for making a place for my voice

As promissed, here is my free translation of this old but nice article. Please don’t blame for any mistakes! Thanks. Credit to Sara Pettarini for finding it.

Simon Baker: a good mentality

Yesterday, Simon Baker arrived at the press conference totally relaxed wearing grey suit, white shirt and with eyeglasses on his nose. There were waiting fifty journalists with connected cameras, magnetos on the record button and pens ready chopping to note the last revelations the actor who is starring in the series The Mentalist on TF1.

To the story: he stated that he’d direct one of the episodes soon. But what concerns the storyline of the series itself as a whole we’ll have to wait a little bit. Then, Simon Baker, with the smooth voice, explained at length how he’d entered into his character. “What defines him at the first place is his sense of humour and his irreverence. I gave him a little bit from my personality. Well, I am a little bit naughty, making kidlike jokes. I have a total freedom with the character. Of course, there’s the script, the dialogs and I follow them, but I can introduce more personal aspects at the same time. Another thing in which I’m involved is the choice of his car and that from the second episode. I couldn’t imagine that Patrick Jane, my character, drives a Chevrolet or a sports car. I immediately thought of a used car or an antique one. One of my favourite cars is the DS, but nobody knows it on the show. So, I had to explain that it was a mythical car, ahead of time, a kind of dinosaur that is always of its time.

And that would be perfect with the character. The model I’m driving in the show is dated

1971. Colombo had his Peugeot 403, the Mentalist has his DS Citroen. The French cars are exporting well. At least in the American film industry. You can wish to Patrick Jane the same success the inspector with the old worn-out overcoat had and who went on and on carrying out his investigations in summer and winter.  He seems taking the path because his first episode aired on TF1 has been watched by 9 millions of television viewers.

But, Simon Baker doesn’t show off. “Well, obviously, my life has changed, my notoriety has grown. But when walking in the streets of LA, the city of the stars, I don’t have a horde of fans rushing over me. It’s more difficult when I get out of the city, but in general, people respect my private life. They approach me with discretion and respect. And my children make this success relative. To make the promotion of the Mentalist, the production had put a huge portrait of me on front side of a building. When my son saw it, he said to me: “Have you bought the building, dad?” The words of children bring you back to the reality.

topfied  asked:

pls tell me about your crush, love of your life, bbh 💕💕💕💕💕💕🙈

oh you know. my crush is really the sweetest and the cutest. his name is byun baekhyun and really his whole being is as lovely as the sound of his name. when he smiles, my heart goes !!! making everything around me seem perfect. whenever i see him i get reminded of all the things that make me happy; of sunsets of the seas, of sunshines and the sound of the waves crashing in the shore. of puppies and their cute enormous eyes, the melodies of silence in a peaceful quiet night. basically just everything that makes me smile and makes this world a better place to live in - that’s byun baekhyun to me

he also has the world’s most beautiful voice - a voice that can paint you the most beautiful landscapes in your head and just make you pour out your hearts deepest emotions. a voice so lovely that the angels above sing with him whenever he does. he is kind, affectionate, warm, and considerate. he is the softest little marshmallow but on the inside, his resolves are as firm and as sturdy as a rock. my anchor and my prince.

ok im gonna shut up now this is making me sound so lame rie lmao im bye

☕️ coffee chats

i swear tho if Lance does become the black paladin i want blue lion to like, give him away

like Lance will come to blue when he finds out that he has to pilot the black lion and he tries to go into blue but blue won’t let him in and he thinks ‘oh no she thinks i don’t love her anymore she’s rejecting me, just like everyone else has’ and

he hears this sad rumble in his mind and chest and a low soft voice echoes inside him that says “my silly pilot, you will always be welcomed back”

but Lance makes this broken noise and thinks “then why won’t you let me in?”

and blue lion whines small and deep “bc, dear cub, I’m afraid if you do, i will not be able to let you go”

then, with utter delicacy, blue lifts one paw and places it in front of lances chest and nudges him back

“find your leader and then come back. until then….”

and lance’s mortification and awe, blue bows her head to him. and the tears start streaming down his face, only able to stand there in complete silence.

“lead us to victory. black paladin.”


Day 5 : “Over the Airwaves” - Voice/Music 

Gabe singing just to cheer up Jack is my cup of tea ~

Didn’t actually think I would participate in the reaper76week but after reading through the list of what’s to come, I couldn’t resist making something after finding a song I haven’t heard for sooo long, and it brought back so many memories…

ya’ll wondering what song dis is?: Eternal featuring BeBe Winans - I Wanna Be the Only One

just FYI, I tweaked the lyrics a bit to my liking in some places..

Day Forty-Two

-A woman brought up two items, one she wanted, one for price-comparison. I am used to this. However, she insisted I give her the lower-priced item for the higher cost. I think I see where she is coming from, but this is not the place for oneupmanship. 

-I will never forget the advice that one elderly woman gave another in regards to buying clearance Halloween items. Whenever I am making a decision, her voice will echo in my head, whispering, “do it, because of YOLO.”

-I was asked to double bag $80 of Halloween decorations in the largest bags we had in stock so that a woman in her sixties would be able to hide them from her husband in the car. For my next heist, I will undoubtedly be in contact with her to plan our seamless getaway.

-A kindly, sweet man in his seventies paid for his purchase with money from a large, studded, jet-black, leather chain wallet. This man keeps Hot Topic afloat.

-A man sat on my register, setting the example for two other men to sit on adjacent registers. The trendsetter remarked, “Why stand like a chump when you can sit?” My response was almost to suggest manners as a reason, but then I realized I would be playing directly into his hands and revealing my true nature as a chump.

-I was informed by a guest that, due to the fact that the counters on the registers were just slightly taller than the carts, I was guaranteed to be a VP someday. He told me that it could be for Nickelodeon, or possibly the Bahamas, but the where does not matter when this man has so much faith in me.

-Making faces at a baby strapped to their mother’s chest resulted in the infant excitedly jumping up and down as much as one can when confined to a living straightjacket. Despite all of the fun that young one was having, the warden was having none of it.

-Entering the store, a man threw his arms out and shouted, “Hello, Target,” and I aspire to take after this man and star in my own movie at every minute.

-I asked a man if he wanted me to bag his bottle of Mountain Dew. He looked at it intensely and told me not to, as he had plans for it. I hope beyond hope that his plans involved drinking it.


Oh no, its green PewDiePie, RUN!!!

@victuuri-week Day 4 - *Smash Bros voice* FREE FOR ALL!!!

