dinner week

Came home happy drunk to my kitchen and my flatmate David had 6 girls over and I don’t remember what happened but apparently they decided they liked me and now I’ve been added to their Facebook group and we take turns making each other dinner once a week this is so pure

4

Chanyeol messing with his hair for anon♡
Bonus:

Au where Jack didn’t go to Samwell and after a few years and a cup with the Falconers he gets traded to a team in Canada, so now he lives around 2-3 hours from his parents.

Meanwhile Bitty graduates and is hired by Alicia Zimmermann to be her assistant, partly because he was a Samwell alumni but also because he was super sweet and brought a pie to the interview.

Bob tried to poach him within a week, but Bitty thought he was only joking. So did a lot of the retired hockey players once they tasted the pies including Mario. Alicia doesn’t allow Bitty alone with Bob or his friends anymore.

Which is why she made Jack promise to stick to him like glue during a charity event she won’t be able to attend, but that Bitty will be at.

“Jack, Eric is the most efficient and pleasant assistant I’ve ever had. He’s also charming, hard working and discreet, and when I had the flu last month he made me go home to rest and brought me chicken soup on his day off. If your dad or his friends try to take him from me again, I can’t be responsibly for my actions.“

This is how Jack somehow ends up playing interference and trying to distract Bitty from talking to anybody at the charity event.

And wow ok this isn’t exactly unpleasant and Bitty is gorgeous and funny, and played hockey.

Bitty is in the middle of trying to explain how increasing his social media would be beneficial, and how he could use his platform for good when Jack sort of blurts out.

"Do you wanna get coffee?”

And Bitty paused, looks at him and smiles, “sure! I’d be happy to go over everything with you again over coffee.”

Jack is too flustered to explain that was a very lame attempt to ask him out, so he goes along with the work orientated coffee situation with the intention of maybe asking him properly afterwards.

Of course, then shenanigans occur where Alicia thinks Jack is now trying to steal Bitty to be his assistant and casually invites herself over for the coffee, so obvs Jack doesn’t ask Bitty then.

“I trusted you,” she says very dramatically when he comes over for dinner that week. “How could you be trying to take my assistant?”

“I am not trying to offer him a job,” Jack groans dramatically, “I’m trying to ask him out!”

Alicia paused, considers this and does a complete 180.

“Jack! This is an amazing idea! I fully support this, oh I can’t believe I crashed your date.”

“It wasn’t a date,” mumbles Jack.

“Ok, we need a plan. You need to woo Eric, he’d be such a wonderful son in law.”

“Maman!”

Meanwhile Bob is quietly watching this whole exchange and making his own plan. He absolutely supports Jack’s interest in Bitty, and Alicia is right he’d be a wonderful son in law.

But also Bob does need an assistant since he can’t seem to keep one for more than 2 months at a time, so he’s now planning to steal Bitty while his wife is distracted playing matchmaker.

Bitty had no idea what’s going on, he just wants to continue working for Alicia since she’s so nice and amazing, save enough money to open his own bakery and try not to let in on the fact he has a massive crush on Jack.

I mean, how unprofessional would dating the boss son would look!?

No, he’s going to keep things strictly professional because that’s who he is, a professional who totally doesn’t have the hots for the son of Alicia Zimmermann.

Concept:

Adrien Agreste is desperate. He’s tried asking Nino, but his friend sort of tripped his way into his relationship with Alya by mistake, and he’s not too proud to admit it. Plagg is no help. He’s asked Natalie, only to get a blank look. Plagg is NO help. Adrien’s even asked Gorilla. The man stared at him through the rearview mirror for a full minute before he burst out laughing and didn’t stop even after he dropped Adrien off at school. It was hard not to pout all day.

So now, Adrien is doing what he should have done in the first place - it’s SO obvious, after all. I mean, obviously HE’D be an expert.

‘Come in.’

Adrien walks into his father’s study with shoulders pushed back in his dad’s preferred posture.

‘What did you need?’ his father asked without looking up from his designs, seven different sketched clothes articles being shuffled around to create various combinations.

‘Yeah,’ Adrien said, trying to channel as much of Chat Noir as he could, ‘so dad, you and mum, huh?’

Gabriel’s hand paused delicately where it was poised over a pair of tan women’s trousers.

'I mean, you two…. Got together and everything, you know?’

Adrien watched in fascination as his father’s eyebrows rose very slowly. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign so he went on.

'And mum was pretty. I mean, REAL pretty. Well of course she was pretty she was a model. But she was. Nice, I mean. And you TALKED to her. And it WORKED. Of course it worked, she married you and you had ME.’

Gabriel Agreste looked like he was almost afraid to talk, but he put the sketches down, steepled his fingers and finally looked up at his son.

'What are you asking exactly, Adrien? I thought Natalie had adequately covered the topic of human sexual reproduction even before you joined College?’

'Not that, dad!’ Adrien replied, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. 'I know all about that. Natalie tested me and everything and I got top marks. I’m asking about all the rest! That’s more important!’

Gabriel Agreste’s eyebrows joined his hairline. He managed to look vaguely nauseous, which was the face he made when he was in any way flustered or uncomfortable.

'All… The rest.’

