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Once in a Blue Moon
One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader
Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.
Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)
Word Count: 12.9k+
Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention
Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM
“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”
You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure.
You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact.
So it begins.
You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office.
Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”
“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?”
“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.”
“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”
“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?”
You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”
“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”
“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.”
“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.”
Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”
“Just 302. Lucky you.”
“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.”
“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”
“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat.
When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.”
“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her.
You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings.
“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor.
You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface.
Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?”
He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”
“Of cour—”
“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?”
You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers.
“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.”
There’s no way he’s not fucking with you.
“I, uhh…”
He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”
You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that.
And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant.
Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it.
“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm.
When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray.
You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait.
Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”
His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer.
A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open.
He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”
“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him.
His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?”
“An elephant?”
He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”
The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort.
So fucking professional.
Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant.
“Anything else I can get for you?”
“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.”
“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.”
“I can smell.”
It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional.
His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression.
“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”
“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.”
“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”
He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door.
You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do.
The remaining daylight you spend cleaning.
Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor.
By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy.
You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again.
The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest.
Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything.
Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy.
It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford.
When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided.
He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh.
Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes.
This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?”
“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?”
“What’re the options?”
“Chicken roulade or salmon.”
He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder.
“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?”
You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.”
“Dining room or room service?”
He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.”
“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?”
“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—”
“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.”
“But still—”
“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”
“What? I’m not—”
“Besides, it should be legal—”
“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.”
He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.”
“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.”
He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way.
Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that.
Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you.
By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation.
When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table.
“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting.
“Dieter.”
“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”
“I’ll take it.”
You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?”
“Just you.”
“What about you, where do you eat?”
You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.”
“You could eat out here.”
“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.”
His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him.
“Unless you want me to join you.”
He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.”
“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.”
When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality.
Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you.
He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?”
“I… shouldn’t.”
“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”
You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision.
“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.”
Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there.
“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.”
“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”
You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping.
“Cheers,” he holds up his glass.
You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”
“Dieter.”
“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”
He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable.
“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.”
Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile.
“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.”
You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.”
He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”
“Not doing Christmas?”
“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?”
“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.
“No shit, you have to work?”
“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.”
“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”
“I have my pick of the empty suites.”
He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”
You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to.
“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“
“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.”
“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head.
He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish.
“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.”
“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.”
You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like.
Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.”
—
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM
DING
You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting.
“Hi—”
“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”
Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”
“Dieter.”
“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”
“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?”
“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.”
He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”
“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?”
“Help yourself.”
“Do you want one?”
He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy.
Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial?
You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.”
He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office.
After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge.
“You’re not supposed to be back here.”
He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”
“Because—well, because—”
“Can you make me grilled cheese?”
He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape.
“Right now?”
His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question.
“Can I shovel first?”
“Sure,” he shrugs.
“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room.
He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?”
“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet.
“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest.
What a fucking nightmare.
“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?”
“The fan doesn’t work.”
You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.”
—
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM
The range hood’s fan roars to life.
“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches.
Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?”
You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.”
“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales.
“I thought you didn’t have any plans.”
He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake.
“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?”
“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit.
“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?”
He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.”
“Whadda you mean?” you frown.
Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie.
“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?”
You shake your head.
“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?”
You nod.
“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.”
You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon.
“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”
“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.”
“Holy shit, seriously?!”
“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?”
“Because we’re snowed in.”
“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.”
“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter.
“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—”
He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.”
You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?”
“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”
“Does grilled cheese help?”
It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.”
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM
“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”
DING
Regrettably, your heart skips a beat.
You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.”
“Good morning, did you sleep ok?”
Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?”
“No, what can I get for you?”
“Denver Omelet?”
“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?”
“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”
“Down here or in your room?”
“Here is fine.”
“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise.
You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”
“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box.
“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open.
The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants.
“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.
“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”
He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”
“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?”
“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.”
“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”
“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.”
“I agree, it’s a special place.”
“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.”
You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?”
“In pictures.”
“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.”
“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.”
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM
You may be in trouble.
Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still.
What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter.
This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.
You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white.
A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party.
So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you.
“Hey, you alright?”
You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling.
“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern.
“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”
“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire.
“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.”
“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him.
Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”
He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.”
“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough.
“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.”
“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.”
“Is that the shitty one?”
“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.”
“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.”
“Sure—”
“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.”
“Yeah, I mean—”
“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”
“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.”
The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.
It is undeniable.
You have a big fat crush.
So fucking professional.
For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face.
Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring.
Curiosity prods your heart.
You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob.
Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut.
Dusting it is.
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM
Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity.
The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you.
Tick-tock-tick-tock
Begins to sound more like:
He-doesn’t-like-you
You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage.
Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him.
It’s so dumb.
Really, you know how it sounds.
But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something.
As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him?
Can’t get far enough away from you.
He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—
You sigh at the clock.
—DING! DING! DING!
“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.
The lights die.
All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock.
“Fuck.”
Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible.
Well, he seems chipper.
You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area.
Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing.
“Hello?”
“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss.
His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway.
“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?”
You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.”
“Genny?”
“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”
He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.
“Cute,” he teases.
You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.
He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!”
“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”
Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on.
“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.”
“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES.
“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room.
“Want me to carry that?”
The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested.
“No, I got it.”
You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.”
His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”
Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder.
When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms.
“Were you painting?”
“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet.
In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”
“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.”
He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table.
“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside.
The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames.
You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?”
He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing.
“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”
“Oh god, what?”
“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.”
You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.”
“Oh.”
Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs.
He doesn’t, though.
He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment.
Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”
“Shit.”
“And power might be out until Tuesday.”
“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?”
“I apologize, sir—”
“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”
The words come out sharp and bitter.
Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?”
“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”
He pauses to take a swig of the liquor.
Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone.
“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”
“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?”
He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.”
“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”
“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”
“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.”
“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?”
For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?”
Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?”
“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.”
“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.”
“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”
You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.”
He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.”
You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down.
“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?”
“Will you be joining me?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”
“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease.
His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”
The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”
“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?”
You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.”
“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?”
After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?”
So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room.
While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?”
You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him.
“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation.
“Fuck it, why not?”
So fucking professional.
With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”
“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.”
He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?”
“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.”
Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?”
“What is this, a role reversal?”
He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.”
You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters.
Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?”
“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.”
He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other.
“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.”
Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”
“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”
The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair.
You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.”
“To the possibilities.”
—
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM
You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad.
For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more.
He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.”
“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?”
“Can I open another bottle?”
“Go for it.”
Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway.
With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark.
What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself?
You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room.
“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table.
“Of course, sir.”
He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle.
“Sorry. Habit.”
“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?”
“Hmm?”
“The book.”
“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.”
He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable.
“Palm reading?”
“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“
“Have you ever been to a palm reader?”
Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?”
He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.”
“You know how?”
“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs.
Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.
He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”
You nod.
Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm.
It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting.
“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”
Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy.
“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.”
You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.”
Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?”
“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”
You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them.
While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you.
You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though.
In fact, it seems like quite the opposite.
As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his.
“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”
“Ominous.”
He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.”
You do.
He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”
You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?”
“Sure.”
“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.”
There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy.
But really, you know he’s right.
You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life.
“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face.
He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.”
You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?”
“But what if it’s right?”
Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.
His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in.
The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps.
You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth.
Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer.
He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp.
“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake.
“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine.
“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap.
He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief.
“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.”
“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.
“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”
You nod.
“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”
“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”
“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?”
“Yes.”
He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?”
You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle.
“Underwear too?”
He nods.
You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“I wanna see it.”
“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.”
He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello.
“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.”
“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?”
“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”
You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”
“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”
When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”
“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?”
“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.”
A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.”
“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”
You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly.
He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”
A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.
You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”
“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?”
“Yes yes yes yes yes—”
Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.
“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”
You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah?”
He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.
Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”
“What’s that?”
You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”
He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length.
“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”
“Holy fucking shit—”
“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face.
“God yes, please, baby.”
You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down.
The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”
“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair.
He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin.
“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in.
You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”
“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”
He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”
“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”
“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”
The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob.
“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan.
Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck.
He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”
“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.”
“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?”
After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them.
“Hmm?”
“It’s dumb.”
“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.”
You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.”
He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”
He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?”
“Is that weird?”
“I don’t think so. Do you?”
You shake your head.
His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing.
When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?”
—
MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM
When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you.
The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life.
Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen?
But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut.
You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful.
When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions.
For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his.
What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—
“Hey.”
You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe.
“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?”
He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?”
“Doing what?”
For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.”
Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving.
He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?”
You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?”
“What’re you freaking out about?”
“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.”
When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?”
He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?”
Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.”
His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”
You shrug.
“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”
Again, you shrug.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.”
“You do?”
“Cross my heart.”
“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?”
“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”
You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.”
He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?”
“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.”
You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?”
“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart.
When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.”
“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”
“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”
“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”
He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”
You snort with laughter.
“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.”
“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.”
“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter.
—
MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM
After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday.
On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras.
In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen.
With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work.
The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky.
Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work.
He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner.
Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since.
You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it.
Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial.
As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?”
“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.”
“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.”
You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.”
He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”
“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.”
“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”
“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body.
“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.”
Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.”
“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”
You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302.
“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room.
“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp.
The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face.
“Dieter—”
From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”
“Sad? Lonely?”
“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.”
You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair.
“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.”
Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”
“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.”
You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?”
“Once in a Blue Moon.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#dieter bravo#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo fluff#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x f!reader
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hello!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night ^^ I was wondering if u could write about bakugou x deaf reader? Like bakugou’s mom is HOH (which is why she’s always screaming :0) and bakugou knows sign because of that so he can communicate w deaf reader which surprises them!
simple complication, miscommunication (pro!bakugo x deaf!reader)
wc: 2k
cw/tags: established relationship, story of first meeting, strangers to lovers, implied fem!reader but no specific pronouns used (reader does use makeup), guy being an asshole but it's ok because kats scares him away
note: hi!!!! this is probably one of my favorite (if not THE favorite) prompts i've ever received. i'm actually majoring in deaf studies and focusing on increasing deaf/HOH rep in popular media. SO! i really love this prompt. i'm hearing, so i'm always still learning from the deaf and HOH community and acknowledge that i have a lot more to learn! because of this, this is mainly from kats' perspective because i don't think it's appropriate for me, as a hearing writer, to write from the perspective of a deaf reader. i talked way too much, sorry for the long note, and i hope you like this!!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous to see his own mother.
For the twentieth time, he confirmed that the windows were clear of smudges, the floorboards were as shiny as his Hero Award trophies on the living room shelves, and the wiring on the doorbell light was functioning correctly. Everything was as it should have been. Still, an anxious churning in his gut tells him something is wrong and he throws the front door open without thinking, determinedly jabbing his thumb against the button next to the doorknob. As usual, the bright orange light by the “FRONT DOOR” sign above the hallway flashes once. Everything was working as it should have been, so he couldn’t pinpoint why he felt so nauseous. He tests the door light several more times and completely forgets that you were getting ready in the bathroom.
When he spots you, you’re wearing his bathrobe and a makeup brush is tucked behind your ear. Your eyebrows furrow in concern of why the door light started flashing an hour early as you peek out from the hallway. He gives you an apologetic look, the corner of his mouth turning down in clear dissatisfaction.
Sorry. Testing the door light. Your mouth opens into an oh of understanding and you nod, taking note of the subtle ways your boyfriend was trying to hide his nerves. His head appears around the corner of the door when you knock your knuckles against the wall to get his attention.
You’re gonna break your jaw if you keep it clenched like that. His frown only deepens and he can tell you’re trying not to laugh from the way your eyes sparkle. It’s nice that you’re excited to see Mrs. Bakugo again, but he’s already anticipating the tidal wave of disapproving comments about the new place you recently moved into together. Shut the door, Katsuki. You’re letting the warm air out. He reluctantly obeys, following you down the hallway to the master bathroom and hopping up onto the counter to watch you finish your makeup. He’s careful to sit in a spot where you can sign without having to turn to face him; you catch his eye in the mirror’s reflection and put your brush down with a sigh, raising your eyebrows expectantly. Food done? You already know all his dishes have been done since this morning, but you’re still trying to help him take inventory of the things he doesn’t need to worry about anymore.
Just need to throw some extra stuff on the salad. I’ll do it before we eat. You nod, returning to tapping a neutral color onto your eyelids when you catch his shoulders sag as he huffs. The makeup brush is carefully set down again and your eyebrows return to their expectant position.
Wanna tell me why you look so… Your fingers flutter around absentmindedly for a few seconds while you look for the right word. Dejected?
I’m not dejected.
Your pouty lip says otherwise, you respond with a small smirk. I’ve loved you long enough to read your body language, no matter how stiff or angry. You scrunch your face up in mock wrath and that finally makes him break the tiniest ghost of a smile. Tell me, please, so I can help you. He shakes his head and you set your mouth in a thin line in light-hearted irritation.
You don’t need to help with anything. My mom can just be a lot sometimes. You know that. You shrug, fondly remembering the first time Katsuki brought you to meet his mother. To your boyfriend’s horror, his mother got so excited to sign that she knocked over her wine glass on three separate occasions. And she really likes you, so she might end up accidentally revealing some embarrassing shit about me.
That’s what I’m hoping for. You shoot him a wink and Katsuki can feel his face become a little warmer. I’m praying that the woman brings baby photos. His face turns a deeper shade of red and you burst out laughing, your smile a sight that he’d never get tired of. Hey, you rap your knuckles against the marble again and force him to look at you. We’ve seen scarier stuff than your mom.
At least in those situations, I can blast my way out.
Sure. But, if you blast your way out of tonight, you’re paying for property repairs. He sticks his tongue out at you defiantly and you copy the gesture, smiling to yourself when he slides off the counter and wraps his arms around your torso, resting his chin where your neck meets your shoulder. Your fingers gently trace his cheekbones and he meets your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. We’ll be fine tonight, Katsuki. I promise. Can’t be any worse than our first meeting, hmm? You feel his chest rumble against your back as he groans, hiding his face in your skin as it heats up again.
The first time you met Katsuki was a very abnormal case of wrong place, right time. A high-threat crime boss had swiped a political candidate off the street the night before the most important debate of the season, following him as he went out to pick up snacks for his assistants. The candidate was a passionate supporter of public policy protecting the liberties of Pros, and to lose him right before an election would be catastrophic for agencies across the country. To the rest of the city, it was a public emergency; for Katsuki, it was a Tuesday night.
“Pro on the scene, clear out!” His boots cross the police tape and the cops part the way for him like he was an activated grenade, avoiding his gaze and conveniently finding new tasks that were out of his firing range. Someone from some federal agency approaches him blabbing nonsense about how disastrous this would be if the press arrived and he all but tunes them out, his focus zeroing in on a scene happening just outside of the barricaded perimeter.
It wasn’t uncommon for policemen to command passing civilians to keep moving, but something about the confrontation he quietly approached felt different. In any other case, the civilians would ask the police about something they weren’t allowed to disclose and then they would leave, maybe sticking around to get their ten seconds on the nightly new segment. You were clearly not like those civilians.
