#which will mean it's time for another cookie dough!

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more commonly confused words

this time, with examples

affect vs. effect

Usually affect is a verb meaning "to influence," and effect is a noun meaning "result." But effect occasionally is used as a verb meaning "to bring about."

Example: Social activities may affect your grades, but the effect should be small!

than vs. then

Than is used to indicate a difference between two things and is usually used in the phrases “more than” or “less than.” Then indicates a sequence of events or items.

Example: The data indicates that Americans work more hours than Europeans.

Example: Add the butter then the sugar to make the cookie dough.

farther vs. further

Farther refers to additional distance, and further refers to additional time, amount, or other abstract matters.

Example: You may be further from an "A" than you think, so when you study, go no farther than the best place to concentrate.

loose vs. lose

Loose means that something is not firmly in place or could be removed easily. Lose means to no longer have something or to have misplaced it.

Example: This bracelet is loose on my wrist; I hope I don't lose it again.

its vs. it’s

Its is the possessive of “it,” and unlike other possessives, does not use an apostrophe. It’s is the contraction of “it is” or “it has” and is never used to mark the possessive. 

Example: It’s been many decades since the college changed its graduation requirements.

less vs. fewer

Less refers to bulk amounts and uncountable items, or nouns that can’t be quantified by just putting a number in front of them. Fewer refers to countable items, or nouns that can be quantified just using a number.

Example: After inventory, there are fewer guavas and less flour than we ordered.

entitled vs. titled

Entitled means to have a right to do or have something. Titled refers to the name or label of something.

Example: I feel entitled to own this book, because it is titled “Dimitri” and that’s my name also.

between vs. among

Between is used when two things are concerned (the word comes from "by twain" in Middle English), while among is used when more than two things are concerned.

Example: Between you and me, these mistakes are common among all of us.

feel vs. think

In common usage, feel means to sense, to be emotionally affected by something, or to have a general or thorough conviction. Think means to use reason or to examine with the intellect.

Example: I think that you can write better than you have, though I feel encouraged by the improvements in your writing.

which vs. that

Use that in restricting (limiting) clauses: "The rocking chair that creaks is on the porch." In this sentence, one rocking chair is singled out from several – the one that creaks.

Use which in nonrestrictive (in effect, parenthetic) clauses: "The rocking chair, which creaks, is on the porch." In this sentence, the fact that the rocking chair creaks is tossed in; it is not added for the purpose of identifying the one chair out of several. 

Important Note: Use who for people, in both restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses.

A technique that can improve your writing is proofreading, which can show you unintentional errors.

since vs. because

Since is often used to mean because: "Since you ask, I'll tell you." Its primary meaning, however, relates to time: "I've been waiting since noon." Most people now accept since in place of because; however, when since is ambiguous and may also refer to time ("Since he joined the navy, she found another boyfriend"), it is better to say because or after, depending on which you mean.

Example: Because you are intelligent and careful, your writing has improved since the beginning of this course.

commonly confused words part 1

[paperdice]

Hi can I’m have a platonic request of the ancients cookies x child reader who posses the soul jam it called the light of innocence reader it a huge cheerful adorable ball of sunshine that see the all positive in earthbread reader cuteness it so much not even the monsters have courage to attack them istead they protect reader from the cookies of darkness and dark enchantress cookie too they smile bright anyone day anytime at all headcanons please

𝐀𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐦 (𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬)

"The impact this child has on everyone needs to seriously be studied.."

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• There was only five soul jams, the five that did more than enough to protect earthbread and the cookies that lived within it. Yet, the secret of another lying around in an unknown cookies possession was exposed.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla was one of the few who was anxious at the thought of a cookie that they didn't know was holding a soul jam. The possibility of it being used for evil was the biggest worry, though the name "Light of Innocence" sounds heroic. If placed in the wrong hands, it could lead to terrifying dangers.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Though that was the past, now pure vanilla is babysitting the soul jams holder. The Light of Innocence landed on the brightest child there is, pure vanilla was the first to be smittened by the ball of sunshine. You radiated this positivity around yourself that affected everyone near by, or at least that's what it felt like.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• The fact that nothing is willing to hurt you is very shocking. He gets it of course but even animals and cookies of darkness such as dark enchantress cookie herself wouldn't dare to touch you with any negative attachments in mind. His reaction to seeing you, a small wee child, hugging and petting a huge beast like it was a house pet for the first time. He almost had a heart attack

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla would open his eyes often when around you due to knowing that you like his heterochromia eyes. He loves seeing you giggle at his pretty eyes, he doesn't understand why you laugh but as long as you're happy he doesn't mind. You're such a ray of hope in pure vanillas perspective, always looking in the good in times of fear and danger.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Loves to take you to his garden, he swears that every time you walk past the flowers, they begin to rise and glow at your presence. At times it looks like the flowers are trying to reach you with the way they lean towards the direction you're in. When you're in the garden the plants look their best, the most alive they've ever looked.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• As if pure vanilla didn't shine his own light, when the two of you are together its like a second sun on earth. It's even joked by other cookies that nobody can look directly at you both because it's too bright! Cookies know if the duo are making their way towards them because the infamous glow gradually gets larger. It's so cute!

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• He protects you with everything hes got, though pure vanilla is a healer and never fights, he still will use every bit of his dough to shield you from any risks. Which means check ups are fairly common, of course he knows you're okay every time since nothing ever wants to hurt you. But it's better to be safe than sorry!

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Walks with pure vanilla are common too, he likes to do a quick stroll in the kingdom with you to lighten the air. The flowers stand at your attendance, the grass's green pops, clouds that hid the sun backs off and the wind refreshes all in a hitch. Pure vanillas walks are always made the better when having you by his side. You can also save the trouble of everyone dealing with your morning hyper by having the walk cooling you off.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla cookie takes great care of you, he protects you, looks out for you plus spoils you in every way he can whilst teaching you important life lessons and morals. This grandpa's heart is big enough to fit you in it, but sometimes it feels as if you took up too much space with how worrisome he can be when he knows nothing happens. He's your main babysitter for a reason! He loves you!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Brace yourself for a hug cause it's coming in hot! Hollyberry cookie is very affectionate towards you, how could she not?? Just look at your cute lil face! The holder of the unseen soul jam was like family in holleyberrys eyes. Unlike pure vanilla cookie who was more in the role of your babysitter, she was like a mother figure to you. As she was to all cookies

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Mother hollyberry cookie here laughed her head off when she saw a small lamb being a soul jam holder! Oh how the worries of it being in the wrong hands was nothing but a joke now, a frail fresh cookie was protecting the gem with their newly baked life. Hollyberry cookie applauses your bravery,, you've been under her protection ever since.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She likes to tell you her stories with extra exaggeration to see your reactions, she'll even give you sweets and a warm drink to go along with these tales. Of course she's a busy cookie herself so she can't always spend every moment with you, but that's why she always has to treat it with specialty being with you.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She tells wildberry cookie to keep an eye on you whenever he gets the chance, he too is as much as your guard as he is hollyberry cookies. He's an observer for your soul jam, making sure it's always in your possession in case you get too distracted with fun. Hollyberry cookie can't help but smile at the sight of "big scary wildberry" towering over the happy go lucky child for safety measures.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She thinks your wonderful for anyone to be around! You can be a shield yourself you know, with how loving everyone automatically gets when it comes to you, nothing can get passed you. Oh how she loves to pick you up and show your glimmer self to her kingdom, making any stops you wish to make then meeting all kinds of faces.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Hollyberry cookie likes to hand you popular children's drinks from her kingdom, if you like a specific type expect her to toss mountains of it on you to drink no not literally ouch. The same goes for sweet delights, she'll suggest her personal favorites when she was your age!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° This queen can read you like a book! You think she's not paying attention when you're off picking some berries when she's conversating with another cookie, till one day she hands you a basket filled with berries. Remarking when she saw you trying to gather berries but due to your size you couldn't get many. Next time just ask her for some berries!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Being with hollyberry cookie is basically you doing whatever you want, she's so laid back and free spirited if anything she'd support your ideas and actions. However that doesn't stop how she can get protective of you. Yes she knows even the wildest of beast will roll over for your touch, but she will hold you back if you start feeling obliviously bold.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She shields you from many things, always making sure you don't have your mind cluttered up with any negativity. Her words of encouragement are always smoothing, you don't understand it now due to age but soon you'll realize why she always wanted you to just be yourself.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ His face never showed how truly worried he was to knowing there was a secret soul jam, as well as how shocked he was to know who you were. You were in the very last of his expectations, dark cacao sighed away whatever thoughts he had before meeting you and introduced himself along with his friends.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Seeing such an optimistic holder that felt nothing but positivity and was so free of doubt, to be fair yes you are a child but even children are aware of the evil creeping up on earthbread. He's not complaining, not anymore no.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Before all the ancient cookies decided to protect you, dark cacao had a heartwarming moment with you. Or that's what his heart felt like, he was watching you pick at the buttercup flowers since nobody was around to do it instead. Making sure your safe from any soul jam robbers.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ You called over to him and asked a question that made him show no reaction but he had little interest, "you know if you put a buttercup under your chin it'll glow? But,, it only works on some cookies!" No he didn't know, so when he saw you call him down to your level he followed. He knelt down and you hovered the flower under his chin, it didn't work, the small cookie laughed then showed him how it works on them not in a teasing way

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ While you were speaking he noticed how his soul jam started glowing, the purple illuminating in a way he's only seen once before. You noticed it too, so you went closer with curiosity til you noticed how bright it got when you did. Dark cacao cookie looked vaguely surprised, however when he saw you getting all giggly he finally noticed that you had this radiation of positivity, a glow. No wonder the soul jam beamed at your presence, he couldn't help but smile.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Pure vanilla the babysitter, hollyberry the mother figure and now dark cacao the personal guard. He clearly has a soft spot for you, when the ancient cookies were thinking of protecting you instead, the others could tell you were already working on dark cacao. He was all agree than disagree which was not the way he was before.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ You seem to have grown an interest in what dark cacao thinks of things before you act upon it. You know how kids get when they look up to you and wanna see if you like something they like as a form of confirmation? Same with the new holder and dark cacao cookie, of course he knows this. He could be peacefully walking behind you then you point out how pretty the sky is later turning to him and ask what he thinks.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ He'll either agree with you or just quietly say whatever he thinks, he knows you care about what he thinks, even so, dark cacao is a humble man. He feels a bit idolized that you look up to him and in a way he sometimes cares about what you think too. He doesn't wanna scare you off or seem crude, he lays off his stoic face a bit and tries to be careful with his words to not sound harsh.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ If you take interest in his hair, wishing to play with it, he probably won't know what to do. Will he allow it? Just for a bit, if it gets too much he'll softly end hair play. If you take interest in his kingdoms snacks/foods he'll give you a warning to its bitterness or lack of taste before you choose to take a bite.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ He truly does care about you, you just need to be a bit patient with the old man, he's not good with showing emotions. He's a kind man at heart, we all know it, towards you he'll especially try his best to be more forward as well as safeguard you. Whether beasts protect you or not he's on standby for anything that comes your way.

ִ ࣪��� What could one of the things be missing.. Hmm.. Oh duh, the rich aunt! When she saw you she laughed alongside hollyberry cookie, the kinda laugh, if done to a child, couldn't tell if they were being made fun of or they really were just joking around. Rest assured you found out very quickly that's just how her radiance is.

ִ ࣪𖤐 When your tiny eyes followed up and down her appearance, you paid extra attention to her wings. Your eyes are in awe at its beauty that you hadn't realized you just grabbed it with no announcement! She turned a bit offended but mostly shocked with how brash you were. But when she saw you smiling in admiration, she knew, she was going to love you.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Have all the cheese your little heart desires, she'll give you finest she has in store. The face you made when you took your first bite fills golden cheese cookie with pride and joy, well of course she knows it good I mean cmon now, what really sold her was your eagerness for wanting more. You were so stuffy by the end, pure vanilla had to remind her that sometimes too much care can be, well,, too much..

