#then. in the process of ordering a birthday cake. I got told that the baker wouldn't take my order

[bluethedream]

wanna crawl off to a dark corner and never leave

[roseadleyn]

GWIEUEJEN3 JEANETTE WITH A BAKER!S/O,, IT'D BE SUCH A CUTE DYNAMIC

THEY'D BE THE CUTEST OMG OMG

solei i'm on my hands and knees begging ur forgiveness for ur ideas being late, i'm so so sorry 😭

gn reader because solei requested this!!

this takes place after jennette and anastacius start living together

-

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝 | 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚.

tw: jennette has some insecurities, and one my ocs makes an appearance in this but they're not named, but apart from that, none ! pure fluff <3

can you guess the oc? <3

there are three stages of life, you've been told.

of course, being a child is the first, when you could complain to your parents, and run around in the mud, and scrape your knees. the next stage is being an adolescent, where everything is spinning, new things are appearing, and confusion and exhilaration are the main themes of this stage. then.. being an adult. your entire life swept up in the chaos of taxes and bills and grocery shopping, and not being able to cry about it if something goes wrong.

well, you had decided to go down a different route. you gave up your education just a few years after starting it to follow your painfully childish dream of opening your own bakery. with a close friend's support and promise to help you at your shop, your great grandparents' (i say grandparents since both loved baking) book of ancient recipes, and your own determination, you do eventually succeed.

and things do go good! people are attracted to your shop because of your friend's sweet, kind nature and your delicious baking and the generosity with which you hand it out. it's not long before your little shop is bustling with business on a daily basis.

your eyes soften as you take it in. clean floors, decorated walls, fluffy carpets and pretty tablecloths. people laughing and talking, mothers feeding small bites of cake to their small kids, and friends giggling and sharing cupcakes. before you can bask in the pride of your shop, the door opens and a young girl walks in.

the first thing you notice about her is that she's absolutely gorgeous. straight light brown hair and jewel green eyes, a kind, open face, small, cute earrings hanging from her ears, dressed in a pale blue and white ensemble. she looks around shyly before stepping up to your counter with a deep breath.

'hello, good afternoon.' she says. her voice is soft. 'my name is jennette. i'd like to place an order, if you please.'

'of course!' your friend returns cheerfully. 'what would you like, miss?'

jennette visibly relaxes at the friendly tone and smiles a little as she replies, 'it's for my cousin's birthday. she likes sweet things so something like chocolate cake would be nice.'

you set to work, mixing some ingredients and looking through your cabinets for the other ones. flour, baking powder.. you lose yourself in this familiar process that you've done a million times, yet also listen to jennette as she discusses the details of the cake with your friend.

'so, do you have anything particular in mind about the size?' your friend asks, her crystalline sea green eyes narrowed in concentration.

jennette ponders this for a moment, and then looks up, 'uhm. please have it slightly on the larger side, but not too big.'

'sure thing.' she closes her notepad. 'we'll have it ready for you by tomorrow, is that alright?'

'perfectly so!' jennette beams at her. 'well, i've got to run. thank you!'

you can feel a smile grow on your face listening to her bright tone.

—

'hello, miss! good morning.' jennette greets. 'i'm here for athanasia's cake, if you please!'

your eyes widen as you turn around from checking on the frosting; wiping your hands on your apron, you ask, 'athanasia? crown princess athanasia?'

jennette seems to realize what she just said and looks bashful. 'uhm, yes.'

'she's your cousin?' another employee, who's filling in the place of your friend (your friend is sick, unfortunately) joins the conversation. 'no wonder you have the jeweled eyes. how'd you end up here?'

jennette flushes pink and stares at the ground. you get the feeling that she isn't comfortable discussing this matter.

'drop it, idiot.' you mutter to him, nudging him in the side, and he gives you a half-hearted glare and vanishes into the kitchen.

jennette gives you a shy, thankful smile and you feel your heart pitter patter in your chest. grinning at her, you say, 'your cake is ready to go, i just need to package it, okay? and one more small thing. which color box would you prefer, miss?'

she thinks for a moment, and then says, 'golden, a lighter shade of golden, like sunlight. oh, i'm being too specific and picky, aren't i? sorry —'

you laugh gently, 'no, you're fine. we have boxes like that. let me get it for you.'

you step into the kitchen to get the cake. it's a chocolate cake, three layered, each layer bursting with chocolate chips, and you've surrounded it with small, vanilla flavored rectangles that say 'happy birthday!' all around. you carefully place it into a square box, the color of sunshine, and wrap it with a silk white ribbon.

'here you go!' you cheerfully hand her the box. 'i hope it's to your liking.'

jennette lets out a soft sigh of delight. 'oh, it's wonderful! thank you so much! uhm, about the payment —'

'yes, about that...your father, or so the man said, paid yesterday.'

jennette brightens immediately. 'father did? i didn't expect that, he's been calling athanasia's birthday party a nuisance for weeks now —'

you look at her with questioning eyes. why would athanasia's uncle call her birthday party a nuisance?

again jennette seems to realize how much she's let slip, going bright pink before fiddling with ribbon. then, as though steeling herself, she asks, 'do you like the princess?'

you blink and then nod excitedly, 'yes! she's so inspiring, i really do. she's also so pretty!'

jennette's smile seems to falter. 'ah, i.. i don't blame you. she is amazing!' then, pretending to look outside, 'goodness, i'm late. thank you! see you soon.'

and before you can ask her what's happening, she's gone.

—

jennette walks up the hill to her house feeling as though there's a shard of ice in her chest. did this mean you liked athanasia? did you like athanasia more than her? athanasia was lovely, of course.. were you just acting friendly to her for sake of business or what?

you're overreacting, she sternly tells herself. get yourself together, today is athy's birthday.

as soon as she walks through the doors, she's tackled with a full body hug from athanasia. 'jetty! how are you? it's been so long.. oh, is this for me? you didn't have to!'

jennette sucks in a deep breath and hugs her cousin back. 'oh, a friend downtown made this.'

athanasia pulls back, surprised. 'really?'

jennette laughs. 'mhm, my friend owns a bakery.'

the party drags well into the night, and by the end of the day jennette is feeling cheerful and happy. she escapes from the crowded house to the balcony outside. reveling in the night air on her skin, she looks towards your bakery from her balcony in the sandstone villa on the hill.

were you thinking of her?

—

you cannot get jennette out of your head.

you toss and turn all night.

—

months pass and you have the fattest crush on jennette. your friend has gotten extremely tired of hearing your lovesick ranting about everything, from her eyes to the hat she wore yesterday.

'oh my god. will you shut up?'

'why?'

'just confess, idiot!'

'no!'

you mix the cake batter with renewed vigor, but you can't help but dwell on her words. what if you did confess? your friend shakes her head as though she thinks you're a lost cause.

jennette should come with a warning label, you think, idly. something like, BEWARE! you will fall in love with her doe eyes and stupid smile! you will suffer from heartache!

that day, after closing up, you're on your way to meet jennette in a little clearing some minutes away from your bakery. as you head outside, your friend calls out, 'it looks like it might rain, [name]!'

'i'll be okay! see you.'

you stroll up the hill, adoring the peace at this time of day. the clearing is always draped in green vines, sunlight filtering through them; you smile just thinking about the place.

and you spot her standing with some people up ahead. they're.. they're talking about you.

'no, seriously? you like them? romantically? you like them?'

the person's voice was filled with contempt and derision. 'you fell for that nutty, messy baker?'

it's a sensation of falling through the ground when you hear jennette laugh.

you turn and run as raindrops start pouring.

—

jennette gives a nervous laugh, even though she's extremely irritated by this person insulting you. 'don't say that.. they're really nice, they're so sweet, i really do like them —'

she gives a gasp as she sees your fleeing figure. giving a stony glare to the person, she sprints after you, being completely soaked to the skin in her rush to find you.

you're in the little clearing. how, why, are you so beautiful?

jennette sits down by your form. waits.

'jennette.' your voice is trembling. 'you've hurt me.'

'i know.'

silence.

'i'm sorry.' she pleads.

'are you?'

'i wasn't laughing at you! i was laughing slightly since i was nervous! why would i laugh at you?'

'you wouldn't be the first to.' you mutter, wrapping your arms around your knees.

jennette decides that desperate times call for desperate measures.

she throws herself into your arms, her lips meeting yours. and it's like the world melts away, her kiss is clumsy and sweet and innocent, and you hug her closer like she'll vanish once you let go.

'i love you.' jennette says, pulling back, bright red. 'i really do.'

you breathe in the rainy air and jennette's flowery comfort and sigh softly. 'i know. i love you too.'

—

tagging ; @rouecentric, @ykassu / @ylxntis, @elychee, @mysticmeena, @d10nsaint, @dxmoness, @that-one-pretty-bitch, @dion-s-lawyer, @giyuus0nlywife, @lady-navier0357, @nxccolo, and @cerisearan.

—

[tommyspeakycap]

I love your work! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write something about (toddler) baby Shelby having Alfie help her bake a cake for Tommy

omggggg that’s so so cute!!

A Bakers Help

The burly Camden Town ‘baker’ was nothing short of completely shocked when he heard a soft banging on his office door in the mid afternoon. His eyebrows had furrowed and he had kept his hand readily on his weapon so he was prepared in the event of an enemy being on the other side of the door. He was surprised to say the least when he tugged open the door and had to look down multiple inches to spot she who knocked on the door.

There stood a little girl. One he knew fairly well but who’s appearance outside his office was still a shock. That little girl was notorious around most of England, especially in heavily gang populated territories where the “Shelby” was a household name and everybody who knew that name knew the littlest member of the family was something akin to a jewel in Tommy Shelby’s crown. Alfie had been curious as to whether or not she was actually attached to Thomas Shelby’s hip in consideration to how much time she spent right by his side, teetering along on little legs so he knew she was safe right by his side. It wasn’t often that Tommy entrusted others to watch over his youngest sister, so it would be safe to say that Alfie was incredibly confused.

“Good morning.” The little girl greets, her lips plastered with a bright smile as she lifts a hand to wave at him. Alfie braces himself on either side of his doorway with strong hands so as to lean out of his office to look out into the ‘bakery’ to both the left and right before stepping back in. “Mhm yes it was actually. Where’s your brothers?” He asks, turning his eyes back to the girl in the doorway who fights to pull her wool coat back up from falling off her arms due to the fact it hadn’t been buttoned up. The girl shrugs, “Dunno...Can I come in?” She asks politely, “It’s very cold.”

Alfie Solomons squints his eyes and forms a crease between his brows, but even he can’t deny the chill in the winter breeze through the unheated factory and the shivering of the child, and so he steps to the side and gestures her in the door. Alfie hums, or maybe something more akin to a grumble, in thought as the five year old wanders around his office to take in the whole surroundings. “And where are your pikey brothers then yeah?” His voice rumbles deep and gravelly the same way it always does, not missing the chance or thinking twice about dropping an insult to the Shelby men as he speaks. The youngest of the clan shrugs her little shoulders. “Dunno,” she says again, “I’m with Ada. Told her i was going out to play.”

The words most definitely do worry Alfie Solomons after the girl with Tommy Shelby’s striking blue eyes and his heart in the palm of her tiny hand finishes speaking flippantly. It occurs to him that she’s simply too young to understand both risk and consequence. She knows that Tommy Shelby dotes on her like the little princess he believes her to be. She knows he loves her, he tells her every day. However, Alfie knows the far darker side to that love. He’s heard of people brutally murdered with remains unidentifiable after coming close to her, and although Alfie has no desire to harm a child who probably doesn’t even understand what it is the rest of her family do when she’s not around, that doesn’t reassure him even in the slightest that Tommy, Arthur, Ada and John Shelby along with Polly Gray wouldn’t rip him to shreds if they knew their little princess was stood in his office for whatever reason.

“Right,” Alfie states, “Better get you home then,” He strides easily towards the door to hold it open, but the little girl simply quirks one eyebrow and remains where she stands. “It’s Tommy’s birthday soon.” She declares, looking up at the hardened London gangster as if he poses no threat nor fear to her in the slightest bit. She smiles at him, big and bright. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know if he was violent, didn’t know if he was supposed to be scary. She just knew she had met him before, he was relatively funny as the 5 year old obviously did not pick up on the thinly veiled threats hiding beneath the verbal back and forth between her favourite brother and the man she stood with now, and more importantly than anything; she knew he was a ‘baker’. “You need a cake on your birthday, you know.” She adds very matter of factly, and Alfie Solomons doesn’t fight the little grin he gives. “And you’re a baker, so you can make good cakes. I need you to help me make Tommy’s cake for birthday cake time on Saturday.”

