this looks like it could be a stock photo in a frame

Here it is - the final, official post on my fic ‘Little White Lies’! 


“I lied when I got my job.

I told them I had a kid so I could leave early ‘to pick him up from day care’, to take him to doctors appointments and occasionally miss a day 'when he’s sick’. Long story short – I’m in too deep. I didn’t think this through.

Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy aged 4 to 6 with curly hair who plays soccer, essentially he has to look like the stock photo in the frame on my desk. Also must be artistic as the macaroni noodle drawings I made seem a little advanced for someone his age. He also needs to respond to 'my Little Picasso’ as that’s what my spouse and I call him. Also I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of my spouse when dropping him off. His name is James, he’s named after his grandpa and he’s a defense attorney who often brings his work home.

You know what, just message me for the details, serious inquiries only. H.”

Or, the AU based off of that one Craigslist post - how a little white lie takes on an enormous snowball effect, that might accidentally include a Tomlinson too.

Status: Complete, 4 Chapters // Word count: 13383 //  Read here on AO3

(it’s been so long, it’s been so long.. sorry!)


Fool’s Gold  , by @tvshows-addict : Or the Arnacoeur AU in which Harry is scheduled to be married to Liam in 10 days and Harry’s mother hires Louis and his team to break them up. 

Larry AU (55k, E)  : best idea ever than this adaptation of this french movie :D It’s fun, it’s angsty (promise, no cheating though), and also fluffy and full of banter and you’re gonna love the side characters ;)

★ got the sunshine on my shoulders , by @hattalove : five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him, harry has everything he could possibly want: he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

Larry Ex to lovers AU (124k, E) : ooooh the pain. And the angst. And the pain. Holy shit it’s so good. (b!Harrry for the smut, awesome)

but tonight (you’re on my mind) , by @allwaswell16 : Nick’s friendship with the lead singer of Seventy Eight has come with a new circle of people including an entrancing, blue eyed drummer. But what brings them together can also tear them apart.

Tomlinshaw AU (36k, E) : Thank you Anitra to feed me with some suality Tomlinshaw :D (famous Louis, closeting and long distance relationship, angsty and smutty )

★ Sweeter Than Wine , by @letsjustsee : When Wizard!Louis goes to a muggle club for a change of pace, his one night stand ends up being much more than he bargained for. 

Larry HP AU (15k) : awesome !!!  funny and hot, perfect for a ood time ;) (b!Louis for the smut)

Carry This Feeling , by @a-writerwrites and @dimpled-halo : Harry knows, objectively, that he shouldn’t try to get his ghostwriter into bed.  He knows.  But…he finds it hard to resist temptation when Louis waltzes into his home and his life and turns everything upside down.  And, as it turns out, Louis might just need a little turning upside down too. 

Larry famous/not Famous AU (50k) : pining and lust at first sight :D Add some angst and (as usual with Lisa) some hot smut (kind of share that really) !

Your Mess Is Mine , by amory : Louis is the father to the most brilliant little boy in the world who is all Louis really needs, or at least that’s what he tells himself. Harry is a gorgeous boybander fresh off a two year break and a massive scandal that’s left him a little broken and more than ready to move on.They fall in love.

LArry single dad Louis and famous Harry AU (176k, M) : very good mix of angst (hello bad past) and fluff, barely smutty.

finding our way back through the flame  , by sewmyname  : In which Louis and Harry manage to lose each other, somehow, when the pressure and the scrutiny and the pretence all become too much; and it’s a long time before they find each other again. A (mostly) future fic, set between December 2013 and December 2016. 

Larry Canon fic and Ex to lovers (24k, M) : angst angst angst and sexuality crisis, nicely done !

Little White Liesby  xxSterre :  “I lied when I got my job. I told them I had a kid so I could leave early ‘to pick him up from day care’, to take him to doctors appointments and occasionally miss a day 'when he’s sick’. Long story short – I’m in too deep. I didn’t think this through. Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy aged 4 to 6 with curly hair who plays soccer, essentially he has to look like the stock photo in the frame on my desk. Also must be artistic as the macaroni noodle drawings I made seem a little advanced for someone his age. He also needs to respond to 'my Little Picasso’ as that’s what my spouse and I call him. Also I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of my spouse when dropping him off. His name is James, he’s named after his grandpa and he’s a defense attorney who often brings his work home. You know what, just message me for the details, serious inquiries only. H.”    Or, the AU based off of that one Craigslist post - how a little white lie takes on an enormous snowball effect, that might accidentally include a Tomlinson too.

Larry fake relationship Au (13k, NR) : funny and cute, no smut , perfect for a bad day :)

All for the Game - Post Canon 2

- In Neil’s first year pro Allison came to visit him and was horrified that he barely had any furniture and no decorations in his apt. Just pictures of the foxes he had taped to the wall.

- So the next year when he gets traded to Andrew’s team and they move in together, Allison sends her personal interior designer to their apt. (Of course she has a personal interior designer, who has the time to decorate their own house?)

- Andrew gave no input into the design and Neil didn’t give much more. Only that he wanted his home to reflect what he cared about most. Exy, the foxes, and Andrew. 

- Based off the little information she was given the designer draws up some plans. Andrew and Neil accept.

- Neil’s favorite part is the living room wall behind the sofa, which is covered in his photos Not taped to the wall like he had done, but all in nice frames. After a few years they begin to encroach on the other walls also.

- Andrew doesn’t have any strong feelings towards the finished design, although there are a few things he could have lived without. Including the entirely to much orange accents (Thanks again Palmetto’s garish school colors),the decorative Exy rackets (the junkie evidently needs a daily reminder that he does play the sport), and the worst offender is the ceramic fox cookie jar. Andrew has threatened to smash it multiple times. The only reason he hasn’t is because, Neil always keeps it stocked.(Neil has come home to find him in a staring contest with it multiple time.)

- The parts of the apartment he likes the most is a tie between their balcony which has an amazing view of the city, and his study which is lined with bookshelves that have slowly filled in over the years (and no hints of orange in there). Most of the books were gifts. He will curl up on his nice leather sofa with a book on the bad days were he just needs to be alone.

- Their combined favorite part is their Palmetto jerseys that they had framed and hung above their respective sides of their bed. Seeing their jerseys side by side every night when they go to sleep, and every morning when they wake up is a constant reminder of their shared life. It’s perfect.

- Literally everyone that comes to visit is floored by how nice their apt. looks.

- All of the foxes make an effort to visit each others houses yearly. (Neil made them get a two bedroom. Andrew wanted a one bedroom, so that no one could visit.)

- Sometimes Andrew wishes he hadn’t given Allison’s stupid designer so much freedom, but then he will catch Neil staring at an orange racket on the wall or smiling softly at that stupid fox cookie jar. And he is content with his decision to not have bodily thrown the designer out of their house.

Pt. 3

anonymous asked:

How would companions react to finding a sexy pin up photo of the f!ss?

   Alright, my first ask! It took quite some time and I sort of over did it, but I had fun with this one. I assume companions are on friendly terms with Sole, yet interested.

After clearing out the Boston Mall of super mutants, Sole and (companion) searched a photo boutique that Sole breifly mentioned she’d once worked at to pay off her tuition for law school. When they entered the office, Sole occupied herself by trying to unlock a nearby safe while her companion scavenged the desk. After looting some caps,(companion) noticed a file that was pristine enough to make out Sole’s name written on the side. When curiosity got the better of them, they opened up the file revealing a few photos of Sole posing in an erotic matter in VERY revealing attire. One featureing Sole lounging in a fancy chair in black lacy lingerie with tight thigh high stockings and garter belts, with a pretty damn fine view of her rear that’s tightly hugged by her panty showing off it’s plump features while presenting the lovely line of her spine up her back, ending with the over the shoulder glance. Then another photo, with Sole sporting a different pair of lingerie colored white with a pair of stockings and a corset that pushed her bust up and out while Sole posed with her finger coyly placed in her mouth as she stretched out and paraded her long softly toned slender legs. The final photo confirmed that YES, these photos of the very voluptuous woman is indeed Sole, for it was a close up of the woman in question with full lips painted bright red and her busty breasts barely coved by the lace of her bra, gazing at the camera with a seductive slight smirk and the ‘come hither’ look in her eyes.

Cait flipped through all three of the photos taking in the scene before her. Damn she knew Sole was a nice piece of ass considering they always wear that tight vault suit but this was a more than a welcomed surprise. “Oy Sole!” before Sole could stand up from her crouch, Cait walked over and gave her a hard slap on the ass causing Sole to let out a startled yelp before jolting straight up, giving Cait the side eyed glare while rubbing her surely now bruised bum while Cait simply laughed at her reaction. “check out this great piece of arse I found for yah!”, she said while teasingly waving the photos around making sure Sole couldn’t snatch them back from her. Oh yeah, Cait’s definitely keeping these as souvenirs, who knows maybe she could sell them for a good wholesome of caps or better yet use them as leverage on Sole so she’d get certain ‘favors’ from Sole herself. This’ll be an interesting night for both women.

Curie was mesmerized by Sole’s voluptuous physique, beautifully glorified by the suggestive attire and camera work by the photographer. She was so entranced by the images she yelped in surprise when Sole lightly tapped on her shoulder when she noticed the synthetic doctor didn’t answer her question on her findings. “I didn’t mean to intrude Mademoiselle, my apologies for my curiosity has once again unfortunately have gotten the better of me”, Curie exclaimed slightly flustered. “I’ve noticed you’re quite the shapely woman Madame, but this leaves very little to the imagination, no?”, she admitted, holding out the photos for Sole to see. Curie’s adorable curiosity and slight embarrassment made it less humiliating for Sole as she explained why those photos were taken, all the while Curie continues to ‘examine’ her fellow companion’s shapely physique.

Codsworth: “Oh dear! Mum, it appears your employer decided to keep a few ‘souvenirs’.” The Mister Handy remembered the earlier years of which his mistress worked part time jobs to help pay off her tuition. He recalls one instance in which his mistress sent a letter with naughty images of herself addressed to her spouse who was over seas at the time, with the purpose for them to “remember what they’re missing back home” as his mistress proclaimed it  (ah, the passion of married couples back in the good ol’ days). 200 hundred years later just to discover that her employer at the time seemed to also have been fond of Sole’s very womanly figure just as much as their spouse, for them to keep a few photos of their employee which also raised the question if they’ve kept other photos of their other clients or employees? Never the less, the mister handy would return the photos to their rightful owner for whatever which she wishes to do to them.

Danse was expecting an employee’s profile or a report of some sort describing Sole’s employment in this emporium. But discovering such scandalously lewd photos of the solider under his command has left him stunned and blushing from ear-to-ear. He’s “tried” to not pay too much attention to her rather ample figure during their travels, which has been proven difficult, especially when she insists on wearing that damn skin tight vault suit. Even the brotherhood’s uniform hugs her feminine frame outstandingly. “Kn-Knight! C-Care to explain what EXEACTLY your job was in this establishment in particular?”, his words didn’t come out as smoothly as he hoped, mentally face palming himself. Unfortunately Sole just HAD to lean over the desk that was between her and the paladin to inspect the photos he held out for her to examine, and Sole just HAPPENED to have her jumpsuit partially zipped down enough for him look down at her lovely bosoms. Refusing to ogle at her any longer, he quickly shifts his gaze over her shoulder just to end up gawking at her rear as she was partially bent over the desk. At this point, his face was as red as a tato just for the color deepen as he found himself picturing how much better the view of her rear would be if only he were behi- “Damn it Paladin!! This is completely inappropriate and unacceptable! This is no way for a paladin of the brotherhood of steel to observe their subordinates! This is absolutely unprofessional!” he mentally scolded himself. It’s going to be a looooong awkward night for these two.