*cough* Sorry, I’m reading it like this everytime lmao. I love mermaid AUs too much, and since I used the “Mythos AU” day with something else, I decided to do it today! It’s my birthday, so i’m happy I got to draw some mermaids for today XD

Just a feel HCs to go with this pic (english isn’t my first language, sorry if anything comes out wrong or doesn’t make sense):

  • Yuuri had a really bad breakdown and tried to kill himself by jumping on the stormy sea. 
    • Viktor was just swimming by when he found Yuuri, already passed out, and without even thinking saved him and carried him to the beach.
    • Yuuri regained his senses momentary, and the only thing he could say when he saw the figure leaning over him was “Beautiful”.
  • Viktor gets immediately smitten with this human, but he know he shouldn’t stay for longer since anyone could see him now out in the open (he was already going to get in trouble for letting this man see him). So, full of regret for not being able to stay by his side, he jumps back on the sea, and watch from behind some rocks as someone founds the man passed out and calls for help.
  • Yuuri wakes up in a hospital, his entire family crying and hugging him and begging him not to do that again. He immediately feels bad for giving up so easily and making them cry so much, and hugs them back, apologizing.
    • Later, when they are calmer, he asked who was the long-haired man that helped him off of the sea. But everyone just seems confused by this and inform him that he was found lying alone at the beach by a passerby. 
  • But Yuuri was sure there was someone else, and when he gets discharged, he goes back to the little beach, looking at the sea, without really knowing what to do. 
  • After that, he goes there everyday, and while that worries his parents, he actually seems a lot less down when he is by the sea, so they let him go (Mari keeps messaging him every 5 minutes to be sure he is alright, tho).
    • Everyday, there is a pair of cerulean eyes underwater staring back at him.

…I got carried away lmao (I didn’t had this written down and came up with some parts rn, sorry if it’s messy XD). Thanks if you read this all!!

Commission Me!

Yuri On Ice Fanfiction Rec List

Hey guys, it’s been about a month now since I’ve been in the YOI fandom and I constantly get asked for fanfiction recs all the time so I thought I’d take the time to make a list of my favorites! If you like them please kudos and let the authors know because they work so hard and deserve it! A note for all of them though, they are about the pairing Victuuri. 

They’ll be a lot of links and such so I’ll be putting them below the cut.

Keep reading

me: i really need to sleep

my brain: there’s a place where we don’t have to feel unknown oh my god everybody needs to see this and every time that you call out you’re a little less alone i can’t stop watching this video seventeen years old if you only say the woooooord take five minutes this will make your day FROM ACROSS THE SILENCE YOUR VOICE IS HEEAARD OOOOOOOH share it with the people you love, repost the world needs to hear this a beautiful tribute OOOOOOOOH i know someone who really needed to hear this today so thank you evan hansen for doing what you’re doing OOOOOOOH i never met connor but coming up here reading everyone’s post someone will come runnning it’s so easy to feel alone that ooooooohhh evan is exactly right ohhhhhhh we’re not alone oooooooh none of us none of us none of us are alone like especially now oooooh with everything you hear in the news someone will come running like share repost thank you evan hansen for giving us a space to remember connor oooohhh someone will come running to find each other thank you evan hansen OOOOOHHH thank you evan hansen take you hoooooome OHHHHH OOOOOOH thank you evan hansen OOOOOOOOOH EVEN WHEN THE DARK COMES CRASHING THROUGH WHEN YOU NEED A FRIEND TO CARRY YOU WHEN YOU’RE BROKEN ON THE GROUND YOU WILL BE FOUND

A Spell For Getting Sleep:

I stole a bit from the wish everyone used to make when they saw the first star in the sky because I felt it might have the right power attached.

What you need:

• your voice

• your energy

• a place to sleep

What to do:

Lay down and get comfy wherever it is you want to sleep, you don’t need to make any movements or anything. Focus on how you feel when you’re peaceful and half asleep, or how you remember it feeling for my friends with insomnia. Keep focusing on that and envision these words floating out of your mouth to activate them( they can glow, dissipate, or anything you want them to do):

I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the sleep I need tonight
Not too early, not too late
Make me rested when I wake
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the sleep I need tonight

That’s it, sweet dreams!

Jonathan Byers x Reader (Request)

Request from @phan—anime: Can I request a Jonathan Byers fluffy imagine where you go missing instead of will and you and Jon secretly like each other - he goes crazy when you’re home but when you return it’s super cute and he says his feelings to you etc ? I have no idea if that makes sense - thank you in advance xx

A/N: Jonathan Byers is my photography loving, The Clash listening babe and I will forever love him.

Word Count: 3712 words

Originally posted by happycookiie

The place you hid in was cold. But you missed it dearly, or rather, the real version of it that you’d grown to love. Not this dystopian, crumbling version. No, certainly not.

You heard voices sometimes, but you believed them to be purely in your head.

There was no way you could hear Will, or Jonathan or even Joyce, not when you were so far away from them. You put it down to hiding in their house, staying there obviously was affecting your mental health combined with this world you seemed to have been dragged into.

You’d ran, and ran and ran. Away from the thing that had brought you here. You’d barely made it alive. It had run after you for ages, constantly on your tail. But you made it into Jonathan’s house, the only place that had come to mind for you to go. Needless to say, you were broken when you got there and found it to be empty, although you’d known deep down that it would be.

You missed talking to people. Going to the cinemas and seeing films with Nancy and Steve, walking in the forest with Jonathan taking photos of you. You especially loved the walks. Playing D&D with the boys, and dramatically acting out the game for them whilst Will told it. You missed sitting in the Byer’s kitchen on a morning, watching as Jonathan prepared breakfast for his family still with sleep in the corner of his eyes.

You were currently sat at that table, or where it should be anyway. There were slight differences between wherever you were, and back home. Like the table in the middle of the kitchen that was broken and smashed to bits around the room. It was never daytime here either and there was no concept of time, all the clock handles just spun constantly or the numbers stayed on 00:00. So you slept whenever you felt like it and as best as you could, considering you also had to keep a watch out for the monster coming back. You heard screams once, faint and very far away from where you were but they still terrified you. They were short-lived and you knew the monster had gotten the poor bastard.

You got bored easily as well, so you liked to go around and count things in the house. The number of paintings, walls, corners of a room, lightbulbs. You would sing as well, usually something Jonathan would play in his car or a song that Steve would have belted out horribly in the corridor at school in an attempt to embarrass you and Nancy. Stuff like that stopped you from being scared, a distraction from what was out there.

But as you sat in the middle of the room, you watched the clock on the wall and saw something that terrified you even more. The clock stopped turning. Of course, it could just be a battery running out, but you looked at the other clocks and saw that they were all the same. All of them read 6:32, and seemed to work as if they were all in sync with time again.

