#this might all seem dramatic but last year my birthday was an absolute mess

[asteria-argo]

When is your birthday? I hope it is good!

the 1st of march! it's currently the 25th of February for me so I've got like four days left and then I am officially 20! I'm going to the history and art museum like an hour from my place the day of and then the day after I'm having a costume party with my friends, so hopefully it'll be fun!

[how-masterful]

To Have Your Cake (And Eat It Too)

Dhawan!master x Reader

Summary: The Master has gotten himself tied up. On your birthday of all days. Stuck in a straightjacket and with no idea how long its going to last, you decide to treat your Time lord with a share of your sweet and sinful birthday desires

Notes: for the second year in a row, this is the official how masterful birthday fic™ for her absolutely beloved @plethora-of-imagines . happy birthday, my love! I hope through all the chaos of losing the first draft, flaky internet connections, and a crippling desire for this fic to work out, you hopefully enjoy your birthday gift! 🥳❤💫

this fic was partly inspired by this piece of artwork by @/thoscheii

The Master tugged angrily on his arms, for the fifth time that minute. He grit his teeth together, yanking his shoulders downwards. 

It was a fruitless effort. 

The straight jacket still refused to budge.

“I’ve tried everything, Master. You really are stuck in there until those time locks fall off.”

He tugged once more, before sighing and sinking back into his chair.

“Great. Absolutely magnificent.”

It was a stupid idea. You’d told him as such. The planet of the bachelors, solo men that thrived on their isolation from women. Females within the species simply didn't exist. The Master had seemingly decided the best idea in the universe, something he’d say about every new plan, would be to try and blend in in order to steal some exciting world destroying weapons (and obviously refuse to tell you about the details). It would be an absolute piece of cake, he’d decreed as soon as he’d planned it- sneak in, steal the plans, sneak out. It would only take fifteen minutes or so. That was 7 hours ago.

However, in his pride and… underestimation of the species’ intelligence, he’d made a single, glaring oversight.

He hadn't taken the bloody wedding ring off of his finger.

“Have you really tried everything?”

You turned from your position leant against the console, sending him an offended expression. The Tardis hummed and whirred in your defence.

“Yes! Every single idea you gave me!”

“Are you sure?”

You widened your eyes in an expression that hopefully conveyed to him it wouldn't be wise to ask again. The Tardis beeped rapidly, hoping to dissolve the tension. Still leaning against the console you folded your arms, looking down at your husband. 

“Yes, Master. I promise. I really think you’re just gonna have to wait this one out.”

The Master let out a loud and rather obnoxious groan. He let his head fall back, scrunching up his face in a look of pure annoyance. But even that expression of disappointment, and most likely rage, couldn't be fully executed. The thick red collar that sat around his neck propped up his head like a neck brace.

To his credit, taking off his ring wasn't something he had to do often. Since the day he’d put it on for the first time it never seemingly came off. That was part of his overt sentimentality that you secretly adored. Plus, it hadn’t caused any problems for the pair of you. The ring, a golden band engraved with endless circular Gallifreyan, sat snugly on his finger and often shone, even in low light. It acted as a symbol, a sign to other creatures great and small that he was indeed a taken Time Lord. It matched your own, your wedding band sharing the same design that comfortably nested itself upon your own hand. Of course, yours had to share a finger with the engagement ring- a white point star, shrunken perfectly to sit and shimmer in a band forged from the oldest nugget of gold in the universe.

You looked down at the ring, smiling fondly at the glimmering star that sat on your finger. It shifted and refracted at even the smallest of movements, even in the low light of the Tardis. From there you looked up to see the Master still trying to flop back his head, grumbling and muttering something most likely threatening to himself. You tilted your head, watching him struggle, before carefully making your way over to sit yourself down in his lap. Taking his face in your hands you carefully brushed over his cheeks with your thumbs, the anger and rage that simmered in his expression slowly melting away as he stared up at you with a rare, rather defeated expression.

It wasn't often that the Master was the one in need of saving. At least in the typical, damsel in distress sort of way. It was no secret that the Master had a history of getting in over his head, especially when it came to the Doctor and their centuries long rivalry- from the Autons all the way to the Kasaavin, the Master would sometimes need that extra helping hand. But with you, he was always so proudly in command. The Master of the situation, one could say. With you he would stride in, proudly taking control over every situation: if you were in danger he’d burst in burning with unstoppable rage, guns blazing- more likely TCE blazing, and would happily destroy anything and anyone that was in the path between you and him. Only now it was him that required the whole rescuing thing.

Seeing him like this, bound in a jacket with timed locks that simply refused to budge, almost made him look humbled. But of course he wouldn't let something so small destroy his persistent (And slightly enjoyable) egomania.

“It suits you, y’know.”

The Master rolled his eyes.

“Is that your way of making me feel better?”

“I’m serious. I never thought I'd say it, but you suit a collar and straight jacket.”

The Master bit back a laugh, sending you an incredulous expression.

“Really? Is that so? Because I feel like a knock off Houdini. Even I don't deserve that.”

You pouted dramatically, sticking out your bottom lip. Your hand reached up to ruffle his already messy hair, earning an even angrier scowl.

“You’re enjoying yourself far too much. Just you wait until I get out of here.”

“Aw, is the big bad Master angry he's got his collar on and matches his wife?”

The Master gave a reluctant laugh, narrowing his eyes like a cat. You tickled under his chin with your fingers, enjoying watching him attempt to squirm away. You could tell he was trying so hard to seem offended, but the way he subtly titled his head to grant you more access to the strip of skin under his chin made you believe otherwise. 

It was also undeniable that the thick red collar that sat around his neck matched your own. It seemed, to the Master, that his collaring of you was a pre marriage arrangement. Your own was a rich, purple leather that curved around your throat, lined with golden velvet that sat flush against your skin. Golden hardware, buckles and rings decorated the piece, making the thing look incredibly lavish and expensive- and judging by the Masters taste, it probably was.

“Don't patronise me, love.”

The Master was scowling again. It looked rather cute. You placed a quick peck to the top of his forehead, watching him scowl in return.

“I can't help it Master, you look like a kicked puppy. All grumpy and angry. You know Its your own fault you got into this mess.”

The Master opened his mouth, ready to argue to the ends of the earth as to how he wasn't responsible for the consequences of his own actions. This argument was neither new, nor something you wanted to get into again.

 Suddenly, you had a thought. It was a naughty thought, rather nefarious. 

Though not deadly, the thought was slightly dangerous. If only for what the Master might do when he finally got free. Yes, this was an ample opportunity for you to follow through, and use the new situation to your advantage. He’d be so proud, you thought, if it wasn't him in said situation. 

You pushed your finger against the Master's lips, catching the Time Lord slightly off guard. Once again, his eyes narrowed.

“Move. Your. Finger.”

“I’m pretty sure this is the universal symbol of shut up and listen, Master.”

The Time Lord pressed his lips into a thin line, glaring absolute daggers in your direction. Slowly you pulled your finger away from his lips, moving your face so close your noses almost touched.

“Fine, I'm listening.”

“Of all the days, Master. You had to choose today. Lucky for you, the Tardis thinks there's not much time left on those time locks. Lucky for me, it gives me just enough time to have some fun with you.”

If the Master's eyes were narrow before, now they were creeping wide. You could see the calculations his brain was performing behind his eyes, all the thoughts and possibilities swirling around in his head like brain soup. Rarely was the Master ever in a situation where somebody intended to have fun with HIM. Usually it was the other way around. This was a new sensation, a feeling of which the Master in all his years of existence had yet to fully comprehend.

Was this… what nervousness felt like?

It wasn't long until he was about to find out.

In all his time, cataloguing his thoughts and trying to figure out what you could possibly mean, the Master failed to notice you slipping from his lap and heading off towards the kitchen. With a skip in your step, you quickly made your way towards the piece of delicious, freshly baked cake that sat under the crystal glass dome on the counter top-  grabbing a fork on your journey back as you circled, returning to the door from which you came.

Quickly scarpering back to the console room, you could see the Master still thinking, his eyebrows furrowed as he tugged at the jacket once more. He really did look like a curious cat, sneering at the problem at hand while also being absolutely fascinated. You carefully made your way towards the Time Lord, letting out a small cough to break him from his focus. Suddenly, his head snapped up towards you, his mess of hair flying backwards as he looked from your smug expression to the plate in your hand, before turning back to your face with a knowing look.

The large triangle of birthday cake, decorated in thick frosting and rainbow sprinkles, sat upon the fine china plate. 

“What are you up to now?”

“You decided to get yourself tied up on my birthday. You’re going to enjoy this slice of cake with me even if I have to feed you it by hand. Now open.”

The Master watched intently as you held the fork to his lips, sending you an unimpressed expression.

“There's nothing on it.” he deadpanned.

“I know that,” you sighed. “Hold it for me while I get myself comfortable.”

The Master rolled his eyes, before opening his lips and taking the fork between his teeth. He looked like those flamenco dancers that would brandish a rose in their mouth while dancing, only slightly less flamboyant. Though the Master definitely was no stranger to flamboyance, if his past regenerations and even more recent plans were anything to go off.

“What on earth are you planning?” he mumbled through gritted teeth, watching you precariously place the plate upon his thigh. His eyes watched with absolute wonder as he saw what you were doing.

Carefully, in front of the Time Lord, you began to tug at the hem of your underwear from beneath the already rather short dressing gown- the pile of clothes you’d rescued him in already sat in a pile in the corner of the room. You slowly shimmied your panties down your legs, his eyes never leaving your body as you purposely drew out your movements. You could tell the Master was fascinated, the way his chest had begun to rise and fall slightly faster than usual. Methodically you teased him, slipping the underwear from your legs and throwing them on to the pile. Your hands then slowly wandered to the Master's knees, the Time Lord taking in a deep breath as you fiddled with the zipper of his trousers, pulling it down to expose his underwear. You took hold of the plate on his thigh before it toppled, using your other hand to pull down the waistband of the Masters underwear, carefully freeing the Masters hardening cock. You could hear him let out a low, guttural groan behind the fork.

Without breaking his gaze you straddled over his thighs, pushing your body against his own as you sank yourself down to sit on his now firm cock. You gasped softly as you felt him inside you, the Masters left eye practically twitching as he bit down on the fork in his mouth. You rocked backwards and forwards a couple times, settling yourself down in his lap, before you brought the plate to sit between your chest and his own. Soon after, you finally reached to pull the fork from between his teeth. The Master was staring at you, wordlessly, lightly panting for breath as you smiled oh so innocently.

“There,” you teased. “Much comfier.”

The Master was working his way towards catching his breath.

“You know… if you were anybody else… I'd kill you for this.”

You laughed lightly, measuring out the size of the first bite with the prongs of the fork.

“Good. Because if anybody else did this to you, I'd kill them as well. You’re my husband after all.”

“You’re getting far too cheeky, love. I think you need reminding who's in charge here.”

You leant forwards in the Masters lap, purposely shifting your hips. You couldn't help but smile at the involuntary gasp he gave.

“What are you going to do, Master? Spank me? With what hands?”

The Master met your gaze, matching your expression. Your faces were mere inches away from each others, your eyes daring each other to make the next move.

“You’re in so much trouble after this.”

“You can't punish the birthday girl, Master. That's just plain old rude.”

The Master chuckled fondly.

“Forgive me for misplacing my manners, dearest. I must’ve left them with my hands.”

“Apology accepted.”

You nipped at the end of his nose with your teeth, before giggling cheekily and leaning in for a kiss. The Master, in all his superiority and domination, couldn't help but kiss back. He always failed to stay fully angry at you. Your noses brushed together as you stole a kiss from each other's mouths, the pair of you dissolving into quiet laughter once you parted. 

“Let me have this moment, Master. Please.”

The Master pondered for a moment, tilting his head dramatically to the side and watching your hopeful expression blossom onto your face. He huffed out a sigh, looking up at you with another defeated expression. Only this one was full of genuine fondness.

“Fine.” he sighed finally. “Because it's your birthday.”

Your smile was absolutely beaming. You pulled the end chunk of cake onto the fork, holding it up to the Masters mouth. The frosting was almost dripping back onto the plate from the fluffy, bite sized piece. He parted his lips, waiting for you to place the cake into his mouth.

“Say please, Master.”

“Don't push it, Y/n.”

You simply shrugged in return, before placing the cake into the Master's mouth. As he chewed you gently began to circle your hips, lightly moving atop his cock, generating a small amount of friction. The Master gave a quiet moan, letting his eyes flutter shut as the cake melted on his tongue. He licked at his lips, catching the small trail of frosting and sprinkles that had remained on his lips.

“How is it?” you purred softly.

The Master smacked his lips together, before giving a lazy smile.

“I’m enjoying myself more than I anticipated.”

“Poor Master, did you think I was going to torture you?”

The Master chuckled as you offered him another piece of cake, parting his lips and watching you intently as you teasingly pulled the fork slowly from his mouth. You continued to twist and circle your hips, the Master's eyes watching you almost hypnotically. You could feel a hot flush begin to creep up your face, the apples of your cheeks blushing a sweet red as your shoulders began to relax. The Master smirked, watching you break off another chunk of the sprinkle covered cake. Only this time you placed it into your own mouth.

You could see why the Master reacted so positively. The flavours swirled and collided in your mouth, your taste buds exploding with sensory pleasure. Your hips swivelled and rocked, much like clockwork, as you rolled your head over your shoulders and gave a deep moan of pleasure.

“Shit, that's a good cake.” you admitted, fluttering open your eyes. The Master was licking his lips, hands lightly tugging on the straightjacket as you licked the frosting from your teeth.

“It's almost as nice as our first wedding cake.”

“Go on, take another bite.”

Weakly, you nodded, breaking off another chunk with the fork and placing it on your tongue. The ‘yes Master’ you gave was almost a whisper.

You did the same for your husband, feeding him another chunk of the cake while continuously building a rhythm of motion atop his cock. The Master was groaning, harder than before, a light sweat beginning to form on his brow. He couldn't help but notice how much closer you’d pressed yourself to his torso, the cake almost sliding from the plate that was now practically diagonal against your chest.

“Y’know, it's not the first time I've worn something like this.” the Master admitted between mouthfuls.

“Seriously?” your voice was almost lost behind a moan.

“White straightjacket, red collar, I think they- fuck- chose something from my personal history to cage me in.”

The Master was now beginning to thrust his hips up against yours, jostling your rhythm and causing you to give a shocked gasp of pleasure. The plate almost fell from your chest, barely being caught by your spare hand and the edge of the fork.

“Master, yes-”

You bit your bottom lip to suppress the guttural moan you wanted to give. The sweetness of the cake mixed with the burning deep in your belly was causing your senses to go into overdrive. The Master was methodical, thrusting up as best he could with the top of his body tied in place. His movements were sending chills shooting up your spine, knowing exactly how to make you gasp for breath and beg for more. He always knew exactly what you desired, his body and mind instinctively understanding every primal desire you had. Maybe you were just obvious. Or perhaps he was more sentimental than he let on.

Soon the once imposing slice of cake was nothing more than a single section. Crumbs and sprinkles poked from the corners of your mouth and onto your lips, the Master's teeth gnashing upwards in a bid to lick them away. Your speed and ferocity had increased to the point where you needed to stabilize yourself atop the Masters thrusting cock. Both of you had begun to sweat. Something needed to give.

“Master, I need, fuck-”

“I swear to god, let me taste you.”

The Master was panting like an animal.

“The plate-”

“Fuck the plate. I’ll buy you as many as you want. Come here, do as you’re told.”

You gave an inhumane snarl as the fork clattered to the floor, your fingers grasping hold of the last square of cake. Frosting oozed down your fingers as you relented your grip on the plate, the small black plate crashing down onto the hard wood and shattering into thousands of shards. The Master opened wide as you bucked your hips, your fingers pushing the cake firmly against his mouth. Sprinkles and crumbs smeared over the Masters lips as you abandoned all inhibition, your own mouth diving in to follow as your lips crashed together in an animalistic kiss. Teeth and tongues slashed and battled for control as the sweet concoction oozed down your throats, the taste of the frosting melting into the taste of each others mouths.

Crumbs and sticky decoration stained the clean white straightjacket as your fingers clasped hold of the Masters shoulders, your forehead pushing against his as he snarled into the kiss. Your hips thrusted furiously against his own, the pair of you rising and falling against the back of the chair as you begged for friction and every sensation you were willing to share. Your fingers fisted into the back of the Master's hair, the other hand stroking down his back and running over the intricate set of time locks that connected the jacket together in an intricate lattice of latches. You tugged on them as you went, growing deeper into the kiss as you bounced yourself up and down in the Masters lap. 

You could feel yourself getting close to the precipice of satisfaction, the Master's teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his tongue licked over the mess. Your noses pushed together as you hissed in delight, your body clamouring for release as you whined pathetically in his ear.

“Master, so close” you begged, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth.

The Master snapped his teeth together, pushing his forehead against his own.

“Don't you dare cum” he barked, groaning as you licked down the side of his face.

“Please, please I can't-”

“Listen to your Master” he growled in your ear. As if that would do anything but make it worse.

The Master continued to thrust and groan, his face flush almost as red as his collar as he edged you closer and closer to release. You struggled to even control your mouth, groans and cries of pleasure escaping your throat as you completely fell apart in the Masters lap. Everything was building up inside of you, your body absolutely ready to feel the warm wave of release course through your very being. All you were waiting on was the Masters word.

And then it finally arrived.

“Cum”

You felt your whole body ricochet from the sudden release of pressure. Your scream was painfully desperate as you felt yourself fold into nothingness in the Masters lap. You gave in completely, the warmth spreading through your entire body as you climaxed hard and fast upon the Masters still hard cock. Tears were mixing with the streaming sweat as you slumped forward against the Master's chest, the Time Lord chuckling as your exhausted eyes fluttered shut on impact. You were about to sleepily flirt, much like usual, sweetening the already malleable Master with your flattering words and praises, when a loud bang sent your eyes flying wide open.

One by one, the time locks that ran up the Masters spine unclasped and plummeted down to the floor, collecting in a heap as they slid through the back of the chair. You picked your head up to look at the Master, sweat dripping from his brow and sprinkles caught in his stubble, watching as the Time Lords face slowly began to spread into a dangerous grin. You felt a chill go down your spine as he slowly began to unfold his arms, forcing you to sit up in his lap, supporting yourself by pushing down on his thighs.

“Well then”

The Master purred, pulling his arms free from their clasps. His fingers wriggled within the triangle shaped tip of the sleeve, his hands reaching up to slickly unclasp the thick red collar from around his neck. It fell to the floor, joining the locks, fork, and what was left of the plate. He looked down at you with a typical, Masterful, Cheshire cat grin.

“Would you look at that?”

Instinctively you gulped, looking up at the Master as he lifted your chin with his cloth covered fingers.

“Now I don't know about you, love, but I've noticed you’ve been getting a little bit too cheeky for my liking.”

At best, you sent him a weak smile. You knew what was about to happen.

“And I have hands now. Lucky, lucky you.”

“I'm guessing you’re going to punish me now, aren't you Master?”

The Master shushed you, tutting as he shook his head. He still clasped your chin in his hand.

“You said it yourself, dear. I can't punish the birthday girl. But I can encourage her to help me get the release I so lovingly provided for her. It's only fair, after all. If there happens to be a lesson or two learned in the process? Call that an added bonus.”

You chuckled weakly as the Master guided you to stand, supporting your still twitching hips as you sent him a wry smile.

“Y’know Master, there's a phrase we have on earth. You can't have your cake and eat it too.”

The Master tilted his head, his mouth making a small ‘o’ shape as he crooked an eyebrow. It soon melted away into a gentle smile, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Oh, my love.” he grinned, a chuckle building in his throat as he pecked the top of your forehead.

“I just did.”

All of a sudden you felt yourself being lifted into the air, the impact of the Masters shoulder against your stomach knocking the wind out of your system. He barked out a proud laugh as he raised a hand to spank your already reddened ass, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh of your hip as you gave a surprised yelp.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” he cried, laughing as he carried you towards the bedroom, where god knows what painful pleasure awaited you.

“I hope the birthday girl has room for seconds!”

[aomine-ryo]

Kind of late, but I had an idea for a fic that’s been in my drafts for a while and I wanted to post it for Kise’s birthday but it wasn’t quite done yet. But it is now, so here it is, hope you like it!

Scenario: New kid, Kise Ryouta ends up falling for the reader

gender neutral reader

It’s not particularly easy being the new kid at school. Especially if you were Kise Ryouta. Being a well known athlete and model, it was difficult for him to be able to find friends in a new place that didn’t have ulterior motives. However, Kise learned to deal with it. He was cold to people until he himself learned to respect them and understand their motives.

But the problem with him was not in the friendship category, but rather the romance one.

Kise had a tendency to fall for the first person that was nice to him in a new place, and that almost always ended in the other person using him. So this time, he promised himself that he was not going to hurt himself yet again.

On his first day, Kise stood at the front of the class and introduced himself. “Um, hi, nice to meet you, I’m Kise Ryouta. I look forward to getting to know you all and well, I don’t really know what else to say,” he said, turning to the teacher for some help. The class filled with a small chatter once he stopped talking, and he could already faintly hear comments about how ‘cute’ he looks.

“It’s alright Kise. You can take that empty seat next to Y/N over there,” the teacher said, pointing.

Your head snapped back to the front of the class from gazing out the window at the sound of your name. Of course the new kid got stuck in the seat next to you. He was cute, you couldn’t disagree. However, that only meant that everyone else was going to be swarming around your desk for a while.

The teacher went on with the regular announcements until the bell for first period rang. “Oh right, before I forget, Y/N, can I trust you to show Kise around the school during your break?” she added.

You held back a sigh as you nodded. “Sure,” you replied curtly, glancing over at Kise and giving him an awkward smile.

As expected, once the teacher left, he was soon surrounded by girls asking him questions that were borderline invasive. How do they do it? How do they simply have the courage to speak to people like that? In a way, you envied them for their confidence, but it was also quite pathetic.

Eventually, the break came around and Kise approached your desk with a polite smile. Why did he get stuck with you out of all people? You were the first one that caught his eye and Kise could already see himself catching feelings for you. But he made a promise to himself and he was going to keep it. He wasn’t going to get played with again.

“Hey, um, Y/N, right?” who was he kidding? He knew your name. It was stuck in his head ever since the teacher instructed him to sit next to you.

“Yeah, just give me a second, I just have to organise this mess and we’ll be on our way,” you said, fumbling with the stationery that was cluttering your desk.

“Oh, you don’t really have to give me that tour if you don’t want to. I don’t want to be a burden— I can probably figure things out myself,” Kise said.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind helping out. If you end up getting lost at some point I’ll feel bad,” you insisted, finally putting the last of your things away and standing up. “Okay, we’re all good. Shall we?”

Kise hesitated for a moment. He really didn’t want to do this, but he didn’t have any more excuses so he simply walked by your side.

You showed him all the classes that he would regularly be attending, adding a few tips that you learned through the years whenever you could. This was the most you’d ever spoken to someone who wasn’t a close friend and yet Kise remained rather silent. Did he think you were boring? Were you talking too much? God, why did you have to be assigned this task?

“Oh right, I almost forgot. Are you joining any clubs?” you asked him as you walked through the halls.

“Yeah, I’ll be joining the basketball club,” Kise nodded.

“Right, I figured,” you mumbled, making Kise let out a small chuckle.

“Hey, you might have made the right judgement this time, but don’t judge a book by its cover,” Kise joked.

“It was more of an intuition thing rather than judging you, I swear,” you replied defensively, holding back a giggle.

“Mhmm I’m sure it was,” he said sarcastically. He hated how bright your smile was. It was so warm and gentle, he could look at it all day. He barely even knew you, but he was already obsessed with your smile. Just his luck.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m the manager for the basketball team so you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

This had to be some sort of cruel joke. “Really? That’s great. So I could probably just tail behind you and not get lost by the looks of it.”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. You hoped he was joking. The last thing you needed was a bunch of fangirls trailing you around campus. “Let me show you the way to the basketball gym though, just in case I manage to escape you.”

“Escape me? Tired of me already huh?” Kise teased, dramatically pretending to be offended.

“Absolutely,” you joked.

Kise clasped a hand over his heart as though he got shot in the chest. “I am hurt, Y/N. What did I ever do to deserve this?” he recited.

“You know, the drama club is probably also looking for new members— I should show you their club room instead,” you retorted.

“Ha ha very funny,” Kise rolled his eyes. How were you two already joking around like this? He tried not to speak to you much, but it was like his charisma was forced out of him. Maybe he was overthinking it. You seemed nice. Maybe the two of you could be good friends.

And well, that’s pretty much exactly what happened. With the sheer amount of times you two see each other, it was no surprise that you’d become friends. It started with witty banter and random comments but soon, the two of you became close. After about three months, you were hanging out with each other every other day, going out for a bite after practice, going to the movies, walking to school together— the list goes on. And somehow, you never got tired of each other.

“Hey, Y/N-cchi, are you going for the field trip?” Kise asked you in between classes, referring to the yearly trip your school organises to a selected place in the country with a rich history.