There’s virtually no way this little girl had just come up with this by herself. The way she acts, her generosity, her sweetness and her absolute insistence of cake for her brothers birthday was not something she had adapted by herself. Children don’t just come up with these things. That thought, for Alfie, means that those who have raised her have drilled a certain kindness into her. Thomas Shelby has raised his little sister to be the kind of kid who will find a man she thinks is a baker just because her brother told her he was, so that he can help her make a cake. That makes Alfie want to laugh. Tommy Shelby acts the part, but Solomons now knows he’s the type who taught a little girl about the importance of cake and birthday fun.

“Fine.” Alfie responds, out stretching his arm to gesture the little girl out into the factory. He did actually have a designated area for the ‘bakery’ just in the event that someone came looking or investigating and he needed to show there was actually a bakery there. He was thankful for that now, because he got the feeling that there was little to no chance he would have gotten away from the very very persistent little Shelby trailing behind him. It becomes apparent very quickly that little (y/n) will have no luck when it comes to seeing what was going on up on the counter, considering she wasn’t even nearly the same height as it, never mind tall enough see over it. Alfie has to get creative in that respect, eyes flicking around until they lands on a a stack of crates that he grabs a couple of to pile them next to the counter so that the youngest Shelby can contribute as she pleased to the cake making.

All things considered, Alfie was actually a fairly good baker. He didn’t come up with the idea of a bakery to cover his illegal business work for no reason. He knew he could bake if it was necessary (which it sometimes was to smuggle alcohol), so this ask from the little girl who had a list of ingredients and an exact image of how she wanted this cake to look, wasn’t a huge task for him.

In the process of the bake, Alfie learned a lot. He learned that little Shelby couldn’t quite pronounce her L’s (which Tommy was apparently working on with her), so she called him Afie. He learned that Tommy’s favourite cake was vanilla sponge, which was why it was a four tier vanilla sponge with extra strawberry jam that his sweet little sister had chosen. He learned that the little girl got here by very discretely tripping up her cousin, Karl, so that Ada was preoccupied giving him a plaster for his knee and stopping his tears and (y/n) snuck off from Ada’s London home in the direction she felt like she remembered Tommy going when he had taken her to Alfie’s bakery once, albeit leaving her in the car with Arthur and John. She had to ask for directions from confused strangers a few times, but ultimately she found the place on her own. Alfie learned that little Shelby talks a lot. She’s very clever, can follow instructions a lot better than most children of a similar age. It had become increasingly clear she didn’t see any problem with talking about the fun things she did with her brothers. The way Arthur and John like to throw her about to hear her giggles, how Tommy tucks her in every single night that he can. How he tickles her, how he still carries her around even though her aunt Polly protests it. How good her aunt Polly’s cooking is. How much she loves her family. She sees no problem with divulging these soft family moments, although Tommy would probably be absolutely appalled that people knew these things about him and his brothers. It made the head of the Peaky Blinders seem so incredibly mundane.

Alfie could see now why that sweet girl was so loved and held so dear by the family. He also had to wonder if she truly was one of them. She was funny and bright, she giggled with him and babbled on about sorts of rubbish. Alas, she was bossy as Thomas himself. She was loud like Arthur, sarcastic as John, self assured as Polly, as independent as Finn and opinionated as Ada. She made sure to tell Alfie exactly how to stack the first layer while she mixed ingredients for the next layer and he was kept on a very short leash, reminded every so often that he was not to dip his fingers in any of the mixtures and leaning over as he worked to tell him Tommy liked more jam than what Alfie had put on.

“Wait!” She yelps out, leaping off the makeshift kitchen stool made from those bottle crates to chase after Alfie until she reaches the man who was carrying the cake towards a box. “Finishing touches,” she insists, ever so slightly dusting the cake with powdered icing sugar to give a final decorational appearance. Alfie smiles subconsciously as the small girl stands back with a proud grin, turning her eyes to man holding the cake, “Thank you Afie,” she beams, her cute little way of saying his name never lost on him as his heart flutters. “Welcome, baby Shelby.” He responds as he slips it into the cake box he’d ordered one of his men to go and get without question.

Alfie was certain he would step outside his bakery and London would be burning. He expected to have Shelby’s killing people on the streets searching for their baby, their sweet little princess. He assumed (and rightly so) that Ada hadn’t told Tommy that she had absolutely no idea where his most precious little love was for genuine fear of his reaction and so she had mobilised some friends and acquaintances she had made while in London to try finding her little sister. Albeit they were evidently unsuccessful and absolutely no one expected little (y/n) to be baking with Alfie Solomons for her gangster brothers birthday because she just loves him so.

Ada literally burst out the front door frantically when she saw the car headlights pull up outside her house, wrapping herself tightly in her coat as Alfie Solomons lifts her little sister down out of the car. The 5 year old stands innocent as ever next to the man who Tommy never truly knows if he can trust or not as he reaches back into the car to lift out a white cake box with two strong hands. “Better keep a closer eye on this one yeah?” He gestured his head to (y/n) who runs towards Ada and jumps into her open arms to be squeezed incredibly, almost painfully tightly. “Never run off like that again!” She hisses, her concern and anxiety clear behind her words as she speaks into her sisters soft hair, stroking it with her hand for some form of reassurance.

“Sorry Ada,” she hums cutely in response, “We made Tommy a cake though, for his birthday!” Ada let’s go of (y/n) and turns to the little girl. “Go inside and find Aunt Pol, i’ll be in shortly.” She says as she eyes Alfie Solomons with the stoney faced glare he assumes she learned from Polly Gray and her often stoney resolve. “Bye bye Afie!” The 5 year old chimes, scuttling up to him to wrap her arms around his legs for a moment before turning and running off with a wave at the doorstep with Alfie a little bit to stunned by how kind she was to him despite the bad man he was to do much else than wave after her. “You,” Ada snipped, cutting him out of his thoughts and crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “Baked a cake with my little sister?” Her words leak with confusion, eyebrows furrowed with her head tilted in question as she continues to be unable to think of any reason why Alfie Solomons hadn’t turned the little girl away or even used her as a bargaining chip with threats of harm to the child if Tommy didn’t do as Alfie wanted. Instead he baked with her a cake for Thomas and she was returned without a bump, not even a hair on her head harmed. He had returned the little Shelby who was uncharacteristically clumsy for a Shelby without her falling off of anything, burning herself on any ovens or accidentally eating something she was supposed to.

“Yeah.” Alfie responds, shrugging his shoulders at the same time. Ada steps closer to him to try in some way to read what he’s not saying, her heels clicking with each step. “And you want nothing for it?” She presses, her eyes narrowed as he shrugs. “Birthday gift innit yeah?” He grumbles, handing the cake to Ada. “She’s the best of you lot,” he states firmly as he turns his back to climb back into his car, “Keep her that way yeah?”

Ada’s frown turns to a soft smile as she nods, watching as Alfie Solomons pulls his door shut firmly and turns on his ignition.

“Mr Solomons, Oi!” She calls after him, forcing him to roll down his window to hear what she has to say. “Thank you.” She breathes, “For looking after her and bringing her home. And for the cake.” Alfie nods his head in acknowledgment. Ada isn’t sure what else to say. She still feels fairly nauseous at the fact her little sister was missing for virtually the whole day and littered with further nerves at the fact Tommy would be around to pick her up in a half hour and it wasn’t like little Shelby to keep quiet about anything, especially not when it came to Tommy and especially when it came to her adventures that her favourite brother hadn’t been part of, so assuredly she would let him know all about her baking day with Alfie after the cake was revealed tomorrow afternoon for his birthday. Alfie knew this too and he imagined he’d get a visit from the head of the Peaky Blinders relatively soon after he found out.

Tommy would probably be as confused as Ada as to why Alfie looked after little (y/n) the way he did. Alfie couldn’t even really explain it himself, she just warmed up his heart and the sweet little girl showed Alfie truly why Tommy loves that little girl so much. She brings laughter and happiness and fun. She brings light into a very, very dark life and Alfie appreciates that dedication Tommy had to keeping her safe a lot more now. He himself now had a soft spot for the kid and there was a part of him that knew for a fact he too would be making sure no one in his circle was breathing words of harming that little girl who had promised she would bake with him again, and had his birthday written on her hand so she could bake for his birthday.

Maybe the Shelby’s weren’t so bad after all.

[ladypaulsvn]

Hello! Can you write something for Ally with “Do you still like me?” “Don’t ask me that.” Maybe she and reader dated when they were younger and it didn’t work out but they cross paths again, please? Have a good day :)

Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader

Word Count: 2,402

Summary: You bump into Ally, your high school sweetheart gone wrong, at a grocery store in your home town.

a/n: don’t kill me.

You didn't want to be here, back in this town that made you miserable for 18 long years. You hated your home town, and your yearly visits for the holidays were no exception. As much as you loved your family, this town had too many bad memories.

Including your first love, who stole your heart, then smashed it. Ally. The two of you had dated all throughout high school, yearning for the future and your life together outside of this miserable town.

When Ally told you that she got accepted into a college across the country from you, you weren't phased at all! You loved her! You could do long distance. You thought Ally felt the same, until things started slowly falling apart.

She seemed as excited as you were, and kept up the facade as you both moved across the country from each other. You made sure to fly out to see her once a month, or once every two months if life got extra busy with finals or a build up of work. You called every day, or at least texted. You told her everything, just as you always had.

Things crashed and burned the time you decided to surprise her for her birthday. You had told her you wouldn't be able to see her this year, you had so much going on and weren't able to get off work. You thought you had tricked her pretty well!

So it was much to your surprise when you arrived at her apartment, a gift in hand, to find her in bed with another woman. You couldn't process what you were seeing and your heart immediately broke in two. Ally called after you, but you simply dropped her present and ran.

She tried to fix things with you. Apologize, tell you that it was a mistake. That she was drunk and it wasn't what it looked like. But it was exactly what it looked like. You broke up with her. And you hadn't spoken to her since.

It was 10 years since then, and this year, things were a bit on the brighter side. The weather seemed to be better than past years, your family wasn't fighting as they usually were which was a plus, and the house was decorated more than it had ever been. It seemed like the perfect holiday.

This morning, you were sent out on a small grocery hunt. It was a bustling Monday morning a few days before Christmas and everyone was out, picking up last minute presents and ingredients for Christmas dinner. Your mother needed a pie crust, that’s all.

You skimmed down the isle, why were pie crust so damn hard to find? You walked slowly, passing sugar, cake mixes, flour, sprinkles until finally! Pie crusts! You picked one with a graham cracker crust and turned around, giddy to get back home and help your mother bake your favorite, a coconut cream pie.

Smash.

You crashed right into someone. "Oh i'm so sorry!" You said, picking up their basket and handing it to them. Your eyes went wide as you recognized her features. "Ally?" You whispered. Her face was riddled with shock as well.

"Y/n? Wow! I never thought I'd see you again." She laughed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. You smiled, "Yeah, how strange. What are you doing in town? I thought you were across the country?" You asked, rocking on your heels.

"Oh yeah, I am! Just visiting the family. Usually they come out to Cali but this year they wanted snow." Her laugh brought back a million memories. "What about you?"

"Oh, same deal, kinda. I always, um, come here for the holidays." You we're getting anxious. "How's your mother?" She asked and you cursed internally. Why was she doing this?

"Oh um, she's fine. I got this pie crust for her actually, were making co-" You held up the pie crust.

"Coconut cream pie?" She cut you off with a smile. You nodded, laughing, "Yeah. Coconut cream pie."

"Those were always my favorite. Your mother was such a good baker." Her smile was warm and bubbly. Just as it always was.

You stood in silence for a few seconds. "Would you like to..." She bit her lip as she trailed off. "Like to what?" Your heart was racing.

"Get a coffee, maybe?" You could see the hope in her eyes, so you nodded. "Sure."

***

Why the hell had you said yes? You texted your mother that you were meeting up with a friend for coffee, and you'd be home with the pie crust soon, before cranking up your car.

You sighed as you buckled your seatbelt. You really were stupid, weren't you? The drive to the coffee shop was under 5 minutes, it was a small town after all. You immediately saw Ally closing the door to her car and locking it with a button on her keys. You took a deep breath. You could do this.

You parked and made your way inside the small shop, searching for her brunette bob. You spotted her at a window seat and she seemed to spot you too, waving you over.

"I ordered for you, I hope you don't mind." She said as you sat across from her. You shook your head in response. You looked up the ceiling, the rafters were exposed as they always were. Cobwebs drifting between them. It had been forever since you sat in this spot.