'Yes!’ Adrien replied, the word exploding out of him when he couldn’t contain it anymore. A river of more words followed it once it had split the dam. 'The flowers and the complements, and the manners and kissing her hand, and being a gentleman! All of that! But I’ve tried it all and it hasn’t worked, so I MUST be doing something wrong! But you landed MUM, so you must have done something really right, so please dad, please teach me?’

Gabriel Agreste may as well be speechless for the first time in his life. He managed, 'What?’

'How to ask out a pretty girl!’ Adrien said in moan. 'The right way! So she says yes!’

Gabriel took off his spectacles to give himself time to think, polishing them off a silk hanky he always carried in his pocket, to give himself time to think. He didn’t think he’d be thinking about this already. But that was the problem with thinking. Once he put them back on, he’d formulated a reasonable response.

'I would like to know who the young lady in question is, before we go any further.’

Adrien’s brain went into panic mode. Darn, darn darn darn, he hadn’t thought of this! What was he going to say? He couldn’t say Ladybug obviously, his dad would never buy it. Quick, think of girls he knew! Girls he knew, girls he knew- ah! Girls from his class! Let’s see; Chloe- ah ah, hard nope, no way. Alya- nope, no way again, bro code. Mylene, yeah, super taken. Alix….. Just no. Darn it all, all he could think of were black hair and blue eyes and - hang on!

'Marinette Dupain-Cheng,’ Adrien squeaked. He hoped his cheeks feeling hot meant he would convince his father. Gabriel stared at him for a moment before he buzzed Natalie from the intercom on his desk.

'Natalie, send me the file of Dupain-Cheng Marinette from the College research folder.’

'Yes sir,’ Natalie chirped back. A few moments of heavy sweating later - for Adrien - his father’s phone pinged, and Gabriel picked it up, thumbing through whatever Natalie had sent. One eyebrow rose higher than the other in the expression his father often made when he was pleasantly surprised. Somehow, Adrien was irrationally pleased his father approved of Marinette, even though he realised he was now totally screwed.

'Designed an album for Jagged Stone,’ his father said, sounding reluctantly impressed. 'You will invite her to dinner next week.’

Gabriel put his phone down, seemingly done with the decision. Adrien tried desperately one more time.

'But, the advice!’

Gabriel looked him straight in the eyes.

'What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room,’ he said solemnly.

'Yes father!’ Adrien replied eagerly.

'The secret,’ Gabriel went on solemnly, 'is puns.’

'I knew it!’ Adrien hissed under his breath.

'Ah, but not just any puns,’ Gabriel admonished. 'That is why you have been unsuccessful. You need to find her interests, formulate humourous sentence arrangements. Drop them with the correct TIMING. Timing is crucial, especially in one particular way.’

Adrien fairly vibrated in his seat as he leaned forward, waiting for his dad to finally tell him the secret.

'You must take her hand, gently. Look her in the eyes, and tell her, without fanfare, how you feel about her. And how that makes you feel: in that order, son. Then, and only then, must you drop a very smart pun, about something she loves, and beg her to consider giving you a chance. Then walk away, let her think about it, and maybe drop another pun on your way out. Make her laugh, so that when she remembers you, she will smile. She’ll call you back within the week.’

Gabriel was smiling for the first time in a whole year, that Adrien remembered. He looked misty eyed and far away before he snapped out of it.

'Natalie,’ he said into the buzzer again, 'contact mlle Dupain-Cheng, invite her to dinner Friday week.’

'Yes sir. I will inform cook and the household.’

'Good.’ Gabriel looked at his son with a determined look on his face. 'I will allow you to see how it is done during this first dinner. I will then expect you to try and learn, with practice, during following invitations. Do not let me down.’

'No sir!’ Adrien replied excitedly. He raced to his room, almost bouncing giddily with joy at how helpful his dad had been. Real advice! With practice!

Then he froze when he realised he was going to be practicing on his sweet, shy classmate, who was likely going to get the entirely wrong idea, and who he had absolutely not the courage to come clean with; not on this.

'Darn’, he hissed into his room. Plagg ignored him and continued to eat his cheese noisily.

No, I will find him! Shiro is the only person who didn’t give up on me… I won’t give up on him.

youtube

한끼줍쇼 (Let’s Eat Dinner Together) Next Week Preview - Seokjin and Jungkook

I’m Your Idiot

Originally posted by stydiaislove

Requested: By me, Actual Steve Harrington Trash™

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Y/N wasn’t planning on introducing Steve to her parents, but he had a plan of his own.

Warnings: I don’t think that there are any

Word Count: 1,386

A/n: I don’t think that this is that unexpected, but here we are, my first Stranger Things imagine. I hope that you guys like it, because I have a million ideas for this series! If you have any Stranger Things requests, please send them my way. Thank you to @secretschuylersister and @fragmentofmymind for reading this over. Also, here you go, @bullcrappery I hope that it lives up to your expectations!

Steve Harrington was standing on your front porch. He was in possession of one bouquet of flowers, one shit-eating grin, and a hunter green sweater that was tucked into his jeans. He was not supposed to be here. You’d specifically told him that you couldn’t hang out tonight, you were busy with family dinner.

Oh, god. You had told Steve about family dinner.