“Hey! I’ve got a job to do, so you better get the hell out of here or I’m gonna charge you for disturbing a crime scene!” The cop was screaming at you to the point where his voice broke and you didn’t even flinch, continuing to stare daggers into him from pure frustration. He tries to yell again and you cut him off with a series of ridiculously exaggerated gestures, looking at the policeman like he was dumb as rocks. “I don’t have time for this, and I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying!” But Katsuki does.
“Oi!” The cop doesn’t hear him as he storms across the concrete, palms crackling.
“Fuckin’ crazy–” You look ready to bite off the accusatory finger the cop points in your face when a strong gloved hand wraps around the asshole’s wrist, unceremoniously shoving him out of the way to listen to you himself. “Who the fuck–”
“Get lost, fuckface, and take the uselessness with you,” Katsuki seethes, putting just enough heat into his hands for the guy to yelp and scurry away. He turns around to find a scowl intense enough to rival his own and he takes a deep breath, wordlessly encouraging you to take one too. You watch with caution as he tugs his gloves off and stuffs them in his belt. Sorry about him, he signs and you blink, taken aback. These kinds of scenes make everyone on edge more on edge.
You know sign?
My mom, she’s hard of hearing. Growing up, she taught me sign as a second language. You nod, still eyeing him a little suspiciously. I need to get back to work, but I just want to apologize for him again. You look like you’re about to respond but he looks down, fishing through a pouch of his belt and pulling out a crumpled slip of paper. This is some coupon I got a while back from a business we saved. Buy yourself a coffee. You take the ripped rectangle with a look of disgust and shock and he nods politely, turning to leave. Before he’s even one step away, he finds himself being yanked backward by the collar of his shirt, readying his Quirk to fire on pure instinct and whirling to stare you down like a bull facing a matador. His palm is scorching against your skin when he grabs your wrist, but you don’t relent. What the fuck are you doing?
I know where they took him. Give me a map and a marker. His eyes widen and he loosens his grip but doesn’t let go, gently guiding you around the barricade, through the crowds of cops, and into the detectives’ truck. He pushes past the people surrounding the table and pulls up a digital map of the city on the touchscreen.
Everything’s electronic now, so use this as your map, he explains and you nod in understanding, hesitantly tapping a finger on the screen and receiving a bombardment of paragraphs about crimes in the area. Dynamight’s hand moves up and down at the edge of your vision and you look up, still unsure how you’re supposed to use such a complicated piece of technology. I know. It’s over-engineered and stupid. Do you know the exact address where they took him? You shake your head and he grimaces, running a hand through his hair.
I don’t know the address, but I know the directions of how to get there. On this map, where’s the convenience store? His pointer and index finger swipe around the screen, spreading out as he zooms in on the 2D representation of the site where the candidate was taken. You copy his actions and zoom out slightly again, making sure to remember which rectangle was the convenience store. Is there a way to draw on this? Dynamight pushes a button on the edge of the table and a marker pops out. Cool.
It’s the only cool function this thing has. Everything else just makes my job harder, he signs and swears he can see the slightest smile on your face while he hands you the marker. Miraculously, you’re able to copy the navigation route you saw on one of the thug’s phones while you waited in line at the convenience store. You circle the building in bright pink and the Pro wastes no time, barking out orders to surrounding cops and re-donning his gauntlets and one glove. His ungloved hand helps you down from the truck and he pulls you aside, away from the commotion of the crime scene. Do you live near here?
A few blocks down, yes. He fishes around a pouch on his belt again and retrieves a black ballpoint pen, handing it to you despite your obvious confusion.
Write down your address, he signs and he holds out the back of his ungloved hand to you.
Why?
I’ll come find you after we make the arrests. Maybe you can let me buy you a coffee. A smirk appears on your lips and Katsuki finds his face heating up.
Is it gonna be with the tattered coupon? He rolls his eyes and you laugh, a sound that he finds he wants to hear again and again. You later explain to Katsuki and the detectives that you were questioning why the guy in front of you had his brightness so high, and the visual eavesdropping was purely by accident. Everything following the investigation felt like happy little accidents, too: Dynamight showing up at your door one night with two coffees and the last muffin the cafe had, Bakugo crashing onto your apartment’s fire escape after a particularly dangerous operation, Katsuki asking you out to dinner officially for the first time, his mother spilling her wine several times the first time she met you.
You knew you were in for a lifetime of more accidents when Mrs. Bakugo burst through the door fifteen minutes early, excitedly asking what venues you were looking at for your upcoming wedding.
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
#ask iris!#bakugo x you#bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#katsuki x you#katsuki x reader#katsuki x y/n#bakugo katsuki x you#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugo katsuki x y/n#bakugo x deaf!reader
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i’m sure most ppl expected this so i’m not gonna make a big deal out of it but!! yes i am going on hiatus for an unspecified amount of time.
it’s honestly quite simple, i’ve just been losing interest in most aspects of kpop aside from the music, which makes writing for it a lot harder than before. i also dealt with a lot of burn out for months and still forced myself to write which only made it worse. lastly, i’m an executive of two clubs at my school this year on top of all my classes, so finding time to write would be even worse than it was before :’) !
YEAh that’s kinda it! for now my works will stay up, moots can dm me for my disc/spotify!! even if we’ve barely spoken pspsps i wanna stalk ur music cmere 🤲 a special shout out to my emoji anons too, you’re all amazing people ilysm, especially those that have been stuck with me for so long <3 (u know who u are!!)
i’ll try and check in here every so often to chat, esp if a new comeback for enha/txt happens!! love u guys and stay safe <3 you may send an ask if u have any questions!
extra stuff i wanna say to moots below! (it’s all word vomits i’m sorry)
RAVEN. MY WIFEY. my BELOVED blr wont let me tag u but you already know i adore u sm playing roblox with u is so fun even if that one banana game was kinda ass!! 💖 thank u for being so so sweet when putting up with me all the time and raising our fav corgi daughter with sm love <3 i hope u get more confidence in ur writing because your fics are always so creative and well written, and in yourself too bc a certain mf thats name starts with J and ends with N is MISSING OUT. 🙄🙄 ok im still gna be annoying u all the time so. bye ig….. smooches
@seongclb katto u deserve an award for putting up with me in dms ilysm 😞 watching the promised neverland together brought me so much joy and i still have a ss of you calling gilda a tractor ok i love u!!!! i would read your fics all day any day u are so talented and ur photography skills are amazing, i hope we get to keep in touch WE SHOULD FIND ANOTHER SHOW TO WATCH TGTHER !!!!! i need to fix your lack of anime knowledge ‼️ PLS KEEP WRITING AS WELL ENHABLR NEEDS U!!!!
@soov reirei my gf i aspire to be as confident and funny as you, you’re literal sunshine and always make my day better even with just one interaction <3 thank u for being so welcoming my first days in walmart enha and raising sushiwon with me!! as well as entertaining me by dying in genshin every 3 seconds <3 (WE NEED TO PLAY AGAIN) oh and KEEP WRITING BB. i will rise from THE DEAD WHEN IT COMES OUT OK U CAN DO THIS ML!!
@haknom kangaroo karaoke keys we may have had only a few convos but they were all so fun like PLAYING BRAWL STARS WAS HILARIOUS we ate the house down in duo showdown idc. and beta reading ur fics was such a treat esp while watching u plan new smaus every other day 🫶 also your music taste is MUWAH gimme some more recs pspsps !!! KEEP WRITING OKKK?!
@kynrki kimmy kimmy kim one of my first ever moots <3 your writing is always such a joy to read and your energy is amazing, thank you for giving me a chance when i was too shy to ask anyone else to be moots LMAO 🫶 plsplss keep writing you’re so gifted and deserve the whole world LOVEE UU
@bitehee cavvy my big sibling :((( i love u sm kshsdknd its been a while but i really hope everything has been well since you moved and you’re still being as cool as ever <3 im gonna replay a pokemon game in ur honor perhaps mystery dungeon 👁️ ? anyway i look up to u and think u are so cool, one of my fav hee stans ever ever!!! remember u have my disc if u ever wanna chat 🫂 !!!
@sunoksunny sunny <3 my other gf. i remember our first vc u had this goofy pfp i cant remember what it was but like u are so easy to talk to and funny?! and PRETTY??? your fits are always stunning and your singing is beautiful ugh the whole package fr… and. we need. to play. genshin!!! I REDOWNLOADED IT FOR U OK WE WILL DISCUSS THIS SOON!! ILY
@slytherinshua ZANNY. u are so easy to talk to we match each others energy so perfectly?!? I HOPE U AND TUALHA CONTINUE BEING THE COOLEST EVER and ur writing is top tier so pls keep going‼️ thank u for being so sweet to me as another one of my very first moots i appreciate u sm <3333
@flwrshee riri !!! we haven’t even been moots for long but i had to add u in here because u need to know that ILYSM. you’re like an adorable energetic little sister that always makes me smile T-T thank you for taking time out of your day to reblog my fics with so much sweet feedback and i wish u the absolute best always!! if u ever need anything pls dm me on disc i would love to chat with u more, and make sure to keep writing bc u have SO much talent!!!!
@wonieleles sia SIA i genuinely miss talking to u sm i NEED to come back to walmart enha :(( we don’t talk much besides our little interactions in the server but each time you make me smile. you’re so so smart and admirable, i hope you keep up the hard work bc i know you’ll go so far and HAVE MORE CONFIDENCE!! you’re so beautiful okay ily 😞🫶
@sultrybaby kel 😭😭😭💖💖 you’ve literally been a day one THANK YOU for always checking in on me even during your ridiculous NONSTOP EXAMS. 💀 another one of my big siblings on here fr you are such a real one and i care for u sm!!! i hope everything has been well for u?! pls feel free to message me for anything okay <3 I LOVE U SM thank u for sticking with me all this time 🫂🫂
i have so many moots so i can’t write smthn for everyone but i love u all okay <3 AGAIN if u wanna keep in touch thru spotify or discord dm me muwah
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✏️ WIP Update ✏️
Thank you @trulybetty for the tag!
So, I am writing a few different things at the same time (why? I don't know). But I have a couple of different snippets below. I'm not sure when I'll get around to publishing things. I hoped to use these last couple of weeks of the year to try and get ahead in my fics, but work and life have been busy. Anyways, more stuff below the cut:
Delta Landscaping - Episode 12 snippet featuring Tio Frankie
“Hey Frank, I’m gonna run out while Vale is in the shower, gonna pick up some donuts. Maybe it will cheer up Antonio before you leave,” Alyssa pouted as she grabbed her crossbody and keys. “The kids are really going to miss you.”
Frankie sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter, “I know. I’m gonna miss them too. We have to get you all out to Florida soon.”
“I’d like that. We all would,” she walked over and patted her brother-in-law on the arm with a tight smile. “Ok, I’ll be back. Neither of them should wake up for a while so you can relax for a bit. Got everything packed?”
“Ha, thanks Lys. Yeah, I’m all set.” He turned and opened the cabinet to pull out a mug and start brewing some coffee. He was about to sit on the couch and play a game on his phone when he heard crying. It wasn’t like Leia’s crying, it was a bit more muffled.
Walking down the hallway he still heard the water running in Valeria’s room. As he stood outside Antonio’s door, he heard it. Softly opening the door, he saw Antonio sitting in his bed with his back to the door, huddled over and crying.
Working Title - Dieter Bravo Ch. 18 snippet
As you all walked through the lobby and back toward the elevators you heard a familiar face call out your name. Turning around you see Indy and Sam walking towards you, arm in arm, and all smiles.
“B!” Indy squealed, dropping Sam’s hand and running toward you to give you a big hug.
“Hey Ind, you look like you had a good time,” you pulled back with a smirk.
“Very,” she looked you up and down and then quickly back to Dieter who greeted Sam with a handshake. “Looks like you did too huh?” She whispered, giggling when you gave her a quick nod.
“Ah, Indy! How was our trip?” Rhys came up behind you.
“Great, Rhys. You seem in a good mood, what’s up?”
“Ah, actually, can I talk to you. Both of you?” He motioned toward the hallway.
“Uh, you’re being weird but ok,” she shrugged and headed off.
As he led you away, you turned around and gave DIeter a small smile which he reciprocated along with a wave.
Turbulence Part Two - Frankie one-shot which turned into a two-parter (or more?)
“Hmm. Interesting. You’ll have to tell your aunt I said hello,” he winked. “So, who’s your friend,” he motioned over to Frankie.
“Oh, him? He’s my husband,” I said matter-of-factly. Apparently, I was more convincing than I gave myself credit for because Mac’s eyes bulged out of his head. I could hear the soft chuckles coming from Frankie. “I’m just kidding. But he did play my husband for a hot second. There was a creep on the plane trying to sit next to me and Frankie here saved the day,” I looked over to him with a wink.
If I didn’t know better it looked like Frankie was blushing a bit. He brought his hand to the back of his neck and scratched his neck, ruffling the curls that poked out from under his cap.
Pickled Peña - Just a little tease. I'm excited to see what everyone does with this writing challenge.
But the “old man” still had it and managed to pull the glances of several women at the bar, including the bartender who had practically eye fucked him all night. That's part of the reason why he lost track of time. She decided to spend her break with him in a bathroom. Coincidentally, buried inside this woman was how he rang in the new year.
Back in his car, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm and sighed. He knew he was about to be read the riot act and all he wanted to do was go to sleep, already knowing he was about to have the worst hangover.
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Hi!! Sorry about your school stress, I hope you feel better soon:) I was wondering if you could write about Gareth and cuddles. Just some fluff please :) thank you of you do write it
I love this so much! i love getting to write about fluffy stuff like this 🥰 especially getting to snuggle, i know Gareth is definitely a big snuggler
And thank you! I’ve got my first final tomorrow and i know i’m going to fail it 😍 i’m trying to look on the bright side of things though, at least i’ll be out of school after this semester
Little Spoon
Genre- Fluff
Warnings- None :)
Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @aidansloth @munsonology @esme-viridian
Words- 1.2k
Staying the night with Gareth always involved one of two things when you woke up in the morning.
He’d still have his arms around you holding you tightly to him, or he’d be spread all over his side of the bed and nearly taking up all of the blanket that was covering you. As much as you loved him, he was a major bed hog.
Unfortunately, this happened to be one of those mornings where you woke up with your legs ice cold from having the blanket be pulled off of them all night and you knew exactly why Gareth would steal all the blanket off of you.
He had his little plan every single night. He’d snuggle with you for a little bit until he turned over onto the other side and wrap himself up in your blanket, waiting for you to get sick of trying to pull it back over to your side and muzzle your body into his from behind, pulling the blanket over your body as your arms went around his waist and you went back to sleep.
He loved getting to snuggle, but for some reason he was embarrassed to admit that he didn’t just like being the little spoon. He loved it.
Maybe it was because it was the thought that always lingered in the back of his mind that because he was the guy he had to be the big spoon, or that he was too big for you to hold comfortably, but having you hold him always felt so comforting and warm that he’d do his little blanket routine whenever he wanted to be held.
For you however, it was a different story.
Whenever he did this, it felt like he was just being a bit inconsiderate of your feelings, especially when it happened so often.
