#(and u turned this mess into something pretty and polished and just . Perfect)

[itsjaywalkers]

half yours (and half unsure)

E | 189k | jegulus | written for the jegbb

“We fight all the time,” Regulus retorts, like that’s all the argument he needs. “And you told me you and Lily barely fight.” A furrow appears between James’ brows. “I don���t see what that has to do with us.” “Us,” Regulus repeats, rolling the word around, checking how it tastes in his tongue. James cocks his head to the right, and leans forward slightly, until their noses touch. “I like that.” “What? The word?” James inquires with a teasing grin. “What it implies,” Regulus corrects him softly. “The fact that you speak as if there’s an actual ‘us’.”

[starsoirees]

thinking ab the RAD yearbook... how when yearbook photos are taken, you'd barely been in the devildom for a month but lucifer is fussing over you making sure you make a good impression, as to not ruin the school's (diavolo's) image. He fixes your tie, presses hairs into place (frowns when they dont stick), smooths your coat, etc. he forces the brothers to polish their shoes and press their uniforms the night prior, and anyone who isn't up to dress code has a harsh punishment coming their way. he always looks perfect, so the most he does is press his uniform and perhaps take a little more time for his hair in the morning. photo is positively radiant (the brothers try to mess up his picture every year... they've tried everything.. hair dye instead of shampoo, hexed face wash, ruining his clothes, nothing works. its very frustrating). lucifer the beautiful fallen angel.. you're pretty sure he has a dedicated fan club that practically die from excitement every time the yearbook is released

mammon is the bane of lucifer’s existence. this little bitch can never wear his uniform correctly he just can’t figure out how to tie his tie goddamnit. he also complains endlessly about yearbook photos. how “it’s such a fuckin hassle” and “the stick up lucifer’s ass is shoved up even farther on picture day.” he is a model though, so he knows the right angles, and which side of his face is best, etc. so his pictures always come out looking absolutely gorgeous ur so jealous. just before he’s about to take his picture, if you run up to him, ruffle his hair, kiss his cheek, and tell him he looks cute he’ll have the goofiest lovestruck grin immortalized in the yearbook forever. If mephistopheles were to edit the yearbook photos to embarrass people, he literally wouldn’t touch mammons lol he thinks it’s so funny as is. mams is already so embarrassed. literally if anyone brings up the cute little blush on his cheeks it’s on sight. 

leviathan is just. there. this is like one of the only times he’s actually at school (other than student council meetings) because he mostly does online classes. probably complains about missing an episode of The New Girl Next Door Leaves Every Night at 1AM So I Decide To Follow Her And It Turns Out She’s A Thousand Year Old Vampire Who Is Madly In Love With My Older Brother And Wants to Have His Babies or something like that. is kinda used to causal comfy clothes, so having to wear his uniform correctly makes him whiny and uncomfortable. he really likes loose things and the uniform is so crisp and tight and he swears his tie is cutting off blood flow to his head. probably has more of a grimace than a smile in the photo because of his discomfort. hates looking through the yearbook when it comes out. he has two brothers that are literally models and he looks like some creepy otaku :(( is very down on himself, and really self-critical, please give him some hugs and tell him u think he looks cute as hell in the picture. he’ll deny it and then cry into ur shoulder. help. 

satan doesn't do much. fixes his bowtie (his bowtie is so cute and goofy i love him) and combs his hair through. probably the most normal and the least amount of a headache for lucifer (much to his dismay). maybe his camera smile looks a little menacing, but you know his true smile is sweet and soft. doesn't really care much about the yearbook, but will deface lucifer's photo (its a yearly tradition, thinks up new designs the whole year in preparation. will be overjoyed if u ask to brainstorm with him). overall satan is a cute ass dork and u love him for it. 

asmodeus obviously takes yearbook photos very seriously, and engages in an intense spa day before hand. hair masks, face masks, nail masks, foot masks, everything. frets over his hair for ages, lucifer has to come and practically drag him away from his mirror because they're going to be late. would be the type to ask the photographer to retake a picture a billion times because he tilted his head in a weird direction, or his tie wasn't even, or his lashes aren't curled enough, or the lighting was a little too dark... always goes last. will force you to let him do your makeup and hair. ur just so cute he can’t help himself. once yearbooks come out he’ll gush about how cute you look and literally kiss ur tiny little paper face. 

beelzebub is literally a pain in the ass. like, i love him, but his uniform probably has food stains and crumbs everywhere. lucifer has given up at this point. beebs doesn’t even smile. he’s just sitting stoically. literally just :| want food. it kinda works for him tho hes like hot intimidating beefcake who hardly ever smiles while u know hes the sweetest gentle giant towards u. like his genuine smile is so cute and aaaa omg i want to squish his cute little cheeks. but like literally crumbs everywhere lucifer can’t get him to be crumbless they're everywhere. beel gives 0 shits tho he literally couldn’t care less about the yearbook. mephi could literally photoshop a naked feminine body on to him and he’d just be like. “ok. *nom nom nom*” will literally glow if u tell him he looks cute in his yearbook pic though. 

belphegor is annoying but just because he is #2tired2care. his uniform is messed up because he napped in it waiting for his turn and now his hair is messed up and his tie is crumpled. would literally be late for his picture because he fell asleep somewhere waiting. probably has half-lidded, sleepy eyes and a drowsy smile OR just a sly smirk. definitely leaves immediately afterward to the hol and naps the rest of the day. also doesn't give a shit ab the yearbook v2. he’s got better things to do than care about a single yearbook pic. he’s got hundreds more. 

hi. this is crack. pt2 posted here

[ppersonna]

half baked - pjm | m

baby we two distant strangers. i know you don't speak my language, but I love the way she's talking to me - love talk, wayv

↳ summary- park jimin gets a job at your bakery, and you can’t help but find yourself annoyingly attracted to the cocky man.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ word count- 5.2k

↳ genre- smut, fluff

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, lightly dom!jimin, sub!reader, slight enemies2lovers, sex in a kitchen, please god don’t fuck in a kitchen its a health code violation, spanking, nipple play, cum play, fingering

↳ a/n- ahHH!HHHHhhh!H! i blame this 100% on @wwilloww​ for merely putting the idea in my head and i had to take it and run with it.  also thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ my babe/my loml for the amazing banner! i truly do not deserve u but ily so much.  and thank you to @chimoona​ @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @taetaewonderland​ for being the best mf squad a lady could have and beta-ing this for me! i love you all so much! i hope you enjoy silly cocky jimin!

 Two cups of flour, one and three quarters cup sugar, 2 cups of butter.

You know the recipes by heart.  In fact, one might postulate that the recipes themselves are the sole contents of your heart.  

You live and breathe baking. It is your solace and your truest love.

Which is why it is all nearly thrown into catastrophe when Park Jimin comes into the picture.

It starts on a rather busy day.  You’re hard at work in the kitchen, prepping the finished products and presenting them in neat little boxes, when your best friend and co-owner of Wake ‘N Bake, Willow, lets out a frustrated squeal..  You turn your head to find her covered head to toe in flour, making you snort as she shoots you a playfully ominous glare.

“Shut up,” she sniffs as she attempts to pat some fine dust off of her, to no avail. “I only have two hands and about fifty things to do with them at the same time.”

Your lips part to reply something equally sassy when the bell over the front door rings, notifying you of a paying customer.  Grabbing a towel, you quickly wipe off cookie debris and throw it at your best friend to do her best to clean off as she follows behind you.

You pause as you take stock of who stands there. A handsome man arrives at the cash register and peers around, presumably looking for an employee.  He is gorgeous—ethereal even and looks like someone who walked out of the pages of a magazine. His bone structure screams model, and you can’t help but feel the stirrings of desire for the beautiful stranger.

“Hi! Welcome to Wake ‘N Bake!” Willow sings cheerfully, despite being coated in baking flour.

The man eyes her with a glint of humor in his eye, and Willow’s cheeks turn a hue of pink when she remembers her current appearance.

“Hi,” he speaks. His voice is smooth like butter, and gentle. It makes you feel weak, like you’re warming in the very ovens that your pastries rise in.

“I saw your shop from down the street and I had to stop in. Your desserts look amazing.  Is the owner here by chance?”

Your smile fades as he looks around the room for someone else, someone beyond you and your best friend.

Of course.

No one believes that two young women could start and maintain their own business. Everyone assumes that some older, well-off man was at the helm while you and Willow toil for minimum wage.

Your arms cross over your body in clear displeasure.

“We are the owners.”

“Oh!”  The man looks surprised but not put off. “Awesome. I was hoping I could… talk to you about, err—… a job?”

His face is sheepish and Willow nearly coos at the sight.

Unfortunately, it appears you and your best friend have warring ideas.

“Yes!” She chimes at the same moment you dead-pan a resounding ‘No’.

Your heads spin to stare at each other—Willow’s eyes wide in disbelief and yours in annoyance.

“We need the help!” She huffs.

“We can do things on our own, like we always have,” you remind her.

Willow gestures to her flour covered clothing in desperation.

“We clearly could use help with how successful we have gotten!”

To your chagrin, she has a point. It might be nice to have someone to help in the front while the two of you manage the kitchen in the back.  It would increase your productivity by double what you’re able to do now.

But there’s something about his attitude coming in that rubs you the wrong way.  Like, he’s too pretty. Too confident. Too nice.

“What’s your baking experience?” You ask as you turn back to the hopelessly lost, yet ever eager man.

“Oh, err—,” he stutters. “I worked at my friend Jin’s restaurant. That served desserts, too?”

You shake your head in disdain while Willow claps her hands in excitement, a puff of white flour dust pluming into the air.

“Perfect! So you could do sales!?”

“Yeah! I can do sales, no problem.”

You turn your gaze back to Willow who stares at the man like he is her knight in shining armor.

“Willow?! Can I talk to you in the back?”

She knows that tone—the one that tells her you’re not pleased with her decisions. She nods once and politely excuses the both of you from the man before heading back towards the kitchen.

“What in the world is wrong with you?!” She asks the moment the swinging door closed.

“Me?!” You’re incredulous—hands flying in the air. “You’re over here trying to hire the first Joey Hot-Lips who walks in off the street!”

Willow’s anguished face falls and turns into a devilish smirk as she leans back on her heels.

“Aha! You’re attracted to him,” she notes as if she figured out the world's greatest mystery. “That’s why you don’t want him here.”

“What? No!” Your defense crumbles around you. “Did you hear him? He totally acted like he didn’t believe we could be the owners!”

“Oh, come on, that was a simple mistake and you know it!  You’re just being protective.”

You ‘humph’ a non-committal response—unable to argue.

You are protective of your bakery. It’s your combined love child with Willow. What started as a dream between cocktails with your best friend became a real brick and mortar reality.  You had been through enough trying to open it you can’t help but feel skeptical of anyone trying to get involved. Many tried to discredit your ability to maintain such a successful shop, and you’d rather continue to run it with no one else than see it fall at the hands of another.

“Just as I thought,” Willow hums. “In that case, he’s hired!”

You’re given no chance to reply—the flour-covered girl pushes through the swinging doors and announces to the handsome man that he’s hired and free to start the following day.

“Great!  Thanks!” His smile is sincere—blinding and breathtaking, and you hate how much you want to see that smile again.

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, waving goodbye as he exits the chiming door.

“Now, you need to deal with whatever issues you have about letting others into the shop,” she says pointedly, pushing a finger into your arm gently. “And whatever issues you have with wanting to bone him.”

“Willow!” You gasp. “I do not want to bone him!”

“Sure, babe. You think you can fool me but I know you too well. Just try not to fuck him in the kitchen, alright? I don’t need the health inspector up our ass.”

The next early morning starts at 4:30 am, with you elbow deep in cookie dough for a catering order.  You’ve nearly forgotten about the new employee starting until the man himself strolls into the back kitchen as if he’s worked there for years.

“Hey!” He says cheerfully, two cups of coffee in his hands. “I got you a coffee. Willow said you’re a nightmare without some in the morning.”

Your eyes narrow at the man. It’s unfair how delicious he looked so early; while you look like a frizzy mess who rolled out of bed and walked into work (which you did), he looked polished and crisp and clean. It’s infuriating as much as it’s glaringly attractive.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you pick cookie dough off your hands and pull off your plastic sanitary gloves. “Every girl loves hearing she’s a nightmare.”

He chuckles behind his steaming cup and places yours on the workbench next to you.

“Those were her words, of course. I’d never call you a nightmare.”

You easily flush, then chastise yourself for allowing him to make you feel so weak so early in the morning.

“To be fair,” he continues. “I don’t even know your name.”

“___,” you sigh as you grab the coffee and bring it to your lips. “And you?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.”

The first sip of coffee is like a soothing hug. He somehow knew how you took your coffee—two creams and two sugars.

“I didn’t know how you liked it, so I just guessed.”

“Good guess.”

Jimin smirks and looks proud of his accomplishment.

“You seem like the type of girl who likes balance to her sweetness.”

You stare at him curiously over your own steaming paper cup, unsure of what to make of his comment.

“Good morning to the love of my life!” Comes the voice of your best friend entering through the back door.

You roll your eyes in amusement as she teeters in, peppy and perky as she always is this early.

“Oh! Hi, Jimin.”  Her cheeks turn a familiar shade of rose as she realizes he heard her. “I didn’t know you were here yet.  That’s just a… thing we say to each other every morning.”

“Cute.” Jimin smirks at you, making your stomach lift with unwanted butterflies. “Where do you want me?”

Underneath you, beside you, above you, any possibly way...

You shake your head quickly to push away the sexual thoughts of the gorgeous man taking you from any position. No, you refuse to let your mind wander there.

Willow finishes washing her hands and putting on her apron before she nods to the fridge.

“If you can get the milk, eggs, and butter out, we’ll use you for creaming.”

Your cheeks heat impossibly as Jimin smirks even wider.

“Oh, I’m fantastic at creaming.”

Your hands pause from where they massage dough while you close your eyes and breathe, before lifting to glare at your best friend who wears a faux-innocent look.

“I’m sure you are, Jimin,” she chimes virtuously, before getting to work.

The next few weeks were a haze. You’re so caught up with graduations, birthdays, weddings and major events that your time spent at the shop overtakes your time sleeping, breathing, existing in any way that isn’t baking.

Even Jimin was busy.  Despite your initial hesitancy, he was proving to be an excellent third member of your team.  He’s a pro at sales—you’re sure his good looks and the mostly female clientele helps—and he pitches in in the kitchen without fail. He even tries his hand at decorating cakes, with only one frosting-based spill.  You would never give Willow the satisfaction of telling her outright, but she made an excellent decision in hiring the dazzling man.

But it doesn’t stop your annoying heart from fluttering every time he comes close to you—rubs elbows as he helps you roll out dough or smiles at you from across the workbench as he stamps out sugar cookies.  You refuse to allow yourself any thoughts on what it would taste like to lick dough off his fingers or how he would look bending you over the countertop to take you from behind.

You only allow such thoughts at night, safely tucked into bed with your vibrator cranked to the highest setting.

It doesn’t help that Jimin solidifies himself in your life by introducing his handsome and dopey best friend Jungkook to your gorgeous and clumsy best friend Willow.  The moment they laid eyes on each other, you knew you were doomed to have Jimin in your life with or without the bakery.

And you weren’t sure how to handle that notion.

Was Jimin flirting with you simply because you were there?  He seemed to have no problem flirting with the customers.  Sure, the shop has never made more money than when Jimin works his charms and seduces women of all ages to buy the extra cookies, cannolis, and cakes—not that you watched or glared or hated every second. No, of course not. It was for the good of your business and the angry jealousy demon inside you would need to stay firmly locked away.

Except, it’s on a particularly crowded day at the shop that your jealousy gets the best of you.

You’re up front assisting Jimin by boxing and bagging the treats he rings up.

You know he’s flirtatious, but it’s when he goes the extra mile for an extra pretty girl that you lose your cool on him the moment the customers leave.  

“Do you have to eye-fuck every single co-ed that walks in this place?!”

Your hands fly up in frustration, and Jimin watches you with a soft gaze.

His silence and knowing smirk makes you continue.

“Seriously? What the fuck was that about?! You’re acting like you’re about to bend her over right here in front of us! Jesus!”

Willow hears the commotion from the back and comes forward.

“What’s going on here?” She asks suspiciously.

You point towards Jimin who maintains his poised demeanor.

“I’m reminding Jimin that work is not a place to sexually engage our customers!”

Willow rolls her eyes as she pulls her apron off and grabs her coat from the hook.

“Whatever, you’re being ridiculous. Jimin’s never been inappropriate. Plus, he’s making us a fuck-ton of money,” she sighs. “You two can close up without killing each other right?”  She eyes you in particular.

You cross your arms and huff, glancing at the clock to find you have two hours still until closing. “Why? Where are you going?”

Willow’s annoyance fades away as if it never existed.

“Jungkook is taking me to the Museum of the Printing Press!”

You can’t help but choke a laugh while she pushes your arm.

“Shush! You know how much I love them! And he totally surprised me with tickets!”

Willow can’t shake that lovesick look in her eyes and your heart melts a little. She’s your best friend and you’re thrilled she’s found someone who wants to indulge her in her nerdy fascinations.

“Go have fun, babe,” you smile sincerely. “We can take care of closing. Now, go fuck on a letterpress or whatever!”

Willow snorts and hugs you tight, bids goodbye to Jimin, and exits the store.

Now that your quick anger is gone, you feel sheepish around the man who has yet to reply to your tirade—but you refuse to stick around under his piercing gaze.

“I’ll be in the back,” you mumble under your breath before slipping into the kitchen before he can get any word in edge wise.

You spend the rest of the evening monologuing an apology as you prep ingredients for the next morning and clean your workstations.  The shop is closed, doors locked, and Jimin is somewhere at the front of the house finishing his duties.

“‘Hey, I’m sorry for the way I acted’,” you practice out loud. “Hm—no, not humble enough. ‘Hey Jimin, I was a real bitch’, too degrading?  Maybe something like, ‘Hey Chim, can I call you Chim? That was fucked up, wasn’t it? Haha.’ God!” You throw your rag down in a huff, frustrated at your inability to form a decent apology.

“You can call me Chim, if you want,” a voice speaks from behind you.

You squeak in surprise and turn around, clutching your apron in your hands as you find Jimin leaning against a wall with a smirk on his face.

“Only my closest friends call me Chim, but I think we’re close enough.”

You swallow hard and nibble at your lip.

“I’m assuming you heard that whole… thing,” you mumble anxiously.  His nod confirms that he heard your entire play-by-play of the apology you would deliver to the handsome man.

