#he says he's quiet but he looks quite hot-tempered lol

[nobody7897]

Does anyone here have a theory that 1006 is also an orphan like me? I thought he was a kid all along despite many theories that he was the factory owner.Now I think I'm not too unreasonable to come up with this hypothesis, but chapter 4 will decide whether it's right or wrong :))

Anyway I still built a human child image for 1006, I called him Oliver :3 He is a 10 year old kid, a smart kid that is hard to find. He has a calm and mature personality compared to other children, he is sometimes considered strange/unfriendly because he rarely smiles or greets anyone. But he's not a bad guy, he just has some emotional expression issues.By the way he hates scientists and knows the truth about the playtime company before he was captured as the 1006th test subject. I will go into him more :)))

[butchcarmy]

Idk if you've written this but can you write about carmy and the reader arguing and he makes her cry? Idk I just feel like thatd be good angst fluff lol

AHH I got carried away as per usual. anyway this is good stuff. wrote a bunch. enjoy!!

word count: 1.3k

tags: traumatized carmy, mentally ill carmy and reader, arguing, language, HURT/COMFORT, ANGST/FLUFF, carmy being a sweetie

Hm…i'm spending a lot of time thinking about the set-up for this. Carmy is a very careful person when it comes to those he’s romantically involved in, but at the same time, he has a hard time controlling his temper when he's in the darkness, as i'll put it. 

here's something awful i think about that i wanna write about. carmy's stressed about work, because of course he is. he's carmy. his head is whirring, spinning with anxiety and self-hatred. i think you're just like him. mentally ill for mentally ill if you will. you're also in a bad mood, and he comes home from The Bear exhausted and keyed up.

“I hate when you push me away like this,” you admit. You've been trying to get him to talk to you since he's been home. Maybe he just needs space, but separation makes you anxious. Especially when he shuts down. 

“I'm sorry that it's so hard for you,” he spits, finally snapping and turning to face you. You've followed him into the dark bedroom, lit only by the harsh moonlight through the window. You flinch. You never quite get used to seeing him like this. 

“I—I just—“ you feel pressure beginning in the back of your eyes. You will it away. “How can I help you if you don’t talk to me?”

“Why do you care so much? Does it make you feel better to take care of someone more fucked up than you?” He snaps, voice raised. His words go down bitter, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. Something in you shatters.

“How could you ask me that?” Your vision’s gone hot and blurry. “I’m your partner. I love you, that’s why I care, you asshole!” You’re stifling sobs. You hate crying in fights like this, but it hurts. You can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Carmy mutters under his breath. He’s gone still in your blurred vision. “Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—“

“That was so fucked up, Carmy.” You move to sit on the bed, trying to wipe your tears away, but they keep coming. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what my problem is.” His remorse has swept away the anger, leaving him quiet before you. He leans down at your knees, hands on your thighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Carmy nods quickly, and he raises a hand to your wet cheeks. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

“I know.” He takes your pain, your anger in its entirety. His other hand brings your knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.“

“Sure sounded like you meant it.” Anger flares up in your chest, hurt and betrayed, but you tamp it down, leaning into his hand cradling his face. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Damnit, Carmy.”

“I know. I know.” He’s still kissing your hand. “You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.” You hate it when he talks like this, because you can tell he really believes it.

“Don’t say that. Please.” 

“But it’s true.” You look down at him in the moonlight, at his sad blue eyes. “I always find ways to hurt you. I…”

“That’s what being in a relationship is, Carm.” You pat the space next to you. “Sit with me?”

“I keep having to remind myself of that.” He sinks into the bed next to you. “I’m so sorry for talking about you like that. Like you’re only doing this out of…I don’t know. Obligation.” He drags a hand across his tired face. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I just, I just think that—that I’m—fuck—“

“Slow down, Carm,” you say quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to force it. I’m listening.” He smiles bitterly at you, and you recognize the love in it easily. He takes in a deep breath before continuing. 

“I still have a hard time believing that anyone cares about me. I can’t even believe that you—love me.” You can practically see the shame rolling off of him in waves. “And it makes me scared.”

“Love is scary, isn’t it?” You say softly. He just nods. “It scares me, too. That’s why I kept pestering you when you got home. I…” You blink quickly. You don’t wanna cry again. “It scares me when I don’t know what you’re thinking. Because…I dunno. It just does.”

“Yeah?” You nod. He has this thoughtful expression that he holds for a moment as he stews on your words. “I didn’t think about it like that. I���m sorry. I think…I think when you kept asking me if I was okay, it…” he sighs, scratches at his temples. “I felt like I was…getting back into a corner. I think.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” You take his hand in yours. “I can see how that must’ve felt really bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that I’m like this. I think—I think it just reminded me of my mom. We would always ask her if she was okay, because she’s fucking crazy, yknow? We didn’t wanna step on her toes. But it turns out we did anyway. And the way I acted just now, I was just like…” He can’t even get the words out. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, voice choked with emotion. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“You tell me everyday. How could I not?” You pull him into a hug, tight and warm, and he instantly wraps his arms around you. “You’re not your mom, Carm. You're nothing like her. Okay?” 

“I don’t wanna be like her,” he whispers. “I don’t wanna be like her.”

“You’re not,” you remind him softly. “And you won’t be.”

Carmy leans back to look at you, but he remains close. His expression is knotted with pain. You run your thumb over his furrowed brow, and it makes his mouth curve upwards in a smile. It’s fleeting, but it was there. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ll try to open up more. Let you know what I’m thinking.”

Suddenly, you think about when you first started dating Carmy. He was so scared to open up to you emotionally, but with gentle prodding, he fell apart instantly. There was a hunger in him to be known by others, to be seen by you, and it scared him to death. You see that same fear in him now, but you also see how much he’s grown since then. You doubt you would’ve been able to have this conversation at all in the first couple months. 

That makes you happy in a way you’re not quite able to word properly.

“Thank you. But I hope you also know I don’t want to force you. I just wanna help. And…” You measure your words carefully. “I’ll try not to let it freak me out so much. Because if you’re not in the mood to talk, I want you to know that’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay. I’d like that. If I don’t want to talk, I’ll just tell you. Instead of…blowing a fuse.” He laughs dryly. 

“I’d like that too.” You let out an exhale of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. “Wow, Carm. Look at us. Communicating!”

“I know.” That makes him laugh for real this time, and you’re laughing too. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I think you could. But I certainly like doing it with you.” His smiles grows wider at that, brimming with affection. 

“Let me make this up to you, baby.” He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep. You let out a little noise when his lips meet yours. 

“Make it up to me?” Carmy’s tongue is on your neck now. Oh. “Aren’t you tired? You—you have work tomorrow—?”

“Don’t care.” You fall back onto the bed, and the blankets deflate under you. You stare up at Carmy, his curls hanging by his face. “You’re more important.”

“Well, if you insist…” You giggle, and your giggles get louder when Carmy pulls up your shirt to blow raspberries against your stomach. “Carmy, quit it—oh—!”

He makes it up to you in full and more by keeping his head between your legs for the rest of the night. By the end of it you can't remember what you were mad about in the first place.

[seraphtrevs]

Hi!

Idk if anyone asked this before, but I really wanna know you opinion on Lalo's tattoo? I thought why they kept it? Is it just because it looks cool or Is it because it fits Lalo? Or no reason behind it all?

I think meaning fits Lalo quite well, but dying to know what do you think!

So this has been sitting in my inbox for months - sorry! 😅 I decided this ask was a great excuse to finally read the Tao Te Ching, which I'd been meaning to do for a long time, so I did that, and then I realized that it will probably take a lifetime to understand it, and maybe it should be less than a lifetime before I answered this ask.

Anyway. I think the real reason they didn't conceal the tattoo was because that would take time and effort better spent elsewhere. It's complete in character for a cartel operative to have a tattoo, so why bother to cover it up?

But that's a boring answer, and I think we can have more fun with it. Because I think you can make a case for this being Lalo's tattoo, not just Tony's. Come, take my hand, and let us indulge in some headcanons~

So let's take a look at it: (I found this on pinterest here, but no artist was credited. If anyone knows who it is, lmk!) ETA - art is by Artmetica - ty @reztruck!

The most prominent aspect is the yin-yang symbol. When he holds his arm palm up, it's staring him straight in the face. That makes it easy for him to look at, maybe as a reminder. So why would Lalo, violent cartel don, get a tattoo of a yin-yang?

My headcanon is that Lalo is a reader. He canonically only gets a couple hours of sleep a night (like - this is literally impossible, but he's kind of an impossible person. maybe it's really a couple more, but let's just say that he gets by on much less sleep than the average joe.) So what's he doing with all that time? There's only so much slithering around you can do in the dead of night. We know he likes to use his quiet time to think, and what better way to come up with stuff to think about than to read?

He's a curious and intelligent person - I'm sure he likes to read on a wide variety of subjects. Maybe when he was a young man, he had some questions about the meaning of it all and went looking for it in books. And maybe he came across a copy of the Tao Te Ching and took it to heart. (Well, not all of it - he is, after all, a violent drug dealer who kills without remorse lol)

I've always attributed Lalo's lack of fear to his psychopathy, which it is for the most part. But psychopathy doesn't entirely explain him, does it? Psychopaths aren't known for their emotional stability, but Lalo rarely loses his cool and seems in a good mood most of the time. It's not that he doesn't ever lose his temper, but he's able to calm down quickly. He's such a go-with-the-flow guy that he even laughed off his own death.

Wu wei is an important concept in Taoism. It's active non-action, or effortless action - instead of forcing your will on the universe, be in tune with it. Go with the flow. And that's pretty much how Lalo operates. Unlike Gus, who has many meticulous plots and never leaves anything up to chance, Lalo jumps in head first and figures things out as he goes. This makes him a good detective - he goes where his leads take him (all the way to Germany sometimes). It also means he's able to adapt quickly to changing circumstances.

For example, when he's spying on the chicken farm in 4x10, he springs into action when he realizes something's up and is almost able to catch Werner. When his house comes under fire in the middle of the night in 5x10, he immediately switches gears and is able to beat a team of assassins single-handedly by going with the flow, effortlessly taking every opportunity as it arises (using the frying pan of hot oil to blind an attacker, using Ciro's body as a shield, doubling back on his attackers to take them by surprise, etc.) When he learns that Gus bugged the phone at the nursing home, he loses his shit for a minute, pulls himself together, and then spots a cockroach, thinks of Jimmy, and he's off on a completely new path, wasting no time second-guessing himself. There's no reason to get too worked up when things don't go your way, because a new way is bound to open itself up to you if you pay attention.

(That's not to say he never plans - for example, he set up his body double in case he ever needed to fake his death. But I think that was probably also a product of wu wei - by random chance he meets a guy who looks a lot like him, and so he thinks "hey this could be useful later.")

So yeah, I definitely think this could be Lalo's tattoo, not just Tony's! It actually explains a lot about his approach to life.

[rosemaryandarsenic]

i’ve been having brain rot about gareth with a big tiddy goth gf, if i had a crumb of headcannons id be so grateful 🙏 however if you could elaborate i’d be dead on the floor

As a big tiddy goth gf myself, I LOVE this. NSFW blurb to follow, Minors DNI!!

HC's Authors note: I go on a rant at the end here lol, but tw: political stuff (human rights!) and talk of mosh pits, NSFW stuff, anger issues.

Personally, I think Gareth would favor more Punk/Lolita Goth types but let's be real, he wouldn't give a fuck as long as you're anti-establishment, anti-Fascist, and like metal. Frankly even the metal part is probably not required lmao.

You two would go to shows together and he'd get so nervous at first if you went into the mosh pit, until he sees you're a little battering ram and just goes absolutely feral.

He'd get you longer necklaces so they fall in between your boobs, maybe he'd let you wear his skull necklace during shows.

Will mark your boobs with hickies so anyone who sees them knows you're taken (and you wear low cut shirts to show it off haha)

Before you all start dating he'd lowkey be scared of you! Till he learns your looks are the complete opposite of your personality which is soft and sweet. He'd also learn real quick that soft girls still bark, especially if they have a temper to match his own, which you do.

Gareth would take you Halloween shopping every year, and plan couples' costumes with you. You have a ritual where instead of watching slashers or horror movies like you normally do, you watch a romcom on Halloween night and eat all your favorite candy.

MATCHING TATTOOS AHHH

Hoping this doesn't sound performative but I'm adding it anyway bc it's important: I like to think that he'd be so supportive of however you choose to express yourself and make sure that he supports bands that are not just good but support good values. I write from my own POV which isn't all-encompassing and I think it's super important to acknowledge if it doesn't fit who you are there's still space for you <3 I'm talking about feminist Gareth, Gareth with a Muslim gf who loves how you match your hijab to his vest, Gareth who decolonizes and votes to protect women and POC, BLM protest Gareth, gay rights Gareth, Gareth who decorates his GF's mobility aid and makes pronoun pins for the band. I mention all this specifically because this "stuff" is a huge part of the goth culture (it built it really) and I think he'd be very passionate about it. I know I write smut lol, but good relationships don't require sex and I think he'd be an excellent BF who'd respect those boundaries and would care about what you believe in and his own belief system.

THE BLURB

TW: Mentions of alcohol, boob luge, and shitty yt supremacy bands (I have beef with so many thrash metal bands). As usual, all characters are above the age of 18.

It's like 12:30 in the morning, and you're at Eddie's trailer with the older gang. Robin's in the corner talking to Nancy, Jeff is playing video games with Eddie, and you're in the kitchen listening to Steve and Gareth argue about music. It's hot, and your eyeliner is running as you rummage through the fridge looking for a cold beer, or literally anything to chase the shot you'd just taken.

"I'm telling you, Steve Miller band is so much better than that slasher band-" Steve says, completely getting cut off by your boyfriend.

"Slayer, it's SLAYER. That's not even who I'm talking about!" Gareth grumbles, "they have too much Nazi shit, I'm talking about fucking bands like Quiet Riot. They're revolutionizing music, you can't discredit that."

"Discredit? Man, they're brutalizing rock -" Steve cuts off again as you slam the fridge door.

"Will you two quit it? Steve's a jock Gareth, youre not gonna convince him to listen to metal, especially thrash." You groan, leaning against the counter. "He's no fun."

"Exactly," Steve says, throwing his hands up in the air. "Also, I AM fun, I have plenty of good music to listen to already." He emphasizes the good, making Gareth groan irritatedly.

"What? You think I'm boring?" Steve yells, "Eddie would you say I'm boring?"

"YES." Robin, Nancy, and Eddie reply together without even looking over.

"Jesus," Steve mumbles, "here, let me prove it."

Steve leans in and whispers something in your ear, as Gareth watches smugly, arching an eyebrow as you grin at what Steve is asking you to do. It's a party trick, one you've seen him do in high school, and you're just tipsy enough to play along.

"That's actually kind of metal." You giggle.

"What?" Gareth asks, staring at the two of you as Steve hands you a bottle of jack off the counter. "What're you two talking about?"

"Nuh huh," Steve laughs, "Y/N here is going to be able to explain it much better than I can."

You laugh again as you motion for Gareth to come to you and pull off the sliced-up T-shirt you have over your bra. Gareth's eyes get wide, despite the fact that everyone here could give less of a shit at your indecency.

"What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?" Gareth asks, in front of you now.

"The Harrington special, babe." You answer, winking. "You've never seen it?"

Gareth shakes his head as Steve laughs, "You're about to!"

You pull your boyfriend's face in with one hand and hold the liquor bottle in the other hand.

"All you have to do is stick your face in those lovely boobs of hers and open your mouth," Steve instructs, earning a glare from Gareth at the compliment to your anatomy.

"C'mere baby," you laugh, and Gareth complies, leaning into your chest as he starts to realize what you're going to do. You carefully pour a shot onto your boobs, the alcohol pooling between your cupped breasts and trickling down into his mouth. He laps it up, giving you a dark look as his tongue runs up from below your bra to your collar bone. Fucking christ that's hot.

You'd momentarily forgotten Steve was there as he hollers, "Would a lame person be able to do that?"

You giggle, "You're not doing shit, Harrington."

"Yeah well, not this time Y/L/N, I think your boyfriend would fucking kill me." he laughs, as Gareth nods.

"Touch her tits and you're dead, Steve." He laughs, pulling back and giving you a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll give you like, one notch above lame for teaching her that." He winks at you, and they go back to debating as you pull your shirt back over your shoulders. You were definitely going to pay for that later.

[zhuzhudushu]

Chinese Vocab - Dream Guys/Girls

Here's the new vocabulary I learned in Yoyo Chinese's "Dream Guys" and "Dream Girls" levels. So these have good adjectives you can use to describe people's appearances and personalities!

For reference, this is Yoyo Chinese's Intermediate Conversational Course, Level 3, Unit 30-33!

Vocab:

长得 / zhǎng de / to look like (followed by adj), replaces 很 for physical descriptions

皮肤 / pí fū / skin

肌肉 / jī ròu / muscles (not to be confused with chicken meat, lol)

娘娘腔/ niáng niáng qiāng / effeminate; insult toward guys, similar to saying "sissy boy" or "pretty boy"

瓜子脸 / guā zǐ liǎn / melon seed shaped/oval face

高鼻子 / gāo bí zǐ / prominent nose

比较 / bǐ jiào / to compare, relatively, quite

美女 / měi nǚ / beautiful girl; can be interchanged 女生，女孩子，小姐

勤劳 / qín láo / diligent, hard-working

能干 / néng gàn / capable (literally: to be able to do)

幽默 / yōu mò / humor, funny

幽默感 / yōu mò gǎn / sense of humor

脾气 / pí qì / temperament, temper (发脾气 - lose temper)

才 / cái / talent (this has many definitions)

善良 / shàn liáng / nice, kind

同情 / tóng qíng / sympathy, compassion (literally: same feeling)

孝顺 / xiào shùn / the chinese concept of "filial piety", to be obedient toward parents

诚实 / chéng shí / honesty, honest

可靠 / kě kào / reliable (literally: able to be leaned upon)

靠谱 / kào pǔ / reliable, reasonable

大方 / dàn fāng / generous

小气 / xiǎo qì / stingy (direct opposite of 大方)

另外 / lìng wài / moreover, additionally (interchangeable with 而且)

懂得生活 / dǒng dé shēng húo / enjoy and live life to fullest

独立 / dú lì / independent, independence

性格 / xìng gé / personality, temperament, disposition

随和 / suí hé / easygoing, amiable

安静 / ān jìng / quiet, peaceful, calm

温柔 / wēn róu / soft & gentle (classic Chinese woman/femininity)

贤惠 / xián huì / worthy, virtuous (classic Chinese woman/femininity)

开朗 / kāi lǎng / outgoing, extroverted

外向 / wài xiàng / extroverted

内向 / nèi xiàng / introverted

Sentence Examples Below the Cut~

你喜欢什么样的女孩子？ What kind of girls do you like?

