#but i need to get it cut so it can dry out

[gojoidyll]

stubborn heart ch. 5

yan!capitano x wife!reader

summary | or in which capitano is told he needs a wife. and he begrudgingly agrees.

previous | next

You found yourself tossing and turning in the bed. Your body eventually landed on your side as you could only find yourself staring at the side of Capitano’s face. At least one of you could sleep next to a total stranger. Then again, you doubted that Capitano would be afraid to sleep next to anyone. To you, he had no equal when it came to other humans. Sighing to yourself for what seemed to be the millionth time, you turned over to your side and gently reached for your nightstand where one of your old favorite books laid.

Then, turning a small knob on the gas lamp, a light flickered before igniting creating a small flame. Looking to Capitano to see if he woke up, you were glad that he didn’t. So you smiled slightly and turned back to the lamp while also opening your book.

Back at the Hearth, you did this plenty of times. You would always light a lamp with a small enough fire to be able to read in, then you would huddle up into your covers and delve deep into the fictional world that managed to paint itself across the pages.

It was the only way that you could put your heart and mind at ease so you could fall asleep. It also helped when the nights were too cold, or when your stomach was too empty, or when your hands would bleed or when tears would dry.

A good book was a good book.

And just as you were about to turn the page, you felt the bed shift on your right.

“What are you reading?”

It was odd how quiet his voice was in the night. It wasn’t soft per se, but it wasn’t his usual harsh tone either. Maybe he’s sleep talking?

“Wife.”

Ahhh, never mind. There is that demanding tone of his.

“It’s one of my books that was brought from the Hearth. It’s about a princess who…,” you trailed off. You were not exactly sure if Capitano wanted the full details of what you were reading.

“Go on. What is it about?”

He just keeps surprising you.

“It’s about a princess who falls in love with a knight. But she isn’t supposed to because her parents tell her that she is already betrothed to a prince in a faraway land.”

“You said it was one of the books from the Hearth, did you read it a lot?”

“I have.”

There was a brief silence before he spoke up again, “what happens next?”

You wondered if his question was genuine, but you decided to ignore the thought as you turned towards him and noticed how he was also sitting up in his bed, giving you his full attention.

“The princess ends up being sent to the faraway prince, but at her request she is allowed to take one guard, And that guard ends up being the knight she falls in love with. To her, as she lives in her new home and prepares herself to be married to the prince, she thinks she will be able to live happily as long as her love was right by her side. But… she realizes it to be impossible. She ends up sad over everything that even her knight can’t cheer her up. And the prince doesn’t like how sad she looks. He only wanted her for her beauty and the radiant smile she was known well for. Tired with how he can’t get her to smile as beautifully as he wants, he plans to kill her and dispose of her and find a new bride who he could call beautiful. The knight, learning of this plot, cuts down the prince with one strike and takes the princess away to live peacefully in a small, unknown village.”

“Does the princess smile again?”

“She does.”

Capitano “hmmed” in response before holding out his hand, your eyebrows scrunched together at the gesture before it finally clicked.

You handed the book to him, and he opened it to the first chapter.

“What… what are you doing?”

“I am going to read to you.”

Huh?

“I have been told that doing things together can make a relationship go smoother.”

“And that includes reading to me?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion.

“If it must.”

With how he was waiting for you to get comfortable, the hold on the book, and how he was scanning the page, it was clear that you weren’t going to read on your own. So, you laid back, your head hitting the too soft pillows as you pulled the covers more up to your chin.

Capitano looked at you briefly before looking back to the book.

“The world will only turn when she smiles…”

Out of all the things that have happened to you in the past two days, this would most definitely take the cake.

Though, your thoughts soon ceased as Capitano’s voice lulled you to sleep. One chapter became two, and two chapters became three. And before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

Sensing your breath evening out, Capitano closed the book and got out of bed to walk over to your side to turn off the lamp before going back to his side. Then, getting under the covers once more, he looked to you who was finally fast asleep.

“Books, huh?”

The next morning, just as Capitano had said, he was nowhere to be found. His side of the bed has long gone cold and the book he had been reading to you the night before rested gently on his nightstand, under it was a note. A slip of paper that peeked out just from under the book. Frowning at it, you flopped across the bed and stretched. Your arms reaching out as your fingers managed to snag against the slip of paper and gently pulled it out.

Quickly unfolding the note, you read through it quickly.

“Wife,

There is a library within the manor, but no books occupy it. I have left mora for you on the kitchen table. Feel free to go to town to buy as many books as you wish and fill the library to your heart’s content. Take your maid with you when you go out.

We will see each other again in two to three weeks. I expect you to hold true to our marriage despite not consummating it as I will do the same.

If you run out of mora for your books, go to the bank. Your name is attached to mine, so my mora is yours. Before you decline, do know that I do nothing with it. The mora merely sits there collecting dust. Put it to use.

-Capitano”

You found yourself rolling onto your back and rereading through the letter over and over again. It wasn’t romantic and it honestly felt like he was ordering you rather than offering a suggestion. And despite it being a simple note, it still had that authoritative tone and intimidating aura in it. Honestly, you wondered what an official letter from Capitano would be like. Like what it be if he was writing down orders or writing down a punishment?

You shivered at the thought as you rolled to the side of the bed and moved to sit on the edge of it. Your feet lightly kicked back in forth as you reached for your nightstand drawer and opened it before slipping the note inside and closing it right back up.

“I wonder what books I am going to get today!”

taglist

@nas-ha @simp-simp-no-mi @emmathecouchpotato4583 @sendria @riotakire @littlekohai77 @lvtuss @kreishin @floffytofu @nastylilcvnt @mikoslightnovels @feral-childs-word @barbatoss-bitch @venicecherryblossom @squirrelboxer @temperamentupgrade @avalordream @immahuman @xavlyzn @greensunflowerjuna @sarah22447 @naviabestgiirl @nevermoresworld @depressedbearblogs @ppancakesforu @0vendettaself

some say "no blogs found" when I try to add them </3

[jwsverse]

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 timestamp 03:09

pairing ⁝ jake x f!reader

synopsis ⁝ in which jake tells the boys all about his crush on you, and he's way too downbad

genre ⁝ fluff!!! , reader is implied to be "cold", jake is in luv and the boys are real goofs, oh reader os also said to have bunny teeth (sawry if you guys dh it cause i do so im sorry for being self indulgent 😥)

word count ⁝ 0.8k

author's note ⁝ ummmm idk what this is but i wanted to make tbis like black cat x golden retriever typa shii... kinda wanna write a long fic for this icl!' also fhis is NAWTTT proofread

“you like who?!”

jake stumbles back a bit at the loudness of jake's voice. he chuckles awkwardly, glancing around at the boys who are now gathered around him. even heeseung, who was about to make his leave for his next class, turns around with wide eyes.

“uh, i like y/n?” jake scratches the back of his neck shyly, flushing under the eyes of his friends as well as from his confession, “what's wrong?”

jay jumps from his seat, leaning across with his palms flat om the table as he hurriedly says, “but why? i mean like how? what about y/n? why her?”

jake is a little confused, and it's clear, so sunoo quickly clarifies, “there's nothing wrong with y/n! she's our friend and we love her!” then a pause, and his face scrunches up as he hesitates, “but it's just... you know, y/n. she's not the most cheerful nor is she the friendliest! and you've known her the shortest among us! so you know, we're just shocked.” sunoo ends his ramble with a stiff tilt of his head as he leans back into his seat.

“oh,” jake utters out quietly, flushing red, “but y/n's great. she's not very cheerful or friendly. but she cares a lot! especially for you guys!” he defends.

he doesn't quite understand what the guys are trying to say here. he knows that amongst all of them, he's known you the shortest, considering he joined the friend group late after transferring here. but, feelings don't need explanation, right? there's no reason for liking someone, it's a ‘just because’ kind of thing.

“and she's super pretty! especially when she smiles and laughs, which i know is rare, but she only ever does it around you guys, you know? she hates it but, when her bunny teeth shows it's the cutest thing and i think that makes her so unique. and she may seem cold, but i think she really cares for you guys! like whenever we go to parties, she doesn't drink cause she know you guys would get drunk, so someone has to take care of you guys.” jake rambles. he takes a deep breath, only then noticing the boys' wide eyes all staring at him.

“what?”

sunghoon, who has been silent all this while, shakes his head, gesturing for jake to go on.

“y/n's... well she doesn't show it. but she's actually really sensitive. every time you guys tease her, she may flick you off but deep down, she does get hurt! i mean you can just tell by the way her eyes shift downwards and she goes quiet for awhile.” jake frowns at a fresh memory from just last week when the boys joked about you rejecting a boy who confessed to you too coldly, and you had looked hurt for a second, before masking it up into annoyance.

“she hates it when people see her blush, but when she does, her cheeks don't turn pink, her neck does. and she always tucks her hair back when she's nervous and she'll never make eye contact with you! she's always the happiest when she's with us, and you'll miss her subtle smile if you don't pay attention. her eyes always go brighter and her way of showing care and love is by rolling her eyes and being childish.”

“i like y/n. i really do, i know i've known her the shortest and there are still many things i need to know and understand about her, but i just want you guys to know i'm really sincere about her.”

jake has to take a deep breath once he's finished. his face is red, and his mouth is dry from all the rambling. even so, he wants to go on, and he intends to, until heeseung cuts in, with his palm in his face, stopping him.

“okay that's enough. we get it jake, we trust you.” heeseung utters out with a smirk, finding the flush on his friend's cheeks awfully funny and cute. “we know you're a good guy and we think you'll be good for y/n! let's just take this slowly, okay? let's discuss after class.”

heeseung grabs his bag and heads for the door, turning back to jake as he winks, “don't worry, we won't tell y/n.” he twists the door knob and immediately halts.

right behind the door, stands you with wide eyes in shock and your hand about to knock. the heat is evident in your neck as you glance from heeseung to jake then you look away immediately.

“i...” your throat dries up as you snap out of it and tuck your hair behind your ear in a hurry, “i just wanted to grab my book.” then without looking at any of them, you cover up the side of your neck, sneak pass heeseung to grab your belongings and you run out of the room.

sunoo chuckles awkwardly, “well... at least you got her behavior on point.”

© jwsverse

[magicalrocketships]

hiii do you have news on baby max ?

yes, yes, I do. important news. (this was supposed to just be a few lines but it grew).

All earlier parts can be found in this masterpost and on AO3 here.

It's You And Me (I Know It's My Destiny): Daniel's Birthday Eve (1.1k)

The day before Daniel's birthday, Max wakes Daniel up at the inhumane hour of six in the morning, patiently tells Daniel he's doing secret things in his bedroom, and that Daniel isn’t allowed in.