“Yeah,” he licks at his lips. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re jealous.”

“J-jealous?” You nearly trip over your own tongue.  “I wasn’t—, I’m not jealous!”

Jimin begins a slow approach towards you, striding as he keeps his sparkling eyes on yours.

“Oh?”  He quirks his head, making his soft hair fall into his face.  You desperately want to push it away, cup his cheek, kiss those ridiculously plump lips.

He can tell you’re staring at this mouth and it makes his smirk turn nearly feral.

“So, you weren’t jealous? Not a single bit?”

He inches closer and you can feel your heart tighten in your chest and your stomach twists in on itself in excitement, in nerves.

“N-no,” you whisper, unconvincingly.

“You didn’t want to be the one I was making eyes at?  The one who ‘gets bent over the counter’ as you said?”

“I—,” Jimin cuts your words short as he stands a breath away from you.

“I guess if you weren’t jealous, then I don’t have to tell you you’re the one I really want to bend over the counter.”

You’re sure your heart stops beating—positive that it will fall from its place in your ribs into your feet.  

“What?”

Jimin cups a hand to your cheek and smiles as he steps even closer.

“If you’re not jealous, then I don’t have to reassure you you’ve got nothing to be jealous over.”

Your lips run dry, throat parched as if you’ve never had a sip of water.  Jimin is standing so close to you you can feel the heat coming off of him in waves.

“Jimin—,” you breathe and he continues forward until he presses you against the countertop and crowding you into the metal and wood.

“Tell me you were jealous.”

You gulp, eyes seeking his for an answer, for any information.  Is he playing you? Does he know you’re hopelessly attracted to him?  Does he find it humorous to tease you when Willow isn’t here to insert herself into your flirting.

“I was jealous,” you admit slowly. The words are hard to release, but once they do, the floodgates open. “I wanted to be the one you flirted with.  I was jealous because I want to be the one you notice.”

Jimin smirks, then pulls your face in quickly for a heated kiss.

His lips are just as plush, just as soft as you imagined.  They’re puffy and sweet and he tastes like one of the treacle tarts you made that morning.  He must have had one with lunch, and you find yourself addicted to the way he tastes with your creations on him. You wonder what he’d taste like with your arousal coating that tender, plump mouth.

He bites at your own lip and tugs, chucking under his breath as you mewl your desire at the slight hint of pain.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re angry like that,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours.  “I nearly popped a boner while you were yelling at me. I could tell you were jealous, and it made me want you more.”

It’s hard to hear him speak so candidly—it makes you groan.

“Jimin—fuck,” you sigh. “I’ve been attracted to you since you walked into this goddamn place.”

He smirks and snags your lips up in another desperate, yet quick, kiss.

“I know.  It’s why you didn’t want me to work here.”

You grumble after he pulls away, tired of the teasing and wanting nothing more than to stop talking and start doing.

“I didn’t like you because you assumed I wasn’t the owner.”

He smiles and rubs at your arms, a softer expression crossing his face.

“No, but I hoped you were.”

It’s silent for a moment and you let his words wash over you as he continues.

“I was attracted to your authority.  I could tell you were important here somehow, just didn’t know in what way.”

You swallow your growing guilt.  You had clocked Jimin entirely wrong.

“Jimin, I’m sorry,” you start.

“Hey, hey, I already heard your apology, remember?” He smiles.  “Although, I could think of a great way to mend the wounds if you’re interested.  No pressure.”

His soft smile becomes a devilish grin instantly and your body lights with instant arousal.

“What did you have in mind?”

His lips press to yours again and you nearly lose yourself completely in his embrace.  Your arms circle his neck and he holds you tight at your waist, before pulling away from you, yet again.

“I happen to be very good at creaming, if you’ll recall.”

You can’t hold back a snort of laughter, that quickly gets covered by Jimin’s hot lips, one’s he will not pull away from you any time soon.

“You want to, right here?” You ask as he trails a hot line down your throat.

“Yeah, do you?”  

You vaguely remember Willow’s threat of not fucking in the kitchen, but find you can’t seem to care an ounce.

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

Jimin needs to hear no more.  He pulls you close and kisses you with the remaining amounts of pent-up passion and emotion he feels for you.  He’s grown to love the way you take charge, the way you move through the building like you own the place—because you do.  He loves the power you radiate and wants nothing more than to make you give up that power for a single night, to him.

“You wanna do this… all the way?” He asks, re-assuring himself that he’s not throwing himself at his boss.

“I want you, Jimin.  I want you to bend me over this workbench and fuck me until I’m crying for more.  Please.”

He grins and lays a hand on your neck, fingers tracing the gentle lines.  

“I might not let you boss me around,” he warns.

“Take control.”  Your eyes are blazing with need.  It makes him smile, and he gives the moment a slight pause.

“Then, get on your knees and show me just how sorry you are for yelling at me.”

You’re sinking to your knees quicker than you can comprehend.  Jimin is almost thrown at how instantly you caved and submitted to him.  He watches as your eyes stay fixed on his and your hands work at the button of his tight jeans.  

“That’s right,” he murmurs.  “Right where you belong.  No one else.”

You preen—heart warming at the idea that you’re the only one he wants kneeling before him and tugging his cock out of its confines.  

It springs forward, and it pulls your gaze from Jimin’s magnetic eyes.  It’s long and thick, just like you suspected all those nights with your vibrator stuffed where he should be.  Your mouth waters at the sight and you lean towards it to mouth at it gently—pressing soft open-mouth kisses to the tip.

“Oh, shit,” Jimin gasps.  Your fiery mouth feels like heaven on his cock.  It’s something he’s equally dreamed about—spent many nights fisting his cock to the thought of you.

You take your time, licking tiny stripes around the head and down the shaft, until Jimin becomes weary of the teasing.

“Please, take it all.”  His request is so genuine, so needy, that you’re loath to deny him.

He slips into your mouth with ease, slicked up just enough by your trailing kisses that he slides in and hits the back of your throat in seconds.  His eyes close as he feels his cock-head hit the back of your throat—a tighter and more constricting feeling in your already impossibly tight mouth.  It feels like absolute bliss, and he’s gasping for air after mere moments of you holding him inside your mouth to the hilt.

He doesn’t need to speak; you know what to do.  Your mouth works him in and out, tongue swirling around any open real estate of his cock.   His moans echo around the tile of the kitchen walls and he’s sure that the sight of you on your knees with his cock disappearing in and out of your mouth will have him cumming in no time.  

He steels himself, makes his body behave because he wants to enjoy this and the way you feel.  As good as your mouth feels, he’s desperate to know what it’s like to slide into that cunt he’s spent too many nights dreaming about.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines as you make delicious, slurping noises from the gathering saliva.  It’s a wet squelching sound that makes him even harder than what he believes is possible—all blood in his head now completely rushed to his dick for his pleasure.

“B-Babe!” He calls as he feels his balls tightening.  He doesn’t want to cum, not yet.

He grips your head by the scalp of your hair and pulls you off his cock that is seconds away from losing control.

“Please, I’ve got to fuck you,” he nearly begs.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand and smirk, licking the tip of his cock teasingly before standing up to his full height.

Jimin’s hands fly to your expensive leggings that you insist on wearing to work while he kisses you.  The kiss is feverish, frantic. It’s full of tongue and teeth and desperate moaning against each other as he pushes down the pants and delicate panties, and cups your cunt in one hand.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as the pad of his finger slides against your clit.

“You’re fucking soaked.  All from sucking my cock?”  He’s cocky and sucks a mark onto your neck as he massages the bundle of nerves.

“Don’t be arrogant now,” you warn with a smile.

He presses his tongue to your ear and licks a stripe and chuckles.

“I think you like it when I’m arrogant. Your pussy sure seems to like it.”

He emphasizes his words by slipping two fingers into your channel and fucks into you, scissoring you open.  He cuts off any chance for you to retort by launching his lips back to yours and prowling around your mouth with his tongue.

His fingers are small but fill you so deeply, and you’re sure his hand is drenched with your arousal.

“J-Jimin, please,” you gasp as you pull your mouth away to breathe in deep.  “Please, just fuck me already.”

He growls into your ear.  

“I thought I told you you’re not in charge.”

He spins you easily until your back is pressed to his chest.  He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts, throwing the shirt away and quickly making work of your bra clasps to join the shirt on the floor.

His hands cup your full breasts and you can’t help but whimper at the feeling of his soft and warm hands.  He feels so good against the chilled skin of your chest and he tweaks and thumbs your nipples until they stand perky and erect.

“I’ve always wanted to bend you over this counter,” he muses in your ear as he pulls a nipple harshly.  It makes you squeak out at the pain, then moan as the pain turns into a sizzling, pleasurable spike that runs through your veins.

“Every time I would catch you staring at me, I just wanted to fuck your cute little throat until you were gagging around me.”

Your eyes close as he continues his abuse on your perky nipples and whispering his deepest thoughts about you.

“I wanted to lift your cute dresses and eat your cunt until you’re wailing loud enough all the customers can hear.”

“Jimin,” you nearly cry.  “Please, fuck me.”

You can feel his hardness lining up behind you, rubbing at your sodden folds to cover his length in your slick juices.

“I like it when you beg.”

He kisses at the juncture of your neck before letting his teeth graze over the spot and bites down—right as he pushes your face down to the workbench and slides his cock into your spread heat.

He bottoms out easily.  You’re soaking wet and he buries himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.  He groans out loud—stunned by the heat and wetness of your pussy and how tight it grips him.

“Oh, holy shit,” he gasps as he gives himself and you a moment.  His hands grip at your waist, one hand coming to rub the tender skin of your supple ass.

“Jimin, fuck, you’re so big,” you whine.  

He brings his hand up, then slaps it down on your ass hard, hard enough that the crack echoes around the large kitchen.  You cry out in delight, in pain, as the reverberation of the stinging wraps around you.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess,” he whines as he sets a pace.  Your ass meets his hips and claps with each thrust, and he punctuates every few pumps into you with another hard slap to your ass.  He wants you screaming his name, crying out for him loud enough that the neighbors know who he is.

He’s relentless in his pumps—gripping your hips tight as he fucks you deep and senseless.  Your eyes roll back into your head at how well he works your body.  Your tits rub raw against the wood of the workbench and you’re weeping fat tears of pleasure as Jimin continues his plight.

“God, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warns.  “Cum on my cock, princess.”

You slide a hand down to your clit, eager to add the ultimate piece to what makes you unravel.  He grins and pumps into you harder, slaps your ass repeatedly until he knows it’s going to leave bruises.

“That’s right, baby, rub that pretty little clit,” he urges.  “God, I can’t wait until you you sit on my face and let me eat this fucking cunt for hours.”

You blubber a response of desire, nearly begging him for more and more, as you swirl your fingers around the tight bundle.  You’re peaking towards the summit of your climax, ascending to a point you’ve never gone before.

“Fuck, Chim!” You scream. “Gonna cum!”

Your warning falls on deaf ears—you’re cumming and pulsating around his thickness instantly and Jimin moans mix with your own to create a symphony of pleasure.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos.  “Your cunt is so good to me, baby.  Mmph—let’s frost this cake, now.”

Instantly, he’s groaning as he pulls his cock free from the vice-grip of your cunt and jerks himself twice to completion, allowing his hot seed to splatter against the tender flesh of your ass where he’s left a clear print of his hand.   The warmth soothes the battered skin and you shake your ass teasingly as he continues to stroke himself through his climax.

“Ohhhhh, my god,” he breathes as he finally comes down from his high.

Your face is resting on the cool surface of the wooden workbench as your breathing slowly settles back to normal.

“That was fucking good,” you whisper with a smile.  Jimin bends down to press soft kisses to your spine, before grabbing a towel to gently clean his cum off your beaten ass.

“Willow’s going to kill you for fucking me in the kitchen,” he warns with a laugh as he kisses the same spot he came on.

“It takes two to bake a cake, buddy,” you tease.

He laughs and brings a hand down to your untouched asscheek, making you squeal with delight.

“That’s not how the saying goes, but sure, doll.”

The next morning, you’re hard at work making a five-tiered wedding cake with Willow at your side, when Jimin throws open the door.

“Good morning to the loves of my life!”

Willow chokes on her own air while you hide a giggle behind your cake covered hand.

Jimin approaches the pair of you while she splutters and gasps.

“What?”  What happened last night after I left?”

Your cheeks heat and Jimin wears a face of pure cockiness.

“Oh my god,” Willow gasps as her eyes open wide, snapping your tender ass with her rag.  “You did NOT fuck in my kitchen!”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

taglist -  @preciouschimine​ @nyamjinnie​ @unicornnomore​ @bangtansbun​ @theneighborhoodfangirl​ @cyberbunny21​

[plant-flwrs]

lacquer // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: hey y’all..... hope u all still love me this is my peace offering <3 i take some pretty big exams tomorrow and my brain is kind of restless but also unproductive, so i cranked this out. i have no idea if its complete shit or not so lmk if i should jump into lava after u read it. also send good vibes for me and my exam tmr. love y’all. 

summary: Fred asks you to paint his nails

(1.5k)

----

The first time you noticed Fred staring, you were sitting on the floor in front of his bed, using his trunk as a desk as you worked on some Potions notes. Fred hung off the end of his bed, looking at you from upside down. The blood was rushing to his head, so his hair and face were just about the same color. He didn’t seem inclined to move, however, and his eyes were staring at the way your hands glided over the scroll you wrote on. You thought he might like your handwriting, or maybe he was just zoned out. 

The second time you noticed him staring, you were leaning against a thick oak tree by the Black Lake. Fred was laying between your legs, head propped up on your stomach. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, fingers tapping mindlessly on his chest. His head was tilted down, and you thought he had fallen asleep until his arms were moving. His larger hands grasped yours, twining your fingers together. His hands were pale and strong, like the rest of him, but slightly calloused from years of gripping his beaters bat. There were some freckles that crept down his wrist, like sparse constellations of stars, on his hand. He held your hands in front of his face, idly twisting and running them over his own hands.

The third and final time, he was very obvious. You were in his dorm again, waiting for him to be done with practice. You had long abandoned your homework, instead choosing to paint your nails to pass the time. You sat by the window, on the ledge, so the nail polish wouldn’t stink up the whole room. Fred and George bounded in, laughter on their lips. George shoved him to get to the bathroom first, slamming the door and locking it before Fred had even moved from the doorway. His eyes were locked on you, gaze flicking between your hands, the nail polish, and your face.

“Hey, Fred,” you said, carefully twisting the cap back onto the bottle. “Practice alright?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, dropping his things at the foot of his bed and coming to sit with you at the window. “Alright.”

You moved your hands in the air, letting the breeze harden your nail polish. Fred picked up the bottle you had put down, twisting it in his hands and reading the label.

“This a muggle thing?” he mumbled, holding it close to his face and squinting.

“Yeah, but they have magic kinds,” you said, holding your nails out and then bringing them closer to your face, cleaning around the edges. “There’s this one that I like, it’s black, and after it drys the galaxy and stars appear and move with your hands.”

“Hm,” Fred hummed absentmindedly, still playing with the bottle. 

You suppressed a smile as you gently took the bottle from Fred. His eyes moved to yours, abandoning the nail polish for the first time since he sat down. 

“Want me to?” you asked him quietly, smiling at him.

Fred’s brows furrowed, and his head turned to look out the window for a moment. You stared at him, not used to moments where Fred actually stopped to think about something. His face was serious, his jaw clenched a bit. He looked stern from the side, his hair damp and sweaty from practice and a slight red flush still on his cheeks and neck. His freckles were coming out as the sun did, and his hair was getting lighter, too. When he turned back to look at you, you felt your face soften. Fred could be so pretty sometimes. 

“Yeah,” he decided, holding his hands out to you, “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you took his hands gently, placing one on each of your knees.

Fred watched every move you made, when you shook the bottle, when you opened it, when you lifted the cap and when you rubbed off the excess nail polish on the side of the bottle. Fred watched with a small smirk as his nails were being painted, nice and slow so you wouldn’t mess them up. 

“I just realized,” you said slowly, leaning back to look at his nails before bending over again to continue, “we’re going to have matching nails.”

Fred laughed lightly, and the small action made hair fall into his eyes. He waited for you to be done with the nail he was painting before he shook his head back, his hands flailing in front of him slightly with the strained effort of not touching anything. 

“You willing to go ginger, too?” Fred joked, leaning forwards and haphazardly pushing your heads together. He pushed, and you leaned back some before you pushed back. You met in the middle, both hunched over Fred’s hands as you did the final coat.

“You already have a twin, Freddie,” you mumbled, fighting against Fred’s head to keep still and do a good job. 

“You’re much cuter than he is, though,” Fred sighed, leaning back and admiring his nails with a wide grin.

“Hey!” George scoffed, feigning offense as he entered the room and toweled off his shaggy hair.

“It’s true, mate,” Fred said, wiggling his fingers and resting them back on your knees, “easier on the eyes.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, standing carefully so Fred’s wet nails didn’t get caught on you. 

“You can’t shower until those are dry,” you said, taking the nail polish and twisting the cap tight, “Which is a bummer, because you reek.”

George howled a laugh and Fred scowled at you. He stood, taking a playful step towards you before you held your hands out, “Ah! Can’t mess up your nails, Fred!”

George laughed again, slipping on a sweater over the shirt he had on.

“Where are you going?” Fred shifted his gaze from you to George, watching George gather his things into his school bag.

“Lee said he’d help me study for the Care of Magical Creatures Exam we have next week.”

“Interesting,” you drawled, looping your arm on the bedpost of George’s bed and swinging into his personal space, “because I can’t recall seeing Lee taking notes in Care of Magical Creatures this week. Or any other week, ever, for that matter.”

George blushed, playfully shoving your shoulder. You spun the other way, smiling at him as he gave you a rude gesture before he slammed the door shut.

Fred came up from behind you, wrapping his arms carefully around you and hovering his hands above your waist.

“Careful!” you yelped, taking his hands and inspecting the nails.

“Dorm to ourselves,” Fred murmured, leaning down to press his lips to the spot beneath your ear, “What to do with all this space?”

“What to do indeed,” you twisted in his arms, looking up at him, “Except watch your nails dry.”

You quirked a teasing brow, sliding out from his grasp and falling onto George’s bed. Fred groaned in distaste, falling onto his own bed and waving his hands frantically in an attempt to get them to dry faster.

---

Fred liked to credit himself for the idea of you painting his nails. You liked to think it was your idea. The origin got lost in the details, but the end result was undoubtedly the best decision either of you had ever made. 

Fred had always loved the way your hands looked on him. When he held your hands, the elegance and perfection of your hands in his made his heart stutter. He could watch the way your fingers looked as they slid up his chest for hours. 