ִ ࣪𖤐 Fancy her gold? If you stare too long wanting a closer look at the gleaming golds and treasures she holds, she'll let you take a closer look. Like the shining necklace in that shop? Well lets go in she'll let you observe and take in all the bling! Though she will keep an eye out if she spots any fakes around, your eyes deserve the finest, realest jewels there is! Greed is a good thing in her kingdom after all.

ִ ࣪𖤐 A secret that the both of you share, is one nobody can find out, not like she cares, she just doesn't wanna deal with defending herself in future disagreements. The secret being golden cheese cookie flights! It started off small for awhile, tosses in the air slowly getting higher and higher. Slowly beginning to fly off land a bit further, till of course cookies told her not to for safety reasons, that broke your little heart.

ִ ࣪𖤐 But why would it be a secret if you guys stopped? Because you didn't, sure you were sad for like a second till you found good within it like always and yet she remembered how much you laughed. It's not like shes not careful no, your treasure to her, that's why she trusts both herself and you to keep flying, just keep it under wraps yeah?

ִ ࣪𖤐 She knows whenever it gets too hot out cookies feel discomfort, melting under the sun ain't exactly the most pleasant experience. That's why when she knows it's feeling a bit much out, she'll shade you using her wings, no way is some heat going to disrupt your enjoyment.

ִ ࣪𖤐 The cheesebirds love you too! Sometimes you find yourself carried away accompanying them rather than golden cheese cookie, they're just too cute not to talk to. Birds your size that can talk, bonus being that they love talking to you, sometimes golden cheese cookie has to remind you that you're hanging with your aunt today.

ִ ࣪𖤐 I have a sneaky feeling shes not as chill as the other ancients (aside from pv) when it comes to beasts getting close to you. Pure vanilla tries to avoid beast interactions, hollyberry cookie laughs knowing nothing will happen and dark cacao is always on standby. Golden cheese cookie,, she either does one or two things, tries to get your own beast army as a joke or tells you to stay away.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Golden cheese cookie loves your innocence, you have no idea how much power you hold in your mini hands, but she will teach you how to rule the cookies. How to be a monarch yourself in the future, till then, she has a lot of playtime with you before you reach that age.

⋆˚✿˖° Her shock to you wasn't really much of a shock, it was more like a long pause. The repeated question flooded her head like a broken record, "how did you find the soul jam?". She also questioned if you ever knew how to use it, these thoughts were never her doubting you, okay but who wouldn't.. from what it seemed to look like, you knew what it could do.

⋆˚✿˖° The soul jam fitted you perfectly in her mind, the light of innocence held by the personification of light with a mind of innocence. It seemed like fate in her eyes, so if it was, she has nothing to worry about. Her body mellowed while she softy and ever so quietly laughs along with hollyberry cookie and golden cheese cookie.

⋆˚✿˖° You were just the cutest surprise, after the decision was made to look over you, white lily cookie was like an older sister. Shes always quiet and determined to find any peace left in earthbread. Because of this, in your childs mind, she's a little scary. Not in the intimidating way no, you looked up to her.

⋆˚✿˖° She was like your older sister in a way because of this if you ignore the sibling fights n all that stuff, you were the little sibling that wanted to have your big sis's attention and her love. Though she didn't push you away, she always caught you staring at her at times in a shy way. She really wanted to talk to you, the way the other ancients did.

⋆˚✿˖° Yes you're the cookie that sees good in everything, not a single negative trait was in your heart or dough. So why was it you felt shy towards her? Cause you loved her! The whole time while she was thinking of reasons for your actions, you were secretly planning the perfect first impression! No where near shy as she thought you were no, you were just hoping to make less appearances to make "the first meeting" perfect!

⋆˚✿˖° You surprised her by having other cookies your age pretend to attack her, of course she didn't feel threatened, they were using toys as weapons and their acting was goofy. It didn't take long to find out why the cookies were messing around with her, you jumped in with dramatic flare, showing off your soul jam to the "evil cookies" and warning them to back off.

⋆˚✿˖° Ever since you "saved" white lily cookie the two of you have been the cutest duo! You love to try and braid her hair the way she does it, she taught you how to braid hair when you caught her doing her own hair. It was a bit tricky for your youthful brain, although, once you got a hang of it, you never let go. Always asking white lily to let you braid her hair when it's already been braided. It warms her heart.

⋆˚✿˖° If white lily cookie noticed you liked her staff, you can get the privilege of holding it for a bit. She admires your innocence, how was it not even once did you ponder knowing more? It was like you were living life on easy mode, no thought behind those eyes unless it's joyful thinking.

⋆˚✿˖° One day, a cookie taught you how to make flower crowns, so you asked white lily cookie to let you into her garden. You told her your plan of making her a white lily flower crown, it did hurt a little seeing the flowers getting picked but she was happy with the end result. She wore it for a bit after that.

⋆˚✿˖° White lily cookie can't do much but she tries to keep an eye out on you, her heart would break into millions of pieces if she were to ever find out something bad happened to you. She'll give you loads of words of wisdom so nothing like that can come of sort.

I hope you enjoyed these, I think I passed out like two times while writing but I'm glad it turned out just fine. If you're thinking of rolling again you're welcomed back anytime!

[halogalopaghost]

While the turtles are staying with April in season one, she has a somewhat hard time keeping food in the fridge. Four mutant turtle teens are no joke as far as appetite is concerned, and the novelty of having 100% new and fresh foods in the fridge at all times is not lost on them. They have to be encouraged a couple times to help themselves, and when they finally do it's like an apocalypse on her fridge.

She also enjoys introducing them to new things during this time. She brings home one of those TUBS of pillsbury cookie dough to make them fresh chocolate chip cookies. Before they're in the oven, Mikey finds her and she lets him have some of the dough.

And then Donnie comes into the kitchen and freezes when he sees them. He looks at the dough. He looks at Mikey. He looks at April.

"Did you let Mikey have chocolate?"

April looks at him. Looks at Mikey. "...Yes?"

Don FREAKS out and smacks the spoon out of Mikey's hand. "We can't have chocolate, we're severely allergic!"

April PANICS. "What?? I didn't know, I'm so sorry!"

"What do you mean you didn't know?" Don asks, clutching his baby brother to his chest like he's about to perish. Mikey looks confused. "You wouldn't give chocolate to a dog, would you?"

April's freaking out escalates. Dogs aren't supposed to have chocolate! She knows that much. "What do I do? Should we—uh—go to the ER?"

"Are you insane?" Don has Mikey practically in a headlock and Mikey is—crying? Choking? "We need a VET, April!"

Splinter, whose dad-sense is tingling so hard that his fur is standing on end, enters the kitchen ominously. "Boys. I hope you're behaving and being kind to our host."

April is like, five seconds away from just dying of sheer embarrassment and worry. She looks at Splinter with huge eyes, about to admit she's POISONED his son, and then Don dissolves into giggles.

She stares at him, open mouthed in shock. He releases Mikey, who as it turns out, is also giggling. The chokehold was doing little to suppress it. Splinter puts his head in his hand.

"I'm just kidding April. We eat chocolate just fine."

She has to take another long moment to process the shock and calm her heart down. Don's laughing so hard he's tearing up.

April has never had little siblings before. She used to wonder what it would be like, and there was a time in her life where she had even wanted a little brother or sister to tease and love.

She did not know the true nature of little siblings. Which is evil, naturally.

She chases Don out of the kitchen with the biggest wooden spoon she has, and Splinter HOPES she catches him.

[cookiekissers]

can we please get a buring spice x fragile reader, like they want to help and fight/hunt but physical can't because they are that fragile, simply bumbing into another cookie could cause them to crack!

Do Not Go Gently

[Burning Spice Cookie x Fragile Reader]

I was inspired and tried something a little different with this so I hope you like it! and Burning Spice redemption anyone? B)

The life of a Wild Spice was fraught with constant struggle and danger. If you were weak, you would be ground into dust, either by one of the other tribes or by the Great Destroyer himself. And you happened to be one of the weaker spices.

Delicate and fragile by nature, your main ingredient was parsley. The harsh desert winds of your homeland often left your leaves and dough brittle. The stronger Wild Spices almost always belittled you and your small tribe as you barely etched out an existence. You weren't tough and built with natural armour, like the Pepper Pangolins, or strong like the Saffron Buffaloes. But if there was one thing you were, it was tenacious.

When the Great Destroyer returned, you feared that your inherent frailness only spelled ruin for you and your tribe, soon to join the scattered remains of your ancestors. Despite the risks, you boldly joined the other Wild Spice leaders and offered your loyalty and service to Burning Spice Cookie.

He had looked over you and laughed, calling you weak and pathetic. As you knelt there, showing your sincere devotion, you thought it was all over for you. Still, Burning Spice miraculously passed over you and left you be. The Great Destroyer was not known to spare those he thought weak, so you could only imagine that he saw something in you that you hadn't. Since that moment, you were inspired by the Great Destroyer, not out of fear but admiration. You knew he didn't care for you. With a sweep of his hand, he could wipe your existence from this earth in seconds. But still, you fought hard and trained harder until your dough was cracked and crumbling to show that you had a right to continue living. Burning Spice Cookie had spared you. Your life had to mean something to him.

The little thing kneeling at his feet was pathetic. A Cookie so fragile that their dough cracked at the mildest of strikes was not worthy to be in his presence. And yet, instead of hiding from his inevitable fury, here you were. Burning Spice had to admit, you had guts. He didn't want to waste his time crumbling you himself when he knew you wouldn't put up a good fight. It would be far more entertaining to watch you struggle, only for you to fall to your unavoidable fate.

And yet...

That moment never came. Regardless of how grievous your wounds or the crumbling of your dough, you threw yourself back into battle again and again. Unafraid of the death that awaited you. Burning Spice Cookie found himself almost... fascinated by you.

You were so fragile, doomed to fail. And yet... you fought to cling a little longer to your short, pathetic life.

It reminded him of a time long past.

One day, after Burning Spice had enough of the annoying thoughts of you buzzing around his head, he decided to pay your tribe a visit. All the inhabitants of your tribe weren't as tough as you, which was somewhat of a disappointment. They scurried into their homes, terrified of him, or fell to their knees, grovelling at his feet for mercy. But you... you remained standing, like a resolute warrior, poised as if death were coming to claim you. You were unafraid. You had accepted it, but that did not mean you would go without a grand fight.

He approached you, ignoring the rest of your tribe, and you bowed your head in respect to the Great Destroyer. You didn't bow as deeply as you used to, but Burning Spice let it slide.

You had changed. Your eyes held a solemn understanding, and your dough was now riddled with scars, honourable rewards of fighting to see another day.

Burning Spice Cookie watched you, realizing he had no words. Why had curiosity brought him here to see you? He couldn't come up with an answer. His previous excuse of being amused by your antics had faded into something... else.

You broke the silence and invited Burning Spice Cookie into your humble home, and he accepted. Your tribe was astonished at their leader, who stood fearlessly in front of the Great Destroyer, and he had not razed their village to the ground in retaliation.

"Well, this is a surprise." Burning Spice Cookie mused. It was still surprising to him. Destruction was the end of all things, whether by his hand or not. But you stood in the face of it and fought it. Refusing to meet it on its terms.

"That I'm still here?" You replied bluntly, an amused smile on your face. Burning Spice Cookie would usually have felt excitement upon discovering a Cookie like you - someone who could ignite his passion and provide a worthy challenge now that you had grown stronger against all odds. However, that’s not how he felt at this moment. It wasn't even boredom. Instead, he felt the same solemness reflected in your eyes.

Burning Spice Cookie asked you to be his right hand. The request came so suddenly that it left you momentarily stunned. All the strife and gruelling work you had endured had finally paid off in a way you never could have imagined.