You didn’t know what it meant, but part of you wondered if it meant your rescue. Another part told you not to be so stupid and get your hopes up. How on earth could the clocks relate to your safety?

You averted your attention from the clocks and shut your eyes, leaning back in the chair. You were so tired, although you weren’t certain, you guessed you hadn’t slept for over twenty hours. The monster had passed by the house not so long ago, dragging something very alive with it. It had been crying anyway and making noises like it was in excruciating pain. You’d hidden in the cupboard under the sink as you heard it scratch around the building.

It left after what you assumed to be five minutes as you’d counted to your best ability.

“Y/N?” A faint voice called to you. You screwed your eyes shut tighter, ignoring it.

“Y/N!” The voice said again, more urgent this time. You continued to ignore it, massaging your temples with the tips of your fingers.

“Shut up.” You mumbled to yourself. The voices were coming back again, but you were determined to block them out.

“Y/N?” The voice was louder now, but again urgent to capture your attention.

“Get out of my head.” You hissed, sitting forward and hunching over yourself. Your head was pounding now, and you could do nothing except curl up in pain.


“Y/N, are you here?”

“Get out!” You cried, forgetting about being quiet in case the monster was nearby. The sound of creaking boards met your ears and your head whipped up to look at the kitchen doorway. Lights were shining in the hallway, casting shadows along the floor.

“Y/N?” The voice called through the house, and you realised it wasn’t the voices in your head but rather the voices of the people now in the house. One moment the lights were shining in the hallway, the next they were in your face and blinding you from seeing who was here. You covered your eyes and tried to shield them from the harsh torchlight, wishing you could see the stranger’s faces.

“Y/N! Oh my God you’re here!” Cried a familiar voice. One of the torches was lowered to the floor and someone crouched in front of you, shielding you from the light. But you could now see that the face hiding under a large helmet was none other than Joyce. She had tears in her eyes as she removed the helmet, detaching it from her hazmat suit so she could talk to you properly.

“I can’t believe we found you!” She laughed, pulling you in for a hug. You feebly brought your arms up to hug Joyce, managing a little squeeze. You were so malnourished and weak, yet you hadn’t realised how much so until you felt Joyce’s strong grip holding you.

The other rescuer removed their helmet and you were surprised to see Hopper’s face.

“Hopper?” You questioned, looking to Joyce for answers.

“It’s a story for another time, because right now we need to get you out of here before that thing comes for us.” Hopper barked, pulling his helmet back on and picking up Joyce’s torch.

“H-How did you get here?” You asked as Joyce helped you to your feet, hooking one arm around your waist and letting you lean into her for support. Your legs wobbled dangerously but you kept your ground and began to walk forward with Joyce.

“An open portal, it took a lot of persistency to get here. It wasn’t easy to get access to it.” Hopper explained, opening the front door and checking to make sure the monster wasn’t lurking outside. All clear.

You nodded, trying your best to focus on putting one foot in front of the other successfully.

“Hopper, help me. She’s struggling.” Joyce pleaded, trying to keep you up on your feet as you stumbled, your head going fuzzy as your vision swam before you. You reached your hand out to grab Hopper by the arm but your foot caught on one of the thick roots that covered everything in this desolate world. You crashed to the floor, letting darkness consume you.


You felt warm. For the first time in so long, you could feel warmth seeping into your bones. You were no longer numb from the constant chill of the air. Opening your eyes, you first saw the window to your right with golden sunlight pouring through. Turning your head to the left, you saw the door was open a crack and music drifted through from somewhere. You knew this room. You recognised the large vinyl player, the record albums all stacked up, rolls of camera film strewn over the little bedside cabinet. You wondered if this was all a dream, a sick trick by your mind that would eventually reveal that you were still in that other world. The other place.

You spread your arms out either side of you, stretching and clinging onto the bedsheets for certainty that this was real. You hadn’t been lurched back into the cold, unfamiliar world yet, so you figured this was real. But still…

Climbing out of bed, you noticed you were wearing a thick, cream-coloured jumper and your underwear. Had someone got you dressed for bed?

Your head was still fuzzy so you couldn’t remember clearly, but one memory managed to slip through the haze. Joyce, calling your name into the dark and bright, harsh lights that blinded you. Touching your temple gingerly, you walked barefoot to the bedroom door and slowly opened it a few more inches to look into the hallway.

Empty, but there was definitely music coming from somewhere in the house and singing too. Bad singing.

You stepped out of the room and gently shut the door behind you without it banging. The hallway was bright too, natural light pouring in and illuminating the flecks of dust floating in the air. You walked in the path of the sunlight, loving how warm it felt on the backs of your legs and the fuzzy feeling of the carpet. You noticed a large burnt patch on the carpet, but you decided to leave it alone. You could ask about it later.

It was easy to locate the source of the music and noise that you supposed you would class as singing. It was coming from the kitchen, and as you approached the doorway the smell of a fry up hit your nostrils. It was a whack to the face, the tantalizing smells making your mouth water instantly. You hadn’t eaten in so long; it was a wonder you weren’t near death. But that didn’t matter now, because you could finally smell victory for your growling stomach.

Creeping up to the doorway, you poked your head around, gripping onto the wooden frame for support as you surveyed the scene before you. Everything was there, the table in the middle of the room, the chairs that were placed around it. Joyce and Will who sat minding their own business, Joyce sat reading a newspaper and Will drawing something. The “singing” was coming from Joyce, and you couldn’t help but smile just a little at Will’s disturbed expression.

Looking up from the table you saw someone else standing by the cooker, juggling between pans containing bacon, sausages and eggs.

“Will can you get the orange juice out?” Jonathan huffed, his back turned to you as he cooked breakfast for his mom and brother. Will got up from his seat and went over to the fridge, taking out the juice and kicking the fridge shut with his foot. As Will put the jug of orange juice in the centre of the table he suddenly looked up, the feeling of being watched alerting him to your presence. His face lit up though when he saw it was you stood there.

“Y/N!” He shouted, running around the table to greet you with an excited hug. You bent slightly so you too could hug him fondly, ruffling his hair up which you could remember him hating when you did it. He wriggled free to flatten his hair down, grumbling as he did so. You just smiled at him with a cheeky grin, glad that he was so glad to see you.

Jonathan and Joyce had now noticed you too, and Joyce was on her feet to embrace you too. She smothered you with a firm but caring hug, knowing just how fragile you still were.

“You’re awake! God, I thought you might never wake up.” Joyce sighed with relief, laughing as she took solace in your awakening.