You’ve tried telling him to switch sides on the bed or get a bigger blanket but every single time you tried to offer a compromise he just shut it down.
And to be honest it was starting to get to you.
Yes, it was nice to get to hold him every once in a while, but if he wanted to be held all he had to do was ask.
You both had done your normal nighttime routines together, changing into your pajamas, brushing your teeth, finding a movie or one of his cassettes to play for background noise, everything was all finished up but Gareth thought something was off when you came back into his room with an extra blanket in your arms.
“Why do you have that? We’ve already got a blanket.”
“I know.” You got into your side of the bed and laid your blanket over you, “But you always steal it and i’m tired of having to try and pry it from you every night.”
Gareth sat on his side and you could tell by the look on his face that he was upset, but you weren’t sure why.
“Gare, you ok?”
“Yeah, it’s just…” He looked up to you and you have him a nod to continue, “i thought you liked sharing a blanket with me?”
You giggled and leaned over to him, placing a soft kiss onto his cheek,
“I do! I like sharing a bed and a blanket with you and i like getting to snuggle and fall asleep with you, but you hog the blanket every night and i always wake up in the middle of the night freezing cold. And i know you’re going to do the same thing tonight, i figured this was just easier. I’m sorry if i upset you, i didn’t mean to.”
“I know you didn’t mean to,” He reached his arms out to you and you moved yourself over to kneel next to him on the bed, letting him pull you into his lap, “and i’m sorry i always steal the blanket.”
“It’s ok!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and face him another kiss to his other cheek, “I know you don’t mean to.”
Gareth smiled, but inside he was feeling guilt.
As little and as stupid as it was, it was still a lie. He always meant to steal that blanket from you, every single night, but he didn’t want you to stop holding him. It was time for him to come clean about it, even if it was something as stupid as wanting to be held.
“No… I do mean to.”
You looked at him confused, not sure why he would ever mean to do something like stealing the blanket at night,
“You want to steal the blanket? Why?” You asked with a giggle.
“I don’t know i just…” You could see a little bit of pink start to brush over his cheeks, and you knew that whatever he was about to tell you he was embarrassed about it, “I just like to be held sometimes…”
You could tell he was embarrassed to admit it, which was confusing given how open he was with his emotions, especially when it came to things regarding being more intimate with your relationship. But you could also see that he was just trying to find a way to tell you without actually having to tell you.
He was a sweet boy who never did anything to you with i’ll intent, and though it made you upset that he constantly was waking you up by stealing the blanket, it was stupid to make it a bigger deal than it was.
All he wanted was to be held and feel small instead of always having to be the big, strong, tough boyfriend that he always tried to be.
You smiled and held him close to you as you laid your head onto his shoulder,
“All you had to do was tell me.”
A wave a relief washed over him and he rested his head on top of yours after placing a kiss onto your forehead,
“So you’re not mad?”
“Of course not! Just stop stealing the blanket and i won’t be mad about it.” You giggled.
He smiled and squeezed you tightly against him,
“Thank god, i was worried you’d be upset…”
“I’d never be mad, i think that’s adorable!” You giggled again and moved yourself out of his lap, “I know how nice it is to be held, and to be honest sometimes i wanna hold you when we snuggle too.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely!” Your arms went around him from behind and you nuzzled your cheek into his, making him laugh, “You’re big and soft and warm, and it’s like snuggling a big teddy bear.”
He smiled and turned his head, placing a soft kiss onto your lips before unwrapping your arms from around his shoulders.
You moved over to your side and tossed the extra blanket away, moving your pillows together to be closer to him as he pulled his shirt off and turned out the lamp on his nightstand. You laid down onto your side and pulled the blanket over you, waiting for him to climb in next to you.
With a smile he laid down onto his side and threw his side of the blanket over him as you moved your body into his, your head resting onto his shoulder as your arms snaked their way around his waist.
You sighed and breathed in his scent, and his natural pheromones mixed in with the coconut from his shampoo relaxed you even more. You squeezed him close and smiled as he put his hand over yours around his waist,
“Goodnight babe. I love you.”
You kissed his shoulder and nuzzled yourself into him just a bit more,
“I love you too you big baby.”
#stranger things#stranger things 4#gareth emerson#gareth emerson fic#gareth emerson x y/n#gareth emerson fluff#gareth emerson x reader#gareth emerson fanfic#request
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Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Boo! I come out of the blue to give you Star’s first day at the daycare.
Note: Star is using she/her pronouns in this one. But only because they’re 5 years old and don’t know what nonbinary is yet.
No tws for this one
Tag list: @jakersdaboss @miss-night @lets-zofifi-stuff
Star didn’t really like loud noises, or bright lights, or new people. So it was no surprise that as she stood in front of the daycare doors, after walking through the loudest, most colorful mall ever, she started bawling.
Her mother, Esperanza, leaned down to comfort her, wrapping her in a hug. “Don’t worry baby. I’ll be back to pick you up before dinner time, ok?”
Star shook her head. “I want you to stay!” She cried. “It’s scary here.”
Her mother sighed. Picking her up so she could look through the daycare window. “How about we pick someone safe for you to talk to first? That way you won’t be overwhelmed.”
Star rubbed her eyes. “O-ok.” She said, hiccuping slightly from how she’d been crying.
She glanced at the window, looking for a kid who looked nice. But she couldn’t focus on any one child for long. There were just too many. She couldn’t count them all. After a few seconds of looking over the kids, Star shifted her focus to look for adults instead. But to her surprise, she couldn’t see any. “Where are all the grown-ups?” Star said panicking slightly. Who was taking care of all these kids? Who was gonna take care of her? Was she gonna be stuck here all alone?!
Her mother simply smiled gently. “Don’t worry. This place has something even cooler than grown-ups.” She pointed to a corner of the daycare, where Star could just barely see a lanky yellow figure sitting at one of the craft tables with a couple of kids. It was really tall, and its face was surrounded by little triangles that made it look like one of those smiling suns that you would find in children’s coloring books. It certainly didn't look human.
She squinted at it. “Is that a robot?” she asked.
Her mother hummed affirmatively. “He sure is.”
Star peered at him curiously through the glass. “Can I say hi to him first?”
Her mother nodded. “That sounds like a great idea.” she set Star back down in front of the daycare doors. “You ready to go in?” she asked, swiping her daycare pass on the reader beside the door.
Star hesitated for a moment before nodding.
“Do you want me to stay with you for a few minutes?”
Star thought about that. On one hand, she really didn't want to be in this new place alone. But on the other hand, she had already kept her mother for long enough, she would probably end up late for work if she stayed any longer.
“I’ll be ok.” She said after a moment. Her mother opened the door for her and gave her one last hug before sending her through the wooden double doors. The doors closed with a heavy thunk behind her leaving her alone in a sea of strangers.
Star looked around searching for the yellow robot she’d seen. He had finished his craft activity and was now alone at the table, cleaning up. She walked over to him timidly, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
He didn’t look at her and she had to gather her courage to say “Hi.” The word was little more than a squeak but the robot heard it, finally turning toward her.
“Why hello, new friend. I don’t think I’ve ever met you before. Is this your first time here?” He asked. His voice was bright and bubbly, but it was also calm enough that Star wasn’t unnerved by it.
Star nodded. Not saying anything quite yet.
Sun smiled, or well, he looked like he couldn’t do anything other than smile, but his body language showed he was excited to meet her. “I hope you like it here so far. What’s your name?”
Star shuffled her feet and gave him her name.
“That’s such a pretty name. You can call me Sun. Or Sundrop, or Sunny, or any other nickname you can think of!”
Star faltered at his enthusiasm. Although she supposed it made sense that a robot named Sun would be so sunny. “I think I’ll just stick to Sun.” Star said.
Sun nodded. “That’s a-ok. Do you like it here so far?”
Star looked down. “It’s ok I guess. It’s really bright, and loud. Hurts my head.” She didn’t know what she expected Sun to do about that. But she wanted to tell him anyway.
Sun covered his mouth with his hands, humming in thought. “Do you want to go to the quiet corner?” He asked.
Star tilted her head. “There’s a quiet corner?”
Sun nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, it’s also the naptime area. But I like to let kids rest in there if they need it."
Star hummed. "Where is it?"
Sun waved his hand. "Follow me he said, leading Star toward a corner that was filled with blankets, pillows, and other similarly soft things. It looked kind of like a blanket fort. Cozy, dim, quiet. Star sat down in the middle of it all, fidgeting with the edge of one of the blankets. "Can you stay?"
Sun covered his eternal smile with his hands. “I wish I could little star. But there are lots more little ones who need my attention." He uncovered his smile and touched his pinky to his forehead then flicked it away. “How about this?" He pulled something from his pocket and pushed it into Star’s hands. “It’s a little me plushie. That way you won't miss me too much.” He handed her a little yellow candy as well. “And here’s something to make you feel better!”
Star hugged the plushie to her chest and popped the candy in her mouth. It tasted like a batch of lemonade that someone had put way too much sugar in. “Thank you.” She muttered.
Sun nodded and then his attention was pulled away from her as two kids started fighting, causing a ruckus.
Star sat back against the pillows, running her hands over the soft texture of the Sun plush as she sucked on her lemon candy. The rays were crinkly, she liked that.
Star found she had a lot more energy after she finished her candy. She was still scared to leave but now she was having trouble sitting still. She ended up wandering over to the only empty corner. There was a shelf there that was empty save for a single box.
She pulled the box off the shelf, smiling when she opened it to find an assortment of legos. Her favorite, probably because really liked to make things, usually things that moved. Legos were perfect for that.
Star fiddled with the blocks for a bit not trying to make anything in particular. She ended up with a little car that would be able to move on its own if she had any rubber bands. She thought for a moment before taking her hair out of the low ponytail it had been in, letting it hang around her shoulders. She wrapped the tie around a mechanism on the bottom of the car before putting the whole thing on the floor, pulling it back, and letting go. It shot forward, bumping into the Lego box and flipping over.
Star heard someone clapping behind her. She turned, slightly started, to see Sun, praising her for her haphazardly thrown-together toy. "That was so cool! Glad to see you're feeling better!" He tapped his fingers to his mouth. "Do you want a snack? It's snack time!"
Star hummed, despite the candy giving her energy, it didn't actually fill her up. She nodded and Sun held out his hands, a silent request to pick her up. She shook her head at that and Sun shrugged, letting her follow him to the tables instead. The rest of the children were already there. It seemed Star was the last to know it was snack time.
She didn't really mind other than the fact that now she had to sit between two kids she didn't know. She just ignored them as Sun left to grab everyone’s snacks. She wasn't interested in making friends at the moment anyway. Maybe tomorrow.
Eventually, Sun came back and wiped all the kid's hands with wet wipes before giving each of them a Glamrock-themed Lunchable (Star’s was Sun-themed), along with some sort of fruit and a juice box.
As soon as Sun left Star grimaced. She didn't like lunchables. They always had weird textures. This one was the one where you could make ham and cheese sandwiches out of crackers. It came with an Oreo. Star sighed. She guessed the crackers and cookie were ok. She wasn't gonna touch the other stuff though.
She nibbled on her food and nearly finished her juice-box before snack time ended. She noticed it hadn't lasted very long. Maybe this one had started late or something. She quickly finished her juice-box as Sun came over to clean up the tables.
Once everything was clean Sun waved his hands above his head, raising his voice in order to get everyone's attention. "Do you all know what time it is?"
One kid raised their hand. "The end of snack time?"
Sun laughed. “Technically true. But not what I meant. I meant it’s time to say hello to Moon.”
There were scattered groans and a few replies of “I’m not tired.”
Sun wagged his finger. “Well that's not very nice to Moon now is it? He's been waiting to see you all, all day.”
Most of the kids who had complained said sorry and Sun looked satisfied with that. “Now, Moon seems to be sleeping right now. Do you all know how to wake him up?”
Another smattering of responses, most of them something along the lines of “Turn out the lights!” Or “Wake up Moon!”
Sun laughed. “That’s exactly right!” He said, clapping his hands. “But first we all have to be in the nap area, follow me little sunbeams!”
He led them all to the quiet corner, letting them settle down before shaking the bells on his wrists to grab everyone’s attention.
Star didn’t really like that sound, but she didn’t say anything about it.
“Are we ready to wake Moon, little sunbeams? Do you all know what to say?”
Only about half the kids knew what to say. “Wake up, Moon!” They yelled excitedly.
Sun nodded. “Now everyone together, on the count of three. One, two, three!”
“WAKE UP MOON!”
Star said it too, but didn’t yell like the rest of the kids seemed so fond of doing. And then she was blind. The lights had gone out.
She heard the clicking of grinding gears and then silence for a second as her vision adjusted slightly.
She saw red eyes.
Star stifled a sound of fear, although she did hear a couple of scared gasps from other children. She did make a sound a second later as the ceiling started glowing with stars and clouds. The previously red eyes shifted to a deep soft blue as the person they belonged to was illuminated by glow-in-the-dark stars.
“Hello, little nightlights,” Moon said. His voice was soft, calming. He sounded like he'd be good at singing lullabies.
Some of the kids said ‘Hello’ back. Star guessed those were the ones who had been here before. She noticed there weren’t very many.
“Were all my precious nightlights nice to Sunny today?” Moni asked. He was crouched low to the ground now, almost eye level with the children.
There was a chorus of yeses.
“Good, no naughty children today. How many of you aren’t tired? Not even the slightest bit sleepy.”
Everyone’s hands went up. Star raised hers hesitantly.
Moon chuckled. “I see nobody played very hard today. That’s just as well, makes it easier for Sunny.” He pulled out a handful of dark blue candies. “As a treat for being so nice to Sun, each of you can have a Moondrop.” He said, tilting his faceplate. “But only after you lay down.”
Kids rushed to find their friends and lay next to them, some even going the extra mile and pretending they were already asleep.
Star found a little beanbag that she made her own, huddling into it with a blanket she had found on the way there. Moon went around and handed each kid a Moondrop.
Star took hers with a thank you, popping the gummy candy into her mouth. It tasted like blue raspberry, but had an aftertaste like medicine. She ignored it. She was suddenly much too tired to worry about that anyway. She curled up on the beanbag she had chosen as a sleeping spot, closing her eyes as a soft song started playing. She didn’t bother checking where it came from, she was already fast asleep.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
Star woke up to a pounding in her head. She whimpered, opening her eyes and seeing stars. Glow-in-the-dark stars. Where was she again? She sat up, looking around. Jungle gym, ball pit, aforementioned glowing stars…
The new daycare. She remembered now. She kind of wished she hadn’t, all this thinking was making her head hurt all the more.
She heard a voice behind her. “What are you doing awake little star? It’s past your bedtime.”
Star turned abruptly, sucking in a breath through her teeth when that sent spikes of pain through her head. Moon crouched next to her. His ever-present smile was kinda creepy in the dim light, but any unease Star may have felt about that was washed away with Moon’s next words.
“Are you ok, little star?” He looked her up and down, eyes glowing a little brighter for a second. “You have a temperature.” He said.
Star groaned. “Head hurts.” She told him helpfully.