"Yes, I would be honored, my lord. Thank you." You said, quickly bowing your head deeply in gratitude.

Burning Spice Cookie knew that your luck was going to eventually run out and your fragile dough would crumble, slipping through his fingers like the sands of time. Like with all things, it was inevitable, regardless of how hard you fought to cling to your pitiful life.

But he would be there when it happened, he would watch you. He would burn your rage into his mind as you descended into the endless night, fighting and spitting for just one more day.

Once you joined your ancestors, he would remember you. Always.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Two plates of cookies, one oval and topped with powdered sugar, and the others shaped in rings; one cookie is broken in half to show a date filling; two glasses of coffee on a silver tray are in the background. End ID]

معمول فلسطيني / Ma’moul falastini (Palestinian semolina cookies)

Ma’moul (also transliterated “ma’amoul,” “maamoul” and “mamoul”) are sweet pastries made with semolina flour and stuffed with a date, walnut, or pistachio filling. The cookies are made tender and crumbly with the addition of fat in the form of olive oil, butter, or clarified butter (سمن, “samn”); delicate aromatics are added by some combination of fennel, aniseed, mahlab (محلب: ground cherry pits), mastic gum (مستكه, “mistīka”), and cinnamon.

“مَعْمُول” means  “made,” “done,” “worked by hand,” or “excellently made” (it is the passive participle of the verb “عَمِلَ” “‘amila,” "to do, make, perform"). Presumably this is because each cookie is individually filled, sealed, and shaped by hand. Though patterned molds known as طوابع (“ṭawābi’,” “stamps”; singular طابع, “ṭābi’”) are sometimes used, the decorations on the surface of the cookies may also be applied by hand with the aid of a pair of small, specialized tongs (ملقط, “milqaṭ”).

Because of their laborious nature, ma’moul are usually made for feast days: they are served and shared for Eid, Easter, and Purim, a welcome reward after the Ramadan or Lenten fasts. For this reason, ma’moul are sometimes called “كَعْك العيد” (“ka’k al-’īd,” “holiday cakes”). Plates of the cookies, whether homemade or store-bought, are passed out and traded between neighbors in a practice that is part community-maintenance, part continuity of tradition, and part friendly competition. This indispensable symbol of celebration will be prepared by the women of a family even if a holiday falls around the time of a death, disaster, or war: Palestinian food writer Laila El-Haddad explains that "For years, we endured our situation by immersing ourselves in cooking, in our routines and the things we could control."

Other names for these cakes exist as well. Date ma’moul–the most common variety in Palestine–may be called كَعْك بعَجْوَة (“ka'k b'ajwa”), “cakes with date paste.” And one particular Palestinian variety of ma’moul, studded with sesame and nigella seeds and formed into a ring, are known as كَعْك أَسَاوِر‎ (“ka'k 'asāwir”), “bracelet cakes.” The thinner dough leads to a cookie that is crisp and brown on the outside, but gives way to a soft, chewy, sweet filling.

[ID: An extreme close-up on one ka'k al-aswar, broken open to show the date filling; ma'moul and a silver teapot are very out-of-focus in the background. End ID]

History

Various sources claim that ma’moul originated in Egypt, with their ancestor, كحك (kaḥk), appearing in illustrations on Pharaonic-era tombs and temples. The more specific of these claims usually refer to “temples in ancient Thebes and Memphis,” or more particularly to the vizier Rekhmire’s tomb in Thebes, as evidencing the creation of a pastry that is related to modern kahk. One writer attests that this tomb depicts “the servants mix[ing] pure honey with butter on the fire,” then “adding the flour by mixing until obtaining a dough easy to transform into forms” before the shaped cookies were “stuffed with raisins or dried dates and honey.” Another does not mention Rekhmire, but asserts that “18th-dynasty tombs” show “how honey is mixed with butter on fire, after which flour is added, turning the substance into an easily-molded dough. These pieces are then put on slate sheets and put in the oven; others are fried in oil and butter.”

Most of these details seem to be unfounded. Hilary Wilson, summarizing the state of current research on Rekhmire’s tomb, writes that the depicted pastries were delivered as an offering to the Treasury of the Temple of Amun; that they certainly contained ground tiger nuts; that they presumably contained wheat or durum flour, since ground tiger nuts alone would not produce the moldable dough illustrated; that the liquid added to this mixture to form the dough cannot be determined, since the inscription is damaged; that the cakes produced “are clearly triangular and, when cooked are flat enough to be stacked” (any appearance that they are pyramidal or conical being a quirk of ancient Egyptian drawing); that they were shallow-fried, not cooked in an oven; and that honey and dates are depicted at the far left of the scene, but their relationship to the pastries is unclear. There is no evidence of the honey being included in the dough, or the cookies being stuffed with dates; instead, Wilson speculates that “It appears that the cooks are preparing a syrup or puree of dates and honey. It is tempting to think that the cakes or pastries were served [...] with a generous portion of syrup poured over them.” Whether there is any direct lineage between these flat, fried pastries and the stuffed, molded, and baked kahk must also be a matter of speculation. [1]

Another origin claim points to ancient Mesopotamia. James David Audlin speculates that ma’moul are "possibly" the cousins of hamantaschen, both being descended from the molded "kamānu cakes that bore the image of [YHWH’s] goddess wife Inanna [also known as Ishtar or Astarte]" that were made in modern-day Syria. Other claims for Mesopotamia cite qullupu as the inspiration: these cakes are described in the contemporary record as wheat pastries filled with dates or raisins and baked. (Food historian Nawal Nasrallah writes that these cookies, which were offered to Ishtar for the new year festival in spring, may also be an origin point for modern Iraqi كليچة, "kleicha.")

The word "määmoul" had entered the English language as a type of Syrian farina cake by 1896.

In Palestine

From its earliest instantiations, Zionist settlement in Palestine was focused on building farming infrastructure from which Palestinians could be excluded: settlers, incentivized by foreign capital, aimed at creating a separate economy based around farms, agricultural schools, communal settlements, and research institutions that did not employ Arabs (though Arab labor and goods were never entirely cut out in practice).

Zionist agricultural institutes in Palestine had targeted the date as a desirable crop to be self-sufficient in, and a potentially profitable fruit for export, by the 1930s. Ben-Zion Israeli (בנציון ישראלי), Zionist settler and founder of the Kinneret training farm, spoke at a 1939 meeting of the Organization of Fruit Growers (ארגון מגדלי פירות) in the Nahalel (נהלל) agricultural settlement to discuss the future of date palms in the “land of Israel.” He discussed the different climate requirements of Egyptian, Iraqi, and Tunisian cultivars—and which among them seemed “destined” (נועדים) for the Jordan Valley and coastal plains—and laid out his plan to collect saplings from surrounding countries for planting despite their prohibitions against such exports.

In the typical mode of Zionist agriculture discourse, this speech dealt in concepts of cultivation as a means of coming into a predestined ownership over the land; eating food suited for the climate as a means of belonging in the land; and a return to Biblical history as a triumphant reclamation of the land from its supposed neglect and/or over-cultivation by Palestinian Arabs over the past 2,000 years. Israeli opened:

נסתכל לעברה של הארץ, אשר אנו רוצים להחיותה ולחדשה. היא השתבחה ב"שבעה מינים" ואלה עשוה אינטנסיבית וצפופת אוכלוסין. לא רק חיטה ושעורה, כי אם גם עצים הנותנים יבול גדול בעל ערך מזוני רב. בין העצים -- הזית [...] הגפן, התאנה והתמר. לשלושה מהם, לזית, לתאנה ולתמר חטאה התישבותנו שאין היא נאחזת בהם אחיזה ציםכר של ממש ואינה מפתחת אותם דים.

We will look to the past of the land [of Israel], which we want to revive and renew. It excelled in "seven species," and these flourished and became densely populated. Not only wheat and barley, but also trees that give a large and nutritious crop. Among the trees: the olive, [...] the vine, the fig and the date. For three of them, the olive, the fig and the date, it is the sin of our settlement that it does not hold on to them with a strong grip and does not develop them.

He continued to discuss the benefits of adopting the date—not then part of the diet of Jewish settlers—to “health and economy” (בריאות וכלכלה). Not only should the “land of Israel” become self-sufficient (no longer importing dates from Egypt and Iraq), but dates should be grown for export to Europe.

A beginning had already been made in the importation of about 8,000 date palm saplings over the past two decades, of which ¾ (according to Israeli) had been brought by Kibbutz Kinneret, and the remaining ¼ by the settlement department of the Zionist Commission for Palestine (ועד הצירים), by the Mandate government's agriculture department, and by people from Degania Bet kibbutz ('דגניה ב). The majority of these imports did not survive. More recently, 1000 smuggled saplings had been planted in Rachel’s Park (גן רחל), in a nearby government plot, and in various places in the Jordan Valley. Farms and agricultural institutions would need to collaborate in finding farmers to plant dates more widely in the Beit-Sha’an Valley (בקעת בית שאן), and work to make dates take their proper place in the settlements’ economies.

These initial cuttings and their descendents survive in large plantations across “Israel” and the occupied Palestinian territories. Taher Herzallah and Tarek Khaill write that “Palm groves were planted from the Red Sea in the south along the Dead Sea, and as far as the Sea of Galilee up north, which has given the Israeli date industry its nickname ‘the industry of the three seas’” Since Israel occupied the Palestinian West Bank in 1967, it has also established date plantations in its illegal settlements in that portion of the Jordan Valley.” Today, these settlements produce between 40 and 60% of all Israeli dates.

In 2022, Israel exported 67,042 tons of dates worth $330.1 million USD; these numbers have been on a steady rise from 4,909 tons worth $1.2m. in 1993. Palestinian farmers and their children, disappropriated from their land and desperate for income, are brought in to date plantations to work for long hours in hazardous conditions for low pay. Workers are lifted into the date palms by cranes where they work, with no means of descending, until the crane comes to lower them down again at the end of the day. Injuries from falls, pesticides, heat stroke, and date-sorting machinery are common.

Meanwhile, settlers work to curtail and control Palestinian production of dates. The Palestinian population in the West Bank and Gaza is used as a pool of cheap labor and a captive market to purchase Israeli imports, absorb excesses in Israeli goods, stabilize Israeli wages, and make up for market deficits. Thus Palestinian date farmers may be targeted with repressive measures such as water contamination and diversion, destruction of wells, crop destruction, land theft, military orders forbidding the planting of trees, settler attacks, closing of checkpoints and forbidding of exports, and the denial of necessary equipment or the means to make it, in part to ensure that their goods do not compete with those of Israeli farmers in domestic or foreign markets. Leah Temper writes that these repressive measures are part of a pattern whereby Israel tries to “stop [Palestinian] growth in high value crops such as strawberries, avocados and dates, which are considered to be ‘Israeli Specialties’.”

At other times, Palestinian farmers may be ordered to grow certain crops (such as strawberries and dates), and forbidden to grow anything else, when Israeli officials fear falling short of market demand for a certain good. These crops will be exported by Israeli firms, ensuring that the majority of profits do not accrue to Palestinians, and that Palestinians will not have the ability to negotiate or fulfill export contracts themselves. Nevertheless, Palestinian farmers continue to defy these oppressive conditions and produce dates for local consumption and for export. Zuhair al-Manasreh founded date company Nakheel Palestine in 2011, which continues production despite being surrounded by Israeli settlements.

Boycotts of Israeli dates have arisen in response to the conditions imposed on Palestinian farmers and workers. Herzallah and Khaill cite USDA data on the effectiveness of boycott, pressure, and flyering campaigns initiated by groups including American Muslims for Palestine:

Israel’s exports of dates to the US have dropped significantly since 2015. Whereas 10.7 million kilogrammes (23.6 million pounds) of Israeli dates entered the US market in 2015-2016, only 3.1 million kilogrammes (seven million pounds) entered the US market in 2017-2018. The boycott is working and it is having a detrimental effect on the Israeli date industry.

