#i made butter chicken a few months ago and it was delicious but all i could think was ''this is just juice with some chicken in it'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abusivelittlebunny · 1 year

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Can't stop thinking of this fic idea I had for Logan x Donald that's making me so soft it hurts....

Falling in and out of Love

Basically Logan and Donald settle down in a little house on the edge of a small town in Canada, to raise Laura. Logan is sure it's only temporary at first, he only started fucking Donald a couple of months ago "out of accident" as he claims ("Accident? Did you fall and land dick first in his ass?" Is what Logan's few friends ask him); they're not in a relationship. They're not. Donald just took it upon himself to help them find a place and move in too and share a bed with Logan; and Logan would love to kick him out or kill him (or so he claims) but the bad thing is, Donald is much better at the whole playing house than he is. Donald gets Laura into the local school with extra classes to catch up with her peers and get a good education, and he gets Logan a surprisingly well enough paying job as a driver in this new town ("Did you suck or threaten the guy who'd be my boss?" Logan sneers and Donald just coos "Shut the fuck up, you ungrateful dick." And adds a little kiss on his cheek). Besides that Donald is better at upkeeping the house and he's... a fantastic cook. Logan hates to admit it but it's true.

It's not some gourmet culinary shit but food that warms your soul and is always seasoned right; hell, even coffee tastes better when Donald makes it even though it's just the same instant powder and hot water. Laura, who's been their grumpy edgy princess this whole time warms up to Donald surprisingly fast from all those delicious home-made casseroles, muffins, fried chicken, pancakes and waffles he makes that are just mind-numbingly good. He got the waffle-maker from the house of a guy he was hired to beat some money out of (because of course HE couldn't be fucked to get a normal job, no, he's now working for some agency to be a little reinforcer and hit-man for hire with his other mercenary dogs following loyally behind him). He was so happy when he brought it home too, beaming like the sun and squealing like some little girl about how happy he was that now he could make Laura some killer waffles. Logan first rolled his eyes but those waffles WERE fucking spectacular.

The situation quickly changed from a temporary arrangement to a weirdly comfortable and domestic one: Logan woke up every day to Donald nuzzling against his jaw, peppering him with sleepy kisses and rubbing at his morning wood. If Logan was too sleepy still to roll over and fit himself between Donald's thighs to lazily rut into him eased by the plentiful mess he left in his hole the night before, Donald would just get under the covers and blow him expertly, swallowing his load down and kissing up his torso afterwards, planting a cheeky kiss to Logan's lips that always made him grimace before getting out of bed and pulling on some sweatpants to go down and make breakfast while Logan went off to shower and get ready for work. He'd always come downstairs to see Donald in his cute little apron swaying his hips to some old country music that made Logan roll his eyes but the moment he'd sit down at the table Donald would pour him his coffee and give him a warm plate of buttered toast, scrambled eggs and bacon. Sometimes he switched the menu up, but the breakfast was always filling but not weighing him down. Laura would come downstairs, eager to receive her portion and Donald's sweet treat of the day, be it waffles, pancakes, cookies or muffins, that even Logan couldn't deny himself a couple of.

Donald was just... like a perfect old-school housewife from the movies, keeping his and Laura's spirits up in the early morning and packing them both lunches to take in to school or work, with plenty of fruit and veggies to keep them healthy. Donald had work start later in the day so he sent them on their way with a kiss to Laura's forehead and another kiss on Logan's lips right outside the door so the nosy neighbors could get an eyeful as Donald purred "have a nice day, honey♡". Not what they expected of the tatted up mercenary with the robot arm for certain, but Logan did have people in the grocery store tell him what a lovely family he has while he was struggling to find everything Donald wrote up on his shopping list. After work he'd come home to Donald cooking dinner with Laura studying and doing her homework at the dining table so Donald could ask her about her schoolwork and even help out, and Logan would just sit near on the sofa, watching with utter peace before they sat down to have dinner together. He never really thought he'd have this, this domestic bliss, watching his ...daughter and his.... well. Partner? It seemed they involuntarily slipped into something like that. But watching them talk and laugh and share a really fucking good meal and afterwards curl up on the couch and watch a movie or anything really that was on the TV before Laura headed off to bed with a yawned good night to them both.

And then it was just him and Donald snuggled up, quiet for a while, before Donald kissed his neck and whispered "I missed you today," and then he'd kiss back instead of admitting that he missed him too and before long they were fucking hot and heavy on the couch (sometimes slipping down onto the floor) with Donald's arms and legs wrapped around him tight enough to bruise but Logan gripped him with just as much need. Donald would give out those sweet little noises of his and gasp for more more always more, but try to keep it quiet in case Laura was still awake. It felt good, crashing down between Donald's thighs after a long day and rut out the daily pent up frustrations, but what he really liked was after that, after he let Donald go to take a shower while he washed the dishes, after that, when he was warm and relaxed and done with every chore of the day and he went up to their room, and changed for bed, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth while watching his pretty boy clean his pretty body before helping him towel off between kisses and then. Then. When they had nothing else on their mind but feeling each other and they could take their time as they stumbled into bed to fuck to their heart's delight. When he didn't feel rushed by his own needs so he could eat Donald out until he was a shaking whimpering mess, or when he could let his boy take control and tie him to the bed and ride him to heaven and back or when they just took their time touching and kissing and... Logan didn't want to use the phrase "making love" but that was exactly what it was. And Donald wasn't the type to be up for any of that sappy shit before, but things were different now, and even if they ended up fucking hard and brutal and nasty four times in a row, they always made time for a final soft and loving round where they ended up falling asleep tangled in each other with Logan's cock still lodged in Donald's warmth.

But then one day, maybe six or eight months after they moved in, Logan came home to Donald not being home. He didn’t think much of it, Donald sometimes arrived home late, blaming work, sometimes even arriving in the early morning if a job proved to be needing it. Logan just heated up the leftover pasta bake they had and fed Laura and himself before plopping down to watch TV. Laura watched it too for a while but headed off to bed earlier. It wasn't the same without Donald constantly commenting to what was on the screen. He initially thought he'd wait for Donald to come home but after midnight he thought he might as well do all that waiting in bed.

But Donald didn't show up, not even in the morning. It didn't taste as good when he made his own buttered toast and coffee, and he could see Laura looking around for Donald before resigning to Logan's scrambled eggs, which were nowhere near as good as Donald's. They were just eggs, and she could make do for a day, no? He gave her some money to buy lunch, but ready made sandwiches seemed like crap after Donald's carefully created homemade packed lunches of joy. Nevermind. They still had the leftover casserole for dinner at least, and Logan wrapped up the last piece for when Donald comes home. But he didn't come home again that night and Logan packed that piece up for Laura to take in for lunch the next morning.

Laura didn't say anything just munched on her overcooked egg on toast. Logan thought about where Donald could be all day through, the bastard left no messages, and he even attempted to call him at his lunch break, but there was no answer. He knew there was no reason to be frustrated about the situation but when he got home late that night and he was met with Laura asking what's for dinner all he could do is sigh and curse Pierce while dialing up the local pizza joint. He thought of Donald coming home late that night, and how he'd be grumpy fuck with that blond bastard for just taking off without a single message and how Donald would have to be sucking his dick nonstop for a week if he wanted Logan's forgiveness and how good it will feel to have him grovel and whine for cuddles at night which Logan will only give if he's in a generous mood. He went to bed warmed by these spiteful thoughts.

But he felt like a failed parent when all he could offer up for next morning's breakfast was leftover pizza; but at least Laura didn't complain openly, she must have seen the toll Donald being gone took on him. He attempted to cook that night. Strong emphasis on attempt because Donald really made baking a casserole look easy when it was really not and they had to end up scavenging through the half-over-, half-undercooked pasta bake Logan could come up with. Laura ended up sneaking a bag of tortilla chips to her room that they'd only ever open for movie nights and retired early saying she has a lot of studying to do. They all knew Laura liked to study right there where they were, but without Donald, Logan wasn't that great a company. He blamed having a rough day at work on smashing that awful casserole against the wall that he had to clean up for two solid hours, but Laura didn't say anything when she saw the stain on the wallpaper or the bits in the trash the next morning.

The fourth morning with no Donald. Logan drank himself to the floor after the casserole incident the night before so with his pounding headache all he could manage was coffee and butter sort of smeared on toast. Laura saw how he looked like a sack of wet shit ran over by a truck and attempted to cook an egg which resulted in an abstract sunny side up that made her finally ask "When is he coming back?" To which Logan could only groan, "I don't know, kid. I really don't know." The night before, when he was fucking raging at his own incompetence he thought if Donald walked through the door now, he'd punch his lights out for being gone without a single call or message. Beat him to a pulp and then fuck him so hard he'd beg for him to stop with tears. But after that day, where he left six messages on Donald's phone and bought ready-made meals and cans of soup to make dinner out of and watch Laura eat with no joy whatsoever and a very pitying look thrown at his direction, he went to bed thinking he'd do anything to wake up to Donald in bed with him. He wouldn't be mad. He'd just ask him not to do it again.

But he didn't. Fifth morning without Donald left him feeling heavy like a stone as he made sunny side up eggs and buttered toast for breakfast. Laura wrinkled her nose when she bit into hers and the yolk spilled out. "He always makes it just right so it doesn't get all runny." She muttered to which Logan replied after taking a sip of his coffee that seemed too fucking bitter that morning with, "Well, he's not here, is he?" Laura didn't say anything else. When it was just the two of them, it was very quiet. Donald previously joked that it was because they were so fucking similar, that if they had nothing to say they just didn't fucking say a thing. When Donald was around though, they could talk like a normal fucking family. Family? What family? They were not a family. Laura was just fucking grown out of his DNA and Pierce was a fucking enemy of his before they stumbled into a fuckbuddy relationship and since Logan killed Donald's previous boss, he wouldn't be getting paid for capturing him so he just stuck around for some dick. Logan was only filling his head with those stupid old movies Donald loved to watch where the mommy and daddy were living in domestic bliss taking care of their child and he projected that fairy tale nuclear family idea onto their fucked up situation. His dinner was beer and macaroni salad from the gas station he brought home after he volunteered for an extra late shift just so he wouldn't have to face Laura that night, but checking the trash at least he knew she ate one of the pre-packaged sandwiches he got her for dinner.

Sixth morning Logan woke up to Laura crunching down on cereal at the breakfast table. He not only overslept, but he never made it to his bedroom (his bed felt too cold without Donald and he thought he was going slightly crazy being there but not feeling Donald's body in his arms). He only had time to pour some coffee into his thermos and Laura handed him a mugful of cereal to eat while he drove her to school. "Where did you get this?" Logan asked while driving, the cereal in the mug surprisingly not a bad idea, and Laura just shrugged.

"You always give me too much money for lunch. I had extra to buy some cereal and snacks on my way back from school."

Logan sighed, "That's for you to save up and buy yourself something nice." Laura frowned at that.

"But that's what I did."

"No, I don’t mean food. I buy you food. That's for me to do."

"Why?"

Because I'm your father and I need to take care of you even if I'm bad at it, is what Logan wanted to say but the words stuck in his throat. "Just because. I'll buy you cereal and whatever you like just... write me a list, okay?"

Laura sighed, and it would have been so much like Logan if not for the dramatic eyeroll, which was so much like Pierce it made Logan's heart clench.

On his lunch break he didn't have the patience for his coworkers; usually they tried to make friends, banter, joke about with him, they've been teasing him too lately for being a sour cunt because his "he-missus" was gone on a work trip, but he couldn't be bothered to deal with them right now, even if they didn't mean any harm, so he went into town to grab a bite at a good enough diner, the one he went to with Pierce and Laura the first night they arrived in the town, tired and hungry. Then the food felt like fucking heaven, but then again, he got spoiled on Donald's cooking since.

When he went in to order himself a burger he didn't expect to see Laura sitting in a booth doing her school work with Pierce's sunglasses perched on her head with a half eaten burger and milkshake by her side. Logan walked over to her, and when she finally noticed him, she looked like she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Logan just sat opposite of her in the booth and corrected himself to the waitress saying he'll dine in instead of take away, "And, I'll be paying for my daughter's meal as well, okay?" And the lady just nodded, but when he turned back to Laura, the sunglasses on her head were pulled down to cover her eyes.

"I told you I'll pay for your food." Logan sighed but Laura just looked away, out the window, taking sips of her milkshake. She usually preferred the chocolate one but now she was drinking strawberry, Donald's favorite.

"You are. You gave me money for it this morning. The school cafeteria just sucks."

"Don't you still have classes?"

"Not for another hour. I still can't take some classes together with the others because I'm too behind. But Miss Bundy said I'm catching up quick in the afternoons."

"That's good to hear." It was really Donald's merit for helping Laura study normally every day after school; Logan wasn't good at that stuff. "I'm sorry I can't help you like he does."

Laura shrugged, knowing instantly who Logan was referring to. "It's not like he's a hyper genius or something. Sometimes I tell him stuff he didn't know or at least pretends he didn't to make me feel smarter. But it's still nice. Even when he curses out my math homework and he asks me to explain it because he's too dumb for it." She hid her smile in her palm, resting her chin on it and gazing out the window to avoid Logan's gaze. "It's fun with him."

Logan swallowed thickly. "I know, babygirl."

"I miss him." Laura sounded very small then.

"I know." Me too.

"Do you think he'll come back soon?" Laura bit at the nail of her thumb. If Donald was here, he'd tut at her playfully and tell her she shouldn't ruin her nails like that. She did it before, in the beginning, but stopped the habit after Donald painted her nails fun colors she liked. He really had a knick for this parenting thing unlike Logan.

"That, I don't know." Logan looked outside too, all of a sudden unable to look at the orange lenses of the sunglasses. Pierce had a couple of the same pair stashes all over because he hated losing them, so no wonder Laura decided to nick one.

"Do you think he'll come back at all?" Laura muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Maybe he got tired of us."

"I don't think so." Logan tried to reassure her, but hearing her so sad also broke his heart.

"Then maybe he's dead."

Logan didn't say anything. Maybe he was. He could very well be. Logan killed mercenaries like Donald without a thought in packs before. The fact that he didn't end up killing Donald when they first met in itself was a miracle but Donald and his kind knew the work they were getting themselves into paid so well because they could die any day easily. Maybe someone like Logan, or some rival gang took it upon themselves to off Donald who was in their way, an everyday occurrence on the job for them and Donald's current employer couldn't be fucked to send a message to his pet soldiers' families that hey, you just lost the love of your life and the closest thing your child has to a parent besides you, you, who is an utter shit at parenting on your own. Donald could be lying in bits in a warehouse, his blood already dry on the concrete and if his boss is gracious enough he'll have his and his coworkers' bodies scraped up and thrown in the river, if not blow the whole place up to give them an unmarked mass grave.

Meanwhile Logan is left here in fucking agony watching their daughter try to hide her tears behind Pierce's sunglasses and seem strong when the family she thought she could have after a nightmare of a childhood got ripped away from her and stomped upon.

"He could be." Logan finally said, clearing his throat to not seem too choked up about it, and Laura turned to him, looking fucking furious.

"How could you say that?!"

Logan didn't expect the outrage at all, "What? You said it first, I just said he could be-,"

"No! You should say he's not and that he'll come home!"

"That's only in those fucking cheesy movies-," Logan tried to wave her off but that just angered her more.

"No it isn't! If you love someone you should have hope! You should have hope he's alive and that he comes back! You should be telling me it's okay and everything will be okay!" She lost her battle with trying to hold her tears back as she slammed her hands on the table but Logan himself was too fucking heartbroken as well not to yell back.

"But I can't fucking tell you that because I don't think that! I could fucking lie if that's what you want but the reality is he could be gutted in some ditch never to be heard of again by now! And no amount of love will make me think everything will be fine because that's not how the world works!"

Laura stood up and screamed profanities at him in Spanish that Logan had only a vague idea of what they could mean before she took her notebook and bag and stormed out of the diner. Logan tried to shout after her, but she was gone. Better that way. Logan truly didn't know how he could've remedy the situation. He slumped down back into his booth just as his plate of food arrived, which he asked the waitress to wrap up together with the rest of Laura's food for take away. He didn't have the stomach to eat lunch and ended up eating it instead for dinner, leaving Laura's portion at her door that night, because she refused to come out and talk to him.

Logan didn't drink that night, just took Donald's hoodie out of the closet, the one he slept in when he wasn't naked, and he burrowed his face in it, inhaling the familiar scent as he laid in the bed that felt too big and empty now. Usually he was grumbling about Pierce hogging up all the space and how they needed a bigger bed but not now. Now he sniffed at the collar of the hoodie and wished for Pierce's body wrapped around his, cuddling close with his warm breath against his lips and his eyes sleepily blinking up at him as he grinned and said something coy. He faintly realized that he hasn't gotten off since the last morning that he saw Donald.

That day Pierce woke him with his warm wet mouth around his cock, sucking slowly, his head bobbing beneath the blanket, taking his time to lick and suck on his balls too and humm as he deepthroated Logan's thick shaft, nuzzling against his crotch. Logan pet his hair sleepily before turning over, to fuck Pierce's skull into the mattress the way he liked, humping his face shallowly because Pierce could take a throat-fucking so well. He spilled down his throat when he should've pulled out and fucked Donald's tight ass until he was unable to fucking walk, not just dump a load into his mouth like a lazy pig that could only enjoy a blowjob but was too tired to ruin his partner's sweet spot. He shouldn't have bothered showering, he should've been bending Donald over the kitchen counter and rutting into that sweet fucking cunt of his, making him cry out and cum over and over again, have him scratch the wooden surface to shreds. Instead of going to work he should've been eating Donald out until he was a sopping wet fucking mess, whining for his cock, and then he should've sucked on his perfect fucking tits until they were fucking bloodshot and unbearably tender. Then he'd have fucked him against the wall so hard, in thar brutal savage pace Donald likes and he'd have played along with Donald's fucking daddy kink and asked him if he likes daddy's cock deep in his little womb breeding him up? Then after sex, when they'd be sharing a cigar while still naked and sticky, he would have asked if Donald wants more kids? If they should get married and adopt another one or two they could raise as their own? If Donald could be a stay at home parent or just find a less dangerous fucking job so Logan wouldn't be worrying about him so fucking much.

That's what he would've done if he knew he wouldn't be seeing Donald again if he doesn't play his cards right.

Because here he was now, ruining his own orgasm that he built up with his coarse hand, which he no longer had a taste for and he just groaned into the hoodie that he wrapped around Donald's pillow so he could hold it through the night: utterly miserable.

Laura said that if you love someone you should have hope. He didn't know how Laura knew that Logan loved Donald even before he himself knew that, but as he dozed off, he found himself chuckling bitterly at that sentence and his last thought was hoping that Donald comes through the door that night and cuddles him to sleep like he used to do.

Seventh morning without Donald he found himself strangely calm. Like he made peace with his situation. Or he just got tired fighting it and resigned himself to losing with dignity. He played one of Donald's old country songs he loved so much and he hummed along it while he made himself coffee and poured Laura cereal, and on a second thought, himself as well. When Laura, who came downstairs determined to not speak to him and remain angry, stared at him in disbelief, he just shrugged.

"Don't tell him I like this sugary shit when he comes back. He'll start putting me on a fucking diet."

"He won't come back." She muttered, but Logan just shook his head and looked at her reassuringly.

"You don't know that. He could be coming back today."

"How do you know that?'

"I don't." Logan lifted his bowl and downed the rest of his cereal how Donald would with his sweet porridges that drove Logan insane before. When he was done he looked back to Laura who didn't miss the source of the habit. "But that doesn't stop me from hoping."

The stars that appeared in Laura's eyes were priceless, truly. She bit her lip and didn't say anything, but when they walked through the door towards the car she took his hand like a child and Logan squeezed it. They weren't good at words, the two of them, but they could still tell each other what they mean without it. In the car, Logan played the rest of Donald's country Playlist, and Laura wore his sunglasses openly through the ride before they arrived to her school.

"Bye, dad. Love you." She said quickly as she closed the door and rushed off before Logan could fully comprehend it, but then he was late for work twenty minutes trying to comprehend it without crying on the side of the road.

At work he engaged in conversation one of his coworkers, which surprised everybody, and asked him about easy to make home-cooked recipes. He made a list and went to the store after, and worked hard but patiently on that cheesy broccoli pasta. He may had to redo it twice, but he didn't give up. It paid off in the end by the look on Laura's face. She had seconds.

"Alright, I'm gonna put the rest away for if he showes up tonight, if not, you can take it for lunch tomorrow, deal?" Logan asked nonchalantly, and Laura nodded with a hopeful smile.

They sat down and watched an old western movie, one of Donald's favorites after dinner, something they haven't done in a week now, and Logan watched with a small smile a Laura's yawns turned bigger and more frequent until she completely dozed off leaning against his side. He gently scooped her up and off the couch after turning the TV off, and took her to her bedroom where he tucked her into bed gently. He kissed her little forehead and whispered a "Goodnight, kiddo," before he turned to leave, but stopped as an insistent hand tugged on his sleeve.

"You'll wake me up if mommy gets home, right?" Laura asked with a sleepy kitten yawn, looking adorably soft. "Promise me."

"I promise. Sleep now, love." He didn't question why Pierce was now mommy in her mind but he didn't think he'd mind.

"Okay, goodnight, daddy." Laura closed her eyes, and Logan swallowed thickly; he didn't know if his heart could take being called dad by his daughter twice the same day when she has never done it before. Nor did she call Pierce mommy or anything like it before.

"Goodnight, Laura." He whispered before planting another little kiss on her forehead, getting up slowly and shutting the door quietly as he left.

He wiped at his wet eyes as he went downstairs to wash up, a smile still stuck on his face, and he thought about how he should learn how to make Laura some pancakes just as the front door opened.

It felt so surreal now, seeing Pierce walk through the door, like it was a dream come to life. Logan was stuck standing there like he just saw a fucking ghost as Pierce tiredly shrugged down his bag and coat; he looked like he's truly been through it; his one whole arm was in a cast in a sling wrapped around his neck, his trousers and shirt weren't ones he's ever worn before and were probably bought recently but they were still caked in dirt and blood. His prosthetic hand was missing two fingers and his hair looked damp with sweat, matted with even more blood. He had bandages around his neck and shoulder with a dark purple bruise fading around his right cheekbone and his split lip bled as he grinned wide at the sight of Logan. He was still so beautiful.

"Honey, I'm home. Did you miss me?"

Instead of answering, Logan found himself crossing the distance to the door in record speed and pressing Donald's sore and broken body against it forcefully, not caring about the soft gasp of pain leaving his lips because he was crashing his own against them immediately. It was always Donald who was desperate before, not to say he wasn't now, but Logan could easily outmatch him at the moment, kissing him like he was trying to devour him alive, wrapping his hands around him until Donald cried out in pain.

"Fuck, I have a couple fractures ribs, go easy on me, big guy."

"You're never leaving ever again." Logan growled against his mouth, keeping Donald's jaw in his hand to make him focus. "I don't give a fuck what your boss says, I don't give a fuck how much money he offers. You're never leaving my sight again-"

"I can't even go to the store? Or the bathroom?" Donald's chuckle was cut short by Logan's glare. "Alright, okay, alright, I'm not gonna leave, I promise. This was just... a major shitshow, okay? I didn't expect to be gone this long at all. I've already packed my boys up and told them we quit. My unit is going where I'm going. This shit we've been through, I'm telling you-,"

"You can tell me later." Logan took Pierce by the hand, dragging him through the living room and up the stairs.

"Right, I need a shower, good call-,"

"No, you need to say hi to our daughter first."

"Our... daughter?" Donald stopped in his tracks just as they reached Laura's door, his eyes so big and shocked by Logan's words. One of them was bloodshot.

"She asked me to wake her up when mommy arrives back home. She made me promise." Logan watched as Pierce's eyes softened and welled up with warm tears, his laugh sounding like diamonds as he sobbed into it. Logan pulled him close by the back of his neck, planting a kiss to his temple before looking him in the eye, "She missed you a lot. I missed you a lot."

"Careful, I'll think you're in love with me or something," Pierce's smile was so fucking bright Logan had to kiss it again. And again.

"Think later, say hi to Laura now, you dumb cunt."

Pierce giggled and kissed back before opening the door. His "Hi, baby," was so soft and sweet, Laura only sighed at it first, turning in her sleep until Donald sat down on the edge of her bed and gently cooed her awake with light pecks to her cheek. "Laura, sweetheart. Mommy's home."

Laura finally blinked her eyes open and when she caught sight of Pierce she threw her arms around him immediately, squeezing him hard, but Donald only laughed, even if in pain.