我喜欢皮肤好的，而且长得白的女生。I like girls with good skin and also very pale*.

Note: Saying "white/black" (白/黑) in Chinese to refer to skin color is not the same as English. White indicates pale, and black indicates tan. It's not referring to race.

我比较喜欢长头发的。 I prefer (literally: more/quite like) girls with long hair.

又高又瘦的女生。Tall and thin girls.

我比较喜欢大眼美女。I prefer girls with big eyes. / I prefer "big eyed beauties."

最好是瓜子脸高鼻子。The best are "oval faced" and "prominent nose".

Note: another common face type is 鹅蛋脸 (é dàn liǎn) - goose egg face, but 瓜子脸 is seen as the most beautiful.

我想找到一个懂得生过的，另外也还很独立的。I want to find (a girl who) really enjoys life, and also is independent.

我希望找性格随和的，���后很安静的那种。I hope to find an easygoing (girl), and a quiet type.

温柔贤惠的。A soft/gentle and kind girl. (The classic, perfect Chinese wife)

我希望找一个性格开朗一点的，不喜欢太内向的。 I hope to find (a girl who's) a little more outgoing, I don't like introverted (girls).

你希望找一个什么样的男生？What kind of man are you hoping to find?

只要是长得帅的我都喜欢。As long as he's handsome, I like any (guy).

我喜欢又高又帅的。I like tall and handsome (guys).

我喜欢有肌肉的那种。I like the kind (of guys) who have muscles.

别太娘娘腔就行了。 As long as he's not too feminine then it's okay.

勤劳能干，还有幽默感的。 Hard-working, capable, and has a sense of humor.

本来我就爱发脾气，所以我想找一个脾气好的。I'm hot-tempered by nature, so I want to find (a guy) who has a good temperament.

善良的，有同情心的。(A guy who's) kind and has a compassionate heart.

有才的男生。A talented guy.

我希望找一个孝顺父母，诚实可靠的。I hope to find (a man) who's obedient to his parents, honest, and reliable.

靠谱点(儿)的。One who's a little more reliable.

大方的。A generous one.

你是的性格外向的还是内向的？Are you an extrovert or introvert?

我的性格是内向。My personality is introverted.

我的性格是外向。My personality is extroverted.

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section

(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)

First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol

Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.

Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3

Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters

Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3

From best to worst:

#1: BadBoyHalo-

Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.

He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?

His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.

While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.

Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.

(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this- 

The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it, 

“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.

“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap. 

“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George. 

And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon. 

“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)

#2: Philza 

Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.

Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.

He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.

He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).

(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?” 

When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail. 

“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.” 

It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)

#3: Quackity-

Quackity:

Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.

He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.

He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon  minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!

As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.

(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea. 

You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens. 

He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)

#4: Schlatt-

Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.

During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.

Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.

He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.

Overall, a good 4th place on the list.

(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head. 

“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Schlatt.” 

“Yes.” 

The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently. 

You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look. 

“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)

#5: Dream-

Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.

He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.

Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).

To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.

Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.

One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)

(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy. 

It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm. 

His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)

#6: Technoblade-

Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.

6th place ^^; sorry king.

He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.

Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.

He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.

As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.

(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you. 

You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races. 

“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.” 

Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him. 

“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.” 

He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)

#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.

Fundy- 

Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.

He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.

Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)

Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.

7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.

(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly. 

The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument. 

He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday. 

So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying. 

You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was. 

Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)

Sapnap-

Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.

Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.

He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.

Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.

(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking. 

At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets. 

“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper. 

“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed. 

“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.” 

You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant. 

Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)

#8. George-

Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.

He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.

To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…

(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it. 

It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth. 

Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)

#9: Wilbur

Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.

You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”

Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.

With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.

(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur. 

“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively. 

“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?” 

“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!” 

You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)

// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3

[starculler]

Lead Me Down Another Road (preview)

Word Count: 2975

I fell into a minor rabbit hole and stand before you now with a scrap from the Crèchemaster Anakin AU I'm working on. The full fic is a few thousand words longer than this (and will go up on ao3 within the week), but this is technically the original bit I'd planned on writing (and is thus self-contained enough that I'm comfortable posting it alone here. As a treat). Hope y'all enjoy it and the glimpse of at least one of several Jedi OCs I've been having to come up with for this lol Note: I'm using crèche-minder in place of crèchemaster because it fits a little better with how I've set up the role in the au -- the particulars of which will be explored in the full fic.

Anakin stood from where he’d sat among the younglings in Targon Clan when he caught sight of his master standing just inside the room, all ten pairs of eyes straying from their painting to watch him stretch. He grimaced briefly at the splotches of bright paint he could already see on his tunic and pants, but made it a point to smile at a scowling nautolan making a grab at his ankle. He shuffled back, just out of reach, and had to dodge another two pairs of eager, sticky fingers with a put-upon sigh that failed to fully mask his amusement. It was the same song and dance every time he was sent to Knight D’nali for crèche-duty, and he’d long gotten wise to the initiates’ tricks.

What made today’s game of Catch-the-Padawan novel was Obi-Wan’s presence hovering at the edges of Anakin’s focus. His master hadn’t come to collect him like this since his first few weeks, confident that Anakin would neither get lost on his way to and from the crèche, nor try to dodge his punishment after that awful first and final attempt. He shuddered at the memory even as he leaped nimbly over a pair of near-humans who’d thought to tackle him from behind. He laughed when they turned, eyes wide and betrayed for a moment before trying for a frontal attack.

He dodged, weaving between ten tiny, determined younglings — baiting them with the promise of his capture before stepping just out of reach once more — until he hit something solid from behind. He blinked, stunned for a second and sure that he’d had enough space still to maneuver around, only to yelp when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him off his feet with an ease that spoke of more than a little help from the Force.

“Master!” He groaned, his protest drowned out by mixed cheering and jeering from Targon Clan and their minder’s own loud laughter. Anakin shot Knight D’nali as much of a betrayed look as he could while caught, but the traitor only laughed harder. He huffed.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, grinning and smug and just as much of a traitor as the kiffar knight, “it seems I’ve won a prize to take back with me. A whole padawan all for myself.” A chorus of “No’s” and groaning followed the statement, and Anakin, face warmer than it had been a minute ago, suddenly found the floor much more interesting than a gaggle of disappointed initiates. Obi-Wan, still being a traitor, only laughed.

“Alright, alright. Settle down now,” Knight D’nali interrupted, wading into the chaos so she stood between them and the younglings. “Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have other duties to attend to, and you little Jedi have a latemeal to prepare for.”

With only a mild amount of protest, the little ones acquiesced. In true, and still vaguely eerie to Anakin, Jedi fashion, they bowed in sync, calling out a discordant mix of goodbyes and thank yous. Anakin nodded in return, starting to wriggle in his master’s grip in a futile attempt to free himself. Obi-Wan held fast even after two of the younglings, a zabrak and the same nautolan who’d first tried to grab onto him, crept around Knight D’nali to hand him four sheets of flimsi splattered with a variety of bright, clashing paint.

He sighed, resigned to the embarrassment of being gifted their paintings under the too-amused gazes of both knights, and murmured a quiet “Thanks” that made the pair smile so wide he thought their faces might split. Their obvious happiness made something warm bubble up in his chest and his hand tingle where flimsi met skin. It was hardly the first time one of the younglings in any of the clans he frequented had given him something small like this to take back with him — he had a wall in his room dedicated to doodles and paintings and a corner set aside, free of his usual clutter, for knickknacks and crafts — but the shock and awe and tingling warmth it left in him never wore off.

Anakin’s gifts had never lied with children. His temper ran too hot and he never quite knew what to say to anyone his age, much less younger than him. It had, in fact, taken months of constant supervision, patience, and teaching from the crèche-minders who’d agreed to take on his crèche-duty punishments for him to build up any sort of rapport with the little ones under their care. It had been hard and frustrating, but ultimately rewarding, work even if it had been borne out of his master’s own frustrated desperation.

The arm around his waist squeezed briefly, and Anakin had to fight down yet another burning flush when he realized Obi-Wan had most likely noticed where his thoughts had wandered. He floundered for something to say or do, but settled for a heavy sigh that drew a brief chuckle from his master.

“I apologize again for stealing Anakin back so early, Knight D’nali,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin could picture the apologetic smile on his face as he spoke.

“No need,” said Knight D’nali, smiling just enough that the wrinkles in her eyes and the upward pull of her cheeks distorted the two, bright red tattoos — one line the width of her thumb and the other no more than half a centimeter — cutting vertically down from hairline to jaw over her right eye. “I may be getting older, but I remember well enough how busy a padawan’s life can be.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin groused and earned himself a huff from his master and a bark of laughter from Knight D’nali.

“That’s sweet of you padawan, but the gray in my hair tells another story. And not another word about it,” she said the second Anakin opened his mouth. “There’ll be no buttering up this old knight. I told you, if you’re back here in less than a week I will sit this clan down for a four-hour meditation at least. Force knows your master certainly won’t object.”

“Yes Knight D’nali,” he said in the dull tone every chastised padawan seemed to affect, much to Targon Clan’s delight if their stifled giggling was any indication. Knight D’nali simply nodded, satisfied. Obi-Wan, again, laughed.

“And on that note, we’ll be taking our leave now. Knight D’nali.” Obi-Wan bowed as well as he could with an armful of padawan still pinned against him. “Targon Clan.” He offered the still-giggling younglings a much shallower bow. “May the Force be with you,” he said, echoed only a moment after by Anakin, before turning on his heel and striding out into the hall.

Anakin wriggled again and said: “Master, you can put me down now.” Obi-Wan hummed but didn’t so much as slow down until Anakin huffed, rolled his eyes, and added an only somewhat petulant “Please.”

It took him a moment to find his balance when Obi-Wan suddenly let go, but soon enough he was keeping pace with his master, just shy of being at the knight’s side. They walked in silence, past the doors to other clans of exuberant younglings and down the almost confusing pattern of turns that made up the Temple’s Crèche. It was, he knew, meant to be confusing so that intruders would have a harder time reaching the Jedi’s most vulnerable members on the off chance they made it through the Temple, guards, and every Jedi in between. He also knew that Obi-Wan was purposefully leading him through the longest route rather than the faster shortcuts one of the other crèche-minders, a young pantoran knight he’d only met with a few times so far, had taught him.

They nodded at the pair of guards stationed at the Crèche’s primary entrance once they’d finally made it through, and again to any Jedi they passed along the main corridor. Anakin glanced curiously at his master when he led them not towards the dormitory or refectory, but instead toward the salles and meditation rooms. He pursed his lips, unsure if it was a good or bad sign.

The salles meant lightsaber practice — Anakin’s favorite — but he doubted they’d stop there. He had, after all, been in the crèche because he’d let his temper get the best of him again, and Obi-Wan had made a point of steering Anakin away from as many potentially aggressive outlets as he could until he was sure Anakin was cool-headed. That didn’t stop him, however, from reaching for the lightsaber on his belt, shiny and still new considering he’d only just built it less than half a year ago. The trip to Ilum had been terrifying and exciting in equal measure, just the two of them instead of waiting for the next crèche clan’s planned gathering. It still awed him sometimes, to brush the warm, steel cylinder and find it there or to sit and listen to his crystal’s song virtually anytime he wanted.

It was a scrap of undeniable proof that he was a Jedi. That, late-comer or not, he belonged here just as much as any other padawan or knight.

Obi-Wan slowed, looking back at Anakin with the kind of unbearably soft, caring smile that told him his master had probably felt where his thoughts had gone. He held an arm out and Anakin hesitated a moment at the familiar invitation, torn between embarrassed frustration and elation at being invited close in a fairly public space, before stepping up so he was beside rather than behind Obi-Wan. He stiffened when Obi-Wan put an arm around his shoulder, but relaxed before his master could even think about pulling away. Anakin pressed into his side, deciding that, right now, eleven-nearly-twelve wasn’t too old for the show of affection, and just about melted when Obi-Wan’s arm shifted to briefly squeeze his shoulder.

His vain hope for the salles was, of course, dashed as they walked passed to duck into one of the smaller, unoccupied meditation rooms. Despite not wanting to complain, Anakin couldn’t completely stifle a sigh as he took in the room: bland, small, and box-shaped, with a few colorful cushions laid out and more stacked against the walls with a few other types of seating for those who might need it. Obi-Wan flashed him a quick smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go and settling on an older-looking, dark blue cushion. Anakin breathed in, held it for a count of four, and breathed out in an effort to brace himself for the ensuing lecture or meditation he was sure to suffer. He picked up a red cushion from the far wall, calling it to his hands with the Force, and sat himself down in front of his master, close enough that their knees almost touched. Then, he waited.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started after they’d sat in silence for a few tranquil-bordering-on-nerve-wracking minutes, their slow, even breathing the only sound in the room. Anakin met his master’s gaze, shifting slightly as a small kernel of icy unease sprang to life in the pit of his stomach. “You’re not in trouble, Padawan.” Obi-Wan smiled, still soft. Still caring. Anakin frowned.

“You don’t usually bring me here unless I am.”

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” He seemed to speak mostly to himself, brow furrowed and a wry twist to his lips, like he’d found something funny. Anakin cocked his head to one side, watching as Obi-Wan breathed deeply a few times like he was trying to center himself. Or, a traitorous part of his mind whispered, bracing himself. Anakin squirmed in place, hardly daring to breathe himself as the unease in his stomach grew a fraction larger. “I’ve been talking to a few of the crèche-minders you’ve been working with.” Anakin swallowed, thoughts flitting towards the many mistakes he’d made the last few months and especially at first. “They’ve given you rather glowing reviews if I do say so myself,” he said, a small but pleased curl in his lips. And Anakin—

Anakin blinked.

“Really?” he asked, and wished the question hadn’t come out quite so bewildered. His master grinned and Anakin swore there was pride gleaming somewhere in his eyes.

“Really. They’ve enjoyed having you there. Knight D’nali says you have an uncanny ability for distraction,” Obi-Wan teased. Anakin stuck his tongue out and earned himself a bark of laughter. “Master Benni,” he continued, sobering once more, “made an interesting suggestion when I spoke to him last week. I—” Obi-Wan stopped. Inhaled.

“Master?”

A fine tremor had started in Anakin’s hands at some point. Excitement at first, quickly drowned out by a fresh wave of nerves. He’d once thought, at first, that Tatooine would drown in rain the day Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t have a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. A nearly three-year partnership with the knight had broken the facade a bit by now, but the sight of Obi-Wan struggling to put his thoughts together unnerved Anakin even after his master smiled reassuringly, reaching forward to clasp one of Anakin’s hands between both of his.

“There are many paths to becoming a Jedi, as I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Guardians, Council members, diplomats, teachers … crèche-minders,” he said, emphasizing the last. Anakin’s breath caught, eyes wide as the implication sunk slowly in.

“Did— Did Master Benni,” Anakin started, strangled and halting. Obi-Wan nodded. “But—But I’m horrible with younglings! I’ve made so many mistakes. I—”

“You are learning, Anakin. No one expects you to be perfect at anything. Much less in dealing with younglings.” Anakin opened his mouth. Closed it. Floundered in his incomprehension until—

“Are you … Are you getting rid of me?” he asked, voice suddenly small and hurt. He turned his hand in Obi-Wan’s grip, wrapping his smaller fingers around his master’s wrist as if he would disappear from Anakin’s sight at any moment.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly, one of his thumbs stroking the back of Anakin’s hand. “You are my padawan, Anakin, and I will never abandon you.” Obi-Wan paused there, earnest and scorching in his focus until Anakin nodded, more numb than anything else at the moment. Satisfied, his master continued: “But I do think that this is a good opportunity for you.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down to their hands and then back up, meeting Anakin’s once more, steady and confident and calm. “You’ve changed a little since you’ve been around the crèches. I can see a confidence in you that wasn’t there before, and better control. Not just with the Force, though I’ve no doubt entertaining younglings for hours has done wonders.” Anakin flushed, fuzzy warmth buzzing in his chest at the praise.

“You feel things — everything — so strongly, Anakin, and I fear I’ve not been able to help you much in that regard.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Obi-Wan held a hand up for silence and settled for a quiet pout instead, much to his master’s amusement.

“I appreciate your faith in me,” he said with a nod, “and I do not doubt that you would learn a lot at my side alone. But I’m coming to realize where you might need more than I am able to give, not because I don’t want to. Force knows I’d do whatever I could to help you, Anakin, but there are simply things I won’t be able to understand. Haven’t been able to understand,” he added and Anakin frowned at the brief, bitter note he could pick out in his master’s tone. “Master Benni’s offer has as much to do with your potential as it does with your connection to both the initiates and their minders. I— We think it’s something you should consider, despite how it’s likely not the path you first envisioned for yourself.

“You will still be my padawan, always,” he said and squeezed Anakin’s hand to reinforce the sentiment, “but you would split your time between myself and a rotating number of the crèche’s minders under Master Benni’s supervision. You’ll be busy, and kept in the Temple more often than not even if I’m sent out on missions. It may cut into your classes or lightsaber training, in which case you’ll have to work harder to keep up, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that you could do it.”