Daniel, blearily coming to life on far too little sleep, agrees that Max isn't to be disturbed, but rather than this meaning he gets to go back to sleep, Max puts in his breakfast order instead. He would like cheerios and apple juice, please Daniel. Daniel's suggestion that this wait until a more humane time like 6.30 is met with Max's blisteringly silent disdain.

Daniel, suitably rebuked, stumbles out of bed and prepares Max a breakfast of cheerios and apple juice, and puts the milk in a jug that he's had to buy specially because Max doesn't like his cereal soggy. Max applies milk in a systematic and occasional manner as and when required, rather than all at once like a normal person. Daniel suspects that Max's particular idiosyncrasies weren't indulged the first time around and Daniel can't be fucked trying to persuade him out of it now that he’s seven for a second time, so Max has his own milk jug and smiles at Daniel over breakfast now.

Max eats his breakfast sitting at the table, then politely requests that they call Daniel's mum and dad on the iPad. He then disappears with the iPad and Daniel's parents into his bedroom, closes the door, and Daniel is left to clear up the remains of breakfast and slowly come awake over two cups of coffee. He picks at a few dry cheerios. Contemplates a shower. He knocks at Max's bedroom door and asks if everything is okay, and he's met with a chorus of responses - Max's yes thank you Daniel coupled with Daniel's Mum and Dad's tinny everything's good coming from the iPad.

Sure. Daniel will take that. He cleans up the kitchen a bit, has a very quick shower with the door cracked the tiniest bit open in case Max needs him, then wanders between the bedroom and the kitchen and the utility room failing to do jobs and wondering what Max is getting up to with his parents. He should be enjoying the peace and quiet, with no one telling him flag facts or shoving pictures of cats in front of him and getting him to guess the breed or telling him that the Jimmy or Sassy cats are trying to knock everything off the trophy shelf again, but he wants to know what's going on. There's some very industrious paper cutting and conversation going on inside Max’s bedroom.

Max pads out of the bedroom after an hour, hands Daniel the iPad and says it's running out of charge. He also asks for the glue and if it's all right if he uses all his stickers up. Daniel's mum waves at him from the iPad, which is, as Max says, running at 7%.

"Hello, Mum," Daniel says, rooting about in the drawer for the glue sticks at the same time as unplugging the charging cable from the wall and plugging it into his battery pack instead.

"Hello, Daniel," his mum says.

"Everything okay?" Daniel asks, handing over the battery pack, the glue sticks, and the iPad to a stern-faced Max.

"Yes, thank you, Daniel," Max says. Daniel's mum echoes it. She at least waves as Max goes back into his bedroom and closes the door.

The next time Max comes out, it's to deposit the iPad with Daniel and to ask for a drink. It's both his parents on the screen this time.

"Hello," Daniel says, plugging them into the wall and obediently getting Max a cup of apple juice.

Max comes and sits down next to Daniel, plastering himself to Daniel’s side like he's Daniel's personal protector.

"How's it going?" Daniel asks, since every member of his family is apparently being weird as fuck today.

"It's your birthday," Max says.

"Tomorrow," Daniel agrees.

"It's almost tomorrow in Australia," Max says solidly. "Isn't it?" He directs his attention towards Daniel's mum and dad.

"It is almost tomorrow in Australia," his parents say, which is a lie because it's not even fucking dinnertime in Perth.

"We're going to have your birthday now," Max says.

"Are we?"

"We are," Max says. "Stay here and don't move. Please."

He pads off into the bedroom. He'd got himself dressed even before coming to wake Daniel up that morning, in his Pokemon t-shirt and shorts and his blue socks. When he comes back he's carrying a big piece of paper from his arts and crafts set and carrying Pikachu under one arm. He unfolds the paper for Daniel to look at.

It says Happy Birthday My Daniel in big coloured-in blue letters, and underneath, love from Max. There are some cat stickers on one side and Max has carefully written the name of the cat breeds (with some crossings out where he'd spelled it wrong) next to them with arrows. He's drawn a flag in each corner. There's the Australian flag, and the Italian one, and the Dutch one, and the Belgian one. He's used up all his stickers from the zoo and glued on a picture of a camel and a train and a photograph of him and Daniel and Daniel's mum and dad from when they went on holiday and they spent five days basically living in the pool. Max has had that photo stuck to his wall ever since they got back.

Daniel looks at his birthday picture. He wants to cry.

"Happy birthday, my Daniel," Max says. "Do you like it?"

"More than anything," Daniel says, and he can't help but sound a bit choked up. When he looks up at his iPad, his parents are smiling. His dad has his phone out taking a picture of the screen. "Did you help with this?"

"We were here for artistic advice and company," his mum says. "But it was all Max."

Max looks up at him. He's beaming, pleased and happy and proud. "I made it for you," he says.

"It's the best thing I've ever seen," Daniel says, truthfully, and he asks Max if he'd like a hug.

Max nods thoughtfully, then wraps his arms around Daniel's neck. Daniel hugs back.

"Thank you," Daniel says, a little sniffly. "It's lovely."

"I used up all my stickers," Max tells him, still hugging him.

"That's very kind of you," Daniel says. He kisses the top of Max's head. "We'll have to get you some more, won't we?"

"We're going to send some from Australia," his parents say. "With koalas on."

"And kangaroos," Max agrees.

"Best early birthday present ever," Daniel says. He looks down at his picture. He'll put it on the wall, he thinks. Leave it up forever.

"Love you," Max says solidly.

"Love you too," Daniel says, and Max, smiling, gives him Pikachu to hold.

"You can look after Pikachu," Max says, and Daniel thinks, forever.

[365granitegirlx]

♡⟡˙⋆It takes us a little higher⋆˙⟡♡

Summary: You've never been fond of your roommate Vessel, but a mortifying shared experience brings you closer than you ever thought possible.

a/n: MDNI - smut under the cut. Alternate, affectionate title is "Close the Fucking Door. Holy Shit."

roommate!vessel x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, some angst, porn with plot, accidental voyeurism, laundry day tension, vessel's favorite color seems to be emerald, reader and vessel are mean to each other, very brief slut shaming (the word "whore" is used twice derogatorily), “you’re the closest and hottest thing right now” type shit, rough sex but it’s comfort sex

No, roommates don’t have to be friends. There is no bylaw saying if you share a dwelling and the bills therein you have to be the best of friends with your housemate…but if there was, you and Vessel would be faced with a hefty fine. Where you saw the opportunity to be lighthearted, he would claim you never took anything seriously; yet when he attempted to be playful with you, you accused him of mocking you. Is this brownstone in town worth the strife? Actually, yes. Everyone has their own comfortable spaces, it’s close to everyone’s workplace, the rent is reasonable. And yet. This afternoon you’re in the little laundry room sorting things to go into the washer when you hear the heaviest sigh. “Just going to start laundry, then? No worries if anyone else needs it.” Oh, he’s grumpy today.

Vessel has his barely filled laundry basket in his long arms and impatiently drums his fingers on it. 

“Doesn’t seem like you were going to ask me. Now does it?” You nod at his laundry basket as he stammers a bit. “Just put it in with mine.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Vessel, seriously,” you snap, “you have barely anything in there. We’d be wasting water if I didn’t…”

“This is how I always do my laundry! Saying I’m the reason the water bill i–”

“JUST… put your laundry in the washer. Jesus.”

Vessel huffs and drops his laundry in like you said (or as you demanded as he would have put it). You two can hardly look at each other. He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you thank him. He shows his gratitude by switching the laundry and then sorting it once it’s dry. He does this in the living room with an inconsequential movie on. You join him for what you call “a folding paaarrttyyyyy.” This actually gets a little laugh from him. Humorless laugh, but it’s a sign of life. 

It had been a month or so of just existing in the same space since an “incident” had occurred. Neither of you brought it up but it lingered heavily between you.

𓍯𓂃

The morning of the incident you two had a civil, even thoughtful, conversation. You told Ves you’d be out that evening, maybe even all night. This delighted him. He could do some audio mixing without fear of interruption. Spread out in the living room. Oh the possibilities! He even asked who the guy was. Anything to encourage you to leave him alone for the night. Get you talking and excited about whoever the hell this poor man is so that maybe you’d get yourself all giddy and blushy and convince yourself to stay out all night. You deserve it…no wait…no. Vessel deserved it. He had to keep reminding himself he didn’t actually care. 

Except he did. The evening was actually boring. You’d only been gone an hour, and he was already thinking about going to bed. He idly wondered what you and the guy were doing. That emerald green dress you had on made it seem like you were dead set on seducing on him. The way it hugged your hips and didn’t even graze your knees. How your sheer black stockings made your legs glimmer just a bit. Vessel came to the conclusion that you actually could seduce this man without even trying…you’d just have to show up. Fuck. These weird, clouded, thoughts that flirted with being both positive and lustful rubbed Vessel the wrong way. That’s his roommate he’s thinking about. Maybe he’s just lonely.

Yes, that’s it. He’s desperate. And that feeling churns and grows to the point where he can’t ignore it anymore. He’s home alone, after all. Why not make a little “to do” about it? He dimmed his lights and slipped out of his clothes, splaying out on his bed with a little bottle of lube close by. This was something he missed. Indulging in a little fantasy and playing with himself, all while not having to wonder if someone would hear him or walk in or just make some goddamn annoying noise that would distract him. All he could hear was his ragged, raspy breaths and soft moans…and the slick pornographic sounds of his fist pumping his cock. God it was so nice to just edge a little…he really did deserve this. He tries to think of something to calm him down and dull the feeling. Your most recent argument about where the reusable grocery bags were was very helpful in this instance…except for when he remembered your little dress. How soft you looked piled in the satin. What kind of panties did you have on under that? No panty line was visible so maybe…no don’t go there. But he has to. He has to imagine what it would be like to let his fingers trail up your inner thigh to then lift your dress and see those fucking tights hugging your plush ass and maybe even how your soft thighs would expand as you sit back on your heels, your pretty eyes gazing up at him…

“Oh…fuck!”

But it wasn’t Vessel exclaiming. Why were you home? “CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR. HOLY SHIT.”

You had scurried into your room. Your cheeks hurt from your nervous grin and the blush dusting your cheeks; you feel like a little girl running from her crush. But this wasn’t innocent. You had just watched your roommate cum. The little whimpers and groans piqued your attention the second you entered the hall. You actually thought he had been crying but…good god. If there had been tears, they’d have been ones of ecstasy. The look on his face…you’ll never forget that. The way his jaw fell and his eyebrows knitted together…how his bobbing throat signaled yet another desperate moan. You had left your date way early for…reasons you’d rather not think about at the moment. You had a new problem. The image of arrogant, quiet Vessel truly enjoying himself…looking absolutely delicious…vulnerable…that wasn't leaving your mind anytime soon. And you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his abs flexed as he came…what would they feel like under your hand if you were riding him? Or against your own soft tummy while you’re on your back? Or even against your back as he spooned and fucked you while whispering filth in your ear. You stared up at the ceiling by the low light of your bedside lamp after taking care of yourself. The thrill from your momentary distraction from your bad date turns into guilt and settles in your tummy where your arousal once was.

