#rotisserie chicken dinner ideas

[fayes-fics]

Friends & Family

Friends + Masterpost

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Anthony has a very important question to ask, but the universe appears to be conspiring against him. Threequel. Set a year after the first fic in this series

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Public sexual acts, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, woman on top, back-to-back orgasm. Also, on a non-sexual front, all sorts of emotions and thwarted proposals.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: This is VERY, VERY belated request fill for the divine @colettebronte. She has had the patience of a saint as I have grappled with this request for many months. I hope this is worth the wait, but to be honest, after this delay, I'm not sure anything could be. Thank you to @sorryallonsy for betaing. Please enjoy <3

I

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, what is this??” 

There is an undignified yelp, and a spatula drops to the floor with a loud splat. Apparently, he didn't hear you come in.

“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me… And what is the full-name business all about?” he exclaims, spinning around, holding his hands aloft as if in a hostage situation. The sight is made even funnier by the fact he is wearing one of your novelty aprons, complete with floppy bunny ears.

You have walked in from afternoon coffee with old friends to find your kitchen in absolute disarray. Pots, pats on every surface, opened containers, the contents of your spice cupboard all pulled out and haphazardly dotted around. There is a large pile of reusable shopping bags with half-open veggies in and what looks like a sourdough loaf cut open and likely going stale next to the complete wrong knife for the job at hand. There is almost no worktop surface that is left unused or covered in some sticky-looking residue from god knows what. 

“I said yes to you making dinner while I was out; I did not say you could conduct some kind of controlled explosion in my kitchen,” holding your hands up in exasperated resignation. 

Frankly, it’s a mystery why he offered to make dinner in the first place; you have never seen the man so much as boil an egg in all the years you have known him. And certainly not in the twelve months you have loved him. His idea of cooking is usually stopping at Whole Foods to pick up a hot rotisserie chicken.

He walks towards you with that adorable puppy dog expression, his perennial get-out-of-jail-free card. You pick a fleck of what you think is broccoli from his hair as he reaches you.

“Points for effort?” he pouts, a tiny smile toying with the corners of his mouth, seeking forgiveness. You let him pull you into his arms and kiss your cheek. “Do you still love me?” he teases, pulling back to shoot you that perfect-toothed charming grin.

“I’ll love you even more if you tidy all this up,” you counter, raising an eyebrow as he chuckles. “Although I’m intrigued. You have never once made dinner since we’ve been dating; why now?”

“Well, I wanted to do something special…” he says pointedly, pulling away to switch off the hob when there is a slight burning smell in the air.

“What’s so special about today?” You frown.

“Really?” He spins around to look at you, a slight pout as you wrack your brains. “What happened on this date one year ago?”

Ohhh…

You feel bad you had completely not realised it. Exactly one year ago to this day, you got together after many years of combative flirting. Heart melting in your ribcage as you suddenly realise this is him attempting to cook an anniversary dinner for you. 

“You secret romantic, you,” you murmur, contrition and affection burning inside as you can't help but seek his touch.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he jests as he pulls you into his arms again and kisses your temple. “I have a reputation to uphold….”

“Of course…” you giggle, resting your head on his shoulders as you sway together in the bombsite that was your kitchen. “And here was me thinking you would do something far more risqué…”

“Such as..?” he prompts, intrigued by where your thoughts have gone.

“Oh, I don't know….” you run your fingers into his lush hair, pressing into him. “Maybe take me back to that same penthouse your friend owns. Maybe make it to that overpriced sofa this time…” his eyes flash dark and dangerous, licking his lips, and you feel compelled to continue, “Maybe even that enormous bed. And the balcony….”

He groans gently as his mind no doubt fills with the same images as yours. “Fuckkkkkkk….” he rues, “I should have done that. I’m definitely no Gordon Ramsey….”

You laugh and run your hands up his biceps. “Maybe not. But I do have a suggestion…” you offer, dropping your voice a little smokier.

“Tell me…” Anthony rumbles, nudging your cheek until your lips brush, fingers digging into your flesh where he holds you.

“Let's work up an appetite and then order from our usual. Tidying up can wait…” you whisper, mouth ghosting over his, fingers opening the top button of his shirt and toying with the patch of chest hair.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

You squeal gently as he picks you up and strides towards your bedroom. The little navy velvet box burning a hole in his suit jacket pocket can wait for another day. Perhaps.

—

II

During a boring editorial meeting the following morning, your phone buzzes in your lap.

AB: Can you be at mine at 7pm tonight?

Y/N: Yes… but why?

AB: All will be revealed 😉 

AB: Come hungry for delicious protein 

Y/N: Filthy. I like it. 😉😛

AB: OMG NO! Not THAT. Bloody hell…

Y/N: Shame…

AB: Well, okay, maybe a bit of that. Afterwards. 😉

Y/N: *victory dance* 💃 

AB: I love you, you filthy animal 😛😘

—

You walk into Anthony’s kitchen at precisely 7pm that evening to find some very posh-looking man in a bowtie pouring some wine into the good glasses. The ones you are too scared to use. 

“What is all this?” Your curiosity piqued.

“Cooking was a disaster, so this is recompense,” Anthony greets you with a hug and a brief kiss on the lips. 

He looks handsome in his usual crisp shirt, undone just enough at the chest to be distracting, and custom-tailored trousers that cling to him just right. It takes some effort to tear your eyes away from him, but when you do, you now see a smorgasbord of cheese on his expansive, pristine white marble kitchen island, with fruit, crackers and all manner of chutneys.

“Oooh, lovely. Fancy cheese and wine night?” you guess.

“Indeed,” he replies warmly. “Baxter here is a world-renowned expert on such things. He will be taking us on a cheese world tour paired with the very best wines.”

“Sounds lovely. Thank you,” you nod to the man, then crowd into Anthony again. “The anniversary of our first proper date?” you guess, kissing his jaw, enjoying the slight rasp of stubble there.

“The lady is learning…” he ribs genially, taking your hand and pulling you along to take a seat on one of the stools.

Baxter speaks engagingly and knowledgeable, and admittedly, every cheese and wine pairing is exquisite. Just a bite from each, but after 10 countries, you are a little tipsy, leaning into Anthony and shooting him goofy smiles, resting your chin on his shoulder, cheekily grabbing his thigh where the fabric pulls taut right over his quad muscle so temptingly. You want to climb into his lap and wrap around him.

After an hour, the man politely takes his leave, mentioning he has left some more “adventurous” choices in sealed boxes in the fridge. 

“What does adventurous cheese mean?” you tipsily ponder after the man has left. “Do you think it's abseiled down a mountain?”

Anthony laughs accommodatingly at your goofiness, taking your hand and leading you outside onto the balcony. “I assume strong-flavoured maybe. But I’m quite sure it's all bravado,” he assures.

You lean on the railing, looking down upon the Thames below, all of London seeming reflected in its inky depths, a thousand lights twinkling in its choppy waves, like a sea of stars beneath you.

“I could never tire of this view,” you declare wistfully, a warmth behind your ribs as he crowds into your back, placing a light blanket around your shoulders.

“It is yours to enjoy for as long as it is mine,” he breathes into your hair, kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sway together gently in the breeze, your hands over his, pushing back into his warm body.

“I love you,” you say quietly, turning to nuzzle his cheek.

“I love you too,” he responds immediately, “and I have for so long now; it feels wrong when you are not with me,” his tone ardent, gentle. “Wait here….” he whispers, a waver in his voice that makes you pause.

You wait patiently as he slips back inside, the breeze dancing through your hair as you inhale deeply and soak in the city. Although you are high above street level, the sounds are still there, like a background hum. It’s as energising as the country air at his rural ancestral home in Kent, just in a different way—so vibrant and teeming with life. 

Anthony seems to be gone for a while, so out of intrigue, you wander inside to the fridge, grab one of the containers Baxter left and take it back onto the balcony before he reappears. When you peel it open, you are taken aback by the smell. It's very pungent, even out in the open air. 

“There is an important question I wa…” Anthony freezes mid-sentence. “Dear god, what is that smell?” he exclaims, his face scrunching violently.

“Oh, I think it's the cheese Baxter left.” 

You swing the container around so it's right under his nose and watch him go white as a sheet and then double over to one side, dry heaving.

“That's disgusting!” He gags, quickly putting something small from his hand into his trouser pocket as he coughs roughly, almost bent double.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” you frown, bringing the container back to your own nose, closer than you had it before.

Then, a wave of nausea hits you, too. It smells of decay and bad feet and turns your stomach so violently that you have to grab the balcony railing to stop yourself from stumbling.

“Fuck that's terrible,” you stutter, trying hard to keep down the rich wines and cheeses you have already consumed.

“Throw it!” Anthony blurts, somewhat frantic.

“Where?” you panic, holding it away at arm's length, desperate to stay upwind of it.

“Off the fucking balcony! Fling it in the Thames! I can't even have that shit in my bins….” he yelps before another wretch doubles him over again.

Gripping the container, you fling the contents as hard as you can, watching the blob of cheese sail downwards in an arc for twelve storeys, hitting the river below with a distant but satisfying plop. You both stand there wheezing and gasping as you reseal the container immediately, fearful of any residual scent.

“Dear god, am I going to inadvertently ruin every one of these special evenings?” he grumbles under his breath, sounding more like a rhetorical question than anything.

You have no idea what he could mean, but you don’t have the capacity to ask - you have to run to the cloakroom as the mere olfactory flashback makes you nauseated.

When you reemerge ten minutes later, full of regret and needing toothpaste, you find him in his en suite bathroom in a similar fragile state. You both crawl into his bed feeling delicate, curling up foetal and holding hands across the expanse of the bed, him muttering apologies.

—

III

The following week, Anthony takes you back to the same restaurant where you had your second date, one year to the day later. Seeing the pattern in advance, you wear the beautiful little black dress he bought you recently. And you are pleased to make him temporarily tongue-tied when you slip off your coat to reveal it, whispering coquettishly in his ear that you are happy to skip dinner and return to his.

“Oh, we will,” he rumbles, a promissory note that lights a fire low in your belly.

After perusing the menu, you decide to order the same dish you had last time. You are certain everything is terrific, but you remember it being so delicious it had you making noises only Anthony usually can. Also, you are hoping for a complete repeat of the same night from a year ago. Memorably, it was the first time he managed to give you three orgasms in one night—you are very keen to repeat that. 

But rather strangely, Anthony’s energy seems slightly off, almost nervous. You can only assume it's apprehension that this night does not go as the previous two attempts at anniversary celebrations have. 

While you are sharing a delicious starter, a familiar face over the room at the bar catches your eye.

“Is that Benedict?” you frown, causing Anthony to twist in your booth and look.

“Probably,” he sighs.

You are nonplussed by his reaction, so you take it upon yourself to wave to him, to Anthony’s seeming chagrin.

When Benedict wanders over, you notice his shoulders are hunched, a shuffled gait. Not the usual mister sunshine he is.

“Hey Ben, everything okay?” you check as he pulls up nearby, hovering a little.

“I got dumped,” he exhales. “So I’m drowning my sorrows,” he explains, holding his whiskey tumbler aloft in a rueful toast.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you grimace, knowing he has been more unlucky in love than not, which seems a shame; he’s a sweet, good-looking man but often gets used, attracted to people who take advantage of his giving nature.

“Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner…” he placates modestly, glancing at his older brother, who seems to be brooding.

“Don't be silly, you can join us,” you beckon him into the booth.

“No, he can’t,” Anthony interjects.

You frown at him. “Why not? It’s just dinner,” you dispute.

“No, it’s not; it’s our anniversary,” Anthony argues before turning to Benedict. “Brother, I love you and all, but would you kindly fuck off?” Anthony grouses, gritting his teeth.

“Anthony!” You admonish. “Don’t be a dick!” You roll your eyes. “Ignore your grouchy brother, Ben; of course, you can join us,” you offer again, seeing the hesitancy but also the sadness tugging at the corner of his eyes that means you are worried about leaving him alone.

He acquiesces, and as he wanders across to the bar to grab his jacket and join you, you scowl at Anthony. “He’s just been dumped. You could be nicer,”

“I could… just not tonight,” he says, almost harangued.

You decide not to dwell on why he seems unduly hung up on this evening’s plans, being so particular, watching him seem to fiddle with an item in his jacket pocket, then look askance across the restaurant, defeated. 

“Anthony, are you okay?” You check quietly as Benedict walks back over.

“Yeah, I just….” He sighs and finally meets your eye squarely with a tinge of sadness. “I had other plans for us tonight. Not babysitting…”

At one point during the main course, Benedict excuses himself to the bathroom. Anthony has been mostly monosyllabic, almost sulking, and you feel guilty; perhaps he did indeed have other ideas for the evening.

You shuffle around to lean into him and grab his hand, placing it high on your thigh under the table, the message unmistakable.

“We can still have our plans for later…” you whisper hotly into his ear.

He seems to perk up immediately, his hand grasping your flesh in a way that catches your breath. “You always know what to say to make me feel better…” he murmurs, at once playful and reverent.

“Touch me…” you whisper, the need for him an instant, tart taste in your mouth.

“Here, in the restaurant? With my brother coming back to join us any moment?” His tone is incredulous but unmistakably aroused.

“Yes…” you hiss, pushing his hand up higher to the junction of your thighs where you burn molten for him always.

He growls when he realises you have made another style choice, this one scandalous—no underwear.

“I’ll do more than that, you wonderful minx,” he huffs, pulling your thigh over his lap under the tablecloth. He plunges two fingers into your aching pussy and presses his thumb over your clit. You gasp and grip the table hard, just as Benedict reappears.

It certainly does wonders for Anthony’s disposition, like he is a different man now. Chatting amiably to his brother as you subtly try not to look flustered, dripping silently into his palm as he holds still. 

“Whatever you did to put this one in a better mood, thank you,” Benedict jests at one point.

“I just had to give the old grouch a hug and his favourite toy to keep him entertained,” you joke back, him not realising exactly how true that is. Anthony’s fingers flex deep inside you at your cheeky riposte, and you can feel his smirk as you have to cough to hide your moan.

“Well, thank you,” Benedict smiles, “you bring things out in my brother I never thought I would see. So whatever magic trick you are pulling, keep doing it.”

Anthony’s fingers curl hard against your g spot, and you have to laugh loudly to not scream.

“She’s the very best brother,” Anthony replies, lips brushing your temple as he flicks his thumb teasingly over your clit. “I hope one day you find someone as special as she is,” he offers, his first sympathetic noise to his brother of the evening.

“I should be so lucky,” Benedict adds quietly, tone pensive, glancing at his phone as it lights up by his elbow.

Anthony withdraws from your pussy; you whimper mutely, feeling bereft but also relieved, not sure you can act any longer. You watch as he brings those fingers up to his mouth and sucks them decadently as Benedict is distracted by his phone.

“Thank you for dessert, my love,” he thrums into your ear, “and the show,” he adds cheekily, your clit and pussy clenching, denied, so very aroused.

“Take me home right now, Anthony!” Your order is through gritted teeth, quiet but brokering no argument. 

And he does.

—

IV

A tide of relief hits you as the door to his sleek penthouse clicks softly open; tossing aside your umbrella and slipping off your shoes in the fancy hallway. It's been a taxing work day; all you can think about is climbing into the shower, then curling up and watching something mindless until Anthony gets home.

“Y/n…” 

An enticing but distant call in that familiar voice.

“Anthony?” you respond, puzzled. “I thought you would be out late tonight?” you add, wandering forward, trying to find the source.

“Change of plan….” 

You cross the open-plan lounge area with its floor-to-ceiling view across the rooftops of London. It's been more than a year of dating, and still, you aren't entirely used to the sheer scale of his place compared to yours. It feels like it takes ages to get across just his living room.

“Where are you?” you frown, hands on hips. It sounds like he's likely in the bedroom.

“Follow the sound of my voice,” he entices, and yep, it's definitely from that direction.

However, when you wander in, the room is empty, the early evening sun blazing onto the soft, luxurious white duvet on his vast bed.

“Getting warmer,” he offers, quieter now, and you recognise his voice has an echo. He can only be in his en-suite bathroom.

You round the corner into that tastefully masculine room - all slate and birch - to be greeted by a sight that makes your lungs feel too tight.

There, in his sizeable sunken whirlpool tub, is one Anthony Bridgerton. Very naked and very wet. Standing so that the bubbling waterline hugs his hips—acres of toned torso, water droplets meandering down the washboard of his stomach and glistening in the thatch of hair across his chest. You bite your lips without even realising it, shifting your stance as you feel a ripple of excitement over your skin.

“Hello, Ms y/l/n,” he preens, knowing exactly how much the sight before you makes you tongue-tied and aroused.

“Hello…” you stutter back, eyes still feasting. “What is the CEO of Bridgerton Enterprises doing taking a bath at….” you glance down to check your watch, “... 5:25 pm on a Thursday?”

“It's a special occasion…” he smirks, wading towards the edge of the tub closest to you. “I thought a bath would be nice.” 

You can't seem to look away from the wake of waves cresting his Adonis belt as he does so. The sight of something delicious just below the surface is almost hypnotic. 

“My eyes are up here, you know,” he mocks gently, tongue literally in cheek, as you cut your gaze to his triumphant face.

“Wh… what special occasion?” you manage to stumble out.

“Surely you recall what happened on this night exactly twelve months ago?” 

When you look nonplussed - frankly, you can barely remember your own name right now - he mock sighs.

“I surprised you on my way back from the airport?” he prompts.

“Oh!” you suddenly cotton on, “it's been a year since we exchanged keys!”

He nods, and a fetching beam breaks out across his face. “Ahhh, the lady remembereth,” he winks.

“So this is how you’re celebrating?” your eyes again drag covetously down his body. 

“No, this is how WE are celebrating…” he corrects and gestures towards a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket at one corner of the tub, along with two long-stemmed flutes.

You can't help but match his grin now. “Well, I can’t find fault with that idea,” you admit, taking a step closer until you are at the edge of the tub surround.

“Hmm, I thought not,” he says silkily, closing the gap between you.

Grabbing the back of your neck with a firm hand, he draws you down into a deep, sensual kiss. His mouth claims yours. You shiver as warm water trickles down inside your top from the hand in your hair. He crowds into you, soaking your clothing with the press of his body as you kneel on the sunken tub surround.

“Oh no, this is all wet,” he feigns, tugging lightly at your sleeve, “you will just have to take it off.”

“Hmmm. I rather think that is your doing. How about you take it off?” you challenge, the banter between you never seeming to get old.

“Maybe I’ll just pull you into the water fully clothed?” he posits, raising an eyebrow.

You laugh and take a step back, revelling in his undivided attention as you strip for him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression hungry; the only sounds are his panted breath and the bubbles roiling in the tub. You are down to your underwear, a new matching lacy set, as if you knew, on some subconscious level, it was a special occasion, when he lunges forward and makes you squeal as he effortlessly picks you up and hauls you into the huge tub with him. The warm, effervescent water is a balm and tonic, making your skin tingle. 

“What is the point of celebrating anything if it’s not an excuse to get naked?” he offers silkily, cupping your jaw with both palms, his wet thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones, then his lips are back, plundering, seeking, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands roam your skin, arranging so you are straddling his lap, his cock a solid press against your inner thigh.

This is indeed how you always want to celebrate every milestone of your relationship—with wonderful, sensual intimacy. Anthony pulls back from the kiss, and you stare into his rich eyes, blissfully tracing the lines of his face with fingertips as he easily unhooks your bra and pulls it gently over the rounds of your shoulders. This close-up and soaked, his face is all sharp contours and smooth, lightly tanned skin.

“You are too handsome,” your internal monologue spilling out with a light mewl as his thumbs brush your nipples.

“I love you too,” he chuckles drolly to make a point. 

“Oh yes, that too,” you append with a playful pout. Then, a more sincere “I love you.”

“Wonderful to hear,” he rumbles into your ear as his hands slide underwater to tug down your underwear. 

He pulls you deeper into his lap, your thighs pushed wide around his slender hips. His rigid cock nudges your slit promisingly, and you wait with bated breath for his much-wanted invasion. But he pauses, and you feel the curl of his smile against your cheekbone.

“Champagne?” he teases, holding still.

“Now?!” you splutter. “How about you get inside me first?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” he answers, wry and laconic. 

Any witty riposte you may have dies on your lips as he surges into your body, knowing you need no warm-up, ready for him the minute you rounded the corner of the room. 

“Happy key day,” he murmurs as your eyes flutter closed and you moan loudly, him nudging that spot that makes you so addicted to him.

“Happy key day,” your response is a ragged exhale as you adjust to his deep invasion. 

Every time it still feels like the first, like it's just too good, and you just want to cling to him and be fucked into oblivion or fuck him into oblivion. A potent, heavy feeling inside that makes you crackle with energy and feel sated at the same time.

“Fuck me, Anthony,” you sigh into his wet hair, pushing closer into his embrace, voicing your exact desires.

“With pleasure.”

You squeak as his hands grasp tight around your waist and haul you up until just his tip is still inside you, then slams you back down, a curse falling from your lips as he does. His handling is slightly rough in a way that feels perfect, his teeth glancing your earlobe before he sucks it into his mouth and bites lightly.

Then it's a wondrous carnal dance, your joint noises echoing up the slate tiles as you fuck wantonly. Taking over at one point and gripping the edge of the oversized tub, you ride him for all your worth, chasing that feeling only he, his cock, has ever given you. So addictive ever since that very first night.

“I only ever want to fuck you, always…” the words tumbling from your lips unbidden, no filter between your thoughts and mouth as you spiral higher.

Even in the full throes of passion, his expression softens as you confess it. 

“Forever?” something vulnerable in his panted tone as you rise and fall upon him.

“Forever, Anthony Bridgerton,” you vow, sensing his need to hear it, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing all of your being into him, wanting your bodies to be forged together somehow.

His thumb slips between your legs, and you cry out as he snags your clit perfectly, eyes rolling, feeling like a live wire.

“I need to feel it; please give it to me,” he implores desperately, thumb flicking almost violently over your engorged pearl.

It doesn't take much more, and you are fracturing around him. Crying his name, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his shoulders as you reach that high, unable to stop slamming upon him as you flutter, your whole body spasming in pleasure but unwilling to stop. Him roaring his approval as you squeeze his cock tight, rippling around him.

“Please don't come,” you plead to him, “I need more, Anthony, more,” a wrecked sob, wanting to orgasm again. He snarls, his teeth on your cheekbone, his grip tightening around your hips, staving off his orgasm as best he can.

You grab his face and babble nonsense, saying you need his cock forever, strung out on the edge, almost a mania in your being, needing everything he can give. He pants harshly into your open-mouthed, sloppy kisses as you keep riding wound so tight like a coiled spring, wanting to be speared open by him always.

“Marry me!” he cries as you both reach that peak together, an explosion in both of your beings, feeling him come inside you harsh and deep, moaning your name like a prayer.

You collapse upon him, the bubbles of the jetted tub tickle your skin as you heave breaths, wracked and sated to your very core. A high like you have never known.

“Did you just…. propose?” you stutter as your brain comes back online, his cock still buried inside you.

“Shit…” he laments. “That was NOT how it was supposed to go! I had it all planned out!” he decries, burying his face into your shoulder where you still sit upon him.

“Anthony….” there are no other words, shock tying your tongue. 

He pulls back and looks contrite. “Please allow me a do-over?” his face so beseeching.

Raw emotion and victory crest hard in your veins, and you can't help but banter with him - as you always have, as you always will, until death do you part now.

“No, Viscount Bridgerton,” you rag, holding his face, “No do-overs. You will just have to live with the fact you proposed to me as we came together….” 

His face is a jumble of warring emotions as you realise you have kept him on tenterhooks about your answer. 

“…And you will just have to accept that I said yes with you still inside me,” you add silkily.

A handsome grin claims his whole face, relief and devotion coursing through him. “We can’t tell anyone,” he whispers as you resurface from another kiss.

“Our little secret,” you smile back as he finally slips from your body.

—

“You know I might be the first-ever Viscountess with a garden flat in Zone 3,” you chuckle, sitting in matching fluffy robes on his balcony, the sky a riot of colour as the sun sets. 

A few minutes before, he had gotten down on one knee and produced a little velvet box. You squealed and said yes again, watching transfixed as he pushed a flawless, elegant three-carat diamond onto your finger.

Anthony frowns deeply. “Err, no. You are moving in here with me,” he asserts loftily.

“I’m not selling my place!” 

“You can rent it out!” he waves dismissively.

“Urgh, tenants. Hassle.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, fine, then we can just use it to store all of my stuff you hate, alright?” he counters, catching your gaze with a fiery challenge. Your insides ablaze that your trademark flirtatious antagonism will always be there, even once you are married.

“Oh, Viscount Bridgerton, you have a deal…” you whisper coquettish and swing off of your lounger onto his, straddling him and sealing the pact with a kiss.

“I’m just so glad I could finally make it happen.” 

You flip around and settle between his legs, your spine on his chest, lacing your hands together over your robe. “What do you mean?”

He barks a laugh you feel echo into your back. “So this is not the first time I have tried to propose to you. Remember that disastrous cooking? Attempt 1. Cheese night when we almost died? Attempt 2. Benedict interruptus? Attempt 3.” He holds up a hand before you, counting each on his fingers. “I almost gave up.”

You laugh and realise with hindsight how he seemed off kilter on those occasions, a soft ache behind your ribs in empathy. “I’m so glad you didn’t. Give up, that is,” you murmur, running your fingers over his lovingly once he lowers his hand back to your belly.

“I jest; I would never give up trying to make you my wife,” he pledges solemnly into your hair, kissing the shell of your ear. “And I hope you will never give up on me, as terrible of a husband as I will likely be….” he demures.

“I can do that, old friend…” you tease, a callback to that first night you got together.

“Less of the old,” he chides, immediately picking up your invitation, an exact repeat of your words to each other that first night you got together, heart melting as you realise he remembers the conversation word for word, too.

“I've known you my whole life, Anthony,” you continue, that conversation etched into your brain, turning back over in his arms. “You can't lie to me…”

“I never will,” he goes offscript, and you exchange laden looks. Then, a dangerous smirk takes over his face as he leans closer. “But you can handcuff me to our bed anytime,” he adds, a nod to the joke you made that night.

“You wish, you lucky fuck,” you respond, aping his line. 

He grins widely and pulls back, handing you a champagne flute from the nearby lounger table.

“From old friends to new family…” he toasts, sincere and ardent, clinking his glass softly against yours.

“Friends and family…” you smile, your diamond ring afire in the setting sun, as you take a sip and pull him in for a blistering kiss.

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Anthony taglist pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @hanji-emo-blog @y0ur-favgerman @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1 @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[pleaseeeimjustagirl]

🎀30 Day Glow Up Challenge🎀 - day thirteen

♡ Mindset : I deal with seasonal depression and even though I am on anti depressants I’ve made it a habit to walk for 10 minutes in the morning or afternoon today I waited a little to late and I felt myself getting sad. I was going to procrastinate but when I was watching one of my fav lifestyle YouTubers she motivated me to get up and go for my walk. As I walked I read a book and thought about my day and the progress I am making in my glow up journey.

♡ Health : I went grocery shopping yesterday and I bought a sweet cranberry kale salad kit. I loveee this salad kit I usually get it from Costco but I purchased it from ShopRite it was so good I had it for dinner with my rotisserie chicken and I added two serving sizes of feta such a bomb salad. I’ve been creating a Pinterest board for meal ideas and healthy meal plans.

♡ Self Care : when I went on my walk I decided to stop by dollar tree to look for a new journal. I want to start Quran journaling. I didn’t find any good journals sadly but I did pick up a foot mask I’ll be using that tomorrow. I needed that for a fact.

♡ Experience : I loveeee Pinterest so much like I have so many different boards and pins that I love so much and there are so many amazing creators on Pinterest who also have Tumblr pages. So I’ve been working on my Pinterest page for this blog and I can’t wait to share my Pinterest page once everything is done and uploaded.

Sorry I missed yesterdays upload I was a little overwhelmed posting everyday and needed a break. Tell me how you’re doing babes I would love to know my inbox and requests are open<33333

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

hello dearest cal i offer thee some emojis and some good writing vibes!!

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 (omg more cranberry?? HELL FUCKING YESS!!)

- feather

Hi Feather!

Thank you so very much!

45 for 🔼:

---

As it turns out, Christopher is also having nightmares. Eddie calls her one morning, as exhausted as she is, saying he was up all night with Chris. 

“He’s waking up screaming. Really scared, Shan. Did something happen to him up there?” 

Shannon feels terrible. 

“No,” she promises. “I mean, nothing I didn’t already tell you. Maybe seeing Buck fall and get swept away?”

Shannon has been struggling with that, too. But more while she’s awake than while she’s sleeping.

“Carla thinks I should take him to see a therapist,” Eddie says. “Someone who specializes in trauma in children.” 

Shannon could vomit. “She thinks he’s traumatized? Do you think he’s traumatized?”

“I think he went through something traumatic. You all did,” Eddie says. “But, like, he can get past it, right? Because nothing too bad ended up happening.” 

“Right,” she mutters. 

“So what do you think?” 

Shannon takes a deep breath. She’s too tired to think this through clearly. At the forefront of her mind is just the feeling that her son is hurt again, and it’s because of her. Which is ridiculous. She knows it’s ridiculous. She didn’t cause this. He just happened to be with her. And thank fuck Buck was too.

“Shannon?” 

“Sorry, yeah. Uh… I mean, if you think it’s a good idea, I trust you.”

“I think it probably is, but I still feel weird,” Eddie admits. 

“Weird?” Shannon asks. “Weird how?”

“Like, if I had needed this as a kid…” 

Oh. She gets it.

“Your parents never would have gone for it,” she finishes. 

“Yeah. Dad would have said to suck it up and move forward.”

---

45 for 🪞:

---

“It just sort of happened,” Eddie admits. “While you were grocery shopping the other day? And I took her to the park. It slipped out. She thought it was funny. It’s a done deal now.”

Buck smiles affectionately. “That’s very sweet.”

Eddie shrugs again. 

“Why duckling, specifically?” Buck asks. 

“Well, I didn’t know the name of a baby dove, and the generic bird term chick felt very icky-”

“Squab,” Buck offers.

“What?” 

“The name for a baby dove. Squab,” Buck explains.

“Yeah, see, I am not calling your daughter squab,” Eddie retorts.

Your daughter. Your daughter. Your daughter. 

“I appreciate that,” Buck says. 

“My brain was stuck on birds,” Eddie continues. “And then duck rhymes with Buck, and she’s your kid, so… Duckling.”

“Duckling,” Buck repeats. Because she’s his daughter. “Alright. I like it.”

“Well, good,” Eddie says. “I was going to keep using it either way.”

Buck laughs. “I see how much power I hold.”

“Very little,” Eddie agrees. “At least I’m not telling her medical emergency horror stories involving rotisserie chicken.”

Buck groans. “That was one time!”

ii.

It keeps up like that. The general ease and happiness. 

Well, ease might be an overstatement. Adjusting to a six year-old overnight still has its challenges. Especially a six year-old who is still learning how to be a part of a family. Sometimes he forgets it’s all new to her, as well as she fits in with his life. 

Some things are easy. She’s completely over not asking for what she needs; at least not when it comes to Buck, Eddie, Carla, and Maddie and Chim, when they go there for dinners. She’s always polite and never fights him about bedtime - something Buck knows Maddie and Chim struggle with with Jee. 

---

45 for 🦮:

---

Buck laughs. A bitter and cold thing. 

“Where is all this coming from?” He repeats. “It’s so clear that you are only here for Maddie. And that’s fine. Whatever. You don’t want to know me? Fine. Your loss. You don’t give a shit that I nearly died last year? Fine. But to see so plainly that you never cared about me? From the time I was born? I don’t need to sit around and watch that and wonder why.”

There are a range of reactions to Buck’s outburst. One he could have avoided had they just let him leave. 

Eddie grabs his arm, squeezing it like he’s trying to pull Buck back from the edge. 

Margaret starts to cry.

Phillip looks at the floor.

Chim winces, like he’s watching a trainwreck. 

It’s Maddie that speaks up.

“Buck,” she shakes her head, eyes welling over. “Please don’t go there.”

“Go where, Maddie?” Buck asks, exasperated. “Everyone in the room can see it.”

“Buck,” she tries again.

But he just shakes his head at her.

“Let’s go, Eddie,” he says. 

Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s back, and leads him towards the door. His hand on Cranberry’s leash is white knuckling the paracord loop handle. His other hand is shaking. 

🦮🦮🦮

“Two dinners,” Buck says on the drive home. Eddie is in the driver’s seat. Not their usual arrangement, but necessary, tonight. “That's all it took. Two dinners, and I am twelve years-old again, trapped between my sister and my parents.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, eyes flicking between the road and Buck. “That was really painful.”

“And now what?” Buck continues, hardly hearing him. “I have to plan an awkward fucking apology.”

“Whoa, wait!” Eddie’s tone sharpens. “What do you have to apologize for?”

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Seven Several Sentences Sunday

I was tagged by @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove and I'm about to work a ten-hour shift so before that hits, have a snippet!

“It’s not about money,” Eddie mutters. Buck turns to him, folding himself like origami on his chair. “Okay, what’s really going on here?” “Going on?” “Don’t play me for a fool, Imbolc. I know when something’s up with you. Why do you want to avoid the mountain pass?” Buck pauses, lets the silence linger. “You can talk to me. It’s okay.” He remembers when they’d stopped by his parents’ house in El Paso, and things had been tense. Not enough that it was a stilted dinner, but enough that Hen and Buck had picked up on it. Buck had cornered him at the bathroom afterwards, and Eddie’d told him the truth: it was the first time he’d seen them since they’d tried to take his son. “Listen to me,” Buck had whispered, his voice completely devoid of the softness that usually infused it. “They will never take Chris from you. Ever.” I know, Eddie had thought. They can’t, now, because I gave him to you. Buck’s never said that he wished Eddie had told him sooner. But he still thinks it was unfair, in retrospect, to let Buck wade into that without knowing the truth. If he could go back in time, he’d tell Buck before. He’d let himself bask in Buck’s righteous, protective fury. And because this isn’t real life—because this is D&D—he can do that. He can be selfish.

You are all SO lucky I love you and shared a Buddie fic and not my rarepair that's rotating around in my head like a rotisserie chicken.

When Bobby said that D&D could be a bit of wish fulfillment this isn't exactly what he meant...

Tagging @princessfbi and anyone else, again, no idea who's got something going on.

[naviaknell777]

Loved your little sister fic.!! So adorable!!! ❤️ Its so cute for a little sibling reader lmao.Anyways. I saw requests open, and I had to request. Little sister turtle reader x The rottmmt bros-

Hear me out. Reader is like a HUGE fan of food, and has a "burrito blanket" and constantly bickers her brothers to let her spin on a pole above fire like a rotisserie chicken. She just wants to feel like food lmao 😭 Poor 10 year old turtle girl, She's just a pure innocent sunshine.

Reader is hungry 24/7 and loves mikey's cooking sm. Like this girl full on makes Donnie store some snacks made from mikey into his battle shell for her when traveling or leaving the lair lmao. You know what animal crossing villagers do when food is placed in front of them?? Yeah. Reader does that.

Bonus : Reader is really good at martial arts and fighting, and beats the shit out of a really tough villain. And when she's done, shes just innocent and is like "Can we have tacos for dinner??" While her brothers are just like.. "wtf just happened."

Ooh I love this request so much! I love the idea of a little sister who’s chaotic about food. Also reminder [n/n] = nickname

Rottmnt x little sister! Reader “Food Lover”

Y/N is 10 years old, the youngest of the siblings, and LOVES food

And I mean LOVES food more than anything.

Like it might honestly be her special interest at this point. Loves trying new foods, love learning about foods, and loves cooking when she can (which is rarely because one time she didn’t have older brother supervision around the stove… that ended up being a chaotic day)

She even owns different food related things, like blankets, plushies, etc

Likes to get the food experience as well. As in, will sit by fires wrapped up in her tortilla blanket to pretend shes cooking (even though the fire tends to dry out her skin as being a type of sea turtle)

Has also asked to be wrapped in tinfoil by or above the fire (to which, her brothers completely don’t support… not only will she dry out heavily but also it’s just not healthy and they’re afraid she’ll actually be cooked alive)

But to make her feel better about not being able to pretend to be food being cooked, Leo will team up with Donnie to make a huge strainer for Y/N to fit in and put her underneath a hose and pretend to wash her like fruits and veggies

She will also absolutely devour any food in sight, including eating everything that Mikey makes… even if it’s six servings, for each sibling plus Splinter

Whenever she eats someone else’s food (usually because she has a big appetite, occasionally to get back at her brothers for pulling a prank on her or something… looking at you Leo) and that brother will stare at her and she’ll just be like “what…?”

Man just let her eat the dang food!!

But even if she eats everyone’s dinner, especially if it’s Mikey making it, she’ll usually ask for more because she loves the taste so much

When she occasionally joins missions, she’ll sometimes make Donnie whip out a snack for her mid-battle. Doesn’t matter if he’s charging at someone or what, he’ll use one of his metal claw hang thingies to take a snack for her and toss it at her

They let her come along sometimes if they know it’s a pretty low stakes mission so she can watch them fight to learn how battles go and to learn moves from her brothers

She also trains outside of battles, and loves it, and because she’s doing all this exercise it just makes her more hungry, which is why she’s pretty much constantly eating

That and she expends a lot of energy being a chaotic little sister in general lol

But one night the brothers decided that Y/N could go on this mission with them that they thought would be pretty low stakes, just a classic foot clan plan that needs to be stopped as per usual

Except… they decided to bring a different partner along the normal two that they fight

A new recruit I guess??

But yeah the brothers didn’t predict this

(Well, Donnie probably did, let’s be honest)

Anyway. He should’ve told someone that he predicted this cause the new guy was pretty buff, like someone who does hardcore military training as a hobby

How the guy got recruited as a low rank with the other two foot weirdos is nobody’s guess

But regardless, Y/N was brought to the battle, and with this new, super buff guy they got their hands full

So Y/N, observing from afar at first, ultimately decided to help her brothers

“No one kicks my brothers like that but me!!” She yelled when the buff guy kicked Raph in the stomach

So she, being the weird brave girl she is, sprung into action! And… she actually landed hits on the guy?!

Needless to say her brothers were impressed

She managed to hit the guy a lot and with her quick agility she was able to dodge his attacks like nothing (practice from when her brothers try to hold her back from eating all the pizza… she just slithers her way out of their hold and climbs over them)

But anyway she’s actually doing really well in the battle?! She focused more on dodging in the first half to psych him out, but landed punches and kicks like nobody’s business!

(She might’ve also kicked him in the balls at one point lmao)

But yeah, in the end, she managed to dodge his head butt last minute, making him smash his head into a wall. Y/N dusted off her hands on her shorts, her mask tails dramatically flowing a bit in the non-existent wind, proud of her victory

(And the brothers managed to take down the other two foot freaks quickly per usual)

But when they were done they just stared at her and her ability to hit hard and dodge when needed. When he finally knocked himself out, she smiled and watched the buff guy fall to the ground when he became unconscious

She then turned to her brothers, who were standing next to each other. She ran to them “I’m hungry! Can we make tacos for dinner?!” She said excitedly, shaking her hands side to side at the thought of eating

“Uh, yeah, sure…” Leo said, still a bit in disbelief

“Aww baby sister you deserve all the tacos in the world!” Mikey said, making Y/N squeal a bit

“But.. where’s you learn all those moves, [n/n]?l” Raph asked, still a bit amazed at her combat power and fighting style being so developed at a young age.

“The beans must be spilled” Donnie whispered to himself dramatically.

Y/N just smiled, climbing onto Donnie’s battle shell to open it and grab a snack. She opened a bag of chips, and before stuffing her face she said

“Well I’ve watched you all fight so many times… so I guess I learned from the best!”

——

Thanks for sending in your request and reading!

All Rights Reserved ©️NaviaKnell777 2023

[lowcarbloves]

AIR FRYER CHICKEN PARM!! (20 Minute Meal)

Should I make chicken alfredo in the air fryer next?

All you need is:

Broccoli

Chicken breast (or you can use a rotisserie chicken)

Marinara sauce (low sugar)

Mozzarella cheese

Salt & pepper

Garlic powder

Onion powder

Chili flakes

That's it! If you're looking for a quick, easy dinner idea.. this is it! Top it with some parm and enjoy

[delightfulwombatyouth]

First update in a while. We finally got a good routine for putting baby down to sleep, the swaddle and pacifier were big hits and now he gets 4 hours go. Last night he went down at 7:30, I was exhausted from being up since 4 am so my wife and I went to sleep too. He woke up at 11:30 my wife took that one, then again at 3:15 and I took that one so I got a full 8 hours, today is the first day since he was born I don't feel sleep deprived!

I made my monthly habit calendar yesterday. Want to make sure I am still doing things for myself, my own health, and keep on top of things for my cat Appa and household chores.

I was 180.2 lbs yesterday, basically gained 13 pounds over the past month of eating whatever with no regard. Time to get back to eating right. Had my Costco bacon/Gouda egg bites for breakfast, rotisserie chicken and broccoli for lunch and I'll figure out dinner later likely a salad and protein.

My wife and I had been in the habit of having a single cocktail with dinner recently because we thought it was helping us with the stress but I think it's now adding to the stress/hurting my sleep more than it's helping and I just loath the idea of feeling like I NEED any exogenous chemical to feel good/get through life so I'm giving that up again.

I'll be hitting 1 year of no weed come September 18th and hopefully this time next year I can hit 1 year no booze as well, see what I can accomplish with that, as I did get a lot more out of life from quitting smoking.

Anyways I'm back to posting a little bit, most likely fitness/diet/journal type stuff. Hope you all had a good labor day!

[h0neyfreak]

I’m gonna share another very useful approach to life as an adult with ADHD: cooking and nutrition edition.

The American idea that dinner is “meat/protein with a veggie and a side” and that this is somehow an easy thing to prepare is a lie. That’s so much work. Sometimes I like making a meal that requires a lot of effort but that’s not sustainable for my average weeknight dinner.

I would like to instead introduce you to my world of Sauce Based Cooking. It is predicated on the idea that the “one pan meal” is not a category of recipe but rather a decision made by the chef. There are some deviations (some meals require a pasta pot and/or sheet pan) but that’s still way less than a lot of recipes call for. If it requires a blender, simply close the link and step away.

Rules for Sauce Based Cooking Freedom:

Have more spices/flavorful pastes than you know what to do with. Better than Bouillon and miso paste and curry paste and spice mixes etc etc. You are not running an authentic Tex-Mex restaurant from your kitchen just get the taco seasoning packets.

If you eat meat, you should be buying bone-in skin-on chicken thighs. Not chicken breasts. You can braise a chicken thigh for two hours and it will only get tastier and better. Cooking a chicken breast is stressful and requires a level of precision im not prepared to give to a chicken.

Focus on learning to make tasty BASES. You have learned if you make it and it tastes good to you. Nail down a good cream sauce, perfect your 20 minute marinara, learn a coconut curry, figure out the basic components of a marinade. Add some ground ginger to your chicken soup and thank me later. Then cooking is just beating protein and veggies into submission under your sauces and above your grains.

Don’t try and make ~dishes~. I call this “Zelda cooking.” You need something that you enjoy eating and gives you the nutrients you need to function. Prep vegetables and proteins you like and dump them into a sauce you also like. Add some polenta or bread or rice or couscous or any other grain to soak up the sauce and make it filling and satisfying. 9 times out of 10 it’s gonna work. The only decision you need to make is the flavor profile of the sauce.

Buy the precut vegetables. I know. It feels wasteful. So much plastic. But I promise you it’s way more wasteful to throw out half your groceries and order Uber eats 5 days in a row because you never managed to chop an onion. It’s okay. Precut/frozen vegetables and canned ingredients and prepared food items are going to be your lifeline. I can turn a rotisserie chicken and plastic tub of mirepoix (pre chopped onions, celery and carrots) into a delectable soup with just things in my pantry at this very moment.

Same as above but line the pan with foil. Save yourself a dish.

Add at least one vegetable to everything you cook. This might be controversial but you need fiber. And all sorts of other vitamins and minerals that things like kale and carrots and sweet potatoes have. My go to is canned chickpeas. A jar of marinara plus some canned chickpeas and kale is suddenly a hearty and filling topping for pasta that’s gonna satisfy me way more than just the pasta and sauce. And all I had to do was dump a can and a bag into the pot. That’s not a dish that really exists or has a recipe but it’s Sauce Based and I eat it a lot.

Keep some fortified cereal (most cereal is fortified by default) and trail mix on hand. Sometimes I get in a funk and order a lot of takeout or just eat a lot of carbs and not much else and then get woozy because I’m a little dumb and don’t eat a lot of animal products so all my Nutrients are low and that makes cooking harder. Fortified cereal and trail mix together will have most of the stuff you need to get rid of the lightheaded wooziness (iron and b12 and fats and sugar) in a dense little package that’s easy to munch on while cooking.

Finally, I know online recipes and Pinterest are great and wonderful but get proper cookbooks whenever you can. The first reason is that even with AdBlocker online recipes are a minefield and can be distracting and frustrating and overwhelming which are all things you don’t want when knives and hot pans are around. The second is that you will learn so much about cooking from a proper cookbook and the better you are at cooking the easier and faster it goes. ThriftBooks has plenty as will your local library or even older relatives. Ones like “Cook What You Have” by Christopher Kimball and “The New York Times Cooking No-Recipe Recipes” book and the classic “The Art of Simple Food” by Alice Waters are great.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

fuck why did you remind me about the Dom Jeans™️. everything i've learned about that series has been against my will

(not true, I've listened to plot summaries, but somehow everything I remember feels like a fresh horror)

Off topic whats your favorite thing to make for dinner? I'm out of ideas

I call em like I see em!!!

Hmm, my out-of-ideas/depression meal is a rice bowl with spicy chicken (i use whatever i have, leftover rotisserie chicken, grilled strips, patties, whatever i just make sure that when I'm rehearing it for the bowl to add chili oil), a fried egg, and either broccoli or peas (in the bowl or on the side to your preference). My other minimal work dinner is unassembled cheese board with crackers, cheese, grapes/apple, pepperoni/salami, and maybe some olives right out of the jar if I've got them

[mortalmab]

ok I NEED to know. how did the first chicken dinner happen? what compelled you two to do that

For health reasons I was on a super restrictive diet (the GAPS protocol) and was feeling really depressed about food. I don’t remember whose actual idea it was but it seemed fun and I needed that. I was visiting her in our old college town and this was how she could support me in the short time we had together. The first chicken dinner was actually indoors with some trash bags spread on the ground, which is how we know now we have to do this outside. That chicken was boiled instead of cooked rotisserie and I don’t know if it was the company, the anticipation, the method of eating, or the fact that I really needed a pick-me-up, but it was the best chicken I have ever eaten.

[talkfastromance4]

Dear Hailey, first of all, thank u for the opportunity and cool idea of blurbs again! Can I request 18. Christmas dinner with Ashton?

Aw you’re welcome! I hope you like my little twist on this one!😊

You got sick the week before Christms canceling your plans of visiting your family. It was a horrible flu and your fever didn’t break until the day before Christmas Eve but you were still feeling fatigued and lousy. Ashton never left your side and took care of you through it all.

You tried to urge him to still go to the Christmas party at Andy and Sarah’s on Christmas Eve but he wouldn’t leave you even though you slept all day

During your sickness-nap on Christmas day, he ran to the store to pick up all of your favorite comfort foods for when you are sick. He got chicken noodle soup, jell-o, rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes, ice cream and popsicles. You were still fast asleep in bed when he came home so he got to work on making a spread in the living room.

When you awoke, you shuffled into the living room just as he’s finished fluffing up pillows and blankets on the couch gazing at all the food on the coffee table.

“What’s this?” you ask clearing your throat.

“Our Christmas dinner,” he grins holding out his hand presenting it to you. “And your throne of pillows and blankets.”

You spend the whole day eating and sleeping on and off watching holiday movies. By the time it’s dusk, Ashton gives you your presents and it’s of course everything on your wish list.

“I didn’t have time to wrap yours,” you tell him sadly.

“You can give them to me when you’re feeling better,” he kisses your temple then pulls you close to continue watching the marathon of claymation movies.

Ashton ended up getting sick on New Year’s Eve so you did exactly what he did and bought all of his favorite comfort foods. You took care of him and kissed his warm cheek as the ball dropped on your tv screen. He’s been asleep since nine but he didn’t want to leave you on the couch by yourself as the new year rang in.

“Happy New Year’s, baby,” you whisper.

His eyes flutter open, they’re red and watery.

“Happy New Year,” he mumbles.

“Let’s get to bed.”

With some coaxing, he forced himself off the couch and leaned on you towards the bedroom. Once he was feeling much better he took you out to your favorite fancy restaurant complete with a fake champagne cheers of the New Year.

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower​ @mymindwide​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @celestialams @in-a-world-of-fandoms @blairscott

[apcthetics]

closed starter for DILAN ( @cherrywcves ) location : shithead apartment baybee

*˖ ⊹ ────────  "  okay,  "  nestled  in  among  bags  of  groceries  that  haven't  yet  been  put  away,  kas  scribbles  something  along  the  bottom  of  the  paper  he's  hunched  over.  the  edges  of  the  scrap  paper  he  pulled  off  the  fridge  are  smeared  with  charcoal  fingerprints,  a  testament  to  the  casual  energy  of  the  sketch.  sitting  up  and  admiring  his  comedic  genius  for  a  second,  he  snatches  one  of  the  forks  poking  out  of  the  partially  mutilated  rotisserie  chicken  sitting  on  the  cold  kitchen  tiles  between  them,  holding  up  the  paper  for  dilan's  viewing  pleasure.

kas  didn't  really  expect  the  11pm  rotisserie  chicken  to  be  such  a  good  idea,  but  here  he  was,  peeling  away  a  piece  of  it  to  pop  into  his  mouth,  any  other  evening  plans  of  actually  getting  work  or  laundry  done  abandoned  for  what  dilan  called  '  girl  dinner.  '

"  what  do  you  think  ?  "  in  the  form  of  a  wanted  poster  he's  done  a  half-hearted  sketch  of  his  roommate,  mug-shot  style,  surrounded  by  a  border.  along  the  bottom  in  his  terrible  handwriting  reads  '  beware:  little  corn  shucking  freak.  '  clearly  pleased  with  his  work,  he  chews  triumphantly.

"  i  thought  we  could  put  it  up  on  the  front  door,  "  he  suggests,  raising  an  eyebrow,  "  you  know,  like  how  people  have  those  beware  of  dog  signs  on  their  fences  ?  let everybody know what they're getting into. "  

[chimielie]

25 and 27 :)

ask game here

25. my perfect date

dinner at my favorite restaurant (gorgeous garden dining area with a glass dome so you can see the sky; chocolate bonbons served over dry ice for dessert) followed by sitting and talking and dancing under the stars :)

27. a description of the girl/boy i like

i wrote so much i'm embarrassed so it's under a readmore. proceed at ur own risk

he has light brown hair and freckles and a really cute bumpy nose. he likes vests a lot and objectively i think they're ugly but whenever he shows me a new one i want to jump him and smother him with kisses. he has one crooked tooth and an orange peel smile (the way some people compare oranges to sunlight?). his skin is really clear which is very annoying. sometimes he wears glasses that are really hot and when we go to the beach he has to wear sunglasses because he has blue eyes. he's really good at braiding because he has a sister who's like ten years younger than him. he's a little taller than me but i don't usually have to tiptoe to kiss him. he wears a lot of tank tops and he has really nice shoulders and back... he loves the muppets? his perfect date is going to a flower shop, cafe, and then the beach and singing 70s rock in the car on the way home. he bakes beautiful cakes but can't cook for shit. he has a shrine of love letters/gifts/mementos from dates i’ve given him in his room. he gets nauseous at the idea of me being unhappy. he sleeps really deeply which is good because i turn like a rotisserie chicken (he's the little spoon btw). he's a dog person who wants to work in wildlife rehabilitation. and most importantly, he's rich,

[swordbisexual]

3! 6! 9! 20! 22! 24!

Thank you for this, you're perfect.

Fic Writer Asks

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

I turn a particular scene or idea over in my mind like a rotisserie chicken until I'm able to sit down at a keyboard (or sometimes a notebook, when I'm really stuck, because that fires up different synapses and makes things happen like nine times out of ten) and carve it all up and lay it out there as an attractive centerpiece to a dinner. Or something. I lost the metaphor there.

6. Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

Technically I get beta'd in snippets as I go by the inimitable @catnapunicorn, who also gets to listen to me yell about the chicken before it's off the rotisserie. It's important because I like validation, but also I need her to gently bully me into not overthinking things sometimes.

9. Do you comment on stories you read?

Not as much as I should. I know. It's bad. I need to fix it.

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

I like to start sentences with conjunctions a lot. My approach to punctuation is "who's afraid of a semicolon?" (This is a Virginia Woolf joke.) I tend to go for romance that mingles religious levels of devotion with sexual desire. (Surprise surprise, how I ended up here compelled by Gale of goddamn Waterdeep.)

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

I won't do second person or reader insert, and generally stay away from first person at this point. I struggle with writing any sort of action scenes and so tend to leave them out, whoops. Otherwise I'm always trying to challenge myself, but there's sure to be more stuff that I just haven't done and likely won't do.

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

If I'd paid more than passing attention to the critique I got from the MFA cohort I pretended to be part of for a semester, I'd be able to tell you.

[jow99]

Life in L’Escala

Jose is back on the Executive Committee for our apartment in Narrabeen, so Friday morning he had a Teams meeting. After that we headed out to do some errands and grocery shopping.

We’re currently getting highs of about 30 degrees, so quite nice weather. We had a bbq lunch on the balcony enjoying the beautiful weather. The rest of the afternoon was pretty relaxed doing a few bits and pieces.

Around 6pm we went out for a walk, a bit of shopping and a drink before returning home for nibbles and dinner on the balcony. Tonight we were entertained by an end of school year concert just around from us (see photos). We enjoyed the music but the kids dancing was pretty lacklustre. I was dancing with much more enthusiasm on the balcony. It was a pretty stellar setting for a school concert.

Saturday we set off for our respective rides. I had planned a loop I’ve done once before and had forgotten exactly how lumpy it was 😗 Nevertheless it was a lovely morning and the scenery was stunning.

A bit over half way through I had a lovely surprise when Jose came cycling towards me. His usual group had gone earlier so he was with a slower group and decided therefore he may as well ride with me 😂 It was a nice ride and as it turned out the wind picked up so it was good to tuck in behind Jose.

We enjoyed a gluten free shandy back in L’Escala before picking up our half rotisserie chicken for lunch 😋

Saturday afternoon we went for a wander to the beach as there was “shopping on the beach”. Nice idea but nothing that appealed to us.

From there we headed up to Marjolein’s place to pick up our mountain bikes. We stayed and chatted for a while before heading home. It’s been quite a warm day so we headed down to the beach for a swim. The water was cold as you entered but actually quite nice. When the clouds came over we packed up and went for a drink before picking up a few bits and pieces at Spar and heading home for the evening.

Another mild night spent out on the balcony ❤️

[pbandjesse]

It was a pretty solid day off at home. I had moments of weird exhaustion. But overall I felt good and happy.

My hair was kind of crazy when I woke up. Even though I go to sleep with my hair up in scrunchies, I sleep like a rotisserie chicken and so they come out and my hair is crazy. And when James left for work I was very mopey and uncomfortable. James put all the blankets on me and I was able to fall asleep.

I woke up at 930. I wasn't thrilled but I laid there for a while. Eventually getting myself to start moving. I pulled everything off the bed so the sun could be on it for a bit. I got dressed in comfy clothes. I braided my crazy hair. I wasn't going to do my makeup but I thought it would make me feel more productive. Which it did. And I would had some cereal before I started cleaning.

I did some vacuuming. I shook out the rugs on the fire escape. I put some stuff away. I made some outfits. I cleaned the fish tank a bit. I put the dishes in the dishwasher. I was pretty productive all things considered. The considerations being I was tired. But I was doing good.

I would move to the bed to work on some knitting. I kept looking at the clock telling myself what I will be doing tomorrow. Because I am nervous about my first class with the autism society. Mostly because I have to disarm the building!! But I also don't want to end up wasting my morning in waiting mode. So I was really pleased with how much I accomplished before noon. Which is about when I will leave the house tomorrow.

I would spend some time making art. Watching videos. I made a few bears today and I'm really excited how much I am improving. Like I am making more details and just really having fun with it. Jess shared some ideas with me. As did James. And eventually even my mom. It was a good day.

I got a little tired. I texted James asking about having pizza for dinner. And then just laid and rested for a while. Eventually grabbing my tablet again and drawing some more. It really is nice to have something solid to work on.

I do want to make more resin bears. But I am sure all my itchy spots and redness are contact dermititis from getting resin on myself. So I'm taking a break. I also want to work on sewing some new guys but I have so much back stock it's not super necessary right now so I just haven't been interested. Specifically in cutting fabric. But it's fine. I am glad I have this other thing to work on.

James would come home and they were very sweaty. That's really how you know the seasons are changing. And after an hour or so they would head back out to get us pizza and fries.

While they were gone I chilled in the couch. Hung out with Sweetp. And once James was back we had dinner and I felt very very tired.

But even though I was dizzy tired I did not nap. I laid in bed for a while. Eventually I took a shower. I washed my hair. It made me feel nice.

And James decided we would watch a documentary together. One of the defunctland ones. And it was great. I did so much knitting. And once that was done we watched a sports documentary about the lack of people named Bob in sports. Apparently there are only 10 left? Crazy.

Mom asked me to draw a bear of her so I worked on that and it was very fun. And now our doc is over. And my hair is mostly dry. And I am ready to sleep.

Tomorrow I hope to have a chill morning. And then I have 3ish hours of work. I'm nervous!!! It's going to be great but it is nerve wracking because it's new. I hope it's a good day. Wish me luck everyone!! Goodnight!!