“H-How long was I…” Your throat was hoarse from lack of using it, but Joyce understood what you were trying to ask.

“Four days, honey. Your parents know you’re okay, and they were fine with us taking care of you as they knew you’d have practically around-the-clock care.” Joyce patted your cheek comfortingly and guided you to a seat at the table.

“Hi Jonathan.” You addressed the young male as you sat down, noticing that he had remained speechless as Joyce had spoken to you. He smiled weakly, the dark bags under his eyes very prominent as he acknowledged you. Even in such a tired state, you still found the way his hair glowed in the sunlight and the little creases that appeared at the corners of his mouth when he smiled cute.

“Jonathan made you breakfast too if you’re hungry. He’s made extra for every meal the past few days, just in case you happened to wake up.” Joyce told you, folding her newspaper up whilst she looked at Jonathan with a sly smile.

Will snorted a little as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, earning a light tap on the back of the head from Jonathan.

“Shut up.” Jonathan mumbled, turning back round to serve up the food before it burnt.

“Thank you. It really means a lot.” You told him, although his back was facing you. Jonathan laughed softly as he came over with four plates of food balanced on his arms.

“It’s only breakfast.” He admitted, but you shook your head.

“No, I meant for everything. I noticed you let me use your room, and I’m sorry if that caused any issues.” You apologised, reaching for the jug of orange juice at the same time Jonathan did. Your hands met on the glass handle and you both locked eyes with each other.

“Really, it was no problem. You needed the best care, and I offered for you to use my room.” Jonathan explained, letting go of the jug and taking his hand off yours so that you could have it first.

You didn’t want to sound like a broken record by saying “Thank you” again, so you smiled at him across the table and tried not to let yourself get too worked up about how warm his hand had felt over yours. You couldn’t stop the slight tremble in your hand though.

You managed to eat a fair amount of food, but despite being so hungry you couldn’t keep eating without feeling like you would throw up if you had another mouthful. Will nabbed your leftover piece of toast and when Joyce scolded him you assured her it was fine and slipped him the rest of the food.

“I have to go to work, I’ll be back later today okay? Look after Y/N you two.” Joyce ordered her sons, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair and squeezing your shoulder before she dashed out.

“Will, do the dishes please. I want to talk to Y/N, alone.” Jonathan got up from the table and walked around to your side, offering his hand for you. You put your hand in his and let him help you to your feet, holding onto his hand a little longer than necessary whilst you pushed the chair under the table. Will began to complain but Jonathan told him the quicker they were cleaned the quicker he could go to Mike’s house. This got Will’s attention, and he leapt up from his seat, gathering the plates without any persuasion.

Jonathan led you out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom, shutting the door so he could cut out the noise of Will crashing around the kitchen. You sat on the edge of his bed and messed with the sheets, tracing patterns with your finger.

“I missed you.” Jonathan stated, sitting down beside you. “I was so worried about you, even when you were here. I haven’t slept much.” He admitted, rubbing his eyes as he spoke. You looped your arm through his and leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“But I’m safe now. I’m okay.” You told him, dragging your fingers up and down the sensitive skin on the inside of his arm. “Will you sleep now?” You asked him. He exhaled slowly, weighing out the probabilities.

“Probably not. Not when I know you could still get hurt and I can’t protect you.” He confessed, placing his other hand over yours which was resting on his arm. He pushed his fingers to interlock with yours and dragged his thumb across your knuckle in slow strokes.

“I missed you too, you know.” You confessed as well. Slowly, pieces of your time in that other world were returning to you. Singing songs by yourself, missing home, missing the walks with Jonathan, wishing you could see Nancy and Steve again.

“Really?” Jonathan asked in surprise.

“Yeah, just the stuff we did together and the car journeys where you’d play your mixtapes of songs you loved.”

“I’ve missed that too.” Jonathan agreed, yawning slightly as he tried to keep his eyes open despite it being the late morning.

“You said you couldn’t sleep knowing you couldn’t protect me if I was at a risk of getting hurt. If you stay in here do you think you could sleep then? I mean, it is your room after all!” You gently coaxed Jonathan to lie on his back, lying by his side with his hand still holding onto yours.

“Maybe.” Jonathan whispered, turning his head so he could look at you from where you both lay down.

“Just shut your eyes, and relax. Focus on something that will keep you calm.” You commanded, also doing what you said so that he wouldn’t feel left out.

“You.” Jonathan murmured to himself as he lay beside you with his eyes closed. You were glad he couldn’t see the blush on your face when he said this, so you continued to speak like nothing had happened.

“Think of something you’d love to do and imagine you’re doing it, something relaxing.” You muttered, wondering how it would feel to have Jonathan huddled against your back, an arm draped over you as he spooned you and kissed the back of your neck softly.

“I am.” Jonathan sighed, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. His cheeks flushed a dark shade of red, obviously embarrassed about whatever had crossed his mind.

“It must be something funny.” You giggled, sitting up on your elbow so you could lean over him. He opened his eyes and the smile only grew wider at the sight of you.

“No, I just got really flustered. It made my tummy feel all warm.” Jonathan beamed up at you, reaching a hand up to stroke your face. The warmth from his touch made the hairs on your arm stand up, your senses going into overload. “I really was worried about you. But, knowing you’re here and safe with me, it kind of makes everything else okay.”

You leaned into Jonathan’s touch, a heat spreading in your chest as the beating of your heart quickened. “I like you Jonathan, I really do. You were always in my thoughts when I was stuck in that horrible place.”

Just the thought of that world made tears spring to your eyes. Jonathan was quick to sit up and slip his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as you wept into his jumper. “I was so alone Jonathan, it was so alien and unnatural. I had no one.” You confessed, bunching your fist into the woollen material.

“You have me now. That place, the Upside Down it’s called, is gone. You’ll never see it again, because you’re going to be here with me and I’ll be your knight in a denim jacket, armed with my sheer adoration for you.” Jonathan murmured the sweet words in your ear, his lips brushing against your hair as he slowly combed his fingers through. You loved his devotion to the people who mattered to him, and his unwavering commitment towards keeping you safe.

“Jonathan?” You asked, moving so you weren’t hiding your face in his chest and instead you and him were face to face.

“Yes?” He replied, his voice hitching in his throat as he swallowed nervously. The tension between the two of you was palpable as you found yourselves leaning in towards each other. Jonathan gazed at your lips through half-lidded eyes, his gaze lustful as he looked up to lock eyes with you.