What Fred was starting to love even more, though, was the way his hands looked on your body. He had taken to new positions when you made out in his dorm, small changes that he didn’t think you’d notice.

Fred twisted from where he planted himself between your legs, facing you and crawling up your body. He reached down and grabbed your thighs in each hand, his eyes trailing the movement as he did it, and pulled you down the bed so you laid flat. Fred heard your breath hitch, so when he leaned down to kiss you again, he was smirking. 

When he finally pulled away for air, he lifted off of you. His hands slid down your sides, the polish on his nails long chipped, and worked back up your sides, lifting your shirt. 

His eyes glazed over and he felt like his arms might give out, so he fell back onto you and nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. You let out a laugh that sounded like a punch of breath and brought your hands to his hair. His breath was hot against your neck and his eyelashes tickled a little, but you didn’t mind.

You tore one of his hands away from your hips, holding it out to the side of you both.

“Need a manicure, Freddie,” you teased, making a tsking sound as you ran your fingers over his nails, “No respectable boyfriend allows their nails to chip like this.”

Fred chuckled, sending more hot air onto your neck, and retracted his hand from your grasp.

“Get on it, then,” he mumbled, squeezing you tighter and flipping you both so you sprawled on top of him.

[eddsworld-headies]

i was wondering if u could do a tord/tom with a female reader that dresses really baggy-VERY TOMBOYISH but is decked out with all types of rings and chains. doesn’t dress girly but still barely wears makeup and likes to have pretty nails at the same time.

Oh wow what a coincidence my-- OC IS JUST LIKE THAT HAHA WELL SINCE YOU ASKED MIGHT AS WELL RIGHT??

--------

Tom huffed loudly, not noticing that Tord had helped himself to sitting at the kitchen table to watch him press his forehead to the window, looking outside. He simply stayed silent, watching the brit get frustrated while opening and closing cabinets.

"Lose something?"

Tom groaned, slamming the cupboard door and turning round and facing the Norwegian with a sneer. "Screw off. I don't need you chewing my ear off." He replied grumpily, moving towards the living room and giving a quick glance around. " What, did you lose something in the bottom of your flask? Other than your self-worth?"

"EDD!" Tom shouted, making Tord roll his eyes as he stood up, following Tom as he moved up the stairs. "Jesus, don't be such a tattletail. I'll stop bothering you." "This isn't about you, Commie."

The two stopped in Edd's doorway, Tom holding onto the edge of the door trim as he leaned in. The leader of the group was jamming to some tunes at his drafting table, tablet pen in hand and hoodie wrapped around his waist.

His room was messy, seeing as he wasn't the only one occupying the room now that their newest addition moved in from America and needed a place to stay.

"Hey," Tom said loudly, moving in and lightly slapping Edd's shoulder, the tallest of the group shifting his eyes over before lifting his left earbud out. " Where's your sister?" The black eyed man asked." Huh?" "Your sister, dude, where is she?" " I dunno. She's your girlfriend, keep better track." "It's not like I have a tracker on her or something." "Then maybe you should invest in one." Edd retorted, settling his earbud back in his ear.

"Thanks for the help." The dirty blonde scoffed, pushing the second ginger of the house to the side and moving past him. "Oh!" Edd said, pulling out his earbud once more. "If you figure it out, let me know!" "Whatever!"

"You seem ever worried today," Tord started, continuing to follow the other-- much to his annoyance. " What? You fuck something up again?" " Fuck off. I haven't seen her all day. I'm just worried, Dick." "It's not like she can't take care of herself." "I know that. But she's a fucking dumbass with an impulse disorder and a can of pepper spray. Plus 4 years of law enforcement and dumb fucking defense classes in a tiny 5 foot package. The girl thinks she's indestructible and that doesn't go well with her--" "Tendency to do dumb fucking shit?" "That's putting it lightly. I guess getting into trouble runs in the family."

Tom perked up when the front door opened, Matt walking in with his hands behind his back as a much shorter figure following behind.

"Fuck, there you are-- What's with your hair?" Tom asked, moving toward his girlfriend, who's impossibly short cut hair almost replicated her brother's. " It's windy. And of course someone had to put the top down." She said, green eyes narrowing at the freckled ginger who was smiling brightly. "Oh, but look how good my hair is!" Matt whined, trying to get a bit of sympathy from his best friend's sister.

It was times like this that Tom realized, without her snake bites and brow piercing, their were only a few differences to Edd and his sister. Besides the accents, they could be twins if her eyes were a different color. And you know... If she wasn't a fucking twig.

Tom can remember how hilarious he thought the two were where they were younger. Sure, they weren't as big as they were now, but seeing this skinny short stack next to a guy like Edd and claiming them to be siblings was hilarious. But they looked a like, identical traits in each but separate none the less.

He had to admit, seeing his girlfriend without her hair pushed back was a little odd. She rarely wore it in a cowlick like her brother.

"Okay. Where did you two go off too?" He asked, noticing that the only girl in the house hand her hands shoved into the pockets of her blue zip up hoodie. The red long sleeve down to her wrists while the blue sleeves of her jacket were up to her elbows, and her tan pants and sneakers were slightly muddy. Practically all the cuffs of her pants were dirty, since she usually liked to go through puddles and mud rather than walk around a foot or two.

"We went to the mall!" Matt exclaimed, suddenly thrusting his hands into Tom's face. The shorter flinched, grabbing Matt's wrists and pushing them away to get a look at his hands. His nails were long, at least an inch and a half, and bright purple with butterflies and hearts. They were rectangles at the top and wrapped pretty nicely in a white french tip. "Aren't my nails gorgeous?"

"Yeah, their great," Tom said, letting his wrists go. " And why did you need to get your nails done?" "They were so dull before! I can't be this perfect and have dull nails! Plus, we got a 5% coupon!" Matt explained. Tom looked over to his girlfriend. " And how much did this cost?"

" 63 pounds each." She answered, her boyfriend raising a pierced brow. "Each?"

"Ah! Well yes, of course! I simply couldn't have a spa day all to myself," The ginger said as Tord took a seat on the couch, messing with his phone. "Sooo, I invited Bridget to come along!" He said, grabbing her hands out of her own pockets and revealing her nails. Long and sharp, deep blue with little piercings on them and a little blue marbling.

She smiled guiltily as Tom's eyes widened. "I mean- I couldn't not." She defended. "Bride- Baby, You're an All-star, really-" "Ah yes, just what every girl wants to hear." She teased lightly, fully knowing neither were at the "I love you stage" yest so finding a compromise was hard. "Yeah yeah- But... You're the clumsiest person I know. And you chew nail polish off your nails. In what world is this a good idea?"

Bridget blew air as her ran her hands through her hair, the front lightly sticking up in her normal do but half deflated without hair gel. " There is none- But! Listen to this!" She said excitedly, moving towards the wall and clicking her nails repeatedly on it with a wide smile, the noise loud and slightly satisfying. " Eh? Right? Isn't that great?" She asked. Tord sat up, laughing lightly. "You game for a living and the first thing you do is get acrylics-?" Bridget shushed him, moving over and running her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp as his face scrunched up.

"Don't think about the future, think about the now." "OH gOd that's horrible!" Tord groaned, cringing but laughing at the odd feeling. "Fuck it feels like your scratching my brains!" Tom rolled his pitch black eyes. " You're gonna hate those in two hours." He insisted, watching her creep closer. "Okay. I'm hearing you," She said. " But in my defense...."

Bridget moved forward, wiggling her fingers in her boyfriends face. "These are fucking sick." She whispered, her nails lightly scratching at his stubble and making his laugh and pull back from the ticklish feeling. " Fuck that's absolute shit." He chuckled, face scrunching as Edd jumped down the stairs.

"Hey! I knew I heard you-" His eyes widened as they landed on his sister, the siblings locked in a staring contest as she slowly moved her hand away, this time towards her brother.

"What the hell are those?" "Edddyyyy," "Don't you dare." "EEEEEddddddyyyy," "Bridget, I swear to god if you touch me with those things-" " I think you need a back scratch, Eddy bo' Beddy." "Get away from me you fucking dwarf!"

///////////

Tom groaned as he scratched his stomach, lazily flipping out the band of his sweatpants so he didn't have to tie them as he went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door, goosebumps forming over his chest as he reached in to grab the milk. He kicked the door close with his foot and turned to fill his glass, jumping out of his skin at the figure in the arch way to the living room and hall.

"Jesus-! Damn it, Bridget! The hell are you doing?" He asked, hand over his chest as she stared at him, eyes slightly bloodshot and wide as she stood in the arch way, his blue hoodie down to her thighs and the peaks of dinosaur boxers underneath. Her hair was spiked up now, only slightly ruffled. " Did you just finish your stream?"

"Seventy-eight," She said shakily. " Seventy-eight fffffucking run-throughs, because my fucking nails! Keep getting caught!" She whispered- but it was more of a stage whisper with her theatrics as she held her hands out awkwardly. " I want them off, Thomas." Tom stared at her for a moment, eyes wide as she looked at him with a death glare.

"..Uhhhhh," He dragged. ".... There's a Buzzsaw in the attic?"

//////

haha I really just wrote a short with my Oc in it cause I have that kinda power so suck it

( But if ya'll really want an x reader one I can write another one. It'll litterally be the same though I have a bunch more asks to get through)

[husbandograveyard]

Congrats on 300 followers Hzael! You deserve it! Can I ask for 42 (I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having) with Aizawa? Thank you! OwO

Hi love! Here’s some knight in shining armor Shota to save you from the other douchebags on donkeys! Hope you enjoy! 

Come save me - Shota Aizawa x Reader 

Cliche with bae event Prompt #42: come save me from the terrible date I’m having  Character: Shota Aizawa - Word count: 1.7k 

Hunger. Regret. Embarrassment. More regret. Anger. Frustration. A whirlpool of emotions was going through you as you kept your expression as neutral as possible, aggressively cutting the piece of steak in front of you and eating a bit to try and distract you from the man sitting in front of you, talking while he barely made eye contact. You weren’t exactly sure what he was talking about at the moment, but you couldn’t care less. You wanted out of here. Now. How did you even get in this situation?

After dating around some in your circle of friends to no avail, you had finally turned to online dating. You made loads of profiles, installed all the apps, did the matching, the swiping, you name it. Out of the hundreds of possible candidates, you immediately deleted anyone that wasn’t looking for anything serious. You were no teenager anymore, you had a job and a home and you were ready to settle down completely.

Your biggest help in this adventure had been your coworkers and best friends, Hizashi and Shota. The three of you had gone to school together and now all three of you were teaching at U.A. Any guy you’d ever date had to go past these two, and honestly, you didn’t mind. Their protectiveness was endearing and they were pretty good judges of character.

They had been helping you weed out matches, even secretly (but not so secretly) tagged along on dates to make sure it wasn’t some creep. Even though you’d be perfectly fine fending off a creep by yourself, you were a capable hero after all, you really liked them looking out for you.

Now for this date, it had been a little different. You had gotten this match from one of the more expensive sites. The kind where so-called experts matched people based on their personalities and profiles. It took you a whole long time filling in a question list for them, but when you got your match, you were not disappointed. Dating apps and such made you a little more shallow, looks were the first thing you saw on those, but hell, you were pleasantly surprised. Your ultimate match was extremely good-looking. But almost insanely so. Shota grabbed your phone, said ‘probably a douche’, and gave it back. Hizashi only laughed at the remark and let you first read up on his profile.

Your match did a normal office job but had an intelligence-based quirk that allowed him to understand everyone regardless of the language they spoke, which he used in his line of work. He was two years older than you, stable income, own house. He did some volunteering in his free time and most of your hobbies seemed to line up or were compatible at least. It was almost too good to be true, which was exactly what Hizashi said.

“Well, who pays so much money for such a personal dating service and then goes around and lies on their profile? That’d be stupid.” You were zooming in on the pictures he shared, desperately trying to find traces of photoshop, but to no avail. Right as you were about to say something, he sent you the first message. You replied enthusiastically, and a nice conversation was born.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and your match had proposed to go have dinner somewhere. It was a pretty fancy restaurant he proposed, but you accepted, it was a nice change to maybe dress up and have an actual fancy date. You were keeping realistic scenario’s in your head but you couldn’t help but wonder if this guy was maybe the one you had been waiting for all along.

The date came along and you were actually in a sour mood before you even got there. Mostly because Shota had been increasingly mean about the guy the more you gushed about him. At some point, you had made a remark about jealousy, and that had caused quite a discussion until Hizashi broke it up and told you to get ready, and he’d be off for a guy’s night with Shota. It had been a while after all, and that way you wouldn’t even have to worry about either of them spying on you during your date.

How you were regretting that now. You wished they had spied on you because this date was a disaster. He had been over twenty minutes late, didn’t tell you the name of the reservation so you were waiting outside in the cold until he finally showed up. He looked great, just like in his pictures, but way less well-kempt than he had been looking on his pictures. You had dressed up in your best dress, had gone to the hairdresser to get your hair on point, applied a subtle amount of makeup to look your best, and appropriate for the date and the location. He was wearing some jeans, a T-shirt that had some spots on it that you didn’t even want to know about.

You smiled anyway, greeting him by holding out your hand, not too keen on hugging a total stranger, but he had gone straight in for a kiss on the cheek, and you noticed how he didn’t smell nice either. It really busted your mood, even more, were you only worth so little effort that he showed up like that? But you kept his hobbies, and all the nice things he had said in chat in mind, and went into the restaurant, putting all your hope in the person he was in your chat messages, which had been a terrible idea.

The food was expensive and way too little, and this man had not stopped talking about himself. The volunteering was a one-time gig, ‘always pleases the ladies’ he had smugly added to the story, and many other things on his profile weren’t exactly lies, but were mostly polished up truths to make him look better. He had gone as far as interrupting you multiple times even after he himself had asked you a question, degraded female heroes and generally any woman who worked because ‘you gotta let men do the job’. He expected his partner to drop their job for him, so he could be the sole provider. He was looking for a housewife, but the way he described it, was more a live-in-maid he could have some intimacy with as well, just whenever he pleased. It made you sick to your stomach and you wanted to leave, but that was not so easy in such a fancy restaurant without possibly causing a commotion.

You briefly excused yourself from the table, and he gave you a pissed-off look because you had clearly interrupted whatever very important thing he was saying. You made a beeline for the bathroom, contemplating for a second to just walk out but again, you had some kind of reputation to uphold. Once in the bathroom, you immediately dialed Shota’s number. He picked up within seconds.

“Let me guess. He’s a douche.” He wasn’t even trying to hide the smug tone in his voice. “He’s terrible… please come save me?” “I don’t know if I can. I mean… I cannot possibly interrupt your date with this perfect, wonderful, beautf-” “Shota I swear to god, get your ass over here. I need you right now.” It was silent for a few seconds, and then you heard a low chuckle before he spoke up again. “One rescue mission coming up.”

He had not put in the slightest effort to hide his annoyance, but you knew he’d show up. You refrained from splashing cold water in your face because you didn’t want to mess up your makeup and headed back into the dining room. He made some remark on how long you took and you focussed back on your plate, inwardly praying Shota wouldn’t take too much time in getting there.

Luckily for you, it was only about fifteen minutes later that you heard some commotion and before you could even look up what had made some other customers make surprised gasps Shouta was standing at your table. In full Eraserhead gear. Not that that differed so much from his usual clothes, but still, very recognizable. You frowned. “Wha-?” “No time for questions. It’s an emergency, got your costume in the car.” You nodded and stood up, apologizing to your date, who was too speechless and too busy comprehending what was going on to come up with a retort.

Shota looked him up and down once as you were making your way to the exit, sending the man one more apologetic look and wave. “You look like you can handle the bill. Hero duties call sir. Good night”

You got in the car, and not five minutes later Shota got in too and started to drive. You weren’t really sure what to say or what to do. “Where’s…” “Hizashi? Got drunk and got home. I just dropped him off when you called.” “Oh…” You were feeling strangely uncomfortable, but you were not really sure why exactly, probably because the argument from earlier was not really resolved yet. “Shota, I’m sorry about-” “Don’t mention it. I could’ve reacted more maturely”

You nodded, looking ahead again. No use for deep discussions when Shota had a road to focus on. You looked around and were surprised to not be going back in the direction of your house. “Where are we going?” “A decent place” “What do you mean?” “Well, it’d be sad if you dressed up all beautiful like that for no reason. I know a place.” You blushed a little and looked at him, his eyes focussed on the road as he said that almost matter-of-a-factly. “Like… like a date?” you almost didn’t dare as k. “Like a date.”

You were speechless. In all your dating adventures you had never even considered the option that the perfect match was around you already all along. “If you’re up for that, if not, I can just drop you off at home?” “No no…”, you smiled, “I’d like that. No surprises with you.” “No stupid profile needed.” He smiled a little from behind the steering wheel and you felt the corners of your mouth curl up too. “No stupid profiles needed indeed.”

You knew what you were going to do when you got home: delete all that bullshit from your laptop and phone. Cause this time, it could really be the one.

[disslve]

𝐲𝐞𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐰 & 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐲 ! this is nai and my cowboy ass is here to throw roxy @ u and also tell u bad jokes and cry over life is strange 2 because i’m still not over this game and I NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. just a heads up, i came up with roxy on a whim because this rp just looked so good,  so if it seems like i don’t know what i’m talking about ... it’s most likely the case whoops . ( this is an excuse for me bringing shitty muses ). anyway, my fake cowboy ass loves to ramble so if you’re interested in plotting feel free to LIKE this post or hmu. i forgot to mention that i’m also a fake grandma so idk anything about discord at all and i still need to set it up which will happen in the next few days dsdnsdsdn. 

ps: wanted connections/plots can be find in my wanted tag ( a link is on my blog ) and i’ll also list some below !

