Kitchen-Window

anonymous asked:

what's... what's the difference between owning and acquiring a ferret

owning: keith contacts a weird dude on the internet and a few months later comes home w a lil bed and scratching post and a ferret wearing a collar

acquiring: one day keith came home only to hear weird scuffling noises in his kitchen. he immediately pulled out his knife and checked out the situation, only to find a ferret digging through his cereal cabinet. keith warily eyed the ferret and debated moving it, but the ferret ignored him to continue eating shiro’s shitty old man cereal, so keith just let it be. he figured it would eventually leave through the open kitchen window (presumably how it got in in the first place), and it did. this continues to happen. keith has no idea who’s ferret this is, but he honestly can’t really bring himself to care. over time, he and the ferret eventually acclimate to each other. they learn to coexist and share the kitchen. they don’t cuddle but they do acknowledge each other, and keith likes to take selfies with it. one day shiro comes home to find keith chilling on the couch watching judge judy w the ferret and he drops the groceries.

His || Jungkook || 0.16

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13| 0.14 | 0.15 | 0.16 |

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It’s not even that Bitty doesn’t think he’s cute, because plenty of people think Bitty is cute. Hell, he’s got a vlog - over half his audience call him ‘adorable’ and the rest use words like ‘nice boy’ and ‘such a sweetheart’ 

He carefully retakes, crops and filters his selfies so that he (and whomever he is with) always look their best, and he is aware that he’s got a great body - he has to, what with the hockey and all. 

Not that anyone would know about the great body though, because it’s not like anyone has ever made a damn move to get their hands on it. 

Or so he thinks.

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Jeremy is pouring tea. The gentle early morning sun pouring through the kitchen windows, bouncing off of the prisms set on the windowsill and projecting rainbows onto the white kitchen walls. Michael is watching. Jeremy’s messy hair is tucked gently behind his ear as he carefully rips open two teabags, biting his lip with concentration. The light blue counter almost glows in the sunlight. The sliding door, leading to the back porch, is open, allowing a cold breeze to leave goosbumps on Jeremy’s thighs. He is only wearing boxers underneath Michael’s loose red hoodie. He shivers, but looks out the window, smiling and setting the tea onto the glowing counter. Michael is leaning in the doorway, he watches still. His beautiful boy. This beautiful home. Their beautiful life.

2 March, 2017

I was afraid to be happy. Genuinely afraid—

that I’d look back upon my present grin and see nothing but complacency and settlement; that the unforgivably significant small moments I’d been holding on to so dearly would reveal themselves to be nothing but guises; that what I was experiencing was not happiness at all, but rather a deliberately placed shield, by my own hand, in an effort to avoid the inevitable conclusion that I’m…well, that I’m not happy.

But then again, I have to ask: what makes this any more real? Sitting in Caitlin’s apartment kitchen, looking out the window to the first piece of blue sky I’ve seen in a week, feeling the island work itself into my complex sensory—what makes this genuine and the former not? Because I’m tempted to say that it’s all relative, that happiness isn’t some blanket statement applying equally to all that seek it. Because wasn’t I happy then? Walking into work, seeing her sweater vest of the day and long dark hair, feeling a jump in my step; practicing solitary life, then rejoicing when I found love again; acting so genuinely as myself that it ceased feeling like myself? Because I feel genuine in saying that this isn’t any more me than the me that typically exists…I’ve just faced more resistance, more questioning, cursory looks at who I am, that I’m forced to wear it proudly.

Then, I fear, I was so deeply comfortable that I forgot when to fight.

But I am not the product of segmented thrill, moments tediously chosen to drag me through those less than. I am not the thoughts that I think, the people I meet, or the places I am. If I believe in anything, it’s that what’s to come will always be greater simply because I understand what I didn’t before: that I will never reach static gratitude, nor love, nor simplicity, but will eternally oscillate between.

So, it’s clear to say, I’m not sure who I’ll be when I return. I don’t know how I’ll be with others in the way I did, so confident with love and direction. How can I look into the faces of those I’ve broken myself for and feel that they still deserve? How can I love, genuinely, knowing they’ve disregarded my heart?

And, most pressing, what do you do when complacency falls out of step, and real love falls in?

I may be wrong, but I think I’m about to find out.

J.S.