Like Danse, Deacon expected a pre-war profile of Sole’s past employment to this run down business, expecting some inside perspective of what Sole used to be like 200 years ago but just ended up finding her super sexy dirty little secret. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to take advantage of the leverage he’s got on her now. “Damn boss, got any other juicy secrets, that I defiantly 100% already know!” he laughed waving the photos around with a mischievous quirk of his brow. Mortified, Sole tried to snatch the photos from him with little to no success as Deacon tried to keep distance between Sole and her sexy photos as he ran away from her grabby hands, playing a game of cat and mouse around the desk where the photos were originally discovered. When Sole eventually caught the slippery spy, she reached out to try to grab the photos away from him with Deacon laughing his ass off while stretching out his arm that clutched the photos far enough away from her grasps with the other holding the embarrassed vault dweller back by the shoulder while trying not to slip with all this struggling and accidently grope her…or should he take the risk..?..Her boobies looked awfully soft and squeezably nice compared to the ones he had when he was a woman. He’ll definitely get one hell of an ass whoopin from the vault dweller who’s been proclaimed as the most dangerous woman in the commonwealth, but it’ll defiantly be worth it. B)

Hancock lounges back in the chair by the deck propping his feet up with a goofy grin on his face, taking in the sight before him. He’ll make damn sure that these images of Sole in those kinds of positions will be etched into his memory for later when he has some private time. Nowadays it’ll be a goddamn miracle to find attire like that anymore and to see someone like Sole dressed in them? “Shit sister, got any more of these back home?” he called out checking Sole out in the corner of his eye all while still gawking at her photos. He gave the photos one last look before handing them over to Sole and started to crack up laughing at the sudden change of her expression from confusion to a wide eyed blushing mess. Good ol’ mayor Hancock kept on complementing on the flustered vault dweller’s assets while trying to find a more suitable place to camp for the night. It’s moments like these where’d he just loves to relentlessly tease her for the whole night, silently hoping for something, anything to escalate.

MacCready couldn’t stop the sudden rush of blood going to his face and other places when his eyes landed on the perverted photos of his employer. If Sole just wearing that stupid vault suit wasn’t bad enough already, now he has physical photos of her wearing little to no cloths that might as well be borderline pornographic with her positioned in such a way that makes him- “Hey, RJ did you find something?” Sole just finished looting the items from the locked safe, snapping MacCready back to reality. Before she could turn around to face him, he quickly stuffed the photos into his coat and tried to play it cool but his flustered face says other wise. “You alright hotshot?”, Sole asked, noticing the red hue across his face with a slight hint of sweat across his forehead. “Y-Yeah, it’s nothing, just found a bunch of crap-CAPS just caps…uh here, boss.” He handed the caps over to the confused vault dweller while tugging his cap over his face before walking off claiming that he needs to ‘cool off’, later returning back to camp, slightly out of breathe, yet still somewhat flustered but with a satisfied look on his face.

Nick let out a soft chuckle “Well, what do we have here?”, it doesn’t take a detective to figure out that Sole is quite a full-figured woman but damn, if the vault suit didn’t already leave little to the imagination…well, with the right parts, good ol’ detective Valentine might’ve been a little hot under the collar. But those legs sure did get the coolant pumping. “Hey kid, uh I don’t mean to bring up the old-world rivalry but uh, I’m pretty sure ‘posing for pin-up’ isn’t something you should put on a resume for a defense attorney”. he sniggered passing the photos over to the dame in blue. “I suggest you keep those locked up tight somewhere safe” Sole shot him an irritated glare causing the synth detective to openly start laughing at her reaction “you know what I mean, kid” if he could blush, he’d be steaming red from embarrassment.

Piper’s face was flushed with a pretty shade of pink from embarrassment, slight arousal, with a pinch on envy. She knew Sole had a body of a pin-up girl but she’d never thought she’d see the day where Sole is actually posing for one. Well a girl can dream right?…not that she thought about it to much or anything…”Hey Blue, you’ve never told me you’ve posed for pin-up before!” After taking the photos from the nosy reporter, Sole started to flush red and shoved them into her pack  “Woah ,woah come on Blue, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” (she just wanted to look at the pictures again). After setting up camp for the night, Piper kept trying to get an ‘interview’ from the ex pin-up girl “come on blue, this will definitely get some papers pushed around, with maybe a few references, this article would be a hit!” Hopefully the reporter’s charisma will work it’s charm.

Poor Preston was definitely not prepared to see half-naked photos of his dear friend and general of the Minutemen. She was distracting enough already with the tight vault suit that emphasized the slight bounce of her more noticeable features but this is something that the minuteman can’t simply just block out of his mind. He can’t deny that the general has quite the bomb-shell bod but god damn it’s distracting. “Hey uh General? I think these belong to you”. Advoiding her gaze, Preston handed the photos back to Sole while coyly rubbing his nape, he excused himself to go set up camp, fanning himself with his hat trying to cool his burning cheeks…and groin.

anonymous asked:

Hey, do you have some good fake relationship au's? Thanks and All the love

Hii! Check this link out, but here’s some more for you:

Boy, you got me blinded by Anonymous:

Summary: Louis wasn’t completely sure that they were on May 22nd, he would’ve bet this was an April’s Fool joke. He couldn’t believe all these important people were seriously proposing he should appear on the cover of fucking Vogue magazine. He wasn’t alone, it seemed like Lottie was about to faint right next to him. He stared at each and every face in front of him, and they weren’t smiling, so this had to be a serious proposal. Actually, there was one face smiling - Harry’s. The fucker was smirking. Louis didn’t like him anymore.

Or the one where Louis finds himself modeling for Vogue Magazine next to hot top model Harry Styles and faking a relationship with him for the public, finding along the way more than a new way of life

Paint Me In A Million Dreams by green_feelings:

Summary: Harry’s one of Hollywood’s biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There’s just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry’s in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood’s biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese’s next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry’s in love with someone and doesn’t care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn’t write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

Little White Lies by xxSterre:

Summary: "I lied when I got my job.

I told them I had a kid so I could leave early ‘to pick him up from day care’, to take him to doctors appointments and occasionally miss a day ‘when he’s sick’. Long story short – I’m in too deep. I didn’t think this through.

Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy aged 4 to 6 with curly hair who plays soccer, essentially he has to look like the stock photo in the frame on my desk. Also must be artistic as the macaroni noodle drawings I made seem a little advanced for someone his age. He also needs to respond to 'my Little Picasso’ as that’s what my spouse and I call him. Also I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of my spouse when dropping him off. His name is James, he’s named after his grandpa and he’s a defense attorney who often brings his work home.

You know what, just message me for the details, serious inquiries only. H.“

Or, the AU based off of that one Craigslist post - how a little white lie takes on an enormous snowball effect, that might accidentally include a Tomlinson too.

fake it 'til you make it by tempolarriefics:

Summary: “So.” Louis clears his throat, trying to prompt the curly haired boy into speaking.

“You want me to what?” The boy asks incredulously, speaking slowly in a way that emphasizes the absurdity of what Louis has just asked.

Louis clears his throat, hoping he doesn’t look as completely mortified as he feels. He shrugs nonchalantly before squeaking out, “To go to the Yule ball with me, to make my ex-boyfriend jealous?”

or, the one where Harry and Louis are seventh years at Hogwarts and while trying to make Liam jealous, fall in love along the way.

come on jump out at me by yoursongonmyheart:

Summary: “you know, i offered for you to fake out me, but, i don’t know anything about you other than you being my biggest celebrity crush probably since posh spice.”

louis almost chokes on his chicken, “jesus christ,” he sputters.

harry takes a swig of his beer with a smirk. “i was very disappointed when you didn’t say i was your celebrity crush after you came out.”

louis almost cries. “you know i did plan on it. then i ran into you narrating taking a piss and talking about my ass and i thought ‘wow this kid does talk some shit’ and decided against it.”

harry barks out a laugh, his ears tinged red. he takes a bite of his pizza. “i suppose i do have no filter while high.”

louis rolls his eyes, “bit of an understatement, mate.”

harry giggles, “whatever pal,” louis screams internally.

Or, the one where actor louis tomlinson and one direction superstar harry styles try to fake a sex tape to help harry get out of the closet and they both get more than they bargained for.

California Sold by isthatyoularry:

Summary: Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Always Come Back To You by whoknows:

Summary: “I’ll do it,” Harry offers brightly. No one even blinks. “I’ll do it?”

Louis sighs irritably. “Shut up,” he orders, tossing a pillow in the general direction of Harry’s face. This is a terrible time for jokes, especially Harry’s lame, old people ones.

Not that it was an old people joke. Just that most of the time Harry’s jokes consist of knock-knocks or terrible puns. The type of jokes old people like, Louis’ pretty sure. His nan always finds them hilarious when Harry tells her one.

Harry bats the pillow out of the air without even blinking. “Be reasonable, Lou,” he says in his most reasonable voice.

Louis is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much, and he’s also frustrated and upset and tired and he really wants to punch something. Maybe he should have held on to that pillow a little longer.

“You’re not gonna fucking do it,” he snaps. “That’s the last thing I need.”

(your heartbeat) rang true inside my bones by flimsy:

Summary: Harry goes as Louis’ date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

“Hey,” Harry hears himself say just as Louis climbs back into the car. He ducks down, holding onto the roof to look at Louis who cocks his brow at him and says, “What?”

“I meant it,” Harry starts. “Like, I’d do it. I’d be your date for the wedding. If it’d make you feel less awful about being there and if you want me to, I’ll do it. I promise I’ll be good.”

Chestnuts Roasting… And All That by elsi_bee:

Summary: Louis is apparently the only person at his new job who is single as can be. It’s not a big deal to just tell his new colleagues that he has a boyfriend, right? Until he has to make this imaginary boyfriend magically appear at the office holiday party. Cue fake relationship antics with a certain someone who is more than willing to play along.

All The Attention, All These Intentions by sweetlullabies:

Summary: Harry could barely breathe at even the possibility of getting to be Louis Tomlinson’s fake boyfriend. Louis was his favorite actor since childhood, when Louis was also a child on the big screen. The guy he had always looked up to. The guy whose poster he used to kiss every night before bed. The guy whose movies Harry would watch all night until his eyes couldn’t possibly stay open anymore. Harry was pretty sure Louis Tomlinson wasn’t even real—he couldn’t be.

or the fake relationship au where Harry is an aspiring musician and also Louis’ biggest fan–until he actually meets him.

Monthly Fic Rec July (x)

“I lied when I got my job.

I told them I had a kid so I could leave early ‘to pick him up from day care’, to take him to doctors appointments and occasionally miss a day 'when he’s sick’. Long story short – I’m in too deep. I didn’t think this through.

Looking to rent a kid for bring your child to work day. Must be a boy aged 4 to 6 with curly hair who plays soccer, essentially he has to look like the stock photo in the frame on my desk. Also must be artistic as the macaroni noodle drawings I made seem a little advanced for someone his age. He also needs to respond to 'my Little Picasso’ as that’s what my spouse and I call him. Also I will pay extra for someone willing to play the role of my spouse when dropping him off. His name is James, he’s named after his grandpa and he’s a defense attorney who often brings his work home.

You know what, just message me for the details, serious inquiries only. H.”

The one where Louis is a barista and Harry is the hot dude that comes in every day and does nothing except sit in the corner, writing in his notebook, all day long. But what Louis learns when he sneaks a peek inside the notebook changes everything. 

Harry is Cupid, Louis and Liam own a law firm, and they’re all getting sued. 

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him. 

Louis was captain of the state championship high school soccer team. Harry was that gorgeous, scarf-wearing, long-limbed British kid in his art class. They weren’t supposed to be friends.

But somewhere along the line, Louis Tomlinson opened the locked mystery that was Harry Styles.

Keep reading


Pairing: Taron x Reader

Requested: Yup!

Pronouns: She/Her

GIF: No clue

Warnings: None. Unless you are triggered by adorableness.

Reading time: 7 Min.

Notes: I’m trying to write a little faster so I did this in just a few hours as opposed to my others which took me up to a week. So I apologize if it sucks. Ha!

Summary: You’ve been away a few weeks and are returning home to Taron at Christmas time.


“Babe, what’s all this?”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she edged through the doorway into the flat they shared. The weight of the suitcases in her hands forced her to turn sideways but she could see he had decorated for the holiday. Taron grabbed a bag from her as he held the door open.

“Merry Christmas love.” He said. Her chest brushed against his and he puckered his lips. She placed a tiny kiss on them and set her bags down in the entryway.

Keep reading


(From AskReddit)

    By Reddit user vuhleeitee
    When I was little, around 8, I hated going to the dentist, he always made me uncomfortable for some reason. I remember thinking his smile stretched too far and seemed forced, like clowns. Anyway, my mom always came with me, and went back so I wouldn’t be scared. One day, my dad had me (divorced parents), and had to take me to the dentist, but tried to make me go back alone so he could sit out in the lobby doing whatever. The assistants had to literally drag me back to the room and you could hear me screaming and crying down the hall, refusing to sit in the chair. Finally, my dad came back to get me, irritated I’d made a scene, he rescheduled my appointment to when my mom would have me, and we just left, he made a big deal about how bad I was acting and told my mom she was spoiling me and all sorts of shit.
    Two weeks later, it’s on the news that my dentist was charged with child pornography, after molesting children under anesthesia and photographing it.