Your mind won’t shut up. Berating you for being such a perv. And that’s when you hear Ves. Pacing. He does that sometimes. Of all the sounds you hear from sharing a wall with him, that’s the sound you’ve come to anticipate the most. How his mind reels at night. You start to ruminate, imagining that he regrets this. But it seems you finally have something in common tonight. You’re embarrassed. You’re awake. And you’re alone. Instead of nodding off, you take a chance. You reach up and knock softly on your shared wall. Just a little, “I’m right  there with you.” And as you drift off to sleep you hear two soft, timid knocks above your head.

𓍯𓂃

With the laundry folded in complete and utter silence, you sigh heavily and take your folded laundry into your room. Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you grin at the text…completely ignoring the visitor in your doorway. You don’t even look up but you speak. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Oh? Uhm. Cool.” Vessel tries to act as if he isn’t the one encroaching on your space. Too aloof to care. He certainly wasn’t feeling touch and attention starved. Not at all. That had nothing to do with why he was standing in your doorway, watching you poke at your phone. “Another date?”

“Yep. Been too long since the last one.”

Ves looks at you thoughtfully and weighs his options. Does he risk perhaps having to talk about the “close the fucking door. Holy shit” incident? Or does he continue to push you away? Continue to make you the villain in his inner monologue? He takes a deep breath, holds it, and bites the bullet. “Why did you come home so early that night?”

A long sigh escapes you. “I…got to the restaurant and, well, basically he told me I looked easy and that he liked that. So the whole evening was just…” you pause and look away. 

“He didn’t try to…like…”

“No.” You don’t mean to snap, but you did. Vessel nods, nonplussed by your tone. “No, I didn't give him a chance. Turns out I’m a whore for dressing like that and for not putting out. Such is life, yeah?” 

“Waste of an outfit, if you ask me.” You stare at Vessel for a bit. He seems angry. Tense. His legs jitter a bit and he wipes his face with a long exhale. “You should be taken out in that dress whenever you want…wherever you want.” 

You go to your closet and pull out a few dresses like your emerald and hold them up to yourself in the mirror. “Well, he’s getting a second chance tonight.”

He scoffs and crosses his arms. His height allows him to take up most of your doorframe; he secretly hopes that might keep you from leaving. From seeing that degenerate. If you just wanted to get fucked he wishes you’d just ask him. But he has to remind himself that some people need a bit more than that. He wouldn’t know the first thing about what you needed. He pleaded with himself nightly to not worry about it. It won’t work. It shouldn’t work. But damnit…you’re right there. The single hottest and closest thing. Vessel doesn't realize he’s just been staring, shaking his head with disappointment.

“Care to share or are you just being weird?” You say without looking away from the mirror.

“Why are you putting yourself through this? Hm? Do you like being treated like that?”

He purses his lips when your eyes pierce through him, getting ready to strike. “Well, not that present company can understand this but people can change and redeem themselves. Besides, what do you care?”

You’ve got him. Vessel looks down, sniffs, and shrugs. “Maybe you are a whore.” He immediately winces. That was mean…and stupid. He pushes himself off the doorframe and sulks back to his room. But you’re on his heels.

“Tell me why you care, Vessel,” you demand to his back. He won’t turn and face you. “Fucking look at me.”

With a heavy sigh, he turns, shoulders slumped…and hard as a rock. His arousal can easily be attributed to the blood rush and emotions from being angry but truth be told it’s from imaging you in those dresses you were considering. And imagining you in that green dress, letting him take you out and then have his way with you.Your eyes are boring into him with a look he’s never seen before. “Want some help?” 

He nods softly. 

“Can I get verbal consent? Jesus Christ,” you huff. 

“Yeah…yes, I’d like help.” He watches as you slip off your hoodie and kneel like you’ve done this before with him. What a sight. 

“Take your shirt off, Ves. Please.” It all feels like a dream. Vessel is standing before you, rock hard and willing. Your hands rub up his thighs… to his hips…his abs…and he actually caresses your arms when they stretch up to gently play with his nipples. After moving your hands down to remove his pants, you place soft kisses on stomach and around his happy trail. Fuck. This is living. Your arms wrap around to his back as you hold him place, making him whine softly with each kiss. It’s impossible to keep from kissing and caressing your face right below his belly button. It’s unfair how good he feels against your lips and how lovely he smells from his body wash and just…him. As toned as he is, you find a soft spot and gently bite it. You look up expecting him to have his eyes closed but he’s actually staring down at you, biting his lip. It’s too much to bear. It feels like second nature to take his cock in your mouth. You’re lost in the feeling of taking him deeper until you gag softly. When you do, he caresses your hair, asking if you’re ok. His touch is so gentle, but you’re confused when he slowly pries you off his cock and stands you up. You’re about to take off your bralette when he shakes his head and tsks. 

“I need something to hold onto, don’t I?”

You’re unable to answer as he presses a hot, messy kiss against your mouth. He’s quite literally taking your breath away as he wraps his long arms around your body and his tongue prods at your lips. He needs to taste you. He meant to not just enjoy you…but to know you. To know how you like…no…how you need to be kissed. And where you like to be kissed. It’s not enough to kiss you where “everyone wants to be kissed” like your neck and collarbone…he needs to map it out. No one will ever know this body like he does. It’s like his brain has shut down. He doesn’t remember pushing you to the bed and  lowering himself to the floor on his knees as he took off your sweats and panties. But he’s fully lucid when he, without preamble, delicately presses his tongue against your heat for the first time. The sound that comes out of you…my god. He wonders to himself if you’d ever record yourself cumming for him or even let him make a little video sometime. Better yet…he’d just have you every night. 

But that takes time and that’s what he’s doing right now. His tongue is tracing slow circles around your clit as he commits this moment to memory. The feeling of your fingers playing with his hair excites him, makes him feel giddy. He moans softly against your little sweet as he brings it into his mouth. It becomes very clear after a while that he’s chasing your orgasms along with you. 

When he pulls away, he’s  all starry eyed and a little giggly. “Oh…you are divine. Can I do more?”

All you can let out is a pathetic whimper as you catch your breath. He looms over you, wiping you off his mouth. “Can I get your verbal consent, angel?” 

“Please. Yes…please…” you get out as your core aches to feel anything from him again. 

“Look at you. You’ve got a little pulse down there, good girl.” He lets his fingers trace your throbbing clit, but there’s no relief. You whine against his touch. “Made you feel good, huh? Tell me something…how badly do you want to get fucked?”

You whimper softly and roll over onto your tummy for him. No words from you are required when Vessel whispers soft encouragements and makes sure you’re comfy before teasing your cunt one last time with his fingers. “Just put it in, Ves, please.” 

Vessel gently pops your bralette strap against your back and chuckles at your impatience. “No warm up? I didn’t think you’d be this much fun.” Your front lifts from the bed as you moan into the bed, but Vessel smooths his hand down your back.“I know….I know. Just breathe, baby. Open your legs for me a bit more.” He runs his hands along your thighs and presses them into his bed. Like he said he would, he grasps the band of your bralette with one hand as he starts to fuck you. The stretch and feeling of him stroking you from the inside makes you cry out. You realize momentarily who’s fucking you…who’s making you cum. The forbidden idea that the energy between you two could spark both anger and the most palpable lust you’ve ever felt makes you press back against him harder. “Oh there she is,” Vessel grunts out as he lands a sharp spank on your ass. And another.

“Ffffuck. Ag…again. Please.”

“You like that?” Spank. “Such a sweetheart for me.” Spank. “You feel so fucking good…” 

Your head feels fuzzy as his hands melt into your soft skin and his moans become higher pitched. More desperate. He’s saying your name. He’s cumming for you. 

𓍯𓂃

You’re getting in late from a girls night out. It’s unsurprising that the house is dark, but you can hear whatever video game Vessel is playing…and sounding like he’s about to rage quit. His back is to you as he’s hunched over on the couch.

“Ves….” A beat. “VES! Turn that down…or off, preferably,” you huff.

“Tsk yes, mum,” he says smartly, turning the game off and tossing the controller. He wants to be grumpy…but there you were, settling in his lap…in that fucking…emerald…dress. He puts his forehead to your chest and presses sweet little kisses onto it. “Welcome home, angel.”  No, roommates don’t have to be friends.

[thecommunityfridge]

The Eye Roll

TW: Ageplay, diapers, humiliation, bedwetting, spanking, manipulation

This story was inspired by and costars (with her permission) the wonderful @dearchloe. Go check out her amazing work!

"No, Mister, no way! You have wet the bed five of the last six nights. I am done playing around. Five nights of wet pull-ups in a week means you sleep in the nursery until you can prove you deserve otherwise. No exceptions!" Miss Chloe lectured me as she fought to get me diapered and dressed for bed.

Miss Chloe, the domineering British woman who had shown up at my door one day, declared she was my Nanny, and somehow took over my life like an AB/DL Mary Poppins, wasn't wrong. I had wet the bed five of the last six nights, and I had invoked her prescribed consequence of having to move into my guest room turned nursery until I could prove I could keep my pants dry overnight.

Of course, it didn't matter to Miss Chloe that my accidents had all been her fault.

She had made me drink all that water right before bed every night, because 'I was too dehydrated.' She carefully monitored whether I got out of bed at night, spanking me for getting up before I had 'slept' a full ten hours, because 'I needed to get a good night's rest.'

How was I supposed to keep my pull-up dry when I was spanked every time I made a very necessary midnight run to the plastic potty she kept in her room, the only toilet I was allowed to use?

There was no use in explaining the unfairness of it all to Miss Chloe though. Each time I talked back, I was met with some explanation with infallible logic about how she was right, and I needed to just accept the well-deserved consequences of my actions. It was infuriating.

So, this time, instead of trying to justify my predicament, or talking back as Miss Chloe termed it, I tried a new tactic. I rolled my eyes hard, like a bratty preteen, turned my back on my self-declared Nanny, and said, "Whatever," with as much cool disdain as I could muster.

That was a bad idea.

Miss Chloe immediately rounded on me, getting in front of me, and cutting off any means of escape.

"Oh my! I didn't know my little poppet's eyes were so tired! That was quite the eye roll, Little One!"

I looked at my caretaker confused. Miss Chloe was usually much more in tune with why I did something than this. My eye roll wasn't because I was tired. It was a sign of disrespect and rebellion. It was a manifestation of my frustration with her domineering attitude.

I tried to tell Miss Chloe as much when she immediately cut me off.

"I mean, your eyes ~must~ be tired, because I know that a good little boy like you would never roll your eyes at me on purpose! If that was the case, why, I think you would definitely have to take a trip over Nanny's lap to be reacquainted with Mrs. Spoon!"