“I’ll go if you do. But to be honest, I’d rather stay at home,” you replied.

“Well, we’re going then. It’ll be fun. There’s probably cute places to take pictures for Instagram,” Kise said.

“So I’m basically going to be your photographer?” you sighed.

“Precisely.”

“Sounds like a blast,” you groaned.

“I’m kidding, I will find a way to make this worthwhile. I heard that there’s a nice restaurant near the hotel we’re staying at, so we should pay that a visit,” Kise said.

“I’m exhausted just thinking about it,” you replied, resting your head on your palm.

“Shhh it’ll be fun, trust me,” Kise said, eyes softening up when he noticed how the sunlight that shone through the window landed on you like some sort of natural spotlight. His mind was about to wander off into a daydream when the teacher walked into the classroom, snapping his attention away from you.

The field trip finally rolled around and you found yourself in a fresh hotel room with a gorgeous view of the beach. Unfortunately, you didn’t get assigned to room with Kise, but it was alright since he was just a few doors down. As promised, Kise did his best to make sure you were having fun. You did have to take an awful lot of pictures of him, and sometimes he’d force you to take pictures with him, but Kise was always good company so you didn’t mind too much.

On the last night, Kise took you to that restaurant for dinner. “It’s kind of a fancy restaurant so we should dress up,” Kise informed you that afternoon.

“But that’s so tiring. Let’s just go to McDonalds instead,” you suggested.

“We are not going to McDonalds. I will dress you up myself if I have to,” Kise said firmly.

So in the end, you did end up dressing up, but you didn’t pack any nice shoes so you had to go with your sneakers. Of course, Kise patronised you for it, but you just replied with the wittiest comment you could think of, like always.

“Hi, I made a reservation here, for Kise Ryouta,” Kise said to the hostess.

The place was nicer than you expected it to be. It was a strange feeling being here with a reservation. It felt less like a hang out with your friend and more like a date. And for some reason, you were now nervous.

“Ah yes, right this way Mr Kise,” she said with a polite smile as she led you two to your table. “A window seat, just as you requested.”

“Perfect, thank you,” Kise said, glancing at the view of the night sky and the twinkling city lights below.

“Here are your menus, a waiter will be with you shortly. Enjoy your date,” she smiled.

“Oh, uh, it’s not a—” you began, but she walked off before you could correct her.

“Well that’s awkward,” Kise chuckled.

You simply sighed in defeat as you took a moment to admire your surroundings. There was a clean white cloth spread across your table with a candle and flowers as a centrepiece. It was a bit too romantic for your comfort, but you tried to shake it off. “Someone went all out for a simple dinner. You even requested a table by the window. How picky can you get?” You said teasingly.

“I just made a reservation in case this place would be busy. You wouldn’t want to wait in line would you?” Kise explained and you shook your head in response. “Exactly. And I got the window seat because I know you like to stare out sometimes. I figured you wouldn’t wanna stare at me all night long, so I got you a better view.”

You felt your stomach turn as your mind’s immediate thought was how Kise was enough of a view on his own. You had to admit, he looked fantastic that night— when he said he was going to dress up, he wasn’t kidding. It was a simple white button up shirt with a red tie, but he still looked dashing. Perhaps it was the fact that he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, showcasing his toned forearms that pulled the look together. Either way, you didn’t like the fact that you were viewing your friend in such a way.

“Oh my, what is this self deprecation? I thought I was hanging out with model and Generation of Miracles member, Kise Ryouta, not some emo teenager,” you said, your tone resembling Kise’s dramatic one that you’ve heard a thousand times before.

“Well, if you’re not going to appreciate my effort of getting us these seats, I can just ask them to move us away from the window,” Kise huffed.

“No, no,” you tracked back almost immediately. “I like the window. Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kise grinned triumphantly.

That night was absolutely lovely. But no matter now hard he tried, Kise couldn’t take his eyes off you. As expected, you’d rest your chin on your palm and gaze out the window with a faraway look in your eyes, and Kise could do nothing but admire how beautiful you looked. He couldn’t believe that he knew someone as amazing as you were. Moreover, he couldn’t believe that he told himself that he wouldn’t fall for you. What a dumb decision. But he was already this far in, maybe it was just that fact that he can’t have you that made him want you more. These feelings will pass, right?

As the two of you walked back to the hotel that night, a cool salty breeze flowed through the air. Kise had made you laugh yet again, and his heart filled with joy as the bright smile returned to your face. He could stay in this moment forever.

“I can’t believe this is our last night here,” Kise sighed once you simmered down.

“Yeah, this trip was actually kinda fun. I wish it didn’t end so soon,” you said, gazing up at the bright full moon.

“You think we can squeeze in one final adventure tomorrow morning?” Kise questioned.

“Where to?”

Kise shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Well then, I’d rather stay in and sleep thank you very much,” you said.

“Are you tired yet?”

“Not really.”

“Then let’s go walk along the beach,” Kise suggested.

“But the sand gets everywhere, it’s so annoying,” you frowned.

“It’s our last night. Come on,” Kise said, grabbing your wrist and dragging you towards the empty beach.

The two of you walked by the water where the sand was firmer so that it less tedious. It was quite peaceful hearing the waves crash against the shore as the water glimmered under the moonlight.

“You know, when I first met you, I really didn’t wanna be your friend,” Kise said out of the blue.

“How rude,” you faked a gasp as you playfully whacked his arm, making him chuckle. “But to be honest, me neither.”

Kise looked at you with a dumbfounded expression. “Seriously, Y/N-cchi? But why?” he whined, seeming much more offended than you were.

“Because you always had people following you around and I didn’t want to be caught up in that,” you explained, kicking a pebble around as you walked.

“Oh,” Kise said, realising he probably shouldn’t have said anything because he couldn’t explain his reason as rationally as you did. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you wanna be friends with me? Was I annoying?”

“What do you mean, you still are annoying,” Kise joked, earning himself another whack on the arm. “I’m kidding, no you weren’t annoying.”

“Then what was it?”

“Okay, this might sound really stupid, but I told myself that I wouldn’t go after the first person that’s nice to me, because that always ended up with people using me for something or the other,” Kise explained, stopping in his tracks to pick up a smooth pebble.

“That’s fair,” you said, trying not to overthink what he meant by ‘go after’ as you watched him skip the pebble over the waves.

Kise looked out at the horizon, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before turning back to face you. “You know, you caught my eye almost immediately and that was a red flag to me for the longest time, but you actually turned out to be pretty cool.”

It was strange seeing Kise like this. It was like he was possessed. He never speaks in such a serious manner with you. “Well duh, because I’m awesome like that,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

A gentle smile spread across Kise’s face. “I told myself I wouldn’t fall for the first person I had a crush on, but here I am,” Kise let out a heavy sigh, glancing back out at the ocean for a moment.

“Crush? You had a crush on me?” you asked, your stomach doing twists and turns that made you feel as though you were going to throw up all the delicious food you had earlier.

“Yeah,” Kise muttered. What was he saying? Why was he complicating things? “I hate myself for it.”

“Oh. Um, it’s okay,” you said, unsure what to say. He clearly didn’t want to like you, so you didn’t want to bring up how you felt about him. “We can stay friends if you want, nothing has to change.”

Kise looked back at you, finding comfort in the warmth of your eyes. There was no dramatic outburst like he expected. You seemed to be considerate of his feelings. You genuinely did care for him. “I don’t mind staying friends. But is it okay if I do this?”

Before you could think twice about it, Kise had his soft lips pressed against yours. Even though your mind hadn’t fully wrapped itself around the situation, you found yourself kissing him back. Kise felt you melt into his touch as his heart skipped like pebbles on the water. God knows how much Kise had been longing for this moment. To have his arms around your waist, your body pressed against his, and his lips on yours. He could finally get a taste of you and it was better than any meal he could imagine. This just felt right.

After a few moments, Kise pulled back to catch his breath, his mind racing with thoughts that he couldn’t even keep up with. “I’m sorry,” was the only thing he could muster.

“Don’t apologise,” you shook your head, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it tightly. “I am absolutely okay with that.”

A wide smile spread across Kise’s face as his mind slowly began to clear up. Maybe his instincts were right this time. You were perfect to him the moment he laid his eyes on you, even though he tried to deny it. And as you stood in front of Kise with the moonlight glittering in your eyes, you were just as perfect as the day he met you.

[newtonsheffield]

I know you have a personal life and work and other things going on... But you can't just offer us a glimpse of Lucy and Gregory being angsty and sad and then just stop and not tell us what happens next. Will you maybe write a fic about the evolution of their relationship? I love Lucyyyy.. she is amazing

It's very nice of you to assume I have a personal life. But I sadly don't 😂

Okay so you may have seen that I do have a full length Lucy and Gregory fic! It's called Unexpected and it's on Ao3 !

And they do make up, and they become very very sweet together once Gregory realises he's actually in love with Lucy. Unfortunately for Lucy Abernathy whom I love and adore like she were my own child, She realised she was in love with Gregory ten months before he realised he was in love with her. And that led to a lot of heart break for her.

This is a scene I've wanted to write from Lucy's POV for a really long time, but no one's ever asked and you still haven't but I'm using this moment to grandstand!

I would recommend that you read Unexpected prior to reading this little scene!

As odd as it seemed, Lucy had never been to Kate and Anthony's house before, she'd never had a reason too so she'd been a little surprised when Kate had been making plans for Anthony's birthday party, turned and dropped an invitation on her desk. And really, she shouldn't have been surprised, most of the office was invited, and Lucy had long since considered Kate more a friend than her boss. So she'd gone, she'd gotten dressed and told herself that wanting to spend time with Gregory had absolutely nothing to do with wanting to go.

It had been a little awkward and stilted since last month when she'd cried all the way home and then a little more, barely having gone to sleep when she was woken by Kate's call, her stomach churning as she thought about Gregory, his fist connecting with a man. And she'd swallowed all of her pride, picked up her phone and said Rick, I'm not here to talk about Hermione. I need a favour and she'd done it for Gregory. Even though she knew that her brother and Uncle would expect more of her now, would eventually expect something in return, She'd done it.

"Lucy you came!" Kate said brightly, when she arrived, Anthony's arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they leaned against the wall together, Kate's sister looking impossibly beautiful as she had every time Lucy had seen her. And Lucy's heart ached with the domesticity of it, because maybe, if she'd been just a little different, it could have been her and Gregory. But it wasn't and that was fine. "Of Course I did, some of us don't have an assistant to get us out of our social obligations, you know Kate." She smirked. Edwina gasped dramatically. "I knew all those times Lucy called and told me you were running late it was a lie!" She swatted at Kate who looked scandalised. Lucy couldn't help the laughter that escaped her as Edwina and Kate bickered backwards and forwards and then a familiar voice was low in her ear.

“Lucy, can I talk to you?” Lucy spun towards the sound a little startled by his sudden appearance. And when she saw him like this, his t-shirt printed with what appeared to be The Infinity gauntlet, her hair tousled, his eyes shining at her behind his glasses, it was difficult to deny the real reason she'd come tonight. Just to see him like this for a moment, even from a distance.

“My my Gregory, your mother would be so appalled to see you slighting the hostess in such a way.” Kate teased and Lucy watched as Gregory spun towards her as though he hadn't even noticed. Lucy could see Edwina trying to catch her eye mouthing You and Gregory? Fucking Cute. Lucy ignored the flutter in her stomach.

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t see you there. Happy birthday Ant!” Anthony rolled his eyes and muttered his thanks. And Lucy couldn't stop staring at him, curiously. Clearly he hadn't been here already. He'd arrived and sought her out? That didn't seem right. The butterflied always seemed to ignite in her stomach beat their wings furiously.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Kate quipped, sending Edwina a wide eyed look.

“Lucy, Can I talk to you?” He said more firmly, ignoring his (almost) sister in law. Lucy felt her eyes widen at his insistence, nodding before she could think of a reason not to be alone with him. To give him a reason not to unknowingly break her heart for the hundredth tie. Gregory caught her hand and tugged her to the quieter upstairs floor. The music muffled as he led her into a spare bedroom and stupidly Lucy could feel her heart start to race. She cleared her throat.

“What’s this about, Greg?” She asked to create some distance between reality and her imagination, unable to look at him, even as she used the nickname he'd told her the first time they met that his friends used. Because that's what they were. Friends.

“I don’t know where Hermione is and she and Richard are still together.” She forced the words from her chest. To remind herself what he really wanted from her.

“Hermione?” Gregory’s brow furrowed, “I don’t care about her.” He took a step towards her likely completely unaware of how her pulse was thundering in her ears. If he didn't want to talk about Hermione then what did he want to-?

“Then I don’t understand, If it’s a work thing-” She started, hearing her own confusion leak into her voice But Gregory cut her off with a final step towards her. They were chest to chest now, she could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose if she wanted, his hair dipping into his eyes unbearably handsome.

“I don’t want to talk about work right now.” His voice like gravel and then suddenly his lips were on hers, hot and unrelenting. She was still with shock for a split second before she felt herself relax into him, her hand reaching for his hair to pull him closer to her, his own hands tugging at her waist pressing their bodies together as his tongue moved against hers in a way that had her knees a little weak. And somehow, in all the times she'd imagined what it might be like to kiss him, even when she had had that (very filthy) dream about him months ago now, it had never lived up to this. He pulled back after several long moments, his breath laboured as he stared down at her, her heart fluttering with the idea that he'd finally realised that she'd been standing right there in front of hi for years now, practically begging him to love her.

“God, Lucy. I’m half in love with you, sometimes.” He whispered softly, smiling at her. And Lucy felt her heart break all over again. Because he hasn't realised anything at all. He was confused, and hurt by her friend, and she was just there. And while she desperately wanted to not care, to let herself go home with him, or fall back against the mattress in her bosses spare room and have him just for a moment, she had to be stronger than that.

Lucy felt the smile she'd had drop off her face as she stepped back from him, turning her head so he wouldn't.see the tears in her eyes

“Lucy?” He questioned lightly, confused and though she refused to look at him she knew exactly how he'd look. His brow furrowed adorably, like a lost puppy.

“Don’t Greg, please don’t make this any harder.” Her voice shook shamefully, her head still turned away from him as she stepped around him towards the door.

“I don’t under-“ He started, his voice still dripping with confusion, the barest edge of hurt creeping in.

“You’re in love with Hermione, you’re in love with me. Do you even know what you want, Greg?” She barely recognised her own voice as she opened the door, light flooding in from the hallway, Gregory illuminated for a moment, the look on his face making her heart ache to go back and wrap her arms tightly around him again, to let him have her, whatever he wanted. But she had to start loving herself as much as she loved him.

“You can’t be half in love with someone Greg, certainly not with me.” She snapped the door shut on him, her feet racing down the staircase. Her shoulders shaking with sobs as she burst out of Kate's front door, her legs numb refusing to carry her any further as she fell in a heap against Kate's garden wall.

"You're so fucking stupid, Lucy." She heard herself say a voice like her Uncle's echoing in her head You begged him to want you and he still didn't. Shame welling in her chest, "Lucy?" She heard Kate's voice say softly, felt her sit beside her as Lucy swiped at her tears furiously as though it would stop her losing the respect of someone else tonight.

And though the very last thing she wanted was to cry to Kate Sheffield about what a mess she was, she did it anyway. And when Kate gently told her that if Gregory didn't want her, he was the one missing out, She'd wished she could believe it. Because Gregory Bridgerton deserved much better than the girl that fell to pieces in his brother's garden.

[365days365movies]

April 12, 2021: Mrs. Doubtfire (1992) (Recap)

Hey, Robin Williams. Been a while.

I’m sorry that I haven’t watched your movies for a while, and that I always skip your comedy stand-up when my phone’s on shuffle. I just...let me explain. Since I was a kid, you were one of my favorite entertainers. That might as well have started the day I was born, because...well, we share a birthday, fun fact. But it definitely continued with the first movie I ever saw in theatres.

While I don’t quite remember the first time I saw it, Aladdin was one of my favorite childhood movies, and I knew that you were the voice of the Genie from an early age. You might have actually been the first actor I ever knew by name. Which makes sense, because your stardom during the ‘90s was nearly unparalleled.

The next film I remember seeing (and hearing) you in was Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. That also starred Tim Curry, who would also be a major figure of my childhood. It also wasn’t the best movie, in hindsight, but it is the only time I’ve heard you rap since.

But eventually, I watched your forays into live-action, too. Jumanji, Hook, even the objectively bad Flubber, are all movies that I vividly remember watching during childhood. I was really excited for Flubber, even, and I LOVED Jumanji growing up. I liked Hook, too, but I appreciated that more as I got older.

Of course, during this time period, you also made less family-friendly films. The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, and What Dreams May Come were all very successful, and cemented your reputation as an actor. I also haven’t seen any of them. In fact...I don’t think I’ve seen any of your dramatic roles, and that’s something that I’ll fix this year. Hell, in a few days, I’ll watch The Birdcage, another of your big hits of the ‘90s.

But why haven’t I seen them up to now? Well...I was going to watch these films, about seven years ago. But...I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Because it hurts. A lot.

I know that this is a downer, but my relationship with Robin Williams today is tainted by his tragic death. I was fucking BROKEN when his death was announced, and I really haven’t been able to watch him since. I’ve seen Aladdin recently, but that’s about all I could stand to watch. I mean, the guy shares a birthday with me! I’ve always loved his comedy stylings, and his improvisational skills are something I’ve internalized to a certain degree.

So, yeah. This one’s tough. But, it’s about time I moved on, and celebrated the man’s career for what it was: stellar. And that also brings up an important question, that some of you have probably asked by now:

HOW HAVE I MISSED MRS. DOUBTFIRE, WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW I KNOW OK?

Look, I’m not entirely sure how I haven’t seen this movie, because I’m MORE than aware of it! I remember it airing during the ‘90s, my Dad AND girlfriend love this movie, and I know FOR A FACT that my family owned both the DVD AND THE VHS of this movie! So, how? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN IT BY NOW?

I honestly have no idea, but let’s fix it now, huh? Yet one more man-dresses-as-woman movie this month! And no, I am not watching White Chicks...because I’ve already seen White Chicks. Also, it’s...problematic.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

 Recap

Daniel Hillard (Robin Williams) is a voice-actor, and a good one. Which, given that it’s Robin Williams, isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s also a voice actor with a spine, as he morally objects to a scene in the cartoon that he’s performing for, in which the main character smokes. By the way, I’m 99% sure that this cartoon is animated by Chuck Jones, and it looks well-made.

Anyway, this leads to him quitting the cartoon altogether, and allows him to pick up his kids early from school. These kids are Lydia (Lisa Hykub), Chris (Matthew Lawrence), and Natalie (Mara Wilson), and it’s Chris’ 12th birthday. Daniel arranges a...surprisingly large party, given that it’s completely impromptu, and it comes with a petting zoo and complete trappings. However, it’s not a party of which his wife will approve.

This wife is Miranda (Sally Field), a successful architect and the breadwinner of the family. After getting a call from the neighbor about the party, she comes home and busts the outrageous party. And for the record, I’m entirely on Miranda’s side here. This party is INSANE, and very irresponsible, given the fact that Daniel currently has no job. And yeah, he’s a very loving father, and a good person, but...it’s too much.

Miranda feels the same, and after 14 years of frustration, she realizes that she no longer loves Daniel. In a genuinely sad scene, she tells him that she wants a divorce. And she goes through with it MUCH to Daniel’s detriment. He has no home, as he’s staying with his brother, Frank (Harvey Fierstein) and his partner Jack (Scott Capurro). He also still has no job, meaning that he has no way to provide for his children. This means that he has no ability to provide, and the judge awards Miranda full custody. Oof.

However, this is a conditional arrangement, as another hearing for joint custody will be held in 3 months, and if Daniel can get a home and job in that time, he has a chance. He performs a litany of voices and impressions with his court liason, Mrs. Sellner (Anne Haney), which amuses me, but not her, and he gets a job in order to be with his kids for more than one day a week.

Meanwhile, Miranda IMMEDIATELY starts dating fellow designer and old flame Stuart Dunmeyer (Pierce Brosnan), like, almost before Daniel leaves the house. He bids a heartfelt goodbye to his kids, with the promise that he’ll see them on Saturdays. And now begins the absolute hatred and petty bitchiness of Daniel and Miranda! Seriously, it’s...it’s fucking terrible, and it takes away from my sympathy from either side. I get that divorce is rough and ugly, but GODDAMN, neither of them perform the act with any form of tact or grace.

This is put on display during the kids’ visitation to Daniel’s semi-crappy new apartment, which doesn’t even seem that bad, to be honest. Miranda dropped them off late and picked them up early, as if to slowly starve Daniel of time with his kids, which is extraordinarily shitty of her, fuck me. Daniel’s not taking it well, understandably, but then does something...really dumb, when you think about it.

See, Miranda’s looking for a nanny, to help watch the kids and clean the house during the week. Daniel volunteers his services, which is actually a good idea, but Miranda says she’ll think about it, which we ALL know means no. I DO NOT like Miranda, even if I understand the initial reasons for the divorce. She’s being especially spiteful, and it’s not a good look.

Daniel’s stupid idea, though, is to change the phone number on the ad for the nanny, which Miranda shows him before she takes the kids. Instead, he calls her number, and pretends to be various terrible applicants, until finally supplying his own applicant: the completely fictional Euphegenia Doubtfire (Daniel Hillard).

Daniel plays Mrs. Doubtfire as an elderly British woman, and a seasoned nanny in her day. Which is why it’s weird to me that, when he does to Frank and Jack to help him make an elaborate disguise as Mrs. Doubtfire, that they go through various other impressions and get-ups. Which, yes, is goddamn hilarious, but also makes NO SENSE, given that they’ve already established her character to Miranda. Funny, but nonsensical.

But, regardless, Euphegenis Doubtfire comes into being, and introduces herself to Miranda and the kids. Mrs. Doubtfire is exactly what Miranda’s looking for, although the kids aren’t exactly overjoyed, ESPECIALLY the oldest, Lydia. Also, during this first meeting, Miranda openly bad-mouths Daniel in front of the kids, in just the WORST fuckin’ way. I genuinely dislike Miranda A LOT. Again, the divorce was certainly justified, but I REALLY don’t like her. Daniel loves his kids, and they’re HIS kids, TOO. Stop using them as weapons against him, OOOOOOOOOOOH I DON’T LIKE MIRANDA

Anyway, that evening, after she’s officially been hired by Miranda, Mrs. Doubtfire heads home, only to find court liason Mrs. Sellner waiting to speak with Daniel. After a litany of puns, and a humorous changing scene, Daniel accidentally throws the Mrs. Doubtfire mask out of the window, and is forced to improvise through equally humorous circumstances. Hence, the above meringue mask scene. Has anybody tried that, by the way? Could that work as a groundbreaking beauty technique? Or would the sugar just feed the skin bacteria and give you acne? Genuinely curious.

Now going between his job as Daniel and the nanny job as Doubtfire, Daniel’s not doing too badly for himself. The nanny job begins, and Mrs. Doubtfire IMMEDIATELY contrasts with Daniel, creating a disciplinarian atmosphere in place of Daniel’s formerly loosey-goosey attitude. Which is interesting, and it works! I mean, it’s not how I would parent, but it does work. Doubtfire makes the kids to their homework, rather than watch TV, and then attempts to make dinner. Instead, though, the dinner’s ruined, and Daniel orders takeout and makes it LOOK like homemade food. And it looks good, too! Daniel’s full of hidden talents.

After dinner, as Mrs. Doubtfire’s leaving, Lydia apologizes for backtalking her earlier, and thanks her for making her mom happy with everything she did that evening. he also says that she’s still a bit messed up about her dad being gone. And yeah, it’s sweet-but-sad. 

Going forward (and in a montage set to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like a Lady), Mrs. Doubtfire takes care of the family, and Daniel even betters himself to become a better Mrs. Doubtfire. Which...to be honest, Daniel REALLY should’ve done this before. I get that he needed the pressure of losing the kids to do this, but...look, Daniel really wasn’t that responsible of a parent, and the fact that THIS is how he learns to be so is...not great. Like, here’s an example, OK: take Donald Trump.

Yeah, I know, what’s this politics doing in my peanut butter? And WOW, that reference is older than me, but anyway. Let’s say that, in two years, a new politician comes on the scene, and her name is Karyn Walldottir. She has somewhat centrist views, and behaves in a way that’s inclusive to the majority, and backs up her claims and promises with evidence (at least true enough for us to suspend our disbelief). This is, of course, Donald Trump disguised as a woman in order to gain custody of the United States of America again. Naturally.

Karyn Walldottir gets elected in 2024, and all of her policies are markedly different from Trump’s and Biden’s, but leaning closer to Biden in progressive standpoints (assuming that that worked for him come 2024). While Trump is doing this specifically to be president again, he ends up revising his personal policies, and being a better person and president for the country. A literal impossibility, I know. But suspend your disbelief to ask this question:

WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

OK, now that that dumbass (and mildly horrifying) thought process is concluded, let’s get back to Mrs. Doubtfire. In the process of Mrs. Doubtfire’s ingratiation with the family, Miranda’s been dating Stu, whom Mrs. Doubtfire subtly insults when they meet. And yeah, Daniel’s being a little petty here, but it makes a bit of sense at least.