Moon hummed. “Sun, how long ago did you give this child a sundrop?” He said. It didn’t sound like he was talking to Star anymore. He was silent for a second before making a frustrated sound. “That’s too close to naptime. We’ve talked about this.” Another pause. Moons huffed. You better be.” He said, finally turning his attention back to Star. She had her hands to her temples, trying to ease some of the pain.
Moon sighed. “Do you think you could get back to sleep?” He asked.
Star tapped her thumb to her index and middle finger, the sign for no. She knew plenty of simple signs for when she was having trouble talking.
Moon hummed. “Do you want a cold cloth?”
Star nodded with a mumbling hum of affirmation and Moon left for a couple minutes, coming back with an ice pack wrapped in a washcloth.
Star took it in one hand and pressed it to her head, sighing as the icy cold soothed her headache. She reached her free hand, making grabby hands at Moon. He was made of metal, and metal was usually cold. Cold cuddles sounded really nice right about now.
Moon obliged, taking Star into his arms and letting her lay in his lap and wrap her arms around his waist. He kept the cold cloth pressed against her head as his music box started up.
Star pressed her ear against Moon’s chassis. She knew this song. She hummed faintly as Moon sang along softly.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.”
By the time the music box its last notes, Star has fallen back to sleep.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
The next time Star woke up Moon was nowhere in sight. She has been placed back on her beanbag and tucked in. Her head didn’t hurt anymore and she might’ve thought the whole thing had been a dream if not for the now warm cold cloth that was lying next to her.
Star looked around. The lights were on again, but they must not have been on for long because Star was far from the last person to wake up. She could see 5 or six other kids who were still tucked in and snoring. As for the rest of the kids, Star could hear them playing and laughing and running around chasing each other. She saw one kid touch another and yell “TAG!” Before booting in the opposite direction.
Star laughed. So that’s what was going on. She got up from her place in the quiet corner. She wanted to play too. Maybe she could get Sun!
She tried to stay in the vicinity of whoever was it, hoping they’d notice her. She also kept a close eye on Sun, so when she did get tagged she’d be able to run straight for him.
Right now Sun was hiding behind one of the play structures with a couple of other kids. It was a straight shot if Star reached through the bars.
She just has to get tagged first.
She stepped a little closer to the kid who was currently it. A little boy who wasn’t very fast and looked like he wanted his turn at being it to be over already. “If you tag me, I could get Sun.” Star whispered, hoping Sun couldn’t hear her. The boy turned to look at her before smiling and nodding. He gave Star a high five and Star was already running before he could finish saying tag.
She made it to the play structure in record time, reaching through the bars to touch Sun early on the chest. “TAG!” She declared.
Sun gasped in surprise before looking down at the two kids who had been hiding with him. They shrieked and ran, laughing all the while.
Star ran too. She didn’t know if Sun allowed tag-backs and she wasn’t about to find out.
Sun stated it for a suspiciously long time, often getting almost close enough to tag a kid before letting them slip just out of his grasp. He did eventually tag someone, Star noticed it was someone who hadn't been tagged yet, and the game continued. Although Sun got tagged way more often than anyone else.
Star got tagged a couple of times too, but not on purpose anymore. She didn't go for Sun when she did, instead trying to get the number of kids that always seemed to be using him as a shield of some sort. He was, after all, the most popular person to tag, and if you were close enough to reach the people around him you might as well just tag him directly.
But Star had already tagged Sun, so instead they would only pretend to tag him before switching targets last minute to be of the kids beside him. It worked every time.
Eventually most kids got tired of running around and went to play quieter games by themselves, or in small groups. Star ended up drawing with a couple of other kids. She did a few doodles, huffing and crumpling up the paper when they all ended up lopsided.
She looked around at what everyone else was drawing and noticed that one kid had about ten drawings of Sundrop on their paper already. That looked like fun. Star rapped her pencil on the table to get their attention. “I bet I could draw Sun better than you.” She challenged.
The other kid looked up, shaking their head. “No way. You can't.” They peered at Star. “But what are you betting?”
Star hummed. She hadn’t meant to actually bet anything. She held up her wrist showing off a rainbow bead bracelet. “How about this?”
Star’s opponent nodded and Star placed the bracelet between them. “Who decides who wins?” Star asked.
Her opponent poked a little boy who was sitting right next to them. “Can you be the judge?”
The boy nodded. “Can I choose a challenge?”
Star nodded, wondering what he meant by that.
“You guys can’t make him a robot. That’s my challenge.” The boy said.
Star nodded. “Oh ok, that’s easy.” She grabbed a new paper and so did her opponent. “Onetwothreego.” She said quickly and they both began scribbling.
Star, thinking of the candy she had eaten earlier, decided to make a Candy Sun. With candy corn rays and sundrop eyes. She finished first, handing her drawing to the judge.
The judge muttered and wrote something on his paper that looked to Star like gibberish. Her opponent finished their drawing soon after. And the judge did some more humming and writing.
Eventually he passed both drawings back to their respective owners. “She won.” He said simply, pointing to Star.
Star’s opponent gasped. “That’s not fair.” They said, reaching across the table and snatching Star’s drawing. Star, in turn, took that opportunity to see what they had drawn.
They had taken a different approach. Making Sun human, sort of. They’d given him fluffy blond hair and a wiry tail with a tuft of fur at the end. They had written the word “little” in a corner with an arrow pointing to Sun. It looked like the word had been misspelled and rewritten multiple times.
Star’s opponent sighed and passed her drawing back. “I guess yours is better.”
Star smiled. “Yours is pretty good too.” She said. She gave the drawing back, and with it the rainbow bracelet. “Here you can have this. Even though you didn’t win. I can make another one later anyway.”
Star’s opponent grinned as they slipped the bracelet onto their wrist. “I could make you one.” They looked for Sun. “Sunny! Can we make friendship bracelets?” They yelled.
Sun looked over. “Of course.” He said. He was quite preoccupied but he pointed them in the direction of the craft corner. “You can find the supplies over there. Please make sure to clean up when you’re done.”
And so Star made bracelets with her newfound friends and when those were finished, she moved on to something else. She almost didn’t notice the time passing and a dozen games and a couple nap times later Star’s mother was back to pick her up.
Star hugged her as she swiped her pass beside the door to check Star out. “Did you have fun?” She asked.
Star nodded. “Lots.”
“Are you ready to go home?”
Star paused. “Can I say bye to Sun first?”
Her mom smiled. “I don’t see why not.”
Star smiled and ran over to Sun who was frantically cleaning up one of the many messes that kept spontaneously appearing. She tapped Sun on the shoulder. “I’m leaving Sun.”
Sum turned. “Oh, goodbye Starlight. Have a Faz-tastic day.”
Star laughed. “You don't have to use my whole name you know.”
Sun tilted his head, confused. “That was a-“ then he giggled. “Oh, I get it. What a coincidence.”
Star smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, giving Sun a hug.
Sun hugged her back. “See you Soon.” He said before letting her run back to her mother.
“I get to come again tomorrow right?” She asked.
Her mom sighed. “Of course the only daycare you like is the most expensive one.” She said to herself before looking to Star as she led her out of the pizzaplex. “Yes, you can come again tomorrow.”
#eve does dumb stuff#my writing#yctau#this took way too long#I’m glad I finished it tho#sun fnaf#fnaf sun#sundrop#moon fnaf#fnaf moon#moondrop#daycare attendant#yctau prequel#Star OC they/them#if you see mistakes… no you don’t
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List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers ╰(´︶`)╯♡
;0;! Oh jeez ok ☀️ 😌
Frogs- this one might be kinda obvious I guess based on my blog title and all but I really like frogs and toads and tadpoles I think they’re really fascinating little critters and every time I learn something new about frogs it makes me feel all sparkly. Like they swallow when they blink- because their eyes go down into the body and it squishes food down their throat. Isn’t that WILD? Nature is so cool. (-unfortunately there’s one Toad I can’t stand because the way she carries her babies makes me freak out. Sorry Suriname Toad! If trypophobia is a problem for you don’t look her up 🥰)
Scented Plushies- I love… being able to smush my face into a soft plush animal and smell a pleasant smell. (I like sweet/fruity/pastry kinda smells) It’s like… IDK I have a bunch of them in my bed with me so I can pick one to cozy up with and it helps me sleep? (I have to sleep with a plush animal anyways, the way I sleep I’ll fuck up my shoulders if I don’t have Little Guy Support lol.) but also uh. Yeah Build A Bear has insertable smells and they last for like ever and they’re really pleasant ;; my favorite I think is their seasonal Pumpkin Spice, but I also really loved their other seasonal, Sunken Treasure, it was like, mango-y …
Pork Katsu- whenever we make it at home it’s kind of a special occasion cos it takes some doin, tryin stuff yk, but it’s always SO GOOD… we never have enough leftovers for Katsudon the next day lmfao. Oh there’s also a little restaurant inside the Hmart we go to, they do Katsu Sandwiches? And they come with a Fruit Sando too (it’s filled with seasonal fresh fruit and whip cream and it’s SO PRETTY and tastes SOOOO good.) gotta be one of my top tens of food (both kinda of sandwich LOL, but also just Pork Katsu. I group them together mentally as one thing in my brain 🤔)
Dark Chocolate Terry’s Orange - already drooling thinkin about that Winter only treat auuuuu…. It’s just so good, and it’s easy to snack off of for like, weeks. Cos you slap it on the table a bunch and it has a bunch of fake orange wedges made of dark chocolate to Nomf on. If you like chocolate and Orange you should try one once, I think they’re pretty great! I think some off-brands also makes like, ones with fillings like mint and raspberry? They’re pretty decent too from what I remember… (oops.. double food Happies. Well.! Food makes me happy!!!)
Leaving my Rambling Gushing Tags on peoples art also makes me really happy tbh it’s just not something I can condense into one-two words for the bold and color format I started - lol. But I for real get so excited seeing the stuff people create (I count gpose as art actually, it’s a creative outlet!!! Art!!) and I don’t have a LOT of art technical terms- it’s been a while since high school so I don’t even fully remember the terms they taught me back then- but I’m still like. Idk I see a cool shot, or a piece of art, and my heart becomes like, thunderstorm on the ocean, crash boom!!!!! So I write a bunch of tags pointing out what I like and what I think (with restraint, sometimes, I try not to thirst tag too heavily since I don’t want to make people uncomfortable and like. Block me LMFAO then I wouldn’t get to see their cool characters/art anymore yk) and I just. I hope it makes them happy too? But thinking that it might/does make them happy to get ramble excited tags (cos I do Lmfao) makes me really happy too? Idk. I just wanna put out good energy on people’s stuff. Encourage them to keep pursuing their hobbies? They cared enough to post it so others could see it which meant they wanted to show others, rather than not posting it all and keeping it to themselves, and, idk. This got really long LOL. I just have a lot of feelings about this i guess. Ty for sending this ask btw it’s been fun to answer ;w;
#Tag Game#technically not a tag game but I’m calling a chicken a horse don’t mind#also I like using color and bold for emphasis because I’m a video game character it seems#I just don’t do it that often because I worry it’ll be obnoxious#I spend an awful lot of time worrying about other people 🤔#bonus if you’re reading the tags my favorite emoji is 😲✨#happy thoughts#long post#post got kinda long lol
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Boys Planet Episode 6, Part 1 Recap
Alright, let’s cover Episode 6 with my usual mix of commentary, thoughts, analysis, reminders, screen caps, and silliness.
By the way, I’m trying to keep my page a safe place to visit (or follow) even if you’re way behind-- I’ll make sure there are no spoilers above the “read more”.
If you want to jump to my take on one of the songs click below:
Gang and Zoom
Home and Love Killa
Law and Man in Love
Rush Hour
Limousine
Feel Special
Not Spring
Butterfly
Tomboy
We start at 45 seconds in with a partial ranking, including votes so far (no distinction is made between K and G votes, or if these have already been blended using MNET math). Since 28 is the new cut off, this range may be of interest to us Star Creators. Here’s what they tell us, and I threw in their mission song and their rank as of the elimination in the previous episode:
24 Lee Seung Hwan Danger 507,3381 (20)
25 Cai Jin Xin Hot Sauce 419,853 (50)
26 Ollie Hot Sauce 405,996 (28)
27 Hiroto Very Nice 389,175 (21)
28 Ma Jing Xiang Very Nice 366,570 (32)
29 Lee Jeong Hyeon LMR 349,008 (39)
30 Mun Jung Hyun Very Nice 336,421 (23)
31 Anthonny LMR 285,564 (19)
32 Jung Min Gyu Very Nice 266,096 (27)
None of the top 18 from the previous ranking has fallen into this range (though for all we know they could have fallen further, though it seems unlikely). Most of them are roughly where they were before, though the biggest story is definitely Cai Jin Xin, who was 50th at the first elimination and has jumped to 25th. It’s also worth noting that Anthonny has fallen from 19th to 31st -- kind of a big fall in context.
Next, we can skip past the intro and recap to 1:39. The trainees are gathering to talk about their feelings… sort of. Because really this is a prank, and the staff has this woman made up to look like a scary ghost appear in front of them, and then when they run backward, a man in an obvious mask rush at them from behind. I don’t really love pranks, so I’ll focus on stuff I do enjoy:
I like how the boys seem to be sitting in sort of random groups, not all K or all G, and they seem comfortable with each other. I hate the K-G competition stuff, and I’m so glad they do too. Like, I worry about the world and how we’re getting along with each other as a planet and stuff like this makes me feel a little better, that the basic spirit of empathy and friendship prevails even when MNET tries to drive a wedge between them.
Haruto is wearing a tiara.
3. The mask the monster is wearing looks like it cost $3.99 at Family Dollar and I’m kind of here for it
4. Park JiHoo barely reacting to it, saying, “I told you, they totally would do this! They had to do scary stuff!” Ok, Park JiHoo, you just won me over.
5:02 in, the episode actually starts!
The boys all come in, and now they’re all wearing simple long sleeved white t-shirts that either say K or G, along with name tags that have their rank and name on them. I’m going to reproduce their current name and ranks here, so if at any time you are feeling like “who is that?” you can consult the list. They’re all wearing name tags with their numbers on them, so it’ll be easy enough, I hope!
The white shirts don’t look good on any of them. Also, they all look tired. They’ve been instructed by the producers to wonder aloud about who the new star master will be (I assume). Kim Tae Rae is hoping it’ll be Hyolyn (from Sistar), and I mean, yes? That’d be great.
But it’s Huta (Lee Minhyuk) from BTOB! A lot of the trainees seem really overwhelmed, especially Cha Woongki, who is freaking out, Kermit-meme style. For the record, BToB debuted in 2012, and Huta was born in 1990. I liked his song “Ya” a few years back. He also has a song called “Boom” that I’d never heard but it’s got a great pre-chorus. He likes to go shirtless sometimes, and it seems like the people like it, judging by the “most played” sections of his videos. Side note: BTOB is signed under Cube, which is the same agency that Hui and his group Pentagon are from, so Huta is probably a sunbae/hyung to Hui. They don't seem to greet each other, though, so who knows.
