#thank you so much kait

[doublydaring]

Ron what are your top favorite tv shows

hi kait. thank you sooo much for this ask. television is my first and true love and i have a great many things to say about it.

Black Sails - Black Sails is like a show made in a lab to please me. It is a prequel to Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island" which integrates the fake pirates from the book with the real pirates of history. It is about my number one interest of all time, historiography, the way that we tell the story of history. It is about the way that society uses stories and shame to control people. Its epic.

Trust FX - A miniseries. This is also about historiography, you will sense a theme. This is about the Getty kidnapping. It is full of beautiful sexy Italians and horrible horrible Americans. Brendan Fraser slays as a PI slash Greek Chorus. Luca Marinelli gives the performance to end all performances as Primo Nizzuto.

Justified - A tribute to the now rightfully dead Western Genre Justified is about a bunch of guys who suck that you cannot help but root for. A big city Marshall is forced to return to his hometown of Harlan, Kentucky after shooting a man. Some of the greatest characters of all time come from this show. Raylan Givens, Dickie Bennet, Dewey Crowe, Tim Gutterson, Rachel Brooks, and above all, Boyd Crowder. If you are compelled by slow talking, fast drawing men with problems, you will love this brilliantly witty crime drama.

MASH - Hawkeye Pierce is like a real friend to me. This too is about historiography. 11 seasons of swirling 70s sleaze and the hardest hitting antiwar commentary wrapped up in the warm and fuzzy packaging of a pleasantly green sitcom. In the first season Frank asks Hawkeye if he's ever serious, Hawkeye responds "I tried it once, everybody laughed," and it felt like my life flashing before my eyes. Trapper John McIntyre, BJ Hunnicutt, Margret Houlihan, these are just a few of the greatest characters ever written. And they're on mash.

This is where things get hard, this answer has changed a lot over the years, a few years ago, It's Always Sunny would have been like 2 on this list, as far as number of funny episodes, its still pretty high up there, I also have to mention The Monkees of course, Turn: Washington's Spies was a formative classic for me and me alone, Star Trek: The Next Generation is brilliant. There are the modern classics, Succession, Severance, and Santa Clarita Diet. The old greats, Cheers, Taxi, Star Wars the Clone Wars. My past obsessions, Jonathan Creek, TAITV, I Made America, Torchwood. Flight of The Concords and What We Do In The Shadows informed my humor so much. But I think in the end the 5th greatest television program is the San Diego Padres. Not a show in the traditional sense, but TV certainly, and a program I have probably spent more time watching than any other.

[spacephrasing]

OH I forgot, I have a bigger update for y’all on the person

[hearts-hunger]

I’m sorry just know that I love you and I love Sam and it HURTS so I have to share that hurt with the people 😭😭😭

they say pain shared is pain lessened but when it comes to fluffy fanfiction the opposite is true and it's actually pain multiplied but we all love to suffer together <3333

[bradleybeachbabe]

happy valentine's day rachel!!!

happy valentine’s day kait <333

[dukesmebby]

🩰 i can’t pick just one song so I did my fave two! Pancakes for dinner by Lizzy mcalpine and getting into by Ashley Cooke ❤️ ummm I’m a single Pringle, I have two doggos, I’m a fourth grade teacher, I love babies and anything pink or simple flowers. I don’t know my aesthetic, but I like soft colors and flowers and simple stuff 💕

Congrats and thank you 💕 I will be sending in more stuff probably later tonight

thank you so much for joining us with some BOPS!! i’ve not heard either of these songs before but both now have a home in my playlists!!

come join the festivities!!!

[maxlarens]

hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

[katsu28]

hi kait!! finally found my way into your inbox, i feel like it’s been a tiiiny bit overdue 😭

i’d love to request writing little notes on post-its and leaving them in random pages of their textbook, so that they will get a little endorphin boost when studying with oscar if that’s okay! (or max, if you wanna give a hand at writing for him)

liyah!!! you're right on time babe, thank you so much for this request! i had so much fun writing this and i'm hoping i did max justice <3

max verstappen x reader, 2k, a dash of google translated dutch lol. request something from here!

“Fuck!” 

Your forehead thunks down against your open textbook for what feels like the millionth time. You feel like you’ve been staring at the same page for hours, yet you still can’t seem to make any sense of what you’re looking at, and it makes you want to scream. 

Now don’t get it wrong, you love learning and you’re fortunate enough to be pursuing an advanced education, but it’s at times like these you wonder if it’s all worth it. There’s so much information to take in and not enough hours in the day to remember it all, and you’re running out of time before you have to take this godforsaken exam that could prevent you from moving to the next level of courses. 

No pressure, or anything, of course. 

“Careful, mijn liefje, you're too smart to be banging your head on the table like that.” Max’s voice rings out from behind you, and you’re too tired to even jump. You hadn’t even heard him let himself into your apartment, let alone sneak up on you. He leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“I don’t feel smart,” You huff, feeling his hands smooth along your shoulders. “I feel like an idiot.” 

“You’re not an idiot.” He replies, very as-a-matter-of-factly. His thumbs press into the knots at the base of your neck like he knows exactly where they are, rubbing slow circles. You don't see it, but he scans your surroundings with a furrowed brow as he massages your stiff muscles. 

The table around you is littered with things—crumpled papers, empty Red Bull cans, an entire stationery store’s worth of pens and highlighters, and most worryingly, your still completely full water bottle. If that sight is any indication, he can safely assume you probably haven’t left your place in this chair for a while. 

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way because I mean it from a place of love, but when was the last time you got some sleep?” 

“What? I dunno, like yesterday—wait, what day is it today?” 