"So..." Ally pursed her lips "Do you have a partner? Work? Kids? What's up in y/n's world?" Her boldness caught you off guard.

"I don't have a partner, actually. But I'm working on my second doctorate right now." You said and her eyes went wide. "Second?"

"Yes. I have one in Psychology and i'm working on one in Criminal Justice." You shared, proud that you seemed to impress her.

"That's very impressive y/n." She said as a waiter came by and handed you both your respective coffee's.

You took a sip. "Thank you."

"I can't say i've done anything nearly as impressive but I am married... That counts for something right?" She laughed and held up her hand, a sparkling ring attached.

"Oh wow, that's amazing Ally. Do you have any kids?" You asked and she nodded.

"A boy. His name is Oz. Hold on I have a picture." She pulled out her phone and showed you a picture of a little blonde curly haired boy with glasses.

"He looks precious." You smiled and she thanked you.

"This coffee is terrible." She leaned across the table and whispered, causing you to laugh. "It really is. The Blue Jay has gone down hill." You joked and her laughter filled the air again.

"Definitely. Remember when we used to come up here every Saturday morning?" Ally asked and you reminisced on the past.

"Then we'd go down to the pond." You added and Ally smiled at your remembrance. "I haven't been to that pond since... well since we last went there I guess." Ally frowned.

"They were good times Ally." You reminded her and she smiled again. "Yeah, good times." She looked to her cup of coffee, stirring it with the little stick.

"So you really haven't found anyone?" Ally looked up again and you were taken aback by her question. "Well uh, no. I don't think i'd have a reason to lie about that." You laughed.

"I did see someone for a couple years though. Ended a year or two ago now, so It's not something I think about the daily or anything." You explained and Ally nodded.

"What were they like?" Ally asked and you wondered why she had such an interest in your love life. She had a husband, and a child.

"Well, she was really nice. Her name was Lana and she was a reporter, wrote a lot of articles. We traveled a lot together. She was really fun and addictive but she wasn't the type to settle down. When things got pretty serious, she dipped. Not that much of a story, really. Just a little chunk of my life that had a lesson to learn I guess. Like us." You told your story and Ally listened intently, soaking up every word.

"Like us?" She asked and you nodded. "Yeah. We were a lesson. Something I had to go through to grow as a person. Not every relationship is meant to last a lifetime, Ally. You've just found that person already. Mine is out there still." You were open and honest and Ally was dazed by it. "Yeah... a lesson."

Your phone dinged. Your mother texted, asking if you'd be much longer. "I think I may have to go Ally, I'm sorry. You know how impatient my mother is." You told her and she nodded, understanding.

You thanked her for the coffee before leaving the shop, heading back to your car.

"Y/n!" You heard Ally's voice across the parking lot as she jogged up to you. "I'd really like to catch up more. Can we meet up another time before I have to leave back home?" She asked and you contemplated.

"Here. Take my number and think about it. Text me." She handed you a piece of paper with a smile before walking back inside the cafe.

***

When you got home, you helped your mother bake the pie and spent the night hanging out with your family, almost forgetting the eventful day you had, seeing Ally.

You were in bed, about to fall asleep when you remembered she had given you her number. You laid there for awhile, going over your options in your head. Did you really want to see her again? After all this time?

It wasn't so bad today. She seemed to really want to see you. Maybe one more time couldn't hurt...

You punched her number into your phone and hit dial. Within three beeps, she had answered. "Hello?" Her voice was upbeat. "Hey Ally, it's y/n." You said, suddenly regretting your choice.

"You realize its 10 pm right, y/n?" She laughed and you checked the time, shocked. "Oh wow, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. But hey! You picked up." You said and heard her laugh. "You got me there. Did you decide if you wanted to meet up again?" You could almost see her biting her lip through the phone, a nervous habit she always had when you were together.

"Um, yeah. I'd like to meet up again." You said before you could stop yourself. Well, there's no going back now. "I'm so happy you said that! I was thinking maybe we could go out by the pond? Like we used to." She suggested and your breath caught in your throat. That damn pond.

"Uh, sure Ally. When'd you wanna do that?" You asked, nervously twirling a piece of your hair around your finger. "Are you free tomorrow?" You thought for a moment. "Yeah, i'm free." She giggled through the phone at your response. "See you tomorrow then, goodnight y/n."

"Goodnight Ally." She hung up shortly after. You plugged your phone in before switching off your lights, curling up in your bed. You really hoped this wasn't a mistake.

***

The next morning, you met Ally by the pond like you used to all those years ago. You would sit on the giant rocks and spend hours upon hours talking about anything and everything.

The two of you had been here for awhile, sharing a bag of jellybeans and a couple beers. It was like high school all over again.

"Remember yesterday?" Ally asked and you laughed, "If I didn't, I think that'd be a problem I needed to get check out."

"No I mean like, our conversation at the Blue Jay. You said that we were a lesson, and that I had found my person already but yours was still out there." Ally explained and you nodded.

"Yeah I remember, what about it?" you asked, curious as to what she was thinking.

"Well.. it had me thinking and if i'm honest, I don't know if my husband really is that person for me." Ally said her thoughts aloud slowly, gaging your every reaction.

"Why do you think that? I mean, you married him for a reason, right?" You asked, confused. "It felt like the right thing to do at the time. I was pregnant and he was such a nice guy, is a nice guy. I just...” Ally added.

"You just, what?" You guided her and she sighed. "I'm not happy. I'm content, but I'm not happy." Ally's volume was nearly a whisper.

"Ally I... I'm sorry you feel that way." You tried to comfort her but you were met with silence.

Ally stared out onto the water, "Do you still love me?" Ally asked and you were dumbfounded. "Love you?" You choked.

"Love me." She nodded. "Don't ask me that Ally. Please don't ask me that." You shook your head. "Where the hell did that come from?" You asked, finally looking towards her.

Her face was still towards the pond, her side profile on display. "I never stopped loving you... y/n." She whispered, swiping away a tear that fell from her eye.

"Ally... please." You begged. You didn't want to have this conversation. "Don't do this right now."

"The one and only time i've ever truly been happy, especially in a relationship, was with you y/n." Ally turned to you, visible tears raining down her cheeks.

"Ally I can't do this. You're married for fucks sake." You said, standing from the rock and you could see the panic rush through Ally as she stood to stop you.

"N-no no! Wait wait wait please y/n I'm sorry I didn't want to scare you away I just needed you to know that-" You could hear Ally behind you as you turned and grabbed her face with both hands, crashing your lips into hers.

You pulled away. "Ally. I have always, and will always love you, but you're married. I need to go now." You said as Ally stood frozen, a hand on her lips as she watched you walk away.

She didn't bother to stop you now, she knew you wouldn't stay. She just hoped that the universe would bring you back to her again, let her have just one more chance.

tags: @8plasma @poulengp @zamoimagines @wholesomeslut @natasha-danvers comment to be tagged in future works <3

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

The Icing On the Cake Part 2

Title: A Sweet Reprise

Summary: Maybe things aren’t as hopeless as Virgil has first presumed.

Pairings: platonic moxiety (background platonic analogical)

Word-Count: 764

Warnings: anxiety, self-deprecation, I think that’s it?? it ends happy. 

Part 1

This is a part of my Follower Milestone Celebration, requested by @lonelyanxiousbean. This is a conclusion of a ficlet I wrote a year ago. Tbh, I’ve always meant to do a follow-up. The original fic was a bit of a ventfic and now that I’m where I am at today, in a job I’m pretty happy to have, I finally feel comfortable writing a happy conclusion to this :)

-

“Hiya, this is Patton from Patty-Cakes! I’m calling in regards to the online application you sent in over a week ago. If you’re still interested, feel free to come in for an interview anytime Monday through Thursday, alright? Ok, bye, I hope your day’s going well either way!”

The words from the voicemail rang in Virgil’s mind. Again and again on an endless loop as his sneakers took him to the front steps of Patty-Cakes. The owner Patton had called him yesterday. He couldn’t believe it. The employer being the one to call him first? And not the other way around?

With that disbelief came a different concoction of fears and trepidations. He’d already showed his face. How could he explain not introducing himself? That he was too chicken to do it? Yeah, that’d go over well to a potential employer. He’d probably reject him right then and there.

“I think you may be jumping to a conclusion,” Logan told him over the phone, “You do not know if Patton will react that way. He might be understanding of how nerve-inducing job hunting is.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you accept it and move onto the next potential job opportunity.” Logan responded, saying so matter-of-factly. Virgil wished he’d possessed even just an ounce of Logan’s cool, calm rationality. In theory, he understood Logan’s words. But in practice, it was much easier to fall into the pitfalls of anxiety.

Logan couldn’t come with him today. He was not likely to be available until Thursday. Virgil couldn’t put it off until then. Not when the dread and doubts inside of him would continue to fester and grow to gigantic proportions. He had to come in today. He needed to know for certain the outcome of this job interview.

A cute little bell jingled as he pulled open the door. There was an employee helping out a customer with a cake order. No Patton in sight. Okay, okay, okay cool. He stuck his hands in his jean pockets, scanning the cake displays listlessly. He’d just wait to tell the employee why he was here. This was fine.

He fought the itch to hide behind his phone screen. Worse yet, just walking out of the store and never showing his face ever again. The door behind the counter swung open but Virgil was hardly paying attention. He stared at a frog-themed birthday cake display. Have A Hopping Good Birthday!

“Oh hi!” 

Virgil’s head jerked up, meeting the crinkly blue eyes of one Patton Baker.  “You came in yesterday, right? Was the cake okay? Was it too your sweetisfaction?”

Whoa, okay, way too many questions. It takes his mind a second to process it all, including the pun at the end. He let out a startled laugh.

“Um, yeah, the cake was good,” Virgil said. He had it for breakfast, figuring it was just as bad consuming donuts. “But uh, I came for a different reason…”

He trailed off, his throat feeling incredibly dry as if he swallowed a sack of flour. Patton gave a small nod, a gentle smile gracing his features. He didn’t seem annoyed, but Virgil couldn’t tell if again, that was just an act. Surely he was groaning internally that Virgil, a frustratingly incoherent customer, had showed up again.

“My name is—I’m Virgil, I’m here about the job interview?” Virgil asked, his voice cracking like an egg, “I actually came by yesterday to introduce myself but I, um, kinda got nervous?”

Virgil held his breath, his hands curling into fists inside his hoodie packet. He wanted to flip his hoodie over his face like a turtle yanking itself into its shell. He forced himself to keep his head up and his eyes free of tears.

Patton blinked behind his glasses. “Oh, oh. No wonder you looked so nervous! I promise you, kiddo, I’m all bake and no bite!”

“R-really?” He couldn’t be serious, right?

“Of course!” Patton beamed, stepping to unlatch the small gate door that separated the employee space from the customers area, “Now, if you follow me, we’ll do the interview in the back, alright?”

Patton was serious. He still wanted to conduct an interview with Virgil, who hadn’t expected to get this far, wow. What the fudge was he supposed to do? Was he really about to possibly get a job?

“Okay,” Virgil said, ignoring the way his insides jiggled like jelly. As he took a step closer, a weird warmth fell over him. For the first time in a long while, Virgil felt confident things would turn out favorably for him.

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Nineteen

New Chapter. Thank you for your support xx

Masterlist

Summary: Party preparations go underway and Logan begins to ask the question. ‘Do I really belong here?’

Word Count: 7320

Warnings: Past child abuse, food mention (literally half of this chapter is just me talking about food), anxiety, self-deprecation, implied depression, injury mention, past physical abuse, past psychological abuse, implied nightmares, implied panic attack, disordered eating (if there is anything I have missed please let me know).

The following days were devoted almost entirely to Roman’s birthday preparations. From the presents Logan and Virgil had chosen arriving, which they hid in Virgil’s wardrobe. To Patton spending almost the entire of the day, whilst Roman and Virgil were attending school, preparing all of the food necessary for Roman’s birthday party; miniature cupcakes, a selection of fruits and vegetables, prepared sandwiches with a variety of fillings each suited to the preferences of each child and what Patton believed to be the most important element…the birthday cake.