That night, after an accidental intrusion by Chris when Mrs. Doubtfire is going to the bathroom, Daniel’s basically forced to tell Chris and Lydia his little secret, which Lydia’s happy about, but Chris is understandably weirded out about. But, they agree to keep the secret from their mom and younger sister.

At his OTHER job, delivering film reels from a TV station, he witnesses the filming of an extremely boring kids educational TV show, and comments as such to another man watching. As he quickly learns, this is the owner of the station, Jonathan Lundy (Robert Prosky), on whom Daniel makes a good impression.

In the meantime, Mrs. Doubtfire has a talk with Miranda about their love lives, real and fictional. Daniel realizes how badly Miranda had been suffering in their marriage, which she never told him because...well, he never seemed to take anything seriously. Which is entirely fair...but this is why Miranda’s a tricky-ass character. She’s got two sides: there’s the justified caring mother and strong woman, and there’s the PETTY ASSHOLE who genuinely doesn’t care about Daniel or his feelings AT ALL. Jesus.

And Stu...look, Stu is LITERALLY a Gary Stu, who’s mostly perfect. Sure, he’s not always been that way, but he definitely is now! He’s responsible, wealthy, in love with Miranda AND her kids. And yeah, at a country club that he’s a member of (OF COURSE he is), he privately badmouth Daniel in front of Mrs. Doubtfire, calling him a loser, and...yeah, he’s not really unjustified in that statement. Fact of the matter is, Stu is barely even a plot device.

Meanwhile, in Daniel’s day job, he finds himself alone in the studio, where the toy dinosaurs from the TV show are still sitting on the table. He plays with them, gives them voices, sings some songs, and impresses Mr. Lundy, who’s there in the shadows after all that. He’s impressed, and invites Daniel to dinner to talk about a potential future show at the network.

But then, it’s also Miranda’s birthday coming up, and Stu’s holding a dinner for her, to which Mrs. Doubtfire is invited. Trouble is, it’s at the OH FUCK IT. YOU know what this is. It’s at the same time and place as the Mr. Lund meeting yaddayaddayadda LOOK. We ALL know how this is going to end. It’s the GODDAMN LIAR REVEALED TROPE AGAIN. And here’s the thing:

I FUGGIN’ HAAAAAATE THE LIAR REVEALED TROPE

You know, that thing in movies (especially family movies of the ‘90s) where somebody starts off a situation with a lie, they get deeper and deeper into that lie, grow close to people under false pretenses, and then OH NO! THE LIAR IS REVEALED! And everybody’s angry and/or sad, the liar slumps off, defeated and broken, but then realizes the error of his ways, while everybody else realizes the same thing, and he comes back to vindicate himself, and is welcomed back with open arms. And it introduces unneeded tension AND I HAVE ALWAYS FUCKING HATED IT.

Let’s list the examples, shall we? A Bug’s Life, Aladdin, Mulan, The Road to El Dorado, Chicken Run, How to Train Your Dragon, Klaus, Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, Megamind (SUBVERSIVE MY ASS), Over the Hedge, Rango, Toy Story, Steven Universe (the whole Pearl/Sardonyx arc, which went on for WAY too long), the list goes on and fucking on. And I GODDAMN HATE IT. Not to say it can’t be done well. Disney actually usually does a pretty good job with it, and Dreamworks uses it A LOT, but almost always pretty well. But sometimes...GOD. Either way, it’s still used FAR too fucking much. And look. Here’s another one. Joy.

Look, at this point...I will freely admit that I'm biased against this trope, but it’s also obvious where this is headed. Basically, Daniel switches back and forth between the dinner with the family, and the dinner with Mr. Lundy. With Mr. Lundy, he gets absolutely SMASHED. Great. Great decision, Daniel.

So, yeah, Mrs. Doubtfire’s also smashed, which is pretty goddamn apparent to them all. At this point, I’m wondering why Daniel, as Mrs. Doubtfire, didn’t just say she was sick as hell, and had to go home. Or, considering the fact that Daniel proposes her as a show idea regardless, the switch wasn’t even necessary! And that means that none of what’s about to happen, happens. Or, here’s a crazy thought, maybe Daniel shouldn’t have POISONED STU’S FOOD WITH CAYENNE PEPPER THAT HE’S ALLERGIC TO! 

YEAH! Because that causes Stu to go into anaphylactic shock for a hot sec, causing him to choke. Mrs. Doubtfire does the right thing and gives him the Heimlich maneuver, and in the process, SURPRISE! IT’S BEEN DANIEL ALL ALONG! BUH BUH BUHHHHH DA DA DA DAAAAA DA

Yeah, so Miranda is understandably ENRAGED by this revelation, and it’s all over. Daniel represents himself in court at the custody hearing, but the judge deems his “lifestyle” dangerous for children. Which...yikes, Judge, that statement didn’t age well AT FUCKING ALL. But, given Daniel’s admitted stupidity with this whole idea, he’s not wrong about the dangerous part. But, I have to say, Daniel’s speech in his own defense is nice...although he also says he’s addicted to his children, so let’s throw a second yikes on there for good measure.

The speech moves Miranda...but not enough to prevent Daniel has his custody stripped away from him! GOD THEY BOTH SUUUUUUUUCK. Daniel’s a broken man, and Miranda and the kids are similarly broken without him and Mrs. Doubtfire. However...Daniel’s career isn’t broken AT ALL, as Mrs. Doubtfire is now a kid’s show host! Yeah! And she’s a hit! And again, it brings me to wonder why Daniel DIDN’T APPLY HIS OBVIOUS TALENTS LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE

Realizing that she made a mistake, she goes to the set during the filming of a show. She congratulates him on the show, and he replies by stating how broken he is now! Thanks, Miranda! Well, after an argument, and after Miranda sees how badly she’s messed up someone she used to care for, they come to an agreement: joint custody. FINALLY GODDAMN IT

And good, because I don’t want them back together. I have to give this film props for that: they acknowledge that these two are NOT good for each other, and they deliver a message in the end: families are families, no matter how they’re shaped. One mom, one dad, uncle or aunt, grandparents, adoption, two separated or divorced parents...oh, also, two dads or two moms. Yeah, that isn’t said in Mrs. Doubtfire’s final monologue, which is odd considering Daniel’s brother and his life partner...but it’s also kid’s TV in the ‘90s, so I guess that sadly makes sense. And with that, and their new family arrangement, Daniel takes his kids on an afternoon out, as himself.

...Look. That’s Mrs. Doubtfire, yaddayaddayadda LOOK. I don’t dislike this movie. In fact, here: have this mini-Review:

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Good, although Brosnan was a little stiff.

Plot and Writing - 5/10: It’s an idiot plot, what can I say? It’s actually based off of a book, which was a surprise to me, but it was adapted by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, and...eh. Still an idiot plot.

Directing and Cinematography - 8/10: It’s Chris Columbus, you get what you get. Definitely has that Home Alone flair to it.

Production and Art Design - 8/10: I mean, yeah, the Doubtfire disguise was good most of the time, but...I dunno, I could still tell it was Robin. But, still, it was good. Took 4 hours of makeup, fun fact.

Music and Editing - 8/10: Music by Howard Shore (ooh, Howard Shore!) was pretty nice, especially the ending theme. Editing by Raja Gosnell was...RAJA GOSNELL???

OH GOD. Yeah, OK, I see what happened here. Also, I didn’t know he was an editor! I just know him as the director of the Scooby-Doo films, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, The Smurfs films, Big Momma’s...

...OK, no, I am not doing Big Momma’s House OR the Madea movies. THE TROPE-BUCK STOPS HERE! I am moving on to something else! But, of course, I have to sum this up in a Review. See you there!

[someobscurereference]

please use this ask as an excuse to infodump about any au/headcanon/personal project you might have wanted to tell folks about recently

Ooooh, this is a huge open book, anon. And I very much appreciate the platform to do it. Let's see what I have under my hat that (I hope) I haven't spoken about before...

Semi-Erased AU

This is the title I have for it in my documents because I got inspired from the anime Erased (and some asks ask I got like 2 years ago asking me who among the Trio I thought was older/younger that I can no longer find but I Never Forgot About), but it has almost nothing to do with the original anime/manga. I'm nearly 29K into it so far and not nearly done, lol. I will be shocked if I finish before the end of the year.

However! The basic premise is it's a modern AU where Inigo (just turned 16), Severa (14 at the start and then 15 later), and Owain (12 at the start but later 13) in Ylisse get visited in the dead of night by a strange wizard man (Anankos) who pops out of a portal and begs them for help. Anankos does not elaborate on what this help is or what the Trio need to do other than they need to decide Now, they're needed in Another Country, it's going to involve some Time BS (so don't worry about your parents noticing you're gone, kids!) and he's really, really earnest about it. Inigo, unable to say no to a man so desperate and really awed at the fact Holy Shit Magic Is Real, joins Owain (who wants Adventure so bad) and Severa (who wants to be Independent and why would she say no to this crazy magical opportunity??) in helping out this strange but earnest magic man.

...Which ends up with them getting portaled to Nohr in the dead of night, given fake names, a place to live, some money, etc., told to not contact their parents by any means, and oh, right, they're starting the school year in a few weeks. Good luck!

(Inigo: Wait, you're not staying?? Anankos: Only you can do this! Goodbye! Inigo: But what are we-- Anankos: *already gone*)

(Oh, and of course Xander, Camilla, Leo, & co. also happen to attend this fancy Nohr private school the Trio are sent to. Is this related to the mysterious task Anankos has set them on? Maybe!)

I have more written than this already (again, about 29K of it) but basically it's part slice-of-life coming-of-age, part teenage romance, part magical adventure, etc. Inigo, Severa, & Owain are two teenagers and a 12 year old living in this house with no parental supervision, and they are Not Friends at the start of this fic, lol. The circumstances would be hard even if they were besties going into this mess, but they're definitely not. They make friends (and crushes) with others! And rivals. And acquaintances. And their relationships with others (and each other) will change over the course of the fic! But they're not besties at the start, lol. Oh, and POVs alternate by the month! (Fic is divided into month sections. Ex: Inigo narrates August, Severa narrates September, etc. )

I have the general plan for why Anankos brought the Trio there, what's going to happen at the climax, how their relationships will change, etc. and a Bunch Of Notes for everyone's ages and background characters and whatnot. The plot just needs to be written out in scene format. However! Since it will be such a long time before it gets finished, here is some snippets from scenes that I have already written as a teaser :3

(1)

September

“Why is the ten-year-old balancing a checkbook?” Xander asked flatly.

“He’s actually twelve,” Laslow corrected as Owain swung his legs under the table and scratched another wobbly number onto the page. “He just looks young. Don’t worry. He does this all the time.”

Somehow, Xander looked even less impressed by this. Laslow—and how strange was it that he was still getting used to that name a full month after this whole endeavor had begun—had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing or otherwise commenting on Xander’s early developing wrinkles.

“Children should not be worrying about their family’s finances,” said Xander. “They—"

Wrinkling his nose, Owain blew a raspberry at them from the kitchen table. “I’m not a kid!”

(2)

August

The strange, inhuman Anankos came the evening before his sixteenth birthday in what Laslow—then Inigo—had graciously decided not to call a kidnapping.

Inigo had been in the middle of brushing his teeth when he heard a strange noise he could only describe as the sound of air being sucked out of a vacuum. He turned his head just in time to see a flash of blue light and watch a tall hooded figure step out of a rift in time and space in the middle of his bedroom.

He choked on the toothpaste and bent over the sink to cough white foam onto the porcelain.

“I’m so sorry for startling you,” said the hooded figure. “Please, drink some water.”

...

The hooded figure said, “Wait—”

“Dad!” Inigo called down the stairs, making the hooded stranger flinch. “Did you summon any ghosts or demons in the house recently?”

The reply was almost immediate—a returned shout up the stairs. “Nope! Your mother forbid that as of last month!”

There was a bit of shuffling on the first floor.

“Why? Is there a ghost or demon up there?”

Inigo looked over his shoulder and very seriously asked the figure, “Are you a ghost or a demon?”

The figure paused for a moment, as if that wasn’t a totally reasonable question to ask at this point. “No. I am… not either of those.”

Very reassuring.

“Just checking!” Inigo called downstairs.

“Alrighty! Let me know if that changes!”

“Will do!”

(3)

“Nice to meet you,” Keaton repeated. “This here is Fang, Shadow, and Casper.”

He pointed to the very large, very middling, and very tiny set of three dogs that had accosted Selena. All three of them perked up when their names were called.

She looked at the animals, a bit curious despite herself, and then point to the largest dog—a huge mutt with shaggy white hair who looked like it could easily fit Selena’s whole head in its mouth. “That one is Fang?”

“No, no.” Keaton pointed to the chihuahua. “She’s Fang. Shadow is the black one, and the big fellow is Casper.”

Fang looked like she weighed about three whole ounces soaking wet.

“…Okay,” said Selena.

(4)

“Hark! Who goes there?”

Other students leaving the school were turning their heads, looking for the source of the overly loud, barely-into-puberty voice. Selena’s stomach sank at the sight of the middle schooler standing at the bus stop.

Odin pointed at them dramatically. “Is that Selena of the fiery skies that I spy? Partaking the journey back home, are you? And who is this?”

“Oh!” Camilla startled, sounding horribly delighted. “Is this your little brother?”

People were still looking. A pair of teen boys ribbed each other, and one girl giggled to her friends, shooting glances between Odin and Selena.

She forced a laugh. “Haha! No! Absolutely not!”

“Selena and I do not share the bond of blood,” Odin sniffed.

“What a shame,” said Camilla, and she seemed genuinely regretful. “I have a little brother of my own. I thought they could be friends. Leo could use the company.”

“Leo?” Odin dropped the pose he was striking in surprise. “The same Leo who always has his head in a book? And goes to school here?”

Camilla brightened. “Oh, you know him? Do you share a class?”

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 26: Jon

When Jon’s grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep, not long after his twenty-fourth birthday, he quickly discovered that her life insurance and savings weren’t enough to cover all the bills that needed to be covered and put the house he’d grown up in on the market. He only vaguely remembers the whole procedure, as he was in something of a state of shock at the time, but he does remember accepting the first offer presented to him despite the realtor’s comments that he could “probably hold out for a bit more” if he wanted. Thus, he’s the only one not really startled at the speed with which he, Martin, and Tim find out that they’ve got the house.

To be clear: He’s not startled at the speed. He is, however, startled that they got it. Surely someone must have been willing to pay more for it, been better qualified. But no. They learn their offer has been accepted less than a week after the Primes’ disastrous encounter with Basira’s partner and the closing is scheduled for the following Friday. Martin theorizes that their position at the Magnus Institute gave them some extra clout. Tim jokes that it’s his charismatic personality. Jon frets that Elias might have had something to do with it for nefarious purposes.

Sasha finally does some research and tells them that it’s being sold by a pair of siblings barely out of their teens whose parents died unexpectedly and probably just need the money fast.

Martin doesn’t have much, just the little he managed to bring with him to the Institute when first escaping Jane Prentiss and the few things he’s re-acquired since then, and Jon’s things are still packed up from when he declined to renew the lease on his flat in August, so it’s mostly just Tim who needs to decide what he’s keeping and what he’s ready to part with or needs to replace. It takes them the better part of two Saturdays, but they manage to get everything boxed and sorted in time to move out the last full weekend of September.

The moving-in process is surprisingly fun. Sasha and the Primes even come to help (Tim suggests the latter so that Martin Prime knows his way around the house from the get-go, which is actually really sensible) and they make a party of it. Tim insists on setting up the sound system first, then gets everyone to contribute a certain number of songs to a playlist on some app he has on his phone. He puts it on shuffle and lets it play while they work together on the various rooms.

“Oh, my God,” Sasha moans after the eighth song that she evidently didn’t pick comes on. “Do any of you listen to a single band that’s put out an album since 1984?”

“Yes,” Martin says indignantly, his cheeks coloring slightly.

“Remasters don’t count.”

Martin Prime grins. “None of mine have come up, either.”

“What did you put on?” Sasha asks suspiciously.

She gets her answer a few minutes later when, after shuffle coughs up a Spice Girls song they all tease her mercilessly about, an honest to God sea shanty comes on. Tim and Jon laugh at Sasha’s dramatic, despairing groan, but it’s hard not to respond to the Martins’ enthusiasm as they—surprisingly—harmonize along with the recording while they set up the living room.

They’re almost done assembling the new bed Tim bullied Jon into buying (“You’re not in uni anymore, you don’t need to be sleeping on a futon, and anyway, when was this made, the Thatcher premiership?” “Brown, and shut up, Tim.”), which is the last piece of furniture they need to put together, when there’s a sound from the front door—two firm, solid knocks, audible all the way upstairs. Jon nearly drops the screwdriver as his heart kicks against his ribs. It’s stupid, and he knows it’s stupid, but two knocks like that always makes him think of that book.

Tim makes a noise in the back of his throat. “God, hope the music isn’t too loud.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Martin says, but he sounds uncertain. “I-I mean, it’s been ages.”

Jon pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll check.”

He hurries out of the bedroom before anyone can comment on the clear break in his voice. He is, and there is no way to deny it to himself, legitimately afraid of what might be outside. The likelihood of it being a being of another entity is slim, but…well, there was Mr. Spider, and Jane Prentiss knocked on Martin’s door more than a few times to keep him off-balance, so there’s always the chance. It’s something he feels he can deal with, though, so he heads out to face it.

He does not, however, expect to open the door and be faced with what is either a small child or a casserole dish with tennis shoes.

“Hello,” a tiny voice says brightly from behind the dish. There’s a bit of shifting, and then two big brown eyes and a mass of curls appear over the rim. “I’ve brought you a cake.”

Jon will deny to his dying day that those words freeze his blood in his veins and make his heart stutter to a stop, but since this might actually be his dying day, he’ll be lying if he tries. His lips part, but no sound comes out.

“And a casserole, too,” the child continues, completely oblivious to Jon’s unwarranted panic attack. “That’s not as much fun, though, but Nan says it’s important to eat good, hearty food when you’ve been doing lots of work and that cake shouldn’t be a whole meal. I think there’s no point in being a grown-up if you can’t eat whatever you want, but…” The child heaves an enormous, dramatic sigh that seems too large for such a small body. “My Nan’s very, very old, and you don’t get to be old if you don’t do something right, so she must know what she’s talking about. Anyway, we made the casserole with lots and lots of cheese and she said that was okay, so at least it’s a little better.”

“Ah—thank you?” Jon manages. “H-here, let me…take that.”

He manages to extract the casserole dish, which certainly feels as if it’s laden with cheese; it weighs the proverbial ton. Quite possibly a literal one. It’s solid enough to anchor Jon to reality, though, and he studies his benefactor. The child can’t be more than seven or eight, at the most, with a round face and limbs hidden in an oversized, threadbare sweater that looks like it’s been handed down through more than a few generations. Dangling from one arm is a wicker basket that does indeed appear to contain a cake.

“It’s a chocolate cake with marshmallow frosting,” the child says. “I tried to write ‘Welcome to the neighborhood’ on it, but I didn’t put the tip on the piping bag right and it came off, so now it’s just a mess, but it’ll taste just as good, I promise. My Nan makes the best cakes.”

Jon smiles in spite of himself. “I don’t think I have enough hands to take it from you now. Would you mind bringing it into the kitchen for me?”

“Oh, sure!” The child practically hops over the threshold. “I always wanted to see what this house was like on the inside. Tibby used to babysit for me sometimes, but she always came over to our house, never me coming over here. Nan says it’s better that way, and Tibby always said it was laid out exactly like all the other houses, but it’s not the same as seeing it for yourself. Firsthand knowledge is best, that’s what I think. What do you think?”

“I—I think I agree with you,” Jon says. He also feels a bit like he’s staring at his younger self. “I assume you live in one of the other houses on the row?”

“Two doors down,” the child agrees cheerfully. “With the window boxes. My Nan likes to garden a bit, but she can’t bend over so much anymore, so Toby set up the window boxes for her a couple years ago.”

“And, uh, who is…Toby?”

“Oh, sorry, I thought you knew. Toby McGill. He and Tibby—that’s his sister Tabitha, but everyone calls her Tibby—they were the ones selling this house after their parents died. He’s at Surrey University now and he says he’s going to stay out there when it’s all said and done, and Tibby got a job on a boat.” The child sounds deeply impressed. “I want to be a sailor someday, too. Can you imagine getting to see the whole wide world by water and getting paid for it, too? I’d never want to leave. I told Tibby she has to save a spot on the crew for me and she laughed and promised, so I can’t wait. I’m going as soon as I grow up. I’m not going to university. You don’t need to go to university for everything, you know. I know Nan really wants me to go ‘cause Mum didn’t and neither did Dad and she doesn’t want me turning out like them, but you can turn out well even if you don’t go to university, can’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Jon says gravely. He casts an involuntary glance in the direction of the stairs, thinking of Martin. “One of my housemates didn’t go to university, and he’s one of the most brilliant people I know.”

“How many of you live here, anyway?”

“Just three of us.” Jon has no idea how much this child has seen and how many people he knows are in the house at the moment.

“Oh. There used to be three of us in my house, too.” The child scuffs a toe against the carpet just before they step into the kitchen. “And then there was going to be four, but Mum died and the baby did, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says softly, feeling a pang. “I grew up with my grandmother, too.”

The child looks up at Jon and smiles, in such a way that Jon can’t help but smile back. “And you turned out okay.”

“Debatable,” Jon says. He sets the casserole dish on the counter. “I’m Jon, by the way. Jonathan Sims.”

“I’m Charlie. Charlie Cane.” The child smiles up at him and hands over the basket. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. Tell your grandmother we said thank you. I don’t know that any of us will have the energy to cook tonight. We’ll bring back the dishes tomorrow.”

“There’s no hurry. Nan doesn’t go anywhere.” Charlie flashes Jon a grin that’s missing two teeth, then turns and waves to the doorway. Jon glances up to see Martin, looking somewhere between worried and amused. “Hi! I’m Charlie Cane. Welcome to the neighborhood. Do you live here, too?”

“Um…yes. I’m Martin Blackwood. It’s…nice to meet you?” Martin raises an eyebrow at Jon.

“Charlie and his grandmother made us a casserole,” Jon says, gesturing at the counter. “And a cake.”

“That’s very nice of you. Thank you.” Martin smiles at Charlie and winks, although Jon doesn’t quite understand why.

“Welcome.” Charlie’s beaming smile could probably light the house for a week. “I’d best go before Nan thinks I’m doing something stupid again. See you later!”

He’s out the front door before Jon can respond, or even blink. He looks back to Martin, who isn’t even trying to hide his amusement. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Jon. We were just wondering if you were okay. You were gone for a while.”

Jon gestures vaguely at the front door. “I don’t think that child has many people to talk to. Or at least not many people who will listen to him.”

Martin snorts. “I think you’ve got yourself a new best friend.”

Jon almost wants to say something flippant like Just what I need, but thinking on it, he actually doesn’t mind all that much. “Considering how much I would have given to have an adult pay that kind of attention to me when I was his age, I think I can handle that.”

Martin reaches over and pulls Jon into a hug. Jon lets himself be comforted for a moment, then extricates himself gently and smiles. “Come on. Let’s see if the others are ready to eat.”

As it turns out, the others finished putting together the bed and even made it while Jon talked to Charlie, so they’re all too happy to come into the kitchen for a hearty meal. It’s exactly as cheese-laden as Charlie promised. Jon recounts his conversation, to general amusement, although something flickers briefly across Martin Prime’s face and Jon Prime shoots Jon an understanding and slightly frightened look when he repeats Charlie’s opening words. If anyone else notices, they give no sign of it.

Tim lets the music keep playing while they eat. Jon mostly tunes it out, no pun intended, and he rather suspects the others do too. But just as they’re scraping their plates clean—the food is delicious, and Tim declares he’s going to try and charm Charlie’s grandmother out of the recipe—Martin Prime suddenly tilts his head to one side, as if trying to catch a sound. A smile twitches at his lips, and he stands up and holds out a hand to Jon Prime. “May I?”

Jon Prime looks startled for a split-second, then smiles—no, grins—and places his hand in Martin Prime’s. He lets Martin Prime pull him away from the table and into his arms, and the two of them start slow-dancing.

Jon pauses, fork suspended over his plate, and watches them. Jon Prime lets Martin Prime lead him in a simple box step, one arm draped casually over Martin Prime’s shoulder, while Martin Prime’s hand rests firmly at his waist; their other fingers are laced together in a way that would make it difficult to telegraph intended moves if they didn’t—probably—know each other so well. The space between them is so little it’s a wonder they don’t constantly trip over each other’s feet, and before long their foreheads touch. The song is gentle and plaintive, encouragement from one partner to the other to trust and relax and allow the first to take care of the second, a promise that the second person won’t be considered weak or lesser if they allow themselves to be comforted.