Max presses his lips into a thin line. He’s never been one to worry too much about your studies, because you’re fully capable of keeping things in order yourself, but it might be starting to get out of hand. Now feels like a good time to step in and take matters into his own hands. “If you have to think that hard about it, it’s been too long.” 

Finally you look up at him, and boy is he right. You look utterly exhausted, even as you vehemently shake your head side to side. “I’m not tired, Max. I need to study.” 

“You’ve been studying for ages. What you need is rest.” 

“I can’t. I don’t have time for rest, I need to be ready for my exam,” You argue, already turning back to your textbook. Max crouches down next to you, blanketing your knee with a large, warm palm. His other hand eases the pen out of your grasp, fingers lacing with yours instead. 

“Please take a break, schatje. If not for yourself, do it for me.” 

One look at those pretty, pleading blue eyes of his and you cave, nodding defeatedly. “Maybe a little nap couldn't hurt.” 

Max nods enthusiastically, gently pulling you out of your seat and towards the hallway leading to your bedroom before you have a chance to reconsider. You’re leaning heavily against him, basically already half asleep as he guides you down onto the soft mattress as easily as he can. 

“Wake me up in twenty minutes, please,” You mumble, giving a sluggish tug at his hand. 

“Of course.” 

He won’t, but you don’t need to know that. Max will gladly take any consequences if it means you get at least an hour of rest, hopefully more. Your health and wellbeing is the most important thing to him. 

Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord mere seconds later, soft snores emitting from your mouth even before Max pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Not tired, my ass,” He chuckles under his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before exiting the room as quietly as he can. 

While you get some much needed sleep, Max organizes your study space a little, tossing away the cans and wrappers, plugging in your computer to charge, then moves onto the kitchen and cleans up in there too. 

The living room area is next on his checklist; blankets get folded and put back in their rightful spots, and windows get opened because he won’t lie, the air smells a little stale in here. He figures a complete reset and a neat area might help ease your mind when you wake up. 

As he surveys his tidy job, his eyes land on your open textbook, then the massive stack of multicolored post-it notes next to it. He might not be able to help with the studying part, but there is something he can do about keeping your spirits up while you work on the former. 

He settles himself into your chair, hunching over at the desk as he scribbles notes to you. Encouragements, affirmations about how bright you are and how proud he is of you, dumb jokes to hopefully make you laugh, even his best shot at the little cute doodles you draw for him on the whiteboard of his driver’s room whenever you’re in there waiting for him. Obviously, they’re nowhere near as good—Max has never claimed to be much of an artist—but hopefully they’re enough to give you a little mood boost during your study sessions. 

Being careful to mark your spot, he scatters the sticky notes randomly throughout the crisp pages. 

You rouse from your sleep hours later, barely able to get a word out before Max ushers you to the bathroom to relax in the hot bath he’s drawn for you. Despite your protests, you sink into the nearly scalding water (which is just the way you like it) with an appreciative sigh.

Only once you’re fresh and clean and thoroughly pampered by your boyfriend does he let you come back to where you were when he first found you earlier today. But it looks different. It’s not a mess anymore. Upon glancing around the rest of the place, you can tell that he’s done quite a bit whilst you were passed out. 

“Did you…clean my apartment while I was asleep?” You ask in bewilderment, taking in the neatly organized space with wide eyes. It even smells fresh, lemony and bright and not at all like the despair of an overworked twenty something year old student during exam season. 

“Yep.” Max says simply, popping the ‘p’. 

“Why?” You’re not mad in any way, shape or form, just simply stunned. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you and Max just shrugs like it’s no big deal. His nonchalance still takes you aback sometimes. 

“Thought it might help. Anyways, you get one hour to study, then you’re taking a break even if I have to drag you away from that book myself,” He warns, pinning you to the spot with a stern glare. “I’ll be in the other room, but I have a timer on, so don’t even try to pull one over on me. One hour. Call out if you need anything.” 

He kisses you firmly on the side of your head and then he’s gone, leaving you alone to hit the books once more. 

Slumping into the chair with a groan, you shake your head not unlike a dog would, flipping open your book again to where you’d left off. Your head feels a little clearer now, a little less foggy now thanks to Max’s efforts, and you’re hoping it’ll make a difference. 

Your gaze is immediately drawn to a bright green sticky note a few pages later, off in the side margins. It isn’t one of your notes though, but rather Max’s tiny handwriting, an odd mixture of lower and uppercase letters spelling out a message. 

You’re doing an amazing job. Keep pushing!

Before you know it, you’ve flipped through the entire book in your search of more notes from Max, your grin only growing bigger and bigger with each one you find. 

Why don’t dinosaurs talk? Because they’re dead. 

I’m proud of you for making it this far. You’re so smart. 

What are Sassy and Jimmy’s favorite day of the week? Cat-urday. 

If you find this one, we’ll go to Bora Bora during summer break. 

That last one is tucked in the back cover, signed and dated by him. You plan to keep it as undeniable proof when the time comes, though you suspect he won’t try to deny it. He’d be happy to whisk you off to any place you wanted if you asked. 

Every single one of his notes makes you grin like an idiot, but his attempts at drawing his cats are your favorite ones of all. It takes you a few moments to understand what exactly you’re looking at, but when you squint at what could be the outline of Sassy’s ears, it makes you actually laugh out loud. 

Warmth spreads from your head to the tips of your toes at the thought of Max taking the time to do all this for you, even though he really didn’t have to. When you think about it, he’s always been this way—showing that he cares through his actions. Taking care of his loved ones without having to say a word. It’s one of the many things you love about him.

Like always, Max is true to his word. One hour later on the dot, he marches back in with gusto. 