Location: Waipio Valley, Island of Hawaii
Instagram: plvntstrong

Can We Pretend

Author: @sincerelystiles
Pairing: Stiles x Reader
Word Count: 2, 783

Warnings: public sin ;)

A/N: i wasn’t too sure about writing or posting this at first, but after thinking it over multiple times, i decided to just do it. thankyou so much to my baby @dylanobsessed for encouraging me that this was a good. i hope that by putting this out to you guys in such a way, will make you more aware of someone’s true intentions with you.

Originally posted by sensualkisses


Parties had never been my thing. The idea of being almost suffocated by intoxicated bodies never really tickled my fancy. But, this was Lydia’s party and God knows she’d have my head on a stick if I didn’t attend. It was only an hour in, and I had already drunk more than intended.

You see, I hardly drink. Being seventeen and best friends with the “popular girl” would make you believe that I party and drink all the time. But I don’t. However, when I do occasionally drink, you’d think I was a forty year old alcoholic who’s husband and kids just left with his secretary.

I wasn’t planning on getting drunk this early on in the evening, but I suppose it was a pretty good job I did. I’ve been trapped in the backyard for almost forty minutes now, and I have no way of getting inside. Take the door, you may say. But, that is a little easier said than done. Mr. Theo Raeken is currently occupying the small space just by the back door, preventing anyone getting in or out.

If it was anyone else standing there, it wouldn’t be a problem. Unfortunately for me, Theo is that ex that ruined your life and you now can’t bare to be within a five mile radius of him.

The alcohol coursing through my veins managed to give me the confidence of walking past him once, but there’s no way I have it in me to pass him again. At least, not without another few drinks. I take in my surroundings, Mason hovering over the grass as he dangles his fingers down his throat in attempt to clear himself out as much as possible - I cringe at the sight - whilst others chitchat by the pool, their feet soaked as they sit at the edge.

The sky was dark as ever, the stars and moon illuminating down on us as the florescent lighting from Lydia’s kitchen pierced through the windows. It wasn’t until now that I realised my choice of revealing clothing probably wasn’t the best idea. My skin was riddled with goosebumps and I wanted nothing more that to cuddle into a blanket.

“Hey you.” A voice snaps me back to reality, as a large figure takes a seat on the brick wall beside me. I squint my eyes at them in attempt to suss out their features through the dark night, and I finally manage to see who it was. “Well hello, Stiles!” I beam happily, smiling drunkenly at the boy before me. He chuckles at my state wrapping my arm around my shoulder and shifting in his place.

I smile to myself, leaning my head on his shoulder and swigging the sweet substance in my cup. “You’re drinking for once?” Stiles laughs, poking the cup in my hands and I face him with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively. Did he think I was some good girl? I frown at the thought.

“Nothing babe, why are you freezing out here?” He asks, handing me his jacket which I gratefully accept. “There’s a snake blocking the door.” I grumble, covering my arms with the thin fabric and snuggling into it, inhaling his sweet scent that lingered onto the material. Stiles laughs at my comment, shaking his head and taking a swig of his beer.

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the stars above us and the occasional roars of laughter from inside. “Come on,” Stiles finally speaks, standing from his seat and holding his hands out to me. I furrow my eyebrows. “I’m gonna make sure you have a good time, even if that asshole is in there.” I smile up at him, taking his hands and he pulls me up.

Stiles wraps an arm around my shoulder as I wrap one around his waist for support. He pulls me inside and pushes past masses of people, his arms never leaving my shoulder. It’s a lot warmer inside and louder too. Music was blaring from all different areas of the house and cups and bottles were scattered everywhere. Lydia will not be pleased to clear this up.

I scan my eyes over the different groups of people talking and dancing, until I land on one familiar face. Theo stood by the door, beer in hand and a smirk on his face as he conversed with a group of boys and girls I had never seen in my life. He nods at something that was said before he scans his eyes over the room, landing on me almost immediately, and his smirk falters.

I look away quickly, tugging Stiles’ shirt slightly to gain his attention. “You alright?” I nod my head, gulping loudly as I feel Theo’s hard stare burning into the side of my face. “I wanna get a drink.” Stiles nods at me, saying goodbye to someone near us and leading me toward the fridge.

“Body shots!”