I physically swallowed my words. Miss Chloe had proven to be a savant with 'Mrs. Spoon,' and I was not ready to risk her wraith again.

"No! Of course not Miss Chloe, my eyes just must, um, be, very tired! It is bedtime after all!" I responded, backtracking faster than a cat walking in on a room of dogs playing poker.

"That's what I thought, you poor little thing. Let Miss Chloe help with that!"

My Nanny caressed my face as she spoke before placing a hand lightly on my back, leading me into the nursery I had been working so hard to avoid.

"I have just the thing to help those tired, little eyes of yours! Now stay right here!" Miss Chloe directed me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room. Standing there, I couldn't help but feel like the giant changing table, crib, and other furniture was silently standing guard over me as I listened to the warden of my infantile prison rummage through a dresser drawer behind me.

"Found it!" Miss Chloe exclaimed.

I felt her presence approaching behind me before, suddenly, the world went black. Something soft and totally opaque obstructed my vision. I raised my hands to pull the intruding object off my face only to hear as much as feel a loud smack as my hands were batted away.

"Nuh uh, my adorable little poppet. You leave that blindfold on! Those silly little eyes of yours need rest! Covering them and taking a much needed ni-night is the only fix for such worn out little peepers," Miss Chloe's said, her voice circling me as she spoke.

With the blindfold on, I felt so little and vulnerable. Despite this room being in my house for years, it's recent conversion to a nursery made it feel strange and foreign to me. Now, completely blind, I felt more like I was lost in some foreign country than in a room in my own home.

I strained my hearing, trying to catch any details to make me feel more comfortable in the nursery.

From my right, I could hear the soft hiss of the oil diffuser, emitting a soft, lavender scent. Behind me, a light ticking came from the small clock on the wall. From all around me, Miss Chloe's steps sounded soft and muffled by the clean, soft shag carpeting under her feet as she circled me.

"Alright, Little One! Let's get you ready for bed!" Miss Chloe's voice suddenly came from behind me.

Before I could turn, I felt the sharp tug of the shorts and pull-up I was wearing being yanked down from behind me. I felt my cheeks warm as cool air assaulted my exposed groin.

"Step!" Nanny ordered, lightly tapping my right leg.

I complied, lifting my right leg, listening to the crinkle of the pull-up as Miss Chloe removed my foot from my pullies' leg hole.

"Other foot!" Nanny's voice rang out from below me.

Just as before, I raised my leg as Nanny pulled my foot out of my shorts and pull-up. The sound of light rustling of my disposable undergarments my reward for compliance.

"Good job, poppet! You kept your pullies dry all day!" Miss Chloe said with a joy and sincerity in her voice that made her sound more like she was talking to a three-year-old than me, the 30-year-old standing half naked before her.

My blush deepened at her words.

"Thanks, Miss Chloe."

I wished I could see her facial expressions so I could at least guess at what she had in store for me next. Instead, I had to settle for the sharp sound of her hands clapping together.

"Alright, arms up! We're almost ready for jammies!"

With gentle hands, I felt my Nanny lift the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, careful not to knock off the strip of cloth cutting off my vision. I heard Miss Chloe giggle once I was completely naked.

"There's my big boy! All nakey and ready for jammies!"

I felt Miss Chloe's hand wrap around mine and pull me forward. Hesitantly, but trusting that my self-appointed caregiver wouldn't let me hurt myself on accident, I let myself be led to the changing table that I knew from my memory was our destination.

"Hop on up!" Miss Chloe's voice intoned from beside me once we reached the table.

Delicately, I reached out and felt the soft padding and heard the loud crinkle of the plastic covered mattress set on top of the childish piece of furniture. Carefully, I lifted one leg into the table, only to be greeted by more soft crinkles. More confident, I lifted my second leg, getting my whole naked body carefully placed in the table.

I jumped a little as Miss Chloe's soft hands reached out for me, guiding me into the best position on the soft, cold plastic. With each movement of my body, I was reminded of my embarrassing situation by the crinkle of plastic.

Once I was safely on my back, without saying a word, Miss Chloe went to work.

I heard the soft rustle of fresh padding as she grabbed a diaper from under the changing table. The rustle only got louder as she folded and fluffed it.

I heard the sound of skin-on-skin before I felt it. The gentle slap to the side of my ass beckoned me to lift my naked tushy so Miss Chloe could slide the diaper underneath me. Resigned to my fate, I complied with the silent order, listening to the sound of the diaper sliding on the waterproof mattress on the changing table as the babyish garment was placed underneath me.

Still blind to the world, the next sound I heard was the almost imperceptibly noise of powder falling over my crotch. The sweet smell of talcum told me that Miss Chloe intended for me to stay in this padded monstrosity for at least my prescribed 10 hours of sleepy time tonight.

The diaper rustled again as my Nanny folded it up over my loins. The sound of the tapes being pulled and the light pressure of them being pressed flat signaled the end of my humiliating diapering was near.

"Perfect! A perfectly padded and properly protected little poppet!" Miss Chloe announced as I felt her gentle hands help me down from the changing table. "Now to get the sleepy boy into his jammies!"

I listened as Miss Chloe walked to the dresser pulled something out and returned to me.

As she did, I squeezed my legs together, marvelling at the thick feel of the diaper as well as how noisy it seemed in the otherwise quiet nursery. I didn't have long to examine my embarrassing new underwear before my Nanny returned with what was presumably pajamas.

In the reverse of being undressed, I stepped into what I could feel was a soft, fleece footie sleeper. I followed Miss Chloe's soft but firm instructions as she dressed me without question. Being blind to the world adding to my fear of the caring but dominate woman and made me more compliant.

The last noise as I was dressed was the tell-tale whir as the zipper was pulled up from behind me. The familiar noise signalling I was ready to be tucked into the horrible crib for the next ten hours.

"You're so adorable!" Miss Chloe preened as she guided me to the crib, my diaper whispering out my infantile state with each step.

Miss Chloe helped lift me into the tall piece of furniture. She helped me lay down, covering me with a soft blanket, before handing me what was I knew was a comically large baby bottle.

"Drink up!" my Nanny ordered as I heard her slide the side of the crib back in place, locking it with a sharp click.

I lifted the bottle to my lips and filled my ears with the gentle sucking sound that could only come from someone nursing the rubber teat of a bottle. A soft lullaby started playing from above me, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned on the mobile dangling over the bed.

A new click came from by the door, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned out the lights (a pointless gesture given I was already blindfolded).

"Goodnight, my sweet boy! Rest those tired eyes!" my Nanny called out as she shut the door to the nursery, locking me in.

As I lay suckling my bottle, diapered, blindfolded, and locked away in a crib, I couldn't help but relax. Maybe, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep and as I had many times before, Miss Chloe was right, and being put to bed in the nursery wasn't so bad.

[sopreciouslife]

3  𝒢𝓁𝑜𝓌  𝓊𝓅  𝒯𝒾𝓅𝓈

𝟏. Hygiene: This key for any glow-up, and it doesn't have to be super extra, just the basics to stay fresh. You should be showering at least once a day, preferably at night (and if you work out in the morning, definitely shower after that). When you're in the shower, PLEASE don’t just use your hands, grab a loofah, sponge, or washcloth, anything! But hands alone? A big no. Shaving is optional, but do it as often as you need. Some girls can get away with a couple times a week, others might need to every day, it’s totally personal. Lastly, exfoliation is your everything. You only need to do it 2-3 times a week, but girl, it’ll give you that smooth skin by scrubbing away all the dead skin cells. Trust, your skin will be glowing!

𝟐. Hair: Keeping up with hair care can be such a struggle sometimes, especially depending on your hair type, but trust me, it’s 100% worth it. I’ve been through a whole hair journey myself, so I get it! There’s a ton I could say, but here’s the tea-- first, you need to know your exact hair type. This will help you figure out how often to wash it and which products will make your hair thrive. It’s all part of getting that soft, long hair faster. Oh, and don’t forget—there are certain hairstyles and cuts that are perfect for your face shape, so do a little research to find what suits you best. You’re already gorgeous, but the right cut will take it to another level! 

𝟑. SkinCare: If you're ready for that glow-up, it’s time to get serious about your skincare! Start with a bomb cleanser, something that matches your skin type (oily, dry, combo, girl... you know the drill). Exfoliate 2-3 times a week to get rid of those dead skin cells, and trust me, your skin will feel brand new. Hydration is everything, so find a moisturizer that leaves you dewy, not greasy. And don’t even think about skipping sunscreen, UV rays are NOT your bestie. Finish off with a glow serum and watch yourself literally shine. Glow up season is officially ON.

Note: This is my first post which is why I didn't make it too long. if you want me to make a post one a specific thing (or you wanna ask me a question) either dm me or ask in my inbox and ill answer! love ya <3

[vodika-vibes]

Vod’ika - my medic has been not seeing eye to eye with her Commanding Officer, Commander Baccara. She thinks the troopers are all over worked, under fed and it’s kriffing cold and wet. How about a bon fire?!?! (And maybe some hot snuggles afterwards, you know just to get nice and warm 😉)

Doctor's Orders

Summary: When Commander Bacara and his men are stuck on a planet far, far away from the comforts of Coruscant, you decide to help them relax.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 955

Prompt: Bonfire

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

It’s cold. Cold and wet and miserable.

Oh, it’s not raining, but the dampness in the air cuts through your uniform, leaving you miserable and irritable.

Even worse, you can’t even stay on the ship because there’s something wrong with the exhaust system, which means the warm and dry ship that has been your home these last six months, is now very off-limits while the engineering crew tries to keep the ship from killing everyone.

Fun times.

This means that everyone is living and working out of tents. Luckily, there haven’t been any injuries that require a bacta tank or emergency surgery.

You tug your jacket a little tighter around you and allow your gaze to drift across the camp. The men are hungry and tired, and it’s made them all short-tempered.

Bacara has had to break up more than one argument that devolved into a physical altercation since becoming stranded here.

Speaking of Bacara—

You sweep your gaze across the camp until you find your Commander. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see the exhaustion dragging him down. His shoulders are tense, and you know that if he removed his helmet, his jaw would be clenched.

General Mundi, sitting not far away from Commander Bacara, looks just as tense and unhappy. His unflappable Jedi calm finally crumbles under the stress of the situation. 

You shift slightly and rest your chin on the palm of your hand. This situation is…familiar. When you were a girl, your family had ended up stranded at your uncle’s cabin for a couple of weeks. But you don’t remember the mood at the cabin even getting so bad.

You purse your lips thoughtfully.

Thinking about it, dad had been careful to make sure that everyone was having fun. He set up games and told stories…and every night there was a bonfire to cut the chill.

You sit up suddenly as the idea wiggles into your brain like a particularly stubborn earworm, and you stand.

A bonfire.

It might not fix everything, but it might make the evenings more tolerable, right?

