number in the directory. Or return the favor of dinner and go give him some dessert and ask.” 

Rhodey decides a dessert would be too overt for a ride to school. 

So he does call him by phone number. 

“Hello, this is Tony speaking.” 

“Uh, hi!” Rhodey says. “I need a favor to ask of you, if it’s not too much.” 

“Ask away,” Tony responds. 

“Lila needs a ride home from school, and I was wondering since we’re neighbors and she wouldn’t have far to go, if you could…?” 

“Say no more,” Tony responds. “Just tell Lila to follow Peter to the car and I’ll take it from there. It’ll be just fine.” 

Of course, the PTA moms are having none of it. 

Rhodey is Eye Candy. He has nice arms, he smiles when he walks past you, and he is thinking about getting a dog from the shelter. 

He’s good. 

And he’s neighbors with Tony Stark, PTA Nightmare and Neighborhood Whore (trademark pending). 

So when Karyn notices Lila walking with Peter towards Tony’s Car (god it’s not even a family car model, YUCK) she has to take it upon herself to tell Lila that she would be happy to take her home. 

“Nah, thanks though,” Lila says. “I told my dad I’d ride home with Peter and Tony today, and that’s what he’s expecting. I’ll tell him it was nice that you volunteered.” 

(Lila will be doing no such thing because Karyn looks like she got her highlights done by a back alley has-been-hairdresser.) 

“Lila dear, before you go home would you like any snacks to take home?” Tony asks. “I have some cookies baked before school ended, fruit snacks, cheese sticks…” 

Lila supposes she can stay for a few cookies. And maybe take fruit snacks to go. 

This ends up taking an hour because no one told Lila that Tony Stark was a stay-at-home engineer/inventor/coolest person ever. 

“He’s awesome,” Peter says. “Right now we’re taking apart a motorcycle in the garage. Wanna see?” 

“Yeah,” Lila says, looking to Tony to see his reaction. “If that’s okay.” 

“Of course,” Tony says. “Peter, show her the works. But don’t stay out too late Lila, your dad is still expecting you.” 

Tony has sent a text to Rhodey that explains that Lila has decided to spend a little bit more time, feel free to collect her whenever needed. 

-

Rhodey decides he’s in love with Tony. 

Especially after he laughs in his car reading a text from Karyn explaining that if he wanted someone more “suitable” picking up Lila, she’d be more than happy to have Lila and her daughter Kaity spend more time together. 

(Lila is not a Huge Fan of Kaity. For multiple reasons. Including the spelling.) 

He knows he’s in love with Tony when he knocks on the door, Harley answers it, and he finds the man bent down over a bike helping his daughter and Peter take apart an engine. 

“Dad!” Lila says, smile brightening. “Look at this cool bike!” 

“Harley Davidson,” Rhodey observes appreciatively. 

“Hey sugar, how was the meeting?” Tony asks, leaning over to catch his eye. 

(Okay that is unfairly attractive. Too attractive.) 

“Went well, thank you,” Rhodey says. “Cinched a deal with a client. Glad to see everything’s going swimmingly over here.” 

“Did you know Tony’s an inventor?” Lila asks. “I didn’t know that!” 

Rhodey looks at Tony. 

“I’m impressed. But then again, I shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re smart as a whip.” 

Tony blushes. 

Harley makes a retching noise and says he’s going upstairs to do homework. 

- 

Tony sends Lila and Rhodey home with more than a dozen cookies and promises that Rhodey will bring back the Tupperware containers. 

“Thank you,” Rhodey says, eyes lingering. “For everything.” 

“Always happy to serve,” Tony responds, winking. “See you soon, Rhodey.” 

Plan A is complete. 

Plan B has to wait until Saturday, when it is supposed to get Spectacularly Hot and Tony will have an excuse to water his hosta plants shirtless. 

(Heaven help Rhodey.) 

[all-things-skam]

Jens’ season | Chapter three

Saturday, January 18th

After the pre-game at Robbe’s, they all moved to some party Jana had found and invited them to. He and Jana had made out a bit, but Jens’ mind couldn’t help wandering to Lucas who was making his phone buzz in his pocket. It felt wrong to make out with someone while thinking about someone else. Jens couldn’t do it. So, he made up some lie about feeling dizzy from alcohol and needing to go home.

Regardless, the night had ended late for Jens. He and Lucas had messaged back and forth all night, getting to know each other through Instagram DMs.

Jens learned that Lucas liked Indie Pop music and hated Marvel movies - even though they look really cool. They are just too long and Lucas could never sit through a whole movie. He broke his arm last year trying to do a trick on the half-pipe, but that didn't stop him from going back on his skateboard the following day. Sweet food was his favorite - as stated at the café. Cakes, pastries, chocolate, pancakes...anything sweet.