Logan struggled to comprehend the purpose of a specific birthday cake, decorated in candles - which also seemed to be a fire hazard - but Patton informed him of its significance, especially within the Hart household. Patton would make a special personalised birthday cake for each of his family members on their birthday and this time was no different so whilst Patton prepared the ingredients and baked the cake, Logan read to him the recipe. A red velvet cake as it was Roman’s favourite flavour. The found the recipe much easier to decipher now he was wearing his new glasses but had to keep Declan occupied and out of the kitchen to prevent him from disturbing the process and potentially injuring himself. Baking appeared to be a relatively simple science, with clear instructions to follow and specific apparatus to ensure the correct measurements in order to produce the desired flavour profiles, but given his limited experience with baking he chose to instead defer to Patton’s expertise and read to him the recipe to avoid any potential mistakes. However, keeping Declan engaged in anything for longer than a few moments was proving to be incredibly difficult. The toddler had an extremely limited attention span and it was consistently being drawn to Patton’s actions in the kitchen, presumably also due to the heavenly smell now being emitted from the oven where the cake was currently baking.

“Oh, Dee-Dee, how about you help me decorate the cupcakes?” Patton said lifting Declan from the floor, balancing the toddler on his hip as he brought him over to the dining room table where several piping bags of different coloured frosting where laid out, among various other edible decorations. “Do you want to decorate a couple too Logan?”.

“Okay,” Logan responded taking a seat at the dining room table, studying each of the individual decorations and vibrant colours of the icing - presumably created by the addition of various food colourings - considering potential combinations of colours and flavours that Roman would enjoy.  

“Alright kiddo, go for it,” Patton said also taking a seat, balancing Declan on his lap so he could properly reach the table. “Now Dee-Dee, what colour do you want to make your cupcake?”.

“Lellow!” Declan exclaimed bouncing in Patton’s laps, slapping his mitten-cladded hands onto the table’s surface as Patton chuckled.

“That’s a great choice, Dee,” Patton responded picking up the piping bag containing the brightly coloured frosting, allowing Declan to squeeze it haphazardly onto the chocolate cake base, much of it splattering onto the table.

Logan looked to his own collection of undecorated miniature cakes, a selection of both chocolate and vanilla flavours. Initially, he thought of Roman - as it was for his birthday celebration - he decided on a vanilla base and the vivid crimson red frosting as from the vast amount of red he wore and decorated his room with, Logan made an educated guess that it was a colour he enjoyed. Logan found that controlling a piping bag was far more difficult than he expected, Patton had made it look simple, yet his first attempt was a sloppy mess. However, the more he practised and studied Patton’s technique the better his piping became and once he perfected the icing he ventured onto the decoration. Patton had provided a range of smaller confectionery to act as embellishments atop the cupcakes and Logan decided to continue with the ‘ornate’ motif for his cupcake - inspired by Roman - choosing a handful of multi-coloured circular candies and arranged them delicately atop the frosting, in addition to a strawberry slice acting as the centre piece. For Virgil’s specific cupcake, he selected a plain chocolate cake base and settled for the lilac coloured frosting as it was the closest in appearance to Virgil’s favourite shade of purple, evident from the frequent presence of it in his room and in his hoodie which he wore seemingly at all times. Logan’s spiral patterned piping work had significantly improved from his initial first attempt of ‘Roman themed’ cupcakes. The decorations he used were miniature pieces of different flavours of chocolate and topped with a single chocolate orange slice. He continued the process with Declan’s, using the limited amount of yellow coloured frosting remaining, topped with a significant quantity of multicoloured sprinkles, reminiscent of Declan’s own cupcakes he had decorated with Patton. Oh Patton. Logan had almost forget to make a cupcake for Patton. He considered his options very carefully. He desperately wanted Patton to like it. He chose a vanilla base and the lightest of the shades of blue frosting Patton had prepared, a pleasing sky blue. The piping work on the ‘Patton inspired’ cupcakes turned out the best in comparison to the rest of them, perhaps it was because of the particular care he put into making them perfect, as Patton was an avid baker he would surely notice any substandard work. Once the piping had been perfected, Logan selected simple tiny white chocolate stars as a decoration. As a finishing touch, he arranged each of the designs into their specific colour category, he had decorated three of each variety, giving him twelve cupcakes in total.  

“Wow, kiddo, those look amazing!” Patton exclaimed in the process of decorating his own batch of cupcakes. Logan’s face flushed at the compliment 

“Thank you, I took inspiration from Roman, Virgil, Declan…and you Patton, using your preferred colours and flavours in attempt to cater them to your specific tastes,” Logan explained his cheeks still coloured red from the praise.

“Aw Logan, that is precious. I’m sure everyone will love them,” Patton responded a blindingly bright smile stretched across his face. “How about you do one for yourself?”. He set the final chocolate cupcake down in front of Logan.

“That is unnecessary,” Logan stated quickly, this was an event for Roman and his family, he should be respectful and stay separate from the celebrations as much as possible. After all he didn’t wish to spoil Roman’s enjoyment. Logan got up and prepared to make his way over to the sink, where a pile of dirty dishes were building up.

“Why’s that?” Patton questioned and Logan found he didn’t have an answer. If he told Patton what he truly thought, he would immediately counter it, assuring him of his place within the family dynamic despite his short time spent with them. As that was the type of the person Patton was but Logan struggled to comprehend why so instead he chose to return to his seat. Perhaps one cupcake would be acceptable? And if it made Patton happy, he would do it.  

Logan’s design was the most simple out of the lot. The same chocolate cake base as Virgil and Declan’s, atop of which was a simple, neat frosting swirl, in the darkest shade of blue icing Patton had prepared as it was the most akin to his favourite colour. He added no additional decorations as he did not wish to waste any of what Patton had prepared on himself so decided the plain design was satisfactory. Next, the cupcakes were placed into containers and properly stored in the refrigerator along with the rest of the food, to protect them from the early Summer heat and the two cake layers had just come out of the oven. A marvellous smell was emitted as the oven doors opened, faints notes of chocolate and a pleasant sweetness reached his nostrils. After allowing the cake tiers to cool enough where the frosting and decorations wouldn’t melt from the heat. Logan again attempted to entertain Declan with a child-friendly book whilst Patton iced and decorated Roman’s cake.    

Preparations continued that night. Once Roman and Virgil had returned from school, they had all eaten dinner, ticked another Disney film off the list and Declan had gone to sleep, it was approaching nine in the evening. Roman had left for his room and just as Logan was planning to do do the same. Patton stopped him.

“Hey, Logan, I was wondering if you could distract Roman for a little while?” Patton asked in a hushed tone.

“Why is that necessary?” Logan questioned.

“Me and Virgil are going to decorate the living room and the kitchen for tomorrow and I want it to be a surprise for Roman,” Patton explained, that was when Logan noticed the container of brightly coloured streamers and a various other items, presumably for the purpose of decorating. He failed to comprehend why it was compulsory to embellish your surroundings dependant on the occasion, Maggie used to decorate her office for holidays such as Christmas or Halloween but birthdays were not considered to be national celebrations yet the same conditions seemed to apply.

“Alright, though how do you wish me to…distract him?” Logan inquired as far as he was aware he and Roman had very little in common, shared very few interests and had significantly conflicting personalities. How was he expected to entertain Roman for any length of time? Logan had rarely encountered Roman alone, unlike his several conversations with Virgil and Roman’s feelings towards Logan and his arrival remained undetermined.

“Get him to talk about himself, he loves that,” Virgil stated as he began to unpack his own box of decorations. Logan considered the suggestion, he would have to think of particular questions to pose but perhaps this task could be an opportunity to gain Roman’s favour and acquire more informations in regards to his specific likes and dislikes so too strengthen their bond.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Logan declared determined to assist in Patton and Virgil’s scheme wherever possible.

Logan found himself waiting outside Roman’s bedroom door. An all white door, embellished with a variety of brightly coloured stickers, depicting and referencing scenes and individuals he did not recognise, he noticed Virgil and Declan’s bedroom door contained similar appearing stickers which comparatively made his door appear far less interesting. He raised a fist to knock, questions prepared in his mind but the door burst open before he could, causing him to flinch back in surprise.

“Oh hey, specs,” Roman exclaimed as he opened the door, dressed rather strangely in what appeared to be a costume of sorts with a red sash draped across his chest. Perhaps this is what Virgil was referring to when he mentioned Roman liked to believe or pretend he was a prince? Logan noted the nickname Roman used, which appeared to be a common occurrence for both Roman and Virgil. He recognised the word used. ‘Specs’. It was an abbreviation of the word spectacles. So it may have been a reference to the fact he wore glasses. “Come in, welcome to mi habitación. That is Spanish for my room,”.

“You know Spanish?” Logan asked his surprise present in his tone as he entered.

“Yup, I want to become fluent,” Roman stated with a proud smirk. Foreign languages was a subject which has always interested Logan but due to the lack of resources available to him at the Orphanage, he never had the opportunity to learn, though he was surprised to discover Roman had a passion for the subject. “Now, I know you are here to distract me,”.

“Wh…I…I,” Logan stammered. Had he really been so obvious? Would Patton be disappointed? Was he so uninteresting that Roman couldn’t bare to be in his presence?

“I bet they are decorating for my birthday right now,” Roman stated collapsing onto his bed, laying on his back, glancing up towards the red fabric which hung over the dark wood bed frame as he spoke.

“How did you figure it out?” Logan questioned unsure of what else to say as he stood somewhat awkwardly in the centre of Roman’s bedroom.

“Last year, this was Virgil’s job. He was already mad at me for using some of his books to hold up my easel, so he just told me. He got really stressed out after, thinking I was going to tell on him,” Roman explained wildly gesturing to the air as he told his story. Logan certainly understood why Virgil would be upset by a complete violation of his personal property but thought it better not to voice this, allowing Roman to finish his tale. “But I didn’t, besides dad likes it to be a surprise so I let him think that I don’t know what he is doing,”.

So, Roman pretended to act surprised for Patton’s benefit. It was a kind sentiment. Patton evidently enjoyed the birthday preparations, as Logan noted from this heightened mood these past few days though particularly when doing an activity associated with the event of Roman’s birthday and perhaps Roman’s awareness or involvement would remove the joy from it?

“Now, as much as I enjoy your company microsoft nerd, you may leave now. I-I mean, if you wish,” Roman said sitting up and directing yet another dramatic arm movement towards his door but Logan did not failed to note the swift retraction of his previous statement.

“May I stay? It would help with the illusion, would it not?” Logan suggested after a moment of consideration. This was an opportunity for Logan and Roman to communicate and maybe it could lead to them having a better relationship.

“An excellent idea, if you left padre would surely notice,” Roman announced leaping up from his sitting position. “Now what can we do?”.

Roman continued to pace around his untidy room, experting weaving through the piles of his belongings which littered the floor, mumbling potential ideas for activities to do to maintain their façade. Logan watched him for a moment before focusing his attention onto the walls of the room. The majority of them were plastered with artwork, photographs, posters, pamphlets and tickets, some appeared to be well-worn and much loved while others were pristine in their condition, clearly only recently obtained. Logan suspected he could learn a lot about Roman’s identity and interests through studying his surrounding yet his limited knowledge of the world of the arts prevented him from gaining much.

“Roman, might I inquire about your posters?” Logan asked gesturing to the wall behind Roman’s desk which appeared to hold the largest quantity of them.

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed bounding over to where Logan was stood and immediately delved into an in depth and detailed explanation of the history of each individual piece. “They are mostly from shows I have been in or gone to see. That is the program of the first ever performance I did with my theatre group, it was Hairspray and I, of course, played the male lead. That is the poster for Wicked, that one is Les Miserables, Rent, Annie, The Lion King. I’ve also kept all of the signed programs of all the shows I have ever been in and the tickets too. Oh, here are the ones from when me and Elliott went to see Sister Act. It was incredible,”.

Roman’s rambling continued. Logan struggled to get a word in edgewise so he remained quiet, attempting to follow Roman’s constant stream of conciousness which he was finding incredibly difficult. He would jump from subject to subject, begin one sentence, then recall sometimes else and quickly switch to explaining that instead of the previous thought but Logan persisted. One musical in particular caught his attention. It was called Hamilton and tells the epic tale of one of America’s Founding Fathers Alexander Hamilton, in an unconventional manner and style. However, he did note the historical accuracy which surprised him as he expected it to be a work of over-dramatised fiction but Roman informed him otherwise. Roman also told him it was the musical he most wanted to see - among others - but the tickets were absurdly expensive and notorious for quickly selling out so he hadn’t gotten the opportunity too. So, he instead continuously played the musicals soundtrack, having listened to it so much he knew most of the lyrics of by heart and was able to perform them to a high-standard. Roman began to play the first couple of songs from the soundtrack and explained the different stylistic choices of the lyrics and and how they related to events which would occur later in the story. Logan was pleasantly surprised by Roman’s expansive knowledge of the history and story-telling tactics of the musicals he greatly enjoyed, he had yet to witness Roman so enamoured by anything but his enthusiasm when it came to his passions was admirable. He also noticed some distinct similarities between himself and Roman, particularly in the way he obsessed over certain topics. For Logan, it was science and literature and for Roman, it seemed it was his beloved musicals. Eventually Roman seemed to either run out of information to share or run out of air - which seemed to be the case considering the impressive speed of which he was talking - as he stopped talking to take several deep breaths before collapsing into the chair which sat by his desk.