“Alright, break time! Let’s go get some food. Lando keeps waffling on about some Greek place that’s apparently super popular and the best he’s ever had, if you don’t mind—” He stops mid sentence and mid stride at the sight of you staring back at him. You’re not smiling, but you also don’t look angry. It’s actually a little unsettling, really. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You barrel into Max with enough force to make him stumble backwards a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He lets out a soft noise of surprise at having to catch you all of a sudden, one that is quickly stifled because your lips are on his now, and you’re kissing him the same way you do when he comes home after a triple header and you haven’t seen him in weeks. 

The kiss is short, but teeming with emotion. Love, appreciation, gratitude—you kiss Max with everything you’ve got, and when you pull away he looks pleasantly confused. 

“What was that for, schatje?” He chuckles, smoothing a hand up and down your back. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Everything.” You mumble, pressing your face into the softness of his jumper. Another laugh rumbles through him, fonder this time. 

“Everything.” He repeats. You nod against his chest, and he knows what you’re trying to say, even if you’re not saying it. He sighs contentedly, nestling his chin over the top of your head. 

You’d stay like this forever if you could, if neither of you had things to do and places to be. Just you and your Max, who knows you so well you don’t even have to tell him what you need. And what you need right now is food. 

Max rocks you side to side, voice light as he ponders the options, because he just knows what you’re thinking already. “If we hurry, we could probably still get a table before the Greek place closes. Or maybe not, but I’ll pay them extra to stay open for us.” 

“I like the way you think, Maxie.” You beam, kissing him again. A little too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t mind. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[twiishaa]

ᯓ★ the subtle art of outrunning your demons: a guide ｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

sketch 002. select ‘a’ for destiny and ‘b’ for stalker

ᯓ★ here’s the masterlist!

💌 currently playing : asap, newjeans

the hall was heavily decorated, with artwork from the art school filling the otherwise empty walls. some of your art was there too, much to your embarrassment; you tried to focus on the workshop at hand instead. it hadn’t started yet, there were still kids getting dropped off so you were just setting the tables, making sure there was enough paint and pencils and so on. volunteering with children was a little out of your comfort zone, but you had slowly been getting used to it after talking to some of the parents. and when it got too much, you remembered your ever-important motive: finally getting that 100 in art.

there were only a few minutes until the workshop started, you had finished setting the tables and were waiting for the last few kids to come in.

the last people to arrive caught your eye; a young girl, and her older brother, your age.

looking at the brother, the first thought that came to your mind—

“oh, he’s tall. and drop dead gorgeous.”

wait.

tall and drop dead gorgeous?

upon your realisation, your eyes widened in surprise. it’s literally destiny! this was the guy you bumped into last week— small artist nishimura riki.

he noticed you staring at him for a little too long, before you realised yourself and ran off to busy yourself with something else. curious, riki quietly followed behind you.

“so, you live around here, huh?”

letting out a scream, you jumped backwards, losing your balance a little. riki held onto your shoulder to keep your balance as you turned around.

“oh. hello…!” your cheeks turned a bright red from embarrassment.

“we wouldn’t want you falling now, would we?”

you laughed nervously. “so, what are you doing here? thanks for the ramyeon the other day by the way,” you said, trying to strike a natural conversation.

riki chuckled. “well, i was dropping my sister off here. you work here?”

“work? do i look that old? no, im volunteering here,” you replied as riki slowly let go of your shoulders and stepped back a little.

“oh, how charitable of you,” he quipped, mockingly.

“exactly! i’m trying to get my art teacher to think that, too!” you shouted a little, excited by riki’s response. he just laughed a little, obviously amused by your reaction.

your short but sweet interaction was abruptly stopped when you were called over to help out. waving to riki, you ran off as he called out to you—

“i’ll be here to pick her up later, we should hangout or something, if you’re free.”

“sure!” you giggled to yourself, making a note to message lara and the others about this later.

ᯓ★ taglist: @hearts4hansol @sunnygirl-kait @pkjay @i03jae @tasnemluvs @jellyluv4eva @sol3chu @molensworld @pookalicious-hq @awhrin @evjirvninvitnvrnvirivn

please comment or send an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!!

[swanimagines]

Hi! Can I get Anakin Skywalker + Til Death Do Us Part by Kait Weston? Thank you!

TIL DEATH DO US PART

The bedroom you shared with Anakin had been left untouched for days since you came back from Mustafar. You had avoided going there all this time, until Obi-Wan talked to you and told you to go check it, as he believed it could make you start your grieving process.

As if he’d know anything about love, you thought bitterly as you stood at the door. He hasn’t loved anyone like I loved Anakin.

But you knew deep inside that he was right. Avoiding the room, the messy sheets, his night robe he always left on his side of the bed, would just make things worse. You knew your mind was desperately trying to pretend that everything was fine, he wasn’t dead. Mustafar never happened. The younglings are fine, probably training. Or playing. Maybe Palpatine got exposed, but Anakin helped the Jedi to defeat him.

But then your sense and memories reminded you of that day. It reminded you about you rushing to save Anakin, but you were too late. You got there to witness Obi-Wan defeat him, and it was like Anakin didn’t even see you, his eyes were on Obi-Wan the whole time as you screamed for him, frantically trying to see a way to get down, help drag him up, fix him.

But even then, you knew he was beyond fixing now. He would have been arrested and probably sentenced to death. You would only delay what would be coming for him anyway.

So you stepped into the room, breathing out with a small sob the moment you smelled Anakin’s scent lingering at the doorway. And you couldn’t bear to turn your head, so you made your way straight to the balcony, where you gripped the railing so hard you were unsure if it was healthy.