“Kiss me.” You whispered, shutting the gap between you both and sealing your lips together in a smooth, ardent kiss. Jonathan couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped his lips when he pulled away for a moment to catch his breath. But you craved more, and he obliged to you pulling him back in to reconnect your mouths. There was a knock on Jonathan’s bedroom door, obviously Will had finished with his job of washing up, so you pulled away.

“Shouldn’t you get that?” You gasped, your chest heavily moving up and down as you found yourself breathless. Jonathan paused for a moment and looked at the door. He shook his head and ignored the knocking.

“I don’t want this to stop.” He muttered, pressing chaste kisses to your lips. But Will’s voice interrupted Jonathan’s trail of kisses from moving to your neck. Jonathan stopped, his lips hovering over your jaw as he slowly exhaled with exasperation. The hot air across your skin made goose bumps rise all over your body.

“Yeah Will?” He called out, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

“Can you take me round to Mike’s now?” Will yelled from outside the room. Jonathan huffed, torn between staying with you and his promise to his little brother.

“Sure, go get in the car and wait for me. I’ll be five minutes.” Jonathan told him, waiting for Will’s footsteps to fade away as he ran off.

“Five minutes?” You arched an eyebrow, smiling as Jonathan pulled you down after him, getting you to lay your head on his chest.

“Just five more minutes.” He sighed, stroking his hand down your back. “Five minutes where I can just hold you and know that you’re mine.”

“Keep this up and you’ll have all the time in the world.” You hummed, shutting your eyes as you listened to the sporadic beat of his heart.

“I hope so.”

Requests are open!

Tags: @princess-of-steel @phan—anime @kurtwxgners

How awful it is,
to wake up and 
not hear the usual mellifluous tone in your voice.

You haven’t left,
but there are 
sharp knives in your throat, 
instead of smooth honey on your tongue.

Do not degrade her to raise me. 
Do not hold me gently whilst you rip apart my sisterhood.

Didn’t your mother ever tell you
that ugly words
make an ugly soul?

How terribly awful it is,
to wake up and 
see a misogynist in place of my beautiful saviour. 
To realise that the man
who claimed he respected me,
cannot ever,
if he do not respect
the freedom and beauty 
of every single

—  the-blue-wanderess, “locker room talk”
Stripping Habit

A/N: Happy birthday to my wonderful Gruvia buddy, @thatsvicchan! Lu, I hope this silly little fic makes you smile. Love you ^.^

[Gruvia, over the one year timeskip]

Words: 749

“Gray-sama, you’re leaving your clothes all over the place again…”

At the sound of her voice, Gray glanced up from his sketchpad to see Juvia lumbering around their living room, tossing shirts, a jacket and a pair of trousers over her arm whilst sighing deeply.

If there were that many clothes lying around unworn then—

Groaning to himself, he looked down to see whether he still had anything on, already knowing what he’d find: nothing but his boxers, for what had to be the third time this week.

“Damn it…” Gray stood up, passing a hand through his hair and eyeing the living room wearily.

How were there always more clothes on the floor than on his body? He’d lost count of how many items of clothing he’d stripped off and misplaced over the years, never to be seen again.

Though, ever since he and Juvia started living together, she’d come to his aid, specially taking a bag along with them to missions. Clothes that would come off and clothes that needed to come on were stuffed into that bag and thanks to her, Gray’s outfits actually made it home safely to the washing machine.

With a heavy sigh, he spotted the shirt he’d worn from yesterday’s job draped over the back of the couch and reached over to get it, shooting her an apologetic look. “Juvia, you don’t have to clean up after me. I can take care of myself.”

Juvia straightened up, adding a pair of socks to the growing pile in her arms before meeting his eyes with a warm smile. “Juvia doesn’t mind, Gray-sama.”

“Nah, it’s my mess,” he said, crouching down to inspect under the couch for any hidden pieces of clothing. “At least let me help out.”

Finding nothing under there except a lone chocolate wrapper from his snacking session earlier on in the afternoon – which he figured would be a clean-up job for another day – Gray rose to his feet, fixing the cushions and picking up the shirt, working his way around the room to her.

“Even retrieving your clothes can be as tiring as a training session, hm, Gray-sama?” Juvia asked, her voice light and playful as she took the shirt from his hands.

Gray rolled his eyes at her, folding his arms. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Ah…” Juvia glanced around the room, tilting her head to the side and humming softly. “Any more, Gray-sama?”

Gray inspected the room once more, eyes darting from one corner to the other. The cottage they lived in was small, cosy—much like his apartment back in Magnolia but at the same time, very different. Here, his possessions were mixed with hers. A teru teru bozu hanging by the window, vases of flowers dotted around the tables, her photos and books lined up along with his on the shelves.

He hadn’t shared a home with someone like this in the longest of times, not since he was a child. But he had to admit, looking around and seeing how easily a simple “he” and “she” had become an “us” over the few months they’d lived together—he very much liked it and found himself thinking that once Fairy Tail returned, he’d very much miss it as well.

“Hang on…” Gray sighed irately when his eyes caught sight of a fabric under the stool by the window. “Got one more for you, Juvia.”

He leaned down, fishing out the blue material before examining it.

It wasn’t his. The skirt was long with slits on either side, crumpled and creased under the weight of the stool.

But the main point was that it wasn’t his.

Getting to his feet, Gray held the skirt up in front of Juvia, raising a brow. “Hm. Funny…don’t remember buying this.”

When her eyes grew wide and she flushed crimson, he grinned, throwing it to her with a laugh. Without a word, Juvia caught the skirt in her hand and looked away quickly, scurrying to the kitchen whilst Gray followed, arms crossed behind his head and a smirk wide on his face.

“Hey, Juvia,” he teased, playfully pulling on her ponytail. “What’s with that? No comment when it’s your own clothes?”

Juvia huffed, stuffing the skirt along with the other clothes into the washing machine. She kept her face turned away from him but from what he could see, he was pretty sure she was fighting back a smile.

‘Yes,’ he thought to himself, laughing, ‘He very much liked being an “us”.’