  • DOLL
    By Reddit user SuicideSquad
    I was born and raised in North Dakota. Back when I was in HS, a group of us would research murders that occurred out in the county. We would then go out to find the scenes and film the exploration at night (this was about two years before Blair Witch) It was something to do while we got wasted on shitty beer and teenage bullshit. Eventually we ran out of places to go (ND = few people, few murders) and got really good at finding abandoned rural farmsteads by driving dirt roads and looking for the signs. Rut roads, deliberate tree groves, and old mailbox posts were common markers. We were out looking when we spotted a tree grove that was out of place (sure sign) and drove through the field and discovered an old (but not too old) house. It had padlocks on the outside doors that were knocked off pretty easily, we dispatched of them and entered the kitchen. There were six of us, all with flashlights, and we lit up the kitchen/dining area fairly easily. The table was the initial thing you noticed and it was strange because of how normal it looked. It was set for a meal and not a bowl was out of place. Only thing was, we’d been in dozens of these houses and place setttings were a first. Especially unbroken ones. As we investigated the area we found the fridge had the disgusting remnants of a full stock, and the cupboards were full of canned and dry foods. This was also a first. One guy found mail on the counter from early June 1978 and another found a creepy ass TV guide in the living room with UFO’s on the cover. All the family photos were hanging up. Mom, Dad, Bro and Sis in their 1970’s glory. Furniture was dusty, but in good condition. Closets were full. Everything was totally normal. Which was super abnormal. As we dug around the house, we all started to realize that this house had not been moved out of, it had been straight up abandoned. Imagine locking the door to your house and never coming back. That’s the state this house was in. Complete unplanned departure. We went upstairs and split into three pairs to check out the three rooms. Ours was the closest and obviously it was the younger boys room, I can’t describe what it looked like too well because almost right away from the hall, we heard the most fucking terrifying scream I’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing. We went running into the hallway and were all yelling questions at each other at the same time. After a few (really long) seconds the two screamers caught their breath and said “you have to go in and see.” Walking down the hall and through the doorway, I prayed I wouldn’t act like a pussy in front of my friends. I shouldn’t have been concerned because the others were as scared as I was. The room itself opened up to the left of the door-frame and centered on the right side of the room was a queenish sized bed. Propped up on pillows, with the blanket drawn to the waist, arms on top of the blanket, and worst of all, head turned slightly so it was looking you straight in the eyes when you entered the room was a life sized porcelain doll. Snow white skin, jet black hair, cold dead eyes. The dead eyes lit up with our flashlights. Like she was waiting for us. If the head hadn’t been turned I could excuse it, but it was turned. Ready for when we walked in. Ready for 20 years. Hasty fucking exits were made down the stairs and into the car. It was during the ride we started to get even more creeped out when we realized that even though the house had been abandoned, someone had taken the time to set up that goddamn doll. Not packing food, clothes, or family photos. Setting up the doll was one of the last things done in this house. We researched their names, but got nothing. No tragic car accident. No grisly massacre. No extended family. Just a tacky time-capsule in the middle of nowhere. We found out that the county had taken possession of the land for nonpayment of taxes, explaining the locks, but never tracked down anymore information on what happened to them. Or why they left that fucking doll.

    By Reddit user brs677
    We were partying at a usual party spot by the river, and some dude came out of the woods. He just kept saying weird shit like “you gotta watch yourself down here,” “There are some bad folks around here” and when asked who he was he just said, “I’m nobody.” We were all a little sketched out, and basically told the guy to fuck off. A couple days later a girl went off the rope swing there and got really fucked up. Someone put fishing hooks all over the bottom of the rope swing and it took chunks of flesh out of her leg.
    Later we found out the dude was just a guy that lived nearby and although a creepy drunk, he was harmless. There was a fucked up, probably inbred family that lived up the road that he would warn people about. About 5 years later, last year, they beat some kid up with a log and kidnapped some girl at gunpoint and took her on a joy ride.

    By Redditt user so_so_so_bored
    Last year, a guy came to my house’s door around 9:00 at night. He knocked and I got my mom, and she went out to see what was up. By the way, we live in a very rural area, so visits that late are extremely uncommon and strange.The guy talked to my mom about how he was opening a business, asked whether she liked american-made products, then handed her a clorox container as a ‘sample.’ He went back to his minivan and opened it to get a 'vacuum cleaner’ when my mom saw five other men sitting inside. She told me to run and get my phone, since we don’t have a land line. I couldn’t find it, so I got my knife and stood around the corner. She threw the container outside and told them to get the hell off her property, as well as that she was calling the cops. They peeled out of the driveway and we never saw the car again.
    Two months later my mom found a single, bearded guy putting filled garbage bags by the back door. She asked him what the hell he was doing- he responded by saying “this is for your little girl” (my little sister). Again, she told him to get the hell out, then went through the bags.They were filled with garbage, dirty clothes, and empty tampon containers.

    By Reddit user GrittySpice
    Working as a paramedic, I was dispatched to what went out as a simple assault call in a bad neighborhood. This was around 10 pm. We arrived at the address to find a man standing behind a row of parallel parked cars in front of his house, yelling in a strange high pitched voice. The police were trying to calm him down. Our first assumption walking up to him was that this was the guy who was injured, but once we got the gurney around the parked cars we saw what was really going on. A dead man was leaned up against a mini cooper, slouched in the gutter. I’ll never forget coming around the car to find him. There was this really unsettling moment that lasted about 2 seconds where I thought he was alive and staring at me, then realizing he was looking through me, then realizing he was dead. He was shirtless and had been stabbed multiple times. And these were brutal wounds. Most stabbings I’d seen up till that point seemed to be simple penetrations, but this guy’s chest and abdomen had been torn to shreds, it was nasty.The guy standing on the curb was yelling in that weird warbly voice, crying, asking if his roommate would be okay. We started CPR and scooped him up and took him to the hospital, knowing that there really was no chance for this guy. After the doctor pronounced him a couple of cops came over from the scene to square away business involving the victim. One of them really dropped a bomb on us. The story they had heard before our arrival was that the victim had left the house to have a smoke, and when his roommate came out to check on him, he found him stabbed to death outside. But after we left for the hospital, someone noticed a trail of blood leading from the house to the curb, implying that he had been stabbed inside. When the police confronted the roommate about this, he managed to run inside and barricade himself in house. There was actually a SWAT team over there dealing with the situation as we spoke. So anyway, the person who had most likely brutally murdered our patient that night had been standing there right behind me for most of the call. Pretty creepy.

    By Reddit user Sweetdish
    A few years back I rented an apartment from a friend of mine. He had recently bought it and had it completely renovated. He put it up for sale but couldn’t find a buyer so I offered to rent it in the meantime.After moving in I realized there was something wrong with the lady next door. She was about 45 but looked much older. She would sit up all night listening to Christian radio shows and talking loudly to someone. It got to the point where I couldn’t sleep so I went over to her place and asked her to keep it down. She opened her door and I got a quick peak. Her walks all had crosses painted on them in different colors. And words like “Jesus” and “angels” scribbled everywhere. The windows were painted black letting no light in at all. It was damp, yellow stained 50 year old carpets, dog shit and cock roaches everywhere. No dog though.I asked her to please keep it down. She just looked at me and shut the door. Then she turned up the radio even louder.The next night I had my GF staying over. I wake up in the middle of the night and see a shadow of a person next to the bed looking at us sleeping. I think I’m hallucinating as I usually do in the dark when I’m sleepy. But then the shadow starts talking. It’s my neighbor and she’s holding something in her hand. She broke in during the night and who knows how long she stood there.“You should lock your door at night” she says and walks out.The next morning I hear someone making strange noises below my bedroom window. It’s my neighbor talking to herself in tongue. She has a plastic bag in her hand with her rotting dead dog inside. It’s hot as hell outside and I can smell death from the bag.At this point I’m scared shitless. Shes obviously very insane. I go upstairs and knock on another persons door and ask what the hell is going on. The guy is as scared as me. Apparently she broke into his apartment one evening as well while he was watching tv with his kids. He got up from the couch to get a snack only to find her behind the couch staring at him holding a power drill. (Now I know what was in her hand)At this stage I’m basically pooping myself. I call the cops and they know all about her. Apparently she is a violent schizo and she hasn’t taken her meds. But they can’t force her or enter her apartment w/o her permission because she owns it. The only thing they can do is get her when she goes outside. I sit up for the next two days waiting for her to run out of cigarettes. When I hear her leave at 2am to go across the road to the 7-eleven I call the cops. They have 3 cars and a special van over in less than 2 minutes. They restrain her and throw her in the van and drive off to some institution and in less than a minute it’s like she was never there.I never see her again. Still have nightmares about her looking at me in my sleep.

    By Reddit user wordsfromlee
    This happened to a friend of mines house mate during their time at university. It was at the house she lived in before moving in with my friend after this event occurred. During her second year at university she lived in a house with three other people. At Easter, everyone went back home to their parents for the Easter holidays. Her first night back after returning from the Easter break she woke up in the morning to find some things moved about in her bedroom. She thought nothing of it and put it down to moving it herself the night before and not remembering. She woke up the next morning to more stuff moved around. Like her TV and chair etc. she started to get a bit scared and told her house mates to quit moving her stuff about as it wasn’t funny and very creepy. They all said they didn’t touch anything. The next morning even more stuff had been moved and she started to get very worried. Again, she told her house mate to stop but they swore they haven’t touched anything and were getting very concerned themselves. The fourth night she woke up during the middle of the night. She looked over and in the darkness she could see a figure sitting at her desk. She freaked the fuck out, ran out of the room, locked the door and called the police. The police turn up and they unlock the door. Sure enough, there is a guy there, probably early 20s, sitting at her desk. Calm as anything. The police arrest him and take him away. A couple of days later they find out that the guy was actually a mentally handicapped person who lived at a care home not far down the road. His mother had looked after him until her death a year or so earlier when he was then moved into the home. He’d been a missing person for a few weeks and it turned out that the house this girl and her friends lived in used to be his and his mothers house. In particular, her bedroom used to be his. He eventually told the police that when he ran away from the home, his old house was where he went to. He managed to get in somehow and spent the whole time there. Two and a half weeks. Sleeping under the girls bed. Coming out at night while she slept to move her stuff so it was like how he had it when it was his bedroom.

    By Reddit user Darkest-timeline
    It was very early morning/late at night, whatever you wanna call it. Around 5am, still dark. My dad and brother and I were in the car, driving to the mosque. On the way there, there’s this dimly lit road, with a forest on both sides, and a bend that made it difficult to see. Bear in mind this isn’t a residential area, there isn’t even a sidewalk and the nearest intersection is a good kilometer either way. So we’re driving, we get to this bend, and just before it we see a figure sort of waving us down. They were dressed kinda odd, but I figured it was some sort of running outfit. I don’t wanna say it was glowing or reflective cause I don’t fully remember, but it just made me assume it was some sort of running outfit. Couldn’t make out his face, or anything about him other then his clothing. So he’s waving us down dramatically, my dad slows down but doesn’t really think anything of it. As we turn along the road, we see a car like right freaking there. It was just out of view before the curve in the road, so we would have definitely hit it if my dad didn’t slow down. Dad stops, quickly checks on the driver of the car to make sure he’s okay, then doubles back for some reason, maybe to thank the guy who warned us. He drove back quite a ways. No one, on either side of the road. It was about 60 seconds from initially seeing the guy to turning around to where he was, no time for him to really go anywhere.

    By Reddit user DAMNATiON182
    About 6 years ago, I was in my final year of high school and due to the weird timetable that 12th grade had at my school, we regularly had 2+ hour breaks between classes, early finishes, and longer lunch breaks. My house was about a 20 minute walk away from school, and I would usually just walk home either by myself or with a friend and chill until we had to head back.My school was located on the outskirts of the city, and my house a little bit further out. I lived on about 40 acres on a dirt road. Along the dirt road, I had been passing a really foul smell about 5 minutes away from my house. I couldn’t tell where the smell was coming from, but it was definitely close to the road. I had passed this smell about 4 times over roughly a week of school but figured it was a dead animal due to the area.After an exam, I was walking home with a friend and the smell was worse than ever, so as you do, we decided to walk into the grass to search for whatever the smell was. We ended up finding a black garbage bag that was completely blown up like a balloon about 5 meters from the road. As a joke, I threw a rock at it and it popped and shot out this foul white goo and immediately, my friend and I started dry-reaching. We ran away as fast as we could, laughing and vomiting, back home to my place. I didn’t think anything of it as I figured it was a cat or something that someone had dumped.I remember walking back from school the next week, by myself, and there were mounted police on their horses walking down the road slowly, and near one of the entrances to my property, there was a dog squad with sniffer dogs walking around. I didn’t take much notice of all the police and what they were doing, but literally as soon as I got closer to the area that we had found the bag, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach and I thought “Oh shit…”. The bag ended up being the body of a girl who had been murdered and was dumped along the fence-line of my property. I still feel sick when I think about it.