EDIT: discord name is nai #7158

 * [ kristine froseth + cis-female + she/her ] —— have you met roxanne ‘roxy’ bailey ? they are a twenty-two year old junior currently studying romance languages and literatures. they live on decker house and word around campus is that this scorpio is compassionate + dedicated, as well as impatient + dishonest. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. 

basics.

full name: roxanne elise bailey

nicknames: roxy, rox

sexual orientation: bisexual

birth place: valencia, spain ( but only lived there for five years ) 

history. 

one could say that roxy had lived an easy life, though her parents weren’t distinguished by their social status, it didn’t mean they lacked money which was enough to support their daughter in whatever she wanted to do.

truth to be told, roxy was indeed a little spoiled, the type of kids who would try all kind of things on the expenses of their parents only to quit a new ‘hobby’ again. she could barely stick to anything. she was some twisted kind of golden child, good at many things but never had the patience to continue something for long enough to cultivate it. 

skipping over the part where she almost tried everything from arts, music etc. she finally found her passion ( and even roxy herself was surprised ). figure skating. she didn’t know what drew her in, she couldn’t explain it, she tried it and it felt right. roxy always describes the feeling as finding a soulmate if she feels extra dramatic that day. 

unsurprisingly, she was good at it. not that kind of good at something she was at all the other things she tried before, but that being good at which stemmed from genuine interest. maybe, that is why she managed to get so far. and it didn’t take too long that people even started to call her a figure skating prodigy. 

at this point at her life, she had it all, spinning the stars on her fingertips ( or warning bad pun ahead: spinning on the ice ). until, well, her parents company was in some crisis and they had to cut corners in the meantime. also oh so ‘conveniently’ roxy lived at the arse end of nowhere and getting to her practices was now even more difficult because as mentioned before they had to save their money for more necessary things. of course, there were more things , small and big, which totally threw her off ( which i am too lazy to list rn).

roxy tried to work part time, but a) the money wasn’t enough b) she didn’t want to cut more hours of training she managed to get. AND well, here comes the turning point and roxy thinking she was oh-so-smart without realizing that it would cost her career. oh-so-smart roxy came up with the idea to , well, just steal some stuff. after all, she trained with many other wealthy peers and she could just sell off their stuff or something. 

at the beginning she only did it to afford certain things she needed, but soon it somehow became an addiction. she felt in control when everyone else in her life was an utter mess. however, the more she took things away from others the more she felt comfortable, doing it more often and sometimes taking things which weren’t even worth that much. it was only a matter of time until she was caught. and as if she was lucky for too long, the person who caught her pressured her into either giving them a hefty sum of money (which she didn’t have) or to quit figure skating. she decided for the latter.

well, here she was and her sudden departure was quite a shock. but she had no choice and stated it was for personal reasons. 

skipping over her being devastated over it, etc. her parents managed to save their company (whatever this company is) but at this point it was already too late and roxy was accepted into holloway. 

right now she actually wants to pick up her figure skating career again, however, she’s too afraid that the blackmailer is going to expose her and also she doesn’t really know who they are (lets pretend they wrote her letters, txt messages >??) and also she’s kind of afraid due to the lack of practice she had .

personality.

okay i’ll keep this short bcs i wrote way too much for her background story. but to sum it up, roxy kind of has that perfect girl facade.  considering how many friends roxy has and how social she appears to be it is odd that no one seems to be able to describe her.  roxy doesn’t want people to know who she truly is, and she keeps her distance as she actively avoids conflicts that might cause her to say something wrong and exposes herself. 

she shields her feelings by only presenting polished version of herself, the facade of the perfect girl: kind, hard-working and polite. someone whose life is easy and someone who looks like she doesn’t have any worries. it doesn’t mean she isn’t anything of that, but it’s not as if her kindness has no bounds or that she doesn’t need to put effort into the things she does. nevertheless, she believes that she must be perfect in order to make people like her. and while, she is pretty good at masking her emotions and smile along, as soon as someone threatens to see past the illusion, she will become defensive and won’t hesitate to lie in order to preserve it.

plots.

best friends: although roxy pretty much keeps her distance from everyone else, this person had always stood by her side. maybe they knew about roxy’s sudden wannabe-thief phase ( which she is still in ) and well tried to talk her out of it ( which obviously didn’t work ). also adding some drama here and maybe they had a big argument over it and distanced from each othr because of it. however, my angst ass doesn’t want to ruin it and they’ll rekindle their friendship. they might meet again at holloway and it’s awkward at first, maybe they even have some arguments but they’ll get over it because everyone loves a good rekindled friendship story.

annoyance: someone who gets under roxy’s skin.seeing past the perfect girl face and constantly calling her out on it. maybe they just have fun annoying her and want to see what she really likes or they just don’t like roxy , thinking that beneath all of this act, she is a really unpleasant person. perhaps, they’re even doing it with good intentions and want to show her that she doesn’t need to hide who she is. whatever it is, they’re determined to expose to the world who she really is. 

pen pal ??:  muse a and roxy had been friends for a very long time, yet the funny thing is that they’ve never met each other nor do they know what the other look like. all they know is their name ( or maybe they only know each other by their usernames ) and their deepest secrets. maybe they already have crossed paths many times and perhaps even know each other but don’t like each other irl. or they never had noticed the other.

blackmailer: BECAUSE WHY NOT??? the person who forced roxy to give up on figure skating. maybe, they were a rival or just didn’t like her, or any other reason. they might as well, have noticed that roxy is secretly training again and might be back at their shit again. 

exes: GIVE ME THE ANGST, maybe muse a and roxy used to be in a serious relationship and as naive they were back then both of them thought this love would last forever. however, at some point roxy started to distance herself from muse a, constantly cancelling their dates because of their busy schedule. at first muse a tried to be understanding towards her, but as time passed things only got worse. roxy hating any kind of conflict just decided to ignore the problem instead about talking about it and eventually stopped replying to muse a messages. muse a never really got to know the real reason behind their break up and was left with unanswered questions. but anything works  

unrequited love: (this is just me throwing in my favourite way to make myself suffer) It doesn’t matter who is the one with the the one sided love because i just want some good angst.a)  muse a has a crush on roxy, yet they never told her about it. yet, muse a can’t hide it and it doesn’t take too long until roxy notices it. but instead of trying to talk to muse a about it, roxy just ignores it acting as she usually does and perhaps even give them false hope that she might like them back. maybe muse a even confessed to her and because roxy didn’t want to hurt them she told muse a she’d think about it.

b) roxy has a crush on muse a but doesn’t admit it. she doesn’t want to show their vunerable side and just plays it down. maybe they’re friends and roxy doesn’t want to lose another friend. but one day she confesses to muse a on accident, making everything awkward between them.

someone she stole from: idk i thought this would be fun ? maybe she confessed to them about it or maybe they caught her but decided to not confront her about it.

fan: someone who used to watch her perfomances on their tv and is still not over the fact that she quit.

i also have a connection page on my blog if these are too specific or none of these work 

i’m too tired to come up with more dsdsdnjsd but gimme everything !! THE ANGST, FLUFF, DRAMA PLS!!! 

[hermannsthumb]

i absolutely love your writing so much, its so vivid and engaging?? its just gorgeous... if your still taking prompts would you maybe write something about hermann loving newt's voice and newt being so confused nobody likes his voice?

AHH THANK U......happy november heres a ficlet

---------------------------------------------

“Is that you, Newton?”

Newt pops one earbud out of his ear with the hand that’s not currently deep in kaiju gunk and glances up at Hermann--turned half-towards Newt at his blackboard, chalk poised mid-equation, thoughtful frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Huh?” Newt says. He wriggles his arm a little deeper into his sample.

“I said,” Hermann says, “is that you, Newton?”

“The one and only,” Newt says, more than a little distracted. He wraps his fingers around something squishy and significantly gunkier than the rest of the gunk and squeezes. It bursts like a water balloon. Bingo. He’ll have to make a note of that. “Hi,” he adds, and draws his gloved hand out to give a little wave. Some goo lands on his lab book.

Hermann gives a disgusted sniff. “I meant--is that you singing?”

“Oh,” Newt says. He does, in fact, have a habit of singing along to whatever music he’s listening to without realizing it--it consistently gets him weird looks on the bus. He must’ve been doing it now, too, and probably annoying the shit out of Hermann. At least he decided against Britney Spears today. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He tugs the other earbud out. “I’ll shut up.”

“It’s not that,” Hermann says quickly. “I only--” The frown twitches into the smallest smile; Newt might even say Hermann looks bashful, if Hermann had the capacity to be bashful. “It’s not...unpleasant.”

Then he turns around and resumes his chalk scrawling, leaving Newt to stare, dumbfounded, at his back.

--------------------------------

It’s an isolated incident at first, weird, but not enough to make Newt worry that Hermann’s bumped his head and gone nuts or something, and he’s almost forgotten it by the time they’re sleeping in Hermann’s bed a few weeks later. Well. Newt’s sleeping, at least. Trying to sleep. Hermann’s got his bedside lamp switched on and muttering under his breath about propulsion and shifted decimals and foiling Newt’s plans pretty spectacularly.

Finally, there’s the light thud of something hitting the bedspread. “Blast it,” Hermann says. A bony finger prods Newt’s shoulder. “Newton, are you awake?”

Newt lets out a small hiss of breath. “Ugh.”

Another prod. “I can’t read a bloody thing in this light,” Hermann says. “I think I ought to get my eyes re-examined. My prescription--”

“You’ve mentioned,” Newt sighs. Hermann’s been squinting and polishing his round librarian glasses and grumbling all week. All month. It’s not like he can really do anything about it--it’s a pain in the ass to make appointments for anything these days, and it’s not as if there’s room in the PPDC budget for a full-time optometrist on base. It’s also not like Newt can do anything about it, either, so he’s not really sure why Hermann’s decided to bug him about it while he’s trying to sleep. “Just go to bed, dude, it’s late. C’mon.” He smacks the mattress. “Let’s cuddle.”

Hermann doesn’t cuddle him. He clears this throat. “Only--this report really is important, Newton.”

“Fascinating,” Newt mumbles into his borrowed pillow.

“I’d like to have it finished by the morning,” Hermann says, “but it’s taking me an awfully long time.”

“Guess you better get cracking, then,” Newt says.

The mattress springs creak beneath them as Hermann shifts to press a single, light kiss to the top of Newt’s head. He follows it up with another kiss to Newt’s ear, and a little squeeze of his bare shoulder. “Be a dear, won’t you, my love?” he murmurs. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Damn it,” Newt groans. He hates when Hermann breaks out gushy names on him--it works every time. Hermann knows; Hermann exploits this. (My sweet man, Hermann called him once, when he was too lazy to rinse his own damn mug, and Newt tripped over his feet to do it like a lovesick teenager.) Newt fumbles for his glasses on the side table, crams them on his face, and rolls over. “Fine, fine. Give me the stupid thing.”

Hermann gets nice and cozy under the blankets and tucks himself in against Newt’s chest (the mega-bastard), while Newt downs the ice-cold cup of coffee he left in here yesterday morning for energy and proceeds to read from the most boring document he’s seen in his entire life. How people like Hermann managed to make giant fucking robots punching giant fucking aliens sound lame is beyond him. At least when Newt gets technical, he tries to keep it fun--kaiju spleens explode at (x) degrees in a microwave, kaiju blood and vinegar makes a sick mini volcano, shit like that. 

Around page twenty-two, Hermann’s eyelids start to droop, and Newt’s attention span starts to waver. He makes it through five minutes of improv before Hermann notices. “In conclusion,” Newt says, “in a fight between Mothra and a dozen Mothmans--”

“Mm,” Hermann agrees, snuggling closer, and then blinks aggressively up at him. “Mothman? What are you...?”

“I knew you weren’t paying attention,” Newt crows. He tosses the report to the floor while Hermann looks guilty.

“I was,” Hermann says. “Er. At first.” He struggles to sit up. “I’m sorry, I just--it’s your voice. It makes it difficult.”

Figures. “Gee, thanks,” Newt says. He knows his voice isn’t exactly pleasant on the ears--something plenty of partners have told him in the past, along with comparisons to nails on chalkboards, squeaky toys, and kazoo symphonies, and usually in conjunction with them breaking up with him--but he swallows down a rising bubble of embarrassed hurt anyway. In all of the petty jabs Hermann’s thrown at him, from Newt’s skinny jeans to his grating personality, he’s never gone for Newt’s voice before. “That unbearable, huh?”

He tries to dislodge himself from Hermann and roll away, fully intending to storm back and spend the night in his own bed, but Hermann snags his sweatpants and holds him fast. “Oh, Newton, not like that,” he says. “I was relaxed. That’s all I meant.”

Newt snorts. “You were relaxed?”

“Of course I was,” Hermann says. He smiles, so sweetly that Newt’s irritation fades away in an instant, and he allows Hermann to coax him back into his arms. A sleepy Hermann is an affectionate Hermann--like, when he puts on pajamas, he tears down each carefully constructed wall around his heart while he’s at it so he can do things like say darling and touch Newt’s hair. In the morning, he’ll fuss and bitch over how Newt stole all the blankets in the night or drooled on his shoulder and he’ll fuss and bitch about being late for work when Newt tries to steal some sleepy kisses or (later) how Newt is making a mess on Hermann’s side of the line, but for now, Newt has this. “I adore your voice,” Hermann continues in a low voice, cupping Newt’s cheek, “and I adore when you read to me, and I even adore when you act terribly distracting and sing in the lab.”

Hermann draws Newt’s glasses off and tosses them to rest with his own. “Why?” Newt says, blinking at a newly fuzzy Hermann. “No one likes my voice. It’s--” He shrugs. High-pitched. Obnoxious. Screechy. Take your pick. “Annoying.”

“Well, I do,” Hermann says. “It’s lovely. It’s unique.” He steals a kiss; Newt’s vision goes doubly blurry, for a completely different reason. Hermann notices. “Oh, have I said something wrong?”

“Nah,” Newt says, and gives a watery laugh. “I’m being dumb.” He rubs his eyes. “You said it perfect.”

[tokkionline]

silver’s picks

remember this post? well, after seeing it gaining notes again, i decided to properly update it! i wrote it with the boredom coming from quarantine in mind, but now... a lot of cities are getting out of it. this doesn’t mean we get to slack off, though! wear masks, wash your hands and be kind to yourself and others.

the channels i have selected are part of my absolute favorites, and i sincerely hope that they will bring you the same joy that they brought me. now without further ado, let’s get started!

bolded are personal favorites.

°˖✧ °˖✧ °˖✧ °˖✧ °˖✧ °˖✧

Cooking

if you know me, you know i love baking and cooking. i just think it’s so fascinating that we are able to make something delicious from various ingredients! whenever i can i watch cooking videos to inspire myself or just to relax!

HidaMari Cooking

one word: y u m. looking for something to bake? this channel is perfect to find the ideal recipe. even if you don’t cook, just watching the video is soo satisfying!

JunsKitchen

a man who cooks delicious meals while his cats watch! you may know him from the polishing a rusty knife video… well, his other videos are even more entertaining! you even get to see AMAZING scenery as he looks for ingredients!

한세HANSE

a quiet and laidback cooking channel! just relax and watch delicious desserts being created! i’m actually planning to try out one of their recipes…. chocolate chip muffin, maybe?

Cooking tree

mainly focused on desserts! so yummy and relaxing~

Rosanna Pansino’s Nerdy Nummies and Recipes

if you know me, you know i love disney. well, this playlist not only has amazing recipes for desserts, but it also has DISNEY themed desserts!!! or any kind of movie, really!! rosanna is also a super bubbly and entertaining person, i never get bored watching her videos

kawaiisweetworld

ADORABLEEEE recipes!!! i’m planning to try out her cinnamon roll recipe, i honestly CANNOT wait... i just need to get a dough hook SNDFN. oh, i also wanna try the mermaid macarons! anyway, if you need cute baking ideas, or if you just need a cute youtube video, this channel is what you need!!

Party Kitchen - パーティーキッチン

lunch! dinner! dessert! there’s everything and the videos are so relaxing as well!! even when i’m not looking for something to cook i just love to sit and watch.

내복곰 Nebokgom

this youtuber works in a wonderful little cafe, and they basically show us how they make the delicious pastries they sell! with soothing classical music playing in the background, it’s definitely one of my favorite channels.

Café Vlogs

one of my many dream jobs is to be a cafe owner and all of these channels just make me daydream so hard!!!! they are also a PERFECT way to unwind. had a stressful day? just sit and watch drinks being made with relaxing music~ it’s also super amazing that we get to see how our favorite drinks are made!

Zoe 조에

i LOVE zoe so much! her mother owns a cafe in korea, and she basically shows us her daily routine there! the drinks she makes look incredibly tasty, same goes for the cakes she serves!! i want to travel as much as i can in the future, so maybe one day i’ll actually go to her cafe ansndfn

y.na__ homecafe

what’s a home cafe? well, it’s when you decide to make your own little cafe at home! this youtuber user comes up with amazing drinks (even meals!) that are just too pretty to be eaten in my opinion. with little to no background music, it’s ideal for you if you don’t like noisy videos!

BoBe보베

i cannot stress how much i love this channel. it might even be one of my favorite NDNFNG their sandwich making process is literally SOOO nice and satisfying to look at, and they look delicious as well!!! the videos have a very calming atmosphere

카페노예 jun

one of the first cafe vlog channels i got into!! some videos even include the cafe’s pastries’ baking process!

카대남 홍준 HongJun

he posts daily vlogs as well, but i’ll still put him in the cafe vlog section because his cafe vlogs are so funny!! he shows his viewers that failing is ok. if he messes up an order? it’s ok! do it again and you’ll succeed!

Winnyoops위니웁스

she works in a cafe that’s underground!!!! that’s already amazing!!!! and the menu is literally so unique i adore it. her channel has such a cozy evening vibe honestly. like imagine you’re on your way back home from work and decide to stop at the cafe that’s in the subway...

Lifestyle

sometimes, i don’t know what kind of life i want to live. that’s when i turn to these channels, to remind myself of what i want: a happy, comfortable yet adventurous life. these vloggers are huge inspirations to me.

Choki

her videos radiate with cozy vibes! whenever i have free time i just love to bundle up and watch her stuff! recipes, daily routine, all videos are filled with wholesomeness as well as extremely helpful advice on how to better yourself as a person.

CozyDay 코지데이

honestly one of my all time favorite channels. a couple vlogs about their daily routine, and seeing just how much they love each other is so heartwarming!! plus, by seeing all the fun stuff they do such as cooking and taking care of flowers, you might be motivated to do the same!

李子柒 Liziqi

li ziqi’s channel is HEAVENLY. in an interview she mentioned that she wanted people from the city to know where their food comes from, having found out some kids believed rice grew from trees, and so she makes amazing videos where she grows her own ingredients! tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes... she makes everything all by herself and produces amazing meals to share with her grandmother. she also makes her own furniture and so much more! the background music is also AMAZING and super soothing.

Extras

Barbie’s Youtube Channel

if you follow me, you’re probably not surprised i added this to the list. if you don’t follow me and randomly see this post… ok, hear me out. barbie’s vlogs are filled with positivity and fun, and isn’t that what we exactly need? hey, there’s even cooking videos!