The more they chatted, Jens realized that Lucas must have plans with his friends. He only got to see them every other weekend and Jens felt bad from keeping the blue-eyed boy on his phone instead of spending time with them. But, Lucas assured him it was okay, that actually he was glad to have company.

His Friday night didn't go how he had expected it to. What was supposed to be a bowling night ended up being Lucas walking a drunk Isa home after she threw up in the bushes in front of the bowling alley. While he had a good laugh trying to get Isa upstairs, he’d rather lay in bed and talk with Jens.

When he woke up, Jens saw a notification from Lucas. His phone was so close to his face due to falling asleep with it last night that the flashing screen made him groan. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the bright light of the screen.

vanderheijden.lucas Jens? Still there?

vanderheijden.lucas Did you fall asleep? If so, good night. I think I’m going to crash too

A smile crept on Jens’ face, reading Lucas’ messages.

Before he could write anything back, his door opened and Lotte ran and jumped on her big brother’s bed, attacking Jens with morning hugs. A bit startled, Jens’ phone slipped from his hands, landing on his comforter. Lotte screeched as Jens caught her and started tickling her.

''S-stop, stop,'' she demanded between giggles, wiggling and trying to push Jens away with her hands and feet. ''It t-tickles.''

Jens pursued his tickle attack for a couple seconds, stopping when he felt his sister’s breath shorten. ‘’That’s what you get for waking me so early.’’

Lotte frowned. ‘’It’s not early. It’s 10am.’’

‘’For me, it is.’’

The eight year old rolled her eyes, annoyed at her brother's late sleeping-in and morning laziness. ‘’I have something for you.’’

Sitting straighter, Jens raised an eyebrow, curious. ‘’Oh? What is it?’’

Looking around on the mattress, Lotte picked up the piece of paper at the end of Jen's bed and handed him the card she made. It was made out of pink cardboard paper and had drawings of colorful balloons on the cover, spelling 'Happy Birthday' in bold letters. There was a ton of stickers and glitter all around, making a mess on Jens' comforter.

The paper was a bit crumpled from the tickle attack, but it's the thought that mattered. Jens smiled and opened the card, reading Lotte's crooked handwriting. These homemade cards his sister gave him every year were Jens' favorite birthday presents - beside money and alcohol. They were childish, but so meaningful.

His smile widened as he read the short yet heartfelt message. He could tell she had the help of a teacher for the spelling, but they were her words.

''I'm going to a sleepover at Ines' tonight and won't be here to give it to you,’’ Lotte explained.

Jens pulled his sister for a big bear hug. “Thank you for this. You're the best little sister ever,'' he said, returning her own words. Lotte grinned and Jens decided to tease her a bit. ‘’You’re the only sister I have though...don’t have much of a choice.’’

The brunette pulled her eyebrows, giving her brother a look.

‘’I’m kidding.’’ Jens scooted over, tapping the space next to him. ‘’Get in. We can watch a movie before I have to get ready.’’

Lotte looked at Jens with the biggest grin on her face. “Can we watch the new Dr. Dolittle?”

Discontentment and annoyance flashed across Jens’ face. Animal movies were not his thing. Cats & Dogs, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, Marmaduke; he couldn't stand those. As a kid, he was always more into super heroes like Spiderman or Batman. He would watch those for hours on repeat - and had managed to learn all the lines.

The pout on Lotte’s face made him cave and reach for his laptop, about to look for that damn Dr. Dolittle movie.

.

''Birthday boy is here!'' Moyo called cheerfully, phone in hand, filming as Jens made his entrance into the flatshare. He hooked an arm around Jens' shoulder, pulling him in a bro hug. ‘’How does it feel to be seventeen?’’

Jens rolled his eyes at Moyo’s question. ‘’I don’t know. It’s not my birthday, yet…’’ he pointed out, laughing.

Aaron stepped in next, pushing a beer into Jens' hands. They had stronger stuff in the kitchen, but Aaron figured he could start with a beer. It was only 9pm, too early to get drunk. Unless you want to spend your evening sleeping in a corner or with your head in the toilet.

This party was a last minute idea. The initial plan was to go to a bar, but they were all too broke to go out - perks of being a teenager. Neither of the boys could host either, their parents all home this weekend. Except Robbe, who was at the flatshare. But, the place was already taken by Milan’s own birthday party. Having heard their dilema, Milan kindly offered to share his party and celebrate Jens’ birthday too. After all, birthday siblings gotta stick together.

Jens accepted the beer and took a long swig. ‘’Let’s get this party started!’’

Moyo and Aaron cheered on each of his sides, pulling their friend through the mass of people in the living room where they found Robbe - attached to Sander's neck, dancing.

The small boy detached himself from Sander when he spotted Jens, wishing his best friend a happy birthday. Sander did the same, exchanging a quick hug in greetings before pulling Robbe back to him, kissing his cheek.