Maybe if he was a better father, Logan would've told Laura to go back to sleep, it was late after all but instead he let her drag the both of them down by their hands to show Pierce "the delicious dinner daddy made" which made Donald fucking squeal and look at him with fucking heart eyes.

Laura forced Donald to eat the portion they left for him while she talked about their week without him, and Donald had to admit that was some good food. She was like a completely new child, you couldn't stop her from talking your ear off until she broke off in yawns again, sleepiness finding her once more, and she held onto Logan's and Donald's hands again as this time they were the ones guiding her back to bed.

"You're not gonna leave again, right?" Laura yawned once she was tucked into bed once more.

"No, baby, I won't. I promise." He wiggled his robotic hand's remaining digits. "I'd make it a pinky one, but some son of a gun crushed it. But I'll be busy staying at home and getting better and then I'll make a new one and then I'll make it into a pinky promise, okay?"

"Mhm, okay," Laura closed her eyes as Donald kissed her forehead and whispered, "goodnight, mommy. Love you."

"Love you too, babygirl." Donald's voice broke adorably and he sniffed back some tears before they could erupt as he made his way to the door.

Logan couldn't stop smiling at him even as Donald rolled his eyes at his smug expression, and bid Laura goodnight again before closing the door behind themselves.

"Fucking hell." Pierce whispered to himself before chuckling and dropping his forehead on Logan's shoulder. "We're parents."

"Yep." Logan chuckled back, rubbing his hands over Donald's back and kissing his neck.

"Never would've thought... but... it's nice. Real nice."

"It is."

"You like it too?" Donald peered up at him with a tired but hopeful smile. "This arrangement?"

"Yeah, I think I do." Logan smirked as he added, "For a while. Maybe longer, if I do."

"You remembered that one?" Donald laughed with big eyes and snuggled further into Logan's embrace.

"How could I forget that country shit you play daily?" Logan teased, dragging Donald along to their bedroom without breaking their embrace, stepping together like fucking penguins and it made Pierce giggle. "Besides, Laura wanted me to play it a couple times while you were gone."

"Aww, my baby got my good taste," Pierce grinned up at Logan as he shoved him gently down on the bed so he could help him undress. He really let himself become a pillow princess out of exhaustion, barely moving on his own as Logan removed his clothes.

"So it's over?" Logan asked after a minute of comfortable silence as he peeled Donald's undershirt off of him.

"Yeah. Done deal. The bag? Filled it up with a bit of extra cash I borrowed for my troubles. They won't come looking for it, trust me. I made sure," Donald had that smile on that told him he probably killed most if not all of his bosses. He sighed as Logan started taking his trousers off and leaned back to raise his hips. His torso was littered with red and purple bruises. "It wasn't a good one. The company and the job. I lost one too many good men. Besides, it'll be a pain in the ass to repair my arm without use of the other so I need to find a good mechanic. Fucking animal tried to crush it to bits."

"I'll help. Just tell me what to do." Logan hummed as he threw Donald's clothes in the laundry basket. He frowned as he realized something. "No underwear?"

"It's a bit more complicated than repairing a car, Logan." Pierce massaged his nosebridge, wincing at the cut on it.

"Can't be harder than your fucking five star pasta bake. Come on. Just tell me what to do and let me help." Logan walked back to the bed, watching Pierce's beautiful body beneath him and thumbed at the bruises on his thighs. They had a sort of fingerprint quality to them. "Where did your underwear go?"

Donald snorted, "Don't know if you noticed, but most of the clothes I left in are gone. Got fucking ruined. I got the new ones at a gas station. Long story."

Logan quirked an eyebrow and fit his hands on the marks, spreading Donald's thighs and making him wince as he lifted his hips.

"Love the enthusiasm, honey, but I do need a shower first." Pierce bit his lip and caught Logan's hand before it could reach his ass. "Let me clean up, okay?"

"Did someone fuck you?" Logan asked bluntly, and everything was still for a minute.

Donald swallowed heavily before managing a weak chuckle. "My boss wasn't very happy when he heard I have a hubby and kid at home that I want to return to."

Logan's jaw clenched at the implication and he placed Donald's hips back down, leaning over him to kiss his face all over while growing, "I'll fucking tear him to pieces, I'll fucking rip him to shreds-,"

"It's okay, hon, I took care of it, okay? Most of them anyway. Left some for you to have fun with, though, because I'm such a good wife." Pierce cooed, raining his own kisses onto Logan, sighing into their embrace. "I'm just a bit sore now, so we gotta put that fun on hold for a minute, yeah? I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Those fuckers do though. I'll hunt down every last one of them." Logan growled into their kiss, and Donald wrapped his legs around him, purring.

"Such a good hubby you are, you know that? Makes me think you might actually love me, or something," Pierce chuckled, but Logan could hear the hope in his voice.

"Well. I did keep hope that you'd come back and I could tell you all the things I still wanted to do with you." Logan gave a small smile and Donald nudged him with a bratty impatient whine.

"Like what, like what?"

Logan got back up cheekily and headed to the joined bathroom as he called back, "I'll tell you tomorrow, let's get you cleaned up first."

"Tomorrow?! Come on, I almost died several times, Wolvie!"

Logan came back with a warm wet towel and a bar of soap and shrugged, "But you'll be here tomorrow, so it can wait until then. You'll be here, won't you?"

Pierce pouted as Logan begun cleaning him gently, "I won't be able to sleep if you don't tell me now," he said that but he yawned bigger and bigger as Logan rubbed his aching body.

"I wouldn't trust that." Logan hummed as he cleaned finally between Donald's thighs, careful not to hurt him too much as he dipped in and Pierce bit his lip.

"Can you at least give me a hint?"

"It's about our future." Logan took Pierce by the legs and pulled his body closer, so his butt was right at the edge of the bed. Logan kneeled down in front of it and said, "This was also something I wanted to do to you."

Pierce didn't get the chance to ask what because Logan's tongue found its way into Donald's sweet tight hole he loved so much. Pierce was whining and gasping and trying to claw at his hair with his metal hand as Logan ate him out, slow and deep and sloppy, the way he knew Pierce would go insane from and get a beard burn. He made him cum like that, in a fairly short amount of time. He remembered just how Donald liked it, where his sweet spot was, and he licked his cum up from his belly and fed it to Pierce in a filthy kiss.

"Your turn, your turn-," Donald whispered coyly as he licked the remainder off his tongue, "I'll suck it, let me-,"

"You're tired, you need to get some rest," Logan tried to chide him, but Donald nipped at his jaw.

"What I need is my husband's big fucking cock in my mouth," Donald whined, licking at the shell of Logan's ear. "I've been craving to suck you off all fucking week. Craved you in my ass too, but those bastards ripped me up too bad for that now. Give me this at least."

"You want it? You want me to be your husband? Want me to marry you?" Logan moaned and grinded his erection against Donald's hip, still confined in his boxers, chuckling at Donald's eager nodding. "You wanna marry me, baby?"

"Yes, please," Donald gasped into their wet kiss, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth and groaning, "I wanna be your wife so bad, wanna be yours, all yours, daddy."

"Yeah? You are," Logan hastily kicked off his underwear and straddled Donald's chest, feeding him his cock. He kept Donald to a moderate pace by his hair, the slutty little thing not minding his injuries and trying to throat him down all the way. He pet his face with his other hand and Donald looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of his and those pink lips stretched around his cock, and Logan thought he was the luckiest fucking man alive. "My pretty little wife. How gorgeous you are. And all mine."

Pierce moaned his confirmation around his cock as he swallowed him deep and it didn't take long before Logan found himself on the edge of his climax, but pulled out instead of cumming down Donald's throat. He was met with a bratty whine right until he started jerking himself hastily and then Pierce opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out, and looking up at Logan with those fucking eyes that made Logan cum so hard. He painted Donald's darling face with it, covering him in thick plentiful ropes, the fruit of being pent up for a week, and even leaving a generous amount disposed on Pierce's pink tongue which he swallowed diligently.

"Fuck, you did miss me," Donald chuckled, licking at his lips before Logan took the towel to clean him up. "What a fat fucking load. Your right hand wasn't a good enough company? Neither the girls in town?"

"Why would I need any of those when I have a wife at home who takes care of me?" Logan leaned back down and kissed Pierce on the mouth, something he never willingly did after a blowjob and it made Donald giggle and wrap him in a tight hug.

"You mean it?" Pierce asked later in the evening, once Logan was already half asleep against his back. "The stuff about marriage?"

"Why did you think I was saying I wanted to talk about out future?" Logan sleepily grumbled and kissed Donald's nape. "Sleep now, we'll talk about it more tomorrow."

"Okay, g'night," Pierce snuggled in closer, and after a couple minutes added with a barely audible whisper. "Love you."

Logan smiled, "Love you too."

#Spotify #i am eternally soft #i need to make this into an actual coherent and well made fic but currently im just so busy and tired this is all i have the capacity for #logan x donald #i call this ficlet #falling in and out of love #or is that too long?#i couldnt stop humming that song all day

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girl-with-cat-eyes · 3 years

Text

Wednesdays

Summary: Wednesdays are Janus Picani's busiest day. Between meetings, snack day, soccer practice, and art club, he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This Wednesday, however, is sure to change the lives of the Picani family forever. Jan's sure they can handle it though.

Ships: Platonic Moceit, thvi

A/N: I've been rewatching the old Reba sitcom from the 2000s and I'd forgotten just how good it was. Good enough that I wanted to write an au for it. Thank you so much to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this and helping me to work out the kinks with the plot. As always, leave a comment if you like this. Enjoy!

For most people, Mondays were their busiest day. It made sense; returning to the workweek, school, etc. For Janus Picani, however, the title of busiest day went to Wednesday. His firm always had partner meetings, they were Emile’s day to bring class snacks, Remy had soccer, and Virgil had art club. On top of that, Jan’s therapy sessions were Wednesdays, which meant he had to make sure all of his work was done 15 minutes early so he could get to his appointment on time. Safe to say, to say Wednesdays weren’t exactly his favorite day.

“Emile! Get down here! You don’t want to be late for school!”, He called upstairs as he finished making breakfast sandwiches. Virgil stood across from him, packing lunches for his brothers.

“He probably can’t find his backpack. He left it down here after he finished his homework.”

Janus sighed, “This wouldn’t be a problem if he just left his backpack down here every night. Remy go get your brother and tell him his backpack is down here.”, the young boy got up, rolling his eyes and Jan had to bite back a sigh. Remy had always been his sassiest child.

“Why can’t Virgil do it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “Because I’m making lunch, I can go get him if you want to make your own sandwich ?”, Remys shook his head and ran upstairs, Virgil chuckling at the sight.

Janus finished plating breakfast and turned to thank Virgil, frowning when he saw that Virgil had only made two lunches. He looked pointedly at his son, “You’re not eating?”, he asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m gonna get lunch at school today. They’re having burritos.”, Janus nodded. As long as he was eating. Patton came downstairs before he could reply, Remy and Emile in tow.

“I found these two trying to play on the Switch.”, Emile and Remy sat down, guilty little grins on their faces that told Jan that they didn’t regret it, “Good thing I went to check on them.” “Good thing indeed.” He handed Pat a plate, pouting a cup of coffee for his husband? Ex? Janus wasn’t sure what to call the man he’d been married to for 20 years, separated from, hadn’t divorced, and who still lived in the house with. Regardless he poured him a cup of coffee, “Ok so you’re taking Emile and Remy to school and I’ll take Virgil. I’ll pick up Remy and you pick up Emile and-” “-and I’m catching a ride home with Thomas after theater. I’m working on the sets for Little shop today.”, Virgil piped up and Jan had to hold back a grimace at the mention of his boyfriend. He like Thomas, he really did. In terms of high school boyfriends, Thomas had been nothing but a gentleman. But the thought of his son dating still upset Janus deep down; according to his therapist, he was grappling with the thought of his baby growing up.

“Ok.”, he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to speak them when they were his problem to deal with, “I’ll pick up takeout on the way home.”

“Jan? I was wondering if you’d want to come to the restaurant today for lunch?”, He turned to look at Patton. Based on the tone in his voice Janus knew that this wasn’t just a friendly invitation to taste a new menu item. He sighed: he’d been planning to work through his lunch today so he could get out on time.

Regardless, this seemed serious, “Ok. I’ll be there at noon.”, he promised. He quickly finished his breakfast and looked over to Virgil, “Ready to go?”, he asked. He nodded and finished pouring his iced coffee and they were off.

The ride to Virgil’s school was as quick as always. Music played lowly on the radio, lowly on the radio and Janus hummed along. It would be peaceful if not for the fact that Virgil kept fidgeting and staring out the window. Something was up, “Ok. Something’s wrong. Spill.” Virgil turned to look at him, “What? Nothing’s wrong.”, He straightened his face, trying to appear calm. Janus didn’t buy it for a second, “I’m fine.” “Virgil James Picani. I have known you since you were born. I have held you for night after night. I know you inside out. And I know when you’re lying to me. What’s wrong? Is someone bothering you?” Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s just that Mr.Prince, the drama teacher, wants me to be Seymore’s understudy. And I know the chances of me going on stage are rare but I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t know how to tell him without letting him down.” “Baby bat, just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll understand.”, Virgil nodded. The issue seemed to be solved, yet Janus had a feeling that there was something else wrong. But before he could ask any more, they’d arrived and Virgil was getting out. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you after school!”, Janus shook his head, trying to keep his concerns down. He’d ask Virgil after school. It was fine.

Being a lawyer certainly had its perks; financial security being a prime example. Meetings running long weren’t that though. Janus sighed as he rushed into Pat’s. The warm lighting and delicious smells greeting him. Even if he’d preferred to work through his lunch, Janus couldn’t deny that the thought of Patton’s cooking made his mouth water. There was a reason people came from near and far to this place.

Speaking of Patton, Janus spotted the bespectacled man sitting in their usual booth, a bottle of wine waiting there. He smiled at the thought and sat down, “I thought you weren’t a fan of day drinking?”, he quipped. Pat rarely drank at all, but especially not during the day. “I’m not but I know you don’t mind a glass of wine at lunch.”, Pat poured him a glass, “Salmon or duck?” “Salmon.”, Janus answered. Patton made a delicious pan-seared salmon with risotto and kale salad. It was delicious and sounded lovely right now. Patton nodded and ordered that for him and glazed crispy duck for himself. “So.”, he began as he buttered a roll, “What did you want to discuss?” “Who says I have something to discuss? Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you?”, He was stalling obviously. Trying to get time to steel his nerves.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, “You and I know very well that Wednesday is our busy day. If you wanted to just have lunch you would have asked on another day. Therefore this is something important that you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. So what do you want to discuss?” Patton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever he wanted to talk about was weighing heavily on his mind. After some time he finally spoke, “I want to finalize our divorce.”, he spoke quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth as fast as he could.

Janus nodded; he supposed it made sense. They had been separated for over a year now, they slept in separate bedrooms, and they hadn’t had sex since long before they separated. While they still cared for each other, the love they once shared was long gone. The only reason they were still married was the cost of getting a divorce. Considering they’d spent 20 dollars on a courthouse wedding neither had been too happy to shill out thousands of dollars to end their marriage.

The question was why now, and why couldn’t he say it in front of the kids. They’d sat them down months ago and explained that while they loved each other and would always be a family, they weren’t in love anymore. Virgil had taken in the best; being the oldest, he’d seen the signs for a while now. He’d taken it upon himself to comfort his younger brothers. Remy tried to pretend that he was fine, but both Janus and Patton knew better. He’d taken the thought of his family splitting up harder than he was showing. They’d both spoken to him about it, reassuring him that they’d always be a family. And they’d started having family activities every Saturday. Emile had taken it the hardest. The six-year-old didn’t truly understand what was going on. They were still having conversations explaining what it meant. Janus had even begun researching child psychologists at the recommendation of his therapist.

“Ok.”, He spoke, “Why now though? I thought we’d agreed that divorces are too expensive…. You met someone.”, the realization hit Janus like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense. Pat would feel guilty about pursuing someone else while married, even if they were separated. And he wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids until he knew for sure that it was serious.

Patton nodded, “I did.”

“Well, tell me about him. I care about you regardless of our marital status. And I want to know about the person you’ll be bringing around our kids.”

“Ok. His name is Logan and I met him a few weeks ago. He came in here for dinner and he’s just the cutest. He got so excited when he found out we use crofters in our thumbprint cookies and our victoria sponge.” Patton smiled fondly at the thought, “We’ve been on a few dates and… It’s not just a fling. I can see a future with him, Jan.”

Jan took a sip of wine, “Ok. I’ll ask around for good lawyers when I get back.”,

Patton squealed and hugged him, “Thank you so much Jan. Maybe I could invite him over for dinner sometime. That way you could meet him and I could introduce him to the kids.”, Their food came at that moment, which meant Patton had to stop hugging him. Janus was thankful; he’d never been the type for hugging. Except with his kids.

“Ok. But you have to tell them about the divorce first. Deal?” “Deal.”

Virgil was generally considered a good kid by his peers and teachers. Quiet perhaps, but overall a good kid. He didn’t break rules, got good grades, and overall kept to himself. The one anomaly about him was that he was dating Thomas sanders, or rather that Thomas Sanders was dating him. Thomas was a bright and outgoing person; if this was a 2000s sitcom, he might have been considered popular. Not only that, but he had a fairly popular youtube channel where he did skits, challenges, and more. Virgil barely even had social media. They were a couple regardless, and Virgil was known as a good kid.

He didn’t feel like a good kid as he watched the Chipotle employee make his bowl. He’d signed himself out of school early along with Thomas, and now they were getting lunch. The thought of skipping school kept buzzing around his head, even though he’d gotten all of his assignments from the classes he’d be missing. Besides he had bigger problems to worry about.

He sat down beside his boyfriend and took a bite of his food, “What am I going to do?” He asked in a small voice, fear lacing his tone. Thomas reached across the booth and squeezed his hand.

Hey,”, Thomas whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be right here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”, Thomas squeezed his hand, “Now really eat, you skipped lunch yesterday.”, Virgil nodded and the rest of lunch passed silence. The pair simply enjoying their food together. Virgil grinned and poured queso onto his bowl and smiled at his boyfriend.

“You’re so cute.”, he whispered. Thomas blushed at the compliment and Virgil considered it a win. Sooner enough they were done with their meal. Virgil stood up and gathered their trash, “I’m gonna go the bathroom.” “Ok”, Thomas nodded, “I love you no matter what.”. Virgil smiled and went to the bathroom, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots.

Janus sighed as he drove home. Patton had messaged him earlier that he was making dinner and Jan didn’t have to pick up any takeout. Of course, that made Jan’s life easier, but it also meant that they were going to talk over the divorce with the kids. Great. He peered at Remy in the backseat, sipping his chocolate milk without a care in the world. God sometimes Jan wished he were a child still. Childhood was so much easier, “I think your Dad is making dinner tonight.” Remy looked at him, “I thought we were going to pick up takeout?” “He messaged me saying that I don’t need to pick up any food.”, Remy nodded and smiled before looking back out the window. Janus understood: Patton was an amazing cook. Hopefully, they’d all be able to eat after this. God, how would Remy react? He’d already taken the separation hard. And Emile, he barely understood what divorce was. And Virgil, the oldest, the one who buried his feelings the most. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about it and would bury his feelings to help his brothers.

They pulled into the garage, Remy grabbing his stuff and running inside, “Take off your shoes and change before you get mud all over the house.’, he called after him. Janus took his time collecting his things. ‘Just go in. Better to get it over with.’, his thoughts raced around his head like an angry swarm of bees. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The smell of garlic and tomatoes washed over his sense, Patton was making Italian food. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells. Patton stood next to the counter, buttering a long baguette for garlic bread. He looked up and gave a reassuring smile, but Janus could see the nervousness in his eye, at least he wasn’t alone in the feeling, “Hey.” He greeted, “The lasagna is almost done and I’m making garlic bread right now. There’s stuff for caesar salad in the fridge if you want to help out.”

Janus nodded and took off his jacket before washing his hands and making said salad, “Where’s Emile and Virgil?”, he asked, praying that he sounded casual. The salad offered a great distraction from his thoughts, greeting parmesan meant he didn’t have to focus on this upcoming family discussion.

“Virgil is helping Emile with his homework. He’s learning addition.”, Patton supplied as he put the bread on a tray, placing it in the oven. “There are brownies in the fridge. I figured we could make sundaes. Hopefully, it’ll make the conversation easier.”, Janus nodded. Remy and Emile might not realize it but Virgil would know something was up. Pat rarely made dessert on weekdays.

Soon enough dinner was done and all five of them were sitting around the table. Virgil still looked anxious and Janus wanted to bang his head off the table. There was no way he’d be able to ask what was wrong after this conversation. Why did this have to happen tonight?

Patton smiled, “So how was school guys?”, ‘Subtle Pat, subtle. Why don’t you just hang a banner above our heads that says We’re getting divorced’. Janus took a large sip of wine so his thoughts would stay in his head.

“Ok,” Remy spoke up. “But I keep getting headaches during the day. The lights in the class are too bright.”, This had been going on for a while now. The fluorescent lighting of the classroom seemed to give Remy migraines, and his teacher wasn’t budging on letting him wear sunglasses to prevent it.

“I’ll talk to your teacher in the morning.”

“My day was good Daddy.”, Emile grinned, “We learned about ecosystems.”, Janus smiled. Emile was so young and innocent.

“Virgil?”, The teenager in question looked up from where he’d been staring off into space. He took a quick bit of lasagna before speaking.

“It was fine.”

He was lying. Something was wrong and Virgil was trying to act like he was ok. Janus wanted to ask more questions, to figure out what was bothering his son. It wouldn’t work though. Virgil guarded his privacy with his life. Prying would only make him more tight-lipped. Janus just had to wait for Virgil to come to him with what was wrong, and in the meantime, hope that it wasn’t serious.

Besides, even if Janus thought it was a good idea to ask, there were other things at hand. Patton nodded to him and he knew it was time. “Your father and I have some news.”. Patton began. Janus held back a groan.

“Are we going to Disney World?”, Emile was practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of such a trip.

“No.”, Janus made a mental note to talk to Patton about a family vacation. Maybe it would help reassure Remy and Emile that they were all still a family. “It’s not that. You all know that we’re always going to be a family right? No matter what happens we’ll always be together.”, Virgil was ghostly pale and Remy had his fists clenched. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.

His middle son jumped up, “No.” He was tearing up, “You promised.”

“Remy..”

“No! You said we’d always be together.”, Tears began running down his face. A knot formed in Janus’ throat. Why did they have to do this?

“And we will. No matter what.”, Patton tried to soothe. It was met on deaf ears.

“No, we won’t! That’s what they all say! They say nothing will change but it does. Next thing you know, you’re in different houses and splitting custody and no one will want me. And then I’ll be back in foster care.”

“Remy that won’t happen. We love you.”, Janus wanted to take his son in his arms. Wanted to hold all of his children and promise them that they still loved them all, and the divorce wouldn’t change that. But Remy ran upstairs, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut echoing through the house.

“What’s going on?”, Emile’s face was contorted, confusion visible. Of course, he wouldn’t fully understand what was going on. The six-year-old had barely understood the separation.

Patton sighed and knelt down next to him, “Your father and I are finalizing our divorce. We won’t be married anymore.” Emile blinked.

“Why? I thought you weren’t getting one?” Patton sighed, “Things have changed.”, Emile blinked at him. This was going wrong. It was too soon. They should have eased them into this idea. Shouldn’t have sprung it on them like this.

Understanding bloomed in Emile’s face. His next words were a whisper, so quiet that Janus almost didn’t hear them. But he did, and it felt like getting hit by a truck. “Are you divorcing cause Virgil’s pregnant?” “EMILE!”, Virgil shrieked. Janus felt like he was watching this from above like it was a tv show playing out in front of him, and not his life. He looked next to him. Patton appeared to be in a similar situation.

“It’s the truth.”

Finally, Janus found himself able to speak. There were a million questions inside of him longing to get out, but all he could say was, “What?”

Luckily Patton was able to voice one of his questions, “Virgil, is this true?”. Virgil refused to make eye contact with either of them and Janus knew it was. His eldest child looked almost ashamed, shoulders tense and body hunched over.

“Virgil…”, He started, but he was upstairs before Janus could continue. Janus shut his eyes. Amazing. One of his kids was pregnant at 17 and another thought he was going to be sent back to foster care. His head met the table with a groan. Patton rubbed his shoulder.

Emile still stood in front of them, “Am I in trouble?”, he asked, voice shaking. Janus leaned forward and picked him up. He bounced Emile on his hip, stroking his back.