    By Reddit user apropos_cluster
    I was in Minot, ND with my old band. Our tour van blew a head gasket and we were stuck there for a few days. Everyone was tired on day 2, but I was wide awake. I walk for a bit and make it to some scummy bar. I’m obviously not from around there, and nobody is saying a word to me. After 2 beers, I start to get a tad nauseous and dizzy. I put my head in my hand and try to let it pass, but it keeps getting worse. Suddenly, a voice says “you’ll feel pain tonight”. I jump and look up and a tall roughly 40 year old man is walking to the bathroom, turns back and glances at me. I called my friends and got the fuck out of there. I slept for 12-13 hours and felt awful/loopy the next day. I was roofied.

    By Reddit user TummySticksss
    I lived in a small college town and my apartment complex was walking distance from the bar/downtown area. One weekday night, I stepped out on our front porch to smoke a cigarette or two (I was up late studying). I brought my text book with me and sat down on the stairs while I smoked. A girl, who I had never met but who lived one apartment over but down on the ground floor, came home from downtown. She was by herself and you could tell from her walk she had been drinking. She got in her apartment and barely got the door closed before some guy, who came out of nowhere, knocked on her door. She opened and I noticed he introduced himself, which was weird because it was after 2:30 am, who comes to a strange girl’s apartment at that time? So I decide to stay outside and pay attention. They ended up talking for over ten minutes, she later acknowledged how weird the situation was but did not know how to end the conversation. He would do the creepiest things, like he reached up and stroked her hair at least three times, and would try and slowly inch his way closer to her and the door. I made a point of being loud with my textbook so he would know I was there and he disappeared as eerily as he had come. We called the cops, and days later they had the girl and me sit with a sketch artist. As soon as the sketch was made public, floods of calls came in. Guy turned out to be a serial rapist who followed lone girls home from bars and pretended to be a cab offering them a ride. This girl just got lucky because she lived so close to the bars, he didn’t get a chance to pull the cab routine.
Jumped: Part 2

Part 1

After a day of marathon shopping with Oliver, I was ready for a quiet evening at home. I reheated some pasta and curled up on the couch with a book (that I totally intended to read but probably wouldn’t), a glass of wine and my phone. My fingers were itching to pull up the picture from earlier. I wanted to play it cool and pretend like I hadn’t been affected by my celebrity encounter, but I was. And it wasn’t that he was famous (I was pretty sure). It was him, it was this guy who had this presence that I couldn’t describe. The banter on the phone, the blueness of his eyes, the rush of my heart when his fingers brushed mine, these were the things that stuck with me, that had been circling my brain all day.

With a sigh, I gave up my pretense and opened the photo app on my phone. There it was, the selfie. He was right. I did look terrified. My eyes were wide, my lips pale and in a tight line as I stared into the camera. Wow. Thank god he had sent himself the Minnie Mouse picture and not this one. He looked much better in the pic, unsmiling and maybe a little tired but he was a naturally photogenic guy and his blue eyes and the dark stubble on his chin framed a really handsome face.

I switched over to the text message he had sent himself, the infamous Minnie Mouse picture. It was taken four months ago on Halloween at my friend Margot’s annual party. The theme had been Disney but it was not a family friendly party. My mini skirt and fishnet stockings were modest compared to some of the other costumes. There were more slutty princesses than you could count. Oliver had dressed as the priest from The Little Mermaid, complete with a tented shift.

Niall’s number stared at me from the small screen of the phone. I knew I would never call it, one humiliation (okay at least three humiliations) in front of this guy were enough to last a lifetime. But I couldn’t bring myself to delete it. If he were smart, he’d be changing it soon anyway after giving it away to a total stranger. Finally, I gave into my baser instincts and opened his contact. I printed his name (which I had to google for the spelling…and then maybe looked through the images a little) and then added his cropped out face from our selfie. I stared at the face and name, replaying our interactions and wishing with everything I had that I didn’t want to talk to him again.

I was startled out of my daydream by a text alert. Pinching myself to make sure I hadn’t actually fallen asleep and that this wasn’t a dream, I read his name. Text message from Niall Horan. Exiting out of the contact, I pulled open his message and immediately started to giggle.

Keep reading

Chaebols: The Arrangement Pt2

Length: 4.8k

Pairing: Kyungsoo x OC

Pt1  Pt2  Pt3  Pt4  Pt5

               Their honeymoon was quiet and uneventful. As promised, they flew in silence to their island honeymoon, stayed in separate bungalows, and they only saw each other for a few hours a day. In the morning, the two would tour places on the island, taking pictures of one another and even a few together to post on social media and send to family and friends. Then they ate dinner in the evening. The rest of the day was left for Jae-eun to do whatever she wanted.  

They didn’t speak of the reception, if they even spoke at all.

           Despite this, Jae-eun enjoyed her vacation. She spent several hours under an umbrella at the beach, was able to mark five books off of her yearly reading list, and had met a few interesting people. Best of all, Kyungsoo left her alone. She wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. She would, but for now she was happy to be on her own. 

Keep reading

5h1take  asked:

May I request HCs for Chuuya, Tachihara, Mori and Dazai with an s/o who's an idol (similar to AKB48) (my love live ass needs this tbh I'm so sorry)

I don’t know that much about idols and the surrounding stuff but I did my best ♡

Nakahara Chuuya

  • Forget any dance coach or any of your other group members; your best practice happens when Chuuya’s the one guiding you through routines. Even if he doesn’t know the ins-and-outs of your dances, if you’re uncomfortable with a move, he zeroes in on that immediately. “You’re doing great,” he assures when you ask for advice, “but you need to work on these bits here.” If he can wrap his head around how the move’s supposed to go, Chuuya does it, walking you through the motions. If not, he simply makes a mental list of what you need to work on with your dance coach. Consulting him is the perfect solution when your routines need a bit of fine-tuning.
  • Fuck group transportation; Chuuya ensures that when you’re on the road, you’re kicking it in one of the most spacious limos or private jets money can buy. Naturally, if you want to travel with the other members, he lets you, but in case you just need your own space he ensures privacy is always an option. Chuuya makes sure your personal transportation is always well-stocked with everything from your favorite foods to entertainment systems with a built in wifi hotspot to a few changes of clothes. Chuuya knows first hand how much road trips can suck, and he’ll be damned if you’re anything less than in the lap of luxury. 
  • Since your busy schedules mean that you’re away from each other a lot, Chuuya ensures every date you have is absolutely private. No matter how many strings he has to pull to make sure you’re not mobbed by paparazzi the second you pull up to his house, he’ll do it; no one’s going to risk the Mafia’s wrath just to catch a blurry picture of you. Often, he rents out an entire building if you want to have a date there; the last thing you need is crazed fans ruining the moment by screaming “Oh my god it’s ______!!!” just as Chuuya’s leaning in for a kiss.

Tachihara Michizou

  • No matter how embarrassing a piece of merchandise might be, Tachihara unashamedly buys it. He has every single officially licensed t-shirt, poster, key chain, album, etc. that exists scattered somewhere around his house (for a while he considered putting it all together to make a shrine for his awesome idol girlfriend but then rightly decided that was bordering on serial killer territory and decided not to). He has some random merchandise from promotions your group did for different companies, too; his favorite is the shower curtain with you on it. “This way you can take showers with me even when you’re away,” he points out. No matter how embarrassed you are he refuses to change it.
  • Despite the fact that being so public with your relationship isn’t a great idea, especially considering he’s in the Port Mafia, Tachihara shamelessly uses your relationship to gain a gigantic following on social media. Don’t trust him when he’s aiming his phone camera at you for a ‘cute selfie’ or ‘candid shot for his phone lock screen’ because the image is probably going to end up on Instagram with some cheesy caption about how you’re his whole world. Anyone that posts a negative comment immediately gets blocked; depending on how bad his mood is, they may or may not end getting shot in the kneecap in a back alley.
  • Tachihara knows every single bodyguard that’s ever worked within a two mile radius of you. Somehow he got it into his head that all security guards are raging creepy pervs and they’re just lying in wait to steal away his precious love; naturally, the logical response was to start stalking all of them ‘just in case’. He’s actually straight up punched a few because he thought they were staring at your chest. Regardless if Tachihara’s gotten in a fist fight with them or not, he’s got beef with every last one of your bodyguards. 

Mori Ougai

  • One of Mori’s favorite things about the whole situation is your cuteness; sure, he knows a lot of makeup and contact lenses and not even remotely practical clothing go into creating the perfect, adorable idol persona, but he can still appreciate your look. Some of his favorite pictures of you are images of you performing onstage, dancing in all your glamorous glory; he has a few photos of you in one your idol outfits framed in his office.
  • Not long after Mori brings Elise to see one of your concerts, the girl develops a bit of an obsession with the idol scene, something Mori’s endlessly pleased about. Of course, you’re her favorite idol (Mori wouldn’t have it any other way, of course). Elise’s passion for you absolutely melts his heart; naturally, he ends up feeding it a bit too much. Before long, replicas of your performing gear line her closet and she has way more than a reasonable amount of your merchandise. When you ask Mori why he’s letting her go a bit wild when it comes to adoring you, he simply puts on a sweet smile and shrugs; it’s almost like he’s using her as an outlet to show how much he adores you.
  • Appearing as your lover in the public eye is an absolutely horrible idea; who knows how many people would be hunting you and your group members down if they knew you crawled in bed next to Mori every night? Even if he can’t publicly show off you relationship, he certainly does it in private. Mori often subtly (and not-so-subtly) references your idol status while chatting with his subordinates or in meetings. He’s endlessly proud of your talent and fame, and he’s not afraid to sing your praises at every opportunity.

Dazai Osamu

  • Without exception, Dazai shows up to every single performance sporting a T-shirt with your name on it under his coat and a gigantic sign reading ‘________ is the best one’, followed by a ton of exclamation points and scribbled hearts. He claims a spot in the front row (he’s your boyfriend after all; scoring prime tickets is a breeze) and screams how much he loves you the whole time, usually in the most high-pitched, annoying voice he can manage. Dazai claims to be mocking your crazed superfans if you call him out on his wild behavior, but honestly, he might just be one. If it bothers you, he’ll tone it down a few notches; he still brings the sign every time, though.
    • After downing a few shots before coming to one of your performances Dazai decided that throwing a pair of panties onstage would be a hilarious way to imitate the fanatics. The only underwear he could find was yours, though. Naturally, noticing your favorite panties hurtling at your ankles while you’re finishing up a song isn’t the best way to end a show. You never did find that underwear again, after that.
    • This is the same performance that he ripped his shirt off and begged you to sign his chest. The only reason he wasn’t escorted out is because the security guards recognized him as your boyfriend.
  • Dazai always scores backstage passes and chills with you and the rest of the group before and after performances. He always brings your favorite snack—not too much, of course, he doesn’t want your stomach upset onstage— and cuddles with you to calm your nerves. Sometimes, if you have enough time before you have to go on stage, he sneaks an Xbox in and lets you kick his ass in a few games (of course he claims you’re cheating when you win) to squash the stage fright.
  • One of Dazai’s favorite pastimes is trolling shady people from social media. If he’s bored, the first place he turns to is Instagram comments. Anyone that posts a hateful comment immediately becomes victim to Dazai’s ire; he messes with them mercilessly, commenting on all their photos, their friend’s photos, especially their significant other’s photos, until they’re on the verge of deleting their account. Once in awhile he loves to leave completely inappropriate comments on your posts, just to see if you use the official page to respond.
“Ewww, PDA!”

Requested by an anon

Summary: Batmom and Bruce Wayne have to up their romantic antics in public, especially at Wayne galas, causing the batboys to tease them both.

Warning(s): Public Displays of Affection

It wasn’t even three o’clock in the afternoon and yet everyone was dressed to the nines, awaiting for the beginning of the Wayne Gala celebrating a record in total donations to the Thomas & Martha Wayne Foundation that year. Though, even if the record hadn’t have been broken, Bruce still would have been obligated to throw a function for the charity.

This was the one gala Bruce never minded to throw seeing as it was in his parent’s honor so he was already in a better mood than before most parties. You stood back and smoothed out your outfit before examining the rest of your family. Each one of them looked so good dressed up in their various suits and dresses of preference. The scene almost made you tear up and you probably would have if you hadn’t just applied your makeup.