You took in a shaky breath, looking at the sky, the stars twinkling over Coruscant. Imagining he’d somehow hear you. “I’m sorry, Anakin. You had a hard time with what happened to your mother, and I didn’t fully see it before it was too late. The sight of what happened was haunting me, but I didn’t realise how much it was haunting you, how you needed help to overcome it. Seeing you turn into what killed you was a dagger to my heart, but I forgive you. I decided to keep my vow to you even after all this, til death do us part.”

You took in another breath, closing your eyes, letting yourself imagine for just a moment that Anakin wrapped his arms around you, telling you everything was alright. That it was just a bad dream, maybe make you laugh a little at the absurdity of it.

“Do you honestly think I would do such a thing?” he’d say, cupping your cheek. “I wouldn’t do anything that threatens what we have.”

But that wouldn’t happen, he would never come back.

—

Far away from Coruscant years later, Darth Vader stood at the deck of the large windows of this Imperial ship he was now commanding. Despite feeling slight regret for what he did to you in particular, leaving you alone, breaking all his promises, he quickly embraced the darkness. Master Palpatine told him that once he’d let the Dark Side take over, it’d give him power to get over all the useless heartbroken feelings.

But when he stared out from the windows, a whisper of something old and familiar suddenly engulfed him.

Your scent.

And your voice. A few echoing sobs first, followed by “What you did was a dagger to my heart, but I forgive you.”

It was like the Force itself carried your words to him through the galaxy, seeking for lost love, trying to find a heart those words belonged to. Vader squeezed his hands to fists, staring at the nothingness of space.

And for just a moment, he let himself feel the weight of words you spoke, the longing, the ache. You thought he was dead, and it was better that way.

“Til death do us part.”

It had parted you in a sense. Anakin Skywalker was dead and only he remained. At least that's what he was telling himself, Anakin was dead, Vader killed him, along with Anakin’s love for you.

If only he’d believe in it.

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[kjupchurch-xx]

The Waitress? WattPad Request

"You know how to take an order, right?" The boss asked as she came around the corner, looking at me, holding my pen and pad.

I chuckled, "You do realize I spend 12 hours a day listening to patients explain their problems to me, right?"

She sighed, "I know, I know. I'm just stressed. I wasn't expecting Dakota to call out so last minute. I appreciate you for coming to help out." She smiled as she walked back towards the bar.

I noticed a gentleman placed in my area, so I made my way out to greet him. I hadn't noticed who he was until I was face-to-face with him. It was a very famous actor, I knew I'd seen him before but couldn't place him or remember his name.

I smiled as I looked at him, "Hello, I'm Kait. I'll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you to drink?" I asked him kindly.

He smiled, looking up at me, "I'll take a Guinness."

I gave him a nod, "Would you like to start with any appetizers? We have excellent starters." I said suggestively as he began to look down the menu.

He shrugged, "Which one is your favorite?" He asked, still scanning the menu.

I pointed to the beer battered onion rings, "This one is really good. It's a close tie between this and the mozzarella sticks."

He smiled, looking up to me, "I'll take both." He said as he sat the menu down.

I chuckled, "I'll be right back." I said as I turned on my heels, heading towards the kitchen to place his appetizer and beer order.

The boss came up to me, "Do you realize who you're waiting on?" She asked, almost in disbelief.

I laughed at her reaction, "An actor. What about it?"

She widened her eyes, "He's not just some actor! That's Hugh Jackman!" She exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes, "Like I said, a random actor." I chuckled as input the order on the kiosk.

She laughed, "I have loved him since... like the 90s!" She said, staring in his direction.

I laughed as I grabbed a glass and began getting a pint of Guinness from the bar. Once I filled the chilled pint glass, I walked back towards the table and sat it down.

I pulled the notepad back out, "Do you know you what you're having or do you need more time?" I asked with a smile, looking at him.

He looked up at me, closing the menu and sitting it down on the table. "I'll have the steak, cooked medium, with asparagus and a side of the seasoned green beans."

I nodded as I wrote it down, "Good choice." I smiled at him, seeing him smiling at me as he observed my movements, "Your appetizers will be right out." I said as I closed the pad and grabbed his menu.

He smiled at me, "Thanks." He said as he grabbed his phone.

I walked back towards the kitchen and chit chatted with Dakota's co-workers. Once the two appetizers were up, I grabbed the condiments for them and headed back towards Hugh's table.

"Here's the onion rings and the mozzarella sticks." I said with a smile as I sat them down on the table, "For your onion rings, we have house made barbecue sauce and for the mozzarella sticks, we have homemade marinara."

He smirked as he looked at the food, then up towards me. "Thank you." He said with a nod. "Take your pick." He said.

I furrowed my brows at him, "Excuse me?" I asked, a bit confused.

He chuckled, "You said you liked both, so I got both to share with you."

I snickered, "I meant for you. I'm on shift." I said with a smirk.

I knew the boss would be pissed if she knew I upset someone like him. A bad review from a celebrity could threaten the restaurant's integrity.

He smiled, "I don't think your boss would argue too much if you had an appetizer with me. She's been gawking at me since I walked in." He said.

I laughed as I sat down across from him, "She has..." I said, as I grabbed an onion ring.

He chuckled, grabbing an onion ring. "You seem to be the only person here that isn't phased by me."

I snickered, "Is there a reason I should be?" I asked him.

He smiled, shrugging his shoulders, "Just not something I'm used to. Especially from a beautiful Sheila like yourself."

I smiled as I grabbed a mozzarella stick, "I'm flattered, thank you. And thank you for the food." I chuckled, blushing slightly.

He laughed, now trying a mozzarella stick, "These are pretty good." He said as he ate another.

I got up, remembering he'd ordered an entree. "Let me check on your food right quick." I said as I skipped off towards the kitchen.

I noticed him smirk as I walked off quickly towards the kitchen, noticing him eyeing my backside. As I made my way into the kitchen, I noticed his food was ready. I grabbed it quickly and rushed it out to him.