The couple that strip together stay together (¬‿¬)

do you remember the night you came home from work crying harder than the clouds were? i took your blushed cheeks into my hands then kissed every tear away before your raincoat left your body.

i guided you to our couch after your broken voice insisted being held would make the night slow down. you sat patiently as i undressed you with a shiver running through your body every so often. taking hold of both ankles gently, i shifted you onto your back & proceeded to place you into your favorite pink butterfly onesie. before zipping up the pajamas, i trailed kisses up your tummy for a smile. the sides of your mouth reluctantly upturned as rouge tears entered the valleys of your lips.

my hand clutched a warm bottle just in time for your fingers to latch onto my wrist. while easing the silicone into your mouth, i picked up your favorite stuffed animal in attempts to diminish your sour day. hiding behind his soft fur, i gave him a comedic voice that sent you soaring into a positive head space. muffled giggles filled the room as milk started dripping down your chin: you couldn’t keep the bottle in your mouth any longer due to laughter. after letting out a few chuckles myself, i cleaned you up with a damp washcloth then put a pacifier back between your teeth.

with whatever upset you now running far behind, the night slowly faded; your glassy irises never left mine until your eyelids stole them away. deep sleep entered your brain just as fast as your tears once fell… do you remember the night i fell in love with that little world of yours?
—  (via @whispymilk)
Flood my Mornings: Fernacre

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Victories (Jamie finally gets out of the hospital).


[August, 1950]

Sassenach,  please may I take this damned thing off? It’s tickling my nose something fierce…and not being able to see where we’re going doesna make the urge to vomit any less acute.” 

His wife—or the voice of his wife to his left—came back with a bright, “No, you may not!” 

Sass—” Jamie felt his stomach lurch and he clamped his mouth shut to focus on breathing through his tickled nose, damned be his wife for it.

“You won’t have to wear it long,” she assured him, reaching over to rub his shoulder. “We’re almost there, I promise. I just don’t want the surprise to be ruined!”

“What if ye go ahead and tell me now,” he wheedled, groaning and gripping the sides of his seat tighter as they thudded across a pothole in the road, “and I’ll promise to be verra enthusiastic indeed in my reaction?”

“You can be as enthusiastic as you want… when we get there!

Jamie bit back his response and concentrated on commiserating with the singer from the Record Mrs. Byrd had played ad nauseum yesterday: 

Sometimes I live in the country
Sometimes I live in town
Sometimes I have a great notion
To jump into the river and drown

It was Friday: nearly a full week had gone by without any of the Frasers being ill, getting hospitalized, missing work, or otherwise being struck by the fates. Jamie, supported when needed by Mrs. Byrd (who came for a part of each day to clean, cook, and tend the house), had minded Brianna for the entirety of the week, and would gladly have done so again today, except that his wife (wearing sand-colored trousers, and a shirt of garish plaid) had woken him that morning saying that she had “a surprise!” for him. 

It was her day off from the hospital, and consequently, would normally have been Penelope’s as well, except Claire had arranged otherwise. With plans for Brianna to stay at home with Mrs. Byrd, they had loaded themselves (Jamie wearing the prescribed blue jeans) into that venerable lady’s Van—no, no, CAR: the small ones are Cars—and off they’d jolted down the roads away from the city to God knew where. 

For the first twenty minutes, it had been the normal business of fixing his eye on a point straight ahead and endeavoring all his energy on trying not to be sick. Then, she’d tossed him a red handkerchief and blithely told him to blindfold himself. It must be her latent training from the English army, he’d thought wryly, to think it all fine and natural for “a surprise!” to necessitate treating the beneficiary like a damned abductee. 

She was right, though, that they hadn’t long to go. Not five minutes later, Jamie felt the Car slowing to a halt. 

“No, no, don’t take the blindfold off!” she said sharply as he reached up to do just that. “Sit right there, alright?” There came the sound of Claire’s door opening, then closing with a slam, followed by his own opening. Claire grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the Car to his feet. “Now, put these on—”

“Oh for God’s SAKE, Sass—” 

But she was already clamping something soft over each ear. Apparently it was some sort of ear-hat meant to squeeze his brains out through his eye sockets. 

“Now take my hand and come with me,” came her muffled voice. 

This is the woman God has given ye, Jamie, jailer though she may be. 

Blind and now deaf, Jamie obeyed, and allowed her to lead him across a graveled path that crunched under his feet. He tried an experimental sniff for clues, but damn it all, he was still unable to smell much of anything upon the air due to the lingering sniffle from his illness. He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. Whither thou goest, I shall go, mo nighean donn. 

“Alright!” she said finally, stopping so suddenly that he ran into her and nearly toppled. She whipped off the ear stoppers, then the blindfold, such that his senses were overwhelmed by the inrush of sound and light. 

“THERE!” she was saying excitedly, flushed and beaming, her arm sweeping wide to indicate the scene. 

Jamie was standing in the middle of a broad annex, surrounded by a half dozen huge, white barns. Horses—dozens of them—were visible all around, ridden by youngsters, led by grooms, trotting about in paddocks, leaping over white rails in larger pens, and even more tasks that Jamie could not properly place. The whole place was positively abuzz with activity, and all of it having to do with huge, magnificent horses

Fernacre belongs to Marian Harper and her husband, Tom,” Claire was explaining rapidly as she led him forward toward one of the barns. “Marian from the hospital, you remember? They do a bit of everything here: boarding, lessons for children, jumping training and competitions; anything the well-to-do of Boston care to do with their prize horses, they can do it here!” 

She stopped in the entryway to one of the barns, which alone housed ten beautiful beasts. “They do also cater to less competitive folk who just want to enjoy being on horseback now and again, so, I thought we could spend the day riding! That is—only if you want to…” she added hastily when he did not at once respond, her smile faltering, “I thought—something outdoors might be—you know, after being cooped up in hospital and being so miserable with the flu, and—”

He grabbed her around the legs, just under the buttocks, and hoisted her—shrieking—into the air. He twirled them around a few times until they were both laughing foolishly. She was clutching the back of his neck as if for dear life but was beaming down at him with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Like it?” 

He let her slide slowly down his body, then, though only far enough that her mouth was within reach. He kissed her, long and thoroughly, not caring about the giggles and looks they were getting from passing folk. 

From the way her chest was heaving when he at last released her, Jamie gathered that his reaction had indeed been satisfactorily enthusiastic

Jamie pulled Cornflower’s reins sharply to whirl around, both of them heaving, but so very alive as they surveyed the scene from the crest of the hill.

He and Claire had ridden for hours and hours up and down the wooded trails surrounding Fernacre, enjoying the glorious day and a wee picnic by a shaded brook. In addition to the outing itself, Claire had gifted him with a fine pair of heeled leather boots and a broad hat, so he looked “like a proper Kansas Cow Boy!” He did indeed feel like such a being: exotic and strange, to him…and wonderful. 

Claire had turned back a quarter of an hour ago, tired and needing water. Small wonder, as her mount had not taken to her as readily as Cornflower had submitted to Jamie; in fact, Claire had had twice the work as himself, by nature of the beast constantly needing to be redirected from its whims. Claire had encouraged Jamie to stay out as long as he wished, though. He’d meant at first to demur and accompany her back to the barns; but when the wooded path had opened up just that moment onto an open, hilly pasture, Claire had given him a grin and a “Go on, then, Fraser,” and he’d been carried on a wind out and away into the sea of grass.