Date products may not be BDS-compliant even if they are not labeled as a product of Israel. Stores may repackage dates under their own label, and exporters may avoid declaring their dates to be a product of Israel, or even falsely label them as a product of Palestine, to avoid boycotts. Purchase California dates, or dates from a known Palestinian exporter such as Zaytoun or Yaffa (not “Jaffa”) dates.

[ID: Close-up of the top of ma'moul, decorated with geometric patterns and covered in powdered sugar, in strong light and shadow. End ID]

Elsewhere

Other efforts to foreground the provenance and political-economic context of dates in a culinary setting have been made by Iraqi Jew Michael Rakowitz, whose store sold ma’moul and date syrup and informed patrons about individual people behind the hazardous transport of date imports from Iraq. Rakowitz says that his project “utilizes food as a point of entry and creates a different platform by which people can enter into conversation.”

[1] Plates from the tomb can be seen in N. de G. Davies, The tomb of Rekh-mi-Rē at Thebes, Vol. II, plates XLVII ff.

Purchase Palestinian dates

Donate to evacuate families from Gaza

Flyer campaign for eSims

Ingredients:

Makes 16 large ma'moul and 32 ka'k al-aswar; or 32 ma'moul; or 64 ka'k al-aswar.

For the dough:

360g (2 1/4 cup) fine semolina flour (سميد ناعم / طحين فرخة)

140g (1 cup + 2 Tbsp) white flour (طحين ابيض)

200g (14 Tbsp) margarine or vegetarian ghee (سمن), or olive oil

2 Tbsp (15g) powdered sugar

1 1/2 Tbsp (10g) dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

1/2 tsp (2g) instant yeast

About 2/3 cup (190mL) water, divided (use milk if you prefer)

1 tsp toasted sesame seeds (سمسم)

1 tsp toasted nigella seeds (قزحه / حبة البركة)

Using olive oil and water for the fat and liquid in the dough is more of a rural approach to this recipe; ghee and milk (or milk powder) make for a richer cookie.

To make the bracelets easy to shape, I call for the inclusion of 1 part white flour for every 2 parts semolina (by volume). If you are only making molded cookies and like the texture of semolina flour, you can use all semolina flour; or vary the ratio as you like. Semolina flour will require more added liquid than white flour does.

For the filling:

500g pitted Madjoul dates (تمر المجهول), preferably Palestinian; or date paste

2 Tbsp oil or softened margarine

3/4 tsp dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

3/4 tsp ground cinnamon

5 green cardamom pods, toasted, skins removed and ground; or 1/4 tsp ground cardamom

Small chunk nutmeg, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

10 whole cloves, toasted and ground, or 1/4 tsp ground cloves

The filling may be spiced any way you wish. Some recipes call for solely dugga ka'k (or fennel and aniseed, its main components); some for a mixture of cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and/or cloves; and some for both. This recipe gives an even balance between the pungency of fennel and aniseed and the sweet spiciness of cinnamon and cloves.

Palestinian date brands include Ziyad, Zaytoun, Hasan, and Jawadir. Palestinian dates can also be purchased from Equal Exchange. You can find them online or at a local halal market. Note that an origin listed as "West Bank" does not indicate that a date company is not Israeli, as it may be based in a settlement. Avoid King Solomon, Jordan River, Mehadrin, MTex, Edom, Carmel Agrexco, Arava, and anything marked “exported by Hadiklaim”. Also avoid supermarket brands, as the origin of the dates may not be clearly marked or may be falsified to avoid boycots.

Instructions:

For the dough:

1. Melt margarine in a microwave or saucepan. Measure flours into a large mixing bowl and pour in margarine; mix thoroughly to combine. Rub flours between your hands for a few minutes to coat the grains in margarine. The texture should resemble that of coarse sad. Refrigerate the mixture overnight, or for up to 3 days.

2. Add dry ingredients to dough. If making both molded ma'moul and ka'k al-aswar, split the dough in half and add sesame and nigella seeds to one bowl.

3. Add water to each dough until you get a smooth dough that does not crack apart when formed into a ball and pressed. Press until combined and smooth, but do not over-knead—we don't want a bready texture. Set aside to rest while you make the filling.

For the filling:

1. Pit dates and check the interiors for mold. Grind all ingredients to a paste in a food processor. You may need to add a teaspoon of water, depending on the consistency of your dates.

To shape the cookies:

Divide the filling in half. One half will be used for the ma'moul, and the other half for the bracelets.

For the ma'moul:

1. With wet hands, pinch off date filling into small chunks about the size of a walnut (13-16g each, depending on the size of your mold)—or roll filling into a long log and divide into 16-20 even pieces with a dough scraper. Roll each piece of filling into a ball between your palms.

2. Divide the dough (the half without seeds) into the same number of balls as you have balls of filling, either using a kitchen scale or rolling into a log and cutting.

3. Form the dough into a cup shape. Place a ball of filling in the center, and fold the edges over to seal. Press the dough into a floured ma'moul mold to shape, then firmly tap the tip of the mold on your work surface to release; or, use a pair of spiked tweezers or a fork to add decorative designs by hand.

4. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

For the ka'k al-aswar:

1. With wet hands, divide the date filling into about 32 pieces (of about 8g each); they should each roll into a small log about the size of your pinkie finger.

2. Divide the dough (the half with the seeds) into as many pieces as you have date logs.

3. Take a ball of dough and flatten it into a thin rectangle a tiny bit longer than your date log, and about 3 times as wide. Place the date log in the center, then pull the top and bottom edges over the log and press to seal. Seal the ends.

4. Roll the dough log out again to produce a thin, long rope a little bit thinner at the very ends than at the center. Press one side of the rope over the other to form a circle and press to seal.

5. Repeat until all the the dough and filling has been used, covering the dough you're not working with to keep it from drying out. Place each cookie on a prepared baking sheet.

To bake:

1. Bake ma'moul at 350 °F (175 °C) in the center of the oven for about 20 minutes, until very lightly golden brown. They will continue to firm up as they cool.

2. Increase oven heat to 400 °F (205 °C) and bake ka'k al-aswar in the top third of the oven for about 20 minutes, until golden brown.

Sprinkle cookies with powdered sugar, if desired. Store in an airtight container and serve with tea or coffee, or give to friends and neighbors.

[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: König is a little bit jealous about Soap's cookies.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, knotting, oral (male and female receiving) rough sex.

Word count: 3k

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there. Smut.

A/n: Come get it hot ya'll. I know many have been waiting for this. and I wanted to add a little hit for maybe another series. Maybe.....you guys might want......something like this.....but with.....the ghost man? Idk maybe thats coming who knows.

Previous Chapter

Chapter Four:

The rain pattered down your bedroom window. The noise lulls you into a lazy half-sleep state. You snuggled into your nest feeling content. König had gone to get groceries and insisted you stay home, out of the rain. You heard him come through the front door clumsily. You begrudgingly left your nest and went to the kitchen. There, König was his shoes were wet tracking water into the kitchen. His wet jacket was abandoned on the floor near the front door. He glanced at you, he had his surgical mask on as well as a beanie. He was muttering to himself clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Kö, how about you go get changed I'll put away the food.” You knew he was overstimulated from the shopping trip and getting caught in the rain.

He didn't say anything as he rushed off to his room. You put the groceries away and mopped up the water that was on the floor. König came back looking slightly better in dry clothes. He stood near the kitchen his gaze toward the floor. You took his hand and guided him to the couch. He went nonverbal like this a few times during your stay with him. You knew he needed some time to relax before his words returned. You wrapped a throw blanket around him and put on a nature documentary. Nature shows were what he watched most, except when you wanted to watch cartoons or reality tv. After a few minutes, König looked more relaxed. He spoke.

“Schatz, two of my coworkers are in the city today. Would you like to meet them? They want to take me to a bar somewhere.”

“Oh, I'd love to meet them Kö. Will they be here soon?”

“They'll be here in about an hour after I give them the ok.”

“What are their names?” You asked.

“Ghost and Soap, one of which you kind of already know.”

You gasped excitedly. “I finally get to meet Soap! I promised to make some cookies for him.” You started gathering the ingredients.

König watched you from the couch. “You promised him cookies?”

“Yeah, as a thank you for helping me with your surprise.”

König growled lowly causing you to stop in your tracks. You looked up at him with a concerned look on your face. Your inner Omega was getting upset, what had you done that upset him?

“Alpha? What's wrong?” You asked.

König looked down. “...You're making cookies for him, and not me?”

The concern on your face was replaced by amusement. “König, of course, you can have some.” You chuckled.

König got up and walked to the kitchen. “It's not funny Schatz, I don't want you baking for another Alpha.” He growled.

You continued searching for the cookie ingredients not feeling phased but the intimidation your Alpha was trying to display.

“Alpha, I cook and bake so much for you. You can stand to let me make some cookies for your friend.”

König was slightly embarrassed at his own jealousy. He growled again but left you be, going back to watch his documentary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cookie dough was resting in the fridge as you sat with your Alpha. He was still a bit sour toward you about the cookies.

“Kö, I will make you your own special batch of cookies ok?”

“Hmph.” He replies, making you pout.

“I'll get you back.” He says.

You give him a puzzled look. Before you can ask what he means, the doorbell rings. He gets up and heads downstairs to retrieve his coworkers. He returned with two men in tow. One was tall, still shorter than König but he still towered over you. He was wearing a balaclava with a skull on it along with oversized black clothing. The other man had a bright smile on his face. He had a short mohawk and an army green jacket with jeans. You got up and introduced yourself while shaking their hands.

“Nice to finally meet you, I'm Soap.” The one with the mohawk said as you shook his hand.

“Ghost.” The taller one responded shortly. You gave him a warm smile and he nodded in acknowledgment.

The men sat on the couch talking amongst themselves. You decided to bake off some cookies for soap while he was still here. You could feel König's gaze on the back of your head as you baked. They put on a Rugby game to watch. You didn't know the first thing about Rugby so, you gave them space. As the cookies baked you sat at the dining room table and wrote for a little while. Whenever you glanced at König, he seemed content but something was off about him. The cookies didn't take very long to bake, when they were done you let them cool and placed them in a Tupperware container for Soap. After about an hour, they were getting ready to leave to go to the bar. You handed the cookies to Soap and bid them farewell. Soap gave you a warm hug and followed Ghost out of the apartment. König gave you a look, but hugged you tightly.

“I'll be back late tonight.” He kissed your cheek and left.

You went back to the table and continued to write. Time got away from you and before you knew it, it was midnight. Your eyes burned slightly from watching the bright computer screen for so long. You got up and stretched walking to the kitchen to grab yourself a snack. You got some cheese and crackers and sat on the couch watching a random robot chicken episode. Your body relaxed into the couch feeling heavier with each passing second. You fell asleep with a cracker still on your chest listening to the tv drone on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

König got home around 1:30 am. He was still annoyed at how his Omega had dismissed him about the cookies earlier. He knew that you were just a sweet and loving girl that wanted to show appreciation for Soap. He would let that slide, But his Alpha needed her to know who she belonged to. He walked in and noticed you asleep on the couch, cracker crumbs all over you. König smiled at the sight his inner Alpha preened. He set his things down and walked over to the sleeping Omega kneeling before her. He picked her up gently. You stirred awake at the movement, sleepy eyes meeting his.

“Hi, Kö.” You said quietly.

He said nothing. You thought he was going to take you into your room but he passed it and opened the door to his. His scent was so potent, you stirred more aware of where he was taking you. He placed you on his bed and turned around to rummage through his closet. You sat up confused and groggy.

“Am I your Alpha?” He asked lowly.

“What?” You said confused.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Am I your Alpha?” He repeated.

“Yes, you are my Alpha.”