“No baby.”, He ruffled his hair and booped his nose. “You aren’t in trouble ok. Everything is just kinda stressful right now. But none of that is your fault, ok?” Emile nodded and buried his face into Jan’s chest. Patton joined the hug, stroking Emile’s back and humming softly. They sat there in this position for about 10 minutes before Janus pulled away, gave Emile a kiss on the forehead, “We love all of you so much and the divorce won’t change that ok?”

He nodded and Janus stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Remy, he might be easier to get to open up than Virgil right now.”, He handed Emile to Pat, who bounced him on his hip.

“Ok. I’ll make a pot of hot cocoa to take up. Hopefully, it’ll get him to open up.”, Janus nodded in thanks and made his way upstairs.

Remy’s room was as dark as ever, the twelve-year-old liked to leave the lights in his room dimmed. Janus peaked his head in, seeing him laying on his bed, face buried into his pillows. “Remy?”, He called out. The child in question didn’t respond but Janus knew he was awake, “Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Janus thought about what he would do if Remy said no. He wanted to respect his privacy, but at the time this was a conversation that needed to happen. Remy thought he was going to be sent back to foster care and Janus couldn’t let him just think that. Luckily Remy soon answered, “Yes…”

He walked in slowly, eyes trained on his son. His son who was terrified that he was going to be sent away. He swallowed, “Remy you aren’t going to be sent back to foster care. I promise that.”

Remy sniffled and his heart broke for his middle child, “That’s what they said last time. They said they loved me and I’d never be sent away again. And then they said they were getting a divorce and it wasn’t a good time for them to adopt a kid.”

Janus sighed and began stroking his hair, “And I’m promising that no matter what we’re not sending you back there. We love you. You’re our son, our wonderful son who we love so much. The divorce is between your father and me. And I won’t lie and say that it won’t affect you or that nothing will change, because things will change. A lot of things will change. But the love that your father and I have for the three of you? That will never change. It’ll never fade or go away. And we’re never sending you back.” He smiled slightly and joked, “Besides we threw away the receipt. No returns.”

Remy giggled and Janus knew he’d been successful in cheering him up. Remy sat up and hugged him tightly, tears still flowing freely, “I love you both. This is my home, my family. I don’t want to lose you.” “I know baby, I know. What does Stitch say?”, He hoped that a reference to Remy’s favorite movie would lighten the mood even more.

Remy sighed, “Ohana means family.” “And?”

“Family is never left behind or forgotten.”

Janus nodded and kissed his head, “And you’re our ohana. And we hope to yours. We’re here for as long as you want us.”, Remy smiled and Janus knew that even if it took some time, everything would be ok with him. He sat up. “Patton should be up here in a few minutes with cocoa and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. So I’ll sit here with you until he gets up here and then I’ll give you your privacy. Ok? Besides I need to talk to your older brother.”

Remy nodded, “Is Virgil ok?”

Janus sighed, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Patton peaked his head in. He held a tray with four mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. Next to them sat a plate with brownies.

“Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” He smiled encouragingly. Remy nodded and sat up off of Janus’s chest. Patton came in, taking two of the mugs and some of the brownies. “The rest are for you and Virgil.”

“Where’s Emile?”

“In his room with a covered mug and a brownie watching Aladdin. He’ll be ok.”, Janus nodded and took the tray before leaving.

Janus stood outside of Virgil’s room, trying to figure out what to say. What did you say when your teenage son was pregnant? Most parents were worried about their sons getting someone pregnant, not their sons being pregnant. Then again, not everyone had a trans son. He sighed and knocked, “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Unlike Remy, who took his time answering, Virgil’s reply was almost immediate, “I don’t want to talk, Dad.”, Janus sighed. Goddammit. This is exactly what he was fearing. He couldn’t just leave his son alone right now. His pregnant son at that. Virgil was pregnant. He groaned.

“Baby bat, please. We need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk.” “I have Pat’s hot chocolate and brownies.”

There was a pause. Then he spoke, “The door’s open.”, Janus opened the door slowly. Virgil sat in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against his chest. Tears ran down his face in inky black trails. Janus’ heart ached for him. He looked at Janus and sniffled, “Go on. Yell at me about what a horrible mistake I made.” His heart lept into his throat. Janus remembered having a similar conversation with his sister 18 years ago. How she was pregnant and her boyfriend ran off on her. Janus hadn’t known then how his life was going to change forever. And now his son was pregnant.

“I’m not here to yell at you V.”, He sat next to him, handing Virgil the mug of cocoa. He took a sip of his own, “How long have you known?” Virgil shrugged, “I only found out today. But I suspected it when Dad mentioned that one of the waitresses at the restaurant was pregnant. I’m about a month along.” Janus nodded, “Does Thomas know?”, he was met with a nod. “And what does he think?”, more memories of his sister rushed to the surface. His sister saying that her boyfriend had ran out of town when she found out that was pregnant. That he took the rent money and she’d been evicted. He was brought out of his memories by Virgil’s next words.

“He says he loves me still. And he supports me no matter what I choose.”, Well that was good. Janus didn’t know what he would have done if Thomas had abandoned Virgil. It would have been unpleasant that’s for sure. Now for the hardest question.

“You have options; you don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want to. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”, Virgil looked up at him and Janus once again was overcome with memories of his sister. Adelaide saying that she didn’t know what she was going to do but she was keeping her baby. He and Pat letting her move in. Recording home movies for the baby. Rushing her to the hospital while she screamed in pain in his backseat. The doctor saying that she lost too much blood. Holding Virgil in his arms.

“I want to keep the baby.”, there it was. The thing that Janus had known deep down that Virgil would say from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, “I know I have options and I know I’m young and this probably seems stupid but I want this baby. I just... You took a chance on me when mom died. You and Dad weren’t looking for a kid when I was born but you took me in anyway. You took a chance on me. And I’m taking a chance on this baby.”

Janus sighed, “You’re just like your mother you know that. Just as stubborn and just as loving. And you know what? She was just as determined to have you, even if it wasn’t the best time. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her.”, He hugged Virgil close, “I love you so much. And if you want this baby then your dad and I will support you no matter what ok? We’ll help you out. I promise.”

Virgil smiled at him, “Really?”

Janus nodded, “Really really. Now I think you should invite Thomas over tomorrow. I want to talk to him.”. Seeing the look on Virgil’s face he added, “I’ll go easy on him. I just want to know he’ll be a good dad for my grandchild. And you two need to tell his parents.”

Virgil nodded and there was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was Patton, “Hey. Emile and Remy are both asleep. How is everything?”

“Well Pat, we’re going to be grandfathers.”

Patton smiled and sat down next to them both, “I see. And everything is ok?” Virgil nodded, “Yeah. Everything will work itself out.”, And at that moment Janus knew it to be true.

A/N: Unlike some of my other works, this one is going to be a series of one-shots. I think I'll be able to handle that better than chapter fic. It'll also feel more like episodes of a sitcom. I really like the feel to this and I'm open to prompts.

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

When It’s Cold (2)

*Horny teens are horny. Mild smut mentions ahead.*

~~~

I laid in bed watching the lightning flash outside my windows as thunder shook the room and rain poured down. As a child a storm like this would have had me hiding under my covers. Tonight though I watched the storm, every inch of my body on alert with every crack of lightning and thunder. The doors to my room burst open with a roll of thunder. A shadowed figured stood in the hallway. My heart hammered fast as I tried to see through the darkness at my intruder. A flash of lightning illuminated the once dark room and I recognized the jagged line down my visitor’s face.

“Felix?” I sat up straighter. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to make sure you weren’t scared.” He prowled closer, a wicked grin on his face as he got to the foot of my bed. “You always were so scared of storms.”

“I was…” I murmured. He was dressed only in a pair of pants. That same chiseled torso I had gawked at earlier on full display.

He crawled onto the bed until he was hovering over me. “Do you want me to stay?” His voice purred in my ear, “I can keep you warm if it gets cold.”

“Yes please,” I let the robe around me fall from my shoulders leaving me exposed. “Keep me warm, Felix.”

“Gladly.” He swooped down upon me.

~~~

I woke with a start. My body was wound up tight and I was tangled in the blankets on my bed. I gazed around me confused before the previous day’s events caught up to me. It felt like a dream that Felix and I had found this mansion last night.

Felix…

The real dream came back to me with stark detail. What had that been all about? I’ve never had a dream like that before. I never have dreams in the first place. Even when I do they’re nothing like that and most certainly do not feature Felix. Yet he had been the epicenter.

Half naked with a devilish grin looking down at my own nude body. I had wanted him to--to--

I buried my face in my pillow. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone to his room last night and saw him coming out of the bathroom. Why did I have to see that? Now I was having borderline erotic dreams about him. Oh screw borderline! I knew exactly what I had been hoping to happen and the aching between my legs only solidified it.

It’s not like I never found Felix ugly or anything. He was pleasant to look at. I dare say at times he was handsome but I never dwelled on it. Maybe a stray intrusive thought or two but they never went so far as my dream had. I couldn’t stop picturing it. Felix and I in bed, his large hands on my body, his lips caressing my skin…

I pressed my legs together as the image took root in my head. Maybe I deserve to indulge a little. For right now there is nothing to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Felix will ever know. My hand dipped between my legs as I let myself fall back into the dream. My body was extra sensitive since I hadn’t been able to indulge in this particular past time since Neverland. Not that I got to do it a whole lot there either. I swear there is absolutely no privacy on that island.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

And none here either it seems.

With a small whine I swung out of bed and pulled my robe in tight. I opened the door and Felix was waiting on the other side already dressed. Could it be considered poetic irony that the boy I had just a moment ago been masturbating to interrupted said masturbation?

“Did you just wake up?” Felix looked me up and down.

“Kinda. I figured I was allowed to sleep in. What do you want?” I stepped back and started collecting my clothes from the floor.

“Get dressed. I discovered something you’re gonna wanna see.”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“No. Now hurry up.” He closed the door and left.

With a sigh a pulled my clothes back on and followed Felix up a set of stairs to a hallway that led to a dead end. “This is what you wanted to show me? A wall with a picture on it?”

“Watch this,” He pulled the light fixture next to the painting and suddenly the wall came loose and rotated opening up a passageway into a whole new room.

“This place has secret rooms now. Very cool.” I stepped inside. “A library?” I looked at the books but there were no names on the spines. I pulled one off and flipped through it but all the pages were blank. “I will say I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Oh but it gets better.” Felix went over to the desk at the end of the room and pulled open the drawer. There was a button inside. He pressed it and a section of the floor popped up. I knelt down and opened the hatch and my eyes went wide. It was a safe!

I turned the latch and nearly cried at what I saw. Money. Just stacks and stacks of money! One less thing to worry about. We wouldn’t need to scrape by or get jobs. This safe could keep us comfortable for months! Years even!

“How did you find this?” I asked Felix.

“I like puzzles and I like to snoop.” He grinned pulling out a stack of hundreds. The band around it said ten thousand. Ten thousand dollars and there were easily a hundred or more just like it from what I could tell from the naked eye. We have someplace warm to sleep and we have money for food.

I started sniffling and I could sense Felix watching me befuddled. “Sorry, I just--” I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my eyes, “We’re going to survive the winter. We don’t have to be hungry or cold again.”

“I know,” Felix pulled a few hundreds from the stack and dropped the rest back in the safe. “Now how about we go do that grocery shopping you were so insistent on?”

“Yes!” I hopped to my feet. We put everything back in place and left the room. I found a pad of paper and started making a list of everything we would need. Unlike Felix who had spent so much time on Neverland that he couldn’t remember who he had been before being a Lost Boy , I did remember who I was. I remembered the responsibilities I had before Neverland. What was needed when I was made to go to market. The grocery store wasn’t like the open air markets I was used to but it was still the same general concept.

Felix and I got weird looks as we entered the store and I took one of the trollies. My first stop was to grab some toiletries. Toilet paper, shampoo, body wash, loofah, deodorant, toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, and even a set of razors in case Felix wanted to shave. Next we grabbed laundry detergent, dish soap, paper towels, spray cleaner, trash bags, aluminum, and hangers. We would need to go to a different store for clothes. Lastly, food. Now, being the designated responsible person out of the two of us I know we couldn’t just indulge in the sweets and other delicious yet not necessarily healthy food for us.

I sped up and down the aisles with Felix trailing after me as I dumped stuff into the trolley. Chicken, beef, bacon, vegetables, fruits, a ten pound bag of potatoes, bread, milk, two dozen eggs, pasta, rice, butter, flour, sugar, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla, yeast (it’s been forever since I baked anything but I figured I could give it a try), orange juice, apple juice, cheese, canola oil, olive oil, and spices. Then came on the things I knew less about, peanut butter, chocolate chips, gummy candies, dressings, chips, ice cream, instant brownie mix, pizza rolls (they sounded good), cans of soup, yogurt, pancake/waffle mix, whipped cream, cereal, granola bars, pretzels, and tea bags.

Our trolley was overflowing with items as we wheeled our way over to the register. The man bagging our items looked at us strangely as we started unloading our groceries onto the counter. Several minutes and a trolley full of groceries later we were given our grand total. I was scared that we wouldn’t have enough but thankfully we did. We left the store and looked at our haul.

“Hey, Felix,” I paused as we were halfway through the parking lot, “How are we gonna get all this back to the mansion?”

“We steal the cart.” He said it like it was obvious. “Who is gonna stop us?”

“True.” We started out trip back to the mansion and pushed the trolley into the house. We spent the next several minute cramming things into cabinets and the icebox. I pushed the trolley back outside and went to put my toiletries away while Felix took the laundry items down to the basement. I would also need to learn how to use the electronic washers they had here if I wanted clean clothes.

Speaking of clean clothes, “Felix!” I shouted down the steps, “We’re not done yet today. We need to go clothes shopping.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t bring any extra sets of clothes with me when we left Neverland and I’m sick of wearing these dirty rags. Now get a move on!”

Felix came upstairs with a scowl. “Don’t pout. Even if we kept these clothes clean they stand out too much. I think it’s part of the reason everyone glares at us. We’ll arise less suspicion if we blend in. Especially since our mission is to find a way out of here and back to Neverland.”

“Fine.” Felix grumbled. He counted the remaining money in his pocket. “Let me grab a few more bills from the library just to be safe.”

My stomach grumbled and I decided to grab a granola bar to settle my stomach while I waited for Felix. This house was so strange. They didn’t have any dish soap but they had pots and pans. No shampoo but they had combs. Not a lick of food but a cabinet dedicated to what looked like a very fragile table set.

Felix came back a few hundred dollars richer and we made our way back into town for the second time that day. The clothes store was emptier than the grocery store which put me more at ease. Felix and I went our separate ways as I perused around the racks and racks of clothing. I grabbed a few shirts, pajamas, sweatshirts, sweat pants, underwear, socks, gloves, a scarf, hat, a thick jacket, a new pair of boots, and a large messenger bag. When I went to try on some pants though I was thoroughly disappointed. They fit fine but the pockets on them were tiny! I could barely get my hand in them. Was this what pants were like here? Why?!

I went over to the men’s section and found Felix also trying on some new clothes. It was a simple black t-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans but it looked really good on him. He almost looked less foreboding. Maybe that was just due to the fact that he didn’t have his cloak hood up like usual.

“You look mad,” Felix chuckled upon seeing me stomp up to him.

“I am! Look at this.” I squeezed a few of my fingers into my jeans pocket. “These pants have absolutely no room! Are yours like this as well?”

“Mine?” he stuck his entire hand in his pocket up to the middle of his forearm. “Nope.”

“What the hell?” I stuck my hand in his other pocket. These were so much roomier than mine! “Why are these better than the ones in my section?”

“I don’t know,” Felix pulled my hand out of his pocket, his face was red with anger again and he wouldn’t look me in the eye, “You can stop invading my personal space though.”

“Oops, sorry.” I snatched my hand back to my chest. What had I been thinking? I essentially stuck my hand down his pants and for what? Because I was jealous of the size of his pockets? I grabbed a few pants from his section that looked to be my size and raced back to the dressing rooms in my section. These fit just as well as the ones I was wearing now but the pockets were much roomier so I chucked the others away and got the men’s pants.

Felix met me at the registers when he was done browsing. He still wasn’t looking at me. I think I made things between us really uncomfortable. We paid for the clothes but had no trolley this time so had to carry everything in large bags back to the mansion. After we got back Felix disappeared into his room. I changed into a pair of the comfy new clothes I bought and went downstairs to make myself something to eat.

I heated a can of soup up and sat down to eat. I wasn’t in the mood to be so adventurous as to make a full blown meal. Now that we had all the essentials Felix and I could start our search for a way back to Neverland in earnest.

I didn’t see Felix for the rest of the night. Figures he wouldn’t want to be around me after we spent all day together. I drew myself another hot bath and this time was able to actually wash myself with the soap and shampoo we had bought. I felt truly clean for the first time in a long time as I slid on the pajamas I bought and crawled back into bed.