Huta checks in with international sweetheart, Sung Hanbin, about how he feels about being ranked first place (“It made me think I should work harder from now on!”) and then checks in with Jeong I-chan, ranked 52nd, about how he feels barely having made it (“I’ll work harder from now on!”). Huta tells them all, basically, to never give up, or something, and they’re all touched. Now that everyone has decided to work harder, let’s give them a challenge!
Side note: Jeong I-chan seems to be in a better headspace now than he was at the elimination ceremony, so that’s good.
Huta reveals the challenge: A Dual Position Battle.
For the “Vocal & Rap” performances, they have to rearrange a song and write new raps.
For the “Vocal & Dance” performances, they have to rearrange the song and come up with their own choreography.
For the “Rap & Dance” performances, they have to write a new rap and come up with new choreography.
Considering that very few of these performers are likely to know how to do any of these skills, this is going to be a challenge. It’s especially cruel to expect non-native speakers of Korean to write a rap in Korean -- I wonder if they’re allowed to write a rap in English, if they speak that? Enough raps in K-pop songs are 50%+ in English that it wouldn't be unrealistic for them to write in English. I mean, risky risky wiggy wiggy this is an emergency, you know?
Huta says, “the dual position battle will also be a battle between K and G,” and they’re all like SELMA???? (REALLLY??????) Huta doesn’t even have the heart (or cue-card reading skills) to drag out the joke, and almost immediately tells them that no, he was just kidding -- they can completely ignore the K/G divide from now on. They are all super happy to hear that. I’m happy, too!
The songs are:
Vocal & rap:
Tomboy, originally by G-Idle; Limousine originally by BE’O, which I admit I wasn't familiar with; Man in Love originally by Infinite, which came out in 2013 and I’m not familiar with; and Not Spring, Love, or Cherry Blossoms, originally by High4 and IU.
They’re all super excited for Tomboy, which was a massive hit. The older trainees remember Man in Love, but the younger ones have never even heard of it.
Vocal & Dance
Butterfly, originally by BTS; Feel Special originally by Twice; Love Killer originally by Monsta X; Home by Seventeen
At the announcement of the Twice song, Cha Woongki starts doing the choreo, and Seo Won says, “are you ready for the group of queens?” which is important foreshadowing. You guys, I am not going to speculate on anyone’s sexuality, especially since in Korea, being gay is still considered a mental illness by many, but I will say that a lot of guys on this show are surprisingly comfortable with their feminine side, and I’m here for it! Zhang Shai Bo is losing it, since Feel Special is his favorite song of all time, and I mean, same.
Love Killer is also my favorite song of all time. It was my ring tone for a long time until my fella got sick of my phone saying “Oh, I’m sorry, did I make you anxious?” every time someone tried to reach me about my car's extended warranty.
Side note: Krystian seems to have redone his hair a bit, dying it a bit darker and dying his eyebrows brown again, and it looks miles better. I’m glad to see it.
Rap & Dance
Law by Yoon Mi Rae and Bibi; Rush Hour by Crush; Zoom by Jessi; and Gang by H1ghr music.
The trainees are overwhelmed at the idea of trying to improve on a song by Bibi, which is the correct way to feel, since Bibi is a goddess who walks amongst us. Rush Hour was already sung by Jay and Kamden in the Star Level Test, and no one wants to compete with Jay’s vocals.
At the reveal of Zoom, Takuto says, IN KOREAN, to Haruto, “I like this song so much I set it as my morning alarm.” Two things: Takuto, you learned a lot of Korean! His pronunciation sounds good to me, not that I’m the best judge, but yeah. He could be speaking Japanese to Japanese-speaking Haruto, but he’s choosing Korean -- that’s big. Also, Takuto likes Jessi? That’s a relief, because I can’t take someone who is all aegyo all the time.
My little cousin Kum Jung Hyeon says he’ll never do Gang, never-never-cherlte-cherlte, so you know he’ll end up doing it.
At 15:10 in, Huta begins to explain how song selection will work, and basically, it’s this -- the lowest ranked people go first, and choose a song, but if someone higher ranked wants to push them out, they can. If you get pushed out, you have to go to a song that has room in it. Unlike in previous seasons, the arrival of a newer person doesn’t automatically kick out the lowest ranked person, though. Instead, the new person chooses the person they want to kick out. So this will be extra awkward.
The members of the team that wins within each category will get 100,000 points each, and the one who gets the most votes within that team will also get 150,000 extra points. Also, the three teams that win get to go on MNET and get special online promotion.
Since MNET spent their whole budget on those matching pajamas that time, this is the best they can do for a set for the song selection process, which runs from about 17:00 to 31:00.
Is that duct tape forming the lanes? I love the chandeliers just sort of hanging there from the ceiling, just the perfect compliment for that elementary-school style indestructible gray carpet.
I’m not going to recap the song selection beat for beat, but here are some things I enjoyed or thought were interesting:
Tomboy is the most popular and fought over song, followed closely by Love Killa.
Krystian got a real evil edit for pushing someone out -- they were all pushing each other out like that, but only he looks "evil."
The Rap/dance songs filled up the most slowly.
I loved Ma Xing Jiang confirming that he’s in front of the correct song by doing a little of the choreo (since maybe reading English isn’t a specialty of his).
I think it’s a bummer that Yoon Jong Woo can’t do Love Killa, since I think he’d suit it really well. But I don’t know why he chose to do Home -- he said he wanted to do a performance with Seung Eun, but I still don’t understand.
It was also a bit sad when Ricky got kicked out of Love Killa, party because I think he’d be great at it and partly because he really wanted to work with Mr. Sexy Kim Ji Woong.
I don’t think Matthew should have taken Tomboy. I think he would have done better with a lighter, sweeter concept song.
I loved it when my little cousin Kum Jeong Hyun just wanted to have General Gunwook on his own team and so was begging Sungbin to kick out Gunwook
I loved Lee SeungHwan just being like, "yeah, alright, I’ll rap and dance, heck yeah," when he got kicked out of his team. That’s the spirit, dude! I keep low-key forgetting who Lee SeungHwan is, so I double checked. He was on the Mirotic team for the Star Level test, and he was the put-upon and hard-working leader of Lee Da Eul’s very own personal song, Danger by BTS. Oh yeah! Him! He’s a peach. 🍑
We learn, via a subtitle that is hardly addressed, that our sweet Lee Hwanhee, the main vocalist from Kill This Love-K (who is also from the nugu group Up10tion), has left the show due to health issues. I hope he’s ok. He can still sing, at least!
We also find out that the Top 9 get these fairly ugly windbreaker jackets to wear, so that’s... good…? I guess...? Also, I wonder if these fine themed garments are available for purchase at a store near me at an unreasonable price, so I can show my love for the boys through consumerism.
Team: Love Killa
Shirt color: Dark blue
Positions: Vocal and Dance
Leader: Seok Matthew
Time stamp: 30:49 Screen time: 4:28
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Seok Matthew (2) All I Wanna Do / KTL - G 20 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Kim Ji Woong (3) Mirotic / BD- K 24 ⭐⭐⭐
Kim Gyu Vin (6) Kick It / LMR - K 18 ⭐⭐⭐
Seo Won (18) Attention / Very Nice - K 22 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Seo Won feels bad as the only non-top 9 on the team -- he’s worried he will drag the team down.
Matthew wants to be the leader to prove he’s not a baby who needs to be taken care of. I get the feeling that Kim Ji Woong doesn’t really like being the leader, and is only too happy to hand over the reins.
When it comes time to pick someone for the killing part, English pronunciation becomes an issue, and Matthew correctly says that the feeling matters more than pronunciation since they can always work on pronunciation later. They give the part to Kim Ji Woong, which is really a good call, though I think Kim Gyuvin would do a great job at it too.
Team: Feel Special
Shirt color: Light Blue
Positions: Vocal and Dance
Leader: Cai Jin Xin
Time stamp: 35:19 Screen time: 2:31
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Cha Woong Ki (25) Bloom Bloom / Very Nice - K 20 ⭐⭐
Zhang Shuai Bo (36) Reveal / BD - G 21 ⭐
Lee Dong Gun (48) Criminal (shoes) / Hot Sauce - K 17 ⭐⭐
Cai Jin Xin (50) Reveal / Hot Sauce - G 19 🚫
Cai Jin Xin says, “I love our team,” in English, and (a) his English is really well pronounced and (b) me too!! Woongki says the team is well balanced, because they have two G and two K team members. Also, as Jin Xin points out, “only the pretty guys are here.” I will say that this seems to be the Team Full of Queens that Seo Won prophesied earlier, and again, I am totally here for it.
They are realizing that it might be a tough job, because they’re all comparatively low ranked, and also, the music is really high pitched. They are given a version of the song in a lower key, but I feel like they could lower it further, right? They are allowed to rearrange the song. Because it’s so high, no one wants the main vocal, or even a normal amount of stage time. Woongki, who seems to be taking on an actual leadership role in addition to the Killing Part, encourages the others to be confident, saying that this might be their last stage so they should take the chance to stand in the center one more time. He interviews later on that he’s never had to beg people to take parts before!
Team: Home
Shirt color: Black
Positions: Vocal and Dance
Leader: Yoon Jong Woo
Time stamp: 37:50 Screen time: 4:02
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Jay (9) Rush Hour / LMR - G 21 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Yoo Seung Eon (17) Kick It / Very Nice - K 19 ⭐⭐⭐
Dang Hong Hai (33) View / LMR - G 19 ⭐⭐⭐
Yoon Jong Woo (38) Mirotic / BD - K 22 ⭐
Ji Yun Seo (47) Kick It / BD - K 18 ⭐⭐⭐
They’re distributing the parts, which of course is tricky here since there are a lot of great vocalists on this team. Ji Hoon is still really really bummed to not get to work on Love Killa, but he’s consoled a bit by getting to work with a good team who seem to all respect and like him.
The original choreo is a lot, and the chorus is really high. Naturally they give the main vocals to titanium voiced Yoo Seung Eon whose voice is like, Exo quality. I love Kim Tae Rae, but I have to admit that Seung Eon is the best vocalist on the show, better even than Hui.
The team is trying to decide who will take which dance position, so they dance to “Na bina”, which is kind of funny.
Team: Butterfly
Shirt color: White
Positions: Vocal and Dance
Leader: Chen Kuan Jui
Time stamp: 41:52 Screen time: 3:45
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test /Challenge 1 age final star level
Chen Kuan Jui (26) Tiger Inside / KTL - G 22 ⭐⭐⭐
Lim Jun Seo (30) Replay/ Danger - K 17 ⭐
Cong (35) View / Very Nice - G 22 ⭐⭐⭐
Brian (41) Kick It - G / BD - G 20 ⭐
This team has a nice sense of camaraderie.
Lim Jun Seo is lacking in skills, and is open about that, which I have mixed feelings about. Honesty is good, but you need to have a positive attitude. The other boys on the team promise to help him -- Chen Kaun Jui offers to help him with his dancing, and Cong offers to help with his singing, saying, in Korean, “I too. Vocal.” Jun Seo replies by calling him “hyung,” which makes Cong smile. Cong’s Korean is obviously still a bit elementary; that’s not a criticism, just a note. I have all the sympathy in the world for the global trainees who don’t know Korean.
Incidentally, we see in a flashback that Lee Da Eul volunteered both of them to go first on the first day, and he did that knowing that Jun Seo did NOT want to go first, and I’ll let all 2-3 of you reading this decide for yourself whether that’s a cool thing to do or not.
Anyway, they are trying to decide who gets the killing part based on freestyle dance, and Jun Seo is like, so we’ll learn the choreo quickly? And it’s like, no honey, no, you sweet child. Once he realizes what freestyle means, he’s out. I’m like, “Just give the killing part to CKJ already, because you know he deserves it,” and they do.
I hate that the story is mostly about Jun Seo, instead of being about the far more talented Chen Kuan Jui. I didn’t like CKJ much at first that much for whatever reason, but he’s grown on me a lot. I think he’s sweet, hard working, and an incredible dancer. I don’t think he’ll make it onto the final lineup, but I hope we keep seeing him around the kpop verse.
Team: Gang
Shirt color: Black
Positions: Rap and Dance
Leader: Lee Seung Hwan🍑
Time stamp: 45:32 Screen time: 2:08
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Kum Jun Hyeon (14) Nunu Nana BD - K 19 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Lee Seung Hwan🍑 (20) Mirotic Danger - K 22 ⭐⭐⭐
Mun Jung Hyun (23) The Real Very Nice - K 17 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Lee Jeong Hyeon (39) The Real LMR - K 20 ⭐⭐⭐
Chen Jian Yu (45) Call Me Baby BD - G 24 ⭐
This team consists of mostly people who got kicked out of the song they wanted. So, their spirits are kind of low. My little cousin and noted yeller Kum Jun Hyeon is bummed out -- he really wanted that bleepin’ Tomboy. And none of them have any experience making choreo. I do think that my little muffin Mun Jung Hyun knows something about rapping, and that maybe Lee Jeong Hyeon does too, so fingers crossed.
Side note: Chen Jian Yu looks great with his current hair color. Miles better than the light blue and also better than the dark color he had in the Star Level Test.
No one steps forward to make the choreo, so my little cousin Kum Jun Hyeon finally steps up, saying, “Although I can’t guarantee the quality, if I didn’t do it, I didn’t think anyone else could do it.” I find that very charming. Fighting, little cuz!
WHAT KIND OF PERFORMANCE WILL THEY PREPARE???? We’ll find out…
Team: Zoom
Shirt color: Dark blue
Positions: Rap and Dance
Leader: Keita
Time stamp: 47:40 Screen time: 2:37
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Keita (8) Conduct Zero /KTL - G 21 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Haruto (16) Glitch Mode/ LMR - G 18 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Ollie (28) Kick It - G /Hot Sauce - G 16 🚫
Wumuti (43) UN Village/ LMR - G 23 ⭐⭐
Park Hyunbeen (49) GBTB/ Hot Sauce - K 17 ⭐⭐⭐
Keita, who is really feeling himself, says that he likes the song and wanted to do it, and adds, “I thought things would go well if I came to lead this team, regardless of whoever came or was here already.” Like, he’s not wrong.
Naturally, they make him leader -- I knew that as soon as I saw that he was on the team.
And they start practicing the Killing Part -- it’s that beginning part, “I see you looking at my P-I-C,” and they all want it. Hyunbeen says that they’re all wary and competitive with each other, and he’s especially desperate to win the extra points because of his low rank. He wins the killing part, though, so he’s over the moon. Oh god, are the judges going to tell his team to give the killing part to someone else?
Team: Law
Shirt color: White
Positions: Rap and Dance
Leader: Park Hanbin
Time stamp: 50:17 Screen time: 2:06
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Han Yu Jin (4) Kick It BD - K 15 ⭐⭐⭐
Park Hanbin (22) The Real Hot Sauce - K 20 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Wang Zi Hao (29) Veil KTL - G 21 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Na Kamden (31) Rush Hour BD - G 21 ⭐⭐⭐
Lee Ye Dam (42) Gambler LMR - K 20 🌟🌟🌟🌟
This team is excited to be working together at first -- both Wang Zi Hao and Lee Yedam are among the very best dancers on the show. However, most of them are not really rappers -- they’re just vocalists. Park Hanbin says, “I rap like I’m reading a book.” Hey, we saw Lee Yedam rap in his Star Level test, and he was really good! But they’re worried anyway -- most of them don’t specialize in rapping and they don’t know how to write lyrics. Oh no! A lot of trainees I really like are on this team. Well, to be fair, I like almost all the trainees at this point, so I could say that about pretty much any of the teams.