I promise you’ll be safe here in my arms…

Martin Prime lifts his arm and spins Jon Prime around gently, and when Jon Prime comes back into the closed frame, he leans his head against the shoulder where his hand isn’t resting and closes his eyes. Martin Prime pulls him closer and rests his cheek alongside Jon Prime’s as they continue dancing. It’s one of the most intimate and romantic things Jon has ever seen, and he almost has to look away from it.

Almost. Not quite. Something keeps him drawn, and there’s a tiny part of Jon’s brain that suggests it probably isn’t just the pleasure at seeing someone who’s basically him safe and happy and in love mixed with the vague sense of longing for something like that—maybe not that exactly, but something like it. It may also be that watching the Primes slow dancing means he doesn’t have to look at anyone else.

The song plays itself out. Martin Prime turns his head slightly; Jon Prime turns his at the same time, and their lips meet gently in the middle. This time Jon does look away. He’s never quite been able to figure out how he feels about kissing, to be honest; it’s one of the things that sent his and Georgie’s relationship down in flames, was the fact that he always acted like you think I’ve got poison in my lip gloss, according to her. But he finds himself wondering for a moment what Martin’s lips would feel like against his, if they’d be as soft and warm as the rest of him. If it might make a difference to kiss Martin instead of Georgie, or Meredith, or Kelly. And that’s not a question he’s comfortable asking himself just then, let alone trying to answer.

The scrape of a chair breaks his attention, and he looks up to see the Primes sitting down like nothing happened, although they’re still holding hands. Tim clears his throat. “Who wants cake?”

The cake is, as promised, a bit of a mess—it looks like someone tried to tease out the blob created by the icing tip popping off with a toothpick or something, but the resultant design looks like the pictures someone showed Jon once of a web woven by a spider that had been fed caffeine, and the fact that the icing is bright red doesn’t help—but it is absolutely delicious.

Afterward, Tim and Jon store the leftovers while Martin and Sasha start on the dishes. Jon Prime glances at the kitchen clock and touches Martin Prime on the shoulder. “We should probably go. The later it gets, the more likely that…someone might cruise by the Institute, and I’d rather not risk that.”

Martin Prime squeezes Jon Prime’s hand gently, and Jon swallows on the sudden surge of nausea. They haven’t seen anything of Detective Tonner, and Basira didn’t say anything about her when she showed up last week to switch out the tapes, but the memory of the Primes’ faces when they stumbled back to Tim’s place to change and return his car is a hard one to shake. Even though Jon Prime swears he and Daisy eventually became friends, it’s the eventually that sticks out, and Jon isn’t sure what he’ll do if Daisy turns up at the Institute. It’s also obvious that the Primes are more afraid of her than they’re letting on.

Tim opens his mouth, probably to invite them to spend the night or something, but Sasha beats him to it. “Can you wait a few minutes? I’d rather not walk to the tube station by myself, if it comes to that, and I think you said there’s an entrance to the tunnels near there.”

Jon Prime frowns slightly. “I…don’t think I did, but there is.”

“We’ll walk with you, Sasha,” Martin Prime assures her.

Tim sighs theatrically. “I feel a little better, which is a relative statement not to be taken as approval.”

“Your objection is duly noted.” Sasha hands Martin a plate to dry.

All too soon, everything is cleaned up, just as the playlist comes to an end, and there’s really no way of stalling them further. There’s a round of hugs and see-you-Mondays, and then Sasha and the Primes head out the door, leaving Jon, Martin, and Tim alone in their new house.

It’s not that late, comparatively, so Jon suggests a card game. They’ve played most nights since Sasha went back to sleeping in her own flat; they’ve played a couple of games of Rummy or Go Fish, and Tim once tried to teach Jon and Martin a game he learned from his grandparents that uses a forty-card deck (Martin picked it up quickly, Jon did not), but most of the time they play Crazy Eights. Tim declares that they’re going to keep playing until either he or Jon or both manage to overtake Martin’s score, which is clearly going to be an impossible task, as he’s up by nearly a thousand points and consistently wins at least three or four games a night. Still, they give it a valiant effort. After Martin manages to go out while both Tim and Jon still have an eight each in their hand, though, they decide to call it quits for one night.

“Someday I’ll figure out how you keep doing that,” Jon says, shuffling the deck lightly before putting it back in the box.

Martin shrugs. “Practice, I guess? I used to play with my granddad a lot when I was younger. We kept a running total, too, and I think I was up three thousand points or so when he died.”

Tim gives a low whistle. “How old were you?”

“Nine. We’d been playing pretty regularly since I was five. At least one game every time I went to visit.”

Jon thinks back to the conversation he and Martin had in Tim’s kitchen the morning after Prentiss’s attack. “Is this the grandfather who had the cherry trees?”

“You remembered.” Martin looks pleased. “Yeah, he was my mum’s dad. I never met my dad’s family, that I remember anyway.” He pauses. “You, uh, you told Charlie you were raised by your grandmother. Was that…?”

Jon didn’t know Martin was there, but he’s kind of glad he doesn’t have to figure out how to bring it up. “My father’s mother. She was…formidable. My father died when I was two, from an accidental fall, and my mother died a couple years later. Surgery complications.”

“I’m sorry,” Martin says softly. “That must have been hard on you.”

“Harder on my grandmother, I think. I was barely old enough to remember them.” All Jon remembers of his father is his laugh, and he’s fairly certain that most of his memories of his mother come from his aunt.

Tim leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “Is she still around? Your grandmother?”

Jon shakes his head. “She died just before I started working at the Institute. What about yours, Tim?”

“My dad’s dad is the only grandparent still around. I think.” Tim worries at his lower lip with his teeth for a moment. “I’d like to think someone would call me if something happened, but I don’t know.”

Martin hums sympathetically. “Is he…in a home?”

“Not as far as I know. Last I heard, he was still living with my parents. Moved in when Granny died, just after I left for university.” Tim sighs. “We’re not…close. After Danny…”

Jon reaches over and touches Tim’s arm gently. “It must be hard on them, losing a son. No parent expects to outlive their child.”

“That’s just it. Mum refuses to believe he’s dead.” Tim smiles weakly. “No body, you know? Dad isn’t sure, but he also thinks I know more than I’ve told them. Grandfather all but accused me of having a hand in Danny’s disappearance.”

“What?” Jon blinks, shocked. “How could anyone think you’d—you would never.”

“I know, but…well, Dad’s family was always a bit conservative, blue collar and all that, and I’m…well, me. I think that’s why Dad encouraged my hiking and camping and all that. Hoped it would knock some ‘sense’ into me,” Tim says with a wry twist of his lips. “Once I came out as bi, though, I think they decided there was no hope left for me. It just got worse after Danny died.”

Martin’s expressive face closes down, and Jon’s stomach lurches. This is the most they’ve talked about their families in…ever, he thinks, but from the little bits of information Martin—and Martin Prime, for that matter—have let slip, Jon has formed a very unfavorable impression of Martin’s mother. He’s always kind of had a hazy idea that Tim’s family situation was better, especially after he heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Danny when giving his statement, and finding out that it wasn’t much better than theirs…

“How old were you?” he asks, not sure why. “When you—told them.”

“Seventeen. There was a guy I’d been seeing—nothing serious, really, but we had fun together—and we went out for Valentine’s Day. My parents were confused because they knew my girlfriend and I had just broken up before Christmas and I hadn’t mentioned another girl, so I told them about Steve.” Tim gets quiet for a second. “Mum cried. Dad just…told me to stop upsetting my mother and never brought it up again. Not until Grandfather started in on me.”

Jon swallows. “You’ve a great deal more courage than I have. I—I never admitted to my grandmother that I ever had any interest in boys, let alone dated one.”

“Only one? You’re missing out.” Tim’s grin is a pale echo of his usual one, but it is at least genuine. “How ‘bout you, Martin?”

“A few.” Martin relaxes with a visible effort that makes Jon’s heart ache. “Been out since I was fourteen. Mum reacted…about as well as she reacted any other time I told her something she didn’t like or did something she wasn’t expecting. I never brought anyone home to meet her or…really talked to her about my dating, and she only ever brought it up in relation to herself. Like saying it was a good thing there wasn’t any risk of me passing on any of my numerous undesirable traits to a helpless child.”

“I don’t think your mum understands what ‘bisexual’ means,” Tim points out.

“Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. I’m gay.” Martin grimaces. “I’m also ace, so no risk there anyway, but…”

Jon wants to say any child would be fortunate to count you as a father or I can’t think of a single undesirable trait about you, but what actually comes out is, “Ace?”

“Uh, asexual. It’s—I don’t…get attracted like that. Romance, sure, aesthetic stuff and all that, but not…” Martin gestures vaguely. “Tried it anyway, for a couple of guys I was with, but i-it didn’t go well.”

Jon’s world view shifts abruptly on its axis. Tim, though, looks suddenly worried. “Are you okay? They didn’t—”

“No, no,” Martin says quickly. “It wasn’t—I just don’t like it. That’s all.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Never bothered telling Mum that part. She wouldn’t…I’ve done enough damage.”

Tim pulls Martin into a quick one-armed hug, and Jon reaches across the table to squeeze his hand as gently as he can, but they change the subject after that.

They end up sitting up for a while in their new living room, relaxing. Tim props his feet up in the recliner and works on a crossword; Jon curls up at one end of the sofa with a book he’s been meaning to read for years that Jon Prime assures him he’ll love; Martin sits at the other end and knits. It about bowled Jon over completely when he learned that Martin made most of the sweaters he wears, but the sight and sound of him working away has become increasingly familiar in the last few weeks, especially after the Primes and the rest of the crew collaborated to get him an array of needles and knitting wool in all colors of the rainbow for his birthday. Jon usually finds the gentle clicking of the needles soothing, but tonight it’s just a hair distracting, and he keeps glancing up from the page to watch Martin’s fingers as they expertly manipulate the yarn or Tim tap the eraser of his pencil thoughtfully against his jaw while he contemplates an answer. He’s not even quite sure what he’s looking at.

Finally, Tim lays down his puzzle with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna turn in,” he says, sounding oddly reluctant. “Long day and all that.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna—” Martin works a couple more stitches and folds up his project. “Probably a good stopping place for tonight.”

Jon considers saying he’s going to stay in the living room and finish the chapter he’s on, but if he’s being completely honest, he’s been on the same page for however long it’s been and hasn’t taken in a single word. Silently, he slides the scrap of paper he’s currently using as a bookmark back between the pages and closes the book. “Well. Good night, then.”

“’Night, Jon.”

The bedrooms are all upstairs, two on one side and one on the other with the bathroom handy, and the three of them wish each other goodnight again before disappearing into their rooms. Jon closes the door and looks around the room, his room.

There’s not much to it, to be honest. A nightstand, a dresser, a battered desk he’s had since he was a child, a lamp and the bed. He sets the book on top of the desk and changes into his comfortable sleep clothes, then crawls into the bed and pulls the covers up over his shoulders.

It’s…odd. No, not odd. Jon can’t quite think of the right word for it. But the sheets feel unfamiliar against his skin, and they don’t smell right, either, probably because they’re new. The mattress that felt perfectly comfortable when he tested it out in the store doesn’t seem to afford the same comfort now, and he wonders if the floor model has simply had much of the stiffness tested out of it over time. Even the pillows, which he did retain from his old bedroom setup, seem determined to thwart his attempts to find a comfortable position.

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, arm draped over his midsection. He won’t fall asleep like this, he’s always been a side-sleeper, but his mind is a seething roil of emotions and he needs to get his thoughts under control before he can even have a hope of getting comfortable enough to sleep, he guesses.

Asexual. Jon probes at the word, at what it describes. I don’t get attracted like that. I just don’t like it. Honestly, until meeting Georgie, Jon had no idea that sort of attraction really existed; he thought it was just something out of the lurid romance novels his grandmother favored and he’d read once or twice in sheer desperation. It was something she’d wanted, though, so he’d tried a few times, but his efforts hadn’t satisfied her and he never really saw what all the fuss was about. He can take it or leave it, preferably the latter.

He never knew there was a word for it.

Suddenly, he wants to talk to Martin about it, about how he realized, how he knew. Where he found the word. If there are many more like—well, like them, he supposes. If that’s one of the reasons he was reluctant to tell Jon how he felt. He wants to ask about Martin’s experiences, if they were bad just because his body didn’t want them or for some other reason. A part of him also wants to cry from sheer relief. He isn’t broken. There’s nothing wrong with him. Well, not in that respect, anyway.

He sighs heavily and rolls onto his side again, plumping the pillows and curling one arm around them. They’re too flat, he thinks idly, too soft and yielding. Which is odd, because that’s never bothered him before. He can’t seem to get warm, either, which is also bizarre because it’s been an unusually mild day for late September and he’s under the duvet he’s had for years, which suddenly seems too light and insubstantial. The room is too quiet and still. It all feels…wrong, somehow.

Jon closes his eyes and stubbornly tries to force sleep, to no avail. The sense of wrongness pervades his being, curling through him and keeping him tethered to consciousness. He runs through the list of problems he seems to be having and tries to come up with which one might be keeping him awake. The only thing he can think of is the unfamiliar mattress. Everything else is exactly the way it was in his old flat.

And when was the last time you slept there? The thought hits him all of a sudden, and his eyes snap open. He forgot. The last time he slept in his apartment was the night before Jane Prentiss attacked the Institute. Ever since then, he’s been sleeping in Tim’s living room…or in Tim’s bed. With the others.

That’s all it is. He isn’t used to the silence of being alone. He’s not used to not knowing, right away, exactly where Tim and Martin are and if they’re safe. He’ll just go and check on them, see that they’re safe, and he’ll be able to get to sleep just fine.

He throws back the covers, slides his glasses back on, and heads into the hallway. Jon somehow ended up in the room by the bathroom, while Tim and Martin are on the other side of the hallway. Martin’s room is first, though, so Jon heads there. He’s as careful as he can be. Martin is probably asleep by now. He definitely seemed tired while they were still in the living room, and Jon wonders if he lingered because the other two were still sitting down there. It makes him feel slightly guilty, like he should have called it a night earlier so Martin can get some sleep. And after all, they did have a very emotionally draining conversation, which probably exhausted him as well. All that runs through Jon’s mind as he slowly, slowly eases the door open and peers around it to see into Martin’s room.

It’s sparsely furnished; nothing but a bed and one of those flimsy pop-up cloth jobs bisected into cubes, which is serving as his dresser. Martin’s laptop and phone sit on the floor, both connected to their chargers. The bed is mussed slightly and shows signs of having been occupied, but Jon’s heart rate accelerates when he looks at it. It’s empty.

There’s no sign of a struggle, he tells himself, and he heard nothing, so surely everything is fine. Martin’s probably just in the bathroom, or downstairs getting a glass of water or something. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. Jon will just…go check on Tim and Tim will be fine and then he’ll go find Martin and make sure he’s fine and it…will…be…fine. He pulls the door closed and turns to Tim’s room.

The door is slightly ajar, and there’s a faint glow coming from the room. Jon hesitates, then taps lightly on the door three times before easing it open. Tim is sitting up on the bed, cross-legged and leaning forward slightly. And—Jon’s shoulders slump in relief—Martin is there, too, on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off the side and the other tucked underneath him. They’re talking quietly, but both obviously exhausted. They look up at the sound of the door opening and watch Jon stand in the doorway. He opens his mouth, then realizes he doesn’t know what to say and closes it again.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Martin asks gently. The circles under his eyes are almost black.

“No,” Jon admits. “I—I just wanted to—” He breaks off, still not sure what to say.

Wordlessly, Tim holds out a hand. Jon lets the bedroom door shut behind him as he comes forward and takes it. Martin wraps an arm around him from behind, and the two of them pull Jon onto the bed and into a lying-down position. Tim rolls over and snaps off the lamp by his bed, then pulls the covers up over all three of them. Jon manages to reach down and snag the middle to help.

“Better,” Tim murmurs.

It’s not a question, but Jon hums in agreement anyway. Trying for levity, he says, “Shame to waste money on new beds, though.”

“We’ll be able to sleep there eventually,” Martin says. Jon only realizes how much stress was in his voice when it’s drastically lessened. “At some point we’ll probably want the space. But for now, there’s this.”

“For now, there’s this,” Jon agrees. He tilts his head back briefly to rest it against Martin’s shoulder, and Martin scoots in closer.

Tim does, too, the two of them sandwiching Jon securely between them. “Get some sleep,” he says. “It’ll be all right tomorrow.”

Jon yawns and closes his eyes, and it doesn’t really surprise him when he falls asleep straightaway. The nightmares are as present as ever, but in the morning, he can almost fool himself into believing they weren’t so bad.

Almost.

[amerrierworld]

Birthday Buzz

Ocean’s 8 - one shot

For anon :)

Summary: It’s your birthday and your fellow team of eight didn’t hesitate to go full out for the party. Especially not a certain blonde biker who’s had her eyes on you all night.

Characters: Lou x fem!reader, the Ocean’s gang

Word Count: 2,074

Warnings: swearing, fluff, drinking. also, uh, kinda nsfw ;) 

You could barely hear yourself think. The music was loud and your feet were killing you. You’d long discarded your heels, and you were sitting by the bar on one of the high stools to relieve the pain that was in your toes. 

Still, you were happy. You were sipping on a drink and watching as Tammy tried to showcase her classic ‘mom-moves’ on the dance floor as Daphne and Nineball cackled at the sight.

Your fellow heist ladies had all come together for your birthday, which made you over-joyed. Lou had made her club exclusive for one night, all for your birthday. The nine of you had partied, drank and danced long before anyone else was allowed to show up. 

There was a bag of presents safely behind the bar you hadn’t yet opened. As the night wore on, and the club opened to all extended friends and dates who had been invited, the space slowly filled up with dancers and drinkers. 

A live band was playing on stage instead of the usual DJ, and the decor had been changed for your birthday. Haphazard balloons were strewn about with your name written sloppily on a big banner. You wore a pin that said ‘BIRTHDAY GIRL’ in big swirly pink letters on your dark red dress and you had a tiara that the girls had given you as a joke. You danced around with it for a while before it flew from your messy hair and you hadn’t been able to find it since.

“Enjoying yourself?” You turned and saw Debbie Ocean standing next to you. You grinned widely at her and lifted up your glass in response. 

“Never better, Debs,” you shouted back over the music. “I can’t believe you all did this for me. Seriously.”

“Oh god, you’re not a sappy drunk, are you?”

You huffed and stared at her in disbelief. “Oh no, god no, I would absolutely never in a million years!”

Debbie laughed and came up to order a drink from the bartender.

“But like, actually though,” you continued. “This is too much!”

Debbie shrugged. “It was all Lou’s idea, really. She went to the moon and back to get you this whole evening. Had to bribe Tams to get a babysitter just to come out here, and promised Constance and Nine free dinner.”

You blushed and shook your head. “Really? God, I can’t believe she’d do that for me.”

“Yes you can,” Debbie retorted playfully. “We’ve all seen the way you guys look at each other, not to mention what you two get up to in the bedr-,”

“Fuck off, Ocean,” you growled, though your eyes were twinkling.

She smirked at you. “All I’m saying is, the ladies and I are just waiting for a proper wedding invitation, alright?”

With that, Debbie sauntered off in her blue party dress, giving you one last salute of her glass before disappearing into the crowd. 

You shook your head and scoffed at her figure walking away from you, finishing your drink before moving onto the dance floor again. 

-

Lou had been keeping an eye on you all night, making sure nothing was happening to you in case you drank too much, or exerted yourself on your special day. She was surprised how well you were holding up, considering she’d made sure you could barely walk by the time you had to get ready for the proper birthday party. 

You had insisted Lou didn’t get you anything for your birthday, and she seemingly obliged. The only birthday present she gave you was her hands and mouth before the party. Which she gave to you over and over again. But then again, she was a con, which made you believe that she probably wasn’t done with you yet.

Despite wanting to be by your side dancing and laughing, Lou had to keep her club in check as well. It was an unbreakable habit. Part of her felt guilty that she had to work to keep the party going, but also relieved because she knew the place like the back of her hand, meaning that your group could party in peace with people that they all knew instead of going around slummy bars in other parts of the city. 

It also meant that you had access to all the booze that Lou had to offer, since you were the birthday girl and she was the owner. 

Making sure that all invited guests had been checked off the list, Lou let herself breathe for a moment and follow you with her eyes. She was mesmerized by you, even as you were talking animatedly to Amita, hands flailing and cheeks flushed like you’d run a marathon. 

Her gaze raked over your figure, not a curve left unseen under the tight material of the dress you were wearing. It was a very good look on you, and Lou grinned at the memory of her convincing you to wear it tonight. 

She then set her shoulders and made her way into the crowd, determined to enjoy the rest of your special night by your side.

-

A warm hand came to wrap around your waist and you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. You could recognize from the smell of leather and that distinct perfume who was pressing up against your back instantly, swaying to the music. 

“Having fun?” Lou purred in your ear. The music from the band seemed to slow into a comfortable swinging rhythm, and Lou took full advantage of it. 

“Mhm,” you grinned. “Best birthday ever.”

The lights were flashing neon where the dance floor was filled up, but it was still dark enough for Lou to unhurriedly press her lips underneath your ear. You sighed at the feeling and leaned further back. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Lou said. 

“I more than like it, Lou. I’m so happy right now I could die.”

“I hope you don’t mean that. I still had plans for when we got back to the loft.”

You snorted and turned in her arms to wrap your arms around her neck. “If you didn’t want me to die, you shouldn’t have said I had free range of your bar tonight.”

“Hm, I guess you’re right. No more booze for you tonight then, missy.”

You pouted dramatically and Lou laughed, her face lighting up in that way you loved so much. She was wearing a red velvet suit to match your dress, with rose gold jewelry adorning her neck as well as a silk black tie that tucked neatly into her cleavage, constantly drawing your eyes down. 

You lifted a hand to wrap around the tie and Lou’s eyes visibly darkened.

“I’ve always liked you in suits and ties,” you murmured.

“Oh yeah?” her voice was almost a growl. Her hands trailed daringly lower to rest on the curve of your hips, playing with the fabric of your dress.

“Yeah,” you said. “I might even wanna wear some of it sometime.”

Lou’s eyebrow quirked up. “And what’ll I wear then? While you’re prancing around in my wardrobe?”

You shrugged and flashed your teeth at her. “We can always go dress-shopping for you.”

Lou grinned back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Never in a million years.”

You pouted again. “Not even for my birthday?”

“The only clothes involved with your birthday, young lady, are the ones that are going to end up on the floor,” Lou said, pulling you flush against her body with her lips trailing along your neck. Your knees trembled at the feeling.

“Let’s go back to my place, baby, before the others get there,” Lou murmured softly in your ear. “There’s still time to have a little more fun.”

“Hm, but we gotta get a cab and stuff,” you responded stupidly.

“I'm still sober, darling. I can drive us back,” Lou said. You looked in her eyes and saw the want in them, so you nodded, and hurried off to find your shoes before meeting Lou out front to get on her bike. 

-

Now that you were home, you moved to the kitchen to pour Lou and yourself a proper drink as you were sobering up by the minute, only to be stopped by two firm hands pressing you against the countertop, lips attacking your neck feverishly. 

You moaned at the feeling of Lou’s warm lips leaving a trail from your collarbone up to your mouth. She pulled away to press a firm leg in between yours and you gasped at the feeling. You grabbed her tie and pulled her closer, mashing you lips together until neither of you knew how to breathe anymore. 

“I want you,” you said softly. Lou’s hands trailed across your cheeks lovingly and she smiled at you, eyes crinkling behind her makeup. 

“But I already gave you so many birthday presents today, baby,” she argued, her Australian lilt coming in stronger now that she was aroused. You groaned in frustration and grabbed her ass, pulling Lou’s body fully against yours, grinding up against her. Lou’s jaw dropped in shock at the feeling and one hand came to tangle in your hair and pull, hard. 

It felt dirty, humping with your clothes on like this. But you were still a bit too buzzed and lovestruck to care. 

And horny. Don’t forget horny. 

Lou pulled away, breathless, her hair a mess. She took a gulp from the drinks you had poured before looking at you.

“Go upstairs, before the others get here. I want my way with you in peace and quiet,” she ordered. Your head swam with arousal whenever she took control over anything and you nodded meekly. 

“But who says that we were gonna be quiet, Miss Miller?” you said cheekily as you sprinted up the stairs. Lou wasn’t far behind, shedding her blazer and leaving it on the kitchen countertop as you opened the door to the bedroom. 

You stopped in your tracks.

Lou wasn’t usually one for romantic gestures, but you supposed it being your birthday, she decided to go full out. There were rosy lights lit up around the room and a bouquet of roses on the bedside table filling the room with sweet scents. On the bed were a selection of toys that you no doubt had a choice from. You blushed as you recognized some of the ones you had used only that morning. 

“Happy birthday, baby girl,” Lou murmured in your ear before appearing in front of you and capturing your mouth with hers. Her hand pressed something in yours and you looked down to see two tickets to a live show you’d been dying to see for weeks, wrapped in a neat little bow. Your mouth opened in shock and you looked up at Lou, who took the opportunity to kiss you again, pushing her tongue into your mouth. 