I spin around, falling out of Stiles’ grasp as a drunken Mason jumps toward me. Mason was a lightweight, two beers and he’s gone. He stops in front of me, eyes low but wide with excitement. His hair was messy, shirt spotted with wet patches from where he most probably spilt his drink from jumping around too much. He was like a kid on crack.

“Mas!” I giggled, hugging him tightly as he cradles my head and sways us side to side. “Sh, it’s okay. I got you.” He slurs, causing me to pout. “Is he staring?” My question was muffled by his shirt, but he still understood, nodding his head in confirmation. I sigh loudly and pull away from him, my shoulders now slumped.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks, handing me another drink and returning his arm around my shoulder. “Theo keeps staring at her and it’s creeping us all out.” Mason speaks for me, wobbling slightly then giggling, which only causes me to giggle quietly too. Stiles stares at us both with an amused smile, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind me and nuzzling his face into my neck.

I giggle at the gesture and spin around in his arms. wrapping mine around his neck and smiling up at him dizzily. “Wanna give Theo something to stare at?” Stiles asks huskily, a hesitant smirk on his lips which only catches my attention, causing an ache to pang between my legs.

I giggle seductively, carefully looking beside me to see Theo’s eyes boring into us, watching my every move. I smirk to myself before turning back to Stiles, staring at his lips before I reach onto my tiptoes and press my lips against his.

Stiles’ hands grab my cheeks, pulling me closer and kissing me harder. I groan against his lips, savouring the taste of sweet liquor that stained the flesh. My fingers tangle into his dark curls whilst his hands leave my face, travelling down my sides and grabbing a handful of my ass, eliciting a small moan from me that shoots from my mouth and into his.

His warm tongue licks through the seam of my lips, pushing them apart as his tongue danced against mine messily. I pull away slowly, breathing hitched with a smile on my face. I gulp away my nerves. “Is he still staring?” I ask in a shaky breath, the tip of my nose rubbing against Stiles’, our bodies still flushed against one another’s.

Stiles’ eyes trail over behind me, his smile only growing. “Oh, he’s gawking.” I snorted at his words, my body shaking with laughter, and I cling onto the back of Stiles’ shirt for support. “What do you say we get outta here?” He smirks down at me. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, staring up at him through my lashes before a smirk etches onto my lips.

I spin on my heels, hand wrapping around his and I push past multiple groups of people with Stiles waltzing behind me. My eyes meet Theo’s dark ones, and any other time, I’d be quick to look away, but instead, my gaze on him lingered, until I was out of sight and climbing up the stairs, swaying my hips more than usual - knowing Stiles would be watching my ass with his first class view.

Upstairs was a lot quieter, hardly anybody occupied the empty space, which made things a lot easier. Pulling Stiles down the longing hall with me, we finally reach Lydia’s spare bedroom and I slowly push the door open. The room was already dimly lit by the bedside lamp and moonlight that shone through the window.

In a matter of seconds, the door slammed closed and my back was pressed against it, arms pinned above my head and heavy breath fanning over my neck. I whimper at the feeling, a wetness already beginning to pool in my panties and I shift uncomfortably. “Stiles,” I pant, rubbing my thighs together in attempt to ease some of the pent up sexual frustration I had. Stiles noticed my slight movement, and jabs my legs apart with his knee, causing me to whine and him to chuckle at my vulnerable state.

“We’ve got all night baby, don’t rush.” He taunts, rubbing the tip of his nose against the skin of my neck and I audibly moan at the feeling of his hot breath against my skin. “But I don’t wanna wait.” I growl, a rush of confidence surging through me and I push him off me, watching as he stumbles back. His eyes darken in the moonlight, and I charge toward him.

Stiles crouches a little as I approach him and jump into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck as our lips battle in a messy fight, tongues clashing and teeth nibbling. He spins us around, throwing me onto the large bed and tearing his shirt off his body. I stare up at him adoringly, loving the way his muscles flexed with every movement he made.

I copy his actions, ridding myself from my flimsy shirt and throwing it across the room, my nipples instantly hardening as the cool air hits them. Stiles grunts at the sight, crawling between my legs and latching his lips onto one of my hardened nubs, whilst his fingers pinched the other.