Rain pattered outside and I was reminded of my dream from this morning. A part of me dreading and hoping that I would have another just like it.

~~~

Fucking hell! You were killing him! You had to be trying to kill him! That’s what Felix concluded as he locked himself in the master bedroom of the mansion.

Ever since Felix had let himself be talked into going to Storybrooke with you he had been forced by your side. You were the only Lost One in Storybrooke still loyal to Pan when all the others had run off to find families for themselves. He told himself he was tagging along instead of staying in Neverland to enact revenge on those that murdered Pan but that was only half of the story.

He should have never followed you though. Revenge aside. It hadn’t worked out anyway. Even after he learned that Pan was still alive, albeit in someone else’s body, it wasn’t enough. Pan died anyway before he got to enact the curse that would have turned this worthless town into a new Neverland. Now everyone was happy and safe and you and Felix were both very much stranded.

Finding this mansion had been a sweet turn of luck. He knew you were right when you mentioned needing a better place to stay over winter. Felix didn’t like the cold either but he could tolerate it better than you. Every night since you two got here you would shiver the night away at your camp. The night before it had been so cold that even Felix was cursing the wind. While he shivered though he glanced across the fire pit at you. You were huddled in so tight to yourself. Teeth chattering and body convulsing.

He was glad that you didn’t make any mention of him giving you his cloak as an extra form of warmth that night. He didn’t want to try explaining why he had done it. Terrible complicated feelings that he refused to acknowledge. He pushed them down hard, stomped them into dust so they could never rear their ugly head again.

Then he had gotten out of the bath. Truly clean for the first time in years he had left the bathroom and all those complicated feelings from before shot to the surface at the scene laid out before him. You knelt on the ground with only a towel barely covering you. Your wet hair leaving drops of water rolling down your shoulders and back.

His jaw clenched and he fumbled to maintain some composure as you explained what you were doing practically naked in his room. He had found the robe in the master bathroom and was planning on wearing it to bed himself but when he caught sight of you he was only too happy to chuck it into your arms. He needed you to cover up. He needed you clothed and out of his room that instant!

He was far from relaxed after you had left that night. The sight of you knelt over, the towel just barely covering your ass was burned into his brain. He ignored the stirring under his towel and dove into the large bed. He tossed and turned most of the night trying to rid the image and the thoughts he was having. His mind betrayed him though as it brought him much more vivid fantasies of you on his bed wearing nothing at all and beckoning him to take you.

He woke soon after breathing hard and his hand around his cock. Felix cursed the fact that he had a lewd dream about you of all people. He tried to ignore the images flashing in his head but when he closed his eyes there you were on all fours again with a teasing smile. He jumped into the bathroom and turned on the shower hoping a cold jolt would snap him back to sense but then he was thinking of you in this shower with him. Water rolling down your body, that same teasing smile and sultry voice begging him to take you against the wall.

For a few minutes he swallowed his embarrassment and let the fantasy play out fucking into his fist and pretending it was you squeezing around him instead. He thought of your moans and whimpers egging him on. Begging him to be harder, faster, rougher. He bit his lip to keep from shouting as he finally spent himself and started coming down from his high.

He felt more relaxed afterwards but the release of tension didn’t make him feel better knowing he had masturbated to you. You were his...friend? You two had never been friends before coming to Storybrooke and he doubted that you two were that now. Whatever you were to him he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. You both wanted to get back to Neverland and having obscene fantasies of you was not the way to go about that.

It was still fairly early but he was too wound up to go back to bed. So he got dressed and went exploring throughout the mansion. That’s how he had found the secret library full of blank books and that secret vault under the floorboards. He put everything back in place before racing to wake you up and show you. He had almost forgotten about his dream until you opened the door and he was met with your sleepy face and bedhead. Had you always been this attractive or was it just the layers of dirt that had gotten washed away last night that made you much more appealing to him suddenly? He decided not to dwell on why he was having these thoughts and instead took you down to see the stash of money he had found.

You were so giddy at the knowledge that you could actually have a roof over your head and food in your belly that he found himself smiling too. Your smile was so infectious. He let you take the lead when you went shopping. He didn’t recognize half the stuff he saw in that store but trusted your judgement when you dropped something in the cart.

Then there was when you went to go clothes shopping. Felix wouldn’t admit that he was getting a little worn out of his Neverland attire. It was functional but that was all he could say about it. The smell of it after he had gotten out of the bath the night before almost made him gag. Perhaps this was the reason no one wanted you or him around. You both reeked of years of living in a jungle.

You two were on totally opposite ends of the clothing store so Felix thought he was safe until you came charging into his dressing room ranting about the tiny pockets on your pants. The tight fitted pants that hugged your legs and ass perfectly. Then when you unceremoniously stuffed your hand down his pocket to see how deep they were it took all his self control and thoughts of rotting animal carcasses to not pop an erection right there in the store.

You were trying to make him burst a blood vessel and you didn’t even seem to notice! Which is why he was back in his room sitting on his bed hungry and horny. He was waiting until after he was sure you had gone to bed to get some food. He really didn’t want to chance running into you again and risk those impure thoughts bubbling to the surface once more.

Hopefully today had just been a spoof and tomorrow all these strange new thoughts and feelings would be gone. You two had a mission after all. Get back to Neverland. Lust wasn’t going to help that mission.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#felix imagine #felix x reader #ouat felix #ouat #neverland #peter pan ouat #roommate au #felix's pov is in 2nd person

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nycbento · 3 years

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Don't ask me why, but it's evidently All Dumplings Almost All The Time this week.

I swear I didn't make a fourth batch of dumplings. These came from the freezer, along with the borscht. Last month, I had some leftover dough from making pierogies for my friends, and a few days later, I threw together a bit of filling from leftovers - one that I didn't recall what it was (spinach, mushroom, onion, cheese) until I put my fork in one.

The onions were also leftovers. I roasted chicken wings a few days ago and the pan was full of delicious drippings, so I thickly sliced a carrot, Vidalia onion and a potato and let them roast in that. The onion slices topped both a hamburger and hot dogs later, and the last of them got sauteed in butter and made a delicious topping for the pierogies.

The only things I made fresh were opening a container of sour cream and snipping some scallions on top.

#nycbento #not a bento #dumplings #pierogies #borscht

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gukyi · 5 years

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do you want me (dead?) | jjk

summary: jeon jungkook, quidditch extraordinaire and overall pain in your ass, is the one problem you can’t seem to solve, even with years of being the school’s advice columnist under your belt. that is, until you begin to receive letters from someone under the alias of bambi, requesting help with confessing to a crush, and suddenly, your relationship with jeon jungkook takes a turn for... the worst?

{hogwarts!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader word count: 11k genre: fluff! just fluff !!! warnings: this may or may not be absolute self-indulgent trash. a/n: ha! you thought it would be like 20k, you were wrong. and honestly, i’m kind of glad it’s the same length as the rest of the sorted series. you know, for uniformity. anyway, enjoy this flaming garbage dumpster pile of a jungkook e2l fic. have i ever written anything more self indulgent? no? also, happy 2 years to gukyi dot tumblr dot com!!!!

Dear Y/N,

I need your help! I’ve liked this boy for a couple months now, and he’s friends with some of my friends, but any time he comes up to me I run away because I don’t know what to do. Whenever I’m around him I clam up and can’t say more than a couple of words before chickening out and running away. He probably thinks I hate him. Do you have any advice on how to tell him that I like him?

Yours truly, An awkward third-year

Dear An Awkward Third-Year,

Don’t be afraid! I’m sure we’ve all been there with the person we’re crushing on. The nervousness is totally natural. But the only way that he’s going to know how you feel is if you take initiative and tell him! I obviously can’t advise you too personally, but if you dance around the topic, you might confuse him! The worst thing that he can do is tell you no, but the only way to know if he feels the same way is if you tell him. And if you’re scared to just blurt it out, figure out some common interests and just worm it into the conversation. Don’t get too hung up over a boy, but do let him know how you feel! You may get some really great results. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

The letters are dropped off at the front of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall every Thursday at exactly seven in the evening, right after you finish eating dinner but before you resign yourself to your dormitory for the night. They’re always neatly packaged, pushed into a nice little stack and wrapped together with a long string of tweed. It’s just enough time for you to read them all, select the three or four that will make it into the next issue of the school’s weekly newspaper, which prints on Sundays.

“I hate your owl,” Yuju says one Thursday night, feeding it bits of corn she’s plucking off of the cob on her plate. “He acts too much like my uncle’s nineteen-year-old golden retriever and not enough like an actual owl.” Her fingers drift away from its mouth and towards the side of its head, scratching it as it coos happily, curling into her touch.

“Why do you think I named him Dog?” You deadpan, unwrapping the stack of letters in front of you. “Stop feeding him corn. You know that the butter makes him throw up.”

“All the more reason to,” Yuju says, plucking off a couple more bits for Dog to wolf down before you actually begin to berate him. Half the reason he even lingers after dropping off the weekly papers, instead of flying off like the rest of the owls, is because both you and Yuju seem to have developed quite the soft spot for him. She moves on from the corn and to the tortilla on her plate, which she says is part of a deconstructed taco. It, in total honesty, looks like a very small, very measly, very insignificant Mexican buffet.

“I hate you,” she mumbles under her breath. It’s unclear if the words are directed at you, her best friend, or Dog, the owl with what she deems is the ‘most ridiculous name for an owl in the history of wizardry as the homo sapiens species knows it’, which is a bit of an overstatement if you do say so yourself. “I hate you and your dumbass name.”

“Stop, he can understand you,” you say, reaching over to cover Dog’s ears. Dog hoots unsuspectingly, looking as pleased as ever as he pecks at the tortilla in Yuju’s hands. “And stop feeding him. Pretty soon he’s going to stop eating the wholesale beetles I buy him because he’s been too exposed to the high quality deliciousness of the Great Hall’s cafeteria meals. It’s like dessert for him.”

“Fine,” Yuju says with a sigh, letting Dog nip the last piece of tortilla in her hand before shooing him off. He flies away with ease, but not before he sends a glare your way for limiting his Great Hall dinner intake. Great. Now not only will your owl begin refusing the healthy, hearty, cheap-for-the-quantity wholesale beetles, but he will also hate the hand that feeds it. Ungrateful feathered sausage.

Turning back to the reason that Dog was even being hand-fed the equivalent of McDonald’s milkshakes in the first place, you begin to shuffle through the stack of letters for the week. It’s not a very sizable stack, but that’s because it’s still the beginning of the year, and no one’s really figured out how the whole advice column thing works yet. Unlike you, a seasoned expert. It’s most of the same stuff, first and second years fretting over the workload and not knowing how to make friends or how to handle the professors. Typical beginning-of-the-year worries. You’ll know how to answer these with ease.

Yuju peers over to read some of the ones you’ve discarded, lying scattered on the deep mahogany of the table. She says it’s because sometimes she can offer valuable and indispensable advice, but you know it’s just because she’s nosy as hell and can’t help but look into other people’s business, even if they are anonymous.

“Wish I had this sort of thing when I was a baby first year,” she comments to herself. “Instead I just turned to you for all of my daily inconveniences.”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I started this column,” you remind her, memories of her flopping onto her bed in the dorm and groaning about all of her problems flickering through your mind. You’d never tell Yuju this, but your late night chats became the reason you approached the head of the school newspaper in your third year with a suggestion for an advice column.

You fish through the pockets of your robe, hunting for a spare pen so you can begin to formulate some responses when you hear loud stomping and obnoxious laughter coming from the entrance of the Great Hall. Glancing over from where you’re seated at the Slytherin table with Yuju by your side, you spot four boys clambering into the Great Hall, one with a particularly familiar tuft of bouncy, brown hair.

“Speaking of daily inconveniences,” you say sarcastically, eyes rolling like the magical night sky above your heads is mocking you. You don’t think you’ve done anything mean recently, so you can’t possibly imagine why karma has it out for you.

Except maybe it doesn’t matter, because Jeon Jungkook defies all laws of the universe and its natural system of rewards for good deeds and punishments for bad ones. All so he can exist in this very timeline, in this very location, in this very lifetime. Which so happens to perfectly coincide with your own.

Jeon Jungkook saunters into the Great Hall, footsteps heavy and jarring, just so he can remind everyone that he’s made an appearance. He laughs like a roar of thunder, forceful and purposefully. Exists obnoxiously, without regrets or second guesses.

“Maybe if you keep your head down and put your robe over yourself he won’t notice you—no, he’s coming over here.” Yuju says, making you nearly slam your head on the table in exasperation. “I tried,” she tells you helpfully, not sounding like she tried very much at all.

“Working on next week’s Witches’ & Wizard’s Counsel?” Jungkook asks instead of a hello, like any normal, non-annoying person who’s just trying to make casual conversation and not pointed and directed disturbances would do.

He snatches up one of the pieces of paper spread out on the table before you to inspect it. You reach out to wrestle him for it back, but not only is Jungkook across the table, he is also standing and taller than you anyway. “Hey, this person needs some advice for trying out for their house’s Quidditch team,” he says with a smug grin lacing his features, like he thinks he’s onto something. “Maybe I should give them a few pointers.”

“Give that back, Jeon Jungkook,” you say, reaching over the table with grabby hands to wrestle him for it back. He dodges your nimble yet crab claw-like fingers with ease. “You know that’s private.”

“It’s anonymous!” Jungkook cries defensively, even if he does cave and hand it back. “Besides, you’ll end up publishing it in the newspaper anyway. What’s another person taking a look at it, huh, Pumpkin?”

“Ugh,” you say, tilting your head back in exasperation. You swear, Jeon Jungkook takes off five years of your life just by existing within close proximity of you. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

Jungkook chuckles. “You got to go to Hogsmeade for the very first time independently, nearly bought out Honeydukes’s Pumpkin Pasties stash, and then proceeded to vomit it up on the sidewalk two hours later after how many of them? Nine? Ten?” He asks, goading you on, and like a fool, you engage in it.

“That was four years ago!” You hiss.

“Doesn’t make it any less funny,” Jungkook admits. Next to you, Yuju’s on the verge of breaking out into giggles. “I’ll drop the nickname if you really want me to, Pumpkin, but I think it’s cute. It makes you different.”

“You’re the only person who calls me that,” you groan.

“It could be worse,” Yuju pipes up unhelpfully. “You could have vomited up a bunch of Cockroach Clusters, instead.”

Jungkook chuckles.

“You are not helping!” You glare at Yuju, who merely laughs. Seven years together and she’s never truly grasped the sensation of pure aggravation that you feel whenever a certain brown-haired Ravenclaw is nearby. “Why are you here, Jeon? Besides to give me a headache.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” Jungkook teases. You are on the verge of shoving Yuju’s half-eaten corn on the cob right up his nose. “What, am I not allowed to say hello to some of my favorite Slytherins out of the goodness of my heart?” He places a hand over his chest, mock offended you’d ever take a jab at his not-so-innocent intentions.

You frown. You don’t think Jungkook’s ever done anything out of the pure, unadulterated, so-called goodness of his heart. You should know. You write for the newspaper. There’s always fine print, always provisos and loopholes.

“I just came to check in on you,” he says innocently. You narrow your eyes. “Fine, and to remind you of my undying love.”

“My God,” you say, closing your eyes out of sheer annoyance. “If it doesn’t die soon, I think I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Harsh, pumpkin,” Jungkook says with a pout. “Never met someone so resistant to someone willing to devote their whole life to yours. Thought you were supposed to be all encouraging about love and nostalgia. Seems like your kind of thing.”

“You don’t know what kinds of things are my things,” you tell him defensively. It’s as if he can read you like a fucking board book. Have you always been so transparent? Or is it just him?

“But I want to know.” He winks for good measure. Your brain makes a mental note to steal a few beans from the stash of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans that Yuju keeps hidden in her trunk, so you can vomit later. “Sure you don’t want my help with that Quidditch letter?”

“I’m positive,” you deadpan. “I wouldn’t ask you for help even if Lord Voldemort returned.”

“Good thing he won’t, right?” Jungkook grins, all teeth and crinkled eyes. Someone from the Gryffindor table calls his name. What a goddamn shame your conversation’s been cut short. “I’ll catch you around, Pumpkin,” he says as he begins to bound off, always a fully-charged battery of a human being. “Don’t forget about me, won’t you?”

You couldn’t even if you tried.

Jungkook leaps off to interact with people that don’t see red whenever they speak to him as Yuju mutters something about how much she wants to destroy the Ravenclaw quidditch team this season.

You look down at the letter Jungkook had mindlessly picked up.

Dear Y/N,

I really want to try out for my House’s Quidditch team, but I’m too scared! I know that they’re in need of a Seeker, but I’m Muggleborn and I’ve only ever been on a broom during Flying Class. My friends say that I have a good eye for small things and that I should go for it, but I’m afraid that everyone will laugh at me because I don’t have any experience. I’ve tried reading books and watching other people play, but I don’t think it’s helping. And every time I try to get a broom to practice on the field, I see people who are really good at it, like Jeon Jungkook, and I chicken out. Do you think I’ll ever be as good at it as he is?

Yours Truly, A Seeker Hopeful

You groan. The bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall laughs at you.

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: he wasn’t always such a nuisance.

Or at least, giving him the benefit of the doubt, you assume he wasn’t always such a nuisance. Whether or not he’s always been this sleazy and unbearable will forever remain a mystery to you, but you can say with certain confidence that ever since you met him in the third year, he’s been nothing but a complete and total bother.

You love your best friend dearly, but Yuju joining the Quidditch team in your third year was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Because Quidditch equates to Quidditch friends, and Quidditch friends equates to a certain insufferable Ravenclaw seeker.

The whole point of the formation of the universe is that everything that has ever happened since the very fabric of time began has led up to this moment. Which, in theory, seems pretty goddamn astounding. The universe has twisted, turned, morphed, metamorphosized over the past fourteen billion years just so you could be right here, right now.

Except theory is always more idealized in reality, and there aren’t enough words in the English language to express how overwhelmingly bothered you are by the fact that it took the universe fourteen billion years, fourteen billion goddamn years, for you to end up next to Jeon Jungkook.

But hey, maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t always such a nuisance.

“Have you guys noticed something different about Hufflepuff this year?” Yeeun asks one Thursday night as you’re gathered in the Slytherin common room. She’s letting Yuju give her a haircut, sitting patiently on a wooden stool as Yuju flitters and flutters about her, the pair of scissors in her hand leaving little paths of blonde hair in their wake. “They’re getting more aggressive.”

“Aggressive how?” Yuju asks. Her eyes widen when the scissors move a bit too quickly, chopping off more hair than they can chew. Yuju glares at you—keep your mouth shut. Hair grows back.

“Not like, violent aggressive. But Quidditch season started like, a week ago and yesterday I was eating my lunch in the Great Hall when a herd of Puffs wearing full Puff memorabilia—scarves and everything—stormed in and screamed, ‘WE’LL HUFF, AND WE’LL PUFF, AND WE’LL BLOW YOU OFF YOUR BROOMS!’ And quite frankly, it was so much Puff Pride that I was actually scared,” Yeeun recalls.

Yuju chuckles to herself, shaking her head. “I guess we’ll just have to prove them wrong, eh? Next time we play Puff, I’ll make sure that they don’t get a single Quaffle through the hoops.”

“You better,” Yeeun huffs.

“You gonna watch?” Yuju asks. “It’s your duty as a rising seventh-year. Can’t believe you’re gonna be seventeen next year, huh?”

“Can’t believe you guys are graduating this year,” Yeeun says in response, frown lacing her features. You have to agree with her—though you only know Yeeun from house activities, she’s definitely become one of your favorite people. Alongside Yuju, of course.

The chatter continues as Yuju dutifully snips away at Yeeun’s hair, making sure it’s just above shoulder-length like Yeeun likes it. You filter through the letters you received for the weekly column, still stacked neatly wrapped up in tweed—the Great Hall was serving tomato soup for dinner, otherwise you would have read through them all during supper, beginning to narrow down the small pile to the three or four you’ll keep for the newspaper.

“Hey! Bambi’s sent another one,” you exclaim happily, recognizing the scrawl of Dear Y/N instantly, always so distinct. Or maybe that’s because Bambi’s been sending you letters since the beginning of your sixth year, so you’d be a fool not to recognize his handwriting, or at least the way he writes Dear Y/N, by now.

Yuju grunts in acknowledgement of your exclamation at the same time that Yeeun, baby, sixth-year, pureblood Yeeun says, “What’s a Bambi?”

“Oh, the name of a character from an old Muggle film,” you explain, knowing that any more technicalities will confuse her. “He’s one of the regulars I get for my column. He’s been sending me nice letters ever since the beginning of last year.”

“Aw, maybe he’s got a crush on you!” Yeeun immediately exclaims, making Yuju jerk away from her hair sharply, on the verge of bursting into laughter.

You shake your head. “I doubt it, since anonymity isn’t the best way to confess feelings. But he’s sweet and sometimes won’t even ask me for advice—just sends me a note telling me that I’m working hard for the column and doing a good job. Little pick-me-ups, things like that. It’s really nice of him, actually. I don’t normally get thanked for my advice column.”

“That’s bullshit,” Yeeun grumbles. “You deserve every newspaper award in the world for all the work you put into that thing.”

“Everyone else who contributes to the newspaper works just as hard as I do,” you remind her. You glance down at Bambi’s note, neat cursive handwriting resting gently on the paper, like it’ll fly away like dandelion wisps if you blow at it. “But it is nice to get stuff from him, sometimes.”

“Y/N likes this anonymous Bambi more than she likes us,” Yuju jokes to Yeeun, finishing up the final touches. Yeeun’s hair, as always, looks wonderful. Yuju has a talent for this kind of thing. She motions to the paper in your hand. “What’s it say?”

Dear Y/N,

Over the past couple of weeks I have come to a life-ruining, world-ending, universe-collapsing conclusion: I have a crush. I mean, I suppose I’ve had this crush for a while now, but I only just recently realized it. Anyway, to put it into less melodramatic terms, there’s this girl that I really like. Like, stupid like. It’s kind of ridiculous. All of my friends tease me about it. But I just think that she’s funny and beautiful and creative and witty and a long list of other positive adjectives. Only problem is (here’s the earth-shattering part): I have no idea how to tell her. And I’m afraid that it might just slip out accidentally and then my chance for a grand romantic gesture will be ruined. Any suggestions?

Yours truly, Bambi

“Aw, he’s got a crush!” You exclaim happily, fawning over his words.

“Lemme see,” Yuju demands, making grabby hands for the paper. You hand it over to her, and she inspects it like a textbook passage she doesn’t understand and has to reread. “Um, if you ask me, personally, this is less like a crush and more like complete infatuation. Just saying.”

“And?” You ask defensively.

“You have never been in a relationship before,” Yuju says, looking you dead in the eyes with her big brown ones. She punctuates each word with a head jerk for emphasis.

“So what? He’s asking me for advice on a school crush. This is Hogwarts—relationships built here aren’t meant to last. We’re teenagers. We don’t know what real love is.”

Yuju rolls her eyes as she hands Yeeun a mirror for her to see her new haircut. “But from the looks of it, it sounds like he does. Maybe it is just a schoolboy crush, but Bambi, whoever the hell he is, seems pretty dedicated to it. You ever thought about that?”

You pout. This conversation is going nowhere, and by going nowhere, you mean quickly morphing into reasonable yet angry comments directed at you.

Yuju sighs, voice getting softer. She can never stay mad at you for long. “You should stop being so jaded all of the time. You’re an advice columnist, for God’s sake, Y/N. Look on the bright side.” Yeeun beams a thank you at Yuju for her haircut. “Sometimes, love lasts.”

Quidditch has never been your thing. Activities that involve flying have never been your thing. The idea of whizzing around a field fifty feet in the air as bugs fly into your face while sitting on a broomstick makes all parts of you uncomfortable, from your brain to your… lower regions.

Long story short, athletic sports that don’t involve two feet almost always on the ground aren’t really your thing. But you’ll be damned if you don’t support your best friend and your house until the day you perish.

Which is exactly why you’re sitting in the bleachers of the Quidditch field in the middle of a very strangely warm November afternoon, the sun beating down on your black robes, absorbing as much heat as physically possible. Despite it being near winter, the effects of Muggle-made (and wizard-made, but wizards don’t like taking blame for the slow heat death of the only inhabitable planet within the known parameters of space) climate change reign, and you shrug off your heavy robes to leave only your undershirt and tie on within five minutes of being outside.

Yuju’s dragged you out to one of her informal, house-inclusive Quidditch get-togethers (not serious enough to be a practice, but not light enough to be deigned hanging out) under the guise of moral support, leaving you sat pathetically on the bleachers as your best friend and her Quidditch buddies zip around above you. They’re tossing around the Quaffle like a strange, very mobile game of Hot Potato.

It’s the perfect time for you to get your homework done, the ambient sounds of “Hey, Clark, think fast!” and “You almost hit my goddamn nose!” the optimal background noise for peak productivity. And you’d never admit it to Yuju (because it would mean that you actually enjoy sitting out in the sun being boring), but the empty bleachers make pretty decent tables.

You’re switching back and forth from your completely and utterly incomprehensible arithmancy homework and edits for the newspaper—other sections, of course—when you hear the familiar sound of a broom coming to a halt in front of (or more above) you, the sound cutting right through the air and wind. You have half of a mind to not even look up, suspecting it’s just Yuju to complain about the fifth-year Gryffindor Beaters she hates, when—

“Pumpkin, come to watch me?”

You should have known better. It’s no surprise that Jeon Jungkook’s here today—he’d never pass up the opportunity to flaunt his Quidditch skills. Your presence is just a bonus.

“Yes, Jungkook,” you deadpan. A frown etches itself across your lips, partially because of the person you’re talking to, and partially because said person is blocking your view of the sun, which you would otherwise stare into so as to never have to lay eyes on Jeon Jungkook again. “Out of the dozen or so people on that field, one of whom being my best friend, you are the person I’m here to watch.”

Jungkook grins, and though his face is shadowed, the rays of the sun cast some sort of deceivingly angelic glow around his figure. “Always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

“Yeah, no one I’d rather knock off their broom than you,” you mutter to yourself, just loud enough for Jungkook to hear. You’re not sure if he’s still paying attention, but if he is, he doesn’t say anything.

“Jeon! Stop schmoozing and get over here!”

Both you and Jungkook turn to the source of the voice, another one of the Ravenclaws out at practice who’s waiting atop their broom for Jungkook to get off his ass and do what he came here to do.

Jungkook grins guiltily. “Looks like they need me, pumpkin. Watch this next trick, it’s for you!”

Before you have the chance to remind Jungkook of how little you care for him and his tricks, he flies off, leaving an empty pathway of air in his wake. You don’t know what he’s got up his sleep, but if it’s anything like the other tricks he’s pulled over the five years that you’ve known him, you know better than to wait and find out.

Someone else comes to a halt beside you. It’s Yuju. “What was Jeon Jungkook doing talking to you?”

You frown. “What do you think?”

Yuju chuckles. “Right. I forgot he was going to be here. You didn’t have to stay if you knew he was here, you know.”

“You kidding? Of course I’m gonna come and cheer on my best friend,” you say, shrugging it off. Yuju’s worth the suffering that Quidditch brings. “Go Yuju!”

“You’re the best,” Yuju says with a grin. You shrug. You know you are.

“Hey, pumpkin! Check this out!”

Jeon Jungkook calls your name at the perfect time—just enough time for you to actually follow his directions and look towards him. Someone on the far side of the field tosses a small, non-active Snitch in your general direction, and Jungkook tears after it, reaching the puny thing in just under a couple of seconds, a quick flip of his broom as he catches it in his right hand. You don’t have enough time—or willpower, for that matter—to look away before he’s turning his head to you, blowing you an obnoxious kiss just for good measure.

“Christ,” Yuju snorts from next to you. “He’ll never give up, will he?”

You sigh. Maybe in your dreams, he might.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, maybe I should give you a bit more context to the aforementioned life-shattering crush I seem to have developed. We do actually know each other—I’m not just sadly pining after her from a distance—but we’re not exactly friends. Maybe acquaintances at best, but even that term might be pushing it. I’m just not sure how to tell her how I feel without coming off too strong, or scaring her. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, that’s the last thing I’d want. What should I do?

Yours truly, Bambi

Dear Bambi,

Hey, at least you both know each other! That’s a step in the right direction. I don’t know if this is universal, or if I’m the only one who thinks it’s decent advice, but maybe you should try getting to know her as a friend before you dive into the romantic stuff. That way, she’ll feel more comfortable around you and the air will be less awkward in general. If she’s not interested in just getting to know you better, then you’ll probably have a pretty good measure of whether or not she might feel the same romantically. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

“Was Arithmancy homework always this difficult?” Yeeun asks, madly flipping through the textbook in front of her. It’s a small, old thing, notes scribbled in the margins from the three older brothers she has that took the course before her, passed down their sage wisdom and little doodles to her in the form of all of their beat-up textbooks. “I have no idea what’s happening in class right now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, dipping your quill into the small blue jar of ink at the edge of the library table you’re seated at, charmed to refill automatically. “It gets worse.”

Yeeun groans. She takes one more look at the work in front of her and begins to pack up her belongings.

“Hey, where you going?” You ask. “You said you had the afternoon free to study.”

“I do. But I’m on the verge of breaking down because I don’t understand anything so I’m going to go talk to the Professor to see if he can help me and if he can’t, then I will be hiding in the Potions closet crying. So you’ll know where I am,” Yeeun says as calmly as she can muster. She looks perfectly fine on the outside, always so put-together and polished, but after knowing her for so long, you know that if you just tapped on her shoulder her entire façade would fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces. So you don’t push it.

“Okay,” you tell her. “Be safe. Don’t drink anything in the Potions closet because that might make you worse at Arithmancy.”

“Got it,” Yeeun says, shooting you a finger gun before heading out of the library.

You’re left in silence, struggling to draft an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts which is due at the end of the week, when someone else plops down in Yeeun’s place.

Much to your surprise, it’s Jungkook. And it doesn’t look like he’s here to bother you—or at least, that’s what you hope, considering he’s got his own schoolwork with him, spreading out comfortably as he begins to work, practically ignorant of your presence.

Now that you think about it, this is how it should have always been. The two of you, coexisting comfortably and without disturbances, keeping to yourselves and only talking if necessary. But now that Jungkook’s here, right in front of you, and he’s not saying a word, it leaves you with a prickle on your skin. A sense of peculiarity, because in the five years you’ve known him Jungkook has never been one to sit down and stay quiet.

“Can I help you with something?” You blurt, unable to keep your mouth shut when Jungkook’s sitting right there.

He looks up at you, a knowing glint in his eye, and smiles. “No. Just doing my work, pumpkin.”

It’s aggravating how calm he is. He knows he’s being just annoying enough to get under your skin, but you can’t really shout at him without seeming like the villain.

He’s always one step ahead of you.

“Well,” you stammer, watching as his lips curve upwards into a smirk, “can you do your work somewhere else? Please?”

“Why?” Jungkook pushes. “I’m being quiet. I’m keeping to myself. What’s the harm?”

You sneer, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure that I can’t help you with anything?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Well, if you must ask, I was wondering if you were up for studying together sometime. Since you haven’t magicked me out of my seat, I’m assuming you don’t mind me actually being here.”

You sputter, trying to defend yourself. Of course you mind him being here. You mind him being within a twenty-feet radius of you. You were only asking because it’s very unlikely that Jeon Jungkook would just plop down in the seat across from you in the library, pull out his books, and begin to study without a single word. Especially if he was across from you. “W—Well, why on earth would I study with you anyway? What am I getting out of it?”

Jungkook tsks. “You know, Pumpkin, sometimes people do things out of the good of their hearts. Do you really need a reason to study with me, a poor Ravenclaw who’s just trying to graduate?”

You glare at him.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook caves. “I need help in Transfiguration and I hear that you’re pretty good at it. There.”

“What am I getting out of it?”

“What, you won’t just do this for me? I’m wounded, Pumpkin.”

Another glare.

“Fine,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. “A little bird told me that you need a bit of help in Defense, so I figured we could help tutor each other. You know, like one of those symbiotic relationships.”

“That snake,” you mutter under your breath. How could Yuju tell Jeon Jungkook, of all people, that you’re struggling in Defense Against the Dark Arts? How could she betray you like that?

“So, whaddaya say?” Jungkook asks, stretching a hand out across the table. “You in?”

You sigh. Spending more time than absolutely necessary with Jeon Jungkook sounds like your own personal hell, but you suppose it can’t all be bad. After all, he’ll be at your mercy just as much as you’ll be at his, seeing as you both need help in your respective classes. So maybe there is a silver lining, after all.

You meet his eyes directly, dark and stormy and certain. “I’m in.”

Against all odds and several vows you had made yourself over the years, studying with Jungkook becomes somewhat of a normal thing. You work out a schedule—Wednesdays at four, the only day he doesn’t have Quidditch practice and one of the few days of the week you’re not fretting over the newspaper issue—and follow it dutifully, weeks passing with the two of you meeting up at the same table in the library, going over the lessons of the week and working out anything you missed.

It’s strange, having a faithful and consistent arrangement with someone you, at one point, wouldn’t be caught dead spending time with. And the strangest part of it all is that slowly, some part of you, some crevice deep within your bones and your soul and your being, actually begins to look forward to Wednesdays at four, where Jungkook will be arriving at your usual table, unpacking his belongings with a soft smile on his face, unaware he’s being watched.

That’s the thing you’ve come to realize. You’ve only ever known Jungkook when he’s knows he’s center stage, when he knows that there are eyes on him. Every time you’ve been around him prior to this, he’s been in the spotlight, got someone who’s paying attention to him. And suddenly, you’re catching him whistling to himself as he takes notes from his Transfiguration textbook and sneezing when the feathers of his quill brush against his nose accidentally and doing little dances when he gets a question right. Suddenly, he’s existing in the background, by himself, without the hard gazes of the people around him. And it’s different.

Or maybe it’s always been like this. You’ve just never had the luxury of witnessing it.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, tapping your parchment with his quill to get your attention. “Does this make sense to you? I don’t get it.”