In true Milan fashion, the apartment was decorated to the max. There was paper streamers taped all over the walls and ceilings along with balloons and even a huge banner on the living room’s wall. A pink fringed curtain separated the kitchen from the rest, as if to let everyone know where the good stuff was.

Jana quickly found Jens, stumbling and holding onto his shoulder for stability. ‘’Happy birthday,’’ she said to him, throwing her arms around his neck and spilling some wine on the floor. Thank god it was white wine.

.

Sunday, January 19th

Jens was a bit hungover when he woke up.

Who was he trying to fool? He was totally hungover. All the alcohol he had downed and mixed felt heavy in his stomach, threatening to come back up. His head was pounding and his back was aching due to sleeping on Milan’s couch.

Over all, he felt like...death.

Jens grunted in displeasure, trying to roll over and grab his phone on the floor - unplugged. If his head didn't hurt this much, he would’ve laughed at his failed attempt to plug his phone, the charger laying a few centimeters from his phone with no phone attached. Good job, Drunk-Jens…

He unlocked the screen and saw a message from his mom, asking what time he was planning to come home - followed by a quick ‘happy birthday’.

Sighing, Jens turned it off and stood, feeling the room spin for a few seconds, probably still a little bit drunk. Steadying himself, he walked past Aaron’s sleeping bag and almost tripped on Moyo’s makeshift bed on the floor. Can’t this boy clean up after himself? Or, was Jens too clumsy?

He heard Zoe and Milan talking, quickly followed by the sound of Moyo and Sander laughing. Jens followed the voices, coming from the kitchen, hood covering his messy hair.

''And he's up!'' Moyo commented as he made his entrance, interrupting the current conversation.

''How's the birthday boy feeling this morning?'' Milan teased, sensing his hangover.

Aaron and Moyo snickered and Jens flipped them off. ''Like I got rolled over by a fucking truck,'' he answered honestly, voice croaky from the lack of hydration.

Last night, Jana had made him chug wine while they danced, and the boys vodka. Seventeen shots for his seventeenth birthday. What a great idea.

Sander was sitting on the kitchen counter - lacking seats -, sipping coffee with Zoe. It was unlike him to wake up before Robbe - or be anywhere without him -, but someone had to make decent coffee.

‘’Want some?’’ Zoe kindly offered.

Jens nodded and she poured him a cup. Hopefully it'll wake him up and ease his hangover - or make it disappear altogether.

‘’Want some vodka in your coffee?’’ Sander asked with a smirk.

Jens made a grimace, stomach churning. ‘’Don’t mention the devil.’’

Sander laughed and got down from the counter, asking if anyone wanted breakfast. Zoe offered to help, knowing no one else could cook in this household.

They took everyone’s orders, settling on eggs and pancakes. Usually, Jens would be down for some good homemade breakfast, but there was no way he could stomach food right now. Just the smell of it made his stomach turn.

Head on the kitchen table, the birthday boy listened as Moyo shared his retelling of last night's escapades. Since his failed attempt with Noor, his pride was a bit wounded and he had taken Aaron's spot as the desperate one of the gang. He ranted about this cute blonde with a plunging top, putting emphasis on how close he was to kissing her, but skipped the part where she slapped him. Too bad for him, Jens happened to have caught the scene when coming out of the bathroom.

And while they all agreed Aaron was the worst in the flirting department... Moyo wasn't much better.

As they were talking, Jens felt like his head was about to explode, how was he supposed to go home like this later? He doubted his hangover would go unnoticed by his parents. Especially his mom. It’s like she has a sixth sense or something.

Just as Zoe and Sander deposited the food on the table, a sleepy eyed Robbe walked into the kitchen, hair messy and sticking up here and there. He wasn't even wearing pants, just an oversized tee shirt, covering just enough.

“Do I smell pancakes?” he asked.

Sander snorted, unimpressed. ‘’Of course, that’s what gets you out of bed.” Robbe smiled lazily and went to sit on Sander’s lap, already missing his boyfriend’s touch. “Now I know what gets you up in the morning!”

Robbe pressed his forehead against Sanders, mumbling quietly. “I can tell you of a few other things that get me up in the morning”

“Hey, we are eating here, man,” Moyo groaned, tearing his eyes away from the couple and scrunching his face.

“Well, at least you don’t have to live with them 24/7” Milan lamented.

Zoe agreed, scooping a pancake onto a plate and taking it to the counter to eat. The kitchen was a tad bit small for all these people, but they made it work.

‘’You’re not eating?’’ the blonde asked Jens, eyebrows raised, but the boy shook his head. ‘’It might not sound like it, but eating could make you feel better. Alcohol causes low blood sugar. Eating breakfast actually helps get your sugar levels up while the alcohol comes out of your system.’’

‘’I’m good.

Jens felt his phone buzz in his hand. He lifted his head and Looked at the screen, seeing an Instagram notification.

vanderheijden.lucas sent you a message.