VanillaHamHam

cooking, but for hamsters! watch this person make delicious, hamster-friendly meals, and then watch their hamster munch on it!!

mihan。

an amazing journaling youtube account!! even if you aren’t into journaling, i am certain you will find comfort with their videos! and if you do journal… say hello to bursts of inspiration whenever you finish a video!

J E U N I C O R N

another journaling youtube account! but you can also find adorable what’s in my bag videos that i absolutely love <3

그루밍데이 고양이cat vlog

two beautiful cats, cobi and berry!! they are literally so adorable, and watching them always makes me smile!

aaaand that’s it! all of my favorite channels! i hope that you’ll check them out and love them as much as i do!

[izzyfandoms]

Chosen - Chapter Five

(This is a Gender-Swapped Sanders Sides high school au)

SUMMARY: Logan Berry, Dee Ceite, Patricia Foster, Virginia Picani and Regina and Rena Prince are all 16-year-old high school students. They live relatively normal lives, with ordinary lessons and ordinary crushes and ordinary families, until one day a monster shows up and attacks them after class, and everything suddenly changes.

SHIPS: Moxiety, Logince, Dukeceit

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Remus, Sympathetic Deceit, swearing, siblings arguing, sexual implications

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

CHOSEN TAGLIST: @coasting-on-a-wave-of-apathy @littlestr @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear

Masterpost

FIRST CHAPTER | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“And then Regina was like ‘what? I don’t have a crush on Logan!’ which is super silly ‘cos they’re so obvious and she’s told me that she likes Lo so many times!” Patricia rambled on.  

“Mmm,” Virginia hummed in agreement; she was painting Patricia’s nails with a pretty, dark purple nail polish. “It is pretty silly.”

It was Sunday, and they were currently at Virge’s house, in her room, sat together on her bed.

“Yeah!” Patricia blew a raspberry.  

Virge tapped her girlfriend’s knee. “Stop moving, you’re gonna mess up your nails.”

“Oh, sorry, honey!” Pat stopped moving. “Anyway, Logan totally likes her back, right? I mean, she’s basically told us. And Dee and Rena, too! They’re super-duper in love, I just wanna take their faces and smush them together until they get married and live happily ever after!”

“As entertaining as that would be,” Virge said, finishing Patricia’s left hand and moved to the right one. “We shouldn’t meddle. Let them deal with their own shit.”

Patricia tutted lightly. “Language.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Virge said. She examined her own nails – pastel blue, painted by Pat earlier – double checking that they hadn’t been damaged, though they were already dry. “You know I’m right, though. You’re always telling me not to interfere, no matter how often I want to tell them. They’ll figure it out on their own.”

Pat sighed. “Yeah, I know.” She then giggled. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still complain, though.”

Virginia hummed in agreement again, and the two sat in comfortable silence for almost a minute, as Virge finished painting Pat’s nails. Once she was done, the pigtailed girl looked over her hands appreciatively.

“Yay! Now my nails are your favourite colour and your nails are mine! It’s perfect!” Patricia giggled, beaming.

Her girlfriend gave her a small smile. “You’re adorable.”

Patricia giggled again, softly, a light blush on her cheeks. She leant forward, careful not to smudge either of their nails, pressing a kiss to the tip of her girlfriend’s nose. Virge waited a few moments, watching her girlfriend adoringly, before she pounced, the shorter girl falling back on the bed, the taller almost on top of her.  

Pat spluttered with laughter as Virginia tickled her sides, the purple-haired girl grinning mischievously as she did so.

“Ah, Virge!” Patricia exclaimed between laughter. “You’re gonna- you're gonna make me mess up my nail polish!”

Virginia finally stopped the onslaught of tickling, pushing herself up so she was hovering over her girlfriend, and shaking her head to get her hair out of her eyes.  

Patricia wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck, pulling her down to kiss her properly and closing her eyes.  

Virge kissed her back eagerly, her hands at her girlfriend’s waist. Pat’s lips were soft, as usual, and tasted vaguely sweet, like strawberries – she switched up the flavour regularly, so it was always a bit of a surprise. Virge’s lips, by contrast, were always slightly chapped, as she tended to chew them when she was especially anxious, but, in Patricia’s opinion, that didn’t make kissing her any less enjoyable.

“Ewwwwww!”

The two teenagers pulled apart immediately, their heads turning sharply to face the door, which was now open. Virginia’s eleven-year-old sister, Anne, was standing in the doorway, making a grossed-out face. She was wearing one of her sister’s old black-and-grey hoodies, and she had eyeshadow smudged under both eyes – she'd never admit it, but she was absolutely copying her older sister’s style.

“Get out my room!” Virge screeched, turning red. She sat up and grabbed one of her pillows, chucking it at her sister.

Anne dodged the purple projectile and ran off, laughing. “Mom, Virge and Pat are kissing again!”

“Leave them alone, Dear,” Emily half-scolded from across the hallway, though she was still smiling pleasantly. This was honestly the harshest she ever got with her daughters. She walked up to Virginia’s bedroom door and gave the two blushing teens a slightly apologetic smile. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” She teased, shutting the door.

“Mom!” Virge whined, before turning back to her girlfriend. “I’m sorry my sister’s such a brat.”

Patricia poked her shoulder teasingly. “Don’t be mean.”

Virge rolled her eyes, but pressed a reassuring kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead. “I’m not being mean; this is just what it’s like having a sister. Ask Regina or Rena, I’m sure they’d agree.”

Pat pouted a little at that. “I wish I had a sister. You’ve got Anne, and you’ll probably have Dee, too, soon.”

“You can bond with Logan about it, I guess,” Virginia shrugged.

The pigtailed girl gasped, her eyes brightening. “Logan can be my sister, then!” She pulled out her phone, careful not to mes sup her nail . “I’m gonna go tell her, right now.”  

CATS

Patricia

Logan!!!!!!

Logan!!!!!!!!!!

Logan!!!!

Logan!!!!!!

Logan!!!!!!!!!!

Lo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dee

I should’ve muted this chat.

Logan

Patricia, you now have my attention.

Patricia

Logan!

Your my sister now!!!!!!

Logan

*You’re.

Also, what?

We do not share any parental figures; how can we be sisters?

Regina

God ofc you use perfect grammar in texts ilysm

Logan

What do ‘ofc’ and ‘ilysm’ mean?

Rena

it means she wants to fusdjjkfhfjshfkldjfdkshfjdhfdjfhsdkhfksdlfhsdfh

Virginia

oops guess renas been murdered

Logan

What?

Dee

Ignore her

Regina probably just tackled her

Regina

ur right!!!!!!!!!!!

gina did take my phone!!!!!!!

but I took hers and now im locked in the bathroom!!!!!!!!

i can say whateva i like!!!!!!!

REGINA IS TYPING

Dee

Oh dear

REGINA HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM ‘CATS’

RENA HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM ‘CATS’

Virginia

using my admin powers for good

“Virge!” Patricia exclaimed, poking her girlfriend’s shoulder disapprovingly.

“What?” Virginia shrugged. “Do you want to hear everything Rena has to say about what Regina and Logan wanna do with each other?”

Pat wrinkled her nose uncomfortably. “Well, no... but it’s mean to remove them!”

“Fine,” Virge sighed. “But if Rena starts talking about sex, I’m going to remove her again.”

PATRICIA HAS ADDED REGINA TO ‘CATS’

PATRICIA HAS ADDED RENA TO ‘CATS’

Virginia

rena if you talk about anything inappropriate from either your phone or reginas im blocking both of you

Regina

I finally got my phone back!

And I agree

Pls don’t do that  

Rena

:(

what counts as inappropriate tho

Virginia

anything that would upset pat

Rena

boo!  

boring

“I’m going to fight her.”

“Honey, please don’t.”

Logan

Patricia, what was it you were trying to tell me at the start? Your statement about us being sisters was factually (and grammatically) incorrect.

Patricia

Were the only people on the chat without sisters!!!!! That means we should be sisters now so were not alone!!!!!

Logan

*We’re and *we’re.

And that does not make sense.

Besides, Dee doesn’t have any siblings, either.

Patricia

She and Virge are gonna be sisters soon right!!!!!!!

And youre my sister now sorry I dont make the rules!!!!!

Logan

*You’re and *don’t.

You were the one who made this chat. You do, literally, make the rules.

Virginia

(just go with it)

There was almost a minute of no texting, though everyone appeared to still be online, and Patricia shifted closed to her girlfriend in the interim, practically seating herself in the taller girl’s lap. Finally, Logan started typing again.

Logan

Fine.

Patricia

YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m going to spam you with heart emojis now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Logan

Please, don’t.

Patricia

Okay I won’t!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dee

I hate to interrupt

But my mom just got a message from Remy

Apparently, she and her parents are inviting us (and Mr Thomas) and any of our parents who know about the monster shit (her words not mine) to this fancy party at her place next Saturday . We need to dress kinda fancy, like dresses or fancy shirts and trousers, as it’s like tradition or something to hold these parties for each generation of chosen ones

Mom says she can tell any of your parents who don’t know the truth that you’re all at my house

But she also recommends you tell your parents whats actually going on

Virginia

ew party

Rena

ew telling dad the truth about the monsters

Logan

I didn’t think you were one to shy away from the truth, Rena. Wouldn’t it be easier to be honest with your father?

Rena

normally i wouldnt care

but if dad finds out about all this he could get all protective and shit and try to stop us from fighting monsters and all that other ‘dangerous’ stuff

Regina

Ugh, I can’t believe I acc agree with u

Patricia

Im still tryna figure out how to tell my moms!!!!!!!  

I might ask Miss Emily to help me but idk

Virginia

she would she loves u

Regina

Wait lol pat arent you at virges house rn why r u texting  

Patricia

Because I love all of you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RENA IS TYPING

Regina

Before you speak

Is it appropriate?

Rena

no

Virginia

then dont

Rena

):

Virginia

dee can u get ur mom to text my mom the details  

Logan

Mine, too, please.

Dee

Sure

Regina

Me and rena will have to ask dad later hes busy rehearsing lines rn

Rena

acc hes probs just txting the dude he went out with yesterday lmao

he wont tell us anything bout it and got kinda awkward when we asked bout the guy he went out with

so im assuming they fucked

Regina

I hate you so much

Stop saying that

Fight me

One day Im acc going to fight you and it is going to be brutal

Rena

i will win

Patricia

Hey now!!!!!!!

No fighting!!!!!!!!!!!!

“This won’t end well,” Virge said dryly, rolling her eyes.

Patricia hummed quietly in agreement, her brow creased. “I wish they wouldn’t argue so much, it makes me sad.”

Her girlfriend opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by the bedroom door opening again. They both turned and watched as Emily stepped inside, giving them a smile.

“Patricia, your moms are here.”

“Oh, okay!” Patricia pocketed her phone and wiggled out of her girlfriend’s lap, jumping up and stretching. She took a step in the direction of the door, before pausing. She glanced up at her girlfriend’s mom with a slightly sheepish look. “Um, do you think at some point you’d be able to help explain the chosen one stuff to my moms? I’d like to tell them, but I’m not sure they’d believe me straight away.”

Emily’s expression softened; she put her hand on Pat’s shoulder supportively. “Of course, dear. In fact, I’m having dinner with Harriet on Wednesday. Would you like me to tell her then?”

“Yes, please! That would be super helpful, thank you!” Patricia beamed. She then turned on her heel, back to her girlfriend, and leant forward to kiss her quickly. “Bye, Honey! I love you so much!”

“Love you, too, Pat,” Virge responded softly, a little embarrassed that her mom was there to witness this, but still smiling slightly.

[flying-elliska]

Hi Ellie!! I hope u dont mind this ask ❤Do u have any advice on how to do stuff on your checklist and not get overwhelmed? I can hardly do one thing out of my to do list and then i get severely depressed for not being able to do anything. i dont think i can function like a human being sometimes. anyway youre so cool ellie!!! i admire you loads!!! - help asked from one adhd struggling teen

HI anon ! I’m sorry for not answering sooner i had a beautiful answer ready and then Tumblr just ate it T_T anyway i don’t mind at all i think it’s awesome that you’re asking me ! this is honestly still something I’ve struggled a lot with. here are a few things that helped me (keep in mind i’m not a professional and this is only my personal, limited point of view) :

- ofc the first thing is to get as much help as you can, there are lots of people out there who can help. Generally talk to people around you about your problems ; often they want to help and just don’t know how : i know the tendency to feel ashamed and keep it in but that’s not good. Some people might be a bit ignorant so maybe keep a few ressources on hand you can send to people to educate them if that’s an issue ; and educate yourself so you feel more secure and legitimate in your opinions. 

- one thing that’s helped me lots is to go on #ADHDtwitter and #Neurodiversesquad because a lot of people on there are actual adults who are sharing both their struggles but also tips on how to actually manage the symptoms and have full and happy, if messy, lives. It’s very inspiring. It helped me a lot to feel understood, less alone and gave me a ton of ideas. Some accounts to start with : @ danidonovan - @ blkgrllostkeys @ ADHD_Alien (her comics are so cute) @ dustyexner plus lots of others

- regarding having trouble doing things, this is definitely a Big Damn Problem for adhd folks. the concept of the emotional Wall of Awful really helped me with this, you can find more about it in this Youtube video by the awesome How To ADHD channel (all her videos are so helpful !! have a look!) basically the idea is that we accumulate emotions linked to certain tasks based on unhappy past emotions that make it a lot harder for us to do things and that building it down takes a lot of time and effort but there are ways to work with/around that. learning to process, connect to and be more mindful of our emotions is a huge task, but it’s often a central one. 

- don’t try too hard to be neurotypical aka ‘normal’. find the solutions that work for YOU. If they’re a bit weird ? Whatever. The point is that it works. You will probably end up having weird routines that make no sense to others but it doesn’t matter as long as it helps you. Be creative and don’t be afraid to think outside the box. I’ll give you an example :  one of the reasons i hate going to bed early is because late at night is when i feel the most free of outside obligations and therefore i don’t want to give that up. So instead what i’ve been trying to do from time to time is a ‘clown hour’ where i basically give myself permission to do whatever the fuck i want (within reason lmao) but in an active way ; basically indulge my rebellious inner 8 yr old. Last time I ended up watching martial arts videos on youtube and practicing kickboxing kicks on the Mulan soundtrack and then put on funeral music and improvised my own eulogy by thinking about what i would like people to say about me after my death. Lmao that sounds completely wack when explained to other people but the point is - stuff like that really helped me reconnect to the idea that my time is mine to do with as i please, not just late at night. Anyway my point is : make it fun, make it a game, try things, experiment. Our brains crave novelty and if they don’t have it and feel burdened by shame, pressure and expectations of course they get depressed and stuck. Give your brain the fuel it needs to work. 

- just accept that sometimes you’re going to be a mess. it’s okay. you can be a bit of a mess and also live a fully, happy, joyous life. our society puts so much pressure on us to have this Perfect Instagram Life where everything is polished to unrealistic standards and gives us the idea that your morals are linked to productivity and if you are not constantly striving to be a Model Consumer Pretty Picture you are a Bad Person and a slob/lazy/unworthy/etc and all of that is...toxic garbage of the highest order that everyone should unlearn but especially us. related to that i would be careful with use of social media, tailor it to only give you content that makes you feel good/intellectually engaged/creative because it’s so easy for us to go into bad comparative spirals.

- tied to that be careful of your own perfectionist drives. it’s veeeeery common for adhd people to want to overcompensate their perceived shortcomings by wanting to be perfect. aka you haven’t done anything in weeks and all of a sudden you have this insane to do list where you expect yourself to turn your entire life around in a week. well, not going to happen. i’ve found it so important to limit myself. for instance what i do now is i forbid myself to put more than 5 items on any todo list. once i’ve cleared items i can add more, but not before. it’s a lot less scary that way. also prioritizing is very important so you don’t get bogged down in details.

- try to be mindful of your own energy. a big tendency of adhd people is to overpromise and underdeliver because we are enthusiastic and we want to please people but we are bad at estimating time/energy it will need. learn more about your own boundaries, what things are hard for you to do (for me, it’s socializing in groups) and what gives you energy (for me it’s writing, reading and walking in the woods) and try to balance that. learn to say no, it’s tough but necessary. So that you have enough left for the tasks you need to do. 

- create an environment that is benevolent and helpful for you in which to work/do things and that generates positive emotions. Get yourself a cute notebook. Put on happy music. Don’t forget to feed yourself. Don’t give into the urge of punishing yourself. You deserve happy good things - not overindulgence as escape - but our brains thrive on short term rewards. Bundle the unpleasant tasks with more stimulating stuff (for instance i always listen to podcasts while cleaning/grocery shopping etc). Create pleasant little routines for yourself (for instance one of the first things i try to do in the morning is do a little drawing of my emotions, it makes me happy, then i have tea and i plan my day.). Put on alarms constantly so you don’t lose track of time, but with a cool song. Find yourself cheerleaders who can encourage you in a positive way. Stuff like the pomodoro technique, timing yourself while doing a task, etc, can really help. Or telling yourself you will do a thing for ten minutes and stop when it’s unbearable, etc. Prioritize joy, pride, affection, desire to help, altruism, love, curiosity, interest and passion as motivators, instead of anxiety, guilt and shame. 

- find ways to build self esteem and confidence in your own skills. it’s often a lack of that that can block you from doing what you need to because you might be afraid of screwing it up. what I did for a while, for instance, is to keep a record of the stuff i did everyday and then extrapolated the skills i displayed from that. another thing you can do is make a list of simple skills you want to learn and find ways to do that, like youtube tutorials, etc. especially when it’s practical stuff and quick to learn, it can really feel so good, and make you more familiar with a sensation of success (and if you fail it can be a fun experiment gone wrong, and self discovery, you don’t have to be good at everything.)

- find ways to challenge yourself. depression happens for adhd people when we let ourself stagnate, isolate ourselves because of shame, and get into this idea that we are subhuman and we don’t deserve good things. that is false. you deserve a happy life. and our brains crave novelty. find your passion and indulge in it, find the things that make your brain come alive (as long as they’re healthy ofc). if you’re not sure what that is, just keep trying. you will find it. but resist the temptation to make your life smaller and smaller. you might mess up but that’s okay. it’s human and it will make for interesting stories later. instead of trying too hard to ‘fix’ yourself, focus on developping your positive sides. it will give you energy, self-respect and draw you forwards like a rocketship. we thrive on passion, not reprimand. 

- anyways : i know how tough it can be. depression is really something i struggle with, too. and doing things remains Hard. but my point is, you are not alone, and you are not broken. chances are you too, like most adhd people i know, are a fun, creative, compassionate person with a heart of gold and so much to give. our main enemy is most often the shame that comes with living in a world that is not adapted to us. but the truth is we are just playing the game of life on a much harder setting than a lot of people, and we don’t even have the manual. of course it’s going to create struggle ! so i think the best thing to do for yourself is cultivate a sense of compassion towards yourself, self acceptance, and humor. 