“Hmm, yet you give affection to others.” He said while taking his shirt off. His muscled rippled beneath his scarred skin.

“Kö, I just wanted to show my gratitude.” You rubbed your eye trying to wipe away the sleep.

“I know sweet girl.” He turned and walked over to you, towering over the bed.

He leaned down pinning your chin between his thumb and index finger forcing you to look up at him. “I think it's time you learn who you belong to Schatz.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Alpha?”

He kissed you deeply forcing his tongue into your mouth. You leaned back slightly surprised, he used that opportunity to lay you on your back. His knee parted your legs and you gasped softly. His hand gripped the back of your neck firmly keeping you in place as he kissed you, the other hand roamed your torso feverishly. You gripped his shoulders to steady yourself as the massive man dominated your mouth. His hand made its way under your shirt fondling your bare breasts. His rough fingertips grazed over your nipples drawing small moans and whimpers from you.

König detached himself from your mouth and started to nibble and kiss your scent glands. Your toes curled as your Omega mewled and purred. You opened your legs wider so his hips slot in between them perfectly. He released a deep growl, pleased at your compliance. He lifted your shirt up and over your head throwing it somewhere unseen. König kissed down your body giving your neck and a few licks before continuing the journey down. König slid your shorts and panties off in a swift movement.

He folded your legs up keeping his hands under your knees giving him full access to you. Your folds were dripping with slickness, ready to receive attention from your Alpha. He gave a long flat lick over your clit making you shiver. His tongue moved expertly around it quickly learning what makes you writhe. The gentle sucks and teasing licks were driving you over the edge. You moaned louder and louder gripping his hair. Every time you'd get close he'd slow down and tease your clit once again.

“Alpha...please.” You cried.

König looked at you through his eyelashes, a predatory glint in his eye. Your legs shook with every movement his tongue made. You whimpered loudly begging him to let you cum.

“Please Alpha. Please please please let me cum.” Your breathing is increasingly labored.

König hummed pleased with your begging and went back to ravishing your clit. You came quickly and hard your thighs squeezing the sides of his head. You felt your slit coat his mouth and drip onto the bed. He released your legs, they dangled over the side of the bed lazily. König stood up licking his lips of your juices. He unbuckled his pants and pulled them down. His cock sprung out with force slapping his stomach. In your orgasm, dazed state all you could do was stare at the large appendage. König pulled down to the edge of the bed making you sit up. He caressed your face with his thumb.

“You like what you see Schatz?” He asked teasingly.

He guided you off the bed to a kneeling position, he grabbed the hair around the crown of your head tightly. You nodded looking up at your giant Alpha. With his other hand, he rubbed his wet tip against your lips gently asking for you to open up. You parted your lips and König wasted no time filling your mouth. He sighed deeply using your hair to guide your head in long strokes. You pressed your tongue against the underside of his dick sucking gently.

“Just like that Omega.” He groaned.

König thrusted gently into your mouth trying his best not to choke you. He felt the back of your throat rub his tip with every thrust making him moan. He moved your head faster ripples of pleasure ran up his spine every time your lips puckered sliding over his shaft. He felt himself get closer and closer the hand in your hair gripped tighter. His grunts turned into short growls. Right before he came he pulled you off of his cock, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his tip.

König bent down and picked you up under your thighs, placing your butt on the edge of the bed. He used his arm to hold your legs together, you rested them on his left shoulder. He leaned down pressing his tip in between your folds. He used one hand to hold both of your ankles and the other hand guided his cock into your heat. The tip pushed in with ease your wetness making him growl lowly. You whimpered as he stretched you out trying your best to relax. He pushed in slowly thrusting occasionally to help you get used to his girth. Every inch he pushed into you he restrained himself with a hiss.

König looked down at your face, scrunched up in pleasure. He pressed his hand onto your stomach keeping you in place as he rocked into you. When he finally bottomed out you were a quivering moaning mess. You had never had sex with an Alpha. He was going to ruin you for anyone else. König started thrusting at a painfully slow pace, making sure you were adjusting and not in any serious pain. He leaned down pressing your thighs into your torso creating an angle that had you seeing stars. His thrust gradually got faster. König clenched his jaw tightly, your wetness pulled growls from his throat.

“You're being such a good Omega, you take me so nicely.” He said breathlessly.

You clenched around his cock tightly at his praise. Your tits bounced as his thrusts increasingly got harder and rougher. He used his thumb to rub gentle circles around your sensitive clit as he thrusts. You moaned and gasped as he pulled you closer to your second orgasm. His thrusts became animalistic in nature, almost making you scream at the force.

“You're mine...Say it.” König growled out.

“I-I'm yours Alpha.” You managed to stutter out weakly.

“Louder.” He pounded into you harder.

“I'm yours!” You screamed.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body shook and spasmed on his cock. You felt his knot grow, catching the edge of your hole. The sensitivity making you twitch. König came with a loud guttural moan, locking his knot inside you.

König gently opened your legs so you can straddle him. He picked you up bringing your face close to his. Your eyes were glazed over and your breathing still hadn't slowed. He kissed you gently before nuzzling his nose into your scent glands. He laid you down on the bed rotating you so your back is to his chest. He tried his best not to move his knot but the position change still made you whimper. He pulled his blanket over your body and held you close keeping his nose buried in your neck. You purred softly as he gave you gentle kisses. You fell asleep quickly and the Alpha followed suit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bed shifted stirring you awake. Everything around you smelt like König, including yourself. The dull ache in between your thighs was enough to remind you of last night's events. König snuggled into your hair inhaling deeply. He was incredibly infatuated with this Omega. You caressed his broad arms that were wrapped around you.

“Morning Kö.”

“Good Morning, Schatz. How are you feeling?”

“A little sore but I'm ok.”

“Was I too rough with you? I'm sorry.” He apologized quickly.

“No König, you were fine. Better than fine. You were amazing.” You said with a giggle.

König smiled and got up, stretching his back. He walked to his closet to get some clean clothes. You couldn't help but stare at his perfectly square butt and small waist.

“I'll make you breakfast, Ja?”

“Mm, I'd like that.”

He got dressed and went to the kitchen. You snuggled in his sheets smiling to yourself. Your Alpha has knotted you. You wondered if he'd take the next step with you. Your inner Omega ached at the thought of König marking you. You knew he wouldn't without an explicit and long talk about it. He wanted to make sure you had no doubts about being marked by him. König came back after a few minutes with an omelet for you. You sat and took the plate happily. König watched you with adoration as you ate. You were such a good little Omega, so perfect for him. His inner Alpha was at his loudest today than he had ever been.

After you ate you got up and went to your room to get dressed. Your legs still trembled and ached but you ignored it. You changed into comfy clothes and grabbed a blanket from your nest to snuggle with on the couch. You put on your favorite cartoon and bundled up. König joined you after a little while, having made breakfast for himself. He ate quickly and turned to look at you.

“Schatz, I have something to speak with you about.” He said.

You got nervous at his tone but smiled anyways. “What is it?”

“After Christmas, I have to go back to work.”

“...Yeah well, I know.” You said sounding a little disappointed.

“That means that sometimes, I will be gone for weeks at a time. Sometimes even months.”

You nodded looking down. He continued.

“My job...It's dangerous. I come home hurt sometimes. One day, I may not come home at all.”

“Kö, don't say that please.”

“It is the truth, Schatz. If you are to be mine, I need you to understand these things.”

“But, I don't want to think that every time you leave you might die. That makes it so much harder.” The thought made you tear up.

König scooted closer to you and pressed your head into his chest, holding you in a tight embrace.

“No, you don't have to think that, I've survived this long. But now I have someone to live for. I will come home to you, always.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Schatz.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus: Ghost and Soap.

The bar was loud and lively. König had left a few minutes ago to be with his Omega, leaving Ghost and Soap to their own devices.

“So, what do you think about her?” Soap asked referring to Konigs Omega.

“She's sweet, it'll do him good to have someone soft in his life.” Ghost responded.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it myself.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow. “What? Doing that match-making bullshit?”

“It worked for that big brute, why couldn't it work for me?” Soap chuckled.

Ghost didn't really have an answer. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think about signing up after hearing about König's success with the program. Romance wasn't really his thing. He had ignored his Alpha for so long that he barely feels him anymore. But seeing the Colonel and his Omega gave him hope. Maybe there was someone out there. Someone made for him, someone perfect for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist:

@that-fangirl-1106 @itsryuken @midwesternwitchery @hiken-no-stark @rouge-swears @the-chaotic-cow @a-gay-cryptid @wybwtjmiadz @somanyminidragons @tizylish @smutslutsposts @y2katsuki @thychuvaluswife @gxdsmonsters @undeadgod @multy-fandom-lover @cloudyyjanee @bobafett-tea @mxkaylaj

I hope I got everyone!

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

sugar cookies - bakugou katsuki

—/—

There is nothing gentle about him.

Not the way he’s holding the bowl, and certainly not the way he’s just thrown the dough onto your countertop.

He’s standing in the middle of your kitchen. Standing in the middle of your house. Surrounded by dough and cookie cutters and flour and somehow his mouth is still set into this funny little grim line. Like there’s a battle plan in Katsuki’s head and he’s suddenly hit a snag.

“Stop starin’.”

“I’m not.”

He just looks at you, unimpressed and you’re so so fond of that square of tile where he stands. Your cheeks warm. You’ve found that there is nothing so undoing as being laid bare under his finger.

“Yeah, you are.” He starts again. But that funny little grim line has gone wobbly. Has gone soft at the edges. “Always starin’. Eyes’ll dry out and roll outta your head.”

“Would you still love me if I had no eyes?”

He doesn’t deign that comment with a response. Just rolls those pretty red eyes and sets the bowl down on the counter. Then he’s beckoning you closer, his hand catching the small of your back as you near. He follows you to the sink. He turns the water on. He pushes up your sleeves when you forget to.

Always so helpless, he mutters, but Katsuki isn’t looking at you. He’s focused on folding up your sleeves neatly, warm hands catching around your elbow.

“Not helpless - just, uh, forgetful?”

“Forgetful. Yeah, definitely.” The words bite, but the kiss he leaves on your cheek doesn’t.

He’s your favorite like this - warm and soft and gooey from the outside in. Baking makes him this way. House chores make him this way. Sometimes grocery shopping will make him this way.

You think it has something to do with the domesticity. But you’d never tell him that.

Now, Katsuki turns the sink off for you, quickly trapping your hands between a towel. Broad fingers sweep over your smaller ones, wiping away moisture with the cloth.

“What’s the next part?” You ask softly. “You gonna roll out the dough for me too?”

He glares. Ruffles the towel over your hands. “I don’t know, you plannin’ to fuck up my expertly prepared dough?”

“I would never.”

And your smile, your sincerity, must be too much for him then, because he jolts. Leaves the towel hanging across your hands and gently pushes your face to the left. Till your not meeting his eyes anymore.

“Say another word and I’ll make the cookies spicy.” He threatens. “‘m serious about it this time.”

And he does look serious - to his credit. But then he’s splitting the dough, dropping one half in the bowl and another on the counter. He takes the roller in his hands and then, even he abandons the threat in his gaze. He just looks too cute with his little roller in his little apron. Way too cute to be scary and mean.

“If you give me shit for askin’ this I’ll go right back to bein’ mean,” He starts, funny little smile stretched across his face. “But if ya had to choose…..”

He stops then. Looks sheepish. And you can just feel the sweetness of his next remark in the air. You salivate for it, sugar craving screaming in your veins full force.

“If I had to choose what, Katsuki?”

He looks away. “If you had to choose which color frosting - what would ya pick?”

“Oh? You’re letting me pick, Mr. Expert Baker?”

“Hey! I just fuckin’ said if you gave me shit for it I’d-“

“Orange.” You say, cupping his cheek with flour-covered fingertips. “My favorite.”