He flips around his textbook and points to a passage, brows furrowed as he tries to read it again, hoping maybe the words will stick this time. You squint slightly—out of habit—as you go over the text, the words slowly processing.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, nodding. Jungkook looks up at you like you just saved his life. “It’s just explaining the technicalities of the difference between conjuring charms and traditional conjuring transfigurations. See, charms will enhance an already-existing object, but conjuring transfigurations create something new entirely. But it’s kind of confusing, I have to admit, since both exist in their own realm of magical spells.”

“So conjuring charms create something in addition to something else, but conjuring transfigurations just make something new, then?” Jungkook asks for clarification.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, alright,” Jungkook says with a dutiful nod, quickly scribbling it down in his notes. “You make it so much easier than this damn textbook.” He grins honestly, earnestly, as he goes back to reading the rest of the chapter, leaving you to your own devices once more. These days, it’s not so much direct tutoring as it is studying together.

Against all odds, Jeon Jungkook has become someone you actually don’t dread being around. In moments like these, he is soft-spoken, gentle, and sincere.

It’s strange. Has it always been like this?

Dear Y/N,

Good news: I think we’re friends. Or at least, I think we’re friends. I’m not sure about her, but I’d like to think she feels the same way. Except now, the problem is that because we’re friends, I’m getting more and more nervous! I swear, every time I’m around her my hands get all clammy and sweaty and disgusting because I’m scared that if I do end up confessing and she doesn’t feel that way, we’ll lose what we already have. But do we even have anything in the first place? I’m not even sure if she thinks we’re friends! What now?

Yours truly, A Slightly-Panicked Bambi

Dear A Slightly-Panicked Bambi,

Don’t worry! Chances are that if you think you’re friends, she probably thinks that you’re friends as well, which is a great step in the right direction. I’d say that now you’ve established yourselves as friends, your next move is to slowly reveal your romantic intentions. Don’t pile them on her all at once because it might be too overwhelming. Try subtly incorporating romantic gestures into your relationship as it is now, like compliments and really, really lowkey flirts, to see if she picks up on the message. See where that takes you!

Yours truly, Y/N

It’s snowing.

It’s been snowing, really, for the past week now. It was a couple centimeters on one day and a few more on another day but this weekend has been the full force of it, a steady blanket of white covering the grounds.

But that doesn’t mean the seventh year Hogsmeade trip is cancelled. As Yuju likes to put it, Hogwarts doesn’t believe in rainchecks. Besides, Hogsmeade always looks prettier in the snow, when the flakes leave a soft pillow on the sloped rooftops of the buildings and Honeydukes brings out its seasonal treats, sugared snowflakes and peppermint toffee lining the windowsill. The peppermint toffee is a favorite of both yours and Yuju’s, but you know where your true loyalties lie (Pumpkin Pasties, of course).

“Thank God it’s the beginning of the semester otherwise I would be so stressed right now,” Yuju says happily as you walk along the pavement, feeling the wet cold of snowflakes falling onto your nose, your ears, and your fingertips. “Oh! Hey!”

Your best friend starts waving wildly at a small group of students standing outside of The Three Broomsticks. Through the snow, you recognize them as some of Yuju’s Quidditch buddies.

“Mind if we hang out with them?” Yuju asks, knowing that sometimes you like to keep your Hogsmeade trips an exclusive between the two of you.

“The more the merrier, right?” You say in response, letting yourself be dragged over to where they’re waiting. It’s two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, and two Ravenclaws, one of whom is barely recognizable under the thick blue scarf he’s got wrapped around the lower half of his head and the beanie covering his brunette hair.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” he says, voice muffled through the knit of his scarf. “Didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“Well, here I am,” you say. “You know I’m only here for Yuju, right?”

Jungkook chuckles, and you watch as the air he breathes out through his nose materializes into fog from the cold. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

You gasp, smacking his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

Jungkook laughs, no time to respond before your group is trotting off, everyone shouting out random sights to see, like the Shrieking Shack or Zonko’s, the snow making everyone’s hearts a little colder, a little softer, and a little lighter.

You bounce around, making stops at all of your favorite locations around the area, including The Three Broomsticks for a round of celebratory Butterbeer, marking your final year at Hogwarts and praying that you’ll all graduate.

“Okay, sue me, but hot apple cider is way better than Butterbeer,” Jungkook says loudly, a moustache of Butterbeer foam decorating his mouth. His words spark an eruption of indignant exclamations, Muggleborns and purebloods alike insisting that Jungkook’s tastebuds are incorrect and have to be clinically checked. Because he is wrong.

Except he isn’t, and hot apple cider on a cold day by a lit fireplace is better than lukewarm Butterbeer, or even hot Butterbeer, any day.

“This might be the only thing we ever agree on, but you’re right,” you mutter to him, leaning over to whisper it in his ear.

Jungkook grins proudly.

Later that day finds you in Honeydukes, which is objectively the best location in all of Hogsmeade, no arguments. What more could you want out of a place other than constant, never-ending sweets? Nothing. Every time you visit Hogsmeade you make sure to drop by Honeydukes, say hello to the kind old lady behind the counter (who knows you by name), and buy a couple of your favorite items.

“I’m so tempted to get like, five slices of the lemon merengue pie,” Yuju says with a sigh, eyeing the display case longingly.

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?” You say, more of a reminder than a question.

“And what about it?” Yuju says, almost like a challenge, before marching up to the register, already fishing through her pockets for her purse.

Your eyes wander back to the glass case, thinking that maybe, after five years of coming to Hogsmeade, you should branch out and not get the exact same thing that you get every time you come to Honeydukes (the aforementioned Pumpkin Pasties). The peppermint toffee looks delicious, and even though you’ve never tried them before, Yeeun always fawns over the Fizzing Whizbees—says it’s a better way to levitate than trying to cast Wingardium Leviosa on yourself. Chocolate Frogs are a classic you very rarely indulge yourself in, and you could never go wrong with Cauldron Cakes—

“Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, giving you a small shove as he arrives next to you with a bag from Honeydukes, taped shut. His scarf has been pulled down below his chin, revealing his bright red nose from the sudden change in temperature from the chilly outside to the heated store. “Here.”

You narrow your eyes. “If this is a cockroach cluster I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Just open it,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes.

You do as you’re instructed, albeit hesitantly, only to find three neatly-wrapped Pumpkin Pasties sitting at the bottom of the Honeydukes branded paper bag, waiting to be devoured.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you say softly, unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face. No one’s ever bought you sweets before. “Here, let me pay you back—”

“No need, Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, placing a cold hand on top of yours to stop you from getting your wallet out. “Consider it a thank you for all the time you spent helping me with Transfiguration.” You nearly shiver at the sensation of his skin meeting yours.

“Really?” You ask. “Well, thank you for thinking of me. I don’t know why you’re being so… nice to me, but it’s a pleasant change.”

Jungkook pouts. “Don’t you remember how I’m madly in love with you?” Of course, the moment you compliment him he turns back into his regular self. You shouldn’t have put it past him. “Had to honor your nickname, didn’t I?”

“Hey, do you want one?” You ask, figuring that it’s only right he gets to eat one of the treats he paid for.

“Sure,” Jungkook says happily, letting you pull one of the neatly packaged desserts out of the bag and place it in his hand. “Promise me you won’t throw up this one this time?”

For once, the memory of you vomiting up the contents of your stomach into a trashcan outside of Honeydukes doesn’t make you want to cringe. Instead, you laugh, recalling it with fondness as you and Jungkook clink together your Pumpkin Pasties like goblets filled with wine.

You giggle. “Don’t hold me to that.”

Thursday night finds you right where you always are, but with a new face across from you. Jungkook’s taken it upon himself to add onto your Wednesday evening study sessions, insisting he accompany you to dinner when you’re finished, and even on the next day as well, sometimes. You keep telling yourself that it’s because you’re best friends with Yuju, who knew Jungkook first through Quidditch. Because it’s highly improbable that Jungkook would want to join in on your Great Hall dinners just for you. Right?

“When’s the mail getting here?” Yuju huffs, poking at her half-eaten bowl of peas. “Dog’s the only one I know who’d actually want to finish my lukewarm buttered peas.”

“You know that the butter makes him throw up, Yuju,” you berate her. “Feed him something else. Preferably the food that I buy him that is meant for owls to consume.”

“But what else am I supposed to do with my peas? I don’t want to just leave them. That’s a waste,” Yuju exclaims.

“I’ll have ‘em,” Jungkook offers up. That’s one bonus of his sudden appearance at your dinner table—he’ll eat anything you won’t, like a food vacuum cleaner. “I love vegetables.”

Yuju looks hesitant. “I think I’ll just let Dog throw up.”

“Hey!” You shout at her.

Speaking of Dog, the mail begins to filter in, dozens of owls entering the Great Hall with packages hanging from their talons on their beaks, to be dropped off at their owners’ tables, right in front of their eyes. In the middle of the year, not many students are getting mail, but just like every other week, Dog appears faithfully to deliver your letters for the week.

“Is this the stuff for the Witches’ and Wizards’ Counsel?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of chicken.

“Yeah,” you tell him, rubbing the side of Dog’s head as a thank you. “Oh, it’s a pretty small stack this week.”

“Guess no one’s having troubles this time of year,” Yuju comments, already beginning to spoon-feed Dog her peas. At this point, you don’t even care if Dog throws up. As long as he does it in the owlery, it won’t greatly inconvenience you.

You unwrap the tweed, letting it fall to the floor for one of the cats that roam the hallways of Hogwarts to play with, and begin to shuffle through the few letters that people sent you. It’s just enough for a full issue for the newspaper, thank God. “Hey, look. Bambi’s sent another one.”

Jungkook drops his fork onto his plate, the metal making a loud, disruptive clanking sound as it hits the glass. You, Yuju, and Dog, all turn to him, watching as he smiles guiltily, slowly picking up his fork and pretending that his clumsiness never happened.

“What’s this one about?” Yuju asks, hissing at Dog when he accidentally bites her finger.

“Lemme see,” you say, making to open the envelope.

“Who’s—Who’s Bambi?” Jungkook asks, mouth full. Dog seems to have notice the plethora of food still left on Jungkook’s plate, and is slowly making his way over to peck at Jungkook’s dinner rather than Yuju’s.

“Oh, just this guy who’s been sending me letters since the beginning of sixth year,” you muse happily. Jungkook nods, mumbling something unintelligible over his mouthful of food. “Sometimes he asks for advice but sometimes he just sends me kind words, which is honestly so thoughtful of him.”

“That’s nice,” Jungkook seems to say, though his words are quiet and muffled.

“And recently he’s been coming to me with questions about a girl that he likes and I just wish that I could give him better advice, you know?” You say, watching as Dog marches over to Jungkook, happily chewing on a piece of chicken he’s stolen from Jungkook’s plate, cooing contentedly. “Like, I feel like the advice I’m giving him on how to confess to this girl is the just what I would want if I was the girl, but obviously that’s not universal. Or at least, I don’t think it is. I don’t know. He’s always been so nice to me and I wish that I could give him better advice than what I’m giving him now.”

Jungkook nods again as acknowledgement that he’s still listening, though his eyes are trained on his plate as his hand instinctively comes up to rub at Dog.

Which strikes you as odd, because Dog doesn’t really cozy up to strangers, even if he will pick food off of their plates. He’s a relatively amicable owl—which is why he’s good for the your advice column, because he won’t bite at anybody’s fingers when they drop off their letters—but he won’t let just anyone pet him like Jungkook does. Like Jungkook is.

“Um,” you say, getting Jungkook’s attention. “Do you and Dog… know each other?” You ask, watching in some sort of trance as Jungkook scratches at Dog’s neck, making him coo happily.

“Me?” Jungkook asks, nearly sputtering. “No,” he says immediately. “I didn’t even know he was named Dog until today. Which, clever name, by the way. Why? Is he not normally, uh, like this?”

“No,” you say, suspiciously but of no one in particular. More just of the situation in general. “He doesn’t normally accept pets from strangers.”

Jungkook smiles down at Dog, who looks plenty happy to be receiving a good petting, regardless of the hand that’s giving it to him. “Guess I’m just different, then.”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. You reach your fingers out to see if Dog will return to you, his rightful owner, but he’s firm in his will to stay right where Jungkook can rub him. “I guess so.”

Not even animals are immune to the bewitching charms of a certain Jeon Jungkook.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, maybe it’s just because I’m clueless but I’m not really sure if she’s picking up what I’m putting down, if you know what I mean. Maybe she is and I just haven’t noticed, but as far as I’m aware, we’re still just friends. Which is fine, and I’ll totally accept that without complaining, but I haven’t even told her how I feel. Do you think I should just go for it? I mean, I don’t know what else to do at this point. Honestly, I feel like I just need to come clean and deal with the consequences in an appropriate and relaxed manner. She probably doesn’t even feel the same, but that’s okay. As long as I try, right?

Yours truly, A Very Fretful Bambi

Dear A Very Fretful Bambi,

At this point, I think that you can take matters into your own hands. If you want to confess to her, I’d say go for it! You’ve made your intentions fairly clear at this point. And it’s okay if she doesn’t feel the same—you guys are still friends, after all! I don’t know you personally, but you seem like a confident, strong-willed person and if you feel ready, then there’s no reason not to tell her. The worst she can do is say no, right? But, if you’re as kind as you’ve made yourself out to be since you first began to message me, then I don’t think she will. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

The halls of the castle are eerily quiet at this hour. The moon shines through the big glass windows that line the corridors, casting its pale white light along the frescos that decorate the walls. You’ve been down this path plenty of times before, plenty of sleepless nights and tired eyes behind you, behind your seven years here. By now, you could walk this road in your sleep. You bet you have.

The astronomy tower is the most beautiful place in all of Hogwarts. Sure, students may insist that the ceiling of the Great Hall is the most picturesque, or their common rooms are the most homey, but the grounds are the most breathtaking, but all of those pale in comparison to the glass ceiling of the astronomy tower, showered in stars and planets above on a clear night, like your very own planetarium. Pale in comparison to the telescope you look through during class, catching glimpses of faraway galaxies that light up their own little corners of the universe.

It’s a wondrous place to be, the astronomy tower on a clear night, where you can empty your thoughts into the world and let the stars see inside your mind, watch as they twinkle their responses. And so, it’s no wonder that you most often find yourself here when the comfort of your dormitory isn’t enough, when sleep just won’t overtake you like it does most other nights.

Only, this time, when you open the door, the shadow of someone sitting on the steps that look out onto the glass balcony is waiting for you.

“Hello?” You ask into the silence, hearing your voice echo along the walls.

The shadow turns, and suddenly the side of Jungkook’s face is bathed in the light from the moon and the stars, half of his profile hidden from view and the other basking in a white, nightly glow. It’s stunning.

“Pumpkin?” He asks in response.

“What are you doing up here?” You ask, walking over to him. He’s curled up on the steps, leaning against one of the pillars with his knees pulled up to his chest, like a baby.

“’M just thinking, Pumpkin,” Jungkook muses. “Care to join me?”

Your legs move before your brain does, making to sit down next to him, when you falter, thinking that if Jungkook’s going to blab to you at two in the morning on a spring night, you’d rather just go back to your common room and do your thinking there. That’s the beauty of thinking—it’s in silence.

“I mean, I don’t really want to disturb you, you know,” you say tentatively, backing up.

“Aw, please?” Jungkook asks, pushing his lip out into a pout as he blinks up at you. In the moonlight, in the starlight, in the light of the faraway galaxies and planets and supernovas, Jungkook’s eyes look like they’re swimming in stars. “It’s lonely up here.”

And maybe it’s your love for the astronomy tower that keeps you there, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you or the way he’s curled up like a pillbug as he watches the stars slowly shift across the sky, but you take your seat next to him, a good bit of distance between the two of you as you slowly make yourself comfortable, watching out onto the glass balcony at the quiet of the world beneath you.

There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe what this feels like. To describe how, after years of toil and trouble, years of back-and-forth teasing and insults, you and Jungkook have found yourself sitting together in the dim light of the astronomy tower late one weekday night at the end of your final year of school, watching the stars together. It’s almost surreal, in a way. That every moment in the universe has led up to this. Up to you being here.

Never have you spent so much time together in silence.

Jungkook seems to shimmer in the moonlight. Perhaps it’s just because the moonlight bathes everyone in a heavenly glimmer, but Jungkook looks particularly dazzling, like the very fabric of his bones were made of stardust. Strange. You’d never felt particularly attracted to him, not when his big mouth and obnoxious personality overshadowed his looks, but you’ve never been one to deny his timelessness. He’s always been handsome—his looks will never go out of style. So maybe that’s why, when he sits beneath the moon and the stars, he glows. Because the moon knows that Jungkook can only get prettier.

“Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, breaking the silence with nothing more than a whisper. “I’ve got a question.”

“What?”

“Do you ever think that maybe, with certain things, you should just give up? Because you don’t know if you’ll ever get what you really want?”

“What?” You ask again, eyes wide open as you look at him. “You? Giving up? What alternate universe is this?”

Jungkook laughs, but it’s soft and half-hearted. “I don’t know. I’m just—I’m not sure if this thing that I’m trying to do is going to work out, you know?”

In the five years you have known Jungkook, as a student, as a Quidditch player, and even, dare you say, a friend, never have you imagined him being one to give up.

“Okay,” you say, “I know that maybe right now, the outlook isn’t looking promising. But you should never give up, especially if you haven’t gotten an outright no. If you don’t know for certain the future of your situation, then why should you stop working for the future that you want? You’re Jeon Jungkook, you don’t give up on anything. You work super hard for your grades and when you don’t understand something in Transfiguration you work at it until you do, and you spend hours on the Quidditch field trying to perfect ur eyesight to catch the Snitch even though there’s no magical spell for 20/20 vision, and you work your hardest and do your best and thats why you’re good at school and amazing at Quidditch and—”

“You think I’m amazing at Quidditch?”

You look over at Jungkook to see that he’s closed the gap between the two of you, his shoulder coming to rest right next to yours, and he’s looking at you with a misty haze in his eyes, the stars above you clouded and foggy in his dark irises. But he’s grinning, and grinning wide, because you just gave this totally unwarranted pep talk to him and told him he was amazing at Quidditch and a great student and everything else that you said, and Oh, God.

“Yeah…” You say hesitantly, “but don’t get a big head, asshole.”

“Believe me,” Jungkook says with a scoff, “the only big parts about me are my love for you.” You narrow your eyes. “That, and one other thing.”

You gasp in shock, totally unsurprised yet caught off guard nonetheless by his words, giving him a small shove against the staircase. But you’re not scowling, or frowning, or glaring at him. You’re laughing, because suddenly Jeon Jungkook is not just amazing at Quidditch, and a great student. He’s wonderful. In every way he is, and it might just be the way the moon illuminates him ever so perfectly that’s making you feel this way, but maybe this has been a long time coming.

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: he wasn’t always such a nuisance.

Because when you weren’t watching him, when he was sitting in his dorm room studying, or hiding in the astronomy tower, or wandering through the bookshelves in the library, he was quiet, and beautiful, and looked at the world like it had so much to offer him. When Jeon Jungkook let the world around him exist without him being in the spotlight, he was everything but a nuisance.

And even when he was acting loud, and being big, and teasing you, he wasn’t doing it to hurt. He was doing it because all he could tease you about was how much he loved you, whatever that meant, and how his heart was yours and how if you just opened your eyes you’d see him, and suddenly your vision’s never been clearer and he’s right there, in front of you. And it’s crazy, how these things work. How suddenly, everything’s been flipped on its side because, as it turns out, your heart is his.

How this moment, right here, sitting on the steps in the astronomy tower as the stars twinkle like Christmas lights above you, was fourteen billion years in the making. And the best part? It was worth the wait.

“Come on, hurry up!” Yeeun shouts at you as you’re quickly filing through the letters you received last night. You were too rushed to check them at dinner, what with Yuju on your arm stress-eating because of the Quidditch match she had to compete in the next day, the final one of the season. “I want good seats so we can see Yuju!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you say, quickly tearing open the first envelope so you can give it a quick glance over, planning on writing your responses over the weekend, after the Quidditch Cup. Yeeun’s standing in front of the mirror, trying to fix her Slytherin beanie, alongside the rest of the green and silver memorabilia she’s decked herself out in.

You open the first one and recognize the handwriting instantly, the familiar calligraphy of Dear Y/N, this one looking particularly nice. Like the person writing it had taken their time, done it with purpose.

Dear Y/N,

This may or may not be my last letter, depending on how this goes. But I just wanted you to know that on Friday, I’ll be in the air with the rest of my house, playing our very best game of the season. And I’ll be searching for the Snitch, as I’m supposed to, but above even that, I’ll be looking out for you. Because I love you, and more than anything else, I just wanted you to know that.

P.S.: Feel free not to respond to this one publicly.

Yours truly, Bambi

And the piece of paper drops to the floor, the hard edges of it hitting the hardwood with a soft thud.

Because that letter, and all of the ones coming before it, ever since the beginning of sixth year, could have only been written by one person. Someone who’s in your year, and a seeker for their house’s Quidditch team. And it’s certainly not your team’s seeker, because she’s a girl and also a fifth year. Someone who’s playing in this year’s Quidditch Cup. A Ravenclaw.

Holy shit.

“Come on, slowpoke! We have to go!” Yeeun says excitedly, running over to you and grabbing onto your arm. She pulls you out the door before your brain has a chance to process the information you just learned, the letter you just read. And you spend the entire journey to the bleachers of the Quidditch field in a daze, barely cognizant of the world around you, even as Madam Hooch blows her whistle and begins the game, even as the players whiz around on their brooms above you. Next to you, Yeeun’s screeching, or maybe she isn’t—you can’t really be sure, with the noise in your brain. You think that you wave to Yuju when she passes by your section of the bleachers, winking down at your group, but you’re not sure.

The only thing you remember is seeing Jungkook, in all of his Ravenclaw glory, sitting proudly atop his Firebolt as he darts around the field like a bullet, eyes keenly looking out for the Snitch. You only ever see him play when it’s against Slytherin, but you can say with certainty that in his entire Quidditch career, this is the best he’s ever played. The most he’s dedicated himself to his sport, the hardest he’s ever worked. He flies above the crowd and it’s as if the very fabric of the air is at his beck and call, bends to his will. You don’t need to know much about Quidditch to know that Jungkook is a good player, but this game is better than good. It’s inspiring.

And it pays off, too, because suddenly the commentator is screaming into the microphone that “Jeon Jungkook has caught the Snitch! Ravenclaw wins!” and the entire quarter of Ravenclaws have burst into cheers while the Slytherin quarter begins to sulk, beaten at their chance to win the Quidditch Cup. And Jungkook is coming to a halt in the middle of the field, the golden Snitch, sparkling in the sun, clenched tightly in between his fingers as the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team crowds around him, chanting “Jeon Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!”

Your very last Quidditch Cup as a Hogwarts student and you couldn’t remember more than ten seconds of it if you tried. It passed you by in a blur, a haze of movement and shouts and cheers, and suddenly the bleachers around you are half as filled as they were before, and then a quarter as filled, and then only stragglers are left, gathering their belongings and heading back to the Slytherin common room, where your house is bound to party despite losing, as a celebration of a team that worked as hard as they possibly could.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yeeun says, a hand on your arm. She looks awfully sad, but she’s still got one more year to see Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup. She’ll be alright. “You coming?”

You look out onto the field to see the Ravenclaw Quidditch team pulling each other into a giant hug, everyone patting each other on the backs and cheering after a successful season. And somewhere, in the center of that pile, is a certain brown-haired boy with the stars lacing his eyes.

“In a second, I just have to do something first,” you tell Yeeun, who shrugs in response and flutters off by herself.

You move before your brain can tell you to stop, for fear that if your mind catches up to your legs, you’ll chicken out. Slowly, but certainly, you make your way out of the bleachers and onto the field, feeling so much smaller now that your feet are firmly on the ground, the seats meters above you. You’ve never been onto the actual Quidditch field. Well, until now, at least.

Blinking, you take a deep breath and march right up to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who have given Jungkook hug after hug for bringing their team and house to victory, and you shout, “JEON JUNGKOOK!”

And Jungkook whips his head around, sweaty and gross and exhausted and beautiful, and he says, “Yes, Pumpkin?”

And you fist your hand into his damp Ravenclaw Quidditch uniform and pull him into a bruising kiss, his lips crashing against yours, still warm from all the blood rushing through his veins. He makes a pleasantly surprised non-sound into your mouth, eyes crinkling up into half moons as he pulls you in, letting his gloved hand wrap around your waist. Behind him, the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team has burst into hoots and hollers, but you barely hear them. All you can see, feel, and imagine, is him.

When you part, he looks dazed, kiss drunk, grinning his lopsided grin. He’s never looked prettier. “What’s all this about, Pumpkin?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer. “I thought you hated me.”

“Wrong again, Jeon,” you tell him instantly, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you. I love you.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile, wide as the goddamn ocean, wrapping his hand around you once more and pulling you back into another kiss, this one even more intense than the last. Your hands come up to rest against his cheeks, blushing red from the adrenaline pumping through him, letting your body melt against the heat of his own. He keeps you close, pulls you in impossibly closer, lets his entire body wrap around yours, lets his lips dance along your own, plush and warm and searing. And Jungkook is beautiful, and wonderful, and perfect, and suddenly, he’s yours.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, this is definitely my final letter. Because I can just talk to you if I actually have a problem. I just wanted to remind you, Thursday-night Y/N, as you read through all of the letters for this week, that I love you. In case you forgot. So, I love you.

Yours truly, Bambi

hard to believe this series is over already!! thank you so much to everyone, from my silent followers to the ones that message me daily, you guys are the reason i did this. the reason i wrote 70k of pure hogwarts aus. for you guys!!! i’m extremely proud of where i’ve come with this series, and it’s crazy that it’s over !

as i previously mentioned, it’s my blog’s 2 year anniversary today, and i suppose it’s only fitting i post a self-indulgent jungkook fic to commemorate it, seeing as that very genre was the first fic i ever posted on this blog. thank you again, to everyone, for these past two years. despite the trash pile that is tumblr, you make this website a wonderful place to be. here’s to many more!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #bts hogwarts au #bts hogwarts #jungkook hogwarts au #w: do you want me (dead?)#w: sorted #OHHHH MY GOD ITS OVER !!!!

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deiaiko · 4 years

Text

A New Life #1

in which a domestic fluff Kid!Bam and Khun AU

story under the cut

Part 2 >

Khun lives a decent life, he has a good house, a good job with a good salary too. He lived alone in a small yet comfortable house, he can do his job at home though he still need to come to the office once in a while. But honestly he's starting to get bored with his daily life.

He had been thrown away from his family anyway, not that he's unhappy about it, because he's the one who ran away from them. He had no exact reason in his life, no family to return to, no friends to have fun with, no people to trust.

The world is grey as always, but he still keep on living.

Until one day, his life changed.

----------

It's a cold rainy day, Khun just got out from his office and on his way home. The rain is pouring outside and he thought it's not really wise to go with public transportation because he didn't trust the driver, so he walked home with his small umbrella.

In the narrow alleyway he accidentally saw a boy with a messy long brown hair, curling himself under a small roof so he won't be soaked by the rain nor cold by the wind, even though it's rather a useless gesture.

It's on that brief moment Khun saw himself, a long time ago when he ran away from his home. He unconsciously approached the boy and brought the umbrella closer to him but immediately regretted it as he realized what he's doing.

There's no coming back now, it'll be weird if he leave without saying anything right?. He asked the boy, "Are you lost?". The boy seem hesitant and scared, he curled on himself more and slightly moved away from him. "I'm Khun, what's your name?", somehow he's getting softer because he kept seeing the figure in front of him as his past self, 'why am I like this?!', he blamed himself and sighed internally.

The boy remained silent so he asked again, "where's your parents?", the boy looked away with a. . .sad eyes? Or maybe a confused look?, he wasn't sure. "want me to take you to the police station? They might be able to help you", the boy winced on the word 'police' and immediately shook his head then moved slightly away again. To be honest Khun didn't trust them too but what else can he do? Oh yeah there's one.

"how about I take you home with me?", Khun said without thinking, and regretted it again after he realized the words already came out from his mouth, he facepalmed internally. Suddenly a lightning struck followed by rumbles, and it reminded him again on the day he ran away, the day when the rain poured heavily and lightnings strucked like a world war, the wind didn't help either as it made his wet clothes even more colder in a chilly night.

"I guess a storm will come soon and it'll be really cold outside", he thought out loud. Even though Khun was a bit reluctant to help, he still has a sense of humanity left in him, "you can come home with me, if that's alright with you of course", he offered, 'well, as long as you didn't make any trouble', he thought to himself.

The boy looked up to him and Khun saw a 'yes I want to, but I don't want to bother you' look on his golden eyes. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the pleading stare the boy gave him, how could he resist that look? maybe a change in his life won't be so bad, "it's okay with me", and after a few moments the boy nodded reluctantly.

They both walked in silence, Khun didn't dare to touch the boy yet cause he seems really wary along the way. Meanwhile the boy didn't seem to notice that Khun slightly tilted his small umbrella towards him so he won't get soaked more than he already was. Khun didn't mind his clothes got soaked anyway, he already expecting it since the time he decided to walk instead of taking public transportation.

When they got home, Khun immediately go for the towels and back to where the boy was waiting. Khun put a towel on the chair and gave another one to the boy and then pointed at the said chair, "stay there and warm yourself first, I'll take a bath real quick", he immediately went to the bathroom.

The boy just kept the towel on his hands, didn't dare to do anything with it. Honestly he doesn't really know what to do, having no one to teach him anything. He only understand the basic everyday words that he learned himself by experience and he still can't spoke fluently because he rarely talks.

After Khun finished, he approached the boy with a new towel on his hand, he noted the still dry towel that he gave the boy earlier but didn't make any comment about it. "it's your turn, I've prepared a warm bath", Khun guide him to the bathroom and the boy gingerly took a step in, still feeling awkward. "can you do it yourself?", he asked just to be sure, the boy nodded after a few seconds, the response was less convincing but Khun didn't push it. "take your time, just yell if you need me", though he had a feeling he won't do that even if something happened, he seems to be the quiet type.

The boy closed the door and approached the bathtub filled with warm water, he stood there for a while. He never had a warm bath before, is this really okay?, he touched the water surface with his fingers, just imagining in it must feels really good, does he deserve this?, he turned his head towards the door and back to the tub before he finally started taking a bath.

Meanwhile, Khun felt like he was forgotten something, what is it exactly? Ah yes, clothes, how could he missed that. It's already dark outside and the rain doesn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon, he certainly didn't have anything that fits for the boy nor he would let the boy wear that soaked dirty clothes again before he washed it. He had no choice but to search in his wardrobe.

Khun found a dark blue T-shirt and a black shorts that barely fit him anymore, it's the smallest one that he had. He then went to the bathroom and knocked twice, "hey, I brought you some clothes, it might be too big but at least it's better than the wet one, I'll put it here near the door", and then he went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

He took a few pieces of spiced chicken fillets from the refrigerator, dip it in the egg and flour then fried it. He took three pieces of bread, one for the boy and two for himself, smear them with butter and toasted it. After the chickens are ready, he cooked the egg that he used earlier into omelets.

At that time the boy had finished taking a bath, he smelled something delicious and followed it into the kitchen. He approached Khun slowly, curious what and how something can smell like that, but he still keep a distance between them.

After everything is finished, Khun stack the bread, vegetables, omelette, ketchup and fried chicken to makes two sandwiches. When he turned around to put them on the table, he saw the boy with the oversized clothes that he gave, Khun smiled, "that clothes sure are quite big compared to you", the boy just smiled shyly and looked away.

Khun put the plates on the table, "here, you must be hungry, I made sandwiches". They gathered around the table, Khun sat on the floor and told the boy to sit on the cushion. The boy kinda hesitant at first but relented, so then they ate. It's the first meal after weeks or even a month for the boy that could make his stomach full again, he really thankful for that. His happiness is radiating and Khun somehow felt happy too.

"come on, let's fix your hair", Khun said after they finished their dinner. He put the dirty clothes at the washing machine first before they went to his room. They sat on the bed edge near the window, Khun took a comb and started combing the boy's hair.

"hey, are you okay if we talk about it again now?", a hesitant nod. "so, what's your name?", the boy kept silent.

'maybe he won't talk about it or. . .', Khun thought. "well then, if you didn't feel like talking just answer me with yes or no", the boy nods, 'okay'.

Khun thought for a moment, "do yo have a home?", a moment of silence then a no. 'homeless?', he then asked one more time with a different question just to make sure, "do you have any place to return to?", no. 'hm? were you like that all this time?', he doesn't know what to feel, "do you know where your parents are?", a shrug and a no. 'he doesn't know?', Khun felt a strange connection between them, being homeless and has no family. 'this boy really is troublesome', he thought, he must've been through a lot more than himself on this age.

Anyways, Khun just realized he hadn't heard any words from him, "can you speak?", yes. 'oh good at least he's not muted', it'll be more troublesome if he can't. "how old are you?", the boy shrugged, but by his look, Khun assumed he's around five or six.

There's still a thing that he wanted to ask since the beginning, "do you have a name?", Khun asked for the third time, the boy answered with a no and Khun internally facepalmed. He decided not to push on 'why', considering that he haven't spoke yet, "okay then, do you have something in mind or. . .?", the boy pointed at Khun and he sighed, "so you wanted me to give you?", the boy nods.

"well, let me think of something", he began searching for an inspiration while combing. He looked at the window; 'moon, stars, rain, storm, cloud, night', he noted. Then he looked back at the hair he's combing; 'soft, long, brown', and suddenly a word crossed his mind.

"how about 'Bam'?, It means night. Unlike the day who only has a sun, there's a moon and lots of stars to keep the night company, I hope you'll find yours too one day", Khun silently cringed but he continued, "Though 'Bam' can also means chestnut, it's brown just like your hair".

The boy look up to him, his golden eyes shining with satisfied look, he nods with a big smile on his lips. "B-bham", he said with a beaming smile.

'W-what is this feeling?!', he's confused, that smile, just by looking at him smiling could warm his heart and just by hearing him said that made him really proud. Khun never felt this way before, this all still new to him. 'Why did I became like this all of the sudden?', Khun was confused with his own feelings.