- as a teen you probably have a limited margin of autonomy to make your lifestyle fit your needs but - there is so much potential for it to get better ! as you grow in self knowledge and ability to make your own choices, you will find the right solutions and your life will get so much better. i have heard so many stories like this. since i got diagnosed, too, my life got a lot better. i won’t lie, it’s a lifelong process. but there is so much possible. give yourself time. you are so young, and you are definitely a human being. being human is struggling with being flawed and vulnerable and imperfect. i know the world can be shit sometimes, you probably got some negative messages - especially from your own brain bc depression definitely lies to you ! but don’t let yourself be guided by ignorance and fear. you deserve better. i bet you’re also super cool. the happier you are, the better off the world will be. so invest in yourself. educate yourself, develop your self knowledge, be kind to yourself, and keep making little steps. you’ll get there. <3

[inanotherworld5599]

Welcome to the Magic Shop

Summary: Based on the Magic Shop VCR from the 5th Muster because to be honest, I had to. That was way too good of a prompt for me not to. (This is just an intro if people like it I'll definitely put up more chapters because this my first time writing something like this?)

Pairings: Jikook

Jungkook's not sure how he landed in this mess but it's for certain that he hadn't expected for it to actually lead him to seek professional help.

So his magic was a bit shit to be putting it nicely (it wasn't like he had meant to set the dorms on fire, it had kind of just happened and the incident was entirely unrelated to the fact that a girl had smiled at him and he'd freaked out) but that didn't mean the Academy's counsellor had to tell him in not so many words that unless he found a way to train he'd probably never be able to make it as a proper Magician in the Ministry.

Jungkook should have proceeded to argue that if the Academy was really all that hyped up to be they should be able to train him themselves but of course his shyness mixed with his strictly non confrontational attitude had led him to sit quietly and just nod.

Another thing he needs to work on.

Magic tutors were not an uncommon thing in this day and age, while the Academy was a place for all aspiring Magicians to enter and display their talents, the more powerful ones, ones with more potential often chose specific tutors to give them an extra edge so they could enter into the highly competitive Magician industry.

And of course there were cases like Jungkook who needed a tutor just so that he could talk to other people without causing some catastrophe or the other.

He'd gotten offers from all around, tutoring shops that were both big and small, after all Jungkook may have been a bit of a mess but in no way was he a untalented.

Cube and JYP had to be his first option after all they were the most famous ones but it's a small card with Big Hit's: Magic Shop that catches his eye.

It seems familiar somehow, the name that is and Jungkook kept staring at the card until he finally realises in whose association he had heard it to.

Kim Namjoon.

Holy shit, the Kim Namjoon.

Jungkook was as introverted as anybody could get and getting him to talk about anything was a herculean task which one could succeed only if he didn't run away at the meer sight of you.

Jungkook was hopelessly passionate about though and he could talk about it for hours and hours as long as the discussion was pertaining to.. you got it, Kim Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon in no way was superbly famous or even that well known but Jungkook had been a fan since day one and by fan it was more like he was quite literally two steps away from setting up a shrine and worship the man (he tends to do things in extreme to be perfectly honest.)

Kim Namjoon was brilliantly smart and he'd probably get to great places with his intellect alone especially in Magic Theory but he'd chosen to forgo all of that to get involved in the more practical aspects of magic.

The spells he created were a work of art according to Jungkook. There was such an intricate and thoughtful use of magic in all of his spells that Jungkook had quite literally wanted to become a magician just so that he could use those spells.

And now the opportunity to be tutored by him? Holy shit Jungkook's actually glad that he'd freaked out and set the dorms on fire.

The Academy isn't overtly happy about one of their more promising albeit a bit of train wreck students choosing an entirely unknown tutor but there isn't much they can say which is how Jungkook find's himself in front of a quaint little shop tucked in the outskirts of Soul Forest.

It's beautiful and homely with green creepers and tall trees surrounding it and Jungkook can faintly hear the gurgle of a stream in the background. Everything out here screams peace and yet Jungkook can't help but be frozen mid way on the pebble pathway to the door with absolute fear.

He's always dragged his parents around in the fear of having to interact with strangers but this time he knew he was entirely alone and at the age he is in the embarrassment of having his parents baby sit him outweighs him stammering over a few words. But the thought of meeting his idol is almost nerve wracking and ninety percent of Jungkook's brain is telling him to run.

But instead he moves forward.

He peers through the frosted glass of the door not knowing what to expect. The shop was even more beautiful on the inside and it's enough to make Jungkook poke his head through the door after reasoning with himself that he can always choose to run away if something irks him.

What he doesn't count on is the bell that chimes when he opens the door and it makes him go still.

There is some rustling and the faint noise of footsteps which bring a pair of perfectly polished shoes in front of him.

Jungkook gathers up the courage to look up to see.....

To see the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on. Platinum blonde hair with silvery eyes that shine just as brightly as his earrings the man in front of him looked prettier than the ancient paintings of Angels that our usually held as the epitome of beauty.

Has he died and gone to heaven? Did his anxiety seriously kill him?

Holy fucki-

"How may I help you?"

Jungkook just stands there in a daze staring at the man something at the back of his mind praying that he isn't openly drooling. He has somehow managed to enter the shop, he's not sure how because he's so captivated by the man in front of him.

The blonde haired man has to be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen by far and his voice is sweet melodious and welcoming just like everything else about him.

There is no such thing as perfect, Jungkook had been taught growing up and he had truly believed it. Until this moment of course.

"Hello?" The man's voice is a bit unsure now which is understandable considering that Jungkook is gaping at him like a goldfish.

Words Jungkook, use your words, his mother had told him so that's exactly what Jungkook does except it's not much of words just disconnected sounds.

"Excuse me?" The pretty man says again and this time his smile is a bit more amused and it's so dazzling that Jungkook can just melt.

In fact that's almost exactly what he does to the candles in the shop.the candles all melt in an instant making the only source of light the fairly lights that have been hung all over.

"Ohmygod!" Jungkook mumbles out when he realises in horror what he's done.

"I'm so sorry!" Jungkook says utterly flustered and is almost on his way to run out or be chased out but instead the beautiful man just laughs making Jungkook freeze up right in his spot for the umpteenth time just this hour.

"That's a really cool trick!" The man says,"Even Namjoon-hyung can't do this!"

Jungkook blinks Namjoon's name finally reminding him what he was here for.

"U-I-I-" he clears his throat but his voice still come south as small,"I'm Jungkook. Uh-I-I was invited for the magic tutoring?"

The man beams up to him,"I know who you are Jungkook-shi, I'm Park Jimin the owner of the shop!"

Jungkook's eyes widen and Jimin laughs again,"I'm really happy you picked us! Sorry for messing with you for a bit, I've read your file and I just wanted to get a clearer idea of your situation."

Jimin leans forward and suddenly he's just inches away from Jungkook and Holy crap, he's even prettier up close.

"The file didn't mention how cute you were though." Jimin says his silvery eyes trailing the length of Jungkook's face and the curve of his jaw before finally settling onto his lips.

"Hmm even if it did I don't think it would have been able to do justice." Jimin's eyes finally snap back to his eyes and Jungkook's face is so red that he actually feels like he's on fire.

Jimin's eyes flicker to Jungkook's shoulder his face more sharper and ethereal bathed in a flickering orange light,"You're on fire."

Jungkook vaguely registers that he is literally on fire because of course but before the panic or actually the relief considering that being burnt to ashes would at least save him from the embarrassment can set in the fire goes our with a faint hiss.

"I'm good with water spells." Jimin says"So you won't have to worry about burning things to the ground, I won't let you."

Jimin winks and Jungkook feels like he might just die right there.

"Will you have a seat?" Jimin points to the couch that's neatly situated in the middle of the shop,"I'll get everything in order and tell you how to proceed with things."

Jungkook manages to nod somehow, his only achievement really and he sits down with a thump.

His shock is finally wearing off and the mortification and utter embarrassment was starting to set in now.

No way could he come back after all of this. No way. No wa-

"Jungkook-shi." Jimin's voice is quite and there is something utterly fond in his tone that makes Jungkook look up. The beautiful man smiles at Jungkook and there is something so utterly soft in his eyes that Jungkook thinks that he was wrong to think that Jimin was the most beautiful thing he had ever set his eyes on because it was nothing compared to fond and genuine smile that graced Jimin's features now.

It was breathtaking.

"Welcome to the Magic Shop." Jimin says softly before turning around and walking towards the counter.

--------------

Should I continue?

[truerequitedlove]

Formless

something deep and primal within me begged me to write this. i hope someone else finds something in it for them as well

note - i wrote this in one sitting and i’m not super sure of it so constructive criticism is not only welcome but i’m begging u

disclaimer – i’m not claiming anything portrayed in this piece of fiction as true or untrue about any of the people i’ve used characterizations of in real life

Genre: introspection, reality/non-AU

Warnings: gender questioning, sexuality questioning, bit of gender dysphoria, brief mention of depression, brief mention of homophobia, brief existentialism, lots of queerness

Word Count: too long tbh (4.8k)

Dan wished he was formless.

read on ao3

~•~•~

Dan wished he was formless. Shapeless. Amorphous. Nebulous. He wished he was hazy around the edges. He wished he was open to interpretation, able to sway one direction and then just as quickly to the next. He wished he looked different depending on the light. He wished every time he was seen, he was new. He wished he was ambiguous. Silver in a world of bright colors. Reflective. He wished he was infinite and fathomless and chameleonic. He wished he was a grey area, balancing on a line, living in a pocket to the left of the known universe.  

But Dan was just Dan. Just lines and angles and flesh and bones.

And Dan didn’t know what caused him to long for this sense of formlessness. It could easily have been the sadness that occasionally overwhelmed him. The desire to be anything but human. Human with the pesky ability to feel and think and wonder and philosophize.

But that was different. When the sadness managed to take over, to eat at Dan, when the numbness set into his bones, it was different. During these times, he was formless. Not in the right way. In the confusing, fearful, way. When he melted into a puddle and parts of him kept slipping away, and he couldn’t gather himself up quickly enough to become whole again. To become a person again.

And Dan did like being a person. He liked being human. He liked the feeling of fingers trailing over his skin. He liked the way his stomach did flips before something amazing happened. He liked breathing in fresh air when he stepped outside or opened a window. He liked the way certain tastes bathed his tongue and made him feel inside his chest. He liked the way he could express his thoughts aloud, in writing, in art. He liked the way he could experience others’ thoughts through their words and art. He liked that he had a body that felt and a mind that thought.

So, Dan had begun to think that maybe he wanted formlessness only because of societal ideals.

Or, perhaps, that everyone was formless.

Perhaps humans existed in a formless, nebulous, chaotic state, and they forced themselves into molds to create forms that were organized and neat. Perhaps some humans fit those molds better than others. Perhaps some humans overflowed, seeped through the cracks, spilled out chaos.

Okay. Maybe from the moment one was born, molds were placed in front of them by the picture-perfect of the world. Molds made for them and handed to them as if one size fit all. Male. Female. Straight. Society asked humans to fit into the molds. When humans rejected these molds, they found another to try on. Gay. Bisexual. Ace.

But Dan wanted to be mold-less. Formless. He wanted to be an exception. He wanted—

“Dan?” a voice called from across the flat, breaking into his thoughts.

Dan frowned, trying to recapture the thought. Formless. Dan wanted to be formless with no limit to his—

“Dan?” the voice called again.

Dan sighed. “What?” he called back in a monotone.

“Pasta,” Phil replied shortly.

Dan shook his head, and his lips quirked up a little. He stood from the bed and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

“You interrupted my introspection,” Dan said, knocking his hip against Phil’s as he reached to grab a bowl from the cupboard.

Phil scooped some of the pasta out of a pot on the stove into his own bowl. “Good,” he said, knocking Dan’s hip in return. “You’ve been doing too much of that.”

“I’m doing important reflection on my life and identity so that I can further my career and personal life in a way that stays authentic to my true self,” Dan argued, scooping himself up some pasta.

“I know,” Phil said, taking a seat at their table. “But, you know, I think sometimes you learn more about yourself by living life than reflecting on it.”

“I think I’ve lived a lot the past year,” Dan said, sitting across from Phil.

“Fair,” Phil said before he scooped some pasta noodles into his mouth. “What have you been thinkin’ about?” Phil asked, before fully swallowing his mouthful.

Dan raised an eyebrow, breathing out a soft chuckle at Phil. “Societal expectations versus individual identity.”

Phil chuckled. “I look forward to—to reading your thesis,” he joked.

Dan smiled. “Or maybe just watch my next video.”

Phil hummed. “Thinking about doing another deep-ish one?” he asked, and Phil always made it sound so simple.

“Maybe,” Dan said. “Haven’t decided.”

“Well,” Phil said, reaching for a napkin to wipe pasta sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Whatever it is, it’ll be great,” he promised.

Dan smiled a little. “What makes you say that?”

Phil swallowed his bite of pasta. “Because it’s you,” he said easily, scooping more pasta onto his fork. “Eat your pasta I slaved over it for hours.”

Dan rolled his eyes, still smiling a bit as he scooped some of the pasta onto his fork.

~•~•~

Dan looked himself in the mirror. He was still half-asleep, but he’d tugged on a t-shirt. And sweatpants, as it was a bit chilly. He hadn’t turned the bathroom light on, planning to try to sleep in a bit longer, but he’d paused when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He looked at himself, unsure what exactly made him stop. It was him. He didn’t look terrible or exhausted. He didn’t look amazing, either. His curls fell into his face, grown out just a bit since his last haircut. The light cotton shirt he wore hung off his shoulders loosely. His sweatpants were nestled low around his hips. His cheeks were soft and red from sleeping. His lips were much less chapped than usual, red, and a bit plumper than usual.

He liked the way he looked.

Dan couldn’t perfectly put his finger on what it was he liked, but he felt good.

He felt... He felt that sense of formlessness that he’d been craving if only a little. It might have been the messiness. An oversized shirt, unkempt hair. No, no. It wasn’t the messiness. It definitely wasn’t the messiness. He grabbed a comb from the bathroom drawer, flicking the light on.

He played with his hair a bit, pushing it back and combing it forward. No, no. He tried to capture the feeling he wanted, but it felt like it was getting further and further away. No, no, what happened? Where had the feeling gone? Dan felt frustration slowly replace the satisfaction. Tears gathered in his eyes.

Dan heard Phil stumble toward the bathroom, and he opened the door, seeming surprised to see Dan despite the light being on. Phil was obviously still half-asleep, but he noticed Dan was upset.

“Hey,” Phil spoke, voice scratchy and deep. He tried to clear his throat with a cough. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice still came out a bit gravelly.

Dan reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, uh, nothing, nothing. Sorry. I’ll let you pee,” Dan said, leaving the bathroom. He was pretty sure that a less-sleepy Phil wouldn’t have let him get away so easily.

Dan crawled back into bed, trying to shake the strange discomfort that had crept up on him and just fall asleep again. Before he could, Phil crawled back into bed beside him.

“Hey,” Phil breathed, wrapping his arms around Dan’s middle. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Dan breathed, not sounding too convincing.

“Hey,” Phil murmured again, dropping a kiss to Dan’s head. “You’re gorgeous.”

Dan didn’t know how Phil knew to say that, but he smiled a little. Gorgeous . “Thanks,” Dan said genuinely.

~•~•~

Dan was thinking about high school. He was thinking about trying to be a scene kid, wearing skinny jeans, girls’ jeans, trying eyeliner, growing his hair too long, straightening it. He was thinking about the emo boys he’d known. He was noticing how the whole scene sort of allowed teenage boys to embrace a more feminine side. They got to mess around with feminine fashion, hairstyles, make-up, and express their emotions.

He was thinking about the kids who’d call him gay, throw rocks, yell ‘faggot’ after Dan and his friends. They’d just laugh at the time or yell something back, but Dan wondered if those things really did leave a lasting impact on his expression.  

He was thinking about the other night, the vague rightness he had seen in his reflection for a split second. He was thinking about how he knew, objectively, that he was a good-looking guy, but he was still unsatisfied with his appearance. He was thinking about his curly hair. He was thinking about his old reading festival bracelets. He was thinking about nail polish. He was thinking about his relationship with Phil. He was thinking about his fear of being labeled gay. He was thinking about the time when he was in uni and grew his hair out a bit long, straightened it, and put in earrings. He was thinking about the time when he cut his hair, styled it like every guy he knew did, defended himself, guarded himself, and shoved a few pieces of himself into the recesses of his being. He was thinking about the change between those times and the change between then and now.

Dan was thinking quite a lot.

He was thinking quite a lot about sexuality, gender, and identity.

He was thinking about it, because it wasn’t so scary at the moment, and he needed to take advantage of that.

There was a time when Dan wanted to be seen as anything but gay. Anything but feminine.

But, had Dan ever really felt masculine?

So, Dan thought about that. Had there ever been a time in his life that he had really felt like a boy or a man?

During his childhood, before gender or sexuality or appearance mattered, Dan would live carelessly. He would wear tiaras and tutus and sing spice girls into plastic microphones. He would climb trees and skin his knees and ride his bicycle around the neighborhood. He took piano lessons. He refused to play rough and fight with the other little boys. He made friends with girls. He ran through parks, rolled down grass hills. He hugged his grandma and kissed her hello. He was never good at sports. He loved video games.

And, no, he’d never felt like a girl . But, had he ever felt like a boy? Dan had never given much thought to gender. He’d always just been Dan . Dan with boy friends and girl friends. Dan who liked girls and liked boys. Dan who cursed at video games and cried listening to Cancer by My Chemical Romance.

Dan had felt gay before. He’d felt queer.

He often felt queer.

When he laid his head against the flat, broad, chest of his boyfriend. When he kissed the firmer lips of a man, his man. When he fell into bed with his lover, pressed himself into him, let him press himself into Dan. When Dan’s gaze toward a man lingered a second. God, when Dan looked in the mirror. He always felt queer. That was irrevocably a part of him. A part of him he’d learned to take pride in.

Alas, beyond that vague queerness, Dan had always struggled to define himself.

Dan stopped running, leaning against the wall and catching his breath. He looked around at the scarcely populated streets. The sun was just starting to properly light up the sky. Dan almost felt like the only one alive. He wondered when he became a morning person, but it was so peaceful. So still.