You’d have to thank her with words later, because no matter how special the gift was, your mind was somewhere completely different. Lou led you to the bed and pulled away to take a deep breath. 

“Take your pick,” she said, nodding to the collection on the bed. You’d already made up your mind, but to feign innocence, you glanced at the assortment. You were impressed; there were a couple of new ones you hadn’t seen before. 

But instead you met Lou’s eyes again and grinned before grabbing the black silk tie around her neck. Her eyes widened in surprise as you lifted and twisted it around so it was blocking her vision. 

She chuckled as you pulled at the knot, tightening the blindfold. You pushed her onto the bed, straddling her and kicking your heels off in the process.

As your hands began working on the buttons of her vest, hers blindly began working on the ties of your dress and you smirked as she cursed under her breath, failing miserably. Her ministrations were stopped when you attacked her neck by surprise, nipping and sucking. Hands trailed low before slipping under the waistband of her pants and Lou’s grip slackened in defeat. 

As soon as she gave in, and suddenly let you have control, you knew you’d won this round. You couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of her as you worked to make her come undone.

A happy birthday indeed.

A/N: I said I’d give it a ‘few days’ but I couldn’t resist just posting it now, so here you go :3 the gays ask and so I deliver. Let me know what you think <3 

[purplesurveys]

1266

Retaking this survey I took nearly exactly a year ago, which would be around the time of one of the lowest points in my life. A lot has changed and I’m *so much* happier these days, but it doesn’t hurt to revisit and acknowledge the emotions I went through then.

Are you afraid of lifts? 2020: I only feel afraid if I’m the only person riding the elevator. If I ever got locked inside I’d always feel a lot better if there’s at least one other person stuck with me. Otherwise I try not to be too bothered by lifts. 2021: Yeah, as much as possible I would still only get in if someone else was also planning to get in; elevators that are also visibly old and unmaintained tend to scare me away, too. But generally, riding the elevator isn’t a phobia of mine.

Who did you last talk to in person? Is that person attractive? 2020: That would be my mom and yes, I think she’s very attractive. Not in that way of course, but you know what I mean. She looks very young for her age and we always get mistaken as sisters. 2021: My dad. Sure, I think he looks okay.

Have you ever had a deep, personal conversation with a stranger? 2020: As much as possible I don’t like having deep conversations with someone I barely know, but sometimes I can’t escape the situation and I end up being a part of those talks. The nicest conversation I had was with a client during my first internship – he has his own company now, but over breakfast he told me about his struggles, his old unfulfilling 9-5 job, and gave me so much valuable life advice. He was so genuine and so nice and at that time I stopped minding the fact that he was a stranger and I’d most likely never encounter him again. 2021: Ooh I remember that. Yeah, he was lovely to talk to and I definitely have not encountered anyone with stories like his ever since. Anyway, I’ve grown to be a lot more extroverted over the past year so I certainly wouldn’t mind a conversation with a stranger, as long as they haven’t established themselves as a creep or pervert.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your own appearance? Why? 2020: Probably an 8. I don’t have a problem with my physical features for the most part, but I don’t like my front teeth and that my body hair is thicker and grows more quickly than average. Those are the two things that mess with my self-esteem the most, and the two factors that took out the missing two points. 2021: 9. I still have the same points for self-esteem issues; but I’ve embraced them slightly more over the last year.

Who was the last person to send you a message on Facebook? When was the last time you saw that person? 2020: Rita. I probably saw her sometime in early March. Maybe during a board meeting for our org before the lockdown was implemented. 2021: Angela. Sometime mid-July, I think? when we went to the BTS pop-up store together with Reena and Hans. I might see her again next week for her birthday. I have to see her reaction when she opens up the present I plan to get her.

If you decided, at this moment in time, that you were going to make a sandwich, what would you put on it? 2020: Assuming my hypothetical pantry is full, I would go for a southern-style chicken sandwich with chicken breast and spicy mayo. My stomach just rumbled, what have you doneeeeee 2021: Holy shit that sounds so fucking good right now. Can I just steal my own answer? Spicy crunchy chicken sandwiches are the shit.

Are you good at controlling your emotions, or do you tend to let them get the better of you? 2020: It’s 50/50 at best. Sometimes I let self-control win since it’s usually the most responsible choice and it’s also to avoid drama, but there are days where I recognize that self-care is just as important and so I allow myself a healthy release whether the release is one of sadness or resentment or anything else. Repressing my emotions and letting them bubble up over time isn’t healthy, either. 2021: I’m a lot better at it now. I think I have done a lot of growing and maturing and processing over the last year, and I don’t get into dramatic outbursts nor repress my feelings too much anymore. Whenever I feel deeply I let the emotions stay, but I also know when I need to reach out and seek help.

At this moment in time, what do you want the most? 2020: Normalcy. 2021: At this moment in time, I wish I could go back to when I took this survey and reassure the me then that everything was going to turn out absolutely fine. But right now I wish I also had sushi.

How many times have you cried over the person you love/like? 2020: Too many. 2021: I don’t love anyone in that sense.

How exactly are you feeling right now? Why do you feel the way you do? 2020: I haven’t been feeling anything in particular these days. To be honest, I’ve just been doing a lot of…floating around, existing, trying to make it to the end of the day unscathed. I believe I’m feeling this way because there’ve been a lot of major life changes happening and I simply wasn’t prepared to deal with all of them simultaneously. 2021: Jesus Christ that was brutal to read. How the fuck did I...manage? Anyway, right nooooow I feel quite content because a new episode of Run BTS came out and I really enjoyed it!! I also feel cozy because it’s actually quite cold tonight, so it’s making me feel sleepy faster than I would like lol. What’s the relationship status of the last person that put their arms around you? 2020: She’s been married for the last 23 years to my dad. 2021: He’s been married for the last 24 years to my mom.

Has the last person you held hands with, ever told you that they love you? 2020: Yeah. 2021: ^ Gross. But yeah to answer this question in 2021 – yes she has, in a platonic, sisterly way. We say it all the time.

Is there someone you used to hang out with all the time, and now you don’t anymore? If so, do you ever miss that person? Why do you think your relationship changed?   2020: Sure, Sofie’s the first person I thought of because we used to be the best of friends. We simply grew apart when college started, since she studied in Manila and I was all the way in another city. It would’ve been too difficult to keep up the friendship with both of us also starting to have different goals and priorities, as well as new friends. I miss her sometimes, but I’m not desperate to see her anytime soon. I’m sad to see our relationship fizzle out the way it did, but we’re both pretty happy and have been doing well and that’s enough for me. 2021: I stopped hanging out with Aya because she is an abusive piece of shit, and I obviously value my friendship with Jo far more than tolerating an abuser and keeping them around in my life. As for missing her, no, not really. I’ve always found it easy to cut people off and wipe out the positive sentiments I would use to have about a person.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘H’? What color are that person’s eyes? 2020: I don’t know a lot of H people so it was probably Hannah even though I haven’t talked to her in a while. Her eyes are dark brown/black, like nearly every Filipino. 2021: Hans. Same, dark brown/black.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘M’? How did you meet that person? 2020: OMG this was so tough to think about. The only person I can think of is Angela but that’s only because her first name is actually Maria. We met on the first day of 1st grade, back in 2005. I accidentally stabbed her with a newly-sharpened pencil and made her palm bleed, and for some insane reason a lifelong friendship was established that day. 2021: Macky. He’s a coworker but is a couple of positions above me. At first I took issue with my workplace not using honorifics, but when I learned it was a tactic to get everyone comfortable with one another, I soon got used to it.

The person you love/like is offered a job in another country. Would you let them go, or try and convince them to stay? 2020: Let them, because that was what we agreed on. 2021: No matter my feelings towards the situation, I would never interfere and ask them to stay.

Is there anyone you dislike so much, that you actually can’t stand to be around them? 2020: Back in college I hated being anywhere near a frat guy. They all had the same vibe, had the same fashion sense, used the same slang, had the same shitty work ethic so I always knew whenever one was nearby. 2021: One of my uncles, who I believe has COVID literally right now because he refused to get a vaccine. Can’t say I feel awful.

When was the last time you wanted to cry, but didn’t, because you didn’t want to show that you were upset? Why? 2020: I’ve been hiding my emotions and my tears from my family the whole month because we’re not a showy family when it comes to our feelings. We deal with our emotions privately, in our own bedrooms. 2021: Like two weeks ago when my teacher in my Korean classes shared a song recommendation with us and it turned out to be this really emotional, introspective song about dealing with life anxieties. It was beautifully sung and I nearly cried, and the only reason I didn’t was because I was in a virtual class full of strangers and I wasn’t about to start bawling my eyes out in such a situation lol.

If you found out that someone had been talking about you behind your back, would you confront them? 2020: I probably only would if they’ve always been super nice to me to my face but talking shit about me if I’m not around. It would be something I’d want to get into the bottom of. 2021: Depends on who the person is and if I think they’re worth my energy or not.

Which do you think is worse - saying something and then wishing you hadn’t, or not saying something and wishing you had? 2020: I hate nothing more than being too afraid to say something and then never having the space to say it again. That’s the type of regret that stays with me and keeps me up at night. 2021: I still go with the latter.

Do you know anyone who seems almost incapable of showing their emotions? 2020: I wouldn’t say I know anyone exactly like this, but I know of people who have built a great big wall around themselves and are super defensive when it comes to their emotions in a way that you’ll never know if they’re going through something. The first person I thought of was JM. 2021: My dad is extremely unexpressive. I guess I can say I kinda get it - he has to keep up his image as the father of the house and all - but I hope he has his own, healthy ways of processing his emotions, even if they have to be done in private.

What are 3 things that are guaranteed to make you smile, or put you in a good mood? 2020: Good Mythical Morning, seeing my orgmates, and driving. Driving seems to put me in a really good mood these days, though that’s likely because I haven’t had to do it as often as I used to. 2021: BTS, my dogs, and talking to Angela and Reena.

Do you look more like your mum or your dad? 2020: I’m a carbon copy of my mom, I’ve been told more times than I can count. 2021: Well yeah, that hasn’t changed.

When was the last time you saw your grandparents? 2020: I last saw my paternal grandparents in February; with my maternal grandma, two Thursdays ago. I have not seen my maternal grandpa since June or July 2015. 2021: Start of August for my maternal grandma; and I believe it was June when we most recently visited my dad’s parents. I visited my maternal grandpa at his columbarium slot during his birthday last year.

Have you ever felt really attracted to someone, but been deterred because you found out they didn’t have a very nice personality? 2020: No. If I get attracted to someone, that means I’ve already decided that they’re attractive on all fronts, including their attitudes and personality. 2021: ^ That is such a damn lie lmao. I remember getting attracted to this boy Lance from high school and thinking he was so cute and that I should probably try my chances with him...but I immediately got turned off when I noticed how he was slightly immature for his age and I stopped pursuing him immediately.

Have you ever hugged/kissed someone you’d only just met? 2020: Probably when I was out drinking, yes. 2021: ^ That’s true but that only goes for hugging.

Where is the person you would most like to see/be with? 2020: There is no such person. 2021: All my friends and best friends are at home. At least they should be at this hour, lmao.

When was the last time you bought a CD/DVD? Which one was it? 2020: The last CD I bought was Beyoncé’s self-titled album, but I can’t remember if I bought it in late 2013 or early 2014. 2021: ^ 2020-me had no idea :’) Anyway, the last DVD I placed an order for was Map of the Soul ON:E, though I’m not getting that until October. The last thing I was able to successfully receive was my Butter CD set.

Have you ever gone against someone’s advice and then regretted it? 2020: I don’t usually ask my friends for advice since I don’t want to possibly be the jerk that asks for advice but goes against them. I’ve always just gone with whatever I think is best for myself. 2021: I guess I’m still the same as I found myself agreeing to those two sentences.

Would you ever apologize for something that wasn’t your fault? 2020: Welcome to my life. 2021: Before, I used to. I won’t let shit like that pass now.

What’s been the best thing about your day so far? 2020: I’ve done a good share of self-care activities today…I actually got up in bed and have been taking surveys, I ate a lot for breakfast, I took a shower, and fixed myself a cup of coffee. The bar has been set very low since August obviously, but considering I’ve been skipping out on a great deal of activities that used to make me happy, I’m just glad I accomplished several today. It’s the little joys, guys. 2021: Getting good feedback from my boss on a deck I had to work on all day today. Also the new episode of Run BTS, aka my favorite thing about Tuesdays.

Has anyone ever cried in your arms before? 2020: I can only recall one person who’s done this. 2021: Sure.

Who was the last person you talked to, whose name started with ‘C’? Is that person older or younger than you? 2020: Tina, but her full name is Christina so she counts. I keep forgetting she’s a year older than me. 2021: Coco. Yeah, I believe so.

Do you keep a lot of things from your parents? 2020: Yes. They know my good side - my awards, achievements, job prospects, all the shiny stuff they can be proud of. They don’t need to know how mentally fucked their firstborn actually is, because it’s not like they’d know how to deal with all that weight. 2021: Yes.

Who was the last person you confided in? Do you regret it? 2020: Angela. Not at all. She’s been my rock for the last 15 years. 2021: Andi, and no. I trust them with my whole life and then some.

What was the last film you watched, that you hadn’t seen before? What kind of film was it? What did you think of it? 2020: I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a psychological thriller. It’s not for the faint of heart, especially those who’ve been feeling depressed and/or existential lately. It certainly didn’t make me feel good and I wish I could unwatch it, not because it was bad but because it was a bit too triggering. 2021: Be With You; it’s a Korean film that’s mostly romance but with a super super slight tinge of fantasy if you squint your eyes hard enough. I loved it a lot; both the leads are sooooooooo pretty to look at and the kid is a fantastic actor. I also cried a lot, but I do think the ending could’ve been executed better as it felt rushed.

Have you ever had an argument with the last person you hugged/kissed? 2020: Lots. 2021: Nothing more than extremely petty fights, the last of which we had approximately 12 years ago.

Using one word only, describe the day you’ve had so far. 2020: Lonely. 2021: Routine.

[annzybwrites]

What Do You Get a Mumrik?

Hello!  First, I adore your writing! I first read it on Ao3 but needed to follow you here so I made an account.  I would love to read a short Snufmin fanfic with this prompt: Moomin looking for a birthday gift for Snufkin Kudos ❤️❤️

--Submitted by @xanzusx 

Annzy: Ahh, thank you so much!! I’m glad you enjoy my writing so much that you made a tumblr account, that’s so flattering ;w; I can’t believe I never thought of a birthday gift fic before, but it’s a fantastic idea!! 

~!~!~!~ 

Birthday celebrations in Moominvalley were usually grand affairs. Moominmamma delighted in baking that person’s favorite cake flavor in the shape of either their face or something that represented them, Moomintroll and his friends had a fantastic time decorating the yard for the party (especially if it was themed), and sometimes Moominpappa would make a piñata or a slide if the party was for someone young. Anyone that wanted to come celebrate was invited, so naturally most of the inhabitants of Moominvalley would come, bringing small gifts that they thought the birthday-haver would like. 

There were a few exceptions. They usually didn’t celebrate Stinky’s birthday, if only because the few times they did try to celebrate, Stinky spent the entire night mocking them for their efforts. And they also didn’t make such a big fuss for Snufkin’s birthday, because for the first few years he refused to tell anyone, saying he’d only reveal his birthday if someone guessed the date correctly. He’d always have a big, playful grin on his face whenever the others remembered his little challenge and tried to guess his birthday for an afternoon. 

When Snufkin and Moomin had finally started dating, though, Snorkmaiden felt like the game should end. 

“You have a boyfriend now, Snufkin!” she berated him while they were all spending a lazy day at the beach. “You have to let at least him celebrate your birthday with you!” 

“Is that a rule?” Snufkin was laying on his back next to Moomin, so he turned his head to catch those blue eyes that seemed just as surprised as him. 

“I suppose it would be only fair.” Moomin hummed, "Since you’ve celebrated plenty of my birthdays already.” 

“Yeah!” Little My perked up, running over to climb on top of Snufkin’s chest to stare at him. “I’d love another day where Mamma makes us cake, anyway.” 

“It’s always so delicious!” Sniff agreed, starting to drool from where he lay on his stomach. “Besides, you’d get lots of cool presents, Snufkin!” 

“Oh, you know I don’t really care much for material things.” Snufkin chuckled good naturedly, messing with Little My’s hair bun until she swatted his hand away. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to eat a birthday cake with all of you.” 

“So you’ll tell us your birthday?” Moomin asked, his heart filling up with hope. He didn’t realize how much he wanted to know until just that moment. 

Snufkin turned to smile at him, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he said, “But I still want you to guess!” 

Snorkmaiden groaned and plopped back down onto the sand, crossing her arms. “You’re hopeless.” 

“Oh, fine, I’ll give you a hint.” Snufkin picked Little My up, setting her down next to him so he could sit up and stretch. “My birthday is in this month of March. That should narrow things down, don’t you think?” 

“I’ll say!” Moomin brightened, sitting up as well so his tail was free to wag a bit. “Hmm... how about --” 

“March 8th!” Sniff guessed. 

“March 12th!” Little My yelled. 

“March 23rd?” Snorkmaiden tried. 

“Nope, nope, and nope!” Snufkin chuckled, tilting his hat up to show off his wide grin. “Wow, you all are really bad at this game.” 

“March 15th?” Moomin guessed, hands clasped together nervously. 

Snufkin straightened in surprise, turning to him with a bright smile. “That’s right, Moomintroll! Congratulations!” 

"Really?” Moomin laughter bubbled out of him as he pulled Snufkin in for a hug. He couldn’t believe he got it right! 

“What does he win?” Sniff had to ask. 

“Well,” Snufkin hummed as he hugged Moomintroll back. “What would you like, my dear?” 

“I never thought of that.” Moomin hummed, pulling away from the hug to tap at his chin in thought. “How about a song?” 

“Moomin!” Snorkmaiden bemoaned, falling onto her back and covering her eyes dramatically with her hand. “You should have asked for a kiss!” 

“Oh!” Moomin felt heat pool into his cheeks as his tail curled around him shyly. Why hadn’t he thought of that? W-well, kisses were meant to be private things, anyway! Not in front of a bunch of people! 

Snufkin chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle Moomin’s snout briefly. “A song it is! How about we walk while I play?” 

It wasn’t long before the small group was up on their feet and headed back to Moominhouse, Snufkin playing a jaunty little tune on his harmonica. Little My was extremely excited and couldn’t wait to tell Mamma that she’ll have to bake another cake very soon, and it was then that Moomin realized Snufkin’s birthday was only ten days away. And once he realized that, a new question presented itself. 

What kind of gift do you get for a mumrik who dislikes material possessions? 

~~~

Moomintroll felt like a wreck for the next week. He couldn’t stop thinking about Snufkin’s birthday, and about how he had absolutely no idea what to get him. He knew he wanted to get Snufkin something that he would actually like, preferably something that he’d be happy to take with him during his travels. 

Anything store-bought was immediately out. Snufkin would consider it a nice little trinket, but not worth carrying around with him all the time. Moomintroll briefly considered learning to knit and making him a nice scarf, but a long night of getting tangled up in the yarn quickly dashed that idea. He thought of drawing him a very nice picture next, perhaps a collage of some of their favorite flowers, but then he remembered how a paper drawing was bound to get ruined from the snow or dirt and would most likely not last the winter. 

Since he was an open-book to everyone that knew him, it didn’t take long for Snufkin to realize why he’d been acting strangely and told him: “You don’t have to get me anything special, Moomintroll. The memories of us together are gift enough for me.” 

While it was a very sweet phrase that made Moomin’s heart swell, a strong part of him still longed to find the perfect gift for his boyfriend. 

He thought of stringing together some stones into a bracelet next, perhaps some red rocks to represent the comet that brought them together in the first place. But he figured that might be too heavy to carry around all the time, and Snufkin had never been one for too many accessories anyway. Then he considered finding a small, little bottle and filling it with sand and sea water, since Snufkin did love the sea so much. But then he worried about the bottle breaking inside his backpack, and that was the last thing he’d want. 

With only three days left till Snufkin’s birthday, Moomintroll lay on his bed after dinner, staring morosely up at the ceiling. He still had no good ideas! And he knew Snufkin wouldn’t love him any less if he didn’t find the perfect gift for him, but he really wanted to show how well he knew his dearest friend in the form of a gift. 

Someone knocked on his bedroom door, shocking him out of his thoughts. “Come in!” 

“Hello, dear.” Moominmamma greeted with a small smile as she walked inside. She closed the door gently before going to sit at the edge of his bed. “Still haven’t thought of a good gift for Snufkin?” 

“No.” Moomin groaned and turned onto his side, curling up a bit as he looked up at his mother. “And anytime I try to ask him questions about what he’d like, he’s intentionally vague or repeats that he only wants memories!” 

“Well, why don’t you just plan a nice memory for him to have then?” Moominmamma suggested. 

“I thought about that, too,” Moomin admitted with a sigh. “But, I don’t know... I just really, really want to get him something that he can carry around. Something light and unobtrusive, maybe even something that he’ll forget about until he sees it in his backpack again, but he can’t help but smile each time he sees it because it’s just so perfect!” 

“Goodness, that’s a tall order.” Moominmamma sighed softly, closing her eyes as she thought. “What if you put down some of his favorite memories into a book for him?” 

"Books are heavy, and easy to ruin.” 

“Well, maybe it’s not a book, then.” 

Moomin’s ear twitched. He sat up, raising a brow at her. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re good at wood-carving, aren’t you dear?” Moominmamma had that small smile on her face as she continued, “You could find a light piece of wood, such as some spruce, and carve something into it.” 

Moomin stared at his mamma for at least a minute, his mind already bursting with possibilities. “You’re a genius, Mamma!” he exclaimed eventually, hugging her tightly before dashing off towards his desk. “I’ll start drawing an outline of what to carve, and tomorrow I’ll find that wood!” 

“Glad I could help.” Moominamma rose to her feet, brushing out her apron and smiling warmly at her son before taking her leave. 

~~~

The day finally arrived, March 15th. The others came over in the morning to put up at least a few decorations for Snufkin, such as paper fish and music notes, and Moominmamma was busy preparing a delightful, frosted spice cake in the shape and color of Snufkin’s tent. 

Moomin decided he wanted to give Snufkin his gift before the party officially started, so that afternoon he invited Snufkin to accompany him on a hike and picnic by the base of the Lonely Mountains. 

“You all really didn’t need to make such a fuss,” Snufkin was saying as they walked. “Really, I don’t need decorations. The cake would’ve been more than enough!” 

“Oh, everyone’s just excited to finally celebrate your birthday, Snufkin!” Moomin reminded him. “It’s been a secret for such a long time. Next year we’ll just have a cake, I promise.” 

“I suppose I can live with that.” Snufkin resigned, squeezing Moomin’s hand gently. “I’m glad you stopped worrying about getting me anything. I missed your smile at the start of the week.” 

“Oh, yes.” Moomin tried not to smile too wide, thinking of the gift he had concealed in the basket on his back. “I’m glad, too.” 

They found a nice, little clearing amidst some flowers, and made quirk work of putting down their blanket and retrieving their jam sandwiches. Conversation was easy, as it always was, trading stories (or making up new ones) and sharing ideas. When they finished eating, Moomin decided to reveal his surprise. 

“I do have one birthday gift for you, actually.” 

“Oh, Moomin.” Snufkin sighed softly, giving a weary smile. “I’ve told you time and time again -- I don’t need anything!” 

“I know, I know! But I think you’ll like this one.” Moomin chewed at his lip, trying not to smile too wide as he pulled out his gift. It was wrapped in old newspaper, and it was small enough to easily fit in the palm of Moomin’s hand. He presented it to Snufkin, who stared at the package in slight surprise. “Please, open it?” 

Snufkin pursed his lips, picking up the small object and again feeling surprised at how light it was. “What is it?” 

“You have to open it to find out, silly.” 

Snufkin gave a laugh at that, bumping his shoulder against Moomin’s before unwrapping it. He soon felt the smoothness of treated wood at his fingertips, and when he was finally able to get a good look at it, his breath hitched. 

It was a little, rounded heart that was just the right width to grip nicely between his thumb and the length of his forefinger. And all around the outline, Moomin had carved a simple pattern that alternated between a comet, a little fish, and a sunflower. On one side, in the middle, lay their initials surrounded by a thinly carved outline of a heart: “S + M” 

“I thought of putting more symbols,” Moomin said after a few moments of Snufkin staring blankly at the heart. “Like falling leaves, and birds, and your harmonica, and, and -- everything that reminded me of you. But, I thought those three would do the trick. And I left one side blank so you could carve into it yourself, if you like. Or, every year for your birthday, I could carve something new into it? If, if you want -- I understand if you don’t really want to keep it for that long--” 

“Moomintroll,” Snufkin breathed, holding the wooden heart tightly to his chest as he stared into those loving, baby blue eyes. “It’s beautiful. I’d be honored to carry this with me.” 

“Really?” Moomin’s ears perked up again, his own hands clasped tightly together in front of his chest. “You’re not just saying that? I know you don’t like to hold onto many things, so it’s all right if --” He stopped talking when he felt a firm kiss against his snout. 