Anakin nodded, mind whirling and thoughts spinning. There was more Obi-Wan wanted to say, he could tell, but Anakin was grateful for the lull granted to him to gather his thoughts.

“I—” Anakin swallowed, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. He held his master’s wrist a fraction tighter. “Can I think about it?” He winced at how his voice cracked, but Obi-Wan only nodded, smile still firmly in place.

“Of course. You don’t have to decide on anything until you’re ready. Master Benni made it quite clear to me that the offer is open to you whenever you wish to take it, whether that time is now or after you’ve been knighted.”

Anakin blinked, balking at the magnitude of not only the offer, but the old Master’s apparent faith in him, even as the buzzing warmth from earlier threatened to consume him fully now. He felt a fresh flush rise on his cheeks and a sheen of stinging tears prick at his eyes, held back by sheer force of will because he refused to waste the water just yet. Slowly, carefully, Obi-Wan squeezed his hand before leaning forward, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Anakin’s outer tunic. When he pulled, Anakin went as easily as he used to into his mother’s arms, overwhelmingly grateful for the contact just then.

“I’ll think about it, Master,” he mumbled into Obi-Wan’s robes, his face pressed into his master’s chest. “Thanks.”

Obi-Wan only hummed in response, tucking Anakin close and rubbing soothing circles into his back while Anakin clutched at him in return.

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

70 Fred Weasley headcanons in celebration of 700 followers:

(plus an extra one, for the heck of it lmao) 

You guys, thank you so much for 700 followers! I appreciate every single one of you and writing for the twins has been such a blast so far, much to the thanks of all of you <3 

Find the 70 George Headcanons: Here

Fred has always been really good at sleight of hand stuff, as a kid, he could do card tricks with ease, steal baked goods from his mother’s kitchen and later on since his allowance wasn’t exactly anything to brag about, he’d steal sweets from honeydukes' on Hogsmeade trips, with the help of George, he’s not proud of it but in his defence, he was a stupid teenage boy at the time. 

Fred is incredibly competitive and will hold onto anything you challenge him to for way longer than you might think. He’s definitely the type to “race you” anytime you’re headed to herbology, care against magical creatures or Hogsmeade together.

As the man himself said in the deathly hallows, Fred doesn’t like the idea of a big grandiose wedding ceremony, he’d prefer something more low-key and simple, where the focus is more on having fun and celebrating instead of neat seating plans and meticulously chosen decorations. Some flowers and booze will do, he’ll provide the fireworks - In essence, he only needs his S/O and the rest he couldn’t care less about. 

George may be better at cooking, but Fred makes a damn good pancake and he will forever pride himself on that. 

Fred is the more jealous, overprotective twin. He’s aware of this and tries his best not to let it go to his head but he can’t help it. 

Fred snores, I’m pretty sure it’s canon that both twins snore, but Fred is louder and, as mentioned in my last headcanon post, a very heavy sleeper meaning it’s more difficult to get him to wake up so he can stop, your best shot is trying (and probably failing) to turn him over. 

Fred is also a very restless sleeper, he’ll toss and turn, and occasionally dream about quidditch. I’m saying you might want to be aware that he might confuse you for a bludger in his sleep, don’t worry though, he’ll always apologise profusely and make it up to you with a lot of kisses (and maybe a bit more than that, if you’re keen ;)) 

Fred has an extensive caffeine addiction, which is unfortunate cause he’s quite hyper already but he can’t function properly until he gets his coffee in the morning, and then again in between lessons/at lunch and then again late in the afternoon. Sometimes, if he needed to write an essay that was due, he’d drink coffee at like nine pm. He knows he won’t be able to sleep because of it, please, Y/n, he’s accepted his fate. 

I personally always imagined the twins as having ADHD, idk why it just fits their characters. Fred is for sure the more outwardly fidgety and intrusive, this gets less and less with age, as it does for a lot of ADHD people, his inability to focus remains the same though. 

Fred loves being outside, he’s the first of the Weasley siblings to suggest a game of quidditch or just going outside for walks, hide and seek in the woods near their house. He absolutely loves taking his dates on walks in parks or at the beach and when he has kids he plays with them in their yard, building snowmen etc. 

Fred probably suggests at some point that the whole family should go camping, and he’s actually really fun to camp with. He’ll tell the best scary stories by the campfire. 

In regards to children, Fred wants a lot of kids. Like at least three but would be willing to have more if his s/o wants to. He just really likes the dynamic of a large family since that’s what he’s used to. 

Fred’s favourite flavour of sweets is anything sour, the sourer the better, because of this he can handle it really well and he loves handing people some of his ridiculously sour candy and watching them squirm. 

He also really likes spicy food, he’s a bit of a daredevil so don’t challenge him to eat anything because he will eat a whole chilli and nearly die. 

 You know he’d be really casual about it too, lol, like sweating and crying but just leaning on the counter like “*pant* what? hot? no not at all *deeeeep breath* I can ha-aw-rdly taste it!” 

One thing about Fred is that he’s oddly squeamish, like seeing his brother’s ear blown off isn’t so bad (if you don’t take into account the emotional trauma that is), but a needle for a blood sample or a vaccine? oooh, he’s gonna need a big juice box and a cookie and his s/o’s hand to hold if he’s gonna make it through. He also has a thing about leeches. One time at Hogwarts they were mentioned in a lesson and he thought he was going to faint the entire time. 

Fred’s broken five bones over the years, four are from quidditch: his left arm and two ribs, and then the other arm from trying to do an elaborate stunt on the stairs in the burrow and falling down two flights. 

Fred loves to sing karaoke (because I cannot get that damn clip of James singing karaoke out of my head) though he particularly enjoys doing a very poor job on purpose. 

Fred is such a good liar that on several occasions he’s given presentations in school and gotten good marks for them despite having bullshat his way through the entire thing. 

Like seriously, he’s that guy in the group project who only looks at the slides like five minutes before the presentation and then just turns on a full charming newscaster voice on the professor to the point of them being genuinely convinced (albeit a little confused) that what Fred’s saying is true. 

This is also why Fred loves playing card games like poker: he’s really good at bluffing. 

Speaking of poker-face, he’s really quite good at teasing in public (if you’re into that sort of thing *wink*) because no matter the dirty deeds he might get up to under a table, his face remains as regular as always (safe for a little smirk to his lover every now and then) 

Fred always wanted to learn an instrument, he thought it’d make him cooler when he was a teenager, as an adult, he just really wants to recreate that clip of the trombone-playing dad with the sunglasses, or maybe serenade some cows with jazz or something. 

Fred was never a big fan of the uniform thing, so he always tried to make it his own, whether that be tying the tie differently, or having his sleeves rolled up; it’s not much but you gotta take what you can get when you’re literally dressed the same as everyone else. 

Fred might make fun of his dad’s interest in muggle things but secretly he loves it too. He has spent a lot of hours in the shed with Arthur, assuring everyone that it was just to have some quality time with his dad but he would still pay close attention when Arthur explained things to him. 

Fred had a whole business of selling candy from Honeydukes’ and joke products from Zonko’s to second and first years before he and George started dabbling with their own products, he could get you a butterbeer too but it’ll cost you an extra three galleons. 

Fred really likes glitter, George has a thing for lace, anything that glitters on his s/o makes Fred weak. If you want to get your way just put on some glittery eyeshadow or lipgloss and watch him spin. 

Since he loves things that glitter and gleam he loves buying his s/o jewellery, he loves seeing them wearing them as little tokens of their relationship. 

Did someone say slight possession kink? oops not me

Fred is incredible with numbers, this is pretty much canon and has been explored but I’m just amazed at this boy’s wit AND intellect. I have a slight headcanon that if he ever goes on a proper first date with someone where a bill is involved, he impresses his date by calculating the tip after just a glance.

Even if Fred has a longstanding reputation of not caring about school, when he has kids he does want to help them with any coursework over the summer and Christmas breaks, he’ll even study up on his old books just to be able to help out in any classes he didn’t take/didn’t pay attention in. 

Fred would, in general, be an amazing father. He’s goofy and playful most of the time, though he’s serious and incredibly caring whenever his kids are in a bad mood or have problems. He knows that he’s not the most outwardly emotional of the twins but he makes sure his kids know they can always talk to him about anything. 

Fred is incredibly messy. His room is usually a cry for help and he only cleans it when it gets to the point where it distracts him from focusing on work. 

No worries though, his S/O doesn’t have to do all the housework for him, he’ll do it. He just needs to be reminded that he needs to every once in a while. 

Fred has a really bad temper, he doesn’t know where he gets it from but he tends to get angry easier than George, though Fred is better at letting it out so it doesn’t continue to bother him. 

His bad temper does mean that he used to brawl more with siblings as a kid, and it wasn’t unusual to see him with scrapes and bruises as a kid, much to Molly’s dismay. Fred didn’t mind though, he thought it made him look tough. 

Fred is more likely to get caught sneaking around because of his brash nature, he tends to forget just how quiet you have to be to avoid Mrs Norris in the corridors. 

Fred is certainly not an early bird but his favourite time of day is, in fact, the morning when the sun’s coming up. He only knows this because of Wood’s ridiculously early quidditch practices but there’s something about the way the world looks when it’s bathed in soft golden light that just hits different to Fred. 

Fred is a great team player, as much as he seems like he’s more selfish than George, if it’s regarding a team activity (like quidditch or a battle of sorts) he’ll completely lose all focus on himself and only try to ensure other’s safety and victory. This is also why he plays as a beater, he’s not afraid of getting hit at all when he’s focused on getting the bludgers away from his teammates. 

So if his s/o ever needs it, he’ll be there to help with anything: Needs to take a day off from work to take care of his sick s/o? no problem. Needs to stay up with his small child because his s/o is exhausted and needs rest? On it. Something as small as carrying groceries or books, making a cup of tea when the other is busy or doing the dishes is all on the list of things that Fred will happily do for his s/o, and often without having to be asked, he’ll just do it. 

Fred’s boggart is seeing his family members and/or his s/o hurt beyond what he can save. Essentially his worst fear is being helpless when he needs it most. 

One of those times was when George lost his ear. The first night when George was lying practically unconscious on the couch with blood everywhere was the worst night of Fred’s life, he truly felt so anxious and helpless and angry that he vomited and ended up passing out next to the couch after staying up till sunrise watching his brother like a hawk. 

He didn’t just sleepwalk when he was younger, he also often experienced nightmares, it’s only George, Molly and Arthur who remembers anything about this. 

They got less and less the older he got and he assumed that he’d never be bothered by them again until after the second wizarding war and the battle of Hogwarts. 

I don’t like to headcanon that he dies cause he didn’t and that’s final lol. I do, however, headcanon that Fred still gets hurt, since everyone in the explosion beside him seemed to sustain minor injuries, I just think that to even out with George losing his ear, he hurts his leg and needs a lot of retraining/a walking stick. I think that’d be a more fair/unfair ending for Fred who’s always full of energy having to have to adjust to living slowly for a little while (not permanently, I couldn’t do that to my boy). 

The boy has anxiety sometimes, ok. (just let me project for a second)

He didn’t know how much tension he usually holds in his body until he drank alcohol for the first time and felt his entire body loosen up and was like “huh this is new.” 

He doesn’t use alcohol to deal with it though, he prefers just talking to George about whenever he feels is stressing him out and that helps. A massage from his s/o to loosen him up doesn’t hurt either. 

Fred prefers to talk to his dad about his problems more than he prefers to talk to Molly, generally. 

His favourite body parts on his s/o: Shoulders, hips, hands. 

He loves to kiss, just in general, but he also loves kissing his s/o’s nose, forehead, neck, shoulder, etc. as little gestures of affection. 

He def. has a bit of a size kink, he loves being taller than his s/o. 

If Fred could have any pet he wanted, he’d probably want a dog, the bigger the better. He doesn’t think he has the time for a pet though. 

It was his idea to start breeding pygmy puffs, it’s the closest he’ll get to having a pet. 

I don’t know why but I feel like when Fred and his s/o are expecting and his s/o goes into labour he just panics. loses it, drops the binkie as we say in Denmark: Freaks the fuck out, if you will. He’s definitely the pacing and wringing his hands together type, though he probably tries his best to keep himself composed and chill during the whole thing whilst simultaneously hyperventilating. 

Fred doesn’t cry often but he sure as hell wept with pride when he held all his kids for the first time. 

Despite the notion that the twins often slip in a joke version of a sweet treat or something similar amongst the snacks at parties, Fred is strongly against tampering with drinks. He knows the connotations it holds and he doesn’t want anyone to be afraid they’d put something in it. If he wants you to test out their truth serum or a love potion, he’ll just ask you flat out and if you don’t want to, he’s not going to continue asking. 

Most of the detentions Fred has gotten from Snape come from times he’s spoken back to him when Snape’s been giving another student a rough time. He doesn’t regret it one bit. 

 If you ask Fred what his proudest accomplishment is, he’ll probably say that it’s having had enough restraint to not punch Umbridge in the face every time he saw her. 

On the note of Umbridge. It wasn’t her detentions with him that got his blood boiling, it was when she punished little kids (a la Nigel) for doing practically nothing, he understands that to an extent and by comparison, setting off a bunch of fireworks inside a building would harbour a harsher punishment, but making twelve-year-olds bleed for running in the halls or playing music or just doing things that twelve-year-olds will inevitably do, is something Fred doesn’t understand. That year pretty much any kid younger than him, or anyone who was too afraid to stand up for themselves, became Fred and George’s little siblings, and they’re very protective older brothers. Umbridge can vouch for that. 

He struggles with a lot of insecurity in his relationships, he always puts on a front of being extra funny and outgoing when he’s in a new relationship because he’s secretly afraid that the way he is isn’t good enough and that eventually, his s/o will see through him and leave because they don’t like the softer, more serious side of him. 

Fred is the godfather of all of George’s kids but is also the godparent of Hugo, Lily and Lucy. 

Fred loves business meetings, he sees them as a good challenge to practice his smooth talk. 

Fred spent his first salary from the shop on the most expensive bottle of champagne he could find and a new suit. 

Fred tried to get into whiskey, feeling like it’d make him a cool business owner type of man, so, with his second salary, he went out and bought a fancy-schmancy bottle of whiskey and the whole getup with a bottle and some cool glasses, and then invited Lee over to try it with him and George. 

They did not like it. Fred thought it tasted like what he imagined gasoline tastes like so they mostly used it as decorations, not having the heart to mix it with something. 

Fred doesn’t necessarily like PDA, it depends on what you mean. He likes being secretive. Pulling his s/o into an empty classroom, nook, hallway, secret pathway etc where anyone could wander in at any time and snogging her senseless is one of his favourite things to do. 

Fred knows how good he looks in his quidditch uniform and will absolutely use it against his s/o. (they’re gonna get spicy from here on so read with caution if you're in public)

Fred prefers giving more than receiving oral. 

He has a lot of energy, did you not think that would rub off (no pun intended) on his sex drive? He can go pretty much any time and place, and typically last at least two rounds. 

Also, his favourite position is having you on top. Okay, I'm gonna stop now. 

[rotworld]

rex was at his absolute worst in the days leading to the main character departure? 👀 Did he took it his frustration out on them or something?

rex's behavior escalated over the course of a few weeks, from more possessive and short-tempered than usual, to...well, it got real bad lol.

i went ahead and dusted off this excerpt of vintage unposted pariahs content lol it's actually set a little after levine first shows up, when he's not quite welcome yet and rex is not happy that the reader is always sneaking off to see him. this is a lot like how he starts acting when the reader tells him they're moving away. WARNING for argument, physical violence, abusive behavior and all hurt, no comfort. usually violence with rex is of the "sexually charged, secretly getting something out of this" variety, but this is not that.

.

.

.

"So you’re just gonna wander around town by yourself?" Rex's tone turns biting, sharper than it was a second ago. It churns your stomach. You weren't looking for a fight, but it looks like that's what you're going to get. "Go home or come with me. Pick one."

"It’s not up to you," you tell him.

"It fucking is, I’m trying to look out for you."

"Then stop." He doesn't expect that. Rex blinks slowly like a groggy, confused animal. You talked back. You never talk back. Not like this. Your spine goes soft and weak when he's around, but not now. Not tonight. "I need some time to myself."

"No, you don’t," he says. He reaches for you; the forearm, like a pushy asshole, trying to drag you back. You step out of reach and he growls your name.

"Leave me the fuck alone."

That’s when it all goes askew. Something changes in the air between you, the tension wound too tight. Rex looks at you with quiet rage, the sort you don't see often. He burns hot, not cold. He shouts and he argues with his body, all bruised knuckles and black eyes. He doesn't do this. He’s on you before you can turn to run, dragging you down the sidewalk with him. You kick and scream, twisting, squirming, lashing out at whatever parts of him you can reach. It doesn't matter. His grip is like a vice.

"Quit acting like a fucking child," he says. "You can’t take care of yourself like this."

"Like what?" you snap. "What’s that even mean? Like this? You mean ever, right, that’s what you mean. Think I'm too fucking stupid."

"That’s not what I said."

"You're always like this. You don't think I can make it on my own, right? I need you or I'll never make it, is that it? Gotta just bend over and take whatever you give me because it's the best I'll ever get?"

Rex growls your name, low, quiet, in warning. But you don't listen. You don't care and you've had enough. You shove him hard and it all goes wrong. You think, probably, he means to hold you, too keep you in his bruising grip, but he miscalculates. Slips, maybe. He hits you instead. His fist slams into your jaw and holy fuck it hurts. It stings and throbs and he might've cracked one of your fucking teeth.

There's stunned silence. Nobody moves. Shakily, you touch your face and feel the soreness spreading, sharp echoes in your ears and throat like a spreading bruise. Rex's mouth moves a couple times, like he wants to say something and thinks better of it. Not an apology. Not an excuse. Not a single word. He frowns at you, like this is your fault.