Guests began to arrive and you and Bruce stood nearby to greet them with warm, rather fake smiles. In the middle of the guests arrived Jason, you were glad to see he showed up, but the fact that he couldn’t truly be apart of your family pained you. Instead, he came under the guise of Emmanuel O’Brien, most likely a mixture of characters from books and his imagination, but nonetheless it allowed you to see your second son in a dashing suit and his mane of hair under control for once.

Eventually, enough press was accumulating in the room along with the guests that you and Bruce had to lay it on thick, barely ever leaving each other’s side. You both answered questions of business and your relationship. Were you planning on adopting any more children? Were you planning on having any kids of your own? How does the rise in stock market effect the productivity of the company?

The questions made you internally groan and as you and Bruce kissed for the millionth time that night for a photo, you almost thought you were getting sick of kissing him. Yet still, you clung onto your husband affectionately and reached up to kiss his cheek as he looked off into the distance, obviously posing, so the light would catch his eyes and make them gleam.

In the distance, you could see Stephanie and Tim mocking your planned pose as Dick pretended to be their photographer. The scene earned a small laugh from you making Bruce look down at you and lift your chin to meet his eyes before locking your lips in a kiss. After you parted you saw Jason making a gagging motion, pointing his finger down his throat as you rolled your eyes.

Later in the night when it was time for dancing you and Bruce of course were made to dance the first dance. As you swirled around the dance floor you saw Damian and Cass standing off to the side together. Cass lifted her arms and bent them at the elbows before flopping them around a bit. You raised an eyebrow utterly confused and on the next spin your eyes met with Damian’s who mouthed “spaghetti arms” and you huffed as Bruce chuckled, pulling you tighter to his frame, now forcing Damian to make the gagging face.

The rest of the night went on with such antics, making an overall good time for everyone. Even Barbra, who was under her father’s watchful eye, managed to join in the shenanigans and tease you and Bruce throughout the night. Her and Dick made it their challenge to try and out-do you and Bruce.

At the end of the night, after every guest was gone, each of your children acted as if they were golden little angels, pretending they did nothing wrong the entire duration of the gala. It was harmless banter and it was to be expected from your children so you let it slide, saying nothing but giving a small smirk. But the next day when Dick and Barbra made the cover of Gotham News instead of you and Bruce, you just had to give them “hell” for it.

“Richard, don’t think just because you don’t permanently live in this house anymore doesn’t mean I can’t ground you!” You scowled and threw the newspaper down on the kitchen island.

“Mom - we didn’t mean it, I swear! We were just having fun!”

“Having fun?! You took my spot on the newspaper, little birdie!”

Dick cowered over his cereal bowl as he looked at the paper, seriously afraid of how angry you sounded. When you saw him hunch over his bowl you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You laughed hard and honestly scared him even more as he looked up.

“Oh Dick, I’m just kidding!” You laughed harder at his expression, and walked around the island to hug your first son.

“Kidding? Mom…” He whined and sighed in relief.

You kissed his cheek and smiled, “You and Barbra looked gorgeous together last night, you deserved to be there. I’m proud. Even though you may have only gotten there by mocking us…but, anyways. And just remember - if you tease me, I’m going to tease you 10x worse.”

You nodded affirmatively to yourself as a rather groggy Bruce headed for the coffee pot, “I’ve learned that the hard way,” He mumbled and poured himself a cup as you stood proudly in the middle of the kitchen.

“Damn right!”

A Tale Of Two Lobsters: my LOFT 89 experience.

taylorswift, (sorry in advance about my rambling)

So I guess I’ll start from the very beginning! I was graciously given a ticket to go to 1989 Tour OTTAWA by my dear friend lindslovesswift a month or so before the show. (Which is SO NICE. Like who does that!?) So the day of the show came and I went to the venue super super early to check out other peoples awesome costumes, make some friends and also meet up with Lindsay and the girls she brought with her! I was there for probably about 5 hours before doors and was walking around outside when all of a sudden I saw Kevin, from TN, taking photos of peoples costumes for Tays website! He came up to me and was like “…oh my god thats HILARIOUS. TAYLORS LOBSTER.. like from friends!” and I was all “YES. SOMEONE GETS IT!” And then proceeded to explain to him how Tay and I talk online and stuff and he said it was super nice meeting me and hoped taylor would see my outfit (oh and where they were set up inside haha.)

So then I went inside the venues restaurant and sat while Lindsay and the girls ate some food before the show.. and all of a sudden my tumblr and twitter BLEW UP because taylor liked my little post about meeting Kevin. It was UNREAL. Note: Even while all this was going on though I was still 98% convinced I wasn’t meeting Taylor but was okay with that! I just really didn’t want to get my hopes up because its nearly impossible for it to happen.

Anyways! Doors open and we rush to TN’s booth. (SO COOL btw.) I eventually get near the front and Kevin’s standing there with his iPhone, playing 1989, and goes “okay guys whats the next song?” and I say “OOTW. Obviously!” and he looks up and goes “HEY ITS THE LOBSTER LIZ!!” and I kind of die. I say hello and that its so cool he remembered me and he goes “SO.. I didn’t realize how big of a deal you were when we met.. like.. Taylor really likes your posts and stuff and when I was backstage… someone was talking about you a lot back stage… BUT you didn’t hear it from me!” and he casually laughs as I TRY NOT TO CRUMPLE UP ON THE GROUND. We take my TN photo and he goes “SO nice to see you again Liz.. I hope I see you really really soon ;)”……LIKE OKAY SURE KEVIN SAME!

We get to our seats and Vance Joy begins (SO crazily talented btw) and then its getting near when Taylor’s coming on and then… Feel So Close comes on and I instantly lose my shit. Tears are forming, I can feel it, the time right before you realize Taylor Swift is an actual human being and is in the same room as you. UNREAL. WTNY starts and she comes out, flawless as always, and I am so into the show. Honestly, as cliche as it can sound, I really wasn’t thinking about LOFT 89 because the show is such a production you really do get lost in its beauty. So.. its about when IKYWT is ending and Lindsay taps me on the shoulder and goes “OH MY GOD I THINK SOMEONE FROM TN IS COMING OUR WAY.” and sure enough it was Steph.. she comes to our isle.. walks past the other girls I’m with and stops right at me (I’m in the middle of the row) and goes “Im here for you, Liz. Taylor asked me to personally come and find you tonight because she really wants to meet you after the show in Loft 89. Do you think yo’d be able to come?” AND I START SOBBING. “OF COURSE OF COURSE I WANT TO COME.” and so she gives me the wristband and paper and I hugged her SO tight and kept thanking her and she goes “Don’t thank me, thank Taylor, this is all her!” She then gives wristbands to Lindsay and the girls also because I explained that she gave me a ticket and I want them to come with me! I look up and see Taylor just talking to the crowd and I start sobbing again because I finally realize that I am meeting my hero. After the show ends we all met up, went over the rules in LOFT and then proceeded to go down the stairs of the deep arena, into where it was. I saw the door way and was just beyond excited. like.. I had been imagining this moment for 8 years and IT WAS FINALLY HAPPENING.

Once inside Loft 89 I immediately screamed “OH MY GOD THE PIZZA!” And ran right for it and went ham. It was SO GOOD. I took a polaroid with the pizza, the inside of Loft, Taylor’s carpet inside and well.. the one with tay. My phone died shortly after finding out so I let all you guys know and then realized “oh crap.. HOW am I going to get my photo with her!?” Thankfully I brought my own personal Polaroid camera to take photos on throughout the day (like with the busses and stuff) The inside of Loft 89 is SO SMALL but its insanely cozy. There were only about 15 of is in there so it wasn’t super crowded or anything. It literally felt like I dream. Tay also had a really dope playlist going, which included Haim, Flo Rida, Echosmith, Lorde, 5H and more! I tried to take in as much as I could haha.

Then.. Taylor walks in.. and my heart pretty much stopped. Her thick, stock heels made her this gloriously tall goddess of good smells and amazing hair. (P.S TAY. I KNOW EVERYONE ASKS THIS BUT WHAT WERE YOU WEARING? YOU SMELT AMAZING.) She talked to 3 other groups before she came over to me.. and then I look over and All I see her do is walk over to me and go “HEY BUDDY!!!!” And wrap her amazingly long and strong arms around me as I tippy-toe up for out hug. It really was the best hug I’ve ever received. “ITS MY LOBSTER!” she says as I say it back to her as well. “So.. I kind of saw your post and I just had to meet you. We’ve been talking online for so long I felt it was about time! Also your shirt is amazing!! where did you get it?” Me: “Taylor I kid you not, it was a solid 2 day search on eBay for ANYTHING that was even kind of lobster related” she’s dying of laughter and goes “SEE thats the problem. No one else really appreciates Lobsters or lobster patterned things like we do. They just don’t get it.” we then proceeded to quote scenes from “The One With The Prom Video” (the friends episode where the whole Lobster thing came about) back and forth to each other and it was INSANE. We were laughing and doing Phoebe Buffays crazy voices and It honestly felt like I was talking to one of my long time friends. She then signs my blown up polaroid (and when she drew the lobster for me I felt the tears brewing.) I LOVE IT AND CANT WAIT TO FRAME IT!! We then got into talking about some of my own personal fears (that I’m not going to go to in detail about because somethings I do want to keep to myself) but it was about how Im very nervous to go into my twenties, and Taylor basically said that

(you) can’t go into your twenties having a predetermined idea of what is or isn’t going to come out of them. You could have the best year of your life be 20, you just don’t know like.. oh perfect example!! I thought 2013 was going to be my best year because, you know, with the whole 13 thing, and then it just turned into the worst year of my life and having people just message “DIE SLUT.” to me every time I was online… but then you have years like 24 where its your best year you’ve ever lived and it makes up for everything. In your twenties you’ll look back on it and probably have a favourite year. Thats something to look forward too. But for now, just don’t be afraid of whats ahead, because living your life being afraid isn’t healthy and you deserve the best, liz.”

(It took everything in me not to sob. She is such an angel and I will hold those words with me forever.)

We also discussed 90′s television and my best friend homoheroine and how having abby in my life because of her and her music is something I will forever be grateful for. She loved hearing that. Then we took our photo and I asked if it was okay if it was on a polaroid because my phone died and she says “YEAH Thats so perfect” and she goes “okay we totally have to do Lobster claws” “LOBSTER CLAWWWWS!!!!! *photo takes* Oh.. thats so awkward people are staring.. its okay guys!! its just an inside joke.. we’re lobsters hahaha” and then I go “well I guess in 30 minutes we’ll find out if it happened LOL” Taylor then hugged me and moved on to talking to Lindsay and the other girls and everyone else in LOFT 89. As she gave me her final hug, she said she loved meeting me and hoped we’d see each other again soon.

The most insane 10 minutes of my life. EVER.

Taylor. I am so beyond words for how much that night and getting to say everything I’ve ever wanted to say to you, meant to me. I love you so much its unreal. Im sure my 11 year old self would want me to say “Thank you for showing me its cool to love Tim McGraw” because she got picked on A LOT for loving country music, and you helped her realize its okay to love what you love and you shouldn’t let anyone interfere with that. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU. I’ll see you online, and in OCTOBER FOR 1989 TORONTO!!

Love always,

Liz. (Your Lobster.)


Alright, kids, let me tell you about one of my favorite movies, SUMMER STOCK!

For those who haven’t seen it, or even those who have, it’s a fucking weird plot.  Judy Garland runs a farm (I mean, sure, did you see the overalls?) and her overly-dramatic sister, Abigail (played by the thoroughly lovely Gloria De Haven), brings an entire musical theater troupe (headed by the perfect talent and sex machine that is Gene Kelly and his goofy buddy Phil Silvers) to the family farm to use the barn for rehearsals.  Joe (Gene Kelly) is engaged to Abigail, and Jane (Judy Garland) makes everyone help out on the farm, which, as actors and dancers, they are horrible at in the most comedic fashion.  Eventually Abigail leaves the show with the show’s star, and Jane takes her place.  Obviously Joe and Jane fall in love because after a straight-up tap dance battle in the barn, how could you not fall in love?  The most well-known thing about the movie is probably the “Get Happy” scene where Judy Garland sings one of her best-known songs in a hat and jacket with men falling at her feet (see picture bottom right).