“I love it,” Snufkin whispered, moving closer so he could nuzzle his cheek against Moomin’s. “Almost as much as I love you.” 

Moomin felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest at any moment. He wrapped his arms around Snufkin’s waist, bringing him close and relaxing as Snufkin returned the embrace. 

“It’s a lovely idea, too,” Snufkin added, squeezing him once. “Carving something new into it every year. I would like that.” 

Moomin beamed, his tail wagging loosely as he closed his eyes, enjoying how warm and soft Snufkin felt against him. “Then that’s what I’ll do.” 

“Thank you, Moomintroll.” Snufkin pulled away lightly, only to lean in and give Moomin a brief kiss on the lips. He chuckled lightly when Moomin’s eyes started to spin a little. “Now I need to find you something this special for your birthday.” 

Moomin shook his head a little to clear it, a small grin coming to his face as he teased, “I only need memories.” 

Snufkin snorted and pushed him lightly, laughing loud enough to spook some nearby birds. “All right, I’ll admit I deserved that.” 

[cozy-the-overlord]

Until Tomorrow

Summary:  Quarantine by itself is lonely enough. Quarantine amidst a rainstorm of biblical proportions is downright depressing. Lucky for you, a visitor arrives just in time to keep you company.

Word Count:  2,463

Pairing: Loki x Reader

A/N: Sooo..... I did a thing. I’ve never written fanfiction or reader-inserts before, but it was pouring rain last night and I’ve been reading so many quarantine fics on Ao3 that I thought I’d give it a whirl. I’ve never been more nervous about posting a story before... I hope you like it!

Also, I got an Ao3 account now, so you can read it here if you’d like

              It was raining.

              Although raining didn’t seem to do the weather justice. You couldn’t remember the last time you had witnessed such a torrential downpour. The pattering of raindrops rushing down your slanted roof had been drowned out by the wooshing of the fast-moving river that a few hours ago had been your street. Between the dark storm clouds and fog so thick you could cut it with a knife, you couldn’t make out exactly how bad the road was, but the waves that crashed against your window every time a car came skidding past your house told you that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

              Not that you currently had any great travel plans.

              You sat on the couch at your front window, a book lying open and ignored in your lap, watching water droplets race down the glass as a shiver raced down your spine. Usually, you loved the rain. You had grown where storms were a treasured rarity, where you’d insist your mother buy you rainboots for your birthday only for her to give them away a year later when they became too small, balls of paper still stuffed into their toes. Usually, when it poured, you’d run into your driveway with your head back and arms out, belting out “Singin’ in the Rain” as you attempted dance moves that would make Gene Kelly role in his grave, just because you could.

              But today, you didn’t feel like dancing. With everything going on right now, the rain seemed less like a cause for celebration and more like a sign of impending doom. It had been weeks since you left the sanctuary of your tiny suburban house. You were lucky, everything considered— your parents were safely quarantined in your childhood home on the other side of the country, from where they FaceTimed with you at least once a day.

              Your job was secure. That was one of the wonderful things about working for Tony Stark: the day everyone was sent home, the head man himself sent out an email swearing to keep everyone on the payroll through the quarantine, regardless of how long it lasted. He had even set up a system for delivering groceries to his employees: you texted a number with your order, and a few hours later a red and gold drone dumped a box of overflowing plastic bags on your doorstep. That was something your mom couldn’t get over—Iron Man bringing you milk!— and honestly the ridiculousness of it all made you want to giggle, too.

              Sometimes, though, it was all too much. It had been ages since you’d seen anybody, ages since you had heard another voice unfiltered by the garbled speaker of your cell phone. You had never considered yourself to be an overtly social person, but damn did you wish you had somebody here to talk to. Your mother had been trying for years to convince you to adopt a pet, insisting that it wasn’t healthy for you to be living completely alone, but you had always brushed her off, saying that you were working so often that you were rarely at home and it would be cruel to the animal. Now, you promised yourself that as soon as this was over, you were heading to the Humane Society.

              If this was ever over.

              Outside, the rain kept pouring. The trickling water seemed to be whispering to you—sinister promises of something worse yet to come. You curled tighter upon yourself, pressing your cheek to your knees.

              Let this end. Please, just let this end.

              A crash behind you startled you out of your thoughts. You shrieked, whipping around to see a figure standing in your living room, soaking bags sprawled about him, staining the carpet. He scowled.

              “Bloody rainstorm. You can’t see a damn thing out there.” He shook his head and began wringing out his hair, muttering in a language you didn’t understand.

              It was several moments before you could find your voice. Once you did, it slipped out cautiously. “Loki?”

              “At your service, my lady.” He gave a grand bow, his words dripping with sarcasm.

               You stared. You knew Loki, of course. You were familiar with all of the Avengers who lived in the tower—your office was located on one of the higher levels, and as a result it wasn’t uncommon to see celebrities like Dr. Banner or Captain Rodgers making their way across the floor to meet with one of your coworkers. Unlike the others, however, you had actually spoken with Loki.

              The two of you had a little run in a few months ago, when you were refilling your coffee mug at the break room. You were already on edge because Dr. Foster was visiting, Dr. Jane Foster, and word about the floor was that she would be stopping by with Thor to meet some of the higher-level workers at some point during the day. You felt silly for feeling so starstruck, but Dr. Foster’s work was on another level of world-shattering, and the thought that you might be shaking her hand by the end of the day had you all sorts of jittery.

              Then the coffee pot exploded.

              Exploded wasn’t exactly the right word. It was more like an eruption— all at once the pitcher just vomited its contents across the counter, up to the ceiling, all over the floor, writing like an animal and spitting out more coffee than it possibly could’ve been holding previously. With a scream, you threw the anthropomorphic pot to the floor, adding shattered glass to the absolute mess in the break room.

              There wasn’t time to comprehend what just happened before he was there, pulling you out of the puddle of lukewarm coffee.

              “Forgive me, that was not supposed to happen. Are you hurt?” Loki scanned your form with an anxious sort of urgency. There was a tinge of pink on his cheeks—if you hadn’t known better, you would’ve said he was blushing. “Are you hurt?” he asked again when you only gaped at him like a dead fish. “Burned? That was not meant—forgive me.”

              “No,” you finally said. The coffee hadn’t been warm enough to do any damage. “Just… my clothes—”

               He waved his hand, and the sticky moisture clinging to your front disappeared. You ran your hand over your shirt, now dry and stainless. That’s useful.

               “Are you certain you are uninjured?” he asked. “I swear, that was not what I intended—”

               “I’m fine.” Now that the shock had worn off, you found yourself stifling the urge to giggle. “What were you trying to do?”

               Loki looked embarrassed. “My brother has the tendency of laying claim to the refreshments of any floor he visits, without leaving anything for those working on said floors. I thought I’d teach him a lesson.” He cast a glance back at the mess behind him. “The charm was meant only to react to him. I suppose I made a mistake in casting it.” He turned back to you. “I am sorry.”

               You smiled. “It’s alright. I guess I could use a bit of excitement in my life.”

               He grinned. “Words to live by.”

               After that, you had been friendly. You’d greet each other when you walked by one another, you’d make small talk in the elevator if you were riding together, he’d hold the door for you if he had the chance. Nothing serious, nothing even that personal really, just office-friendly.

              Definitely not crashing-unannounced-into-your-living-room-during-a-rainstorm-in-the-middle-of-a-pandemic friendly.

              “What—?” you sputtered, springing off the couch. “What are you doing here?”

              Loki dramatically gestured to the bags on the floor. “It seems I have been relegated to the status of a delivery boy.”

              Craning your neck, you recognized the label of your local grocery market. You frowned. “Did—did you bring me groceries?”

              The Asgardian in your living room huffed irritably. “You had an order for today, did you not?”

              You nodded slowly. Yes, you were waiting on an order today, and now that you were looking you could see that it was sprawled across the floor at Loki’s feet: a carton of orange juice, a tub of ice cream, a bag of potato chips… but what was Loki doing dropping off food for you?

              He sighed. “Stark, in his infinite wisdom, failed to consider the effect of such the elements—” he gestured to the monsoon outside your window “—on his mechanical messengers. As I am the only individual he knows with means of instantaneous travel, I have been encouraged to assist with deliveries. I am—what is the phrase?—making the rounds, if you will. ”

              “Oh.” You found yourself at a loss for words, likely looking every bit as dumbfounded as when you first met in the break room. You mentally slapped yourself. “Um… thank you. Here,” you moved to collect to foodstuff off the carpet, “I can, uh, start putting things away—”

              With one swift motion, Loki scooped everything up. “Allow me. Just tell me where you want me to put it.” You glanced up at him cautiously. He raised his eyebrows.

              “Uh, okay.”

              He followed you into your kitchen, and you cringed as you realized how truly disgusting your sink was. It had been ages since you had the motivation to do the dishes, and they had been piling up in your sink like the leaning tower of cheap ceramics for at least a week now. Loki didn’t say anything though. At your direction, he placed the bags on the counter and watched as you silently put the contents away.

              Even amidst all the awkwardness, there was something soothing about his presence. For the first time in weeks, there was a living, breathing person in your house, someone real to talk to and laugh with. So when Loki said that he had to finish his deliveries, the question that popped out of your mouth was birthed by pure desperation.

“Do you want something to drink before you go?” you asked. “Like, a glass of water? Or… I have coffee, if you don’t mind it being reheated.”

              If Loki was surprised by your offer, he masked the emotion quickly with a smirk. “Do you really trust me with coffee?”

              You giggled. “I don’t know. Can I?”

              “You shouldn’t trust me with anything,” he said, slipping into one of the seats at your kitchen table. “But I think we can make an exception just this once.”

              You sat and talked for nearly an hour, sipping your microwaved coffee as the rain pounded on the roof. Loki had plenty of quarantine stories from the Tower, stories that always seemed to end with Thor accidentally blowing something up.

              “He is not used to staying in such a limited space for this long of a time period,” he said reflectively. “I think perhaps confinement is having a detrimental effect on his intellect. Stark has installed a ‘Days Without an Accident’ count at the kitchen table, and thus far my brother has managed to reset it every day.”

              You snorted. “That sounds hilarious. I wish I was there to see that.”

              “No, you don’t. Everyone is fed up with everyone else.” Loki stared into his mug absently. “They have been starting altercations over the minutest details. It’s quite chaotic.”

              You frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to like chaos?”

              “When it’s within my control. This is far beyond that.” He took another sip, emptying it. “You are lucky to live alone. I would gladly welcome the peace you have here.”

              “I don’t know. There’s not much to do in here.” You held in a sigh. “It gets kind of depressing after a while.”

              Loki cocked his head, brow furrowed. “You are lonely?”

              Your cheeks heated with embarrassment. It was such a menial complaint to have, especially when so many others were suffering. “Kind of,” you muttered. “It’s not so bad, though.”

              Loki continued pressing. “You have access to communication, yes?” he asked, leaning forward. “I thought all of you mortals were addicted to your cellular devices.”

              “Yeah,” you replied slowly. “But it’s not the same thing as, you know, actually talking to someone. Like, when they’re actually there.”

              “I understand.” He reached out to set his mug on the table. Somewhere hidden under your smile, your heart sank. He’d be leaving soon.

               Loki cleared his throat. “If you would like,” he said, “I could pay you a visit every so often, as we are doing now.”

              What?

              “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you rushed to say, even though the thought of having a regular visitor sent your pulse thrumming.

              “No, but I think I would appreciate the respite. Today has been quite lovely, if I may say so.” He smiled— a genuine smile, not a smirk or a grin—and you felt rather silly for the way your heart seemed to soar. “Of course,” he added quickly, “if you don’t wish for my company, I completely—”

              “No!” The volume of your voice made you cringe. Jeez, he must think you haven’t spoken to anyone in months. “No, I—if you want to come over, then…” For a moment, you fumbled with your words, searching for an eloquent way to accept his offer. “I’d like that,” you finally said, giving up. “I’d like that a lot.”

              He laughed. “In that case, I’ll stop by tomorrow.” When he stood, you stood with him, following him back to your living room where he had left the groceries you hadn’t claimed. “I do need to be going now, though,” he said, scooping up the remaining bags. “The last thing I need is Stark having a fit over my failure to deliver his employees’ groceries on time.”  He nodded at you. “Thank you very much for the coffee.”

              “No problem,” you said. “Thanks for—thanks.”

              He chuckled. “Until tomorrow, my lady.”

              “Until tomorrow.”

              And just like that, he was gone. It was a noiseless disappearance: one moment he was there, the next, you were once again alone with the pouring rain. With a sigh, you made your way back to the couch, scooping up your book off the floor. Once again, however, you found your attention drifting to the water running down the window, the rushing waves of your street outside. Nothing had changed, and yet it seemed so much less frightening than it had an hour before. No, now, it was almost soothing. You had the sudden urge to run out on to your driveway and belt “Singin’ In the Rain.”

              I should’ve done that while Loki was here, you thought sleepily, pressing your cheek to the cushion. He would’ve gotten a kick out of that.

              Maybe you could, if it was still raining tomorrow.

              Tomorrow.

              You dozed off to the peaceful lullaby of the rainfall, smiling softly and thinking of tomorrow.

[leavetwn]

* AMANDA CAMPANA, NOBINARY + SHE/HER/THEY/THEM  | you know RAMONA GALLO, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, TWENTY-THREE YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to CRYING ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR BY MUNA like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole COLD PIZZA AS A HANGOVER CURE, TALKING SHIT ABOUT CUSTOMERS IN THE BREAKROOM, LONGING FOR WHAT COULD'VE BEEN,  thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 17TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( claire, 22, est, she/her )

HEY , BESTIES ! happy new year (the way it’s 11:55pm here so barely) !! my name’s claire and i’m 22. i’m livin in the est timezone, and my pronouns are she/her. i’m bringing y’all a mess of a muse 😈 because well  ,,, it’s what i’m best at. if you’re feelin ramona & wanna plot, just go ahead and like this & i’ll hit you up. i usually plot on discord, but if you prefer the tumblr ims, that’s no problem at all. anyway, lemme stop waistin time and get to introducing you to ramona. * tw: mentions of cheating & alcohol. 

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

full name: ramona gallo.  nickname(s): anything your muse wants to call her tbh. age: twenty-three. date of birth: august 17th. zodiac sign: leo. gender/pronouns: non-binary, she/her/they/them. sexual orientation: bisexual. romantic orientation: biromantic. hometown: irving, north carolina. current residence: irving, north carolina. occupation: employee at zoinkies currently,  a lifeguard during the summer. eye color: brown. hair color/style: had long hair up until her breakup then had one of those breakdowns and cut her own hair into a bob and then her own bangs. i bet it was a mess lol so she probably called her friends or went to a salon the very next day to get it fixed. also highlighted the ends red but her natural color is brown. height : 5′5″. clothing style: simple and comfortable. t-shirts, croptops, turtlenecks, all usually paired with either jean shorts or jeans in general. she prefers to feel cozy rather than cute. tattoos: yes. a small one on her wrist. wants more eventually. piercings: both ears peirced & a navel piercing that she did herself against better judgement lol.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 .

you were born on a scorching hot day in irving , your father says so, anyway. you’re convinced he’s being dramatic. your birth went smoothly; after two previous children, your parents had become disillusioned by childbirth. just another one to add to the bunch, and one that was meant to save a dying marriage. still, they loved you nonetheless. your father, to this day. your mother, until you were ten, and then she up and left without a warning. 

your father keeps food on the table by fixing cars. you spend your days in the hot sun watching him replace parts and continuously try to crank vehicles until they run. he fist pumps every time one does. ‘ how lame, ’ you think, but it’s inspiring how hard he works to take care of three kids. and he does a good job. 

therefore , you spend much of your early life trying to make him proud. you’re smart as a whip, and all your teachers have good things to say about you when it comes to academics. you’re a bit of a troublemaker, though. your father doesn’t mind that too much; he was the same at your age. and he’s proud  —  proud to see you work so hard. 

you spend your teenage years doing much of the same. though , you begin to come home a bit later than usual, and your excuse is that you’ve been at ashley’s or samantha’s, but really all three of you were out partying. you don’t think your father would care (your grades are fine & he wants you to live like a normal teenager) ,  but you still lie about it. why ? well, who knows, maybe you like the adrenaline rush it gives you. like most things, you do them for the thrill. 

you join the swim team. you’re kind of bad , but that’s okay. just like always , you work hard, and you realize that you’re kind of a natural. your father cheers louder than anyone else in the stands. it pushes you to do better. with your good grades and athletics , your guidance counselor tells you you’re a shoo in for a scholarship from whatever university you want. you apply to several. if it’s one thing you hate, its this town. you can’t wait to make it out, and you figure, this might be your only way. 

you’re eighteen, and you’re in love. it’s crazy how love can make you see things differently. suddenly , this town doesn’t seem half bad. all your friends find it cute , and you tell them everything. the things he tells you or the way he makes you feel. it’s a crazy feeling; you never want it to end. 

you throw your cap in the air. finally , high school is over. college is looming. you’ve been accepted to several & received scholarships from at least a few. you lie in bed thinking about it. now, you suddenly don’t want to leave so bad. don’t want to leave him behind. how could someone leave another they love so easily? it makes you hate your mother more.

for the first time, you disappoint your father. you don’t go to college. you don’t give a damn. you want to stay where love is. you’re addicted to the feeling. this lasts for three years. now, you’re twenty-one; you’ve gotten a job at zoinkies, and that keeps you away for most of the day. you randomly decide to visit your boyfriend during a lunch break one day. you find him in bed with someone else. suddenly , you realize love isn’t as addicting as you once thought. what once made the world beautiful now made it hideous. what once made you feel so high had somehow made you feel so low. it was horrible, and you’d realized your mistakes. 

you threw away your future for love. something as rotten and twisted as love. something you swore you’d never let yourself feel again. something that you put away in a locked box with no key. irving was the same place you’d always known it to be. boring, drab, familiar. at least you had your family. that was barely enough to keep you sane, though, and it was hard to feel normal.

you turned to the thing that help. alcohol, partying, any escape at all. you lacked coping skills   —  that much was clear, but you didn’t care. you blamed it on something else entirely. just as your teachers had said, you’re a bit of a troublemaker. you do anything to make yourself feel alive, to make yourself feel free of the hurt. 

it’s two years later now. you’re still not over it in some ways, as regret turns to anger and resentment. you’re bitter. who wouldn’t be? but you feel like you’ve had time to mourn. maybe it’s because you never acknowledged it in the way you should’ve ( it’s still locked away in that box. ) you still have your bad habits. you still work at your stupid job that you hate. you’re lost, but you’ll figure it out. you always do. so, you continue to float , seemingly stuck in the town that you never let go of, and you wonder what comes next. only time will tell.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞��𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 .

still swims but doesn’t have as much time for it. probably not as good, but since she spends the summer lifeguarding, she uses that time to practice & try to get back to where she was. also kinda jaded asf so even if she says she wants to get back into it, she probably won’t lmaoo.

is a horrible driver. how did she get a license ?? not even she knows. def the type to like have a leg up on the dash board, hand out the window, and only one hand on the wheel while speedin idk how she makes it out alive

can take a car apart and put it back together again thanks to her dad. also changes her own tires so let her change your tires. im just sayin 

stays up way too late & would sleep until 2 pm everyday if she didn’t have to work. should probably work on being an adult and going to bed at a normal time but just half the time doesn’t give a fuck so she’s probably sleep deprived a lot. therefore also has a 

character parallels: alice ayres/jane jones (closer, 2004) , clementine (eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 2004) , fiona gallagher (shameless, 2011-present) , more to be added.

𝐈. ━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢��𝐧𝐬 .

ok but plots really do be making my world go ‘round. 😳 i love em, so literally hmu with anything you’re feeling, and i’ll be down. just wanna plot & write with everyone 💕 but here’s a couple of wanted connections for y’all. i’ll prolly have a most wanted tag sooner or later & i’ma be make a plot page soon.  

* the unholy trinity  — these two are the friends she cherishes most. i’m assuming they’ve been friends since at least early high school , maybe earlier. they went through a lot together. these two were with her through all her relationship troubles. true ride or dies. she’s do absolutely anything for them, and she trusts that they feel the same way. they’re rowdy & wild, do whatever they want, and have a damn good time doin it. also have a gc where they just talk shit and send tiktoks idk just gimme this plsss 🥺

* friends with benefits / one night stands  —  this would probably be the extent of ramona. clearly not over what happened to her the last time 😭, so she’d have plenty of these tbh. she probably wouldn’t think too much about it, but it could be awkward for you muse maybe, etc. 

* unrequited love / crush  —  here’s a toast to the ones who crush on ramona. it would be an absolute tragedy lmaoo. she’s not really mean about it, but she is 100% certain she’s not looking for any type of relationship. could be really dramatic and messy and those are tha best kind. literally this

* former friends / enemies  —  she’s lived here her whole life, so she’s at least got one. these two just don’t get along/no longer get along for whatever reason that can be plotted out. 

* coworkers   — she works zoinkies throughout the year and picks up shifts as a lifeguard during the summer so your muses could know her from that. could delve into a close friend territory too lmao. they probably just sit in break rooms and talk about rude customers or bossy managers lmaooo.

* literally anything your heart desires — a lot could work. we could even just start from nowhere & have them meet for the first time if they’re newer/just to town. 

[stareyedplanet]

Birthday Surprises [p.p.]

•••••••••••••••••

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!reader Summary: Peter takes time from saving New York to spend time with you on your birthday, and he’s got a few surprises up his sleeve to make the day truly special. Notes: this is a very self - indulgent fic considering it is my birthday today, so seriously, do not come at me. you have been warned. even still there are like no descriptors. i think i mentioned he runs his fingers through her hair? maybe she blushes? i honestly can’t remember. i don’t really reread and edit soooo… and he picks out her outfit if that ruins your creative ability idk. people be weird sometimes. anywho, any feedback is appreciated other than the stuff i mentioned. Warnings: pure fluff, maybe a kiss or two Word Count: 2,348 ••••••••••••••••• You had never really been one to celebrate your birthday in the past. When you were younger you had a few parties, but as you got older birthday plans just seemed to fizzle out into nothingness. It always made you a little sad, but that was probably because the last birthday party you had you ended up sobbing at. Yeah, maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t have a birthday party after that. You didn’t have very high expectations for the day, since to you it was just another day and another year. Your life wasn’t going to dramatically change because you were a year older. Really you just thought that maybe you would see Peter in between his patrols, and you’d put a candle on the little cupcake you got yourself. But Peter Parker had other plans.

He knew that you never really celebrated, but he wanted to make the day special for you. To him, you deserved one special day dedicated to you — really you deserved every day to be special and dedicated to you.

He couldn’t be more thankful for such a perfect and patient girlfriend. You never complained when he canceled on a date, or when he went on patrol so long you only got to see him a few minutes. Any time he ever had a cut or a bruise, you would sit him down and patch him up, always putting on a brave smile to cheer him up, even if he knew you were always terrified you would lose him. But you never let it get to you. You were always there for him and never showed signs of backing down.

So he was determined to make today special for you.

It was early when he was knocking on the door to your place, a sweet smile lighting up his entire face. He took in your appearance, still dressed in an oversized shirt and baggy sleep pants. Your hair was a mess around your face, frizzy and unbrushed.

This wouldn’t do.

“What are you doing? You have to get dressed! We have a busy day, come on.” Peter coaxed as he walked into your place, pushing you towards your room.

“Peter? I thought you would have patrol this morning?” You said, clearly confused as to what the boy was on about. Not that you were unhappy to see him. You loved being able to hang out with Peter longer than normal.

“Nope. Today is all about you, angel,” Peter grinned, kissing your cheek as he pushed you into your room before going to the dresser and pulling out an appropriate outfit. And by that he meant jeans and his old Midtown sweatshirt you had stolen ages ago.

“What are you doing?” You laughed as he pushed the clothes into your hands before turning his back to you so you could get dressed.

“Tik tok, Y/N,” he sang, waiting patiently for you to finish getting dressed. He knew you were done when you wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his back and just inhaling his scent.

“Can’t we just stay in, Peter? Seriously, I don’t need anything big.” You argued quietly, nuzzling into him more.

Peter turned around in your arms and kissed your head, playing with the ends of your freshly brushed hair. He just swayed with you for a minute before he shook his head.

“Nope. My special girl deserves a special day. Come on, you’ll love it, Y/N. Trust me…” Peter said, giving you sweet puppy eyes. You could never say no to those eyes. Not really.

“Fine, I trust you Peter. But promise we can just come here and watch Lilo and Stitch at the end of the day?” You asked him, looping your arms around his neck.

Peter gave you an Eskimo kiss, nudging his nose against yours.

“It’s on the plan, angel. I promise. We’ll have cuddles and movies later.” Peter assured you, pressing his lips against yours quickly. “Now are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.” You agreed finally, grabbing your phone and keys, slipping each of them into their normal pockets.