I whine in response, the fire in my stomach only growing as my back arched from the mattress. My fingers tangle within his matted locks and I pull his face from my chest, our lips just centimeters away until I press mine against his. Stiles’ hands roam down the sides of my body until his fingers loop around into the waistband of my leggings and panties. I whimper with excitement, and he pinches the fabric between his fingers, tugging the materials down my legs.

Stiles slowly crawls down my body, lips messily cashing together as he tugs off his pants and boxers, throwing them across the dark room. He carefully aligns himself at my entrance, his tip pushing through my folds as the door swung open, sharp light invading the room as drunken cheers bounced off the walls. My body froze, Stiles jumping up from me and throwing the covers over us.

“What’s going on in here?” Mason giggles, a drunken Scott and Liam following after him. “We.. were about to… take a nap.” Stiles lies, his voice squeaking slightly. I furrow my eyebrows at Scott and Liam as the begin to clamber toward the bed Stiles and I were currently naked under. “How are we gonna get away with this?” I whisper to him, curling into his side.

Scott and Liam climb into the bed with us, their legs squashing our bodies together as our toes were all in each other’s faces. My breathing quickens at the thought of someone moving the bed covered exposing our naked bodies. However my breathing immediately stops when I feel a warm hand roaming the inside of my thighs.

My eyes widen, stomach dropping and I clamp my mouth shut to conceal an oncoming moan. I turn to Stiles with a worried expression, my arousal heightening at the smirk that sat upon his lips. I clamp my thighs around his hand, causing it to move further up until it was cupping my soaked heat.

Stiles nuzzles his head in my neck, flattening his tongue against the skin and licking his way up to my ear. I release a shaky breath, clamping my bottom lip between my teeth as his hot breath ghosts over my ear. “Open your legs.” My body obeys before I could even process his raspy words, his fingers making quick work of spreading my folds and swiping his finger up my slick entrance.

“Fuck. You’re drenched baby. I just wanna taste you so bad.” I whimper at his filthy words, covering it immediately with a strangled cough, which neither Liam nor Scott seem to notice as they continue with their conversation. Stiles slowly dips his middle finger into me, curling against my walls and my back arches from the mattress at the insane amount of pleasure he was somehow conflicting on me with just one finger.

God knows what that tongue could do.

My hand travels beneath the sheets, roaming around our bodies until my hand wraps around his fully erect cock, my eyes widening once again at the feeling of his size. He hisses at the feeling, earning Scott’s attention which he quickly avoids by rubbing his forehead with his spare hand. Scott simply nods his head, understanding that Stiles had an apparent headache, then continued to converse with Liam.

Stiles picks up his pace, pumping his finger in and out of me, curling against my walls and rubbing tight circles on my clit with his thumb. His whole hand was soaked with my arousal and he only just started. I cleared my throat to disguise my strangled moans and ran my thumb across his throbbing tip; smearing the already present precum before sliding my warm hand down his shaft.

His face buried into the crook of my neck, his lips attaching to the skin and surely sucking a purple bruise that’ll be no fun hiding in a few days. I purse my lips together, eyebrows furrowing and eyes squinting as my the back of my head presses hard against the pillow, my toes curling at the sudden intensity of pleasure I was receiving.

My grip on his cock released as Stiles’ finger curled against my g-spot, my whole body breaking into a hot sweat. My hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing tightly to tell him I was close, but he had no mercy and continued his relentless assault.

My body was on fire and my mind felt like it was about to explode at any second. The knot in my lower abdomen only grew tighter and my walls clenched around his fingers. Stiles jolted up from his position, throwing his clammy hand over my parted lips to muffle any screams I was about to muster.

I met his dark eyes as his face hovered above me, my thought clamping together and my eyebrows furrowed. Stiles knew I was about to cum at any second, so he picked up his pace, curling harder inside of me and pumping faster. “Bite me.” He mouths to me, eyes wide and demanding, so I did exactly that; his dominant side only turning me on even more.

My back arched from the mattress, my vision fading and replaced with darkness as I came on his fingers, biting what probably felt like a hole in Stiles’ hand. My body shook, oversensitive from the insane amount of pleasure that coursed through my bones, and Stiles pulled out, bringing his drenched fingers to his lips and sucking them clean.