Not to mention, the middle of the camp has already been cleared of any fire hazards, so all you’ll have to do is make the pit, and gather some stones and some dry wood.

You won’t even need help, you’ve been making bonfires since you were a teenager.

The idea solidified, you move to the edge of the camp to pick up a solid stick, and then move to the middle of the camp to draw where you’re going to build your bonfire. 

As your firepit grows, more and more people stop what they’re working on to watch you. Though none of the clones came over to help you, some of the other natborns do though. You don’t mind, you doubt they’ve ever been to a bonfire before.

And, just before the sun sets, one of your coworkers lights the bonfire and it roars to life. A controlled roar, but a roar all the same. Another civilian, a member of the kitchen staff, supplies some music, and you watch as your coworkers and friends start to relax.

Even the clones are starting to relax, once someone explains to them what’s going on.

Well. Most of them.

You know you saw Bacara go back into the Command tent rather than staying out to relax, and you’ve decided that you’re not going to stand for it. Or sit for it, for that matter.

So you slip away from the gathering, which is slowly starting to have the feel of a massive party and push your way into the Command tent. You square your stance and set your hands on your hips, and you glare at your Commander.

“You need a break.”

“I’m busy.”

“The work will still be there in the morning.” You walk over to him and reach up to tug his helmet off his head, “One night to relax, Cara, you need it. You all need it.”

He frowns at you and shakes his head.

“Cara, General Mundi almost lost his shit this morning. I didn’t even know he could lose his shit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Alright, but I’m not.”

He pauses, and his gaze immediately snaps to your face. He stares at you for a moment, likely taking in your messy hair and the dark circles under your eyes, and then he sighs, “You won’t take a break unless I’m next to you.” It’s not a question.

You just grin up at him and hold out your hand for him to take.

You lead him out of the tent and over to the blanket that someone set on the ground for you earlier. It’s a bit further away from the bonfire than you would prefer, but it's what Bacara prefers, so you’re fine with it.

You’re about to tell him to have a seat, but he beats you to it, sitting on the blanket and leaning back against the tree. So, gleefully, you sit between his legs and lean your head back against his shoulder.

“See, isn’t this relaxing, Cara?”

His arms slide securely around your shoulders, “Not in the slightest.”

“Liar.”

His arms tighten around you and you feel his lips brush against your temple for a moment, and you grin as you wrap your hands around his forearms, for Bacara, that was as good as an admission of love.

“Love you, Cara.” You say in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, yeah.” One of his hands presses against your mouth, “I know.”

With Bacara wrapped around you, and a bonfire raging in front of you you finally feel warm again. 

So, you mentally call it a successful mission and immediately busy yourself with cuddling Bacara, since he deserves it.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Weasel

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!F!Reader

Summary: A back and forth with the infamous Fred Weasley sends the two nemeses into a back-and-forth that lands them in detention, where both their frustration and anger send them into a deep argument full of insults, tension, and revelations.

Warning: LONG, 8k words, lots of scene cuts becuz a LOT happens, rivals to lovers (not really, Fred's obsessed with reader and is a little shit), boy pulls on the pigtails of the girl he claims he dislike type trope, was forced to give reader at least a last name, same for her best friend ( went with one of the most generic name Tiffany), Fred being a little shit, argument, tension, reader is unhinged

A/N: Fun fact about this fic it almost included a Pygmy Puff before I checked and discovered that they were created by the twins for their shop and since they are still students I had to go and swap it up with a baby puffskein. No idea how to describe that fic, there will definitely be multiple parts, enjoy!

There are no other places like Hogwarts.

The scenery, the castle's secrets, and the yearly competition between houses are something to behold.

But what might be icing on the cake is the library. The place where I can lose track of time all the while learning about the magical world.

The library has a hush rule but you can't help the coughs, the few ink pots falling to the ground, or even the giggles here and there but it doesn't bother me one bit, it even helps me focus as I enjoy yet one more day in the castle.

"Hi there Raven."

And there goes my enjoyment.

With a roll of my eye, I direct them toward the annoying voice belonging to none other than Fred Weasley who stands there with his satchel on his side leaning against one of the book-filled shelves.

"Weasel," I acknowledge him with a sigh looking back down at my page.

"Weasley," he corrects drily.

I brush him off as I finish my inked sentence and wait for it to dry before turning the page and asking him what he's doing here.

He leans on the table by his hip and crosses his arms inclining his head towards me, "What is it to you?"

"You being here is a bad omen so either you're here to sell your stupid stuff to the first years," I say glancing at his sachel for a second before looking back down at my work, "Or it involves annoying me and I'm having a good day to waste it dealing with you today."

I don't look at him and instead focus on my next sentence when I hear some shuffling and a piece of rolled-up parchment drops next to me that I recognize all too well.

"You must be kidding me," I groan snatching the parchment from the table.

"Unfortunately no. McGonagall benched me and said that if I wanted to stay on the quidditch team I needed a tutor."

His speech makes me groan as the lines reiterate his rant in a distinguished manner and is signed at the bottom by Professor Flitwick.

"McGonagall sent me to Flitwick who recommended you. Said you needed tutoring on your record."

I let go of the paper and join my hands together placing my thumbs on the base of my nose to try and diminish the incoming headache.

"Soo," he draws out attracting my gaze, "See you later, I'll be waiting for your owl."

I see him walking backward, all cocky as he dares to wink at me before turning around and descending the spiral stairs.

I audibly scoff and slam my notebook closed.

Yet another day ruined by that damn Weasel.

"He's a pest."

"You're exaggerating again," she laughs at me standing up from her seat.

"No, I'm not!" I say shoving the last book in my bag as class just ended, "He's obnoxious and annoying and a nuisance to my peace," I stand up and follow right after her.

It's been a few days since my unfortunate meeting with the least likable Weasley in the library and the meeting with Professor Flitwick and McGonagall this early morning couldn't have gotten any worse since no amount of pleading on my part could get them not to assign me with him. As a supplement I had the redhead walk in on me pleading which had him reveling at my misery digging me into a deeper foul mood.

"He's a funny guy that sometimes goes too far," she says pushing a chair that wasn't tucked under its assigned table.

"He's the bane of my existence," I say full of venom.

She laughs walking toward the classroom's exit," That's romantic."

"No, saying someone is the bane of your existence isn't romantic."

"I'm sure you could turn it into something romantic, like a poem or a book about forbidden love," she daydream walking through the door.

"You read too many romance books," I say stepping outside the classroom when I freeze and feel like I'm going underwater as my body is iced out for a moment.

It feels as if I've been hit with glacius but I'm able to use my voice and squeal in shock as the feeling subsides and I'm brought back from my shock by two giggles.

I see two first-year Gryffindors laughing nervously before they simultaneously decide to run away, one of them letting loose on her wand that was levitating the bucket letting it fall on the ground with a loud clash.

I'm left in the middle of the open hallway surrounded by classmates who just exited their class.

The wind hits me and I feel my body shiver before I look up at my friend whose mouth is covered by her hands in surprise.

I hear it.

The annoying infuriating sound of distant laughter, one I cannot mistake for another.

My eyes zero on him sitting on the transfiguration courtyard's tree clutching his stomach as he laughs balancing himself on the branch.

"You were saying?" I ask her rhetorically still dripping in the pink-colored jelly-like liquid.

She lowers her hands and approaches me slowly trying to wipe my face.

I feel the bubbling of rage making its way up my throat with my breathing taking up seeing him seated up there on the branch looking like a king sitting upon the throne of his buffoonery surrounded by his brainless friends, or rather, George's brainless friends and it makes me snap.

I push her hand away and stomp my way through the hallway onto the courtyard's grass toward him.

"Weasley!" I yell as I march to him.

"Oh, now she remembers my name," he laughs out loud for his twin and his friends to hear as the number of students stopping by increases.

He slides off the branch with ease and starts strutting to me with this damn cocky smile.

George stands up from his leaning stance on the tree, "Fred," he says.

I don't know if it's a warning or a scolding but his intent doesn't matter to me.

My hearing is replaced with the beats of my heart drumming in my ears as my face feels as hot as lava.

My steps get bigger and bigger and the closer his infuriating smirk approaches, the rage escapes me as my hand swings back and closes into a fist before landing in his face mid-step.

The audible hit is met with a groan and while I'm far too small to send him to the ground with a punch it does send him swaying back and hunching over.

In a second George jogs to his twin and hands him support grabbing his elbow as Fred's groan turns into another one of his annoying chuckles.

"You see how she hit me?!" he shouts looking delighted by the situation before he lays his gaze back on me with a bit of blood on his teeth.

His smirk falls and I believe for a moment that I finally did it, I finally managed to instate fear in this jackass before I realize his gaze moved from my frame to someone behind me.

The buzzing in my ears ceases and my hearing comes back to me as the grass crunches under one's weight indicating someone approaching.

A cold sweat travels through my body when I turn around and spot none other than Professor Hooch standing tall in front of us.

By instinct, I take a step back and bump into Fred before jumping aside as if he burnt me which isn't far off as my knuckles are calling out for help burning and tingling from the impact it had on his cheek.

She sends us both one of her infamous hawk looks that could petrify Dumbledor himself, "I presume that display of violence can be explained by your appearance?" her pointed look is directed at me.

I try to wipe the substance off my hair with an annoyed huff.

Her eyes travel to Fred whose head is pointed down grabbing his chin and messing with his mouth moving his jaw from side to side.

"That rewards the both of you with an hour's detention," that answer makes him groan and I point at him with outrage.

"But he-!" My disbelief doesn't reach her before she cuts me off.

"You're both dismissed. Mr.Weasley, I advise you to escort your brother to the infirmary to tend to his injury. As for you, I advise you to go clean yourself up before heading to the infirmary as well, perhaps at a time Mr.Weasley won't be there," she finishes her sentence looking at George who acknowledges her insinuation with a nod.

Still clutching his jaw, Fred is led away by his elbow by George as Hooch walks to stand in front of me, "While I understand your frustration I did expect better from you than violence."

My eyes widen and the breath I take in is cut off, "He-"

"This isn't about Mr.Weasley's childish behavior, he will receive his punishment either way. What disappoints me is that you could've avoided any punishment by reporting this to me or any other professor in the area but instead, you will ecope of an hour's detention as well."

She says shaking her head as she walks away leaving me standing here in the courtyard covered in the substance and an aching fist that doesn't even feel satisfying knowing it didn't teach the jerk anything.

"Why is it so windy today?! I thought it was supposed to be sunny!" I complain trying to be louder than the wind.

"No it's supposed to switch all day, look," my friend says motioning to the daily prophet in her hands bringing the paper closer to my face so I can see the weather section indeed announcing an insufferable change of weather all day.

"You can still spot the puddles from the rain earlier," Luna Lovegood points to the Quidditch pitch where the grass is still two shades darker and the random puddles of water stir with strength from the wind blowing.