It does seem that Na Kamden has some vague idea of how to write rap, at least. That’s really all you need -- one person who can write a rap and teach it to the others. Fighting, Kamden! Yujin steps up, too, saying, “I did learn a bit about rap.” Meanwhile, the other three can make the choreo. They’re going to get through it!
Side note: Did they make Han Yujin at the same laboratory where they made Sung Hanbin? Do they also make purse sized dragons there? Little dragons that will love you and be loyal to you? Is that the kind of thing they also make at this laboratory? I hope I can visit there someday.
Team: Rush Hour
Shirt color: Light Blue
Positions: Rap and Dance
Leader: Oh Sungmin
Time stamp: 52:23 Screen time: 2:57
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Ricky (12) Kick It - G /BD - G 18 ⭐⭐
Takuto (15) Instead Of... /Danger - G 15 ⭐
Hiroto (21) Conduct Zero /Very Nice - G 20 ⭐⭐
Ma Jing Xiang (32) Reveal /Very Nice - G 19 🚫
Oh Sung Min (34) Bloom Bloom /LMR - K 21 ⭐⭐⭐
By the time we visit them, they’re already dancing. We can see from their sign thing in the background that Ricky has the Killing Part, and is both main dancer and main rapper; and we watch as Oh Sungmin is unanimously voted the leader. He’s the oldest, he used to be in a debuted group (TOO/T01) and he’s also the only 3 star (and there aren’t any 4 stars). So, that makes sense. But it does seem odd to me to be starting the choreography when they haven’t written their raps yet…?
Naturally, it’s hard to teach Takuto. You can see that he’s doing the steps more like they’re the steps from “Na Bina.” Sungmin is trying -- he even says “Daijobou?” to Takuto, which is Japanese for “Ok?” -- but he’s going too fast for someone like Takuto, and he’s going to need to break it down a LOT more.
Meanwhile, Ma Jing Xiang is trying to move ahead, and there’s an interview from Hiroto about how MJX is just “thinking about himself,” how he did the same thing in Very Nice, trying to learn the choreo from the K-team who were so far ahead. Ricky apparently is studying the choreography video, and again, we’re told that this is bad, but why? Ricky speaks a few languages and is a kind soul, and I bet he’s trying to learn the choreo at least in part to be able to help his teammates. But the show makes this looks selfish, and Oh Sungmin interviews, “We need to work on our teamwork first.”
I don’t understand this take. Why does the word “teamwork” seem to mean “We have to get Takuto step-perfect on each dance phrase before the team can go to the next phrase”? Couldn’t teamwork mean, “We work on different things to get the whole job done”? Doesn’t it only benefit the team to have more people who know the choreo and music in general? While Takuto does the same 10 steps over and over, why should the whole team do that? Especially considering that Takuto is in the safety zone, rank wise, while MJX is definitely not and needs to do everything in his power to put on a good show. Takuto can go ahead and screw this up and he’ll still probably make it through the next elimination round. And that’s a bummer, but that’s how these shows are.
Ok, let me out myself. I’m a teacher. WHAT? Yeah. I am. I don’t work at a school -- I teach adults, who sometimes are older than me, as well as teenagers and little kids. It’s a weird job and I’m not YOUR teacher so don’t worry about it, ok? Alright. So we go that out of the way. And the thing about being a good teacher is that you have a responsibility to the students who are ahead just as much as to the students who are behind, and a lot of teachers don’t know how to fulfill that obligation.
And it’s not really Oh Sungmin’s fault that he doesn’t know how to be a really great teacher, but I think that if I were there, I’d advise him to not worry right now about Takuto getting the choreo perfect. It’s going to take a lot of work before that happens, and it’s not going to be today. They should be going for the big picture, and making sure that everyone has a chance to get the basics of their routine down so that it becomes possible for people to do individual practice later. It’s like putting together the frame of the jigsaw puzzle first, and then putting together the pieces in the middle. The frame helps you get started and know where to put the other pieces.
Ok that was probably more than you cared to read but anyway. That’s how I feel. This is dumb and irritating.
On to the next team!
Team: Man in Love
Shirt color: Dark blue
Positions: Vocal and Rap
Leader: Lee Dong Yeol
Time stamp: 55:20
Screen time: 3:10
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Kim Tae Rae (11) The Real BD - K 20 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Jung Min Gyu (27) My House (Red) Very Nice - K 23 🚫
Lee Dong Yeol (40) Who Very Nice - K 24 ⭐
Choi Woo Jin (51) Nunu Nana Hot Sauce - K 18 ⭐
They’ve elected Dongyeol, who is a member of the group Up10tion, their leader, and that makes sense.
The team is sitting around listening to the song, and Mingyu is saying it’s nostalgic for him, and WAIT is that a hickey on TaeRae’s neck?
I mean it’s not. Is it? It’s not. It can’t be. But also, whoever makes out with TaeRae, please be gentle to his neck, ok? That’s where he keeps his singing parts. He needs those. For singing.
Anyway, the team is talking about how much they like the song. Mingyu and Dongyeol, age 23 and 24 respectively, remember and like the song, while Tae Rae didn’t know it before but liked it when he heard it prior to song selection. Tae Rae thinks it suits his voice well, and Mingyu agrees, interviewing that he’s grateful that Tae Rae joined the team. I'm grateful that Tae Rae joined life!
They each try the killing part, and Dongyeol sings a bit, and his voice is actually much better than I thought it was, though he cracks a bit. When he’s done, no one reacts, so he applauds a tiny bit for himself until everyone else joins in. Aww. Then TaeRae sings and it’s so nice. It’s just… yeah. Listen, I know that titanium voice kid, Yoo Seung Eon, has a better voice, but I like TaeRae’s better. It’s like how Chen from EXO has a better voice than D.O., but I’d rather listen to D.O.
Meanwhile, Choi Woojin is having trouble even finding the note to sing. I’m kind of surprised he chose vocals, but maybe he was scared to write a rap? In that case, what is he good at? I watched his Hot Sauce and Nunu Nana performances, and he was basically a backup dancer in both -- he doesn’t seem to be a vocalist in any way, either as a singer or a rapper. What a bummer that we lost Hong Keon Hee and Kim Min Seong, because both of those were in the Nunu Nana group with him and both did a much better job in their various performances.
Red house Mingyu sings really really loud, apparently, and Woojin sings very quietly, so this will be tough.
Team: Limousine
Shirt color: Light blue
Positions: Vocal and Rap
Leader: Anthonny
Time stamp: 58:30 Screen time: 1:27
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test/Challenge 1 age final star level
Anthonny (19) Glitch Mode /LMR - G 19 ⭐⭐⭐
Krystian (37) Call Me Baby /BD - G 23 ⭐⭐
Park Ji Hoo (44) Freak /Hot Sauce - K 16 ⭐⭐⭐
Anthonny has been elected leader, but Park Jihoo ends up kind of stepping up to lead. He suggests that they think about what the song is really about -- it’s about a man achieving his dreams. They’re working on achieving their own dreams, so he thinks they can focus on that in their raps.
Trainees writing raps about how they’re trainees who want to debut?
Krystian is on his Very Best Behavior, and calls Jihoo, “Park Jihoo-shi,” which is kind of ridiculous given that Jihoo is seven years younger than him. He would still be polite in Korean standards to call him “Jihoo-ah” or something like that, and I bet he knows that.
Krystian calls him “mature” (in English), and since he can’t find the right word in Korean, explains it as, “you know what you’re doing.” And Jihoo agrees: “Genius, genius,” he says in English, of himself. Jihoo is a hoot.
(Incidentally, Jihoo says he’s 18, because he uses the Korean age system, which says you’re a year old at birth, and that also calculates your age based on the year it is, whether or not your birthday has happened yet. So he’s really 16, and will be turning 17 in July, by international standards.)
Team: Not Spring, Love, or Cherry Blossoms
Shirt color: Black
Positions: Vocal and Rap
Leader: Jung I Chan
Time stamp: 59:57 Screen time: one whole minute
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test /Challenge 1 age final star level
Lee Da Eul (13) Replay /Danger - K 18 🚫
Bak Do Ha (24) My House (Blue)/ Hot Sauce - K 20 🚫
Jung I Chan (52) Mirotic /Danger - K 20 ⭐⭐
Oh boy. This team. MNET gives them exactly one minute of screen time and most of that is just mocking their past performances.
I think Bak Doha is a decent guy who just needed better advice from his agency and more realistic goals in life, and I hope he makes it as an actor. Jung I-chan has been at this a long time and must have some talent or he wouldn’t keep making it halfway on shows like this, but he’s yet to really prove himself at a key moment. And you guys know how I feel about Lee Daeul -- I don’t like being unkind so I literally cannot say anything about him, whether it be about his personality, past behavior, or observable skill set. It would be such a redemption moment if any of these three could do something great in their performance, but I’m not exactly holding my breath. I’ll say though that I-chan has the best attitude he can have, considering.
Team: Tomboy
Shirt color: White (but basically, purple/blue top-9 jackets)
Positions: Vocal and Rap
Leader: Hui
Time stamp: 1:01:05 Screen time: 5:25, the longest of any team by a full minute
Trainee name (rank) Star Level test Challenge 1 age final star level
Sung Hanbin (1) Beautiful Beautiful LMR - K 21 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Zhang Hao (5) Kick It - G KTL - G 22 🌟🌟🌟🌟
Hui (7) Shut Down LMR - K 29 ⭐⭐⭐
Park Gunwook (10) GBTB KTL - K 18 🌟🌟🌟🌟
This team is a little TOO stacked. Three of them are top 9, and General Gunwook is in 10th place. They have three excellent leaders on the team -- Hui, Zhang Hao, and Gunwook would all make excellent leaders. And they have three excellent candidates for a center/killing part roll - basically, anyone but Hui would do a fantastic job at it. (Not that Hui can’t, but the others are that bit better.)
Gunwook says, “You can’t have a better team than this. As if I were Liu Bei, who gained Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, my shoulders kept rising.”
Ok, a few things about this. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen Koreans talk about “shoulders rising” as if that indicates pride or confidence -- maybe it’s a bit like “holding your head up high” in English idiom. Makes intuitive sense, too.
Next, it’s as if General Gunwook knows that I call him General Gunwook, because he’s making a reference to Liu Bei. Lui Bei was a Chinese warlord (born in the year 166) who founded Shu Han, one of the Three Kingdoms of China. Liu Bei gathered a team together during the Yellow Turban Revolution of 184, which I’m sure you already know all about, and gathered a group of loyal followers, including Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. So Gunwook is positing himself as a Warlord Emperor, and his teammates as his loyal generals. Love it.
The show seems to be implying that Gunwook is a little too solicitous of his team, fetching the lyric sheet and getting pens for them and stuff, but that’s what you do when you’re a polite younger person in Korean culture, and Gunwook is a polite guy. Of course he’ll get a pen for someone who is 11 years older than him!
Zhang Hao says that Gunwook was scary in Kill This Love, but now he’s a cute and sweet dongsaeng (younger sibling/friend). He seems genuinely surprised, but I’m not at all. Gunwook expands to fill the space -- if no leader is present, he’ll lead, and if one is present, he’ll follow. He’s a General, but he recognizes Hui as a Major General, and will follow commands. He’s also smart and wouldn’t want to look like a rude kid on TV!
Zhang Hao really wants the killing part, and so do Sung Hanbin and Hui. I think Zhang Hao is by far the best, and General Gunwook agrees with me, but the win goes to Sung Hanbin. That’s kind of a bummer but given how popular he is I guess it’ll work out well for the team. Zhang Hao is a class act -- he’s bummed, but he knows that Hanbin is also really good. So he sets himself the challenge of being able to rap quickly in Korean, reasoning that if Yuqi from G-Idle can do it, so can he! Hanbin is helping him and he’s improving already. Zhang Hao, fighting!
Side note: Kind of funny that they’re not acknowledging that Hui is from the same agency (Cube) that G-Idle is from. Hui probably knows Soyeon and Yuqi and the girls, at least in passing. I kind of wonder whether Hui and Soyeon get along? They’re both music producers who lead their teams and take responsibility for their members, so they have all that in common. On the other hand, sometimes people don’t like each other if they’re too much alike. Man, imagine if Soyeon and Hui teamed up, Triple-H style? Or even better, just a Pentagon/G-Idle crossover group, NCT style, where they just use whichever members from either group that would work in a particular song? Sigh. A girl can dream.
And with that, we’ve reached the end of this part of the Recap! Click here to go to Part 2, which is my discussion of Gang and Zoom!
Or if you'd prefer, you can scroll up to the top and look at one of the other songs! Or if you'd prefer, you can go on to Episode 8.
Thanks for being here! <3
#boys planet recaps#boys planet recap#boys planet#boysplanet999#boysplanet#boys planet 999#ricky#zhang hao#kim tae rae#hui#sung hanbin#kum junhyeon#park gunwook
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Writing Whispers
Cheers for the tag, @mrbexwrites!
Rules: Find a few paragraphs of writing from as long ago as you can. Re-write them how you would now.
Gonna do a mostly open tag for this, but I also poke @dyrewrites as this could be a fun activity.
Wailing is a WIP that started in 2012. It's devoid of hope so I'll never finish it, and it's posted on an old AFF.org account that I lost the password to so it can stay there for all I care. Let's do the first 3 paragraphs.
Original chunk
My name is Mikey Rose Smith.
Well, not Smith. I’d like it to be, because then I could sign my name M.R. Smith on each and every school report and imagine the R. stands for Robert. But that would be trying a little too hard. My surname is Lamont, not that it matters. Where I like to go, surnames don’t matter; sometimes not even first names. I could have made an edgy nickname for myself, like the countless Xaviers and Ravens you meet on the street. But I didn’t, because Alistair Wright didn’t. He uses his own name, his whole name, and that’s just how cool he is. Everyone knows who Alistair is, and by proxy they know who I am. Because he and I are really close.
Not that we’re dating. Alistair doesn’t do mushy stuff like that. We’ve made out a lot, I’ve even sucked him off, but that’s a totally normal thing in our group. It’s cool to be fluid, it’s cool to make out and fool around and swap sex for cigarettes or whatever. It’s all part of a bigger picture of decay; Alistair is usually talking about something like that. I’ll admit that usually I’m too buzzed or stoned to listen properly, but when I do; man, his words are like poetry. I could listen to him for hours, staring at a bedroom ceiling through a haze of spliff smoke backed by the crooning of The Cure.
But certainly not out here in the shitty ‘burbs, with white picket fences and snotty little kids with white picket faces making a racket in the streets. The only person even remotely interesting is that weird gangly creep ‘Flicker’ Prescott and that’s only because he has some sort of dress sense apart from being a complete loser. His name is Adam, by the way. I can’t remember when he picked out his stupid nickname. At least it’s not Raven.