Steve had been asking about meeting your parents for months now, insisting that it was unfair that you had said hello in passing to his parents, but he had never met yours.

You blinked a few times, hoping that you were imagining him and that you could have a normal evening. But no, he was still there and if you waited much longer, he would ring the doorbell and you would have to explain this mess to your parents.

You threw the front door open, ignoring the smile on Steve’s face and stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you. “What are you doing here?” you asked, eyeing the flowers in his hand suspiciously.

“Well, you wouldn’t come over, so I thought that I would come to you.” He said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“You know that I am busy tonight.” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder, hoping that your parents would be too busy finishing dinner to notice that you had disappeared from the living room.

“Actually-”

“No Steve, not actually. I told you that-” before you could finish yelling at him, the door swung open behind you. You held in a groan as you turned around to face your mother.

“Steve! I’m so glad that you could make it.” She said, ushering the two of you into the house.

“Actually, I ran into your beautiful mother at the supermarket earlier today, and she invited me for dinner,” Steve said, the condescending tone of his voice only apparent to you. “It smells delicious, ma’am,” he said, handing over the flowers.

Your mother fussed over them for a few moments, before announcing that she was going to put them in some water.

“You ‘ran into her at the supermarket’?” There was no way that Steve hadn’t planned this after you had let it slip that you had family dinner that night, and therefore couldn’t hang out.

“I had to pick up the bouquet somewhere.”

“You planned this.” you hissed, punching Steve in the shoulder.

“I had to. It’s unfair that you have met my parents, but I haven’t met yours,” he complained, sitting down in his usual spot on the sofa.

“I saw your parents in passing one time.” You said, pointedly ignoring Steve’s attempts to get you to sit beside him. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

Steve simply chose to smile at you, and grab your wrist, pulling you into his side on the couch. “I’ve been told before,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

You weren’t proud of the smile that slipped through your ironclad resolve, but Steve was laughing and there was no way that you were going to escape from the situation anyways.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” Steve was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“What?” You were almost sure that you had misheard him.

“You didn’t want me to meet your parents. I don’t know, I just thought that maybe-”

“Steve Harrington, you are absolutely insane.” You said, sitting up. You forced Steve to look at you before continuing. “My parents are embarrassing and nosy, and even though I love them, I don’t bring a lot of people home.”

“Are you serious?” Steve’s voice was painfully soft, and you could almost feel your heart shatter.

“I just, I didn’t want to scare you off.” You refused to meet his eyes, choosing to stare out of the window.

You felt Steve’s hand gently wrap around yours, and his lips pressing onto your palm. “Me? Scared? Impossible.”

“Yeah?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Of course. I have my bat in the car.”

“You are such an idiot.” you laughed, snatching your hand away from Steve’s grip.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. “Nothing is going to scare me off, you know. You are absolutely stuck with me,” he said, brushing the hair that had fallen in your eyes away.

“Kids,” your mom called from the dining room. “Dinner!”

“I think that’s our cue,” Steve said, sliding off of the couch and offering you his hand.

You stood up on your own, shoving him slightly, before making your way into the dining room.

You had somehow managed to make it through a family dinner with no issues at all, and it was all because of Steve. He made your parents laugh harder than you thought possible, while calming you down at the same time. He had even offered to help your mother clean up. You could hear the two of them cackling from the living room.

“He’s sweet”. Your father said, pulling your thoughts away from the laughter echoing through the house.

“What?” you asked, sure that you had misheard him.

“The boy, he’s sweet,” he said, not looking up from the newspaper in his hands. “The hair is a bit much for me, but he clearly makes you happy. And that makes me happy.”

You smiled to yourself, glad that Steve had made a good first impression. Before you could think of a way to respond, Steve and your mother turned the corner. They were both beaming, and Steve had a container of leftovers in his hand (a true seal of approval from your mother).

“You drive home safely, now.” Your mother said, taking a seat beside you.

You hopped up off of the couch and looped your arm through Steve’s. “I’ll walk you out,” you announced, dragging him out the front door.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as the two of you made your way down the drive.

“For what?” he asked, leaning up against the hood of his car. He placed the tupperware down beside him and pulled you closer, wrapping both of his hands around yours.

“Being yourself, I guess. They usually hate my friends.”

“Well, that’s why they like me.” Steve cut you off, before you could explain further.

“What are you talking about?” you said through your laughter.

“I’m your boyfriend. Of course they love me.” Steve said with a grin before placing a kiss on your cheek and standing up.

“That’s all I get?” Usually, Steve spent a while saying goodbye, placing little kisses all over your face before one more on your lips.

“We have an audience, babe,” he said, shifting his eyes between you and your front window a few times.

You turned around to see your parents both hovering by the window. They at least had the decency to scatter once they realized that they had been found out.

“I can always make it up to you later. My parents won’t be back for a week,” he said with a cheeky smile, sliding into the front seat of his car.

“Maybe,” you said, closing the door behind him. “We’ll see.” You leaned down to kiss him goodbye properly as he started the car.

“Speaking of my parents, I told them that you would be coming to dinner next week.”

“I’m busy that day,” you said automatically.

“I never said what day.” he laughed, knowing that he was winning.