Jens opened his phone and stared at a flashing ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ gif.

vanderheijden.lucas I hope you had a great birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be there, but I’ll definitely see you next Friday

.

Monday, January 20th

Jens felt a lot better on Monday. The content of his stomach was no longer threatening to come up and the elephant sitting on his head was gone.

He had vomited his guts in the bathroom when coming home yesterday and had to make up a lie about eating something bad at Robbe's and upsetting his stomach. His knew his lie was mediocre and his mom probably saw through it, but didn't say a thing. He was a teenager and it was his birthday, he's allowed to have fun once in a while.

He was on his way to meet the boys for lunch when someone walked past him and bumped into him on the staircase.

''Sorry, I should watch where I’m going.’’

Caught off guard, Jens forced a smile, turning more genuine when seeing Lucas. His curly fringe was perfectly swept on the side and the color of his jacket matching his blue eyes.

“It’s cool. How was your weekend?'' Jens said, trying to stay smooth and chill.

He didn't know why, but Lucas's presence had the tendency to destabilize his confidence a bit.

Lucas shrugged. “It was good. I hadn't gone home since my dad and I moved here two weeks ago. It felt good to spend some time with my mom and see my friends. I really miss it sometimes...but then I run into you and it doesn’t seem so bad.”

He smirked and Jens' didn't know how to react. His stomach dropped, surprised, but not shocked. Was Lucas flirting with him again?

''I saw your stories, it seemed like you had a lot of fun at your party?''

“Yeah, it was great, but I got a wicked hangover that I’m still getting over.''

''Have sex.''

''Excuse me?''

''Sex is an excellent cure for hangover.''

Jens raised an eyebrow. ‘’Does it?’’ He paused, raising his gaze to meet Lucas’, clear blue irises looking right into his. ’’I’m gonna need a partner for that, though...’’

The brunet cocked an eyebrow, still holding Jens' stare, reading through the heavy subtext. They had entered a new level of flirting and neither were mad about it.

Lucas licked his lips slowly, making something in Jens' stomach flipped over at the gesture, and the Netherland boy took a step closer towards him, nearly closing all the space between them. Lucas opened his mouth, but before he could say - or do - anything, someone called Lucas’ name.

''Luc! Come on, man, we’re going to be late.''

''I gotta go. See you later, Jens,’’ Lucas said, readjusting the bag on his shoulder and winking before leaving.

.

Tuesday, January 21st

A knock on Jens' door woke him from his slumber. His first thought was that it was his sister joining him for the night, but Lotte never knocked. Jens frowned. Slipping out from his covers, the teenager walked to the door, eyes barely open, still half-asleep.

The hallway light caused Jens to squint his eyes and hiss. He rubbed them with his palms, adjusting to the light. ''Mom?''

She was in her bathrobe, hair down from her usual bun, slightly messy due to her pillow. ''Sorry to wake you, honey,'' Fenna apologized in a hushed voice, cautious to not wake her sleeping daughter next door.

It was very unusual for his mom to wake him in the middle of the night - unless something was going on. Did she get an emergency call from work? Jens hadn't heard his father come home, did he get into an accident? His frown deepened, getting worried.

''What is it, Mom?''

Fenna sighed and looked down, the bags under her eyes appearing more prominent. ''Your dad is drunk. Can you help me take him to bed?'' He could sense the shame in her voice from having to ask her son for help with his drunk father.

Jens nodded, mentally shaking his head in disappointment.

He followed his mom down and walked into the living room, taking in the state of his inebriated father, passed out on the loveseat, shoes still on and jacket half off. Jens felt a burst of resentment towards his dad in that moment. How could he drink so much that his own son was having to drag him to his room so his little sister wouldn’t see her dad this way? How could he do that to his wife too? Doesn’t she work hard enough at the hospital? She doesn’t need to come home and have to deal with her drunk husband.

''I tried to get him to move, but he's being stubborn and-'' Fenna started to explain, a yawn interrupting her.

It was the first time it happened and Jens hoped it was the last - for his dad's own good. Coming home late and picking fights with his mom was one thing, coming home drunk was another.

''Go back to bed, Mom. I'll take care of this,'' Jens said, taking in the state his dad was in. He reeked of beer and whiskey.

Fenna refused. ''No. It shouldn't be your job to take care of your dad.''

‘’He’s just a dead weight. I'll manage.''

Her eyes shifted between her son and husband, feeling guilty for making Jens take care of Mohamed. He was a kid, it wasn’t his responsibility. But, she had already tried to get him upstairs and didn't succeed. All she did was get one half of his jacket off.

With one last look at her son, Fenna gave in. ''Alright. I'll go get his side of the bed ready. Just bring him upstairs, okay?''

Jens nodded and watched as his mom returned to the second floor, leaving him to deal with his dad. The teenager sighed, dreading the work to come.

''Dad?''