Beyond the music and cast and cute (stupid) story, I love this movie because of the backstage stories.  Facts about production include:

  • No one wanted to hire Judy Garland because she was fat and a complete drug addict (story of Judy’s fucking life). Gene Kelly was hired first, because Gene Kelly is a fucking genius of song and (mostly) dance and has charisma like no one else.  He and Judy had already done two movies together (For Me and My Gal, which was Gene’s first film and I’m pretty sure his only B&W movie, and The Pirate, which is a triumph of nonsense which is only worth seeing a scene where Gene Kelly dances all sweaty in REALLY short shorts.  God bless.), so Gene knew Judy’s talent and loved her and they were friends.  He put up his OWN MONEY and made sure the producer and director knew Judy and loved her like he did.  Gene wanted Judy for the movie and wanted to make sure she would be comfortable and supported.
  • As I said, Judy was fat in most of this movie.  “Hollywood fat” which in the 1950s and on her five-foot-tall frame with her round face just makes her look kinda pudgy and cute.  Why was she “fat”?  Because she was trying to get sober.  She’d been on uppers her whole life to keep her dancing and singing for literally 12-20 hours a day.  So she was trying to wean off the pills, and it ruined her metabolism and she got “fat.”
  • Despite being “fat” she dances like no one’s fucking business.  Gene Kelly is arguably the greatest dancer on screen of all time.  And in the dance battle scene in the barn (photo below left of the movie poster), she matches him step for step PERFECTLY.  Like they are 100% equally matched.  Except for probably Cyd Charisse, or maybe Ann Miller, I’ve never seen anyone dance with Gene Kelly as masterfully as Judy Garland does.  And she does it about 3 dress sizes above her normal working-weight.  Size obviously has zero to do with talent or ability, but for someone who is definitely not used to dancing at that weight, she does it better than I’ve ever seen her in any film.
  • THE NEWSPAPER DANCE.  Gene Kelly, as is a staple of his movies, does a solo dance number.  This one (pictured bottom left), is done with a sheet of newspaper, a squeaky board, and two stairs on a stage.  And it’s brilliant and perfect and so creative.  The athleticism of it is astounding (and a huge turn-on).
  • There is one scene in the movie where Judy magically loses like half her body mass (only to regain it one scene later), and that is the Get Happy number.  After the first screening of the film, everyone decided Judy needed a big solo.  She has a few songs in the movie, but nothing that really pops.  So they gave her Get Happy and choreographed and filmed the number a few months after the film wrapped.  It was inserted near the end, and other than the fact that Judy lost all the weight in the interim, you’d never know it wasn’t originally intended to be in the film.  It was rumored that this scene was actually filmed for another film years before, but that isn’t actually the case.  It was intended for Summer Stock, it was just an afterthought.  And it’s the best afterthought ever, and one of Judy Garland’s most iconic music numbers from her adult career.

In conclusion, this movie is great and the best part about it is the fact that everyone involved literally made it to save Judy Garland’s career because they loved her and believed in her talent.


Zuru Fidget Cube Prism - Toyworld, $2.99 AUD

Stimmers, check out your local toy stores: Zuru have released their version of the Prism!

(Aussies: I also checked out my local Kidstuff, but they didn’t yet stock the Prism. So I’d look at Toyworld first, if there’s one local to you. Mine had a display shelf by the counter with fake and Zuru fidget cubes, a variety of spinners and the Prisms, so they were easy to find.)

The Zuru version comes with a plastic telephone cord spring cable and plastic clip, and the cable is pretty stretchy and stimmy in its own right. The clip is pretty cheap, though - I don’t like this style of clip and I wish I could replace it with a decent metal carabiner clip, but to do that I’d have to cut off the spring cable.

It isn’t hard to get the Prism on - it stretches so you can slide it right over the cube. It feels absolutely silky soft to stroke. Zuru gets points for making the Prism a nice sensory addition to the Fidget Cube, since I find the Prism only makes it nicer to handle. I really enjoy touching the cube with the Prism on.

My Prism came with a small split in one side. It isn’t cutting across an edge where it might be subject to wear by pulling and fidgeting, but rather in the centre of one of the frame pieces, running parallel with the side of the cube. Since I had to stretch the Prism to get it on over the cube, the split did widen. I’m not going to be able to remove this Prism for fear of widening it further, and I don’t like looking at that small tear, even if I don’t think it’ll widen by normal stimming.

I also find that the edges of the Prim are a little too close to the edges of the switch and the roller ball. It isn’t too bad, but I’d be happier if the Prism were a millimetre or two narrower all around. I’m also a little concerned about the loop that connects the spring cable to the Prism. It feels pretty sturdy when I stretch it, but it isn’t very big or thick, so I’d be worried about attaching this to a keychain where it might get a lot of wear or tossing about.

The Zuru Prism is available in red, black, blue or green.

(I got blue because I could pair it with my white and pink Zuru cube and make myself a trans pride Fidget Cube…)

Image description under read more cut:

Keep reading


If Graves were a kinder man, he would’ve taken the boy to hospital that day he found him adrift on the seashore. He would’ve gotten Credence a proper doctor, found him a linen-pressed bed, and been done with the whole thing.

If Graves were a less selfish man, he would’ve driven the boy down to his own office himself to fill out a missing person’s form and inquiry papers. Would’ve asked his lieutenants and old colleagues from his Dublin days about missing white boys with dark eyes, darker hair, and skin like the moon.

If Graves were a better man, he would’ve gotten on the phone with Social Protection, would’ve reported a missing, potentially underage boy found nude and trembling on the beach, would’ve reported signs of abuse.

But instead, he swoops in himself and carries the boy into his home, into his life, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Like he’s not purposefully making the lad dependent on him. And no, Credence has never complained, never once expressed a desire to leave, but that doesn’t mean the situation is in any shape or form okay . With a growing sense of guilt, Graves realizes more and more the many ways he’s been taking advantage. He’s imposing himself on this lovely young thing, making himself an indispensable source of comfort and shelter and love. Every kind word, every gentle caress and loving glance, is a lock clicked on the boy’s door. And Graves doesn’t even hold the keys anymore.

And even if he did, he’s come to realise that he doesn’t want the boy to leave, impossibly, selfishly. And the boy never asks, only smiles and claws out a place for himself in the vast emptiness of Graves’ life, fills up the room with brightness and silent laughter.

Graves goes back to work after four days. Four days of holding the sweet, lithe body close and safe, four days of chasing the boy’s lurid nightmares away, of feeling the gentle trembles calm under his patient touch, of letting the boy tuck his pale face against Percival’s throat, of spooning sweet porridge and soup into the little plush mouth.

To have to go and sit in the grey-lit station, a fat pile of paperwork lumped on his desk, and hear the grappling of petty thieves and vandals being wrestled into the holding cells is a horrid, cruel torture that sets his teeth on edge and makes him pace and snarl like a tiger in a cage.

He wants to be at home with his boy, his sweet lovely boy, tucked up nice and warm and safe within Graves’ arms. Because four days is too short a time to know someone so completely and even now Graves knows the boy was kind and gentle and sharp of mind.

He found him hiding in the bedroom once, he remembers.

Graves loves his bedroom, and so does Credence apparently. Graves can’t blame him. It’s warm and dark and just this side of small to be recognized as more cozy than cramped. There’s a large window with a soft, cushioned alcove across the room facing the bed, a little bench piled high with pillows and blankets.

Graves found Credence sat in front of the wide, bay window the third day, when he was supposed to be eating lunch. There was a frantic chirping, the loud flap of wings, and it only took Graves a few moments to realize that a little bird’s frail feet had frozen to the wrought iron frame of the window.

Graves was about to make his way forward, to do what, he doesn’t know even now, but then Credence leant in, wrapped a slim, gentle hand around the bird’s plump body, and breathed low and warm. It was such an ingenious little move that Graves stopped and stared for a moment. He watched the boy melt the ice with his hot, sweet breath, and eventually Credence pried the little feet from the metal and turned to Graves with bright, happy eyes.

Look what I did!

The bird meeped in the boy’s careful grip, and Credence turned to the window and carefully let go. There was a sharp flutter of wings, a goodbye chirrup, and the fat little body disappeared into the distance, leaving behind a fluff of feather on the windowsill and a soft smile on Credence’s lips.

Graves finds himself smiling at the memory, but blinks and Abernathy, one of his subordinates, is gaping at him like he’s seen the good lord’s face in a potato crisp.

“What exactly are you looking at, Abernathy?” Graves snaps, sharper than he’d intended, and the shrimpish man stutters out something and scampers away like a spooked mouse.

“You’re in a good mood,” Tina says over lunch a bit later. She’s skeptical, and Graves thinks irritably that she’s a better detective than Chief Inspector Picquery gives her credit for.

“What about it?” Graves mutters, the smile that had been hovering at the corners of his mouth vanishing. He’d been imagining Credence this morning, sat up on the bathroom sink, chin and jaw smeared with foaming shaving cream and giggling at the rasp of the straight-edge shaver which Graves drew ever so cautiously across his jawline. Tina’s voice was a cruel break to the memory.

“You’re never in a good mood.” Tina picks at her salad, tone factual.

“I beg your pardon,” but Graves isn’t as offended as he’d like to pretend to be. He is in a good mood. Imagining his boy waiting at home for him, fiddling around with Graves’ da’s old radio, bouncing around in his longish sleep-shirt. It makes Graves’ ribcage swell, but not painfully—warm and brimming, happy.

“Well, I’m not complaining.” Tina smirks now. “You’re less likely to go off on the secretaries when you’re getting laid.”

Graves sputters—”Is that anyway to talk to your superior, Goldstein?”—but inside he’s grinning. It’s a good day.

He’s productive despite all of the distractions, and queerly it is the thought of Credence waiting, swinging his socked feet from the kitchen bar that has Graves finishing up much more paperwork than he’d thought he’d accomplish in a day. He’s able to leave early because of it, and decides for a quick stop at one of the grocery stores, thinking about picking up more milk and eggs. But instead, he finds himself perusing a techie shop front, full to bursting of sleek television screens.

Graves has never worried much about his lack of a television. He has never put much stock in that form of entertainment, though he knows his officers adore popular dramatic programs on Friday nights and Sunday mornings, coming in on Monday chattering about who cheated on who and who was brutally murdered and such and such. But now he finds himself fretting in front of an entertainment shop when he should be grocery shopping, because Credence gets bored quite easily, bright, feline eyes going blank and dazed on some middle distance Graves can’t see.

He eventually pulls himself, and finds his way to the market. He gets what he needs and heads home, the newest TV model still sat in the shop, and he’s glad of it because when he opens the door of the house, Credence comes bounding up to him, grinning, Shakespeare’s Hamlet clutched between his fists.

The boy gestures wildly at the cover, panting, but then stops and just beams and there’s a hard, sticky lump in Graves’ throat, looking down at this sweet-eyed boy. The version he’s holding was Graves’ father’s copy, the only book the old man had ever read that was written by an Englishman.

“That was my Da’s,” he says, clearing his throat roughly, and he sees a worried expression forming on Credence’s face, darkening the smooth brow and thinning the soft lips. “Don’t worry. He would’ve liked you having it.” He would’ve liked Credence period, Graves finds himself thinking, would’ve liked the mystery and strange kindness of him. “I could read it aloud, if yeh’d like,” he finds himself offering for some unknown reason. He knows the boy can read and write, seen it with his own eyes, but finds he wants to do everything he can for Credence.

And it’s worth it to see the pretty, plainly joyful smile twisting those pink lips, making those dark eyes shine.

“C’mon, love. Let me put the milk away and I’ll tell you all about the Dane.”

Queenie’s the one who tells him about the man in the bakery.

Queenie’s a sweet girl, chicly curled hair and bright eyes, and she’s sharp as a knife too—one of the many reasons Jacob’s lucky to have her. So when she sees a tall, strange Nordic man showing her patrons photos of a pale-faced boy and asking after his runaway “son”, she feels a creeping suspicion curling in her gut.

When Graves comes into the shop Saturday morning, searching the shelves for the lemon tarts he knows Credence likes the best, Queenie tells him all about it.

“It was strange, you know,” she mutters lowly to him. “I hope it’s not true, the poor lad.”

Graves’ skin crawls with nerves. “What made you nervous?” he asked, tone suddenly serious and businesslike.

Queenie’s got good instincts. He remembers vividly when Siobhan O’Hare got engaged to some Dublin slicker last July. Queenie had called him a cheat, and two weeks later Siobhan’s mother had found the scrub in bed with one of the Langer girls. If Queenie thought this man was bad news, Graves was inclined to believe her.