Peter laced his fingers with yours as he led you out of your apartment and down to his car, helping you into the passenger seat before climbing into his side. He subconsciously reached over and buckled your seatbelt before giving you a sheepish look of apology. He knew you didn’t like it when he did that. Sure you thought it was cute that he was worried about your safety, but it borderlined him being overly worried and protective.

But today it didn’t seem to bother you. In fact, you smiled at him and just shook your head in amusement, which made Peter’s face brighten as well. His hand rested on your thigh as he drove to the first location of the day. Breakfast. He watched as you began bouncing in your seat when you realized where he was pulling into.

IHOP.

You absolutely loved the place, but you hardly ever got to go. And Peter clearly knew you if this was where he was taking you for breakfast. He once again led you inside and you all took your seats.

“Come on Peter, tell me what else you have up your sleeve for today?” You asked him, leaning across the table to talk. You batted your eyelashes at him, hoping he might tell you what else he had planned.

“Nope, it’s a surprise, Jellybean,” Peter grinned. He wasn’t usually good at keeping secrets but he was determined to make sure he didn’t let a single thing slip.

Before you knew it you two had been there for two hours, laughing and talking and teasing. You were sure you could have sat longer but Peter had someplace else for you to go and began to usher you out.

You waited patiently in the car as Peter drove, his hand returning to it’s spot on your thigh, the other controlling the wheel. You bit your lip as you looked at him, hoping your stare down might get him to crack. It didn’t.

This drive was a little longer than the first one, so you knew you weren’t headed back to either of your places.

“Peter, where are we going?” You whined quietly, hating surprises. But you trusted Peter.

“You will see. Jeez, be patient, Angel,” Peter laughed quietly, squeezing your thigh gently.

You tried for a while longer to get it out of him but ultimately gave up, leaning your head against the window to watch the buildings passing by. It was thirty minutes later when Peter told you to close your eyes.

With an amused smile you placed your hands over your eyes, waiting patiently for Peter to park the car, come around to your side and help you out. He then led you around while making sure your eyes were closed. Peter was so excited to see your reaction. He had gotten help from Mr. Stark for this one, so he really hoped you would like it.

You two eventually stopped and Peter moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Open your eyes.” He whispered to you.

So you did.

You looked around and your jaw dropped when you saw the large Broadway sign. He had brought you to Broadway Theatre. And when you glanced down he was holding two tickets for Wicked. You turned your head to share your look of shock and happiness with him. You had wanted to go to a Broadway show for so long, and Peter had made it happen.

“Peter… how?” You asked him, turning in his arms with teary eyes.

“Mr. Stark helped me get really good tickets. He also… may have paid for them to run the show tonight.” Peter explained quietly.

“You got… Tony Stark to pay to run Wicked on my birthday for me?” You asked incredulously.

“Of course I did. Do you like it?” Peter asked.

“Like it? Peter this is literally the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I love it.” You said before throwing your arms around him.

The show lasted for around two hours, and you were on the edge of your seat the entire time. Peter thought it was cute how into the musical you were, and he found himself spacing out to stare at you for chunks of the performance. He wouldn’t admit that if you asked though.

The performance was over in a flash, and you were both disappointed and invigorated because of it. It only had just ended yet you wanted to watch it again and again. Peter had made a good choice.

“Thank you for such a wonderful day.” You murmured to him as you walked out of the theater. “You’re welcome, jellybean, but the day is far from over.” He grinned.

“What do you mean?” You asked, surprised that he had more planned.

“I mean it’s time to get back in the car. And don’t worry, the next part has more standing up and walking around.” He told you as you two headed to the car.

“Peter, I really don’t need anything else.” You tried to tell him.

“Come on, you’ll love it…” Peter said, giving you puppy eyes. “Please?”

“Fine.” You sighed. He had seemed to put a lot of effort into it all so you didn’t want to ruin it. “But then can we just go home?”

“Yes. Scout’s honor after this last place we will watch movies and cuddle.”

“You weren’t a scout.” You reminded him with a smile.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows. It made you laugh as he pulled onto the road once more, taking you to your last mystery location.

It was a 40 minute drive.

It was long and you were already sick of sitting in this car, but every time you whined like a child asking if you were there yet, Peter would only laugh and tell you that you were ‘getting close love.’

Once again when you were in the final stretch, Peter told you to close your eyes so he could properly surprise you. Much in the same fashion as earlier, Peter helped you out of the car and began to walk you along. Only this time you could somewhat hear where you were going.

“Peter… are we at Coney Island?” You asked him. Your eyes were still covered so you couldn’t see the pout and puppy eyes Peter gave you. He uncovered your eyes since you had guessed.

“Yes… you ruined your own surprise you know.” Peter told you, kissing the tip of your nose.

You giggled, shaking your head as you threw your arms around him. He really was probably the sweetest and best boyfriend you could ever even dream of.

“I know. It’s not my fault I have ears though.” You pointed out, pulling him into another hug.

“Yeah, but still…” Peter whined.

Eventually the boy gave up on the argument and pulled you into the park. The first thing he tugged you to was the swinging chairs, knowing it would give you two a great view of everything around. And despite the line, you two were able to get right on, another compliment of Mr. Stark. It was that way with everything. You had unlimited rides and unlimited games. Nothing could be better, except maybe just being home, cuddling with Peter.

Next you chose to play some of the carnival games that were everywhere, after Peter begged you to stop for cotton candy. And of course you had agreed, only you chose to steal from his rather than get your own.It was a whirlwind and before you knew it, hours had passed by in the blink of an eye, leaving you and Peter thoroughly tired out from your fun. It meant it was time to go, even if Peter was disappointed he hadn’t won you anything — rather, you won him a stuffed dog you two agreed to share custody of.

Before you two could leave, you pulled Peter into a photobooth, wanting to have some memento of the evening. But finally it was time to go home, and this time Peter told you he was headed to his place for one last surprise.

Your leg was bouncing with anticipation as you waited for him to get to his place. What more could this boy possibly have up his sleeve?

It turned out, Peter had set up the sweetest little fort in the middle of his living room. Aunt May was nowhere in sight and it just left the two of you. He handed you a little cupcake with a candle on it.

“Happy Birthday, Jellybean.” Peter smiled, kissing you softly. “Let’s watch some movies.”

You both walked over to his fort, getting rid of your shoes and climbing in. You settled between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as you ate your chocolate cupcake.

“What was your favorite part of the day?” Peter asked you eventually, after settling on Lilo and Stitch. He tried to fight for Rapunzel, but it was your birthday so of course he lost. Not that he didn’t usually lose that fight.

“Hmm, you know what? This is my favorite part.” You replied quietly.

Peter frowned, surprised and confused by your answer. “Really? But we do this all the time.” He said, knowing this wasn’t new or special.

“I know. But that’s what makes it great. All I need is you and some Disney movies and I’m happy. Everything else was great… but this is my favorite place to be.” You admitted to him. There was nothing better than cuddles and movies with Peter.

“Oh…” he murmured, suddenly feeling shy as his cheeks went 

“I love you Peter… You were all I needed to make today special.” You whispered, twisting in his arms so you could kiss him.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Peter smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “Happy birthday, angel.”

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Fourteen

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language, NSFW Language

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Note: Apologies, this is a repost from yesterday for reasons I won’t go into now. i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Fourteen

Sarah jostled with the mail as she entered their building, trying hard not to knock over the newest fresh plant currently adorning the entrance. They usually took it in turns to handle the post and whatever parcels the Supervisor had signed for that day but she was starting to feel a little short-changed as Shanna had consistently more post coming her way these days. Sarah realised she needed to get out more. Carting everything up the stairs was starting to become its own workout. Today’s treasures involved two Nasty Gal packages, a package from Pottery Barn, a box from Amazon, and what appeared to be a free sample of a Louis Vuitton fragrance. Sarah might just keep that last one to herself.

Jocelyn had sent another care package of sorts her way but it only served to remind Sarah that she had not called her folks in over a week. Ever since the accident, Jocelyn had been so consumed with worry that she had taken to sending Sarah articles ripped form magazines and gift cards for relaxation therapies. Despite Sarah’s many protests to the contrary, Jocelyn was sure Sarah was struggling with some form of undiagnosed PTSD. She’d read about it in a magazine. “If affects upwards of half a million American every year, honey.”

After successfully dodging the neighbour’s schnauzer, she eventually reached their floor and was just about to turn her key in the lock when the door swung wide open. Before she had time to react, she was brought face to face with a stressed-out Shanna, hair dripping wet from a shower. Not her favourite Shanna it had to be said. Not even in the Top Ten.

She grabbed Sarah by both shoulders. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear, Sarah! I’ve got less than an hour!”

“And hello to you, too!” Sarah smiled broadly, almost comically so, before Shanna lowered her head in embarrassment and moved out of the way so Sarah could physically get into her own home. She held the packages up. “Maybe there is something in here?”

Shanna shook her head. “No, they’re more summery. More formal.” She’d started fluttering around Sarah in a panic. “Do you still have that leather midi skirt? Do you think I could fit into it?”

“Uhh yeh it’s in the back of my closet somewhere.” she remembered. “Might be a bit warm, though? What are you gonna wear with it?”

“Well it’s a punky kind of bar, think it has live music and stuff so I thought maybe that Rolling Stones t-shirt and the maroon boots? Keep my hair down and casual?”

“So basically all of my clothes?” Sarah retorted. Shanna pressed her hands together in prayer and gave her the best pitiful smile she could manage, one she knew Sarah couldn’t resist. Shanna seemed to genuinely like this guy and if this guy was as charming and as smart as she told her he was, Sarah was sure she would like him, too. Hell, he’d be best friends with Scott and Chris in no time so long as he enjoyed football, Sam Adams, and didn’t put points on Shanna’s licence.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll see what I can pull together. Do you wanna borrow that heart necklace of mine? If you’re wearing your hair down, it’s probably best you avoid wearing earrings unless you want me to cut you out of them again.” Sarah shouted as she walked into her room unaware that Shanna had followed her closely behind.

“Oh god I hadn’t even thought that far. You know what, I might just cancel. This is just too much right now and I’m not even sure if he really likes me as anything more than a friend.” She feigned a dramatic flop onto Sarah’s bed, one arm landing across her forehead. Sarah delved through her closet to locate the desired items. If Shanna was threatening to cancel the date already, it must be serious.

“How many of you are going to this club?” Sarah asked, emerging from the closet doorway.

“Don’t know. Think three or four from my department and another couple from his?” she responded, hopelessness evident in her voice. Shanna never did well with vagueness where guys were concerned; everything had to be black and white with her.

“Come on, you’ve still got time.” Sarah encouraged as she carried some clothes and a couple of pairs of boots towards the bed. “Dry your hair and we’ll figure this out, OK?”

“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” Shanna pouted and Sarah tried to shrug off the pit growing in her stomach from her words. Shanna used every ounce of energy she could muster to get up and drag herself back into the bathroom leaving Sarah shaking her head.

It was only a rare occasion when Shanna took less time getting ready in the bathroom. Sarah had fond memories of shouting through the door back when they were at college and deciding to move in together required a complete 180 degree shift in her expectations. Still, in less than half an hour, here she emerged fully dressed, primer and foundation applied, and hair dried accordingly. It was a miracle of epic proportions and if she hadn’t shoved some false eyelashes into Sarah’s hand, Sarah would have snapped a photograph to send to the family as evidence that their little girl was growing up.

Thanks to her professional, steady hand, Sarah was always the eyelash-fixer among their group. While fixing a couple of lashes to the corners of her eyes, Sarah’s phone buzzed. It buzzed a couple more times in quick succession and she would have managed to ignore it had it not been for Shanna’a roving eye.

“Looks like someone wants you.” she murmured, trying her hardest not to move as Sarah held the glued lash in place with some tweezers.

“It’ll just be Audrey probably.” Sarah responded in no rush to check for herself, keeping a firm hold on what she was doing.

Shanna tried glancing to her side one more time to catch who it was but couldn’t quite make it out. It buzzed again. “I’d hate for you to miss out on a date with Greg on account of helping piece my pathetic love life together. Oooh maybe we could double-date!”

Shanna’s exclaim nearly caused Sarah to lose her grip on the tweezers but a sharp intake of breath convinced Shanna to give up the inquisition. “Sorry. Sorry.” she held her hands up as an apology before feeling Sarah’s hands relax as she moved across to the other eye.

Sarah was pleased to see Shanna eventually leave their apartment. Not because she wanted the peace particularly but just because it was nice to see her get excited over a guy that wasn’t Ben. She looked gorgeous, too. Sarah was quite proud of her work. If it wasn’t to be a proper date, it definitely would be after tonight. Robbie would be an absolute fool to miss out.

It was only when she slumped dow onto the couch and spent the next hour or so flicking through television channels that she remembered her phone had buzzed earlier on. She reluctantly peeled herself off the sofa and retrieved it from where it had originally landed on her bedside table. Honestly, it was like Shanna had taught her nothing.

From just two messages, Chris had attempted some mild flirtation with her before asking her if she knew what in God’s Name Penhaligon’s was.

Sarah 8.19pm: Perfume I think. Pretty old school brand. Why?

Chris 8.23pm: Mom wants it for her birthday. Never heard of it before. Scott thought it might be some kind of scarf??

She googled the name to make sure. Last thing she wanted was to end up ruining Lisa’s birthday celebrations with a present she absolutely did not want. Her birthday was something she took with increasing seriousness as each year passed by and her children and grandchildren grew older in front of her eyes. There was always a party of sorts, a massive cake, perhaps a theme, and a “suggestion list” for possible gifts. Well, they say “suggestion” but rarely did anyone dare deviate from “the list”. Sarah hadn’t yet considered buying a present but if Chris was already looking, she would no doubt need to catch up.

Sarah 8.34pm: Yep, pretty certain it’s a perfume. Pretty pricey. Good shout.

Sarah started scanning through her phone as another couple of messages caught her eye, some she had accidentally missed from earlier in the day. One from Audrey. One from Greg that she was not expecting.

Greg 7.02pm: Great news! 29th is set up. All you need to do is say the word! Don’t know how long I can hold the spot open so let me know as soon as you can. Have a great evening x

It took her a moment to register what he was talking about.

Chris 8.37pm: Cool THX What are you wearing??

Sarah stared down at the phone. She felt light-headed. There was far too much going on for this time of the day. She wiped at her forehead with her sweater sleeve and took a deep breath.

Sarah 8.41pm: You wouldn’t be interested lol

Chris 8.42pm: try me..........

He had a surprising habit these days of cheering her up.

Sarah 8.46pm: Nah I look a mess. Get out while you can.

Her phone started ringing almost as soon as she’d pressed ‘send’, Chris’ name flashing on her screen. She contemplated not answering now that her mood had taken a turn but she knew he would work out something was wrong and immediately dive over.

“Hey,” she answered, trying for a jovial tone but coming up just south of delirious.

“Hey you,” he smiled through the phone, happy to hear her voice. “In all the years I have known you, Bernette, not once would I describe you as looking like a mess.”

She laughed down the line. She made the right decision.

“...you are far too cute to ever be a mess. Do you know that? Like, I can already picture you with your sweats on, your hair tied up, soft skin...” he trailed off with a low sigh that she was sure was filthier than he intended it to be. “Man, that really does something to me.”

“You really know how to charm a girl. Have you figured this Penhaligon’s thing out yet? Was I right?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She laughed again. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m not great with flirting over the phone. You should know that by now.”

“Then do it with me in person.” he proposed as if it was the easiest solution in the world. As if she wasn’t going to be distracted with thoughts of work and studies enough to not focus on him entirely. And he didn’t deserve to be second best.

It would have been all too easy to allow him to come over. Forget about overthinking things again. There truly was no one better at making her feel good about herself these days. Like, honest, through-the-bone good about herself, whatever that entailed. Goosebumps raised on her skin at the thought.

“I’m pretty whacked to be honest and...”

“What’s going on? Are you feeling alright?” he asked, concern evident in his tone. Whatever he had been pottering about with in the background had stopped all of a sudden.

“Yes! Yeh, I’m fine. Just...I dunno, boring. Plus, it’s Friday night! You should be out with the guys or whatever. Shan said Scott is having issues with Zach again. Is he OK?”

He laughed at her second lame attempt to deflect. He knew something was going on and he knew she knew he wouldn’t give up easily.

“Is Shanna there?” he asked.

“No, she went out with some friends.”

“So why don’t you ask me to come over and I’ll make you feel better than fine?”

She was lucky she was sat down or that her legs were crossed underneath her as she lounged on the couch, her back against the arm rest. His tone was causing her to feel things she shouldn’t be focussing on. What must it feel like to always be confident of your effect on people?

“Do you wanna come over?” she asked, treading lightly, not entirely anxious should he decline.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” He ended the call almost as abruptly as he had dialled it.

She remained where she sat for a moment, Greg’s text message still lighting up her screen. She wasn’t expecting for things to suddenly be so easy for her and it was strange how opening herself up to more possibilities could cause her to feel so immobile.

She would need to move at some point and as a helpless and as confused as she now felt, she knew it would look far too obvious to Chris if she bid to make herself up. She also didn’t really have the energy to do so. Lord, Chris really should have taken the out when he had the chance.

“Have I just walked into a teenage girl’s bedroom?” Chris asked, taking a look around as he entered the apartment not long afterwards. He clearly found the scene amusing although Sarah couldn’t under stand why. It was partly Shanna’s home after all. He should be used to girly mess. “What’s going on?”

“Shan has a date. I was helping her to get ready.” Sarah replied, humourously holding up the hairdryer like a trophy before dumping it back in her bedroom. “Sort of, actually. She doesn’t quite know if it’s a date date or a friend date.”

“I was told those didn’t exist.” Chris smirked, reaching for a bottle of water from her fridge.

“Well, she’s dressed up for one. Looks gorgeous.”

“I think you look gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Chris, you don’t need to make any more effort, OK? You’re already in the apartment.”

“I think it bears repeating is all.”

He swallowed half the bottle of water before fixing her with a semi-quizzical stare. He tried to figure out what was going on as he watched her potter around the kitchen table, swiping something away into a cupboard, phone grasped in her hand. “What’s going on? You sounded weird on the phone and now you look like it as well.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” she answered far too quickly and tried to shrug it off but his body language told her he wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t sure what was bothering her more in this moment; him knowing her too well, or that he knew he knew her too well.

“OK, alright, well, it’s Friday night and I’m happy just hanging out and doing whatever but you can also talk to me as well. I’m not a monster.”

“It was her turn to look back at him, unsure of her next move or indeed his. she wondered if he was very likely regretting his decision to meet her now when twenty minutes in the opposite direction would take him to one of his favourite downtown dive bars. Instead, he rested against the side of the kitchen doorway, arms folded, a softness still present in his facial expressions. He seemed hesitant of what to say and she didn’t like the slight awkward air surrounding them. She didn’t want to venture into work-territory either.

“Do you want me to go, Sarah?”

She looked back up at him after a short spell spent staring down at her feet. “No. I don’t want you to leave. I’m just...there’s something...” she paused to re-evaluate her words. “You know what, it’s find. It’s nothing major. Of course I’m glad you’re here now.”

He pushed himself off from the counter and moved towards her, accepting of the greeting smile now covering her face, the bottle of water still in his grip. “Cool. Shall I follow your lead then, or...?”

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” she suggested, more casually than he would have liked. She didn’t know what to say to him now that all of her brain space was taken up with possibilities and wanting to call Audrey with the news. Chris hadn’t factored in watching a film but she seemed like she wanted a little peace and quiet and he had pretty much dived into the apartment as soon as she gave him the green light, eager as he was to see her without threat of Shanna walking in at any point.

“Movie sounds good.” He bobbed his head in agreement, content in their surroundings for now.

*

At some point towards the end of Searching, Chris quietly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Realising something was about to happen and not wanting to have to explain it to him after he returned, Sarah put the film on pause and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She had held him at an arm’s length for most of the night, the couch seeming longer somehow, but was now feeling a slight chill despite the thick sweater reaching midway down her thighs. He would no doubt have been cosy to snuggle up to but she was still pondering Greg’s message and couldn’t concentrate on much else.

Her demeanour hadn’t gone unnoticed by Chris. A couple of times he caught the glare from her phone screen illuminating her face from below and wondered who had gotten her attention this evening. He stopped himself from making an obvious joke and was disappointed that she hadn’t noticed him glance across at her several times during the movie. He wasn’t much interested in watching it. Telling the truth, he’d seen it via a DVD screener Matt had sent him months earlier but she’d mentioned she was looking forward to watching it and in all honesty, he had figured they would curl up together and he would have still gotten something out of it.

“Chris? Do you want a cup of tea?” she hollered from the kitchen doorway. No response for what seemed to be a long, long minute. She switched the kettle off and began pouring him one anyway. She could always drink two if he didn’t want it.

“Chris?” she shouted again.

She walked into the lounge to place the cups down and clocked the bathroom door ajar and seemingly empty. Maybe he left without telling her. In all fairness, she wouldn’t have been surprised or annoyed. She’d barely given him a moment of attention for the last two hours.

She wandered slowly down the hallway first passing Shanna’s bedroom before reaching her own and finding him stretched out across the bottom of her bed. She giggled and leaned on the side of the doorway. He looked rather comfortable. A little too comfortable. Maybe he wanted some company?

“What are you up to, Evans?”

He tilted his head up to find her standing there. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice I was gone.” He leaned up further and rested on one arm to fully take sight of her. His eyes appeared a little dopey, a thing that always seemed to give away his nefarious intentions. From the angle he was now lying in, the size of his bicep looked ridiculous. It could not have been an accidental move and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t working for her.

“Are you bored? You can absolutely go if you have a better offer, I promise I won’t mind.” she offered by way of an apology but he stayed looking at her, not moving or responding to her offer. Being caught under his glare like this was unnerving to say the least. His hair looked a little messy from where he had been lying down yet he still made zero effort to move at all.

“I’m not bored.” He finally spoke, sincerity lacing his voice. “Are you? You seem distracted tonight.”

She didn’t know how to respond except to say he was right and to apologise again. She hadn’t figured out what to say to Greg yet so explaining her thought process to Chris wasn’t going to get her very far. It was times like this, when he was looking at her like that, that she wished she had the confidence to try and shut him up the old-fashioned way.

“Come here...” It was barely a whisper and she would have doubted he had spoken at all if it wasn’t for the hand he was now holding out towards her. He didn’t blink once.

She couldn’t refuse him and moved slowly to stand in the middle of his now-parted legs hanging off the end of the bed as he sat up. She watched as he closed his eyes when he felt her fingers smooth through his hair. There was something so calming about her touch, the deliberate graze of her nails sending little shocks down his spine. He wasn’t normally fussed by a woman playing with his hair even if occasionally he liked it when they pulled on it but something about her slow, tender touch was unlike anything he had felt before.

He moved his hands to the side of her thighs before pulling her legs down to either side of him. “I love looking at you from here.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist making sure she couldn’t get away from him.

She moved in to kiss him, softly at first before she felt his tongue glide along her bottom lip, a wordless request for her to open up. He paused for a second, taking her in while she caught her breath before kissing her deeper than before. She pulled his t-shirt up from the hem and he reached up over his back to grab it and whip it off in record time. Not one of his proudest moments, it caught on his watch as he tried and failed to fling it to the side of them and he made a mental note to try that move again when he felt her chuckle against the side of his neck. He didn’t much mind being a dork in front of her. She knew he wasn’t as cool as he made himself out to be.

His hands found their way into her hair as he caressed the strands out of her face. He loved how silky it felt between his fingers and how faintly it smelled of coconut, her signature smell by now. Her hands gripped his wrists before slowly moving up his biceps and grasping at his shoulders while he pulled her down onto him to allow her to feel how hard he was becoming from her touch. He wanted to know she was only thinking about him. She felt him push up into her core and arousing her even more. His breaths were getting shorter while his hands moved down her sides in an attempt to hook into her leggings and drag them down and off her body. She moved a hand away from his shoulders to help him with his mission but a tapping sound soon broke her from her reverie.

“Wait.” she was still holding on to his arms to steady herself until things went quiet and his hands froze on her waist. Their breathing levelled out quickly and Chris threw her a confused look. “Do you hear something?”

“What?” He gasped. “No, nothing.” He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her back down to kiss him hard. His hands firmly gripped her ass until she was putting pressure back where he wanted it. She quickly forgot what she was thinking about while he moved her slowly along his growing length. He moved one hand up her side, dragging her sweater up with it so his fingers could finally feel her skin underneath. Her hands were pushing down on his chest a bit harder and in a moment that took her by total surprised he quickly flipped them over so she was lying underneath him, completely encased by his strong forearms.

Kissing her was so easy he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner. Her lips were soft, some of the softest her had ever touched. He figured she kissed like she wanted to be kissed, and he wanted to kiss her back like no boy had ever kissed her before. It was soft and hot and breathy and turning him on immensely. Neither was trying to win a battle but rather seeking and enjoying their closeness, the sharing of this one single sensation, outside world be damned.

The prospect of being uninterrupted was giving him all kinds of ideas. Her breathing was hot against his skin and he knew she was in the zone with him. They’d never particularly been slow and up until this point, he hadn’t much minded but he knew there was some part of her she was holding back and honestly, it was thrilling to him that he was determined to figure her out.