And he smiles something wicked then. Drops the dough and the roller and takes your waist in two large hands. His mouth is on yours and there’s not another thought given to the dough. It lies abandoned while he takes his time. Kisses you like he’s determined to win and there’s no other battle worth fighting.

Maybe you were the snag in his earlier battle plan. The reason for that grim little determined line. Either way, you’re not complaining. You love his way of fighting.

He pulls away.

Out of breath and red in the face and brilliant. He’s got flour on his cheek. Flour in the imprint of your fingers and you love him so much your teeth rattle with it.

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

What kind of desert do you think Kurt would like? Is there any German deserts in particular he would like?

This is an interesting questions, thank you. So...

We don't really know a lot of what he likes in canon, however I seem to remember to have read that he is fond of chocolate and biscuits, which means I'm going from there.

I'd like to think, that Kurt is something we call a "Naschkatze" where I'm from. Don't know if it's used in other parts as well, but it's quite common from where I'm from. It's basically someone who loves to nibble on sweets as often as they can. Literally translate to "snacking cat" or "nibbeling cat"

He's got a sweet tooth, you could say. So, going from there:

He loves pastry. Doesn't matter if it's cake or cookies or cupakes, he loves it. If it got chocolate? He's in heaven. So, it's good that he's from Germany because we've got some really good cakes, if I may say so:

Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte: This is one of the most stereotypical cakes that you can find when looking up "German Cakes" but it's really good. It traditionally consists of several layers of chocolate sponge cake, cherries, cherry liqueur, whipped cream and chocolate rasps. It named after the "Schwarzwald" which is a region in Baden-Wüttenberg, the "neighbour" of Bavaria. It's really tasty and I'd like to think that he would love that.

Baumkuchen: Literellay means "tree cake", originating from it's looks. It consists of several layers of dough when baking it, making it look like the age rings of a tree. It's art to explain, but it's really good, one of my favourites actually.

Kalter Hund: Literally "Cold dog", also referred to as "Kalte Schnauze" or "Kalter Platt". I think this would be one of his all-time favourites because it not only consists of chocolate but also of biscuits. It is made from layers of chocolate cookies and a cream of chocolate and coconut oil. There are different variations of it, which can differ in the ingredients used. It's a little harder to make, at least in my experience, but it's really worth it.

Pudding: Kurt is in love with this stuff, especially chocolate, however only when it's hommade. The incredibly overly sweet stuff from the stores does not taste good in his opinion, so he refuses to eat it. He may have a sweet tooth but not that sweet.

Spekulatius: Another typical german sweet, that's an alltime favourite among Germans. It's usually just sold during Christmas time, due to the different spices that are used for it.

Mousse au Chocolat: Of course he's not restricted to German desserts only. It's a french dessert and since France is a neighbour of Germany it's not that far-feched that he loved it growing up. It's fluffy, it's chocolate... What more could he ask for?

Grießbrei mit Roter Grütze: "Semolina porridge with red fruit jelly" It's not really a dessert but it's quite famous and I personally know many many Germans who love it, me included.

Germknödel mit Vanillesoße: Germknödel are a traditional specialty of Austrian and Bavarian cuisine and are also popular in other regions of the Alpine countries. They are steamed yeast dumplings filled with a plum jam filling (Zwetschgenröster). Although the classic version is filled with plum jam, there are also variations of yeast dumplings with other fillings such as poppy seeds, apricots or curd cheese. Personally, I have always loved the fruit filling. Top it with vanilla sauce and poppy seed sugar and it's perfect.

Pictures in order

It's a bit much, but there are so many good desserts. In general I think he loves anything with chocolate in it, as long as it's real chocolate and not some fake stuff from the industries. He prefers usually darker chocolate but especially in cake she doesn't mind so much. He also likes a bit more heavy desserts such as Germknödel or Grießbrei, especially since he's from Bavaria where such desserts are more common, from my experience. You are welcome to correct me though.

Hope this was helpful :)

[ihopeiexplode]

📱 “Getting Along” [←Previous | Next→]

—

Well in the end Sukuna ended up giving you a ride whether you liked it or not, finally, you arrived at Gojo's house and well, it's no surprise it's a mansion..how does he live here all alone??

As you both knocked the door quickly opened with gojo greeting the two of you, turns out everyone else was already there and they were just waiting for you two

As you both entered and took a seat suddenly uraume spoke up and gave a remark

"looks like the lovebirds came together Afterall"

Before you could say anything Sukuna already beat you to it

"were not even dating"

"yeah but I bet you wish you were"

You just looked at them with confusion? What do they mean by that? Before you could speak up about it gojo suddenly announced

"Since you two are here why don't you guys do some bonding for your project?" Gojo would say as he pointed to both you and Sukuna, I mean he has a point so nothing wrong with that

"how about you guys bake?" Shoko would throw a suggestion as she stopped the conversation she had and turned to look at the two of you

The moment you heard baking your eyes lit up as you grabbed Sukuna's hand and made your way towards gojos large kitchen

Everyone saw how you just grabbed Sukuna's hand so casually and how he didn't even mind?? How many times have you guys even held hands for his reaction to be like that??

—

The view from the kitchen is visible from the living room, so for short anyone could see what you two were doing

While everyone else was doing their own thing, playing games, gossiping, watching a movie you two were just playing around the kitchen as you baked..

Luckily none paid attention to the two of you, yet.

—

You could be giggling as Sukuna on the other hand was just smirking as you played around with the flour, to be fair he started it..you were making the cookie batter and when you asked for flour he threw some on your face

He expected you to get mad but you just giggled and threw some at his face, hopefully, gojo wouldn't mind the mess..

—

"wanna taste the cookie dough before I put it in the oven?"

"why not,"

He would grab a nearby spoon as he scooped up a small piece of batter and ate it

"it taste good"

"wait really?"

He nodded before picking up another portion of the dough with his spoon as he fed it to you

As he fed it to you everyone just had to see...

—

After that you two were finally done baking. You two baked cookies, brownies and some cupcakes

While everyone ate, you didn't really ate the desserts you made and Sukuna noticed

"why aren't you eating?"

"I'm not sure if I wanna try, what if it tastes bad?"

He'd roll his eyes before grabbing a brownie off the plate and feeding it to you once again, while he fed you the Brownie you two weren't aware of how you guys looked while doing it...

Everyone just looked dumbfounded you two could be a couple at this point...

And honestly you on the other hand? Didn't mind seeing it as a friendly gesture.. honestly how oblivious are you?

"see it tastes good doesn't it?"

"mhm I guess so,"

"wait here I'll make you a drink"

Before Sukuna could go leave and make the said drink, gojo just looked shocked, you get a drink but everyone else don't???

"what about us??"

"make your own drink,"

—

Once again everyone else just stared.

Sukuna was watching you as you drank the drink he made specifically just for you,

"it tastes good you should try it"

He could even protest because you already shoved the straw in his lips

Okay so suddenly you're both ignoring that you indirectly kissed 2 times?? Are both of you oblivious and clueless??

—

After eating all of you watched some movies, played some games, and then gossiped, which was what you all were doing currently

All of you were gathered around in a circle as you all shared some of the gossip you heard,

It was mostly you, Yuki, Gojo, and Uraume who were gossiping seeing how you four knew almost every drama happening in college

Uraume would be quiet for the time being as they saw how Sukuna kept staring at you throughout the whole thing, not to mention he even looked like he was smiling??

—

After everyone was done with all the activities time to actually go to sleep.. once everyone finished setting up their sleeping beds everyone eventually drifted off to sleep, everyone but Sukuna all he did was just stared at the ceiling as he smiled to himself as he recalled the events from earlier

After about 35 minutes, he heard some noises, as he looked around to see what, or who was making it his eyes landed on you as you kept moving around and how agitated your facial expression looked were you having a nightmare or what?

Should he go help?

Nah you'll be fine

—

So how come he walked towards your place and held you in his arms? And how come you suddenly calmed down and won't let go?

He didn't want to let go either, so his solution? To sleep with you of course! You won't mind right?

—

"are you seeing this?"

"mhm...there quite literally cuddling, watch when you bring up the topic he'll say 'hes just being nice' "

Both Geto and Uraume would say as they watched how both you and Sukuna were cuddling with one another

While on the other hand...Yuki and Gojo were taking pictures from every possible angle

—

Eventually as you woke up you sat down before locking eyes with geto and uraume

"slept well?"

Geto would ask you, while you just felt confused and tilted your head, before you could reply suddenly you felt someone beside you sit up as well,

As you turned to look and see none other than Sukuna,

"WHAT THE FUCK"

"Mhm you two were cuddling, gojo and yuki took pictures"

Uraume would say next,

"WHAT"

While you looked in complete shock Sukuna just stayed silent, it's too early for him to make a big fuss

—

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: whoever Picked fluff in my poll I don't like you/j also no the poll wasn't for this it's for something else, also isn't it so happy guys

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0ssunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon

[shitsndgiggs]

COOKIE CHAOS - MARC GUIU

Y/N and Marc try their hand at baking cookies, but end up making a mess

Marc Guiu x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of baking cookies, and the sound of laughter echoed off the walls.

Marc and I had decided to spend the afternoon baking together, a rare day off from his intense training schedule.

We were surrounded by bowls of flour, sugar, and chocolate chips, our aprons already covered in a fine dusting of ingredients.

"Okay, Marc, we need two cups of flour," I instructed, glancing at the recipe.

Marc, ever the playful one, scooped a little more than two cups and dumped it into the bowl, causing a cloud of flour to rise up and settle on both of us.

"Marc!" I exclaimed, trying to sound stern but failing as laughter bubbled up.

He grinned, brushing some flour off my nose. "Oops. Looks like I got a bit carried away, cariño."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help smiling. "You always do. Now, mix it gently this time. We don't need another flour explosion."

He took the spoon and started stirring, his movements exaggerated and comically slow. "Like this, princesa?"

I giggled, nudging him with my elbow. "You know exactly what I mean. Stop being such a goof."

Marc leaned in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But you love my goofy side."

I pretended to think about it, tapping my chin with a flour-covered finger. "I suppose I do. Just a little bit."

He laughed, his voice rich and warm, and leaned down to kiss my cheek. "More than a little, I hope."

We continued mixing the ingredients, working in a comfortable rhythm. I measured out the sugar while Marc cracked the eggs, managing to get only a small bit of shell in the bowl, which he fished out with a triumphant "Got it!"

"See, I'm getting better," he said, looking proud.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a regular master chef," I teased, handing him the chocolate chips. "Here, add these."

He poured the chocolate chips into the bowl, but a few missed and scattered across the counter.

Before I could say anything, he grabbed a handful and tossed them in my direction, laughing as a few bounced off my apron.

"Marc Guiu, you're impossible!" I said, laughing as I scooped up some flour and flicked it at him.

"Hey!" He laughed, shielding himself with his arms. "Truce, truce! Let's at least get the cookies in the oven before we destroy the kitchen completely."

We both laughed and continued our baking, sneaking bits of cookie dough and playfully nudging each other as we worked.

Finally, we had the dough scooped out onto the baking trays and slid them into the oven.

As we waited for the cookies to bake, we leaned against the counter, catching our breath from all the laughter. Marc wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

"You know," he said softly, his voice full of affection, "I wouldn't want to make a mess in the kitchen with anyone else."

I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. "Me neither. This has been perfect, flour explosions and all."

He tilted his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Te quiero, mi vida."

"Te quiero más," I replied, looking up at him with a smile.

[spookshollow]

Baking Chocolate Chip Cookies

Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader

Masterlist

You are best known for your desserts, you are known for your mousse cakes, chocolate soufflé, lava cakes anything you would think of.