Queenie hesitates for a second. She’s the lovely type of person who doesn’t like to speak badly of people she doesn’t know, but she eventually talks, instincts winning out over courtesy. “I don’t mean to be rude or anythin’, but he was a bit weird, the man. Some sort of thick accent, tall. Well-dressed. And there was something wrong with his eyes, you know?”

“His eyes?” Graves prompted, more and more ill at ease.

“Something missing. Something—wrong. I dunno how to explain it.” Queenie fiddles with her apron, frowning at a muffin whose top is the slightest bit lopsided. “Wonder why he thinks his son would run all the way up here, middle of nowhere.”

“What did the boy in the photo look like?”

She shrugs. “Waifish, dark hair, pale skin.” She blinks gold-spun lashes. “He looked sad.”

Spine icing up, Graves manages to calm himself enough to buy the pastries and walk home at a normal rate. He doesn’t burst out into a sprint the moment he sees the swell of his hill, but it’s a near thing. He nearly wrenches the door off its hinges, though, and Credence is startled enough to nearly fall off the living room couch.

He can see the question in Credence’s face— “What’s wrong, what happened?”—but he can’t physically do anything other than crowd Credence up against the couch and just press their foreheads together. He twitches, then gives in, grabs the boy by the waist, slides his nose down Credence’s cheek to his neck, and just breathes.

Graves remembers when he first found the boy washed up on the shore, cold and pale and faded. He thought the boy was a ghost, a faerie from one of the old legends, flickering on the twilight. He thought if he dared to touch him, his hand would find mist and magic. Now, he can’t think that anymore, because Credence is warm and soft and solid underneath Graves’ hands and arms. The boy doesn’t tremble or whimper, only makes a soft, confused noise, a little hum in his throat that Graves can feel under his lips. He presses three quick kisses, gentle and fond, up the boy’s neck and jaw, before pulling back, cupping the boy’s cheek with a large, warm palm, can’t help himself because the boy is safe and here.

Credence is flushed and confused, but pleased, smiling brightly, and Graves can’t help himself.

“Sorry,” Graves whispers, and then dips in for another kiss. This time his mouth touches smooth, soft lips instead of the silk of Credence’s neck, and the boy shudders, clutching at Graves’ shoulders as they trade heat and warmth, and a weight loosens in Graves’ chest, unfurling into something hot and sweet and beautiful. The boy’s new at this, lips clumsy and unsure and his hands flutter in the air, hesitant to touch, but his inexperience only makes Graves growl, low and pleased in his throat. He cups the boy’s crystal-line jaw, feels the impossibly smooth skin, trails his thumbs over the arch of the jugular. There’s a quick, thrilling slide of tongue, the catch of teeth, and Graves has to pull away, panting like he’s just run twelve kilometers, because if he doesn’t stop, he’ll consume . And he just wanted to hold the boy, wanted to gather the boy lovingly in his arms so the world wouldn’t be able to rip him away, and now, without planning it, he can taste the sweet on his lips, the ghost of the boy hot against his side.

“Credence,” he murmurs, and the boy looks up with limpid eyes, shy and delighted. He gives a little huff and nuzzles into Graves’ chest, arms trapped between them. He fingers Graves’ tie, pressing his swollen lips to the fabric, and Graves’ heart plays a tap dance on his third rib.

“Oh lord,” Graves murmurs, stunned. “Oh—I didn’t plan that.” He pulls away, bereft at the lack of Credence’s warmth, and his heart hurts at Credence’s soft noise of protest. “No—I—it was my fault, something happened today at the bakery.”

Credence stands there, stunned. Graves draws back, paces, rakes his hands through his hair. Credence blinks, makes a little questioning sound. What happened?

“Queenie—the baker I go to—she said a strange man had come round, asking after his son. He had a picture.” Graves can’t look at Credence, doesn’t want to see the happy light in his eyes at the news that his father’s come for him. Doesn’t want him to leave. “Is—did you run away from home, Credence?”

The boy doesn’t answer, and Graves looks up, and—

The boy’s stricken, healthy color leaching from his skin as he pales. Graves sees the tears well up silently, watches as they roll down trembling cheeks and drip off the sharp jaw and dampen the boy’s jumper, and automatically he reaches out, but the boy flinches back.

Credence,” Graves fumbles.

Credence gets small, his shoulders hunch, and Graves wonders frantically whether the boy is going to shatter.

“Credence, please, what is it?” Graves had never wished so much that Credence could speak as he does now. He glances around frantically, finds the pad of paper and pen on the writing desk. “Please.”

The boy swallows, sniffles, but takes the paper.

Are you going to give me back?

“Back?” Graves’ mind whirls. “To—to the man?”

Credence nods, doesn’t look up.

“Remember what I said. No matter what, you’re welcome here.” Graves takes two steps forward, silently cheers when the boy doesn’t back away. He opens his arms, reaches out. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Credence. Not in my house.”

The boy lifts his chin, swipes roughly at his wet eyes, but doesn’t move yet. He scribbles something down instead.


“Always,” Graves whispers, the tiny word in the middle of the paper cracking his heart, and the boy rushes into him, crumpling, sobbing and hiccuping loudly. “Oh, baby. Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—Come here, let’s—” He picks the boy up by the soft thighs, lets the boy nuzzle into his neck in a parody of the loving embrace they had entwined in only ten minutes prior. He adjusts his grip, and then sits on the couch, the boy clinging to him, a trembling, warm mess on his lap, terrified. And this isn’t right, can’t be right. No teenager in their right mind should be so petrified at the idea of their father coming for them, no young person should sob and tremble and flinch at the very idea.

“Is that man your father, Credence? The one looking for you?” Graves whispers, and he feels the boy shake his head in the negative, curls tickling his chin. “Who is he?”

The boy shifts, finds his pen.

A bad man.

“What did he do?” Graves can feel a beast awakening in his chest, a feral animal dripping from the maw, teeth snapping and clawing at the ground. Fury makes his jaw stiff, but he’s careful to keep his grip on the boy’s waist firm, but careful. “What did he do to you, Credence?”

Credence looks up at him with dark eyes and doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even move to reach for his pen. Graves remembers vividly the dark, splotched bruises on the boy’s hips and thighs, remembers him naked and trembling on the beach.

Graves is one of the few men in the local Garda who is certified to carry a gun, and for good reason. He doesn’t like guns, never has. Has met one too many egomaniacs with god complexes because they had a finger wrapped round a factory-made trigger. He respects the power a gun has. He has never, ever felt the urge to kill someone unthreatened and unprovoked, never had any sort of temptation to threaten or degrade.

Until now.

Now, his eyes shine red and his breath gets thick and heavy in his chest. Now, he finds himself struggling to not pin Credence to the couch and blanket his weight over the boy, protective and feral as a mother bear, the world unable to pry him away from the sliver of boy he guarded. Now, he finds his own fist curling in on themselves, teeth gritting against each other, and he can see in his mind Credence’s faceless tormentor crushed and broken from Graves’ bare hands.

The only thing that jerks him out of his bloodlust is the feeling of Credence shifting closer, slim fingers sliding up to twine at the hair at the back of his neck. He pulls back a bit, just to see the boy’s face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Graves says aloud, feels his own eyes water hotly as he cups the soft, rosy cheek. “How could anyone ever hurt you?”

The boy doesn’t answer, just dips his head, holds Graves tighter, and Graves thinks about thick, clotted blood and the spatter of gunfire.


He can’t go back, he refuses to go back.

When Graves comes home, feral-eyed and hungry-mouthed, swoops down and presses his lips to Credence’s, Credence thinks he might swoon. He feels lost, feels stardust swoop through his veins, leave grit of glitter to ache in his chest and swell in his fingers. He clings to the man as long as he can, but then.

Then Graves retreats and he says something about a strange man, looking for Credence. And Credence knows the witch has come back for him, will take him. And he looks at Graves, looks at his uncertain face and his beautiful eyes and his darkened brow and Credence thinks he would let himself drown in the murky depths of the sea, his own home turned against him, before he gives up this lifetime with Mr Graves.

He knows it.


The man is taller than Graves originally expected, thick ashy hair carefully combed away from the pointed, lupine face. He’s dressed finely, sleek dark suit with a pale silver tie, but it is his eyes that draws Graves’ stare—they are flat and dull and Graves can’t help but compare them to a slow-gliding shark circling a stranded swimmer. Patient and watchful one moment, murderous and terrifying the next.

The man smiles. He has a cruel mouth. The lips look thin and soft, but the eyeteeth are wolfish, long and needle-sharp. “Yes, how may I help you?” His voice is thick and heavy, the Baltic salting the slanted vowels and clicking consonants, and Graves knows this is the man that Queenie spoke of. The bad man.

Graves takes out his badge, allows the man a look at his identification. “Inspector Percival Graves, district Garda.”

The man blinks down at the badge and says, “Ah.” He reaches out for a handshake. “Gellert, Gellert Grindelwald. May I ask why the sudden visit?”

Graves smiles tightly, keeps his grip light and unthreatening. A heavy, cold ring digs into his palm. “A few concerned folk downtown have let me know you’ve a missing son.” The lie leaves his mouth smooth as butter. “Wanted to ask if yeh wished to file an official report with the authorities.”

The eyes go flinty and sharp, and then the predator subsides. The hairs on the back of Graves’ neck stand. “It’s nothing.” The man’s dismissive, and he has some charm, Graves can see that. But it is an empty charm, empty words and empty eyes. “Just a bit of family business, I wouldn’t want to trouble any of your fine officers.” Another depthless smile.

“With all due respect, sir, if a child is in danger, it’s the Garda’s responsibility to put out a missing minor’s report,” Graves says, affecting sternness.

“Ah, yes, no it is nothing like that.” Grindelwald waves him off. “I would offer an invitation in, but I was in the middle of something just before you came. Perhaps we could have this conversation at a later date?”

Graves looks at him and his expression must’ve been extremely skeptical, because the man laughs deeply and says, “No, no, of course. You take safety very seriously here in Ireland, yes. I understand.”

He opens his room’s door, and Percival is ushered into a dim-lit sleeping/sitting area, a rumpled bed shoved in the corner, a couch shoved in its opposite. Nothing sinister or out of place, a dirtied coffee mug set out on a coaster, a wrinkled shirt hung on a hanger on the curtain rung. A pile of musty, old-spined tomes draws Graves’ eye, but he can’t make out the titles on the back, even though they glint brightly and embossed. Some sort of Cyrillic alphabet, entirely foreign to him.

Grindelwald clears a small chair and a desk off for Graves, but Graves declines to sit. “I won’t stay for long, won’t want to inconvenience yeh.”

Grindelwald smiles humorlessly. “Of course, of course.”

“If there’s any light yeh could share on the situation, maybe?” Graves prompts after a tense, awkward silence.

Grindelwald draws a quick, sharp breath, dusts off the tops of his pants. “Yes, yes. Hmm. Where to begin.” He taps his mouth with his middle finger, a habit it looks like. “To clear some things up, no, my son isn’t a minor.”

(Inside, Graves lets out a long, relieved sigh he does not want to address).

Grindelwald continues, oblivious, “He’s not missing. He’s left, after a very heated argument. Our opinions differ greatly on some things, you see, and it’s created a large rift between us.” Grindelwald moves to the kitchenette, trailing long fingers over the miniscule counter. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, meets Graves’ gaze head on. “I am here looking for him, yes, but my son is an adult. I have no legal holding over him. I cannot force him to come home with me. But I wish to talk sense with him. To apologize, and get on with our lives.” He licks his lips, a small wet flicker, perches on a stool. “I’ve heard rumors among his friends that he’s found refuge in a little Irish town named Perth. And so here I am. Still searching.”

Graves blinks. “And you’re sure there’s nothing you want to be done in search of your son?”

Grindelwald dips his head politely. “Ah, no thank you. It is a kind offer, but a misplaced one. He will come to me when he is ready to make amends.”

Graves moves his lips in the small image of a smile. “Ah, alright. Just lettin’ you know, Perth’s a small town. Size of a shoebox, nearly. If your son was hiding here somewhere, people would know, trust me. Strangers aren’t common, not in Perth.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Grindelwald nods. “But I’m sure he’s here. I can feel it.”

“Just one more thing, Mr Grindelwald, before I leave,” Graves says, adjusting the lapels of his coat, careful to not look the man in the eye. “Do you have a current picture? Of the boy?”

Grindelwald smiles, reaches into his pocket. He withdraws a small, battered leather wallet and flips it open. Graves cranes his neck, takes a quick peek—no credit cards, strangely, or pictures of family that he can see, just a glossy Polaroid slightly bent at the edges.

“Here,” the man reaches out, and Graves grasps it, brings it close to his eyes to see.