“I’m busy every day, Steven.” You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face made your facade less convincing.

“Next Thursday, at seven?” he asked, his hand reaching through the rolled down window to find yours.

You nodded, trying your hardest to hold the smile back and failing miserably. He held your hand as the car rolled out of the driveway, maintaining contact for as long as possible.

“I love you!” he yelled, as he drove away.

He was long gone before you managed your reply, too caught up in listing all of the ways that you loved him in your head. “I love you too,” you said quietly, before making your way inside, unable to suppress the enormous smile on your face.

Steve Harrington may have been an idiot, but he was yours.

I cannot, will not, bear you. (vent art, sort of)

2

Alfred: Mr. Potter, we missed you at dinner last night!
Harry: Yeah, well. Sorry about that. My wife had an important match. It lasted 7 hours so I didn’t have time to attend the dinner.
Alfred: WHAT. How come? I never miss a Holyhead Harpies game! I didn’t know they played last night!
Harry: It was… er… a private match. Only a few people watched it.
Alfred: Oh… well… Anyway, Cameron is going to make another dinner next week…

Ginny: You know we’ll have to go to one of your co-workers’ dinners at some point of your career, right?
Harry: What if I tell them you are pregnant and needs to rest? I have never used this excuse before.
Ginny: Yes, you have. But I was actually pregnant.
Harry: Damn it.


[instagram @potterbyblvnk] 

know it all — p.p.

summary : may parker can’t fathom that you and her nephew aren’t dating yet- she can’t wait forever, you know, and she knows it’s going to happen eventually. when has may ever been wrong?

word count : 3k

author’s note : long time no see?? LOL sophomore year is successfully kicking my ass but i wrote this and it’s semi long so?? 

   May Parker prides herself on a lot of things- namely, her stunning resilience in the face of immense adversity, and the way she just seems to know things. She can’t help it, it’s her not so lame superpower and she uses it on Peter all the time, much to his annoyance. She earns a roll of the eyes whenever she says something out of the blue, so profound Peter can’t help but contemplate its credibility for the hours that follow their interactions. She knows things, she does, and she knows that you and her nephew are as meant to be as her and Ben were- are, she chastises herself sometimes- and she knows it so truly in the deepest recesses of her heart that the fact that you and Peter aren’t together is something that goes right over her head. 

   “Peter, hon, when’s your girl coming over? I miss having other ladies in the house,” she says one day, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the pair  as Peter recited the periodic table of elements so naturally in his head in preparation for a quiz the following day. Peter loses track somewhere between lithium and beryllium or maybe it was phosphorus, he doesn’t know anymore, when he hears May call you that, his girl, and he shakes his head at her wildly. “What? What’d I say?” May points her wooden spoon at him, and Peter’s reminded that she’s Italian for the fifth time that day. 

   “May, she’s not- she’s not my, like, girlfriend,” he stresses each syllable the word carries, practically throwing his pencil across the table when he turns his chair to get a better view of his aunt as she prepares dinner- pasta, again, because she claims it’s the only thing she can’t possibly mess up. “You know that! Y/N’s been my best friend forever.” 

    “You realize you can be best friends with your girlfriend, don’t you?” Peter can sense May’s eyes rolling even though he can’t see her since she’s facing the stove with her back turned. “You two have definitely kissed. You can’t tell me you haven’t.” 

    Peter’s entire face feels hot when she says that, his hands clammy when he presses them together against his cheeks, placing his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “That’s embarrassing, May. Why would you ever ask me that?” He runs his hands through his hair and the gel is so terribly packed on it that the carefully prepared hairstyle comes undone with one swift movement. “We haven’t, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are because you’re nosy.” Peter feels the spoon lightly poke into his back, a playful warning. 

   “Anyways,” May continues loudly, “as I was saying before, your girlfriend should come over for dinner sometime this week. I’m making pasta.” She grins before placing a bowl of penne in front of Peter, his least favorite pasta shape. Peter scowls at the penne but picks up his fork anyway and shoves some in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before giving May a thumbs up. At least she was proud of it. “I won’t make penne if you get her to come over.” 

    She knows she’s got him when she sees the slow, unsure nod start. He sticks his hand out, and May shakes it happily. “Only because of the penne. I want bowties. Please,” he gives his aunt his best, brightest, sweetest smile he can form, much like the ones that come so naturally when he turns his gaze to look at you- but May won’t bring that up just yet. “And don’t make girlfriend jokes in front of her.” His utensil stabs into the pasta as he thinks to himself, ‘cause if you keep it up in front of her, she’ll think I’m a weirdo and I’ll never genuinely get to call Y/N that, ever. Honestly, he’d much rather launch himself headfirst off of the Empire State Building than never get to experience kissing you, holding your hand, being with you in all those sorts of hopelessly romantic ways that he daydreams about regularly. He’s doing it again, slipping into that endless reverie he always seems to find himself lost in. But it’s okay. His mind is a chasm of soft loves and sweet words shared between the two of you. It’s a beautiful, long mess of a dream. 

   “You lost, Pete?” May snaps her fingers in front of his face, bemused. 