“Sorry, I can talk a lot,” Roman said sheepishly as if embarrassed by his passion-fuelled outburst.

“It is quite alright, your passion it certainly commendable,” Logan said hoping to ease Roman’s worries somewhat but he only received a confused expression in response. “I-I mean…it is good you enjoy it so much,”.

“Oh, thanks. I know stuff like dancing and singing and acting are kind of girly but I really love it,” Roman admitted glancing towards the array of posters and memories upon his wall. The statement perplexed him, as far as Logan was aware specific activities were not gendered but perhaps it was a societal normality? He could recall several insentiences during his time spent in Orphanages were he and the other boys around him were expected to play and enjoy outdoor sports but he found he had no interest in doing so and was as such labelled as abnormal. Maybe, Roman had experienced something similar in the past which led to this thought-process?

“I do not believe specific activities are related to any one gender and if you find enjoyment in such a activity you should be allowed to participate despite your gender identity,” Logan stated as Roman stared at him for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter, so much so he nearly fell out of his chair. However, Logan could not conceive how what he had said would cause such a reaction.

“You’re such a nerd,” Roman responded after managing to compose himself, a small smile on his lips so Logan assumed the comment was not meant to be perceived as a insult and was perhaps a term of endearment? He did not know. “Dad and Virge will be done with decorating by now,”

“Yes, I should be returning to the…my own room now. Goodbye Roman,” Logan said before turning to leave but he was interrupted by Roman.

“Hey specs, thanks,” Roman said quietly, in a tone he hadn’t heard Roman use until now. Logan didn’t know exactly why Roman was thanking him, maybe for the company but he nodded nonetheless and exited, returning to his room for a much required break from the constant activities and stimulation.

Logan was exhausted but he didn’t receive any more than a minute of silence before he was disturbed once again. This time by Virgil, asking him if he wished to join himself and Patton downstairs to wrap Roman’s presents for tomorrow. Despite his desperate desire to refuse, he accepted, not wishing to appear ungrateful of their acceptance and treatment of him so far. Logan was terrified of doing anything wrong. What if he refused a request and Patton realised the mistake he made in allowing Logan into his home and family, just like the couple before him? So Logan followed Virgil downstairs, to see the living room and kitchen decorated in bright red balloons and streamers dangling from the ceiling. A large red banner decorated with small golden crowns, reading ‘Happy 13th Birthday Prince Roman’ stretched across the archway, separating the living room and kitchen and an elaborate centrepiece display on the dining room table. Patton sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by boxes, a variety of brightly coloured and patterned wrapping paper - the majority of which were in Roman’s favoured colour red, a couple pairs of scissors and cello tape. Patton face broke into a grin the moment he set his eyes on Logan.

“Hey kiddo, how was your talk with Roman?” Patton asked with a bright smile stretched across his face as Logan and Virgil also sat on the floor.

“It was very informative,” Logan responded unsure of how else to describe it while also maintaining the illusion that Roman was unaware of the work being done downstairs.

“Aw, I’m glad. Now, let’s wrap these presents!” Patton announced with a giggle.

They created efficient system, in which they each had their own job for optimum productivity. Logan, cut the paper - a shiny red one free of any patterns or designs -  as he could most accurately guess the amount of wrapping paper that would be required for each item and would produce the least amount of waste. The paper was a very satisfying texture, however, the potential danger surrounding the incredibly sharp scissors did made him feel uneasy but Patton demonstrated such a way in which the risk of Logan accidentally harming himself was greatly limited. Patton was responsible for the wrapping the presents as he was evidently superior at it compared to himself - who had never physically wrapped a present before - and Virgil - who was far to scared of possibly ruining it - Patton’s expert wrapping produced clean edges and smooth finish. Finally, Virgil added the finishing touches such as the addition of a gold ribbon securing each of the gifts and a personalised message detailing who the present was from. A short while later, they were completely finished and the pile of presents were added to the display on the table.

“All done, we are now completely ready for Roman’s birthday. Now, all that is left to do is wait,” Patton proclaimed raising his arms in a stretch. “Oh, I forgot to tell you Logan. Emile’s parents Dot and Larry are coming over for Roman’s party tomorrow. Do you think you will be okay to meet them?”.

Logan considered this for a moment. He was aware Patton had purposefully kept Roman, Virgil and Declan’s ‘grandparents’ from visiting to allow Logan time to adjust but he felt conflicted by the action. On my hand, he appreciated the act as moving into Patton’s house was an enormous change and the whole process had been extremely overwhelming so far, also he knew very little about them and as such could not speculate how they would react to him. What if they hated him? What if they wanted Patton to return him? Would he? But on the other hand, Patton had kept them from visiting their ‘grandchildren’ for Logan’s benefit and comfort. Would they resent him for that? Logan certainly wouldn’t blame them but his future in Patton’s family entirely depended on their opinion of him which depended on their first meeting tomorrow and the thought of that terrified him.              

“Yes, I-I would like to meet them,” Logan said a slight stutter to his word which if Patton noticed he did not mention it.

“Okay, I will let them know,” Patton said standing from the seated position on the floor and walking just out of ear-shot.

“You’ll get to meet Elliott tomorrow too,” Virgil stated he had moved to lean against the couch, whilst remaining sat on the floor, looking at something on his cellular device. “He’s Roman’s best friend but Roman also has a super obvious crush on him,”.

“A crush?” Logan repeated confusion present in his tone, having never have heard of the term being used in that particular context which seemed to be becoming a frequent theme when communicating with either Roman or Virgil.

“Yeah, you know, like he likes him,” Virgil said waving a hand absently for emphasis. “Like, like likes him,”.

“Oh, I think I understand,” Logan said. He didn’t. But perhaps, he could ask Patton later?

“Cool, so yeah, he keeps on denying it but I know he is lying,” Virgil said returning his attention once again to his phone. While Logan did not understand what exactly a ‘crush’ was, he knew it must trouble Roman and could perhaps be a risk to his friendship with Elliott, maybe it was for the best he didn’t press the subject to Roman himself.

Following their brief conversation Logan and Virgil fell into a comfortable silence. Logan discarded the minimal amount of scrap wrapping paper whilst Virgil put away the cello-tape and scissors in their correct location before Virgil decided to return to his room for the night. Logan was just about to do the same until Patton returned from his phone-call, sitting next to where Logan was sat on the couch.

“That is everything ready for tomorrow, Dot and Larry are so excited to finally meet you,” Patton said with a bright smile but Logan could not return it, the pit of anxiety developing in his abdomen only grew more impossible to ignore and a dangerous swirl of thoughts caused carnage within his head. He was going mess up. He was going to to ruin everything 

Why was Logan like this? Nothing was objectively wrong. Everything had been going fine but his treacherous brain immediately made him feel like he was going to die. But he couldn’t let Patton see. Tomorrow was supposed to a celebration for Roman. Logan would only ruin things with his complaints. Patton had already given him so much and he was so grateful, him acting selfishly would only lead to Patton witnessing his true self. The broken one. The unlovable one. Perhaps he could hold on a little longer? Remain quiet, avoid disturbing Patton’s family while he searched for a way to repay Patton for his kindness. And then…well he didn’t know. Logan hated not knowing.

“Hey Logan, are you alright? You look like you are million miles away,” Patton asked wearing an expression of concern across his face.

“I am quite alright, I am merely tired. I think I may retire for the night,” Logan responded hoping Patton wouldn’t press him any further.

“Okay kiddo, sleep well,” Patton said all manner of concern melting from his expression and forming into a smile.

“Goodnight,” Logan said before disappearing to his room, swiftly before all of the stress and anxiety burst out of him.

Logan, the second he entered his room, scoured his drawers for his jumper. He tore of his constrictive shirt replacing it with the soft material. He lowered himself onto the edge of his bed, digging his nails into his thighs, revelling in the pain this brought. Why? Why was Logan like this? He should be better. He should be over this. His mother and father were no longer watching over him and criticising his every move, denying him the most basic of necessities for failing to be any less than perfect. Madame Claire was no longer tormenting him mentally and physically for her own sick, twisted enjoyment. Patton had saved him from that yet the fear which gripped him was unyielding. The intrusive what ifs burrowed deep into his mind and grew like a parasite, torturing him, destroying all trust he had in those around him and even in himself. Logan was so terrified of Patton realising the colossal mistake he had made in ever choosing to approach Logan that day. He wondered where would he be now if Patton hadn’t been there? Another Orphanage likely or perhaps Madame Claire would have gotten tired of him and thrown him out on the search for being such a burden. It was moments like these where he desperately desired the sharp sting of his father knife or the dull ache of the bruises Madame Claire left behind, to drown out the racing of his mind, to remind him of his place.

Maybe he shouldn’t attend Roman’s celebration tomorrow. Logan’s absence surely wouldn’t be noted and it would probably please Roman. Why would he want a someone who was virtually a stranger to attend his personal celebration? 

Logan lay down on his side, reaching pitifully for the soft toy resting on his pillow and clutched it tight to his chest as if it could mend the hurt inside. He used its paw to wipe away the tears he had failed to hold in before slipping into a disturbed and restless slumber.  

Patton awoke bright and early. It was the day of Roman’s 13th birthday and he was determined to make it the best one yet, it was also Logan’s first official celebration with them as a family and despite it being Roman’s birthday, he wanted to make a special experience for Logan too. Emile would be arriving along with his parents Dot and Larry at around ten and then Thomas told him he would be dropping off Elliott at eleven just before the super awesome birthday lunch he had prepared, the reveal of the birthday cake and the various activities he had planned. It was also the day for Logan to meet Dot and Larry, the honorary grandparents as they dubbed themselves, Patton had wanted to allow Logan time to settle in before he was bombarded with more new faces but Logan agreed that he was finally ready to meet them and they were ecstatic. They had already heard all about Logan from their frequent phone calls and had fallen in love with him just as Patton had when he first met him. Speaking of Logan, he would surely already be awake and waiting for Patton at the breakfast table

Patton dressed quickly and made his way downstairs careful not to wake Roman, Virgil or Declan who were all still sleeping soundly. Patton journeyed downstairs but instead of Logan waiting at the dining table, book in hand, he was met with an empty kitchen. Logan didn’t appear to be up yet which took him a bit by surprise as he knew Logan adhered to a strict schedule no matter the day or occasion. Perhaps, all of the late nights had finally wore him down and he was sleeping in? Or maybe, he was waiting for Roman to awakened, Patton hadn’t told him of the scheduling for the day so he might have thought the days events wouldn’t begin until Roman awoke. They were all suitable explanations for Logan’s unusual absence, so he continued on as usual, preparing the mornings extra special breakfast specifically for Roman’s birthday. Super fluffy pancakes and every potential topping you could think of, it was Roman’s favourite food and he would always request it every birthday or special occasion. It was only a short while later when Roman, Virgil and Dee came bounding down the stairs to the heavenly smell of pancakes wafting throughout the house.

“Happy birthday, my darling prince,” Patton exclaimed wrapping Roman in the biggest and warmest dad hug he could muster, pressing kisses into his fluffy bed-head, evidently too excited for the days events ahead to do his daily hair care routine. “You are so big now, you are growing up too fast,”.

“Thank you, padre,” Roman responded allowing himself to melt into Patton’s arms, even though he was officially a teenager, dad hugs were never off limits. Roman, Virgil and Dee sat at the table, preparing to tuck into their extra special birthday breakfast but something or rather someone was missing.

“Where is Logan?” Patton asked attempting to mask the concern in his voice.

“I knocked on his door but he didn’t answer, think he might be still asleep,” Virgil answered his voice his still heavy from sleep as he yawned.

“Oh okay, well, let’s let him sleep for a little longer,” Patton said taking his own seat at the table. “I’ll wake him after breakfast,”.