Notes
I still dig the "partially speaking to the reader vibe"" but Mikey's characterisation is off. He does OK in school but he's not a nerd, so terms like 'by proxy' don't belong in his inner monologue.
His feelings towards Flicker are also off. I can see what I was doing, I wanted to obscure the truth from the reader because it's revealed in a later chapter from Flicker's perspective that Mikey is trans and Flicker is the only one who knows about it, so he's a threat to Mikey's identity. Still, to treat him as a total stranger instead of an awkwardly-still-around childhood friend is a smidge too aggressive.
I refuse to remove "white picket faces".
Chunk rewritten
My name is Mikey Rose Smith.
Well, not Smith. I’d like it to be, because then I could sign my name M.R. Smith on all my notebooks and imagine the R. stands for Robert. But that would be trying a little too hard. My surname is actually Lamont, if you care. Where I go, names hardly matter; I've swapped spit with total strangers. I guess I could have picked some cool handle for myself, like the countless Xaviers and Ravens you meet on the street. But I didn’t, because Alistair Wright didn’t. He uses his own name, his whole name, and that’s just how cool he is. Everyone knows who Alistair is, and that means they know who I am. Because he and I are really close.
Not that we’re dating. Alistair doesn’t do mushy stuff like that. We’ve made out a lot (I’ve even sucked him off) but that’s not a big deal. Totally normal. Our group is fluid, cool; we make out for fun and swap sex for cigarettes. Alistair says it’s all part of a bigger picture; something about 'decay' or whatever. I’m usually too buzzed or stoned to listen properly, but when I do; man, his words are like poetry. I could listen to him for hours, staring the ceiling through a haze of spliff smoke while The Cure croons from an old CD player.
But not out here in the shitty ‘burbs, with white picket fences and snot-nosed kids with white picket faces infesting every lawn. The only person even remotely interesting is ‘Flicker’ Prescott, and that’s only because he has some dress sense. He got hired at the library over me, and when I see a new outfit wasted on his weird, gangly body, I still get sore about it. Mother dearest will buy black lace but she won't cough up for red tartan and zippers. His real name is Adam, by the way. I can’t remember when he picked out his stupid nickname. At least it wasn't Raven.
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hey love!! I just saw your follower celebration post and first of all wanted to congratulate you!! 💗 second of all, wanted to thank you for making such a post and inadvertently bringing me to your blog, which I’d somehow missed in the countless binge-reads across fandoms on this hellsite! cant wait to read through more of your stuff, I’ve set a reminder on my phone to start this weekend! ♡
if it’s ok, I’d like to go for option one with either Jon Snow or Brienne of Tarth (I know Brienne isnt on your masterlist so if you’re more comfortable writing for Jon that’s perfectly ok with me!!), my name’s Heather, Im 5’0” and I’ve got shoulder length wavy light blue hair; personality wise I’ve got some dark lore (trauma but in a cool way 😎) which has caused some severe memory issues, but generally speaking Im very bubbly, excitable, and overall the furthest thing from the broody character you’d expect from a backstory like mine lol. my reasons for loving Brienne and Jon are much the same: their strength in the face of prejudice, the morally golden characters they’ve become despite their emotional hardships, and their equally protective natures which Im a total sucker for! naturally, I am in love with them both so a romantic blurb over a platonic one would make me feral 😌
in terms of prompts/scenarios, I really dont have anything specific in mind, Im just so excited to see what you write for either of these characters!! please dont feel at all rushed to do this, and if for any reason you arent comfortable writing it, I completely understand and respect your decision and I’ll look forward to your next works!! hope you have the most wonderful day! 🥰♡
hi :)
first off, thank you so much for the kind words. i hope you enjoy my work, let me know what you think! (and im apologizing for some of my older stuff, it’s a little rusty.)
second, if you scroll down my page a little bit, i’ll tag you in it, i have a post about all the characters im currently accepting requests for. so if you have any requests, i’ll gladly take them.
so i’m actually not doing this followers celebration anymore, i’ll do another one like this for 700 which should be semi soon, i’ll do a full one of these for you went it comes.
but i feel bad that you typed all this out, so i’m gonna do a quick version of what i was doing for the celebration. and again, if you think of a scenario and like any of the characters i write for, i’ll gladly write an x reader for you.
i’m gonna go with jon, since i’ve done one of these before for him, and he’s on my list of characters i’ll currently write for. but i do think brienne would like you a lot, too, for similar reasons.
jon very much understands what it’s like to have trauma but in a cool way. except he broods, you don’t. you’d definitely balance each other out, which he’d appreciate. i think he’d find it inspiring to see someone who’s been through some shit, but still chooses the optimist outlook. he’d strive to be more like you. he’s such a strong person, he’s overcome so much, and i think he’d really value having a person who’s had similar experiences. he’d connect to you purely based off the fact that he can relate on a deeper level. you’d bring him his little joys in life. he couldn’t help but fall for you when he’d see you standing tall and stoic, smiling in the face of adversity. he’d think you were the bravest person he’s ever known. his personal hero.
he’d understand that your memory issues stem from trauma. he probably has them himself, trying to recollect his childhood. but i think he’d find it endearing that you’d forget little things, especially if you grew up in the north together.
when you both finally made your way back to winterfell, you and sansa would share stories and memories. jon would sit with you, softly smiling.
“that was the year bran was born, love,” he’d gently correct.
you’d furrow your brows, shaking your head. “no. i’m quite sure, it was rickon.”
“it was neither,” sansa interrupted, grinning. “neither were born that year. father had his hands full, and my mother promised him peace and quiet for a summer. but bran was already born, so rickon would’ve been next.”
you’d smile, turning to jon. “i was closer.”
he’d sulk and you’d laugh, squeezing his hand. “we were both wrong. why are you pouting?”
he’d squeeze back, his eyes softening. he couldn’t help but give you a small smile at the sound of your laugh.
“i hate when you’re right. it’s far too often.”
you’d smile back. “get used to it, love.”
—
i hope you enjoyed this. thank you again for participating, im sorry i couldn’t write more. i hope i’ll see you for the next celebration, and thank you for supporting my work. i hope you enjoy it. i’ll tag you in that post for characters im currently accepting requests for, in case you want to send me one :)
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Ok, I wrote it all out. Jesus Christ, writing’s hard. I had to start over like three times, so I hope it makes any fucking sense.
I’m just gonna copy-paste it all in here for you guys (and Dan) to read. Maybe you can tell me where I’m “lying”, apparently.
-Daithi
How the fuck do I start this? Once upon a time…?
Eh, fuck it. I’ll just type.
So I started work on the “project” a month or so after I was fired. I don’t know why the fuck you tagged along, but you did. You visited me in the office space I’d rented when I was working late into the night, chatting and letting me bounce ideas off of you. You came up with an official-sounding name for it— “Project Schrodinger”— after listening to me ramble for what felt like hours.
And then we really got to work.
I spent so much time in that little office space— you called it the “Science Tower”, named after one of our inside jokes. I brought in chemicals and tests. You brought in jokes and songs and moral support. I don’t think I coulda got anything done without you.
But at the same time… You didn’t know what was really going on. Sure, you’d listened to me talk about the science and stuff, but I don’t think it ever kicked in. For either of us, I mean. So I kept on rambling and testing and coming up with new things to try, and you kept on listening. We hyped each other up, coming up with crazier and crazier ideas, bolder and bolder tests. I bought a few rats from the pet store, and surprisingly none of them died. Well, I mean, they all half-died, but in the way I expected them to. That sentence alone sounds fucked, now that I’m typing it out.
We were way in the thick of it, then. But I just couldn’t fucking stop, not when we were so close. Those answers were right in our reach, if I could just go a little farther…
You volunteered for human testing. You volunteered, and totally refused to let me test on myself. Completely shut me down whenever I suggested it. That’s when I realised how little you really knew. If you’d really noticed just what we were doing, how crazy it all was, then you wouldn’t have volunteered at all. I’d led you to thinking that our months of experimenting was normal. And I must’ve believed that too. That’s why I didn’t say no to you. Why I let you be the test subject. It worked on the rats, I told you. It was gonna work on humans.
But then I went behind your back. I went and made two doses of my crazy fucking medicine. One for you, one for me. I hooked myself up to some electrodes— all the same except for the ones on your head. You really wanted me to monitor your brain, for some reason. I didn’t get it, but all your other ideas worked out, so why not?
And then… And then…
We took our shots. I flipped the switch. And then we fell asleep for a really long time.
I never should’ve let you near that place, Kevin. I never should have let you fall down the same stupid fucking rabbit hole I did. You had a whole life ahead of you, and I… Fuck.
That’s it. I’m done.
The End.
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Marriage. 61
Chapter 61: Year of hell
I can’t believe my luck, well, I feel unlucky. She’s in my homeroom class. I’m going to die! The moment the teach mention my excellent high scores, on the entrance exam, the class had a roar of “boos’ and “nerd boy.” Great, just great. Haven’t started talking to anyone and I already have a nickname. I rather be home. At least there I can study in my underwear, and snack whenever I want to.
When the teacher tells me to find a seat, a blonde girl calls my attention. She saying how there’s an empty seat next to her, so why not take it. When I reach the seat is when I see her eyes are watching me. I feel nervous. Maybe I shouldn’t sit over here. I’m seconds from looking for another seat, when the blonde girl gets my attention again. Well, it’s too late.
Once I take the seat, I feel my fate is done for. The blonde introduce herself as Erasa, the blonde guy as Sharpner, and the one with the pretty eyes is Videl. Why do I keep referring her to pretty eyes? What is wrong with me? Then Erasa tells me that Videl is Mr. Satan’s daughter. Oh, just perfect! She just had to be the daughter to that weird guy, who claimed to beat cell. Oh, no harm in lying about that. It made things peaceful for me and mom, and everyone else. But I am impressed that she’s his daughter. Not impressed that the guy could have kids. I’m just impressed that her father is famous.
The rest of the day went by pretty ok. Except for when I kept feeling her eyes on me. I was just trying to write down as much as notes as possible. During lunch, when I saw what they had for lunch, in the lunchroom, I was debating on rushing home for lunch and then rush back for next class. Nope mister. I’m going to truly be suffering today. I’m just grateful that this school gives free lunch. But note to stuff, bring my own lunch from now on. The food seems like one of Bulma’s kitchen experiments gone wrong. At least I could eat her food. Guess, I’ll wait till I get home. Hope my stomach can stay quiet till then.
…
I’m so happy my Gohan started school. But Goten looks so sad without his big brother around. Maybe I could take him to Bulma’s. That usually cheers him up. That idea was turned down the moment it left my mouth. He instead stood in his room, playing with his toys. Maybe he’ll cheer up if I make his favorite lunch.
…
This is so not fun. Gohan started school, and I’m going to be home without him. Mom asked if I wanted to see Trunks, but it’s not the same. Besides, on Monday he’s always training with his dad. I’m going to my room, and pretend that this is all a dream. Big brother will be in home, and play with me. And we’ll play that ninja tag, and hide and seek with mom. Maybe I could catch some bugs, and show Gohan. He likes it when I show him when I find something new. Even mom likes that. Mom did get worried when I brought home a tiger, and asked if we could keep it as a pet. Gohan thought it was funny, but mom yelled at me and the tiger. The tiger was very scared of mom. That was funny.
…
This day just won’t end. Thankfully my afternoon classes she wasn’t in them, but the teachers kept picking me to solve problems for the class. So many dirty looks, I was starting to think I was public enemy number 1. That thought was funny. “Mr. Gohan, is there something you like to share with the class?”
“No madame.” Great, just great.
Homeroom again, and I was tempted to find a different seat than this morning. But Erasa stopped me in my tracks, and called me over. During homeroom I found out a little bit more about my classmates. Like how Sharpner was in a sports club, and Erasa is part of the spirit committee. And the Videl was part of the Martial Arts club. So, she’s a fighter. Interesting. Wait, why do I find that interesting?
After school, while everyone went to their clubs, I took a stroll to the edge of town, before flying off. Today was a long day. As I flew home, I wonder what mom cooked. I might even ask for couple more helping, to make up for not eating lunch. And if not, I could always fish if I’m still hungry. Mom hates it when I do that sometimes, but I just can’t help it. Sometimes I would be extremely hungry, that not even her cooking fills me up. Sometimes I wonder if that was how it like when mom and dad first got married. It probably took mom forever to figure out how much will actually fill dad. That’s a funny thought.
When I land home, I’m ambushed by my kid brother. I’m so weak from hunger, I can’t even fight back. Today I lucked out, mom did make all my favorites, but it wasn’t enough. Luckily mom didn’t mind making more. She even commented how I’m almost eating as much as dad. The smile she had made me feel slightly sad. We haven’t spoken about dad in a while. Almost like we avoid the subject all together.
After dinner, I went to start on my homework. It wasn’t so bad. While doing homework, I found myself wondering what type of fun stuff will happen at school. Even though, today was my first day, tv shows and books always made high school seem like some type of adventure. I hope it’s true.
…
As I was training, the guys seem to be making a lot of giggling noise. So, I stopped what I was doing, and went to go see what they were doing. When I reached them, they were all holding some type of book. I looked over to one of them more closely, and then I realize what they’re reading. And with that, I walked away. My curiosity was fulfilled and now I regret it.
Why did it have to be that? I tried getting back to my training, till Olibu walked over. He gets on the ground, and joins me in doing pushups. At first, we’re silent, till he ask about my wife. “What exactly is there to say? She’s absolutely perfect to me.” He goes about asking about if she’s hot, and how she looks. I was starting to get annoyed with these questions. “Why do you even want to know? It’s none of your business to know how my wife looks.”
“It’s nothing bad Goku. I assure you. But the face of disgust, when you saw what the rest were looking at, had me curious. That’s all.”
His answer just made me angry. I sat up and looked at him. “Again, what is it to know how my wife looks? And why does it make you curious that I gave a disgust look?”
“If you gave such a face, than your wife must be one hell of a beauty. Let’s face, we were all married men before we died. And we all considered our wives beautiful. But even we get bored of the same thing. And those magazines sure have some beauties. So, how does a guy like you, be so loyal to one female, and not at least look—”
I had punched him across the field, and gave the other guys an angry glare. They quickly looked away, and I walked off. How dare he say such things? How dare he compare me to every other guy? I only have eyes for my Chichi. Of course, I’m loyal to her, the same way I know, she is loyal to me. Why do they keep insisting that either her or me should move on? We’re not like that! Chichi would always wait for me, and I will always for her!
Memories of that Li guy pops to mind. Chichi told me how he always tried to be with her. How a lot of men tried to have her hand in marriage. But she denied every one, because of our promise. Because of the promise we will be married. Even though it was a mistake on my end, she took it to heart. That alone proves her loyalty to me. She could have easily forgot our promise, like I have, and she could have married anyone else. She could have married anyone else, other than me. That thought alone had my blood boiling.
My Chichi could have been someone else’s, and I wouldn’t have known. If she never came to the tournament? What if when I went in search of her scent, and found out she was married? What if when I did and she told me about the forgotten promise? What would I have done? Would I have challenged her husband, for Chichi? I probably would, maybe even tried to kill him. I might not understand why I had those feelings, but sure as hell I would have done everything to have Chichi. For Chichi I would kill.