    “A little,” he sighs in that dreamy tone she recalls her own self indulging in so fondly in her younger years. His gaze becomes hazy again, like he’s on another plane entirely, but she lets him be. For now. 


    Peter knows he’s dressing up a little too much for just a friend. He’s spraying too much strong cologne and gelling his hair excessively and praying you won’t notice the fact that it’ll be dryer than the leaves in the wintertime, but it’s all too much for someone he insists is his best friend and his best friend alone, nothing more and nothing less, certainly not his girlfriend. Never that, right? Peter frowns at his reflection and tilts his head down, rubbing his head in attempt to remove most of the gel that had been a serious mistake in the first place. You preferred his hair curly, anyway. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He puts on the sweater that you once said looked lovely on him and he wears his nice jeans, the ones without that stupid hole near the butt cheek that you can’t really see unless you’re trying

   His cheeks flush when May gives a tiny, satisfied smirk upon seeing his perfectly put together outfit. He acts as if no time at all was spent on his appearance, but she knows him, like she knows everything else, and she knows that he’s been holed up in the bathroom for over twenty minutes now trying to see which shirt matched his eyes best and debating the chances of you realizing that this was the sweater you liked the most on him before he put it on and beamed at himself in the mirror. Maybe it was the color or the stitching or the fabric but he was starting to like this one much more, too. 

   “You look very handsome, sweets,” May says to him, squeezing his shoulder as she brushes past him to place a salad on the table. Peter surveys the salad with a strange look on his face. 

   “Why’d you make a salad? Since when does Y/N eat salad?” He raises his eyebrows at her, before adding with haste, “not that I don’t love your salad, Aunt May, ‘cause I do. I promise.”  

   Aunt May places her hands on her hips, peering at him through the tops of her glasses in a way that makes her look too wise for someone as young as she was. “I’m making a good impression, obviously.” 

   “You’ve known her for like ten years now, the time for good impressions is over, May. You missed your chance.”

   “This is the first time I’m seeing Y/N as your girlfriend, though!” Peter lets out the loudest groan imaginable, running his hands over his cheeks and slapping his forehead with great vexation. 

   “Still not my girlfriend,” he insists on insisting, taking the extra plates out of her busy hands and helping to set the small kitchen table. 

   May smooths back a loose strand of hair from his forehead with a kind, teasing grin on her face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her to be, kiddo.” 

   He can’t possibly argue with that sort of logic, especially not when his aunt hits the nail right on the head in that peculiar way she has a habit of doing, so he just smiles and kisses May on the cheek. There’s a knock on the door less than a second later, and the pair scramble for the upper hand before Peter beats her to it and nearly flies to grab the handle of it and yank it open so he can greet you accordingly, slightly out of breath with his hair flopping to one quite nicely and a joyous smile making its way across his mouth when he sees you for the first time that day. May hovers earnestly behind him, hands fluttering over her nephew’s shoulders so she can push past him to wrap you in a hug if need be. Sometimes Peter has the impression that May adores you even more than he does; he wasn’t sure if he should be glad for that, or a bit offended that you seemed to return the blatant favoritism with ardency. 

   There was a brief second where your eyes raked over your best friend’s face with soft admiration, hidden as carefully as you could manage. When you met his appreciative gaze you felt the palms of your hands clam up and so you cast your look back to his aunt and playfully pushed past him to give her a hug. 

   Peter, offense overriding his previously somewhat moonstruck expression, backed away from you when you finally turned toward him with your arms outstretched. “Oh, now I get a hug? Interesting,” he rolls his eyes in a teasing manner, unable and unwilling to conceal his little, loving smile that appeared when you pried his arms off his chest and defiantly wrapped them around yourself as you hugged him. “Didn’t seem so interested in hugging me when you were shoving me away to get to May,” he says, craning his neck to stare at you whilst continuing to drag the embrace out for as long as possible. 

   “You’re still my favorite Parker,” you reply, poking his chest lightly. Then you turn away before you can say anything else that could be considered too revealing of certain, carefully concealed feelings that had the possibility of being detrimental to a beautiful friendship that had manifested over the years into something more, but not quite, not yet. “Sort of,” you put as an afterthought, lest he get any ideas about you feeling… something for him. “Anyways, what’s for dinner, May?” You anticipate pasta, and when May announces the dish with a great flourishing of her hand, you grin. Typical, yes, but nothing if not welcomed. 

  Peter, gentleman that he is, pulls out your chair for you, and you let yourself imagine that he’s doing it as a chivalrous boyfriend and not simply a polite friend. He imagines the same, though. Imagines that he’s on a date with you and he pulls out your chair and smiles kindly and lovingly- and he basks in this image for as long as he can. May calls you over then, and the daydream is shattered. You make your way over to her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

   May lowers her voice before speaking, “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to explain something to me,” she starts. You nod, raising your eyebrows at her. “Explain why you and Peter aren’t together yet. Honestly, honey, I just can’t understand it.” She talks with her hands the way Peter does. 

   “Uh- what? I, um, I don’t… understand?” Your voice cracks a little, as if having May practically shove your less than friendly feelings for Peter back in your face wasn’t embarrassing enough. “We’re, um, you know, like, friends.” 