He couldn’t even express how good it felt to ride again. His every muscle tingled with life, ached with the magnificence of heavy use. His chest felt broad and completely full with air for the first time in ages. He’d last been on a horse on the ride from Lallybroch to Craigh na Dun, but there had been no happiness in that ride. Years before that—after the confines of life in the cave— there had been the Rising, during which he’d plodded from battle to battle on Donas; but the last time he’d ridden for pleasure? Jamie honestly couldn’t recall it. This, though…this was joy. Feeling the wind in his hair as he pushed the horse to her breaking point, riding not in pursuit, nor in flight, or of necessity, just because he wished to. 

He felt utterly renewed; and it wasn’t just from the illness or the shock of hospitalization. Being outdoors and riding was healing something deep within Jamie; something he couldn’t quiet express. He felt right. He felt…known.  

Jamie leaned down and whispered to the mare, “What say you, lass? Can we beat yon flock of starlings to the other end of the pasture?”

Cornflower snorted in a “ye’ll be doubting me then, wee fool?” kind of way, and was flying down the hill in a moment, both of them pounding for the horizon.

By the time he reached the stables once more, Claire’s headstrong mare had already been rubbed down and deposited back in her stall. Not seeing his headstrong wife about, Jamie led Cornflower into the cool dark of the stable block and began removing her gear, waving off the lad who had scurried forward to do so.

It was a well-appointed barn, with (to Jamie’s eye) luxurious finishes, a dozen-odd occupied stalls on one side, and a large indoor paddock on the other. Standing in the paddock were two men, one of whom Jamie recognized as Marian’s husband, Tom. Claire had pointed him out across the way earlier that morning, though since he had been occupied at the time, they’d not had the chance to be introduced. 

Evidently, it was a very busy day for Tom, for he was occupied once more, seemingly negotiating the purchase of the chestnut-brown yearling being ridden around the enclosure by a man with sandy-blond hair. The latter was yelling loudly across his shoulder as he rode, rather forcefully extolling the many qualities and impeccable pedigree of the animal.  

Something about this exchange was wearing on Tom, for he raised his hands suddenly and shook his head, snapping, “For God’s sake, relax, O’Neill, I get it: he’s a good horse.” 

“So shall we decide on—” 

Tom was already heading toward the gate. “Give me a few minutes to smoke and think on it, for chrissake.” 

Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Tom made his way toward the barn door located directly next to the stall where Jamie stood grooming Cornflower. With an enormously weary sigh, Tom leaned his back against the door frame, lit a Cigarette from a box in his breast pocket, and took in a deep drag.

Jamie gave the man a minute or two in peace, looked once more across to the chestnut mount, made up his mind, and finally said aloud, “Begging your pardon, but ye willna be wanting that one, Mr. Harper.”

Tom jumped and dropped his cigarette. “Oh, er—I—I’m sorry…Have we met?” The man looked genuinely embarrassed at the thought of not recalling their acquaintance. 

“Not properly, no: James Fraser, sir,” Jamie said hastily, suppressing the lifelong instinct to bow and opting instead for a cordial incline of the head. “Claire Beauchamp is my wife.”

Comprehension dawned over the man’s kind features. “Good Lord, of course! The Great Scot who came back from the dead!” He came forward eagerly to clasp Jamie’s hand. “Wonderful to meet you, really! Did Corny treat you well?” he said, with a nod at the mare.

“Aye, she did, that,” Jamie said, rubbing Corny on the nose. “And you’ve a verra fine establishment, here, Mr. Harper.”

“Please, call me Tom. And it’s seen finer days, I’ll tell you that much,” he said with a grimace and another pull on the cigarette, which he had frugally retrieved from the ground. “Ridiculously short-staffed with all-time high in demand for boarders and lessons. Don’t have an effing moment to take a shit in peace, s’cuse my French.”

Jamie smiled, and after giving Tom leave to call him by his own first name, said, “Ye do seem that wee bit harried, if you dinna mind my remarking upon it.”

Tom laughed mirthlessly. “Harried and in need of a stiff drink.” The man suddenly furrowed his brows. “What did you mean, ‘I won’t be wanting that one’? Did you mean the thoroughbred, there?”

Jamie nodded. “I dinna think he’d do ye much good, if it’s breeding or strenuous sporting you have in mind for him, down the road.”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “No? He’s of prime stock from a top competitor of mine…” 

“Aye, he’s a bonnie lad, to be sure, verra well-built and wi’ a lovely coat and teeth, to be sure.”

“So…?” Tom said invitingly, but with a pointed look that suggested Jamie get to the point.

Jamie closed Cornflower’s stall and walked over to the paddock fence where the blond man stood with his horse, impatient.  “If I may?” Jamie said to the man. 

Reluctantly, the seller brought the mount over to Jamie and Tom. Jamie entered the enclosure and jumped smoothly up into the saddle, taking the beast a circuit or two at a moderate trot. All the while, he spoke low in Gaelic to the creature. Oh, and you’re a bonnie one, lad, and sweet to be sure. Dinna pay heed to the words I’ll speak against ye. You’re a worthy beast, no matter what, aye? 

He stopped once more in front of the two men, and gestured for Tom to come closer. “Hear how heavily he’s breathing? No yearling should be snorting and heaving like that after a naught but wee jaunt around the paddock. I wager he’ll have a weak heart or some other ailment, despite his fine build.”

“Well, son of a gun,” Tom said as Jamie dismounted, nodding as he examined the horse again. “I’m so plumb worn-out I didn’t even notice, but I think you might be right!” 

The seller looked livid and as though he’d like to strangle Jamie with his bare hands. He also was not nearly quick enough to offer a rebuttal. 

This was not lost on Tom, either, who turned to the seller with a smug, “Well, you heard the man, Fred. Come back next week with some better investments for me, huh?”

Tom turned away from the enraged O’Neill and looked at Jamie as though he were the aforementioned stiff drink. “Could I convince you to check out the rest of the herd with me, Jamie? If I’ve purchased any more weak links in my exhaustion haze these last few weeks, I’d like to know about them head-on!”

“Tell me truly: did ye plan it, Sassenach?”

“Hmm?” she said, looking up from the road. “Plan what? The trip to the barns? Of course I did! We didn’t end up here by accident, did we?” 

“No, not that. Did ye have it settled wi’ Tom that he should take pity on me and give me a job?”