My venting is interrupted by a loud collision that sends me twisting around back to the pitch to see Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teammates fighting over the quaffle like rabid dogs in what is supposed to be an amicable match as a form of training.

"Remind me again what's the point of an amicable match if there is no amicability?" I ask turning to face them just to miss the apparent goal from a Gryffindor through one of the Ravenclaw's lowest hoops.

I groan when I recognize the face of the person who managed to pass our defenses as he basks in the small victory.

"What is it raven?! Can't take in the sigh of greatness?!" he gloats seated comfortably on his broom with his red hair all tussled.

His pretentiousness blinds him and his arrogance leaves him to ignore the whistle suggesting the match continues and leaves a fellow Ravenclaw to score in a flash right behind him. The only indicator that anything happened at all is the small thunder of applause and shouts of approval coming from the small gathering of students who decided to kill time and participate in the amicable match to cheer each team on.

His head whips around and the sight of the opposite team scoring sends him tilting his head back with a groan that he tries to conceal but it doesn't escape anyone's notice.

The karma is enough but it is so rare to catch the weasel in one of his life life-learning moments that I don't hesitate before deciding that I need to add my little grain of salt to the wound.

I have it, I have the perfect response to give him right on the tip of my tongue and I wonder for a second if the smirk grazing my lips isn't a giveaway but my witty taunt is stopped when a broom enters my line of vision.

"See?! I told you your presence would do me good. Look at that, bullseye!"

I'm sure he means no harm, I know him to be humble but the poor lad either didn't see Weasley or simply decided to ignore his presence.

The fact that he is being ignored after being wrecked is sickly satisfying and my smirk manages to widen somehow.

It is clear he simply didn't see Fred as this one's scowl sends him silently flying away in an awkward, one-sided staredown that ends with him glancing at me with an uncomfortable wide-eyed stare, silently asking for help.

I stare at him flying further and further away and only look back when I notice George approaching his twin on his broom.

His frustration is clear and the eye roll along with his head thrown back pleases me a great deal.

The devilish idea is too good and it doesn't take a lot of self-convincing before I fall for temptation.

"What is it Weasel, too busy drowning in your own ego you can't pay attention?!" I shout so my sickly honeyed voice reaches him and George as I tuck my now pastel pink hair behind my ears.

'The concoction should last less than a week. This Flemont Potter was a genius!' nurse Pomfrey said.

The scowl adorning his face fills me with warmth and electricity buzzes through my veins knowing I have the last word for once.

"Nice hair," he tries himself at a desperate dig that does not work as Professor Hooch whistles for him to fly back to the match.

Turning his back to me, he flies back to the center of the field I can't help but laugh realizing that it's the first time he turns his back to me without walking away with the last word.

The whistle is blown and the speed at which each team goes at the other's throat could cause whiplash if one wasn't used to it.

I'm focused on a group of players when my peripheral vision drags my eyes to my friend throwing the quaffle with all his strength leaving another small group of three players to speed away.

Taking a moment to take in his throw he looks back down and waves at me with a smile, satisfied with his play.

I wave back with a grin of my own before he disappears out of my sight as a bludger hits him straight in the back of the head with a resounding thunk throwing him off his broom and crashing to the ground.

I hear a loud yell and realize it comes from me as my body instinctively reacts and bolts toward the pitch.

Professor Hooch is already by his side by the time I run to his limp self.

"Is he okay?!" I get caught off guard by my friend reaching him and kneeling at his side before I do.

I stand there looking down at him in shock as people start surrounding the area trying to take a look at the wounded on the ground when I notice the Gryffindor team lowering themselves on the ground including the culprit.

His quidditch robe swings with each one of his steps as he walks towards the commotion very slowly like in a trance.

"You too bring a stretcher," she says shooing away both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw player.

I hear George Weasley calling after his brother who has now reached Professor Hooch kneeling on the ground

"Is he okay?"

How dare he. His filthy meek voice asking about his well-being as if he isn't the reason my friend is lying unresponsive on the ground.

That familiar boiling sensation in my chest rises again and I feel my fists clenching by themselves.

Before I can comprehend my thought process I am bolting toward him. Still, before I can reach him George jumps in front of him getting ready for whatever, a whatever that does not come as I am held up by the waist by two Gryffindor players sensing the hostility.

"What is wrong with you!" I holler up in the air struggling with all my might against the hold of the chasers which is useless against the player's strength.

The rest is a blur, George pushes the douche towards the locker room as I follow the stretcher closely to the infirmary.

"If you stare any harder you're gonna be the first third year student here to achieve wandless magic," she chuckles "It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. back down at her textbook.

"False," I utter not leaving the weasel out of my burning stare.

I notice her raising her head from my side view in wonder.

"Granger," I state chewing on my thumb's fingernail.

The sight of him simply sitting there without any consequences under the excuse of 'it's part of the game, nobody can prove there were any malicious intents behind that strike' drives me mad and haunts my head with multiple scenarios of murder that keep replaying again and again.

"You have to let it go. Pomfresh said he'll be fine."

"He didn't deserve that strike it was targeted to piss me off because I got the last word," I say wincing when I realize I bit my thumb a bit too hard and drew some blood.

"It's part of Quidditch, many, many people took strikes to the head."

"Bullshit. A strike to the head during an amicable match? Come on," I roll my eyes frustrated that everybody seems so eager to just brush this incident off.

"I'm gonna start thinking you're checking him out and not actually glaring at him."

"Have you lost your mind?!" I say louder than intended, my head whipping left to glare at her this time.

There is no silence as the Care for the Magical Creature class takes place outside and the lack of chatter is covered up by the sound of wind rustling the nearest tree's leaves and the distant purrs and grumbles of the different creatures in their pen.

"Is there a problem?"

Unlike McGonagall or Snape, Professor Hagrid's tone of voice isn't accusatory but genuinely one of concern. This concern eats at me as the idea that he might believe even for a moment that my words are targeted towards him makes bile rise in my throat.

"No!" is my immediate response to reassure the professor but the rest of my explanation seems to be stuck in my throat as I have a hard time imagining myself explaining to the class that I was just defending myself at the mention of me hypothetically checking Weasley out.

That same person here in the open classroom with a side smirk plastered on his annoying face trying his best not to laugh at me, not because it would be rude but because not laughing at the right time alongside the rest of the class wouldn't be as satisfying as a full-on public humiliation.

I see Hagrid lowering his chalk and I can already foresight him asking what he might have done wrong which is not something you want to ask as a teacher in front of a bunch of ruthless teenagers.

His other hand joins in on the other starting to mess with his chalk making him appear anxious and way less mighty.

The awkwardness doesn't begin to measure to the remorse of having put him in this situation because of my impulsive nature.

"It's my fault!" my friend shouts in my defense.

Looking at her, Tiffany managed to snatch up a baby puffskein and hold it up to Hagrid's sight.

"I put him in her hair and she was afraid he would do a pooh."

The laughs are inevitable but I'm certain the 'do a pooh' will haunt my nightmare.

The mocking is a harmony of taunting and I can only look beside me to glare at her sitting there with the puffskein in hand as I wish he would just 'do a pooh' in her hands this instant.

At least Professor Hagrid seems reassured, smiles as the misunderstanding is cleared up, and turns back around to continue the lesson.

We're sent to different enclosures containing different creatures and are instructed to feed them to create a bond.

"Look at him acting casual as if he didn't send someone to the infirmary with a trauma to the head," I say full of venom seeing him being buddy-buddy with another Gryffindor girl as they try to feed Mooncalf in the open and have a laugh as they are surrounded by the eager herd starving for pets and seeds.

"Will you quit it and enjoy one of the only course that's relaxing here," she scolds kneeling closer to the ground to feed a diricawl who nibs at her finger affectionately before walking past her hand and pitter-pattering to her to lay his head on her chest to receive pats on his head.

"Plus you've already been told we can't know if the blow was on purpose."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it, he's one of the best beaters here," I say with a pointed look at her throwing a violent handful of seeds towards the rest of the diricawls.

"Did I just hear you compliment Fred Weasley?" she says looking up at me with a teasing smile.

"It's not a compliment I'm just stating a fact, the probability of Weasley hitting someone right on the head by accident at such distance is close to none," I say throwing another handful as my eyes catch a paddock with dubogs in it, one in particular who is devouring the weasel with his bulgy eyes.

There are three dubogs in the small paddock and two of them are cooling off in the dirty pond uninterested in anything else but sunbathing with only their eyes above the murky water blinking one at a time as the third one is eating up Weasley with his eyes.

A devilish idea makes its way into my head. The opening I get is served to me on a gold platter as Tiffany is distracted by the herd of diricawl overtaking her landing her on the ground, surrounded.

My chance is heightened by Weasley's back turned to me talking with his little girlfriend.

I take my chance disregarding any rational thought invading my head. Sneakily climbing over the fence, I crouch and walk toward the desired enclosure. The creature doesn't seem to sense me approaching and if he does he doesn't seem to care one bit licking his eye and pawing the ground with his hind leg.

A part of me wishes I could egg him on and ask him if he wants to nibble on the Weasel's ankles but I'd rather not throw my plan out of the window. Instead, I carefully slide my arm to the latch and pull on it slowly to make sure not to make any noise before giving the door a small push to create the crack that seems to be enough to throw the creature out for a jog as he crashes against the paddock's door.

I don't get to see the seconds before the disaster as I have to hurry back and jump over the fence once again, running back to my friend and free her from the diricawl's clutches giving her a hand and raising her back up as the show starts.

The screams that grace my ears aren't from fear but more from shock as the tall redhead lands on the ground when I finally get to lay my eyes on him. The dubog licks him from bottom to top with the creature's natural dirt and slimey skin rubbing off on him as his Gryffindor girlfriend screeches for help calling for Professor Hagrid who runs up to help in a flash.

The man's height isn't only impressive and intimidating but also a great advantage to grab the massive creature off and drag it back to its enclosure where the other two are still sunk in the water, sunbathing and behaving.

Once shut close, Professor Hagrid grips the wooden bars of the enclosure to gather himself before turning around and helping Weasley up with just one hand gripping the back of his blouse. While he seems shaken up by the encounter, he tries to rub off some of the mud on his face but only manages to smear it looking around at the rest of us.

The reactions vary, some are as shocked as he is and others shrug off their worries and are now laughing at his appearance now that they've established that he is healthy and no longer in danger.

I myself giggle knowing that while I can't get him punished for his action back on the pitch, I get to watch him look like a fool and even up the score. My friend does not agree and lets me know by elbowing me in the ribs making me groan mixing laughter and painful grunts.

Laughter that is spotted by the redhead when his head whips to me before his eyes light up.

His eyes shift from eureka to burning hatred. Shrugging off the hand of his friend trying to tidy him up and storms in my direction.