You hit him back and something in him snaps.

[nyxdelanuit]

Please Let Me Take You Ch 2

You guys have voted, and so I finished chapter two of PLMTY!  Here’s the link to Chapter 1! PLMTY MASTERLIST

True to form, Katsuki stayed for breakfast and was out the door before your plate was even in the sink. With a sigh, you started running the water. You were so optimistic this morning, but Katsuki ate in silence, not responding to any of the questions you asked with more than a grunt. You nodded to yourself as you set to cleaning the dishes. Next time he came home, you would talk to him. Something needed to change. Hopefully, before you started falling prey to Kaminari's flirtatious attitude just to have some affection in your life.

 You busied yourself with straightening the house for as long as you could, reveling in the way your sheets smelled like burnt caramel before lamenting that you’d have to clean them. The flaky stains on the sheets turned your stomach, and you wondered again if this was what love should feel like.

Only an hour or two, and Katsuki’s clothes were hung on the line, the sheets were in the wash, and your house once again looked barren. You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure how to spend your time. After consideration, you shot a text to Mina. Unassuming, just checking in to see how bad the hangovers hit your friends.

 You were surprised by a sharp trill from your phone, quickly picking up to Mina's shrill voice. "My sweet angel, please save me." She cried, "the boys came back to my place to sleep it off, and now I have a grumpy Kaminari on my hands." You giggled at her whine. "He woke up in the guest bed and got all excited, now he's being all mopey knowing he didn't get into someone's bed."

 “Like he would know what to do when he got there.” Mina’s cackle made you pull the phone from your ear.

 “Hear that Sparky, Y/N says you wouldn’t know what to do if you got in someone’s bed!” You laughed as you heard the scuffle on the other side. You let yourself relax onto the couch, reminding yourself to straighten out the blanket on the back before Katsuki got back. He was a real bitch about things like that.

 “Hey angel, if you let me into your bed, I can show you just how much I know.” Kaminari’s signature flirtatiousness was marred by the heavy sleep in his voice.

 “If you can handle coming to Katsuki’s house and into Katsuki’s bed, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.” You knew you were skating on thin ice, but couldn’t help but feel smug as you heard him whine and pass the phone back to Mina.

 “Sorry ‘bout that, babe. So, were you just calling to check up or…?” Mina prodded at you with her question.

 “Katsuki came home last night, and before you ask, he already left. Guess I’m just feeling a bit cooped up still.” You sighed into the receiver.

 "Oh, babe, give me ten minutes, and I'll be on my way."

 “You’re the best, Mina.”

 “I’ve been telling you this for years! See you soon.” The call ended with a click, and you rushed to make yourself presentable. Last night’s makeup was rubbed off and flaked uncomfortably underneath your eyes. You quickly set to removing the remainder, settling for a simple moisturizer before shedding your clothes. The warmth of your shower stung on your skin, but you embraced it as you stood in the scalding water. It used to remind you of Katsuki’s quirk against your skin, but now it just made you want to scrub him from your skin.

   Mina’s timing was impeccable as always, sauntering into Katsuki’s- your- home as you finished smoothing out your outfit. She smiled once she caught sight of you coming out of your room.

 "Hey, babe! This place is looking really… homey." Her smile tightened, looking around. You understood, you would definitely pick 'sterile' over 'homey,' but she was just trying to be nice.

 "Well, I think I've had enough of 'homey' places for now, what do you say about getting out of here?" You gave her a grin as you turned her around. She gave in quickly, heading for the door. You double-checked the alarms and the door before meeting Mina in her hot pink car. Always on brand, she was.

 She slipped big bug-eyed sunglasses on her face as she started her car. “Alright, my little turtle dove, where to now? Movies, high-calorie food, retail therapy? Pick your poison.” Even with her eyes obscured, you could still make out the arch of her eyebrow peaking over her sunglasses.

 "You know, Ochako was telling me there is a month- or less- until baby Midoriya is here." Mina's squeal was all the answer you needed. Mina quickly put the car into drive, squealing out of your driveway.

 "A month?! I don't even have one outfit ready for them!" Mina made it sound blasphemous. You squealed, half in laughter and half in fear as Mina sped down your street. The fall air was heated by the sun today, and you let it flow through your window. It tangled in your hair, and you felt the oppressive atmosphere of Katsuki's house release its hold on you.

 The ride was full of music, wind, and off-key singing between the two of you. You almost felt like asking Mina to drive a bit longer when the mall came into view. It was easy to forget about that when Mina was grinning ear-to-ear and dragging you by the arm into the spacious building.

 Going out with Mina was a breath of fresh air. You didn't have to hide, didn't have to disguise yourself. That thought clung to your mind- sure Mina wasn't quite in the top tier of heroes, but she was more than distinguishable. Mina never hid you away, though, always throwing an arm over your shoulder or hanging off of your arm even through the dense crowd of paparazzi that clamored for the hero's attention. If she was confident that she could protect you through any fallout that came from that, why wasn't Katsuki?

 That line of thought was interrupted by the chirping of your phone. Mina had wandered off to one of the maps showing the layout of the shops. You were surprised that she hadn’t memorized this place as often as she was here. You focused back on your phone.

 Katsuki texted much like he talked- clipped and unforgiving.

 Suki: Where are you?

You: Out with Mina.

 The alarm system must have notified him when you left. You rolled your eyes, catching up to your friend as she spotted the store she wanted. You let her pull you to the specialty maternity and infant shop. You indulged her tittering as she flitted between the tiny newborn outfits on display. If you weren’t here to temper her excitement, you were sure she’d buy out half the shop. Your phone chirped again as you dissuaded her from buying either of the obviously gendered outfits, they were keeping the gender a surprise.

 Suki: You went out last night and had enough fun then, judging by the booze I could smell on you.

Suki: You should be at home.

 You considered ignoring the text, but you knew he wouldn’t relent until you answered him.

 You: It’s not like you’re home today, why do you care if I’m out?

 Suki: You’re mine. I don’t need you out embarrassing me with those extras and spending all of my money.

 You swore you started seeing red. Mina had been trying to get your attention, debating between a purple checkered outfit, and adorable onesie with a smiling broccoli, or a gray ensemble with multicolored kittens on the hem. She frowned at your furrowed face and peeked over your shoulder.

 With a huff, she threw the outfits in her arm, swiping your phone from your hands and typing off a quick message before tossing it back to your hands.

 You: Shove it Blasty, she's fine with me, and I'm covering costs today- Mina <3

 “What an ass.” She huffed. While she was his friend, she was yours too. She truly hated seeing how he treated you and had told you as much often. The two of you had talked extensively on you leaving Bakugou, and what that would entail. Every time you had gotten to that point, Katsuki would take the weekend off, showering you in praise and affection, and you wavered. And every time, you slunk back to Mina’s side, saying how you still wanted to try.

 If Katsuki was trying, shouldn’t you too?

 Mina tucked your phone in your back pocket before steering you to the check out counter, throwing all three outfits down. Pretty soon, the two of you were walking out of the mall, drinks in hand. You ignored the barrage of buzzing coming from your pocket, favoring the feeling of the sun on your skin and Mina ranting about your boyfriend. Fiance. He was your fiance. Was this what married life was going to be like? The gaudy ring sat heavily on your finger, and you were tempted to slip it off.

 You slipped into the passenger seat as Mina started up her car. “I just don’t understand, what do you still see in him?” She whipped her eyes over to you, seething after you had conveyed the previous night’s events. “He treats you like a piece of meat, and you all but thank him for it!” You sank back into the seat with a sigh.

 “It’s not like that- he’s just busy and worried. You know how hard it is to get him to be honest about his emotions.” Your excuses sounded hollow even to your ears, and if the roll of Mina’s eyes was anything to go by, hers too.

 “You deserve to be with someone who shows you they care instead of keeping you locked up like some sort of trophy.” Mina’s lip curled in disgust. You quieted down, not having the energy to keep up this fight.

 “Well, I’m getting out of the house now, and it’s not like he’s home long enough to stop me.” You flashed a weak grin at Mina, who returned it softly.

  You arrived back home later that night. Mina waved from the driver’s seat of her car as she peeled out of your driveway. You returned her wave, standing still outside of your door. Even as her car disappeared from view, you stood, unwilling to enter the empty house.

 In an attempt to delay going inside, you looked over the notifications on your phone. You swiped over Katsuki’s usual empty threats and messages of ‘we will be talking about this when I get home,’ but a new name caught your eye.

 Kirishima: Hey! I hope you remember me lol

 You chuckled as you recalled your interactions with the enigmatic stranger.

 You: Of course! Any friend of Mina’s is a friend of mine!

 You cringed inwardly at your overuse of exclamation points, but allowed the conversation to distract you as you wandered into your empty house.

 Kirishima: Good to know! I was worried that you might have forgotten about me when you left the bar

 You: Well you made quite the impression

 Kirishima: So how do you know Mina?

 You: My fiance introduced me to her, along Sero, Kaminari, and just about everyone I know

 Kirishima: Who is your fiance? Sounds like I might know him

 You: He’s just one of her old classmates, what I’m more interested in is you! How’d you meet Mina?

 You sighed heavily as you sank into the couch cushion. Katsuki wasn’t exactly your favorite topic at the moment, and you were sure Kirishima would find out who your fiance was in time. Your spirits lifted as Kirishima took the hint and talked about how he and Mina had attended the same middle school.

 The two of you texted back and forth for hours, sharing stories. You especially liked sharing stories of Kaminari's failed escapades, and in return, he shared stories of your three friends from high school. Oddly enough, you hadn't heard these stories before, and none of them included Katsuki. From what you heard, their friend group was inseparable.

 You were about to ask Kirishima about it, but a shrill squeal and the angry slamming of a car door caused you to close out of the texting app. You pulled up a random social media app, not entirely understanding the urge to hide your budding friendship. Perhaps you just wanted something that Katsuki couldn't touch.

 You tried to fake indifference as the front door creaked on its hinges. Your fingers trembled as you tried to focus on the pictures and mindless statuses flying by on your screen. Although you were fairly certain Katsuki wouldn’t hurt you, his rage was never something you sought out. Katsuki slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table in front of you, and you winced at the sound.

 “What the everloving fuck is this?” Katsuki sneered. You peeked around your phone long enough to catch the name of the newspaper.

 “Some dumb gossip paper?” You tried your best to keep the waver from your voice.

 “Some dumb gossip paper with your fucking face all over it!” You put your phone down again to look more intently at the paper. It was the evening edition of a local gossip rag that few people took seriously. On the front page was a grainy black and white photo of you and Mina at the mall, Mina holding up a particularly cute and tiny onesie. The caption was bold across the top, ‘Pinky’s Pregnancy Revealed!’

 "Okay, so what? Some dumb paper got a dumb lead, and I'm in a picture with my friend. The world is ending." An unusual feeling of exasperation surged through you. The ping of your phone echoed off of the sterile walls, and you quickly slid the notification off of your screen.

 Katsuki glared at your phone, silently debating between demanding to know who was messaging you and ranting about your photo. “So what? Do you know how fucking hard it is to keep your shitty face out of the tabloids?”

 “Would it really be so bad? The world knowing what your future wife looks like?” You bit back. It wasn’t often you fought back against Katsuki, but this thought had been bouncing around your head all day. “Mina’s not too worried about being seen with me.”

 Katsuki rolled his eyes so hard you were surprised his head didn’t follow. You were already over this little outburst of his, so you opened up the camera on your phone and snapped a picture of the newspaper in front of you. “Racoon Eyes isn’t a fucking top hero!” Mina’s contact was opened on your phone as you sent the picture, tuning out the remainder of Bakugou’s rant.

 You: Congrats on the bundle of joy

 Mina: Omgg babe, I'm so happy, you're the baby daddy, right?

 You: Of course, time for a shotgun wedding

 Mina’s response brought a chuckle from you, breaking what little composure Katsuki had. Small pops exploded from his hands as he turned back to the door. A string of curses followed him out as he slammed the door behind him, shaking the foundation. A breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding slipped from your lips. You needed a drink.

 The cursor blinked back at you as you debated on inviting Mina out again today. Guilt and loneliness bubbled at the back of your throat, you were worried you were becoming too clingy to your few friends. If you lost Mina or Ochako now, what would you really have left? A tenuous relationship, a degree that was nothing more than a scrap of paper, and an empty house. A shake of your head cleared those suffocating thoughts, and you closed out of Mina's contact. Kirishima's sat underneath it, bold with the ignored message from earlier.

 Kirishima: Wanna grab a drink?

 Fuck it.

TAGLIST: @httpsambar @thecatisblackl @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife @7teenlyfe @say-my-name-assbut @But-kairis-not-that-smart @rocorambles @animefandomally @gokm1023 @cornchipsanddip @verdandi24-blog @dadchis-girl @moonsaye @zbops

[rainforestseed]

um. i spent far too long on a post abowt jj being neurodiverse.

warning~ ableism ~ableist words mentioned~brief mentions of child abuse and violence...idk  .  this is just what i thunk n i wanna share. i ve been waiting for someone to talk about this so im just gonna go for it  .. im gonna  put it under  read cause its a bit long 

the scene before midsummers, with jj in his room freaking owt ~ he’s having a sensory meltdown. jj is trapped in this scene. he wouldn’t have been allowed to leave in his situation, luke wouldve likely hurt him again if he tried so locking himself in his bedroom was his safest option. But on top of his face likely throbbing with pain and feeling very scared, there was music playing loudly from downstairs and luke screaming over top of it. JJ was responding the same as i do when i have meltdowns from sensory overloads. Pacing, growling, panicking, screaming, pushing his hands into his ears to reduce sensory input while rubbing  pressure into the back of his head, throwing things, kicking, self injurious behaviour.

i do all of these things during a meltdown. I often also spin, convulse, press into my eye sockets, punch my self in the face and throw my head against walls. I have no control over it and this scene hit close to home. JJ’s not only angry and hurt and scared here. he is completely unable to sort through and process his sensory input and the intensity of his feelings and emotions. Afterwards when he is leaving his bedroom luke is passed owt on the couch which shows quite a bit of time has passed and it’s quiet. JJ is still hunched over in his room recovering, crying, hypersensitive, exhausted and terrified.

i’ve seen a lot of descriptions of jj being short fuzed, ill tempered, hot headed,   reckless, aggressive, impulsive, volatile. He’s also called ableist words like idiot, crazy,  psycho, maniac, dumbass by all the characters. baby blue is just neurodivergent. he experiences feelings and emotions and sensations a lot differently from his friends, which is why he is often misunderstood and his thoughts and ideas and emotions are sometimes dismissed.

JJ had trouble reading the compass in episode 2. When he reads it he says “Reddle - Rout. No i think that’s an A” When Kie reads redfield without a beat JJ frowns a lil bit and just says “right” Rudy is dyslexic so mayhaps there is a connection :‐)

JJ becomes visibly distressed to loud sudden sounds, and when people raise their voice at or around him he doesn’t like it. When jjs friends are arguing around him he becomes incredibly distressed, like pacing..unable to look at what’s happening, grinding his teeth distressed. JJs friends are the only stability he has. So when there is tension between any of them or any threat to his family becoming less stable or falling apart or changing, he doesn’t like it. The panic and fear from sudden loud sounds might have to do with ptsd from being a victim of child abuse as well from having to watch his n his friends backs from getting hurt by kooks growing up .

 JJ tactile stims. non stop.  my stimming is different from jjs but also similar, im gonna try my best to understand his.

JJs rarely able to sit still and continuously seeks touch of some kind. He uses self stimulatory behaviours that help him focus when he’s thinking n listening and when he’s talking and to regulate his emotions when he’s feeling them intensely. JJ is the most physically affectionate character by far. He likes touching things and touching his friends.

JJ always has something in his hands. Usually his lighter, he plays with it, almost constantly, in a lot of different ways. Sometimes he flicks it open and closed, rolls it between his fingers, most of the time he’s just holding it maybe for the weight of it and the texture and temperature of the metal

When he doesn’t have anything to touch he shoves his hands inside his pockets and chews the inside of his mouth a lot and grinds his teeth together. I think he was chewing his nails in the hammock

He stims by bouncing his knees repetitively and by taking his hat off to run his fingers along n avert his gaze when he’s anxious . 

he plays with knives and hacky sacks, stones and sticks, touches his rings, even holding his gun could be a thing. 99 percent of time jj has his gun he is just holding it and stroking it lol    

everyone stims. but yeh jj also experiences sensory overloads, meltdowns, has difficulty with reading, impulsive behaviour, n emotional dysregulation whilst stimming constantly for an entire season 

i wanna talk abowt this for a minute. cuz i always have this weird feeling when i relate to a character n end up  loving them n then i think i  put my stuff on them...like ahh yes i am this so they are this too. symptoms of neurodevelopmental disorders like asd, adhd, sensory processing disorder and dyslexia can overlap. this ocean angel is neurodiverse and it makes me feel incredibly ~h a p p y!~   Also makes sense why he relies on weed more than any of his friends. other than him just knowing it works for him n makes him feel better, it’s probable he isn’t quite aware of the extent he is self medicating his negative symptoms.