She looked genuinely affronted. “No! Jamie, no, I swear!” she said, turning to look him in the eye for a moment. “I’ll admit that I did have it in the back of my mind that Fernacre and working with the horses might be to your liking, but I didn’t mention the notion to Marian, let alone Tom!” She gave him a sudden beaming smile. “That was completely on your own merit, my love!” 

Tom hadn’t been exaggerating about his dire lack of staff. In the past three weeks, he’d had two key employees resign for family reasons. After seeing firsthand the extent of Jamie’s knowledge and experience with horse, he’d offered him a job on the spot…and after a quick conference with Claire, who was glowing with the news, Jamie had accepted. 

“You’re no’ ashamed, then, to tell folk you’re marrit to a stable boy?” He tried to say it with the air of making a joke, though he did genuinely wish to be assured of the answer.

“Stable boy, pah! My husband is a chief manager at one of Boston’s most sought-after equestrian clubs! That’s no small potatoes, darling!”

Jamie laughed, taken aback by the strange expression.

“But even if you were a stable boy,” she said fondly, reaching over and taking his hand. “I married you the first time thinking you were nothing more than a stable boy and an outlaw, didn’t I?”

Jamie squeezed her hand. “Ye didna have much choice in the matter, as I recall,” he teased.

“Ha!” she said, raising an eyebrow, “believe you me, if I’d really, truly not wanted to marry you, I would’ve put my foot down.”

“Well,” Jamie said, reaching across to squeeze her knee, now, “when I’m feeling down on myself in future, I’ll always remember how ye chose marriage to me over going to prison. ‘Tis verra flattering to a person’s manly sensibilities.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted in good humor. 

“But truly, love, are you excited about this?” she asked a minute later. “I don’t mean to make you feel anything more than you do, but–”

“Aye. Truly, I feel most pleased about it, mo chridhe.” 

He did. This kind of work (supporting Tom in overseeing the care and procurement of the Fernacre stock as a whole) was precisely of the honest, simple, and peaceful sort he and Claire had discussed that first morning of their honeymoon. He felt confident that he could both enjoy and be proud of it, and if it helped support his family as well, it was heaven-sent. 

On top of all these considerations, he felt a thrill of true joy at the thought of teaching his precious Brianna to ride at Fernacre, in a few years’ time. Still more, he dreamed of perhaps having her spend afternoons with him there regularly, once she was old enough not to need constant supervision. To think of his nighean ruiadh growing strong and capable as the years passed, there with him in the open air, in his world…

 “Aye,” he said again, with the depth of all this feeling thick in his throat, “’Tis…more than perfect.”

“Good!” Claire said, not bothering to keep the excited triumph from her voice. A few minute later, she made an on odd noise of realization. “You know what this means, though?”

“What’s that, then?”

She ground the VanCAR— to a halt at a traffic signal and turned to him with a mischievous gleam of barely-suppressed (and not a little vindictive) glee in her whisky eyes. 

“It means that you, my love, are going to have to learn to DRIVE!”

Keep Reading with the next chapter

[Song: Goodnight Irene, The Weavers]

If I wasn’t able to do this, I think I would really lay down and die. Music comes from a very primal, twisted place. When a person sings, their body, their mouth, their eyes, their words, their voice says all these unspeakable things that you really can’t explain but that mean something anyway. People are completely transformed when they sing; people look like that when they sing or when they make love. But it’s a weird thing—at the end of the night I feel strange, because I feel I’ve told everybody all my secrets.
—  Jeff Buckley

I’m going to lose you
and I’ll never be the same again.
I don’t find someone else to take your place,
there’ll be a bitter taste on my tongue when I say your name.
I’ll feel physically sick
when I don’t remember your laugh or the sound of your voice
that makes me feel whole and at peace.

I’m going to lose you
and I’ll hate myself for it
because I let you slip away like you meant nothing.
You’re going to hate me,
you’re going to get sick of me
and I’ll act like I don’t care
but I’ll be drinking to forget,
and crying oceans into my pillow.
There is no me without you.

I’m going to lose you
but I’ll love you forever.
I’ll allow you to live happily without me
because I’m not easy.
It’s hard to talk to me
and you’ve always deserved better.
I’ll always remember every hour,
every minute
until I eventually forget.
It’ll be hard however,
I figure I’d need to be dead to get you out of my head.

—  sans forever
You Don’t Have to be Alone

Hey @heyo-cherrio! Happy holidays, and hope you’re having a wonderful day! I’m your secret Santa, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Hope you enjoy your gift! :)

Thanks to @ladyserendipitous for helping with the idea, @megatraven for reading it over, and @charme-miraculeux for the title!

“Hey, Marinette!”

Marinette almost froze in place when Adrien’s familiar voice sounded from behind. She turned to see him approach her, and she smiled, a blush already rising to her cheeks. “A-Adrien! Hi!”

Alya watched with a small smirk from beside her, glancing at Nino with a knowing look as he trailed behind Adrien.

“Now that finals are pretty much over, I had a favor to ask.” Adrien smiled, tugging his blue scarf just a bit tighter. “I wanted to commission you to make something for my father for Christmas.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped as the color drained from her face. “You…what? For your father? For…for Gabriel Agreste?” Not that she doubted her ability to make something incredible, but the idea of making something for her long-time idol was daunting.

Alya mouthed a quick question to Nino. “Did you do this?”

Nino shook his head with a grin.

Adrien nodded. “He was really impressed by your bowler hat, and I want to give him something great after my birthday gift.”

Marinette smiled. “O-Okay. I’d be happy to help!”

“Thanks!” He glanced over her shoulder at the limo that had just pulled up. “Sorry, I need to get home. Can I call you? We can set up a time to brainstorm something and talk about cost.”

“Oh, d-don’t worry about the cost!” She waved a hand and grinned. “Do you need my number?”

“I already have it.” He patted her shoulder as he rushed by her. “We’ll talk later!”

“Y-yeah. Later.” Marinette’s voice trailed off as her brain short-circuited at the brief contact.

Alya hugged her the instant Adrien’s car door closed. “That. Was. Amazing! Girl, he is into you!”

Marinette nearly toppled over and laughed as Alya’s hair tickled her cheek. “No, you think? I-I mean, he’s just asking for something to give his dad…”

Nino chuckled. “Yeah, for his fashion designer dad.” He shrugged. “At least he definitely knows you’ve got the skill to do it.”

Marinette squealed. “Alya, this is incredible! Plus we’ll get to spend a bunch of time together and…” Her grip on Alya’s arm tightened. “Together. In my room.”

“Way ahead of you.” Alya laughed, waving a quick goodbye to Nino. “Come on, let’s do some redecorating.”

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