The man grumbled, half responsive. Jens didn't lose time trying to understand whatever he was trying to say and threw his dad's arm over his neck, getting him to sit up just enough to remove his jacket. Like he said, he was a dead weight which made the task a bit difficult.

''Can you stand?'' Jens asked, trying to not let his irritation show.

He helped his old man up, slinging one of his arms behind his neck and keeping one hand behind his dad's back as support. Mohamed felt heavy on Jens.

Mohamed mumbled something that Jens couldn’t understand.

“What did you say?”

“ I said, your mom hates me.” His voice was rough and slurred.

Jens sighed. “She doesn’t hate you, but you need to start doing better. She can’t keep working these double shifts all the time, and you can’t be coming home drunk like that. It’s not fair to her, and it’s not fair to Lotte or me either. I shouldn't have to do this, Dad.” He wasn't trying to guilt-trip his dad, just talk some sense into him.

There was a long silence before Mohamed responded. “I’m trying, okay? But nobody wants to hire a 40 year old with minimal training.'' He scoffed before going into a coughing fit. ''Anyway, why am I even telling you this? You're just a teenager that has no idea what it means to support a family.”

Jens tried to not let his dad's words get to him. While he wasn’t a parent, he had been kind of forced to take over his dad’s responsibilities and play the head of the house for his family recently.

After a difficult struggle, Jens finally got his dad to his room and safely into bed. He wasn't so drunk he'd have to be watched over, but Jens took all the precautions - just in case. He put a pillow behind him so he'd stay on his side during the night and set a glass of water on the nightstand, right by his phone.

Jens gave Mohamed one last glance, his eyes darting to his sleeping mother. He wished that things could be different for her, that she didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was a good mom and Jens knew she would do whatever it took to take care of her family, but he couldn't let her put her health in jeopardy.

With a heavy sigh, Jens quietly closed the door and returned to his own bed.

.

Thursday, January 23rd

''Hi,'' Amber said, interrupting Jens and Aaron's conversation, leaning in to kiss her boyfriend, lingering a bit too long - and with too much tongue - to be appropriate for school grounds. At least, in the middle of the main hall.

Jens rolled his eyes, tearing them away from the unwanted tongue battle in front of him. Seeing his annoyance, Jana saw this as an opening and smiled before going in for a kiss. Unlike Aaron, Jens dodged her lips and pulled out his phone, checking if he had any new messages.

He had seen her coming - of course he did -, but something inside him didn't want to kiss her. Especially when he was starting to feel something for a certain blue eyed boy.

Kissing at parties - or at home - was for fun, but kissing at school felt a bit too official for Jens' liking. No one kissed their Saturday hook up in the hallway between classes. He didn't want to give Jana the wrong idea and then hurt her feelings.

The brunette frowned, confused and hurt.

Jens could feel her sulking, but he didn’t say a thing, acting as if he wasn’t aware of what he did. Sometimes, playing dumb got you out of trouble.

Sulking, Jana pulled at her friend's arm, forcing their kiss to end. ''Amber.''

‘’What?’’ the blonde said, turning to Jana. ‘’Oh! Right. Change of plans. My parents are away this weekend so I’m celebrating my birthday a bit early. You’ll come?’’

‘’Sure babe, we’ll be there, right Jens?’’ Aaron nudged him, forcing the raven haired one to look up from his phone.

Jens faked a smile. ‘’Sure.’’

.

Jens pressed the doorbell and waited.

He had texted Moyo's guy earlier today and had been given an address to meet at. At first, the guy was skeptical, but Jens mentioned Moyo and everything was chill.

Dogs started barking at the doorbell noise and Jens' back straightened. A man told them to shut up - which they did -, and someone popped their head out, keeping the door mostly shut. He had a buzz cut, clean cut beard and the tattoo on his neck gave Jens the chills.

Seeing a new face, the man glanced up and down at Jens and raised an expectant eyebrow, asking what he wanted.

''Erm, I've been given this address. I'm here to see...Michiel.''

If he had told Moyo the truth, he wouldn’t have given Jens his dealer’s number. While his intentions were good, dealing drugs - even just weed - was very unsafe. The risks of getting caught and consequences were higher than just smoking it. But, all Jens saw was a way to make a quick buck and help his family.

The guy disappeared inside for a few seconds, probably talking to his boss, and came back to let Jens inside.

Unlike the previous guy, this one was much shorter, but non the less intimidating. He had a thick gold chain around his neck and a scar above his eyebrow. ‘’You asked for me?’’

‘’I…’’

Jens felt like an idiot. He had always been a pretty confident person, but Michiel’s presence made him nervous - with good reason. Drug dealers weren’t the kind of people you want to mess with.

‘’If you want to buy, see one of my guys, Kid. I just make the big deals.’’ Michiel was around to turn his back and leave, but Jens spoke up.

‘’Actually, that’s what I’m here for. A friend referred me to you, saying you might have something for me. A job.’’