The boys seemed to accept that answer as they quickly tucked into their pancake buffet. Patton selected a couple of smaller ones for Dee, allowing him complete reign of the decorations and jars of crofters jam. Usually he didn’t allow them to have this much sugar and encouraged a healthy and balanced diet but today was a special occasion so sweet treats were mandatory. Dee’s picky eating had certainly been a challenge in the beginning, as he refused nearly everything that was put in front of him but pancakes were a favourite of all of the Hart children. Virgil had gone simple with his pancake, a small drizzling of golden syrup, Patton knew he struggled to eat large quantities of food in the morning but was just happy he was eating, recalling a time when Virgil was considerably underweight and though he was still only the skinny side they had made a lot of progress. Roman’s pancake was the most elaborate; chopped strawberries, drizzled with syrup and decorated with spirals of whipped cream, while eyeing the pile of presents at the end of the table. Patton smiled at his children’s antics but couldn’t help but feel somewhat saddened by the fact that Logan was missing out but a healthy sleep schedule was more important. Once breakfast had been finished, Patton had managed to keep a few pancakes for Logan and the dishes were all cleaned and put away. Roman, Virgil and Dee had all settled on the couch to watch some cartoons while Patton went to fetch Logan.

Patton arrived at Logan’s door, a strange sense of nervousness washed over him. What if Logan wasn’t feeling well? What if Patton was pushing him too much and he recoiled into his shell again? He couldn’t hear any noise from behind the door so perhaps Logan really was still asleep and he was simply exhausted from yesterdays preparations. He knocked once and then once more. After a moment of silence, Patton tried the handle but the door was locked. Why was the door locked? When Patton had checked on Logan last night the door was unlocked, so he had to have purposefully locked it when he woke up this morning. But why would Logan do that? Unless something had happened and he was deliberately hiding.

“Logan, I know you’re awake. Can you let me in please?” Patton pleaded while debating how he could feasibly break down the door without alarming Logan, if he refused. After yet another moment of silence, Patton prepared to speak again but the locked clicked open before he could yet the door remained closed. “Oh thank god, okay kiddo, I am going to come in now,”.

Patton gingerly opened the door into the darkened room, the only light source being the desk lamp. He saw Logan sat at his desk, hunched over a stack of thick textbooks and was writing notes into one of his notebooks. Patton knew Maggie had given him a variety of textbooks to keep up with his studies while he wasn’t in school or regularly attending lessons, it was also evident that he enjoyed learning and working on new projects, Patton was happy Logan had something to do to keep himself occupied while Roman and Virgil were at school and Patton was working from home. But, he was surprised to find Logan studying this early and on Roman’s birthday, today was supposed to be a day of fun and celebration yet Logan was working. Clearly something was wrong.

“Are you alright kiddo, you weren’t at breakfast this morning?” Patton asked taking a seat on the edge of Logan’s bed so he could finally see his face. Logan’s unkempt hair was slick with sweat, his fringe almost entirely obscured his eyes but from the small section Patton could see it was evident he hadn’t slept well at all. A dark shadow played beneath his eyes which were swollen and bloodshot as if he had been crying. The sight made Patton’s heart cry out in pain.

“I am satisfactory, I also seem to not have much of an appetite this morning that is why I chose not to attend breakfast,” Logan answered nonchalantly, without removing his attention from his work in front of him but he was betrayed by his own stomach as it let out a well-timed growl, proving the contrary but it only worsened the pain Patton felt. Why was Logan purposefully hurting himself? He was clearly hungry so why was he pretending?

“You need to eat something Logan, I’m going to bring you something to eat. I promise I’ll be quick,” Patton said standing and leaning over to Logan to place a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaving and returning with a plate of two slices of bread with crofters - as he knew it was something Logan liked - to find Logan had moved from his desk to sitting on the edge of his bed, all of his books and notes neatly put away. “Here, now eat up,”.

They spent the next few minutes in silence while Logan ate, meticulously tearing the bread into smaller pieces before eating. Patton hoped Logan’s evident hunger would encourage him to eat the entire sandwich but that was not the case as he set the plate aside with an entire slice remaining on his plate - albeit torn into tiny sections - Patton knew at some point they would need to have a discussion regarding Logan’s strange and at time worrisome eating habits but he decided to leave that conversation for another day.

“Will you be joining the party today?” Patton asked hoping to draw Logan out slowly.

“No, I wont,” Logan responded bluntly and without a moment of hesitation. Patton was confounded. Why? Logan had participated and shown in enjoyment in the entire preparation process but now he was choosing not to join? Had Patton perhaps missed something, some sign Logan had been uncomfortable at whole time and Patton had been simply to stupid and wrapped up in his own fantasy to notice?

“Can you tell me why?” Patton pressed.

“I-I…I do not wish to spoil Roman’s or anyone else’s enjoyment of the celebrations, I am still a stranger and I do not wish to be a disturbance to your family on this occasion so I decided to instead keep to myself though it appears my efforts have had the opposite affect and I am taking attention away from Roman,” Logan explained his voice barely audible but once Patton heard his reasoning his heart sank. Logan was purposefully isolating himself because he thought it would be for their benefit. He still believed himself to be an outsider or an intruder on their family and they wouldn’t want him to be apart of family events and celebrations. Tears stung Patton’s eyes but he refused to allow them to fall, he needed to remain strong for Longer right now.

“Can you look at me please Logan?” Patton pleaded which Logan did so willingly. He looked so exhausted. Patton cupped his cheeks gently while also giving him space to withdraw if he wished but he didn’t. “Logan, you are not a stranger, you are apart of this family. It doesn’t matter that you have only been here a couple of weeks, you are still my son and that won’t ever change. You aren’t spoiling or disturbing anything and you certainly aren’t taking away attention from anyone, it isn’t bad or wrong if you need a little reassurance sometimes and I promise I want you here and I know everyone else does too,”.

“B-but…,” Logan began preparing to attempt to counter Patton argument.

“Nope, no buts. You are my apart of my famILY, kiddo,” Patton said his serious tone washing away bursting into his fit of giggles, when Logan’s prior anxious expression changed into one of confusion at Patton’s statement. “How are you feeling now?”.

“Better, I am still experiencing some levels of anxiety but it has lessened somewhat,” Logan admitted raising a tentative hand to his chest and Patton noticed he was wearing the constellation sweater he had picked out on their shopping trip a few days prior and Patton felt his heart swell with pride.

“I’m glad kiddo, now everyone is waiting for you downstairs,” Patton said lowering his hands from Logan’s face and instead taking his hands into his own, giving them a light squeeze as Logan nodded allowing Patton to pull him up and lead him downstairs where the party could finally begin.

Taglist: @i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @skylark-cain @amber1594 @darkrainbow333 @falseh0od @lovingcreatorstrawberry @gr3ml1n-loser @callboxkat @tacochippy @love-angel-03 @comicsimpson @harrypotternerdprincess @cobythinks @whatschooldoesntteachyou @fandomkitty8 @coloursintheblur @read-write-inspire-repeat @clinicalawesomeness @janus-sanders-deserves-better  @scared-ghosthunter @silverstarlinedart @winterrose42 @dumbgayemo @imthatgrace2 @glitchybina @quietwords-loudthoughts @altruistic-skittles

If you would like to be added to the taglist or have a question or request for the series please do not hesitate to ask.

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

Chance Meetings Chapter Six

Reader and Turtles

It had been nearly 2 months since you met the turtles and almost every day after work you would head down below the streets of New York and visit your new unique friends. Each time you visited you felt your connection with all of them strengthen. It became less and less awkward when you walked into their lair calling out your hellos usually slinging a couple pizzas for them in the process. You were finding it a pleasant routine you had begun with them, to where if you were a little late you would get a call making sure you were alright. It was refreshing to say the least.

Splinter had agreed to let you watch their training sessions and after some time eventually let you participate, helping you hone your skills. This was the training you needed, one on one full contact. The classes you paid for were childsplay, mostly talking and watching demonstrations. The contact from your fellow students gave minimal progress, demonstrated by your failure in the alleyway. You were there to learn how to protect yourself and learn the art that was ninjutsu.

Now you were practicing and participating with full contact and full repercussions. Thankfully the guys took it easy on you but still managed to leave a few bruises in their wake. You found when you spared with Leo it was very physical. ‘Full contact’ was an understatement when it came to the leader in blue, but you didn’t mind. You relished the feel of his body against yours, his strong arms pressing you down into the matte, his hot breath gliding over the back of your neck when he pinned you down his plastron resting on your back. You could feel his muscled legs moving over yours, burning every inch of your covered skin. It was maddening and yet oh so delightful.

There were many times you had to rush home to take care of the burning heat he had ignited between your thighs, crying out his name as you came. It left you breathless and unsatisfied wanting the real thing. And you were finding it harder and harder to concentrate on training with him looking at you like that. Like you were his prey and you were the little lamb ready to be eaten. The unexpected erotic vision of Leo between your spread thighs plunging his hot tongue into your core made you weak in the knees making your collapse under the current weight of Donatello.

Opening your eyes you saw Donnie’s big brown eyes staring down at you his long body hovering just above you. “Are you alright? Your legs just kinda gave out underneath you? Was I being too hard on you?” Sitting back on his haunches so you could sit up your eyes darted around the room finding Leo with a sly smile on his face. He knew, the smug bastard.

“No I’m fine, just a little distracted by my current work load. Let’s go again.” You flipped up to your feet and readied the bo staff you were currently working with. But Splinter raised his hand and stopped the session.

“I think that is enough for tonight, besides I think there is celebration in order.” His dark eyes moved to you motioning to the kitchen were Mikey had just produced a large cake with burning candles on top. Those sneaky little fuckers knew it was your birthday? You hadn’t told anyone so how did…..? Snapping your gaze forward, you looked the genius in the eyes and he blushed sheepishly returning his bo to the holster on his back. He had done some background checks on you and found out it was your birthday today.

“Why would you hide that from us?” he asked softly motioning for you to hand him back the bo staff.  

With the flick of your wrist the staff connected with his palm and his long green fingers enclosed around it.  “I guess I don’t like anyone fussing over me, besides birthdays have never been a real big deal for me anyways. I wasn’t hiding it; I just didn’t tell you the information.”

Before you could say anything else two large green arms encircled you bringing you up into the air swinging you about. From the height and gloves on his fingers you could tell it was Raphael. Your hands instinctively wrapped around the thick appendages he called forearms as you held on for dear life while he began to spin. “Happy birthday pipsqueak.” His deep voice thundered behind you before setting you back down on the ground placing a kiss to the top of your head.

You could see Mikey motioning for you to come to the kitchen, he was proud of his cake and wanted you to see it. Reaching the table you smiled sweetly at the youngest turtle appreciating the hard work he put into the cake for your birthday. It was your favorite color and he wrote ‘Happy Birthday” on the top with his sloppy handwriting. He was the sweetest there was no doubt.

Donnie pulled out a chair for you and pushed in it as you sat and Mikey set the cake in front of you the candles still flicking on top.

The sudden presence behind you and a firm set of hands resting on your shoulders sent a shiver down your spin. And when Leo leaned down moving the hair away from your ear so delicately you felt your skin rise in a million goose bumps and your lungs stop for a few seconds. His lips ghosted your earlobe like he had done so many times before and whispered into your ear.

“Make a wish.”

Trying your damnedest to keep your composure intact you took a deep breath and blew every single candle out sending smoking spiraling into the open cavern of the lairs ceiling. As you watched the smoke tendrils drift higher you thought of the wish you had just made blushing at the thought of it. Maybe it would happen someday; maybe you would finally feel his lips against yours, your bodies pressed together in the lustful bliss. Leo’s naked body above you taking what you so desperately wanted to give, bringing you both…… ok that’s enough. You were day dreaming again and everyone was staring at you.

You smiled again feeling the blush in your cheeks and thanked everyone. Mikey removed the spent candles from the cake and began to divvy up the sugary treat. Surprisingly the cake was delicious, who knew Mikey was an excellent baker? You gave him a hearty thumbs up as you wiped a smudge of frosting from your lips. He was pleased as punch you loved his cake and insisted you brought some home with you; otherwise Raphael would eat it all. That comment earned the youngest a smack to the back of the head.

Finishing the evening off with a movie, Leonardo sat right next to you his hand resting on the side of your thigh. It took every ounce of your self control not to lay your land on his thick muscled thigh while you watched the movie and even more control not to lean your head on his shoulder. You so desperately wanted more contact with sword-wielder and found your stubborn shyness preventing you from getting what you wanted.

After the movie ended Leo and Mikey escorted you back to the surface to your car making sure you got inside safely. Mikey handed you a piece of cake he had delicately wrapped up for you and gave you a quick kiss to the cheek telling you happy birthday one more time before bouncing back into the shadows. Which left you alone with Leo and you could see his hands twitching at his sides.