[retvenkos]

alright, Olive, I'm back with a weird question. (but first of all, I hope you're doing good! how awfully rude of me to not start my ask by that) because you're so good at psychoanalyzing people (and I adore your rambling thoughts), I was wondering if you could maybe help me? I've always wondered who my godly parent would be in the PJO universe - it's been the biggest mistery in my life since I was 8. I just haven't found myself in any figure of the Olympus, maybe because I'd be the child of a minor deity? I've thought about Apollo, and I genuinely like it, but idk, maybe I need a more thorough analysis. I've also gotten Iris and Hemera from other people? I just think your piercing mind could see right through me. anyway, this is weird lol, I hope you don't mind me asking this! and don't worry if you can't answer, it's totally fine. 💜

asdfgfddfgfd, when i get my two weeks off for summer break, i should just do placements for inquiring mutuals because honestly it's one of my favorite things,,,

also, before i get into it (because i have some thoughts™), i'm going to plug one quotev quiz that i think is better than the rest when it comes to these matters: this godly parent quiz.

now, clara, i am not nearly as versed in pjo cabin placements as i am in hogwarts houses, but i'm going to give this my best shot:

first, i think i would be remiss not to mention that you are a libra, and libra is associated with themis, (idk really what that means since i'm not into astrology, lol), but themis isn't mentioned as one of the gods with a cabin, so i'm disregarding that. if we are following this logic though, i think that aphrodite is also associated with libra, so perhaps you could fit into that cabin? personally, i don't see it as strongly as i see others, but you do have a hopeless romantic streak, and a strong sense of community, which could sway you in that direction.

as for apollo, i'm going to unpack that for a minute, because it's very interesting that you'd place yourself there, and i'm on the fence with that myself, lol. (this is very stream of consciousness, so let's see where this section takes us)

i definitely see the association with the arts - music and poetry - although in my mind apollo has always been the performer, and less of the creator. i always associated the muses more with the creation stages of music and poetry. like... the muses are the fashion designers and apollo is the model going down the runway. or the muses are the writers and collaborators in the writers room and apollo is the actor or director. so, while i see the association, i think it's a little weak, because you strike me as more of the quiet artist who's behind the scenes, rather than the bard singing in the pub, trying to get coins. but, you know yourself better, so maybe it's a good association.

and after that, what always strikes me about apollo is the volatile contradictions of his personality. i mean, he's associated with the sudden death of children (rightfully so, i mean he slaughtered all of niobe's sons), along with his sister, artemis, but he's also a healer. he's like that "i'm a healer, but..." meme, which is funny as hell but also a little concerning. like, in many stories he is that godly sort of intelligent strength, but also he's really volatile and has quite a temper on him. i don't really think this relates a whole lot to you, because i get the vibes that you are generally mild mannered, but when something pisses you off, you let is really simmer. i feel like you aren't one to fly off the handle - if you do, it's probably been stewing within you for a while, and whoever your anger is directed at really knows that you're upset, and they knowingly pushed you to that place. i feel like you're more of a grudge holder than hot-tempered (but girl, same).

and then, of course, we have apollo's prophecies. now, maybe this is me reading too much into your scientific mind, but i think you are concerned with the future, but also don't think too much of it is predetermined. i feel like you are more of a trailblazer than that, and might just be prone to ignoring or actively working against anything you saw in the stars, asdfghgfsdfggfdsdfggfd

oh, and, apollo just has so many unfortunate romances, and on one hand, i have you quoted that you are more of an eponine than a cosette, but also, no hate to apollo and his tragic affairs, but he's openly mocked eros, and that truly gives off the vibes of working off of one (1) braincell, and you are too good for that, clara.

and just going back to personality, i think you have a lot of flexibility that just doesn't fit with the apollo cabin.

tldr; kinda but no?

now, i'm gonna kinda hop back into possible theories.

one of my gut reactions was the say athena, but after thinking about it, i'm still a little unconvinced. you have the intellect and pride for this cabin, and i feel like you would get roped into helping a lot of heroes like athena, but you also just have a charm to you that athena lacks. part of athena is that she's unapproachable and her pride is excessive. you, again, are too flexible to be athena. she's staunch where you are willing, and i feel like the rigidity of her nature is too constricting for you. it's very similar as to why i didn't place you in ravenclaw.

i also considered nike because of your competitive streak, but this placement kind of takes away from the underdog vibes i get from you. the righteous fury... the glee in the moment... it's definitely there, but i feel like there's a level of unsurety to your psyche that you don't really get with nike.

which leads me to my final analysis, where i think you would do well as a child of tyche.

let me go through this. so, i mentioned your competitive streak with nike, and that is 1000% evident in tyche. tyche is all about luck and fortune, and i feel like competition is a shoe in. children of tyche like to dabble with the unknown or the novel - it makes life interesting. they like to go against another and see where the cards fall, and if lady luck isn't on their side.... well, tonight's just not their night. they have a secure base to fall back on, and that allows them to stretch their wings and fly.

furthermore, with nike, victory is expected and guaranteed. luck is far more fluid and unpredictable - it's harder to pin down. you can have a lot of luck and a lot of things working in your favor, but still, the desired end result isn't set in stone - it's likely to happen, but there's always risk. this risk leaves for an air of quiet self-assuredness that isn't overbearing. there's always uncertainty in the mix, and that leads to less overt confidence. it also adds to the thrill (or the anxiety).

plus, i think that the gap between fortune and certainty (a pitfall of risk) leads to a lot of checks and balances that i really see in you. there's a lot of clear headed logic that gets weighed against ambition and desire, and it makes for a kind of pragmatism that doesn't stomp out dreams, just looks at them realistically.

which means i feel like a lot of people ask you for advice, clara. it also makes you a decision maker for sure. you might falter for a moment, but in the end, you make a choice and you live with it.

also, i have a personal headcanon that children of tyche are really well rounded, which harks back to my gryffindor analysis of you, where i mention that you have many tools in your box. you are able to manipulate many different things, and you can look at them from many angles, and i love that for you.

i also think this is a good placement for you because luck is all about what-ifs. it's about actively manipulating the world around you. like i said when i mentioned apollo's prophecies - i don't think that you do very well with the predetermined. some things, certainly, but one (1) you are too stubborn to believe you can't change things (oh, the contradictions of a gryffindor and child of tyche), and there's also a level of desperation that things won't always be like this. luck can come to anyone in any place. this is definitely tied to your bleeding heart - you care for people who have fallen on hard times, and you can't help but pray that it's only temporary.

oh, and i headcanon that tyche holds grudges sO BAD. she is only outdone by nemesis and hades.

anyway, this was long and it winded, but TLDR; i hereby herald you a child of tyche. you are my lady luck, clara.

[gongju-juice]

GOT7 as Types of Yandere

Warnings: Yandere stuff duh

Jaebum

-Belongs as the leader of a street gang

-You are the daughter of a popular politician

-First saw you at a campaign party where your father and your family made an appearance

-Decided right then the greatest heist he could ever pull is stealing you from your father

-Tried to be “peaceful” about it at first by attempting to get your number over a round of drinks

-You recognized his face from the national news and kindly told him to fuck off

-In retaliation, he fired into the air and got everyone’s attention 

-He told them that you were his mistress

-Of course, you tried to plead for your innocence. Nobody believed you.

-He ripped you from the scene and threw you in his black and silver helicopter that waited for him on the rooftop of the skyscraper

-Has a corruption kink

-Wants to tattoo his name across your body but he’s not sure if that’ll mess up the view of your pretty skin or not.

-Threatens to kill your family members/friends when you misbehave

-Has goons and guards that follow you around and know your every move

Mark

-Is your average college kid doing parkour and failing exams

-First saw you walking from your class one lazy morning, books tucked under your arm

-Followed you around campus, quiet as a mouse. Memorized your weekly schedule so that he knew what time you went to school, when you went to work, and when you finally got home in the evenings

-Would break into your apartment on the days he couldn’t see you so he could catch your scent

-You finally caught him as you came home one night after you came home from work.

-He was sitting there, arms crossed, as you walked in the room. You tried to run for the door, you tried to use your phone—but the door wouldn’t open and your phone wouldn’t turn on.

-Turns out, he is a master hacker in disguise. He had programmed your entire apartment to respond to his command: all at the touch of his watch.

-Would never hurt you but constantly punches his fists against the wall until his knuckles are dripping in blood

-Is actually pretty chill unless you try to leave him. He can see everywhere you go and anything you do. You cannot escape him.

Jackson

-Is a hot celebrity icon who everyone adores and can’t take seriously

-First saw you at his fan meet. You actually were one of his fans.

-He had his company staff take you backstage and tie you up in ropes and duct tape. The next thing you knew, you were hurtling down China’s busiest interstate in black SUV.

-Finds you so cute and adorable. Can’t ever keep his hands off you. He must have you. You had to be his woman.

-Will actually bring you out in public with him. But if you try to call him out or escape, he’ll make you seem crazy, thus garnering support—quite the opposite effect you’d hope for.

-Hates when you misbehave because he feels that as the “daddy,” he must discipline you harshly. Says that it pains him immensely and will even punish himself because he feels he didn’t do his job well in training you.

-Wants to get you pregnant soooo bad. He thinks if he can give you a child, you will finally accept him.

-Has sudden mood switches where one moment he is the giddy, normal Jackson, and the next moment he is an unstable demon. In these moments, it’s best to do exactly what he says and prepare for a long night. 

Jinyoung

-Is the successful son of the top prosecutor in Seoul—is a lawyer and a part-time detective

-Is also beloved by the public, government, and the general crowds

-Solves brutal murders, class-one robberies, and puts high-profile criminals in jail just about everyday

-Has connections to literally every person in power in South Korea and Asia in general

-First saw you when doing detective work at a bar down in Gangnam

He decided then that he needed you—he could take out all his frustration on you. After all, seeing all the gore and sin that he did was bound to get to him. 

-He believes it is his right to own you.

-Reported you missing and launched an “investigation”

-”Concluded” you’d committed suicide by jumping into the Han River—even produced a body that looked just like you

-You once escaped from his luxurious penthouse and ran to the police station. 

-When you got there, the police made you wait in the back. You thought they were protecting you. Fifteen minutes later, Park Jinyoung himself showed up to collect his precious jagiya. The authorities are in on it too.

-Basically made you completely disappear from the world

-Would not hesitate to slap you and show you his authority if you disrespect him

BamBam

-Is a Thai Prince. He is second-line to the throne after his sickly older brother.

-Nobody questions his authority which is why he is quite spoiled and can do whatever he wants

-First saw you at his birthday party. Despite all of the gold and designer clothes waiting to be open on the present table, he wanted you.

-His servants drug you off to his royal chamber where you were pampered beyond degree. 

-If a man looks at you, they will be killed mercilessly (if he has not given them permission to look at you first)

-Dresses you up in the finest silks, fabrics, and jewelry. You are his doll to spoil, and your clothes must match his to show that he owns you.

-Got rid of his harem because you are the only one he desires

-You once tried to argue for your freedom one day at the Supreme Court. Turns out there is a law that allows the royal family to kidnap and keep anyone they please to their own disposal.

-Likes to fuck you while diamond necklaces hang from your neck.

Yugyeom

-Was an emotionally unstable patient at a psychiatric hospital.

-You were his Psychiatrist and primary physician.

-He fell in love with you because of your maternal-like personality and gestures of kindness.

-He crafted a master plan in order to snatch you away from the hospital and keep you hidden away in an abandoned mansion

-Threatens to kill himself anytime you try to escape or misbehave

-You are his noona (even if he is older than you lol)

-Is schizophrenic and sees you doing things when nothing has actually even happened.

-Refuses to take his medication if he thinks you are being dishonest with him. Is eternally paranoid that you will leave him one day so he literally never leaves your side.

-Is very sweet when he’s not currently experiencing a crisis. Will bring you flowers or make you cake. 

-Expects you to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner and feed him like a child.

-Has manipulated you so far by threatening you with double suicide if you don’t comply. 

Youngjae

-Actually seemed pretty normal and harmless at first. That was your first mistake.

-He has the worst temper and is the most obsessive man under the guise of those cute cheeks.

-Will straight up lock you in his apartment for weeks on end when he gets “probable cause”

-You used to walk his dogs when he went out for work in the daytime.

-He asked you out on a date, and for three months, you were the happiest couple.

-Then the switch came. You stared at the waiter too long at his favorite restaurant, and he lost it. 

-You didn’t leave his bedroom until a week later.

-He calls your dogs your “kids” and will manipulate you into thinking the dogs are really against you. . .

-And they are. He has trained Coco to bark non-stop if you get within ten feet of the door.

-Has shattered your phone on multiple occasions and gets furious if you get any messages while he is next to you

-Sometimes forgets how cruel he really is. Doesn’t remember punishing you for weeks on end. It’s like his mind completely wipes the bad memories from his mind.

[xmenimagine]

Imagine: He’s Not You.

Requested by Anon. Includes: Scott Summers x Reader Request: · hear me out, reader is friends with scott summers and he has a big ol crush on them but alex visits and reader thinks he’s cute and scott gets all jealous but fluffy ending with reader and scott getting together 

Note: the point of view kinda changes, but it is still my usual style of writing if that makes sense. The ending isn't that good, but what do you expect, I'm not good at endings

    There was a flutter in his chest, an undeniable flutter, and it was one that he had grown familiar with. Just the sound of your laugh alone had brought a smile to his face, a smile that he couldn't help but have. It was discreet, at first, he fought hard to keep it hidden, as he worried that someone would have noticed it—or perhaps you would have noticed—but, in the end, he couldn't fight the feelings he had towards you, he couldn't hold them down or suppress the way he felt. It almost seemed criminal to do so at this point. He glanced over at you, taking in the grin on your face, how your eyes were squeezed shut, and how your hands were clutching the material of one of his own jumpers, that he thought he had lost, while you leaned forwards and laughed. God, he would never be tired of hearing you laugh like that, or seeing you like that, in his own clothes nonetheless. It drove him insane, in a good way. However, a lump got caught in this throat when he allowed himself to come back down to earth. There was one problem, and that problem was the fact that Alex was the reason why you were laughing.

    Alex had shown up to the mansion, unexpectedly. The weather had been terrible. There had been snowstorms for almost four days, and the snow piled up fast. Roads had closed, cars had been swallowed up in thick heaps of dusty, white, snow, that was slowly melting and freezing until it was nearly impossible to even get to the metal exterior of the vehicles, and businesses had also taken the hit and suffered slightly—unless, of course, people were desperate, or crazy, and braved the weather to stock up on supplies. Scott looked over at his older brother and frowned. Alex was seated in the middle of the cushions on the other sofa, opposite the two of you. His arms had spread across the tops of the back cushions, and his fingertips nearly reached the full length, while he sat slightly slouched, clearly relaxed as he laughed along with you. The ends of Alex's hair still dripped, and the water dropped onto his shoulders and part of the cushions. He had clearly been crazy enough to brave the weather and make his way to the mansion.

    Scott forced out his own chuckle, despite not actually hearing what Alex had said, and he leaned forwards to grab the handle of his cup of hot chocolate. He brought the cup up to his lips and paused. His fake laugh had ceased almost immediately as a blank look set on his face. There was no way that he could lose you to Alex, right? He zoned out momentarily, before blinking himself back into the moment where he took a sip and placed his cup back down on the coaster. His zoned-out, worrisome thoughts made him look back at you—jeez, he felt as if he wasn't even there with the two of you, it was as if he was just some sort of ghost invading on some kind of date. Alex had let out a loud laugh again, no doubt still laughing at the same thing—damn, how much time had passed?—Scott looked over at him again, he felt like he was watching a tennis match, and Alex leaned his head back against the cushions. Once more, Scott glanced at you and a faint red blush spread across your cheeks while his chest began to hurt. He wanted to scream.

-

    As Alex leaned his head back, his loud laugh caused his shoulders to shake. The room had been empty, aside from the three of you, and the only other source of sound came from the crackling wood pieces set in the fireplace as the fire burned, and the heat slowly began to fill the chilled room. A warmth began to spread across your cheeks, only, it wasn't the heat from the fireplace that caused it. It was because Alex had just done the same thing Scott would usually do when he laughed like that. You never really took notice of it before, you just simply accepted it as a 'Scott-like' action, but after seeing Alex do it as well? There was a strange feeling in your stomach and your chest. Alex breathed in deeply as he continued to laugh. Although their laughs were practically exact copies of one another, there was a slight difference. Usually, when Scott laughed, after he had tilted his head back, he would also let out a short snort, setting himself off again in a fit of laughter. It was unapologetically endearing, and you loved remembering every single second of it.

    There had been a power cut. The whole mansion went dark. It was around Halloween, so the timing couldn't have been any better. In fact, Scott decided it was a great time to tell ghost stories. You had expected others to show up with him when he knocked on your bedroom door, however, it was only him who walked in. He had made a beeline towards your bed, and, as he sat down and got comfortable, he had one of your fluffy blankets wrapped around his body, even covering the top of his head, his face was the only part of him that you could see in the mound of fluff. You sat opposite him, grabbing another blanket off of your bed to wrap around yourself, in the same way that Scott had done, and you crossed your legs, grinning as he pushed his hand out of the blanket cocoon he made for himself, with a flashlight gripped in his hand, shaking it lightly—it rattled a little as he did, the old torch was barely holding together, but he duct-taped it to be 'good as new', and he wasn't complaining about it, so you didn't either.

    "—But when they opened the—"

    "Look, I know you're trying to tell me ghost stories, but I can only see your face and, with the way you've cocooned yourself with my blanket, your face just looks like a circle with red sunglasses and I'm trying not to laugh."

    Scott lowered the torch from his face and pouted. "You ruined my story."

    "I'm sorry, Scott, but I couldn't concentrate on it when all I could see was your face as a circle."

    "I'm not a circle!"

    "Your face is."

    "No, it is not!"

    "Go look in my mirror."

    Scott huffed and shuffled off your bed. He pointed the light back on his face and looked towards your mirror before he let out a loud laugh, dropping the torch in the process. He bent forwards slightly, turning towards you. His unnaturally loud laugh rose in volume as he stood back up straighter, and tilted his head back. At that angle, he couldn't help but snort as he breathed in, causing him to laugh even louder. At the sound, you finally allowed yourself to laugh, squeezing your eyes shut as you gripped onto the blanket to keep it wrapped around your body, you leaned forward as your body shook with laughter. You could feel your eyes watering, but, at that moment, you couldn't care less. It was a moment you would share with Scott and Scott alone. Nothing else could really compare.