Michiel glanced at Jens up and down, just like the previous guy, and scoffed. ''I already have my guys.''

Under his grey hoodie, smooth skin and dangly earring, Jens was too clean for Michiel’s taste. He could never pass as a pusher, he looked too young.

Seeing through his thoughts, Jens took another approach.

''Look at me. No one will suspect it. I...I can cover at school? Or even the skatepark? People there are always looking for weed. I’m sure I could bring you good cash.’’

The man hesitated still. Teenagers weren't the most trustworthy pushers. Most would either use all the drug and run off. But, something was different about Jens. He had this insistence and self-motivation that got Michiel’s attention.

‘’I need fast cash. Give me a chance. I...I really need it,'' Jens almost begged. He tried to cover his emotions, not wanting to sound too desperate even though, in his head, he was on his knees. He needed this job really bad.

Michiel’s silence got Jens scared he had blown his shot. ‘’You do have a pretty face,’’ he pointed out. ‘’Make sure I don't have to ruin it, okay?''

Jens nodded rapidly.

‘’You’re on trial. I’ll give you a couple grams and I need them sold as fast as possible. Give me a shout when you’re done.’’ Michiel paused. ‘’Don’t disappoint me, Kid.’’

.

Friday, January 24th

The bag of weed in his backpack felt heavy. Cert, there was more grams than Jens usually took to parties, but weed doesn’t weight much. It was more the pressure of having to sell it that made it heavy.

Being a smoker of green for over two years, it was his first time actually selling weed. He had sold some to guys at the skatepark, a gram or two, but he was never a pusher, as they called them. The term sounded dirty and wrong in his head. Jens knew it was something he shouldn’t be doing, but his parents needed money.

Robbe giggled at something Sander said, already a bit tipsy from the beers they drank at his place. He had hosted a pre-game, the first one since he moved back with his mom, and he didn’t slow down on the beers. At his boyfriend's behavior, Sander had kept it low with the alcohol, knowing he’ll be the one to carry Robbe home later and couldn’t do that if he was too intoxicated.

For the first time, Aaron hadn’t been present at the pre-game. Being the boyfriend of the birthday girl, he was already at the party, helping Amber and the girls with the decorations and all that.

Moyo pressed the doorbell, waiting for someone to open. They could hear the shitty pop music Amber loved from the doorstep. Sander grimaced at the music choice, Amber’s music taste being added to the list of things he didn’t like about her.

‘’I’m gonna....go see Kobe,’’ Jens announced, seeing him by the window with a couple guys from the skatepark. ‘’I’ll be right back.’’

Jens and Kobe weren’t friends. He had sold him weed once and shared a blunt behind some bushes at the skatepark one afternoon. What Jens knew was that the guy was always looking to buy weed, having no regular dealer, aka easy cash for Jens.

Moyo nodded, heading to the kitchen to look for Aaron with Robbe and Sander following behind, holding hands and walking close.

‘’ ‘Sup, man,’’ Kobe said as Jens approached them.

‘’Good, good,’’ Jens responded, responding to the brunet’s fist exchange.

‘’Long time no see.’’

‘’Yeah… Eh, I might have something for you.’’ Jens raised his eyebrows and motionned for Kobe to follow him.

Kobe nodded, a knowing smile on his lips, getting what Jens meant. He told his friends he was going with Jens for a few minutes, having something he wanted to tell him in private.

Jens almost snorted at Kobe’s lack of subtlety. This guy was worse than Aaron - if possible.

.

Half of his stock sold, thanks to Kobe and the guys they ran into on Amber’s balcony. Turned out selling weed wasn’t as difficult as Jens had initially thought. Being at a party was helping his sales, but it was relatively easy. People bought by chunks of two or three grams with promises of buying more next time Jens had some, not having a lot of cash on them.

Fiddling with the doors, Jens found himself in the bathroom, trying to hide from the outside world that sometimes got a bit too overwhelming. It’s not that he didn't like to party, he just hadn't been in the mood lately. There was a lot on his mind and, sometimes, he just couldn’t escape it.

‘’Hiding from someone?’’

The voice startled Jens, but when he saw who it was he just shrugged. ‘’I don’t feel like partying tonight, is all.’’

Lucas hummed. ‘’Mind if I join?’’ He reached into his jacket’s pocket and pulled out a slightly cooked joint. ‘’I have weed. Straight from Netherlands.’’

Who was Jens to refuse free weed. He shifted in the tub, making room for Lucas.

‘’I’ve been wanting to ask: why did you move here? I know your parents got divorce, but isn’t changing countries is a bit extreme?’’ He passed the joint to Lucas, head leaned back against the tiled wall, starting to feel the buzz.

Lucas smiled at the ceiling. ‘’Try telling my father that. If you ask me, he tried to take me away from my mom; if you ask him, he got a job offer he couldn’t refuse.’’ He took a drag and exhaled the smoke through his nose. ‘’I didn’t want to go, but according to the judge, he’s the one who can offer me a ‘better life’. So I had to go with him.’’