“Thank you for tonight.” You smiled up at him catching his brilliant blue gaze. Opening the car door you placed your birthday cake on the passenger seat and turned back to the blue banded turtle to say our good nights. Just as you turned he caught your chin with his three fingered hand holding you gently in front of his face. The scent of mint tea and blade oil overwhelmed you feeling his hot breath across your already heated cheeks. Then you saw the sparkle in his eyes and you could see him struggle with something before moving forward pressing his lips to yours. The breath caught in your throat feeling his hand slid up and across your cheek cupping it. You could feel his hot tongue dart out running over your bottom lip asking for permission for entrance and you gladly obliged. With a broad sweep, his tongue moved over yours as his mouth slanted farther over your mouth deepening the impulsive kiss. You felt heat pool at your core when Leo moaned into your mouth feeling your tongue entangle with his. He tasted divine and you never wanted this kiss to end but as quick as the sweet gesture started it ended leaving you both breathless.

As your reeling senses leveled you ran your tongue over your lips tasting Leo once again reigniting the blush in your cheeks. The kiss was everything you dreamt it would be; sweet, gentle and left you aching for more.

You locked eyes again seeing the bubbling passion in his blue gaze, you could tell even he didn’t want the kiss to end but he was honorable and wouldn’t take it any farther in a dimly lit parking lot with his younger brother lollygagging nearby.

You wanted to reach out and pull him down for another kiss but his hand reached out his fingers curling under your chin and his thumb ran over your bottom lip. Your gut clenched when he bit his bottom lip and told you goodnight before following his brother into the shadows.

What a birthday.  

Chapter Five

Happy Birthday @lunarkittythings

[thetimeisnoon]

Roadhog fluff where his S/O gives him a plush for his birthday?

You know one thing I’ve noticed when writing Junkrat, I just write it normal cuz I’m Australian and it doesn’t process how much we cut down our words n shit… idk.

ROADHOG

“Do you guys remember when your birthday is or you don’t care anymore?” Jamison’s eyebrows furrowed interested in your sudden question.“Nah mate we still do birthday’s.” He looked up to Roadhog as if to confirm his statement. “Why do ya ask?”“Well realized that after going through your medical files you don’t have a birth dates on them.” Well that was just one of the reasons anyway. The other may of been that you have a special gift for a certain masked junker and wanted a nice moment to give it to him that wasn’t suspicious.“Wasn’t important.” The rare moments that Mako spoke never failed to make your heart stop beating.“Yeah, there’s no one like us. Why would ya need that useless information for?”“Nevermind…”

The topic didn’t come back up until Mako came into the medical wing for a check up. A tired sigh left your lips as you looked at his medical file. You asked for his name, age, place of birth, stuttered on his date of birth and went on about the check up.

All of your touches were delicate and warm. Mako savoured any second. He wasn’t worried about getting injured, he felt safe with you. It was a very rare feeling, but it was a great feeling.

“Well that’s it for today. Have a great day Mako!~” The way you said his name made his large stomach do a couple of flips. As he stood up off of the bed he patted you head with a faint thank you as he made his way to the door. But he didn’t exit, he mumbled something that you could just hear.“What.” It came out more of a statement rather than a question. You heard what he said. It was his birth date, it was next week.

The few days leading up to Mako’s birthday filled you with excitement. You hoped he liked his present and the cake you ordered for him, you weren’t much of a baker.

On the special day you left after breakfast to go into town to pick up the cake. Jamison had a knowing smile on permanently etched on his face as he watched you leave.“Ya told them didn’t ya’?” Mako only huffed glad that the mask covered his red face.“Shut up.” An echoing cackle was all that could be heard.

You didn’t return till the sun was setting. Tracer was the first one to great you with continuous questions about the white box in your hand. It didn’t take long for Hana and Lucio to make an entrance and give you their questions. You tried your best to ignore them but then the junker duo walked in naturally attracted to the commotion that was being caused.

With Mako in view you started to tremble, anxiety suddenly rippling through your body. What would he think about the cake? Does he even like cake? Would he even like your present? The questions had no sign of stopping so you quickly walked past the crowd to go to your quarters.

When you got to your room you placed the cake box on your desk next to the unwrapped present. Of course you didn’t wrap it. Today was the big day, you were going to confess to him and you didn’t wrap the bloody present.

It took hours for you to finally put together a decent sentence and practiced it over and over. You didn’t realize that you missed out on dinner until there was a knock at your door and you took a quick glance at your clock and seeing how late it was. 10:35pm. You groaned.“Just a second.”

You didn’t know who you were expecting at the door but it sure as hell was Mako because that’s who it was.“You missed dinner.” Despite the gruffness of his voice, it held concern.“Guess I loss track of time.” You looked away awkwardly laughing trying to avoid a future question as to why. As your mind searched for lies Mako pushed past you noticing something and picking it up.

“I was just thinking about what I needed to stock up…. oh.” You turned around noticing the lack of Mako in front of you but behind you standing in front of your desk. You quickly made your way over panicked. “I uh…. shit…” You couldn’t think of any excuses as he held a plush pig with a mask like his own and a wallaby with a white coat much like yours. It reminds him on the nickname Junkrat gave you until he actually remembered you name. You jumped high enough in surprise so much that he decided to call you wallaby. It caught onto Roadhog so that he started referring to you as that out on the field or if you get more than a grunt or 2 words out of him.

There were no words spoken for a few minutes until you built up the courage to utter something.“Happy Birthday…” All you felt were two arms wrapping around you and that there was a lack of a floor under your feet.“Thank you wallaby.”“I love you.”“I know.” Wait, what. He knew. “Your as subtle as Junkrat.” So that meant you were as obvious as all hell. Great.

[khaleesi-in-the-north]

A Pie Worth A Thousand Gold Dragons

A birthday fic for @polar-biscuit

           Tea with Margaery in the gardens was wonderful. Truly it was. Around her, Sansa felt welcomed and wanted. Margaery was kind to her in a way that no one else in King’s Landing was. The older girl listened to her stories, and comforted her when she missed her family.

           For a time Sansa believed Margaery was flawless. Such a kind girl could do no wrong.

           Until the day she learned just how far Margaery would go for pie.

           Sansa was rarely allowed to venture outside the walls of the castle, but she was with Margaery today. Margaery, who claimed the baker in Flea Bottom made better pies than the king’s bakers.

The smallfolk glared at her as she walked by, but didn’t move. Recently, Sansa learned to take their ill-will less personally. They were hungry and abused by their protector. She now how they felt.

When they saw Margaery, however, their glares turned into smiles and friendly greetings. The smallfolk adored Margaery and her family. They were the food givers, the face of kindness in a heartless rulership.

Margaery dragged Sansa to walk ahead of the Kings guard. “You must try his apple pie, Sansa. It’s magnificent. And his lemon pie! Oh I know you’ll love it.”

“Margaery, I don’t like pie,” Sansa murmurs, but Margaery left her behind, as to eager to get her pie as the baker is surprised to see the Kings guard approaching his shop.

The shop was a rundown shack, no different from the rest of the shacks surrounding it except for the aroma of fruity desserts.

“Lady Margaery, an honor,” the baker bowed his head, not daring to look upon the soon-to-be queen. “Whatever you like, I can make. Fresh bread, cakes. My boy just pulled a lemon cake out of the oven.”

Sansa’s heart jumps at the thought of lemon cakes. Oh, how she’d missed them. She hadn’t had any since the day she met Lady Olenna. Ever since, it had been pie, pie, pie.

“Thank you, good sir.” The man beamed at the compliment. A man of his station was far from a ser. “My ladies have brought me pies from your shop before. I’d like a pie please.”

The man’s face fell. “Oh, m’lady, I’m so sorry. I sold my last pie a moment before you came. I don’t have enough eggs to make more. But I have lemon cake and peach tarts. The Hand sometimes asks me to bake special tarts for him. I can make them for you, m’lady.”

“Are you sure?” asks Margaery, her doe eyes pleading. “Not even a slightly burnt pie? Or one from yesterday? Your pies are my favorite.”

The baker brushes his hands against his brown, dirty apron. “Forgive me, m’lday, I have none. A little boy came and bought my last one.”

Margaery stands straighter. “Very well. I suppose we’ll have to come back when you have more ingredients.” She takes out five gold dragons and places them on his wooden shop counter. “Consider this an investment. You’ll receive the rest once you bake my pie.”

Margaery turns and strides out, not looking at the stunned appreciation on the baker’s face. Sansa follows close behind, scared of what may happen to her if she doesn’t keep pace with the retinue of guards.

Her long legs enable Sansa to catch up to Margaery quickly enough. She’s disappointed she wasn’t able to ask the baker about his lemon cake, but it’s for the best. Joffrey never would have allowed her to have it without consequence.

“The castle bakers make perfectly fine pies, my lady. They’ll make whatever you ask,” Sansa reminds her.

Margaery doesn’t answer, but instead halts suddenly. Sansa stumbles at the unexpected stop and follows Margaery’s line of sight. A muddy child, shirtless and shoeless, likely around ten, holds a pie close to himself. It’s in perfect condition still.

“Ser Boros, bring me that pie please. Be gentle with the boy, or I’ll my betrothed know you displeased me.”

Ser Boros nodded and approached the child.

Sansa turned on Margaery, who stood stiff. “Margaery, you can’t be serious. It’s a pie.”

“It’s the finest pie in King’s Landing Sansa. Don’t worry, the boy will be fine.” Margaery says.

Boros returns with the pie without incident. Margaery gives him a handful of dragons to compensate the boy with. “He’ll be much happier with these than with the pie.” She reasoned.

The trade seemed more than fair. Sansa tried to convince herself of that as she walked by. The tears on the boy’s face told another story.

He’s probably worked hard to earn enough money for that pie. Had probably been imagining the taste of it for weeks. Had probably been overjoyed when he got it.

In her misgivings, Sansa fell further and further behind. Not that Margaery noticed. She was too engrossed in her pie.

Finally, Margaery looked back and said, “Sansa, come along. The pie’s going to get cold.”

“My lady, may I speak with you please,” Sansa asked. Cold, hardened eyes of the Kings guard turned onto her. She tried to ignore them. Do what your father would have done, Sansa tells herself.

“Stay,” Margaery commanded the guards. She walks over to Sansa . Pie in one hand, she strokes Sansa’s hair. “What troubles you? Is it that we didn’t get the lemon cake? We can go back, if you’d like.”

“We must go back, but not for lemon cake, Margaery,” Sansa steeled herself. “That was wrong of you to take that boy’s pie.”

“His family will be much better off with the gold I gave him Sansa. He doesn’t need the pie.” Margaery turns to continue back

“Neither do you.” Her boldness shocks her. She can bid farewell to her one friend in the castle.

Margaery stops and turns back. She stares at Sansa for a second before saying. “You’re right.” She calls to the guards. “Come. We’re going back.”

The guards grumbled about the heat in the city, but followed Margaery’s command. They returned to find the boy sitting in the same spot, sniffling over the gold coins. Margaery slowly approached the boy and knelt beside him, muddying her dress in the process. “This is yours, I believe. It was wrong of me to take it from you.”

The boy looked up at her, confused that a noble would admit they were wrong. Margaery held the pie out to him. He took it and offered her back her gold. “No, no. Consider it a gift from the king.”

Margaery rose and headed back to the guards and Sansa. Sansa caught her taking one last peak at the pie before ordering the guards on. She hooked her arms around Sansa’s.

“You did the right thing, Margaery.” Sansa assured her.

They once again reached the gate. A tugging on Sansa’s sleeve drew her attention. She looked behind her to find the little boy tugging on her arm linked with Margaery’s.

Margaery bent down. Clinking metal indicated the guards noticed him too. Margary ignored them once more. The boy held a sliced piece of pie out to Margaery. Margaery smiled and accepted the token. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

The boy smiled and ran off.

Margaery stood and resumed her walk. She took a bite of the pie. “Mmm. It’s apple. Take a bite, Sansa.”

She held the pie in front of Sansa’s face. “Ew. Margaery, that boy was dirty. I don’t think he washed his hands.”

“You’ll be fine, Sansa. Try it.” Margaery tried to shove the pie into Sansa mouth, giggling as Sansa wriggled around to avoid the dessert.

“One bite. You said you would,” teased Margaery.

Finally Sansa relented, taking a nip of the pie. Though she hated the crusty texture and the blandness the crust, she had to admit the apple was divine.

[ionecoffman]

The Rise of Anxiety Baking

Last winter, a recipe for salted chocolate-chunk shortbread cookies spread through my social circle like a carbohydrate epidemic. One of my friends kept seeing the cookies pop up on Instagram and, relenting to digital peer pressure, eventually made them. She brought half the batch to a dinner party, and then it was off to the races. For months, it felt like every time I showed up to a party, someone else was pulling a Tupperware out of a tote bag, full of what was eventually known among us as just The Cookies.