I could’ve easily came again at the sight, as my vision was finally restored. I sat up in my place, my chest heaving and I noticed two sleeping bodies by our feet and a passed out Mason on the floor. I turn back to Stiles, watching as he redressed himself and hands me back my clothing from the floor, that somehow went unnoticed by the intoxicated teenagers.

I quickly redressed in the bed; too afraid to leave in case one of them were to wake up and see my naked body. Once I had finished fixing myself, Stiles crawled back into the bed, throwing the covers back over us and pulling me into his chest.

He presses a light kiss to my forehead, stroking my hair as I stare at the darkness of his black shirt, wondering what the fuck just happened, and what will happen from here.

Breakfast on the Patio

AN: Enjoy some early morning fluff.

Thanks to @whore4batfam for letting me write this.

It’s inspired by this post!


Early morning breakfasts are a tradition for you and Bruce. During the summers the two of you sit on the porch and talk quietly while Alfred works in the kitchen. The kids are typically still asleep, so the two of you enjoy the quiet and your special alone time together.

    Which is why, you’re more than a bit surprised when Damian storms out onto the patio. Your youngest wakes up early. It’s a fact of life. It is also a fact that he spends this time in the morning training. Setting down your orange juice, you and Bruce turn to face him. Before you can even ask what’s wrong, he shouts, “You need to have a baby!”

    You choke on nothing, and as you cough, Bruce’s hand pounds against your back. As the fit subsides you look up at your youngest, “Excuse me?”

    “I refuse to be the baby any longer. Grayson, Todd and Drake are constantly using it as an excuse to keep me away from things. I’m not allowed near Joker, because I’m the baby. I can’t drive the batmobile, because I’m the baby. No Damian, you can’t diffuse that bomb, you’re the baby!

    Your voice is hoarse as you say, “Damian … it’s not that simple.”

    He scoffs, “What are you talking about? Father adopted three children without you, and I’m the result of a drug induced one-night stand. How hard is it? Have a child together, adopt, I don’t care just as long as it is younger than me. Because I am done being the baby.”

    You watch him storm off and turn to your husband. He smirks at you, “Well that’s one way to ask for a younger sibling.”

You can feel a blush spreading to your cheeks, “Bruce!”

He smiles at you, and before you can blink he’s out of his seat and crouching in front of you, “Haven’t you ever thought about it? A little baby?”

You splutter for a few seconds, before finally saying, “Yes, but we’re super-heroes, and CEO’s. We don’t have time for a baby.”

    “Is there ever really a good time to have a baby?”

    “When you’re not constantly out until three am, and working nine hour days.”

    “We could take a step back.”

    You raise an eyebrow in questions, “We or I?”

    He meets your gaze, “We. With the boys around we have more than enough help protecting Gotham, and we could start working regular hours at the company.” You sink back into your seat. His voice is a whisper when he asks, “Have you really not thought about it?”

    You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t. You wanted a child, but you’d been unwilling to upset the balance of your boys. They were finally on good terms with Bruce, and Damian had always been one to be jealous. But at the same time, you yearned to hold that little baby in your arms.

    Almost as though he can see the gears turning in your head he asks, “Sweetheart, do you want to have a baby?”

    You smile, “I do.”

    He smiles, before kissing you.

    When you pull back you say, “Imagine Alfred’s reaction when we tell him.”

    “It’ll be quite Joyous Mrs. Wayne, I assure you.” You look over you shoulder to see the butler watching the two of you through the kitchen window. You roll your eyes, you were surrounded by snoops, and you were convinced Bruce came by it naturally.

    With a smile you say, “Let’s try for a baby.”

When Quiet Is Violent - Part 2

Masterlist  -  Part 1  -  Part 3

Summary: You’re retired, living a quiet and secure life when your ex, Steve Rogers, turns up on your doorstep with his best friend, seeking refuge. (bucky x reader, enhanced reader)

Prompt(s): Okay I know I already wrote Night Walks with these prompts but I really wasn’t happy with it, so here is attempt #2. @pandarositarequest: 93 and 94… but Reader being upset rather than Bucky?

93.“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”
94. “I had a bad dream again.”
Plus anon request: 64 “Here, take my blanket.”