It's weird, really, he never been interested in children before because they're loud, annoying, fussy and complicated, heck he never even thought of having one. But this boy, Bam, he's the type of child that somehow he couldn't hate, he was the opposite of what he always thought. He doesn't want him to experience the same thing like he did. He's getting soft and honestly he didn't like it, but still, he smiled, "glad you like it, Bam".

"Bam", he repeated one more time and giggled when he said it right. It's a cold rainy day but strangely, they felt warm.

After Khun finished combing Bam's hair, they brushed their teeth -luckily Khun has a spare toothbrush-, then they're getting ready to sleep, but the bed obviously can't fit for both of them.

"you can use my bed, just for tonight", Khun suggested. Bam shook his head then went to the dining room and back with the cushion he used earlier. He showed it to khun then put the cushion on the floor near Khun's bed.

"but-", Khun tried to argue but Bam shook his head again, "you sure?", Bam nodded with determination. Khun gave up and sighed, "okay fine, let see if I can find some blanket for you".

Khun found two small but thick blankets, though its sizes should be enough to cover Bam. He arranged the blankets and cushion into a temporary bed. And they're ready to sleep.

It's a long night, hours passed but Khun can't fall asleep. Several minutes later he heard a whisper, it's from Bam.

"ar hyu, ah-sleep?", Bam whispered slowly as not to wake him up.

"yes", he joked but Bam fell for it, "just kidding", Khun shifted his position so he could see him.

"tank yhu", he whispered shyly, avoiding his gaze.

"you're welcome", Khun whispered back and closed his eyes. There's that warm feeling again, blooming in his chest.

They slept shortly afterwards.

#yay finally posting this here #i made this exactly a year ago #so apologize in advance for grammar errors #cus im too lazy to fix em #anyways part 2 tomorrow #tower of god #tog #khun #khun aguero agnis #khun a.a #bam #baam #25th bam #25th Baam #Kid!bam #my fanfic #my art

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acelikesturtles · 4 years

Text

“For The Love of Cake”

Prompt: Bakery AU - Mikey x Gender-Neutral Y/N

Warnings: Profanity

Word Count: 3,885

A/N: Okay so despite what the screenshot looks like, the original prompt came to be from a conversation on discord, but @wacheypena was the one that officially came up with the prompt, @dw-im-just-sad just sent it to me because I consistently have the memory of a goldfish, so credit for the idea totally goes to wachey. @dw-im-just-sad also wrote her own version of this prompt so go check it out on her blog and give her some love!

“Fuck.”

A blast of warm air from the oven hit your face and pushed the stray hairs out of your eyes. Despite how delicious the freshly baked poppy seed muffins smelled, there was no way in hell that these met the signature Paisley's standard. You tucked a loose strand of hair back behind your ear with your free hand as you set the tray down on the steel counter behind the oven. Two other perfectly top-notch batches of muffins from 45 minutes ago sat only a couple inches away, freed from the confines of the muffin tray and sitting pretty on the tabletop cooling rack. You popped one of the new muffins out of the tray and set it on the counter as a half-pout began tugging at the corners of your mouth. All the muffins here were caved in on the top and looked dense and chewy instead of moist and soft like they were supposed to.

You racked your brain, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. You poked the muffin with a toothpick to check the center then sliced it open with a fork to check the inside. Little tendrils of steam escaped from the muffin’s tortured core; a squashed, condensed, pathetic looking center that seemed ashamed of its own existence sitting beside the high and mighty rises that all its cousins had managed to achieve. You figured that in a moment of absent-minded baking you must have put too much baking powder into the batter, thus creating the chewy texture and the catastrophic cave-in on the tops. With a firm frown and a short sigh through the nose in defeat, you picked up the muffin tray and headed towards the back door quietly.

Normally you wouldn’t be so secretive about bad muffins and tossing them in the bin outside, but the manager, Heather, had been cracking down on all the wasted ingredients that went into batches of bread and cupcakes and muffins and cookies that ultimately ended up ruined beyond relief by new-hires. Admittedly these muffins weren’t as bad of a mistake as per the other new-hires’ usual (like leaving whipping cream mixing until it turned into butter), but these sad excuses for poppy seed muffins were still a recognizable mistake that could easily be attributed to you rather than Rosetta, who always managed to forget at least one egg when she made cake batter.

You opened the door to the back alley behind Paisley’s and kicked the rubber doorstep underneath the gap to hold it in place. You balanced the tray in one hand and used the other to lift the lid off the unofficially named “Fuck-Up” can. With a few small taps against the rim of the bin, the muffins tumbled out of the tray and into the trash, only leaving behind the faintest lingering scent as you returned the lid. You wiped the sweat that had gathered on your brow with the back of your hand. Looking up, the sky had turned a shade of pinkened violet that felt reminiscent of the childhood summer sunsets you had enjoyed back home. You checked your watch. Five minutes until the end of your shift. You hauled yourself back inside and began cleaning up your work station with the torn and stained damp rag assigned to your work space.

Your mind felt full with thoughts, heavy even. Five months in New York and aside from securing a relatively nice apartment with only a mildly concerning roach problem and an “only kinda-severely-cramped” bathroom, you weren’t feeling as if you were making much progress like you had maybe anticipated when the opportunity to move had first arisen. You had moved, after all, in the hopes of starting your own café. It would be something small and quiet, a safe space in the heart of the city for people to come and bask in the welcoming atmosphere and enjoy the soft sounds of Lo-Fi playing above their warm cups of coffee and freshly baked cinnamon rolls. You’d donate food to the homeless on Wednesday evenings after closing time, and on Sunday nights the café would host Bingo and Trivia competitions for charity like they did at some of the local bars. The thought of being able to make your dream come true here made you feel immensely grateful to be on the path your heart had been calling you to. Paisley’s was better than being stuck in your hometown selling discount jeans. Right now though, working these grueling hours made you feel even farther away from the finish line than you had thought it would when you started. Rather than a feeling of excited and determined immersion in a career area that would someday be a part of the larger puzzle you longed to complete, Paisley’s felt like a chore that truly nobody enjoyed aside from Heather’s domineering managerial attitude.

You tossed the dirty rag into the laundry bin on the other side of the kitchen and began making your way towards the time clock to punch out for the night. Your aching feet were relieved just knowing that rest was coming soon.

“You headed out for the night?” A coworker asked, bumping into your shoulder while you punched in your employee number.

“Yep,” You stifled a yawn. “Poppy seed muffins at my work station still need to be stored for the catering thing tomorrow, so have somebody do that when you close.”

“Sure thing, on my way to do that right now.” They responded.

You finished clocking out and lazily shuffled back through the kitchen towards the rear door again, now fully caught in a yawn. You opened the door and took two steps outside before waiting to hear the slam and the click of the lock behind you, finalizing the official end of your shift. Now that you were outside though, something felt off. You glanced down at the “Fuck-Up” bin. The lid was ajar instead of firmly placed like it had been when you had messed with it earlier. Perplexed, you picked up the lid and peered inside the can only to find it empty of the muffins you had tossed in there before. Bizarre, but not unheard of. Paisley’s didn’t donate any of their leftover food to homeless shelters and you had heard from your coworkers that the homeless often peruse through the large dumpster behind the bakery for scraps hoping that the trashed food wasn’t as bad as employees thought. You could hardly blame them for trying. One company’s terrible batch of cookies is another man’s saving grace. At least someone was making use of your mistake.

You yawned again, shuffling down the concrete steps towards your neon green motorbike. You knelt down to unlock the chain holding it to the company bike rack, absently humming some commercial jingle that had been stuck in your head for the last day or two. Once the lock was completely freed you stuffed it into your bag, kicked the kickstand back up, and fished your keys out of your pocket to turn the ignition. Just as the motor began to sputter to life, you heard shuffling feet and a faint and stifled cough echo in the alley around you. It was near impossible to not feel spooked or even just a little bothered at the thought that the person from earlier could still be lurking in the alley, even if you had no real proof that they were harmful. You had heard too many horror stories and seen too many documentaries to be foolish. Not taking any chances, you hopped onto your motorbike and immediately hit the gas, taking a sharp turn into the street and not daring to look behind you. You could have just been paranoid of course, squirrels and other animals liked to dig through their trash and make noise in the alley too, but when confronted with the silliness of the concept of hundreds of rats carrying the muffins away you found yourself instead hoping that the person that had fished through their trash had gotten what they needed (and that they wouldn’t still be there by morning).

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

The next morning as you came up the back steps to the kitchen you noticed a bright yellow post-it note stuck to the lid of the “Fuck-Up” bin that hadn’t been there the night before. At first you hesitated to read the note. There was an anxious pang in your gut that made you feel uneasy about it in a way that you couldn’t put you finger on. You reached your hand forward to open the door to the kitchen, but found your hand only hovering over the knob with no real intent of going in yet. You needed the closure that would likely come with reading the note, even if it was a little intimidating, the thought of someone interacting with you by way of your ruined poppy seed muffins. You plucked the sticky note from the rusty lid and held it up to your eyes, squinting to read the chicken scratch.

“Hey dude! These ones were not my favorites but still yummy! Get me some oatmeal cookies next time, the crispy ones! Those are fuckin’ delicious! -MC Mikey.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion. Was this person seriously asking for more rejects? The only crispy oatmeal cookies that Paisley’s made that ended up in that bin were overcooked or half burnt, unless…did they think that this was a donation bin? Confused, you pushed your way through entrance and into the kitchen, claimed an empty work station, and headed over to the time clock to punch in your employee number. You were suddenly feeling a little bit more concerned for this individual than you did afraid of them. Maybe this was just someone ridiculously naïve. Maybe this was a kid that didn’t know any better and liked the smell that the trash behind Paisley’s had. Your sympathy had kicked in alongside a compulsive desire to bake those requested oatmeal cookies, and once you’d returned to your station you began flipping through the company cookbook for the recipe so you could sneak a mini-batch in-between actual requests.

After about 20 minutes, you pulled the first batch of cookies out of the oven and pushed the next sheet in. The smell was heavenly, an intoxicating mix of warm vanilla and cinnamon that made you salivate at first whiff. You picked up a cookie to check for the soft texture that was so characteristic for the recipe and sighed in relief when they pulled apart just like desserts did in those viral Instagram videos, softly and delicately. Hopefully these cookies would become this stranger’s new favorite. Whoever this was could have the experience of a real oatmeal cookie without the element of burnt edges interfering with the flavor, and the thought of being able to provide that joy was enough to put a little more pep in your step than was there before.

Several hours, a lunch break, and a couple run-ins with your bitch-of-a-manager later, you found yourself in front of the time clock again with a small Ziploc baggie of oatmeal cookies secured in your bag. They wouldn’t be as fresh as they were when they first came out of the oven unfortunately, but they’d still taste better than burnt and crispy cookies--that you were at least certain of. Once you’d finished punching in your employee number you made your way towards the back door as quickly as you could with aching arches and a stiff lower back. You stepped out onto the concrete stairs and waited for the latch behind you to click before making your way down the steps with one hand firmly grasped on the chipped railing beside you while the other dug around in your half-zipped bag for your keys and the Ziploc filled with cookies.

Your sneakers hit the alley and you let out a loud yawn while rolling your neck from shoulder to shoulder. You turned towards the “Fuck-Up” bin and gently placed the baggie on top of the lid. Should you have left a note? Would this person even care if there was a note as long as the cargo inside was sealed away from the elements? You let a puff of air out through your nose and let the worry roll of your shoulders as you turned back towards where you had parked your bike, keys jangling in hand. Just as you were about to reach your bike, you heard the shuffling sound again. Without hesitation you turned on your heel and looked back towards the garbage bins. Nothing had changed, nobody was there, but the noise of muffled footsteps said otherwise. This time you didn’t feel like running as much as you did like investigating the source of the noise to ease your curiosity to rest. You kept one hand firmly gripped on your pepper spray, and slowly stepped forwards, stopping at about the halfway point between you and the trash.

“Anybody there?” You called out. Your voice sounded particularly sick and crackly from the long work day. There weren’t any response and the sounds in the alley went dead quiet to underscore the sound of your own breathing instead. “If you’re the one who came by yesterday digging through our trash-” You started, wincing at your own condescending tone. You sounded so harsh, especially considering the fact that this could easily be a child based on what the handwriting had seemed like. “Sorry, I…I left you some oatmeal cookies. They’re on the lid.” You spoke softer, gesturing towards the “Fuck-Up” bin vaguely. The silence persisted. Now you were beginning to feel uneasy. The hairs on the back of your neck were practically standing up and you were beginning to think that you had either gone crazy or that maybe you were dealing with some kind of back-alley ghost.

Do ghosts even eat? Can ghosts even eat?

Without warning, a large hand partially cloaked by shadows broke free from the dumpster and began swiping in the general direction of where you had left the Ziploc bag. It would almost be comparable to a scene from a horror movie if the hand and the arm didn’t seem so clueless and desperate to get to the baggie. You fought back a smile and took a couple steps closer. You still had a grip on your concealed pepper spray just in case, but the thought of the stranger assaulting you was fading from the forefront of your mind. It wasn’t until you got close enough to see that this person’s hand was noticeably malformed—only two large fingers and a thumb—that fear was pushed onto the main burner once again. Clearly frustrated with the whole ordeal, the head and shoulders the appendage was attached to slammed up against the top of the dumpster and pushed the lid up against the wall behind him. That’s when he made almost immediate eye contact with you. Crystal blue eyes clashed against orange fabric and scaly green skin in a way that shocked your system to your core. This wasn’t a child, and it wasn’t a human, and it wasn’t, as far as you could gather, anywhere in between. A large shell was fused to his skin in a way that further broke your perception of reality as you tried to rationalize what you were seeing without thinking about costumes or special effects makeup or even aliens. You stood in shock for a moment, unblinking, watching as he strained to reach the baggie in front of him. He poked his tongue out and grunted as he stretched over the side of the dumpster, just barely missing the Ziploc with each swing of his arm.

“Dude, you could at least help!” He groaned, collapsing his upper body over the side of the dumpster in defeat.

You blinked and suddenly you were forced back into reality…or at least, whatever reality this was.

You took several more steps forward and snatched the Ziploc up in your hands, gently handing it to the…creature that was currently in the company dumpster. You had so many questions you needed to ask, too many questions, and without even opening your mouth the turtle began answering at least some of them one-by-one while shoving oatmeal cookies down his throat.

“I see you’re kiiiinda freaked out, and that’s okay! I get it, Mikey’s just so overwhelming to the ladies,” He said with a smug grin. “Turtle, mutant, ninja, sex god, what isn’t there to love angelcakes?” Your carefully baked batch of oatmeal cookies were disappearing in seconds, miniscule in comparison to the size and capacity of his stomach. “Oh, also?” He spoke through a mouthful of crumbs, spewing half-chewed chunks of oats and sugar all over the concrete beneath them. “These could use more cinnamon.”

“I-“ You hesitated for a moment. Your mind was filled to the brim with unfinished thoughts and rabbit trail theories about how Mikey himself was even possible (that is, if you weren’t dreaming) but they all came to a screeching halt when his comment about the cinnamon broke through your occupied mind. “Wait, really? I thought there was plenty, let me try that.” You huffed, snatching a cookie from one of his oversized, mutant hands. Within the first bite you were able to tell that he was right. The cinnamon flavor was more subtle than you had intended; a mere hint of warmth rather than the overwhelming comfort that you had been aiming for. “Oh. Yeah, I-I guess you’re right…Mikey.”

“Yeah, and those cupcakes the other day were-“

“Too much baking powder, I know,” You laughed and shook your head. “Those must’ve tasted gnarly, sorry,” You stopped mid-breath. “Wait. Cupcakes? Those were muffins.”

“Oooohh! So that’s why they didn’t come with frosting,” Mikey laughed. “Well that’s disappointing, I thought I was getting cupcakes. No wonder.” As the turtle crawled out from the dumpster with his empty Ziploc in hand, you became dwarfed beside him. He was tall, but not as menacing as you may have originally assumed. A half smile gradually worked its way onto your face as you looked up at him, trying to avoid grimacing at the smell of liquid garbage dripping all over his body.

“Next time I...I could make you cupcakes if you’d like.” You responded.

Mikey’s eyes looked alive with excitement as he nodded in complete agreement, musing aloud all his favorite flavors and fillings and frostings to you with a childlike delight. First there was snickerdoodle with extra cinnamon, then there was lemon meringue with more meringue than there was lemon. Red velvet with a whipped cream filling, double chocolate fudge with a gooey peanut butter center, tangy orange creamsicle with a tangerine wedge on top. You weren’t taking notes, but you figured that your personal investment in listening to a mutant turtle talk about his own takes on classic (and invented) flavors was enough to hold onto what he said in your memory, even if in the morning it may all seem like a hazy, drug-induced fever dream. You actually found yourself so intrigued with some of his flavor combinations and substitutions that you barely noticed that the grip you had been holding on the pepper spray had been entirely released, instead allowing that hand the freedom to gesture in a more relaxed manner as you articulated.

It wasn’t until the sound of a distant police siren echoing several streets away that the conversation stopped rather abruptly. The sound had grabbed the turtle’s attention in a way that stopped him in the middle of a sentence and replaced his excited expression with one of worry and concern. His eyes fell back towards you. You were searching his expression for a reason behind his troubled gaze just as much as you were looking for a clear answer behind what it was that made him who he was.

“Do you have a Sharpie?” He asked urgently. He looked behind him and over both of your shoulders nervously, as if he was waiting for someone to pounce, and that alone was enough to make you feel on edge again.

“Why?” Bewildered, you began digging in your bag again, searching for a permanent marker. You couldn’t find one but after clarifying that something similar might work, you managed to fish a red ink pen from the depths of your disorganized mess of a bag. Mikey snatched the pen from your hands, pulled the cap off with his teeth and spit it out onto the concrete, then stretched your forearm out in front of him. He scribbled a bunch of numbers rather messily onto your skin. He had accidentally smudged the undried ink a time or two and had to correct it, but when he was finished the string of numbers came out looking exactly like a standard, New-York area phone number. If this was a dream it sure was a detailed dream, you had to at least give it credit for that.

“My digits,” Mikey beamed while making the oh-so-stereotypical ‘call me’ gesture with his hand. “Call me, angelcakes. Unless you don’t want to, then like, don’t call me.” He shrugged. His confident aura practically dripped off of him as he began backing away into the shadows, shell nearly flush against the wall behind him. His hands rested on his holstered nunchakus as the police sirens faded away into the distance.

“Wait,” You faltered. Seeing him leave just as quickly as he had arrived made the flood of jumbled and confused thoughts come rushing back to you all at once. He couldn’t leave now, not when you were just beginning to get a grip on having him be a part of the same reality you were in. “Where are you going? What’s going on? What about the cupcakes?”

“Orange dreamsicle,” Mikey called back with a song in his voice. “Extra orange!” He said with a wink, while gesturing toward the cloth that covered his eyes.

Mikey had vanished into thin air, and just like that, you found yourself immersed in relative silence again. You pinched your forearm but didn’t wake up. You pulled on a singular lock of hair really hard, but didn’t wake up. Whatever you had just witnessed was still your reality, as evidenced by the smudgy red ink on your skin. You blinked once, then twice, then wiped the sweat off of your keys and your pepper spray and began shuffling towards your motorbike again. You turned your keys in the ignition, but when the engine started you didn’t feel the relief that you normally did when you were getting ready to head home from a grueling shift at work. If anything, your energy levels had peaked alongside your need to satiate your newfound curiosity aching in your bones. You pushed the kickstand up, removed the lock, pulled your phone out of your back pocket, and took your seat. You glanced down at your forearm again. The messy red ink was becoming clearer the more you stared at it. Perhaps it was just natural human tendencies at work, or maybe even fate, but the words just seemed to naturally tumble onto your keyboard once you’d copied the smudgy numbers into your contact list.

“Hey, Mikey right? I forgot to tell you my name. It’s Y/N.”

#authoring by ace #acelikesturtles #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2016 #bayverse tmnt #prompt

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - Where the Crop Circles Grow ch.5

Summary: When things get out of hand at the Pines’ family farm, Ford asks an old college buddy to assist investigating anomalies and Stan hires a farmhand. Who knew asking for help would actually get you somewhere?

For @lemonfodrizzleart. Part of her Farmer AU and featuring her OC, Jackie Asante.

Ao3 link here.

ch.4 - ch.6

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie was folding laundry on the porch to enjoy the nice weather. Soft, fluffy, warm towels made the farmhand feel proud of her work (the towels were kinda scratchy and stiff when she first came a month ago). Her eyes averted from her folding up ahead to her boss, who was chopping woods on an old tree stump.

His shirt was almost completely unbuttoned to help his sweaty body cool down. A golden chain just barely grazed his thick chest hair, showcased by the created V. His stance was strong and his arms tightened his muscles as he swung the axe down on a sorry piece of wood. Occasionally he had to bend over to place a new log on the tree stump, giving Jackie a very pleasant view through his jeans. After a few minutes of Stan’s show and of Jackie not getting anything done, her hands frozen on a towel in her lap, Stan stopped his work and turned away from the sun as he wiped his forehead dry of sparkling sweat; Jackie barely looked away in time and if it wasn’t for Stan’s eyesight adjusting to the lack of sunshine, he might have caught his admirer.

Fiddleford came out with a glass of sweet tea in his hand and breathed in the wonderful late-afternoon air. He noticed at once that something was slightly out of the ordinary, and one look at Jackie’s glossy eyes and Stan’s half-exposed body as he picked up the lumber told the Tennessian everything he needed to know. The second Stan entered the house to put the logs where they belonged, Fiddleford gently elbowed Jackie as he stood next to her rocking chair. “Well, kettle my corn, somebody’s in love.”

Jackie rolled her eyes and smiled smugly up at her friend. “Yeah, right. Stan’s just a cool guy. It’s not like I lie awake at night thinking about him.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jackie laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling, tucked into her bed with one arm draped over her chest, and her eyes wide with energy. She could feel a rock being plunged into her stomach as it dawned on her that Fiddleford might have been right. “Uh, oh.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan was whittling a small piece of wood in his hands as he sat on the porch, rocking in his chair. The sounds of laughter made him glance up from his work and he smiled to see Jackie and Tate playing. It was a basic game of tag, but they were both laughing joyfully and Tate was grinning like it was the best day of his life. For a few minutes Jackie purposely went slow, but then she sped up, caught Tate in her arms, and plopped down on the ground to tickle his ribs. Tate squirmed and squealed as Jackie laughed alongside him, hers less force than the boy’s.

Stan smiled and watched them from the corner of his eye as he whistled a tiny tree; Tate seemed to enjoy the toy train he had made for him, so he was secretly working on tracks and trees and houses and people so the kid could build a village for the train to ride around. It was something entertaining for Stan to do in his free time and he knew it would make a good birthday gift or a present for the holidays. As he worked and watched Jackie play with Tate, his thoughts reverted back to his feelings for the farm-woman.

Was it wrong for him to be crazy for his employee? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. With Jackie, it was just so easy, but that didn’t mean it was predictable; Jackie was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Stan valued in a person. Not only was she a hard worker, but she was really smart, creative, the best cook he had ever met, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on her, so why should he? For the time, Stan was content that a woman as amazing as her would never have a crush on him, not in a million years, so with any luck his little crush on her will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the middle of May Stan and Ford told Fiddleford and Jackie about a hoedown that took place at the end of May to mark the beginning of summer. It was hosted in a huge barn and everyone pitched in to help with the food and there was music and dancing and everyone had a great time; word on the street was that it even beat the Northwests’ annual fancy shindig. So the weak of the party Jackie was excused from work on the farm so she could spend more time in the kitchen, meaning Ford and Fiddleford had to pitch in and save their investigations on the unicorns for another time.

It wasn’t a fancy party, but people usually dressed up a little bit, almost like going to church. Ford went for his blue t-shirt with green flannel and clean jeans and he polished his black shoes that clicked on wood beautifully. Fiddleford went for a more casual army-green floral shirt, a favorite from back at Backupsmore, and he put Tate in a red short-sleeved button-up. Stan opted for clean jeans and a light-merlot button-up, but Jackie was perfectly happy to wear a plain white dress that went down to her knees and came with noodle straps. She decorated the outfits with black heels to match her curly hair, which she somehow managed to control without losing its breath-taking fullness.

Stan found himself staring for a creepy amount of time, but she was too busy trying to get her food together to notice. The Diablo was packed full with food so Stan and Jackie drove in that car while Ford, Fiddleford, and Tate rode in the newly repaired blue truck. The large barn sat a few yards from a huge lake and at the top of a hill, a smaller barn filled with hay to the side and a white fence establishing the boundaries of the property. Already the barn was busting with music and laughter and vehicles and even two horses stood outside the party. Stan and Ford helped Jackie with the food while Fiddleford held Tate’s hand and had his banjo over his shoulder, and they entered.

The newcomers awed at the hustle and bustle. On a stage a bass, an acoustic guitar, a cello, a harmonica, and some spoons were being played by some townsfolk. Many more were dancing in the wide open space care-free. Kids Tate’s age were holding hands and swinging, Toby Determined was doing a lonely tap-dance, that dweeb Durland was spinning a lady too fast and making her cross-eyed, and Ma and Pa from Dusk 2 Dawn were holding each other as they danced. Most people were doing a big group dance together, but some were over at the long tables filled with good food.

Susan was stirring hot apple cider and spooning mugs full for people, Manly Dave had brought his family recipe of Cages Full of Meat, and there were platters and bowls filled with delicious ham, turkey, cobblers and pies of every berry and fruit that existed, green beans, collared greens, salad, macaroni salad, potato salad, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, fried okra, smoked ribs, smoked pork, boiled peanuts, jugs full of moonshine, and barrels full of taffy and candy. Jackie happily added her Lemon Meringue pie, grilled chicken, fried chicken, boiled potatoes, yeast rolls with cinnamon butter, cranberry sauce, spinach dip and crackers, and a huge pot filled with jambalaya made with Cajun sausage, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and rice. All that food could feed three New York Cities, let alone little Gravity Falls, but with all the dancing and activity going on the food was happily accepted and the night was off to a wonderful start.

Jackie happily chatted with Susan at the long tables while the men dispersed. Fiddleford was invited to play with the others on stage, Ford began to play chess with some of the old men in the back of the barn, and Stan happily took Tate out on the dancefloor and let him stand on his boots to lead.

The sun was soon gone but the night was lit up by not only the huge light fixtures in the barn, but the strings of lights on the walls, and rustic exposed lightbulbs at the door, and the little lights on the grass to highlight the walkway from the party to the rides home. Fireflies buzzed around as well; a few kids left the loud party to play among the bugs and let the flickering lights crawl into their outstretched hands.

As the moon got higher and higher into the sky, the part continued to be very enjoyable. While Tate was busy making quick friends with Tyler Cutebiker, Stan dragged his twin out on the dancefloor and made him dance. Fiddleford took a break from playing his banjo and somehow ended up dancing with Susan. Jackie happily danced alone by the tables and enjoyed the blissful music. As much fun as the party was, her energy was running out and she could do with some quiet. She decided to go outside and watch the kids play.

Out in the cool late-spring air Jackie breathed peacefully as she watched the children run around, but soon she wanted to be alone and explore her new surroundings. That smaller barn was a ways away, so she slipped into the shadows and ventured towards it. Jackie quietly slid the door open and smiled to find a single lantern hanging on the wall and the barn filled to the brim with blocks of hay. It smelled clean here and it was quiet and lovely, so Jackie made her way to a wall and sat on two blocks of hay, taking off her heels to rub her sore feet. No blisters, thank goodness, but standing and dancing for so long will make your feet ache.

In the silence and with nothing better to do, Jackie resumed her thought about Stan. Was it wrong for her to fall for her employer? Probably, but who cares? They hardly had a boss-worker relationship; if anything it was a firm friendship that just came so easily it was like they had known each other for years. Stan was just so easy to talk to, so comfortable to be around, but that didn’t mean he was predictable; Stan was spontaneous, passionate, and different, everything Jackie valued in a person. Not only was he a hard worker, but he was clever, considerate, a true-blue family man, and really really beautiful. Anyone would get a crush on Stanley Pines, so why should she? But Jackie could swallow that a man as amazing as him would never have a crush on her, not in a million years, so with any luck her little crush on him will die and no one important will get their feelings hurt.

The door opened slowly, still managing to make Jackie jump a little, but she smiled and relaxed at seeing Stan at the entrance.

He had been having a lot of fun at the party, but he had planned on dragging Jackie out to dance, having noticed that no one had danced with her (she must have danced with at least of one of handsome guys here and Stan just didn’t see it, there’s no way a girl that pretty had resorted to wall-hugging all night) and he planned to fix that, but he soon noticed that Jackie was nowhere to be found. Checking to make sure she didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion, Stan exited the big barn and watched the kids for a minute before guessing she was in the smaller barn away from the crowds and noise. He smiled when he saw he was correct and leaned against the doorway. “Hey, whatcha doin’ over here?”

Jackie shrugged casually. “Just needed some alone time.”

Stan nodded and drastically changed his plans to give her what she needed. He let his arm fall from the doorway and said, “Gotcha, okay, I’ll see you…”

“No,” Jackie said too quickly and felt herself go red with embarrassment. “I-I mean, I can be alone with you.” She quickly explained and then swallowed nervously. That didn’t make any sense, she wasn’t making any sense! But the way this guy made her feel didn’t make sense, either.

Stan saw her nervousness and smiled at it; the best dating advice Ma had ever given him was to never a date someone who wasn’t nervous around you; if they’re nervous that means they like you. He made a mental note to not put up too much of a brave front and then he entered the barn and closed the door behind him. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Jackie smiled, not as nervous now, and watched as Stan plopped himself down on the hay-coated floor, resting an arm next to where Jackie sat. He popped his neck and yawned, comfortable and relaxed, one leg bent up and the other laying flat. He turned his head to look up at Jackie, resting his square jaw on his knuckles, and asked, “So whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Jackie leaned forward so her elbows her on her knees and one hand was just under her chin. “I was thinking how this has got to be one of the best parties I’ve ever been to.”

Stan snorted. “Really? Guess it ain’t so bad. I’ve never missed a single one. Great graduation celebration or a ‘welcome home’ event for college students. One year Ford n’ I snuck out n’ went over to the lake to swim, but Shermie caught us n’ tried to pull us out, but we dragged him in n’ we all got in trouble for it.” He chuckled.

Jackie giggled along with him and commented, “I’ve actually never been to a lake. I’ve visited a beach, but not a lake yet.”

“We’ll fix that.” Stan said. “The beach, though, huh? Always wanted to see one. Where else’ve you been?”

“Everywhere.” Jackie said. “I was a bit of a traveler before stopping here. Never been outside the country.”

“What was your favorite place?”

“New Orleans.” Jackie answered quickly. “They had the most delicious beignets and seafood and the jazz was beautiful, and the ocean was so beautiful. I really liked southern California, too, the beach was amazing and I made a lot of Hispanic friends there.”

“Any reason why you left?” Stan asked; with such good friends and great places, the farmer couldn’t help but wonder why didn’t she stay.

“Too busy and loud.” Jackie said. “I love the occasional crowds, but I wanted some place quieter and easier to find work, so that’s why I came up here.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Stan said earnestly, in such a deep, meaningful tone that it made Jackie’s face hot again and she looked away as she gently shook her head.

“You give me too much credit, Stan…”

“No, Jackie, I mean it.” Stan swallowed nervously, making his Adam’s apple bobble, and he went on with his eyes on the beautiful girl above him. “I’m not just butterin’ you up, I think you’re real pretty, n’ I mean it when I say you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to our place. Even without your killer cookin’ n’ extra help, I’m just really happy you’re around. I don’t know how I can make it up to you, but I’ll think of somethin’.” He had carefully worded his compliment so Jackie could take it as a friend making a friend feel good if that was all she wanted, but he had meant it as so much more and wanted it to be so much more, so it was all up to Jackie now.

She noticed the nervous look in his soft brown eyes and smiled. Was there a possibility, a teeny tiny possibility, that he liked her the same way she liked him. She could be dead wrong, she could lose everything she had worked for the last few weeks and everything she had grown to love. Goodbye, Dot. Goodbye, Tate. Goodbye Pines farm filled with some of the best people she had ever met. But she took a gamble, tried to ease her nerves as discreetly as possible, and she said quietly, “You could kiss me.”

Stan’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and his brown eyes sparkled adorably. Jackie bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look on his face, her heart relaxing and her nerves settling as she realized how much he wanted to kiss her. His grin was the last thing she saw before he stretched up and she leaned down and they met for a soft kiss.

The amount of sparks that flew only through lips touching was unbelievable. As a strong hand cupped Jackie’s cheek and a smaller hand landed on the back of Stan’s head, the kiss deepened and it only got better. Holy Moses, it was far better than anything Jackie could have imagined in her head, all those night daydreaming about this moment, and more, and it was better and full of more bliss than she thought it would be. She was putty at Stan’s touch, and as another arm wrapped around her waist and the kiss included it’s fair share of tongue, Jackie slid down from her little seat until she was sitting on the ground beside Stan.

Warm chuckles of pure joy leaked from their lips and for a while it was nothing more than hugs and kisses, but it was everything. Stan was blown away that such a beautiful woman wanted to hold him and kiss him, of all people, and he knew better than to question a good thing. His heart was roaring like a lion in his chest, his face was warm despite the goosebumps on his arms, and while he was beyond grateful for just a kiss he wondered if he was lucky enough for more.

They separated for air and Jackie rested her head on the cushion of Stan’s arm, his free hand on her knee. Stan’s cheeks and ears were rosy pink, his five o-clock shadow unable to hide how the girl in his arms made him feel. Jackie smiled at him, unable to believe she was so lucky, and put a hand over his heart to enjoy his heartbeat, but then she slowly unbuttoned his shirt a little to let his chest hair be showcased by a proud V. At the same time, Stan’s hand slowly went down her bent leg, closer and closer to her hip, pushing her white dress up. With a gleam in their eyes and one sure smirk, they both knew what they wanted.

(If you want smut, CLICK HERE! If you’re not comfortable with that, then keep reading.)