"It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. The confrontation is cut short when Hagrid once again showcases his immeasurable strength by yanking the weasel back with a tug on his now mostly white blouse and throwing him behind his eleven-foot frame that stands now right in front of me.

"Enough with the both of you!" his voice booms in the open area.

He takes a step back and I can get a peak at the redhead enough to see him huffing and puffing from being thrown around like a doll.

"This is a classroom, not a pub. Now the both of you will walk all the way up to Professor McGonagall's office and explain exactly why I had to send the both of you to her and she will be the one to give you your punishment!"

I look at him now, hair disheveled and his tie undone covered in dirt and mud and slime. He still looks somewhat decent as he pushes his hair back with a huff.

I must look just as messy with my pink hair having been thrown on the ground and I decide to tug at the end of my own blouse trying to tidy myself up and avoid any more wrinkles on it.

"Miss Granger, please accompany those two, you know what to do if they misbehave."

"She tried to kill me!" Fred yells pointing at me.

"Do you have any proof, Mr.Weasley?"

He seems to hesitate for less than a second before motioning to me with his hand in frustration.

"It's logical thinking, she hates my gut and she's crazy!"

"You jerk-!" I bellow throwing myself in his direction before I'm engulfed in the Professor's arms.

"Enough!" He yells once more letting me go only when I stop fidgeting in his hold.

"There is no way of proving the Miss did anything. This paddock's lock has been faulty for a while and after this incident, I will personally see that it is dealt with."

He says as if he was addressing the whole class who is still standing all around us watching the event unfold.

"As for the both of you, you will do as you're told and let Miss.Granger accompany the both of you back to the castle and receive the punishment the both of you deserve for the waste of both my time and your classmates' time."

The tone is harsh and the decision is final.

"I am very disappointed in the both of you. You're worth so much more than this petty rivalry," the man shakes his head walking away.

Those words seem to have the same result on both of us. We look down a bit ashamed before we are ushered away by Hermione as we start the long and silent journey back to the castle.

We both stand in silence, side by side with yet a respectable distance as the two professors stand in front of us with judgmental stares that don't need any words to transcribe their distaste…or is it disappointment?

We were sent to our respective bathrooms to clean up 'as best as you can' while my request to wash off completely was denied by both teachers and so here I stand with the back of my blouse tainted by dirt as Weasley could barely wash the slimy texture out of his own blouse and barely dry it with what I believe might have been a spell.

And so here he stands looking dirtier than me despite the order to clean up.

"Now that the awful stench has been managed I believe a proper punishment is in order," McGonagall says with her hands joined in front of her.

"I agree, my cauldrons are in dire need of a scrub," Snape says with his usual disinterested tone.

Weasley starts protesting and claims that I should receive a harsher punishment for my so-called actions.

"She tried to kill me!" he protests.

"And as I told you Mr.Weasley there is no way for us to possibly prove this claim as Professor Hagrid did not see any of this unravel."

"Just like no one saw you throw that bulger." I bite under my breath.

"Exactly Miss.Hermlock. And I would suggest you speak with your full chest if you have any objection." Mc.Gonagall drily berates me.

"Snape-Professor Snape," he quickly corrects himself, "said multiple times that in such cases veritaserum should be used, and since she's SO confident saying she didn't do anything she won't mind doing this, won't she," he says towering over my side.

"I've always known you were a moron but I never thought you would outdo yourself in front of teachers," I smirk crossing my arms.

"Mr.Weasley, even with Miss.Hermlock's permission, the usage of such beverage on a student is forbidden. I would've hoped that with a father working for the ministry, you out of all of us would remember that."

My smirk doubles in size which I thought would never be possible.

In the end, my smirk is wiped away when we are both awarded two hours of detention with Snape. And as if it wasn't enough the punishment is cleaning the endless potion class's cauldrons.

We're ordered to go clean up, thoroughly this time and go for lunch before being expected in the dungeons for our detention hours.

We arrive at the same time just as the last student exits the class, we are left standing side by side, or more precisely 3 feet away from each other as we walk in right in front of Snape's office where he is seated with his head down to his paper purposely stalling and letting us stand there in awkward silence.

What must've been minutes feel like hours as I try my best not to side-eye the redhead standing silently beside me.

I wonder if I should've refrained from opening that damn pen when I hear those continuous scraping of pen meant to insult us as the dark-haired teacher ignore our presence.

He finally puts his feather back in its inkwell before he stands resting both his hands on his desk, "I believe I don't have to remind you what you need to do during those two hours of detention."

Neither of us answers and that seems to egg him on to stand straight and walk around his desk to stand right in front of us, his hands placed behind him.

"You two will clean every single cauldron here, I made sure none of my classes cleaned their equipment to make sure the lesson will stick and you won't have to keep me company again on such a fine day," he says bending to my height and looking straight into my eyes for just a moment before moving his sight onto Weasley, "At least one of you will learn."

Standing back up his speech is interrupted by strong stomps getting closer.

Turning around, the three of us look towards the class's entrance as we spot for a single second a figure sliding across the entrance and disappearing with a loud thud that sounds painful.

It is the first time I make eye contact with the weasel since the last time we butted heads and it is to share a sour scrunched-up expression for the victim of the fall who we hear grunting in the hallway before the sound of their footsteps echoes once more and we see the face of the one who rushed here most likely to speak to Snape.

He's bent over leaning on the door out of breath.

"Berkshire, if you're done fooling around you may grace us with an explanation as to why you're disturbing this detention."

Still out of breath, Enzo Berkshire huffs and puffs for a few more seconds before settling down still bent over.

"It's Nott," he exhales deeply before breathing in once more, "He and Wood started a brawl between quidditch teams, Hooch told me to come get you."

Turning back to the teacher, his eye roll is noticeable and his silence is an obvious assessment of the situation as he probably is planning what to do now that he is torn between us two and the alleged brawl.

"Alright, As the head teacher of house Slytherin, I will accompany Berkshire and assist Professor Hooch in this conflict."

He points to us, "As for the two of you. You will stay here and complete your detention without any complaints. If you leave before your time is up, I will know and that will reward you an entire week of detention."

Pointing at Berkshire, Snape walks past us and orders him to lead them away and with a flick of his wand makes it known that it is thanks to that maneuver that he'll know of us potentially leaving the classroom.

"Behave." is all he says before walking right behind a speeding Enzo Berkshire.

I wonder if he was referring to the both of us or maybe just Weasley.

I don't get to ponder on that before my thoughts are drawn elsewhere at the realization that my worst nightmare is unfolding before me, I am now stuck with the most insufferable student here for two hours doing the most aggravating task besides cleaning the house bathrooms.

I only get back to reality when I hear him throw his robe and satchel on a nearby station.

Being left alone with him, the task at hand, and the absence of Snape to muzzle the redhead angers me as I frop my own bag and stomp to one of the sinks filled to the brim with dirty cauldrons.

I don't even get to enjoy a full minute of tense peace as the douchebag starts his usual yapping.

"Can't say I'm surprised he would leave me alone with you, Snape has always hated me and it's no wonder he left me with you considering you tried to kill me," he mouths off as always lifting a cauldron from its stove and piling it on top of another one.

"And yet you're still breathing, what a shame." I roll my eyes as well as my sleeves picking up a scraper.

A moment of silence passes and I pray this is the moment he realizes he needs to shut up so we can endure the rest of this detention in mild peace but alas this is a good idea and everyone knows that Frederick Weasley never had one of those in his life.

"Damn. The sorting hat must've made a mistake, maybe you belong with the other psychopaths in Slytherin." He throws both cauldrons beside the filled sink with a loud clang.

"I'm sorry but I'm not the one cladding the scales." I bite back.

"Oh, she has claws," he draws out loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask genuinely turning around to face him.

"No, the question is what is wrong with you," He asks back louder.

"Nothing is wrong with me! You're the one who can't figure out when to stop, you're the one who always goes too far and you're the one who went too far once again, so much so that you ended up sending my friend to the infirmary!" I hurl and see him losing that fire that usually overtakes his pupils showing he enjoys egging on people once they are set off.

"It's the risk when you play Quidditch," he tries and fails to sound firm in his statement making me scoff.

"For Rowena's sake, you're still acting as if you didn't purposely throw that bulger at him!" I say running my hands through my hair in frustration.

"I didn't!" he says even less believable.

Done with his excuses I turn back around to give all my attention back to the dirty cauldrons when he manages to slide between me and the sink making me take a huge step back.

"I didn't mean to throw it that hard."

I stare at him, no, I glare at him feeling the urge to punch him again but I remember that it didn't do anything for me the last time and instead opt to let out my frustration by hollering at him and walking away before I make the mistake of punching him and have a Professor magically appear out of nowhere to give me more detention again.

Even when I think I finally win and have him admit to his wrongs he still finds a way to make excuses for himself.

"What were you expecting?! I'm a beater that's what we do!"

Does he really think I don't know what a bloody beater is?!

Is he trying to make me pass off as an emotional wreck because of my appropriate reaction to such injury during a supposed amicable match?!

Any beater whether amateur or professional could agree that either maliciously or not that throw was unwarranted during training.

"There really is something wrong with you," I walk right in front of him, toe to toe, and spite my statement right in his face pushing him aside to gain back access to the sink.

I start scrubbing as my mind throws all the different reasons I despise the fucker. Irresponsible, unfunny, no compassion.

I'm so lost in my spiteful analysis of him that I don't register that my thoughts aren't my own anymore as I unconsciously start rambling out loud.

"An idiot who doesn't even think before taking people down with him," I grumble scrubbing away.

"Come on now it's not like he's dead," He nips throwing down yet another pile of small cauldrons beside me.

"I'm talking about me!" I yell letting go of my current task and letting the pot fall and clang with another one causing a ruckus in the sink.

"Not only is my friend in the infirmary because of you but I'm also stuck with you trying to teach someone who I learned has never been slacking in muggle history before recently."

His jaw slacks open and his eyes double in size like the breakfast sausages I had this morning.

"Wait a minute. You think I'm doing this on purpose?!"

You do everything on purpose! Your dad works for the ministry, he is a Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office employee dammit! If anyone is an expert at muggle stuff it's your dad!" I say as a matter of fact.

"And tell me exactly what would it bring me to purposely be bad at this subject all of a sudden?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe to annoy me more often than usual." it sounds like a question but I know I'm just clarifying the situation.

"You think I'm gonna waste my days stuck with you in the library acting dumb for fun?" he tries to ask sarcastically.

"And why not? Beside the library part isn't that what you do all day anyways?"

The quick wit seems like it struck him as he scoffs with a broad smile.

"If you want to be a failure for the rest of your life go ahead and be my guest but I'll ask you not to take me down with you."

That same disbelief smile disappears and leaves place for a blank look that doesn't often grace his face.

"Unlike what you think, success doesn't necessarily come from academic prowesses." he tries to bite.

"Obviously not when it comes to you." I mock before turning back around feeling satisfied for getting him not once but twice in a row.