"Here's your steak and veggies. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" I said nicely as I sat his plate down in front of him.

He smiled as he grabbed his silverware, "There is one thing I need before you go." He said, looking up at me.

I smiled, "What can I get you?" I asked him.

He shrugged, "Company would be nice." He said with a smirk.

I chuckled as I sat back down across from him, gazing at him, taking in his features. He was beautiful. He'd noticed me looking, which caused me to quickly look down.

He chuckled,"I'm guessin' you like what you see?"

I giggled nervously, "Maybe a little."

He laughed as he cut into his steak, "I like what I see too, why I asked for some company." He flirted.

I chuckled as I crossed my legs, sitting in the chair. “I’m flattered.” I said with a smirk.

We continued to make small talk for about two hours until he left the restaurant. We spoke about his new film coming out, our childhoods, our favorite films and musicals, and his children. He was charming, he was interesting, but I knew I’d probably never see him again. He knew my likes, my dislikes and that I loved the element of surprise when it came to relationships.

One week later

As the week went by and I was back at my regular job in the medical field, I found myself focused more on him than my patients. It was becoming an issue and all of my superiors were beginning to notice.

My phone vibrated and I noticed it was a text from my roommate.

Roomie 💙: “Girl! That actor guy is back. He requested to have you as his waitress.”

My eyes widened. Had he been thinking about me as well?

Me: “No fucking way!”

Roomie 💙: “😂 Yes girl. We had to tell him you didn’t actually work here. He was shocked to find out you were a medical professional.”

I laughed at the text.

Me: “Thanks, I guess? 😂”

Roomie 💙: “I gave him your number. 😝”

I smiled down at my phone. My girl. My roommate was truly the best. I shook my head, chuckling to myself as I sat my phone down on my desk to get ready for my next patient. It was a last minute booking due to a cancellation, so I quickly my things to step into the treatment room.

I lightly knocked on the treatment room door, entering shortly after. My eyes widened, seeing the man before me. He was the actor from the restaurant. Mr. Jackman. He had a big smile on his face, a bit amused at my reaction.

“Are you my patient?” I asked, confused with a chuckle, tilting my head slightly.

He chuckled as he walked up to me and passionately kissed me. I was taken back, but began kissing him back. His lips were soft. His kisses were gentle but assertive. I wrapped my arms around his neck as the kiss continued.

“How’s that for the element of surprise?” He asked, still smiling as he pulled away from my lips but held me close.

I blushed, smiling at him, “Remind me again.” I said cheekily as he chuckled, slightly shaking his head and pulled me into another kiss.

[evil-mop-eating-sponge]

AUFest Art!

My Work for MYCTAUfest :)

An Empires Pride and Prejudice AU of sorts! Featuring Scott and Jimmy as Mr Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet respectively.

This was a lot of fun!

And this is link to the first chapter of the amazing fic that was written for me by @uy8hg !!!

Thank you so much for working with me Kait

Character profiles (the rest of the art) under the cut!

@mcytblraufest

[aziraphales-library]

hello good people who guard this library ✨✨

thank you for your work, it has helped me find many fics I love that I'd probably never find on my own

I recently read a fic called rude awakening:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243762

where some people from the discreet gentlemen's club are trying to figure out what the deal is with Aziraphale, and some of them even try flirting with him, until Crowley shows up and they realise "oh, he's taken"

I know my request is extremely specific but, do you know if there's any similar fics of people flirting with either Aziraphale or Crowley until the other one shows up and they realise they never stood a chance

Hi! Here are a few fics sort of along these lines...

nothing can get a look in on my baby by midnightdragons (T)

Aziraphale stood, then (using a miracle to ensure that his and Crowley’s table remained open and clean), and turned back towards the demon, slightly distracted as he made sure to disappear from Mr. Brown’s sight with a brief sigh of relief — a sigh that was quickly cut off as he was greeted with something much worse than the posh, stuffy carpet-store owner. Crowley was leaning against the bar counter, slightly slanted in his position as he craned away from a man who was much, much too close to him, enough that the demon would’ve been able to feel the heat of his breath on his face. 

An alternate scene of sorts. Aziraphale is the one to rescue Crowley from someone at the bar, with just a touch of angelic possessiveness; after all, no one hurts his demon.

Just be yourself by Mimisempai (G)

Aziraphale gets the impression that Crowley enjoyed their last visit to the pub and suggests that they return one night. What he didn't expect was that this time the situation would be reversed, and someone would take his place in front of Crowley, and he would feel this all-consuming jealousy...

Saturday Night in Soho by Zeckarin (T)

Kait simply wants to have a few drinks, and hopefully get lucky and bring someone home. There's a cute man with pale hair reading in the corner booth. What could go wrong?

A Devil's Touch by untimelysteph (T)

“Why did it bother you, angel?” Crowley asked with as much gentleness as he could muster so he didn't spook him. Aziraphale looked ready to bolt out of the shop at any moment. “Because, well, because, he didn’t ask, first of all, and no one should touch you without your express permission. And, for that matter, he isn’t worthy of touching you. No one is.” The angel was properly worked up now, his hands flailing animatedly as he continued, “That is to say, well, that I suppose I’m just not used to seeing you being touched like that. By… by other people. That, um, are not me.”

Just Kidding…..Unless? by Aziwaphale (T)

Crowley wasn't jealous that Aziraphale was getting hit on by that barista. And he certainly wasn't jealous when he found them talking at the bookstore. So why did he pretend that he was dating Aziraphale just to make him go away?