The particular look of The Cookies—chunky and squat, with a right-angled edge rolled in demerara sugar, finished with flaky salt—made them distinctive in a way that few recipes are, which in turn made the recipe, from the chef Alison Roman’s Dining In cookbook, an easy shorthand. As each subsequent friend made and presented their cookies, they’d note how the process went. It seemed like everyone I knew had taken up baking. Via the social-media response to her book, Roman noticed the same thing. “It seemed to be a lot of first-time bakers making the cookies, like it was a fun, social art project,” she says. Beyond The Cookies, people I follow on Instagram and Twitter had also started turning out pies, cakes, tarts, and breads.

Millennials’ supposed aversion to daily cooking and lack of kitchen competency is well-worn fodder for concern trolling, but the generation’s actual relationship to food prep seems to be more complicated. Surveys that conclude people in their 20s and 30s cook less usually measure day-to-day meal preparation, which doesn’t tell the whole story. Young Americans’ long work hours might mean they’re less likely to come home every night in time to roast a chicken instead of ordering takeout, but many of them seem to have turned to weekend baking as a salve for the ambient of anxiety of being alive in 2018. There’s a good reason for that: Baking actually can be really relaxing.

According to the American Psychiatric Association’s annual poll, 40 percent of Americans report feeling more anxious in 2018 than they did last year, which itself saw a 36 percent increase over 2016. “We’re at a time when people who aren’t used to any self-care practices are having to develop them for the first time in their lives,” says Kat Kinsman, a food journalist who’s written a book on her struggles with anxiety. “People are afraid to spend money, and they’re feeling like shit. Baking is cheap, it’s easy, and it’s visceral.”

It’s that combination of attributes that brought Kinsman back to baking while in grad school for metalworking, years after she had taken it up as a quiet, nerdy kid in order to offer treats to friends. As an adult, she was broke, stressed out, and in need of something pleasant to do with her hands to contrast what she did in her classes. “You’re digging your hands into something pliable, and with an immediate result to it,” Kinsman told me. “Everything else seemed so distant and painful, in a way, and this was something I could whip out and there it was. Instant gratification.” Even when she was too stressed out to eat the result herself, she’d bring her cookies and cakes into school. (Apparently the stress-eaters in her program also profited.)

Folu Akinkuotu, a 28-year-old who lives in Boston and works in ecommerce—and someone whose impressive off-hours baking exploits I follow on social media—also started baking more in college as a way to make friends during her freshman year. Now she does it as a foil to the ephemerality of her professional life. “It’s nice to be able to bake and know that I’m creating something that has a beginning and an end and people can enjoy it,” she says. “A lot of people have jobs that traffic in ideas or theoretical things, so it’s nice to make physical things.”

At the beginning of 2018, Akinkuotu took things a step further, challenging herself to make one elaborate cake per month until the end of the year. “I wanted to give myself some structure, because I don’t have a ton of that in my life,” she says. “There’s work, but being a young person who lives alone, my time is always my own, pretty much. It’s nice to have a deadline.”

Alice Medrich, a baking expert and cookbook author, agrees that baking makes a particularly effective for those whose professional lives exist mostly in the abstract. “People who are educated sometimes think that working with your hands is a lesser thing,” she argues. “They sort of miss what that can do for you—the calming, and the sense of satisfaction.” As jobs for young people become increasingly gig-centric and internet-based, it’s easy for those who do them to feel alienated from the product of their labor, and the satisfaction of creating something wholly for yourself and those you love can provide an important mental balance.

In addition to the satisfaction of creating, the process of baking in and of itself can be calming. “Baking is mindful. Mindfulness means paying attention to yourself in the moment and not being in the past or the future, but really being there,” says Philip Muskin, a Columbia University psychiatry professor and the Secretary of the American Psychiatry Association. Buzzwords aside, baking does indeed force you to put down your phone, get your hands dirty, and pay close attention to what you’re doing. Muskin says it can have an emotional impact akin to practices that are intended to more directly affect mood, meditation or breathing exercises.

If you’re more inclined toward cooking instead of baking, that can have some of the same positive effects, according to Muskin, but there’s something about dessert that’s just a little bit more fun. Most baked goods still taste good even if they’re not perfectly executed, and they have a wide-ranging portability that doesn’t apply to, say, a medium-rare beef tenderloin. Akinkuotu often brings her cakes to parties, including a friend’s recent birthday outing to a bar. “Everyone got drunk, and then we ate it with our hands. It was like 2 a.m. and there’s this half-eaten cake with just, like, giant hand scrapes out of it,” she remembers. “My friend woke up with [the cake] in her bed the next morning. You can’t really do that with a coq au vin. It’d be a little weird.”

Article source here:The Atlantic

[deepestbelieverstranger]

A Birthday Party to Attend

Beatrix woke up from bed a little groggy. She particularly remembered there was something important to be done today... When the disorientation of waking up cleared, Bea looked at the digital clock by her bedside table. It showed 8:00a.m. Well, no better time to wake up.

Beatrix got up from bed, went to the bathroom and started her daily routines. Ah, how silly, forgot to introduce herself. Beatrix Silverwood, 19 years old and counting.

Looking at the mirror, you can see a young adult, teenager... whatever, looking back. She was 159cm and 52kg. She has Cerulean blue eyes and honey blonde hair that reaches her waist. Her skin color is Creamy Peach, but fair to say the least... and also slightly dry, due to the cold weather everyday.

Beatrix was a cheerful girl, always a smile on her face and ready to give you guidance if you asked for it. Today was no different. Until she remembers the important thing she was supposed to do.

In between brushing her teeth and wiping her face with a soft fluffy face towel, she suddenly remembered. It was her best friend's birthday!! Oh god. But wait, it's only eight o'clock now, the party is at three o'clock in the afternoon. Seven hours to prepare presents, buy cakes and whatnot. Enough time...? Bea supposed.

When she was done in the bathroom, it was time to choose the outfit for the day. Bea's favorite color scheme will always be black and white. But due to her best friend's favorite shades of color rubbing off on her, she decided to wear something in blue. A few moments of picking outfits, she finally settled on a powder blue blouse with flowing sleeves and also a black flowing pants. You can never go wrong with black flowing pants. Reaching her dressing table, she picked up a powder blue ribbon to tie up her hair. All done.

Scanning her room for anything more, Bea picked up her purse, checked for cash and decided it's good and ready to head out. She lives in a spacious mansion that was lonely on its best days, and utterly cold on its worst days. Of course, living with a twin brother can prove... difficult, sometimes. Said twin was currently nursing a cup of freshly brewed coffee at the kitchen dining table. After their parent's death, Bea and her twin brother, Cain fend for themselves and took care of each other. Things worked out well so far.

"I'm going out to buy cakes and presents, Cain," Bea told her brother. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone."

Cain huffed in annoyance. "I almost thought you forgot Alicia's birthday," he countered instead.

The only answer Bea could give was to flush with embarrassment. Saying goodbye to Cain, Bea walked to the door and wore her black platform shoes, and she was out.

Everywhere she was heading to was in walking distance. The mansion she lives in was on top of a hill, as is with the cliché, the town square had the best bakery and so many shops to buy clothing, everyday items, electronic hardware and so much more.

Walking everyday to town was considered a good exercise for Bea. When she reached the foot of the hill, she was not even out of breath. Way to go, Bea! She congratulated herself, and gave a pat on the back.

First thing on Bea's to-do list is to buy presents. Alicia loves anything blue. She also loves to wear berets, leather boots, jeans of all kinds and sweater-style shirts. There was a lot of things to go through... but just in case, Bea went to the bakery shop to order a cake to pick up later.

Bea arrived at the bakery shop, it was owned by a very long line of bakers back to probably a few hundred years. Yeah, no kidding. When she entered the rustic looking bakery, a bell chimed signalling the arrival of customer. Bea could smell the aromatic fragrance of freshly baked goods, like bread, cookies, and pastries.

When Bea reached the counter, a young lady with auburn hair was waiting. "Hey, Lisa. How are things going?" Bea greeted. Lisa looked towards Bea with an answering smile.

"Everything's going great!" Lisa replied enthusiastically. "What brings the wannabe masterchef to my humble bakery, eh?" Lisa teased her. Bea rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"I am here to order a cake for a friend. I may be a wannabe masterchef, but I'm not that confident to bake a good cake that is edible." Lisa laughed at the lie.

"Please, Bea. You're good enough to bake a cake and open a shop. Mother would even hire you, if she wasn't so appalled at your brother's tendency to steal freshly baked goods."

"My brother has changed, I swear!" Bea said mocked indignantly. "Back to the topic, what kinds of cake do you have here? I'm buying a cake for my best friend's birthday party."

"Well, there is the famous cheesecake with crushed Oreo cookies base." Lisa pointed at the mentioned cake, it looks positively heavenly. "And then, there is this lovely white chocolate raspberry cheesecake." Lisa again pointed at the mentioned cake. Bea has to ponder for long moments.

Ah, what would Alicia like to have? Lisa interjected, "There are also chocolate cakes, if you'd like to see? Who are you buying for anyways?" Bea broke out of her thoughts.

"Alicia." Bea replied curtly. Lisa brightened up, "Well, she would definitely go for chocolate cakes. The more chocolate, the better. Do you want this now? And wish her happy birthday for me!!" Lisa spoke in a rapid fire manner.

"Slow down, Lisa. And sure I'll tell her. And no, I want to pick it up later. Make sure the cake is big." Bea said slowly. Lisa chuckled, "Sure."

"I'll be back later. And thanks, Lisa!!" Bea said her thanks and left to go on a present hunting.

With cakes out of the way, Bea could use her own sweet time to choose her presents. She checked her phone for the time, and it showed 9:15a.m. Or maybe not. Bea went into a clothing shop first, she browsed them and went to the next. This process repeated for a few times, before Bea finally found something that would suit Alicia. She entered a jewellery shop.

Bea searched for the jewellery she had in mind. A pure silver necklace with the word "Destiny". She saw it in a TV show, and thought it would be a good gift to give. Alicia's middle name was Destiny too, so it wouldn't be too weird. Plus, Alicia doesn't have any accessories, so this necklace will be her first. Bea don't think Alicia's middle name is just that, a middle name. It seems strange things happens when Alicia helped somebody or whatever. The good kind of strange though.

When the jeweller had packed the necklace properly and carefully, Bea paid for it and rushed back to the bakery to get the cake. Bea arrived at the bakery out of breath. Lisa gave her the cake and she gave Lisa her credit card. Finally, everything was done. Bea checked her phone again. It showed 14:30p.m. Still have 30 minutes to get to the venue.

After giving thanks to Lisa, Bea hailed a cab and went directly to Alicia's house. When Bea arrived, she still had 10 minutes to spare because of the fortunate smooth traffic. She entered the quaint house, and was greeted by Alicia with a bear hug.

"Bea!! Almost thought you weren't going to make it." Alicia squealed, and that was very unlike her.

"I am not that forgetful, okay?" Bea huffed indignantly. Seriously, first her brother, now Alicia too? "What's with the squealing, though? Where's the cool girl that I'm familiar with?"

"Nothing. Just excited is all~" Alicia noticed the bag Bea was holding. "Are this, by any chance, my presents?"

"One of them is your chocolate cake. And the other is an accessory." Bea announced.

Alicia smirked. "Bet you didn't know what cake to get me. Lisa always knows me best~"

"Oh, and Lisa wishes you Happy Birthday!!" Bea cheered. Alicia hugged Bea again.

"Happy birthday Alicia!!" Bea said to her. With that, the party started.

Everybody enjoyed the food that Alicia's mother, Georgia cooked. The food was delicious. And the cake was even more heavenly than it looked. The rich Creamy dark chocolate with milk chocolate mixed together... Yum, food heaven.

When it was time to open presents, Alicia was in for a big surprise. It seems everybody wanted to give Alicia accessories. There was necklaces courtesy of Bea and Angelia, earrings from Stacey, lace choker from Elizabeth, head accessory from Jemma, and rings from Michelle and Lea.

The party was a success in Bea's opinion. The guests all went home happy and full. When Bea reached home, Cain was there to greet her.

"I guess you had fun?" Cain asked curiously, with mirth in his eyes. Bea could only nod her head happily, exhausted from the running around and the excitement of the day.

P. S. Difficult to read? Felt the story was a little rushed? Well yeah, it was written in a rush. This is written on Amino for a roleplay thing just because... Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

Anais Snow, peace out.