It was easier to think in the morning. He had a blank slate to work with. He wasn’t quite afraid of the world yet, because it wasn’t awake yet. It wasn’t bustling and busy and chaotic yet. In that, it was the same as staying up until two, or three, or four in the morning. The difference was in how Dan felt, how the world felt.  

Three am was full of people ending their days. Full of people hurting, thinking, crying, fucking, falling in love, feeling . There were anxieties about the morning lingering in the air. Time moved faster. There was something so heavy about the early hours of darkness.  

The morning was light. It was full of fresh starts and hope. Thoughts didn’t weigh so heavily on the mind, because there was the entire day to sort them out. Getting up early was already an accomplishment. The world was quiet, and time moved slowly.

At least for Dan.

He smiled a little.

Maybe Dan wasn’t entirely a man. He had never even felt too comfortable calling himself a man. ‘Boy’ has been okay. ‘Man’ was too…masculine. Too definitive.

Maybe he was just overthinking like he always did. Maybe gender roles meant nothing and Dan just refused to give into them. Maybe being a man was whatever he wanted it to be. Or maybe gender identity was just this vague and confusing feeling. Maybe Dan was a little bit formless. Maybe he couldn’t fit into any of the molds. Maybe he craved the same label-less formlessness for his gender as he did his sexuality. Maybe these thoughts would become terrifying in a few hours.

That was okay. Mornings were full of ‘maybe’s. Maybe he’d make breakfast. Maybe he’d crawl back into bed and fall back asleep. Maybe he’d look through old video idea files and see what he could update to match his current self. Maybe he would just watch the new Queer Eye episodes and play the piano and laze about. Maybe he would look in the mirror and say ‘maybe I’m not a man.’

Dan looked up at the sky again before changing the playlist on his phone to play the more upbeat instrumentals he had compiled for these runs. He set of jogging again.

It was still early.

~•~•~

Dan set a bottle of base-coat nail polish, a bottle of black nail polish, a bag of cotton balls, and a bottle of nail polish remover down on his desk one by one. He turned on a light and sat down.  

He untwisted the top to the base nail polish, wiping the brush on the sides to get rid of the excess, and brought the applicator to his fingernail, slowly painting a line of the clear polish onto his nail, messing up the moment he had to fill in around his skin, and painting over his skin.  

Dan took in a breath. He reached for a cotton ball and the nail polish remover, cleaning his nail off.  

He tried it again.

He messed up again, this time after a few more swipes of nail polish.

He took in a breath, wiping the nail polish away with a wetted cotton ball.

He tried again.

He didn’t mess up until he got to the black polish. He painted insanely messily and out of the lines, covering his skin and cuticles in the polish.

He took in a breath and reached for the nail polish remover.  

He tried again.

Paint went onto the nail. It was messy. It was outside the lines. It wasn’t right.

Dan didn’t allow himself to get frustrated. He took another deep breath. He wet another cotton ball.

He tried again.

It was understandable that the nail polish wouldn’t stay within the confines Dan had created for it. But, Dan wanted to find a way for something to fit right. He wanted the polish on his nails to be perfect. He wanted to get good at it. He wanted it to be normal and to feel second nature.

Once he could do this, he could do the next step.

Dan didn’t know what the next step was, but he knew he wanted to get there. He needed to get there.

So, he wiped his nails off, until he did the first one perfectly, none of it on his skin or cuticles. Then he moved to the next finger and did it again. He bit his lip as he focused, painting over and over until he got it perfect.

Then, once that was dried, he repeated the process on the other hand.

~•~•~

“Look,” Dan said, holding his hand out to Phil.

Phil spared a small glance. “Cute,” he said because this was normal.

“No,” Dan said. “Look.”

Phil perked an eyebrow, but looked again, taking Dan’s hand and holding it in the light to look them over. “Very pretty,” he said.

“I did a good job, yeah?” Dan asked because Phil was clueless and he needed the reassurance.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, they look great,” Phil assured. “Perfect, actually,” he said, looking them over.

Dan rolled his eyes and sat back. “Took a few attempts,” he said.

“Well, you’re getting good at it,” Phil said.

Dan smiled. “I try.”

Phil’s gaze remained on Dan’s face for a moment.

“What?” Dan asked, blushing . He was fucking blushing, he could feel the warmth in his cheeks. Phil Lester had spared him many a long glance with similar amounts of affection. Still, Dan felt his stomach flutter just a bit. Dan didn’t know why it felt different in the moment, but it did.

“Nothing,” Phil said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You’re just. Dunno. You look very pretty.” He turned back to his laptop.

Dan smiled, looking away. “Thank you.”

~•~•~

Dan was scrolling through the Instagram of Ben J. Pierce and trying to remember when they’d ended up in a mutual following.

There was something lovely and inspiring about these queer creators he followed. The pride they took in their identity and expression was comforting and inspirational. Still, Dan managed to find sadness in it. He couldn’t help but feel strange. Ben, for example, was only just twenty years old. When Dan was twenty, he was entering the throes of repression, about to spend a year or so trying to change himself, to make himself more desirable to the audience he felt he wanted. Yet, there were so many younger than him who seemed to be so aware of themselves. So proud of themselves. And so loud about it.

Dan looked at the lipstick painted across Ben’s lips. The dresses pulled over his chest. The colors around his eyes. The shimmer on his cheekbones. Dan loved it. He loved it for Ben. But there was also a sort of longing in his chest as he looked at these pictures. Make-up seemed like a lot. A dress seemed like a lot. But, still, he wanted it. He wanted to be comfortable with the idea of his face covered in makeup and his awkward body stuffed into a skirt or dress. Not just in front of the mirror at home. Not just for the sake of trying it.

Maybe he would be someday.

A few years ago, it would have felt like a joke to want such a thing, so at least he was making progress. The idea of being anything but a man would have seemed like a joke.

Dan knew a lot of things now that he hadn’t known back then. He had met people in the past few years that a young, sexually confused and repressed Dan could never even have imagined existing. Young people with bright smiles and grateful words and knowledge of their own identity that Dan sort of envied.

People who looked up at him with bright eyes and said “thank you so much for always using inclusive language,” and “I met people through you that allowed me to find parts of myself and piece together my identity,” and “I’m glad you’re comfortable with traditionally non-masculine things, because I was made fun of for being a boy that likes feminine things.” People who made Dan feel like somehow this silly YouTube thing had a genuinely positive effect on hundreds of people. People who gave Dan way too much credit.

Dan looked down at his nails, painted flawlessly. He remembered the first time he’d properly painted them. The endless support and excitement that flooded in from fans. It had been silly. Love and support for putting a bit of paint on his nails. But, it had also been amazing. He had genuinely been afraid. He’d looked that the bottle of nail polish a fan had given him. A cheap, barely opaque, dollar store bottle. He’d felt the same longing he did now.

That was one thing. Not wanting to conform to gender roles. Life was too short to just live in the box set out for you by society.

The thing that was different was the strange euphoria that washed over him when he looked down at his painted nails. When he wore a too-big sweater. When his hair fell over his forehead just right.

Just the thought of drifting further away from the labels, boxes, and societal rules of gender made something bubble up inside of him. Something distinct from his current queerness but queer nonetheless. After all these months of introspection and striving to live as authentically as possible, Dan was ready to fully acknowledge this facet of his queerness. He was ready to acknowledge that he might not just wish for formlessness, but already be, in a way, formless.

~•~•~

Dan had been quiet and contemplative for a while. He was ready to talk now. He wanted to lay it all out verbally and piece it together in words as best as he could. Dan hated fixed labels, but his mind also hated leaving things nameless. Phil had patient ears, and soft encouragement, and had foolishly agreed to stay with Dan and listen to his contemplation for nine years and counting.

So, Dan walked into the lounge where he knew he’d find Phil and caught his gaze.

“What if I told you I wasn’t a man?”

Phil set aside his laptop, giving Dan his full attention. Dan hoped he wasn’t going to make a big deal, but he knew better. That wasn’t their style. Phil smiled a little and seemed neither startled nor bothered.

“I would say ‘okay,’” Phil said. “And I would ask if you’d like me to change the way I refer to you.”

Dan almost felt as though these were words contemplated by Phil before this conversation. Dan smiled little. Of course. He was stupid. Phil knew. God, Phil had probably known before Dan had even begun to properly question.

“And if I said I wasn’t sure?” Dan asked, sitting down on the other end of the couch so he could face Phil.

“Then,” Phil said easily. “I would say ‘okay,’ and ask if you wanted to talk about it.”

Dan smiled. “How long have you suspected?” he asked.

Phil understood because of course he did. Dan wasn’t sure how people communicated with people who didn’t know them so well. Talking to anyone else about this would have been so much different, so much scarier, and so much harder.

Phil shrugged. “I didn’t know anything for sure, but I hadn’t ruled it out. I just figured if you felt like you needed to say anything you would, and you have.”

Dan leaned back into the couch cushion, smiling a bit, but unsure exactly how to proceed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Phil asked.

Dan looked down at his black nails. “Yes.”

Phil shut his laptop, moved a bit closer to Dan and Dan talked.

Dan talked for a long time. He talked about the stupidity of gender roles, about the articles he’d read about gender being merely a construct. Scientific research studies. Phil mentioned gently and with a chuckle that Dan didn’t have to cite medical journals to justify the way he and many others felt.

Dan talked about being queer. He talked about painting his nails. He talked about catching glimpses of himself in the mirror and feeling warmth well up at the casual androgyny he sometimes found in his reflection. He talked about baggy clothes and small hoop earrings and curly hair. He talked about euphoria and dysphoria.

Dan talked about the non-binary and binary trans people who showed up to meet and greets. He talked about the queer pride that radiated off of so many of their audience. He talked about all he’d learned about the world in trying to understand his and Phil’s audience, and incidentally, all he’d learned about himself.  

He talked candidly about the difficulty he often had equating himself with a man. With maleness or masculinity. He talked about male beauty gurus and gender nonconforming people and drag queens and non-binary genders.

Phil listened. He added comments. He brought up things that he noticed about Dan that Dan hadn’t even noticed. He occasionally asked for clarification, but he knew all of the terms and the ideas and Dan was so glad Phil was quite queer as well.

They talked for hours, between bites of food and snacks. They talked until the sun went down. They talked until Dan’s jaw got tired and they couldn’t keep their eyes open.

“We should head to bed,” Phil said because he knew Dan could stay up and talk despite the tiredness.

Dan nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Did we…did I ever reach any sort of conclusion?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’d say I did,” Phil said, smiling, eyes drooping and hand on Dan’s thigh.

“Mhm?” Dan asked, gently pushing Phil’s hair from his face. “What’s that?”

“You’re you,” Phil said. “And I love you.”

“Gross. Cheesy. I’m putting you to bed,” Dan said.

Phil smiled. “I know you like to think and sort things out,” Phil said, yawning. “But, I think things get clearer with time, you know? We’re moving slowly right now. You can let yourself slow down too. You’re ready, you know? Who you are—your truth—it’ll come to you, yeah? Piece by piece.”

Dan smiled. There were tear tracks on his cheeks because this was a lot. Talking about this was a lot. He was ready. He was finally ready to confront this vague feeling within himself that he’d always dismissed. And he didn’t have to do it alone. Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he swiped it away.

“Just let me know if you need me to change anything, or do anything. I know you’re getting so close to where you wanna be.”

Dan smiled, leaning into Phil. “I love you.”

Phil smiled too, taking in a deep breath before forcing himself to stand. He offered Dan a hand. “Alright. Bed now.”

~•~•~

Dan looked down at their freshly painted nails. They smiled. They’d removed the polish once it began to chip and reapplied it for a few weeks now. It was so strange how such a small thing could make Dan feel so much more in touch with themself.

They supposed for a lot of people, nail polish was just an extra pop of color. To Dan, it felt like a step into a new way of expressing themself. A reaffirmation to themself that their identity was real. That their formlessness was real. That their queerness was good and beautiful. That they were good and beautiful.

Dan walked into the kitchen, finding Phil buttering some toast. “I want you to switch them up,” Dan said.

Phil looked up. “What?” he questioned.

“Pronouns. Any are good. I mean, I don’t mind any. I like them all, so. I’d like it if you switched them up,” they said.

“Oh,” Phil said, smiling. “I will.”

Dan still wasn’t sure who Phil would speak to about Dan using any pronouns other than ‘he/him,’ but that was a question for another day. Dan knew Phil understood that as well, turning back to his toast.

“So, they, she, and he?” Phil clarified, wiping the butter from his knife and dropping it into the sink.

Dan felt a flutter in their stomach at the idea of being referred to as they or she. “Yeah. All good,” they said.

“So, like, ‘you should meet my boyfriend—” Phil started, moving to wrap his arms around Dan’s waist. “They’re beautiful, thoughtful, and talented. She has pretty eyes. She has a few freckles and patches of red. Her lips aren’t chapped anymore, which means they’re even better for kissing.” Phil pressed a short kiss to Dan’s lips. “I love them a lot,” he said.

A wide smile spread over Dan’s lips, they could feel their eyes water a bit, and their stomach buzzed with euphoric butterflies. “Yeah, pretty much,” Dan breathed, giggling a bit. “Although I hope you don’t always talk to people like you’re a fourth grader writing a story.”

Phil smiled, pressing another kiss to Dan’s lips. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he said, grabbing his plate of toast and taking a seat at the dining table.

Dan smiled. “I’m proud of me too,” they said.

[ryewi]

Trip Down Our Memory Lane - pjm

Summary: As if compiling clips from different points of your friendship in a short video wasn’t a good enough rollercoaster of emotions, you decided that after leading the man of your dreams through nearly twenty years of footage, a confession seemed like a perfect way to end it.

Genre: Best friends to lovers!au , F L U F F

Words: 3k

Warnings: none!

Early A/N: The summary bloody sucks but I don’t even know how to summarize this,,, help

Planning and implementation of amazing and innovative surprises, were always considered as your specialties. Although your friend circle and family tree weren’t huge, you took that as a chance to put additional effort and work harder to make each surprise better than the last one. Whoever was blessed to get a present from you, would turn into a gasping and astonished mess in a matter of seconds. Sometimes, they were extremely emotional, causing a few tears to fall here and there, but usually, that kind was intended only for those who you’ve known for a long time.

Today marked the 13th of October, also known as one of the most important dates throughout the whole year. It was Jimin’s day, the day of your best friend of nearly two decades. The only problem was, Jimin knew you inside and out, knew how observant you were and was often next to you during creative times. That usually led to his surprisingly accurate predictions of gifts/surprises, which frequently caused trouble with planning Jimin’s own present without being found out.

This year, you decided to do something special and amongst two other beautifully wrapped boxes, prepared a twenty-minute video. Jimin mentioned a thousand times how your regular midnight birthday texts were his most favorite part of the day. Deciding that it was time to step up your game, you created a more powerful version of a birthday, recalling-the-history-of-our-friendship, message.

“Now, miss excuse me, who are you and what did you do to my best friend?” As if on que, Jimin carelessly walked through the door, knocking a long-forgotten act between the two of you. For a quick moment, you pondered what his statement was about, when Jimin decided to bring up the answer himself. Holding up his new iPhone, he let you read a painfully short dialogue of four sentences that were exchanged between him and a person nicknamed “no.1 hypewoman ✌”.

no.1 hypewoman ✌ - 09:42

⇢ Happy birthday! You free today?

You – 09:55

⇢ Hey, thanks, and uh, depends when

no.1 hypewoman ✌ - 09:57

⇢ 5pm? I’d like you to come over?

You – 10:06

⇢ Sure

Jimin was slightly taken aback to say at least, you acted distant the last few days, the last two texts that you sent were three days ago. Quick and short ‘good night xxx’ and ‘ew I’m never using x’s again’ delivered a few minutes before midnight. But it was okay, Jimin was an extremely considerate person, yet, he couldn’t help feeling slightly annoyed at the lack of communication on such a special date. Of course, you hadn’t forgotten, but such a vague message when all he was used to were paragraphs and paragraphs of adoration sent the moment the clock ticked twelve.

Surely, he could only be overreacting, but there was also a certain amount of interest lacking from your side. Or was there?

“Your best friend is right here, flesh and bones, Mr. Park” your hands ran over your body, as to emphasize the words and their effect. “Now I’d please you to move to the living room, I have something to show you”. You disappeared into your room, letting the boy seat himself on a white sofa, placed right before your television. Jimin’s eyes lit up at the indirect mention of a present, you actually had something for him, therefore your apparent lack of attentiveness was only an act. Gosh, of course that it was, you’re so naïve to your own deceiving Jimin.  

Once you came back, and the USB was safely connected with the huge screen of your new TV, you switched a couple of channels, finally finding the one connected to the detachable object. Jimin’s eyes were firmly fixed on all the colors flashing before them as your fingers fumbled with black buttons on a small television remote. He wasn’t aware of what you were doing, nor what kind of present you had for him, but he let you be, nervously anticipating whatever was to come. Finally locating the video amongst thousands of others, you pressed play and watched as all shades faded away.

Suddenly, an extremely old picture of the two of you appeared, making you smile. Just like now, Jimin’s eyes were transforming into thin lines while laughing at the sight of your beautiful face and soft, tiny hands covered in mud. You were wearing a thin summer dress that was thoroughly covered in dirt, while Jimin seemed to be entirely clean, not even a drop of mud decorating the expanse of his fancy summer set.

“I’m pretty sure that the both of us wouldn’t be able to describe what was happening if it wasn’t for our mothers that would repeat it on every single family gathering”, your voice suddenly rang throughout the room, slightly scaring Jimin. He turned to face you, still unaware that the sound wasn’t live, it was pre-recorded and put in as a continuous part of this beautiful video. Motioning for him to avert his gaze back to the TV, you smiled, noticing that he was vaguely mouthing each and every word.

“This was nearly two decades ago, when we were little kids, as obviously shown on the picture. I used to have a special hiding place in one of the playgrounds in our city, that no one really bothered to explore, hence I took it as my own prized piece of land. Until you, Park Jimin, didn’t walk in through the bushes and began arguing that it was your own space. Frankly, our argument was a casual exchange of “I’m going to tell this to my mom!” and “I got here first!”, without any action actually taking place. That’s when I decided to sit down on the ground, refusing to move from my territory and completely ignoring the fact that my bottom was positioned deep inside a puddle of mud. I tried to scratch the itchy spot on my nose, which resulted in my face becoming a muddy canvas. You were such a snake and began laughing, loud enough to draw the attention of your mother that was apparently nearby and always carried a camera around. Shortened, this is our first picture and place in which we met”

Jimin’s wasn’t blinking, eyes wide open and fixed on to the disappearing pictures. You moved closer to hug him, watching as the screen faded away into pitch black, only to reveal the next part.