Trivial Pursuits by gildthelilli (T)

“Here’s some Wilde for you,” said Josh, sliding his hand upwards. “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”...Josh’s hand was at the crease of Aziraphale’s thigh. It gave a rough squeeze. Oh. Oh no. “No, really, I’m flattered, but I don’t -“ Aziraphale was starting to get desperate. Some excuse. Anything to shake this human off. His heart was beating fast, his hands began to tremble. “I think you do,” leered Josh. “Look at you. Don’t resist, Zira. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.” “Joshua, I am not interested, you insufferable man…” Aziraphale trailed off as he looked around, frantic now. He looked to the bar, where a man – or something man-shaped in tight black pants - was pocketing his wallet and grabbing the bottle of scotch from the counter. Aziraphale swallowed, watching as Crowley began to make his way back over to the table. “I have a boyfriend,” blurted Aziraphale. ---- Aziraphale and Crowley go drinking at pub trivia when a man from another team takes an interest in Aziraphale. Crowley is not impressed. Shenanigans ensue.

And the one you mentioned...

Rude Awakening by Nonesensed (M)

Crowley disappears for close to a century and then comes sauntering back into Aziraphale's life, nearly bringing about a riot as he does. Aziraphale is suitably miffed.

- Mod D

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Twelve Sneak Peek!

I'm about 2/3rds finished with this chapter, but I figured I'd give everyone a lil sneak peek at this next chapter, but be prepared for the tooth-rotting fluff this chapter will contain hehe

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  wc: 381 AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: none! masterlist

Someone reached out and grabbed her hands, and when she looked to see who it was, she found two people instead. Mingi and Yunho had both grabbed one of her hands, and she found herself smiling at them, and lightly squeezing their hands in silent thanks for everything they had done. Yunho had been a great help while perfecting their choreography, and while in the moment she had protested it, she was very thankful for Mingi’s help the previous day.

“Thank you both, so much.” She said, her voice so soft that the two had to strain their ears to hear her.

“You never need to thank us. We’ll always be by your side, and if you get better, then Ateez gets better, hmm?” Mingi told her, chuckling at the end, as Yunho nodded in agreement to his best friend and packmate’s words.

Y/n pulled out of Woosan’s hold to launch herself at the taller men, who caught her and hugged her as she struggled to hug them both at the same time. As the three hugged, she realized that holy fuck she would be spending however long Ateez existed with these men, and how that didn’t feel real, but she knew it had to be because she could feel the two bodies surrounding her. She felt so happy and the others smiled as her scent changed to reflect her feelings, Yeosang moving in to ruffle her hair as she let out a whine at the alpha messing up her hair. 

“Don’t do that!” She whined as she pulled a hand away from hugging the duo in front of her to rearrange her hair back to how it was before.

She heard her name called and she looked to find that it was Jongho who had called out to her. When he saw that she was looking at him, he nodded his head and smiled, before pointing to something to the other side of her. She smiled back at him before looking to find Seonghwa and Hongjoong watching all of them with big smiles on their faces and looks of fondness for the six men surrounding her. She moved out of Yunho and Mingi’s hold and got up, heading over to the two eldest and leaders of the Ateez pack.

Taglist: @bethelighthalazia @ja3hwa @scarfac3 @smally97 @potatomountain 

@iyeeeverydee @lxsunshine @ismelllikechlorine247 @fr34k4c1dr41n @ateez-atiny380   

@sapphirewaves @davinashifts333 @cookiesandcreammy @not-straight-kait @hoeforalbedo  

@calisnewworld @smilefordongil @fantasy2wonderland @forever-atiny @khjcoo 

@hhoneylix @ayoo-bangtan @11glitch11 @lynnsqueendom @fireseo 

@cara-rey @therealcuppicake @lyracarvahall @anxiousskylar @dinossaurz 

@madilinetheb3st @h3arteyes4mingi @sweetmoonlight9 @strayteezsimp @yukichan67 

@insanityxofxfanfiction @genderfluidthatwannabealone @mallielovssyou @queen-thiccness @xiosmemoryoflife 

@silverstarburst @dimeb29 @quailbagutte @londonbridges01 @ravensfeatheruniverse 

@haven-cove @seventeenthingsblr @vic0921 @bakedpotatoman @peachyy-jooniee 

@uhhheather @yoonjikim @vampiregirl215 @kawaiikels @lovelyglares

@kaleigh-2002 @arabelleum @kibs-and-bits @0325tiny @miracle-sol 

@discombobulatedrat @witchbxtch0701 @bee-the-loser @hwallazia @dawn-iscozy 

@ldysmfrst @ahhhhhhhhhghh @neivivenaj @comicnerd557

If your name is in pink, I was unable to tag you!

Taglist is: open!

[imustbenuts]

nuts reading trigun in japanese 5 - vash is. super good with kids

disclaimer: more triangulation purposes etc etc

so i mentioned before in my part 3 that the japanese language has an inbuilt hierarchy quirk to it. and i kind of noticed this nuance getting somewhat lost in the english translation, either because again i have skill issues with english, or that EN inherently doesnt come with the same quirk.

elaborating a bit more: this hierarchy of position/standing can be determined by age, profession, occupation, and experience. in terms of hard priority, age and profession tends to take precedence over everything else.

this means effectively, vash being over 150 should be top dog and given respect in JP/Asian context (respect your elders! or else!!), but because he 1) looks 24, 2) uses very immature speech with strangers, 3) uses boku, hes effectively keeping his head down and posing as a dumbass schmuck.

ヴァッシュの兄貴　行っちまうのか！？ Big bro Vash, you're leaving?! (兄貴 = aniki = big bro but informal and can be used for no blood relations)

so schmucky that he has no problems handling children. in fact, in the JP version during his departure on the sand steamer, the kids call him Big Bro Vash. twice! so he's earned their adoration in no time flat.