Pinning her underneath, one hand reached down and grazed the inside of her thigh. A little more pressure just over her clit caused her breath to hitch with a sudden squeak ever so slightly until they smiled back into their kiss, tongues massaging together. Honestly, he could carry on doing this for hours if he knew for sure there would definitely be another time they had this opportunity.

She opened her eyes to find him resting so close above her and evidently relishing the way she was lightly tickling the back of his neck with her fingers. Another languid kiss followed before he caught the side of her neck between his teeth and pushed himself against her core, her wetness increasingly apparent to him. She was growing accustomed to his need to tease her like this that she almost missed the scraping sound that had returned, only this time it was louder and sounded like it was coming from just down her hallway. She would have loved nothing more than to continue focussing on the hot breath now ghosting across her neck and shoulders but, panicking, she grudgingly pushed him off her.

“Fuck, what is that?”

Helpless and slightly dazed, all he could do was watch her get up from the bed to stand by the door. With an ear close to the gap, she listened out for another sound. Quieter than before, she swore she heard what sounded like shuffling followed by something being dropped on the ground.

Spying him about to protest, she shook her head. “Nope. Nope, that’s definitely something.” She proceeded to tiptoe out of her room and down the hall towards the kitchen, her bare feet treading ever so lightly and managing to dodge the one creaky floorboard. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find but felt a brief surge of confidence knowing the vision of Captain America might alarm whoever was attempting to break in to her home and presumably try to murder them both. He was 6 foot and built like a tank, he could absolutely save them both if push came to shove.

Of course, no one was there that she could immediately see. Maybe something had fallen off the wall instead, or perhaps had been knocked over by a strong breeze coming in via the open window in the lounge? Maybe she was hearing things after all or maybe it was a burglar but they got startled and ran away when they heard footsteps inside. Maybe it was just their neighbour moving around next door but it sounded a little too close for that. She resorted to the only thing she could think of in that moment and picked up a spatula just in case.

Chris was reluctantly putting his t-shirt back on when he followed quietly behind her, shaking his leg to relieve some of the tension in his boxers. Something banged again but this time she was sure it was coming from outside of her front door. He could now hear it as well but wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping to accomplish with a plastic spatula in her hand.

She held her finger up to her lips to stop him from making any noise and peered through the peephole. She couldn’t see anything. Gingerly, she decided to open the door and jumped backwards when there, on the ground hunched up and leaning against the door frame, was a rathe intoxicated Shanna. Her bag had been emptied in a hurry like she’d been trying to locate her keys, and her coat was falling off her shoulders. She was half-asleep.

Chris snorted from somewhere close behind Sarah unable to contain himself, instantly familiar with the view in front of him. Sarah exhaled with some kind of relief that they were safe from a mass-murderer.

“I don’t believe it...” she spoken quietly.

“I do!” Chris could barely stop the laughter coming out now.

She and Chris moved to help her into the apartment, each grabbing her under one arm. Chris bared the majority of her weight while Sarah carried her bag and as a many contents as she could find. They managed to manoeuvre her into her bedroom where she promptly fell forward, head first, onto her bed,

“Fuckin’ waster,” he laughed heartily before Sarah punched his arm to stop him  from waking her. the room fell silent for a moment before the unmistakeable sound of Shan snoring took over. Chris closed the door behind them before following Sarah to the kitchen where she collected the remaining items that had fallen out of her bag. Picking up her phone, she checked for scratches.

“Well at least she didn’t lose it this time,” she held up the mobile to him but noticed he couldn’t stop grinning. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” he shook his head. “I just wish I’d taken a picture of her. Scott would have a heart attack. Always told her she couldn’t handle her drink!”

“i don’t know how you’d explain getting hold of a photo of her.”

“Oh yeh, good point.” he chuckled in reponse. They regarded each other for a moment, Chris clearly hopeful they could pick up from where they left off.

“I think you should go,” Sarah thought apologetically.

He paused before answering, expecting her to have been joking. “Why? She’s passed out on her bed. She’ll be asleep for hours. Do you have any idea how many times I have seen her like this?”

“Have you any idea how many times I have seen her like this? She’ll wake up in the middle of the night and get into bed with me and it’d be a lot easier to handle if I didn’t have to explain to her why her bother was also there.”

“Sarah, we could throw a rave and she wouldn’t wake up.”

He was making no effort to move, instead fixing her with a stare waiting for her to recognise how ridiculous she sounded. His hands pinched at his hips and he looked a foot taller than before

“Seriously, Chris, you’re just going to have to leave.”

He took a couple of steps towards her, bare feet padding along the hard, cold floor. “I haven’t see you all week.” He moaned, hands reaching out for her hoping the memory of where they had been would be enough to convince her he should stay.

“That’s not true. You saw me the other day.” It was a weak response. Even she knew that.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

She offered back nothing. She had no response. He was disappointed and equally as frustrated with his lack of a decent comeback. He should definitely stay. He should be rocking her world right this moment and whispering filthy things into her ear but instead, all he could do was stand there and shake his head in defeat. When he made eye contact with her again, she looked somehow smaller in some way and he found it hard to continue being frustrated with her. He understood what she was doing as much as he didn’t want to.

Resigned, he shuffled towards her and embraced her in a hug. She felt him semi-hard against her tummy, briefly doubting her choices. It stirred something exciting inside her to think she could make him feel that way and mentally chastised Shanna for cock-blocking her. She felt bad for kicking him out like this.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” she whispered.

He loosely pulled away from their hug and looked down at her. He playfully raised an eyebrow and looked down at her lips, still pink and swollen, before chastely planting a kiss on them.

“I am absolutely going to hold you to that.”

*

Shan finally made an appearance the following morning looking like death warmed up. She’d somehow managed to remove her clothes but had a pyjama top on backwards and her hair was sticking out in all directions. She had Sarah’s expert eyeliner and a false lash smudged down one cheek.

Sarah was eating breakfast and checking the news on her phone when she saw the creature from the black lagoon emerge into her kitchen. Stifling a laugh at the sorry sight standing before her, she felt a pang of sympathy seeing every step cause her pain. Shan just pouted at her before taking a seat at the kitchen table, resting her forehead in her hands while Sarah fixed her a glass of juice and some aspirin. She took it gratefully before groaning.

“Remind me never to do shots again.” she stressed. Sarah knew it wouldn’t last, not with that Boston blood coursing through her veins. “Was Chris here last night?”

Sarah froze, a sudden ring clouding her ears. “Erm, no, he wasn’t.” She turned to put her bowl in the sink and tried to hide any blushes. She didn’t know who felt more like shit in this exact moment.

“Oh I could have sworn I heard him is all.” Shan said, more to herself than to anyone else. “God, it’s good he wasn’t. He’d have a ball game seeing me in that state. How awful was I?”

“Not very,” Sarah lied again.

“How did I even get home?” she asked, trying to piece together the flashes of memories that kept racing through her mind.

“Um, I think your friends dropped you off in a taxi and you somehow managed to get up the stairs but then I guess you couldn’t find your keys...?” Shan managed a puzzled look. “You were slumped against the front door.” She refilled her glass with juice. “You’ve been in bed for, like, twelve hours.”

“Shit, we must have started early.”

“Well it happens to the best of us.” Sarah sat next to her and pushed a loose piece of hair out of her sweaty, red face. “Your hair looks OK! I don’t think there is anything stuck in it this time.”

Shanna laughed for the first time before her head panged in revenge.

“So? Did anything happen with Robbie?” Sarah asked, a cheeky grin crossing her face. By the look on Shanna’s face, the answer was a resounding “no” but it could very well have been the alcohol-induced hurricane currently running though her head.

“Well, it was a great night regardless. You’d love the bar. I think we ran into that guy, the porter from your hospital? Pat something? Did you know he plated in a band?”

“Um, no, not at all. Wow.” Sarah was trying to picture Patrick with an array of different instruments to see which suited him before remembering the awkward time he attempted to drum Phil Collins’ ‘In The Air Tonight’ with two scalpels. “Actually, he does seem the type. I’ll have to let Audrey know. She’ll love this.”

“He sounded pretty decent. It’s not just punk music or heavy rock. I think we should all go one night. Maybe as part of Mom’s birthday week.” Shanna perked up a little, proud of the idea that had materialised in her head against all odds. “It’s amazing what people can do when they put some effort in. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Where you might be now if you just took a chance.”

Following a night of heavy drinking, Sarah wasn’t expecting such an existential conversation at this point in the day. But it was a good point regardless. She grabbed her phone from the table and typed out a message to Greg.

“Yes. I’m in.”

*

[backoftheroomandnotbelonging]

What more can you give? (YUNGBLUD x reader)

A/N: A little something for the Black Hearts Club this Christmas, hope y’all have a good one!

Dom has been working on a new album, to the detriment of his health. You force him to take Christmas off.

You knew Dom was passionate. It was one of the attributes that drew you to him initially; but seeing everything else he cared about fall to the side so that he could finish his latest album was something you knew Dom would want intervention for. Remembering his excitement whenever he makes a breakthrough made you smile. Your smile falls just as quickly when you think about how he’s so easily immersed and sucked into his music. He has tunnel vision; you’d unconditionally support him but even you had to admit it was difficult to, especially so close to the holidays.

The holidays had always been a controversial time for you. Growing up despite always having ‘good’ Christmases, they always feel a little off, a little fake, to you. You dreaded your first Christmas with Dom. It was your second Christmas after leaving home and you’d quite enjoyed that first year of just you alone. Maybe ‘dreaded’ was the wrong word, you cherished every moment with Dom and loved spending secluded winter moments with him but this hyperactive puppy on Christmas Day may be too much for your lack of enthusiasm. You really didn’t want to ruin his holiday, especially right now. No matter what you felt, you wanted to make this Christmas as laid back and ecstatic for him as possible. He needed some time, an excuse, to let loose and be silly and not have to think so much. He needed to lose the furrowed brow.

--------------------

As the season progressed it became more and more evident that drastic measures were going to have to be taken.

The morning after your work Christmas party (an event you had managed to get Dom to spare some time and headspace for) you woke intending to perform your traditional lazy morning in bed routine. You say tradition but for the last two months it had fallen by the wayside but, since you and Dom had purposely scheduled the day to be free, there was no better time to recommence it. You stretched under the pale frosty sunrays that spread across your duvet, humming with satisfaction as a cold chill tingled against your upper arms and elevated the warmth of the rest of your body. The lazy grin stretching upon your face was yearning to be nuzzled between Dom’s shoulder blades but as you wriggled around to find his body, your ankle met the brisk chill of the bedsheet. The duvet had been cast aside and the bed was empty. Now you didn’t feel quite so blissful because sat on the pillow, his pillow, was a pink post-it note reading:

Darlin

Gone to the studio

Luv ya!

You smiled at the sentiment before reminding yourself that this was now a common occurrence. Therefore, you rolled your eyes and flopped back down onto your pillow.

--------------------

A week later and you’d come down with the flu. For the best part of three days you were practically comatose on the couch: wrapped in a duvet, high on paracetamol and binge watching American Horror Story. You had hives blotching your body, moments when your vision would blackout and extreme skin sensitivity, as well as the usual symptoms. Dom had given in to your demands that he not see you until you were over the worst and you suppose, in some sense, he was grateful you were holed up at home because it meant he could burn himself out at the studio without your physical interference. Not that he didn’t care, he maintained constant contact and care for you…just from a distance. He’d given you what you asked for and you were especially thankful as it gave you the perfect opportunity to discuss a family visit with Sam.

--------------------

“Love? You home?”

“Yeah, just in the bedroom.”

“Whatcha doin?”

“Dominic. Baby, you know I love a cuddle but I’m trying to pack…”

“What we packing for? Are you leaving?”

“Oh, stop it, if I was leaving would I pack your boxers? I’ll tell you right now the answer is no. We are packing to spend a couple days with your parents.”

“But I got studio-“

“Uh- no, you don’t. That studio time never got booked. You can be as angry as you want but this is an intervention. You’re taking Christmas off. And it’s your mother’s birthday so…”

“Why? You understand how much this means to me.”

“Does it mean more to you than family? You’ve got to remember that everyone celebrates Christmas. Maybe Yungblud wants to be in the studio but don’t you think Adam, Tom and Michael might want to be home for the holidays?”

“I just…”

“I know, darling. I do. It means everything to you; we all know how dedicated you are and how much the fans mean to you. But take a second: close your eyes, breathe and look inside yourself. Dom, baby, you’re burning out. Please, please, just take a few days out with me.”

“I will, love.”

--------------------

By late Christmas Eve you were back at Dom’s apartment. He’d enjoyed catching up with his parents and messing about with his sisters but had declined the opportunity to stay for actual Christmas Day because he wanted your first Christmas together to be alone and shamelessly romantic, or so his mother told you after the New Year. The entire journey to London was spent with Dom’s USB in the radio and him trying to find the lyrics to match the earworm he’d already recorded.

He then proceeded to spend the night on his laptop with headphones and composition software, only moving to sleep when you hauled him up and claimed that his present would be replaced with coal. He was out like a light. The second that boy sunk into the mattress he was gone. It made you frustrated because it proved that you were right. You loved him dearly, of course, but he was a stubborn bugger – absolute in the belief that he wasn’t too tired and too overworked so could continue his new routine. Idiot. Wouldn’t listen to reason or accept help and now he’s passing out to sleep instead of just sleeping like a log.

--------------------

You were jarred awake to the tones of ‘Last Christmas’ by WHAM. You smiled beneath the blanket covering your face; it was Christmas. The mattress was empty next to you, again, but you knew Dom wasn’t far. And that he wasn’t working. With that reassurance in mind you burrowed deeper into the covers and allowed the gentle beat of the music drift you into a state between awake and sleep.

The floorboards began to groan but you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes fully. A gentle thud sounded as something was placed on the stack of books by your bed. A kiss was planted on the crown of your head. The floorboards creaked and the door squeaked as it was left ajar.

You prised your eyes open and saw a steaming mug of tea atop your battered copy of ‘the Help’. A warm fuzz filled you as a sleepy smile emerged. Shuffling to sit by your pillow you reach for you tea, cradling it in your hands and resting it against your chest. The smell and warmth bringing immediate comfort to you; the steam felt therapeutic against the dry skin of your face – the English winter wind is brutal. You stayed curled up with your drink for the next half hour. Dom had evidently unearthed the Christmas album from where you’d hidden it and you had to admit the stream of festivity in your ears was making you light up. The children in the flat above yours were scampering about, letting out excited yells and being shushed by their parents; it made you think of how your future Christmases may one day be…

--------------------

Once the dregs of your tea had been drunk, you made a move. Swinging your legs out of bed you hissed at the cold floor and reached for the oversized pink socks you’d smuggled out of the latest Yungblud merch collection. Deciding already that you’d need another layer, you found your favourite cardigan strewn across the foot of the bed. Now amply protected from the elements you ventured out of your bedroom towards the source of the noise.

You’d intended to make Dom aware that you were awake immediately but the serenity of the scene you walked in on made you freeze. Dom was filling the coffee machine, unloading the dishwasher and clearing surfaces for the midday bomb that would be two young adults pretending to adult and cook an entire Christmas lunch. The domesticity and thoughtfulness in his actions warmed your heart. What made you tear up, however, was the sight of his shoulders.

(And not just because his unzipped hoodie was sliding off his shoulder giving you a…view.)

As he bopped around the kitchen, all bent knees and dramatic wrists, the swaying flow of his shoulders was effortless. For months they had gathered tension and rigidity, and now it seemed he no longer held the weight of the entire world there. Dom suddenly began to spin, arms out and laughing. Your stomach swooped causing a bubble of laughter to escape. As ‘Christmas (Baby Come Home)’ played out he stared at you. Up and down. You got shy in the doorway. His boyish grin returned, with the full force of his teeth behind it.

The opening chord of ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ began and you could tell from the twitch of his lip that your moment of silent reflection was over. He swung the mug from your hand, while twirling you, to place it on the side before bringing you close. For the next couple of minutes, the pair of you jumped and dropped and lively slow danced until you were breathless, sweaty and giggling.

--------------------

Dom collapsed over you: arms flung over your shoulders like dead weight, head resting beside yours and legs each side of one of your own.

“I’ve been in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Dom-“

“No, love. I went too far. Balance is hard for me cus I just wanna throw myself into everything 100% always but I neglected you and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Dom. I understand that about you; not just that, I love that about you.”

“The thing is, you might want to take that apology because it’s all I have to offer you today…”

You chuckled, “What more can you give me? These past few days you’ve given me the trust to make judgements for you. That means everything to me.”

“Well…you’re my favourite. And I’m going to keep you forever.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

Do you weigh less than 130 pounds? Yeah, quite a bit less.

Do you straighten your hair every day? No. I haven’t straightened my hair in years.

What kind of car do you drive? I don’t drive.

What’s your favorite kind of ice cream? Strawberry, mint chocolate chip, birthday cake, and cookies and cream are good. I haven’t had ice cream in quite awhile, though. 

Do you wear earrings daily? No. It’s been awhile since I’ve worn earrings as well. 

Do you prefer purple or green grapes? Green.

When’s the last time you got your eyebrows waxed? I only got them waxed once and I was like 14.

Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No. Talk about claustrophobia. And I have no desire to do so anyway. 

Did your last kiss mean anything to you? Yeah.

How’s your hair right now? It’s up in its usual messy bun.

Have you ever wanted to go to Australia? I would love to.

What’s your favorite fast food restaurant? I’m not as into fast food as I used to be, but the ones I go to when I do have it are Chick-fil-A, Carl’s Jr, McDonald’s, and Jack in the Box.

When’s the last time you washed your hands? A few hours ago.

Who were you with the last time you were drunk and where were you? I was with a group of friends in a hotel room I rented for my birthday back in 2013.

What is one thing within the last year that if it had gone differently you feel might have changed things now? If I had done some things I should have been doing and managing things better regarding some of my health related issues.

What is something that you associate with summer? The miserable heat.

Have you ever ran around outside completely naked? Uh, no. Absolutely not.

When you’re hungry, does your stomach hurt? Sometimes. My body is super dramatic like that. I’ll feel weak sometimes and it’s like omg stop acting like you haven’t ate in days.

Would you say that you have a nice smile? No.

Have you ever walked in on your parents doing something kinky? Ahhhh, no.

Do you use mouthwash? No.

Do you eat anything out of a box? Yeah.

When’s the last time the fire alarm in your house went off? It’s never gone off. The only time it has made noise is when the batteries need to be replaced.

Can you be trusted with secrets? Yes.

Pill to make you braver or one to make you smarter? Braver. I’d be able to get some things taken care of that I’ve put off because I’m anxious and scared.

Are you in a hurry to grow up? I am grown up at 31 I guess, but I’m in no hurry to get older. I was never in any hurry.

When was the last time you used a bar of soap? Yesterday when I showered.

Do you keep notes, drawings or letters that people give you? Yes. I’m big on that.

Have you ever been locked in a car with a bf/gf? No. How would we be locked in the car?

Have you had a bf/gf that you never kissed? No. 

How many true best friends are present in your life? No friends, but I have my family.

Do you currently have a significant other? Nope.

Do your parents approve of the people you hang out with? They never had an issue with any of my friends.

Would you be able to stand being in the same room as someone you hate? I don’t hate anyone, so.

Have you ever lost a close friend? Yes.

Think of your current or last bf/gf. Do you/did you love them? I did.

Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like? I’m single, but no one said anything about the way my exes looked.

Have you ever stayed up late talking to a bf/gf on the phone or online? Yes.

Do your friends like the people you date? Do their friends like you? They had an issue with Joseph because they saw what I didn’t want to see, which was that he was using and playing me and wasn’t treating me right. I haven’t had an issue with their friends.

Do your parents let you date, or do you sneak around? I’m 31 years old. I can’t blame my non-existent dating life on that haha.

Have you ever felt backstabbed by a close friend? Yes.

Do you have any handshakes with anybody? No.

Do you feel you can rely on anybody to always be there for you? I know my family will always be there.

Have you ever regretted ignoring anybody? I’ve pushed people away and messed up good things. :/

What has been the stupidest reason someone has broken up with you? Joseph just didn’t want to commit. He wanted me when it was convenient and when he felt like it.

Have you ever kissed someone in their bedroom, or in yours? No.

Has a friend of yours ever confessed their love to you? No.

Have you gone out with someone, then ruined the friendship you had before? My first boyfriend and I were good friends before we started dating and yeah it definitely changed things after.

Can you trust any of your friends at full capacity? No friends. I trust my family, though.

Is the word 'love' even in your vocabulary? Yes.

Who do you think is more confusing, males or females? People are confusing.

Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else? No.

Do you have any pictures of yourself with a bf/gf? I have photos of myself and my exes.

Do your friends know how to make you smile in tough times? My family does. My doggo always can.

Has anybody said they loved you, but you didn't love them back? Yes.

Is there anyone you don't like that always seems to be everywhere you are? No.

Is there anyone you care about more than you care for yourself? My family.

What/who do you take the most pictures of? My doggo.

How long did you spend in a vehicle today? I’m not going anywhere today. 

When you make a mess are you more likely to clean it up right away, or do you get to it later? I clean it up right away.

Who do you blame for your bad mood today? I’m just annoyed because yesterday I slept until 6PM and today I’ve hardly slept at all, I kept getting up like every hour. It’s 10AM now and I first fell asleep around 6, so yeah not much sleep going on. :/

By what age would you like to be married? I don’t plan on getting married.

What are you looking forward to right now? Nothing at this moment.

Do you have any split ends? Yes.

Is there a book you're currently reading? Yeah, I’m finishing up this book called, “Anything for You” by Marissa Finch.

Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No.

When was the last time you went to the dentist? It’s been awhile. :/

The last time you cried, what was wrong? Oh ya know, life.

Do you sleep with a fan on? Yes, even now in the winter.

What's the last video game you played? Animal Crossing: New Horizons. 

What do you usually drink at meals? Coffee or water.

Are you going to a library tomorrow? No.

Do you sleep better during thunderstorms? No, but I do enjoy them.

Has anyone pissed you off based on their actions recently? Yes.

What language did you take up in high school? I took Spanish all 4 years.

You’re single, correct? Yep.

Is the last person you texted good looking? My mom is beautiful. 

At this very moment, what exactly are you doing? Besides the obvious I’m listening to an ASMR video.

How do you feel about girls smoking? I don’t care what gender is doing it, I personally don’t like it.

Have you ever been in a perfect relationship? No. Perfect relationships don’t exist.

Is the person you last texted in a relationship? Yeah, my mom is with my dad.

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Nope.

Do you like “good morning” texts? I don’t get those.

Last movie you watched? Wonder Woman 1984.

Name something you like about winter: I love Christmastime, the weather, the clothes, the colors, the smells, the coziness...all of it.

What’s your favorite color? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow.

Would you rather be called hun or baby? I don’t really care for either one.

Is there someone that you miss being close with? Yes.

Have you ever fallen asleep in someone’s arms? When I was little.

Does anyone completely understand you? I don’t think completely. I certainly don’t completely understand myself.

In the last 12 months can you say you truly cared about someone? My family.

You were single last month, why? Uhh, because I’m not interested in or talking to anyone in that way. Like, there’s literally no one right now. No one is interested in me either.

Would you rather get 1, 12, or 24 roses? I’d appreciate any amount.

What is something you like to do when you’re down? Cry and one of my go-to activities I do normally as a distraction.

Do you believe teenagers can fall in love? Sure.

Have you ever received a text message that made you cry? Yes.

Did you enjoy your summer? Last summer was even worse because I wasn’t able to go to the beach, which is the only thing I like about summer.

When you watch movies at home, do you like the lights on or off? I tend to just keep ‘em on.

Do you think relationships are even worth it? Yes.

Is any part of you sad at all? All of me.

Do you like your first name? Sure.

What’s most stressing right now? Health and life stuff.

What are you listening to currently? An ASMR video.

Have you done anything embarrassing lately? Not recently.

Dark hair or light hair in the opposite sex? Whichever.

Do you judge people you don’t know? Not to the point that I don't want to get to know them, but yeah. <<< That’s a good way of putting it. Like, I think we all judge people to some extent and that’s normal and not always a bad thing, but some people are judgmental people and they make up their own assumptions and opinions without getting to know a person. They have their mind made up and it stops them from getting to know someone. 

Would you date a boy/girl if you knew they were capable of cheating on you? I guess anyone is capable of doing so, so it’s something that could possibly happen in any relationship. However, if I knew someone had in fact cheated before or was known for that, then no I would not. Even if they had cheated once it would be something I’d worry about happening to me.

Did you sleep alone last night? I always do.

If you could have one thing right now what would it be? I’m kinda hungry, but meh.

Would you rather have ten kids, or none? None, hands down. I don’t even want one kid, let alone TEN.

Do you tell your mom or dad everything? I tell my mom a lot.

Does it matter to you if your boyfriend or girlfriend smokes? It would absolutely matter to me if they smoked cigarettes.

Have you ever been hurt by someone you never thought would hurt you? Yes.

Do you have siblings? I have two brothers.