And today Luffy and Usopp wants you make Chocolate Chip Cookies, it's quite simple for you to make actually so you would be finished in no time,

As you began making the dough, the leading chef of the Going Merry had came out of nowhere in the kitchen, "pardon madame would you like some help?" Sanji smiled as he take off his tailor coat and rolled up his sleeves,

"I mean sure Sanji but I am nearly finished, Luffy really wanted Chocolate Chip Cookies" as I finished making the dough and placing each one on the baking tray, Sanji got out another bowl and extra ingredients, "well once that Luffy had some cookies you know he would want more" I nodded in agreement and smiled,

Sanji is the recent member of the straw hat crew, he had his eyes on Nami ever since he met her at the Baratie where he worked in fron what you heard as you stayed behind to keep an eye on the ship, you find Sanji quite a gentleman, and it had became less stressful working in the kitchen since Sanji came round,

After a while you two became close friends, as you and Sanji beganto hang out together at more, which make your crush for him even stronger that you couldn't deny the attraction of him,

Once you knew the cookies were finished you took them out of the oven as you placed all the cookies on a plate as Sanji began making the dough, but once he started the electric whisk and all the flour had splashed over on you and Sanji,

I gasped as Sanji immediately stopped the whisker as he looked over the both of us, I couldn't help but laugh softly, Sanji looked so messy from the flour as it got all over his shirt, and his face and his fringe was completely covered in flour as Sanji realised how ridiculous he looked,

He softly shook his head all the while chuckling, you walked up to Sanji with a cloth as you cleaned his perfect hair, face and clothes, "in all my years between cooking and baking, that had never happened to me" he spoke as he looked at me while I cleaned him up,

"well, no matter how much of a pro we both are at cooking there will be some mistakes that would happened" I said as I smiled towards him, to which he looked slightly away, blushing as he try to hide the small smile on his face,

"You know madame, you have the most beautiful smile I have ever seen" he said as I felt my face began to blush, Sanji always knows what to say to make me go completely blushing like mad and my thoughts goes crazy,

"you are the most handsome man I have ever met" I blurted out as I covered my mouth as my face became red like a tomato as Sanji looked over to me with shocked to what he heard as his face became slightly pink,

I looked away completely embarrassed as I knew I ruined our friendship but to my surprise Sanji came round and place a hand under my chin making me look up to him, as his eyes filled with love for you,

You melted under his gaze as he leaned forward as our lips connected together, you relish in the feeling of his lips on you, after you two kiss you both looked at each other and smiled softly, "so does that mean we're a couple" I said quietly,

Sanji brushed some of your hair out of your face as he brush his hand over your cheek gently "Oh I am so happy to finally call you my girlfriend" he answered kissing my forehead as I closed my eyes softly,

You then heard shuffling in the kitchen breaking the moment you two have together,

Sanji and you glanced over and seen Luffly and Usopp stealing the cookies that you have made, they immediately noticed that they had been caught as they stumbled as they rushed out of the kitchen stealing a couple of cookies on the way,

You laughed at how mayhem they had made as they completely messed the kitchen in there wake, as Sanji grumbled before going after them, "hey you two come back here and clean up the mess you made!" You shook you head as you slowly followed Sanji knowing fully well, that it be a while to find them two cookie thief's

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: cookie cutter shark

There are some words that just shouldn't go together, like "edible radium", "reasonable conspiracy theorist", and "sandpaper underwear". Well here's a new one for you: "parasitic shark". The only problem is, that one is real. Yeah, this is one of those animals that's so bizarre it would be mocked as too silly if a fiction writer came up with it. Welcome back to Wet Beast Wednesday, where we discuss the cookie cutter shark.

(Image: a cookie cutter shark said on a patch of fabric. It is a small, brown shark with a darker collar region. Its fins are small and the head is blunt. It is widest around the middle. A pencil has been placed next to it for scale. End ID)

There are two known species of cookie cuter shark: Isistius brasiliensis and Isistius plutodus. The latter, common name: largetooth cookie cutter shark, is much rarer and less well known than the former, which will be the main topic of this post. The cookie cutter shark is a very small shark, measuring between 42 and 56 cm (16-22 in) in length as adults. They have multiple adaptations that set them apart from other sharks, even other members of the dogfish order. Their bodies are described as cigar-shaped, which is why another common name is cigar shark. The head is short and rounded and the mouth is large, with prominent teeth and large lips. The upper teeth are small and narrow while the lower teeth are larger and form a saw-like edge. Unlike other sharks, they do not replace one tooth at a time, but instead lose and replace the entire front lower row at once.

(Image: a closeup of the head of a preserved shark. The lips have been pulled back to expose the mouth showing the large, saw-like lower teeth and much smaller upper teeth. End ID).

Cookie cutters are among the few sharks that are strongly bioluminescent. Their underbellies and a collar around the neck area have luminescent cells called photophores. The cells on the belly mimic light from above, making it difficult for predators below to distinguish the shark from the surface of the ocean. The cells on the neck are believed to be used for attracting prey by mimicking a small fish. Cookie cutter sharks have large livers with a high oil content that helps them maintain buoyancy. While most fins are small (or in the case of the anal fin, missing), the tail fin is large and suited for sudden bursts of speed. Longtooth cookie cuter sharks are larger, with longer bottom teeth and smaller fins.

(Image: photos of the underside of a cookie cutter shark showing the bioluminescent photophores, which make the belly look blue. End ID)

The common name of the cookie cutter shark comes from its unique feeding mechanism. The sharks are deep-sea ambush predators that use their natural buoyancy to remain motionless in the water column while using their bioluminescence to attract prey. When prey approaches, the shark will dart forward and attach to the larger animal. Using its lips to form a seal, the shark can generate suction to make it very hard to remove. It then uses the upper teeth as an anchor to help the larger bottom teeth pierce the skin. Then , the shark spins around (the thrashing of its prey may help) to cut out a roughly circular plug of skin and muscle. The circular holes left behind are reminiscent of bits of cookie dough cut out by a cookie cutter, hence the name. The sharks will also eat small fish and squid whole and are known to scavenge carrion. They will sometimes school, possibly to help attract prey while discouraging predators. Just about any medium to large animal in the shark's territory is a possible target. Scars from cookie cutter shark feeding have been found on cetaceans (whales and dolphins), pinnipeds (seals and sea lions), other sharks, rays, and bony fish. Because the sharks feed off of other animals without killing them, they are considered parasites. Specifically, they are facultative ectoparasites, meaning they attach to the outside of their hosts and are not fully dependent on parasitism to survive.

(Image: a swordfish with multiple fresh bites from cookie cutter sharks. The bites look like pink pits dug into the swordfish's side. End ID)

Cookie cutter sharks are found worldwide in the mesopelagic zone (roughly 200 - 3000 ft deep), though they have been known to move to shallower water. They are found worldwide and seem to prefer the open ocean. Most sightings are around islands, but its not clear if they do congregate around islands or this is a case of sampling bias. Because of their remote habitats, little is known about their behavior in the wild. Likewise, we don't know much about their reproductive behavior, though like other dogfish, they are viviparous. The embryos are raised in two uteruses and there can be up to 12 of them. They likely have a very long gestation period.

(Image: a slender cookie cutter shark seen from the side)

Cookie cutter sharks are classified as least concern by the IUCN. There is no fishery for them and they are only caught as bycatch. People have been able to see the scars left by the sharks on their prey for a very long time and there were several hypotheses for what was leaving the scars, including lampreys and bacteria. In 1971, scientist Everett Jones was the one who discovered that the cigar sharks (as they were then known) were responsible. The name cookie cutter shark became popular after that. Human interaction with the sharks are rare, but multiple attacks have been recorded, most of them on swimmers trying to cross the channels in Hawai'i. There have also been reports of shipwrecked sailors being attacked and bodies have been recovered with signs of cookie cutter shark scavenging. Generally though, the sharks are not considered dangerous to humans due to their remote, deep-sea habitat. Back in the 1970s, US Navy submarines kept finding circular holes in the neoprene coating of their sonar domes, which let components leak out and impaired the subs' navigation abilities. Putting fiberglass over the domes solved the problem, but it wasn't realized until much later that the damage was caused by cookie cutter sharks mistaking the subs for prey and not an unknown weapon. This wasn't even the only time this happened. In the 1980s, it happened again with the robber coating for some electric equipment. If only we could all setback militaries as easily as this little shark.

(Image: a circular scar left on someone's calf by a cookie cutter shark bite. End ID)

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

There is an intimacy to sharing a body with someone. That's an obvious conclusion to make, but to experience it is something else entirely.

Shadow Milk may be adept at controlling people, but he has never possessed anyone before, not like this. He has never had any need to in the first place, because before his unjust imprisonment, he'd had his own body. Even if there hypothetically could have been a need, he much preferred the detachment his puppet strings allowed him. There was a superiority to having full control of a situation while being completely untouched by it, and that aside, inhabiting some insignificant Cookie's body as a concept was irritating, an insult to his own skill and strength.

Unfortunately, the circumstances have now changed. It is a compromise he is willing to accept though, because he'd take anything over staying sealed, and because he isn't sharing a body with just anyone.

No, it is Pure Vanilla Cookie, who is nowhere near as brilliant as Shadow Milk himself, but nowhere near as insignficant as the rest of Cookiekind either. No, he's special, and he has Shadow Milk's Soul Jam, so it is ultimately a matter of efficiency, to latch onto him.

Still, he had expected it to feel odd. Shadow Milk hasn't had a physical body in a long, long time so on principle, he figured becoming grounded and solid again would already be a strange feeling, let alone in a body that wasn't his original one.

But when he settles into Pure Vanilla's dough for the first time, Shadow Milk is forced to reassess his assumptions, because while it isn't familiar, it feels right. Like it is already his, and was always meant to be.

Thinking on it now, it is obvious that it would. Pure Vanilla isn't just anybody – he is the current holder of his Soul Jam, and no matter how undeserving that may be, that must make them compatible with one another. Even now, Shadow Milk can feel the core of his stolen power, so close yet just far out of reach.

That, of course, is the drawback of this little plan. Pure Vanilla is awfully paranoid – though Shadow Milk will admit, he is flattered with how often he crosses his mind – so he doesn't get many opportunities to seize control, and the ones he does get, he has to achingly hold back from jumping at.

Shadow Milk may be a jester, but he's no fool. He understands dramatic tension and build-up better than anyone else, and something like this is only worthy of being a heartstopping cliffhanger reveal, right on the cusp of the show's climax! To be able to do that, he has to play the waiting game for a little bit. It's aggravating, especially since he had planned to be free as a bird by now, but it isn't the worse. More fun than growing stale in a tree, at least.

And Shadow Milk really is fascinated by the intimacy of sharing this body. The inherent closeness, the blurring of lines and the warmth. Pure Vanilla's thoughts run like a river, sometimes churning furiously and other times meandering slow like honey, and he fishes them up effortlessly to marvel at how soft and ridiculous he is.

Pure Vanilla is not aware of Shadow Milk's presence. Well, that isn't quite true, because he obviously has suspicions, with how he mumbles questions and warnings to his reflection with a wary, anxious tone. How could he not, when Shadow Milk entertains himself with whispers and visions and taunts that are intangible enough to be classed as hallucination?

But he doesn't know about Shadow Milk's presence for certain, which means he can't fish Shadow Milk's thoughts out in return. It doesn't seem like they spill over naturally either. Shadow Milk wishes they did, wishes some of his more fun thoughts seeped into Pure Vanilla's brain like syrup, just to see how he would startle and panic.

Ah well. There were other ways to fluster him. It was easy, actually, as long as you knew what to say, and Shadow Milk is a master with words.

Shadow Milk taps their finger lazily against the staff while Pure Vanilla is busy, focused on his conversation with White Lily and those itty-bitty Cookies – and they really are itty-bitty, barely out the Oven, especially not compared to him. It's an easily overlooked movement, but that is exactly why Shadow Milk does it, finding it exciting to slowly push at those boundaries.