I tried getting into train. I needed to calm down. When I was finally calm, did King Kai came over to me. He was asking what happened, and I told him I didn’t want to talk about it. He did insist that I need to learn to better control my temper. That slowly I’m slowly behaving more uncontrollable sayian, than the good nature sayian he first met. “Then tell them to leave my personal life out of their mouths.” With that he gave me one more look, and walked away. And again, I felt my rage building. I tried focusing on training again.
…
The rest of the month went by pretty fast. I kept mostly to myself. During class I would get bored, but it was ok. I felt I was actually understanding the main concept of each class. I even started asking for extra credit assignments. Thankfully, the teachers agreed. During lunch, I spent that time on the roof. I rarely spoke with Erasa, Sharpner, and Videl. Maybe during homeroom, but most of the time I was focus on class.
Well, so I like to tell myself. In the two classes me and Videl shared I would sometime look her way. Not the actually seeing way, but the ki sensing way. Sometimes when I do that, I would feel her eyes on me, and so I would stop. When I did, she stopped staring at me. I found that weird, but left it alone.
Then came summer vacation. That was a complete blessing. Not only did I end the year with the highest score, even though I started late, I, in a way, made friends. Well, sort of friends. They were the only three that I talked to the most. So, I guess you can say we’re somewhat friends. Also, this guy Mark. Guess 10th grade went pretty well.
Summer was pretty fun, yet it felt short. I was finally allowed to sleep in again. I didn’t have to wear long sleeves anymore, too. I was even allowed to just be in my underwear, now that was awesome. Plus, a dip in the lake was like the highlight of my summer. Goten didn’t bug me as much, but I still annoyed me time to time. And we did have fun. Also, during the summer I grew even more, and I got a new haircut. So, the summer was pretty fun, in its own right.
…
Gohan sure acts weird when he gets home. After dinner my baby goes to his room to do all that homework. Why does the teachers give him so much? I asked him, and he tells me that he asked for it. Saying how he wanted to do as much extra credit as possible. My baby is incredible. Just like his father. Always liking a good challenge, and taking more than what is expected of them.
Summer is finally here, and Gohan is way too happy to be out of school. He does a lot, so I should let him enjoy his summer. I try not to ask for too much. Even though, I hate relying on dad like this, it at least helped me with the boys. And I’m so grateful that Bulma is helping pay for Gohan’s schooling, and is even helping with Goten’s. I really don’t know what I’ll do without her.
As I let Gohan enjoy his day, me and Goten heads to Bulma’s for a playdate. Krillin is even bring Marron along. This is so much fun. Watching our kids play together. I do wish Gohan had this growing up, but at least Goten has it. And Gohan is doing everything to make me proud. But I do hope he’s also doing it for himself. He deserves his own happiness, too. He’s still a kid after all.
…
Summer is finally here! Gohan is home the whole day! But mom doesn’t want me bugging him. But I can’t help it! I got my big brother back for two whole months! We played in the lake. We played endless ninja tag, and hide and seek. Mom even made all our favorite desserts. We was even allowed to drink soda, and eat junk food. The summer is fun when mom doesn’t try to make us eat healthy all the time. We even got to stay up to watch all the movies we wanted.
Trunks would visit sometimes, and bring his video games. And mom doesn’t complain if we stay past our bedtime playing. She only complains if we don’t keep my room clean. Me and Trunks would even do prank calls, since there was no bedtime. We even ate all the cookies, when mom wasn’t looking. Gohan would then try to catch us, for not leaving him any. And Gohan would get in trouble for shooting ki blast at us. Like mom says, he should know better since he’s older.
But the few times he ate the last of the mom’s pies, I would get so angry. I even threaten to destroy his summer assignments. And he would give me a nuggie, till mom comes save me. “But he started it!” Mom just tell him how I’m younger, and should be nicer. That’s right. Don’t eat the last slice next time.
But the times mom wasn’t another, me and Trunks had to play extra nice. That meant, if we broke something, we had to beg Gohan to not tell mom. We would do anything, and he would make us do his chores. One time he made me and Trunks bring him snacks while he was studying. And he got first dibs on what to watch on tv. It’s a good thing he liked cartoons. Unless, he was in the mood to watch the boring news. “Stop being a grownup, and put on the cartoons. The superhero one is going to start soon!” That one is our absolute favorite. We almost had every figure of our favorite characters.
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Hi, this isn’t a prompt, I just wanted to say you’re one of my favorite writers for multiple fandoms and I really love your work. It’s actually been years since I first started reading fanfic, jeez it was since before I was even in high school, and I always find myself coming back to your fics. That’s all, have a good day🫶
Thank you! You’re so unbelievably kind. Hearing feedback from readers is so helpful, both in motivation to create content, and in just feel-good friendship.
I, too, was an avid fanfic connoisseur since age 12 or so, and I’m so glad you’ve had fun reading my writing. I have a hard time rating my stuff as teen, adult, explicit, etc. on AO3 as well as on here, though I do try consistently tag my work and provide content warnings. I hope I haven’t scarred anyone for life with my…unsavory content?
I’m so happy to receive kind messages like this; they definitely reignite my motivation to create and post. Tbh, I have two really well-developed fics (powers/no powers and chasing ghosts). I also have WIPs that are on my scratch pad that I need to type up and proof and post. I’m having a bear of a time keeping the stories concise (like < 2 or 3 k). I like introductions where we acclimate to the characters and who is speaking and acting, and I also like subliminal backtracking so we as writers and readers can refresh the ‘verse and assign the correct backstories to the characters in the categories in the ‘verse.
I also know the strong connections we develop with those knock-your-socks off stories, whether because of that one line or that one chilling description… I’ve had a hall’o’fame list since long before I started my own content. (There’s a link to that list in the expanded text of the bio at the top of the blog.)
Thanks for the wonderful, cheerful message. You know I’m still way underwater with schedules and stuff, but I’m attempting to put in some personal time where I can work on a project. (Currently cuddling in the hammock chair with my National Geographic is kinda the go-to). I have so many stories in my head, both as more Marvel fanfic, as well as OC modern/historical/fantasy ideas. I swear the little buggers come in like ear mites and start jabbering with all this dialect and dialogue and specific scenes. I’m running as fast as I can to put them to paper before they all fly away. It’s good fodder for self-pub on KindleVella, or, if it has a more substantial plot, something might turn out to be a note for this years’ NaN0. (Although I have three very lengthy unfinished manuscripts—I’ll settle on something later summer or fall.
I’m also looking forward to events, like CA birthday challenges in July, Marvel medical differences/chronic illness challenge in August, I think, and, of course, Whumptober ( + Inktober). No promises for consistency which any of that, but our new schedule (heavily reworked for consistency among the autistic and ADHD-diagnosed parties in our family. I am trying to take some private time a few times a day for undisturbed art and writing and magazine reading, but my attention span and lack of stamina contribute heavily to, well… some slow going.
Ok. I’ve talked way too much. 💝 to you, anon. Thanks for getting in touch.
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Definitions of Success? 7-9-22
“Success is never owned, it is rented, and the rent is due every day.” – Rory Vaden
Fred Rogers had the perfect definition of success. You should look it up sometime. Lol no lol
Now, on with the entry.
Lots of little things on my mind.
A few random scattered notes that always remind me of how my mind to works. How I want it to work.
Long, hot days this week and working outside in it was . . .exhausting.
Almost had to stop from overheating on Wednesday, but we made it through. Barely. Lol
Not a comfortable financial decision on Thursday taking a day off, but giving the guys time out of the heat was necessary.
Still a little worried about our current work struggles, but holding on. Giving our all physically, mentally and with great hope and trust we'll make it through.
Literally putting my everything into this company and I just hope our current economic status in this country doesn't pull the rug out from under us.
Picking up one of the grandkids later today to spend the day and night over here. We have other family plans as well and she is going to tag along, but quality time isn't always one on one time. Sometimes its group caring that shows great expressions of love and life.
Anyways our show, "This is Us", is creeping up to end on us soon. I think we have the series finale in 2 more episodes.
Sad.
Such a good show. I've gotten plenty of good stuff from there for in here since we first started watching it.
With no immediate way for me to blend them in, I'll just share a couple things I saved recently, just so I don't lose them, ok?
~ "There is no thankless.
Love is giving your heart with no expectation." - Miguel's Mami
~ "I don't know, but it's a good question.
Ask me again later." - Miguel
~ "Pockets of peace. I love that" - Sophie
Yeah, that's it. Little pockets of peace, I love that too and it’s probably more relatably profound than a life full to the brim of peace. Just sayin'
Just another quick attempt at emptying the contents of my mind in a way that's cohesive. Did it work? Lol
I'm going to close with a "quote" from Shawn Jackson.
It was said in a conversation I had with an old friend. After I said it, I thought " Hey that’s not bad", so . . .
He reached out and said, "I want you to know that I was angry at -So-so's- comment on my post last night and had a reactionary response ready. But I heard YOU in my head telling me to be kind, do it right, try and reach him. So, I thought about it and composed my response. Honestly, I felt a little ashamed that I was about to let you down haha! Thanks for keeping me in check (in my head). Your posts are literally changing the world one person at a time. Just thought you should know, brother. Have a good one!"
Those aren't thrown in my direction much anymore, and I'm telling you what . . .it still feels awesome!
Nothing speaks louder to my heart than others seeing things that promote kindness, Mr. Rogers, gratitude, Steve Rogers, love, etc., and having them tell me it reminds them of me.
It's the littlest of things, I swear.
If it'll even matter to you afterward, that it's less resistant because using our heart changes more than minds.
Keep being kind as always as you can, and don't forget to share your love and laughter with the world around you! The world is a much more beautiful a place because you're in it sharing that smile!
Until next week;
"Remember you win more hearts than minds with kindness, but once you got the heart the mind is a little less resistant." - Shawn Jackson
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hi !! can i request jealousy headcanons for gnf x reader? or an imagine? whatever you prefer :)) thank you so much!
JEALOUSY HEADCANONS
cc’s: george, sapnap, dream, wilbur, karl, quackity, nihachu
pronouns: gender neutral
warnings: none :3
here’s my masterlist ^o^
hope ya like it !!
george:
he doesn’t really get jealous more so insecure
would kinda just let whatever was going on with you and the other person play out and then maybe mention it later
this could go two ways:
either you don’t acknowledge him being upset and he starts acting super pouty to make it obvious-
or he literally just shows no emotion to the matter and decides to keep it to himself
he trusts you so much but he definitely thinks about how maybe you could be with someone better
PLEASE reassure him that you love him and he’s the greatest boyfriend ever :((
he isn’t one to care for much attention but when he doubts himself like that you better give it to him >:T
karl:
he gets sad :(
he immediately thinks the worst
which is that you see something special in this other person that you don’t see in him
his whole mood changes
such an over thinker when it comes to this stuff
he definitely wears his heart on his sleeve tho so you know when somethings up
after lots of reassurance he’s ok but he always kinda feels like you’ll find someone better
he thinks he’s a little hard to handle sometimes and since he’s always busy he’s afraid that you would maybe want someone who’s easier to spend time with
there are some VERY special instances where he’ll just walk up and announce that he’s your boyfriend
usually it’s done without thinking and the once he realizes the person was trying to flirt with you he’s like “oh- OH HAHA LOSER” lol 
overall, he doesn’t want to intrude on any of your friendships and conversations but he can’t help but get a little scared of losing you
quackity:
he’s the type to get really awkward about someone else hitting on you
seeing someone else flirting with you would make him feel so uncomfortable and it would just be really weird for him
he wouldn’t want to intrude but he can’t help but overthink the whole situation
he would feel so powerless and like he’s just watching his partner get taken from him and there’s nothing he can do
if you did try to get him to join the convo it would just make him even more uncomfortable because he’d feel kinda left out
also definitely starts feeling maybe he’s being annoying or something
REASSURE HIM PLS
once you let him know you’d never leave him he’d pull a sapnap and start making jokes about the other person lol
sapnap:
listen... he trusts you. just you tho. everyone else is an enemy.
he knows you’d never do anything but the thought of another guy even thinking about you in some type of way makes him so agitated
super super possessive but I mean hey ur quite the prize that i’m sure he worked hard to get ;)
tries to keep you by his side/holding his hand most of the time
is not afraid to step in between a conversation. very confrontational.
puts on a whole tough guy act which you bully him for later lol
once you two are alone he starts talking so much shit about the other guy
“babe he is literally my friend-“
“ok? and your friends a little bitch that’s not my fault.”
kinda mean LMAO but he’s so good to you and would stop if you asked him
dream:
the most protective boy ever
is so focused on making sure no one is ever making you uncomfortable
literally on you like a guard dog
i would even go as far as to say his protective/possessiveness could become an issue in your relationship but he loves you and he has good intentions
if you don’t pick up on his change in behavior he gets very passive aggressive
he doesn’t just get jealous of people flirting with you it’s a lot of different things including his own friends
deep rooted insecurity OMG IM SORRY THIS IS SO DEEP
he’s just really afraid to lose you but doesn’t want to show it
wilbur:
you’d definitely expect him to be more mature about it
will glare at the object of his jealousy, even if they are looking lol
“y/n, that guy is looking at you weird— i don’t like it :( “
“Will please i’m not going anywhere. i promise you’re all mine.”
will litter your face with kisses after being jealous.
when someone is hitting on you, he just walks over and scares them off with his height
will instantly get over it if you give him affection
he might just want your attention sometimes, but other times there is some truth to it
^^^^ 🥪 ANON WROTE THESE aka my little wilbur soot enthusiast thank you very much
niki:
the most mature out of all of them lol
she trust you so much to the point where if she sees you talking to someone else she just brushes it off
he only concerns are the person being creepy or weird so she will make sure to keep on eye on what’s going on
also just wants to me sure you aren’t uncomfortable without stepping in too much
might gesture you over to her for a second or send you a questioning glance to make sure everything is good
if you happen to ask her to join the conversation she would be so happy it would really calm any nerves she had
if the person does end up being weird you guys def laugh about it and tell the story on stream lol
niki has very little fears with you, you’re her person and that’s that :3
hello hello thank you for reading hope you enjoyed!!! ALSO i’m gonna be doing like a little prompt thing for when i hit 100 followers so that will be posted soon and i’ll explain how it works and everything on the post!! (tiny milestone but thank you all so much :3)
@crackityy @themanifoldenjoyer ayo shoutout my only two tag listers so far LOL
#mcyt headcanons#mcyt preferences#mcyt#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt imagine#mcyt x reader#georgenotfound x reader#dreamwastaken x reader#karl jacobs x reader#sapnap x reader#wilbur soot fanfiction#wilbur soot preferences#wilbur soot headcanons#dreamwastaken preferences#dreamwastaken headcanons#nihachu headcanons#nihachu preferences#nihachu x reader#dream smp preferences#karl jacobs preferences#karl jacobs headcanons#georgenotfound headcanons#georgenotfound preferences#sapnap headcanons#quackity headcannons#sapnap preferences#quackity preferences#karl jacobs imagine#georgenotfound imagine#sapnap imagine
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