ヴァッシュの兄貴—ッ Big Bro Vash!!

leaving the translation like that ^ wouldnt flow well in english, so rip. also. cute scene.

and yet his meeting with Kaite is chaotically bad to say the least. i mean, he even gets drugged and knocked out. Kaite does not respect the guy who gave him food at all and plans to seemingly feed him 3 meals a day for the entire trip. so how? well.

once Brilliant Dynamites Neon comes in and turns things serious, Vash's starts doing a few interesting things.

skipping forward this and that. after getting almost blown off the sand steamer, vash holds onto kaite and they both cling on for dear life:

もうちょっと登れば通風口があるよ mou chotto noboreba tsuufucou ga aru yo If we can climb a little higher there's a ventilation duct そーか　そーか　今行こうすぐ行こう souka souka ima ikou sugu ikou Okay, okay, let's get going right now!

added romanji and color to highlight how vash is repeating phrases in his line. the そーか　そーか souka souka and 行こう 行こう ikou ikou repeats are there as if to 1) make himself sound immature, and 2) to reassure kaite that things are under control.

only touching on the bottom right panel. another possible reading of that line:

助けて頂いてありがとうございましただろう Situations like these are where you should say "thank you very much for saving my life" instead!

はいそーでした!!!

Now say it!!!

he's chiding kaite and doing the very asian adult thing of teaching the youngin manners in terms of tone. but in a stern funny way no offense taken way bc, as you might have noticed...

vash is deliberately putting himself on the same level as a kid. in tone in standing in speech. hes not being condescending. hes not lording his status as an adult over a child. (something something christ like but in the context of jp... hehe.)

this is ultimately what gets tough nut kaite to trust vash to get down to business to defeat The Neon. even without the words hes visually getting himself to be on the same (eye) level with kaite. i think its so good alsdjfdsa

kaite starts crying after thinking of his dad and regretting what he's done, gets caught in a regret reflection loop, but vash brings him back to reality. like this:

な に を 感 傷に ひ た って る か な こい つ は

another reading of this "What the hell are getting all sentimental for now ya brat?!" line might be "What. Good. Is. It. To. Lose. Your. Grip. On. Yourself. Now. You. Dummy?!"

with this he puts kaite's head back into reality and readjusts both their priority.

so again. vash just. is good with kids. his emotional intelligence is through the fucking roof as proven by all the other moments throughout tristamp and trimax*

idk its warms me bc. the asian confucius hierarchy is so... yuck. im technically of chinese descent so i know how fucked it is. so. vash is really cool with this slightly extra japanese asian hierarchy context.

i think this aspect of vash is something i dont see in english fanworks a lot, and not in the same tone. on the other hand, i do see this a lot in the jp fanworks. so idk exactly what factors or if im looking in the wrong places, but yeah. vash is good with kids. just like wolfwood.

again, studio orange understood the assignment and gave some of that dynamic here to Tonnis.

are they called studio orange bc im meant to squeeze stampede for all its worth or what. stampede is actually incredible to me im in awe.

bonus:

the jp version of the left text says roughly:

"I'm cursed!! I must be! By either the reaper or a god of misfortune and or more!!"

yeah he specifically says Shinigami and Binbougami. i dont think that would translate well in en bc this kinda throws the catholicsm theme into a bit of a tailspin LMAO. (also. the Ore here. note the context.)

[headkiss]

annaaa im rewatching cm again and reentering my hotch phase and u are my ultimate favorite hotch writer so may i please beg for something sweet with him? maybe like making dinner or doing some other activity together? of course this is totally absolutely no pressure at all thank u i love u <33

kait my love angel bae i am so honoured to be ur fav hotch writer 😭🫶 this one’s for u and i hope u like it!!! | 0.6k of fluff

Aaron can hear you moving about in the kitchen when he gets home.

It’s something he’s had a hard time getting used to, the intimacy of it all. The sound of pots clanging and spoons scraping dishes as you stir things. It’s the reminder of having someone there, of never really being alone. Sure, he’s not used to it, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He’s good at being quiet, has to be for his job, so he shuts the door softly behind him and toes off his shoes. Sneaking down the hall, he spots you through the doorway of the kitchen, your hair up, back of your neck exposed.

Hotch leans a shoulder against the doorframe and watches you cook for a little, the stress of the day sort of melting away as he does.

You only catch him when you turn around, jumping and dropping the spoon you’d been holding onto the counter. “Aaron!” His name is dragged out in a whine, “you’ve gotta stop doing that.”

“Watching you cook?”

“Using your agent feet on me.”

He huffs a laugh at that one, a smile spreading over his face freely the way they seem to spread around you.

“Whatcha making?”

“Just some pasta. You wanna help?”

You offer him an apron, the neck dangling from your fingertips. Aaron takes it easily, tossing it over his button up that he’d worn to work. It’s a funny juxtaposition, the crisp state of his shirt and the stained canvas he wears over it.

“Where do you want me, chef?”

Whenever Aaron’s gone, you tend to worry and worry. That he’ll get hurt, that he’ll get tired of juggling you and his work. Then, he comes home to you, putting on your apron without complaining, and you’re not so worried anymore, because it makes sense. Having him beside you makes sense.

You grin at him over your shoulder, now turned back to the boiling water on the stove, “there’s some veggies in the fridge if you wanna cut those?”

“‘Course.”

As he walks behind you to get to the fridge, he pauses to push a kiss into the side of your neck, his arms weaving around your waist. You lean into his touch like an instinct, like there’s a string that shortens whenever he’s near, tugging the two of you towards each other.

You’re lucky to get him this way. Where everyone else sees Hotch, you only see Aaron.