   Her hand waves dismissively, pushing that sentence away. “No, no, see that’s what he said, too! I have to disagree. I know everything, kiddo, and I know that you two are going to make it as a couple, so if that’s what your afraid of, don’t be. Go for it. I see the same thing in him that I see in you right now, and that thing is love. So, I’m going to need you to go make my nephew the happiest kid on Earth and tell him you’re falling in love with him, and you’ll see that he’s going to say the same thing to you. Trust me. Aunt May knows all,” she shrugs in a casual manner, brushing her confidence off, before she steers you around and gently pushes you back toward the tiny dining room table where Peter sits awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs with his lip caught between his teeth. 

   “Hi,” you almost whisper, settling down in your seat across from him. 

   He glances up. “Hey,” he says, smiling again. A reflex, in your presence. He clears his throat, then asks, “So, what’d you and May talk about?” He knows May loves him as if he were her son, which for all intents and purposes he is, but he can’t be sure of her secrecy. He wouldn’t put it past his aunt to let slip “accidentally” that he liked you, loved you, cared for you. 

   You take a sip of your glass of water that Peter must have filled in your absence from the table. You had a tendency to take sips of your drink when in uncomfortable conversations, or conversations you felt nervous in. He notes that. “Oh, um, nothing really… but if were gonna talk about it, I’d wanna do it in, like, private?” You twirl your straw around your drink, mixing the ice in the glass. Peter abruptly stands from his chair. You watch him sling a jacket around his shoulders and throw one of his sweaters at you, which you catch easily. “You wanna go now?” 

   He nods, licking his lips anxiously. “No better time than the present, right?” If you’re going to confront him and crush his heart with a single sentence that stands along the lines of I see you as a friend, he wants it done sooner rather than later. He wants it over with, so he can go back to his suffering in comfortable silence and start an attempt to move past this crush the way he had easily drifted away from his crush on Liz Allan. You fumble with the sweater as you stand. “May, we’re gonna step out for a bit!” Peter announces, opening the front door of his apartment and letting you slip out first. He doesn’t wait for her response before he disappears, too. May watches the two of you leave and feels her heart grow twice its size. 

  You’re standing outside the apartment building ten minutes later in the chilly autumn breeze, thankful for the cologne scented sweater that rests over your body like a warm blanket. Peter’s hands are never cold, and so they linger outside of his pockets as opposed to yours, shoved inside the front pocket of the sweater he’s given you. He reaches for your hands wordlessly and rubs them over his. “You’re always freezing,” he laughs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours with a new burst of confidence that you find endearing as you squeeze his hands. “Hey, wanna know something? You might know it already but, I figure I should tell you myself, if you wanna know.” He swings his hands back and forth, and yours swing along with his. 

   “Yeah, please,” you insist, twisting your head to the side to sweep the windswept hair out of your face. One of Peter’s hands comes up to brush it out of the way, typical and cliche and an overplayed move but none of that matters when the action is being carried out, because it makes your stomach constrict in that funny way and your heart melt into a puddle on the dirty sidewalk. His fingers linger over the softness of your cheek, and he keeps his hand there to see what you’ll say about it. You say nothing, let remain there. “You gonna tell me or not?” 

  “Should I- I could maybe…” he sucks on the bottom of his lip. “Forget it, I don’t know how to speak properly around you like this.” You start to protest, demand he tell you because you won’t be able to stop thinking about this if he doesn’t, but every word dies before it can touch the edge of your lips. Peter has his head lowered down toward you and he’s kissing you, a thought that’s crossed your mind more times than you were able to count but now, it’s happening. Real lips pressed against yours feverishly, shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment. When he pulls away first, it returns and collides with him as if he’s hit a brick wall, and his cheeks burn red. He makes no move to back away, still. “D-Did I step out of line? Was that okay? Do you hate me? ‘Cause if you do we can go back upstairs or you can leave and then on Monday we can pretend that this never happened because you’re still my best friend no matter what even if it’s awkward-” 

   Your hands clasp together around the back of his neck as you yank him down toward you again, and this time you kiss him back. You can feel him smiling so hard it makes it difficult to kiss him, but when you break away to tell him that, he just laughs and smiles harder and keeps kissing you. He doesn’t know how to stop now that’s he had the opportunity. You’re both laughing hysterically and trying to kiss properly and his nose bumps against yours repeatedly, and it’s the most perfect first kiss in the world. 

   He keeps his hand firmly grasped in yours when you go back upstairs to his seventh floor apartment, opens the door for you and everything. May is sitting at the table, turns her head to the both of you and peers at you from the top of her glasses. Peter raises his hand and yours, triumphant. May claps her hands together as he, your boyfriend, declares proudly, “Aunt May, I would like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, who I hope will be sticking around?” He looks to you for reassurance, and gets what he needs from the happy kiss you bestow upon the side of his face. 

   “I told you two I know everything!” Is what breaks the joyous silence, and then the laughter starts again; a perfectly lovely family. 

Keep reading

5

For those who are able to go back to the Engeki Haikyuu Exhibition after May 10th, they’ve added new exhibits now featuring the props and sets from Winners and Losers, which has just finished touring!  

Accidental Potion Slippage

IMAGINE: Draco knew there was something wrong when (Y/N) started fawning over a Weasley. Why the hell did she decide to like a Weasley when he was just about to ask her out? 