~~~~~~~~~~

There were still some stragglers at the party, mostly drunk men singing their hearts out, but Ford and Fiddleford were ready to go. Tate was asleep so Fiddleford gently tucked him in his car seat as Ford looked around for Jackie and Stan. It wasn’t a big deal to leave without them, they had brought two cars, but still. Curiosity had grasped his mind and he generally wondered where they were. Fiddleford cleared his throat and suggested, “Maybe we should go ahead home, Fordsie.”

“I suppose so,” Ford said casually and nodded in agreement. “But if they get arrested for trespassing, I’m not… SWEET LORD!” Ford put a six-fingered hand over his mouth to stop his screaming, but his other hand was pointing at the couple who had hoped they could emerge from the shadows undetected, but that clearly wasn’t going to work out.

They were covered in hay. Both Jackie’s long black hair and Stan’s brown mullet were frizzled and out of control, like someone had shaken their hair wildly. Or grabbed it tightly. Jackie’s white dress was missing, but she held Stan’s button up around herself tightly to preserve what little dignity she had left. Stan, shirtless, had a dopey grin on his face with hazy eyes, like he was sleepwalking. While Stan was oblivious to his twin’s scream, Jackie’s face was scarlet with embarrassment and she rubbed the back of her neck as she gritted her teeth.

Poor Ford was a mumbling mess. “B-B-B-But… you… you two… you… and you…”

Fiddleford patted his shoulder and instructed gently, “Stanford, get in the truck.”

“B-B-B-B-But…”

“I know, I know, just get in. Leave ‘em be.” Fiddleford guided his best friend into the car and even closed the door for him. While Ford buried his head in his hands to try to collect himself, Fiddleford gave the happy couple a thumbs up before entering his vehicle and heading home.

Jackie wanted to disappear and never reappear.

Stan, however, was far too busy repeating a single thought in his head to even register what was going on in front of him. “I’m gonna marry her.”

#GF #fanfiction #gravity falls #gravity falls au #farmer au #jackie asante #stan pines #jackiestan #gift #oh lord send me to hell...#thank you so much for reading!#more to come!

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theincompetentgenius · 4 years

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Headcanons with S/O Who Hid Their Birthday (Jonah, Luka, Edgar)

anon: Can I have Jonah, Luka and Edgar headcanons with an s/o who hid their birthday, or didn’t bother to be vocal about it, and they had to find out through other means?

Here you go and I hope you enjoy them!

Jonah Clemence

Jonah finds out from Edgar, who casually brings up the topic as they’re training. He realizes that Edgar learned about his lover’s birthday before he did, which flares his temper. He drives the blade a little too close to the Jack’s ear and ends the duel. For the next hour, Jonah interrogates Edgar on how he found this information.

Initially, Jonah is confused (even hurt) that his S/O didn’t tell him about their birthday. Did he do something to them that they wouldn’t talk about their birthday? Why wouldn’t they want to talk about the day they were brought to life? It takes some time and reflection that his S/O has their reasons.

He pulls himself together and plans for an extravagant party almost a month in advance. The Queen of Hearts calls all the Red Army officials and assigns each officer a role for the birthday. Kyle and Zero get tasked with decorating the entire palace, Edgar has to plan all the activities, and Lancelot has to gather all the supplies. If you’re wondering, Jonah buys all the gifts, creates all the food, creates/gives out invitations, and is involved in the other officers’ tasks.