-

    This wasn't the first time that Alex had taken something away from Scott. It happened quite often. Usually, it was Alex that drew the attention away from Scott when he stepped into the room, girls would swoon over him and leave Scott in an instant. There was a worrying thought in the back of his mind that made him think that this was one of those moments. But you weren't someone Scott could just give up easily. He wasn't going to let his brother win this time. Scott deserved to have the attention on him, for once, and he was determined to catch and hold the attention of you. Scott glared at Alex from across the table after he managed to make you laugh again. Alex simply grinned and shrugged, running his hand through his slightly damp hair before wiping the excess water off on the small towel he had been given when he arrived. Although Alex had been at the mansion for almost two hours, his hair was still damp, and his coat, which was left hanging up on one of the coat racks close to the fireplace to dry off, was still dripping—leaving a small puddle of water underneath it to slowly spread. Alex gently threw the small towel onto the coffee table, and it landed next to his own cup of hot coffee.

    "What made you decide to come up here?" Scott asked, leaning back against the sofa as he stared at his older brother.

    Alex simply shrugged. "Got bored."

    "So, you decided to come here, even when the weather is like this?"

    He grinned. "Even when the weather is like this," Alex repeated in a cool, somewhat teasing, voice, most likely catching on to the fact that Scott was annoyed with him. "You sound like you don't want me to be here, I'm hurt." He placed his hand over his chest, mockingly, as if he was actually wounded.

    "Of course, Scott is happy that you're here!" You spoke up before Scott could, which probably saved him a lot of trouble, as he was sure he'd lose his temper and say something he would inevitably regret later on. "Right?" He heard you ask, and he turned to lol at you.

    There you were, with that soft, effortless smile, looking at him in a way that made him feel like he was the only other person in the world, next to yourself of course. Scott doubted he'd like to live in a world where you didn't exist. "Yeah," he finally answered, although his voice was quiet, almost silent. "Of course." He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. Scott finally managed to tear his gaze from you and to his brother, where he shifted once more, feeling slightly uncomfortable due to the knowing look Alex was giving him. "I'm happy you're here, Alex."

    "Good, 'cause it looks like I'm going to be staying here for a while," Alex informed him, glancing behind the two of you and out the window that overlooked the gardens.

    Scott turned to look at noticed the smooth white blanket of snow that made its way up to the first panel of glass on the panelled windows. Great, Scott thought, knowing that it was only going to get worse, as the snowstorm wasn't easing up, and most likely wouldn't be for another few days. The dark clouds in the sky made it look later in the day than it was. It was getting darker outside, despite it being so white outside, due to the snow. He glanced sideways to you, looking at the side of your face as you had also turned to look outside. Scott's eyes slowly traced the outline of your face, unable to stop the faint smile that pulled at his lips. He was so utterly and completely screwed. Just the thought of you alone practically rendered him useless, but seeing you up close, merely inches away from him, while you were off in your own head, made him fall even more for you. He wasn't great with words, at least ones that conveyed how he felt for you, but his actions spoke louder than words, even the subtle looks of adoration and the soft smiles he had reserved only for you, had proven that what he felt for you was real, more real than anything he had ever felt before, which made him all the more worried that Alex would take you away from him.

-

    The curtains in his room were drawn together, keeping out what little light that the moon gave off from leaking in through the window, even during the slightly cloudy night. The popcorn bowl was left forgotten on his bedside table, while the covers were pulled up, covering the both of you. It had been a movie night, but you had been struggling to stay awake for a while, and ultimately fell asleep with your head on his chest, your arm lazily resting over his stomach. He looked away from the screen and down at you. Scott smiled to himself, the corners of his lips tugged up, and he tried to fight it, but it was only the two of you in his room, surrounded by the soft glow of his TV as the movie continued to play quietly. He gave up, knowing it was pointless trying to stop the smile you caused. He lifted the remote and turned the TV off, placing the remote on the table next to the popcorn bowl. He turned to look back at you, struggling slightly to see you well as the room had become darker. He shifted carefully to lay down in a more comfortable position, with you still tucked at his side. Scott gently placed his arm around you, hesitating before his hand made contact with your side. He had been holding his breath.

    A silent sigh of relief escaped his lips as he looked down at your face, craning his neck slightly, but not uncomfortably, as he watched you sleeping peacefully. His own eyes felt heavy, and he was barely able to keep them open, but he wanted to stay awake just long enough to remember the outline of your features, although deep down he knew he had already memorised every inch of your face by heart. A lazy grin broke out on his when you scrunched your face up as you slept, squeezing your arm around him slightly before you settle comfortably once more. Scott lowered his other hand to rest over yours, feeling the heat from your skin against the palm of his hand. He yawned to himself, letting his head sink into his pillow more before his eyes closed, finally allowing himself to fall asleep. The peaceful, serene look on your face flashed behind his closed eyelids, and he didn't mind one bit.

-

    Alex had dropped his arms from the back of the sofa and let his palms slap his thighs before he sat up straighter. He looked down at his, now empty, coffee cup, before he picked up the small towel that he had been using to dry his hair. You smiled at him, knowing he was probably ready to head off to bed, he had been yawning quite a lot for the past ten minutes, and you were sure you saw him fighting to stay awake in the last two minutes. You grabbed hold of your empty cup, and Scott's nearly empty cup, there wasn't much left, but it was most likely too cold for him to enjoy by now. He never did like drinking cold hot chocolate, and claimed that reheating it was simply a crime as it 'ruins the original taste'. You looked over at Scott, but he was zoned out, stuck in his own head, so much so that he didn't even realise that Alex and yourself had started to move to leave. He jumped, zoning back in, when you placed your hand over his, squeezing his arm to catch his attention.

    "I've been up for a lot longer than I care to admit, so I think I'm going to head to that spare room that Charles had mentioned about when I arrived, and I'm going to sleep for a few days," Alex chuckled at his small joke, grabbing the coffee cup before he stood up. "No amount of coffee will keep me awake right now."

    Scott looked up at his brother, clearing his throat. "Okay, get some rest, we can catch up more tomorrow."

    Alex nodded his head, waving goodbye to the both of you as he turned and left the room. You watched Scott and he slowly sat forwards, and you placed both of your cups back down on the table, turning to face him. "Are you okay?" You asked softly.

    "Yeah. I'm fine." He nodded, standing up before you could rest your hand over his again for comfort.

    However, you stood up, taking hold of his wrist before he could make his escape out of the room. "Something's been bothering you; you can talk to me, you know that."

    Scott looked down at you and sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to get away from this conversation for long. "It's nothing."

    "It's something," you argued, wanting him to tell you what it was that was bothering him, so you could help. Your hands slipped from his wrists and to his hands, squeezing them gently, although you were sure he didn't notice as he was too far into his own thoughts.

    "It's stupid," he mumbled.

    He was trying to make it seem less of a problem than it was, but you knew better than to let him think like that. "If it's got you quiet and looking like it's upsetting you then it's not stupid. What's got you feeling like this?"

    "Alex."

    "Alex?"

    Scott nodded, letting out another sigh, most likely from frustration. "He always comes along and takes things that are important away from me. He's going to do the same with you, and it's going to happen because I know that you think he's cute."

    Looking at him, watching as his mouth morphed into a frown, you frowned as well. "Scott," you spoke quietly, barely over a whisper, before you pulled his hands towards you, ultimately making him step closer. Your hands slowly wrapped around his waist, your chin resting on his chest as you looked up at him. His arms automatically wrapped around you, holding you close to him. "I'm not going anywhere, no one is taking me away. I mean, sure, your brother's cute, but he's not you."

    "He's—What?" Scott raised an eyebrow, his voice still softly spoken.

    "He's not you, Scott. And I want you."

    It took a moment for him to understand what you were saying, but a smile began to stretch his lips up, and his arms squeezed you. "You want me," he repeated, smiling to himself.

[yoonjinkooked]

Daddy Day Care | Chapter 4

pairing; jungkook/female OC

genre; fluff, romcom, smutty in the future, Dad!Jungkook rating; explicit (IN FUTURE CHAPTERS ONLY, not yet) words; this chapter 5001 (lol), total so far (18.547) Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3

— synopsis; Jeongguk is your average 25-year-old - job, work, friends - everything regular. Except, he has a 5 year old daughter. And he’s single. Until a “princess” waltzes into his life.

warnings for this chapter: You still very much want to have Jungkook’s children. Cursing & Banter. Traces of Jinslut. JK is hopeless. You’re going to want to punch and hug him at the same time. Unable-to-flirt and struggle-to-adult Jungkook. A/N: PLEASE have mercy on me if there are any mistakes, English has been kicking my ass lately. Hope you enjoy. Sorry it took me this long. Let me know what you think, my ask is always open <3

It took no less than 10 minutes for me to see and understand why Eunmi is as whipped for Gayoon as she is. See, when you’re five, adults seem so cool, so serious, so grown up. Parents are parents, even if they are cool, they are simply not cool enough. If there is an adult in the mix that is old enough for it to be WOW to a five year old and also doesn’t have the responsibility of being the parent – jackpot.

Eunmi was acting like she and Gayoon are attached by the hip and Gayoon just played along with it. Even when Eunmi wanted to show her every single toy she has, even when she took her by the hand and dragged her away to show her every possible corner of the apartment. What would normally at some point become annoying to anyone, even me as her father, Gayoon took like a champ and not only played along, but actually seem interested. Hell, she even asked Eunmi questions.

She’s a natural and I can see why she’s Eunmi’s favorite teacher. I’m also suddenly very glad Yuki insisted that we pay an insane tuition for Eunmi to go to a private kindergarten.

And the little one did not hold back – she clung onto Gayoon like a koala. So much so that I got a heavy case of second hand embarrassment with how clingy she was being. I’m just glad she’s five – no matter what she does, ‘she’s five’ is always an excuse to get us out of any mess.

Two hours from the moment we stepped into the apartment and one impromptu tea party with stuffed animals, Eunmi managed to doze off, despite the excitement she had been feeling the entire day. Her words were dragged and her eyelids were barely open but she still refused to nap – until her head fell down onto Gayoon’s lap, her lips open and eyes shut.

“Let me help you with that,” I smile at Gayoon, keeping my voice low and my hands gentle as I pick Eunmi up, very careful not to move her around in my arms too much. She normally sleeps like a log but I can’t risk it – if she wakes up not only will she be cranky but she will probably refuse to sleep again. Not that it would do her much good, seeing as her eyes simply refused to stay open.

“Wait, let me help you,” Gayoon whispers as she gets up from the couch, walking in front of me to open the door of Eunmi’s room for me to walk through. I put Eunmi down on the bad, smiling when I notice her signature nose scrunch – for a second, I freeze, scared that she will wake but it turns out to be a false alarm. Very gently, I tuck her in and put her favorite teddy bear underneath her arm. Gayoon closes the door after me, smiling at Eunmi. “She is beyond cute.”

“I know,” I smile stupidly, unable to ignore the urge to gush about how adorable Eunmi actually is. “She is a little cutie but she already has a temper,” I add.

“No,” she laughs and shakes her head as we make our way back to the couch. “I don’t think she does. I suppose she can be a bit tricky but you have no idea how bad the other kids can be,” she tells me, giving me a pointed look as she reaches for her cup of hot chocolate – hot chocolate she had to help me with because I nearly burnt it. “There’s a reason Eunmi is one of my favorites.”

“Is she good to others?” I ask, making Gayoon look at me in confusion. “I mean, I’ve never heard anything about her fighting with other kids but… is it really like that or do teachers just say that to make parents relax and don’t ask stupid questions?”

“Oh boy,” she chuckles, smiling at me. Yeah, that’s the kind of smile that makes me swallow a lump when it’s directed at me. “It’s really like that. We wouldn’t lie, at least I wouldn’t. It’s important for parents to know what their kid is actually like, even if that means that they sometimes hear something they’d rather not know of. You have no reason to worry, though. Eunmi is a proper sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone. She’s also not a pushover, so don’t worry – she would hold her ground if need be.”

“Good,” I breathe a sigh of relief. “You’d think that after five years, I’d be sure of myself and of what I’m doing but most days… I swear I’m more like a headless chicken than a fully functioning adult,” I admit.

“Oh come on, we all have our headless chicken moments,” she reassures me, a smile still plastered on her face. “She’s your only child, it’s not like you have experience of raising one. I’d say both you and her mother are doing a good job. Both in general and in your circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” I ask, noticing that she suddenly looks uncomfortable. She’s looking away and her face is the face of someone who said something they shouldn’t have said. “If you’re referring to us being young, we’re well aware of that,” I laugh.

“It’s not that,” she shakes her head. “You’re young, of course you know that. But it’s one thing to have a teacher of your daughter point it out in a way that might sound condescending, even though it isn’t.”

“Don’t worry, I truly didn’t take it that way,” I tell her. And I mean it. “I was just confused as to which circumstance you’re referring to, us being young or separated, because both are quite specific circumstances and both are very much true.”

“Age can mean something, in my opinion, but it’s definitely not a rule,” she tells me. “Like I’ve said before, we can all be headless chickens every now and then. And as for the two of you being separated, I will let you know that my mother raised Jimin and myself all on her own, since Jimin was three and I a baby. So yeah, circumstances be damned.”

“That’s quite impressive,” I nod. I never knew that Mrs. Park was a single mom but then again, I had no clue Jimin was her son either, and I just recently saw Gayoon for the first time, so I probably shouldn’t be surprised how little I know about Mrs. Park’s family tree. “You’re one of the few people that actually don’t appear all judgy and mighty. I’ve gotten used to it by now – half the parents of Eunmi’s classmates look at me like I’m a high schooler or something.”

“Jeongguk… more often than not, you or Eunmi’s mother pick her up from kindergarten before other parents do. You both pick her up early to try and spend more time with her. Some of those kids stay in the kindergarten until five, six PM. I understand that many of those parents have jobs and obligations but so do you. And yet you still do it. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry too much about what they think.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are just a nice person?” I ask.

Fuck, verbal diarrhea. Why did I say that? It is true, I’m not denying that but why did I say it? I could have just said thank you or something like that. Well, at least I didn’t say that she’s the nicest person on the planet – it could have been worse.

“I’m not gonna lie, I have heard it before,” she laughs. “But it’s always a good thing to hear. And you seem pretty nice too.”

“Even with a daughter that clings onto you like a koala?” Jesus Christ, Jeon Jeongguk, shut the fuck up!

“Well, if you don’t mind me being honest, she’s the best part,” I laugh at her comment. She’s not wrong – Eunmi is the best part of me. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done and pretty much the only thing in my life I am genuinely and completely proud of. If someone thinks she’s the best thing about me, I’ll gladly take it.

“I’m sorry we kidnapped you for the whole of Christmas Day,” I tell her, feeling guilt rise again. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t expecting to stay at our place for three hours and counting. “I’m sorry if we ruined some plans for you. I’m an idiot who forgets his wallet everywhere he goes and Eunmi didn’t want to let go of you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she shakes her head, smiling with that adorable, small smile that makes me swoon and want to punch something at the same time. “I was literally working back at the kindergarten. We had a family lunch and we all went our separate ways. The only plan I had was Netflix and food. I got cake, Super Mario and a tea party, so I would say the day was quite fruitful.”

“Would you like to add some wine into the mix too? Eunmi seemed pretty knocked out, we can be adults until she wakes up?” I suggested.

Perfect, you fucking fucktard idiot person! You are literally asking your daughter’s kindergarten teacher to get drunk with you in your apartment while your daughter is sleeping in the next room. Are you absolutely out of your mind? She’ll run and probably get Eunmi expelled or something.

“That sounds like a great idea,” she surprisingly agrees. “I’ll just call Jimin to let him know he should take a taxi when he leaves for home so that he can drive me and my car back home.”

“Perfect.”

  For a usually quiet person, I realize that I am surprisingly chatty with her. In the little I’ve known Gayoon, she always seemed like a good listener. She would listen carefully, nodding along and looking directly at you, asking you questions when you pause for a breath. We had red wine and talked just about anything and everything until Eunmi woke up. Before we ended up playing Super Mario, we talked about her, about how difficult it is to raise kids, how difficult it is to work with kids, how I never thought I’d end up being an office worker and how Gayoon was positive she would end up opening a bakery.

Hours passed in good fun and before we knew it, it was Eunmi’s bedtime and of course, my daughter had to backstab me and refuse my offer to read her a story and saying she’d rather have Gayoon read it for her. I got a pat on the back from Gayoon, probably because I looked and felt like a kicked puppy, before she agreed to read her a story.

I was leaned on the door, listening to the two of them talk about princess and mermaids, because not a single page could go by without Eunmi asking both related and unrelated questions.

The teacher in Gayoon was present – well, either that or the fact that she actually does seem like a genuinely good person. She clicked with Eunmi so well, I could feel my heart swell.

I have only ever seen Yuki acting this way with her. Perhaps Byulyi and Hyejin, occasionally, but never anyone else. She… she seemed almost motherly. After having random girls run from me because I’m a father, run from me as if I am the plague itself, it’s quite shocking to see someone not doing the same thing. Of course, the context is different – Gayoon hasn’t shown a particular interest to get into my pants, nor have I shown interest to get into hers, at least I don’t think so. The context is different but it still feels so damn nice to see someone being so good with Eunmi.

I don’t move from my place until Gayoon does, moving gently to tuck Eunmi in and smiling up at me as I turn off the lights and make my way back to the living room. She closes the door carefully, quietly and smiles at me again. “I hope this wasn’t too much – I just can’t say no to her.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” I shake my head immediately. “Thank you. Thank you for doing that. Whenever she’s not with Yuki, I feel as if I’m not… you know, doing it well.”

“Please,” she rolls her eyes. “You’re much better at this than I am. Being a teacher and nice to kids is nothing more than my job – this is the role of your lifetime and you’re playing it perfectly, from what I’ve seen so far.”

“It’s almost sickening how nice you are.”

She bursts into laughter, quickly covering her mouth, not wanting to wake the little one up. I was wrong when I thought her smile is the most charming thing about her – now that I heard genuine, surprised and uncontrolled laughter, even if for a second, I know this one takes the cake.