[gif is not mine. just a bit of fluff. once again from this prompt (x). a bit wordy once again.] 

warnings: swear words

words: 1.6k +


Draco looked at his best friend who was now currently fawning over a Weasley. A Weasley of all people! He stabbed his eggs viciously, then groaned when it fell off his plate. Can nothing go right? Since when did (Y/N) watch Weasley with stupid love heart eyes? And since when can he not eat eggs?

“Stop staring,” Draco grumbled.

(Y/N) turned to Draco, “Huh? Did you say something Draco?”

He rolled his eyes, “Stop staring at the Weasley, you might catch his Weasley-ness.” Draco scrunched up his nose at that thought. “Disgusting,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Isn’t he just dreamy?” (Y/N) placed a hand on top of the table and placed her chin on it. “I mean the way that he eats, it’s just,” she didn’t finish speaking, she just closed her eyes and smiled. And bloody hell was that a small moan emitting from her mouth?

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Blaise asked as he sat down in front of (Y/N). He followed her stare to the Gryffindor table. “A Weasley?”

“Like you can talk Zabini,” Theo piped up. He received a light punch to the arm by Blaise. “Dick.”

“I swear to god she’s been slipped a potion,” Draco muttered. It was the only explanation. She didn’t like the Weasley’s…the only ones that she can stand were the twins and they were long graduated, and the Weasley girl. Unless… she did really like Weasley. Draco shuddered. No, it definitely wasn’t that. (Y/N) disliked the Weasley’s, not as much as Draco but still.

“I’m right here,” (Y/N) groaned. “And I wasn’t slipped a potion. It’s just you know when you wake up and see someone in a different light, and suddenly they’re the only person you can think about?”

Draco sat there silently. Of course he knew, he’s been feeling that way towards her ever since fifth year. He was hoping to ask her to Hogsmeade, maybe join his family’s holiday to Germany, but (Y/N) taking a fancy to Weasley certainly put a damper to his plans.

“But he’s a Weasley,” was all Draco came up with. It sounded pathetic even to him, even though he would never admit it.

“Names are just labels.” They all watched as Ron walked out of the Great Hall with Potter next to him, then they turned to (Y/N) who started packing up her things.

“And where are you off to?” Blaise asked. “We have a free.”

“So does Ron, maybe I can catch up to him.” (Y/N) picked up her bag and ran towards the exit.

“For fucks sake, you’re screwed mate,” Blaise said as she bit into a muffin. Draco groaned and smacked his head against the table.


“Draco! There you are! I need help!” (Y/N) called out as she rushed to her best friend.

Draco placed the book he held in his hands into his bag, “What is it?”

Hold my hand so he gets jealous.(Y/N) pointed to Weasley who was laughing loudly with the other Gryffindor’s. Draco gritted his teeth, he had to pinch himself because he knew that he would do some serious damage to his mouth if he continued.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re my best friend, you’re extremely attractive and Ron hates you? Please?” (Y/N) pleaded, then turning on her charm -she pouted at Draco. She knew that if she did this action he wouldn’t say no.

Draco internally groaned, fuck, it was that pout. The one that made him want to snog her, the one that made her adorable as fuck. “Fine.”

(Y/N) smiled and intertwined their hands together. Draco had to rein his gasp when (Y/N) took his hand. Fuck her hands were dainty and small, and so soft. He relished in the feeling for a moment. Unconsciously his thumb rubbed her palm, she threw a curious glance in his way.

Draco could feel sweat emanating from the pores of his hand, all he could do was pray to the gods that she didn’t feel how sweaty it was. He allowed himself to be strolled to the Gryffindor’s.

“Hey guys,” (Y/N) greeted with a smile.

“Hey (Y/N),” Hermione spoke, her tone friendly. Then she turned to Draco, “Malfoy.”

“Hi Ron,” (Y/N) greeted bashfully. The red-head looked at the Slytherin and smiled. Out of all the Slytherin’s she was by far the nicest he came across.

“Hi (Y/N).”

Draco narrowed his eyes. He did not like that tone. He clenched his hands, forgetting he was holding (Y/N)’s. She returned the action by squeezing his hand, almost to the point that he squealed out in pain.

He stood there awkwardly, looking at the trees, the clouds, anywhere but the group. He managed to filter out (Y/N)’s disgusting love-filled talk to Weasley. Draco was too focused in not being focused that he missed Ron’s weird looks at (Y/N), Hermione’s curious stare. He also missed Harry’s eyes widening in understanding. He sighed in relief as he felt himself being dragged away.

Once out of earshot, (Y/N) removed her hand from Draco’s. “Ew your hand is sweaty.

How the hell was he supposed to reply to that? Sorry that my hand was sweaty, it was just I’ve been dreaming of holding your hand since fifth year when I found out that I love you, and I’m pretty sure I want to marry you and have children with you? And that mother and father found out that I love, so they’re now pushing marriage upon me? That my mother gave me a ring from the Malfoy vault, so when I got the courage to fucking ask you out and not fuck it up, I have the perfect ring for you? Unfortunately that was not how it happened.