The triumphant silence doesn't last long before he dwells in a monologue that I don't bother listening to. Instead, I tune him out and start scrubbing which helps to cover the annoying sound of his voice.

His speech feels like hours long but is probably just a few minutes tangent as by the time my ears recognize his next sentence I'm only done with the first cauldron.

"-With such a nasty attitude it's no wonder Murphy didn't show up to your date."

The cauldron clashes with another as I let it fall back into the abnormally huge sink before turning my head toward the nuisance of my life.

"How do you know about that?" the voice that comes out of my mouth is one I don't recognize.

He pauses and seems to hesitate.

"Heard Katie talk about it to her friend."

"I never said anything about it to Katie, 'matter of fact I never said anything about this date to anyone ever so there's no way you heard this through gossip."

"He told me." he tries again even less believable than the first time.

"Bullshit." I seeth.

It's bluff, while I believe I might know Murphy it's not to say that he isn't just like any other guy and simply good at hiding his real intentions.

He starts ranting about some story I can tell is made up on the spot and it's like the wheels stopped turning and the lightbulb lights up in my head with such intensity that the next words come out of my mouth in a loud realization that echoes his own.

"You did this, It was you!" I accuse him with a rageful glare.

He steps back and rolls his eyes tilting his head back, "Oh my-you know what?! Yeah, I did. I warned the guy and I did well because he deserved better than to be stuck on a date with a stuck-up cunt like you." he finishes his tirade by sticking his index finger in my enraged face.

"You're fucking evil." I spit it like it's a statement everyone agrees upon watching him turn his back to me walking farther away.

My outburst is so intense that I have to take a shaky breath and keep my tears at bay as my better judgment is thrown out the window and I decide to finally pour all my frustration out.

"You know, you always take some sick pleasure in telling me I'm cold-hearted," the beginning of my speech is shakey but I quickly regain strength in my voice to let out all my poison,"But you can't even own up to your own fucking flaws and the fact that you're nothing but a jackass who use your so-called 'pranks' to harass everyone in school because they know better to be friends with an asshole like you who's only friend is his twin because no one else wants to be around you!"

My rant is over and the only noise filling the space is my heavy breathing. Catching my breath I feel hot and can barely focus on anything other than my heart beating in my ears as I feel my boiling blood travel all through my body as I stare dead into the eyes of the one who brought me to such an extent of anger.

When my heart settles and I can finally hear my breathing slow down I can focus solely on him and realize that his stare is dead.

He's not glaring, he's just looking. All trace of anger is gone and he's left staring at me or rather through me with dead eyes.

I seem to have struck a nerve and for once the guy doesn't have a comeback. Instead, I'm rewarded with the shoulder shove of a six-foot-something figure who passes me to walk to the sink and starts scrubbing away…

What the heck?

The feeling of regret invades me for a moment but is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

Why should I feel regret? It's not like he ever feels regret for the horrible things he does. He never apologizes to anyone no matter how far he crosses the line.

The regret quickly fades and I instead let the small spot of confidence inside me grow. It's the first time I've ever shut the mouth of the biggest jerk there is, why shouldn't I enjoy it as long as it lasts?

After everything, I'm entitled to this. I'm entitled to twist the knife.

I take a first careful step and then a second, more confident one closer to him and the sink.

"Yeah, I might be a cold-hearted bitch. But you're an arrogant jackass who's not even funny." I say more calmly yet still petty.

"Oh piss off!" he shouts throwing the cauldron back into the sink with a smash that I wonder might have actually shattered or maybe chipped one of them.

I jump aside to avoid another shoulder shove and follow him with my eyesight to spot him grabbing his stuff and realize he is trying to escape this detention to avoid my lash-out.

Figuring out his plan I catch up and run past him to stand in front of the door blocking his way out.

"No! No, You called me what you called me and now I get to call you whatever I want!"

I wonder for a moment why he doesn't push past me, for sure his frame can easily overpower mine but instead of crashing into me to walk out of the potion class he instead turns around and throws both robe and satchel on a station with a shout that almost rivals mine.

"Alright then let's go ahead, get it all out of your system sweetheart." He snarls standing in the middle of the class, his arms expanded before he places them on his hips.

"You!" the bitter tone escapes me in a rough huff as I point at him, "Have done nothing but make my life hell since the day I arrived." I start walking towards him, "And for what? I have NEVER given you any reason to hate me and yet I have been the target of so many of your pranks that I started being known as the damn Weasley's guinea pig!" I throw my finger in his direction before it falls back on my sides as I walk slowly but with conviction towards him.

"There we go!" he says faking being proud probably to egg me on in my rant with a sick smirk bending down to my eye level and crossing his arms probably to toy with me and undermine me as he always does.

"You do nothing at school but be a nuisance and waste everyone's time including mine and it's so sick to think that you can't even let others be successful just because you can't achieve anything on your own, it's pathetic!" I'm getting closer, almost toe to toe with the redhead who doesn't take a step back and stays planted where he stands or rather is bent over.

"Come on let it all out," he snarls.

"But somehow I was still stupid enough to think that this time you would have the decency to at least admit you went too far and apologize for hurting my friend but even then you cannot take responsibility as always," I finish my tirade taking my final step right in front of him as our noses brush.

"Anything else?!" he angrily spits in my face with a scowl.

I breathe in harshly wishing I could punch him or clap back like I did before but realize if my rant hasn't aroused all kinds of empathy it is useless to keep calling him names it won't male a difference.

"Yeah, your attempt to make me look ugly by turning my hair pink completely failed because I still look good unlike you," I say sourly throwing a glance at his mop of hair.

He sneers.

His arms that were crossed in front of him manage to travel up and brush strands of hair behind my ears before his fingers slide down and twirl the locks in his hands toying with them.

When I'm done bathing in the hatred coating his eyes I notice I'm not the only one panting when I feel his breath brush my face.

Why is he panting? I'm the one who just rambled angrily for five minutes.

"Got it all out?" he says calmer this time around.

I look at him and my eyes make the mistake of switching between his eyes and lips just a second to see his doing just the same and analyze my face.

We haven't moved from our spot and I don't know why.

"Yeah, I think so," he whispers his lips brushing over mine with each syllable.

He stands back up, his hands leaving my hair and falling back to his side as he brushes past me leaving me to stand there frozen trying to comprehend the goosebumps littering my body and my hands shaking by my hips.

I manage to turn around and see him grabbing his stuff and making his way to the class entrance once more.

I find my voice, less confident than before but still strong enough to try and stop him.

"What are you doing detention isn't over yet!" I begrudgingly state.

"Then I guess I'll get a week's worth of detention!" he announces walking out with one hand clutching his satchel and the other one throwing his robe over his shoulder.

He's gone, and in the newly found silence, I breathe out through my nose and assess what just happened.

Weasley just mocked me, pissed me off and egged me on, undermined me, and left me in a classroom filled to the brim with cauldrons to clean all by myself after toying with my anger, my hair, and…

My hand bolts into fists and my nails sink into my palms as I conclude what I already know.

I hate him.

[afurbaday]

It's a jungle out here! I'll have to cut the grass soon.

[konstantya]

Starting to think I might have accidentally become a baking wizard?

[bunnihearted]

📓🕯️🐇🖤

[sheliesshattered]

my 7 yards of silk-rayon burgundy velvet has been handwashed, dried, and properly hung up so it won't get creased before I get around to cutting out my pattern pieces

[snoozingbear]

got a haircut and i think it will look good but it’s so hard with curly hair to tell right away bc there’s never time to like soak it in water and air dry it so now i just look kind of crazy

[fingertipsmp3]

Save me skincare routine. Save me stupidly expensive skincare routine in tiny bottles

[camscendants]

Had a bad day at work yesterday

[weaselle]

i had to make a solution for this for myself, mostly because of depression, but it makes a nice How To for folks who are low on spoons or could use some help in the kitchen.

Fortunately i was a professional cook for over a decade. UNfortunately the first post i made explaining it was suuuuper long. Let's see if i can do better

So you select any protein that you can cook in a frying pan -- chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, sausages, steak, chicken thighs, whatever. You also select one or two types of veggie (mushrooms or tubers also work, i just did this with potatoes and carrots for dinner tonight).

[i like cooking for vegetarians, but this is how i cook for myself when i'm low on spoons - perhaps i'll do another post for meatless meals]

You'll also need some kind of oil, and a sauce or two of your choice in a bottle. All cooking gear is a large frying pan with lid (i prefer non-stick) a spatula, a cutting board, and a knife.

You cut the veggies into bite size pieces, cut up enough for two meals. One kind of veggie is fine, or you can do mix two or three

Put frying pan on medium heat with a little oil. Tubers or mushrooms or go in the pan a few minutes before the protein. 2 portions of the protein goes in the pan, about 5 minutes with lid (don't worry you can still get a good sear on both sides)

Now flip your protein if it's flip-able and add normal veggies, put the lid back on another five-ish minutes.

Take your protein out and put it with one portion of the veggies in a microwave safe container. That's going to be your lunch tomorrow. Put the other portion of protein on a plate to rest (you have to let a cooked protein sit a couple minutes before you serve it or when you cut into it all the juices run out and it goes dry - the liquids thicken as it cools, preventing this drying out if you let it rest, the goal is to serve it very warm but not hot hot)

While it's resting, pour some sauce from your bottle in the pan with the rest of the veggies and turn up the heat. A single sauce/bottle is fine, i like to get fancy and mix a couple. Two examples of personal favorite mixes are 1: bbq sauce and a hot sauce like sriracha 2: roughly equal parts low sodium soy sauce and worcestershire (makes something similar to a teriyaki sauce) A swallow of wine is almost always a great option if you want to add that to your sauce too, just add it to the pan before the other sauces so the alcohol has time to burn off.

...

Here is the important bit. While your veggies are finishing, wash your cutting board and chef knife. Then when you dump your veggies and sauce over your protein on the plate, while it is still too hot to eat, you wash your frying pan and spatula before you eat. Now the only dishes you have left to do are your plate and fork. Maybe a steak knife.

...

The whole thing takes about 35 minutes even with washing the dishes, and that includes your lunch for the next day- just pour a different sauce on and stick it in the microwave for a couple minutes (or five minutes back in the frying pan) and you have a full healthy lunch with a different flavor

You can use this technique every single meal and it yields hundreds of combinations, from pork and potatoes bbq, to salmon and broccoli teriyaki, to chicken and zucchini in a soy glaze.

It will keep you down to less than an hour of kitchen time per day total for both lunch and dinner including all dish clean up, uses the least dishes, the least effort, requires the least technique, and is, depending on what you pick out, very affordable

here are a couple more examples from this month; i didn’t take pictures of the salmon i did recently, but you get the idea

it's not super fancy, but it is easy, affordable, quick, and any flavors you want. Hope this helps some folks

Happy Cooking!