For someone her age, our age, she sure does have a childlike laughter. And I’m pretty sure I’m staring at her now. Good work, Don Juan! How very smooth of you!

“I’m not that nice,” she shakes her head. “But I do have to say that… Oh!” she hurries to answer her phone, pulling it out of her pocket in the speed of light before the ringtone manages to wake Eunmi up. I even manage to recognize the ringtone. I pull the song out from the old, forgotten, punk brain of mine – The Ramones, ‘She talks to rainbows’. Of all the songs I expected to hear coming from her phone, this was not the one. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be down,” she ends the call. “Jimin’s waiting for me.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you for bringing me my wallet. And staying with us. And playing with Eunmi. And talking to me. And reading her a story. Yeah, thank you for everything, I guess.”

Nice work, Romeo. Smooth talker, that’s what you are. Smooth fucking criminal.

“Stop thanking me,” she laughs as she moves towards the hallway, grabbing her purse and jacket from where I hanged them earlier. “I had fun. It’s safe to say we’re friends now – and friends do spend time with each other and their kids. And they give each other cake and bring each other lost wallets, so stop thanking me so much.”

“In that case, thank you for a lovely day.”

Okay, that actually was smooth.

“Hmm,” she narrows her eyes at me. “I’ll take that one.”

Before I could say anything or think about the position of my hands, she hugs me. I am completely frozen for a moment, before I realize that I have less than a second to react before she pulls away and this turns more awkward than it already is. So I hug her back, tapping her shoulder with my hand. She smiles as she pulls away and my face is probably nothing more than a painful grimace.

“I’ll see you around,” she smiles. “If you ever need a babysitter, you know my number.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I chuckle. “Merry Christmas Gayoon.”

“Merry Christmas Jeongguk.”

I stand at the door as she walks down the hallway, waving like a complete idiot even though she doesn’t turn around – I’m waving and she doesn’t even see it. I shake my head, snapping out of it and closing the door before she has a chance to see me standing here like a complete idiot.

I close the door, lock it and bang my head on it, hard enough for it to be painful, faint enough to keep Eunmi asleep and Gayoon unaware.

I think I’m in the beginning stage of having a crush on my daughter’s kindergarten teacher.

  “Could you at least try to pretend like you’re having a good time?”

The problem is, I did. For a good half hour, I looked like the very gif of The Office’s Michael Scoot gritting his teeth and looking as awkward as possible. For half an hour I did my very best to look as if I am having the time of my life.

The truth is, I don’t remember the last time I felt as uncomfortable as I do now. Seokjin insisted that I should not be alone on New Year’s Eve, which is exactly why I ended up following him to what he called the hottest club in town. Him and six of his best mates, most of whom I’ve known for years, but in passing, as I never really wanted to be a part of their sausage fest. Which is exactly what I am now.

Seven men and me, as bored and as uncomfortable as I could possibly be.

They come here with a goal – get drunk and get laid. And I just want to be home, in my sweatpants, eating ramen and playing Super Mario or finally catching up with Black Mirror. Literally, every possible scenario that includes me staying at home is better than the current situation.

My brain is one generic EDM song away from turning into pudding and my stomach is one fruity drink away from giving up on everything. I’m a stay-at-home, beer-drinking kind of guy. This is not my place.

So, to answer Seokjin’s question – no, I can no longer even try to pretend like I’m having a good time.

“I’m sorry,” I sigh, watching him shake his head in disappointment. While I know he’s joking, I also know that my mood is affecting his and the last thing I want to do is ruin his night – New Year’s Eve, of all nights. I don’t want to be that person, I hate to be that person but I can’t fight it. “It’s just not my scene.”

“You always adapted before. This isn’t your first rodeo,” he tells me and honestly, he’s right. I used to go out with him before and while it was never my favorite thing to do, I could handle it.

“I don’t know, I think I just have too much on my mind,” I yell, in order to overpower the bass.

“You’re thinking about your girl?” Seokjin yells back at me.

“No,” I shake my head. “I mean, I always think about her but it’s the way it is – I had her for Christmas, Yuki has her for New Year’s Eve. It’s the fairest deal possible.”

“I’m not talking about Eunmi,” Seokjin laughs. “I’m talking about her teacher. You know, the girl you’re crushing on?”

I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to tell Seokjin about it. I guess I expected advice, seeing as he’s my big brother and a ladies man extraordinaire. Instead of a good, solid piece of advice or even a rude wakeup call while reminding me that she is my daughter’s teacher, I just got laughed at. I called him the same night Gayoon left my apartment, and since then, not a day has passed without him mentioning it in a way that could appear humorous to anyone but me.

“Seokjin, I’ve told you, I am not crushing on her.”

“No, you just like her,” he corrects me and leans over to yell directly into my ear. “Look, you are making questionable choices because you can’t even remember the last time you had anything with any woman. You’re over Yuki and you’re not ready for commitment again but you need to get yourself out there and do something because crushing on your daughter’s teacher is not a common storyline. Find someone else to crush on before you and your ex need to change your daughter’s kindergarten!”

God, he’s right. Yuki will kill me if we have to change Eunmi’s kindergarten and judging by the way Eunmi seems to be attached to her friends and even Gayoon herself, she’d kill me to. I’d rather wait for her teenage years before I hear the first “I hate you” from her.

“Or, if you’re really hung up on her, ask her out,” Seokjin completely changes his story. “Just pick a side. Either grow a pair or take your pick,” he waves his hand around, as if he’s showing me all that the club has to offer. Outside the sausage fest we are in, the club really is full of girls our age, most of them in a pack with other girls, very probably looking for a hook up, the same way all of Seokjin’s friends know that if all goes according to plan, not a single one of them will be going home alone.

It’s like watching National Geographic or something. Two packs of opposite genders eyeing each other from different sides of the club, picking their pray and getting all hyped up before they strike. Words of encouragement shared, pats on the shoulders, a few giggles here and there and the plan is set in motion. Of course, not all is a hunting field – there are packs that are here just to have fun. I can see a group of laughing and dancing people who are…

“Holy shit, that’s her!” I all but yell, pointing to the dance floor.

“Her who?” Seokjin looks around.

“Gayoon, Eunmi’s teacher.”

For a second, I am sure that I am imagining things but as I watch her throw her head back while laughing, I am positive that it is Gayoon – it’s just not the Gayoon I saw a few days ago. This Gayoon has fairly shorter and curly hair – she had pretty long hair the other day. And this Gayoon is definitely not wearing the casual clothes Gayoon from the other day was wearing – unless a tight, black dress can count as casual. I’m a guy – what do I know?

“Wait, which girl are you talking about?” Seokjin asks as he leans into me, wanting a better view.

“Shoulder length hair, black dress.”

“Holy shit!” he yells and for a second, I forget we’re in a night club and my blood freezes, thinking that Gayoon must have heard him. “That’s Eunmi’s teacher?! No wonder you’re dying to live out a teacher kink!”

“She’s not MY teacher, you idiot!” I smack him on the shoulder, making him laugh out loud. I’m not laughing – this is becoming too much. “It’s not like that.”

“Looking at her, it should be like that,” Seokjin comments.

“You don’t get it,” I shake my head – of course Seokjin would not get it. He’s been in love once and after that particular train wreck, he hasn’t bothered looking for anything other than easy sex. “Yeah, she’s pretty and yeah she’s hot but she’s actually nice and friendly and most importantly, good with Eunmi.”

“You don’t know what you want,” Seokjin shakes his head.

“Yeah, because I can’t develop a proper interest into someone after like… a few hours spent with them! Just as I don’t want to have a one night stand with my daughter’s teacher! Of course I don’t know what I want – I might not even want anything and am just confused! I don’t know what I want and it would be very weird if I did!” I yell over the music.

“Well, I think she knows what she wants,” he nods his head and when I look back to Gayoon, I can see what he means – she’s definitely closer to one of the guys in her group than she was just seconds ago. They are dancing together, they’re bodies almost completely pressed together, his hands on her hips as they sway together, much too slow for the beat that’s threatening to make my brain explode.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Go there! Say hi! Talk to her! Dance with her! Get to her before he does!” he tries to push me away from our booth but I stay frozen, shaking my head.

“Nah, I just told you. I don’t know what I want and judging by that,” I wave my hand to her and the guy she is dancing with. “It’s a bit too late anyways.”

I have no right to sulk, I know that very well. Not once did Gayoon show any signs of being interested in me in any way other than a teacher-parent one, perhaps a friendly one too. She did not flirt, she did not say anything that would make me wonder if it has a double meaning and let’s not forget about the crushed mistletoe. Not to mention that I haven’t done anything either – of course I didn’t, I just think I might kind of like her.

I have no right to sulk at the sight of her expressing interest in another man and even though I try to fight it, I know I end up pouting, sitting in the booth and glaring towards them, sipping on the shitty cocktail Seokjin insisted on buying for me.

“You’re a complete idiot,” is Seokjin’s conclusion he reaches while looking at me in disappointment.

“Maybe I am.”

  15 minutes after the clock strikes midnight and the whole club drunkenly yells New Year’s greetings – that’s the time limit I’ve given myself. Long enough to not seem rude, just enough to not lose my mind.

“You’re actually leaving?” Seokjin once again looks disappointed. As bad as I feel, he had it coming. He knew I was not going to enjoy myself, he knew this is not my scene in any way. As bad as I feel for leaving him, one – I know he won’t miss me and 2 – he should be the one to feel bad for dragging me out to begin with.

“I handled it for as long as I could. Happy New Year, brother,” I pat him on the back and make my way through the ocean of bodies, towards the exit. I don’t look back, not to Seokjin, not to Gayoon.

I made a point of not looking her way for as long as I have been in the club – staring at her just seemed a bit too creepy, especially given that she was obviously pretty close to hooking up with the guy she was dancing with. It felt creepy, wrong and uncomfortable – so I decided to simply not look her way while I was there. I doubt she saw me but if she did, she made no move to approach me.

Outside, the weather and the atmosphere is hellish – snow started falling again and I obviously wasn’t the only one with the thoughts of leaving early – one by one, groups of people were getting into lined up taxis, while others were waiting for the next ones to drive by. Imagining the price I’ll have to pay for the drive back home on New Year’s Eve felt like a punch to the gut.

“Jeongguk?!”

Oh crap.

I want to hide, I really do. Maybe it would be believable if I don’t respond? It’s pretty crowded, I think I can play it off as if I hadn’t heard her. “Jeongguk!” her voice is raised now, as she is obviously certain that she’s not imagining things. I can’t hide.

I turn around, pretending to look confused and I see her walking my way, still in that short sleeved dress, looking as if she’s freezing her butt of, but still smiling at me. She even has blue highlights in her hair. I don’t know what happened to Gayoon from the other day.

“Oh! Hi! Hey! Happy New Year!” I sound like an idiot to myself but really, what else can I do?

“Happy New Year!” she beams up at me as she stops a few feet away. “Were you here the whole night?”

“Yeah, my brother dragged me out,” I roll my eyes. “I am escaping now. You’re leaving too?” I ask, noticing that the guy she was dancing with doesn’t seem to be around.

“No, not yet – I’m here with Jimin and a group of our friends, I can’t leave without them,” she explains. “I just thought I needed a bit of fresh air, after one too many tequila shots,” she adds, although she doesn’t appear to be drunk at all. “In hindsight, stupid idea – it’s freezing.”

“What happened to… No, never mind,” I stop myself at the last moment.

“What happened to what?”

“No, nothing.”

“Jeongguk, don’t be that person,” she laughs. “I hate it when people do that. Spill it.”

“What happened to cold never bothering you anyway?” I utter my lame joke, watching as she frowns in confusion – it takes her a moment to realize what exactly I’m referring to but when she finally connects the dots, she seems equally amused and pissed.

“I hate you,” she tries to sound serious but I can tell she’s fighting off a smile.

“You set yourself up for that one,” I laugh. We might not be friends now, hell, we might not even be friends in the future, but after our meeting, I am forever entitled to make Frozen jokes on her expense.

“The price I pay,” she sighs before smiling again. “Anyways, I’d better go inside before I turn into Olaf,” it’s a bad joke but I still laugh – that’s what she’s making me do now. I’m laughing at fairly stupid jokes. This isn’t good. “I’ll see you around. Happy New Year Jeongguk.”

“Happy New Year Gayoon,” I smile, waving at her once before she wobbles back inside the club, still trying to keep herself warm with her arms wrapped around her body – she’s right, it was stupid to go outside in this weather without a jacket. I should have offered her mine.

On the drive back to my place, I stare through the window and watch all the drunk, well-dressed people stumbling around, laughing, hugging one another. I watch and wonder when that stopped being me. I wonder if even I miss that being me.

The only conclusion I could come up with is that maybe Seokjin was right after all. Maybe I am a complete idiot.

[adenei]

Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride - Chapter 5

AO3 || FFN

Ron

Ginny: Chelsea Cake Shop. 14:30.

Me: Wow, thanks for the short notice. Not like I had other plans or anything.

Ginny: Oh, shut it. I know you covered your weekly wedding last night.

Me: So I can’t have a personal life, then?

Ginny: LOL don’t make me laugh.

Ginny: One more thing...you know how you use a pen name for your professional career? 

Me: ...and you use one in your personal life sometimes so people don’t know you’re a famous female football star?

Ginny: Yeah…

I did not like where this was headed so I pressed the call button and put the phone to my ear.

“Please don’t!” she answered.

“Ginny, do not tell me that your fiancée only knows you as Jenny.”

“What was I supposed to do? My maid of honor, the one who introduced us, only knows me as Jenny. I couldn’t just drop a bomb like that in front of them both! I care about her friendship too much!”

“Obviously not enough if you’ve been lying about your identity for five years. Are you really that distrusting of people?”

“No! It’s not that. It’s just— Look, my schedule has had me all over the place with training and games that this is the first off season we’ve spent a lot of time together. I know she’s my neighbor, but with our schedules we were lucky to meet up once a month when I was in town. It was just easier, and she became too good of a friend, and a constant in my London life that I didn’t want to jeopardize that.”

“And now you’ve got a maid of honor and a fiancée who think you’re Jenny Warrington and not Ginny Weasley. That’s great Gin, really great.”

“Can you please just cover for me today? If the press finds out that Ginny Weasley’s getting married, it’s going to be a shit storm. I have to keep the cover.”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

“Thanks, Ron.” She sounded relieved, but I was still on edge.

“Just be careful. There’s a lot of people who might get hurt from this web of lies you’ve created, including yourself. So don’t fuck it up anymore, alright?”

Ginny was rarely ever quiet, but she didn’t respond to me right away. That’s how I knew I’d gotten through to her. At least that’s what I hoped.

“I know,” she finally said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“See you,” I said as I hung up the phone.

~o~

I walked into the bustling cake shop and reminded myself that this was business. It was not a family visit, and the two people Ginny said she was going to be with did not know that I was her brother. They’d have to be really dull to not realize it when they saw the two of us next to each other, though. The only major difference was our eye color and height.

As I looked around in search of my sister, I noticed another familiar face. What in the bloody hell was Hermione doing here? Maybe she was with her newly engaged friend, but of all the bakeries in London, what were the odds they’d also choose this one? I forgot to keep looking for my sister as I stopped to watch her conversing with the baker. It seemed like she knew him rather well, which made me wonder if other brides also used this place for their wedding cakes on her recommendation.

I finally saw Ginny come into view from behind a table with several five tier cake displays on it. She was holding hands with a relatively scrawny man with messy black hair and glasses. He didn’t look like her normal type, so I guess that could be a good thing.

As Ginny made her way over to Hermione, I felt my eyes widen a bit. No fucking way. Maybe she thinks Hermione works there. Yeah! That was it! Except that it wasn’t; Ginny looked up and saw me standing there and waved me over. Fuck.

“Oh good, you’re here!” I heard her call.

I watched as Hermione turned around to see who she was talking to. She froze and her face became pale. Ginny’s fiancée seemed to have gotten a phone call, and he dismissed himself briefly.

“Hermione, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!” I heard Ginny tell her as she grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled her over to me. “This is Billy Weston! I spoke to him yesterday about covering our wedding, and he agreed! I was honestly surprised he had the opening in three weeks!”

“Three weeks?” I said as my eyes widened. 

She shot me a death glare, and I knew it was a warning to not blow her cover. In my defense, she left that part out in this morning’s conversation. So that was on her.

“Yes, three weeks. Remember? I told you that on the phone when we arranged for you to meet us here today.” She bulged her eyes out at me in much the same way she did when Mum pissed her off.

“Oh, right. How could I have forgotten. My apologies, Miss Warrington,” I said in my most polite business voice.

I flashed a grin at them as my eyes settled on Hermione. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and anger. This probably wasn’t good.

“Anyways,” Ginny forged on with the conversation, “this is Hermione. She’s my maid of honor, and a wedding connoisseur. She absolutely loves your column! A lot of my own ideas and inspiration have come from the articles she’s clipped and saved from your writing.”

 There was sparkle in my sister’s eyes as she basically told me Hermione was obsessed with my alter ego. I couldn’t help but smile even wider at Hermione, who was shaking her head vigorously at Ginny. This was going to be fun.

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan. I’m flattered,” I said as I held out my hand.

She looked down at my hand in disgust before her eyes shot back up and matched my own. “You can’t be Billy Weston. He’s so imaginative and romantic and well spoken, and you’re so—”

“So what? Please, I’m on the edge of my seat here,” I chided. I couldn’t help that it was so easy to get her going.

“So cynical and negative and—and that’s not even your name! Unless you lied to me when you introduced yourself as Ron,” Hermione said with a huff.

“I am Ron Weasley. Billy Weston’s just my pen name. Can’t have all the crazy column lovers like you be looking me up and stalking me, now can I?”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Ginny said, slightly alarmed.

“Barely,” Hermione answered before I could explain. “We only met at a wedding a couple of weeks ago,” she explained to Ginny. “Can I speak to you in private for a moment?” she rounded on me through gritted teeth.