“My palms get sweaty whenever I’m near something hideous,” Draco drawled.

(Y/N) shook her head, “Shove off, you git.” She laughed at him and linked her arms with his. “I got a date with Ron!”

Oh for fuck’s sake.


(Y/N) stormed through the courtyard, pass the Slytherin’s and once she reached where the Gryffindor’s usually sat, she slapped Ron as hard as she could. “What the fuck, Weasley?”

Draco, as well as the other Slytherin’s, ran to where the commotion was. Luckily, they came at the right moment, they heard the gasps and the laughter as Weasley stood there dumbfounded.

“Why the fuck did you slip me a love potion?” Her teeth were bared, her hair wild and her eyes furious. She began advancing, making Ron step backwards, finally Harry stood between them.

“I think I can explain.”

“You better have a fucking good reason as to why I was acting like an imbecile fawning over Weasley,” (Y/N) spat.

“That wasn’t meant for you,” Harry yelled. Afraid for himself and his best friend. “It was for someone else in your House.”

“Who?”

Harry looked sideways, “Potter, I swear if you don’t tell me right now, I’ll hex your balls!”

“It was for Parkinson!”

(Y/N) stepped backwards, she laughed, “Pansy?”

“Ron and Pansy had a bet going to see who could slip a love potion,” Harry explained.

“That has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard! And so illegal!” (Y/N) looked wildly at the red head, she walked towards him. “You better fucking hope that you didn’t ruin my chances!”

(Y/N) turned around, her hair hitting Ron in the face. She stormed past the Slytherin’s. Draco chased her. For someone so small she really could cover a lot of space. Upon reaching her, he noticed that they were in their secluded space that they discovered when they were in third year.

“Ruin your chances?” It was meant to be an ‘are you okay’? But all that was going through Draco’s heads was; what was the chance?

She lifted her head and looked at him, “What?”

He gestured behind him with his thumb, “Before you left. You said: ‘You better fucking hope that you didn’t ruin my chances’.”

(Y/N) shook her head, “For the love of Merlin, Draco! Are you really that daft?”

“What?”

She rolled her eyes and made an annoyed noise, “I’ve been trying to tell you that I fancy you.”

Draco pointed at her, then himself, “You like me?”

“I honestly don’t know why,” (Y/N) mumbled.

“You like me?”

She rolled her eyes again, “I think we’ve covered this. Now it’s your turn; do you like me?”

“Uh-huh,” was all Draco could say. He nodded dumbly as well. He must have looked like a right twat. “Date me?” He could have really slapped himself right then.

She winced, “Oo, when though? My schedule’s a bit busy.”

“What?”

“Merlin, I really hope that’s not the only thing that you’re going to say when we go to dinner next week.”

Draco shook himself out of whatever he was in, “Right.” He straightened his robes and looked at her. “Would you like to go to dinner with me next week?” He put his hand out to her.

She looked at it skeptically, “Draco, I don’t know if you know but dating isn’t usually a business contract. It’s usually not sealed with a handshake.”

He abruptly put his hand to his side, not knowing what to do he began side stepping. After doing that action for a couple of seconds, he gathered up the courage and looked at her. Draco saw as amusement was etched on her face, her biting her lip in order to stop herself from laughing at him. “How do you seal it then?”

She took a step forward, then another until she was in front of him. Grabbing him by the lapels of her robe, she pulled him close to her, “Like this.” Then (Y/N) pulled Draco, pressing her lips to his.

Sometimes hope is a thing with feathers
And sometimes hope is a thing with a snow covered snoot

Ok ya know that blessed image of Yurio serving pirozhki to Lillia and Yakov??

What if that’s not the only thing he knows how to make?? What if the time he’s not busy skating (or being super emo) is spent in the kitchen ? 

Imagine Victor calling him with an SOS saying “Yurio I’ve had nothing but katsudon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for weeks. Now don’t get me wrong I love it and I love Yuuri but the next skating season is about to beg–”

“I’m on my way.” 

Yurio slams open their door to their apartment less than 10 minutes later to with a kit of knives and assorted cooking utensils shouting “STEP ASIDE PORK CUTLET BOWL" 

He’s been in the kitchen for over 2 hours now doing GOD KNOWS what, clattering around with the occasional swear 

"Yurioooo we’re hungry" 
"You cannot rush perfection old man" 
"I’m pretty sure my stomach has begun digesting itself" 
SHUT UP KATSUDON. I NEED ABSOLUTE AND COMPLETE FOCUS" 

He then calls them to the table, which is covered with a silk runner, a beautifully decorated candelabra, and cloth napkins folded in the shapes of swans (Yurio brought all of this along)

 "Alright folks tonight we have a nice al dente pasta, so that it has a bit of a firmness when you bite into it. Now that’s covered with an exquisitely seasoned crushed tomato topping and orbs of pulverized beef. And for garnish we have some fresh picked basil. Enjoy“ 
"Yurio, darling.. I’m pretty sure this is just spaghetti and meatballs" 

Yurio begins fuming, screaming absolute nonsense about "not knowing art” and “ungrateful washed up pricks” as he shoves his things back into his bag (plates of spaghetti and all). He storms out with both his middle fingers extended towards the couple before slamming the door behind him