Once again, it was a video, although this time, you were nowhere to be seen, while Jimin was in full shot. It was a recording taken the night of your graduation. Being best friends for the longest time ever, both of you were obviously each other’s choice for prom. That night, Jimin looked like the most beautiful angel, which could be an ironic statement because of his fully black attire. Jimin wore a black button-up shirt that was neatly tucked in his black dress pants. Equally as dark, but shinier than the rest, Jimin’s shoes were polished to true perfection – you could swear it was possible to see one’s reflection in them. His hair was side parted and freshly dyed, an ashy-silver shade now covering his previously dark strands.

Through the beginning of the recording, it wasn’t possible to see the way you were dressed, but you could still remember being the most flattering female on the whole party. Your dress was perfect for your figure; a pitch black, floor length piece, lace decorating the top of it, while also creating thin, but long sleeves. The patterns on those sleeves were beautifully detailed roses, which were always one of your favorite flowers.  

“Jimin”, your voice once again sounded through the speakers, “are you ready?”. The man had his back turned in your direction, slightly bending over and fixing something on his shirt. Upon not receiving an answer, you let yourself walk further in, peeking around to see what he was up to. Jimin noticed you approaching, and after realizing that he will need some help, decided to ask you for it (in the end really, who else was there to ask?).

“I need help with my tie” Jimin replied, turning around and audibly making you gasp. The sensitive microphone attached to the top of your DSLR, caught even the smallest of shallow breaths that left your lips. He looked like God and Devil combined. So pure, but so sinful at the same time.  

Setting the camera on your bed-side table, you turned it around, still letting it record the small pre-prom interaction that was promised to have much meaning in the future. At least to show your kids how nice it was to have someone like Jimin in your life.  

“You’ll never learn how to tie them, will you?” You asked, laughing while untying the tight knot Jimin somehow managed to create.  

“Well then, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of you doing it for me, would I?” He bit back in a cocky manner, biting his lip and raising an eyebrow. Just in that moment, through the sudden glint of your eyes, when they found Jimin’s, it was possible to note the moment in which you fell into an abyss. The exact second when your brain connected the dots in a quick impulse, sounding an alarm that screamed danger obnoxiously loud.  

Although red lights were going off before your eyes, demanding immediate action and distancing from the Devil himself, you smiled and with shaky hands, continued to tighten the material around Jimin’s neck.  

And although it was supposed to be wrong, it didn’t feel like it.

You could swear that there was a thin layer of tears painting Jimin’s eyes, but to be honest, you were holding back from letting your own tears fall. Even though you were the one who hand-picked these clips and put them together, they always managed to bring back the feeling of nostalgia. That kind of emptiness that makes you miss every second from the past, that makes you realize how old you’re actually getting, how all those moments you’re looking back as memories now, were taken for granted.  

You wanted to reach out and wipe his tears, to kiss his cheeks and tell him it’s not supposed to make him cry. You wanted to hold his small hand in yours, to trace calming circles and assure him that the video was only meant to be throwback material. But way too soon, the screen was fading to black and then fading in to another clip once again. A series of short videos that were taken through snapchat played one after another, showing different scenarios with random and “quirky” captions.  

“He believed me this was an exotic and special cocktail, when it’s ketchup mixed with tequila,,, someone pick this drunk man up” The shot was shaky, your laughter barely audible in the background, muffled by exceptionally loud music. Jimin was drinking some thick red substance from a transparent plastic cup - how convenient for an after-prom party.

“One devastatingly sad and one extremely attractive skeleton” In this one, Jimin was leaning on your shoulder, smiling into the camera as both of you showed off the messy but special Halloween makeup. Honestly, being so last-minute, Jimin had to come up with a very original “couple” costume, aka usual skeleton makeup and black attire that was spray painted in shapes of bones (more like stick figures). Somehow, your best friend managed to wear your own artistic creature way better than expected, while on the other side, he kind of failed paying you back. You had a lot of fun, that’s what mattered the most.

“She helped an elderly woman pass the street, then came running back and asked “will God accept me now?”” Jimin was holding you so tight and recording from a weird upper angle (that somehow worked out for his handsome face), while you were laughing quietly, face buried into his chest, enjoying the fluffy fabric of his hoodie.

“Someone audition him up, because this man is such a pussy” The recording angle was once again, strange, your body comfortably positioned on the sofa, while holding your small device way too low. Jimin was playing Just dance 2017, chasing the unobtainable megastar in Scream & Shout. Although every time, Jimin rocked your ass, you still challenged him often. Being competitive didn’t help neither of you in this situation.

Many more videos rolled in quick, reaching the last one relatively fast. Now, the doubts about it arose again, anxiety bubbling up and second thoughts pilling inside of your mind. It seemed like a great idea a few days ago, but is it really?  

The video didn’t have any caption, plus whatever was on the screen was barely visible. It was 2am, if to believe the analog clock that was caught in the shot for a short moment. Obviously, it was from your point of view, and soon enough it was clear why. Jimin was snuggling close to you, under the covers, hugging your waist tight, eyes closed. Just then, as if reserved, slight peek of the moon through thick clouds allowed its shine to light up a small portion of your room. Jimin’s hair was all over the place, cheeks puffy while nose red. It was the night of his extremely hard breakup. He remembered now.

“She might’ve not loved you, but believe me, my angelic boy, I always will” you whispered quietly, turning around and kissing his forehead; taking a second to stare at such a divine prescience next to you. Gosh, you loved him with your everything.

“And whenever someone crushes your heart, mine will always be there to mend it”

At that line, Jimin’s tears fell, quiet and unnoticeable, for some unidentified reason. Was it because of the flashbacks to the most heartbreaking moment of his life? Was it because he knew your love was platonic, and that whatever was about to happen will only hurt you? You couldn’t tell and the suspension was holding your heart in a choking hold. It was only a good idea to let him know you’ll always be there, always next to him if needed, but also how much you cared while doing so. On the other hand, it wasn’t a good idea to confess if all that you’ll get in return are empty words of pitiful comfort.

Yet, Jimin’s hand found yours and without any hesitation, held it tight. Then, he turned around, locking his teary eyes with your lost ones, letting the clip, and with it the whole presentation end. He bit his lip, uncertain which words to use in his expressions, hell, he was even uncertain about his feelings right now.

“Why?” He asked, scared that one wrong word could ruin everything, when he really didn’t want to. “Why me? I’m not someone you deserve, I-”

That was your yellow light, the one that you’ll rush through before it turned red.

“I got so used to having you next to me, it just felt so right to not want anyone else but you”, starting, your words began to jump over each other, creating the slightest bit of trouble for your tongue that tried to emphasize each of them perfectly. His eyes, although glassy, provided so much comfort, even in crucial or important happenings like this; they once again served as a remind as to why your heart beats only for him.

“Holding your hand is an extremely familiar feeling that’s always somehow new each time it happens” shrugging with your shoulders, you smiled, motioning towards his hand. “Much like now, your hand has been in mine hundreds of times, but has it ever been like this? No”. Jimin smiled, tightening his hold and nodding along. That actions once again gave you a slight rush of confidence, the previously yellow, now green on the next street light.

“I’ve always thought that you were the best thing that has ever happened to me, you know? It’s a really cliché thing to say, but where would I be if I hadn’t met you?” Truly, this was a serious statement, there were so many things that have happened in your life in which you just felt so, lost. Lost and afraid. Yet, Jimin was there, to redirect you to the right path and always bring up the “you’re not alone” mindset. “Who knows when I would’ve given up trying to stand up, if you weren’t there to pick me up and remind me it’s okay to fall, that bruises will heal?”

“For all these years, I was nothing else but content with being in love with you”, you stated, immense amount of courage washing over your body in a matter of moments. With the way Jimin attentively listened to every vowel and consonant that rolled off your tongue, you chose to pick words carefully, taking time to find perfect terms for description.

“I fell in love with the special way you sing when you think no one is listening, or the foolish way you drag vowels when we sing together. How your eyes turn into thin lines while truthfully laughing, or how you take into account every little detail before creating an opinion of something. How considerate and understanding you are, wanting to hear everyone’s thoughts before making a decision. Your 6th sense of identifying what’s wrong in a of a quick snap of fingers. Gosh I-”

There were so many little, but also big things that made Jimin this whole lovable and divine creature. And really, you were about to continue on for days, only if the speech wasn’t rudely interrupted by -

Jimin’s lips on yours.

“As much as I’d like to hear more of my great qualities, kissing you seems so much more attractive to me”

“Yeah? But I was spilling my heart out to you and you interrupted me, that’s rude-”  

“But you love this rude boy”

“Yeah I do”

“That’s cute”

“Say it back you coward”

“I love you, I always have and I always will”

AN: So I was supposed to release this for Jimins birthday but wasn’t satisfied with it so I edited it and released it today (way too late fk),,,,,, anyway I had something else in preparation but that kind of flopped so,,,, we aint releasing that lol,,, see you guys next time, ily!

[tvnksted]

what’s  poppin  my  dudes  !!  i’ve  gotta  say,  i  haven’t  properly  read  all  your  intros  yet  but  i  have  skimmed  them  and  just  ...,,,  wow  ????  the  Talent  ??  listen  i  am  blown  away.  anyways  to  start  off  my  intro,  a  lil  bit  about  me:  i’m  bee  (  she/her  ),  i’m  from  canada,  i'm  a  second  yr  math  major  so  i  might  not  be  active  every  single  day  (  but  i  do  love  procrastinating  so  we’ll  see  )  and  i  can  probably  quote  the  2005  pride  &  prejudice  off  by  heart.  now  onto  my  boi  ted  !!  not  sure  i  love  love  michel  biel  for  him  but  we’ll  see how  it  goes

* ╰    (  MICHEL  BIEL  ) ┋ have  you  met  (  EDWARD  “TED”  TONKS  )  ?  (  he  ) reminds  me  of  (  boy  forgotten:  oil  on  canvas.  a  remnant  of  softness  in  a  practice-makes-perfect  chrysalis.  snake  skin,  muggle  blood.  a  threadbare  jacket  worn  as  armour,  polished  veneer  marred  only  by  that  chip  on  your  shoulder.  tongue  fluent  in  loopholes  and  sharp  as  sin.  wind-chapped  knuckles  smoothed  by  herbal  lotion,  wind-chapped  lips  sweetened  by  honey  and  apple.  sea  glass  worn  smooth,  turned  over  and  over  in  your  pocket.  black  tea  past  midnight.  cold  fingers,  warm  eyes,  and  a  quicksilver  smile.  the  smoke  of  a  candle  blown  out.  a  skeptic’s  wish.  a  study  in  dichotomy:  are  you  the  wolf,  my  dear,  or  are  you  his  prey  ?  fingers  stained  with  newspaper  ink,  the  first  thawing  of  spring  ice,  and  hand-me-down  hope  you  haven’t  quite  taught  yourself  to  forget.  ).  a  (  twenty  one  )  year  old  (  eleventh  )  year  (  slytherin  ),  the  (  architect  )  is  known  to  be  (  charismatic  &  self-reliant  ),  yet  (  obsessive  &  resentful  ).  that  explains  why  they’re  majoring  in  (  wizarding  law  ).  rumour  has  it,  (  ted  )  is  siding  with  (  the  neutrals  )  in  the  solemn  war  that  blazes  just  beyond  the  horizon. 

pinterest  !

i  was  gonna  write  a  fancy  nice  intro  but  it  was  taking  too  much  time  so  you  get  this  rambly  mess

if  u  get  adam  parrish  vibez  from  this  intro  thats  …,,  very  valid  sdkfsk  he  is  a  large  character  inspo

from  the  moment  edward  tonks  was  born,  he  was  ted.  just  ted.  it  suited  him  better,  the  scrawny  premature  baby  that  he  was,  born  into  a  family  not  made  of  money,  but  something  that  was  equal  parts  desperation  and  love

ted’s  family  didn’t  have  much,  and  they  had  even  less  when  his  dad  left  their  family  when  ted  was  only  ten  for  a  woman  he’d  been  seeing  on  the  side

suffice  to  say  ted  doesn’t  like  his  father  very  much

so  his  mother  was  left  working  double  shifts  bagging  groceries  at  tesco  to  try  and  provide  for  ted  &  his  younger  sister  nora  (  five  years  younger  than  ted  so  she  was  five  when  their  dad  left,  and  sixteen  now  ),  and  ted  helped  out  as  much  as  he  could

when  ted  was  growing  up,  he  was  a  lot  more  creative  &  idealistic  than  he  is  now.  he  used  to  write  a  lot  especially  !  creative  short  stories,  thoughtful  op-ed  pieces,  tongue-in-cheek  poetry,  drawing  inspiration  from  the  most  unlikely  of  places

he  didn’t  grow  up  in  a  super  wealthy  part  of  dublin,  and  so  his  elementary  school  was  underfunded  and  understaffed,  the  teachers  overworked  and  the  students  unmotivated,  but  ted  was  the  kid  who  everyone  expected  to  make  something  of  himself

he  actually  had  some  of  his  writing  published  in  a  young  authors  collection !  wow  go  ted

anyways  and  then  his  dad  left  and  then  hogwarts  happened  and  ted  had  to  deal  with  all  the  shit  that  comes  from  being  a  lower  class  muggleborn  slytherin  and  he  stopped  writing  as  much

he  kept  his  head  high  though,  proud  and  stubborn  as  fuck,  and  kept  his  hand-me-down  uniform  impeccably  ironed  and  washed  and  folded  neatly  in  his  drawer

ted  is  slytherin  as  Fuck  btw.  like  this  isn’t  me  sorting  him  into  slytherin  for  a  Fun  New  Twist  (  well  it  is  but  also  i  couldn’t  see ted  being  in  any  other  house  )

he  is  ambitious  and  clever  and  self-preserving  and  resourceful  and  competitive  and  charming  and  ruthless  and  family-oriented

now  ted  is  tall  and  serious  and  sharp-edged,  a  far  cry  from  the  sickly  baby  he  once  was,  but  the  name’s  still  stuck.  ted,  a  soft  name  from  a  softer  time.  the  only  hint  there’s  still  remnants  of  whimsy  left  in  this  boy

he  was  chosen  to  be  a  slytherin  prefect  and  wears  the  title  with  pride  !  takes  no  shit  but  does  no  harm.  he  especially  keeps  an  eye  out  for  the  few  other  slytherin  muggleborns  at  hogwarts

i’d  think  he’s  probably  pretty  well  liked  at  hogwarts  –  probably  known  for  keeping  a  level  head  and  a  clever  tongue.  he  knows  how  to  make  people  like  him  & uses  it  to  his  advantage

forgive  and  forget  ?  ted  doesn’t  know  her.  resent  and  remember

we  can  see  the  chip  on  your  shoulder  ted

he’s  considerate  and  warm  but  like  …  he  won’t  go  out  of  his  way  to  stand  up  for  muggle  rights  or  anything.  it’s  that  Politics  Mood  where  no  matter  what  he  does,  it  never  seems  to  make  a  difference.  so  in  typical  slytherin  fashion  he’s  just  focusing  on  himself  now,  aiming  to  get  a  cushy  job  in  the  ministry

little  bit  over-focused  on  money  but  that’s  what  happens  when  you  don’t  grow  up  with  it

like  he’d  absolutely  take  a  lucrative  but  boring  job  he  doesn’t  like  over  a  poorly  paying  job  he  loves  (  right  now  at  least  ).  he’s  cynical  like  that.  do  you  think  he’s  taking  wizarding  law  bc  he  enjoys  it  ?  nah.  it’s  for  those  galleonsss

probably  has  had  at  max  one  serious  relationship,  maybe  a  couple  shorter  flings,  but  ted  is  way  too  focused  on  his  independence  to  be  a  good  boyfriend  tbh

idk  why  but  nfwmb  by  hozier  gives  me  strong  ted  vibes  ?

capricorn  sun  cancer  moon

lawful  neutral  in  the  most  slytherin  way  possible.  this  boy  knows  how  to  find  loopholes

intj  as  fuck  !!  i  gave  him  the  label  the  architect  just  cause  i  was  feeling  it  for  him  and  then  just  now  i  was  like  hm  what  mbti  type  is  ted  ?  he  seems  like  an  intj.  and  lo  and  behold  the  mbti  role  for  intj  is  the  architect

he  likes  tea  but  not  coffee

someone  please  make  him  less  cynical  n  teach  him  there’s  still  good  in  the  world

anyways  this  was  rambly  but  pls  love  him

[overwatch-imagines-hub]

hello! could I request some headcannons for s76, mccree and gabriel reyes (all separate)? so basically reader is a dancer and teaches their SO to dance and it’s rly fluffy? :D thank you for your time and take all the time you need!

Soldier 76

It’ll take a lot to get him interested in the idea

He’s an okay dancer so why does he need to learn any new skills?

He’s old, forgive his pettiness

He’s actually interested in learning when you finally get him to do it though

Asks lots of questions to make sure he’s doing things properly

Concentrates a little too hard on perfect stance and feet placement

He can only partially see so I mean it’s justified

You may have to actually tell him to stop and actually look at you

Have some fun, Jack

When he finally learns a whole dance piece, he’s excited about it

Sometimes around the house he’ll randomly sweep you into one of the dances you taught him

The cockiest little smile present when he surprises you by doing so and/or executes the piece decently

He r e f u s e s to use his new knowledge at events that actually require dancing though

Maybe he’ll use them to polish his old knowledge but he has no plans to perform some fancy swirling dance in front of a bunch of people

He doesn’t want nor does he need the extra attention

McCree

Listen

This man likes to fool people into thinking he can dance

He knows the very fundamental basics

Does a pretty good swing dance the basic cheesy slow dancing that you see in romance movies

He’d be happy to learn some better dancing skills though

Plus, any chance to twirl you around or dip you and give you a smooch is something he’s totally into

He does seriously try though

He just likes to be a goofball during the process

If he notices something in a piece that he already knows, he gets excited and tries to show you what he knows

Even after you teach him some pieces, he insists on working on them longer than necessary

Wants to be perfect for the fancy dancing date he’s gonna take you out to as a thanks for teaching the old dog new tricks

Gabriel Reyes

He’s actually a great dancer himself

The two of you take turns teaching and learning dances from the other

It becomes a quite fun pastime tradition

Going out dancing just to show of your moves to friends and stangers

Dancing around the house becoming more prominent than it already was

Be prepared to be randomly swept into a dance while doing laundry

Somehow always manage to slip a dip and a kiss into the dance, even if it’s nowhere near part of the actual steps

A big, goofy, dance nerd mess