On the day of their birthday, Jonah takes his lover to dress shopping. He tells them to pick their favorite dress, jewelry, and shoes. They spend the whole morning at the fitting room as the couple nit-pick through the articles of clothing. Although his S/O is slightly confused about Jonah’s obsession with picking the “right dress”, they assume it’s just Jonah’s way of taking them out for the day. After the Queen of Hearts manages to convince his S/O to keep the dress on for the entire day, they head to the Red Army Headquarters.

When they arrive at the palace, his S/O notices that the castle is decorated in their favorite color. They tell Jonah how much they like decoration, who simply smirks and asks “I wonder who put all that effort in making the castle look so gorgeous?”

He’ll take their hand as they climb up the stairs. When his S/O opens the doors, they are greeted to heaven on the Cradle. The center of the room has a 5-layered vanilla-strawberry swirl cake with buttercream frosting (made by Jonah and the chefs) with desserts such as raspberry macaroons, millie-feuille, chocolate fondue, and puff pastries neatly lined up on tables at the side of the room. Jonah’s S/O spends more time eating at the party than anything else.

There are sparklers, balloons, crystals, exotic flowers, silk table cloths, and so much more. As if the throne room wasn’t already something straight out of a fairytale, Jonah only made it even more lavish than before.

Jonah ushers his lover to sit on the throne, claiming that today the get to be royalty. As soon as they take a seat, the entire Red Army pops out to sing Happy Birthday! The fireworks go off as Jonah turns to his S/O and pulls them into a long kiss, wishing them a happy birthday.

Luka Clemence

Luka found out when he came to your room, looking for you to tell you about his next mission (where he’ll be out for a week). Instead, he entered an empty room, so Luka decided to leave a note on his S/O’s table about his sudden departure. When placing the note, he noticed that there were a few other things on their desk, including some form of identification with their DOB.

The Jack of Spades doesn’t think much about it as he leaves the room to attend his other duties. Later in the day, the birthday issue pops into his head again. He thinks about it more seriously this time, but he assumes that his S/O wasn’t a birthday person. Perhaps it slipped their mind since a birthday only comes once every year.

Nevertheless, Luka begins to daydream about all the adorable birthday plans they could make together. He knew his S/O didn’t want anything too flashy, but he had to do something special for them. As he fell deeper in his thoughts, he realized that Jonah would be able to create the perfect party (but he’d never ask that pompous brat). All Luka could think of was making a nice dinner.

He asks Seth for a little help because Seth is the Black Army’s unofficial party planner after all. The 7 of Spades squeals with glee, being more than happy to help Luka with his plans.

The two prepare a cozy, candle-lit dinner. The decorations are simple and rustic, but Luka manages to hang his S/O’s favorite works of art and plays their favorite music in the background. Although Seth always wants to add more to the scene, Luka is exhausted. Besides, he didn’t want to go over-the-top since his S/O barely talked about their birthday.

Also, the Jack of Spades wanted his food to be the main decoration. For the main dish, he whips up a gourmet roasted chicken marinated in a savory and spicy sauce with sauteed vegetables and buttered rice. He also bakes his S/O’s favorite cake in a heart shape. The best part is that the cake has cake pops sticking out with the candles on top.

When the day finally arrives, Luka is very nervous. He doesn’t make any reference to his S/O’s birthday throughout the day. Luka doesn’t want to upset his S/O for making plans without them or somehow triggering a painful memory on their birthday. It takes a lot of breathing exercises and pep talks from Seth to calm him down.

Once it is dinner time, Seth ushers Luka’s S/O to a private room that is rarely used by the Black Army. When they enter the room, they are greeted with soft, glowing lights that spell “Happy Birthday!”. Luka appears from the back and gives them a long hug, letting them know how much they mean to him.

Once the lights are turned off, Luka lights the candles and tells their S/O to make a wish. They take a few seconds and blow out the candles. Luka can’t help but ask, “What did you wish for?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t come true.” And with that, the couple sits down and starts eating. The meal is so good that his lover nearly cries and asks for four servings. Somehow they have space for the cake too.

Edgar Bright

Let’s be real, Edgar knew about his S/O’s birthday a long time ago. He came across the auspicious date when going through a bunch of legal documents for everyone in the Red Army. He was hesitant to place his S/O’s documents with the other officers’ papers, but he felt that it made more sense than to place it with the information on the soldiers. As he went over his S/O’s documents, he found a line that listed their birthday. At that moment, Edgar realized that his lover never talked about their birthday.

Edgar doesn’t know why his lover would want to hide their birthday, but he understands it because he does the same thing. However, he doesn’t want them to spend their birthday alone either. So he’ll go around looking for clues for the perfect birthday surprise by asking his S/O seemingly-innocent questions. Although he doesn’t have much room for specific questions, Edgar gets all the information that he needs.

He spends the next week preparing for the event. It’s nothing too crazy, but he buys a few gifts and decorations for the occasion. Edgar also has Jonah teach him how to make some of his S/O’s favorite sweets and snacks. Jonah is both surprised and irritated that the Jack of Hearts is able to a great job at his first try, claiming that it was all thanks to his teaching.

The special day has arrived! He’ll act normal throughout the day, dropping a few hints here and there. It’s not until the sky has a tint of pink that Edgar asks his S/O to take a walk with him. He’ll cover their eyes as they walk to their destination.

Once they arrive, Edgar removes his hands and reveals a picnic next to the river. He kisses your hand, wishing his lover a very happy birthday. Immediately, the Creek family appears from a nearby tree and run to his S/O. They jump up and down, squawking with delight. It’s their way of saying “Happy Birthday!”

He has his S/O sit down while he unpacks all the delicious treats from the basket that he brought with him. There are some macaroons, sandwiches, and garlic bread.

Edgar also has two gifts for the occasion. First, he pulls out a yellow box with a gold ribbon. Inside are the rarest jellybean flavors in the entire Cradle (he’s made sure the flavors are suited for his lover’s palette). The present was him trying to return a fraction of the sweetness that his lover brought into his life.

The second gift is a lavender box, which has a beautiful necklace with three golden pendants: the initial of both of their first names and duck. He got this present to give his S/O something that will help them remember Edgar and the Creeks, no matter where they go.

The couple spends their time by the river for the rest of the evening. The Jack of Hearts will lay his head on his lover’s shoulder, letting them know that he’s always willing to lend an ear if they choose to tell him why they hide their birthday.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #jonah clemence #luka clemence #edgar bright #ikerev edgar #ikerev jonah #ikerev luka #ikemen kakumei #ikerev headcanons

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imnoexpertblog · 5 years

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Carbs - I'll Eat Them While I Can

5/14/18

Its Monday! I ate the worst that I have eaten in months over the weekend. Granted, I had two birthday gatherings for my 22nd so it makes sense. But I am still regretful. I feel bloated and I can’t wait to get my free bag of detox tea this week. It was also Mother’s Day weekend which means we had a couple of get-togethers for that as well. Baby and Nugget got me a card with a gift certificate for my first professional massage! Baby also made me my own Mother’s Day brunch at home! It was an omelet with everything I love; mushrooms, onion, cheese, salsa, bacon, sausage. Mmmm, so good. It was really sweet of Baby to get me something for Mother’s Day. I would not expect anything, considering we are not married and I am obviously not Nugget’s mother. They both know I love and treat him as if he is my own though and it was just really nice to be recognized as a motherly role in this life. Baby’s family also wished me a Happy Mother’s Day, along with mine. I wasn’t expecting so many people to say that to me! It was very new to me and honestly very exciting. I do everything with my two men in mind so this was a great day to be appreciated a little extra. I’m just happy everyone can see how much I love these two. I hope your Mother’s Day was as great as mine, whether you’re a mother or not. Now let’s talk about some food!

Baby is going Keto. I know very little about it, other than the fact that it’s a high fat and low carb diet, which is great for him because he is definitely a meat-eater. I am sure that once I consume the food that he cannot eat that we still have in the house, I will most likely give it a shot too. It’s really hard to change something so large in your lifestyle, like your diet. It’s even harder when the person you live with has a completely opposite outlook or mindset. I wouldn’t want to be stuck eating something less appetizing while I watch my partner down my favorite snacks that I can no longer have. Baby has learned quite a bit about the Keto diet and I am eager the find more out, as well. He lost about six pounds in eight days, I believe he said. One of my best friends at work, Ryan, has been on his Keto diet for about five or six weeks now and has lost over 15 pounds and kept it off. Good for them! I wouldn’t do it do lose weight, I have already lost 30 pounds since late July of 2017. I would do it for health purposes and to see if I feel better without all the carbs I usually take in. I will get more into it once I actually learn about it. Baby is making me watch the Keto-related The Magic Pill documentary on Netflix tomorrow so I will have to let you all know how that knows and what I think about it. As much as I think it would suck to have to give up carbs, there’s still so much you get to eat. Baby said it’s the most enjoyable diet he’s ever tried. We will see!

Straight from Keto to Carbs. I wanted to tell you about overnight oats. I have wanted to give these a whirl for years but just tried them this weekend. Emily, also featured in my last food blog, told me to try these for work! I love them and I will for sure be eating these until my ingredients are all gone (and I will have to try Keto). Using a mason jar (the standard size, I’m pretty sure), layer approximately ½ cup rolled oats, 1 tbsp chia seeds, whatever fruit you like, and a bit of brown sugar or vanilla extract. An awesome flavor combo is peanut butter and banana. After all that, pour in 2/3 cup of your choice of milk; 2%, almond, coconut, etc. I also add in about 1/3 cup of Greek yogurt to thicken it up. Pop it in the fridge overnight and you’ll have your quick and easy breakfast in the morning! The chia seeds offer a great complex carb to provide long-lasting energy without having to take in a bunch of calories. The fruit you’re getting from this meal is also a great way to start the day. “Chocolate covered strawberry” could have strawberries and chocolate chips in it. Peanut butter and honey is super good. “Cinnamon apple” would be delicious. “Peaches and cream” could consist of peach slices and sweet cream! For “raspberry cheesecake,” add cream cheese and raspberries. To make it chocolate based, add cocoa powder. This sky is the limit! Grab come mason jars next time you’re out and give these a go.

Okay, not everything we eat is going to be very good for us. So, let me tell you about my jalapeno popper burgers. Yes. They are as good as they sound. Of course, I will tell you how to make them, but I don’t always measure everything, so forgive me if I leave out measurements. 1) Beef. Get 2 pounds of it. Season it. Onion salt, garlic powder, pepper, cumin. Mix that up. 2) The jalapeno popper filling. Mix 6 oz. of cream cheese, 1 cup of shredded cheddar cheese, 2 minced jalapenos (I don’t always include all the seeds), and garlic powder. 3) Shape the burgers into 8 thin patties to make four stuffed burgers. 5) Spoon filling onto four of them, and place the other four on top of them. Pinch the sides of the patties together. Cook in a skillet over medium heat for about 5 minutes each side. You will want to bake them in oven at about 350 degrees because these can be pretty thick. 5 minutes will keep them at medium, bake for longer for a more well-done burger. I serve these with pepper jack cheese and lettuce on toasted buns. I also put the lettuce underneath the patty to catch the grease, that way your bottom bun is not soggy. Add any condiment you like or slap some extra filling on top of the patty if you end up with any! Cook times will vary depending on the size and thickness of the burger. Adjust whatever you need in order to make these perfect for you. I love these with sweet potato fries.

Wow, I want those burgers so badly now. Baby and I have been on a burger kick lately. I have probably eaten 10 in the last couple weeks. No complaints from me, though. Burgers are my favorite. We actually have gotten Nugget to eat burgers now! A little backstory, Nugget would only eat about three things when I met him and his father. He’d eat chicken nuggets, pizza, and pb&j sandwiches. I also saw him eat the frosting off a donut once. In the last 8-9 months, Baby and I have gotten him to start eating hot dogs, corn, burgers, spaghetti, green beans, eggs, yogurt, ravioli, baked beans, a ton of fruit, cereals, just a bunch of stuff. This is a continuous adventure with him and it’s going really well as of about four months ago. It used to be very hard to have him open up to some things but he just ate a sloppy joe for the first time (I am pretty sure) tonight! I grew up with the option to eat what everyone was eating, or nothing at all. Eating nothing at all was barely even an option, but my mother never served me what she wouldn’t eat herself. She never pushed brussel sprouts or peas on me, for example. I always ask Nugget to try something before he thinks he doesn’t like it. I also try not to tell him that I don’t like something before he tries it. He has discovered he likes peas and I hate peas. I just won’t tell him that. I also know to be sensitive with him when it comes to texture; I can tell he has a hard time with the texture of some foods rather than the taste. But getting him to eat more foods has been a big success in our household these past few months! Is it hard to get your kids to eat? Do you have any tricks? Comment below! We will chat health and beauty soon. I hope your Monday isn’t too rough on ya!

#carbs #food #foodblog #blog #new #newblog #newblogger #blogger #smom #model #eat #eating #family #marriage #recipes #love #life #lifestyle #fun #healthy #keto #health

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oxygenbomb56 · 2 years

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15 Inventive Catering Ideas For Beginners

During family-style dinner service, dishes are served on large platters for friends to pass around the desk, similar to you might do at a household dinner. The first course is usually served with about one or two options. The major course includes a few protein options with multiple aspect gadgets. We cross plates of hors d'oeuvres as your guests mingle. Great for more casual events like a get along with a gaggle of foodie pals, an intimate wedding ceremony reception, or a particular birthday party. Along with meals catering, we offer full beverage services (alcoholic and non-alcoholic). American Glory is a singular restaurant, and one of the region’s top onsite banquette and off web site catering firms focus on regional, American Comfort Cuisine. We accommodate all kinds of events at our eating places, or offsite at a venue of your choice. Our culinary and event group can deal with each side of your occasion from, begin to finish-- together with however not restricted to rental needs, event design, music, and so on. Strawberry shortcake is an gratifying summertime sweet in the course of the hot months. Table service allows for easier dialog between friends, and it maintains consistent serve instances for each particular person. Everyone on the table will get to eat varied courses at the same time. Also, this selection allows other features of the event to revolve round those serving instances, from toasts to speeches to particular dances. Events Recipes As 2018 involves a close, I want you to know the way a lot I actually have come to depend on your recipes, and that I trust every new recipe you post will be wonderful. You’re a gift to folks who need to provide delicious food with easy-to-access elements to our households. Thanks, Nagi, and a blessed New Year to you, your beloved ones, and Dozer. Potluck, BYOM BBQ, dessert get together, or even a pasta party all may be accomplished for just a few dollars. If you thought carving stations were just for dinner, think again. Include a chef’s carving station to wow and fill friends with varied meat selections. Some of Messina’s carving stations include Beef Tenderloin, Southern Fried Turkey, and Root Beer GlazedChisesiHam, which far surpass a boring chicken lunch entrée. Merry Christmas & Happy 2019 to you & Dozer, Nagi! You could make a neat display out of those for people to put of their cups. Waffle, Crepe or Pancake Bar – This is considered one of my favorite enjoyable group meal concepts. 外燴 can include every little thing from yogurt, ice cream, and chocolate syrup, to peanut butter, Nutella, and chopped nuts. For a fun and customized lunch, go for a taco bar, quesadilla station, or nacho bar because quite frankly, you can’t go incorrect with any of those Southwest choices. Ensure that visitors have a lot to choose from with toppings and distinguished bases like Spanish marinated hen, chorizo, roasted veggies and steak. Instead of traditional sandwiches, provide your friends or purchasers a variety – with style. Planning Meals For A Household With the change in size got here completely different menu options. If you’re itching for the yard wedding of your desires, lean into the theme with burgers. Set up your taco station with unique components like mushrooms or mango to make it unforgettable. Discuss dietary requirements and the method for attendees to entry their special meal with the catering group before confirming the ultimate menus. Recap the day earlier than or on the morning of the occasion. This is the time of “food porn.” Presentation is everything. Here are some delightful catering setup concepts to create a surprising catering show. Ice sculptures have been around for some time but today’s ice can additionally be useful. I got one for Christmas a number of years ago from Costco. It's perfect for meals that you have got made prematurely, and want to hold warm. Remember…even the simplest (and cheapest!) meals could be scrumptious and a crowd pleaser. As a enterprise owner/manager, present a variety of breakfast meals and range in menus to accommodate a variety of employee preferences at lowered prices. Read on to discover low cost breakfast catering ideas for morning individuals. Brunch is the right mixture of breakfast and lunch, which permits an unlimited menu choice and be huge for the relaxation of your day. CREPESOFPARIS can attain you if you need the finest quality Brunch Caterer regardless of the occasion. Let’s deliver the best of French delicacies to your celebration in Los Angeles, Orange Country areas, or San Diego. Scrumptious Recipe Concepts Bring your favourite pizza toppings into cocktail hour with these candy and bitter Hawaiian chicken skewers. Brush along with your favorite BBQ sauce and add a chunk of SPAM for an genuine flavor. This recipe seamlessly combines sweet honey, flavorful garlic, and spicy chili powder for a rooster appetizer that can put everyone in a good mood! If you are a fan of extra mild food, mess around with the ingredient ratio to figure out which spice level you want the most. These mild and delectable morsels will bring a touch of fusion to any office Christmas occasion. This southern favorite has largely been ignored at conferences till now. With the assistance of a cute martini glass shrimp and grits is now a networking meals. Attendees need amazing Instagram-worthy food shows AND exquisite tastes. This article will help you grasp each areas with 200 ideas to get them talking, sharing, and eating. Appetizer catering saves space for tables for your party, along with different rentals like chairs, silverware, and dishes -- and it saves money, too. A good example is food-grade bamboo charcoal. A lot of well being gurus as talking about it, it’s comparatively straightforward to work with, and it elevates any dish it’s added to. Fair-inspired foods are actually fun but in 2019, guests are favoring clean and simple appetizers. Add bowls of pineapples, kiwis, berries and other contemporary choices to make issues interesting. Deviled eggs are one of the most simple—yet tasty—appetizers round. Elevate their look with a uniform garnish or perhaps a dash of salmon caviar. They're just as tasty as the standard stuff, minus the mess. Aesthetics Of Korean Meals In Tokyo alone, an estimated forty five,000 black market stalls existed. Delicately drawing a cluster of thin wheat noodles to her lips, I watch as a wave of bliss carries over the girl at the desk next to me. Her cheeks instantly flush a rose shade as the corners of her lips slowly curve upwards. She gestures for the man sitting across from her to attempt the soup. A casserole of fried rice and pork chop is topped with tomato sauce and cheese, then baked to crispy, gooey doneness. While some restaurants could have the menus already on the table, you might have to ask for it your self at occasions. There’s oftentimes a separate menu for drinks besides water as nicely. These can get quite filling if eaten in giant portions, so ensure you leave room for your precise meal! You can get a taste of some unique flavors depending on the sauce and components used in the stir fry. For instance, McDonald's regularly come out with seasonal gadgets with a Japanese twist, like teriyaki burgers and purple bean paste pies. Historically, culinary training was casual with apprentices learning from a grasp for a few years before they apply the craft on their very own. The first college level course in cooking was carried out in 1986 at Danshui Technical College. Taiwanese cooks have been extraordinarily profitable abroad cooking each Taiwanese and worldwide cuisine. Sake consumption began through the Japanese colonial period. The first sake was made in Taiwan in 1914, the most important modern home model is Yuchun produced by the Taiwan Tobacco and Liquor Corporation. A variety of smaller producers additionally exist with an emphasis positioned on distinctive merchandise made with local rice. Table 8 supplies the abstract of cooking materials and tools sometimes used in Luzon Island for pancit dishes. But although foreign influencers launched the elements, not all of them are locally available. From this context, the community responded by introducing local sources that can be utilized. This makes the foreign-culinary heritage localized primarily based on the obtainable sources of the neighborhood. Guide To Connecticut Mobile Caterers Polished is our major design philosophy, making The Copper Key the most exceptional award-winning culinary expertise around. We make it our mission to organize the most extraordinary meals and drinks while supplying you with the attentive service your event deserves to create a truly significant expertise. Our staff is at all times delighted that will assist you both create and pull off your event. We offer a selection of seasonal, Italian-inspired appetizers and salads that complement every pie completely. Ask for suggestions and we can help you craft the perfect menu in your Shore Points pizza get together. Our cell pizza truck features four built-in faucets so we are ready to pour the perfect pint. You can shop our aisles for imported Italian specialty products or you can leave the cooking to us. Facilitating over ten million meals since our inception, we all know what it takes to make your event a yummy success. Book with Roaming Hunger figuring out that you're working with the most skilled staff in the industry. We hold the caterer's payment in escrow to ensure you get incredible day-of service. Our distributors receives a commission in full only after every occasion, ensuring your fee is protected. These permit for coworkers to socialize outdoors of the workplace with their friends and families in a relaxed, outdoor ambiance. Cotton Culinary can curate a superb company occasion that will impress employees with a custom-made menu and repair that can leave a long-lasting impression. The notion of at-home events is nothing new for Cotton Culinary. Despite their popularity, they don’t break the financial institution for event organizers. In fact, meals truck catering can be significantly inexpensive than traditional catering. Our professional inventive staff is dedicated to assembly and surpassing client’s expectations, which leads to only the most complimentary buyer feedback. Welcome to Benihana, the place you’ll discover a eating experience in distinction to any other! Highly expert and well-trained, your personal chef will entertain you whereas cooking such favorites as steak, hen, seafood and recent greens in traditional Japanese fashion on a hibachi table. When it comes to planning and feeding massive or small teams of people for anniversaries or household reunions, it might be daunting knowing the place to start out. 10 Issues To Assume About When Selecting Your Occasion Venue We’re unsure what’s in it, however it seems to be a lot of the refrigerator. Just make sure your attendees don’t attempt to carry it across the room. Another pattern we see typically is putting food already on the serving utensil. Alternate pancake, whipped cream, and strawberries or come up with your personal inventive concoction like pancake, peanut butter, and chocolate. We all know one donut hole isn't sufficient so why not serve your friends a whole bunch skewered on a stick? For a little more healthy choice alternate donuts with fruit. This consists of containers similar to serving bowls, pots, kettles, ice jugs, and water. These containers are either created from glass or metals such as copper, brass, or chrome steel. The managers also hold a keen eye on present state of affairs in which F&B Services is functioning. They want to consider mounted prices corresponding to rents and property taxes, and variable costs similar to materials, commercial, and music and leisure costs. Manner of food manufacturing (Cooking/Grilling/Boiling/Baking/Steaming). The buyer enters the selection and amount of money bodily and the machine dispenses what customer demanded precisely. Ryan Corvaia is nice, simple to work with, and knowledgeable about meals, and Chef Matt's banquet was good — indeed, some guests mentioned it was one of the best wedding ceremony spread they'd ever had. Ests, every little thing was performed smoothly & to our specs. I would highly recommend them for a wedding as nicely as any kind of catered event. Additionally, for the most half, the workers at our wedding did a great job. However, coping with Bonnie, the occasion coordinator, was a nightmare. The experiences that they impart with their providers and skillset go ahead establishing a press release. The success of an event primarily lies in the best way a private caterer designs a plan and go about it, carving a niche each for the shopper and one’s own journey. It’s, therefore, important that a personal caterer ought to observe the client’s expectations in a standardized and customized manner. The cellular caterers would prepare the menu primarily based on predetermined plans as specified by the purchasers. They would subsequently deliver the food to the apt location. This is the service most suitable for these with a set budgetary criterion. The Most Effective Lunch Catering Concepts BBQ can get slightly messy, however it’s nothing that a couple of hand wipes and napkins can’t repair. Every firm has different targets and initiatives, which means that catering wants are going to be diverse! Tasty Catering works carefully with your group to satisfy any necessities and desires your staff has for his or her subsequent occasion. We’ll make sure everyone has a chunk that fits their dietary needs and might get inventive to incorporate your brand—in brief, we are in a position to do all of it when it comes to corporate catering menu planning! It combines a surprise gift with tasty snacks and treats they'll get pleasure from while they’re at your event. A client's wants ought to always come first, and none of those frequent options may be perfect for each shopper. But typically, considered one of these options shall be suitable with the proper selection of foods and drinks. Rob Hard is a former writer for The Balance SMB. He is a communications professional and an experienced assembly and event planner. Sushi boats provide a fantastic presentation and have your caterer include a selection of raw, cooked and veggie solely alternatives. Lunch should offer a 5-ounce entrée per person, two to three side dishes and two to four appetizer options. You should resolve if you'd like a wait workers to serve meals or a buffet to help break up the day.

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