Conversation comes easy as you cook together, Hotch getting a cutting board and setting himself up at the counter next to the stovetop. Not the most functional spot, but it’s the one closest to you, so he chooses it anyway.

Aaron’s not one to open up quickly. He doubts himself, questions whether he’ll be too much for the other person, worries that they’ll get fed up with his scattered schedule and leave. And then he met you and things were different.

He’d had to cancel your second date because of a case, and you’d barely blinked, telling him on the phone that the anticipation will only make it so much better, that it isn’t his fault and you’d be there when he got back. You said all of the right things and he sent you flowers and that was the start of the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Now, you live together and your toothbrushes share the same countertop and it might not be perfect all of the time but it’s as close as possible, he thinks.

“Hey. Try this for me?” You’re holding out a spoon, a little bit of pasta sauce on the end, your free hand cupped underneath it to catch any that might fall. “Please?”

You never need to say please with him, Aaron thinks, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the way it sounds in your voice.

He leans towards you, bending to taste what you’re offering him.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.”

Hotch isn’t lying, but even if it wasn’t perfect, he’d still tell you it was. If only to see the way your face lights up with your smile, the way you bounce a little on your feet.

[sunshinesteviee]

emma omg omg pushing strands of their hair out of their face with steeb pls and thank u ily forever 🫶🏼

kait!!! omg ilyt this is for u MWAH 🫶🏼

-

Your boyfriend is beautiful. His soft hazel eyes, his pretty nose, the most kissable lips, the cute little moles dotting his cheek. Everything about him is just gorgeous. It’s unfair, actually, just how pretty he is. You could stare at him all day long, if he’d let you, but no matter how confident he can be, he still gets shy under your gaze, so you have to be sneaky about it. But sometimes, you just can’t help yourself.

The best time of day — your favorite time of day — is when you wake up before him, warm yellow light spilling in through curtains, and he’s still fast asleep beside you, cheek pressed into his pillow. He always looks so peaceful, so innocent, with his lips parted, his soft, wavy hair falling into his face. He’s perfect.

Scooting in closer to Steve’s sleeping figure, you snuggle into his chest, leaving just enough room to still admire him. From the close angle, you can count each of his long lashes, trace the freckles and moles that dust across his cheeks. A lock of dark hair curls around his ear, another twisting down his neck, disappearing beneath the blanket, even more falling into his face. It’s been a while since he’s had a haircut, and it’s getting long and shaggy.

Fingers tracing down the length of his neck, you twist a soft wave around your pointer finger gently. It wasn’t your intention to wake him up, but he groans softly, nose scrunching up as his eyes flutter open after a moment. You grimace your apology, though he can hardly see with how slowly he’s blinking, eyes still heavy with sleep. Cupping his stubbly cheek in your soft hand, you murmur, “G’morning, Stevie. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mm,” he manages to grunt in response, not angry or annoyed, just still half-asleep. His body curls towards yours, an arm searching for your waist as his nose pushes into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, “mornin’.”

“Sleep well?” you ask softly, the hand not on his cheek rubbing a gentle line up the curve of his spine.

“Mhm, good,” he breathes out, lips pursing into a light kiss against your neck. “How ‘bout you, baby?”

“Me too,” you reply, moving in closer than you already are, a leg hitching up over his hip to press your torso to his. You’re both on his pillow now, huddled together on his side of the bed. All of your senses are filled with Steve. His smell, his warmth, his strong arm holding your waist, his heartbeat, his sleepy eyes meeting yours.

A lazy smile tugs at the corners of Steve’s lips as your eyes meet. It’s so soft, it nearly makes you melt into the bedsheets right then and there. Sometimes you’re not sure you deserve the softness. The love that Steve always looks at you with. The utter adoration for you that seeps from him, even in this half-awake state. Your hand slides up his back, tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, running the soft strands between your fingers. You want him to know just how much you love him, too, but you’re not sure how to say it, not so early in the morning. You hope he can feel it.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as you lay with each other, all soft touches and gentle kisses, quiet whispers as the sun rises further into the sky, spilling bright light into your room. You sigh loudly after a while, knowing you need to get up, and Steve, finally more awake, pulls his face from your neck to really see you. He gives you one of his gorgeous, heart-stopping smiles, and nudges the tip of his nose against yours, “I’ll make ya coffee, honey.”

The long, wispy hair hanging in his face brushes against your forehead, tickling you slightly and causing your eyes to close, nose scrunching up. Giggling, you reach up to push your hands into his hairline, pushing all of it out of his face. He looks a bit silly, but still so handsome. “Mm, yes please.”

He shakes free of your grasp, hair falling into his face once again, an over-dramatic pout gracing his lips, “Okay, well I’m not going to make you any if you’re just going to tease me, baby.”

“Sorry,” you rush to apologize, a smile still tugging at your lips as, this time, you delicately push a few strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear, “‘m sorry. You’re so pretty it hurts, Stevie.”

A soft pink blooms on Steve’s cheeks. His eyes roll, but there’s the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips, “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

“I’m serious!” you reply, a deep frown creasing the space between your eyebrows, “Y’so pretty, Stevie. Prettiest boy this side of town, no question.” You sweep more hair back out of his face, pressing little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, the moles dotting his skin, anywhere you can reach.

Steve all but giggles, face scrunching up as he leans into your touch. “Stop,” he says in a way that clearly means keep going, cheeks somehow even pinker as he pushes his face back into the crook of your neck to hide.

You giggle with him, cradling the back of his head as your fingers continue to card through his hair, “My handsome, beautiful, hot boyfriend and his ridiculously soft hair. Love you.”

“You’re just jealous of my hair,” he mumbles into your skin with a loud huff, and you can practically feel the eye roll he’s giving you. “Love you, too, though, pretty girl. Still want that coffee?”