‘’Why would he take you away from your mom? Is she ill or something.’’

‘’Or something,’’ Lucas confirmed, not comfortable talking about this part of his life yet. He handed Jens the joint again.

‘’Left a girl at home?’’

Lucas snorted. ‘’A girl? Who said I’m into girls?’’

Jens shrugged, not knowing what to answer.

Lucas never explicitly said who he was attracted to, why did Jens assume that he was straight? By default, maybe? Despite all the progress the LGBTQ+ community is making in society, history had a way of bleeding into our subconscious. So, unless someone showed a ‘behavior that defied the default’, they were classified as straight.

‘’I tried girls, but it wasn’t for me,’’ Lucas started. He shook his head, thinking back at his mistake. ‘’They’re pretty, but it wasn’t doing it for me, you know?’’

Jens nodded. A part of him understood what Lucas meant, but another didn’t. Unlike Lucas, Jens liked girls. Their long hair, sweet perfume, smooth skin - and boobs. But, more recently, he found himself looking at boys - one, in particular.

‘’I was in love with a boy - my best friend,’’ Lucas continued. ‘’He had a girlfriend, who was also my friend, and I fucked it all up.’’

‘’Your chances with him?’’ Jens tried.

‘’No. That was pretty much dead from the start,’’ Lucas explained with a chuckle. ‘’Our friendship, their relationship.’’

‘’So, you’re a homewrecker?’’

Lucas gasped, kicking Jens’ leg playfully. Jens gave him a small grin.

‘’Hey what happened to sharing? You’re hogging the weed,’’ Jens pointed out, mildly annoyed.

''Come and get it,'' Lucas teased, pulling the joint at arm's length, away from Jens's reach. There was a challenging tone in his voice, almost daring Jens to come closer.

A bit too intoxicated - and high - to think properly, Jens leaned over, hovering over Lucas as he tried to get a hold of the joint. Lucas laughed, moving the lit joint every time Jens was close to take it. Jens was getting frustrated, his reflexes slower than usual because of the marijuana.

Jens started laughed too, having difficulty holding himself up in the small tub. ''Stop it.''

Lucas continued his little game, their laughter caused Jens to lose balance and slip. Thankfully, he was able to grab at the tub's edge, preventing himself from crushing Lucas under - or cracking his skull.

''Sorry,'' Jens apologized.

He was about to raise himself back up, but stopped when he realized how dangerously close they were to each other, faces only a few inches apart. Jens's body stilled, breath catching in his throat as his heart rate started to pick up behind his chest. His dark eyes easily found Lucas's blue ones and Lucas stopped laughing. He stared back at Jens, taking in his sharp cheekbones and plump lips.

Jens made the first move, eyelids slowly fluttering shut as he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips on Lucas.

Undoubtedly, when Jens came to this party, he didn't have the intention of kissing Lucas in Amber's bathtub. But, one thing led to another and here he was, sitting back in the tub and kissing the new kid.

Sparks didn't fly when their lips touched, which was a bit disappointing. Or, maybe it did? The weed was confusing his senses.

Kissing a boy wasn't that much different than kissing girls, in the end. It was the same mechanics; lips on lips - and sometimes tongue. Lucas' lips were very soft for a boy. They tasted like weed and beer too, which Jens didn't mind. It was a nice change from the usual sweet and sticky feeling of glosses and lipsticks or whatever girls put on their lips.

A breathy moan left Lucas' lips as one of Jens' hands came up to cup his jaw, holding him in place as his tongue grazed over Lucas' mouth, teeth closing on his bottom lip and pulling. Jens' senses were buzzing and his mind was too far behind to function.

Lucas' free hand snaked behind Jens' neck, grasping at his thick, dark hair, giving it a slight tug, the single earring dangling as they kissed. Jens breathed a moan into the kiss at the feeling and Lucas smirked, content with himself, before doing it again.

Fuck. How did he get here?

Jens broke the kiss, needing to catch his breath and the brunet took advantage of the taller one's neck being exposed to trail his lips up and down the tanned skin. It will most likely leave marks behind, but Jens couldn’t be bothered to care. At the moment, it felt really good.

Jens cradled Lucas’ face in his hands, guiding him back up and brought their lips together again. This time, the kiss was softer and slower, savoring the feeling of those beautiful pouty lips he had wished to kiss for weeks.

[dickwheelie]

Day 14: Be my Valentine

For the @ineffable-valentines prompt list!

Something cheesy for Valentine’s. Not that I ever write anything that isn’t cheesy. But tonight, we indulge. Cheese it up. Happy Valentine’s Day, ya filthy animals. ❤️

__________

“Got you something,” said Crowley as he entered the bookshop, slamming the door behind him.