Oh, here we go, I thought, as I followed her back out the door. I gave Ginny a sympathetic shrug on my way out. The door had barely closed behind us when Hermione let loose.

“You lied to me!”

“No, I didn’t,” I responded simply.

“Yes, you did! You lied about who you were at the wedding—”

“No, I didn’t. I introduced myself using my given name. I am Ron Weasley, and I am a writer. You never asked what I write about, so I never told you.”

Who the hell does she think she is? Telling me that I’m the one who lied! I felt my ears growing hot as I was trying to control the anger. I knew it wouldn’t be good for either of us if I lost my temper. All the progress I’d made the other night at the bar was already in jeopardy. I needed to focus on the story.

When I looked back at her following my retort, I knew I’d gotten through to her because it took her a moment to regain her thoughts and respond. Ha! One point for Weasley.

“So, which is the real you, then? Are you secretly a romantic on the inside and you just pretend to be a love-hating pain in the arse? Or do you really just hate weddings that much and are ironically stuck writing them?”

That was a loaded question, and one I was not about to answer truthfully outside of a bakery. “What does it matter? I was hired to write commitments, and if I get paid, then of course I’m going to do it. Not everyone has to love their job.”

She let out a groan of frustration. “Do you even know how to give a straight answer? Or is that part of your journalism training, too?”

“Guess you’ll have to continue getting to know me to find out. Now, technically I’m here to interview Jenny, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back inside.” 

I could see my sister watching us through the glass with that dark haired guy staring awkwardly. Oh, right, that’s Hermione’s boss, too. For a city with over seven million people, this was turning out to be a small, small world.

Hermione

I thought weekends were supposed to be fun and relaxing. This one was anything but that. The cake tasting appointment was a disaster. Not for Jenny and Harry! No, for me. I finally got to meet my wedding columnist idol, and he was the one man I loathed more than anything in the world.

Maybe not quite loathe, but very close. After all, we did have a good time the other night. But he lied to me! He had every opportunity to tell me who he really was, but he didn’t. And then Jenny had to go and blab my secret that I loved his articles! Worst day ever. 

I put the last plate back in the cupboard when there was a knock on my door. It was probably Jenny. Not bothering to look through the peephole I opened the door. It wasn’t. No, it was the last person I had any desire to see. Seriously? What the hell was he doing here?

“Go away,” I said as I tried to shut the door in Ron’s face. 

“Come on, you’re not even going to ask what I’m doing here?” he asked.

“No. I know what you’re doing here. You’ve come to lie again,” I retorted.

“For the last time, I didn’t lie. Come on, Hermione, I just have a few questions to ask about the bride and groom, that’s all.”

“And you could have easily done that earlier today,” I told him. 

“Last I checked, you took off before I even had the chance. And since the wedding’s in three weeks, we’ve got a lot to cover in a short amount of time.”

I had to admit, Ron was really clever when it came to persuasion. Not that I was surprised; he was a journalist, after all. Knowing he wasn’t going to leave me alone, I opened the door a bit wider to let him in. I made sure to shoot an eye roll in his direction to let him know I wasn’t pleased.

“Thanks! I can see that ‘saying no’ thing is really going well for you,” he said with a smirk. 

Damn him and that lopsided grin. I walked around to the sofa and sat down and he followed, sitting on the opposite side. It wasn’t in my nature to be inhospitable. Even if I didn’t like the guest.

“I’ll have you know I almost said no to being Jenny’s maid of honor until she gave me this bangle,” I said, holding up my wrist for him to see.

Ron held a voice recorder up to his mouth and clicked it. “Maid of honor folds easily when bribed,” he said.

I quickly grabbed it from his hand. “No, the maid of honor actually thought the gesture was really sweet and genuine. Of course she was going to say yes to one of her best friends!”

Ron snorted and I gave him a disgusted look. “Just ask your questions, will you?”

“How did the bride and groom meet?”

I sighed. Because of my stupidity, I thought resentfully. “Do you remember the night you brought me my Filofax at the club? I invited Jenny to join me and they saw each other from across the room. It looked like one of those ‘love at first sight’ meetings that you see in movies.”

“Huh. The hopeless romantic painting a perfect picture. What would you call our meeting, then? Wasn’t that some sort of noble act on my part to help the damsel in distress?”

Ron was looking at me in what appeared to be complete seriousness. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not as I felt my jaw drop. After a few moments of awkward silence I burst out into laughter. 

“You can’t be serious! Sure, it was chivalrous. You almost had me, too, until you started sputtering your wedding hate nonsense in the taxi. I would hardly call you being the first one I saw when I woke up and helping me home ‘love at first sight.’” 

He laughed along with me. “That was harsh. I did manage to get a date out of it, though.”

“It was a moment of weakness,” I said defensively.

I watched Ron look away as he shook his head at my strong headed nature. I felt my heart tug against my chest as I noticed how attractive his smile was in profile. No...there was no way I was going to let myself feel anything but annoyance and dislike toward him.

“So, what else do you want to know?” I asked. 

He looked back up at me, and I could see the thoughts whirring in his mind through his eyes. Before he asked me anything I saw him freeze as he looked over my shoulder. I had a feeling I knew exactly what he was looking at.

“What is that?” he asked, and was out of his seat before I could respond.

“Nothing!” I said as I leapt up to try and beat him to the closet.

I was barely able to slip between him and the half open doors. It was a constant battle to keep them shut because it was overflowing. As I tried to push my weight against them, Ron leaned in and put his arm against one of the doors, wedging it open against my back. I knew it was a lost cause to even try and hide it, especially after he caught me in two weddings a few weeks ago, so I slid out of the way and let him see the closet’s contents.

“Holy shit,’ he said with a breathy laugh. “You kept them all? How many are in here anyway?”

“That doesn’t matter!” I said defensively.

“What is with brides? This whole mentality that they have to make their bridesmaids wear dresses that are the ugliest thing ever so that they look good? Aren’t they supposed to pick their friends? I don’t get it,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“That’s not what it’s about at all! Every wedding has some sort of theme, and every bride has some sort of vision that they want the dresses to match. It’s different for everyone! And they’re not all bad! Some of them are really elegant.”

It wasn’t a lie. There were some I enjoyed wearing. Others deserved to be burned, but Ron didn’t need to know that. 

“I dare you to show me one that’s not bad,” he challenged.

I laughed in his face. “One? Please, that’s easy!”

I shooed him away as I turned to the closet and dug my way through the tulle and satin, finally deciding which one would eat his words.

“Ha! See? This one was really nice!” I held the hanger with the dress up against my body as he cocked an eyebrow in my direction.

“I don’t know...I think I’d need to see it on,” he said contemplatively.

We stood there staring at each other for a moment, until I finally relented. I wanted to prove him wrong, and if this was the only way to do it, then so be it. 

“Fine. I’ll be right back.”

I marched into my room with the dress and shut the door. What was I doing? A man was over at my flat who I didn’t know very well, and now I was trying on a bridesmaid dress to prove a point? Ron Weasley was so infuriating, yet when I stopped to really think about it, I was kind of enjoying his company. Arguing just seemed to be our thing. 

I zipped up the dress against my back and turned to look in the mirror that was mounted on the back of my bedroom door. It was a strapless black bodice, and the skirt was made of multicolored tulle that splayed out like lightweight feathers. The colors were a mix of pastel pinks and soft blue-greens that cascaded to the floor. A large black bow connected the black top with the skirt. 

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and walked back out into my living area, where I saw Ron still investigating the closet full of dresses. 

“Well?” I asked.

He turned around to look at me as I posed with my arms out in a question. Before I realized what he was doing, he held up a digital camera and snapped a picture of me in the dress. I didn’t even know he had a camera.

“Hey!” I said in protest.

Before I could ask why he’d taken the picture, he said, “You think that’s not bad? Hermione, you look like a peacock!” He began sniggering as he motioned for me to turn around in the dress.

“Well, I think the colors complement each other well,” I said.

“Come on, Hermione, really? Would you ever wear that dress again?” He gave me a knowing look.

My intention was to dig my heels in and insist that I’d already worn it multiple times. But one look into his eyes and I couldn’t lie, so I faltered. “I—I’d wear it if it were shorter. It might be cute for a cocktail party, or maybe a club night,” I said as I shrugged.

“See? You know I’m right,” he teased. At least, I thought he was teasing.

“Well, this is definitely not the worst one,” I told him. 

If he wanted a show, I’d give him a show! I turned back toward the closet and grabbed the most hideous dress I could remember, and marched right back to my room to change. “You’d better prepare yourself for this one!” I called.

“I can hardly wait!” he responded.

The dress I chose was a two tone mermaid style that opened up to the knees in the front. The underside was the same yellow-green chiffon as the bust that connected to a halter strap. There was a ruffle of fabric down the bodice to the center of the skirt, which was a bright ocean blue, with sequins that outlined mermaid scales. When I walked out of the room, I was pretty sure Ron’s jaw hit the floor, and not in a good way.

“What did you do to piss off that bride?” was all he managed to say.

“It was a destination wedding! In the Mediterranean, on the beach.”

“Was it a themed wedding?” Ron asked seriously as he took another picture.

“No!” I laughed. “You want a themed bridesmaid dress? I have plenty! Holiday themes have been popular.”

“What? No way. You’re not serious,” Ron said, shaking his head.

“Oh, but I am,” I said as I began pulling out all the holiday themed dresses and carried them into my room.

First, I showed him the Halloween themed dress. It was a bright pumpkin orange with a black spider web overlay, followed by a kelly green dress with matching shoes for St. Patrick’s Day. “The bride was from the States and the groom from Ireland,” I explained when Ron gave me a questioning look.

There was a Christmas themed wedding I’d taken part in a couple years ago where the dresses were made of cotton with a Christmas plaid pattern. The last I had was a fourth of July themed dress that I walked out in last. The upper half was royal blue and the skirt were alternating red and white vertical stripes.

“I’m sorry, are we in the United States or England?” Ron asked as he looked around at his surroundings.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “It was a last minute cancellation of a bridesmaid for a friend’s cousin. I flew to Tennessee for the weekend and took part in the most—” I had a hard time remembering the word, but suddenly it came to me, “redneck style wedding.”

“Redneck? Do I even want to know?”

“Their words, not mine! It’s used to describe rural Americans, I think. I’m not really sure. They were a different type of people, let me tell you. If you could have seen the wedding guests!” I did my best to give him the best possible depiction of that particular wedding, but I think I only succeeded in confusing him more.

“So, which holiday wedding was your favorite?” he asked as I walked over to the kitchen to grab some glasses and a bottle of wine. Alcohol was necessary if we were going to go through that entire closet.

“Well the St. Paddy’s Day wedding was quite the good time, as you can imagine. The Halloween wedding was, too, for that matter. Christmas was hard because I didn’t get to see my family, and if I can avoid going back to the States for a wedding, I’d be perfectly fine with that.”

“Well, they’re all certainly special. Though, I’m surprised...no Valentine’s Day wedding? Of all the ones you’ve been a part of?”

He was right! I’d totally forgotten about that one. I stood up quickly from my spot on the sofa and ran to the closet. “Thanks for reminding me. This one’s a real gem.”

I walked back out minutes later in a bright fire engine red dress with a plunging neckline that revealed more than I was comfortable with. As if that wasn’t enough, there was a slit in the front of the long evening gown that came up to mid thigh. I looked briefly in the mirror to make sure everything was covered as appropriately as possible, and ran a hand through my hair before making my entrance

“Bloody hell,” Ron said. “That was for a Valentine’s Day wedding? Did the bride want you all to get laid after?”

“I think that was her original plan, yes,” I agreed as I felt my cheeks grow hot under his gaze.

I was a bit uncomfortable at the way he was looking at me, but there was a tiny part of me that felt empowered by the way his eyes widened at the sight of me in this dress. Like I was attractive and desirable. Before his eyes could linger too long, I grabbed another set of dresses and disappeared back into my room.

“I call this next set: the pink parade!” I said through the door, before making my appearance in the first frou-frou  dress.

“Holy ruffles!” he commented.

I didn’t blame his lack of words about the pinkish-coral strapless gown with a beaded bodice. The overly ruffled tulle skirt mimicked that of the mermaid dress with the raised skirt in the front, sans the two tone colors. The second pink dress was two tone, with zebra stripes on the bust and the underside of the skirt. 

“Well, that one did have potential. The animal print really ruins it,” Ron said with a laugh.

I wasn’t sure if it was the wine or just my ability to somehow let loose around him, but I found myself making claw motions with my hands and pretending to ‘rawr’ in a sexy way. Yeah, I needed to stop that before I did something later that I might regret. The next pink dress looked like it was straight out of a mashup between the eighties and the movie, ‘Cinderella.’ it was long sleeved with extra poofy shoulders, and the ugliest bodice style I’d ever seen. Oversized bows donned the skirt, which looked like it needed layers upon layers of crinoline to fill it out.

“Where’s the hoop?” Ron asked when I came out in it.

“Of all there is to comment on this dress as is, and you ask me where the hoop is?” I responded curiously.

“Do you really want my other opinions on this one?”

“Nope,” I said, turning around before he could change his mind.

The last pink dress was a blush one shoulder style that would have been rather becoming if it weren’t for the skirt that looked like giant rose petals.

“You look like a cupcake,” Ron said, which made me burst out laughing.

“I thought the same thing, actually. Next up, more two tone dresses.”

“There’s more than two?” Ron asked incredulously.

I showed him the ballroom style hot pink satin outer shell with endless layers of neon yellow crinoline underneath, the orange and camouflage hunting combo with the cowboy boots, and two dual color chiffon dresses. One was a light and dark purple combo with zig zag stripes over the bodice, and the other was coral and seafoam green with a more subtle pattern. The latter needed the subtlety considering the colors clashed enough on their own.

My closet was still a third of the way full after all those dresses, but we both seemed to be having a good time, so I kept the fashion show going. There was the white lace dress, where all the bridesmaids wore white, and the bride wore color, the neon yellow-green rocker dress with the see-through skirt and fur scarf, and the periwinkle blue regency style dress complete with accessories.

“Gloves, purse, and umbrella?” Ron asked with a disbelieving look on his face.

“Accessories are important for any outfit,” I said in the most royal voice that I could muster, which sent us both into hysterics.

“What about that black ruffly one?” he asked me.

“Oh, no…” I said, pulling it off the rod and holding it up. “This one was way too short. I’m not trying it on again.”

“Ah, we haven’t reached that level of closeness yet?” Ron teased.

“Nor will we ever,” I said with a triumphant smile.

I held up the dress for Luna’s wedding that I wore last weekend, as well as the ones he saw me in for Katie and Parvati’s weddings two weekends ago. Then there were only a few remaining after that. 

The long lime green gown with the jeweled empire waist, the Renaissance fair inspired brown and gold dress, and a forest green velour maxi dress. The two remaining ones had to do with rainbow themes. There was the indigo satin floor length gown with flowered straps. And how could I forget the final dress, that was an actual rainbow colored bridesmaid gown. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I love color as much as the next person, but I think this crossed the line,” I said as Ron was shielding his eyes from me. Pretty sure you’re brighter than the sun. And that’s saying something after the lime green dress and that neon fur one.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about being blinded anymore as that’s the last one,” I said, flopping down on the couch next to him.

“Twenty-seven dresses,” he said in disbelief. “Why would you put yourself through that torture?”

“It’s not torture for me. I genuinely enjoy helping people, and making their day special. And believe what you may, but no matter how awful some of those dresses are, I’ve made a lot of great memories in them. Plus, I’ve met a lot of amazing people,” I added before I could stop myself.

He looked at me curiously. “What do you mean? The other people in the bridal party?”

“Er, yes,” I said quickly.

“Hermione, why does it sound like that’s not true?” He really was ever the journalist, always working to uncover the truth.

And it looks like I wasn’t convincing enough.

“Because it’s not,” I admitted. “I run a side business called Wilkins Weddings. I’m essentially a bridesmaid for hire, doubling as a wedding planner for any bride that requires one or both services. That’s the real reason I’ve been in so many weddings.”

I had no idea what possessed me to say it. Wilkins Weddings was so personal to me, and I never let anyone in on the secret. Lavender only knew because I needed her sometimes for the business. My dad didn’t even know, and he was the second closest person to me. I even had the opportunity last night to tell Jenny and I still hadn’t. Yet here I was, pouring my soul out to this man who I barely knew.

“Wow. That explains a lot. So, you take all the stress off the bride all while ensuring their day is perfect? Are you trying to kill yourself before you’re 35?”

Of course he was taking the mickey out of me. I shouldn’t have said anything. “I don’t even know why I told you that. No one knows, and yet somehow I told you, of all people, and of course you’re mocking me about it!”

“Look, Hermione, I just think there’s more to life than helping other people get married and giving them their perfect day. You’ve been in all those weddings, had the chance to meet countless people, and you’re still single? Are you even trying to find your own happiness?”

I couldn’t believe him! How could he say any of that to me! He didn’t know me at all, and that just proved it. “Of course I want to find someone to love and marry and spend the rest of my life with! They’re out there, I know it. They just haven’t noticed me yet.” I grabbed both the empty wine glasses on the coffee table and brought them to the kitchen.

“It’s getting late. You should probably go,” I said.

“Right. Well, thanks for tonight. It’s been fun. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. What with the wedding and all,” Ron said as he grabbed his bag and walked to the door.

“Yeah. I can’t wait,” I said sarcastically.

He flashed me that lopsided grin of his as he let himself out. I waited a moment before I locked the door behind him. It was all fun and games until I remembered the massive mess of dresses I now had to clean up.

As I carried groups of dresses back to the closet and hung them up, I couldn’t help but wonder when I’d finally get to add a wedding dress to the mix. Figuratively of course, since I’d be sure to have my dress preserved. I’ve been ready and waiting for my own happily ever after my whole life, and I was becoming frustrated. I hoped that someday soon I wouldn’t have to spend every night alone.