Warnings: swearing, nightmare, that’s about it. :)

Word Count: 5168 (woops…)

Author’s Note: Okay team, enjoy the fluff while you can… 

Originally posted by you-didnt-see-that-cuming

The next morning you’d woken early, it was bright and damn cold. Snowing again. But Bucky was warm, and breathing slowly and softly and you didn’t want to move, wishing you could stay there where you’d fallen asleep, tucked close to his side long into the morning. But there were three people to whom you certainly did not want to explain this situation so you dragged yourself as quietly and gently as you could away from Bucky’s sleeping body beside you.

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I stRONGLy hc

That Victor is a complete and utter plant nerd. Like up until now he has been a pretty lonely dude and it would totally be something he could do to pass the time??
Every single sill or sunny spot in his apartment is littered with adorable potted plants. He has named all of the different kinds of plants and little succulents and flowers, which each have a uniquely beautiful pot. On the kitchen window is a tiny army of herbs like rosemary, chives, and sage growing that he plucks from occasionally for his meals.
While Victor is away for competition, he has his neighbor come in and check on/water them every day.
He even has photos of them on his phone that Yuuri has seen (on multiple occasions)
When Yuuri arrives in St. Petersburg, his fiancé is happily surprised when he is given a beautiful little bonsai tree to add to the family. He keeps it by their bedside.
Eventually Victor pulls Yuuri into loving plants as much as he does until their apartment is basically a happy little greenhouse

“Is That My Shirt?” Monty X Reader

Request: @zachandreggie : Hey! Could you please do imagine 57 with Montgomery? Thankyou! :)

Author’s note: This was so much fun to write!! Also this is my first fic don;t judge *sweats* Thanks for requesting! btw y/f/c means your favorite color

[Spring Break, Saturday morning]
Soft sunlight peaked through your kitchen windows as you trudged through your kitchen-wearing a grayish blue tshirt that wasn’t yours, reaching almost to your knees and short y/f/c pajama shorts that were hidden under this stolen shirt- on a quest for some toast. Exhausted from the party the night before, you replay the loud music, dancing, and all your sweet moments with Montgomery. You look to your side and see Monty passed out on the couch with a blanket in the weirdest position. He had one arm leaning off the edge of the sofa, the other outstretched on the armrest next to his head, and his legs making an L shape as one was atop the top of the sofa. You smile amused at the sight. You weren’t sure how much he drank last night, but for safety measures you drove him home, and before you could offer a spot in your bed, he knocked out on your couch. Putting your soon to be toast in the toaster, you notice Monty shift… a few seconds later, He shifts again. Another shift. Then you hear something hit the floor and shortly after, a “Shiitttt”. Bursting out laughing, the tired, peaceful, morning atmosphere is broken, and you couldn’t be happier. Too boring. 

Monty drags himself up, shaking his head after the blow. “Good morning to you too.”, finishing your sentence with giggles. Monty playfully narrows his eyes at you, smirking “Oh you thought that was funny, huh?” You tried keeping a straight face, but at this point even your eyes somehow managed to laugh on their own. “Yes I did, what’re you gonna do about it?” You smirked. Monty shrugs, rubs his tired eyes. “Eat.” You smile and check him out. His tasseled hair, sleepy eyes, as your gaze lowers as you take in his toned arms and just overall muscular body. Damn. Monty gets up from his fallen position and trudges to you sleepily.  Monty kisses your cheek and lightly holds your head with one hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Even half asleep he was just a ball of sweet and fluff. The best part was, this was exclusive to you, as Monty tended to be a little less… nice with people who weren’t you. Looking up at him with a light smile, you place your hand over his. “I love you,” he says so smoothly and softly, you can’t hold back your wide smile and blush. His ability to switch from goofy to hopeless romantic in a flash will never fail to surprise you.His gaze falls down to your chosen wear. “Wait a second…..”, Monty’s smile turns into a smirk. “Is that my shirt?” Sheepishly smiling, you answer, “…. maybe……”. Monty’s smirk grows into a grin, “You look better in it than I do. And trust me, that’s a compliment.” You roll your eyes, “Gee, thanks.” “Are you wearing anything under?” Monty’s grin seems to almost be glued to his face. “Yes, perv.” You lightly smack his shoulder and move past him to grab your toast you’ve been yearning for all morning. Placing his arm over your shoulders, he kissed your bedhead. “You’re too cute. Wear my shirts more.”