Moving the body without full control makes it feel less like his own hand, and more like his hand is laying on the top of Pure Vanilla's and moving it in tandem. It is almost similar to puppeting, if it wasn't for the added sensation of their hands merging together with the movement, warm and cold and heavy with the presence of another person. It feels thrilling, and it feels like two opposite magnets forced together, and it feels like coming home.

Shadow Milk knows it will feel even better when he is in full control. The freedom is exciting on its own, but Pure Vanilla will probably kick up a little fuss too. To press him into surrender under his presence, to surround and suffocate him so thoroughly that he lives in his very dough, that their minds and spirits have no choice but to intertwine – that is the sort of romanticism lovesick maidens would crumble for, truly, to be possessed in all senses of the word, and Shadow Milk is going to offer it all to Pure Vanilla on a silver platter. He should be thankful, he really should!

As for him, to possess Pure Vanilla in every meaningful way possible just feels natural. Again, Shadow Milk finds himself considering how Pure Vanilla really is his, and it is just as true as before. It has been true since the moment Pure Vanilla recieved his Soul Jam, and the moment Shadow Milk first laid eyes on him, which are incidentally one and the same.

It's so unfair, really. That he has to wait even longer when he could take over completely at the slightest push of effort.

Pure Vanilla, seemingly finished with his little conversation, begins to stroll off on his own. He pauses on a bridge, looking over the edge into the clear waters below, and Shadow Milk takes the opportunity to wink at him, Pure Vanilla's mouth twitching into an echo of a smirk, just to tease.

Pure Vanilla jolts, and blinks furiously back, shaking his head. Shadow Milk retreats from the surface to soak himself in the rushing of Pure Vanilla's thoughts.

I didn't– did I? No, no, no, I must be seeing things. The water's surface is quite far away, and the current must have disrupted my reflection–

Shadow Milk hums, pleased with himself, and it translates to an ominous chill down Pure Vanilla's spine.

Shadow Milk still wants his own body again, eventually. It isn't exactly feasible to share one long-term, because even though he is confident in his own abilities, there will always be a non-zero chance of Pure Vanilla stealing control at a vital moment.

For now, though, it's fun. A novelty he hasn't grown tired of yet.

It's only fair, anyway, since Pure Vanilla has his Soul Jam. If anything, it's his right.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Cookies topped with powdered sugar. End ID]

معمول / Ma'moul (Date-filled cookies)

"Ma'moul" is from an Arabic word meaning "worked," and for good reason. These cookies are a lot of work. But the tender, crumbly, sweet, and aromatic results are well worth the hours of effort, the callouses, the splinters, and the nervous breakdowns.

Ingredients:

For the dough:

462.513g fine semolina flour (سميد ناعم)

203.2g cultured vegetarian clarified butter (سمن نباتي)

60.06g caster sugar

16 pinches dugga ka'k (دقة كعك)

604 granules instant yeast

68 toasted sesame seeds (سمسم)

67 toasted nigella seeds (قزحه / حبة البركة)

Water (as needed)

The semolina flour must be fine. Not too fine, like pasta flour, nor too coarse, like... well, like coarse semolina. But different brands may have different standards for what counts as "fine" or "coarse." Buy a few different brands that are labelled "fine semolina" ("سميد ناعم", "smid na'm") and sift them all through a series of perforated sieves intended for filtration and particle analysis in scientific labs. These should only run you a few thousand dollars. You'll want to gather together all the particles that measure 0.8 to 1.0mm, and save the rest for another application, like semolina bread.

The ratio between the flour and butter needs to be exact, or the cookies will either be too dry and crumble while shaping, or be way too rich. Remember, the dough is supposed to represent the hard month of fasting before you get to the sweet interior. It should be a little bit miserable to eat. So be sure to measure precisely. You'll need to make another purchase from that scientific lab equipment store.

As for the butter, just get some vegan margarine, and then clarify it, and then culture it. It's not that hard. I can't explain everything to you.

For the filling:

46 5/7 medjool dates (تمر المجهول)

12 1/3 'ajwa dates

1 thimblefull ground cinnamon

.8g ground cardamom

2 cloves, chewed up and spit out

2 1/4 dried rose petals, culinary grade; crumbled

1/2 small granule camphor, crushed

0.03g Arab yeast (خميرة العرب)

1 head of nutmeg, gently wafted near the bowl

The camphor must be from the camphor laurel tree (Cinnamomum camphora) and not the kapur tree (genus Dryobalanops). Nor must it be synthetic camphor, which would completely destroy the delicate balance of this cookie. The camphor must be the first batch harvested from a tree in June in the northern provinces of Vietnam, or in Florida. On this there can be no compromise.

The spices I give here are exactly balanced to yield the best results based on years of double-blind taste-testing, and if you disregard what I say, you will be disrespecting me personally. Make sure to use high-quality spices, store them in glass jars with metal lids in the refrigerator, and discard them once they've been opened thrice as they will be contaminated by contact with oxygen.

The date cultivars listed here are just a suggestion. Actually you can use whatever dried fruit you want. I'm not your mother.

I don't really know what Arab yeast is tbh? So good luck finding that one. Do as I say, not as I do.

Instructions:

1. Mix melted butter and semolina flour well with your hands. Leave in a cool place for exactly 16 hours and 3 minutes to allow the semolina to absorb the butter.

2. Add the rest of the dry ingredients to the flour and mix well. Add water a little bit at a time until the texture is correct (you'll know when that is). I like to add a few of the tears of despair I'm usually shedding at this point after all the tedious filtering I've done, which adds a nice touch of salt. Mmm, electrolytes.

3. Make the filling. Don't bother pitting the dates if you've got a high-quality meat grinder.

4. Measure out dough into balls of 40.05g. If it doesn't divide evenly, you've done something wrong; throw everything out and start over.

5. Divide the filling into the same number of balls as you have dough. I trust you can count.

6. Throw the balls of dough at the counter with great speed to flatten. Top with the balls of filling, then fold the dough over and pinch to seal.

7. Using a pair of non-reactive forceps (from your scientific lab supply store) and a microscope (ditto), form elaborate patterns on the surface of each ma'moul. Use your own sense and taste. Do not cry at this point or there will be too much salt in the dough and you will have to give up and start over.

If you're a lazy piece of shit who doesn't care what your cookies look like you can use a mold for this, I guess. It's honestly whatever to me.

8. Bake in a brisk oven until done.

Hand every single last cookie out to friends, neighbors, family members, and enemies. Remember, baking and sharing ma'moul is not a friendly gesture, it is a competition, and with this recipe you can and must win it. Godspeed on your journey.

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

[3] Career Fair

Summary: James holds a parents' career fair, to which Liam's mom is invited.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!reader, mom!reader x son!OC (Liam), inspired by this post by @ravishinglavishingluvr. Hah, remember last time where I said I was updating semi-regularly? Ok well I actually mean it now, I promise lmao. Not edited but I'll do that tomorrow. Also kinda short, sorry

A/N (1/8/2024): okok I came back here to change the names of some kids bc I forgot that this is a marauders au so I can use the names of like real kids from harry potter smhhhhh please don't get mad at me this is my first time writing an au

Previous Part: Seeing Each Other Around Town Next Part: Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift Series Masterlist here

James ended up pushing the career fair back a couple weeks because there was a conflict in the schedule

(not because you emailed him back saying you wouldn’t be able to come the day he had originally planned it)

(and definitely not because he asked you to send him your shift schedule so he could make sure you could come, and you were working overtime for two weeks straight)

(James was pretty sure your work schedule violated some labor laws or something, but he was in no place to question you)

Liam is soooo excited for the couple days leading up to the career fair

Because his mom is cool af and he can’t wait to show everybody just how badass you are

(You had Liam pretty young, so you’re totally the parent who all the kids think is the coolest person alive and who all the kids’ older siblings have crushes on and who all the kids’ parents judge because of your age and assume you’re irresponsible, but we don’t have to talk about that)

James is also excited because he hasn’t had a real conversation with you in a couple weeks and he really just wants to talk to you

Poor Sirius and Remus have had to deal with him swooning and fawning and over you and also helping him frantically prepare for this career fair because “guys it HAS to be perfect”

But at long last, the day finally arrives

James scheduled the career fair in the afternoon so he could threaten children with canceling the event if they misbehave, so both he and his kids are bouncing off the walls in excitement all morning

He eats lunch in the library with Remus and Sirius, and they both spend the entire time hyping him up

(It’s mostly Sirius tho)

“You’ve got this, Prongs—be smooth—be nice—you’re a nice bloke, that’s not gonna be a problem for you—”

And eventually, it’s time

The parents that are participating in the fair arrive ten minutes before James has to get the kids from the cafeteria so he can explain to them what’s going to happen (because god knows the majority didn’t read the goddamn email he sent)

You’re a little late (profusely apologizing again, and it reminds James of the first time you met back at parent-teacher conferences) but you read the email the night before (and take another piece of James’ heart hostage while you’re at it) so it’s no worries

James’ summary instructions take a shorter amount of time than expected, so the ten or so parents all get to talking

And ofc James takes this opportunity to talk to you

You’d emailed back and forth about the fair but you hadn’t really talked in person since that night in the grocery store, and James was starting to feel like he’d die if he went another day without talking to you

So he’s plotting his route to you across the classroom when he notices you’ve secluded yourself a few steps away from the majority of the parents’ conversation

James is also horrified to discover you look slightly uncomfortable

Like you’re somewhere you don’t belong

And of course James can’t have that

So he sidles up next to you and asks how your day is going, if your boss gave you a hard time getting off work early, how the chocolate chip cookie dough from a month and a half ago was—anything he can think of, really

By the time James has to go get the kids from the cafeteria, you’re smiling and laughing, and James desperately wants to keep you like that all the time

He shakes himself out of his daydreamy state on the way to the cafeteria because this is your JOB, James, you can’t be distracted by your favorite student’s mom. His sweet, kind, whip-smart, dazzling … mom …

(In the back of his mind, James knows he’s screwed, he just has no idea what to do about it)

(CERTAINLY not act on it, because that would be a complete conflict of interest and totally unprofessional of him)

(But it’s just a crush)

(It’s fine)

(Right?)

ANYWAY

Liam’s on the lookout for you as soon as he steps through the door, and he beams the sweetest little chubby-cheeked smile when he finds you and points you out to his friends

You wink playfully at him, and he and his friends giggle excitedly as they sit in their seats

If James is being completely honest with himself, the career fair was a little disappointing

The majority of the parents’ presentations were kinda lame

And they didn’t make their jobs understandable or appealing for the kids

Dean's mom (she’s regional manager of a popular grocery store chain) complained to the class about her boss pretty much the whole time

Luna’s father, a rather eccentric professor at the local university, just spewed a bunch of nonsense technical jargon about the soul or the meaning of life or something that not even the adults in the room could understand

And Draco's dad (he owns the local insurance company and is just obscenely wealthy, which explains quite a bit of his son's attitude) straight up said he hated his job, so there’s that

But then there was your presentation

James is sure he’s in love by now because you made being a nurse sound so amazing

You talked about how you’re in charge of taking care of people when they’re sick or hurt, how it’s nice to be able to help people, how even when your job gets hard, you feel like you’ve made a positive impact at the end of the day

Once the parents left, James asked the kids who’s presentation they liked the most

And ofc every kid in that room agreed that yours was the best

And a solid 75% said they wanted to be a nurse lmao and he was just so proud

Proud of his kids and also you because your presentation was just so fucking good

As James is taking the kids out to the buses, Liam thanks him for inviting you to the career fair

Ofc James says it was no problem and that you’re really cool, so it was a pleasure to have you there

And Liam kinda gives James this … look … and is like “… yeah, my mom is cool …”

And James gets this horrible feeling that Liam somehow knows

Knows he’s completely smitten for Liam’s mom

Fallen head over heels

Practically in love at this point (though James has a nasty habit of throwing that word around willy-nilly)

(Liam kinda freaks James out a bit sometimes lmao)

Next Part: Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift