#terry's big cleaning day

[songofwizardry]

they should invent a roomba that cleans whiteboards

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: I'm feral for this man and this song + struggling w my writing format ( im new to this omg )

JADED | AARON PIERRE.

Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.

warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( finger!ng), extreme language (cursing, use of n-word, use of b-word), talking you through it. lil bit of exhibitionism if you squint, mild daddy k!nk.

summary: in which you decide to end the toxic situation-ship you share with Terry— except this man only know how to suck you back in.

tell me that we locked in, locked in, look in my eyes.

tell me that you mine and we ain't just fuckin, ain't just vibin.

Why were you nervous? It wasn't like you'd never been in the very same GMC pickup before—oh you'd been in here plenty times, plenty times. Your eyes flickered to whatever they could, other than him.

The backseat.

The same backseat you'd been folded. flipped, and fucked out on. It was clean now, he'd definitely had some detailing done, the remnants of how he made you squirt only two weeks earlier had vanished, once etched into the seat itself.

And why were you sad about that?

You averted your eyes away from the backseat, firmly turning straight forward in the passenger seat, teeth nervously gnawing at the skin in your jaw. It was way too silent and tense in the truck. Way too silent. "Hi..” you sheepishly muttered, tucking a stray curl from your wash and go behind your ear, eyes darting around the parking lot of your apartment complex. The parking lot was the safest option for you, you knew how incredibly intoxicating Terry was, which meant the more space from your bedroom, the better.

Out of your peripheral, you could see Terry's face contorted into a twisted mix of confusion anger. His brows furrowed together, a mug presenting itself on his face. "What the fuck?" He spat. "Wassup?" He asked, his tone more accusatory than anything.

Where the fuck did he get off acting hurt and confused? That was supposed to be your stance in this whole thing, hurt and confused. And most of the time it was. But tonight, it was a nice change of pace, the hurt and confusion lingered on Terry instead—in which you could finally take on the nonchalant and curt demeanor. It felt so good too. So good to finally not be the one with the lump in their throat, eyes burning from blinking back tears. This felt, good.

"Nothin', just chillin," you simply responded, playing with the smartphone in your lap, acrylic nails tapping at the casing.

"Fuck you mean just chillin?" He asked his brows furrowed as he tried to catch your darting eyes. "You ain't been seein' me text you?"

"Yeah?" You responded slowly in a questioning tone, as you focused on the ASICS on your feet. "Been busy lately."

You seen Terry texts. Shit, the past couple of days he'd been the one blowing you up. It started the other night when he rung your bell and you didn't answer, you knew it was him, and he knew you were home. Lights still on and bright in the kitchen.

Private Ryan: Just rung the bell

Private Ryan: Come out.

Private Ryan: I'm sorry for the way I acted the other night. I ain't handle that situation like a man. Lemme make it up to u

It was so hard ignoring Terry, he made it hard. He didn't text or call often, he wasn't hardcore into his phone like the rest of the generation, maybe the marines played a part in that? Hell, he made sure to stay active in an effort not to get addicted to his cellular device—that's why when he texted it was a big deal.

But no way this nigga thought that you'd be at his every beck and call when he couldn't even solidify a title between the two of you? Casual sex and jealousy gets old—especially when it isn't under the terms of a relationship.

It was fun at first, linking up and sneaking off. Getting folded like a lawn chair when you least expected it, but there was something about Terry that brung the strings to a no-strings-attached situation. You started craving him, wanting him, and you made that very clear, but Terry made his intentions crystal clear from the beginning. How could you fault him for not wanting what you want? But how he could he also fault you for the change in your attitude?

"Busy?" He repeated the word like it disgusted him. His burning gaze tore through you, you could feel the heat radiating from his glare. Terry let out a heavy breath, gently tapping his fist against the staring wheel as he finally averted his gaze to the windshield. Thank Q!

But as he tore his gaze away from you, you centered yours on him. And why the fuck would you go and do that? Knowing how gorgeous he was, especially when he was pissed off? Clenching and unclenching his jaw. He had some nerve coming over here with a fresh cut. Everything so lined up and sexy—

"I came over here, a few days ago," he sternly spoke, the rough edge to his voice only setting off the throbbing in your pussy, "and you know that 'cause you was home, lights on and shit, I'm textin' you and you reading the shit in real time. What the fuck?" He repeated the three words once again. His voice growing rougher by the second.

"Two weeks ago, I'm fillin' you up and today you actin' cold as hell? Fuck is goin on?"

And why did he keep saying all the wrong shit? Filling you up was an understatement, he was stuffing you to the brim quite literally, to the point where he had bottomed out and was still tryna give you more. Filling you up, ha.

"I can't do this anymore, Terry," the words came out of your mouth abruptly, almost like you could trust yourself to say them. Terry sat there unwavering, he didn't speak, he didn't move. This only prompted you to continue. "It's too much, we both want...different things. And I'm tired of feeling like I'm overextending myself to you, being too available for you. I can't do...whatever this is anymore."

"Pea..”

"Don't do that," you firmly responded. The direct eye contact didn't seem to deter you this time. There he went. Playing those mind games. Calling you that nickname. Pea. A shorter version of the popular nickname your grandfather frequently referred to you as, sweet pea.

Terry kissed his teeth. Oh he thought he knew what was up. It'd became clear as a day. "You fuckin' somebody else." The words came out soft, quiet almost as if there had been a realization.

You let out a heavy sigh, your eyes rolling at the comment, " I'm not having sex with anyone, Terry." You spoke truthfully. As if you could. He made that hard enough, he stuffed you perfectly. He knew how to find that spot inside of you so easily, almost like he vacationed there in his spare time. He knew exactly what made your eyes roll back, what made that squeal in the back of your throat come barreling out, he knew your body too well to let anyone else come and have a gander.

"But I am dating," you said more quietly than you anticipated. Maybe it's because the recent dates haven't been anything to brag about. Not that your online dating profile and messages to your homegirl hadn't been highly specific, you've been attracting the same types. Baby daddies and men way too old to still be trying to just hook up. "And I know what I want, and it's not this...anymore. I wanna be able to climb in bed with a man and wake up beside him too, and not worry about him being hot or cold, or when I'll see him again," yuck. Why did you feel that damn lump in your throat again?

"I'm so tired of feeling disposable." You finalized. Flashing your watery eyes to the window adjacent to you. You weren't gonna cry in front of him. Shit, you weren't that tender. But all your feelings hitting you at once in this situation made you more emotional than you gambled for. You knew the nonchalant facade would only last so long on you. Terry was trained in that shit. He had a poker face like no other.

Terry didn't deter his gaze from you, his gorgeous eyes soft and lingering. "I don't try to make you feel disposable, Pea."

"Yeah, well, you don't have to try. You just do." You mumbled quietly. "That's why I don't wanna do this shit anymore."

Terry kept his eyes on you, reaching his large hand out to grasp your smaller one at a failed attempt at interlacing your fingers when you snatched away.

"Stop, Terry!" You frowned folding your arms. "I'm serious. No more calling, and texting, and popping up at my place."

He barely acknowledged you, kissing his teeth and leaning over the center console to rub his hand across your tummy, gripping your sides. "Why you actin' like that? Like you don't miss daddy?" He mumbled softly, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

This man didn't give up. Your restraint was at zero, and just like that you were putty.

You shook your head, arms still crossed as you let out a small whimper in which you claimed to be a protest. Eyes lowering at his wandering hands. "Hm, you don't miss daddy?" He asked in response, his hand sliding back over your tummy, fingers fondling with the button on your shorts.

This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, that was the whole point of the parking lot. Far away from a bed. But you should've known that you didn't need a bed with Terry.

And yet, just like a dumb bitch you shook your head once again. Playing into his sick little game.

He trailed his soft, teasing lips down your cheek until he reached your neck, leaving a searing trail behind on the skin there. You sucked your bottom lip in, a solid attempt at trying to keep whatever moans he was pulling out of you at bay. You couldn't betray yourself even more than you had already done. You came down here to end things, and instead you were about to get folded in half once again. The circle of life if you will.

"You don't miss me? So why you lettin' me take these off you right now?" He asked. Oh he was soo condescending. He tugged on the bottom of your shorts, and look at you, lifting up to help him earning a chuckle. You were so easy. "Nipples been hard ever since I touched you," he mumbled in between kisses to your neck, his hand busying itself up to your breast while your shorts slid down your legs, rubbing your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top.

You suck in a sharp breath. Your body was on fire. You felt like you were on fire. Every kiss made you hotter, and the way he was touching you had your pussy fluttering. You had to be ovulating, this shit wasn't normal.

"That pussy so wet, I know it," he spoke, his voice lower, lips sucking on the thin flesh on the side of your neck, hand roughly parting your thighs earning another isolated whimper from you. His hand rubbing the inside of your thighs, leaving a lingering tingle behind. He was such a fucking tease sometimes.

He kissed his way back to your cheek, all the while his hands left soft slaps, and grips to your inner thigh. Your eyes fluttered closed at his constant teasing, breathing uneven as hell. You felt like you were swelling with need.

"Look at you, baby," he hummed against your ear, "you a horny fuckin' mess," he tsk'd in your ear, fingers dancing over to your pussy. Fingers lazing dancing over your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. A shaky breath slipped past your lips a soft drawn out moan following. Hell, the betrayal was already done.

"Niggas not treatin' my bitch right, huh?" He rhetorically asked referring to your dates, his own eyes focusing on the lazy dance his fingers were doing on your barely exposed pussy, until he quickly got bored and used those same fingers to move the fabric aside. "Can't be, otherwise you wouldn't be this fuckin' turned on right now." He answered his own questions, fingers immediately doing slow, hypnotizing circles on your clit.

"Fuhhh," you moaned out in response, arms immediately parting so that you could grip onto the sides of your seat for a sense of stability.

"Mhm," he hummed in response, "pussy wet just like I thought," he mumbled dragging his pointer and middle finger up and down your pussy a few times before slowly slipping the both of them in your heated core at once earning a choked out moan from you. You fit around his fingers so perfectly, almost as if he'd molded your pussy to do so.

His brows furrowed as his fingers searched inside of her, knuckle deep, "fuck," he cursed, "look how you suckin' my fingers in you like that. You missed daddy, this fuckin' pussy missed me."

It wasn't like you could respond at all, he was literally pulling your moans out of you with his fingers. His free hand had busied itself with pulling up your tank top and exposing your braless titties.

"Look how you came out here," he kissed his teeth, fingers massaging your slippery insides, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching on his fingers filled the pickup truck, his other fingers pulling and tugging on your hardened nipples, squeezing softly before quickly pulling away. "Barely fuckin' dressed, you wanted this. You wanted daddy to get you right, huh?"

"Talkin' about' dates, you don't want them fuckin' clowns," he hummed peppering soft kisses on your cheek, his fingers attacking that delicious spot inside of you. "You just want daddy to flood that pussy again? Make you his bitch?"

"Oouu shit, daddy!" You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut as your head lazily fell against his shoulder. Him humming in agreement to your moans followed by a cocky chuckle. "Right there, right there!" You rushed out. Your resolve had slipped away a long time ago.

"Where baby?" He cooed,his tone condescending. "Right here?" He asked his fingers never deterring from the spot, instead he pushed them deeper, faster.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his fingers continued to work inside of you, he whispered other obscenities to you as he finger fucked you good. Deliciously good. So good that you couldn't decipher or comprehend anything he'd been saying. The sound of your pussy around his fingers was sending you to another bliss you didn't know you could reach.

"Listen to how messy that pussy sound on my fingers, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your face firmly, tilting your head up from his shoulder so that he could watch your facial expressions closely. He smiled as he watched you; eyes squeezed shut, lips forming into that familiar frown he knew so well, a long whine following suit.

"Yeah, that pussy wanna cum for daddy don't she?" He asked placing a sloppy kiss on your parted lips.

"Oh my god," you whined your brows furrowing as you opened your watery eyes to Terry looking down right at you.

"Yeah, she do," he mumbled nodding his eyes focusing in on the assault his fingers were doing to your pussy before slipping them out slowly, rubbing the stickiness he accumulated on his fingers onto your clit in slow, agonizing circles earning a whine from you. "You better not fuckin' cum though," he mumbled quietly to you, hand softly tapping against your cheek.

"Don't..cum?" You slurred through a moan for confirmation. You could barely comprehend what he was saying, you were so deliciously close. So close.

"Don't cum," he slapped his finger against your pussy lightly, the wet plaps almost enough to send you over the edge. Only almost though. "Get in the backseat, I wanna get in that pussy." He spoke hand slapping down on your sensitive pussy once again, sending trembles to your already weakened legs.

—

cheers to my first fanfic on here lolz! feedback and criticism always welcome 💗💕 hope you enjoyed xx!

[taegimood]

berrie and i were slobbering over this thought yesterday after tyun’s part in the new txt log video, but he really got me acting up rn cuz tell me why i’m so desperate for sleepy lazy hotel sex with taehyun, both of you so jet lagged but you’re sat rolling your hips over his nonetheless as he’s laid out on the big hotel bed, his hips lazily coming up to meet yours and eyes closing in sleepy contentment as you slowly grind down on him, gripping his soft brown sweater in your hands as you bite back soft sleepy moans. a couple minutes later and his own movements have slowly come to a stop; the vibe is so relaxed and the two of you are so wiped out that you can’t even be mad when you look back down and realize that this bitch actually fell asleep 😭

you roll your eyes but have to stop yourself from giggling, and with a sigh you decide to settle yourself down on top of your sleeping boyfriend’s warm chest, his cock still nestled inside you as you drift off into a nap of your own, distantly feeling his arms circle around you even in his sleep to hold you close.

you have no clue how much time has passed, however, when something between a gasp and a moan is ripped out of you as you’re suddenly woken up by the feeling of taehyun’s hips firmly thrusting up into yours, strong arms circled around your back to hold you in place, your pussy clenching hard at the unexpected stimulation as your boyfriend practically knocks the wind out of you - “t-tyun-!”

“didn’t mean to fall asleep.. makin it up to you, baby.” the huskiness of his sleep-laden voice sends shivers through you as you bury your face in his neck with a stuttered whimper, letting him do the work as he fucks up into you, the sound of your hips connecting over and over filling his hotel room as his pace quickens and he grips you tighter.

the angle of his cock is so delicious that you don’t even have time to give a warning as you cum around him — you bite down onto his shoulder with a high-pitched moan as you tremble on top of him, and the sting of your teeth is enough to bring him over the edge as well as he groans, pressing your hips down firmly on his cock as he releases inside of you.

he’s breathing heavily as his limbs flop back down onto the mattress, eyes shutting as he catches his breath.

you take a moment yourself before you sit up slowly and lift off of him with a sensitive wince; he peers up at you through half-lidded eyes as you grab some tissues from the nightstand to quickly catch his cum that drips down your thighs.

his warm palm on your leg brings your attention back to his handsome face. “what’re you doin?”

you raise a brow in confusion. “cleaning up? you said you had to go to the gym after you napped a bit, babe.”

but you squeak in surprise as you’re suddenly rolled over onto your back, staring up at taehyun as he swiftly discards the sweater from his muscled torso and leans down to hover over you, tapioca eyes sparkling as he smirks - “no need. my workout is right here.”

thus nobody sees or hears from either of you for the rest of the day; your gym rat boyfriend has lots of stamina to burn, and a nice big hotel bed to work with. 😛

not pictured: hyuka standing in the hotel gym like��🏻waiting for no-show terry

also not pictured: his failed attempt to convince soobin to join him instead

[ninoochat]

did mickey knew ian was gay before they hooked up? *cracks knuckles* alright sit down let's unpack this shit because yesterday for dinner ive had 4 snickers and im still not down from that sugar high. shutup

in 1x6 he's waiting outside kash and grab to beat up ian. why is he nervous? he beat up lip a few days ago, he beats up dudes on the regular. s1 ian isnt exactly intimidating (sorry ian). is he wary of linda because she has more balls than her husband? sure but he wouldn't be smoking and biting his nails. as a former smoker and nail biter, you don't usually do both unless you’re S T R E S S E D. he’s there alone this time. why did he call off his cousins? maybe stalking the store so much made him notice what was going on with kash *spits on the ground*. maybe he overheard when ian told mandy he was gay right outside their house in 1x3. i don't think mandy told him but she could have.

so back to 1x6. mickey cleans up (a little) and goes to the store to provoke ian. "i forgot the dip" no you didnt, you just needed an excuse to go back in because ian showed up. ian says to kash *burns sage to cleanse myself* "what, so you're just going to let him keep coming in here, and take what he wants?" uh oh actually, yes he will! oops getting sidetracked. mickey tells him "you know where i live if you have a problem". *gestures vaguely* if not gay then why everything? to me, this is textbook boy at school pulling on pigtails and running because he has a big crush. and i mean how many opportunities are there for a closeted gay kid in this neighborhood? ian is cute as a button, he's probably checked him out. "where's firecrotch?!" sir have you put much thoughts into that part of his anatomy? we know he likes redheads...

fast forward to 1x7, that scene (changed my life tbh). mickey's probably loving how fearless ian is. there's only so much grunting and physical contact he can take before he folds (ask ancient romans). he's about 16 in season 1, he's probably climbing up the walls horny and ian gave him the look™ (ian u big hoe) and yet i firmly believe he would have never made a move if he didn't know. hell no, no way! and risk having ian yell something with terry in the next room? with how terrified he is about his father?

what do you think? did he know or did he just went for it?

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie's entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost by @yournowheregirl | AO3)

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

[simplyzeeka]

Episode 1. Season 1 (Pilot)

The Big Bang

Come follow me to luxury

Gold on the floors

And all over me

Warnings: MDNI!! Profanity, mentions of violence, adult themes, use of the n-word, use of the b-word, themes of infidelity

Summary: Not every princess lived in a castle. Terry learns this when he meets what he considers a celestial being in the dirtiest of places. Too enamored, he forgets about all his spoken promises to another.

"AND ACTION" 🎬

There's always a comfort that comes with having options, especially if every option benefits you. It didn't matter how miniscule the situation may be, having options just made it all the better.

A man like Terry was one that believed options to be a luxury. He wished he had that luxury when life struck a butcher knife to his heart and ordered him to walk like it didn't hurt. Maybe then, if he had options, he would've picked a butter knife instead. And maybe then, he wouldn't have needed to experience hell or high waters.

So it's understandable that he felt a tinge of discomfort when that luxury was taken away from him, maybe a little irritated. Here he stood, with two of his friends (dumb friends, might he add), first in line to enter what he would describe as the dingiest strip clubs he has ever seen, not that he’s seen many. Now, Terry has been in worse predicaments than this, he's been in places that looked way more… unsightly than this.

It was just the subtle air, a foreboding feeling that washes over him as he looked at the club doors, that made him think that he could have spent his bachelor party at home instead, by himself. Nothing appealing came from watching strippers dancing anyway… for him at least.

“So you tellin’ me you couldn't have picked a less shady place? Looks like it's bout to rain bullets here.”

Or maybe he was just paranoid. Three years of therapy could only do as much as you let it, and Terrence Richmond? Well, he didn't let it do much for him.

“I just wanna see some ass shake man, all them fancy strip clubs have the bitches with no ass. They not even pretty in the face.” Rome exaggerated, chewing the gun in his mouth so loudly, Terry had the right mind to knock him out.

“Nigga, you dense as fuck. This that shit that got you that STD.” Yosohn shook his head as he schooled Rome, not that Rome was open to listening.

Terry met Rome and Yosohn a year after moving to Georgia. Rome being the big mouth he was, got a little mouthy with Terry and almost got knocked out clean. Yosohn spoke on behalf of his friend, then weirdly, they became friends. Although they weren't the type of company he would normally surround himself with, they were great distractions when life didn't seem worth living. Them and his fiancé.

“Man, I ain't ever telling you shit. This why Ronda left yo ass. Let's get inside before I crash out on you, blowing my high.”

Yeah, amazing distractions.

It smelled better than expected really. While Terry expected a cacosmic mixture of perfumes, sweat and vomit. It smelled like sweet cherry liquor, only a little bit of sweat and it seemed every woman here used the same perfume because it smelled all the same to him.

The interior of the club was very… busy. Not a shocking resolution, it was a strip club. Just a little uncomfortable, the three men had to bump, push and wedge between drunk bodies to get to the small booth Rome booked.

“Man, look at all this. Tell me you don't want that Terry.” Rome tilted his head downwards as one girl, seemingly a dancer, walked past him. Terry just gives Rome a blank look, “You don't ever get tired of talkin’?”

Yosohn's shoulders shook, head thrown downwards. Rome was clearly the most talkative out of all three, and while Yosohn matched his energy sometimes, it got a little unbearable at times. But what made him laugh was how he shut up as Terry spoke to him, until this day, Rome doesn't dare cross a line with the large man.

“Fuck you laughin’ at? Bald-headed motherfucker. Yo beard patchy as fuck, go take some Minoxidil.” Terry couldn't help but laugh at that. Their banter is always something worth watching.

Raunchy music dripped from the speakers as dancers performed praise-worthy tricks on the poles at the main stage. With hands digging deep into his pockets, he bopped his head to the catchy beat of the music. Not his usual taste, but anything was better than standing there looking awkward.

Rome had long disappeared, Terry wasn't sure if it was the bar he went to, or perhaps he followed behind a dancer. “Let's get you a drink man, can't even act like you enjoying yourself.” Yosohn shook his head at how sad the man looked. “It's cause I'm not.” Terry retorted with a small chuckle, the first he's given since being away from his fiancé.

Alas after a few drinks, Terry has let a little loose. His teeth were on display more, his shoulders slack and his hands out of his pockets.

There were a few girls in the booth with them, Terry didn't care to entertain either of them though. Courtesy of the club, they sent them a bottle with knowledge of the occasion, and of course, that was thanks to Rome.

The DJ kept announcing the arrival of dancers on stage for solo performances. All which had patrons screaming and throwing money on the stage, painting it green with Benjamins. Clearly this was a generous crowd.

It wasn't until the music changed into something slow and sensual that his attention perked towards the stage. The lights have changed to warm,dim, orange, then queued the DJ. “Aight, y'all already know what time it is. Let's get into some slow seduction with one of your favourites… Indigo.”

Except this time the crowd was quiet. Not a single scream, just sublime silence. “Yo, what's this wack ass shit? We don't wanna hear this slow shit.” Silence that Rome had no problem breaking.

Terry couldn't help but internally agree, because this was a strip club. There was a specific aesthetic that strip clubs had, and slow wasn't one of them. The crowd wasn't silent in boredom though, they were attentive, staring directly at the stage. He notices how not a single phone was out, just wide eyes and anticipating smiles.

He wondered why until he registered the soft melody of Victoria Monét's “Big Boss” playing through the speakers, and there was Indigo.

A hand on the pole as she walked around it, before climbing up. A gold set was on her, glitter stuck to her skin. Just as the song recited. She resonated a bright star as she twirled on the pole with skill.

Her black tresses flowed around her in controlled movements. Her movements weren't as sharp, quick or as ‘sexy’ as the other dancers. Her movements were smooth, sensual and hypnotising. She didn't let the pole control her, instead the pole gave her every command and she obliged willingly.

Indigo wasn't dancing to seduce. She danced to engage, to captivate. She captured more than just her audience's eyes, she captured their hearts and their minds. She commanded everyone to silence. The small smile on her face as she danced made her all the more ethereal, there was no way on this damned earth that a beauty like that existed. Not when mundane people like himself existed. Was it possible to co-exist with such an entity? That much was unbeknownst to Terry.

She had taken so much of his attention, that he did not notice when her set was over. The party was back up again once everyone regained their composure, everyone except him because his friends had to shake him out of his trance.

“Yo Terry, you good bro? This nigga gone.” Yosohn laughed at Terry, but truthfully, he understood him. Indigo was a beauty yet to be reckoned with. It took him a while to shake out of it after watching the dancer perform.

“Now that's the kind of hoe you turn into a housewife.” Rome comments, still glancing at where Indigo had exited the stage.

“Aye Rome, Terry gone bruh.” Yosohn doubled over as he took a short video of Terry. Rome reached over and slightly smacked the big man out of it. And immediately, old Terry was back to mugging and grunting.

“Don't get fucked up.” He muttered to Rome, before glancing back to the stage again. “Oh hell no, bring her back on stage. Big ass attitude. I hope Amber cheating on yo ass.”

A drunk Yosohn was sliding off the sofa in laughter. Terry smacks his teeth before taking a sip of his whiskey. His mind was racing, eyes twitching as his leg began bouncing. He needed another fix of seeing Indigo and suddenly he understood the crowd, the silence. The need to capture that moment in its entirety, because Terry thought it was short… too short. *She just got on stage.*

“Who was that?” He asked, nobody in particular, as long as he would get an answer, he didn't care who it came from. “That's Indigo, she been dancing here for a couple years. Pretty as fuck, as you see. I think her-” Yosohn answers before Rome interrupts. “And greedy as fuck too, you forgot to add that.” Yosohn rolls his eyes, “She rejected him, don't mind him. Anyway, think her real name Senia or some shit like that.”

Terry hums, eyebrows twitching subtly. Now his mind was treading on dangerous territory, wanting to know how he could get to see her again, right now. “She do private dances?”

The mere question has Rome and Yosohn shocked. Terrence Richmond had lost all sense of composure at that moment, that he didn't care much about looking a little too invested.

“Huh? You tryna fuck up before your wedding day? Yeah no, let's bounce.” Yosohn shook his head, being the angel on Terry's one shoulder, and of course, Rome would play devil's advocate. “Bro what? Stop being lame, it's his last day single, one lil dance not gon hurt. Amber probably doin’ the same shit.” Rome waved his hand in dismissal. “He's not single dumb ass nigga.”

The two continued going back and forth, they didn't even notice Terry getting up. “Hey man, I was wondering if I could get a private dance.” He questioned the bouncer who stood near velvet curtains. The bouncer mugs Terry, “Nigga, do I look like a stripper to you? Fuck you asking me for?”

Terry sighs, how the fuck was he supposed to know who and what to ask. His thick brows furrow and his lips curl downwards before looking around. The bouncer sighs, the man was clearly new to this.

“Who you lookin’ for?” His ears perk, head whips in the bouncer's direction. Wasn't even the slightest bit embarrassed in his pursuit of finding her. “Indigo.”

The bouncer nodded with a hum, his request was very much understandable. Sticking his head in the curtains, he yells the stripper’s name. It wasn't long until she appeared again that Terry felt his heart skip a beat. The stage did not do her any justice, because even now under dim lights that made it hard to see, Indigo still looked jaw-dropping. “What’s up Nyx, who is this?”

Her southern accent was thick, the drawl did something to his chest that had him wondering if he had a heart condition. “He askin’ for a dance, baby.”

The dark-skinned beauty raised a perfectly trimmed brow in Terry’s direction. “Oh is that right?” she asked the man himself, and the smile on her face was enough to send him into cardiac arrest. “Yes ma’am.” Terry retorts with a smile of his own, close-lipped and gentle.

Eyes glazing across her features, Indigo laughs at his politeness. It wasn’t often she met someone as polite as him when asking for a dance. “It’s gon’ cost you.”, a declaration. Terry found that wooing more than anything, “That’s fine. I’m willing.”

They stare at one another for a while, while Indigo seemed to be sizing him up, Terry was tracing her face, pocketing the memory in a place where everything felt nostalgic, because Terry couldn't help but feel something familiar about her. A feeling he shook off because now he sounded stupid.

Indigo hums, that was also a response she didn’t hear often, but she wouldn’t dare complain. “I’ll keep that in mind, c’mon baby.”

"AND CUT" 🎬

Note: Not as long as I would have liked, but I also beat a record... so win some lose some?

Yosohn pronounced. Yo-shawn. I'm extra...

This will be an angsty series revolving around uncomfortable matters. Infidelity. Like I said in my last post, I do not condone it, and neither should anyone.

This is purely fiction.

Hope you enjoy this, I'm honestly really invested. That playlist I made is really doing what it's supposed to.

Playlist here if you're interested. Hope you enjoyed the first part.

[fluentmoviequoter]

All You Want and More

Requested by @allipopgeir28-blog

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!reader

Summary: When Luca finds out that you have never celebrated your birthday, he sets out to make your day perfect.

Warnings: very brief angst, lots of fluff

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Luca Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

There’s a moment in a relationship where everything stops being sparkly and new. When the normality of spending your life with someone else sets in, when the honeymoon phase ends, and everything becomes slow and easy. For you, that moment is nowhere to be seen. You’re not sure that things will change with Dominique Luca. He’s the most caring, loving, sincere, and loyal man you’ve ever met. The relationship is new; you’ve been dating for a few months, though the days with him pass too quickly. His roommate Jim is out with a girl, so you’ve made yourself comfortable with Luca in his living room. As he asks you about your day, hobbies, and anything else he can think of, you wonder if being with Luca will bring a sense of normalcy or if every day will be a surprise.

“What about you?” you ask with a smile. “How was your day?”

“It was pretty good. We only had two calls, so it was slow. I think we should talk about you, now,” Luca replies.

You groan and lean back, but Luca takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around your upper back and pull you closer. Settled against his side, you feel comfortable, safe, and loved.

“We’ve been talking about me for too long. C’mon, Luca, tell me something about you for once.” Luca shakes his head, so you turn toward him and pout as you add, “Please?”

“Fine. Um, for my birthday last year, my brother-“

“Terry?”

“Yeah. He took me to a Dodgers game, but afterward we went to a classic car show, and we talked about our dream cars. It wasn’t a huge birthday celebration or anything but spending that time with him was great. Especially after everything we’ve been through, you know?”

You nod and lean your head against his shoulder. Luca is your favorite topic, and you are convinced you could listen to him talk about anything, mundane or unbelievable, and never grow tired of him.

“What about you?” Luca asks with a bounce of his shoulder. “What’s your favorite birthday memory?”

“Oh, I don’t have one. Never celebrated birthdays before. Growing up, it never really happened, I guess. As I got older, I started doing things with friends for their birthdays, but… It’s just a day on the calendar for me.”

Luca falls silent upon learning that you’ve never been celebrated. He immediately decides to surprise you, but he has to get more answers without making you suspicious.

“You never wanted a celebration, or just didn’t have someone worth celebrating with?” he inquires.

You take a deep breath as you think. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you can’t possibly be the issue,” Luca adds. “So, I’ll assume it was a poor decision on everyone else’s part not to celebrate you every moment of your life.”

“Is that something you have to say as my new boyfriend?” you whisper against his shoulder.

“No. It’s something that is true, and as your boyfriend, I get the privilege of telling you.”

“You’re my favorite person.”

“And you’re mine.”

A few hours later, you wash the dishes from dinner – despite Luca’s insistence that he could clean up. He takes the opportunity to do some well-meaning intruding. Your bag is at the table, and Luca waits to take your wallet out until your back is turned. As you focus on the task before you, Luca quickly finds your ID, and takes note of your birthday. He holds it in his mind as he puts your wallet back in its rightful place and then types it into his phone, so he doesn’t risk forgetting. Luca isn't always one for big gestures, giving or receiving, but you deserve a celebration worthy of all the birthdays you’ve missed. You are loved and appreciated, so Luca will show you when your birthday comes. After you leave, Luca looks at the date and realizes that your birthday is less than a week away and that you weren’t going to tell him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Someone is whispering as they touch your face. You roll over to escape the unwelcome attention, but it follows you. When you force yourself to blink your eyes open, Luca smiles above you. 

“Happy Birthday,” he says happily. “Breakfast is cooking, and we’re going to be late. I know I should’ve let you sleep in, but I needed to see my birthday girl.”

“How do you know?” you ask, more alert than you should be for someone who was just woken before you wanted to be. “I didn’t tell you it was my birthday.”

Luca shrugs before he walks away from you and into the kitchen. You sit up and rub your eyes, confused yet intrigued. There isn’t a clear explanation about how he knows your birthday, but he seems so excited that you aren’t inclined to ask more questions.

When you enter the kitchen after getting ready, Luca is plating your favorite breakfast meal. He smiles and sets the pan and spatula down to hug you. You laugh as he spins you because you know that one birthday with Luca will spoil you. Birthdays have never been important to you, perhaps because no one gave you a reason to look forward to one. Luca’s excitement alone is the best gift you could receive.

“Okay, breakfast,” Luca says as he steps back. “And there’s a gift on the table. Happy Birthday.”

“This is too much,” you argue quietly. “You didn’t need-“

“I did. I do need to do this for you because I love you. Okay?”

You nod as Luca kisses your forehead. He taps your hip and reminds you that the food is getting cold. It’s not, and you both know it, but your first "real" birthday can quickly turn awkward if you let it. You sit at Luca’s table, and your eyes widen at the gift beside your plate.

“Is that…” you begin, unsure what to expect or ask.

“A gift,” Luca finishes. “You don’t have to open it now if you don’t want to.”

You nod and lift your fork but stop before you can take a bite of the delicious food before you.

“I can leave you alone while you open it,” Luca offers when he notices your eyes drift to the box.

After you shake your head, you set the fork aside again and pull the box toward you. When the lid is raised, you see a tin case inside. You glance at Luca, and his smile widens. The tin case has your name, Luca’s name, and the year printed on the top. You raise the top slowly and see it is filled with papers, photographs, and ticket stubs. Your relationship is new, yet the box is filled like you’ve been together for years. Each photo has a number and a short note on the back about what has been captured in the image, and the tickets have dates and love letters written around the edges. What truly catches your attention, though, is the short note taped to the inside of the lid.

“I’ve known more love in the short months leading up to your birthday than I thought existed. To every birthday with you and all the love we share.”

You want to thank him, hug him, and kiss him, all at the same time. There’s a knot in your throat, so you can’t do the first. When you lurch out of your seat, Luca reacts quickly. Your arms wrap over his shoulders, and Luca pulls you closer by your waist. As you cling to him, you know two things: you are madly in love with Dominique Luca, and you want to spend every day, birthdays included, with him by your side.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You punctuate your gratitude with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Of course. I love you, and I want to show you, especially today,” Luca replies. “Now, seriously, eat.”

You smile as you return to your seat, and your eyes wander to the open tin as you eat the best meal you’ve had in your life. Luca watches you with a smile because he is glad that he is the one who gets to show you what birthdays should be like and love you every step of the way.

After breakfast, Luca tells you to get dressed. The idea of a surprise party never crosses your mind, and Luca hopes it stays that way. He doesn’t want to go overboard today, so he allows your reaction to his quality time-based birthday with Terry to guide his actions.

“Where are we going?” you ask as Luca helps you into his truck.

“Do you really need to know, or can you give me another chance to surprise you for your birthday?” Luca replies. He taps your thigh before shifting into gear.

“Luca,” you begin. “Why is my birthday such a big deal?”

“Because you are a big deal. I love you, and you are important. My life would be… I don’t know what it would be without you, so this is the most important day of the year to me. And the fact that we started dating so close to your birthday isn’t lost on me.”

“I appreciate it. More than you know.”

“Of course. You’re worth all of it, and you deserve every gift you’ve ever wanted. You deserve all you want and more.”

You bite your lip but can’t hide your smile. Luca chuckles as he continues driving, and you watch his profile as he takes you to the next surprise. Each moment with him makes you think his surprises will be endless, no matter how long you’re together. And you hope that is a very, very long time.

When Luca pulls into a parking lot, you gasp. Your favorite bookstore sits before you, and you expect this is another visit to browse for books. Since you told Luca about your love for reading, he brings you here occasionally to look at new releases and spend time with you. As you reach for the door handle, Luca stops you.

“I have to make a call really quick; I’ll meet you inside?” he explains.

“Sure,” you answer.

While you wait, you meander down the aisle of current bestsellers. You pick up one you haven’t heard of and read the blurb on the back. An arm wraps around your waist while you return it to its rightful place, and you quickly identify it as Luca. You lean against him and continue scanning the shelves for other interesting titles.

“Do you want that one?” Luca asks. “The one you were just looking at?”

“No. I hadn’t heard of it, but it doesn’t sound like something I’d like. And you don’t have to buy me a book just because it’s my birthday.”

Luca chuckles and lets you lead the way through the bookstore. You have to turn down several more offers from him to buy a book you touch, and when you’ve been through every aisle, you return to the truck hand-in-hand with Luca. He opens the passenger door and reveals a large bookstore bag in your seat.

“What is that?” you ask.

“I guess someone broke into the truck and left you a birthday present,” Luca answers.

You turn to face him, and Luca starts to panic at the teary look in your eyes. When you hug him, he sighs and pulls you closer. 

“I told you-“

“And I told you,” Luca interjects, “That you are worth being celebrated. I hope you like it.”

You open the bag and inhale sharply at the sight. There’s not one, or even two, books. It is an entire series, a series that you told Luca about during one of your first visits to the bookstore. You’ve been wanting it for a while but couldn’t find it or couldn’t afford it when you did find a bundle. After talking about it – probably too much – you’re not surprised that Luca remembered, but touched that he cared enough to find the exact box set you showed him and buy it. 

You can’t thank him again, so you give him another hug instead. After you murmur that it is the best gift you’ve ever received and the best birthday you’ve ever had, you let Luca help you into the cab and hold the bag tight to your chest.

“One more stop and then we can go back home,” Luca says as he starts the engine.

“I don’t think I can take another surprise,” you say.

Luca simply smiles, and you decide that maybe his surprises are worth it. After driving through Los Angeles traffic, he stops outside a jewelry store but makes no move to exit the truck. A gift bag is hidden under his seat, and Luca pulls it out and hands it to you with a smile.

“Luca,” you say softly. You remove the tissue paper and reach a jewelry box. “I can’t accept this.”

“You didn’t even open it,” Luca argues.

“It’s too expensive.”

“Humor me,” Luca requests as he slides across the bench seat to be closer to you. “And open it. If you still feel that way, I’ll look into returning it.”

The chain inside the box is minimalistic but beautiful. However, you tilt the box, and another slightly thicker chain slides out. You look up at Luca, then at the jewelry store.

“Are these what I think they are?” you ask as you raise the smaller chain. The links look a bit like the letter L, and you hope you’re right about what it’s meant to symbolize.

“They’re forever bracelets. And if you want to say no, I get it.”

“I want it,” you interrupt.

“Good,” Luca replies with a wide smile. “I thought it might be a bit too soon for a ring, but I want you to have something to remember that I am here, that I will love you and be with you today, next year, for every birthday and day between until I die.”

You follow Luca into the jewelry store and hold his hand as you have the chain secured to your wrist. Luca guarantees that he checked, and it won’t be an issue with his position on S.W.A.T., and you fall a bit deeper in love with him.

✯✯✯✯✯

Luca is a liar and makes one more surprise stop at your favorite clothing store. He tells you to find an outfit you love and happily pays for it despite your best efforts to beat him to it. When you return to his house, he asks you to model it, and you reluctantly agree.

“Beautiful,” Luca announces when you exit.

“Thank you. Again,” you reply.

“Oh, the outfit’s nice, too.”

You laugh as Luca pulls you into his arms. He tells you that you deserve better than his cooking for your birthday, and although you disagree, you’d do just about anything he asked right now. So, you get back in his truck and watch him as he drives to an outdoor café.

When you step onto the well-lit patio, you expect a romantic dinner with Luca to end your perfect birthday. However, Luca has been taking advantage of your lack of suspicion since you’re not used to being celebrated and receiving attention and gifts. When 20-David and several of your friends jump out and yell “Surprise,” you immediately turn toward Luca. You are separated as people approach you with gifts and birthday wishes, but you stay aware of where Luca is in the small crowd. It is the first time you are being celebrated by the people you love, and you know that Luca is responsible for all of it. You'll never be able to thank him enough, but you love him, which is what matters.

The surprise party is fun, but the moment it ends, you happily leave with Luca and collapse at his house. Once you are sitting on his couch, in the same position as when the surprise idea came to Luca, you thank him again.

“Stop thanking me,” he says softly. “You are important to me, so your birthday is special. Celebrating you isn’t something I need to be thanked for, I do it because I love you, and I love doing it.”

“You’re being extra romantic today,” you muse.

Luca smiles as you turn against his chest. “It’s the most important day of the year.”

“You can’t go this big every year, I won’t be able to take it. Maybe your gift next year can be a day off or something.”

Luca hums, and you know he’s planning to go even bigger.

“Is there anything you’ve really wanted?” Luca asks. “In the past, was there something you wanted but have never gotten?”

You lean back and hold Luca’s shoulders as you look into his eyes. “Honestly?” Luca nods, so you continue, “I got tired of asking for things that I knew no one cared enough to give. Or there was just no one around to ask. I mean, I never asked for anything big, but eventually even the little stuff is disappointing. One year, I just asked my friends to come over and hang out and they didn’t even do that. So, I guess I’d say having someone spend time with me just because. But you gave me that today.”

Luca frowns as you answer and vows to himself to make every birthday special. He decides to lighten the mood for now, though, and points out, “Your birthday isn’t even over yet. We have, like, two hours to spend together.”

You roll your eyes, completely in love with Luca and excited at the prospect of being with him for the rest of your life. When he pulls you into a sudden kiss, you don’t fight it, but continue enjoying the best gift you’ve ever received: time with Luca, and his affection certainly doesn’t hurt.

“I promise,” Luca whispers between kisses, “to make your birthday wishes come true for many years.”

“I love you,” you reply. It’s short, but the sentiment perfectly conveys to Luca just how much today meant to you. “And if you really want to spend the next two hours with me, you should get comfortable, because I’ve got new books to start.”

Luca holds you against his chest and asks, “What if I told you my birthday wish is more kisses?”

You ponder the question for less than ten seconds before leaning in again. Though your relationship with Luca is still new, there is no chance that things will ever grow boring. As you ring in another year of you with Luca, you begin brainstorming how to make his birthday as special as he made yours.

[fuckyeahsufjanstevens]

I don’t know if this is the right thing to say because English is not my first language, but some people fly too close to the sun. When I think about Sufjan Stevens or Ryuichi, Terry Riley, Frank Ocean, I feel like their music is great, but you love them because you can really hear their suffering, their agony, their pain. They have been given a role to filter not just their own feelings through music, but other people’s suffering and pain, too. I always feel so sad for them. Like, why them? Why do they have to bear that role of witnessing so much hardship and the difficulty of just being alive in this world and then translate it through music? I have endless respect and support for this type of artist. I went back to Japan for the first time since the pandemic and there were changes in my parents’ lives. I had to help my father change his living situation. It’s never easy to prepare them for the next chapter, the next chapter, the next chapter, and then you die. Yet I’m so grateful for that and to return to Japan and still feel like it’s my home. Sufjan and I share the same birthday, maybe one day apart [Stevens’ is July 1, Makino’s is July 2], so we’ve spent two birthdays together by his place in upstate New York. He made it so special. I was quite shy, and maybe being the same sign is why he’s just as shy as me, but I really appreciate his way of carrying himself. He wears super colorful clothes, he’s super different, and I love the way he’s not shy of being shy, like he just kind of stares at you and then doesn’t say anything. Everything about him hits close to my heart. He was obsessed with the fireworks then, almost like a child, and even though we didn’t talk much, I felt so much tenderness, intimacy, and warmth from him and his partner. Now I think about Sufjan and his surroundings quite often. His music has been helping me quite a bit: Carrie & Lowell, Call Me By Your Name, his recent piano work that sounds massive. I listen to him in the middle of nowhere in Japan, trying to clean up my parents’ shit. I’m amazed by his responsibility when dealing with very difficult stuff. He’s the type of person who flies quite close to the sun. I hope he’s doing alright, I hope he’s happy, and I hope he’s gonna manage. Because some people just have a very difficult role to feel things so intensely, and that’s not easy. It’s a big ask—even of someone phenomenal like him. - Kazu Makino (Blonde Redhead) on Sufjan

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.5

Coke Paul is just so pretty

What is the switching glasses supposed to mean in the penny lane video? Any thoughts?

In this interview, Paul seconds John's “go on forever” comment from a few months ago. They really did so well when they were living together, didn't they?

Okay, let's look at the difference in Paul's trips. His first ever trip with Tara Browne and he's just concerned that his sleeves are dirty and just mildly looking through a book of pictures. VS with John? The “I know.” “I know.” The “emperor of the universe” thing? Raving about it to everyone who would listen? Having to leave multiple times because it was scary how tightly they were bonding?

Their songwriting partnership is beyond insane. It's superhuman, it really is. Their abilities, their connection. And Cyn and Terry just reading. Just completely nonplussed. This was very every-day, monotonous stuff for them. Unfathomable. 

That song will always get me, though. “what do I do when my love is away?” “Obviously move my best friend in to take her place and then write a timeless classic with him about how it.”

Astrid: At first I did wonder if the really cared about people's feelings and people's friendship. Maybe this doc's whole thesis is “John and Paul's love for each other was so big they didn't have room for any kind feeling toward anyone else.”

The Pepper photoshoot is insane to me. Like more insane than the David Bailey one. Change my mind. You can't.

John tells an interviewer, "Only now am I beginning to realize many of the things I should have known years ago. I'm getting to understand my own feelings." Were follow-up questions just not invented yet??!! What things have you just learned, John? What feelings?

Never forget Linda took these. She must've been somewhat aware of how annoying this man was going to be about John from the start. And she still went after him. That's how good his . . . Nevermind.

"a decisive moment in the history of Western civilization" Well done, babies. 

I love smug Paul in general, and I especially love when he's smug about John. That “me and the badass bitch I pulled by being autistic” look. But literally. 

Gosh the Greece trip looks so beautiful. Idyllic. Paradisiacal. All of the beautiful people are just so blissful and in love. Sigh. (Every time I tried to take a screenshot of it it was too awful. Peter Jackson should clean it up.)

What are everyone's thoughts about the cause of Brian's death? I really liked what Vivek Tiwary said on AKOM. He knew he was taking a dangerous amount of drugs and he was depressed. But he wouldn't have just left so suddenly without leaving a will or setting things in order for the Beatles business. Anyway, no matter the cause, his death is the beginning of the end for the Beatles.  

All those quotes and pictures about the “intensity” between Paul and Brian are fascinating. “Obviously adored” “overcompensate” “little worries” What does it all mean? Was Brian in love with Paul in the end like he had been in love with John in the beginning? Or did he just feel bad because he knew it was unfair to Paul how in love he was with John? 

Wait, Brian was hospitalized for s*icide attempts in 66? Really? Confirmed? I knew he was in the hospital, but didn't know it was due to s*icide. 

Paul's hand at the small of John's back here, helping him onto the bus. It's so tender, so customary. They took such good care of each other.

Interviewer talking about MMT: If I can't see it in color, I'm going to send it back. ... :/

They're directing something and as Paul starts to walk away, so does John. But not because he wants to. He's looking around almost frantically. He has no choice in the matter. Only one person gets to control their legs at a time, and right now it's Paul's turn. 

Look how fucking ecstatic he is. I guarantee John isn't saying anything that monumental but look at those eyes. He's done for. Gone.

Interviewer: just get a tape recorder and you and Paul and the others just start gabbing. John: well, we've got a lot of that lying around the house, actually. Me: First of all “the house?” “the house?” Just casual. Like “our house” Like it's just common knowledge that they've been married and living together since they were fifteen. Second of all, give us the tapes already!! Who has them? Paul? 

All of these quotes from the Hunter Davies biography are just so normal. They're all so normal. It's fine. I'm fine. And here's my tin hat coming on again (and yeah I believe John loved George and Ringo immensely) but I think sometimes in these quotes, when John and Cyn are saying "the Beatles" they kind of mean "Paul . . . And George and Ringo". John himself actually says as much in the seventies, that when he says "the Beatles" he might just mean Paul, or just him and Paul. And there are countless times when Paul or John will start out saying "the others" and end up using just one name in a sentence. Idk this doc makes me such a truther I swear I'm not always this crazy.

And John's self soothing, reassuring refrain playing over all of it, “nothing's gonna change my world.” Right after Paul and Jane get engaged? Someone stab me in the heart, it would hurt less. And this is just the anticipation of the next part. Can I even handle part two?

Have some happy screenshots to bolster us.

[imnotsimpingyouare]

ENAMORED (II)

Modern Hantengu clones X Reader

Featuring:

"Pissed Cubicle Worker" Sekido

"Depressed Programmer" Aizetsu

"That Guy in the Alley" Karaku

"Unfunny YouTube Prankster" Urogi

"Disappointed Grandpa" Hantengu

"Delinquent Middle Schooler" Zohakuten

"Possibly a Criminal" Akaza

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

You will NOT be shipped with Zohakuten or Hantengu because:

A.) One is an old man

B.) One is a young boy

Ty for your time 😌

fem!Y/N goes for her last job with Murata's Service Emporium 😢 but gets an interesting offer due to her *OUTSTANDING* work.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Hantengu.

You've heard of that household. They order some sort of cleaning service every month or so. Only, it's never been you that has gone before, so how exactly do you know about their service requests?

BECAUSE APPARENTLY THEY'RE FUCKING INSANE.

Some of the other employees have literally returned from the job crying.

WHICH INCLUDES, BUT IS NOT LIMITED TO TERRY THE GARDENER! A TALL, BUFF MAN!

WHAT DEMON IN THAT HOUSE IS MAKING A GROWN MAN CRY LIKE THAT? WHY DOES YOUR BOSS HATE YOU? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST CURL UP IN A BALL AND FOSSILIZE.

You sigh. A big sigh. A really, really long sigh.

If you had the heart to, you would've quit the moment your boss revealed he was going to fire you, only.. you knew it was like him to try and withhold your paycheck for the week if you did. Obviously, he can't do that if you've done your job on schedule for any amount of time, but you're not gonna jump through flaming hoops just to stick it to the guy.

Easier to just get this over with.

You grab your supplies and load your car.

Yes, they make you use your own transport for this job. No, they don't pay for gas.

Maybe losing this job won't be so bad after all.

Starting up the map on your phone, you type in the adress of this demon house and get ready to be very fucking miserable for however long you spend there.

The clouds are grey this morning, as they are every morning, but this morning is different. Maybe it's because you fell down two flights of stairs. Maybe it's because you held some handsome guy's hand this morning when he helped you up. Maybe it's because you literally just got fired like 10 minutes ago. But something is different.

○○○○○

Unbeknownst to you, in the opposite lane of traffic, Sekido is screaming at the cars infront of him.

Nevermind, it's not just Sekido. In some strange sort of... brotherly bonding ritual, both Sekido and Zohakuten are screaming at the car infront of them (which is going the speed limit).

"WHY WON'T YOU PRESS YOUR DAMN GAS? THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT HERE WITH JOBS AND SHITHEADS WITH SCHOOL! 20 ABOVE THE LIMIT NEVER KILLED ANYBODY!"

"...Sekido, I think 20 above the limit has killed people. BUT THOSE PEOPLE WERE GOING TOO DAMN SLOW!"

Sekido's grey minivan pulled up to the school. Zohakuten grabbed his bag and opened the door, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"...Zohakuten."

Red eyes met his, and he felt slightly uncomfortable at how calm Sekido was managing to be.

"....what."

"....one day."

"wha–"

"One day without doing some stupid shit to get sent home or to the principal's office. If you do, I'll... I don't fucking know, have the gods come down and kiss you on the nose one by one. Just be good. Ok?" He said, almost in a... defeated tone.

Zohakuten, for a moment, was dumbfounded. Had Aizetsu taken over Sekido's body? Was this some sort or trick? Who did he think he was? It's not his fault he'll never use this crap again. Nor is it his fault that some of the kids are little shitheads.

Instead of saying all this, out of respect for Sekido's effort to be *nice*

(Literally, beads of sweat were beginning to form on Sekido's face, and he looked constipated)

....he nodded.

"Okay. I want ice cream after school."

And shut the car door.

Sekido was left by himself, face immediately breaking back into that scowl he wore so well.

"Fucking ice cream. I might as well get him a horse and a spaceship while I'm servicing His Majesty. Seriously, how hard is it not to throw desks?"

○○○○○

Your car stopped infront of a mansion.

Maybe not a mansion, but.. it was something.

A three story house with 2 vehicles in front (AND A MOTORCYCLE?). However, the only decorations in front were a little knome and a set of windchimes. You could also faintly hear "Barbie Girl" playing from somewhere in the home.

At the very least, it was... a flattering home. The outside didn't look too bad, but you were at least slightly concerned about the inside.

You knocked on the door, cleaning supplies in hand.

"Murata's Service Emporium!"

The door creaked open slightly, before opening to reveal a rather handsome, dark-skinned man in nothing but a towel and.... a face mask and hair curlers.

His eyes were a deep emerald green, a complete contrast from his skin that you were HERE FOR.

He looked you up and down, before turning his attention back into the house. "Aizetsu! Your escort is here!"

Immediately your face turned red. "Wha- did you not hear what I said when I knocked!?"

He raised a brow at you.

"Service Emporium?"

Oh.

That actually sounds pretty bad when taken out of context.

"...okay, but why would I be holding all of these cleaning supplies?"

He looked down at you again.

"I don't know what freaky stuff Aizetsu's into, okay? Are you coming in or not?" He huffed.

You reluctantly waddled in and set your things down.

Oh my.

It was a disaster.

The dishes were piled sky-high, the floor SEVERELY UN-VACUUMED... you had work to do.

Another man, almost identical to the one who opened the door, approached you in a rush. His eyes, though, were blue, and significantly more lifeless than the guy before him.

"I'm sorry.. I am Aizetsu. As you can see, our house is a disaster... sorry."

And he walked away.

THAT WAS ALL HE HAD TO SAY?

WAS HE EVEN GOING TO PAY YOU?

HE'S JUST GONNA LEAVE?

You were starting to understand the struggle.

○○○○○

The camera lens was clean. The audio was crisp. In his browser "solt jasz musuc backgriund" was playing.

Everything was perfect.

And now, out of his room once again, was the legendary, the one and only, greatest failed theater kid of all time..

Urogi!

And he was ready. Ready to bamboozle this busy, strangely attractive woman that wandered her way into his home. Ready. But she wasn't.

Which is what made it good content.

And good content -> motorcycle upgrades.

Which he wanted.

Very badly.

So there he was, creeping up behind you, four cans of silly string in one hand, a camera in the other.

You, on the other hand, were almost finished up here. You cleaned in and out, over and under, anywhere you could. The dishes were dried and put away, and everything was soon to be in order. The only task you had left was to sweep the kitchen. A relatively easy job. After that, you could get out of here, and... you didn't have a job to go to.

Hadn't thought of that in a while.

But there wasn't any time to think about it when you heard something being set on the counter behind you. You turned around, only to be met with a man leaping at you.

Naturally, you dodged out of the way, dropping the broom and hooking your attacker around the neck, locking him in a chokehold. All was well until a flurry of colors came flying toward you into your hair and eyes.

Immediately you were overpowered, your key sense being obstructed. You were pushed over near the sofa, being sprayed relentlessly with some sort of squishy string-like material.

You were quick to recover, and reached up to what you assumed to be the sofa, taking off one of the pillows and swinging wildly at your attacker. Terrifying laughter was heard from above you, and you overturned them until you had them in prime suffocating position. Moments into your retaliation, you pulled some of the strange material off of your face, only to see the face of both people you met earlier. Except this one had yellow eyes.

You paused in your struggle with him, both of you huffing and puffing like you were about to blow someone's house away.

He stared up at you, and you stared down at him, before your gaze flickered up to the counter, only to see a camera placed there and aimed directly at the two of you.

Footsteps distracted you from this realization.

"Aizetsu? Your escort got loose. I think she got confused. Did you not tell her about being a quad?" It was the green-eyed man, back with his bunny slippers and some actual clothes, but no hair curlers or face masks.

"IM NOT A PROSTITUTE!" You snapped at him, smacking the man under you again with the pillow for good measure.

"Why the hell is there a woman on top of Urogi? Why are you just watching, Karaku? You sick fuck.."

Another voice was heard, deeper and more gruff than the rest. You looked up, and saw another man identical to all three of the others! Unlike his counterparts, this one had blood-red eyes.

"What's going on? Are you all siblings?" You said, before mentally face-pamling. Of course they're all siblings. What else would they be?

"Of course we're siblings. What else would we be? Idiot." The red-eyed man growled, before hanging his keys and stomping off to who knows where.

The man under you tapped on your forehead.

"...can I get up?"

You rolled your eyes at him, delivering another smack with the pillow before getting off of him. "You don't just sneak up on some unsuspecting person like that!" You scolded, but he didn't listen. He was already busy fiddling with his camera.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, mumbling a slew of curses before going to pick up the broom.

"So clean, so clean! It looks like this house is brand new! Where are they? The cleaner? Where are they?" A labored, weak voice sounded from the hallway. An old man appeared, and hobbled toward you. You tried backing away, but it was no use, as he grabbed your face to examine you.

"Lovely girl, lovely girl! Cleaned up everything perfectly! You're the angel who cleans up my grandsons' mess every month, are you? Lovely girl!" His voice was trembling, as were his hands.

He must be talking about the company. But before you have time to explain, he cuts you off.

"I wish to hire you, lovely girl! Lovely girl! You can live in my home, in the spare room! You can clean up and teach my grandsons how to behave! Will you? Don't leave an old man like me helpless. Their mother isn't around to teach them to behave, will you? Lovely girl?"

Your eyes widened at the offer. "..hire? Like, for money?"

The old man laughed. Well, he tried, but it came out as a cough. "For housing? Food? Anything you'd like?"

"....and for money?"

"...yes, I'll pay you weekly."

You needed time to recollect your thoughts! Living here, with unknown people? Cleaning! More cleaning!

But at least you'd have a roof over your head, and food, and 'whatever you'd like' whatever that was. And you'd even have your own money on the side. Maybe you could save for a house? To go back to school?

At that point, only Karaku and the old man were left in the room, eyes trained on you. Karaku's lips broke into a smile. He knew what your answer was going to be.

"..I'll do it."

[screaming-universe]

Yes please.

Eddie/Terry | Gen | 589 words | ao3

written for @eddiediaz-week Day 3: Rare Pair and "Yes please."

Of course Terry noticed Diaz—Eddie; it is hard to miss a new colleague when a team is as close-knit as that of Metro Dispatch. It is also hard to miss Eddie Diaz—in Terry’s humble opinion—when you happen to be into men. Sure, taste and preferences differ but here’s a tall, strong firefighter with a beautiful face and big brown eyes. What’s not to like? Terry has seen a lot of his colleagues take a look at Eddie Diaz and he’s right there with them.

All of this may have stayed what it was: attraction. And maybe a harmless little crush. But definitely not what Terry is feeling now. What, though, are you supposed to do when there’s an emergency at work—a fire; the irony of that—you wake up from unconsciousness to those big brown eyes looking right at you, and then the big strong firefighter is carrying you to safety as if you weighed nothing?

Yeah, Terry’s harmless little crush on Eddie Diaz has developed into a fully-fledged crush that makes his heart beat faster when he thinks about the firefighter. Terry is totally fucked.

Terry's crush has gotten so out of hand that it makes his mind go blank every time he even just sees Eddie. Thankfully that doesn't happen often now, since Eddie has gone back to the 118. Or you'd think so; Terry certainly did. But no, Eddie comes back fairly regularly to catch up with the dispatchers, to swap recipes with Linda, to engage in barbed, affectionate banter with Josh. And strangely enough: to give Terry a heart attack when he somehow always manages to find Terry to say hi. Often enough it's just that: Eddie says hi, then lingers for a moment and disappears just as quickly as he appeared.

Then Maddie catches one of their interactions, when Terry's in the breakroom. And he doesn't need to see her amused expression to know what she's thinking; what else is there to think? Terry keeps pouring himself a coffee for the whole time that this exchange takes place and it may be quick but by the time he turns back to his mug, the coffee is dripping down to the floor. Or rather creating a waterfall—a coffeefall? Maddie doesn't even need to say anything, Terry knows.

But what she says does surprise him. "Despite all that," she says and puts down her lunch to make a vague gesture at Terry's coffee situation, "he was blushing. One of you should probably say something."

Terry doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. Instead he turns around to clean up all the coffee that has left his mug and tries to not let Maddie's words get his hopes up.

It doesn't work. The next time Terry sees Eddie at Metro Dispatch, he has thought of roughly two-hundred-and-fifty-four ways to ask Eddie Diaz out. On a date. Romantically. So when Eddie gives him a heart attack when he once again sneaks up to where Terry is working in the server room, he can't stop himself.

"Go out on a date with me, please?" he blurts out. He immediately feels all the blood in his body rise into his head, making his cheeks burn. He feels like he is on the verge of passing out, like he's on the verge of sinking into the floor, like he's on the–

"Yes," Eddie says quietly and his beautiful eyes are so so big, so so hopeful, Terry cannot look away, "please."

[bordysbae]

39 with trevor please :)

“you’re obsessed with me”

trevor zegras x fem reader

39. “my clothes look better on you anyways”

word count: 0.7k

today the anaheim ducks are playing the chicago blackhawks, and you’re very conflicted on what to do. your boyfriend plays for the ducks, but you’re originally from chicago. of course you own multiple blackhawks jerseys, but you always wear your ‘zegras’ jersey to every ducks home game. “babe, you’re wearing my jersey tonight right?” trevor asks you, as he enters the kitchen where you’re standing cooking breakfast “unfortunately. i hate going against my roots” you say sarcastically . “unfortunately?! oh you’re dead meat missy!” trevor says as he lifts you from behind and throws you over his shoulder. “trevor put me down i need to finish cooking!” “nope! not until you take it back!” he says as he spins you around. you flail your arms around hitting his back as he spins you. “okay okay i take it back! i’m getting dizzy put me down!” you beg. he places you on the ground again and you dizzily walk back over to the stove finishing the food.

as you and trevor are sat at the kitchen island eating breakfast he notices you’re wearing not only his hoodie but also his sweatpants. “are you wearing my clothes?” he asks, despite knowing the answer. “maybe” you smirk, as you eat a bite of food. “you look cute” he smiles, causing a blush to take over your cheeks. after breakfast you go and get ready for the day, and trevor heads to the rink for morning skate.

once trevor gets home to take his pregame nap, you decide to clean the house and run some errands before getting ready for the game. as trevor is leaving for the arena, he stops you. “wear my extra jersey tonight.” “why can’t i wear mine? mine fits me perfectly, yours is like a million sizes too big!” you cry out. “pleaseeee? it’s cute how big it is on you” he whines, grabbing it from the closet. “fine, only cause it smells somewhat like you” you roll your eyes playfully. he smiles and leans down to kiss you before heading outside to his car.

you finish getting ready and slide on trevor’s jersey over your head, adjusting it at the bottom slightly. you get to the rink and meet up with some of the other wives and girlfriends and you all head to your seats down by the ice. trevor instantly skates over to you, and blows you a kiss through the glass before skating away to give some fans a puck. you’re sitting next to troy terrys wife dani, and on your other side is john gibsons wife alexa. “is that trevor’s actual jersey?” dani asks you. “yes, for some reason he wanted me to wear it” dani laughs, “i think it’s cute! oh look the game is starting!” she says turning her attention to the ice.

the game is close in numbers until the last period when trevor randomly gets on his grind and makes one goal and assist. the game finishes at 2-1, ducks taking the win. you and the other wags head straight to the locker room and per usual, trevor is the last one to leave. god does that man love to talk. as he walks out, a big smile takes over. “you wore it!” he smiles as he rushes over to hug you. “i told you i would!” you smile up at him. “cmon let’s go home i’m exhausted” he says wrapping an arm around you, leading you to the parking lot.

back at home, you get into one of trevor’s hoodies and sweats, and crawl next to him in your guys’ shared bed. trevor puts his phone down on the nightstand and looks at you with soft eyes. “you’re wearing my clothes again” he smirks. “what is your deal with me wearing your clothes! it’s like you’re obsessed with it!” “no actually, you’re obsessed with me. but it’s okay, my clothes look better on you anyways” “since when is that something we didn’t know” you mumble, causing trevor to laugh. “yeah and i love it” “yeah you better, cause this hoodie is so comfortable. i think i’m stealing it” you exclaim, curling up closer to him. “yeah whatever you think sweetheart.”

[sirianasims]

Tag Game: Questionnaire!

Thank you @igotsnothing and @honeyjars-sims for tagging me! ❤️

Last song I listened to:

Favorite place: Copenhagen. There is no city I would rather live in. It's big enough to feel like a real city but not so huge that I get overwhelmed. It's clean and friendly and walkable. If we want to get more specific, I absolutely love Langebro, one of the bridges in Copenhagen. I used to walk across it every day for work and the view at sunset and sunrise throughout the year is amazing.

Favorite book(s): I am a huge bookworm and before I started writing myself, I would read as much as a hundred books in a year. I don't really have favourites but these are a few I enjoy and have (re-)read recently:

The Southern Book Club's Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix for doing a fresh take on vampires and for one of the most visceral scenes I've read in recent years.

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman - yes, this is finally getting the broad recognition it deserves due to the tv series, but you should really read the book too, the huge-ass footnotes are hilarious and you notice new details and jokes every time you read it.

A Man Called Ove. This is a book I used to mostly recommend to other Scandinavians, but you can choose to watch A Man Called Otto instead, it's a surprisingly good Hollywood adaptation. I read this aloud during a road trip and it made all of us cry and we had to stop the car.

Favorite tv show: I don't really watch a lot of TV shows, never did. Every time I tried to get into one of the popular ones (Friends, Breaking Bad, you name it) they never really grabbed my attention, or were too stressful to watch. I very much enjoyed The Umbrella Academy though, as well as the Watchmen series, but drama series tend to be emotionally taxing for me, so I often spend months gearing up to watch a new season or take long breaks in the middle.

Favorite food: Pizza. You expected another long-ass answer, didn't you? Fine, I prefer a simple Italian-style Margherita.

Tagging @hannahssimblr @feroshgirlsims @jarakio @lynzishell and @mannylikessims - and whoever else feel like doing this, you can say I tagged you if you like ❤️

[duckindndads]

Teen headcannons (Appearance edition)

Heights (tallest to shortest): Linc, Hermie, Scary, Normal, Taylor, Dood

Scary has a tooth gap, she rarely smiles with her teeth cause she’s insecure about it

Taylor is skin and bones, but doesn’t look it cause he wears clothes that are not only too big for him but with so many pocket full of so many trinkets

Linc was shorter than Normal their whole lives until just recently (he’s only recently hit the growth spurt)

Normal’s hair is very fluffy and curly- when it is clean- Unfortunately a lot of the time it’s weighed down and hardly has a wave because of the grease

Hermie has very long legs and a short torso, so all his blazers seem long on him while all his pants seem too short

Scary is always in a bug jacket, because she misses wearing her team hoodies (it’s not the same)

Dood always has an odd number of eyes, they’re almost never in the same place for more than a couple hours

Taylor has a snagle tooth because he chipped one of his canines when practicing his sword skills when he was younger

Scary has dyed her hair since middle school, she used to have very colorful hair until Terry Jr. (she still has a streak of color because she misses it)

Linc’s legs are covered in various bruises from his “no hands” days

Hermie’s eyes are a very peculiar blue, they look purple in the correct lighting

Normal has consistent acne and picks at it, his face is covered in polka dotted scars he referred to as freckles

Dood is hard to look at for long periods of time because of the static that surrounds their form, on the bright side it makes hugs extra fuzzy feeling

No one has ever seen Linc in actual pants, it’s always shorts (even in the titanic)

Scary writes potential song lyrics on her arms and legs, sometimes you can find doodles there too

Taylor’s hair floofs out from his hat, even when he isn’t wearing the hat- it’s just natural at this point

Normal has painted nails, the color changes every couple of days (he used to do this with his sister when they were younger)

Even before the joker role Hermie’s makeup game was constantly on point and dramatic

Dood is wearing an old doodlers hoodie that’s way to big for them the arms almost drag on the floor (it makes them look very small)

[ultrameganicolaokay]

Fire & Ice: Welcome to Smallville #3 by Joanne Starer and Natacha Bustos. Cover by Terry Dodson and Rachel Dodson. Variant cover by Joëlle Jones. Out in November.

"Jimmy Olsen comes to town with his ear to the ground for a Daily Planet scoop, and Fire and Ice have a beauty salon full of ex-villains that Fire’s certain they can rehabilitate (in fabulous reality-show fashion, no less!) and Ice is desperate to hide. But if they’re gonna make it through the day without Big Blue swinging back through Smallville to clean up their mess, Fire and Ice will have to look past the growing chasm between them and work together to sell Superman’s pal the story of a lifetime."