Aziraphale, who was reading in an armchair on what had been a quiet late afternoon, and hadn’t been expecting company, nearly jumped out of his skin. “Crowley!”

“Thought it might be appropriate for the day,” said Crowley, as he hung up his jacket and scarf, “to, y’know, celebrate. In some way.”

“I wasn’t expecting you!”

Crowley placed a package wrapped in shiny red paper on the coffee table and made a space for himself on the sofa. “I figured, even if it’s us, might be something to try. Humans are pretty keen on it. Strange way to celebrate the holiday, all things considered, but still.”

Aziraphale was still trying to find his bookmark where it had fallen into the cushions, and hadn’t retained anything Crowley had said. “Dear boy, if you were stopping by, you could have phoned.”

“I mean, is this the sort of thing Saint Valentine would have wanted? Was he a romantic? Don’t think he would’ve wanted people celebrating his execution like that, either way.” Crowley squinted into the air. “Was that one of yours or one of mine?”

Aziraphale, who had caught up with the conversation somewhat, paused to consider this. “He was a saint, wasn’t he? Probably one of ours.”

“Killing a saint, though?”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. “My side is always looking for a good excuse to knock someone off.”

“Hmm, true. Anyway,” Crowley said, reaching out to nudge the package closer to Aziraphale, “got you something. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ruffled though he was, Aziraphale managed a smile as he finally set his book to the side and took off his glasses. “Ah, how very considerate of you, Crowley. I didn’t realize we were exchanging gifts, I would have gotten you something.”

“Nah, best not make a big thing of it. Otherwise we’d have to keep doing it every year.”

Aziraphale frowned. For a being as long-lived as he was, annual events were . . . trying, to say the least. There was a reason he and Crowley had never bothered to pick out birthdays. “Yes, best not,” he agreed solemnly.

“Timing just happened to work out, this year,” said Crowley. He gestured at the package. “Something I saw in the shop, thought you might like it.”

Aziraphale carefully peeled back the wrapping. “Oh, there’s a card,” he said, pulling out an envelope with Aziraphale written on it in a thin, spiky script. He tore that open as well to reveal a small card, clearly homemade with red construction paper and little cartoon stickers of cupids and hearts. (“Only ones I could find on late notice,” Crowley mumbled unconvincingly.) When opened, the card unfolded into the shape of a heart.

Aziraphale cleared his throat and read: “ ‘To my Angel, who deserves the stars. I can’t get you the real ones, but I figured this would be a decent replacement. You’re wonderful and I love you. Happy Valentine’s. Yours Always, A.J.C.’ ” Aziraphale stared down at the card for a moment, misty-eyed. “My dear boy. How sweet.”

“Don’t cry now, you haven’t even seen the gift yet,” Crowley said, pretending that he wasn’t blushing.

“Ah, right, of course,” said Aziraphale, wiping his eyes. He set the card down very gently (they both knew it would end up preserved forever in a glass case, probably on Aziraphale’s nightstand) and began unwrapping the rest of the gift.

Aziraphale pulled out the box that had been inside the wrapping. There were several pictures of a glowing sphere with little dots on it, and on the side, large, bold letters declared it to be a “3-D Star Chart.”

Crowley was quick to explain. “It’s like a lampshade, see, you put a lightbulb or a candle underneath the orb-thingy and it projects all the constellations out onto the walls and things. And they’re all labeled, so you know what you’re looking at. You can set it up based on the time of year it is, match it up to the real stars—y’know.” Crowley couldn’t help but ramble on. “And it’s got astrology, too, so. If you’d like that.” Aziraphale had taken the little white sphere out of its packaging and was turning it over in his hands. Crowley scratched the back of his head. “Maybe you could set it up in your back office. For late nights. Like you’re reading your books outside, under the real stars.”

Aziraphale looked up at him suddenly. “That’s beautiful,” he said. “Can we try it now?”

Crowley blinked. “It’s a bit light outside, might not be able to see—”

Snap. The shutters and curtains on every window slammed shut. Before Crowley could say another word, Aziraphale was already up and about, looking for a candle.

They set it up on a table in Aziraphale’s back office, in the center of the room. Aziraphale lit a candle as Crowley carefully placed the sphere over it. Instantly the walls, ceiling, and floor were covered in the shining, flickering projections of little dots, hundreds of stars making up dozens of constellations that swam over the furniture like fish (or, in Cancer’s case, like crustaceans).

Even Crowley’s breath was a little taken away. Aziraphale was almost speechless.

Almost. “Oh, my dear,” he whispered. “What will they think of next? You’ve given me the stars, you really have.” He took Crowley’s hand, as they stood side by side, looking up at the lights. “Thank you.”

Crowley gave his hand a little squeeze. “Don’t mention it,” he said, and Aziraphale couldn’t see it in the dim light, but he could tell, from the sound of his voice, that Crowley was smiling.