A pale, wane Credence, but the same age. Sunken cheeks and puffy mouth, lovely, knobby knees bared in cut-off shorts, slim arms vulnerable and bared in a black tank. He’s sitting on some sort of porch-step, and it would’ve looked like any other suburban teenager lounging in a friendly neighborhood had Graves not seen the eyes. The boy looks terrified, eyes blown and wild, mouth open the slightest bit as if he were about to yell. And there is a kind of vagueness to the whole scene, the background too cloudy, the clothes the boy’s wearing too sharp, as if the photo had been modified somehow, tampered with.

“Yes, I’m sure I’ll recognize him now,” Graves says faintly instead of any of these things, already slipping out the door. He barely manages to hand the photo back, barely manages to return Grindelwald’s unnerving smile. “I’ll—I’ll notify you if I hear anything.”

A few more smiles and thank yous and have a good days, and Graves begins to wander his way down the drive.

“Oh, before you go, officer,” Grindelwald stands in the doorway, watching as Graves stumbles his way to his patrol car. “My son’s name—it’s Credence. Credence Grindelwald.”

Graves sits for a good few minutes in a grocery shop parking lot after that, an accented voice rattling in his head, I can feel it.

anonymous asked:

Hanging out in college!tom's dorm hc?


okay i’m sorry, i always get so carried away writing these things smh!!

tom’s dialogue / your dialogue

  • you met tom at the activities & clubs fair on your first day
  • he was in second year and a member of the performing arts society on campus that repped the college in things like theatresports and dancing
  • you were wandering past, just looking around and he accidentally dropped his stack of flyers right at your feet as you went by
  • tom was embarrassed but chill enough to brush it off and say sorry, even though he was a bit nervous
  • “so, uh - do you wanna join our group?” “mm, i don’t dance or act, sorry” “well if i can’t hang out with you for this, how about i grab you a coffee instead?”
  • he was kinda shy but also confident and wasn’t gonna let you slip away cos you were funny and he liked your rihanna t-shirt
  • you liked his smile and his cute accent and the way he carefully picked up each flyer, one by one, when he dropped them in front of you before so you said yes
  • hanging out in his dorm was one of your favourite things your favourite thing to do in your free time
  • tom wasn’t the smartest kid on campus but he was pretty intelligent and worked hard to keep up his grades
  • his room was always moderately clean but if you hung out in the weeks leading up to exams, his papers and text books would be covering every surface
  • on one particular occasion, you were chilling quietly in his room while he studied and you decided to stack all the books he wasn’t using for fun
  • the pile reached the top of his full-length mirror before tom noticed
  • “y/n what the fuck are you doing omg” “uhh i’m making a castle!”
  • tom stood up and pushed his roller chair backward but its leg was wrapped on his laptop charger cable, which was under the stack of books and it set it off-balance
  • the whole pile came crashing down around you and when it stopped, you stared back at tom in silence, surrounded by his text books
  • one was in your lap and two covered your feet
  • you both burst into laughter at the same time and he gave up on studying for a few hours so you could just talk and hang out together after that
  • most of the time, tom sits on his bed and you take his chair
  • you’ve named the chair (it’s called ‘louise’) and if tom’s sitting in it when you arrive and knock on the door, he always grins, gets up and slides it over to you because he knows its where you belong when you’re with him
  • although one day he’d like to find the courage to invite you to sit with him on his bed
  • tom has a mini fridge in his dorm room and it’s always stocked up
  • in the summer, you open up his sky roof window (yeah he’s on the top freakin’ floor, it’s a bitch to get up to his dorm but it’s good exercise, you always say) and he sets up a picnic blanket on the carpet so you can crack open some drinks and talk and lie back, watching the small square of sky from his room because he likes that it’s private and he gets to be alone with you
  • he has a hat rack in his cupboard that you tease him about
  • so. many. caps.
  • tom has a shelf where he keeps all his prized possessions when he’s staying in the dorm away from home
  • on one end, there’s a group of shiny trophies and medals from the performing arts society and a certificate from his first role acting back home
  • on the other end, there’s a framed photo of his family and a smaller picture of his dog tessa
  • in the middle, there’s a broken dvd for finding nemo, a photobooth strip and a dusty flyer
  • the dvd is the first one you ever watched together, the first time you stayed with tom in his dorm
  • the dusty flyer is one of the ones tom dropped at your feet on that very first day that you met
  • the photobooth strip is a set of four photos of you guys, and he keeps it because 1) he loves you a lot and 2) you look genuinely happy in the picture and when he’s sad, all he has to do is reach up and grab the strip to make himself smile again

okay that got off track, i’m sorry!! but please, send me more themes or ideas for a hc/blurb night!

paint by the numbers. [bucky barnes x reader.]

Title: Paint By The Numbers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You, Bucky, and a pan of oil pants relax together one evening. You make a mess.

Warnings: Ummm nothing really?? Bucky is shirtless and there’s a bath part, but it’s not really sexual and there aren’t really descriptions of nudity.

Requests are open!

Keep reading

thespacecunt  asked:

Oh shit we can submit holiday shit? Boi I’m gonna request what you think the RFA+V+Searan (spelled that wrong) would do with MC for a Christmas Date before she goes to have celebrate with her family by her own (say they haven’t been dating for long enough to meet the family)

A/N: I hope this is okay for you, love




               -Even if it’s small. Or you won’t be there on Christmas with him to see it. He still wants it

               -Thinks decorating it together is the most important part of the tree anyway

               -Cause the two of you get to pick and choose what goes on, where, and you get to compromise and work things out

               -All so you can combine two images of the perfect tree into one

               -And it’s! All! Yours! No one else’s! No one can tell either of you how to decorate it because it is his definition of perfection~

               -Seriously though, like he takes a ton of pictures of the two of you decorating it too, he wants to make a small Christmas scrapbook

               -Pictures of you hanging an ornament, pictures of you stringing the lights as the shine on your face /just/ right, goofy pictures of the two of you posing in front of the tree

               -And especially sets his phone on a timer to get a picture of him holding you up to put the star on top of the tree! That’s the most important part and he /has/ to document the two of you working together to do it

               -Except he’s clumsy. You’re clumsy. The two of you fall over. The tree topples over. Ornaments are flying and the two of you are screeching. The camera got a picture of it mid-action. He’s embarrassed but loves the picture because it describes the two of you, and your holiday, perfectly


               -Tis the season for some carols, fa la la la la, la la la la

               -He bundles you up in one of his coats, a scarf, and even one of his hats and takes you out caroling

               -Because he wants to lowkey show off his voice for you, but it’s nothing new. You like it though so you just let him go for it~

               -At some point in the night though? It turned? Into a competition among the angels

               -The two of you fought for singing dominance until he couldn’t take it anymore and broke down, complimenting you and praising you like crazy because?? He loves you so much

               -At home, the two of you attempt to write each other carols

               -Ya know, to show your love! Sing about your burning passion and love for each other, he’ll melt

               -The two of you agree not to tell the others because it’s really sappy but he can’t help but record yours, and you can’t help but do the same for him as well

               -You just gotta hope Saeyoung doesn’t get a hold of it

               -He does.


               -“MC, Santa isn’t real. You’re an adult.” “We can still make cookies!!!!!”

               -Holiday cookies!

               -You actually planned the date, to decoration tons of cookies

               -The kitchen is decked out in sprinkles, candies, different flavours and colours of frosting, all of it

               -Handing her a huge box of different shaped cookie cutters, she’s amazed you’ve taken time and effort to put all of this together

               -She makes the batter while you run from her and her wooden spoon because you keep /eating/ the batter

               -But you make cookies specifically for her, she does the same, and the both of you work on making cookies for everyone else as well!

               -She loves glancing over and seeing how determined you are to get the frosting right, how your face lights up in delight when you’ve finished one, or when you scrunch your nose up because you have to sneeze from getting flour all over your face

               -She’s just very happy to get this time with you, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, except one thing.

               -She wishes you didn’t get flour across the entire kitchen.


               -He’s actually got the chillest date of them all planned

               -He just wants to sit with you, all day, and watch every Christmas movie known to man

               -Okay at least the really popular ones. He had no need to watch them, but people keep making references that he doesn’t understand and he’s tired of it

               -So he meets you in the living room with a horrid cat Christmas sweater. You laugh. You laugh /hard/. You’re on the ground. Rolling. He’s very concerned.

               -Once you’ve settled down though, he’s got a matching one for you, and you have to just bite your tongue to keep from laughing. The sweater’s surprisingly warm??

               -He had his chef make tons of Christmas desserts and snacks, and the two of you mindlessly nibble on them all during the movie marathon

               -He’ll ask you to explain a lot of things in the movies. What’s so important about the lamp shaped like a woman’s leg? Why is this green furry man stealing all the Christmas things? Why is this child’s Christmas tree literally just a stick?

               -Like a complete c h i l d. He’s constantly moving. Switching positions. Laying across you. On the floor. DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE TV.

               -But he’s absolutely adorable and it’s hard not to love it. The way he looks at you with child-like excitement over the next movie, the bright smiles he’s constantly shooting your way, what an adorable man

               -Except when he wasn’t paying attention and sat on the table. On top of some of the desserts. You laughed until you fell off the couch but he just sat there, deadpan look on his face. He couldn’t even begin to accept the fact that he sat on the food. What an idiot


               -He picks you up in one of his babies, but of /COURSE/ he’s got those ridiculous car decorations with the reindeer antlers and large nose

               -He won’t blast any Christmas music because he hates it, actually, he dislikes Christmas in general. But with you around and his brother back, it isn’t as bad. So he decided it couldn’t hurt to celebrate a bit!

               -Takes you to a ton of different stores so the two of you could find the /perfect/ ugly sweaters for each other

               -Said he was okay celebrating a little more for Christmas this year, right? Liar.

               -So, instead, you try your best to distract him instead. With your ugly sweaters on, you initiate an all out snowball /WAR/

               -This goes on for hours, relentlessly. You’ve called a truce, or so you’ve thought.

               -In the blink of an eye, you’re tackled into a snow bank- now the owner of a hole the shape of the two of you

               -The two of you make snow angels, decorating the others with a halo or putting pinecones where the eyes should be

               -You’re both completely soaking wet. And cold.

               -You call him from your family’s home the next day, cursing him out for getting you sick. He’s on the other end of the phone, laying halfway off the couch, with a cold just as bad as yours.


               -One of the best dates for him has to be just relaxing at home with you, but you wanted to be festive before you had to go to your family’s house!

               -So you settle on decorating the house!

               -He looks at the amount of boxes you brought over, he was honestly in shock. How can one person have so many decorations for just one holiday?

               -He’s helping you hang up stockings, place figurines on shelves, hanging up handmade paper snowflakes!

               -Can’t help but snap a few pictures on his phone of you stringing the lights because they’re just such a soft white and against your face, they (and you!) are absolutely breathtaking.

               -It’s his new favourite photo and is sure to print it out once you leave and frame it

               -Just when he thought everything had been either placed or hung up, he came across the last box that had a little something extra in it

               -With a soft song in his tone, he calls for you to turn around. Looking up, you see him holding mistletoe over the two of you, and a bright, goofy smile on his face

               -You cup his face with both of your hands, giving him one of the softest kisses either of you have had before, and he, nor you, could ask for anything better than that


               -He wasn’t one to make a big deal of things in the first place, like holidays and things

               -But he did want to go see lights and decorations

               -So the two of you bundled up (you even talked him into sharing a large scarf!) and walked down several heavily decorated streets

               -He loved stopping in front of each house, taking his time to look at every decoration and trying to get into the mind of the decorators- why did they pick there? Why did they put that one up instead of another? Why that colour?

               -But his favourite part was watching your eyes light up, your smile stretching from ear to ear, the way your whole being just shines like a star when you’re happy makes his heart flutter

               -Takes notice of your favourite decorations, combination of lights, everything. He’s looking at the houses but his analytical mind is on you.

               -Later that night, he calls you outside to look at the front of the house, and there sat all of your favourites over the night, strategically set up in the best viewing positions, him standing in front of it all with the biggest grin on his face

               -He freaks out though because you start crying? Why are you crying? Was he wrong? Fuck, he picked the wrong ones, didn’t he?

               -Places his hands on your cheeks as you wrap your arms around him, smiling through the tears that fell. You told him this was one of the sweetest things anyone has done for you, and the absolute best date you’ve ever had in your life. He kisses your forehead and tells you that he just wanted to do something to make you happy

               -But now he’s decided it’s been enough happiness. It’s 3 am, it’s cold, and his dumbass gave you his coat. It’s time for bed.